Jack and Hugo were easily provided for, and the boys were given light duties to perform. The variety and excitement of the voyage made time pass pleasantly, and they resigned themselves to the inevitable when they learned that their return home was a matter of the far future.
“We’ve crossed the line of the whale hunting grounds, and you may expect to see some sport,” said old Jack one day.
His prediction was verified soon afterwards. The Arctic had been sailing into lower temperatures, and one morning, after passing several large masses of ice, was put in order for a whale catch.
The boats and harpoons were got ready, and about noon the man on watch sang out the cry so familiar to old whalers,
“Ahoy! There she blows!”
Immediately the deck was a scene of action. Two boats were lowered, and the men piled into them indiscriminately.
Old Jack had arranged with the Captain to take part in the capture, and, to Will’s delight, found a place for him by his side in one of the boats.
A mile or more to the south every eye had noticed a volume of water spurted into the air, the signal of the location of the whale.
There was a brisk rivalry between the two boats to reach the whale first. The monster they were in pursuit of had disappeared beneath the surface of the water, but became visible at times again, and the boats were rapidly nearing its vicinity.
The boat Jack and Will were in was commanded by the mate of the Arctic and soon gained a lead on the other boat.