The sailors pulled and the coxswain steered for the barrel. The harpoon was picked up, and the chase recommenced. The dugong came up to the surface to breathe occasionally. The wound had not disabled him, for he swam with great rapidity. The boat, impelled by vigorous arms, flew upon his track. Many times we were close to him, and the Canadian was prepared to strike, but the dugong plunged suddenly, and it was impossible to reach it.
You may imagine Ned Land’s indignation. He heaped the most energetic forms of expression upon the unhappy animal. For my part, I was annoyed to see the dugong escape us.
We pursued it steadily for an hour, and I was beginning to believe that its capture would be a very difficult operation, when the animal was suddenly seized with the idea of retaliation (of which we had cause to repent later), and came to attack the boat.
This manœuvre did not escape the Canadian.
“Look out, men!” he cried.
The coxswain addressed his crew in his peculiar tongue and no doubt put them on their guard.
Arrived at twenty feet from the boat, the dugong pulled up. He sniffed the air with his immense nostrils, pierced in the upper part of the muzzle, then with a spring he threw himself upon us.
The boat could not avoid the shock. It was nearly upset, and took in a couple of tons of water, which it was necessary to get rid of. But, thanks to the coxswain, we received the blow sideways, and we were not upset.
Ned Land, holding on tightly in the bows, struck blow after blow at the gigantic animal, which, having fastened its teeth in the gunwale, nearly lifted the boat out of the water. We were thrown all together in a heap, and I do not know
