"Are you all ready, Mr. Grafton?"
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate from the maintop, where he had mounted to get a look at the whale when he should rise again.
"Let them hoist and swing the boats."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"I think I saw a ripple then," said the second mate, from the topsail yard directly beneath him.
"Where?" demanded the captain.
"Four points off the lee bow."
"O! no, you didn't, he wont come there. He'll rise right ahead or a little on the weather-bow. I don't think he'll go much to windward — good gracious! see that Pandora come down! She'll be right in the suds here, directly! I think we've run far enough, eh, Mr. Grafton? Haul the main-sail up, then! and square the main yard!"
Silence for a few minutes after this evolution was performed.
"He can't be far off when he comes up again. Look at the men old Worth has got aloft there, his cross-trees swarming, and every rattling manned. — Look sharp! all of ye! We must see that whale when he first breaks water. That helm eased down? Haul the foresail up, and let the jib-sheets flow a little more. It can't be possible that whale has been up — no, we couldn't help seeing him, some of us — I know 'twas a sperm whale. I saw his fan; besides, there's Mr. Johnson — best eyes in the ship. What time is it, there? An hour and ten minutes that whale has been down — a long-winded old dog! We shall have to wear round, I'm afraid we shall forge. Blo-o-ows! right ahead, not one mile off! Down there and lower away! Now, Mr. Grafton, work carefully — Mr. Dunham, too; if you don't strike this rising, spread your chances well, and don't crowd each other — but dont you let the Pandora get him!" The captain was by this time in the stern of his own boat. ''All ready, Mr. Johnson? Where's Old Jeff at my midship oar? O, here you are, eh? You ain't turned white yet — lower away! Cooper! Where's Cooper? As soon as we are all clear, wear round — Let run that davit fall? — Wear round and make a short board — haul up your tackle, boy. Keep to windward all you can. Cooper! Pull a little off the weather-bow, Mr. Grafton, and then set your sail! Haul in these gripes towing over the quarter — By thunder, there's Worth's boats all down! coming with fair wind, too! Out oars, lads."
The Pandora had luffed to and dropped her boats a mile to windward, and they were coming down before the breeze, wing-and-wing, with their paddles flashing in the sunlight, and their immense jibs guyed out on the bow-oar as studding-sails, promising to stand about an equal chance for the whale with ourselves. The larboard boat to which I belonged proved the fastest of the three, and had a little the lead. After pulling a few quiet strokes to windward, Father Grafton set his sails, and, as he gave the order to "peak the oars and take the paddles," seemed as cool and calm as when engaged in the most ordinary duty on board. There was no confusion or bustle in his boat, but with his practiced eye fixed upon the huge spermaceti, he kept encouraging us in a low, dry tone, as he conned the steering oar with such skill, that he seemed to do it without effort.
"Now, lads, you face round to paddle, you can all see him. I declare, he's a noble fellow — ninety barrels under his hide, if there's a drop. Bunker, do you see that fellow? he's got a back like a ten-acre lot — paddle hard, lads — if you miss him, go right overboard yourself, and don't come up again — long and strong strokes, boys, on your paddles. See that boat coming? that's Ray, the second mate of the Pandora — three or four more spouts, and we'll have him — he's ours sure! they can't get here in time — scratch hard, boys! don't hit your paddles on the gunwale. Stand up. Bunker, and get your jibtack clear. Don't let them 'gaily' you, if they shout in that boat."
"All right!" said his boatsteerer, with his eager hand resting on the iron pole. "Never fear, sir."
"Paddle hard, lads, a stroke or two. That's right, Bunker. Keep cool, my boy. Keep cool, and make sure of him."
A wild and prolonged shout rang on the air from six sturdy pairs of lungs in the Pandora's waist-boat, as Mr. Ray, seeing that he was baffled, let fly his sheets and rounded to, a ship's length to windward. It was too late, however.
"All right," said Father Grafton, in the same dry, quiet tone, as before. "Hold your hand, Bunker. Hold your hand, boy, till you're past this hump — another shoot, lads — way enough, in paddles. Now, Bunker! give it to him! Down to your oars, the rest. Give him father one, boy! Well done! both irons to the hitches. Hold water, all! Bear a hand, now, and roll up that sail. Wet line, Tom! wet line! Where's your bucket? All ready with your sail. Bunker? Let her come then — all right. Come aft here, now, and let me get a dig at him."
The line was spinning round the loggerhead with a whizzing noise, and a smoking heat, as the huge leviathan, stung to the quick, darted down into the depths of the ocean. Bunker threw on the second round turn to check him, and jamming the bight of the line over the stern sheets, watched it carefully as it flew through his grasp; while the mate cleared his lance, and got ready to renew the attack. Every moment his anxiety increased as he kept turning his head, and looking at the tub of line, rapidly settling, as the whale ran it out. "I declare, I believe he'll take all my line. Blacksmith! pass along the drug! Check him hard, Bunker!" then, seeing the other boats near at hand, he opened his throat, and, for the first time, we learned the power of Father Grafton's lungs.
"Spring hard, Mr. Dunham! I want your line! Cast off your craft, and stand by to throw your line to me! Spring hard! Do!"
The ash sticks in the waist-boat were doing their best, as the loud "Ay, ay!" was borne back o'er the water from Dunham, while the old man could be seen in the rear of the picture, wildly straining every nerve to be "in at the death," and heaving desperately at the after oar, with his hat off, his hair flying loosely in the breeze, and his whole frame writhing with eager excitement. Our line was going, going; already there was but one flake in the tub, when the waist-boat ranged up on our quarter, and Fisher, with the coil gathered in his hand, whirled it over his head, making ready for a cast. At this instant, the strain was suddenly relieved, and the line slacked up.
"Never mind!" roared Mr. Grafton. "Hold on Fisher! All right, he's coming! Never mind your line, Mr. Dunham, he's coming up! pull ahead and get fast! Get a lance at him if you can! Haul line, us! Face round here, all of ye, and haul line! Careful, Bunker, about coiling down! He'll be up now, in a minute, haul lively!"
The waist-boat had shot ahead under a fresh impulse of her oars, and the captain came drawing up abreast of the fast boat.
"Are you well fast, Mr. Grafton?"
"Ay, ay, sir; both irons chock to the socket."
"That's the talk! Got 'most all your line, hasn't he."
"Yes, sir."
"Well gather in as fast as you can. Spring hard, us! Spring! I want to grease a lance in that fish! There he is up!" he shouted as the tortured monster broke water, shoving his whole head out in his agony, and started to windward.
Fisher had bent on his craft again, and was about two ships' length from the whale when he rose, "Haul quick, my lads!" said the mate, "and get this stray line in! There's Mr. Dunham going on, and the old man will be with him in a minute. There he brings to!" as the whale suddenly stopped short in his mad career, and lay swashing up and down, as if rallying his strength for a fresh effort.