DEATH OF THE WHALE. 
159 
their hot liaste such clothes as are snatched hastily as 
they run. Here are fellows but half awake, dropping 
into their places in the boats, with oar in hand, im¬ 
patient to give way when the rest are in their places. 
There is no time now to waste, and for the present 
the garments are scattered anywhere. By-and-by a 
chance may come in which they may get time to 
dress. In the meantime the whale, hard hit by the 
trusty Byers, has plunged headlong into the depths 
below. 
In some ten or twelve minutes 500 fathoms of 
line has spun itself out over the boat's bow into 
the sea, measuring the course the wounded whale has 
run in his agonised fear of the too certain fate await¬ 
ing him. The boat, dragged through the water, throws 
up a spray from the divided wave, and the bollard 
smokes and fizzes with the friction of the line. We 
overhaul the boat just as the line is all paid out. We 
bend on our line. “ Look out! look out!! Keep 
away, or I can t fire again! ” shouts Byers, in his 
eager way, as he sees the indications of the whale's 
reappearance. Up he comes, a frightful sight to 
see—-the great tail lashing the water into foam, the 
fountain this time a jet of blood. We slue our boat 
round, and pull hard, in the hopes of getting a shot; 
but to no purpose. We are out of range, and miss 
