William Scoresby, Memorials of the Sea: My Father
“ On reaching the scene of action, where the wounded monster was still exerting its excited energies in aiming blows at any approaching boats, or thrashing the sea into a foam,—our accomplished whale-hunter quietly assumed a station, in parallelism, nearly, with the direction of the animal’s extended length, and within a few fathoms of its broadside. The boat-steerer,—as the custom is,—he guided by the motion of his hand; but the boat’s crew, being previously urged to exert a tremendous spring on their oars when he should decide on making his attack, were to await his verbal command. ”
