Steadily, day after day, the Narwhal continued on her way northward. From morning until night—throughout the short night as well—bergs or floe ice were constantly in sight; but the boys had become accustomed to such things and scarcely gave the ice mountains a second glance. They had spent hours searching each berg or ice cake they passed, in the hopes of seeing another bear but, aside from an occasional seal or flocks of birds, not a living creature was seen.

The Eskimos, much to the boys’ surprise, proved splendid sailors. Always at the mastheads men were on the lookout for whales. At times the schooner wallowed slowly through the cold green seas, with barely enough wind to enable the captain to steer clear of jagged cakes or towering bergs. At other times, she tore storming through the tremendous waves under shortened sails, rushing between giant bergs, crashing into masses of drift ice hidden in the foam of breaking waves. Again she would rest motionless, becalmed, shrouded in dense fogs, while resounding through the impenetrable mist came the roar of surf on bergs, the crashing of falling ice masses, and the shrill screams of sea birds. Then every man was on the alert, peering with straining eyes into the blanket of fog. A dozen times the boys’ hearts seemed to skip a beat, as, close at hand, a vast white phantom loomed suddenly from the fog, and the Narwhal rocked and rolled to the backwash of the giant seas breaking upon ice. Again and again, too, the schooner drifted so dangerously close to a berg that boats were lowered and, straining at the oars, the men towed the heavy vessel clear.

“Funny thing, that,” remarked Mr. Kemp, as the Narwhal was thus being dragged from a towering berg. “Put two ships, or a berg and a ship, in the middle of the sea and the blamed things’ll drif’ together—jes as if they loved comp’ny.”

“That is funny, though I never thought of it before,” said Tom. “Don’t you suppose it’s currents or something?”

“Nope,” declared the second officer, “just chuck a couple of matches into a basin of water an’ leave ’em be, an’ you’ll see they’re boun’ to git side of each other.”

“Say, I have noticed that!” exclaimed Jim. “What’s the reason?”

“Give her up,” replied Mr. Kemp. “Mystery to me, but then there’s a heap of mysteries at sea.”

The boys had been greatly surprised too to find that they could see throughout the night, that there was no darkness, and that the sun set like a dull yellow ball, hung at the rim of the sea for a space, and almost before it disappeared, popped up again.

“Gosh, I never realized we were where the sun never sets,” cried Tom the first time he noticed this. “Somehow I can’t believe we’re way up here in the Arctic.”

The boys were vastly interested and fascinated in the Northern Lights, although compared with the midnight sun, they were faint and pale. Captain Edwards told them they would see the sight of their lives when winter came, and the Aurora blazed in all its glory.

But all these things grew tedious, and the boys longed for a whale to be seen, or for some exciting thing to happen. Then one day the shout so long expected rang from the masthead, and at the cry, “She blows!” all was excitement. Leaping into the shrouds, the two boys ran up the rigging. As Captain Edwards’ shout of, “Where away?” was answered by, “Three points off the lee bow!” the boys stared in that direction to see two little fountains of spray rise above the waves, and two immense rounded black objects break the water.

“Hurrah! there’re two of them,” cried Tom. “Oh, Captain Edwards, can’t we go after them?”

“Not a bit of it!” snapped the skipper. “I ain’t riskin’ your lives goin’ on whales!”

“Well, suppose the owners order you to take us?” demanded Jim.

Captain Edwards scowled and tried to look savage. “Have to ’bey orders, I guess.”

“Well, then you’re ordered!” yelled the boys in chorus, and without waiting to hear the skipper’s comment, they raced toward Cap’n Pem’s boat and leaped into it with the men.

“Here, what the tarnation ye doin’ in here?” demanded Cap’n Pem as he saw the two boys. “This here boat ain’t no place fer youngsters.”

“Owners’ orders,” grinned Tom, “come on, Cap’n Pem, or Mr. Kemp’ll get those whales ahead of you.”

“Waall, I’ll be blowed!” exclaimed the old whaleman, as he entered the boat. “Annyhow, mind ye keep still an’ don’t go a-screechin’ or a-talkin’. Bowheads has derned sharp ears.”

