Navigating the Cape was always a treacherous business, and it had taken the Intrepid a full ten days to cross as she braced the infamous winds. And the return leg, Adam knew, was even more dangerous.

From there they had gone on to ply the waters off Australia, where the hunting had been much better. Now some two years later, and with her hold filled with barrels of sperm oil and whalebone, the Intrepid was at last on her way home. By Adam’s reckoning, the dreaded Cape was less than one day’s sail from their current position.

On replacing the quill into its inkpot, he walked across his small stateroom where he lay down upon the narrow bed, thinking. It was late evening and he watched the glowing whale oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling as they swayed in time with the rocking ship.

Despite its profitability, this expedition had not been an easy one. Given the initially poor hunting in the Atlantic, some of the crew had grown dangerously restless, forcing Adam and his first mate to take up arms and return order to the ship. Mutinies were rare on whaling ships, but not unheard of. Even so, Adam had known that had they not successfully rounded the Cape and soon found good hunting, the situation would have worsened. But now each man would fare well in the take. Adam was glad for that, because he knew how hard they had worked, and the kind of joyous pride he would see in their eyes when the Intrepid finally reentered New Bedford Harbor.

On some of his previous voyages the crew members had not been so lucky. Because they often bought their clothing, tools, and sundries on credit, many of the poor devils were already in debt even before their ship set sail. If the voyage was unsuccessful, it was conceivable that some might return home without enough share of the take to set accounts right. Because of that, most of those same men were forced to immediately sign onto yet another risky voyage, leaving them barely enough time to kiss their wives and sweethearts “hello” and then “good-bye.”

Given the terrible living conditions on board a whaling vessel, Adam had always thought it a wonder that so many men remained willing to risk their lives chasing and killing the great beasts. He ate well, but the crew’s rations ranged from unpleasant to outright revolting. Worse, life aboard a whaling ship was largely repulsive. Rats, cockroaches, bedbugs, and fleas were facts of life, their continual presences owing to the residual whale offal and blood. Injuries and illnesses were commonplace, and it was usually the captain who tended to the men, using his limited knowledge and whatever supplies were available at the time. He did his best, but the results were often far from favorable.

There was also the terrible nature of the job at hand—the chasing and killing of the whales, the stripping of their flesh, the boiling of it to create whale oil, and the grisly harvesting of their bones for the making of such seeming trivialities as women’s corsets and children’s toys. And although as captain he did not participate directly, the overseeing of it was horrible enough. Accidents abounded, as was evidenced by the jagged scar on Adam’s left arm.

As if those hardships were not torture enough, there was yet another deprivation that many of the men considered the worst of all. For two long years they had been without the comforts of their wives, mistresses, and lovers. There were always whores in the ports, but their lurid services were expensive, short-lived, and often dangerous. Adam had indulged during earlier days, but since their wedding day he had been ever faithful to Constance.

Constance, he thought, . . . my beloved Constance . . .

Reaching under his shirt, he produced the scrimshaw locket that was the exact duplicate of the one Constance wore, and he opened it to admire her likeness. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair and a lush body that caused a deep hunger within him every time he thought of her. After staring at her portrait for a time, he at last slipped the precious locket back under his shirt.

He then left his bed and walked across the cabin, where he produced a ring of keys from his trousers. After unlocking his sea chest, he removed the great red pennant that Constance had fashioned for him just before he left on this voyage. Holding the pennant against his face, Adam tried to smell the last traces of the perfume with which Constance had laden it the night before his departure. He could barely sense it now. But even this faintest of scents helped make it seem as if she were really there; her firm body pressed against his, her soft cheek lying gently on his shoulder.