THE STRANDED WHALE 245 



a water horizon, which is dark. A little later, 

 we sighted the white loom of the great ice con- 

 tinent. Later still, we picked up the bergs, 

 floes, islands, and chunks of ice which drift for- 

 ever along its edge. 



The brig kept on its course. A floe of ice, 

 looking at a distance like a long, narrow ribbon, 

 lay ahead of us, apparently directly across our 

 path. As we drew nearer, we began to make 

 out dimly a certain dark speck upon the edge of 

 the ice. This speck gradually assumed definite- 

 ness. It was our cask and we were headed 

 straight for it. To a landlubber unacquainted 

 with the mysteries of navigation, this incident 

 may seem almost unbelievable, but upon my 

 honest word, it is true to the last detail. 



After the brig had been laid aback near the 

 ice, a boat was lowered and a hole was cut in 

 the bow of the whale's head. A cable was 

 passed through this and the other end was made 

 fast aboard the ship. Then under light sail, the 

 brig set about the work of pulling the whale out 

 of the ice. The light breeze fell away and the 

 three boats were strung out ahead with haw- 



