Chapter Eighty Four.
Chapter Lxxxiv.
The Chase.
Half pulling, half trusting to the sail, in a few seconds they were alongside the carcass of the cachalot. They saw what it was and divined how it came to be there; though still puzzled by the pyrotechnic display exhibited on its summit.
As they passed under the shadow of the huge mass some proposed that they should stay by it,—alleging that it would furnish food for all; but this proposal was rejected by the majority.
“Pardieu!” exclaimed the directing voice of Le Gros; “we have food a plenty. It’s drink we want now. There’s no water upon the whale; and there must be some in possession of these runaways, whoever they be. Let us first follow them! If we overhaul them, we can come back. If not, we can return all the same!”
This proposal appeared too reasonable to be rejected. A muttered assent of the majority decided its acceptance; and the raft, yielding to the renewed impulse of the rowers, swept past the carcass,—leaving both the black mass and the blazing beacon astern.
As if further to justify the course of action he had counselled, Le Gros continued—
“No fear about our finding the dead fish. This fog is clearing away. In half an hour there won’t be a trace of it. We shall be able to make out the carcass if the whale twenty miles off,—especially with the smoke of that infernal fire to guide us. Pull like the devil! Be sure of it, there’s water in one of those casks we see. Only think of it,—water!”
It scarce needed the repetition of this magic word to stimulate his thirsty companions. They were already pulling with all their strength.