CHAPTER XI 



CROSS COUNTRY WHALING 



WE had hardly washed clear of the ice in 

 the heavy seas when "Blow!" rang 

 from the crow's nest. A school of 

 whales close ahead, covering the sea with foun- 

 tains, was coming leisurely toward the ship. 

 There were more than thirty of them. 

 " Bowheads ! " shouted the mate. 

 Their great black heads rose above the sur- 

 face like ponderous pieces of machinery; tall 

 fountains shot into the air; the wind caught the 

 tops of the fountains and whisked them off in 

 smoke; hollow, sepulchral whispers of sound 

 came to the brig as the breath left the giant 

 lungs in mighty exhalations. Why they were 

 called bowheads was instantly apparent — the 

 outline of the top of the head curved like an 



Indian's bow. As the head sank beneath the 



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