"Hold her so!" said the second mate. "Way enough! just hold her so till he rises again!" as the whale hollowed his back under the sea, now crimsoned with his life-tide, and again rising, received the lance anew in his vitals; but the first "set" was enough, and the gush of clotted blood from his spiracle told how effectually it had done its work. "There," said Father Grafton, who had just got his line gathered in, and was ready to renew the assault, "there's the red flag flying at his nose! Blacksmith, we may as well put up our lance, we sha'n't want it to-day. Well done, Mr. Dunham! Thick as tar the first lance! Hold on line, Bunker! heave on a turn!" as the whale, making a dying effort, started up to windward, passing among the Pandora's boats within easy hail. "Give us your warp, Pitman, if you want a tow," said Bunker in passing to Mr. Ray's boatsteerer. "Every dog has his day," growled Pitman, in reply. "Yes. Come aboard to-morrow and I'll give you a 'scrap' for luck." The whale went in his "flurry," and turned up under the stern of the Pandora, as she luffed to for her boats; but Captain Worth could not afford to lose the breeze long, and, by the time the last boat was on the cranes, his helm was up and his mizzen-topsail shivering. The old ship fell off to her former course, and setting her royal and studding sails, left her more fortunate consort "alone in her glory." Captain Upton had no occasion to "grease his lance," but seeing that the work was done, and the victory won, made the best of his way on board. He made a short stretch, fetching to windward of us, and then stood along under easy sail, till Mr. Grafton, having "cut a hole" and got his line all clear for running, set a waif for the ship. She then ran down for us, and luffing to handsomely with the head yards aback, and the foretopsail on the cap, the line was "streamed," and led into the "chock." The jib being run down, and the helm lashed a-lee, so as completely to deaden the ship's way, the whale was hauled down to the ship, with the inspiring and time-honored chorus of "Cheerly, men!" the burden being led off by Old Jeff; and at ten o'clock, the monster, who when the sun rose appeared like a monarch of the deep sporting in all the consciousness of sovereign power, lay securely chained up alongside the good ship Arethusa. "Well, Bunker," said the old man to the blushing young boatsteerer, "you plugged this fellow solid, at any rate, if you never do another. The Pandora's crew tried to gally you, didn't they?" "Yes, sir," said Bunker, "either me or the whale, I don't know which. But they were too late with their yells." "Well, I don't know as I can blame Mr. Ray," said the captain. "I suppose he thought, if he could gally you of the whale, he would stand as good a chance as any of us next rising, as there is no telling, with any certainty, where a gallied[1] whale will come up."