morning we commenced operations in a howling gale of wind, which
placed the lives of the officers on the "cutting in" stage in
great danger. The wonderful seaworthy qualities of our old ship
shone brilliantly now. When an ordinary modern-built sailing-
ship would have been making such weather of it as not only to
drown anybody about the deck, but making it impossible to keep
your footing anywhere without holding on, we were enabled to cut
in this whale. True, the work was terribly exhausting and
decidedly dangerous, but it was not impossible, for it was done.
By great care and constant attention, the whole work of cutting
in and trying out was got through without a single accident; but
had another whale turned up to continue the trying time, I am
fully persuaded that some of us would have gone under from sheer
fatigue. For there was no mercy shown. All that I have ever
read of "putting the slaves through for all they were worth" on
the plantations was fully realized here, and our worthy skipper
must have been a lineal descendent of the doughty Simon Legree.

The men were afraid to go on to the sick-list. Nothing short of
total inability to continue would have prevented them from
working, such was the terror with which that man had inspired us
all. It may be said that we were a pack of cowards, who, without
the courage to demand better treatment, deserved all we got.
While admitting that such a conclusion is quite a natural one at
which to arrive, I must deny its truth. There were men in that
forecastle as good citizens and as brave fellows as you would
wish to meet--men who in their own sphere would have commanded
and obtained respect. But under the painful and abnormal
circumstances in which they found themselves--beaten and driven
like dogs while in the throes of sea-sickness, half starved and