n' is comin' into favor again. But
those two over there--the ones we're after, are finbacks. You can tell
by the spout, by the fin, by not seein' the flukes of the tail, an' by
the way they play around, slappin' each other in fun."

Three hours were spent in the fruitless chase after this little group of
whales. Then Hank, who had been standing in the bow beside the gun,
watching every move of the cetacean during the afternoon, suddenly
signaled with his hand for "full speed astern," by this maneuver
stopping the ship squarely, as a whale--a medium-sized finback--came up
right under the vessel's bow. The reversed screws took the craft astern
so as to show the broad back about twenty-five feet away, and Hank
fired.

The crashing roar of the harpoon-gun was followed by a swirl as the
whale sounded for a long dive, but a moment later there came a dull,
muffled report from the water, the explosive head of the harpoon, known
as the 'bomb,' having burst. For a minute or two there was no sound but
the swish of the line and the clank of the big winch as it ran out,
while the animal sank to the bottom. There was a moment's wait, and
then Hank, seeing the line tauten and hang down straight, called back:

"We can haul in, sir; I got him just right."

Compared to the excitement of the chase in the open boat this seemed
very tame to Colin, and he said so to the captain, when he went aft,
while the steam-winch gradually drew up the finback whose end had come
so suddenly.

"My boy," was the reply, "I'm not whaling for my health. Other people
have a share in this, besides myself and the crew, and what they're
after is whales--not sport. The business isn't what it was; in the old
days whale-oil was worth a great deal and whaling was a good business.
Then came the discovery of petroleum and the Standard Oil Company soon
found out ways of refining the crude product so that it took the place
of whale-oil in every way and at a cheaper price."

"But I thought whalebone was what you were after!" said Colin in
surprise.

"It was for a time," the captain answered, "after the oil business gave
out. But within the last ten years there have been so many substitutes
for whalebone that its value has gone down. There's a lot of whalebone
stored in New Bedford warehouses that can't be sold except at a loss."

"Well, if the oil is replaced and whalebone has no value, what is to be
got out of whaling now, then?" the boy queried.

"Oil again,"