130 THE WHALE AND 



Up in the Mizzen Rigging. Capture of a Calf. 



We have felt the cold this side the American 

 continent, in the rude Atlantic, more than ever 

 in that other ocean, which does not belie its 

 name, or even than at the pitch of the Cape, in 

 sixty degrees south. A few days ago, just after 

 breakfast, I had the pleasure of climbing the 

 mizzen rigging to witness the capture of our 

 first Atlantic whale. The ocean was in its 

 stillest, loveliest mood, its breast heaving only 

 like a sleeping infant's ; the morning sun most 

 glorious; the sky without a cloud, and that 

 glimmer of reflection from the molten steel 

 mirror beneath, which I remember being so 

 much struck with the first time I ever saw the 

 sublime sight when a boy. 



The two whales proved, as was thought, to 

 be a cow and a yearling calf, perhaps a steer 

 of the second year. They were putting their 

 heads together as in love, or to rub off the crab- 

 lice and barnacles that adhere by millions to 

 the top and sides of their heads. The calf was 

 soon struck, and made little ado of being killed, 

 not going into a flurry, or sounding long, or 

 making the water foam, fly, or splintering the 

 cedar with strokes of his tail, and " spilling the 

 men," as they sometimes do. 



