turned and was proceeding with open jaws to attack the
first officer's boat. Another minute and he would have destroyed it, and
perhaps all on board. Just at that moment Tite's boat came up, and with
a quick, bold, and dexterous movement, rounded close under the whale's
off side, and with a strong arm sent a lance home. That lance made a
deep and fatal wound. The enraged monster forgot in a moment the object
he was in pursuit of, threw up a volume of deep red spray, then making a
desperate plunge, disappeared. He had no intention of giving up the
battle, however. He merely sought relief for his wounds in deep water.
The boats now waited and watched for the result. After waiting nearly
twenty minutes the monster rose again, directly ahead of the captain's
boat, and so near as to dash the spray into it.

"Take that!" said the old captain; "that iron'll stop your fightin'."
And he hurled his lance, with quick and deadly aim, giving an order at
the same time to "astern hard." But before sternway could be got on the
boat, the infuriated monster made a sudden turn, dashed upon and stove
it into fragments.

The famous old whale-killer had hurled his last lance, had killed his
last whale. The dying monster, in making a last struggle with his
enemies, had struck the captain with his fluke, and he sunk never to
rise again.

CHAPTER XXVI.

DUNMAN'S CAVE.

Flags hung at half mast the rest of that day, and minute guns were fired
at sunset. And there was something sad and solemn in the dull, booming
sound as it echoed and reechoed over that broad and mysterious sea. And
when night came, and drew a dark curtain around the ship, and her
timbers murmured and complained, and every sail stood out in shadow
against the clear sky, and the surface of the water seemed alive with
sprites, flitting and dancing here and there, groups of sorrowing men
were seen gathered about the decks, giving expression to their grief at
the loss of their old captain.

"God bless him! He was good to us all. There'll be no more whales to
kill where he has gone." These were the words of regret that fell from
lips that rarely invoked a prayer.

At midnight, when the bells had struck, the crew gathered together on
the forward deck, and while one held a lamp another read the Episcopal
service for the burial of the dead. And as the light at times reflected
each figure of the group, giving it a phantom-like appearance, the
picture presented was sad and