Suddenly our boat fell backward from her “slantindicular” position with a jerk, and the mate immediately shouted, “Haul line, there! look lively, now, you—­so on, etcetera, etcetera” (he seemed to invent new epithets on every occasion).  The line came in hand over hand, and was coiled in a wide heap in the stern sheets, for silky as it was, it could not be expected in its wet state to lie very close.  As it came flying in the mate kept a close gaze upon the water immediately beneath us, apparently for the first glimpse of our antagonist.  When the whale broke water, however, he was some distance off, and apparently as quiet as a lamb.  Now, had Mr. Count been a prudent or less ambitious man, our task would doubtless have been an easy one, or comparatively so; but, being a little over-grasping, he got us all into serious trouble.  We were hauling up to our whale in order to lance it, and the mate was standing, lance in hand, only waiting to get near enough, when up comes a large whale right alongside of our boat, so close, indeed, that I might have poked my finger in his little eye, if I had chosen.  The sight of that whale at liberty, and calmly taking stock of us like that, was too much for the mate.  He lifted his lance and hurled it at the visitor, in whose broad flank it sank, like a knife into butter, right up to the pole-hitches.  The recipient disappeared like a flash, but before one had time to think, there was an awful crash beneath us, and the mate shot up into the air like a bomb from a mortar.  He came down in a sitting posture on the mast-thwart; but as he fell, the whole framework of the boat collapsed like a derelict umbrella.  Louis quietly chopped the line and severed our connection with the other whale, while in accordance with our instructions we drew each man his oar across the boat and lashed it firmly down with a piece of line spliced to each thwart for the purpose.  This simple operation took but a minute, but before it was completed we were all up to our necks in the sea.  Still in the boat, it is true, and therefore not in such danger of drowning as if we were quite adrift; but, considering that the boat was reduced to a mere bundle of loose planks, I, at any rate, was none too comfortable.  Now, had he known it, was the whale’s golden opportunity; but he, poor wretch, had had quite enough of our company, and cleared off without any delay, wondering, no doubt, what fortunate accident had rid him of our very unpleasant attentions.

I was assured that we were all as safe as if we were on board the ship, to which I answered nothing; but, like Jack’s parrot, I did some powerful thinking.  Every little wave that came along swept clean over our heads, sometimes coming so suddenly as to cut a breath in half.  If the wind should increase—­but no—­I wouldn’t face the possibility of such a disagreeable thing.  I was cool enough now in a double sense, for although we were in the tropics, we soon got thoroughly chilled.