“Haul in! haul in!” cried Ben Gibson, excitedly. “I’ll get a lance in her.”
“You be careful, sir,” whispered old Tom, from the stern again, to which he had gone after throwing the iron. “There ain’t nothing wickeder than a she whale with a sucking calf, when she’s roused.”
We had drawn in rather close and could see that the calf was falling behind. The mother noticed it as well. She feared the thing that had stung her; but, mother-like, she clung to her little one. She swerved around and the line fell slack.
“Look out, now, sir!” cried Tom Anderly again. “She’s mad, and she’s scared, and she’s looking for us. If she once gits her tail under our bottom its good-bye Jo for all hands—and the water’s mighty wet today.”
Almost as he ceased speaking the wicked eye of the great creature blinked at the boat, and she came rushing down upon it. Tom threw himself upon the great steering oar, while Ben shouted:
“Pull! Pull, you lubbers! Do you want to be swamped by the critter?”
We bent our backs to the struggle and the whaleboat shot ahead; but the maddened cow-whale came on, as big as a brick warehouse, and bent on running us under!
Chapter XVII