So all the consolation the skipper could give C. B.was that he would soon get used to it as everybody else had to. And with that poor comfort C. B. had to be content. Now while the captain went on talking to him about the island life there was a cry from aloft, “Porps, porps.” A school of porpoises had joined the vessel, and were indulging in their graceful sinewy gambols under the bows as usual.
“Now, my boy,” cried the skipper, “is your time to show your shipmates what you can do with the iron. Your shot yesterday was a fancy one, I’ll admit, but this is a different matter. Come along forrard.”
Already a harpoon had been passed out to the bowsprit and attached to a stout line, which was rove through a block secured there in readiness and the other end passed in on deck. At the skipper’s direction C. B. slid down the martingale on to the guys and stood there, his shoulders braced against the martingale or dolphin-striker, while the old ship plunged along, occasionally bringing his feet within a few inches of the waves.
Beneath him the graceful agile sea-creatures rolled and sprang and plunged like mad things in the seething foam from the bluff bows of the advancing ship. C. B. poised his iron, pointed it at one of the rising porpoises, and at the moment it broke the water beneath him the iron flew from his hands. It struck the creature fairly in the middle of the back and sank through him as C. B. shouted—
“Haul up!”
And the men on deck running away with the line jerked the writhing mass out of the water up to the block, where a running bowline was dropped over its broad tail, by means of which it was hauled inboard. Another iron was hastily bent on andpassed out, and the first victim had hardly been cut loose from the barb before another was transfixed in the same manner and lay struggling by the side of its fellow.
Again and again the feat was repeated, for the new harponeer’s aim seemed to be unerring, until eleven large porpoises lay in a heap abaft the windlass. And then a really wonderful thing happened. Two porpoises rose at once, rolling over and over each other as they did so, and just as they broke water the harpoon flew and pierced them both at once! Almost all hands saw the amazing stroke, and a great shout of approbation went up, for none of them had ever seen such a feat performed before.
The pair were hauled inboard and another shot made, but this time the iron went through the creature’s side, and in its tremendous efforts it wrenched the iron out of its body and fell, a torn and bleeding mass, back into the sea. In a moment the whole school rushed after it and, like a pack of starving wolves, rent it in fragments, leaping high into the air in their frenzied eagerness to get a share of the cannibal feast. So there was no more hunting for the time, but C. B.’s reputation as a harponeer was established upon the firmest basis, and only his fellow-harponeers were ungenerous enough to mutter that perhaps he wouldn’t do so well when it came to striking whales.
It was Captain Taber’s intention to proceed in leisurely fashion towards what we know as the “off-shore” grounds, by which term is meant an immense oblong tract of sea off the west coast of South America, extending for about a thousand miles to the westward and from about 50° south nearly to the Equator. This has always been a favourite habitat of the sperm whale, and although not quite so prolific as the Japan grounds or the vicinity of New Zealand, it has sometimes yielded splendid results. But it will be easily understood that in so vast an area, wherein the vision from the crow’s-nest of a single ship, or say a circle 90 miles in circumference, is but a speck and that only available by day, it is quite possible for a cruising ship to be many weeks on the ground and never see a solitary spout of a payable whale. And this too although the numbers of these creatures then frequenting a favourite haunt may be incalculable.
Few people, even sailors, can realize in any adequate measure the immensity of the ocean, the vastness of the great lone spaces of the deep. The best method I know to bring this home to one’s mind is to come up channel, one of the very busiest of all ocean thoroughfares, on a gloriously fine day and count the number of vessels seen. Of course I assume that the course is in mid-channel, and thusout of the range of the fishing-boats. The result is amazing. I have only just returned from a cruise in the Channel with the Home Fleet, when we were never more than twenty miles off shore, and I do not recall any one time that we had beside our own ships more than three vessels in sight. If then this be the case in the quite narrow waters of the greatest ocean highway in the world, what must it be where the ocean spreads from one quarter of the world to another? And no people realize this more fully than whalers, who know what it is to cruise for months in the unfrequented latitudes where their quarry is most likely to be found, and who, after a month or so’s unsuccessful search are haunted by the idea that just beyond the sea-rim, just over the edge of their little circle, there may be, most likely are, whales in abundance, but in what direction can they steer so as to come up with them?
But to return to C. B. Little by little he became accustomed to the fetid odours of his quarters, could bear to sleep down there even with his berth-mates’ pipes all going. But he felt a wide gap in his soul at the utter absence of one topic from all conversation which during the whole of his life had been ever uppermost as the most vital and interesting of all. His soul hungered for some one to talk to about God; he was horrified almost to faintness at the incessant blasphemy he heard around him continually; and, although he would not have owned it to anybody he grieved bitterly in secret that ever he had desired to leave his home and friends. And a great fear also possessed him occasionally. It was that he should grow quite indifferent to the realities of life in the shape of the things of God. Already he fancied he detected within himself a tolerance of the shameful language current about him, if only he could hearthe stories it conveyed of things hitherto beyond any apprehension of his.
In fact, there was going on in the lonely man’s soul a conflict such as few of us ashore are called upon to face, a struggle with all the powers of darkness which has to be waged by every newly converted sailor when he goes to sea again, and finds no fellowship nor friendliness among his shipmates because he is suspected of being a Holy Joe. Few things try my patience more than to listen to hair-splitting doctrinal arguments, whether they be on so-called New Theology, or the cut of ecclesiastical vestments, while my mind reverts to the lonely soul in the ship’s fo’c’sle, who has just given his heart to the Lord, and has been compelled by the exigencies of his calling to go back to the foul life and conversation which never irked him before, but now is torture.
The proverb that a man is known by the company he keeps has no meaning at sea because your company is not of your own choosing. Detest it as you may you cannot get away from it, and although you may loathe every word you hear spoken, being human your gregarious instincts will assert themselves and fight fiercely against your desire to keep your mind and heart clean by trying to drive you into the society of those whose delight it is to outrage every feeling they think you possess of decency or righteousness. In such a situation as nowhere else in the world can a man rest upon the promise, “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the age.” And happy will he be if the squabbling of the schoolmen as to the authenticity of the dear words has never come within his mental purview.
I think, however, that C. B.’s plight was rather worse than that of the newly converted sailor. For the latter has been long familiar with the language,has long known the utter absence of all recognition of God as having anything to do with men’s lives, and so, though a return to such environment is utterly distasteful to him, it is not strange, does not come with so much of a shock. But poor C. B., from his earliest infancy, had been steeped in the atmosphere of prayer, of the constant invariable immanence of God and in the belief of His immediate and benevolent interference in the affairs of His children down here. He had not been brought up religiously, for the word is suspect; in fact, as most of us know to our cost, a religious man and an unutterable scoundrel are often synonymous terms. But he had been bred in the belief in the Father’s love and the unseen fellowship with Jesus Christ His Son, Himself manifest in the flesh, and that not because, hateful devilish thought, there was anything to be made out of it, any well-deserved punishment to escape from, but because it was entirely good and pleasant to love the all-Father whose plans and purposes towards them were only love and that continually.
