CHAPTER VIII.

BOILING.--CUTTING THE LINE.--DUTCH COURAGE.--"MAN OVERBOARD."

The "case" having been stripped of its oleaginous treasures, was cut

adrift, and the Arethusa, with the yards again trimmed to the breeze,

stood on her course to the southward. The "junk" was then cut up and

thrown into casks, to save all the oil that was continually oozing from

it, and the fires were started for boiling. "Try-watches" were set at

night, by dividing the time into two equal portions, each watch taking

the whole five or six hours on one stretch. The Portuguese Manoel and

myself were appointed to work in the blubber-room, which is, perhaps,

the best station in trying out, as the fortunate incumbent has but one

department to attend to, and being under deck, is not exposed to the

weather. Besides, he is much of the time "out of sight out of mind,"

and, by cutting fast for an hour or two, may gain upon his work so as

to find time for "slants" of sleep or "catnaps," so termed, till roused

again by the cry of "horsepieces!" at the hatchway. Now and then,

Father Grafton, in going the rounds, would stoop over the hatchway, and

peer in between decks, with a call to the sleepers:

"Halloo, Blacksmith! Manoel, what are you doing away in there?"

"_Leaning_, sir!" would be the ready reply of the Portuguese; which was

strictly true. He was "leaning" against a cask, sound asleep.

A whaleship trying out at night presents one of the most weird and

striking pictures that can well be imagined. But to enjoy it in full,

the observer must take his station near the mainmast, looking forward,

and this during his watch below, as his duties would otherwise subject

him to certain interruptions which sadly mar the poetry of the thing.

Alone, on the face of the waters, rides your floating home; the

darkness around her intensified and rendered more opaque by the glare

of light from the try-fires, and utterly impervious on the lee-beam

and quarter from the thick clouds of smoke continually floating off

in that direction. The brawny forms of the boatsteerers, thrown into

strong relief in the centre group, as they tend the fires and the

seething caldrons, which require their constant care and attention to

ensure a fine quality of oil; the "mincer" on the left, industriously

flourishing his broad, keen knife in the firelight; the cooper, fudging

at a leaky cask, half hidden in darkness under the lee of the "cooler;"

the deckhands flitting about at their various duties, appearing and

vanishing in gloom, like spirits dancing in an ever-changing light,

now livid, now lurid; now dying away till the smoke pall seems almost

to envelop the whole picture, then suddenly bursting forth again

with startling brightness, as the boatsteerer throws a fresh greasy

scrap on the "back arches," and runs his long pike under the fires

to stir up "Old Hallett;" the brilliant glare upon the rigging and

sails of the foremast, seeming to reveal each lay of the cordage,

each thread of the canvas, with a fidelity and minuteness of detail

far exceeding that produced by daylight; all together form a scene to

which no description can do justice, but of which every whaleman must

acknowledge having felt the influence. The captain and the officers who

are not on duty on the first watch seem to loiter round the mainmast,

as though unwilling to lose the pleasure of the view even to seek

necessary rest; and to enjoy their pipes with more than ordinary zest,

as they call up reminiscences of large fares taken on former voyages,

or count the tiers of sturdy ironbound casks already filled and lashed

along the rail, and glancing between decks at the blubber yet uncut,

make calculations and estimates of the probable yield of the whale.

All is cheerfulness and hope at such times, and the prospects of the

voyage seemed to partake of the brightness of the caboose fires. Wives

and children are remembered with new affection at such moments; and

each feels nearer to home and friends at each recurring sound of the

light-driven bung, and the inspiring cry, "Away cask!" Truly is it

remarked by old whalemen that the most delightful parts of a voyage are

"boiling" and arriving home.

The weather continued fine during the whole time occupied in boiling

and stowing down, so that I may say I saw the first whale killed and

taken care of under very favorable circumstances, and treating lightly

the croaking hints of the oldsters, thus formed an opinion of whaling

in general which subsequent experience did not altogether confirm.

Our good ship sped merrily on her voyage, and, after taking the trade

winds, still more rapid progress was made. The equator was crossed

without any of those time-honored ceremonies of initiation into old

Neptune's realms which have formed the staple of so many yarns by old

voyagers. Indeed, it is hardly to be supposed that the green hands

would be subjected to much abuse or rough treatment from their equals

in rank, where they themselves form the majority of the ship's company.

