Il6 THE WHALE HUNTERS 



concluded were the only improvement since Jonathan's 

 time when the men slept in hammocks. 



He looked into the galley where the old negro cook was 

 humming a hymn as he polished his pans. 



*Doan you come in dis yer galley till Ah've finished ma 

 cleaning, Mars Oakley.' 



*A11 right, old Ebony,' said Thomas with a grin. *Rub 

 away and make 'em shine like new dollars, even though 

 they'll be as black as your old face to-morrow." 



He climbed into the cleaner air of the upper deck and 

 made his way aft to the captain's cabin where he knocked 

 and entered. 



'All's well, sir,' he reported. 



'Good, Oakley,' said the grey-haired man in blue 

 pilot cloth as he looked up from the chart he was 

 studying. 



Captain John Galloway was a man of nearly sixty with 

 a face like old weathered oak. He was of Quaker 

 descent but unlike the Quaker captain of the Httle Pilgrim 

 had always tempered his ambitions with shrewd judge- 

 ment ; and unlike Melville's Captain Ahab he was intent 

 not upon some strange metaphysical quest but upon 

 reaching the Pacific whaling grounds, filling his holds with 

 oil and returning home in the shortest possible time, a task 

 which with every fresh voyage he hoped by his own discip- 

 Hne and the Grace of God to accomplish within four years. 

 He shared this aim with the rest of the ship's company for 

 it was the custom in whaling for everyone, from cabin boy 

 to captain, to receive a share of the profits proportionate 

 to his rank. 



Thomas had an additional reason for wishing the 

 ship a successful voyage ; his father, now retired from active 

 whaling, owned half the shares in her. 



'How did your crew shape up in the boat practices 

 yesterday, Oakley?' asked the captain. 



'Two of them are as green as cabbages, sir, but they'll 