One thing, however, came to his aid early in the struggle. It was the remembrance of a conversation he had had with his parents once upon the possibility of the islanders’ goodness being of a negative character. That is to say, they had never been tempted to do wrong, all their lives had been hemmed in on every side by right-doing and right-thinking and perhaps, he had only hinted at it, if they had been subjected to the same trials and tests as the people in the great world, they would fall, and fall lamentably. He had not claimed for himself any special strength or virtue, whatever his innermost thoughts may have been, but he had really felt at the time that his love for God was so strong and fervent that he would be glad to test it even in the fiercest fires of persecution.
Of course he did not in the least anticipate what the reality would be, no one ever does. He had strung himself up to meet outrage, in a physical sense to be treated in openly severe ways, not by covert sarcasm, persistent blasphemy and ignoring of the very right of God to interfere in the affairs of man. Now he was face to face with the reality he felt dismayed, but he went to the unfailing resource of the Christian, he claimed his dearly purchased right of direct intercourse with the Fountain of love and wisdom and was at once stayed upon the sure sense of being a child well beloved by the Father.
He strove manfully also to acquaint himself with all those details of ship work which he now found to be quite intricate and difficult. Fortunately his fine physique and utter immunity from sea-sickness stood him in good stead and he learned rapidly, so that at the end of a fortnight he began to feel capable of holding his own with his shipmates. And in consequence of the continually flung hints that he would be found out when it came to the actual business of whaling he prayed fervently for a chance to show that in this at any rate he had nothing to learn here. But as day after day slipped by and no whales appeared he had to listen to a fresh set of innuendoes from his berth-mates, who now said that their ill-luck was due to his presence on board.
So when he took his spell at the mainmast head in the crow’s-nest, be sure that his glance never missed any object, however small, that came within the limits of human sight. At last when about halfway across the Pacific it happened to be his first two hours in the main crow’s-nest, from 6 to 8 a.m. The young Kanaka who was with him was sleepy and lethargic, taking little heed of the necessity for keeping a good look out in spite of thesubstantial bounty offered of twenty dollars for the first sight of an afterwards captured whale making over forty barrels of oil. C. B. was watchful as usual, for so far as he had yet lived he had never allowed himself to scamp or neglect any duty. This was hardly a virtue, it was bred in him.
And consequently at this time, in the full glory of the early dawn, while his heart uplifted itself in praise to the Creator of the beautiful world, all his other senses were concentrated in sight; his vision ranged ceaselessly over every square foot of the huge circle of sea of which he was the centre. Then suddenly, from far away on the Western horizon, there arose from the clear, placid bosom of the deep a tiny puff as of smoke from a pipe. The watcher stiffened into rigid attention. Ha, there it is again! another and another, and then a creamy curdling of the blue water as if its swell had suddenly met an obstruction. It was enough. Uplifting his mellow voice C. B. sent through the quiet air the whaler’s musical long-drawn cry of “Blo-o-o-o-o-w,” the liquid vowels persisting for nearly a minute. As soon as it ceased there arose from the deck the strong voice of the skipper, who had rushed on deck from deep sleep at the first beginning of the cry—
“Where away? keep crying.”
“Bloooooow, Bloooooow,” came the response, and then with a bursting change: “There—ere—she—white waters—and Blows, Blows, Blow. Broad on the starboard beam, sir, about ten miles off—seven or eight whales, sperm whales, Blo-o-o-o-w.”
There was but a very light breeze on the port quarter, the ship making about two knots an hour, and the skipper, grabbing his binoculars and mounting the main rigging, shouted:—
“Port braces, bring her head up WNW. Mr.Spurrell, lively now,” the words exploding as he toiled upward and seated himself on the upper topsail yard. Meanwhile the other masthead-men had caught sight of the whales and were all adding their voices to the musical minor wail that was going up. On deck the watch below were beginning to swarm up; cleansing gear of brooms, buckets, sand, etc., was being put hurriedly away, and boats’ gripes cast off, while in each boat the harponeer might be seen critically examining the state of his weapons.
Presently the old man’s voice rang out peremptorily—
“Down from aloft! See all clear for lowering, call all hands. Christmas, you’d better git an’ see that all’s right in your boat.”
As his orders rang out the recipients of them responded severally, and swiftly the various duties were performed, but with an utter absence of bustle, for all hands were well trained. C. B. grabbed a backstay as he slid out of the crow’s-nest hoop and came to the deck like a flash, plunging at once full of eagerness in the direction of his boat. But here he found that the fourth mate had been before him and left nothing for him to do. I have not hitherto spoken of this curious individual, who is indeed worthy of special notice, because he is quite a supernumary in time of peace and indeed in time of war has to give place to the Captain should the latter wish to take the field himself. He was a Guamese, from the Ladrone Islands, the offspring of a Spanish father and a Chinese mother, but with practically only the facial characteristics of the Mongol. He was taciturn to a degree, never uttering an unnecessary word, although he spoke English fluently as well as Spanish and the Lingua Franca of the islands with which a man may getalong from Honolulu to Haapai. And he answered to the name of Merritt, Mr. Merritt.
Seeing him in the boat, C. B. said pleasantly—
“Is there anything I can do, sir?”
“Get the lines in,” growled the officer, but not uncivilly—it was his natural mode of expression. And C. B., ready on the instant, turned to the boat’s crew who stood near and gave the necessary orders. The two tubs of line were flung into their places and all was ready. From his lofty perch the skipper’s voice came occasionally in steering directions as the whales, being on a passage, changed their bearings. This state of suspense endured for nearly two hours, during which the whales descended twice, their course, the time of their down-going and up-coming and the number of their individual spoutings out being carefully noted, all of which things are guides to the future movements of the whale of the utmost value.
For when unmolested and on a passage from one spot to another the sperm whale steers an exact course, as if directed by compass. So that when he settles down he heads his course and when he rises again, often fifty minutes later, he heads still the same way. Moreover the time he remains below, still when unmolested and on a passage, does not vary, it is as fixed as in the number of times he breathes on reaching the surface. But this latter phenomenon does not alter, whether the creature be unmolested or chased in full health or dying; when rising to breathe he must obey some strange law compelling him to keep to his particular number of spouts unless their quantity is cut short by death.
But it often happens that a school of sperm whales will spend an entire day upon the surface of the sea, apparently basking in the sunshine anddoing nothing but enjoy the sensation of being peacefully alive. In this case their spoutings can hardly be seen, so attenuated does the vapour become as the creature’s air vessels get thoroughly charged with pure air. On first rising to the surface, after a prolonged stay below, the breath is so thick that a casual observer could easily mistake it for water, as indeed has so frequently been done. I can never understand why, though, because the expelled breath always hangs in the air like a tiny fog wreath, which water of course could not do.
This digression, which is hardly unnecessary, I think, is merely to while away the long wait while the ship creeps up to the spot where the happily unconscious monsters are pursuing their placid way. At last the voice of the skipper is heard again, saying—
“Lower away, Mr. Winsloe, you’re less than two miles off now. Pull straight ahead for ten minutes and then set sail. They’re just up and headin’ as near No’the as makes no odds.”
“Aye, aye, sir, lower it is,” came the ready response; and with a musical whir of soft Manilla rope over patent sheaves the four boats almost simultaneously took the water, the crews slid down the falls after them and dropped into their places, shoved off, out oars and away.
