Chapter 38 - Page 2

whales, pushed the boat away
from it with our oars: a thing often done in the fishery.

The close vicinity of the whale revived in the so long astute Skyeman
all the enthusiasm of his daring vocation. However quiet by nature, a
thorough-bred whaleman betrays no little excitement in sight of his
game. And it required some persuasion to prevent Jarl from darting
his harpoon: insanity under present circumstances; and of course
without object. But "Oh! for a dart," cried my Viking. And "Where's
now our old ship?" he added reminiscently.

But to my great joy the monster at last departed; rejoining the
shoal, whose lofty spoutings of flame were still visible upon the
distant line of the horizon; showing there, like the fitful starts of
the Aurora Borealis.

The sea retained its luminosity for about three hours; at the
expiration of half that period beginning to fade; and excepting
occasional faint illuminations consequent upon the rapid darting of
fish under water, the phenomenon at last wholly disappeared.

Heretofore, I had beheld several exhibitions of marine
phosphorescence, both in the Atlantic and Pacific. But nothing in
comparison with what was seen that night. In the Atlantic, there is
very seldom any portion of the ocean luminous, except the crests of
the waves; and these mostly appear so during wet, murky weather.
Whereas, in the Pacific, all instances of the sort, previously
corning under my notice, had been marked by patches of greenish
light, unattended with any pallidness of sea. Save twice on the coast
of Peru, where I was summoned from my hammock to the alarming
midnight cry of "All hands ahoy! tack ship!" And rushing on deck,
beheld the sea white as a shroud; for which reason it was feared we
were on soundings.

Now, sailors love marvels, and love to repeat them. And from many an
old shipmate I have heard various sage opinings, concerning the
phenomenon in question. Dismissing, as destitute of sound philosophic
probability, the extravagant notion of one of my nautical friends--no
less a philosopher than my Viking himself--namely: that the
phosphoresence of the sea is caused by a commotion among the
mermaids, whose golden locks, all torn and disheveled, do irradiate
the waters at such times; I proceed to record more reliable theories.

Faraday might, perhaps, impute the phenomenon to a peculiarly
electrical condition of the atmosphere; and to that solely. But
herein, my scientific friend would be stoutly contradicted by many
intelligent seamen, who, in part, impute it to the presence of large
quantities of putrescent animal matter; with which the sea is well
known to abound.

And it would seem not unreasonable to suppose, that