"I don't see it," whispered Frank, in reply.
"What's the odds? I do. Sing out, sir!"
"There she blows!" shouted Frank, taking the old sea-dog at his word.
The flapping of the sails below him showed that his wild yell had reached the ears of at least one of the sailors on deck—the wheelsman—and that it had excited him so that he forgot for a moment to attend to his business. Then the captain's hoarse voice was heard. "Keep her steady there, can't you? Where away?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Frank, in a low tone, as he looked impatiently around.
"Three points off the weather bow!" shouted the boatswain's mate. "Three miles off and coming this way. Sperm whale. Flukes! flukes!" he added, as the whale went down with a farewell flourish of his tail.
"Dear me, I wish I could see it," thought Frank.
"Lay down from aloft!" commanded the captain. "See the boats all clear and stand by to lower."
When Frank descended to the deck in obedience to this order, he found the captain and all his mates in the rigging, the former sweeping the horizon with his glass. "There she blows!" he cried, gleefully. "Close aboard! Back the main topsail and lower away!"