and took a long steady aim. A loud detonation was heard amid the cheers of the crew.
The shot had hit the animal, but not fairly; it glanced off its smooth side, and fell into the sea two miles distant.
“Ah!” cried the gunner, angrily, “those kind of fellows are sheeted with six inches of iron, I suppose.”
“Tarnation!” cried Commodore Farragut.
The chase recommenced, and the Commodore coming towards me, said:
“I will pursue that thing till the frigate blows up.”
“Yes,” I replied, “you are quite right.”
But I could not but hope that the animal might become exhausted, and not be so indifferent to fatigue as a steam-frigate. But it was no use. Time passed without the animal showing any signs of fatigue.
But I must confess that the Abraham Lincoln kept up the chase with great spirit. I do not think that we traversed less than 300 miles during that inauspicious 6th of November. Night came and enveloped the swelling ocean in its shadows.
I then began to believe that our expedition was at an end, and that we had seen the last of the fantastic monster. But I was mistaken. About 10 p.m. the electric gleam again appeared about three miles off, as clear and bright as upon the preceding night.
The narwhal was motionless. Perhaps, fatigued by its day’s run, it was asleep, rocked by the billows. This was a chance by which Farragut determined to profit.
He gave orders that the frigate should be put at easy speed and advance cautiously towards its enemy. It was by no means an uncommon occurrence to meet sleeping whales at sea, when they have been successfully attacked,
