1 ] 8 DANGERS OF THE WHALE FISHER'/. 



who, when engaged in lancing a whale into which he had previously 

 struck a harpoon, incautiously cast a little line under his feet that he 

 had just hauled into his boat, after it had been drawn out by the fish. 

 A painful stroke of his lance induced the whale to dart suddenly down- 

 wards; his line began to run out from beneath his feet, and in an instant 

 caught him by a turn round his body. He had just time to cry out, 

 " clear away the line ; oh ! dear," when he was almost cut asunder, 

 dragged over board and never seen afterwards. The line was cut at the 

 moment, but without avail. 



The fish generally remains about half an hour, but sometimes a great 

 deal longer, under water after being struck ; and then it often rises at a 

 considerable distance from the spot where it had made its descent. 

 Immediately that it reappears, the assisting boats make for the place 

 with the utmost speed, and, as they reach it, each harpooner plunges his 

 harpoon into its back, to the amount of three or four, or more, as 

 circumstances direct, and according to the size of the whale. Most 

 frequently, however, it descends for a few minutes after receiving the 

 second harpoon, and obliges the other boats to wait its return to the 

 surface before any further attack can be made. It is afterwards actively 

 plied with lances, which are thrust into its body, aiming at its vitals. 

 At length, when exhausted by numerous wounds and the loss of blood, 

 which flows from the huge animal in copious streams, it indicates the 

 approach of its dissolution by discharging from its blow-holes a mixture 

 of blood along with air and mucus, and finally of blood alone. The sea 

 to a great extent around is dyed with its blood, and the ice, boats and 

 men, are sometimes drenched with the same. Its track is likewise 

 marked by a broad pellicle of oil, which exudes from its wounds, arid 

 appears on the surface of the sea. Its final capture is sometimes 

 preceded by a convulsive and energetic struggle, in which its tail, reared, 

 whirled, and violently jerked in the air, resounds to the distance of 

 miles. In'ldying it turns on its back or on its side, which joyful 

 circumstance is announced by the captors with the striking of their 

 flags, accompanied with three lively huzzas. The exhaustion which the 

 whale exhibits on returning to the surface after its first plunge, is to be 

 attributed to the immense pressure it has sustained from the water, from 

 the great depth to which it had descended. At the depth of eight 

 hundred fathoms, as Captain Scoresby calculates, this pressure must 

 be equal to 211,200 tons. " This," he adds, " is a degree of pressure of 

 which we can have but an imperfect conception. It may assist our 

 comprehension, however, to be informed that it exceeds in weight, sixty 



