Gradually patches of clear water began to appear in the ice. It was as though the white fields were opening great blue eyes. Little lakes and zigzag lanes of water formed. Sails were set. The brig began to work her way along. Soon she was swinging on heavy billows--not white billows of ice but green billows of water, thick with ice in stars and constellations. CHAPTER XI CROSS COUNTRY WHALING We had hardly washed clear of the ice in the heavy seas when "Blow!" rang from the crow's nest. A school of whales close ahead, covering the sea with fountains, was coming leisurely toward the ship. There were more than thirty of them. "Bowheads!" shouted the mate. Their great black heads rose above the surface like ponderous pieces of machinery; tall fountains shot into the air; the wind caught the tops of the fountains and whisked them off in smoke; hollow, sepulchral whispers of sound came to the brig as the breath left the giant lungs in mighty exhalations. Why they were called bowheads was instantly apparent--the outline of the top of the head curved like an Indian's bow. As the head sank beneath the surface, the glistening back, half as broad as a city street and as black as asphalt, came spinning up out of the sea and went spinning down again. Our crippled captain in his fur clothes and on crutches limped excitedly about the quarter-deck glaring at $300,000 worth of whales spouting under his nose. But with so much ice about and such a heavy sea running he was afraid to lower. If the whales saw the brig they gave no sign. They passed all around the vessel, the spray of their fountains blowing on deck. One headed straight for the ship. The mate seized a shoulder bomb-gun and ran to the bow. The whale rose, blew a fountain up against the jib-boom, and dived directly beneath the brig's forefoot. As its back curled down, the mate, with one knee resting on the starboard knighthead, took aim and fired. He surely hit the whale--there was little chance to miss. But the bomb evidently did not strike a vital spot, for the leviathan passed under the ship, came up on the other side and went on about its business. The sight of all these whales passing by us with such unconcern, blowing water on us as if in huge contempt, almost seeming to laugh at us and mock our bombs and harpoons and human skill, drove the captain frantic. Should he allow that fortune in whales to escape him without a try for it? With purple face and popping eyes he gazed at the herd now passing astern. "Lower them boats!" he cried. "What?" expostulated Mr. Landers. "Do you want to get us all killed?" "Lower them boats!" yelled the skipper. "Don't you know that a boat that gets fast to a whale in that ice will be smashed, sure?" "Lower them boats!" shouted the captain.