It was eleven o’clock before we raised another spout, but this animal was blowing frequently and the great cloud of birds hovering about showed that he was “on feed.” He was running fast but seldom stayed down long, his high, sickle-shaped dorsal fin cutting the surface first in one direction, then in another, but always the center of a screaming flock of birds which sometimes swept downward in a cloud, dipping into the waves and rising again, the water flashing in myriads of crystal drops from their brown wings. As we came close we saw that the whale was in a school of sardines, the fish frantically dashing here and there, often jumping clear out of the water and causing their huge pursuer a deal of trouble to follow their quick turnings. But he managed his lithe body with wonderful rapidity, and ever before the fish left him many yards behind was plowing after them, his great tail sending the water in swirling green patches astern. We were going at full speed and came down to half when a hundred fathoms away, but we could not take it slow, for the whale was running directly from us. I got two pictures of the birds and from where I was standing beside the gun could plainly follow the animal in his course. As he rose about sixty fathoms ahead and turned to go down, his back came into view and just behind the fin a large white mark was visible. “That’s a harpoon scar,” said Andersen. “It is a bad sign. He may give us a run for it, after all.” The engines were at dead slow now, for the whale had surely seen us and might double under water, coming up astern. Andersen was ready at the gun, swinging the huge weapon slightly to and fro, his feet braced, every few seconds calling out to the Bo’s’n aloft, “Miye masu ka?” (Do you see him?) We had been waiting two minutes (it seemed hours) when the Bo’s’n shouted: “He’s coming. He’s coming. On the port bow.” In a second the water began to swirl and boil and we could see the shadowy form rise almost to the surface, check its upward rush, and dash along parallel with the ship. [Illustration: A sei whale showing a portion of the soft fatty tongue. ] “_Dame_ (no good), _dame_, he won’t come up!” exclaimed Andersen. “_Mo sukoshi_ (a little more) speed, _mo sukoshi_ speed! _Dame, dame_, he’s leaving us. Half speed, _half_ speed!” [Illustration: “In the mirror of my camera I could see the enormous gray head burst from the water, the blowholes open and send forth a cloud of vapor, and the slim back draw itself upward, the water streaming from the high fin as it cut the surface. Andersen’s last words were drowned in the crashing roar of the gun.” ] Never shall I forget the intense excitement of those few minutes! The huge, ghost-like figure was swimming along just under the surface, not five feet down, aggravatingly close but as well protected by the shallow water-armor as though it had been of steel. Andersen was shouting beside me: