caught sight of the whale not more than fifty yards ahead of the boat.

"Now, boys," cried the captain, in a hoarse whisper, "spring hard--lay
back hard, I say--_stand up_!"

At the last word Amos-Parr sprang to his feet and seized the harpoon,
the boat ran right on to the whale's back, and in an instant Parr sent
two irons to the hitches into the fish.

"Stern all!" The men backed their oars with all their might, in order to
avoid the flukes of the wounded monster of the deep, as it plunged down
headlong into the sea, taking the line out perpendicularly like
lightning. This was a moment of great danger. The friction of the line
as it passed the loggerhead was so great that Parr had to keep
constantly pouring water on it to prevent its catching fire. A hitch in
the line at that time, as it flew out of the tub, or any accidental
entanglement, would have dragged the boat and crew right down: many such
fatal accidents occur to whalers, and many a poor fellow has had a foot
or an arm torn off, or been dragged overboard and drowned, in
consequence of getting entangled. One of the men stood ready with a
small hatchet to cut the line in a moment, if necessary; for whales
sometimes run out all that is in a boat at the first plunge, and should
none of the other boats be at hand to lend a second line to attach to
the one nearly expended, there is nothing for it but to cut. On the
present occasion, however, none of these accidents befell the men of the
captain's boat. The line ran all clear, and long before it was
exhausted the whale ceased to descend, and the _slack_ was hauled
rapidly in.

Meanwhile the other boats pulled up to the scene of action, and prepared