“Where on earth did you get that harpoon?” asked Fred.
“It belongs to father,” was Lester’s answer. “He shipped on board a whaler once and made a three-year cruise. He was the head harpooner of the first mate’s boat and many’s the time this old harpoon has struck a ninety barrel whale. Dad has any number of yarns to spin about it, and some day I’ll set him going and you’ll hear them all.”
“That’ll be dandy!” exclaimed Teddy. “There’s nothing stirs me up so much as a whaling story. I’ve often thought I’d like to make a voyage on a whaler when I am old enough.”
“There’s a good deal of romance and excitement about it,” admitted Lester, “but it’s very hard and dangerous work. A man takes his life in his hands when he ships for such a cruise.”
“This certainly looks as though it meant business,” commented Bill, as he examined curiously the broad, flat, triangular head. “The edge is like a razor, and nothing could pull this barb loose after it once entered.”
117The shank was about two feet long and served as a socket to the shaft which gave a total length to the harpoon of more than six feet.
“My, but it’s heavy,” said Fred, as he lifted it. “It must take some muscle to handle a thing like that.”
“It takes a good deal of experience to master it,” said Lester.
“Do you know how to throw it?” asked Teddy.
“Father has shown me how, and I’ve practised a good deal on and off just for fun,” was the reply. “I might be able to hit a shark with it, if he wasn’t very far off, and I might not. I’d have a chance though, and if I missed I could try again. This rope attached to it prevents its being lost, and I could draw it in again and make another attempt at it.