They often "broke" very
near us; and one thick, foggy night, during a dead calm, while I was
standing anchor-watch, one of them rose so near, that he struck our
cable, and made all surge again. He did not seem to like the encounter
much himself, for he sheered off, and spouted at a good distance. We
once came very near running one down in the gig, and should probably
have been knocked to pieces and blown sky-high. We had been on board
the little Spanish brig, and were returning, stretching out well at
our oars, the little boat going like a swallow; our backs were
forward, (as is always the case in pulling,) and the captain, who
was steering, was not looking ahead, when, all at once, we heard the
spout of a whale directly ahead. "Back water! back water, for your
lives!" shouted the captain; and we backed our blades in the water and
brought the boat to in a smother of foam. Turning our heads, we saw
a great, rough, hump-backed whale, slowly crossing our fore foot,
within three or four yards of the boat's stem. Had we not backed water
just as we did, we should inevitably have gone smash upon him,
striking him with our stem just about amidships.
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