And all the time the second man kept on hauling in the line, and the others lay on their oars, for the rope came up straight out of the deep water.
“Yes, sir, he has gone, I fear,” said Johannes.
“No!” cried the other, for the slack line suddenly tightened and was jerked out of his hand; then the water parted about a dozen yards from the boat, the head of the whale appeared, and then the whole of the creature, as it rose higher, curved right over, and descended head first again, its tail giving a peculiar wave in the air before it disappeared, while all had a glimpse of the harpoon shaft, which directly after was seen floating on the surface of the water.
“Gone this time!” cried Steve in disappointed tones.
“Yes, he has gone almost straight down.”
“And we have lost him?”
“I hope not, sir,” said Johannes, leaning over the side, as the boat glided on, and picking up the long shaft of the harpoon.
“And you’ve lost the head of the harpoon, too.”
“Oh no, that’s fast to the line,” replied the man; “the shaft is meant to come out, so that it shall not be broken.”
“I did not understand that,” muttered the boy, as the line that had been recovered now began to run out again as rapidly as before, hissing over the gunwale, and judging from the speed looking as if the last ring would soon be out and the whale dragging at the boat.