Grandpa Dinsmore had hardly finished relating his reminiscences of his former visits to the Bermudas when a sailor-lad came down the companionway with a message from the Captain—an invitation to any or all his passengers to come up on deck, as there was something he wished to show them. It was promptly and eagerly accepted by the young folks,—somewhat more slowly and sedately by the older ones.

"What is it, papa? Have you something to show us?" queried Ned, as he gained his father's side.

"Something lying yonder in the sea, my son, the like of which you have never seen before," replied the Captain, pointing to a large object in the water at some little distance.

"Ah, a whale!" exclaimed Dr. Travilla, who had come up on Ned's other side. "To what genus does he belong, Captain?"

"He is a bottlenose; a migratory species, confined to the North Atlantic. It ranges far northward in the summer, southward in the winter. In the early spring they may be found around Iceland and Greenland, Western Spitzbergen, in Davis Strait and probably about Novaia Zemlia."

"Oh, do they like to live right in among the icebergs, papa?" asked Elsie.

"No, they do not venture in among the ice itself, but frequent open bays along its margin, as in that way they are sheltered from the open sea."

"The group gathered about the Captain on the deck now comprised all his cabin passengers, not one of whom failed to be interested in the whale, or to have some remark to make or question to ask.

"This one seems to be alone," remarked Lucilla. "Do they usually go alone, papa?"

"No; they are generally found in herds of from four to ten; and many different herds may be found in sight at the same time. The old males, however, are frequently solitary; though sometimes one of them may be seen leading a herd. These whales don't seem to be afraid of ships, swimming around them and underneath the boats till their curiosity is satisfied."

"I suppose they take them—the ships—for a kind of big fish," laughed Ned.

"Why is this kind of whale called bottlenosed, papa?" asked Elsie.

"That name is given it because of the elevation of the upper surface of the head above the rather short beak and in front of the blow hole into a rounded abrupt prominence."

"Blow hole," repeated Ned, wonderingly; "what's that, papa?"

"The blow holes are their nostrils through which they blow out the water collected in them while they are down below the waves. They cannot breath under the water, but must come up frequently to take in a fresh supply of air. But first they must expel the air remaining in their lungs, before taking in a fresh supply. They send that air out with great force, so that it rises to a considerable height above the water, and as it is saturated with water-vapor at a high temperature, the contact with the cold outside air condenses the vapor which forms a column of steam or spray. Often, however, a whale begins to blow before its nostrils are quite above the surface, and then some sea-water is forced up with the column of air."

They were watching the whale while they talked; for it followed the yacht with seeming curiosity. At this moment it rolled over nearly on its side, then threw its ponderous tail high into the air, so that for an instant it was perpendicular to the water, then vanished from sight beneath the waves.

"Oh, dear," cried Ned, "he's gone! I wish he'd stayed longer."

"Perhaps he will come back and give us the pleasure of seeing him spout," said the Captain.

"Do you mean throw the water up out of its nostrils, papa?" asked Ned. "Oh, I'd like that!"

"Ah, there's the call to supper," said his father, as the summons came at that moment. "You wouldn't like to miss that?"

"No, sir," returned Ned, in a dubious tone. "But couldn't we let the supper wait till the whale comes up and gets done spouting?"

"Perhaps some of the older people may be too hungry to wait comfortably," returned his father; "and the supper might be spoiled by waiting. But cheer up, my son; the whale is not likely to come up to the surface again before we can finish our meal and come back to witness his performance."

That assurance was quite a relief to Ned's mind, so that he went very cheerfully to the table with the others, and there did full justice to the viands.

No one hurried with the meal, but when they left the table it was to go upon deck again and watch for the reappearance of the whale. They had been there for but a moment when, to the delight of all, it came up, not too far away to be distinctly seen, and at once began spouting—or blowing; discharging the air from its lungs in preparation for taking in a fresh supply; the air was sent out with great force, making a sound that could be heard at quite a distance, while the water-vapor accompanying the air was so condensed as to form a column of spray. It made five or six respirations, then swam away and was soon lost to sight.

Then the company returned to the cabin as the more comfortable place, the evening air being decidedly cool. Ned seated himself close to his father, and, in coaxing tones, asked for something more about whales.

"Are there many kinds, papa?" he queried.

"Yes, my son, a good many; more than you could remember. Would you like me to tell you about some of the more interesting ones?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa!" was the emphatic and pleased response, and the Captain began at once.

"There are the whalebone or true whales, which constitute a single family. They have no teeth, but, instead, horny plates of baleen or whalebone, which strain from the water the small animals upon which the whale feeds."

"Oh, yes, I know about whalebones," said Ned. "Mamma and sisters have it in their dresses. And it comes out of the whale's mouth, does it, papa?"

"Yes; it is composed of many flattened, horny plates placed crosswise on either side of the palate, and separated from one another by an open space in the middle line. They are smooth on the outer side, but the inner edge of each plate is frayed out into a kind of fringe, giving a hairy appearance to the whole of the inside of the mouth when viewed from below."

"Whalebone or baleen is black, isn't it, papa?" asked Ned.

"Not always; the color may vary from black to creamy white; and sometimes it is striped dark and light."

