When the old Norwegian, Christopher Thommasen, had selected his fish, and the boat was pulled in its wake, the order was given, ‘_Stand up and give it him!_’ and the harpooner, poising his dart above his head, and taking careful aim, let the shaft fly with all his might, and it whizzed through the air, embedding itself deeply in the body of the whale. The wounded creature ‘bobtailed,’ lashing the billows with its powerful tail, and sending up quantities of white foam, which fell in a heavy shower over the men, drenching them to the skin. ‘_Stern all!_’ shouted the mate, perceiving their danger, and the frail craft was instantly back-watered out of harm’s way. Finding that this manœuvre did not dispose of his assailants, nor relieve him of the agonising harpoon (which he probably mistook for the teeth of a swordfish), the monster of the deep dived to an immense depth, drawing out the line with amazing velocity. This is the whale’s method of freeing himself from his piscatorial enemies, who, being unable (as he is) to sustain the pressure of a deep ocean, are compelled to let go of him. ‘There goes flukes,’ shouted Thommasen, as he saw the whale disappear, and the men shipped their oars, and prepared for an exciting chase. Away went the ‘schoolmaster’ at his topmost speed, rising at intervals to the surface to give vent to a plaintive moan, and diving again with breathless rapidity, as he towed his persecutors through the water after him at a considerable rate. Then more darts were planted into the heaving flanks of the labouring fish, who had commenced to tremble violently. Red columns of blood spurted from his wounds, and fell back upon his aching sides, dyeing the water around him crimson. Suddenly the ‘flurry’ (which is the whaling term for the expiring struggles of the fish), and the sharp, cracking noise which had sounded from the blowholes, ceased, and the huge brute turned upwards, and lay upon the ocean dead. Then the carcase was slowly towed past the passenger vessel, amidst the cheers of the spectators, back to the _Daisy_, who had got under weigh again, and made fast to her side by chains. Two men cut off the ‘blanket,’ or scarf-skin, with their spades, whilst others heaved away on the capstan, and turned the body round. The head was taken aboard whole, and then the operation of ‘flewsing,’ or cutting away the blubber, was gone through. When all the useful parts had been secured--the head, which contains a large amount of oil--the blubber--the bag, from which the whalers extract ambergris, and the teeth--the order was given to ‘_Haul in chains_,’ and the huge white carcase floated astern, and was immediately covered by myriads of water-fowl, who quarrelled and fought over their unexpected treat.