These seamen must have been expert fishermen, not to lose their presence of mind on this occasion.
Howik again skilfully avoided the jubarte's attack, by darting the boat aside.
Three new blows, well aimed, again gave the animal three new wounds.
But, in passing, she struck the water so roughly with her formidable tail, that an enormous wave arose, as if the sea were suddenly opened.
The whale-boat almost capsized, and, the water rushing in over the side, it was half filled.
"The bucket, the bucket!" cried Captain Hull.
The two sailors, letting go their oars, began to bale out the boat rapidly, while the captain cut the line, now become useless. No! the animal, rendered furious by grief, no longer dreamt of flight.
It was her turn to attack, and her agony threatened to be terrible.
A third time she turned round, "head to head," a seaman would say, and threw herself anew on the boat.
But the whale-boat, half full of water, could no longer move with the same facility.
In this condition, how could it avoid the shock which threatened it?
If it could be no longer steered, there was still less power to escape.
And besides, no matter how quickly the boat might be propelled, the swift jubarte would have always overtaken it with a few bounds.
It was no longer a question of attack, but of defense.
Captain Hull understood it all.
The third attack of the animal could not be entirely kept off.
In passing she grazed the whale-boat with her enormous dorsal fin, but with so much force that Howik was thrown down from his bench.
The three lances, unfortunately affected by the oscillation, this time missed their aim.
"Howik!
Howik!" cried Captain Hull, who himself had been hardly able to keep his place.
"Present!" replied the boatswain, as he got up.
But he then perceived that in his fall his stern oar had broken in the middle.
"Another oar!" said Captain Hull.
"I have one," replied Howik.
At that moment, a bubbling took place under the waters only a few fathoms from the boat.
The young whale had just reappeared.
The jubarte saw it, and rushed towards it.
This circumstance could only give a more terrible character to the contest.
The whale was going to fight for two.
Captain Hull looked toward the "Pilgrim." His hand shook the boat-hook, which bore the flag, frantically.
What could Dick Sand do that had not been already done at the first signal from the captain?
The "Pilgrim's" sails were trimmed, and the wind commenced to fill them.
Unhappily the schooner did not possess a helix, by which the action could be increased to sail faster.
To lower one of the boats, and, with the aid of the blacks, row to the assistance of the captain, would be a considerable loss of time; besides, the novice had orders not to quit the ship, no matter what happened.
However, he had the stern-boat lowered from its pegs, and towed it along, so that the captain and his companions might take refuge in it, in case of need.
At that moment the jubarte, covering the young whale with her body, had returned to the charge. This time she turned in such a manner as to reach the boat exactly.
"Attention, Howik!" cried Captain Hull, for the last time.
But the boatswain was, so to speak, disarmed.
Instead of a lever, whose length gave force, he only held in his hand an oar relatively short.
He tried to put about; it was impossible.
The sailors knew that they were lost.
All rose, giving a terrible cry, which was perhaps heard on the "Pilgrim."
A terrible blow from the monster's tail had just struck the whale-boat underneath.
The boat, thrown into the air with irresistible violence, fell back, broken in three pieces, in the midst of waves furiously lashed by the whale's bounds.
The unfortunate sailors, although grievously wounded, would have had, perhaps, the strength to keep up still, either by swimming or by hanging on to some of the floating wreck.
That is what Captain Hull did, for he was seen for a moment hoisting the boatswain on a wreck. But the jubarte, in the last degree of fury, turned round, sprang up, perhaps in the last pangs of a terrible agony, and with her tail she beat the troubled waters frightfully, where the unfortunate sailors were still swimming.
For some minutes one saw nothing but a liquid water-spout scattering itself in sheafs on all sides.
A quarter of an hour after, when Dick Sand, who, followed by the blacks, had rushed into the boat, had reached the scene of the catastrophe, every living creature had disappeared.
There was nothing left but some pieces of the whale-boat on the surface of the waters, red with blood.
* * * * * CHAPTER IX.