Fortunately the whale did not seem greatly disturbed, but only a little surprised. He appeared to change his mind about the boat, and swam off at a leisurely gait. Mr. Tilton was nearly up by this time, and Mr. Brown, fearing that the harpoon would pull out at any moment, signalled him to get fast to the whale. Mr. Tilton did. His boatsteerer, Azevedo, a stocky, heavily set Western Islander, sunk both irons to the haft in the whale’s other side, just behind the flipper. Whether the harpoons had touched a vital spot I do not know, but the actions of the whale were peculiar. In fact, he did not act at all, but lay like a vast log on the water, giving both Mr. Brown and Mr. Tilton all the chance in the world to pull up and lance him. This they did, both, one from each side. The whale lay so low in the water that I could see nothing of him, but it turned me rather sick to see them both pumping their lances up and down in him, seeking the life, that being the great arterial reservoir I have mentioned. Mr. Brown found it, and the whale began to spout thick blood. It seemed to me a revolting business, mere butchery of a great beast that was harmless and passive. Was this the career I had chosen? I put the glass down, feeling a little sick at my stomach and rather faint, and leaned against the mast and closed my eyes, missing the flurry, which they told me afterwards was lively enough to make up for the whale’s previous inaction. By putting down the glass and closing my eyes I missed the first part of an incident which would have given me some pleasure. The ship had got pretty near the boats by that time, and I was roused by a shout from the Admiral and from the crew on deck. Mr. Wallet was slow in getting into action, as was quite usual with him. Two other {151} whales had come up, and one of them, chancing to rise very near Mr. Wallet’s boat just as he was taking in his sail and about to unstep his mast, made for the boat without an instant’s hesitation. It was this that had caused the men to shout. There was nothing harmless and passive about that whale, and I could have killed him without a qualm—if I had been in the boat and had had a chance. The men in the boat evidently saw no chance to do anything but get out, for the whale had gone under water a short distance from the boat, and they knew what he would do next. He did it. He rose at some speed directly under the boat, and tossed it into the air as if it had been a straw, staving it completely, the men spilling out on each side. Two of the men had jumped out before the whale struck them, and were swimming away, and the others seemed to be swimming away from the fragments of the boat as fast as they could, but I could not see, at the time, whether they all got away or not. It was all white water there. The whale was in a furious temper, and chewed the wreckage of the boat and the oars to splinters, and then thrashed the mass with his flukes.