a very few minutes, and the other three boats were lost behind
us, too.

The runaway, however, did not continue straight ahead. Its speed did not
seem to slacken in the least; but soon it began to circle around,
finding itself without its mates.

"If the old feller don't put on brakes pretty soon the harpoon'll git so
hot it'll melt the blubber and pull out," chuckled the stroke-oar.

It was the first word spoken that showed relief. There was a perceptible
slackening of our speed. And the whale was "going back to town," as the
captain had intimated.

"Get hold of that line, Webb, and stand ready to haul," said Mr. Gibson
to me, taking the heavy whalegun from its covered beckets, after
changing places again with old Tom.

"Now for it!" muttered the boat-steerer, gripping the eighteen-foot oar
and craning forward eagerly. He was just as excited as the rest of us. I
hauled in on the line, standing firmly braced just behind the young
second mate. The whale had actually come to a stop and did not sound. We
drew closer and closer.

"Jest a leetle be-aft the for'ard fin, sir!" whispered old Tom,
excitedly.

Gibson grunted some reply and raised the gun, taking careful aim at the
mountain of flesh about which the water swirled. A second or two of
breathless suspense followed as, oars in hand, we waited the report of
the gun.

A sharp report made me jump. Then came the dull explosion of the
bomb-lance somewhere in the vitals of the whale.

"Stern all! stern all!" shouted Mr. Gibson, this time finding his voice.

The wounded whale flung itself completely out of the water. For a moment
we could see daylight underneath the huge bulk and as we backed water
with all our strength it did seem as though that convulsed, eighty
barrel sperm must fall upon the boat and overwhelm it!

CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH THERE IS SOME INFORMATION AND MUCH EXCITEMENT

The young second officer's command needed no repetition. There was no
temptation for us to linger under the monster. With a crash that seemed
to make sea and air tremble, the great body struck the surface of the
water.

The whaleboat dashed back just in time, and then rocked upon the waves
as the dying whale rolled to and fro in his "flurry." Then, with a great
puff, the creature rolled partially on his side, and the ocean
thereabout became tinged with the blood thrown out of its blow-hole.

"Killed with one lance! killed with one lance!" yelled Second Mate
Gibson.