“Stand up, Harry!” whispered Briggs, when the boat was within seven fathoms of the intended prey; and quickly, but noiselessly, springing to his feet, the young harpooner seized his iron, and stood prepared.
The mate now pointed the bow of the boat directly toward the hump of the monster, and then, in a scarcely audible whisper, ordered his men to stop pulling, and take their places upon their thwarts.
This command was readily obeyed, but the light boat still continued to glide on under the impetus which it had received, and, in a few moments, it was within four fathoms of the leviathan.
“Now then—give it to him!” thundered Briggs.
The barbed weapon flew whistling from the hands of the stout-armed harpooner, with a force that buried it to the socket in the whale’s hump. The second iron immediately followed.
“Starn! starn all!” roared the mate, as the startled giant of the deep, writhing with pain, threw his tremendous body toward the boat. “Starn, you beef-eating rascals—starn!”
But the oar-blades, striking against the ice, greatly impeded the motions of the men, and the boat was not yet quite out of the monster’s reach, when, lifting his tremendous flukes, he brought them down sideways with a force which would have shivered the forward part of the little craft to atoms had not the watchful Briggs, by a dexterous movement of his steering-oar, caused the bow to swing off to the right.
The little craft, however, did not wholly escape injury, for it received a light tap from the edge of the creature’s flukes, which caused the cedar planks to crack in more than one place, and dislodged the bow oarsman from his thwart.
The man was not injured, and he resumed his place, just as the whale disappeared in the green depths of the sea.
Away went the boat with the speed of a whirlwind, the line smoking as it ran around the loggerhead, and the tub oarsman pouring water upon it to prevent it from burning.