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"What seemed to be a giant iceberg …"
the earth—a sailor and a nobleman. But he was a dare-devil—didn't know fear—and was always venturing where none of the rest of us would dare go. He bought the 'McDonald,' remodeled and refitted her after he got back from the war— she was more than a whaler, and I had a feeling that she would carry Burrows and his crew away forever"
Eight bells rung just here, and Enoch left us, first ordering breakfast for the stranger, and saying he would come back to hear the rest after breakfast.
As I was going out, a sailor came to the door with a flat package, perhaps six inches thick and twelve or fourteen square, covered with a dirty piece of skin made from the intestines of a whale, which is used by the natives of this clime because it is light and waterproof.
"We found this in a coil of rope, sir; it must belong to him. It must be mostly lead."
It was heavy, and I set it inside the door, remarking that here was his precious pack.
"Precious! aye, aye, sir; precious don't describe it. Sacred, that's the word. That package will cause more excitement in the world than the discovery of gold in California. This is the first time it's been out of my sight or feeling for months and months; put it in the bunk here, please."
I went away, leaving him with his arms around his "sacred" package.
After breakfast, Enoch and I went to the little cabin to hear the stranger's story, and I, for one, confess to a great deal of curiosity. Our visitor was swallowing his last bowl of coffee as we went in. "So you knew Captain Burrows and the 'Duncan McDonald,'" said he. "Let me see, what is your name?"
"Alexander, captain of the 'Champion,' at your service, sir."
"Alexander; you're not the first mate, Enoch Alexander, who sat on a dead whale all night, holding on to a lance staff, after losing your boat and crew?"
"The same."
"Why, I've heard Captain Burrows speak of you a thousand times."
"But you were going to tell us about the 'Duncan McDonald.' Tell us the whole cruise from stem to stern."
"Let's see, where shall I begin?"
"At the very beginning," I put in.
"Well, perhaps you've noticed, and perhaps you have not, but I'm not a sailor by inclination or experience. I accidentally went out on the 'Duncan McDonald.' How old would you take me to be?"
"Fifty or fifty-five," said Enoch.
"Thanks, Captain, I know I must look all of that; but, let me see, forty-five, fifty-five, sixty-five, seventy—seventy—what year is this?"
"Seventy-three."
