28 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



dicates steering directions to the helmsman by abrupt signals with 

 his arm. He takes the ship to leeward of the multitudinous bobbing 

 black things and soon he is running parallel to them about half a 

 mile to the south. Then in a great voice he yells for the ship's com- 

 pany to cease their chatter and be silent. And silence comes, but for 

 the moaning of the wind, the creak of the rig, and the bumping of 

 the skiffs. Soon these also are silenced at another command from the 

 height of the poop, and the great bulging vessel rides swiftly on in 

 silence until it is somewhat beyond the dancing black sea-ones. At a 

 further quiet command from the captain, it veers another point to 

 the north so that its course will cut them off and intercept them. A 

 hundred souls wait tensely. 



Then, without warning, a long black form breaks through the 

 waves right by the prow of the ship. It makes a blowing noise and 

 immediately curves over into the depths again. The captain calls a 

 command and three-score men leap over the bulwarks and swiftly 

 slide down into the skiffs. But almost before they are safely in them 

 another command rings out and the little boats are dumped into the 

 churning waves. Keen-bladed knives flash in the sunlight, and ropes 

 suddenly fly loose to be hauled aboard. The great ship sHdes through 

 and away from the little boats like a shark that has dropped a litter 

 of young ones. The little boats break out three pairs of oars each. 

 All together they veer to the northeast and scud off into the morn- 

 ing sunlight. 



And as they approach, the sea breaks up in a churn of foam 

 mingled with great black bodies. Into this go the little boats, and 

 from them flashes the glint of burnished copper and iron, and soon 

 also there is blood. Bloody spray and foam fly; there are hoarse 

 shouts of fearful men, long ropes taut into the sea, and the shatter- 

 ing of wood as boats are struck and capsize. The men are standing in 

 the skiffs now, and stabbing to right and left with long lances. All is 

 confusion spread out over four square miles of open ocean, a hun- 

 dred miles from land. 



Meanwhile the big ship has come about and wallows fitfully with 

 her tall, curved prow rising and falling into the oncoming waves. 

 Her great sails have dropped and lie, a tangled mass, athwart her 

 waist. The rigging is crowded with the tiny forms of climbing men. 

 The captain stands alone in the prow, signaling to the little boats as 



