“No, sir, no--he's going into his flurry; there's no occasion for disgracing ourselves by using a soldier's weapon in taking a whale. Starn off, sir, starn off! the creater's in his flurry!” The warning of the prudent cockswain was promptly obeyed, and the boat cautiously drew off to a distance, leaving to the animal a clear space, while under its dying agonies. From a state of perfect rest, the terrible monster threw its tail on high, as when in sport, but its blows were trebled in rapidity and violence, till all was hid from view by a pyramid of foam, that was deeply dyed with blood. The roarings of the fish were like the bellowing of a herd of bulls; and to one who was ignorant of the fact, it would have appeared as if a thousand monsters were engaged in deadly combat behind the bloody mist that obscured the view. Gradually, these effects subsided, and when the discolored water again settled down to the long and regular swell of the ocean, the fish was seen, exhausted, and yielding passively to its fate. As life departed, the enormous black mass rolled to one side; and when the white and glistening skin of the belly became apparent, the seamen well knew that their victory was achieved. “What's to be done now?” said Barnstable, as he stood and gazed with a diminished excitement at their victim; “he will yield no food, and his carcass will probably drift to land, and furnish our enemies with the oil.” “If I had but that creatur in Boston Bay,” said the cockswain, “it would prove the making of me; but such is my luck forever! Pull up, at any rate, and let me get my harpoon and line--the English shall never get them while old Tom Coffin can blow.” “Don't speak too fast,” said the strokesman of the boat; “whether he get your iron or not, here he comes in chase!” “What mean you, fellow?” cried Barnstable. “Captain Barnstable can look for himself,” returned the seaman, “and tell whether I speak truth.” The young sailor turned, and saw the Alacrity bearing down before the wind, with all her sails set, as she rounded a headland, but a short half-league to windward of the place where the boat lay. “Pass that glass to me,” said the captain, with steady composure. “This promises us work in one of two ways: if she be armed, it has become our turn to run; if not, we are strong enough to carry her.” A very brief survey made the experienced officer acquainted with the true character of the vessel in sight; and, replacing the glass with much coolness, he said: “That fellow shows long arms, and ten teeth, besides King George's pennant from his topmast-head. Now, my lads, you are to pull for your lives; for whatever may be the notions of Master Coffin on the subject of his harpoon, I have no inclination to have my arms pinioned by John Bull, though his majesty himself put on the irons.”