Softly Comes the Dauon 125 



Then suddenly something breaks out of the waves right before 

 the little shallops, and a twenty-foot plume of white vapor whistles 

 skyward, curves over, and begins to drift away on the fresh breeze, 

 vanishing almost immediately. At once all the boats fling themselves 

 into action and labor furiously towards the leviathan. It sinks slowly 

 below, rolling forward like a great lazy ship, quite unaware that it 

 is the center of so much concentrated attention. When it has gone 

 below, the shallops redouble their effort and rush to the spot where 

 it appeared and on over the sea as if bent upon pursuing a wraith 

 forever on the bosom of the infinite. They know their business, 

 however, for suddenly right before them, and twice as close this 

 time, the great black dome again breaks the waves and, whistling 

 shrilly, lets out another tall, steamy jet. Then again it rolls lazily 

 over, forward and away from the straining shallops. The process 

 repeats itself twice more, but then the little boats are almost upon 

 the huge form. And now comes the critical time for every man to 

 strain his tired muscles to the utmost. The leather thongs lashed to 

 oars and rowlocks "thwang," and the knife-edged prows of the 

 boats literally cut the waves. Then, all at once, it happens. 



Out of the murky chop once again rolls the immensity of shining 

 blackness; once again the white mist comes wheezing out of it, but 

 it never reaches its full height this time because the boats are right 

 on top of it. Without a sound from any man, and without the 

 pounding rhythm of the jerking oars faltering even for a moment, 

 three brawny arms are raised high and three fifteen-foot staves with 

 keen-barbed harpoon heads and trailing stout ropes arch out and 

 thud into the mass. There is a moment of silence, and then two 

 steersmen raise a shout. There is blood in the waves and two lines 

 have gone taut and started whirring out between the stout pegs 

 hammered into the forepieces of the shallops. Two harpoons have 

 struck. 



But there is no time for more than a single shout because the two 

 boats lurch forward and almost go below. All is now confusion. 

 Oars are swung inboard and shipped; men leap to avoid the whirl- 

 ing loops of the rope as it rushes out over the prow; and the steers- 

 men wrestle desperately with their blades. The two boats rush 

 away from the others, firmly attached to, and now towed by, the 

 monster of the deep. The others hoist white cloths on oars as a sig- 



