While the final touch was being given to our task—­i.e. the hole-boring through the tail-fin—­all hands lay around in various picturesque attitudes, enjoying a refreshing smoke, care forgetting.  While thus pleasantly employed, sudden death, like a bolt from the blue, leapt into our midst in a terrible form.  The skipper was labouring hard at his task of cutting the hole for the tow-line, when without warning the great fin swung back as if suddenly released from tremendous tension.  Happily for us, the force of the blow was broken by its direction, as it struck the water before reaching the boat’s side, but the upper lobe hurled the boat-spade from the captain’s hands back into our midst, where it struck the tub oarsman, splitting his head in two halves.  The horror of the tragedy, the enveloping darkness, the inexplicable revivifying of the monster, which we could not have doubted to be dead, all combined to stupefy and paralyze us for the time.  Not a sound was heard in our boat, though the yells of inquiry from our companion craft arose in increasing volume.  It was but a brief accession of energy, only lasting two or three minutes, when the whale collapsed finally.  Having recovered from our surprise, we took no further chances with so dangerous an opponent, but bored him as full of holes as a colander.

Mournful and miserable were the remaining hours of our vigil.  We sat around poor Miguel’s corpse with unutterable feelings, recalling all the tragical events of the voyage, until we reached the nadir of despondency.  With the rosy light of morning came more cheerful feelings, heightened by the close proximity of the ship, from which it is probable we had never been more than ten miles distant during the whole night.  She had sighted us with the first light, and made all sail down to us, all hands much relieved at our safety.  We were so sorely exhausted that we could hardly climb on board; and how we hoisted the boats I hardly know.  The whale was secured by the efforts of the cripples we had left on board, while we wayfarers, after a good meal, were allowed four hours’ sound, sweet sleep.

When we returned to our duties, the first thing that awaited us was the burial of the poor body.  Very reverently were the last sad offices performed, the flag hoisted half-mast, the bell solemnly tolled.  Then we gathered at the gangway while the eternal words of hope and consolation were falteringly read, and with a sudden plunge the long, straight parcel slid off the hatch into the vast tomb ever ready for the dead sailor.

Our dead out of sight, work claimed all our attention and energy, wiping with its benificent influence all gloomy musings over the inevitable, and replacing them with the pressing needs of life.  The whale was not a large one, but peculiar to look at.  Like the specimen that fought so fiercely with us in the Indian Ocean, its jaw was twisted round in a sort of hook, the part that curved being so thickly