Little David Loomis, only eight years old, was permitted by his father, Captain Loomis, to accompany him on a whaling expedition. While out at sea the body of a dead whale was discovered at some distance from the boat, floating in the water. Several of the crew manned one of the smaller boats and rowed away over the glassy sea to secure the carcase. David was allowed to go with them. Before the boat reached the floating whale, however, a fearful squall suddenly arose; the wind screamed and whistled round their little boat; the waves, lashed to sudden fury, hissed and foamed, breaking over them like a deluge, whilst a terrible peel of thunder broke right overhead. David was scared almost out of his senses. He had never before seen such a storm. But he sat still, as one of the crew had told him to do, looking out, oh! how eagerly, for some signs of his father's vessel. Nothing was to be seen, however, but a wild waste of heaving, tumbling billows, over which the boat seemed actually to fly. Suddenly the clouds lifted, the wind ceased, and all was as calm as before the storm. Nothing was to be seen of the dead whale, and the crew was content to let it float where it would, while they rowed in search of their vessel. Ere long they were safe and sound on board with Captain Loomis. David could not help repeating from a poem he had recited at school, the words: "Isn't God upon the ocean, just the same as on the land?"