"Is there much of it in one whale, papa?"

"Yes, a great deal on each side of the jaw; there are more than three hundred of the plates, which, in a fine specimen, are about ten or twelve feet long and eleven inches wide at their base; and so much as a ton's weight has been taken from a large whale."

"And is the baleen all they kill the whales for, papa?"

"Oh, no, my son! the oil is very valuable, and there is a great deal of it in a large whale. One has been told of which yielded eighty-five barrels of oil."

"Oh, my! that's a great deal," cried Ned. "What a big fellow he must have been to hold so much as that."

"The whale is very valuable to the people of the polar regions," continued the Captain. "They eat the flesh, and drink the oil."

"Oh, papa! drink oil!" cried little Elsie, with a shudder of disgust.

"It seems very disgusting to us," he said, with a smile, "but in that very cold climate it is an absolute necessity—needful, in order to keep up the heat of the body by a bountiful supply of carbon."

"Whales are so big and strong it must be very dangerous to go near them, I suppose," said Elsie, with an inquiring look at her father.

"That is the case with some of the species," he said, "but not with all. The Greenland whale, for instance, is inoffensive and timorous, and will always flee from the presence of man, unless roused by the pain of a wound or the sight of its offspring in danger. In that case, it will sometimes turn fiercely upon the boat in which the harpooners are who launched the weapon, and, with its enormous tail, strike it a blow that will shatter it and drive men, ropes and oars high into the air. That Greenland whale shows great affection for both its mate and its young. When this whale is undisturbed, it usually remains at the surface of the water for ten minutes and spouts eight or nine times; then it goes down for from five to twenty minutes, then comes back to the surface to breathe again. But when harpooned, it dives to a great depth and does not come up again for half an hour. By noticing the direction of the line attached to the harpoon, the whalers judge of the spot in which it will rise and generally contrive to be so near it when it shows itself again, that they can insert another harpoon, or strike it with a lance before it can go down again."

"Poor thing!" sighed little Elsie, "I don't know how men can have the heart to be so cruel to animals that are not dangerous."

"It is because the oil, whalebone and so forth, are so valuable," said her father. "It sometimes happens that a stray whale blunders into the shallow waters of the Bermudas, and not being able to find the passage through which it entered, cannot get out again; so is caught like a mouse in a trap. It is soon discovered by the people, and there is a great excitement; full of delight, they quickly launch their boats filled with men armed with guns, lances and other weapons which would be of little use in the open sea, but answer their purpose in these shoal waters.

"As soon as the whale feels the sharp lance in its body it dives as it would in the open sea; but the water is so shallow that it strikes its head against the rocky bed of the sea with such force that it rises to the surface again half stunned.

"The hunters then take advantage of its bewildered condition to come close and use their deadly weapons till they have killed it. The fat and ivory are divided among the hunters who took part in the killing, but the flesh is given to any one who asks for it."

"Is it really good to eat, papa?" asked Ned.

"Those who are judges of whale flesh say there are three qualities of meat in every whale, the best resembling mutton, the second similar to pork, and the third resembling beef."

"The whales are so big and strong; don't they ever fight back when men try to kill them, papa?" asked Elsie.

"Yes," he replied, "sometimes a large whale will become belligerent, and is then a fearful antagonist, using its immense tail and huge jaws with fearful effect. I have heard of one driving its lower jaw entirely through the plankings of a stout whaling boat, and of another that destroyed nine boats in succession. Not only boats, but even ships have been sunk by the attack of an infuriated old bull cachalot. And an American ship, the 'Essex' was destroyed by the vengeful fury of a cachalot, which accidentally struck itself against the keel. Probably it thought the ship was a rival whale; it retired to a short distance, then charged full at the vessel, striking it one side of the bows, and crushing beams and planks like straws. There were only a few men on board at the time, most of the crew being in the boats engaged in chasing whales; and when they returned to their ship they found her fast sinking, so that they had barely time to secure a scanty stock of provisions and water. Using these provisions as economically as they could, they made for the coast of Peru, but only three lived to reach there, and they were found lying senseless in their boat, which was drifting at large in the ocean."

"I wonder any one is willing to go whaling when they may meet with such dreadful accidents," said Evelyn.

"I suppose it must be very profitable to tempt them to take such risks," remarked Chester.

"It is quite profitable," said the Captain; "a single whale often yields whalebone and blubber to the value of thirty-five hundred or four thousand dollars."

"I should think that might pay very well, particularly if they took a number."

"Our whale fishing is done mostly by the New Englanders, isn't it, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes," he said, "they went into it largely at a very early date; at first on their own coasts, but they were deserted by the whales before the middle of the eighteenth century; then ships were fitted out for the northern seas. But for a number of years the American whale-fishery has been declining, because of the scarcity of whales and the substitutes for whale oil and whalebone that have been found. However, New Bedford, Massachusetts, is the greatest whaling port in the world.

"Now it is nearing your bedtime, my boy, and I think you have had enough about the whale and his habits for one lesson."

"Yes, papa; and I thank you very much for telling it all to me," replied Ned, with a loving, grateful look up into his father's face.