CHAPTER XIX
A GREAT BLOW
Many and terrible are the temptations which await the striving Christian, whatever his or her spiritual age may be. It is a moot point whether they (the temptations) are felt more severely by the babe in Christ in the first fervour of the new life, or by the mature Christian who is insensibly led to feel that he or she has attained unto a firm standing in the Faith. But one thing is, or should be, beyond controversy, and that is that no fiercer temptations assail any man than those which await the newly converted sailor, who has begun, in the solitude of the ocean and its sweet freedom from the allurements of shore vices, the upward way. He has been born, and has grown up to a certain Christian stature in a state of peaceful freedom from the evils of shore life, and has almost come to regard them as belonging to a previous state of existence to which he can never return. Then, when he is suddenly plunged headlong into them again he is in great, very great, danger of a relapse that may give him an agonising season of remorse. But I must not carry this digression too far. I only wish, in beginning this chapter, to point out how dire were the perils awaiting the crew of theXiphias, many of whom were only, in the imitative way common to the majority of human beings, behaving as they saw the general sense of their little community would have them behave, and not at all from any conviction as to the necessity of such behaviour to their peace orfrom any inward urging whatever.
It is, however, safe to say that such considerations troubled no one on board the ship at all. Every man was in an overflowing state of happiness at again anchoring in a civilised port after the long and weary cruise and the many hardships and dangers encountered. Every man, too, with the exception of Rube, was half-intoxicated with a quite lawful pride in his achievements during the past two months. All remembered how helplessly, ignorantly, and painfully they had begun the voyage, traced easily the educational way they had come, mentally visualised vividly each heroic detail, and gradually lost sight of the great central fact of it all, the Fatherly care of God. Therefore, when, the next day after arrival, the rescued passengers returned on board with urgent requests to the Captain that he would allow them the privilege of entertaining the crew ashore as a slight return for benefits received, all who could be spared on that day, except Rube, joyfully availed themselves of the permission readily given and went ashore.
They were royally welcomed at one of the principal hotels by the rescued ones, some of whom had wired home and received in reply advices enabling them to draw upon the local banks for all moneys needed. They were entertained far too well, for two-thirds of them returned on board drunk and quarrelsome, and for the first time that voyage the foc’s’le was the scene of a riotous conflict, in the midst of which Rube moved like a strong apostle of peace, able, as well as eager, to enforce quietude upon the most unruly, even though itinvolved a considerable amount of what some weak-minded people might call brutality. The lesson taught by this episode was not without its valuable effect upon those who had remained on board. With a self-sacrifice entirely laudable, they refused to go ashore at all. This may not, probably will not, be assessed by my readers at its proper value; but, oh, if landsfolk could only realise the intense longing for a run ashore which seizes upon sailors after being cooped up on board ship for seven or eight months, it would be understood. Truly, Reuben and the skipper had done their best to give the ship-keeping crew such amusement as was possible, and the best shore food, fresh beef, mutton, and vegetables that could be procured had been provided.
Table Bay swarms, or did swarm, with a splendid species of crustacean known as ‘craw-fish,’ many of which grow to a huge size, weighing several pounds, and have a flavour in no way inferior to that of a lobster. There was great sport in catching these in impromptu nets made of rope-yarn meshed upon hoops and baited with bones, and even greater satisfaction in knowing that they would live for months in tanks of salt water frequently renewed. Then there was ordinary fishing, or, perhaps, I should say extraordinary fishing, of the schnapper, the cod, and other fish which swarm around the southern extremity of Africa almost unmolested. And sailors love fishing, though scarcely any class of men living within reach of fishable waters get less of it.
So quite pleasantly the time passed away—thefour days during which Captain Hampden found it possible to sell his baleen and tranship it, and to expend a liberal sum in fresh food, vegetables, and live-stock. On the fifth morning, at daybreak, the cry of ‘Man the windlass!’ rang along the deck of theXiphias, and all hands responded. But, unhappily, most of those who had been ashore did so very unwillingly. The memory of their spree was secretly most alluring; they had tasted illicit delights again, and were lamenting the deprivation of them. Thus they were sullen, unwilling, and miserable. Vainly did Rube exert all his simple arts to rouse them out of themselves, to cheer them. They would not be cheered; they hugged their misery and almost infected several of their shipmates.
