Ben had taken along with him the axe; and, proceeding towards one of the
harpoons,--still buried in the body of the whale,--he commenced cutting
it out.
In a few moments a deep cavity was hewn out around the shank of the
harpoon; which was further deepened, until the barbed blade was wellnigh
laid bare. Snowball, impatiently seizing the stout wooden shaft, gave
it a herculean pluck, that completely detached the arrow from the soft
blubber in which it had been imbedded.
Unfortunately for Snowball, he had not well calculated the strength
required for clearing that harpoon. Having already made several
fruitless attempts to extract it, he did not expect it to draw out so
easily; and, in consequence of his making an over-effort, his balance
became deranged; his feet, ill-planted upon the slippery skin, flew
simultaneously from beneath him; and he came down upon the side of the
leviathan with a loud "slap,"--similar to what might have been heard had
he fallen upon half-thawed ice.
Unpleasant as this mishap may have been, it was not the worst that might
have befallen him on that occasion. Nor was it the fall itself that
caused him to "sing out" at the top of his voice, and in accents
betokening a terrible alarm.
What produced this manifestation was a peril of far more fearful kind,
which at the moment menaced him.
The spot where the harpoon had been sticking was in the side of the
_cachalot_, and, as the carcass lay, a broad space around the weapon
presented an inclined plane, sloping abruptly towards the water.
Lubricated as it was with the secreted oil of the animal, it was smooth
as glass. Upon this slope Snowball had been standing; and upon it had
he fallen.
But the impetus of the fall not only hindered him from lying where he
had gone down, but also from being able to get up again; and, instead of
doing either one or the other, he commenced sliding down the slippery
surface of the leviathan's body, where it shelved towards the water.
Good heavens! what was to become of him? A score of sharks were just
below,--waiting for him with hungry jaws, and eyes glancing greedily
upward. Seeing the two men mounted upon the carcass of the whale, and
one wielding an axe, they had gathered upon that side,--in the belief
that the _flensing_ was about to begin!
It was a slight circumstance that saved the sea-cook from being eaten
up,--not only raw, but alive. Simply the circumstance of his having
held on to the harpoon. Had he dropped that weapon on falling, it would
never have been grasped by him again. Fortunately, he had the presence
of mind to hold on to it; or perhaps the tenacity was merely mechanical.
Whatever may have been the reason, he _did_ hold on. Fortunately,
also, he was gliding down on the side _opposite_ to that on which
floated the "drogue."
These two circumstances saved him.
When about half-way to the water,--and still sliding rapidly
downwards,--his progress was suddenly arrested, or rather impeded,--for
he was not altogether brought to a stop,--by a circumstance as
unexpected as it was fortunate. That was the tightening of the line
attached to the handle of the harpoon. He had slidden to the end of his
tether,--the other end of which was fast to the drogue drifting about in
the sea, as already said, on the opposite side of the carcass.
Heavy as was the piece of wood,--and offering, as it did, a considerable
amount of resistance in being dragged through the water,--it would not
have been sufficient to sustain the huge body of the Coromantee. It
only checked the rapidity of his descent; and in the end he would have
gone down into the sea,--and shortly after into the stomachs of,
perhaps, half a score of sharks,--but for the opportune interference of
the ex-man-o'-war's-man; who, just in the nick of time,--at the very
moment when Snowball's toes were within six inches of the water's edge,
caught hold of the cord and arrested his farther descent.
But although the sailor had been able to accomplish this much, and was
also able to keep Snowball from slipping farther down, he soon
discovered that he was unable to pull him up again. It was just as much
as his strength was equal to,--even when supplemented by the weight of
the drogue,--to keep the sea-cook in the place where he had succeeded in
checking him. There hung Snowball in suspense,--holding on to the
slippery skin of the _cachalot_, literally "with tooth and toe-nail."
Snowball saw that his position was perilous,--more than that: it was
frightful. He could hear noises beneath him,--the rushing of the sharks
through the water. He glanced apprehensively below. He could see their
black triangular fins, and note the lurid gleaming of their eyeballs, as
they rolled in their sunken sockets. It was a sight to terrify the
stoutest heart; and that of Snowball did not escape being terrified.
"Hole on, Massa Brace!" he instinctively shouted. "Hole on, for de lub
o' God! Doan't leab me slip an inch, or dese dam brute sure cotch hold
ob me! Fo' de lub o' de great Gorramity, hole on!"
Ben needed not the stimulus of this pathetic appeal. He was holding on
to the utmost of his strength. He could not have added another pound to
the pull. He dared not even renew either his attitude, or the grip he
had upon the rope. The slightest movement he might make would endanger
the life of his black-skinned comrade.
A slackening of the cord, even to the extent of twelve inches, would
have been fatal to the feet of Snowball--already within six of the
surface of the water and the snouts of the sharks!
Perhaps never in all his checkered career had the life of the negro been
suspended in such dangerous balance. The slightest circumstance would
have disturbed the equilibrium,--an ounce would have turned the scale,--
and delivered him into the jaws of death.
It is scarcely necessary to conjecture what would ultimately have been
the end of this perilous adventure, had the sailor and sea-cook been
permitted to terminate it between themselves. The strength of the
former was each instant decreasing; while the weight of the latter,--now
more feebly clinging to the slippery epidermis of the whale,--was in
like proportion becoming greater.
With nothing to intervene, the result might be easily guessed. In
figurative parlance Snowball must have "gone overboard."
But his time was not yet come; and his comrade knew this, when a pair of
hands,--small, but strong ones,--were seen grasping the cord, alongside
of his own. They were the hands of Little Will'm!
At the earliest moment, after Snowball had slipped and fallen, the lad
had perceived his peril; and "swarming" up by the flipper of the whale,
had hurried to the assistance of Ben, laying hold of the rope,--not one
second too soon.
It was soon enough, however, to save the suspended Coromantee; whose
body, now yielding to the united strength of the two, was drawn up the
slippery slope,--slowly, but surely,--until it rested upon the broad
horizontal space around the summit of that mountain of bones and
blubber.