It is a stirring sight, the departure of boats after a whale from a ship. Every man seems so bent upon distinguishing himself. The flexible ashen oars spring as the weight of the body is thrown upon them, entering the water cleanly, noiselessly, gripping it firmly and leaving it as gently as if there had been no force behind the stroke. The feather is perfect—you cannot pull in a sea way without it, under pain of a bad chest blow, and the thickly padded rowlocks give no sound. Suddenly the mate’s boat, leading,gave the signal by shipping the oars and setting sail and immediately all the crews followed the example, and the big masts were stepped, the white sails shaken out to the gentle breeze, and without a sound the graceful craft slipped through the water towards the still unconscious objects of their efforts.
Etiquette demands that the boats shall follow in order of official precedence, but upon nearing the school that order is usually broken up entirely by the movements of the whales and it is then a case for individual smartness to assert itself. So now, just as the mate had indicated by a wave of his hand that the boats must spread out fanwise, a huge bull whale, the apparent monarch of the school, rose placidly a couple of boat’s lengths ahead of C. B. He rose, gripping his iron and jamming his left thigh in the “clumsy cleat” groove, cut out of the little fore deck of the boat for that purpose. Hardly had he poised the heavy weapon when the great back before him rounded upwards like a bow—sure warning that the whale was about to seek the depths.
There was a swift movement of the sinewy arms and the iron flew to its mark at the same moment as Mr. Merritt yelled—
“Now then, let him have it!”
Everybody in the boat saw the iron strike, sink in halfway and bend over as the massive iron-wood pole, weighted additionally with the line, sank downwards. But C. B. snatching his second harpoon sent it whizzing after the first, striking the arrested monster’s side about three feet away from the first wound.
Mr. Merritt swung the boat up into the wind, shouting as he did so—
“Down with the mast, lively now, hump yerselves,”and all hands sprang to the task, while the stricken whale, in a paroxysm of mingled terror and fury, lashed the quiet sea into boiling foam with his gigantic struggles against this unseen, unknown enemy that had so sorely wounded him. But none of his efforts, tremendous as they were, had any intelligent direction; they were just a blind waste of energy, and so the toiling men were able to get the sail rolled up and secured, the mast unshipped and fleeted aft, where, with its heel tucked under the after thwart, it was completely out of the workers’ way, leaving the boat clear for action. Then, as coolly as if on a pleasure trip and entirely unheeding the frantic wallowings of the leviathan so near, Mr. Merritt and C. B. changed ends, the former’s place now being in the bow, for the purpose of using the lance on the whale, while the harponeer steered.
Before, however, Mr. Merritt had got the cap off his favourite lance’s point there was a sudden cessation of the uproar, a huge whirling in the sea and the vast body sank from sight, slowly, majestically, as if the monster had suddenly regained the dignity befitting him in spite of these new and terrifying circumstances. Now the line attached to the harpoon led right aft, round a stout oak post built solidly in the boat, the “loggerhead,” and thence into the tub where two hundred fathoms of it was neatly coiled, a smaller tub on the other side of the boat holding a hundred fathoms, but all in one length.
“Hold him up, hold him up,” growled the officer, as the line began to glide out slowly, and C. B. responded by taking three turns round the loggerhead with the line and holding on to it until the boat’s nose was dragged down to within an inch or two of the water, while all hands, except the officer, crowded aft as far as they could get, with the object of puttinga check upon the whale’s descent. This is always done, but remembering the immense power of a whale in addition to his enormous weight (a full-sized sperm whale weighs considerably over a hundred tons), its brake power would almost seem commensurate with that of a fly on a cart wheel.
Now they were at leisure to look round them to see how the other boats had fared. But only one was visible, and that was coming towards them at tremendous speed, obviously being towed by a whale, although he could not be seen. On she came, heading straight for them, until, when destruction seemed inevitable and the tomahawk for severing the line gleamed in Mr. Merritt’s grip, the boat steerer of the rushing craft made a mighty effort, bending his steer oar like a great bow, and she flew past them only a few feet away. It was a breathless moment, but such are frequent in this strenuous business, and except at the moment are thought little of. Here, if anywhere, the proverb of a miss being as good as a mile holds true—it generally means the difference between life and death.
Slowly, certainly, fake after fake of the line left the tub until it was exhausted, and now the smaller one began to empty in its turn. So the signal was made “running short of line” by up-ending an oar, and soon after urgency was shown by another oar being pointed upwards. But no boat was near, and all hands began to peer anxiously at the fast emptying tub, while one stood by with the drogue, a flat piece of planking a foot square which is made fast to the end of the line when it has to be slipped. It is supposed to act as a drag upon the whale, equal to the resistance of four boats. And then, as suddenly the boat righted herself with a jerk,while the men scrambled each to his thwart, the whale ceased to descend, and Mr. Merritt shouted—
“Haul in lively now, haul quick!”
As fast as the fakes could be coiled in the sternsheets the line was hauled in, for the whale rose as rapidly as he had gone down slowly, until suddenly he broke water about a ship’s length away and with one tremendous expiration of pent-up breath, sprang forward like a hound loosed from the leash. C. B. had only just time to whip his turns round the loggerhead again as the boat, with a jerk that nearly threw all hands from their thwarts, sped after the rushing ocean monarch, leaving a wide, glittering foam track behind her. Mr. Merritt leaned over the bows, clutching his long lance and glaring vengefully at the broad shining back of the whale ploughing through the waves fifty feet away from him. With coarse gaspings he implored, taunted, threatened his crew in the effort to get them to perform the impossible task of bringing him nearer to the whale. The rope was tense as wire, and their utmost endeavours could not get in an inch of it.
And now the wind and sea began to rise, causing clouds of flying spray to break over the boat as she was dragged furiously in the wake of the whale. Merritt’s rage was awful to witness. What he said does not matter; it was almost unintelligible anyhow; but his yellow teeth were bared, he champed like an angry boar, and foam flecked with crimson flew from his mouth and hung on his straggling beard. C. B. stood like a statue, alert, tense, ready to act on the instant if the whale should turn.
And thus they sped for nearly twenty minutes, until as suddenly as he had hitherto performed his other evolutions the whale stopped, turned at bay, and with a splendid sweep of the steer oar C. B.avoided running into his columnar head, bringing the boat head on to his broadside. With one exultant savage yell Merritt hurled his lance, and the whole four feet of slender steel sank into the black body as a knife sinks into butter. “Haul and hold, haul and hold,” screamed the furious man as he dragged the lance back, straightened it by a deft blow or two on the gunnel, and now, being closely held against the whale side, plunged it in again. But it struck a rib and bent almost double. Flinging the warp or line by which it was attached to the bow oarsman, he snatched another lance, uncapped it, and was about to repeat his assault, when there came a warning shout from C. B. as the agonized monster turned a somersault, his huge flukes snapping in the air as he brandished them frantically.
