“He’ll be lost—he’ll be lost!” I exclaimed, as did others not accustomed to the work.
“Not a bit of it on that account,” said old Knowles. “He can’t remain long under water after what he’s gone through. He’ll be up again soon; and then stand by, my hearties, for his flurry!”
Old Knowles was right. Up came the whale again, at a short distance only from where he had gone down, having dragged out from each boat not a hundred fathoms of line. Once more the boats approached, and fresh lances were darted into him; but they quickly had to retreat, for now his head went up, now his tail; now he sprung again right out of the water, twisting and turning in every direction.
“He has his death-pang on him,” cried Old Knowles. “He’ll be ours before long;—but, ah! one of them has caught it!”
One of the boats had indeed caught it. We could not tell which, for the others were covered with the foam and ensanguined water cast on every side by the monster in his wild contortions. The fragments lay floating, scattered far and wide, and several men were seen striking out towards the other boats, half-turning their heads, as if in expectation of being pursued. But, as we counted their number, they did not appear to be all there. There were but five. One, we feared, was missing. Anxiously we kept our eyes fixed on the spot, hoping to see our shipmate, whoever he might be, appear.
“Hurrah!—he’s there—he’s there!” we shouted, as we discovered the sixth man swimming out from among the mass of bloody foam which surrounded the whale, who for an instant seemed to be resting from his exertions. While the boats were taking them on board, again the whale darted rapidly out, but this time it was to perform the segment of a circle.
“He’s in his flurry, lads—he’s in his flurry!” shouted old Knowles. “He’ll be dead in another minute.”
“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history,” said Newman, who through his glass had been eagerly watching the chase. As the words went out of his mouth the whale rolled over on his side, a well-won prize, and loud shouts from the crews of the boats and from all on deck rent the air.
The fragments of the shattered boat being collected, and the three remaining ones made fast to the whale, they began towing it towards the ship, while we made sail to meet them.
All hands were employed for an instant in congratulating each other when we got the whale alongside, and then every means were taken to secure it for “cutting-in”—so the operation of taking off the blubber is called. The coopers had meantime been getting ready the large caldrons for boiling the blubber; which operation is called “trying-out.” A rope passed round the windlass, and rove through a block fast to the head of the mainmast, was carried over the side, with a large hook at the end of it. The first thing done was to cut off the head of the whale, which, with the neck-part up, was strongly secured, and floated astern.