Mr. Dunham, however, did not let the occasion pass without attempting

a practical joke. Having the first watch on deck, he came forward,

and calling a young greenhorn from Connecticut, who rejoiced in the

ironical appellation of "Black Hawk," perhaps from his utter want of

resemblance, in any one particular, to that illustrious chieftain:

"Black Hawk," said he, confidentially, "I want you to get the cook's

axe, and go out on the martingale, and stand by to cut the line. I

expect we shall be up with it now in about half an hour, and you must

look sharp and cut it quick, or it will bring the ship up all standing."

"How big round is it?" asked the apparently innocent Black Hawk.

"About as thick as your arm; but if you get a good lick at it, you'll

cut it in time, or at least cut some of the strands, so the ship will

break it without stopping her."

"Do ships always have to cut the line when they pass along here, sir?"

inquired the youngster, who was not half so green as his appearance

indicated.

"Yes, certainly they do."

"And how does it get j'ined together again?"

"Why, old Neptune and his crew pick up the ends and splice it, after

the ship has passed by," said Mr. Dunham, who was rather puzzled by

this catechism, and did not quite understand the drift of it.

"And how long does it take 'em to get it j'ined again?"

"Well--I suppose it would take two or three hours to get the strands

all tucked, and put it in good order."

"Well, sir, when I came down from aloft (you know I had the sundown

masthead, sir), there was a ship in sight ahead, and I guess she must

have cut it about an hour ago; so they haint got through j'inin' on it

yet. I guess we can slip through, sir, while the bars are down." And

the baffled second mate went aft with a flea in his ear.

Black Hawk, with all his apparent verdancy, was probably his superior

in general knowledge; and though he had seen the black equator on the

maps, had a pretty clear idea of the meaning of the words "imaginary

line."

We had light and baffling weather after crossing the line, and made

but little progress for some days. We fell in company with several

merchant vessels, all bound to the southward; but as they were always

making the best of their way to a port of destination, they held no

intercourse with us, beyond showing their national flags, and, if near

enough for it to be seen, their longitude, chalked upon a blackboard,

we responding in each case by showing ours. In one instance, however,

we communicated with a stranger, which led to incidents both serious

and ludicrous, to break the monotony of our sea life. A bark had been

in sight of us all day, steering on the same course as ourselves. She

had shown Dutch colors, but the wind being very light in the afternoon,

the old man ordered his boat lowered, and pulled alongside of her.

He was absent about a couple of hours, and returned with some Dutch

cheese and other small matters. I noticed that some of the boat's crew

appeared unusually jolly and demonstrative when they came alongside;

but the boat was hoisted and they went forward, no attention being paid

to them. It was surmised, of course, that they had been treated to a

glass while on board the Dutchman. I asked Farrell, who was as happy as

a lord, what the bark's name was.

"Divil a name of her I can tell ye," said Farrell; "but she belongs to

some dam place or other; there's a dam about it, anyhow, 'pon my soul.

I think it's Rotterdam. But they've got the good stuff there that'll

warm your heart and loosen your tongue. Come here till I show ye." And

dodging behind the galley, he produced from the capacious folds of his

shirt a bottle of schnapps!

"Dhrink," said Farrell. "Dhrink a health to the rotten-dam Dutchman."

"But how did you manage to smuggle this on board, Farrell?"

"Ah, lave Corny Farrell alone for that! Don't say a word; Burley has

the twin to it."

I was fearful we should have some trouble before the two bottles were

disposed of. However, I had no idea of turning informer, but even took

a small drink from Farrell's bottle, thinking there would be the less

for some one else, and the more it was subdivided, the less effect it

would have on any one man.

