[CHAPTER V]
THE A, B, C OF WHALES
One damp morning, with frequent showers falling here and there over the sea and not a drop wetting the brig, Captain Winchester suddenly stopped pacing up and down the weather side of the quarter-deck, threw his head up into the wind, and sniffed the air.
"There's sperm whale about as sure as I live," he said to Mr. Landers. "I smell 'em."
Mr. Landers inhaled the breeze through his nose in jerky little sniffs.
"No doubt about it," he replied. "You could cut the smell with a knife."
I was at the wheel and overheard this talk. I smiled. These old sea dogs, I supposed, were having a little joke. The skipper saw the grin on my face.