178 "whales has feelin's." 



altogether. When a fighting whale has chewed 

 up two of your boats and beaten you roundly in 

 his first pitched battle, it is a little unpleasant to 

 go at him again. 



Our blood ran high, as we approached the 

 infuriated monster. His spout stood up as tall as 

 ever. He had been no whit enfeebled by his 

 tremendous exertions. Two harpoons stuck out 

 of his back. His flukes swung in air with deadly 

 force and rapidity. 



The mate went to leeward of him and fired a 

 bomb-lance into him, but missed his vitals. 



Instantly the wounded creature turned about, 

 heaved his head way out of water, opened his 

 cavernous mouth, and made a frightful lunge for 

 the mate's boat. I was just in time. I stood in 

 the bow of my boat, hardly able to wait long 

 enough to choose the right spot for the stab. I 

 was mad with excitement. I plunged the long 

 lance deep into the whale's vitals, and the blood 

 came belching out of his spout-hole rich and red 

 and warm, and after a few moments our victim 

 turned up dead and in a few moments more we 

 had him in the fluke chains along side the Clara 

 Bell. 



Deafening indeed were the cheers from the 

 ship's deck when we had won that desperate 



