STOVE BOATS AND DEAD WHALES I45 



Now with the last volcanic peak dipping below the 

 horizon astern the Meribah commenced her return cruise 

 westwards along the Line. 



The deck bore ample evidence of the recent visit in the 

 form of several giant Galapagos tortoises munching at the 

 leaves of cactus. Fresh meat and tasty soups were 

 ensured for another few weeks. 



The wind that had borne the ship away from the 

 islands failed and the broad spread of canvas hung limply 

 overhead. Suddenly the lethargic atmosphere was 

 pierced by the sharp call from aloft. 



'There she blo-o-ows! There, there, the-e-re!' 



In a few minutes four crews of sweating oarsmen were 

 pulling over the glassy sea in a broad line towards a large 



school of sperm whale four miles to the southward. Fly- 

 ing fish shot from under the boat's bows and skimmed 

 over the water. 



With still two miles to go Hodge made a silent signal 

 that all boats should ship oars and use paddles. Native 

 fashion the crews sat along the gunwales and the rhythmic 

 dipping of their paddles sent the boats gliding noiselessly 

 towards the prey. A single tap of wood on wood could 

 'galley' the whales and stampede them like cattle. The 

 boats still had a mile to go when the whales showed their 

 flukes and went down; and now each mate was left to 

 manoeuvre his boat to the best of his judgement. 



Thomas, whose boat was on the left flank, was sure that 



