HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN WHALE FISHERY. 163 



"Now, lads, you face round to paddle, you can all see him. I declare, 

 he's a noble fellow — ninety barrels under his hide if there's a drop. Bun- 

 ker, do you see that fellow? he's got a back like a ten-acre lot — paddle 

 hard, lads, — if you miss him, go right overboard yourself, and don't come 

 up again — long and strong stroke, boys, on your paddles. See that boat 

 coining — that's Ray, the second-mate of the Pandora — three or four 

 more spouts, and we'll have him — he's ours, sure! they can't get here in 

 time — scratch hard, boys! don't hit your paddles on the gunwale. Stand 

 up, Bunker, and get your jib-tack clear! Don't let them gaily* you, if 

 they shout in that boat." 



"All right !" said his boat-steerer, with his eager hand resting on the 

 iron pole, " Never fear, sir." 



" Paddle hard, lads, a stroke or two. That's right, Bunker. Keep 

 cool, my boy, keep cool, and make sure of him." 



A wild and prolonged shout raug on the air from six sturdy pairs 

 of lungs in the Pandora's waist-boat, as Mr. Ray, seeing that he was 

 baffled, let fly his sheets and rounded to, a ship's length to windward. 

 It was too late, however. 



"All right," said Father Grafton, in the same dry, quiet tone, as be- 

 fore. " Hold your hand, Bunker. Hold your hand, boy, till you're past 

 his hump — another shoot, lads — way enough, in paddles. Now, Bunker, 

 give it to him. Down to your oars, the rest. Give him t'other one, boy ! 

 Well done ! both irons to the hitches.f Hold water, all. Bear a hand, 

 now, and roll up that sail. Wet line, Tom ! wet line ! Where's your 

 bucket? All ready with your sail, Bunker '? Let her come, then — all 

 right. Come aft here, now, and let me get a dig at him." 



The line was spinning round the loggerhead with a whizzing noise, 

 and a smoking heat, as the huge leviathan, stung to the quick, darted 

 down into the depths of the ocean. Bunker threw on the second round 

 turn to check him, and jamming the bight of the line over the stern- 



eighty-fi ve barrels of oil, and shortened onr voyage two months." (See The Whale and 

 his Captors, p. 198.) 



Another international race took place once in Delago Bay. A large whale was 

 "raised" at the same moment by an English and an American ship, about equidistant 

 from each, aud immediately the boats were down. The English, having the lead, find- 

 ing the American gaining, bore wide from the whale to throw their rivals on the out- 

 side. When, however, they both came, side by side, abreast of the whale, the English 

 inside, of course, one of the American sailors sprang from his seat and darted his har- 

 poon directly over the English boat, planting it clear to the socket in the whale's life, 

 and the Englishmen, hastily releasing themselves from their perilous position, left the 

 field to their American cousins, while the shores of Delago Bay echoed with the cheers 

 of the comrades of the victors. (N. A. Review, 1834.) 



*Mr. Macy thinks this word may be a corruption of the obsolete verb galloiv, to bo 

 found in old writers. Thus Shakespeare says, in King Lear, ''The wrathful skies gal- 

 low the deep wanderers of the dark." 



tit sometimes happens that as the iron is thrown, the whale " bows," and the harpoon 

 striking in the concave against what is called " slack blubber " fails to penetrate. (See 

 Nimrod of the Sea, p. 378.) 



