“Spouting blood!” said Tabor. “He’s a dead whale! He won’t need much lancing.”
It was true enough; for, before the officer could get within dart of him, he commenced his dying struggles. The sea was crimsoned with his blood. By the time we had reached him, he was belly up. We lay upon our oars a moment to witness his last throes, and, when he had turned his head toward the sun, a loud, simultaneous cheer burst from every lip.
A low, rumbling sound, like the roar of a distant waterfall, now reached our ears. Each moment it grew louder.
The whole expansive arch of the heavens became dark with clouds tossing, flying, swelling, and whirling over and over, like the surges of an angry sea. A white cloud, gleaming against the black mass behind it, came sweeping toward us, stretching forth its long, white arms, as if to grasp us in its fatal embrace. Louder and still louder it growled; yet the air was still and heavy around us. Now the white cloud spread, whirled over, and lost its hoary head; now it wore the mane and forefeet of a lion; now the heads of a dragon, with their tremendous jaws extended. Writhing, hissing, roaring, it swept toward us. The demon of wrath could not have assumed a more frightful form. The whole face of the ocean was hidden in utter darkness, save within a circle of a few hundred yards. Our little boat floated on a sea almost unruffled by a breath of wind. The heavy swell rolled lazily past us; yet a death-like calmness reigned in the air. Beyond the circle all was strife; within, all peace. We gazed anxiously in each other’s faces; but not a word was spoken. Even the veteran harpooner looked upon the clouds with a face of unusual solemnity, as we lay upon our oars, awed to silence by the sublimity of the scene. The ominous stillness of everything within the circle became painful. For many long minutes the surface of the water remained nearly smooth. We dreaded, but longed for a change. This state of suspense was growing intolerable. I could hear the deep, long-drawn respirations of those around me; I saw the quick, anxious glances they turned to windward; and I almost fancied I could read every thought that passed within their breasts.
Suddenly a white streak of foam appeared within a hundred yards. Scarcely had we unshipped our oars, when the squall burst upon us with stunning violence. The weather side of the boat was raised high out of the water, and the rushing foam dashed over the gunwale in torrents. We soon trimmed her, however, and, by hard bailing, got her clear of water. It is utterly impossible to conceive the violence of the wind. Small as the surface exposed to the squall was, we flew through the foaming seas, dragging the dead body of the whale after us with incredible velocity. Thus situated, entirely at the mercy of the wind and sea, we continued every moment to increase our distance from the barque. When the squall abated, we came to under the lee of the whale, and looked to leeward for the barque. Not a speck could be seen on the horizon! Night was rapidly approaching, and we were alone upon the broad, angry ocean!
“Ship your oars,” said the headsman; “we’ll not part company with old blubber yet. If we can’t make the barque, we can make land somewhere.”
“Aye, aye,” said Tabor, with a sly leer, “and live on roast-beef and turkey while we’re making it.”
With heavy hearts and many misgivings we shipped our oars, heartily wishing the whale in the devil’s try-pots; for we thought it rather hard that our lives should be risked for a few barrels of oil. For two hours we pulled a long, lazy, dogged stroke, without a sign of relief. At last Tabor stood up on the bow to look out, and we lay on our oars.