The mate started up just in time to catch a glimpse of the whale’s back, with the flukes in full play, and a long line of white water behind it. He was going at a tremendous pace straight in the wind’s eye, and, while the mate followed him with his eye, suddenly plunged sheer down where the dazzle was brightest; and before the man could draw a second breath, had disappeared. It was impossible to say what had started him; but the old seamen declared that these large solitary whales always steer a course as duly as a ship; and that, having satisfied himself that the frigate was the Old Ironsides, and nothing else, he was now only making up for lost time, in resuming his course. For my part, I thought it possible that, as he wallowed on his side, or raised his head from the hollow of a swell, his eye might have caught a glimpse of the canvas with the moonlight on it, as he was at one time so close to the ship’s side, that a smart harpooner might have darted an iron into his back from the chains. Be that as it may, off he was, and as Miller turned from gazing on his long dim track, and the stir created by his sudden disappearance sank, an unusual degree of quiet seemed to settle down from aloft, over rigging, spars, boats and batteries, and indeed over every spot of light and shade on the frigate’s deck. In the midst of this you could plainly hear the murmur of voices in the tops, and an occasional flap of the lighter duck, as some loftier sail stirred and was at rest again, like a living thing in a dream—while every shadowy port and silent gun on the spar-deck, appeared for the time, by the soft witchery of moonlight, the abode of peaceful repose. The fact was, the breeze was gradually failing from aloft, and we were going to have a flat calm, as was easy to see from the hazy look of the sky where the land lay, and the sluggish heaves of the sea, growing shorter and shorter, as if to put us in mind of the far-famed bay to which we were bound; while, as you thought of this, something of the “_dolce far niente_” came over you, and walking across the deck to glance at the pirate schooner to leeward, it became difficult to connect the view with the stirring scenes of the chase, until the eye, aided by the night-glass, distinguished the ragged white streaks in the side of the prize, and turning round again, you saw the sentry at the dark hatchway, listening, as he shifted arms, to the groans which rose, as it seemed, from the very depths of the ship.