180 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



rive on that southward exodus no man knows. 

 It is one of the mysteries of the sea. 



We saw no whales on our southward passage 

 and did not much expect to see any, though we 

 kept a lookout at the mast-head on the off 

 chance of sighting some lone spout. The sum- 

 mer months are a second between seasons," 

 dividing the spring whaling in Behring Sea from 

 that in the Arctic Ocean in the fall. The 

 whales had all followed the retreating ice north- 

 ward through Behring Straits. 



The Fourth of July found us in the middle 

 of Behring Sea. We observed the glorious 

 Fourth by hoisting the American flag to our 

 gaff -topsail peak, where it fluttered all day long. 

 Mr. Winchester came forward with two bottles 

 of Jamaica rum and dealt out a drink all 

 around. 



We entered Unalaska harbor by the same 

 long, narrow, and precipitous channel through 

 which we had passed on our voyage north when 

 we put into the harbor to have the captain's leg 

 set. Negotiating this channel — I should say it 

 was about two miles long — was another illustra- 



