There She Blows! Or, The Log of the ArethusaMacy, William Hussey
General
There She Blows! Or, The Log of the Arethusa
Macy, William Hussey
Sea stories; Whaling -- Fiction
"Now Blacksmith!" said the mate, throwing the boat's head off as he
spoke.
I needed no second bidding; my first iron went in to the socket, and
the second followed it, though not quite so deeply.
"Good!" said Father Grafton. "_Heave your box-line overboard!_"
With his shout was mingled a cry of "Stern! Stern hard!" from the
other boat; I saw Fisher's iron cleave its way through the shining
blackskin opposite my own, there was a convulsive heaving and rocking
of everything about us, then a loud crash and splintering sound. The
waist-boat's crew were all swimming amid the chaotic wreck of their
frail craft. Her broadside was crushed in clear fore and aft. The whale
had thrown himself over towards her, and we had escaped without injury.
The monster had disappeared instantly, but was evidently not far
beneath us, as all the lines hung slack. The second mate had, of
course, cut his, as soon as he could get at it. We sterned off out of
the slick where the whale had gone down, and lay just at the outer rim
of the bloody water.
"You are well fast, Mr. Grafton, with both irons; you hold on!" said
the old man. "I'll cut off and pick up the crew. Never mind, we'll
divide 'em. Take three men into your boat, and we'll both hold on.
Never mind the stoven boat; we can't bother about her now."
The dripping crew were all rescued; for, by a good fortune which seems
almost miraculous in hundreds of similar cases, no one was hurt; and
we now prepared for a fresh attack with nine men in each boat; though
reinforcements of this kind were not at all desirable as the boats were
overloaded, and every one was in every one else's way. But the ship had
run down, and was close by us, in case of further accident; we had yet
three hours to sundown, and the strange ship was also near, watching
our movements, and had hoisted her private or owner's signal, by which
we knew her to be the Fortitude; which lay at the "Bar" when we sailed
and had shortly followed us.
"Where is the whale?" said the old man. "Our line is all slack." Then
suddenly he roared, "Look out! Stern all! stern, out of the way!"
The ponderous head of the whale was standing erect above the water like
a milestone; it swayed for a moment, and then seeming to fall over
backwards, the lower jaw, with its ugly display of ivory, was thrust
up, nearly at right angles with the upper.
"Stern! Stern hard, and give him room! He'll bear watching, Mr.
Grafton. We shall have to look out for slants. I would like to get my
second iron in, but I'm afraid he wont give me a chance soon."
But he did, however; for after impotently gnashing his jaw two or three
times, he rolled over and straightened out, spouting, apparently, as
strong as ever. It was plain that he had plenty of fight in him yet,
and was fairly brought to bay. He did not intend to run any more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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