60 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



"Humph, you don't believe I smell whale, 

 eh?" he said. "I can smell whale like a bird 

 dog smells quail. Take a sniff at the wind. 

 Can't you smell it yourself?" 



I gave a few hopeful sniffs. 



" No," I said, " I can't smell anything unless, 

 perhaps, salt water." 



" You've got a poor smeller," returned the cap- 

 tain. " The wind smells rank and oily. That 

 means sperm whale. If I couldn't smell it, I 

 could taste it. I'll give you a plug of tobacco, 

 if we don't raise sperm before dark." 



He didn't have to pay the tobacco. Within 

 an hour, we raised a sperm whale spouting far 

 to windward and traveling in the same direction 

 as the brig. The captain hurried to the cabin 

 for his binoculars. As he swung himself into the 

 shrouds to climb to the mast-head, he shouted to 

 me, " Didn't I tell you I could smell 'em? " The 

 watch was called. The crew of the captain's 

 boat was left to work the ship and Mr. Landers 

 and Gabriel lowered in the larboard and waist 

 boats. Sails were run up and we went skimming 

 away on our first whale hunt. We had a long 



