Half a mile to the left we espied a lazy water-jet playing up at intervals.
"There she blows!" laughed Bonney.

"Seems like old times, I declare!" "What's that, sir ?" asked Capt.

Mazard, who had been below for the last ten minutes.
"A sperm-whale on the port quarter, sir!" Two or three miles ahead, another large iceberg was driving grandly down.

We could also see our late _consort_ a mile astern,--see and hear it too.

Higher and higher rose the fog.