“All right, we’ll be as still as mice,” promised Jim.

To the boys’ surprise, the men did not take to their oars, but set up the short mast and spritsail in the boat. With Cap’n Pem at the rudder, they went speeding before the wind toward the two whales.

Mr. Kemp’s boat was also sailing swiftly toward the huge creatures and neck and neck the two little craft danced over the long green seas. Then, shifting the helm slightly, Cap’n Pem swung around and held his course directly towards the heads of the monsters.

“Gee, that’s funny,” whispered Tom. “When they rowed after those whales on the Hector they always went at them towards the tail. They’ll see the boat coming this way, sure.”

A minute later Cap’n Pem raised his hand and the men silently and quickly furled the sail and unshipped the mast. Pulling noiselessly on the oars, the crew drove the boat closer and closer to their quarry. The two whales were swimming slowly along, now and then sinking below the surface until they were almost invisible, and then rising high and blowing. The boys noticed that the little columns of vapor rose from the middle of the creatures’ heads instead of from the tip of the noses as was the case with the sperm whales they had seen.

Tom nudged Jim. “That’s one thing I’ve learned,” he whispered. “You can tell a bowhead whale from a sperm by the blow.”

“Ssh!” muttered Jim. “Cap’n Pem’s scowling at us.”

The boat steerer had now unsheathed his harpoon and was standing in the bow and the boys, glancing towards the other boat, saw that Mr. Kemp’s boat steerer had done the same. Evidently both men would strike at almost the same moment and the boys hardly knew whether to keep their eyes fixed on their own harpoonier or the other. Nearer and nearer to the great black creatures the boat crept. The boys could see the huge curved upper jaws, the gray fringed masses of whalebone in the animals’ mouths and even the rough growth of great barnacles on the whales’ noses. Then, when it seemed as though the boat would bump into the nearest monster, the craft was deftly swung to one side. It slipped past the enormous head and, before the surprised whale could dive or dodge, the harpoonier lurched forward with a grunt, and the immense, heavy, barbed iron struck the whale with a sickening thud. Instantly the men backed water furiously and not a second too soon. With a crash that almost stunned the boys, the whale’s stupendous flukes struck the water within a yard of the frail boat, sending a deluge of water over the occupants, and the next instant the boat was being hurtled through the sea at a terrific pace as the stricken whale strove to escape the stinging iron in its side. White-faced, gripping the gunwale tightly, the boys stole a hurried glance towards Mr. Kemp’s boat and saw that he too was fast. But unlike their own craft, which was being towed at express-train speed, the second mate’s boat was being whirled in circles as the whale milled.

Hardly had the two boys noticed this, when their craft tipped perilously. Green water poured over the rail as the whale altered his course. There was a warning shout from Cap’n Pem and the boys saw that they were headed directly towards Mr. Kemp’s boat.

“Git ready to cut loose!” yelled Cap’n Pem. “Dod gast the critter, we’ll foul Kemp!”

At his cry, one of the men started forward to seize the hatchet. But as he raised it, the whale again turned, the boat almost capsized and the man, in his frantic effort to prevent himself from being thrown overboard, dropped the hatchet which flashed into the sea.

Before he could whip out his sheath knife, the whale had dashed across the line fast to the second mate’s boat. The two crafts careened, rocked, zigzagged wildly and crashed together with a bump that tumbled the occupants from their seats. Then, before the dazed and struggling men could act, the two boats were dashing through the sea with rails together and with the two whales tearing at topmost speed side by side as though having a race.

“Let ’em go, dod gast ’em!” screamed Cap’n Pem. “Never seed nothin’ like it afore. Stand ready to cut loose ef they mill or soun’!”

Onwards the two creatures sped. The schooner was miles astern and then, so suddenly that the skilled steersmen could not swerve their craft one of the whales checked his onward rush and sounded. The next instant he rose within a dozen rods of the terrified boys, and, with thunderous, crashing, terrific blows of his huge tail, strove to demolish the boat and his enemies.

