He ran to leeward, but he ran under water, and we went off on our sleigh-ride, accompanied by the whole school of cows. Now and then he came up to spout, but we were slowly distancing Mr. Tilton. We made several unavailing attempts, to pull up and lance, but the only effect was to increase the speed of the whale. The ship was hull down, and Mr. Tilton soon out of sight. That was early in the forenoon. That whale ran until late in the afternoon before we were able to pull up. As soon as he felt Mr. Brown’s lance, the whale sounded, head first, his flukes grazing the bottom of the boat as he went, and setting her to rolling, but not rolling her over. When he felt her, he turned like a flash, and came up again, obliquely at us, mouth open and belly up, thrusting and striking with his jaw. Most fortunately he did not stove the boat, but rolled it over, merely chipping the gunwale with his teeth. Then he seemed to think that he had done damage enough—in which matter I agreed with him—probably settled us; and he lay about fifty feet away, snapping his spout hole and snapping his jaws, giving every evidence of extreme irritation, but not attacking. We should have been helpless if he had, and should have had to take to the water, and scatter. He was spouting thin blood, and probably in no great distress. I remember that several of the men, clinging to the bottom of the overturned boat, coolly discussed the color of the spout, and concluded that the whale was not seriously hurt, even with two harpoons in him, and two thrusts of the lance. {312} We slowly drifted nearer, until we rose and fell side by side, the boat occasionally rubbing against him, but he gave us no attention. The cows had disappeared. He lay there for over an hour, until we saw Mr. Tilton coming up under sail. When the whale caught sight of Mr. Tilton’s boat, he made for it at once, snapping his jaws. Mr. Tilton then had his sail down, and he backed away, evading the rush of the whale, and putting an iron into him. Upon feeling the iron, the whale ran again. He had not gone far, however,—not above a quarter of a mile,—when the line went slack, showing that the iron had drawn. We did not see that whale again, nor our two harpoons and tub of line. It was long after dark when we got aboard the ship, pretty well worn out. The experience with that whale rankled in my mind for a long time. To think that any whale could do about as he pleased with two boats and twelve men, keep the men working hard for about ten hours, and then get away with harpoons and line, was almost too much. It exasperated me. Even when we were off the Solomon Islands, well on our way to New Zealand, I was thinking of it, and complained of it to Peter, for about the hundredth time.