“Stern, stern,” roared Merritt, and all the energy the crew possessed went into those awkward strokes, while the turmoil made by the maddened whale was deafening. Black, fetid blood flew from his spiracle mingled with acrid foam, which stung like a nettle where it touched the skin, and from the wounds made by the lance the blood spurted to a distance of two or three feet. It was obvious now that one or both of those lance thrusts had reached a vital organ, and the sea monarch was now writhing in the last great struggle of death. He rolled rapidly from side to side, beat the ensanguined sea into yellow foam with his mighty tail, while masses of clotted gore burst from his spouthole with a mournful bellow, like that of some vast bull, and then in a moment the great body went limp, rolled upon its side, and lay still, save for the gentle motion given it by the swell.
All hands drew a long breath, then at Merritt’scommand hauled up to the carcass and held the boat alongside, while with a boat spade he cut a hole through the tail. Then cutting the line from the irons close up to them, the end of it was passed through the hole and made fast, a small flag was hoisted, and all was ready for the ship to run down and secure the great prize.
There are few pleasures in life comparable with the contemplation of the successful results of a tremendous struggle with overwhelming odds in company with your fellows, whether you be leader or follower. And I know of no circumstance where this is more fully exemplified than in the precious rest-time enjoyed by a boat’s crew immediately after the death of a whale. No matter how bad the treatment of the men on board the ship may have been, how utterly weary of the life everybody may feel, or how brutal officer and harponeer, the sense of having successfully finished the combat draws them all together for a time, and the smoke which is then permitted is essentially in the nature of a pipe of peace.
In the present case everybody was full of satisfaction. For in the first place the new harponeer had acquitted himself in the best and most approved fashion, the highest expectations of him had been fully justified. Next, the whole operation had proceeded on the most orthodox lines, both on the part of the whale and his destroyers. And lastly, the weather had been fine, the time not too long, and crowning joy of all, the prize was of the largest and therefore the most payable size. Even Mr. Merritt’s curious yellow face wore a less ghastlyexpression than usual, which in his case meant immense satisfaction.
Their rest was of very brief duration, for when the whale died the ship was barely three miles away to windward, and she had immediately filled away for them. When she reached within a quarter of a mile she was brought smartly up into the wind with her mainyard aback and laid still. Immediately Mr. Merritt gave the order to slack away the line and pull for the ship, which they reached in five minutes, noting as they did so that all the other boats were in their place, at the davits, and that the faces of the crew wore a preternatural air of gloom. The bight of the line was passed on board and all hands tailed on to it, walking the whale up to the ship in rapid fashion. And as the great mass came alongside the skipper’s face lightened, for he mentally assessed its stupendous proportions as able to yield about fourteen tons, or a hundred and forty barrels of oil. In splendid seamanlike fashion the fluke chain was passed round the tail and hauled through the mooring pipe in the bow, where it was secured to the massive fluke chain bitt, an oaken post built into the ship and bolted to the heel of the bowsprit.
Without a moment’s interval the work of cutting in was begun, but the newly arrived boat’s crew were given time to get into another rig. And C. B. received a fresh surprise when, with a pleased look on his face, he went up to Pepe, the chief harponeer, and asked him what had happened to the other boats that they had missed their chance. It was a simple question, which, had C. B. known anything of the world, he would never have asked, for he would then have known that it would be taken as a bitter insult. Indeed it nearly led to tragedy, for Pepe’sface went reddish black with rage, the veins in his neck stood out like cords of the thickness of a little finger, and he snarled out something in his own language, looking like a starving wolf as he did so. Then in a calmer tone he said—
“Don’ you begin poke no fun at me, Mr. Greenie, or I settle de account mighty quick. You talk somebody else.” And turned away, leaving the bewildered C. B. staring wonderingly at him.
But not for long, for Captain Taber came up, saying pleasantly as he did so—
“Look a here, young man, you’re most too good for this wicked world, you air, an’ I’m afraid I’m goin’ t’ have big trouble about ye. Whatever possessed ye to go and ask Pepe what ye did? I heard ye.”
“Only because I wanted to know, sir,” replied the young man; “I supposed that they had all had some trouble, as will often happen in whaling, and I thought I’d like to know the reason.”
“And it never occurred to you that every one of those harponeers is just full of mad against ye for havin’ disappointed ’em. They’ve ben hopin’ for ye t’ break up fust time ye went on a whale; they hate ye because ye be good an’ quiet an’ simple, an’ if ye was a clumsy galoot they’d soon let up on ye and only play a few fool games on ye. But now ye’re comin’ out smarter than any of ’em, for I can’t deny that this mornin’s work was a bad piece of bunglin’ as ever I seen in the ship; there isn’t one of ’em that wouldn’t enjoy stickin’ an iron through ye right up t’ the hitches. But there, get along t’ the work,’n keep close to me; I don’t want a blubber spade slipped into ye by accident.”
That afternoon the deck of theEliza Adamspresented a curious scene, a scene of wonderfulactivity, of massy pieces of blubber swinging inboard and decks streaming with oil. Much of the bad feeling among the other three harponeers and officers had evaporated or was in abeyance, though none of them could forget the blistering words spoken to them by the skipper that morning. The present may be a fitting time to allude to the circumstances briefly. The mate, with Pepe his harponeer, had singled out the biggest whale he could see and laid Pepe on to it. But for some strange reason, when Pepe raised his iron to dart, he did not notice that the whale, evidently an old stager, had at that moment hollowed his back, leaving the blubber all slack. Now an iron cannot penetrate a whale’s body when this is the case. And at the moment the point struck the whale arched his back with such suddenness and violence that the iron was flung right back into the boat by the tightening of the blubber, knocking the bow oarsman senseless. In the momentary confusion induced by this, and while the mate was angrily inquiring why Pepe had missed, the second mate, Mr. Spurrell, came charging along fast to a whale which dived beneath the mate’s boat, and in order to keep from cutting her in half the line was let go. It kinked or caught in the groove or chock, and but for Mr. Spurrell’s promptitude, two more seconds would have seen both boats a mass of wreckage. He, however, chopped the line, losing the whale.
Neither of them could get near a whale again, and as for the third mate, nobody seemed to know what had happened to him, except that he did not appear to have even located a whale, but ambled about like a man in a dream. Take it all round, the morning’s work, as far as the old hands were concerned, was a matter to be forgotten as soon aspossible. But that the despised Kanaka, as those fancy-coloured Portuguese called him, the soft greenie, the everything of contumely their narrow coarse minds could suggest, should succeed where they had failed was enough to goad them to madness.
But now a strange new factor intruded itself into the situation. The thirty hands of the crew were, as usual, of several different nationalities. There were several Kanakas from various islands, eight native-born Down Easters who had been lured by spacious promises and a spirit of adventure into this roving unprofitable life, four Europeans of sorts, whom I cannot specify, and the rest Portuguese. Now their discordant elements agreed very well under the stern discipline always enforced on board those ships, but all of them felt warmly towards the big handsome Bounty boy who always spoke so kindly, never used an oath, and greatest quality of all in their eyes, was fully up to his work.
