176 THE CRUISE OF TEE " CACHALOT,'* 



CHAPTER XV. 



WHICH COMES UNCOMFORTABLY NEAR BEING THE LAST. 



All unversed as I am in the finer shades of literary 

 craftsmanship, there is great uncertainty in my mind 

 whether it is good or bad " art " to anticipate your next 

 chapter by foreshadowing its contents ; but whether good 

 or bad art, the remembrance of my miseries on the 

 eventful occasion I wish to describe was so strong upon 

 me as I wrote the last few lines of the previous chapter 

 that I just had to let those few words leak out. 



Through all the vicissitudes of this strange voyage I 

 had hitherto felt pretty safe, and as the last thing a man 

 anticipates (if his digestion is all right) is the possibility 

 of coming to grief himself, while fully prepared to see 

 everybody else go under, so I had got to think that 

 whoever got killed I was not to be — a very pleasing senti- 

 ment, and one that carries a man far, enabling him to 

 face dangers with a light heart which otherwise would 

 make a nerveless animal of him. 



In this optimistic mood, then, I gaily flung myself 

 into my place in the mate's boat one morning, as we were 

 departing in chase of a magnificent cachalot that had 

 been raised just after breakfast. There were no other 

 vessels in sight — much to our satisfaction — the wind 



