“Thank God!” replied Mrs Campbell; “now I am satisfied.”
The Portsmouth cast off the French line-of-battle ship, as soon as they had jury-masts up and could make sail on them, and the convoy proceeded to the mouth of the Saint Lawrence.
“Captain Wilson,” said Percival, whose eyes were fixed on the water, “what animals are those, tumbling about and blowing,—those great white things?”
“They are what are called the white whale, Percival,” replied Captain Wilson; “they are not often seen, except about here.”
“Then what is the colour of the other whales?”
“The northern whales are black—they are called the black whales; but the southern, or spermaceti whales, are not so dark in colour.”
Captain Wilson then, at Percival’s request, gave him an account of how the whales were caught, for he had been several voyages himself in the northern whale-fishery.
Percival was never tired of asking questions, and Captain Wilson was very kind to him, and always answered him. John, generally speaking, stood by when Captain Wilson was talking, looking very solemn and very attentive, but not saying a word.
“Well, John,” said Emma to him after the conversation had been ended, “what was Captain Wilson telling you about?”
“Whales,” replied John, walking past her.