THE WHALE ESCAPES
“Towed out to sea?” inquired Ned.
The words had a sort of terror in them. The boys looked at one another.
“Land love you, yes,” went on the old whaler, who seemed as happy as a
lad at a picnic. “It isn’t the first time I’ve been towed by a whale.
That’s the way they do, sometimes. But they soon tire of it, and then
we’ll have another chance at him.”
“But isn’t it dangerous?” asked Jerry, who did not exactly like the
idea.
“Not a bit,” replied Sam. “That is, if you cut the line in time, in
case the whale sounds.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ned.
“Why, sometimes they’ll take a notion to go down before you know it.
Then, if you don’t cut the line in time, they’re liable to swamp the
boat.”
“Maybe we’d better cut it now,” suggested Bob.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Sam. “Why it’s only just begun. There’s no danger
yet. I remember once we was towed nearly a day with a whale in the
North Sea. I was mate of the _Dogstar_ then, as fine a craft as I ever
saw. But she was wrecked on an iceberg and I was the only one saved.
That was a voyage!” and the old man’s eye sparkled in remembrance.
“How far will he take us?” asked Jerry, not a little anxious on his
mother’s account.
“No telling,” replied Sam. “Twenty or thirty miles, maybe. But you have
one advantage we didn’t have in the old whale boats. You can keep the
engine going at reverse, and make a drag that will soon tire him out.
That’s a good thing.”
In spite of the fact that the motor was revolving the screw backward,
the whale seemed to have no difficulty in pulling the _Dartaway_ after
him. He fairly made the craft fly through the water.
Right out to sea, the motor boat was headed. The beach had long since
been left astern, and the other boats could only be dimly seen.
There was nothing to do but to sit and wait for the whale to tire
itself out. Sam seemed to accept this as a matter of course. He
had brought a lance along, in addition to his harpoon, and was now
sharpening this keen weapon, in anticipation of making a death thrust.
As for the boys, they viewed with alarm the ever increasing distance
from shore. The beach was now but an indistinct hazy line.
“Maybe we’d better give it up,” suggested Bob.
“Why, are you getting hungry, Chunky?” asked Jerry.
Ned’s laugh at this sally seemed to relieve their feelings somewhat,
and, when Sam told them he would only hold on a little while longer, in
case they were still alarmed, they felt better.
“We can’t come to any harm,” the old sailor said. “No matter how far we
go we can get back, and we’ll not have to row, either, the way we did
in the old days.”
“But it’s a good distance to go to sea in a small boat,” objected Bob.
“This is big enough to cross the Atlantic in,” said the sailor. “All
you want is plenty to eat.”
“Oh, we’ve got that,” Bob replied, brightening up, somewhat at the
remembrance of the well filled lockers.
“Then don’t worry,” advised Salt Water Sam. “It’s a fine day and no
sign of a storm.”
Then the boys decided to accept the situation. They knew they could
make good time back, in their craft, and Jerry did not believe his
mother would worry. Besides she had no idea that they had gone
whaling. If she had, she might have been alarmed.
Then, too, there was something fascinating in the idea of being
attached to a monster of the deep. The boys realized it was an
experience they might never have again, though, for that matter, it is
doubtful if they ever wanted it.
So, for an hour longer they sat in the boat and watched the waves
rushing past them. As the reversing of the engine seemed to have no
slackening effect on the whale’s progress, Jerry decided to shut the
motor off, and so save gasolene.
Now and then Sam would stand up in the bow and take an observation. The
boys could see nothing but the long, thin line extending from the craft
and disappearing beneath the water.
“He’s still there,” said the old sailor, as if there could be any doubt
of it with the way the boat was speeding through the water. “I can see
him, almost on the surface. He’s going a lively clip.”
Bob got up from where he had been seated and began rummaging about in
the locker.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ned.
“I’m hungry,” announced Chunky. “Got to have something to eat.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Sam put in. “I didn’t have much dinner
myself, and salt air always makes me have an appetite.”
