disconcerting him, and dividing his attention, turned him off from his purpose.

The captain of the Citizen, observing the affray from the beginning, was soon convinced that matters were taking rather a serious direction, and that not only the boats but the lives of his men were greatly imperilled. He therefore ordered the fifth boat to be instantly lowered, manned with "green hands," the command of which he himself assumed, and directed in pursuit of the whale. Five boats were now engaged in the contest, with the exception of the one stoven, and all the available crew and officers, including the captain, concentrated their efforts and energies in order to capture this "ugly customer." Just at the moment he was attacking or had already attacked the second boat, the captain's boat appeared on the ground, and from some cause best known to himself, the whale immediately left the former and assailed the latter. What the whale had already done, and what he appeared determined still to do, were by no means very flattering antecedents, and would very naturally impress the minds of "green hands," especially, that whaling, after all, was a reality, and not an imaginary affair or ordinary pastime.

On, therefore, the whale came to the captain's boat, ploughing the sea before him, jaws extended, with the fell purpose of destroying whatever he might chance to meet. As he approached near, the lance was thrust into his head and held in that position by the captain, and by this means he was kept at bay, while the boat was driven astern nearly half a mile. In this manner he was prevented from coming any nearer to the boat, the boat moving through the water as fast and as long as he pressed his head against the point of the lance. This was the only means of their defence. It was a most fortunate circumstance in a most trying situation. If the handle of the lance had broken, they would have been at the mercy of a desperate antagonist. The countenances of the boys were pallid with fear, and doubtless the very hair upon their heads stood erect. It was a struggle for life. It was death presented to them under one of the most frightful forms. They were, however, as singularly and as suddenly relieved as they were unexpectedly attacked. The whale caught sight of the ship, as was supposed, which was running down towards the boats, and suddenly started for the new and larger object of attack. This was observed by the captain, who immediately made signal to keep the ship off the wind, which would give her more headway, and thus, if possible, escape a concussion which appeared at first sight inevitable. The whale started on his new course towards the ship with the utmost velocity, with the intention of running into her. The consequences no one could predict; more than likely he would have either greatly disabled the ship, or even sunk her, had he struck her midships. To prevent such a catastrophe—the injury of the ship, and perhaps the ruin of the voyage—every thing now seemed to depend upon the direction of the ship and a favoring wind. Every eye was turned towards the ship; oars were resting over the gunwale of the boats, and each seaman instinctively fixed in his place, while anticipating a new encounter upon a larger scale, the results of which were fearfully problematical. A good and merciful Providence, however, whose traces are easily discernible in the affairs of men both upon the ocean and upon the land, opportunely interfered. The ship was making considerable headway. The whale started on a bee line for the ship, but when he came up with her, in consequence of her increased speed before the wind, he fell short some ten or twelve feet from the stern. The crisis was passed. On he sped his way, dragging half of the boat still attached to the lines connected with the irons that were in his body. His death struggle was long and violent. In about half an hour he went into his "flurry, and turned up." Colors were set for the boats to return to the ship; the dead whale was brought alongside, cut in, boiled out, and seventy-five barrels of sperm oil were stowed away.

We copy the following whale incident from the Vineyard Gazette of October 14, 1853. The editor says,—

"We are indebted to Captain Thomas A. Norton, of this town, one of the early commanders of the whale ship Hector, of New Bedford, for the following interesting particulars relative to an attack upon and final capture of an ugly whale. Captain Norton was chief mate of the Hector at the time.

"'In October, 1832, when in lat. 12° S., lon. 80° W., the ship ninety days from port, we raised a whale. The joyful cry was given of "There she blows!" and every thing on board at once assumed an aspect of busy preparation for the capture. The boats were lowered, and chase commenced. When we got within about three ships' lengths of him, he turned and rushed furiously upon us. He struck us at the same moment we fastened to him. He stove the boat badly; but with the assistance of sails which were placed under her bottom, and constant bailing, she was kept above water. The captain, John O. Morse, came to our assistance. I told him he had better keep clear of the whale; but he said he had a very long lance, and wanted to try it upon the rascal. Captain Morse went up to the whale, when all at once he turned upon the boat, which he took in his mouth, and held it "right up on end," out of the water, and shook it all to pieces in a moment. The men were thrown in every direction, and Captain Morse fell from a height of at least thirty feet into the water. Not being satisfied with the total destruction of the boat, he set to work and "chewed up" the boat kegs and lantern kegs, and whatever fragments of the boat he could find floating on the water. At this stage of the "fight," I told Captain Morse that if he would give me the choice of the ship's company, I would try him again. It was desperate work, to all appearance, and up to this time the vicious fellow had had it all his own way. The captain was in favor of trying him from the ship, but finally consented for us to attack him again from a boat. With a picked crew, we again approached the whale, now lying perfectly still, apparently ready for another attack, as the event proved. Seeing our approach, he darted towards us with his mouth wide open, his ponderous jaws coming together every moment with tremendous energy. We gave the word to "stern all," which was obeyed in good earnest. As we passed the ship, I heard the captain exclaim, "There goes another boat!" She did go, to be sure, through the water with all speed, but fortunately not to destruction. The monster chased us in this way for half a mile or more, during most of which time his jaws were within six or eight inches of the head of the boat. Every time he brought them together, the concussion could be heard at the distance of at least a mile. I intended to jump overboard if he caught the boat. I told Mr. Mayhew, the third mate, who held the steering oar, that the whale would turn over soon to spout, and that then would be our time to kill him. After becoming exhausted, he turned over to spout, and at the same instant we stopped the boat, and buried our lances deep in "his life." One tremendous convulsion of his frame followed, and all was still. He never troubled us more. We towed him to the ship, tried him out, and took ninety barrels of sperm oil from him.

"'When we were cutting him in, we found two irons in his body, marked with the name of the ship Barclay, and belonging to the mate's boat. We afterwards learned that three months before, when the same whale was in lat. 5° S., lon. 105° W., he was attacked by the mate of the ship Barclay, who had a desperate struggle with