“They had sailed out of Tromsø more than a month earlier, harpoons sharpened and greased, sails patched and mended, hold empty and waiting. The minke whales had been moving, their migration north bringing them within a day’s sail of the Norwegian shore, and Bernsen had been determined that the Agathe would claim her share, as she always had. For days and weeks, they had toiled, sticking the fast, agile beasts with point after point, roping them and drowning them and hauling them aboard, where th...eir blubber was packed and stored and their bones boiled and carefully stacked, ready to be turned into corsets in the boutiques of Paris. When the hold was full, Bernsen had been about to give his crew the order to make for home, an order that always provoked celebration on the slippery deck, when his lookout had called down from the main mast, urging him to look to the north-west. Bernsen had crossed the deck, and looked out over the starboard rail. In the distance, a pod of humpback whales was making its way steadily north: five at least, maybe seven, or even eight.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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