“Nonsense!” exclaimed Sam. “Why it’s only just begun. There’s no danger yet. I remember once we was towed nearly a day with a whale in the North Sea. I was mate of the Dogstar then, as fine a craft as I ever saw. But she was wrecked on an iceberg and I was the only one saved. That was a voyage!” and the old man’s eye sparkled in remembrance.
“How far will he take us?” asked Jerry, not a little anxious on his mother’s account.
“No telling,” replied Sam. “Twenty or thirty miles, maybe. But you have one advantage we didn’t have in the old whale boats. You can keep the engine going at reverse, and make a drag that will soon tire him out. That’s a good thing.”
In spite of the fact that the motor was revolving the screw backward, the whale seemed to have no difficulty in pulling the Dartaway after him. He fairly made the craft fly through the water.
Right out to sea, the motor boat was headed. The beach had long since been left astern, and the other boats could only be dimly seen.
There was nothing to do but to sit and wait for the whale to tire itself out. Sam seemed to accept this as a matter of course. He had brought a lance along, in addition to his harpoon, and was now sharpening this keen weapon, in anticipation of making a death thrust.
As for the boys, they viewed with alarm the ever increasing distance from shore. The beach was now but an indistinct hazy line.
“Maybe we’d better give it up,” suggested Bob.
“Why, are you getting hungry, Chunky?” asked Jerry.