At this moment, having drawn down more than a thousand fathoms of rope, the whale slackened its speed, and Parr, taking another coil round the loggerhead, held on until the boat was almost dragged under water.  Then the line became loose, and the slack was hauled in rapidly.  Meanwhile Grim’s boat had reached the spot, and the men now lay on their oars at some distance ahead, ready to pull the instant the whale should show itself.  Up it came, not twenty yards ahead.  One short, energetic pull, and the second boat sent a harpoon deep into it, while Grim sprang to the bow and thrust a lance with deadly force deep into the carcass.  The monster sent up a stream of mingled blood, oil, and water, and whirled its huge tail so violently that the sound could be heard a mile off.  Before it dived again, the captain’s boat came up, and succeeded in making fast another harpoon, while several additional lance-thrusts were given with effect, and it seemed as if the battle were about to terminate, when suddenly the whale struck the sea with a clap like thunder, and darted away once more like a rocket to windward, tearing the two boats after it as if they had been egg-shells.

Meanwhile a change had come over the scene.  The sun had set, red and lowering, behind a bank of dark clouds, and there was every appearance of stormy weather; but as yet it was nearly calm, and the ship was unable to beat up against the light breeze in the wake of the two boats, which were soon far away on the horizon.  Then a furious gust arose and passed away, a dark cloud covered the sky as night fell, and soon boats and whale were utterly lost to view.

“Wae’s me!” cried the big Scotch mate, as he ran up and down the quarter-deck wringing his hands, “what is to be done noo?”

Saunders spoke a mongrel kind of language—­a mixture of Scotch and English—­in which, although the Scotch words were sparsely scattered, the Scotch accent was very strong.

“How’s her head?”

“Nor’-nor’-west, sir.”

“Keep her there, then.  Maybe, if the wind holds stiddy, we may overhaul them before it’s quite dark.”

Although Saunders was really in a state of the utmost consternation at this unexpected termination to the whale-hunt, and expressed the agitation of his feelings pretty freely, he was too thorough a seaman to neglect anything that was necessary to be done under the circumstances.  He took the exact bearings of the point at which the boats had disappeared, and during the night, which turned out gusty and threatening, kept making short tacks, while lanterns were hung at the mast-heads, and a huge torch, or rather a small bonfire, of tarred materials was slung at the end of a spar and thrust out over the stern of the ship.  But for many hours there was no sign of the boats, and the crew of the Dolphin began to entertain the most gloomy forebodings regarding them.

At length, towards morning, a small speck of light was noticed on the weather-beam.  It flickered for a moment, and then disappeared.