Chapter Two.
The gales of those northern regions during the summer though sharp are generally short. As soon as the weather moderated we made sail, to try and pick up the whales we had killed, or if unable to find them to attack others.
The carpenter and his crew meantime were busily employed in repairing damages and building another boat in lieu of the one which had been lost. A sharp look-out was kept from the crow’s nest for the dead whales, or for any fresh whales which might be seen spouting.
“I am afraid it is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” observed Sandy to me. “Still there is nothing like trying; one or two may be seen, to be sure, but as to falling in with many, it’s more than I expect we shall do, for they are mostly, do ye see, gone northward among the ice.”
Just as Sandy had delivered himself of this opinion, the second mate from the crow’s nest shouted:—
“There she spouts! There she spouts!” and pointed to the north-east.
The loud stamping of the men on deck soon summoned those who were below. The first mate took charge of one boat, and the boatswain, with whom I went, of the other. Away we pulled as fast as we could lay our backs to the oars, hoping to get up to the whale before she sounded, but we were disappointed; down she went, and we had to wait for her reappearance. It was uncertain where she would next come up. We saw the mate’s boat paddling to the northward.
“She’ll not come up there,” observed Sandy, steering to the west.
We kept our oars slowly moving, ready to give way at an instant’s notice. The result proved that neither was right, for the whale appeared between the two points.