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The chase began again, and the captain, leaning towards me, said:

"I will pursue that beast till my frigate bursts up."

"Yes," answered I; "and you will be quite right to do it."

I wished the beast would exhaust itself, and not be insensible
to fatigue like a steam engine. But it was of no use.
Hours passed, without its showing any signs of exhaustion.

However, it must be said in praise of the Abraham Lincoln that she
struggled on indefatigably. I cannot reckon the distance she made
under three hundred miles during this unlucky day, November the 6th.
But night came on, and overshadowed the rough ocean.

Now I thought our expedition was at an end, and that we should
never again see the extraordinary animal. I was mistaken.
At ten minutes to eleven in the evening, the electric light
reappeared three miles to windward of the frigate, as pure,
as intense as during the preceding night.

The narwhal seemed motionless; perhaps, tired with its day's work,
it slept, letting itself float with the undulation of the waves.
Now was a chance of which the captain resolved to take advantage.

He gave his orders. The Abraham Lincoln kept up half steam,
and advanced cautiously so as not to awake its adversary.
It is no rare thing to meet in the middle of the ocean whales
so sound asleep that they can be successfully attacked,
and Ned Land had harpooned more than one during its sleep.
The Canadian went to take his place again under the bowsprit.

The frigate approached noiselessly, stopped at two cables'
lengths from the animal, and following its track.
No one breathed; a deep silence reigned on the bridge.
We were not a hundred feet from the burning focus, the light of
which increased and dazzled our eyes.

At this moment, leaning on the forecastle bulwark, I saw below me Ned
Land grappling the martingale in one hand, brandishing his terrible
harpoon in the other, scarcely twenty feet from the motionless animal.
Suddenly his arm straightened, and the harpoon was thrown; I heard
the sonorous stroke of the weapon, which seemed to have struck a hard body.
The electric light went out suddenly, and two enormous waterspouts
broke over the bridge of the frigate, rushing like a torrent from stem
to stern, overthrowing men, and breaking the lashings of the spars.
A fearful shock followed, and, thrown over the rail without having
time to stop myself, I fell into the sea.



CHAPTER VII

AN UNKNOWN SPECIES OF WHALE

This unexpected fall so stunned me that I have no
clear recollection of my sensations at the time.
I was at first drawn down to a depth of about twenty feet.
I am a good swimmer (though without pretending to rival
Byron or Edgar Poe, who were masters of the art),
and in that plunge I did not lose my presence of mind.
Two vigorous strokes brought me to the surface of the water.
My first care was to look for the frigate. Had the crew
seen me disappear? Had the Abraham Lincoln veered round?
Would the captain put out a boat? Might I hope to be saved?

The darkness was intense. I caught a glimpse of a black mass disappearing in
the east, its beacon lights dying out in the distance. It was the frigate!
I was lost.

"Help, help!" I shouted, swimming towards the Abraham Lincoln in desperation.

My clothes encumbered me; they seemed glued to my body,
and paralysed my movements.

I was sinking! I was suffocating!

"Help!"

This was my last cry. My mouth filled with water;
I struggled against being drawn down the abyss.
Suddenly my clothes were seized by a strong hand, and I
felt myself quickly drawn up to the surface of the sea;
and I heard, yes, I heard these words pronounced in my ear:

"If master would be so good as to lean on my shoulder,
master would swim with much greater ease."

I seized with one hand my faithful Conseil's arm.

"Is it you?" said I, "you?"

"Myself," answered Conseil; "and waiting master's orders."

"That shock threw you as well as me into the sea?"

"No; but, being in my master's service, I followed him."

The worthy fellow thought that was but natural.



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