And with that extraordinary instinct for what is going on which is always so surprising on board ship they all realized the antagonism felt towards him by the other harponeers, and though they dared not show any partiality, they felt it, and whenever they could discuss the situation among themselves without the Portuguese listening, they always spoke in the most enthusiastic terms of the new recruit. It must not be supposed that in saying what I have about the Portuguese I am actuated by any hostility towards them. I know what fine men they are for their work, but they are capable of the blackest treachery, regard it as perfectly legitimate to get the better of a man you dislike by any means however base, and to further their own ends will betray their closest friend. Of course I know little of the pure-bred Portuguese, I speak throughout of thebreed I am acquainted with, the many-coloured natives of the North Atlantic Isles; brave, fierce, and entirely unscrupulous.
Much of the work being done that afternoon was entirely new to C. B., often as he had helped to cut up a whale, for it must be pointed out that cutting a whale in on board ship at sea is an essentially different process from the slipshod business of doing the same thing on shore, especially where all are friends, all desire to get the job done as quickly as possible, for all are co-equal partners in the venture. So naturally he made many blunders, immediately pointed out by the skipper, who worked as hard as any of them, and none missed by the sardonic harponeers and officers toiling on the cutting stage. With one exception, Merritt. Once when C. B. did something foolish, and in consequence came a cropper in the midst of a pool of oil, Pepe, who was toiling on the cutting stage by Merritt’s side hacking off the gigantic head, snarled to Merritt.
“Look a dat galoot! Bouts handy as a ba’r, don’t it?”
Merritt turned upon the speaker with a green light in his curious shaped eyes and snarled—
“Wen you k’n best ’im at ’is work you call ’im bad names t’ me, not before. I got no use fer talk like dat. He’s a man, dat’s what he is, an doan call nobody out deir names needer. Git along wid de work.”
Oh yes, very pretty trouble was brewing all round, as the skipper said, and not the less troublesome because the storm centre was perfectly innocuous. Fortunately for himself he had early come to the conclusion that to worry about what he knew to be the prevalent feeling concerning him in the half deck, as the petty officers den was termed, would bewrong. Again and again in the midst of his work, when tempted to long for the kindly hearty fellowship he had enjoyed all his previous life, he was cheered by the thought of the lonely One and uplifted by the sense that he was privileged to be a fellow in those dark places of the perfect Man. And went on, if not cheerfully, at least contentedly, finding in his work a great solace.
The intricate and disagreeable work of boiling down the oil and stowing it away proceeded apace until all was washed away and the ship resumed her spotless appearance. Then day succeeded day in the peaceful passage across that placid mighty ocean, when there was nothing but ordinary ship’s routine to be carried on, and very often C. B. felt sorely the need of something to occupy his mind. True he could meditate and did upon the home he had left, and the strange happenings he had witnessed here; but he did long with an ache at his heart for the sweet communion with his fellow-men that he had so long enjoyed and had thought so little of. He had never imagined a little world like this withnobodyto talk to who had a single thought in common with him.
But this enforced solitude in the midst of his fellows was all unconsciously on his part deepening and widening his character. In throwing him upon his own resources, the fellowship with the unseen realities of true life made him, without his being in any sense akin to the useless self-centred recluse in his narrow cell wholly intent upon the salvation of his own petty soul, realize in a very special sense the perfect beauty of spiritual communion as he had never done before. Also, because he was debarred from reading anything except his Bible, there being no other literature available, turnall his physical and mental powers during his hours of work to becoming perfect in his new calling.
And then he suddenly made a discovery which pleased him immensely, made his heart leap for joy. It was that his queer boat-header, Mr. Merritt, had conceived a great liking for him. He was struggling one afternoon with the intricacies of a piece of sailor work, endeavouring to strop a block with three-inch rope, and having made a mess of it, he looked up despairingly to find the inscrutable yellow face of Merritt looking down upon him with a twinkle in the oblique eyes.
“Got kind o’ snarled up, I see,” said the fourth mate. “Comes a-tryin’ to do sailor work ’thout bein’ properly showed how. Here, lemme show ye.” And sitting down by his side Merritt explained patiently and clearly every detail of the work, nor desisted, never losing patience, until C. B. had fairly mastered it.
“Now anything else in that way you hanker after knowin’ you come to me an’ I’ll show ye, see. But don’t go askin’ anybody else, ’cause when I take a job on like this I like it all to myself. I’m a jealous man I am, and I’ve took a strong shine to ye, an’ as long as you stick t’me I’ll show ye what my idea of bein’ a chum is.” Then settling down comfortably by C. B.’s side he lit his pipe and went on, “Guess you’ve often wondered what sort of a queer fellow I was, didn’t ye? Now don’t say ye didn’t, kase ye couldn’t help it. Everybody does, an’ I don’t blame ’em as long as they don’t throw it up to me; if they do, well, I’m a pretty poisonous handful when I get a-goin’. But we won’t talk about that. I’m talkin’ to you now as I ain’t talked to any man since I lost my only chum, ten years ago. Some day I’ll tell you all about him, but not now. Now I wantt’say that I’ve been a-watchin’ this crowd pretty cluse, an’ there’s two or three of ’em a-lookin’ for a chance to spoil ye fer keeps. An’ I’ve a-made up my mind that I ain’t goin’ t’let ’em do it. I want ye, fer I believe yer a no end good man any way yer took, an’ if ye are misshnary it’s the right kind. Put it thar,” and he held out his yellow sinewy hand, which C. B. took warmly, and was amazed at the force of the grip he received.
Now this colloquy had certainly not passed unnoticed by the harponeers, and something like dismay ran through the camp. For Merritt, although they had been shipmates with him for eighteen months, was an enigma to them, a riddle they had never thought it worth while trying to solve. They knew him for a splendid whaleman and a thorough seaman, who scarcely ever spoke except when it was absolutely necessary for the purposes of the business. His colour and the strange mixture of races obvious in his face made no difference in a community where a man is judged only by his deeds and not in the least by his origin. And now this mysterious mate had taken up their pet aversion, and who knew what such a combination might produce?
The first result of the association, however, was a decided easing off in the villainous remarks made purposely in C. B.’s hearing whenever he went below, and a certain indefinite shade of respect being shown him. He noticed the change, wondered mildly at it, and then dismissing it from his mind, went quietly on his way as before, until one evening the skipper, coming up to him as he stood gazing over the rail at the placid bosom of the ocean, said in a cheery voice—
“Well, Mr. Christmas, you seem to be gettingalong a little better with ye’re berth-mates now, an’ I’m right down glad to see it. But what ye ben doin’ t’bring it about? I thought nothin’ ’d do it but a big row and mebbe a fight in which I was prepared to back ye up. An’ I’m ever so pleased to see that ther don’t seem to be any prospect of the kind now. Tell me what ye done to ’em?”
C. B. turned on him one of his beautiful smiles and replied—
“I haven’t done a thing to them, sir; I don’t know what I could do except try and go on as I began, doing my work as well as I can. They wouldn’t talk to me, nor let me talk to them, and so I’ve just had to let them go their own way while I have gone mine.”
“Yes, yes, that’s all very well,” hastily rejoined the skipper, “but how have you managed to make chums with Merritt? I never thought he would associate with any one.”
“I haven’t the least idea, sir,” replied the young man. “He says he likes me, and I’m very glad, but I don’t know why he should have suddenly found out that he did.”
