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"
You
have
turned
full
steam
on
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
replied
the
engineer
.
The
speed
of
the
Abraham
Lincoln
increased
.
Its
masts
trembled
down
to
their
stepping
holes
,
and
the
clouds
of
smoke
could
hardly
find
way
out
of
the
narrow
funnels
.
They
heaved
the
log
a
second
time
.
"
Well
?
"
asked
the
captain
of
the
man
at
the
wheel
.
"
Nineteen
miles
and
three-tenths
,
sir
.
"
"
Clap
on
more
steam
.
"
The
engineer
obeyed
.
The
manometer
showed
ten
degrees
.
But
the
cetacean
grew
warm
itself
,
no
doubt
;
for
without
straining
itself
,
it
made
19
310
miles
.
What
a
pursuit
!
No
,
I
can
not
describe
the
emotion
that
vibrated
through
me
.
Ned
Land
kept
his
post
,
harpoon
in
hand
.
Several
times
the
animal
let
us
gain
upon
it
.
--
"
We
shall
catch
it
!
we
shall
catch
it
!
"
cried
the
Canadian
.
But
just
as
he
was
going
to
strike
,
the
cetacean
stole
away
with
a
rapidity
that
could
not
be
estimated
at
less
than
thirty
miles
an
hour
,
and
even
during
our
maximum
of
speed
,
it
bullied
the
frigate
,
going
round
and
round
it
.
A
cry
of
fury
broke
from
everyone
!
At
noon
we
were
no
further
advanced
than
at
eight
o’clock
in
the
morning
.
