132 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



air until at least forty feet of it was lifted 

 against the sky like some weird, mighty column, 

 its black sides glistening and its belly showing 

 white. Then the giant bulk crashed down again 

 with a smack on the sea that might have been 

 heard for miles and an impact that sent tons of 

 water splashing high in air. For an instant the 

 monster labored on the water as if mortally hurt, 

 spouting up fountains of clotted blood that 

 splattered over the ice blocks and turned them 

 from snow white to crimson. Then a second 

 time the whale sounded and went speeding away 

 to windward, heading for the ice pack. 



It dragged the boat at a dizzy clip despite the 

 fact that the line was running out so fast as to 

 seem to the men in the boat a mere vibrant, in- 

 distinct smear of yellow. The boat was taken 

 slicing through the big waves, driving its nose 

 at times beneath the water, and knocking against 

 lumps of ice. A long ice block appeared in its 

 course. A collision seemed inevitable unless the 

 boat was cut loose from the whale. 



Captain Shorey was watching the chase with 

 fierce intentness as he leaned upon his crutches 



