Still it slipped away, and at last it was handed to the third
mate, whose two tubs met the same fate. It was now Mistah Jones'
turn to "bend on," which he did with many chuckles as of a man
who was the last resource of the unfortunate. But his face grew
longer and longer as the never-resting line continued to
disappear. Soon he signalled us that he was nearly out of line,
and two or three minutes after he bent on his "drogue" (a square
piece of plank with a rope tail spliced into its centre, and
considered to hinder a whale's progress at least as much as four
boats), and let go the end. We had each bent on our drogues in
the same way, when we passed our ends to one another. So now our
friend was getting along somewhere below with 7200 feet of
1 1/2-inch rope, and weight additional equal to the drag of
sixteen 30-feet boats.
Of course we knew that, unless he were dead and sinking, he could
not possibly remain much longer beneath the surface. The
exhibition of endurance we had just been favoured with was a very
unusual one, I was told, it being a rare thing for a cachalot to
take out two boats' lines before returning to the surface to
spout.
Therefore, we separated as widely as was thought necessary, in
order to be near him on his arrival.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123