222 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



anxious. Then it hardened into an expression 

 of grim determination. He had sat motionless 

 at the beginning. Now when he saw his vaunted 

 superiority slipping through his fingers he began 

 to " jockey " — throwing his body forward in vio- 

 lent lunges at every stroke of the sweeps, push- 

 ing with all his might on the stroke oar, and 

 booming out, "Pull, my boys; pull away, my 

 boys." 



But old Gabriel was "jockeying," too, and 

 encouraging us in the same fashion. 



" We show dat mate," he kept repeating. 

 " We show him. Steady together, my lads. 

 Pull away!" 



And we pulled as if our lives depended on it, 

 bending to the oars with every ounce of our 

 strength, making the long sweeps bend in the 

 water. We began to forge ahead, very slowly, 

 inch by inch. We saw it — it cheered us to 

 stronger effort. Our rivals saw it — it discour- 

 aged them. Under the heart-breaking strain 

 they began to tire. They slipped back little by 

 little. They spurted again. It was no use. We 

 increased our advantage. Open daylight began 



