“Aye aye, sir!” answered Jerry, somewhat inclined to laugh at the old man’s earnestness.
“That’s the way to talk,” said Sam. “Put her out a little more, skipper. I want to clear some of these craft.”
Jerry manœuvred so as to round a number of other power boats, which seemed to be headed for one spot. They were evidently steering for where the whale had last been seen.
“He was headed up the coast,” Sam murmured. “We’ll point up that way, and maybe we can land him before the others scare him away.”
It was here that the old sailor’s knowledge of whales and their ways stood him in good stead. He knew the creature would not merely float around on the water, but would dive, and swim beneath the surface. He had made inquiries and learned that the monster was headed up the coast.
The Dartaway was now comparatively alone, there being no other boats within a quarter of a mile. The rest were hovering near where the big creature had been seen to go down.
“If he comes up under one of those boats it will be all day with ’em,” observed Ned.
Salt Water Sam was standing in the bow, beside Jerry, who was at the wheel. The old man peered ahead with his one keen eye. He was as still as though the carved figurehead of a vessel; every muscle was tense, every nerve on the alert. The joy of battle shone in his face.
Suddenly, just ahead of the Dartaway, there was a commotion in the water. It seemed to boil and bubble. Then something big and black was flung up from the hidden depths.
At the same instant two thin columns of water shot up from the surface of the ocean. Up and up they went, sparkling in the sun.