Reeve followed the man down into the dinghy and took hold of the oars. The tiny boat moved swiftly toward the mammoth creature frolicking in the sun-spattered water, two other small craft bobbing in its wake.

Again the whale sounded, and there were moments of unearthly silence before the enormous beast broke the water in a burst of power that set the boats rocking violently from side to side. With a shout the man who had spoken to Reeve earlier on deck lunged to his feet and fired the harpoon. It punctured the sleek water-filmed flesh of the whale, and there was a cry of anguish that Reeve felt in the very core of his soul.

The water turned red with blood, and it took all Reeve’s determination not to bend over the side of the dinghy and heave. Two more harpoons found their marks, and the magnificent animal rolled onto its side, one great eye covered by a crimson sheen.

“Oh, God,” Reeve muttered. “God.”

“Haul her in, mates!” shouted the man who had fired the first harpoon. “Ain’t she a marvel, though?”

Reeve had never liked whaling, not since his first experience with it at fourteen. Now he was finding it intolerable.

His hands shook as he climbed the ladder to board the Elisabeth Lee again, and he had barely swung himself over the rail when he heard the screams and the horrible churning of the water. He whirled.

“Sharks!” screamed one of the men still below. The water bubbled like hell’s caldron, and the dinghies were flung this way and that. Most of Reeve’s crewmen made it up the ladder; the rest—a dozen or so—were hurled into the water.

What followed was the stuff of which nightmares are woven. Men on deck fired rifles at the frenzied sharks, while the predators tore at the carcass of the whale and at the crewmen who had been thrown into the sea. Reeve watched in horrified helplessness as a young man was dragged beneath the surface. Moments later bright red bubbles boiled up.

“Jesus,” sobbed one of the men standing beside Reeve on the deck, and his words were more prayer than blasphemy. “Holy Jesus, help ’em.”

The fury of the sharks drew other sharks, and the frenzy went on and on. Reeve stood frozen at the rail, unable to look away.

When the horror had finally ended, there was little left of a whale longer than the Elisabeth Lee and nothing left of the men who had died in that roiling mess of blood and gore.

“Come away, Cap’n.” The first mate spoke quietly, his hand resting on Reeve’s arm. “Cap’n?”