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UNE 12.—We boarded an Italian bark 
J bound for Philadelphia, at 6 this evening. 
She lays becalmed near us. They deem 
it useless to have the sails wear against the 
masts, so they have taken most of them in. The 
breeze and the sails have both dropped down 
and she lays 
“As idle 
Upon 
as a painted ship, 
a painted ocean,” 
But it is not calm as I have seen it, nor has 
the water the absolute smoothness that I have 
known, though it puts one in mind of Coleridge’s 
picture. 
You may accuse me of gross negligence 
because of my dates so, but if 
you knew how we have been at work I am sure 
that you would be lenient with me, for some 
days we have got but four hours’ rest out of 
jumping of 
the twenty-four, and some nights there was no 
sleep for anybody. We have been catching whales 
and we have had our baptism of flukes. 
The first one showed up on the 4th (Tuesday) 
and he 

was a monster. We were in company 
with another vessel, and we made signals to 
go in together in the chase. 
It was my boat’s privilege to fasten first, and 
we did so in grand style. The big fellow lay 
blowing in one position and we sailed on him 
“head and head’ and fastened to him with two 
When 
he felt the iron he turned and plunged under 
harpoons, one of them being an explosive. 
Diary of a Whaling Cruise 
By VICTOR SLOCUM, Harpooneer 
(Continued from page 801.) 
boat and covered us with 
flukes as 
our the from 
he tossed them up in the air to 
And he did not stop either, for our line 
spray 
his 
dive. 
whizzed around the loggerhead, giving out a blue 
sheet of smoke until the end of it went by us 
like a bullet. He had gone down with our three 
hundred fathoms of line in less than a minute. 
In a few minutes he appeared again near one 
of the other boats and he got two more harpoons, 
one of them explosive, and then the other two 
boats shot in and fastened with two irons apiece. 
Meanwhile the beast was coursing around and 
spouting blood in a frantic manner, and it took 
six bomb lances besides the eight harpoons to 
subdue him. 
Our next hit was made on the oth, when our 
boat The whale did not go 
very far this time, but just circled around us 
on a short line. Another whale from the herd 
kept by him until the kill, and then made off to 
windward. The other boat was off after some 
other whales. 
fastened again. 
They could have got him easily. 
While we were tied to the dead whale, we 
made out his comrade coming down to us at 
a great speed, and it looked as if he meant 
mischief. We hurriedly cut adrift from our 
capture, and getting fresh harpoons and lances 
ready, prepared for his onslaught. In a minute 
he was close to us, and while he stopped to 
take a look, we jumped the boat ahead and 
darted two irons which started him off at a high 


AN ITALIAN 

BARK THAT PASSED US, 
speed to windward, and the people on the ship 
told us afterward that we literally skipped from 
one sea to the next. All we were conscious of 
was the fact that the boat simply rested on her 
keel and the spray flew over us in great sheets. 
At last he slacked up and gave us a chance 
to put in a bomb lance. He made a rush to 
leeward, to where we had left the dead whale— 
straight as a die and right over him—dragging 
us over, too, of course, all the time spouting 
blood. Then he dove under us and came up 
with his blow-hole right under the mate’s nose 
who was looking over the side for him, and he 
got the spout of thick blood right in the face 
at less than a yard distance. Of course it 
spattered all of us, and when we hauled along- 
side with our two whales, we all looked as much 
like murderers as anything else. The captain 
was highly pleased with our performance, and 
he at once awarded our mate the pig, for it 
had been put up as a prize. 
The cutting in and drying out of the blubber 
is a prosy job, and nasty is no name for it. All 
hands strip down to a shirt, a pair of overalls 
rolled up to the knees, showing a pair of bare 
shins and sockless feet in large brogans, and 
in we go—grease from head to foot—day and 
night until the whale is all cut safely on board. 
If we tarried, bad weather would no doubt de- 
prive us of our spoil. 
It gives you a funny sensation at first to get 
into a deckful of blubber, with the slimy stuff 
around your exposed cuticle, and oil squashing 
out of your shoes at every step. But I am get- 
ting used to that now, and I feel like a veteran. 
Sunday, June 16.—We are all cleaned up from 
our last mess—paint work all free from slime, 
decks nice and white, and lines of clothes up 
all about that bespeak a good scrubbing. We 
are all as free from oil as though we had not 
been covered with it only a day or so ago. 
Our disgust has vanished, too, and we show 
a tendency to forget our recent troubles. We 
are pretty well rested. Our crowd is an 
optimistic set, always hoping for something 
better. I am getting into better trim myself, 
for I can enjoy a page of good reading, which 
shows that my mind is. becoming rested. I 
therefore hope to write a better log. 
June 17—An easterly gale with a heavy sea 













