But the work was going on, all unconsciously the best cure was being applied, and by nightfall, with their fine old ship heading northward for the Mozambique Channel before a fine following breeze, they had gone much farther than they were aware of on the road to repentance and recovery. By repentance I do not mean that spurious sentiment which is really sorrow for one’s inability to go and repeat former sins or excesses, disgust and annoyance at being compelled to reap what one has sown, but a comprehensive change of mind with reference to one’s former behaviour, a distrust of one’s own powers of resistance to the drawings of evil, and a determination to trust for deliverance from them to Almighty God. A simple definition, perhaps, but one that I know is far too often neglected or wilfully misunderstood.
Day succeeded day in perfect loveliness ofweather and peace on board. The routine of the ship had fallen easily back into its accustomed grooves, and opportunity had been taken to renew all the wastage that had been made in the general equipment of the ship and boats by reason of the recent heavy demands made upon it. But no whales were seen. Eager eyes scanned the wide sea for every moment of the daylight, but nothing was seen of any value. Still, the previous sense of irritation and almost hopelessness was not there, could hardly be, since so great an accession of profit had been made during the last two months; a haul that, as Captain Hampden gratefully admitted, might not have been made on some voyages during the first two years. But as day succeeded day and week followed week, there came upon all hands a querulous desire to question the wisdom which had brought the ship into a part of the ocean where everything desirable was found except the one central object of the voyage: profit. As watch followed watch under those lovely skies, the watchers became listless, careless, their attitude at the mastheads showed how weary they had become of the fruitless gaze across the wide sea-plain. And the wise skipper, who, as a skipper should, carefully noted all the symptoms of discontent, gradually tightened the somewhat relaxed disciplinary fibres, and had many things done which, under the pressure of whaling, might quite safely have remained undone. The recently obtained cargo was overhauled and re-stowed, the reeking hold was thoroughly cleansed, and although nothing was ever undertaken which could not be dropped at one minute’s notice, had whales appeared, an enormous amount of valuable work was accomplished, and that,too, without any friction whatever. In addition to the work of the ship, the Captain unofficially encouraged the men to undertake in their leisure moments the making of ‘scrimshaw,’ the name given toobjets-d’art(?), fabricated of ivory and bone, and calling out all the latent mechanical genius possessed by the men.
To this end, foreseeing an easy, quiet time, he had caused several jaw-pans of the sperm-whale to be set aside and towed astern in order that they might bleach to a dazzling whiteness. All the teeth had been saved and pickled in barrels of strong brine, and a considerable number of the shorter blades or laminæ of baleen had been retained when the bulk of it was transhipped at Cape Town. Word was passed forward that any man who felt inclined might have for the asking such of these materials as he chose in order to try his hand at curio-making; and the carpenter, although, like most good workmen, he would not lend his tools, never refused to saw off a length of jawbone for a walking-stick, or cut up into rough pieces the bleached bone, for any man who asked him. Nor did he make any favour of showing a man how to make his own tools out of old knives, files, rasps, or even sail-needles. This amiability had great results, for before long practically all hands were engaged upon this fascinating hobby, and, emulating one another, were turning out some really beautiful pieces of work in carved ivory, bone, and baleen. Some of the sticks were quite works of art. A length of, say, three feet by one inch square, sawn from a jaw-pan after it had been subjected to a long tow astern, would be tightly lashed down to a sparin the sun so that it would dry perfectly straight. Then, by the aid of a ‘cutter’ or rasp, softened in the fire and filed into deep ridges with cutting edges, it would be worked down into a rough roundness of outline. By the aid of other equally primitive tools the stick would then be gradually fashioned into the semblance of a rope, with ‘worming,’ or a much smaller rope twisted into its lays—a form of art which is highly interesting, as having been practised by sailors from very remote days. Three years ago, when staying at Repton School, I was shown over the ruins of the ancient abbey there, and in the recently unearthed crypt, dating back to Anglo-Saxon times I was told, there were four monolithic pillars of stone supporting the roof, each of which was carved into the same semblance of a rope with ‘worming’ in its lays. Also at a great country house where I stayed last year, whose noble and hospitable owner made a hobby of collecting books on ancient art, I saw some superb illustrations in colour of ancient croziers, upon which were carved in ivory or worked in precious metals the universally used ‘Turk’s-head’ of the sailor, which has not altered one jot of its details down to the present day through all those hundreds of years.
