As the vessel neared the whales the signal was sounded for half speed, and quietly she slid through the water toward two big finbacks which were leisurely swimming along close together. Intent on the feed which floated in patches at the surface and stained the water a light pink, the whales paid not the slightest attention to the steamer which was creeping so slowly and quietly near them. They went down in front of the bow, just out of range, but without arching their backs, showing that the dive would be a short one; and so it proved, for they reappeared only ten fathoms away on the port bow. [Illustration: “I was standing on the bridge with the camera focused and pressed the button as they rose to the surface.” ] I was standing on the bridge with the camera focused and pressed the button as they rose to the surface. An instant later came the crash of the harpoon-gun and the nearest whale, throwing its flukes and half its body out of the water, turned head down in a long dive. “You got him,” yelled the Captain, and it was evident that Sorenson had hit, for the heavy rope was running out at a tremendous rate. Fifty, seventy-five, one hundred fathoms were taken almost before we knew it. The man at the winch tried to check the hissing line but the brake could not hold. Half a mile of cable was gone before the rush ended and the Captain rang for half speed astern. When the whale felt the heavy drag of the vessel he stopped and sounded, sulked on the bottom for nearly half an hour, and finally reappeared in front of the boat, about three hundred fathoms away, blowing strongly. The steamer was sent astern at half speed and the line held by the winch. The steady, relentless pull was too much for even his wonderful strength, and slowly we neared the whale. Back and forth he dived across our bows, tugging at the line and sometimes gaining a few fathoms from the grinding wheels. At last he rose directly in front of the ship and Sorenson sent a second harpoon crashing into his side. Stung to renewed efforts by the biting steel, the whale dove at right angles to the vessel’s course, keeling the boat far over to port. I was standing on the wing of the bridge waiting to get a picture when the Captain shouted: [Illustration: “An instant later came the crash of the harpoon-gun and the nearest whale, throwing its flukes and half its body out of the water, turned head down in a long dive.” The cloud of smoke, the rope and wads from the gun are shown; the harpoon has buried itself in the whale. ] “Quick! Give me a hand, sir, or he’ll cut the line on our bow!” I dropped my camera and jumped to the wheel which the Captain was whirling frantically to port. Bracing ourselves, we held it hard over and the vessel responded almost instantly, relieving the strain on the rope, which was sawing back and forth across the bow. [Illustration: