J. J. Bell

“ The whale rose again and Sigurd yelled that he was bigger than the one escaped. The hungry men at the winches grinned. They were used to whale-hunting, but this—
Captain Svendsen set his pipe going. He was himself again. He fondled his gun.
At Sigurd’s direction the steersman had sent the Thorgrim to right about, and she was now running before the smooth waves. On board excitement gave way to patience. The captain called Hausen, and despatched him to a locker in the cabin, there to find a tin of cocoa—the last food on the Thorgrim.
“A mug for every man,” said the captain. ”

“ He had been led to understand, also, that it was to be a run to the ice and back, only one day to be allowed for looking for whales. He had considered one half of the usual stores more than sufficient. He said a great deal more, but all to the same effect.
The old man let him finish.
“So!” he said softly, and turned to the mate. “Sigurd, go on deck, and bring me word of the weather.”
“Ja, kaptan,” answered Sigurd, and knotting his muffler left the cabin.
“Hausen,” said the captain, gazing earnestly at the sullen, middle-aged man opposite him, “do you sail on a whale steamer next year?” ”

“ The Blue rose on the starboard bow, sank, rose again nearer, sank, and finally rose so close under the Thorgrim that the gun when it was fired tilted at an angle of forty-five degrees.
The cable flashed over the bow wheel for thirty seconds; then its speed slackened and the brakes were gradually applied to the winches, until it stopped running. The cable between the winch and the bow-wheel was rigid as steel, but the Thorgrim moved not. Her nose was deep in water, and her propeller showed a dry blade. Death hung deep in the sea at the end of the cable; no wounded life struggled there. ”

“ We can do no more.”
“Then it must be,” said Sigurd, struggling with his cramped limbs, and taking a last look about him.
A cry broke from him. “Quick, Olaf! The blue light! I am frozen here. I cannot move, yet. Fire the light, and help me afterwards!”
Soon the Thorgrim and the sea around her were bathed in a ghastly glare. The engineer swarmed up the rigging to assist the mate, and even as he reached him an answering flare, small but certain, appeared away in the east.
“It is the steamer!” yelled Sigurd. “Tell the kaptan. Do not wait.” ”

“ It is the whale—”
The engineer’s face fell.
The mate looked out of his bunk.
“We are farther from the station than you thought, kaptan?” said he.
“I meant to tell you, Sigurd,” returned Svendsen, “but the whale came. When the whale came I forgot everything else. I was foolish to take the whale, and now I must let it go. It is no use. We cannot take the whale to the station. Let it go now, and do you take charge, Sigurd.”
“But, kaptan—” began the mate.
“I say it is no use,” interrupted Svendsen. “Do as I tell you—now. Leave me. I am tired. I am an old man and an old fool. ”

“ The cards dropped from the old man’s fingers.
“So!” he said very softly.
“I go to bring coffee,” said Hausen abruptly and fled from the cabin.
“So!” murmured the captain again, and a pleased smile came to his lips. But the smile faded. “The risk is too great,” he said gravely.
The engineer spoke. “If the Thorgrim does not reach the station tomorrow they will send the other whaler or the big steamer to look for us. It is quite safe.”
“And when would they find us, my good Olaf? In many days, perhaps.”
“Hausen has bread for about four days,” put in Sigurd. “We are all content with bread.” ”

“ A hundred tons, perhaps, of living matter had plunged madly for the depth, and plunging had died, heart and lungs wrecked by the exploding shell.
Three hours were occupied in hoisting the carcass to the surface, lashing it alongside, cutting the mighty flukes from the tail, and inflating the body with air pumped by the engine through a hollow lance. ”

“ He put sugar in his coffee, added milk from the jagged hole punched in the top edge of the tin, and took a long draught of the almost cool mixture.
“For dinner, Hausen,” he said quietly, “the 'Thorgrim'' will have a whale in tow.”
“Kaptan,” said Hausen, respectfully enough, “we saw no whales all the four days before we came into the ice. Are not all the whales gone south by now? Besides, it is ill weather for hunting. And—and the food grows scarce. Ten—eleven days—it is unusual. I—I was not warned.”
Sigurd nudged him admonishingly.
But Captain Svendsen took his cook’s remarks calmly. ”

“ The captain expressed himself satisfied, and Sigurd laid the hundred-weight of metal on the platform. Then the gun was uncovered and unlashed, and slewed round on its pivot for loading. Lastly Sigurd went below, to return speedily, bearing something resembling a torpedo in shape, but about twelve inches in length and sharp-nosed. This was screwed on to the end of the harpoon now projecting from the gun’s muzzle; and the harpoon was complete—pointed with a bomb that would explode shortly after striking. ”

“ I will come on deck soon.”
The mate left the cabin. At the top of the stair he met the cook.
Twenty minutes later the twain, accompanied by the engineer, entered the cabin. The old man was still fingering his cards.
“Why have you not ordered full speed?” he asked. Then noticing the engineer: “Is anything wrong?”
The engineer shook his head. “The engines are all right,” he said, “and there is coal for twenty-four hours.”
“Kaptan,” said Sigurd, “the men say that they do not wish to return to the station yet. And we say it, also.” ”