At last they came so near to the whale that one of the sailors stood, with harpoon poised, ready to strike at the proper moment.
Will, watching with profound interest, saw the harpoon fly forward. It became lodged in the body of the whale. Then there was a quick jerk, and the monster disappeared beneath the waves, the blood from its wound dyeing the water a bright red.
The rope attached to the harpoon that had struck the whale was wound round a stout reel in the boat, and this began to go out so rapidly that it seemed as if it would saw itself in two whenever it touched the edge of the boat.
The whale after diving deep came up again to the surface of the water and began running at a terrible rate of speed.
“The reel’s out,” cried a sailor.
The oars were drawn in now and the boat abandoned entirely to the caprice of the whale.
It was a novel experience for Will—a ride, with the marine monster as a horse.
One of the sailors stood by the reel with a hatchet in his hand, uplifted as if ready to sever the rope at a moment’s notice.
“What is he waiting for?” Will inquired of Jack.
“You see the rope is all played out?”