372 WHALING AND FISHINO. 



your lines clear," is now the word, as the doomed 

 fish flip faster and faster into the barrels standing 

 to receive them. Here is one greedy fellow 

 already casting furtive glances behind him, and 

 calculating in his mind how many fish he will 

 have to lose in the operation of getting his second 

 atr ike -barrel. 



Now you hear no sound except the steady flip of 

 fish into the barrels. Every face wears an expres- 

 sion of anxious determination ; every body moves 

 as though by springs ; every heart beats loud with 

 excitement, and every hand hauls in fish and 

 throws out hooks with a methodical precision, a 

 kind of slow haste, which unites the greatest speed 

 with the utmost security against fouling lines. 



And now the rain increases. We hear jibs rat- 

 tling down ; and glancing up hastily, I am sur- 

 prised to find our vessel surrounded on all sides 

 by the fleet, which has already become aware thai 

 we have got fish alongside. Meantime the wind 

 rises, and the sea struggles against the rain, which 

 is endeavoring with its steady patter to subdue 

 the turmoil of old Ocean. We are already on our 

 third barrel each, and still the fish come in as fast 

 as ever, and the business (sport it has ceased to be 

 *ome time since), continues with vigor undimin- 

 ished. Thick beads of perspiration chase each 

 other down our faces. Jackets, caps, and even 

 over-shirts, are thrown off, to give more freedom 

 to limbs that are worked to their utmost 



j " H illo ! where are the fish ? " All gone ? Every 



