In short, he was none of your effeminate barbarians.
    Previous to this, he had been two or three voyages in Sydney whalemen;
always, however, as in the present instance, shipping at the Bay of Islands, and
receiving his discharge there on the homeward-bound passage. In this way, his
countrymen frequently entered on board the colonial whaling vessels.
    There was a man among us who had sailed with the Mowree on his first voyage,
and he told me that he had not changed a particle since then.
    Some queer things this fellow told me. The following is one of his stories.
I give it for what it is worth; premising, however, that from what I know of
Bembo, and the foolhardy, dare-devil feats sometimes performed in the
sperm-whale fishery, I believe in its substantial truth.
    As may be believed, Bembo was a wild one after a fish; indeed, all New
Zealanders engaged in this business are; it seems to harmonise sweetly with
their blood-thirsty propensities. At sea, the best English they speak is the
South Seaman's slogan in lowering away, »A dead whale, or a stove boat!« Game to
the marrow, these fellows are generally selected for harpooneers; a post in
which a nervous, timid man would be rather out of his element.
    In darting, the harpooneer, of course, stands erect in the head of the boat,
one knee braced against a support. But Bembo disdained this; and was always
pulled up to his fish, balancing himself right on the gunwale.
    But to my story. One morning, at daybreak, they brought him up to a large,
lone whale. He darted his harpoon, and missed; and the fish sounded. After a
while, the monster rose again, about a mile off, and they made after him. But he
was frightened, or gallied, as they call it; and noon came, and the boat was
still chasing him. In whaling, as long as the fish is in sight, and no matter
what may have been previously undergone, there is no giving up, except when
night comes; and nowadays, when whales are so hard to be got, frequently not
even then. At last, Bembo's whale was alongside for the second time. He darted
both harpoons; but, as sometimes happens to the best men, by some unaccountable
chance, once more missed. Though it is well known that such failures will happen
at times, they, nevertheless, occasion the bitterest disappointment to a boat's
crew