I had written at school very modest verses, lauded by my schoolmates as very fine poetry, and I now composed a crude stanza which I wanted to put in the logbook. With some hesitation and diffidence, I went to Lakeum and stated my request.
“I thought I told you, Bleechly, that we didn’t want any scribbling on the log.”
“Well,” I replied, “they’ve made some fun of me because they say that my sighting the big sperm was only a matter of luck, and I want to show to whom I would like to have the watch go, if a still larger whale than mine is captured.”
I have spoken of Lakeum laughing heartily. He repeated the exercise.
“Put it in if you want to. I think, however, you’ll make more money whaling than you will writing poetry.”
They call me simply Fancy Chest, And say within my grasp The prize that every tar desires It may be mine to clasp.
But, if a man of keener sight A greater whale may claim, I choose a man of royal worth And Ohoo is his name.
Some of the crew asked me to repeat the lines. I noticed that they seemed to make an impression only upon Ohoo. He wanted to know if I was writing about something good to eat.
During our stay in the Arctic we did not once make a landing. Several times, in running in near the shore of Alaska, the Esquimos came out to us in their boats and we hove to for a few minutes to allow them to come on board. I noticed how skilfully they handled their canoes, which were made of the skin of some animal, probably the seal. The paddles were double-bladed, and very gracefully the oarsmen shifted the blades, sending the boats ahead with remarkable speed. The Esquimos had picked up a little English and their patois was curious and not always intelligible. For bits of rope, old hoops and so forth they traded knickknacks of their own making. For an old shirt, I purchased several of these articles which I proposed to carry home as mementos. About the middle of September, just as we were about to sail for Honolulu, we ran near shore for the last time, and just as we tacked several of their boats appeared. The season was over and they seemed to know that they would see us no more, for as we bore away, the occupants called out in cheery tones, “Goo’by—goo’by.”