The steersman had already spun the wheel without orders. The Viking swung in a half circle and made for the whale at top speed. There was just a quiver of excitement abroad—a deepening glitter in the eyes of the crew, and silence. The rush was upon the whale from behind—instant, swift, straight: the engines chug-chugged and the water swished noisily at the bows. There was no lying in ambush, no stalking: it was sight your game and make for him.
The captain leaned lazily on the gun, which he had not yet swung into position for firing; his legs were crossed, though the whale was not a hundred yards away, and he was placidly smoking his pipe. The fin-back lay dead ahead now, apparently unconscious of the Viking's approach, and she was soon so near that his escape seemed to Billy to be beyond the barest chance. The captain waved his hand, calmly looked over the sea, and fell again into his careless position, with one eye on the whale.
At once the engines stopped and the Viking slipped softly on with diminishing speed. When she was within thirty yards of the whale, each separate muscle of Billy's body was tight with excitement—but the whale arched his back and slipped down deep into the water with a contemptuous swing of his broad, strong tail.
"Psh-h!" exclaimed the captain, giving one slippered foot a kick with the other. "Psh!"
They were running over a stretch of frothy, swirling water, where the whale had lain a moment before.
"Hon-g-k!" from off the starboard quarter.
The captain signaled the steersman, who shouted "Full speed!" down the wheel-house tube. In a flash they were chug-chugging in haste after another whale—which eluded them at once, with no more fuss than the first had made: no blowing and frantic splashing; just a lifting of the back and a languid swing of the tail. Thus the third, the fourth, the fifth: again and again, through the hours of that quiet morning, they gave chase; but all to no purpose—on the contrary, indeed, with the bad effect of alarming the whole school. The whales made sport of them; the flash of their fins, as they slipped away beyond pursuit, was most aggravating.
Soon the captain's "Psh!" became guttural, and communicated itself to the man in the crow's-nest and the engineer who was off duty; the elusive fin-backs were too much for the patience of them all. But for hours the "old man" leaned on the gun and smoked his pipe, intent on the chase through every moment of that time. He kicked his right foot with his left; his broad back shook with rage; strange ejaculations drifted back with the clouds of tobacco smoke: that was all. Repeated disappointment but heightened the alertness and eagerness of the crew. Every lost whale was dismissed with a "Psh-h!" and quite forgotten in the pursuit of the next one.
Nine hours out from Snook's Arm and six with the school without pointing a gun!