“Capsized long-boat,” he muttered. “No, it’s a fish—sick whale, I think. But I don’t know. It’s moving pretty well through the water. What do you make of it, my lad?”
“It’s very big and long,” cried Rodd excitedly, “and it may be part of a whale’s back just showing above the water. I don’t know, though. I never saw a whale swimming before. Here, I know! I think it’s five or six porpoises swimming one after the other and close together.”
“Nay!” growled the captain. “It’s something—”
“It’s gone!” shouted Rodd. “Oh, uncle, I wish you’d seen it. It seemed to sink down out of sight all at once.”
“’Cause it didn’t like to be looked at, sir,” whispered Joe Cross. “But look out, sir,” he cried eagerly. “There it is again, a little farther off.”
“Have a look, doctor,” said the skipper, passing the glass to Uncle Paul.
“Is it a whale?” asked the doctor.
“Nay, that’s no whale, sir,” replied the captain. “A whale don’t go under water like that when she sounds. Down goes her head, and she throws her flukes up in the air.”
“Then what is it?” cried Uncle Paul, with the glass now glued to his eye. “It’s something very big. Yes, I can see plainly now—blackish-grey, and shiny as if slimy. It seems to undulate, for one minute the back seems to be only a few feet long, then three or four parts are above the surface at once, as if the creature were twenty or thirty feet long.”
“Yes, sir; I can see that with the naked eye.—Nay, nay, sir; you keep the glass. It’s more in your way than mine. Seems to me as if we have hit a curiosity for you, only it’s rather too big to tackle.”