But to return to our stick-maker. At one end of the stick about eight or ten inches would be cut away until only a slender square rod of about three-eighths of an inch thickness remained; upon this would be threaded medallions of ivory, baleen, silver (quarter-dollars), ebony, and coco-tree wood. An albatross head or some similarly well-known object would be patiently carved and secured ontop, and the whole stick was then polished, first with fine sand, then with powdered pumice-stone, and finished with chalk and oil. And really, when completed, many of these pieces of work would have made no bad show in an industrial exhibition, especially if the primitive tools could have been shown with them. Besides this fascinating pursuit, there were several others tacitly encouraged by the skipper, such as model-making, gymnastics, swimming (on calm days), and, of course, fishing. And thus gradually what had threatened to become a painful set-back to all of them turned out to be a veritable blessing, a halcyon time which many remembered all their lives after with the most tender regret.
But still they were not earning anything, and after their experience on the other side of the Cape they began to feel as if their fortunes were already made. They did not realise the vastness of the ocean and the tiny little circle, after all, that their outlook gave them from the mastheads. And in spite of the noble bounty offered by the skipper of twenty-five dollars to whoever should ‘raise’ a sperm-whale, it was very hard, to hang up there for two hours in that blazing sun and keep one’s attention fixed upon one’s business. At last, however (eleven weeks having passed since they left Cape Town), it happened to be Rube’s masthead at daybreak—that is to say, shortly after 5A.M.With his usual pleasant alacrity he swallowed his coffee and sprang into the fore-rigging at the cry from aft, ‘Man mastheads!’ As he went MacManus said jestingly, ‘Reubin, darlin’, ef yez do be raisin’ sperm-whales Oi’ll share th’ bounty wid yez.’ ‘Yew shall that,’replied Rube gaily, ‘an’ everybody else as well ef I know myself.’ As he went springingly aloft his eye dwelt lovingly upon the marvellous colouring of the sea, the ever-changing sequence of shades reflected from the glory above; and his heart filled with loving worship, for there is no education in appreciative observation of God’s wonderful works like an intimate acquaintance with Him. When he reached the topgallant-yard he saw the great glowing arc of the sun’s upper limb just shedding a long line of blazing gold along the horizon, as if it could not contain all its store of glory, but must needs let some run freely on every hand. And as Rube climbed into his perch the awful majesty of the whole orb swung clear of the sea, and ocean and sky blazed ineffably, blindingly upon Rube’s sight, making him for a moment veil his face in his hands and murmur a few disjointed words of praise.
