The ash sticks in the waist-boat were doing their best, as the loud "Ay, ay!" was borne back o'er the water from Dunham, while the old man could be seen in the rear of the picture, wildly straining every nerve to be "in at the death," and heaving desperately at the after oar, with his hat off, his hair flying loosely in the breeze, and his whole frame writhing with eager excitement. Our line was going, going; already there was but one flake in the tub, when the waist-boat ranged up on our quarter, and Fisher, with the coil gathered in his hand, whirled it over his head, making ready for a cast. At this instant, the strain was suddenly relieved, and the line slacked up. "Never mind!" roared Mr. Grafton. "Hold on Fisher! All right, he's coming! Never mind your line, Mr. Dunham, he's coming up! pull ahead and get fast! Get a lance at him if you can! Haul line, _us_! Face round here, all of ye, and haul line! Careful, Bunker, about coiling down! He'll be up now, in a minute, haul lively!" The waist-boat had shot ahead under a fresh impulse of her oars, and the captain came drawing up abreast of the fast boat. "Are you well fast, Mr. Grafton?" "Ay, ay, sir; both irons chock to the socket." "That's the talk! Got 'most all your line, hasn't he." "Yes, sir." "Well, gather in as fast as you can. Spring hard, _us_! Spring! I want to grease a lance in that fish! There he is up!" he shouted as the tortured monster broke water, shoving his whole head out in his agony, and started to windward. Fisher had bent on his craft again, and was about two ships' lengths from the whale when he rose. "Haul quick, my lads!" said the mate, "and get this stray line in! There's Mr. Dunham going on, and the old man will be with him in a minute. There he brings to!" as the whale suddenly stopped short in his mad career, and lay swashing up and down, as if rallying his strength for a fresh effort. "There's 'stand up' in the waist-boat! There he darts! Hurrah! two boats fast! Haul lively, _us_, and get this line in!" The whale seemed staggered by this accumulation of cold iron in his system, and lay wallowing in the trough of the waves. It was a critical moment for him; for Mr. Dunham was getting his lance on the half-cock, ready for darting, and, as the whale suddenly "milled short round" to pass across the head of his boat, the young man saw his advantage, and cried: "Pull ahead! Pull ahead, and we'll get a 'set' on him! Lay forward, Fisher! Lay forward hard, my lad! right on for his fin! Pull ahead! So, way enough--hold water, all;" and, driven by a strong arm, the sharp lance entered his "life," its bright shank disappearing till the pole brought it up.