The crews of six whale-boats, which have been lying ready on the beach, with their lines carefully coiled in a tub, and harpoon and lances all at hand, assemble like magic. The boats are launched, and pulling rapidly out of the bay, each with its own particular flag flying at the bows; the steersman leans forward, and gives additional force to the stroke-oar by the assistance of his weight and strength; the men pull strongly and well-together; the boats dance over the flashing waves, and silence and determination reign among the crews. The object is to meet the whale, and come down upon him in front; none but a lubber or a knave would cross his wake; for his eyes are so placed that he can see laterally and behind better than straight before him, and the moment he detects a boat in pursuit he begins to run. The lubber crosses his wake, because he has not steered so as to be able to avoid doing so; the knave, because either out of spite to his employer, or because he is bribed by an adverse company, is desirous that the fish should be lost. If the boats are a long distance astern when the whale begins to run, pursuit is useless, and the men return, hoping for better luck another time. The boats come round Arthur's Head almost together. The men, knowing that many hours of severe toil are probably before them, pull steadily, but not so as to exhaust themselves at the outset. At length one boat creeps out from the rest; the others gradually drop into line, and the distance between each widens perceptibly. The last boat, a heavy sailer, is half-a-mile astern of the first. From the boats, your eye wanders to the spot where the whale was last seen to blow. For some time you can discern nothing, and fancy he must be gone off to sea again. At last a thin white column of vapour is perceptible; the animal is carelessly sporting about, unconscious of danger. The first boat draws rapidly down upon him; it approaches nearer and nearer. The fish has disappeared, but his enemies seem to know the direction in which he is going, and are ready awaiting him when he returns to the surface. You now perceive him blowing close to the first boat, the steersman of which draws in the steer-oar and runs forward, whilst the men have all peaked their oars, and remain quiet in their seats. The steersman has seized the harpoon to which the long line of coiled rope is attached; in a moment he has plunged it into the animal's side. Starting at the stroke, away it darts; the line flies out of the tub over the bow of the boat; the men begin to pull, in order to ease the shock when the line is all run out; and now away they go, the whale drawing the boat after him at such speed that the water flies off from the bows in broad flakes. After running upwards of a mile, the fish dives down to the bottom; there he remains some minutes, until compelled to return to the surface for breath. His reappearance is heralded by a column of water spouted from his nostrils.