“Ah well,” sighed the captain, “it is as I’ve often said, you’re too good for this wicked world and you’re bound to have trouble, but I’m mighty glad I don’t see trouble stickin’ out so far as I did. An’ now as we’re just comin’ on to the whaling ground, I hope you’ll bring us luck and do as well as you did first time lowerin’.”
“I hope so too, sir,” answered C. B., “and that the other fellows ’ll get a look in too. I can’t bear to see men so disappointed.” The captain gave him a critical look and walked away, shaking his head gravely as though to hint that really his newharponeer was a problem too difficult for him to solve.
Now by what process of reasoning or instinct Mr. Merritt arrived at the conclusion that there was some mischief quietly hatching, directed against his harponeer in connexion with his work, there are no means of knowing; it was one of those impulses that are not to be reasoned out, only felt and obeyed. At any rate, so strong was his feeling that something was afoot, that he sacrificed watch after watch of his sleep at night lying rolled up in a blanket on top of the after house where he could keep an eye on his boat. This of course in his watch below, when he was supposed to be in his cabin, and he took the greatest pains to keep his movements secret. After nearly a week’s watching, he was rewarded by seeing a dark figure, which his keen sight determined to be the mate’s harponeer, Pepe, creep noiselessly up into the boat and settle down into her so that his movements should not be seen, the mate having gone below to fill his pipe, and the third mate lolling half asleep abaft the wheel.
Merritt slipped down from his place like an eel, slid along the deck to the side of his boat, then sprang up on the rail and peered in to her, saying sharply—
“What ye doin’ in my boat, Pepe?”
The big harponeer stood up and stammered—
“I—I thought I heard a fly’n’ fish drop in thar, an’ was a-lookin’ for it.”
“Oh thet’s it, is it?” growled Merritt. “Well, come out of her right now ’thout lookin’ any more. I sorter mistrust ye;” and as he spoke he clambered into the boat and glanced keenly around while Pepe got out reluctantly.
It was then just upon the stroke of eight bells, 4 a.m., and Merritt stayed where he was until the bell was struck and the watch mustered. Then calling C. B. to him, he told him to watch the boat and make sure that no one entered her. Having done this he returned on deck and waited for daylight. As soon as it came he mounted into the boat again and pointed out to C. B. that the line in the big tub had been disturbed about ten fakes down. Then lifting fake after fake out he carefully ran along the line as he did so, until a sharp “Ah” came from his lips, followed by “Just look here, my son.” C. B. did look, and there was a clean cut in the line severing two strands nearly through. C. B. looked up at the fourth mate’s face, and was horror-struck, for it wore the aspect of a fiend. Not knowing what to say, though burning with righteous anger at the shameful treachery, he looked irresolutely back and forth, first at the line and then at his leader, when suddenly he heard the captain’s voice on deck. Merritt immediately slipped over the rail and strode to the captain, saying as he came before him—
“Captain Taber, what’s to be done to a man that creeps into a boat at night and cuts a tow-line through, an’, when he’s caught at it, says he’s lookin’ for fly’n’ fish?”
For a moment the captain was speechless with astonishment and rage, then he burst into incoherent speech of a kind that cannot be reported. Merritt stood looking coolly at him until he had finished, and then resumed with—
“Guess I’d like you just to hev a peek at this thing,” and led the way to the boat, the captain swiftly following. There sat C. B. still almost helpless with wonderment at the devilish treacheryof the thing while Merritt showed the line and explained how he came to detect the deed.
“But who, who’s the man?” gasped the skipper. “Tell me who the man is till I make him wish he’d never been born.”
“Now, sir,” replied Merritt, “I ain’t ever asked you a favour since I ben in your ship, an’ I know I’ve gi’n you satisfaction. Please let me deal with this man in my own way. I won’t kill him, I promise ye that, sir, an’ it’ll be less trouble for all of us.” By this time Captain Taber had cooled down a bit, and he looked dubiously at the ugly face before him. At last he said, “I don’t want murder done here, Mr. Merritt, neither do I want a man laid up so’s he won’t be any use for the work, otherwise I think I could leave it to you to give him he’s lesson. Yes, I’ll do it, if you’ll tell me who it is.”
“That’s good, sir,” rejoined Merritt, “your word’s always good enough for me. Well, it’s Pepe, an’ I propose getting him here on the quarter-deck with all hands to see and no weapons but our hands, an’ if I don’t teach him suthin that’ll do him good you can heave me overboard. But I own I’d just like to kill him.”
“All right,” said the skipper, “I won’t go back on my word, keep you yours. But only to think of it! my boss harponeer to serve me a dog’s trick like that! And I thought he was getting so quiet and amiable too. Ah,” shaking his head sadly at C. B., “I was a bit too sudden in what I said to ye the other afternoon. This is on your account. Well, I wish I’d never seen ye, but I’ll own that it ain’t any of your fault, an’ I’m not goin’ t’ be cur enough t’ blame ye.”
The air was surcharged with electricity until eight bells, for in that mysterious manner beforealluded to all hands knew that stirring events were about to transpire. C. B. was very uneasy, for even without the captain’s words he would have felt that he was in some measure responsible for the trouble, though in no way to blame. The only man who seemed perfectly unconcerned was Merritt, who just before eight bells slipped below and presently returned clad only in a canvas jumper, pants and boots. He wore a belt and no cap. The other officers all whispered one to another anxiously, the mate looking specially concerned, for, of course, he knew that it was his harponeer who had done this thing.
Eight bells! and in the orthodox fashion the watch below immediately appeared on deck. “Lay aft all hands!” thundered the skipper, and swiftly the whole crew appeared on the quarter-deck, foremast hands forward, harponeers to starboard and officers to port. “Stand out here, Pepe,” said the skipper, and Pepe stepped forward looking a greenish grey. “Mr. Merritt reports to me that he found you in his boat in the middle watch, and looking to see what you were doing, found that you’d cut his line. What have you got to say?”
He might have had something to say, but he could not say it, he was fascinated at the sight of Merritt, who had glided nearer to him. After waiting a full minute the skipper went on. “You’ve got nothing to say, now come here.” Pepe came close up to the skipper, who flung his hands round the harponeer’s waist and plucked from inside his shirt a long keen knife, which he threw aft. “Now stand back, harponeers,” the skipper cried; “Mr. Merritt is going to teach Pepe a lesson man fashion.” The ring widened instantly, and like a leopard Merritt sprang at the harponeer. For a few moments sorapid and furious were the movements of the two men that it was impossible to tell which of them was the better, and all eyes were strained upon them, lips parted and breath came short.
Then it was seen that Merritt had got the big Portuguese completely at his mercy, holding him with one arm round his neck in a bear-like grip. And with the disengaged hand Merritt beat him as if he were a refractory child, beating him to bruise and hurt as much as possible without disabling; and oh the humiliation of it! In that hour men saw how tremendous was the strength that none had suspected Merritt of before. At last the beaten man lost all sense of manhood and begged for mercy, the big tears rolling down his dark cheeks. Immediately the captain stepped forward and held up his hand, saying, “That will do, Merritt.” And the fourth mate sprang to his feet.
