As the wounded baleen whale continued to dive deeper, the reserve rope on the small boat rapidly unwound, and the crew grabbed their harpoons, waiting for the whale to resurface.
The experienced whalers didn't need any instructions; they knew exactly what to do and when to do it.
Sure enough.
It wasn't long before the rope stopped unwinding, indicating that the whale had reached the limits of its dive.
Bang—
It didn't keep them waiting long. Like the other whales they had hunted before, this baleen whale resurfaced, exhausted and out of oxygen.
But with the rope guiding it, escape was impossible!
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!...
Harpoons flew and pierced down, blood dyeing a large area of the sea red. The baleen whale let out one last inaudible wail before drifting lifelessly on the water.
Having witnessed this scene countless times, the now merciless whalers burst into cheers.
The first triumph brought a sense of harvest that made them forget the strange local legends entirely.
