“What is it?” cried Andy. “A floating wreck?”
“That’s no wreck,” declared Frank.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a whale, if I’m any judge. A whale, and a big one, too!”
“Dead?”
“I guess so. No—by Jupiter! It’s alive Andy, and it’s coming this way!”
“Cracky! If we only had a harpoon or a bomb gun now, that would be the end of Mr. Whale. Let’s row out and meet him!”
“Say, are you crazy?” demanded Frank, with some heat.
“Crazy? No; why?”
“Wanting to tackle a whale in these boats! We’d be swamped in a minute! We’d better pull out to one side. Most likely the whale will keep on a straight course, though he’ll be stranded if he goes much farther in. The tide’s out, and it’s shallow here. Pull to one side, Andy—the race is off. Pull out, I tell you!” and Frank swung his skiff around with sudden energy.