There was no mystery about the incident that had occurred. It had
scarce created surprise; for the moment that the old whalesman felt the
shock, he knew what had caused it, as well as if he had been a simple
spectator.
The others, warned by him that danger might be expected in the passage
of the whales--though then unapprised of its exact nature--were fully
aware of it now. It had come and passed,--at least, after mounting once
more upon the raft, they perceived that their lives were no longer in
peril.
The occurrence needed no explanation. The detached timbers of the gig
floating about on the water, and the shock they had experienced, told
the tale with sufficient significance. They had been "fluked" by the
bull-whale, whose fan-shaped tail-fins, striking the boat in an upward
direction, had shattered it as easily as an eggshell, tossing the
fragments, along with the contents, both animate and inanimate, several
feet into the air.
Whether it were done out of spite or wanton playfulness, or for the
gratification of a _whalish_ whim, the act had cost the huge leviathan
no greater effort than might have been used in brushing off a fly; and
after its accomplishment the old bull went bowling on after its
frolicsome school, gliding through the water apparently with as much
unconcern as if nothing particular had transpired!
It might have been nothing to him,--neither the capsize nor its
consequences; but it was everything to those he had so unceremoniously
upset.
It was not until they had fairly established themselves on the raft, and
their tranquillity had become a little restored, that they could reflect
upon the peril through which they had passed, or realise the fulness of
their misfortune.
They saw their stores scattered about over the waves,--their oars and
implements drifting about; and, what was still worse, the great
sea-chest of the sailor, which, in the hurry of the late transfer, had
been packed full of shark-flesh, they could not see. Weighted as it
was, it must have gone to the bottom, carrying its precious contents
along with it.
The water-cask and the smaller one containing the Canary were still
afloat, for both had been carefully bunged; but what mattered drink if
there was no meat?--and not a morsel appeared to be left them.
For some minutes they remained idly gazing upon the wreck,--a spectacle
of complete ruin. One might have supposed that their inaction proceeded
from despair, which was holding them as if spellbound.
It was not this, however. They were not the sort to give way to
despair. They only waited for an opportunity to act, which they could
not do until the tremendous swell, caused by the passage of the whales,
should to some extent subside.
Just then the sea was rolling "mountains high," and the raft on which
they stood--or rather, crouched--was pitching about in such a manner,
that it was as much as they could do to hold footing upon it.
Gradually the ocean around them resumed its wonted tranquillity; and, as
they had spent the interval in reflection, they now proceeded to action.
They had formed no definite plans, further than to collect the scattered
materials,--such of them as were still above water,--and, if possible,
re-rig the craft which now carried them.
Fortunately the mast, which had been forced out of its "stepping" in the
timbers of the gig and entirely detached from the broken boat, was seen
drifting at no great distance off, with the yard and sail still adhering
to it. As these were the most important articles of which the
_Catamaran_ had been stripped, there would be no great difficulty in
restoring her to her original entirety.
Their first effort was to recover some of the oars. This was not
accomplished without a considerable waste of time and a good deal of
exertion. On the dismantled embarkation there was not a stick that
could be used for rowing; and it was necessary to propel it with their
outspread palms.
During the interval of necessary inaction, the floating fragments of the
wreck had drifted to a considerable distance,--or rather had the raft,
buoyed up by its empty casks, glided past them, and was now several
cable-lengths to leeward.
They were compelled, therefore, to work up the wind and their progress
was consequently slow,--so slow as to become vexatious.
Snowball would have leaped overboard, and recovered the oars by
swimming: but the sailor would not listen to this proposal, pointing out
to his sable companion the danger to be apprehended from the presence of
the sharks. The negro made light of this, but his more prudent comrade
restrained him; and they continued patiently to paddle the raft with
their hands. At length a pair of oars were got hold of; and from that
moment the work went briskly on.
The mast and sail were fished out of the sea and dragged aboard; the
casks of water and wine were once more secured; and the stray implements
were picked up one after another,--all except those of iron, including
the axe, which had gone to the bottom of the Atlantic.
Their greatest loss had been the chest and its contents. This was
irreparable; and in all probability the precursor of a still more
serious misfortune,--the loss of their lives.