Thus finding an ally, Bob proceeded to get out the victuals. He lighted
the gasolene stove and made coffee, which with some sandwiches and
canned stuff, provided a meal that made up in zest what it lacked in
quality.
“I’ll bet it’s the first time this whale ever towed a dinner party,”
said Jerry between bites.
“I hope it’ll be the last,” murmured Sam. “I want to get my lance into
him. There’s a pot of money in it, even if he isn’t a spermer. We can
land him on the beach and charge ten cents admission to see him, though
it’s not in my line.”
It was about ten minutes later when Jerry, glancing at the line,
noticed it was slack. He called Sam’s attention to it.
“He’s up to some trick,” the old sailor remarked, as he peered
anxiously forward. “Going to sound, or maybe he’s headed this way.”
The boys looked at each other. Here was a new complication. It was one
thing to chase a whale. It was altogether another to have the process
reversed and the monster turn pursuer.
“What shall we do?” asked Ned.
“We’ll have to wait and see what he’s up to,” Sam replied.
“Suppose he comes for us?”
“Then we’ll have to run. That’s the only safe rule,” and Sam smiled
grimly.
The _Dartaway_ was now rocking easily on the waves. The sea remained
calm, and, as the sailor remarked, was like a “mill pond on a summer
day.” The line from the bow lay slack on the water.
“He’s sulking,” muttered Sam, as he stood up, trying to catch a glimpse
of the monster.
An instant later it seemed as if a big wave was coming toward the boat.
There was a roll of green water, advancing nearer and nearer.
“He’s headed for us!” cried Sam. “Quick! Start the engine and get away!”
Bob dropped his sandwich and sprang to the fly wheel. He cranked it,
praying silently that the explosion might come quickly.
Jerry had thrown the forward gear in, and turned on the gasolene and
spark. There sounded a welcome “chug,” and an instant later the engine
was working at rapid speed.
Jerry put the wheel over, and headed the boat away from the on-coming
whale. The line, fast to the bow, swung over the stern, lengthwise of
the craft, nearly carrying Ned overboard in the rapid change it made.
The _Dartaway_ was off like an arrow from the bow, piling up a line of
foam at the cut-water. The big wave at the back was nearer now. It was
caused by the water gathering in front of the whale’s blunt, massive
head.
“Can we get away?” cried Bob.
“We’ve got to try!” shouted Sam. “Put a little more speed on, skipper!”
The boat forged ahead faster than before. Sam stood up, peering aft
to see if the whale gained. There was no doubt that the monster
was nearer, in spite of the fast whirling propellor. For once the
_Dartaway_ had met her match in a speed contest.
“Can’t you get any more out of her?” called the sailor in an anxious
voice.
“No,” said Jerry, his heart sinking.
“He’ll ram us and sink us!” cried Bob.
“Veer off a bit!” yelled Sam. “Maybe he’ll rush past us, and we can
slip away.”
Jerry shifted the wheel, to allow the whale to pass on the left, if
it would, in its maddened rush. The sailor armed himself with a small
hatchet and his lance.
As the boat swung around the line passed from the stern to the bow.
It had been slack, but now it grew taut again, and the old sailor,
watching it, sought for an explanation.
It was easily found. The whale had ceased its rush at the boat, and,
passing to one side, was moving forward again. Then, as though trying
a last resort to rid itself of the harpoon, it suddenly sank. Down and
down into the ocean depths it went.
The bow of the _Dartaway_ began to be depressed. Lower and lower it
went into the water, until the screw was revolving in the air.
“He’ll pull us down with him!” yelled Jerry.
“No, he won’t!” cried Sam.
There was a sharp sound, a snap as though a whip had cracked and the
end of the line flew up in the air. Sam had cut it with his hatchet,
and the whale had escaped its enemies. The bow of the boat righted, and
the craft floated on an even keel, moving forward at a fast pace.