“Don’t let that worry you, sonny,” said Sam. “Trust an old whaleman to find the creatures if they’re within seeing distance. Put her right between the two points, lad, there’s less current there, and you’ll skim along like one of Mother Carey’s chickens,” he added to Jerry.
Jerry speeded up the engine, and the Dartaway fairly flew through the water. Ahead was quite a flotilla of sail and motor boats, crowded with persons anxious to get a view of the sea monster.
“It’s a sweet little craft you have here, lads,” Sam remarked, having satisfied himself that the harpoon was sharp enough. “Almost as fast as the Dolly Gray, in which I made my first voyage to the whaling grounds. Ah, but she was a lovely schooner.”
Sam now began fastening the line to the weapon. He took great care in this, and Ned and Bob watched him curiously. Then he saw to it that the line was properly coiled in the tub.
“Can’t be too careful,” the sailor remarked. “If it snarls why it’s all up with the whale and you, too.”
“Is there going to be any danger?” asked Bob, in some alarm.
“Not with Salt Water Sam aboard,” was the sailor’s reply. “You leave it to me.”
By this time the Dartaway was up with the last of the boats, and, a little later had overhauled some of them. Ten minutes more and she had passed the points of the harbor and the boys found themselves out on the open Atlantic.
The water was calm, and there was scarcely a breeze to ruffle the surface. There was a long gentle swell, but the lads soon became used to this.
“Now, boys,” said Sam, “if you’ll do as I tell you we’ll be all right. I’m going to stand in the bow, and, skipper, you send her forward or back, as I tell you. If we strike the whale you want to send her astern like lightning, or there’ll be a mess.”