Speechless with deadly fear, the boys cowered in the boat, while seemingly over their heads the great black mass of flukes waved and whipped, striking down to right, to left, in front of the frail cockleshell of a boat, half filling it with water churned up by the fearful, irresistible blows. The men strained and shouted and pulled frantically, grim-faced, wild-eyed and with superhuman efforts dodging the lashing, death-dealing flukes by a hair’s breadth.

To the boys it seemed hours that they were within that awful danger zone. Each second they expected to be tossed high in air, bruised, battered, crushed amid the shattered planks and timbers of the boat.

Then there was a sickening crash as Mr. Kemp’s boat banged into them. For a moment the two craft were locked tight and then the second mate’s boat leaped ahead, dragging Pem’s boat with it. Scarcely had it moved a yard, when the great trip-hammer tail struck a fearful blow where it had been an instant before, and, as the boat sprang into the air on the upflung wave, the second mate’s boat drew free and flew off after the whale to which it was fast.

“Go in!” yelled Cap’n Pem excitedly. “We’ll git him!”

At his words, he dropped the steering oar, scrambled forward and, as the boat steerer reached the stern and seized the big oar, the grizzled old whaleman braced his wooden leg against the knee chock and seized a bomb lance. Then he tossed the weapon down, unsheathed the long, keen-bladed hand lance, and poised it ready to strike. Bobbing on the water, still being churned up by the furious creature’s tail, the boat crept close. The boys’ hearts seemed to cease beating as they saw the great mountain of black skin almost within arm’s length. Now but a few feet separated the boat from the maddened whale. Cap’n Pem gathered himself for the death stroke; the boat’s bows seemed almost to touch the whale’s side, when, without warning, the great body sank beneath the sea and, drawn by the swirling suction of the whale submerging, the boat leaped forwards directly over the creature’s back. But the gray-headed old veteran of a hundred battles with giant whales was not to be cheated of his prey. As the boat lurched forward into the eddying froth above the whale, Cap’n Pem leaned over the boat’s bow, and with a shout drove the long lance straight down.

The next instant the boat was flung high. It careened dizzily, oars were wrenched from the men’s hands and, as the mortally wounded whale flung himself up, the craft slid like a toboggan from his back, buried its bow beneath a wave, rose sluggishly, and swung around broadside to the thrashing, rolling mass of pain-crazed flesh and blood and bone.

So close was the boat to the whale’s side that the men struggled to fend it off by their oars. With wild yells and shouts, Cap’n Pem warned them to keep close; for all around them the awful tail was striking, crashing, whipping, as the dying whale lashed the water into a maelstrom of foam and, only by keeping the boat so close to the monster that his tail could not reach them, could their lives be saved.

That they could escape seemed impossible. They were in the very center of a cyclone of mortal peril, a circle of death, and even the tough, fearless, experienced whalemen grew white-faced. Their jaws were hard set and they knew that any second might spell their doom.

Then, with one stupendous effort, the whale reared its head high. The flukes swept above the boat, a crimson column spurted from the monster’s head and, with a whistling sigh like escaping steam, the whale rolled upon its side, dead.

“Fin up!” screamed Cap’n Pem. “By Moses, that there was the closest shave I ever seen. Jes dumb luck, nothin’ more!”

At this instant a strange sound issued from the bottom of the whaleboat. Cap’n Pem’s jaw fell. The men stared at one another wonderingly.

“What’s thet?” gasped the old whaleman.

Tom leaned forward, reached into a locker and drew out—the black cat!

Cap’n Pem’s eyes seemed about to burst from their sockets. “Waall, I’ll be——” he began and then stood staring absolutely bereft of speech as Tom dragged out the canvas bucket and disclosed four blinking-eyed kittens.

“Now what about bad luck!” he cried triumphantly.

Cap’n Pem scratched his head, frowned and spat over the boat’s side. “I calc’late them kittens must ha’ changed the luck,” he declared. “I don’t recollec’ ever hearin’ o’ sech a thing afore. But jes the same, I’ll bet ye if that there cat hadn’t been ’long of us, we’d never ha’ had all this here fracas. Wussedest fight I ever seed.”