If ever
a young hand was perplexed, it was I. Never before had I heard
of such unseemly behaviour, nor was my anxiety lessened when I
saw, a short distance away, the huge body of my prize at the
surface spouting blood. At the same time, I was paying out line
at a good rate, as if I had a fast fish on which was sounding
briskly.
The skipper had been watching me very closely from his seat on
the taffrail, and had kept the ship within easy distance. Now,
suspecting something out of the common, he sent the boat again to
my assistance, in charge of the cooper. When that worthy
arrived, he said, "Th' ol' man reckens yew've got snarled erp'ith
thet ar' loose keow, 'n y'r irons hev draw'd from th' other. I'm
gwine ter wait on him,'n get him 'longside 'soon's he's out'er
his flurry. Ole man sez yew'd best wait on what's fast t' yer
an' nev' mine th' other." Away he went, reaching my prize just
as the last feeble spout exhaled, leaving the dregs of that great
flood of life trickling lazily down from the widely expanded
spiracle. To drive a harpoon into the carcass, and run the line
on board, was the simplest of jobs, for, as the captain had
foreseen, my irons were drawn clean.
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