Mr. Brown looked around apprehensively; but seeing that the boat was all right, and that the arrangement would give him an excellent chance to lance, he ordered Kane to take the line and heave a little. That would put him where he wanted to be. Kane, the bow oar, took the line all right, but was unable to heave us any farther forward, and I took hold. Together, we heaved the boat up before any of the others could get hold. Once there, my only idea was to hold us there, close to that whale. Before the Prince had a chance to take in the slack of the line and hold around the loggerhead, out of the depths of my ignorance and thoughtlessness, I did it. I might have known better if I had stopped to think, but I might not, and there was no time to stop and think. I took a couple of turns with the slack around the thwart, and pulled the bight of the line through. It was a slipknot, and could be released by a yank upon the line held in my hand. We were now holding our position close to the irons—naturally enough—and Mr. Brown seemed to be pleased. He was unaware of my device. He lanced the whale again and again, but was unable to reach the life. The whale was spouting thin blood, but did not seem to be much distressed; not as much as we were, for the boat was taking over the side a plentiful spray, and the bloody vapor of his spout enveloped us. It was like an acid. Suddenly he turned—so quickly that the boat ran plump into him, and a little way upon his body, so close to the irons that I could have reached them by leaning out a little. Mr. Brown seized his opportunity, and drove his lance twice into the life. “Slack your line, quick,” he said, “and stern all!” Then he looked around, and saw my knot, of which I had been so proud. I was yanking desperately at the line to release the knot, but it would not come. I was not strong enough, it seemed. Mr. Brown’s face expressed the most utter disgust. He said nothing, but seized the hatchet to cut. {219} It was not necessary, for Kane had seen my trouble, had sprung and grabbed the line with me. We yanked together, and the knot came loose with a noise like an explosion. Never in my life have I felt more relief than I felt at that sound. We backed off instantly, and the flukes came down on the water, just missing the boat. I did not mind it, and was really not aware of it. I did not mind anything now that that confounded knot was loose. The whale was going into his flurry, but we got well clear of him. In ten or fifteen minutes more he lay fin out. The ship was hull down to leeward. That evening, after we had towed the whale to the ship, and had made it fast alongside, Mr. Brown found me and gave me a serious overhauling. It was not long, and it was kindly, but I never forgot it. The gist of it was that a whale line should NEVER _be made fast_. {220} CHAPTER XXIII