“I see what you mean,” remarked Tom, but he too was puzzled.
“I’ll get the glass,” suggested Juarez.
This done, he took a good long pull at it, his legs well braced against the roll of the ship, and making a very nautical figure indeed. Then he made out the enemy clearly; three big black hulls they were, and then from the bow of one a column of steam—or was it water?—went slanting into the air. Juarez’s frame stiffened with interest and excitement.
“Whales!” he cried.
“What’s that, lad?” It was the captain, who was supposedly asleep in his cabin, which was the deck house, but he responded quickly to the magic word, “Whales.”
“Gimme the glass,” he ordered, his hand outstretched. The boys watched him with interested attention. “Three of ’em,” he cried. “Gosh! I wish I was younger.”
By this time the whole Frontier gang was present on the quarter deck looking at the dark spots on the blue ocean that now had become visible to the naked eye. To say that they were interested was to put it very mildly. There was a strange interest to these marine monsters.
“Let’s get one of those fellows,” cried Juarez. “We have a couple of harpoons.”
“Get ready, boys,” cried Jim. “It’s a go.”
“What!” roared the captain. “You boys can’t spear a whale even if you did get nigh him. He would spank you to kingdom come with his tail. You stay right here where I can keep an eye on you. The idea of you tackling a whale. Why, it’s plumb ridiculous. Just a passel of kittens when it comes to whaling.” Then he stopped to blow, entirely exhausted.