176 NEWFOUNDLAND 



Hans Andersen, the mate, stood up in the stern, holding 

 his long lance, as the men rowed slowly up to the leviathan. 

 Then the rowers turned the boat round, and backed it in 

 towards their prey. At times they were lost in the great 

 swell, and then they would appear apparently beside the 

 sea-monster, whose pathetic rolling was at once changed into 

 spasmodic life. The whale, churning the water, now righted 

 itself, and at once turned on its attackers, who retreated at 

 full-speed. Now on one side and now on another, the plucky 

 mate tried to approach and bring off his death-thrust, but 

 all to no avail. Every time the exhausted cetacean had just 

 enough strength left to carry the war into the enemy's country, 

 and to turn the tables on its opponents. Mist and darkness 

 were rolling up, the sea was rising, and still the duel of 

 attack and defence went on. Full twenty times Andersen 

 got within 25 feet of his objective, and yet dare not give 

 the thrust, which, if attempted too soon, would mean his own 

 death. At last darkness hid the combatants from view, when 

 Stokken turned to me and said : 



"This very wild whale. Must give him another shot, or 

 Andersen will get hurt." He reached up and blew the steam 

 whistle three times as a signal for the boat to return. In a 

 few minutes Andersen's cheerful face was looking up at us, 

 the lance held high and streaming with blood. 



" Ha, so you stab him," said Stokken. 



"Ja, just as you blow the whistle," replied the mate, 

 with a smile. The pram and its occupants were soon aboard, 

 and the whale rolled in and lashed alongside by the tail. 

 The chase had lasted seven hours. 



Few Finbacks fight so well as this, but it was a sight 

 to see, and one I shall never forget. 



Rudolphi's Rorqual, commonly called the "Seijval," or 



