But Billy's first day was clear and quiet; and the whales were having a glorious innings with the enemy.
By noon the prospects for a kill had faded to a bare possibility; the school had been well scattered. Down the coast and up the coast, out to sea and far away across the bay, puffs of spray made known the various directions the whales had taken. About two o'clock--ten hours out from Snook's Arm, with no let up in duty--the crew were attracted by the deep, long _hon-g-k_ of a big fellow out to sea and by the spouting of his two companions: a group of three, male and female, doubtless, with a well-grown young one. They gave chase. Captain and crew had come to that pass when fury gets the better of patience.
It was determined to hunt that little school to the death or until deep night put an end to the chase.
"I get 'im," said the captain between his teeth. "He is big. I get him--or none."
It was not easy to get him. They were led twenty miles to sea in short rushes, each of which ended in disappointment and elicited a storm of guttural ejaculations; they were lured inshore, where submerged rocks were a menace; they were taken up the coast and back again towards the islands of the lower shore and once more to sea. Mile after mile--hour after hour! They came near--they could have hit the beast with a stone. Occasionally the captain swung the gun into position and put a hand on the trigger; but the arching back always gave notice, in good time, that he had been balked again. They tried to guess the point where the quarry would rise; they steamed near that point, and lay there waiting.
"Agh!" cried the captain, chagrin twisting his face. "The whale captain have pos--ee--tiv--lee the worst----! Full speed!"
Off again in persistent chase. Meantime the sun had declined; evening was drawing on, with gray clouds mounting in the west, and a breeze rising inshore. The sea was spread with shadow, and all the ripples grew to little waves, which, hissing as they broke, obscured the swish of water at our bows. The opportunity was better, and the whales, it may be, had acquired the inevitable contempt that familiarity breeds. The _Viking_ crept nearer. Each time, a little nearer; and, by and by, when she had come within range--within range for the first time that day--and was running at half speed, with the grayish-black backs most temptingly exposed, the captain dropped the muzzle of the gun, took swift sight, and--swung the gun around with impatient force! The whale was gone on the long dive before a vital spot had been exposed.