bowl-like cavity in his skull, but which bore not the slightest scarry trace, or any token of ever having been a wound — “Well, the captain there will tell you how that came here; he knows.”

“No, I don’t,” said the captain, “but his mother did; he was born with it. Oh, you solemn rogue, you — you Bunger!

Was there ever such another Bunger in the watery world? Bunger, when you die, you ought to die in pickle, you dog; you should be preserved to future ages, you rascal.”

“What became of the White Whale?” now cried Ahab, who thus far had been impatiently listening to this by-play between the two Englishmen.

“Oh!” cried the one-armed captain, “oh, yes! Well; after he sounded, we didn’t