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"

"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.

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