"No, sir, he didn't get away," replied the Captain. "But he sounded, and that's where the whale-line went."
"Sounded?" gasped Sam. "I didn't know a whale could holler."
"Holler?" put in Pete, with some contempt in his voice for the ignorance of a city fellow. "He means the whale dove to the bottom."
"Don't know about the bottom," went on the Captain. "But he pulled out a mile of line, and when he came up the harpoon was in him yet. We got him."
"Oh!" said Sam. "You trolled for him with a harpoon. Oh! Hullo! I've got a bite. Oh!"
His hook was a pretty big one, set firmly in a bone that Pete called a "squid," and this had been glimmering over the waves astern while Pete was getting his own line unsnarled.
"Hold hard!" shouted the Captain, as Sam tugged and strained.
"I can't," said Sam, as the line was jerked from his hand and began to run out swiftly over the side of the boat. "He's getting away!"
"Lost him!" almost groaned Pete. "He pulled like a shark."
"More like a stick of timber," very quietly but gruffly remarked the Captain. "I'll tack and see what it is."