Pepe staggered up and would have crawled away, but the captain caught him by the arm. “Wait!” he cried. “Now, men, Pepe has been punished for shamefully cutting a line in order to make the new harponeer lose a whale. If any more of this kind of thing is done and I find the man out, I’ll tie him up and flog the flesh off his ribs. That’ll do. Carry on with the work. Go below the watch.” And immediately the tide of ship life flowed back into its usual channel, the wretched Pepe slinking about like a beaten dog.
So sudden, dramatic and complete had been the justice dealt out to Pepe that it made quite an imperceptible ripple in the steady current of the ship’s routine. In the mind of the beaten man there was, of course, a deep and deadly hatred for his chastiser as well as for C. B., and schemes of revenge chased one another through his brain continually. But he came of a race that understands and appreciates a good thrashing and has no respect for gentle humanitarian methods, and so Pepe’s respect for Mr. Merritt’s prowess was very real and sincere. Also his compatriots in the half-deck were perceptibly less sympathetic than they had been. In fact, they were quite ready to throw him over and openly condemn him for doing that which any one of them would have done given a favourable opportunity.
In only one thing did they now agree with him, and that was in their hatred of C. B. It is a melancholy fact that in an assemblage of bad men anything will be condoned but goodness, and the perfectly blameless life led by C. B. was a constant offence to men whose only virtues were high courage in the performance of their dangerous duties, and endurance in the most tremendous labours that can be imagined when the circumstances called for them. But C. B. was now far happier than he hadbeen since he first came on board. He had almost unconsciously been craving for some human sympathy and fellowship, and now he was in a fair way to get both. He felt himself drawn to his saturnine chief in a most intimate and affectionate way, while he could not but respect and admire him for his effectual punishment of the dastardly offence committed by Pepe. For C. B. had nothing in common with those curious Christians among us whose sympathies are entirely with the criminal and never with the victim, who shudder at pain being inflicted upon the guilty but are quite callous to the agonies of the innocent. To his simple ideas these folk would have seemed to be madmen.
Various quiet warnings were conveyed to him to keep a wary eye upon Pepe, who would be certain to do him a shrewd turn at the earliest opportunity, but he only laughed cheerily and said—
“I’m not losing any sleep over this matter. If he kills me I am ready to die, and shall not be worse off, but better. If he attacks me openly, he will, I think, get some more sore bones. And that’s all I care about it.”
And then he would change the subject, for he was gradually becoming able to talk about the pure and noble life of his island home to the captain and officers and sometimes to the men, who listened fascinated: as they would, for although most of them had at one time or another heard the Gospel preached in some fashion, they had always looked upon the preacher as one who was paid to say certain things which he did not believe, but which were designed to keep the poor man quiet while the rich man preyed upon him.
Some of them had dim recollections of holy lives lived by their parents, of prayers repeated in lispingtones at a mother’s knee and recalled occasionally in moments of solitude, but none of them had ever met before a man in the spring of life, strong, eager, and able to do all that might become a man, who spoke of God and Christ and love that rules the whole creation as if they were matters of intimate knowledge and infinite importance to him. And while they wondered they admired, and speculated among themselves in blind fashion as to what this portent could mean.
Then suddenly an incident occurred that raised C. B. in the estimation of all hands more than anything else could have done. It was when the ship was on the southern edge of the off-shore ground and slowly working north. The weather was what we call dirty; low ragged clouds shedding rain at frequent intervals, with strong winds and irregular lumpy sea. C. B. and one of the Portuguese harponeers were working together, when C. B. accidentally dropped a serving mallet upon the other man’s bare foot. With a horrible exclamation in his own language Louis spat in C. B.’s face, and at the same time struck him a violent blow in the jaw. Not content with that the maddened man drew his knife and was in the act of driving it into C. B.’s chest when the latter seized the upraised wrist in his left hand, caught at the broad leather belt worn by the Portuguese with his right, and with a movement deft as that of an acrobat twirled him into the air and out over the side into the tormented sea. All hands who witnessed the slight scuffle stood aghast, helpless for the moment, as C. B., calmly springing on to the rail, gave a searching glance at the spot where the harponeer was struggling in the foam, and then shouting “Lower away a boat,” sprang after his late enemy.
A few vigorous fish-like strokes brought him to the side of the Portuguese, who was evidently in great pain and only feebly endeavouring to keep himself afloat, although these men are all splendid swimmers. Throwing himself upon his back, C. B. seized the man by the collar of his strong serge shirt and held him easily head to sea, rising and falling on the waves like a piece of drift-wood. There was no delay in picking the pair up; indeed, in ten minutes from the time that Louis went flying overboard they were on board again, and C. B. sprang lightly on deck and assisted his aggressor down.
“What does this mean, Christmas?” sternly demanded the captain, who had seen the whole affair. In brief, unimpassioned words C. B. told what had happened, and then turning to Louis the skipper demanded his version. Foolishly but naturally the Portuguese lied, making C. B. out the aggressor, at which the skipper smiled sardonically, saying—
“Ah, I thought so. You Portagees are as bad as they make ’em. But what’s wrong with yer hand?” seeing that he held it tenderly and was evidently in pain.
“I doan know, sir, feels all broke.” An examination proved that the wrist was dislocated, and the skipper’s rough-and-ready surgery was immediately put in force, after which the groaning and completely discomfited man retired below, too miserable to curse his bad luck as he called it.
“Now, Christmas,” said the skipper severely when they were alone, “I don’t know what t’ say t’ ye. You really mustn’t go heaving my harponeers overboard like rubbidge, nor yet get t’ breaking ’em all up. Nor yet you mustn’t let ’em go sticking knives in you. Confound you, whyare you always in the right and yet getting into some scrape or another? I shipped a handful of hot stuff when I took you aboard, I can see, and I wish I hadn’t, yet I’m beginning to feel that I’d rather lose anybody than you, you ’mazing muscular Christian.”
“I’m sorry I hurt the man, sir,” modestly replied C. B., “and I didn’t intend to do so. But if I hadn’t been quicker than he was, he would have probably put me out of action for longer than he’ll be now, while I only thought of defending myself, and a dip overboard can’t possibly do anybody any harm.”
With a cross between a grunt and a laugh the skipper turned away, leaving C. B. standing quietly to receive the curt congratulations of Mr. Merritt, and be the centre of admiring glances from all the crew that were on deck. The matter formed the principal, in fact almost the only topic of conversation on board for the next three days, during which C. B. went on his simple accustomed way, except that he was assiduous in his attention to the suffering man, who, in addition to the pain of his wrist, had sustained a severe rick to his spine, making it very painful for him to get in and out of his bunk. And as none of his compatriots thought of doing anything for him, he would have fared very badly but for the man he intended to kill.
By the time that Louis was able to resume work they had been nearly three weeks on the ground and no spout of sperm or right whales had been seen. It was just the fortune of the fishery, but as usual it bred a good deal of peevishness among the crew, whose monotonous life grew very irksome. I know of few conditions more trying to the activemind than to be on board of a clumsy old whaleship always on a wind tacking from side to side of a great lonely expanse of sea, shortening sail every night to a close-reefed main topsail and fore topmast staysail and making sail again at daylight. No books to read, no new topics to talk about, nothing to do but the same things over and over again, week in week out, with never another sail in sight. It is a life that unless a man has mental resources of no common kind tends to stultification of the intellect, and especially makes him peevish, irritable and intolerant even of himself.