Never in all his experience had he seen so glorious a sunrise. He could not help feeling an intense desire for more ability to appreciate its marvels, for more power to praise, more capacity for gratitude. And then as his eyes swept the horizon round, remembering his duty, he saw immediately beneath the sun’s disc a curious peak, black, but edged with flame, which gave him the impression of its being some gigantic mountain top upon which the sun had been resting, and now was rising after it in readiness to receive it if it should fall. So strong was the impression that it made him shudder in spite of himself and turn away. As he did so, broad on the port beam about five miles away rose the well-known figure of a sperm-whale exhaling a great volume of vapourdiagonally from his spiracle and sending before his blunt head a perfect cascade of diamond spray. One moment’s pause, and from Rube’s deep chest burst the startling whalers’ call, at which the previously half-awakened decks below burst suddenly into seeming life. Not one minute was lost, for the crew were in the highest state of efficiency and eagerness. Only two boats were lowered, for the whale had no fellow; he was apparently one of those morose old bulls that had been ejected from his overlordship of the school he had led so long and was doomed to wander lonely till the end. One drawback there was to the chase; it was almost a flat calm, and at such a time approach to a lone sperm-whale is exceedingly difficult. His senses (whatever they are, they are not like ours) are so acute that unless there be a little sea on, something that by its natural sounds may render the splash of an oar or the rattle of a rowlock inaudible, the whale will almost certainly be alarmed and make good his escape. But as they were paddling with the utmost caution in his direction, a puff of wind darkened the water and at the same time sent a cold shiver through all hands. The mate recovered from his surprise first, and his hoarse whisper ran through the crew’s ears: ‘In paddles, step mast, quietly now.’ He was obeyed in swiftness and silence, and the second mate, following the example, had his sail up almost as soon. Then, as the graceful boats glided noiselessly across the just rising ripples, all hands had leisure to look about them, and to their intense uneasiness they saw that the whole aspect of the heavens was changed. The colour of the blessed sun itself had faded from glowing gold to a stale, sickly,greenish hue, and the morning cheerfulness of the sky was replaced by a dreary, leaden blue, to which the sea had responded by turning almost black. And it was so cold. The sun seemed at once to have been shorn of his beams and his power of distributing warmth. He still shone, it is true, but as if through a veil of some deadly mist depriving him of all his beneficent influences. Yet there was no vapour whatever visible.
The mate, however, alone of the little company, seemed entirely unconscious of any change in the weather. With his eyes fixed upon the supine monster ahead he steered the boat as if he were part of it, as if, indeed, he were enduing it with some of his own personality. Occasionally, it is true, he cast furtive glances at the second mate’s boat, but that was only to see whether he was keeping as far ahead of that officer as etiquette demanded. And as the breeze freshened the lively craft began leaping gamesomely over the infant waves, nearing the whale at a great rate. At last! The harpooner, a lean American from Nantucket, rose stealthily to his feet, balancing the clumsy-looking weapon as if it were a feather in his right hand, and methodically arranging the coils of stray line on the little forward deck or ‘box’ of the boat. She made one last spring forward; then, with a great swooping curve, graceful as that of an albatross, she glided alongside the whale, and two harpoons flew from Walter’s sinewy fingers into the whale’s body. She passed into a little offing of safety as the sail was brailed in, but the whale wasted no time or strength in fruitless struggle to free himself of the irons. He apparently gathered all his powerstogether and fled to windward through the rapidly rising waves, heeding not the weight behind him more than as if it had not existed. He went so fast, indeed, and so dead end on to the sea that the accomplishment of the boat’s clearance was a task of uncommon difficulty, taking nearly thrice the usual time. And when it was finished neither the companion boat nor the ship was to be seen. More, the black pinnacle of cloud noted by Rube at sunrise had now overspread fully one half of the heavens. The other half had a menacing shade, not of cloud, but the shadow of the great eastern mass, and yet behind the gloom there was the suggestion of an unearthly glow. No one could say why or how the ship had disappeared, but not a sign of her was visible. A strange fear fell upon all, even Rube, who by virtue of his great strength had the midship thwart (the heaviest oar) in the mate’s boat. Instinctively the mate came aft and got out the compass; but, except to tell in which direction the whale was going, which they already knew was something near east, its indications were of little value—they had no bearing of the ship. And the whale went steadily on into the gathering darkness.
