It was four bells in the morning watch. We had justfinished breakfast when the order came forward for thewatch on deck to stand by to heave her to and all handsstand by the boats.
“Port！ hard a port！” cried our sailing-master. “Clew upthe topsails！ Let the flying jib run down！ Back the jib overto windward and run down the foresail！” And so was ourschooner Sophie Sutherland hove to off the Japan coast，near Cape Jerimo， on April 10， 1893.
Then came moments of bustle and confusion. Therewere eighteen men to man the six boats. Some werehooking on the falls， others casting off the lashings；boat-steerers appeared with boat-compasses and waterbreakers，and boat-pullers with the lunch boxes. Hunterswere staggering under two or three shotguns， a rifle andheavy ammunition box， all of which were soon stowedaway with their oilskins and mittens in the boats.
The sailing-master gave his last orders， and away wewent， pulling three pairs of oars to gain our positions. Wewere in the weather boat， and so had a longer pull thanthe others. The first， second， and third lee boats soonhad all sail set and were running off to the southward andwestward with the wind beam， while the schooner wasrunning off to leeward of them， so that in case of accidentthe boats would have fair wind home.
It was a glorious morning， but our boat-steerer shookhis head ominously as he glanced at the rising sun andprophetically muttered： “Red sun in the morning， sailortake warning.” The sun had an angry look， and a few light，fleecy “nigger-heads” in that quarter seemed abashed andfrightened and soon disappeared.
Away off to the northward Cape Jerimo reared its black，forbidding head like some huge monster rising from thedeep. The winter’s snow， not yet entirely dissipated bythe sun， covered it in patches of glistening white， overwhich the light wind swept on its way out to sea. Hugegulls rose slowly， fluttering their wings in the light breezeand striking their webbed feet on the surface of the waterfor over half a mile before they could leave it. Hardlyhad the patter， patter died away when a flock of sea quailrose， and with whistling wings flew away to windward，where members of a large band of whales were disportingthemselves， their blowings sounding like the exhaustof steam engines. The harsh， discordant cries of a seaparrotgrated unpleasantly on the ear， and set half a dozenalert in a small band of seals that were ahead of us. Awaythey went， breaching and jumping entirely out of water.
A sea-gull with slow， deliberate flight and long， majesticcurves circled round us， and as a reminder of home a littleEnglish sparrow perched impudently on the fo’castle head，and， cocking his head on one side， chirped merrily. Theboats were soon among the seals， and the bang！ bang！ ofthe guns could be heard from down to leeward.
The wind was slowly rising， and by three o’clock as， witha dozen seals in our boat， we were deliberating whetherto go on or turn back， the recall flag was run up at theschooner’s mizzen—a sure sign that with the rising windthe barometer was falling and that our sailingmaster wasgetting anxious for the welfare of the boats.
Away we went before the wind with a single reef in oursail. With clenched teeth sat the boat-steerer， graspingthe steering oar firmly with both hands， his restless eyeson the alert—a glance at the schooner ahead， as we roseon a sea， another at the mainsheet， and then one asternwhere the dark ripple of the wind on the water told himof a coming puff or a large white-cap that threatened tooverwhelm us. The waves were holding high carnival，performing the strangest antics， as with wild glee theydanced along in fierce pursuit-now up， now down， here，there， and everywhere， until some great sea of liquid greenwith its milk-white crest of foam rose from the ocean’sthrobbing bosom and drove the others from view. But onlyfor a moment， for again under new forms they reappeared.
In the sun’s path they wandered， where every ripple， greator small， every little spit or spray looked like molten silver，where the water lost its dark green color and became adazzling， silvery flood， only to vanish and become a wildwaste of sullen turbulence， each dark foreboding sea risingand breaking， then rolling on again. The dash， the sparkle，the silvery light soon vanished with the sun， which becameobscured by black clouds that were rolling swiftly in fromthe west， northwest； apt heralds of the coming storm.
We soon reached the schooner and found ourselvesthe last aboard. In a few minutes the seals were skinned，boats and decks washed， and we were down below by theroaring fo’castle fire， with a wash， change of clothes， and ahot， substantial supper before us. Sail had been put on theschooner， as we had a run of seventy-five miles to make tothe southward before morning， so as to get in the midst ofthe seals， out of which we had strayed during the last twodays’ hunting.
We had the first watch from eight to midnight. Thewind was soon blowing half a gale， and our sailing-masterexpected little sleep that night as he paced up and downthe poop. The topsails were soon clewed up and madefast， then the flying jib run down and furled. Quite a seawas rolling by this time， occasionally breaking over thedecks， flooding them and threatening to smash the boats.
