Part 3 (1/2)
Neither of them distinctly understood that the natural heart is enmity against G.o.d, and that, until he is converted by the Holy Spirit, man neither loves to think of his Maker nor to speak of him.
While they sat thus musing, a breeze dimmed the surface of the sea, and the _Dolphin_, which had hitherto lain motionless in one of the numerous ca.n.a.ls, began slowly to advance between the islands of ice. The breeze freshened, and rendered it impossible to avoid an occasional collision with the floating ma.s.ses; but the good s.h.i.+p was well armed for the fight, and, although she quivered under the blows, and once or twice recoiled, she pushed her way through the pack gallantly. In the course of an hour or two they were once more in comparatively clear water.
Suddenly there came a cry from the crow's-nest--”There she blows!”
Instantly every man in the s.h.i.+p sprang to his feet as if he had received an electric shock.
”Where away?” shouted the captain.
”On the lee-bow, sir,” replied the look-out.
From a state of comparative quiet and repose the s.h.i.+p was now thrown into a condition of the utmost animation, and, apparently, unmeaning, confusion. The sight of a whale acted on the spirits of the men like wild-fire.
”There she blows!” sang out the man at the masthead again.
”Are we keeping right for her?” asked the captain.
”Keep her away a bit; steady!” replied the lookout.
”Steady it is!” answered the man at the wheel.
”Call all hands and get the boats out, Mr. Bolton,” said the captain.
”All hands ahoy!” shouted the mate in a tempestuous voice, while the men rushed to their respective stations.
”Boat-steerers, get your boats ready.”
”Ay, ay, sir.”
”There go flukes,” cried the look-out, as the whale dived and tossed its flukes--that is, its tail--in the air, not more than a mile on the lee-bow; ”she's heading right for the s.h.i.+p.”
”Down with the helm!” roared the captain. ”Mr. Bolton, brace up the mizzen-top-sail! Hoist and swing the boats! Lower away!”
In another moment three boats struck the water, and their respective crews tumbled tumultuously into them. Fred and Singleton sprang into the stern-sheets of the captain's boat just as it pushed off, and, in less than five minutes, the three boats were bounding over the sea in the direction of the whale like race-horses. Every man did his best, and the tough oars bent like hoops as each boat's crew strove to outstrip the others.
CHAPTER IV.
_The chase and the battle--The chances and dangers of whaling war--Buzzby dives for his life and saves it--So does the whale and loses it--An anxious night, which terminates happily, though with a heavy loss._
The chase was not a long one, for, while the boats were rowing swiftly towards the whale, the whale was, all unconsciously, swimming towards the boats.
”Give way now, lads, give way,” said the captain in a suppressed voice; ”bend your backs, boys, and don't let the mate beat us.”
The three boats flew over the sea, as the men strained their muscles to the utmost, and for some time they kept almost in line, being pretty equally matched; but gradually the captain shot ahead, and it became evident that his harpooner, Amos Parr, was to have the honour of harpooning the first whale. Amos pulled the bow-oar, and behind him was the tub with the line coiled away, and the harpoon bent on to it. Being an experienced whaleman, he evinced no sign of excitement, save in the brilliancy of his dark eye and a very slight flush on his bronzed face.
They had now neared the whale and ceased rowing for a moment, lest they should miss it when down.
”There she goes!” cried Fred in a tone of intense excitement, as he caught sight of the whale not more than fifty yards ahead of the boat.
”Now, boys,” cried the captain, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, ”spring hard--lay back hard, I say--_stand up_!”