over his shoulder at the body of the monster, which despite their best efforts was still plunging toward them; and at the last lift and sweep of its body brought down its flukes with the precision of an enormous knife, just striking the nose of the boat, and cutting off clean a few inches of it. Such a stroke a very little further would have shivered the boat completely, and probably have brought death to every man in it. At another time, spearing a whale proved even more serious; three boats were smashed on his body, and a boat steerer killed.
As to treatment on shipboard there was little to complain of, says Bradbury. The American whaler was quite an independent man. He took his share, or "lay," in the voyage, and realized according as the fishing proved successful. On the Sally Ann there was an abundance of pork and beans; and on Sundays and holidays,—and every day that a whale was captured it was a holiday also,—there was duff. Sunday was observed as a day of rest, unless a whale spouted; when all hands were ready to man the boats.
The officers, with but a single exception, were agreeable men. It w r as a temperance crew and there was no grog. The exceptionable officer was a mate by the name of Swayne, a Virginian, and of so fiery a temper and behavior that he was dubbed "Red Gills. Between this man and a little Englishman named Jack Richards, there were frequent quarrels, Bradbury once interferring to prevent the mate attacking Richards with a capstan bar; then being complained of as "preventing discipline," he was himself ordered "into the rigging," and the three mates were proceeding to enforce the command. But the sailors from the forecastle demurred, and Bradbury's explanation to the captain was accepted as satisfactory. Bradbury considered that he, no less than officer, was a man, and claimed a man's treatment. The final fate
