he 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 befel 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
to strike, the instant the fish should rise to the surface. It appeared
suddenly, not twenty yards from the mate's boat, where Buzzby, who was
harpooner, stood in the bow ready to give it the iron.

"Spring, lads, spring!" shouted the mate, as the whale spouted into the
air a thick stream of water. The boat dashed up, and Buzzby planted his
harpoon vigorously. Instantly the broad flukes of the tail were tossed
into the air, and, for a single second, spread like a canopy over
Buzzby's head. There was no escape. The quick eye of the whaleman saw
at a glance that the effort to back out was hopeless. He bent his head,
and the next moment was deep down in the waves. Just as he disappeared,
the flukes descended on the spot which he had left, and cut the bow of
the boat completely away, sending the stern high into the air with a
violence that tossed men, and oars, and shattered planks, and cordage,
flying over the monster's back into the seething caldron of foam around
him. It was apparently a scene of the most complete and instantaneous
destruction, yet, strange to say, not a man was lost. A few seconds
after, the white foam of the sea was dotted with black heads, as the men
rose one by one to the surface, and struck out for floating oars and
pieces of the wrecked boat.

"They're lost!" cried Fred Ellice in a voice of horror.

"Not a bit of it, youngster; they're safe enough, I'll warrant," replied
the captain, as his own boat flew past the spot, towed by the whale.
"Pay out, Amos Parr; give him line, or he'll tear the bows out of us."

"Ay, ay, sir!" sang out Amos, as he sat coolly pouring water on the
loggerhead, round which a coil of the rope was whizzing like lightning;
"all right! The mate's men are all safe, sir; I counted them as we shot
past, and I seed Buzzby come up last of all, blowin' like a grampus; and
small wonder