They had fastened to him, and the scene became more exciting.
"Bad strike," said the captain, shaking his head and stamping his feet.
"That whale's going to die hard." The harpoon, in short, had fallen weak, had failed to touch a vital part, and had made one of those wounds which excite a whale to attack his pursuers.
The word "astern" was given as soon as the harpoon was thrown.

The monster threw up a thin wreath of slightly discolored spray, and set off at a velocity of speed almost incredible.

Away he went, the boat following in his wake and cutting the water like a thing of life--the boat-steerer and line-tender carefully watching every movement, for the lives of all on board depended on their vigilance.

The whale struck his course directly across the ship's bow, less than a mile away.

The boat Tite commanded followed, with all the strength her crew could put on their oars.
It was easy to read in the captain's manner, however, that all was not going well with the boats.