MY FIRST WHALE HUNT 



I could see only one or two Indians, clad in dirty 

 shirts and overalls, loafing about placidly staring at 

 the ship, but by the time she had been warped in and 

 the winch had started to swing aboard the great oil 

 casks which lined the wharf, two pleasant- faced men 

 appeared, one of whom I learned was Mr. Quinton, 



Captain Balcom at the gun on the Orion. 



the station manager ; to him my letters were presented. 

 With him was Mr. Rolls, the secretary of the station, 

 who showed me to a room at the house. I got out 

 of my ''store clothes" and came down to the wharf, 

 now lined w r ith men of six nationalities for Norwe- 

 gians, Americans, Newfoundlanders, Indians, Chi- 

 nese, and Japanese are employed at these west coast 

 stations. 



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