WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 75 



on a whaler ; I have known one begin at five P.M and finish at 

 eleven P.M., the prolongation being the result of frequent 

 dashes from the minute mess-room to the gun platform in bows 

 or to the bridge, in the immediate prospect of getting along- 

 side a whale. To-day we begin our midday meal at the 

 sweet end why, the Norse only know ! prunes and rice, 

 winding up with tinned herrings and coffee. After food we 

 studied Art, did bits of sea from the bridge and pretty faces 

 from fancy, the skipper played on the melodeon, and we 

 exhibited in the chart-room, and each of the unshorn Vikings 

 as he came to the bridge for his trick at the wheel or on one 

 excuse or another came in and looked long and admiringly. 

 Of course I had painted to the gallery the girls had blue 

 eyes and fair hair, the colours of birch bark, the silvery 

 harmonies of nature beloved by the Norse and the artist. 



At three in the afternoon we got sight of the Shetlands 

 and Flugga to the west, and made a new departure to the 

 N.W. We were only three miles south of our dead reckon- 

 ing ; not so bad, after several days lying hove to, and dodg- 

 ing about in all directions, with neither sextant nor chrono- 

 meter ; a chronometer gets knocked out of time in such a 

 small craft with the shock from the gun. Towards night the 

 Haldane's engines slowly stopped in accordance with orders ; 

 which orders our friend the stutterer at the wheel did not know 

 about, and his muttered imprecations on the lazy engineer 

 stopping, as he thought, for a rest, made us all on the bridge, 

 skipper, steward, and two of the crew, laugh till the tears 

 came ! a little goes such a long way at sea in the way of a 

 jest (in fine weather). 



So we lash the wheel to windward and roll about just over 

 that scandalous limit line forty miles N. of Shetland 

 inside of which any foreigner may whale, but we may not ! 

 We have seen nothing for twenty-four hours and the sea is 

 as empty as the Sahara of herring-boats ; the crew have 

 three hours' sleep. 



Monday, 4th July, three A.M. A most bilious morning, 

 enough to make a seagull ill or upset the hardiest shell-back ; 

 the world seems just a bag of hard wind and cold water, 

 squalls, and scraps of rainbow, and tossing seas, with the 



