The Ice Pilot replaced his watch and waited like a hunter in a jungle tree. His were the highest eyes on those waters. He swept them across the sea and somewhat ahead of Cushner's boat, then he stiffened and jerked up his flag. He held it at the masthead, then jerked again. The whale had showed white water not a cable's length from the second mate's boat.
"He's up!" called Stirling in his excitement. "Sam's right there!"
Cushner caught the signal from above the crow's-nest of the Pole Star. He swung his body and allowed the boat to run before the wind, peering under the bulging sail with its lifted boom. He pointed and pressed the tiller handle.
The harpooner of Cushner's boat was a giant Kanaka. He was whale wise, and had once been known to fasten to a whale over the sail of another boat. Stirling saw him reach downward, lift a heavy harpoon, with its bomb-gun attachment, and poise rigidly in the bow of the whaleboat. His bronzed arm was raised inch by inch. The small boat drove on and into the smothering plume of vapour which rose out of the sea and slick as the whale emerged and exhaled its breath.
Cushner's boat drove onward. The Kanaka straightened, drew back his arm, and then hurled the heavy harpoon down and into the waves as the whaleboat mounted the first of the bore set up by the passage of the monster.
The mast of the boat came down on the run, oars were thrust outboard, Cushner unshipped the tiller and hurried forward. The Kanaka passed him, stooped, and lifted up a long steering oar which he placed in the oarlock aft.
Stirling watched the second mate as he poised in the bow with a brass bomb gun under his arm and his eyes glued upon the coil of hemp which was floating on the surface of the sea. The whale had been struck, and it was sulking just below the boat, but had not yet sounded.
Seconds passed, while the watchers on the ship remained mute with expectancy. Then, and suddenly, the white boat swung, almost upsetting Cushner, and started into the wind with the speed of a swift launch. The whale had come to life, had recovered from the stunning blow of the harpoon and the bomb, and was "carrying the mail" for the great North pack, with the boat dragging after it.
Cushner motioned aft with the flat of his right hand, dashed the spray from his eyes, stooped, and felt of the whale line where it disappeared over the bow. He then straightened and motioned aft for a second time.
Stirling interpreted the signal. It was for the sheet tender to throw water into the tubs. Already smoke was rising from the round wooden butt in the bow about which the line was coiled.