Payne took the helm while Ranworth kept his binoculars upon the long, low-lying expanse of ice. Leslie and Guy, their work for the time being completed, took up their positions at one of the observation scuttles and watched the monotonous aspect of the Arctic sea.
Suddenly a column of water rose thirty or forty feet from the surface at about a hundred yards on the starboard bow.
In a loud voice that almost caused the two lads to start with alarm, Rogers shouted:
"There she blows!"
Then, realising his surroundings, the seaman added apologetically:
"Sure, I was forgetting myself entirely, sir; yon's a whale, an' for the moment I thought I was back on the old Sarah Ann of Hull."
"A true hunter's instincts, eh?"
"Don't know about that, sir," replied the imperturbable seaman. "All I know is that yonder a small fortune's goin' a-beggin', and there ain't a harpoon on board."
"Hadn't you better alter helm, Payne?" asked Ranworth. "We don't want to try conclusions with the animal."
"No need, sir," replied the helmsman reassuringly. "They're right down cowardly fish. They scoot like——"