WHALERS AND WHALING. 



two out of the three, said it was simply maddening to see them in such 

 numbers, and not be able to get at them. He was a fresh faced, blue eyed, 

 sandy haired Scotchman, ruddy and strong, and looked as if he thoroughly 

 enjoyed his life of hardship and danger, as he eagerly showed us the very 

 harpoon he had hurled into one of his whales, and the lance — sharp- and 

 keen as a razor — which had pierced its vitals. " It went in up to there," 

 said he, pointing to a bent place about half way up the iron handle. 



"Why does the boat steerer always throw the harpoon?" I asked 

 him. "The officer in the bow does the killing, why doesn't he throw the 

 harpoon too?" The young Scotchman threw back his head and laughed. 

 "They wouldn't trust a man to steer the boat close enough to the whale 

 unless he had to throw the harpoon," said he; "you see, he's got to steer 

 right up to her to get it in. If he didn't have to do that he might lose his 

 nerve and sheer off too soon if he got scared." 



It brought the whole thing very vividly before one, to talk to 



