At six o’clock day began to break; and, with the first glimmer of light, the electric light of the narwhal disappeared. At seven o’clock the day was sufficiently advanced, but a very thick sea fog obscured our view, and the best spy-glasses could not pierce it. That caused disappointment and anger. I climbed the mizzen-mast. Some officers were already perched on the mast heads. At eight o’clock the fog lay heavily on the waves, and its thick scrolls rose little by little. The horizon grew wider and clearer at the same time. Suddenly, just as on the day before, Ned Land’s voice was heard: “The thing itself on the port quarter!” cried the harpooner. Every eye was turned towards the point indicated. There, a mile and a half from the frigate, a long blackish body emerged a yard above the waves. Its tail, violently agitated, produced a considerable eddy. Never did a caudal appendage beat the sea with such violence. An immense track, of dazzling whiteness, marked the passage of the animal, and described a long curve. The frigate approached the cetacean. I examined it thoroughly. The reports of the _Shannon_ and of the _Helvetia_ had rather exaggerated its size, and I estimated its length at only two hundred and fifty feet. As to its dimensions, I could only conjecture them to be admirably proportioned. While I watched this phenomenon, two jets of steam and water were ejected from its vents, and rose to the height of 120 feet; thus I ascertained its way of breathing. I concluded definitely that it belonged to the vertebrate branch, class mammalia. The crew waited impatiently for their chief’s orders. The latter, after having observed the animal attentively, called the engineer. The engineer ran to him. “Sir,” said the commander, “you have steam up?” “Yes, sir,” answered the engineer. “Well, make up your fires and put on all steam.” Three hurrahs greeted this order. The time for the struggle had arrived. Some moments after, the two funnels of the frigate vomited torrents of black smoke, and the bridge quaked under the trembling of the boilers. The _Abraham Lincoln_, propelled by her wonderful screw, went straight at the animal. The latter allowed it to come within half a cable’s length; then, as if disdaining to dive, it took a little turn, and stopped a short distance off. This pursuit lasted nearly three-quarters of an hour, without the frigate gaining two yards on the cetacean. It was quite evident that at that rate we should never come up with it. “Well, Mr. Land,” asked the captain, “do you advise me to put the boats out to sea?” “No, sir,” replied Ned Land; “because we shall not take that beast easily.” “What shall we do then?” “Put on more steam if you can, sir. With your leave, I mean to post myself under the bowsprit, and if we get within harpooning distance, I shall throw my harpoon.” “Go, Ned,” said the captain. “Engineer, put on more pressure.”