The men of Amagansett were at first very proud that three boats had succeeded in getting near enough for their occupants to strike the whale.
But their pride did not last long. Ere two minutes had passed, each boat-load was wishing that they had left the whale to the other, and everybody was as busy as could be blaming his neighbor.
The trouble was that the harpoons had all been well thrown, and all had stuck fast—too fast, for when the whale gave a mighty plunge, and set off for the North Pole, at the rate of sixty miles an hour, all the three boats, which were attached to him by their harpoon ropes, went bumping along after him, in a terrible confusion of ropes, reproaches, and bad language.
The whale sped along. The bows of the boats which were flying in his wake were lifted high in the air, and the spray flew on every side, till it was like a morning mist.
No one would let go his rope. Each man was sure his harpoon was the first thrown; so with hearts full of fury and fear, the brave whalers of Amagansett sped onward till they had made about six miles on their trip to the North Pole.
Then the whale changed his mind, decided that the South Pole was nearer than the North, and, veering round, came charging down upon the boats.
There was consternation among the whalers!
One flip of the monster's great tail would have sent them all to a watery grave. They could not separate because of their twisted ropes, so, with a few more compliments to each other, they got ready for the fight.
Before the whale had had time to do any serious harm, an old man, who had fought many such big fish in his day, seized another harpoon, plunged it into the whale's side, and finished the business.
After churning the water with his tail till the whole surface looked like soapsuds, the whale gave up the fight, and was towed in to shore.