Bob and the third mate now changed places, the former taking the steering oar, and the latter, lance in hand, planting himself at the bow. The whale started off with astonishing velocity; and, shipping our oars, we turned with our faces to the bow, alert for the least sign of mishap, and ready with knife or hatchet to sever the line at an instant's notice.
My hat went off my head, but I did not know it. The water boiled higher than the boat's sides; and the harpoon line looked like a rod of iron. Old Bob Rivers clung to his steering oar with both hands, seeming, with all his strength, hardly more than a pigmy in that tremendous commotion.
The other boats were passed in a moment. Captain Wayne looked on with inexpressible interest. Captain Burdick stood up and shouted. We could distinguish only a few words:
"You've got him! you've got him! You'll find half a dozen of my irons in his back. But look out for him—he'll stave you yet."
But he did not stave us. He headed out of the lagoon, and ran for a long distance beyond it. At length he sounded, taking out such a quantity of line that we lost almost all hope of saving him. Then, to our great relief, he began coming up. Up, up, up he came, and we gathered in the slack as he rose.
When he had reached the surface, the boat was hauled quietly to the right position, and Mr. Brewer, standing upon the bow, gave him the lance with a true and powerful stroke.
We then instantly "sterned off," although not until the broad flukes had gone over our heads, fearfully close to us; and the whale at once commenced spouting thick blood—a sign that all was over with him.
The Luminary ran down to us, and the huge prize was towed alongside of her. We found in his back a number of harpoons, one of which, sure enough, was Captain Burdick's; and from this circumstance, together with the fact of his unusual size, there remained no doubt that the animal was the same which had so excited the curiosity of the fleet.
He yielded the very large amount of two hundred and ninety-six barrels.