His CAPTORS. 53 



Boats in Chase. Oars A-peak. One Boat Fast. 



Three boats' crews pulled merrily away, glad 

 of something to stir their blood, and with eager 

 hope to obtain the oily material wherewith to 

 fill their ship and make good their " lay." The 

 whale was going leisurely to windward, blow- 

 ing every now and again two or three times, 

 then " turning tail," " up flukes," and sinking. 

 The boats "headed" after him, keeping a dis- 

 tance of nearly one quarter of a mile from each 

 other, to scatter (as it is called) their chances. 



Fortunately, as the oarsmen were "hove up," 

 that is, had their oars a-peak, about the place 

 where they expected the whale would next ap- 

 pear, the huge creature rose hard by the cap- 

 tain's boat, and all the harpooner in the bow had 

 to do was to plunge his two keen cold irons, 

 which are always secured to one tow-line, into 

 the monster's blubber-sides. This he did so 

 well as to hit the " fish's life" at once, and make 

 him spout blood forthwith. It was the first no- 

 tice the poor fellow had of the proximity of his 

 powerful captors, and the sudden piercing of the 

 barbed harpoons to his very vitals made him ca- 

 per and run most furiously. 



The boat spun after him with almost the 

 swiftness of a top, now diving through the seas 



