( 1^ ) 



CHAPTER Iir. 



FISHING BEGINS. 



During all the bustle of warlike preparation that had 

 been going on, the greenhorns had not suffered from 

 inattention on the part of those appointed to look after 

 them. Happily for them, the wind blew steadily, and 

 the weather, thanks to the balmy influence of the Gulf 

 Stream, was quite mild and genial. The ship was 

 undoubtedly lively, as all good sea-boats are, but her 

 motions were by no means so detestable to a sea-sick 

 man as those of a driving steamer. So, in spite of 

 their treatment, perhaps because of it, some of the 

 poor fellows were beginning to take hold of things 

 "man-fashion," although of course sea legs they had 

 none, their getting about being indeed a pilgrimage of 

 pain. Some of them were beginning to try the dreadful 

 "grub" (I cannot libel "food" by using it in such a 

 connection), thereby showing that their interest in life, 

 even such a life as was now before them, was returning. 

 They had all been allotted places in the various boats, 

 intermixed with the seasoned Portuguese in such a way 

 that the officer and harpooner in charge would not be 

 dependant upon them entirely in case of a sudden 

 emergency. Every endeavour was undoubtedly made 



