WHALERS AND WHALING. 



first place the whole vessel is reeking with oil and dirt. Must be, 

 unless the voyage has been a failure. The penetrating smell is already 

 in your nostrils before you step on board. Little streams of oil trickle 

 sluggishly down the deck. The rigging is soaked with it, the gang- 

 ways are slippery with it, the very air seems saturated with fishy oil. 

 This particular Whaler was a small one, about ninety feet long, and 

 her cabin and sleeping accommodations were a revelation not to be 

 forgotten. We entered a miniature saloon with a folding table in the 

 centre, and dingy casters overhanging it. This was where the officers 

 took their meals, and here, as everywhere, the atmosphere of oil pre- 

 vailed. Opening into this dining-room, and occupying the extreme end 

 of the ship, was the captain's cabin, about the same size as the saloon, 

 or even smaller. (Seven feet by eight, by actual measurement.) A 

 venerable old horse hair sofa with its hind legs sawed off, to make 

 it fit the sloping wall, was firmly lashed across the square stern, it's 



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