05 Whale Adventure by Willard Price Page A

There was nothing else he could do.
    With all his strength he drove the sharp spade down into the head of the nearest killer. The tremendous thrashing that resulted scared him out of his-wits. The animal he had wounded backed off, raised his head man-high out of the sea, and stared full at Roger. Then he submerged and came in with a rush. Close to the whale he shot up out of the water and on to the big head.
    Roger had not waited for him. He had lost no time in running aft. The killer’s jaws clamped upon emptiness.
    With one wrench of its body the angry beast twisted its head close to the boy. Blood spurting from the wound sprayed upon Roger. He hunted for the rope by which he could pull himself up to the deck. Dawn was now greying the sky and in its light he could see that the precious rope had swung out of reach against the side of the ship.
    He shouted for help. Brad woke, rose and looked sleepily over the rail. He could not believe what he saw. His mouth hung open stupidly as he tried to clear the mist of sleep from his brain.
    ‘Throw me a line!’ yelled Roger. The big killer was squirming like a fish out of water, trying to get near enough to close its jaws upon its enemy. Then a line came whistling over Roger’s shoulder. It was not the stupid Brad who had thrown it, but the second mate, Durkins. ‘Latch on to it, boy!’
    Roger immediately gripped the line and had his arms almost pulled out of their sockets, so powerful was the pull of the mate’s strong arms as he hauled in on the line. Roger’s swinging body crashed into the ship’s side, but how good that felt in comparison with the crunch of the killer’s teeth! A moment later he was spilled on deck. He got unsteadily to his feet. ‘Are you all right, boy?’
    T’m all right,’ said Roger, but he was still dizzy from the nerve-racking experience of the last few moments. ‘The killers are after the tongue,’ he said.
    ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said the mate. ‘You fixed it so they won’t get it. Good job, kid.’
    Roger was not so sure that he had fixed it. Five killers were still struggling to get their heads into the whale’s mouth. In the meantime the wounded killer twisted himself off the whale’s back and fell heavily into the sea. The blood spread out over the waves. It attracted his companions. They rushed in upon the wounded animal, churning the sea, gulping the blood, taking great bites out of the flukes, the fins, the lips. They would not stop until there was nothing left but the skeleton.
    ‘It will keep them out of mischief for an hour,’ said the mate with satisfaction. ‘That will give us time to get the stage out’ He turned towards the fo’c’sle and bawled: ‘All hands on deck!’
     
    The men came tumbling up. With them was Hal, who had spent a sleepless night worrying about his young brother. Scott came from his cabin aft. Both of them would have been glad to spend the night helping the boy, but their interference would only have got him as well as themselves into trouble. Now they were eager to hear about his experiences. They talked, over the brief breakfast of coffee and hardtack.
    Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of Captain Grindle.
    ‘Everybody loafing as usual,’ he snarled. ‘And a whale waiting to be cut in.’
    He fixed his eye on Roger.
    T thought I posted you on the carcass. Who told you to come up?’
    T hauled him up, sir,’ said the mate.
    ‘Well, get him down again.’
    Durkins ventured to object. ‘It isn’t necessary, sir. He sliced a killer. That will keep the other killers busy. As for the sharks, the killers scared them away.’
    The captain peered over the rail at the surge of savage beasts enjoying their blood breakfast.
    ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ shouted the captain. ‘Get out the cutting-stage. Hop to it!’
    He had forgotten about Roger. Durkins spoke in the boy’s ear.
    ‘Get to your bunk. Quick, before he spots you.’
    Roger slipped forward and down