t from the spot where he fell, and
in another moment he was gone.

"I do believe it's _New Zealand Tom_," cried Bill Blunt, referring to an
old bull whale that had become famous among the men who frequented these
seas, for its immense size and fierceness, and for the great trouble it
had given them, smashing some of their boats, and carrying away many of
their harpoons.

"I don't know whether it's New Zealand Tom or not," said the captain,
"but it's pretty clear that he's an old sperm bull. Give way, lads, we
must get that whale, whatever it should cost us."

We did not need a second bidding; the size of the fish was so great that
we felt more excited than we had yet been during the voyage, so we bent
our oars till we almost pulled the boat out of the water. The other
boats had got separated, chasing the little whales, so we had this one
all to ourselves.

"There she blows!" said Tom Lokins, in a low voice, as the fish came up
a short distance astern of us.

We had overshot our mark, so, turning about, we made for the whale,
which kept for a considerable time near the top of the water, spouting
now and then, and going slowly to windward. We at last got within a few
feet of the monster, and the captain suddenly gave the word, "Stand up."

This was to our harpooner, Tom Lokins, who jumped up on the instant, and
buried two harpoons deep in the blubber.

"Stern all!" was the next word, and we backed off with all our might.
It was just in time, for, in his agony, the whale tossed his tail right
over our heads, the flukes were so big that they could have completely
covered the boat, and he brought them down flat on the sea with a clap
that made our ears tingle, while a shower of spray drenched us to the
skin. For one moment I thought it was all over with us, but we were
soon out of immediate danger, and lay on our oars watching the writhings
of the wounded monster as he lashed the ocean into foam. The water all
round us soon became white like milk, and the foam near the whale was
red with blood.

Suddenly this ceased, and, before we could pull up to lance him, he went
down, taking the line out at such a rate that the boat spun round, and
sparks of fire flew from the logger-head, from the chafing of the rope.

"Hold on!" cried the captain, and next moment we were tearing over the
sea at a fearful rate, with a bank of white foam rolling before us, high
above our bows, and away on each side of us like the track of