We were to see another phase of the activities of the swordfish. We had got nearly to the Maldives, about 72° east longitude, when the hail came down from aloft: “There she breaches! And white waters!” Everybody looked. It was a lone whale, rather a small one as far as we could judge at that distance, about three miles off on the weather bow. It was kicking up extraordinary antics, sounding briefly, then coming up on a half breach; lobtailing; running for a short distance, when it would give it up, and begin all over again. The officers watched the whale while we stood toward it. At last Mr. Baker was satisfied. “Swordfish,” he said. The whale remained nearly in the same spot while we came up. His attention was so completely taken up by the swordfish that we did not lower until the ship was considerably less than a quarter of a mile away. Then we put down two boats, Mr. Baker’s and Mr. Brown’s, which ran down under both sail and oars. We did not think it necessary to avoid making a noise, for the whale could not get away if he wanted to. By the time we had got nearly within darting distance, he had almost ceased struggling, and seemed about ready to give up the ghost. The Prince was just standing up and reaching for his iron, and Mr. Baker’s boat was approaching from the other side. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Starbuck taking his harpoon from the crotch. {247} Suddenly the Prince gave a yell: “Swordfish! Look out!” Mr. Brown heaved mightily on the steering oar, to lay the boat around, but it was too late. There was a sharp crack, we felt the boat rise under us, and Kane cried out in surprise and pain. I turned my head around quickly—I had no business to do so, and I knew it as soon as I had time to think. I saw the point of the sword sticking up beside Kane’s thigh. Kane had dropped his oar, grabbed the sword point with both hands, and was yelling for the iron. The sword had gone through the thin planking—the garboard strake—and through the thwart, and had given Kane a flesh wound in the thigh. It was a narrow escape for Kane, but he was not thinking of that. His whole mind was upon holding the sword without cutting his hands too badly. The swordfish was thrashing about viciously, shaking the boat, and threatening to break out the bottom planking. It all happened more quickly than I can tell it. The Prince was alert, and he reached over, and jabbed the harpoon clear through the fish. Then he seized a lance, and churned it up and down through the heart of the fish, turning it as he churned. He could not reach the gills, where swordfish are usually lanced. The violent struggles of the swordfish ceased, he quivered once, and lay still; but his sword remained sticking through the thwart even after Kane had let go of it, and Kane’s thigh was bleeding freely. “Badly hurt, Kane?” Mr. Brown asked.