"I didn't go ashore, sir," answered I. "I only saw the boatmen that came off, and I thought they had all broken out of a lunatic asylum."
"I don't wonder at that," he said. "They were all talkers and no listeners. But did you notice any of them with a finger cut off?"
"Yes, sir, I saw two, and I thought it a little remarkable; and now I remember, our Antone has lost his, too."
"Yes," said he, "about every third man has his forefinger amputated. That's to escape military service, by disabling themselves from pulling a trigger. You see there's a certain proportion of them conscripted every year, and sent off to Portugal to serve in the army."
"Do you mean, sir," I asked, "that they cut the forefinger off, or have it cut off, designedly?"
"Certainly," said the captain. "I suppose the treatment is not very good in their army, and there is not much to excite patriotic feeling, as they seldom do any fighting except among themselves; so these young 'Guese will make a sacrifice of a finger to escape service. But I wonder that they are allowed to escape in that way. In the English or French service, they would be held; and if they couldn't fire a musket, they would have to serve as pioneers or something else. That is, if it was known that they maimed themselves intentionally. But it is time to go below," said he abruptly. "I have strong hopes of seeing whales to-morrow, and I will give five dollars to the man that 'raises' a large whale; that is, if we get him."
"But how large a one?" I asked.
"Say over fifty barrels. I will give five dollars bounty for fifty barrels of oil. Pass the word among all hands, when the watch is called. Good-night, Mr. Grafton. Let her go south-by-west through the night."
"South-by-west, sir," answered Father Grafton. "Good-night."