“You lost your own whale because he led round the head of mine, and not only drew his own iron, but came nigh causing me to cut.  If any one is entitled to damage for such an act, it is I, who have been put to extra trouble in getting my fish.”

“I do believe it was my lance that did the job for the fellow!  I darted, and you struck; in that way I got the start of you, and may claim to have made the crittur’ spout the first blood.  But, hearkee, Gar’ner—­there’s my hand—­we’ve been friends so far, and I want to hold out friends.  I will make you a proposal, therefore.  Join stocks from this moment, and whale, and seal, and do all things else in common.  When we make a final stowage for the return passage, we can make a final division, and each man take his share of the common adventure.”

To do Roswell justice, he saw through the artifice of this proposition, the instant it was uttered.  It had the effect, notwithstanding, a good deal to mollify his feelings, since it induced him to believe that Daggett was manoeuvring to get at his great secret, rather than to assail his rights.

“You are part owner of your schooner, Captain Daggett,” our hero answered, “while I have no other interest in mine than my lay, as her master.  You may have authority to make such a bargain, but I have none.  It is my duty to fill the craft as fast and as full as I can, and carry her back safely to Deacon Pratt; but, I dare say, your Vineyard people will let you cruise about the earth at your pleasure, trusting to Providence for a profit.  I cannot accept your offer.”

“This is answering like a man, Gar’ner, and I like you all the better for it.  Forty or fifty barrels of ile shan’t break friendship between us.  I helped you into port at Beaufort, and gave up the salvage; and now I’ll help tow your whale alongside, and see you fairly through this business, too.  Perhaps I shall have all the better luck for being a little generous.”

There was prudence, as well as art, in this decision of Daggett’s.  Notwithstanding his ingenious pretensions to a claim in the whale, he knew perfectly well that no law would sustain it, and that, in addition to the chances of being beaten on the spot, which were at least equal, he would certainly be beaten in the courts at home, should he really attempt to carry out his declared design.  Then, he really deferred to the expectation that his future good fortune might be influenced by his present forbearance.  Superstition forms a material part of a sailor’s nature; if, indeed, it do not that of every man engaged in hazardous and uncertain adventures.  How far his hopes were justified in this last respect, will appear in the contents of a communication that Deacon Pratt received from the master of his schooner, and to which we will now refer, as the clearest and briefest mode of continuing the narrative.