126 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



nal and then lean-to manfully, trying to follow. There then ensues 

 an anxious period of many minutes while the two shallops almost 

 disappear towards the horizon, careening madly from side to side, 

 sometimes one behind the other, sometimes rushing through the 

 waters alongside. 



Meanwhile the big ships unfurl their tremendous square sails and, 

 by close-hauling them, get ponderously under way in pursuit. The 

 whole fleet is now strung out for miles across the ocean, the two 

 shallops far ahead, next the five others struggling to follow them, 

 and far behind the seven caravels sweeping along in a somewhat dis- 

 ordered line. Then, the two shallops come to an abrupt halt, and a 

 fountain of white spray arises between them. Far in the distance as 

 they are, still those on the big ships see men leaping up and down 

 and, for an instant, something enormous towering above them. 

 Every inch of canvas is spread to the wind in eagerness to come 

 up with the melee. Eventually the first of the big ships hauls abreast 

 of the five straining shallops, and lines are thrown to them. One 

 by one the little boats are taken in tow. 



But the battle ahead ends as suddenly as it began, and again the 

 two forward shallops go bounding over the waves at a speed with 

 which even the big ships cannot compete. But now they are being 

 towed by five instead of two lines, and the spume that passes their 

 rushing hulls is constantly flecked with crimson blood. The chase 

 goes on and on. 



After the third battle and endless resetting of the sails aboard 

 the caravels, the whole pageant has come almost half circle so that 

 the big ships are now running before the wind. In no time at all the 

 first of them bears down upon the struggle and, sweeping majes- 

 tically by, only a few yards to larboard, drops the tow lines of the 

 five other shallops, which instantly converge upon the raging pool 

 of bloody foam. Now arms rise and fall with an almost constant 

 rhythm, jabbing downwards with long, cruel, slender lances, and 

 with each jab more blood jets into the sea. This is all very grim 

 and satisfactory, but every man in the shallops knows that the 

 really dangerous period in the struggle is yet to come. And come 

 it does, with startling abruptness, but fortunately just then the 

 caravel of Captain Francois Sopite heaves-to within hailing distance. 



Suddenly the monster rears its cumbrous head above the waves. 