Meanwhile, on board the ship signals of recall were being frantically made in the hope that the fast boat might see them. Mr. Peck did see, and in less than half an hour was safe alongside again, his boat hoisted, and his men putting all their energies into the preparations to meet the coming cyclone. The ship was now between the Seychelles and the Saya de Malha Bank, having been gradually working north and east from the Mozambique Channel upon findingthat usually prolific hunting ground so barren of result. And consequently she was now in one of the very worst places in the whole ocean for meeting with those awful circular storms which are variously known as hurricanes, cyclones, or typhoons, according as they are experienced in the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, or the China Sea, but which are all the same kind of terrible natural convulsion, beneficent in their after-effects undoubtedly, but while they last filling most men with the conviction that the end of all things is at hand. Still, so staunch and seaworthy was theXiphias, in common with most of her sisters built by those old-fashioned, methodical descendants of the old Puritans in New England, that the near approach of such a cataclysm would have given Captain Hampden very little additional uneasiness but for the fact of his mate’s boat being away, lost to sight, and of his own inability to follow it up when once the meteor burst, which it was now evidently upon the point of doing. Nothing, however, could be left undone that ought to be done for the safety of those remaining on board, and no time wasted in vain regrets; so for two or three hours all hands were kept at full pressure putting extra lashings upon everything movable—double gaskets, ‘marling’ down the sails, hoisting the boats as high as they would go to the davit-heads, and there securing them with all the skill available. Also a quantity of food was hastily cooked (theXiphias, like most of those old ships, carried little canned provisions) and stored where it could be got at without opening hatches or depending upon a lighted fire. Everything, in fact, was done that skill and forethoughtcould suggest or urge to, and then the men were called aft. All hands stood facing the gallant old skipper as with head bare he steadied himself against the skylight.
‘Men,’ said he, ‘we’ve kem up agenst big trouble, for a boat’s crew of our shipmates air a-missin’, an’ only God He knows whether we sh’l ever see ’em agen. I feel a’most heart-broken at lettin’ ’em go; but, men, I’d no idea ’at thishyer hurrican’—fur hurrican’ it’s a-goin’ t’be, there’s no possible doubt o’ that—wuz a-comin’ on so sudden. An’, besides, yew all know how eager all han’s wuz t’ git some whale after eour long spell athout seein’ one. Thar’s no denyin’ the fact, eour shipmates air in terrible danger. We’re in danger, too, fur these hurrican’s is enough t’ make the bravest man ’at ever lived feel quaky t’ his very soul. But we’ve a grand ship under eour feet, an’ we’ve a-done all thet man k’n do to make her ready fur the great fight thet’s a-comin’. Naow we’ve a-got another duty t’ perform. In thet boat beside Mr. Pease, as good an officer ’s ever trod a deck ’r hove a lance, an’ Walter his harpooner, also one ov th’ very best, and MacManus, Joey, and Manuel, all good, sterlin’ men as all th’ crew is, thar’s Rube Eddy. Thet man’s taught us all lessons we needed worse than any of us knew. By his example he’s shamed us into bein’ better men, an’ every one of us is happier then we could ’a’ben if we hadn’t known him. Already I feel at the thought of losin’ him’s if I don’t care t’ live myself, an’ I know thet all of you ’r feelin’ with me how great a blessin’ he’s ben t’ us aboard this ship. So I ask you all t’ kneel down like men an’ pray each in your own fashion fur Rube an’ his fellows in th’boat; thet in this fearful time, God, who kin do anything, may be with ’em t’ save, and thet He may see fit t’ bring us all together again. An’ if not, to make us all what Rube Eddy often prayed we might be—good men, ready t’ live ’r die as it should please God, but whichever it is, to keep unbroken the image of God in us. Let’s pray.’
All hands fell on their knees, and there, in the gathering darkness, these wanderers from many lands, uncouth, ignorant, careless seafarers, each in his own way silently pleaded with an unmistakably present God for the safety of the boat’s crew, and all added, ‘especially Rube.’ Occasionally an ejaculation which could not be suppressed burst forth, but for the space of about a quarter of an hour, except for the voice of the wind like the growing wailings of a tortured spirit, and the continual mutter of the thunder, there was no other sound. Then, as if at a given signal, the skipper lifted up his voice in the sublime old Apostles’ Prayer, the Amens were fervently murmured, and with perceptibly strengthened hearts the crew dispersed to their several duties or resting places, and thick darkness clothed them as with a garment, shutting out all the view of sea and sky.