“Does your mother never fry doughnuts,” he said, “in deep fat?”
I nodded—and I had a sudden lump in my throat. My mother did that, and often; and her doughnuts were—but it was not of doughnuts I was thinking.
“Well,” Peter went on, “your mother would not have asked me that question. Does the fat never catch afire?”
I shook my head. “It never does when mother fries them. I tried it once, and it did. Was that the reason?”
“Just that,” he said. And then our boat was ordered away, and Peter ran.
The red sun was resting on the rim of the sea as we started back. From my place in the bow I watched it, and I lost myself. Our course was directly in the golden track that led to the sun, and whales and the black smoke of blubber and oily decks had no place in my thoughts as I saw the sun sink into the sea.
CHAPTER VI
We stood away that night, going under very easy sail. We were in no hurry, and did not want to get far away, but Captain Nelson had a prejudice against whaling in too much company. I was out at daybreak, eager and excited, and stayed out all day when my duties did not call me below. Much of the time I spent in the maintop, which I attained for the first time, my heart in my mouth as I crawled slowly and carefully up and out on the futtock shrouds. Nothing would have induced me to go through the lubber-hole. I had with me my battered old glass—a load of junk, but it was better than nothing—and I squatted there and watched for those drifting white plumes until my eyes ached and watered. Peter laughed at me once when I came down, but I went up again.
We sighted no whales that first day, although we expected to see them, and kept a sharp lookout; but the next day, having laid a course almost due south, and being then in about the latitude of Frying Pan Shoals, we raised some. I was in the maintop again, looking through my glass at the wrong place, of course. I should have done better without the glass. At the mastheads we had two Kanakas, one called the Admiral, I never could learn why. He had the most wonderful way of crying “Bl-o-ows!” that I ever heard. The cry began on a very high and piercing falsetto, sank a little in pitch, quavered and trilled for a long time, then went up again like a bugle, and ended as clear as a bell. I wonder that it did not scare all the whales within four miles, but the whales seemed to like it.
As I sat with my eyes glued to the glass I heard the Admiral’s cry begin. It startled me, for I had never heard it before, and I almost dropped the glass. I got it through my head what it was long before the Admiral had finished.