With an oath Olsen shouted for full speed, and fired as the great body disappeared beneath the surface. It was a long chance but he made it, and we gave a wild yell as the harpoon shot over the water in a wide semi-circle and dropped upon the whale’s back. There was a sudden jerk, a muffled explosion, and the line slacked away again, leaving a great crimson patch staining the surface. The ship plunged forward through it and I saw the bits of torn and mangled flesh which told the story all too plainly—the bomb on the tip of the harpoon, as it exploded, had blown the iron out and the whale was free. We lay to with the engine stopped to see what would happen next. Little was said; almost the only sound was the retching and groaning of a pump when the ship keeled far over to starboard with the swell. For ten minutes the silence continued, then the Captain said in a quiet voice: “There he is, far away on the beam.” Instantly the “ting, ting” of the bell in the engine room sounded and a chase began which I shall long remember as showing what a great part persistency plays in whaling. All the rest of the afternoon the little ship hung to the whale’s track, now getting almost close enough to shoot and again losing sight of the spout in the rain and fog. It was disagreeable enough for me on the bridge, where I could be partly protected from the cold rain by a canvas screen, but Captain Olsen never left the gun. At three o’clock a cup of tea was brought him and he drank it hastily, meanwhile cramming a few crackers into his pocket to be nibbled as opportunity offered. The day wore on but the animal seemed to be stronger instead of weaker and at five o’clock I had given up hope that we would ever get another shot. I had just started to leave the bridge to go below when the whale spouted about forty fathoms away and it seemed sure that he would rise again within range. The man in the barrel shouted: “There he comes!” and pointed to a spot just beside the port bow. Captain Olsen swung the gun until he was standing almost on the edge of the rope-pan in front. We could see the huge form just under the surface, but it turned down again, leaving a swirling green trail behind it. “I’d have shot him in the tail if he had only come up,” Captain Olsen shouted, “but we’ll get him yet.” [Illustration: “The rope attached to the first harpoon floated backward in dangerous proximity to the propeller and it required some careful work to get the animal fast to the bow and the line safely out of the way.” ] Shortly afterward the whale blew near us, dead ahead, and as he turned to go down a school of porpoises dashed along beside his back. When he rose a few seconds afterward the porpoises were leaping all about his head, and, bewildered, he did not know which way to turn. We almost reached him but he slid under the water just before the ship came up. For the next few minutes he was lost in the fog and gathering darkness and I shouted to Captain Olsen: