Before the "Pilgrim's" sails had been brought aback, she had drawn a little nearer to the place where the jubarte continued to signal its presence by jets of vapor and water.
The jubarte was all this time swimming in the middle of the vast red field of crustaceans, opening its large mouth automatically, and absorbing at each draught myriads of animalcules.
According to the experienced ones on board, there was no fear that the whale dreamt of escaping.

It was, doubtless, what the whalers call a "fighting" whale.
Captain Hull strode over the netting, and, descending the rope ladder, he reached the prow of the whale-boat.
Mrs.Weldon, Jack, Cousin Benedict, Tom, and his companions, for a last time wished the captain success.
Dingo itself, rising on its paws and passing its head above the railing, seemed to wish to say good-by to the crew.
Then all returned to the prow, so as to lose none of the very attractive movements of such a fishing.
The whale-boat put off, and, under the impetus of its four oars, vigorously handled, it began to distance itself from the "Pilgrim." "Watch well, Dick, watch well!" cried Captain Hull to the young novice for the last time.
"Count on me, sir." "One eye for the ship, one eye for the whale-boat, my boy.

Do not forget it." "That shall be done, captain," replied Dick Sand, who went to take his place near the helm.
Already the light boat was several hundred feet from the ship.

Captain Hull, standing at the prow, no longer able to make himself heard, renewed his injunctions by the most expressive gestures.
It was then that Dingo, its paws still resting on the railing, gave a sort of lamentable bark, which would have an unfavorable effect upon men somewhat given to superstition.
That bark even made Mrs.Weldon shudder.
"Dingo," said she, "Dingo, is that the way you encourage your friends?
Come, now, a fine bark, very clear, very sonorous, very joyful." But the dog barked no more, and, letting itself fall back on its paws, it came slowly to Mrs.Weldon, whose hand it licked affectionately.
"It does not wag its tail," murmured Tom in a low tone.

"Bad sign--bad sign." But almost at once Dingo stood up, and a howl of anger escaped it.
Mrs.Weldon turned round.
Negoro had just left his quarters, and was going toward the forecastle, with the intention, no doubt, of looking for himself at the movements of the whale-boat.
Dingo rushed at the head cook, a prey to the strongest as well as to the most inexplicable fury.
Negoro seized a hand-spike and took an attitude of defense.
The dog was going to spring at his throat.
"Here, Dingo, here!" cried Dick Sand, who, leaving his post of observation for an instant, ran to the prow of the ship.
Mrs.Weldon on her side, sought to calm the dog.
Dingo obeyed, not without repugnance, and returned to the young novice, growling secretly.
Negoro had not pronounced a single word, but his face had grown pale for a moment.