“Are you not coming, captain?”
“No, professor, but I wish you good sport.”
The boat shoved off, and, impelled by six sturdy rowers, rapidly approached the dugong.
We slacked speed a few cables’ length from the creature, and pulled silently. Ned Land, harpoon in hand, took up his position in the bows. The usual whaling harpoon is attached to a long cord, which is paid out when the animal dives; but in this instance there were only about twelve fathoms of line, and at the end of this a barrel was fastened so as to indicate the course of the dugong in the water.
I got up and took a good look at the enemy. The dugong—also known as the halicore—is very much like the manatee, or lamantine. Its body is terminated by a long tail, and its lateral fins by fingers. The difference between the dugong and manatee consists in the former being armed with two long and pointed teeth in the upper jaw, which form a defence for each side.
This was the animal that Ned was about to attack; its length was about twenty-four feet. It did not move, and appeared to be sleeping, which circumstance would render its capture more easy. The launch approached cautiously to within three fathoms. The oars were eased. I half raised myself. Ned Land, his body thrown back a little, brandished his harpoon.
Suddenly a hissing noise was heard, and the dugong disappeared. The harpoon, forcibly cast, had only struck the water apparently.
“Thousand devils!” cried Ned furiously. “I have missed it.”
“No,” I said, “the animal is wounded, look at the blood, but the weapon did not stick in the body.”
“My harpoon, my harpoon!” cried Ned.
