The Boy With the U. S. Fisheries | Page 4

that had spouted from a whale close by. He looked at Hank expectantly, hoping to hear him spur the crew to a new venture, but the old whaler looked grave.
"Finback?" the boy queried.
"Gray whale, I reckon," answered the gunner.
"Devil-whale? Oh, Hank!" the boy cried, his eyes shining with excitement. "I hope it is!"
"That shows how little you know," the other replied.
"Are you going to harpoon him?"
Hank looked at the boy, smiling slightly at his utter fearlessness.
"I wish you were aboard the ship," he said, "an' I would. But I reckon it's wiser to keep out of trouble."
"But I don't want to be on the Gull," Colin protested; "at least not when there's anything going on out here. And," he added craftily, "I didn't think you were really afraid!"
"Wa'al," the old whaler said, his jaw setting firmly, "I don't want anybody to think I'm backin' down, just because I'm in a boat again. But I tell you straight, I don't like it. Gloomy," he continued, "an' the rest of you, stand by your oars. That's a gray whale an' I'm goin' after him."
"How do you know it's a California whale, Hank?" asked the boy, as they waited for the creature to reappear.
"By the spout," was the prompt reply. "It's not as high an' thin as a finback's, it's not large enough for the low, bushy spout of a humpback, an' it goes straight up instead of at a forward angle so it can't be a sperm. Must be a gray whale, can't be anythin' else."
For a few minutes the men rested on their oars, and Colin grew restless.
"Why doesn't he come up again?" he said impatiently. "First thing we know he'll be out of sight!"
The old whaler smiled again at the lad's eagerness.
"While the gray is the fastest swimmer of all the whales," he said, "you needn't be afraid that we'll lose sight of him. Most whales swim very slow, not much faster than a man can walk."
"There he is," called another of the sailors, pointing to a spout three or four hundred yards away.
"All right, boys," Hank said, "he's makin' towards the shore."
The long oars bit into the water again and Colin was glad to feel the boat moving, for it rolled fearfully on the long heaving swell. But with six good oars and plenty of muscle behind them, the little craft was not long in reaching the place where the 'slick' on the water showed that the whale had come up to breathe and then dived again. Acting under the gunner's orders the crew rested on their oars a short distance beyond the place where the whale had sounded. Presently, a couple of hundred yards from the boat, on the starboard side, the whale came up to spout, evidently having turned from the direction in which it had been slowly traveling, and the rowers made for the new objective. This time there was another long wait.
"How long do they stay down, Hank?" asked the boy.
"No reg'lar rule about it," the whaler answered; "sometimes for quite a while, but I reckon ten to fifteen minutes is about the usual. Some of 'em can stay down a long while sulkin' when they've got a harpoon or two in 'em, but I reckon three-quarters of an hour would be about the limit."
Again the boat sped onward, this time without any order from Hank, for all hands had seen the whale not more than fifty yards away, and Hank grasped the shoulder harpoon-gun. But before the boat could reach the whale and turn stern on so as to give the gunner a good chance for a shot, the whale had 'sounded' or dived.
"Next time," said Hank quietly, and told Scotty, one of the sailors, to clear away the first few coils of the rope in the barrel and make sure that it was free from tangles.
Colin noticed that the three places where the whale had spouted formed a slight arc and that Hank was directing the boat along a projection of this curve, so he was quite ready when a command came to stop rowing. Then, at the whaler's orders, the boat was swung round and the men held their oars ready to back-water.
The place could not have been picked out with greater accuracy if the whaler had known the exact spot where the big cetacean was going to appear. Within thirty feet of the boat the water began to swirl and boil.
"He's right there!" said Colin with a thrill of expectation not wholly devoid of fear.
In obedience to a wave of the old whaler's hand, the boat went astern slowly and fifteen seconds later the great back appeared near the surface and the monster 'blew,' his pent-up breath escaping suddenly when he was still a foot below the surface, and driving up