WHALES AND WHALING 



or a tethered axe. His crew are resting on their oars, or 

 gently backwatering if the current is with them, while he 

 and his cox stand with their eyes fixed upon the enormous 

 tail. The beast is going to dive again and, the moment 

 the tail is raised, the harpooner is going to try for a cut 

 at the backbone. 



The tail rises, and before it can fall or the head dis- 

 appear, the harpooner, at the risk of his own life and 

 those of the crew, throws his lance under it. There is 

 another fearful roar from the whale which almost drowns 

 the cox's shout to the rowers to backwater, and the tail 

 drops inert as the four oar-blades lift the little craft out 

 of harm's way. 



A triumphant shout from the crew informs the other 

 boats that the blood is streaming from the new wound, 

 and they know that the lower part of the whalers verte- 

 bral column has been severed. Meanwhile these others 

 are not idle, for they have pulled nearer again, and their 

 tow-ropes are once more hanging slack as the unfortunate 

 animal makes another dive. This time he scarcely seems 

 to be down a moment, then up again, and, distracted with 

 pain and with rage at not being able to shake off his tor- 

 mentors, makes a feeble turn to the right, presenting a 

 broadside to the three boats that are fast coming up with 

 him. He will never get away now, for his principal means 

 of locomotion is useless. 



Another harpoon whizzes from the foremost boat ; the 



point cleaves its way through an artery and the blood 



spurts out in spasmodic jets. Again he dives, but for less 



than a minute, and when he comes up to blow there is 



Q 241 