The usual bounty had been doubled, and the men were so keen that they hardly cared to go below when their turn came to do so. The only men on board who seemed unmoved by the long spell of inaction were Captain Taber and C. B. The first was that fine type of man, as I hope I have suggested, that is even now, thank God, to be found in many New England towns, who, though not making any special profession of religion, are in a very real sense not far from the Kingdom of God. Honest, brave and honourable; combining in a curious way the astuteness of the man of the world with the sweet simplicity of a little child, they are the salt of the United States, and their lives and work stand out in brilliant contrast to those of the money-grubbers and professional politicians who are making the noble name of the Great Republic a byword and a hissing among the nations.
As Captain Taber used to say so frequently, “This thing” (the scarcity of whales within an area where they should be found) “runs in streaks; we’ll get all we want and more also dreckly.” He was a highly educated man but loved the vernacular, and occasionally lapsed into it from his grave ElizabethanEnglish. And so it proved, for one morning before it was light he came on deck, and sauntering up to C. B., who was enjoying a pannikin of coffee and biscuit, he said casually—
“Now you fellers ’at don’t smoke are supposed to have the sense of smell more highly developed than us misbul degenerates who do, don’t yer nose tell yer nothin’ now?”
“Yes, sir,” brightly replied C. B., “it’s been telling me ever since I came on deck at eight bells that we’re in the thick of either a big shoal of fish or a school of whales of some sort. The air’s quite heavy with fish smell.”
“Ah! an’ I suppose you couldn’t indicate the kind o’ whale that’s possibly around, could ye?” inquired the skipper drily.
“Hardly, sir, although I’ve heard of it being done,” replied C. B. “But I’ve never believed it. I feel sure, though, that the fellows who are stealing up to the crow’s-nest now, sir—look at ’em—will start their music at the first streak of dawn.”
“So long as they see sperm whales I’m willing, or even right whale,” murmured the skipper, “for this thing’s growing quite monotonous to me. I want the boys to get some amusement too. Oh well, I must go below and fill my pipe again. However a grown man like you can get along without tobacco I don’t know.” And he glanced quizzically at C. B., who only smiled and resumed his eager watch to windward.
There was not a cloud in the sky from horizon to horizon, nor as far as could be seen was there a trace of haze. So that when the first tremulous throbbings of dawn made themselves felt it was as if an indefinite weight had been lifted, the displacement of shadow by light. And then the wholedome above began to glow in sombre tones, at first duplicated below a shade or two deeper. It was like the birth of colour, and even the eager watchers poised in mid air forgot their desire for a moment at the amazing sight. Then, as at a celestial signal, the sea-rim in the east brimmed with liquid gold, a blazing disc appeared, and it was day.
Simultaneously with the upward leap of the sun four voices rang out in the thrilling cry of “Blo-o-o-o-w.” Indeed it was a stirring sight. Far as the eye could reach from horizon to horizon there appeared to be bursting from the sea an endless succession of jets of smoke, each one denoting the presence of a monster sperm whale. Only twice in my life have I ever seen such a sight, once off the Solander Rock, Foveaux Straits, New Zealand, and there the horizon was restricted by land on two sides, and once when on a passage to Gibraltar from London in the P. & O. ss.Arabia, Captain Parfitt, who, if he sees these lines, will doubtless remember that the previous day at dinner we had had a slight controversy about the quantity of whales now to be seen at sea. I held that whales were more plentiful than ever, he asserted that they were nearly extinct, and the next morning the splendid ship steamed for an hour at sixteen knots through one immense school of sperm whales which must have numbered many thousands.
The captain only took one glance round at the mighty concourse, then shouted, “’Way down from aloft. Mr. Winsloe, we’ll lower all five boats to-day, and each one act independently of the rest. These whales are all feeding and I don’t anticipate any trouble, but the first boat that kills, stick a wheft in the whale and get back to the ship. She’ll want handling and that smartly too. Shipkeeperskeep her to windward, that’s all you’ve got to do, and look out for boats coming back. Now then, away for good greasy money.”
Whirr, whirr, splash went the five boats, and as soon as they struck the water each boat pushed out from the ship using paddles only, for the whales were quite near, and each singling out a whale for themselves. Within fifteen minutes every boat was fast, that is, the barbed harpoon had established a connexion between boat and whale that would only cease by accident or design when the whale was dead. And then that placid sea became the scene of a Titanic conflict, wherein the puny men in their frail craft joined battle with the mightiest of God’s creatures on most unequal terms. To and fro they flew, those pigmy boats amidst the crowding hundreds of leviathans, who, filled with wild dismay at this sudden calamity, knew not whither to flee and moved aimlessly and harmlessly. And owing to the immense spaces in which they wallowed they were not now even as dangerous as a herd of bullocks would be in a field, for there a man might get crushed to death by accident; here, although to a novice the scene appeared dangerous, the older hands knew that an accident was now far less likely than when whales were few and far between.
To add to the confusion and apparent danger existing, the sea appeared to be alive with immense sharks, who in some mysterious way had gathered to that stupendous feast. In fact, the enormous amount of marine life peopling that remote ocean breeds a feeling of dismay in some minds, a sense of being out of place, weaklings in the midst of unimaginable forces of destruction. Not, of course, that this thought occurred to the old whalemen. They revelled in the gigantic slaughter, and incurredunnecessary danger by being unable to resist the temptation to lance loose whales passing by. The frenzy of killing was upon them, and they lunged right and left indiscriminately, heedless of consequences.
In half an hour from the time of leaving the ship Captain Taber had his whale dead, and sticking a wheft (a small flag with a pointed end to its staff) in the carcass he bade his crew give way for the ship with all speed. Arriving on board he took charge, and as there was a good working breeze he was able so to handle his ship as to keep well to windward of the whole flotilla of boats, which soon began to hoist their whefts in token of having killed each one his whale. There was no need to discriminate, for all had done well, five big whales had been killed in less than two hours; and now came the hardest part of the great day’s work, and one calling for the greatest amount of seamanship. For when once the first whale had been secured to the ship, she became sluggish in her movements, as indeed she well might with a floating mass of some eighty tons attached to her. Those boats that were farthest away, realizing the difficulty, attempted to tow their prizes, an immense task in itself, but now, hampered as they were on every side by the bewildered monsters, who wallowed aimlessly, as having lost all sense of direction or power of flight, wellnigh impossible.
Yet in some strange and apparent come-by-chance fashion the whole five whales were secured to the ship, all five boats were hoisted into their places, and the utterly exhausted men went to their food, full of satisfaction with their morning’s work. And while they fed and rested the ship was left in charge of the cook and steward, who gazed over the side at the strange scene with mingled feelings, in which real alarm predominated. Indeed, it was a sightcalculated to terrify. The huge carcasses attached to the ship by hawsers floated around her like a concourse of submerged wrecks bottom up. Around and between them blundered bewildered whales lost to all their usual instincts, and all the spaces in between the living and the dead monsters were thronged with hordes of sharks countless in number.