“Then, alongside at once,” was the captain’s order, which was promptly obeyed, so that in a few minutes the boat was only about ten feet from the body of the whale. The animal did not move. Was it asleep? In that case there was hope that the very first stroke might be fatal. But it was hardly likely. Captain Hull felt only too sure that there was some different cause to be assigned for its remaining so still and stationary; and the rapid glances of the boatswain showed that he entertained the same suspicion. But it was no time for speculation; the moment for action had arrived, and no attempt was made on either hand to exchange ideas upon the subject.
Captain Hull seized his weapon tightly by the shaft, and having poised it several times in the air, in order to make more sure of his aim, he gathered all his strength and hurled it against the side of the finback.
“Backwater!” he shouted.
The sailors pushed back with all their might, and the boat in an instant was beyond the range of the creature’s tail.
And now the immoveableness of the animal was at once accounted for.
“See; there’s a youngster!” exclaimed Howick.
And he was not mistaken. Startled by the blow of the harpoon the monster had heeled over onto its side, and the movement revealed a young whale which the mother had been disturbed in the act of suckling. It was a discovery which made Captain Hull aware that the capture of the whale would be attended with double difficulty; he knew that she would defend “her little one” (if such a term can be applied to a creature that was at least twenty feet long) with the most determined fury; yet having made what he considered a successful commencement of the attack, he would not be daunted, nor deterred from his endeavour to secure so fine a prize.
The whale did not, as sometimes happens, make a precipitate dash upon the boat, a proceeding which necessitates the instant cutting of the harpoon-line, and an immediate retreat, but it took the far more usual course of diving downwards almost perpendicularly. It was followed by its calf; very soon, however, after rising once again to the surface with a sudden bound, it began swimming along under water with great rapidity.
Before its first plunge Captain Hull and Howick had sufficient opportunity to observe that it was an unusually large Balaenoptera, measuring at least eighty feet from head to tail, its colour being of a yellowish-brown, dappled with numerous spots of a darker shade.
The pursuit, or what may be more aptly termed “the towing,” of the whale had now fairly commenced. The sailors had shipped their oars, and the whaleboat darted like an arrow along the surface of the waves. In spite of the oscillation, which was very violent, Howick succeeded in maintaining equilibrium, and did not need the repeated injunctions with which the agitated captain urged his boatswain to be upon his guard.
But fast as the boat flew along, she could not keep pace with the whale, and so rapidly did the line run out that except proper care had been taken to keep the bucket in which it was coiled filled with water, the friction against the edge of the boat would inevitably have caused it to take fire. The whale gave no indication of moderating its speed, so that the first line was soon exhausted, and the second had to be attached to its end, only to be run out with like rapidity. In a few minutes more it was necessary to join on the third line; it was evident that the whale had not been hit in a vital part, and so far from rising to the surface, the oblique direction of the rope indicated that the creature was seeking yet greater depths.
“Confound it!” exclaimed the captain; “it seems as if the brute is going to run out all our line.”
“Yes; and see what a distance the animal is dragging us away from the Pilgrim,” answered Howick.
“Sooner or later, however,” said Captain Hull, “the thing must come to the surface; she is not a fish, you know.”
“She is saving her breath for the sake of her speed,” said one of the sailors with a grin.
But grin as he might, both he and his companions began to look serious when the fourth line had to be added to the third, and more serious still when the fifth was added to the fourth. The captain even began to mutter imprecations upon the refractory brute that was putting their patience to so severe a test.
The last line was nearly all uncoiled, and the general consternation was growing very great, when there was observed to be a slight slackening in the tension.
“Thank Heaven!” cried the captain; “the beast has tired herself out at last.”
Casting his eye towards the Pilgrim, he saw at a glance that she could not be less than five miles to leeward. It was a long distance, but when, according to his arrangement, he had hoisted the flag on the boat-hook which was to be the signal for the ship to approach, he had the satisfaction of seeing that Dick Sands and the negroes at once began bracing the yards to get as near as possible to the wind. The breeze, however, blew only in short, unsteady puffs, and it was only too evident that the Pilgrim would have considerable difficulty in working her way to the whaleboat, even if she succeeded at last.
Meantime, just as had been expected, the whale had risen to the surface of the water, the harpoon still fixed firmly in her side. She remained motionless, apparently waiting for her calf, which she had far outdistanced in her mad career. Captain Hull ordered his men to pull towards her as rapidly as they could, and on
