164 NIMEOD OF THE SEA; OB, 



flukes. A little line might be gained for a short time, but 

 it would soon be torn through the clinging hands, almost 

 taking the flesh with it. This was certainly aggravating to 



the excited captain. Captain B was a religious man, 



and under his own vine and fig-tree, with none to rile or 

 make afraid, I guess he would average well in patience line. 

 But with our troubles on this day, I believe he wished that 

 there had been no sin in a ripping oath. He was a little hard 

 on his bow-oarsman, and rather more than hinted at some- 

 body's cowardice. This was. too much for my hot Welsh 

 blood, and with the aid of two others I brought the boat 

 right up to the iron, and coolly passed a bight around the 

 thwart and made all fast. This suggested that there would 

 be a thundering row in the boat directly, if the whale was 

 not killed. 



The captain was delighted to be held so well up to his 

 work, and he plied his lance, thrust after thrust; but the 

 brute seemed to bear a charmed life. He would not spout 

 blood, and the little jets of blood which spirt from a lance 

 wound would not bleed a whale to death in a week. Our 

 boat buried her nose in the waves, and the bloody spray 

 leaped over her side as we swept right royally onward. 



Now our majestic race-horse grew impatient of our prod- 

 ding. He milled short across our course, and we ran plump 

 against his head. 



" Slack line !" roared the old man. " Starn all ! Slack line 

 and starn !" 



He turned in his tracks to step aft of the bow-oar, fearing 

 the up-cut of the jaw, when he saw that the line was fast 

 about the thwart. " For God's sake, clear that line !" he 

 shouted, as he sprung forward for the hatchet to cut; but 

 the loosened bight went over the side, as the whale came up 

 under the forward part of the boat, and carried the bow clear 

 of the water as he rounded slowly forward. 



