That they could escape seemed impossible. They were in the very center of a cyclone of mortal peril, a circle of death, and even the tough, fearless, experienced whalemen grew white-faced. Their jaws were hard set and they knew that any second might spell their doom.
Then, with one stupendous effort, the whale reared its head high. The flukes swept above the boat, a crimson column spurted from the monster’s head and, with a whistling sigh like escaping steam, the whale rolled upon its side, dead.
“Fin up!” screamed Cap’n Pem. “By Moses, that there was the closest shave I ever seen. Jes dumb luck, nothin’ more!”
At this instant a strange sound issued from the bottom of the whaleboat. Cap’n Pem’s jaw fell. The men stared at one another wonderingly.
“What’s thet?” gasped the old whaleman.
Tom leaned forward, reached into a locker and drew out—the black cat!
Cap’n Pem’s eyes seemed about to burst from their sockets. “Waall, I’ll be——” he began and then stood staring absolutely bereft of speech as Tom dragged out the canvas bucket and disclosed four blinking-eyed kittens.
“Now what about bad luck!” he cried triumphantly.
Cap’n Pem scratched his head, frowned and spat over the boat’s side. “I calc’late them kittens must ha’ changed the luck,” he declared. “I don’t recollec’ ever hearin’ o’ sech a thing afore. But jes the same, I’ll bet ye if that there cat hadn’t been ’long of us, we’d never ha’ had all this here fracas. Wussedest fight I ever seed.”