at, and as I was a
strong fellow, and a good rower, I was allowed to pull.

"There she blows!" cried the man in the crow's nest, just as we shot
from the side of the ship. There was no need to ask, "where away" this
time. Another whale rose and spouted not more than three hundred yards
off, and before we could speak a third fish rose in another direction,
and we found ourselves in the middle, of what is called a "school of
whales."

"Now, lads," said the captain, who steered the boat in which I rowed,
"bend your backs, my hearties; that fish right ahead of us is a
hundred-barrel whale for certain. Give way, boys; we _must_ have that
fish."

There was no need to urge the men, for their backs were strained to the
utmost, their faces were flushed, and the big veins in their necks
swelled almost to bursting, with the tremendous exertion.

"Hold hard," said the captain, in a low voice, for now that we were
getting near our prey, we made as little noise as possible.

The men at once threw their oars "apeak," as they say; that is, raised
them straight up in the air, and waited for further orders. We expected
the whale would rise near to where we were, and thought it best to rest
and look out.

While we were waiting, Tom Lokins, who was harpooner of the boat, sat
just behind me with all his irons ready. He took this opportunity to
explain to me that by a "hundred-barrel fish" is meant a fish that will
yield a hundred-barrels of oil. He further informed me that such a fish
was a big one, though he had seen a few in the North-west Seas that had
produced upwards of two hundred-barrels.

I now observed that the other boats had separated, and each had gone
after a different whale. In a few minutes the fish we were in chase of
rose a short distance off, and sent up two splendid water-spouts high
into the air, thus showing that he was what the whalers call a "right"
whale. It is different from the sperm whale, which has only one
blow-hole, and that a little one.

We rowed towards it with all our might, and as we drew near, the captain
ordered Tom Lokins to "stand up," so he at once laid in his oar, and
took up the harpoon. The harpoon is an iron lance with a barbed point.
A whale-line is attached to it, and this line is coiled away in a tub.
When we were within a few yards of the fish, which was going slowly
through the water, all ignorant of the terrible foes who were pursuing
him, Tom Lokins raised the harpoon hig