The bottles were passed round the forecastle, and there was enough to

make all hands a little lively and talkative, but not enough to produce

any ill effect, except in the case of the two proprietors of the

bottles themselves, who had taken the lion's share at starting, and had

preserved the remnants for private consumption. Old Jeff said to me,

during our watch on deck, on coming out of the forecastle where he had

been to light his pipe:

"Blacksmith, there'll be fun, I think, when the starboard watch is

called. Farrell is pretty noisy and happy; he wont make any trouble

unless it's by some wild freak; but Burley is as tight as a brick, and

it's his turnout wheel. He's blowing about his rights, and swears he

wont go to the wheel, nor he wont stand a watch; so I think there'll be

fun, for Mr. Dunham wont stand much nonsense with him."

"Well, I guess his blowing wont amount to much," said I. "He'll cool

down as soon as the second mate comes."

"Think so?" said Jeff anxiously.

"Yes," spoke up Obed B. "There'll be no great trouble with _him_."

"I hear that you and Kelly wound him up and set him back. Was that so

Hoeg? I didn't see that fun, for I was at the masthead. I only heard of

it afterwards."

"Well, he hasn't tried to bully either of us since," said Hoeg. "It's

my opinion he's a great coward."

Six bells struck, and the watch was called. Mr. Dunham came on deck,

and, as usual, looked to see if the wheel was relieved. Finding it was

not, he came forward.

"Antone, do you know whose wheel it is?" he asked.

"Burley's, sir."

"Why isn't he there?"

"He say he no goin' to stand watch to-night, sir."

"Why not? is he sick?"

"I don't know 'f he call sick. I call _drunk_, sir."

"O that's it? Well, we'll see about that."

The second mate put his head over the scuttle, and listened a moment.

Burley was laying down law and logic at a terrible rate, in spite of

the remonstrances of his watchmates, who entreated him either to go on

deck or else turn in, and let others have rest and quiet.

"I know my rights, and I'm the man to stand up for 'em!" said Burley.

"I'm not going to stand a watch to-night, and I'd just like to see the

live man that would make me go on deck!"

"Here he is then!" said Mr. Dunham, as, clearing the ladder with a

swing of his body, he landed on his feet by the side of the astonished

sea-lawyer.

"On deck, sir, at once, before I put you there!"

Burley turned his head and caught the second mate's eye. His _Dutch_

courage failed him altogether. He found the upper deck so quick that

the officer would not have found it easy to overtake him, had he been

disposed to assault him; though he evidently did not consider him worth

wasting wrath upon.

"What did I tell you?" said Obed B., quietly.

"Now," said Mr. Dunham, "you keep above deck the next four hours, and

don't put your head below the scuttle. I don't want you at the wheel

now; you are not fit to be there. Antone, go to the wheel. I'll see

that he stands your next trick and his own too."

"Arrah, Misther Burley! and where's your rights that you've been

blowin' about?" said Farrell. "You've only been making Billy

Fitzgibbons's mother of yerself, and yer perfarmances don't come up to

yer promises, at all."

I fell asleep with Farrell rattling away at him over my head; but I

was sure the contemptible scamp was nearly powerless now as to any

influence over the youngsters; for we had all set him down as a very

Bob Acres, whose courage would ooze out at his fingers' ends, when

brought to the scratch.

I had just got into a sound sleep, when we were all brought out of

our bunks on the jump by the thrilling cry--I almost think I hear it

now--"Man overboard!"

All was dark; the light in the forecastle had gone out; but, guided by

the little patch of sky showing down the scuttle, I was on deck in an

instant, with my trousers in my hand. Here, all was confusion; the

ship was coming up to the wind with everything slatting; the watch

were clearing away the starboard boat, Fisher having already cut the

gripes, and I was in her before she was half way down the side. I

remember asking "Who is it?" and some one, I did not know who, said,

"Farrell." I remember thinking that I had heard Farrell say he could

swim a little. We shoved clear of the ship, and got our oars out; she

had taken aback, and was going round, but we pulled out as near as

possible in her old wake--nothing was to be seen! With anxious eyes and

heavy hearts we looked about us. Here is something floating; we lay

round for it; it is the life-preserver which has been cut adrift from

the taffrail; but where is the man?? We pull still further out in the

wake of the ship, and heave up again; something ripples here abeam of

us. "Lay round quick!"

We pass the spot. I think I can see a white pool or ring on the

surface, and I involuntarily thrust my arm deep down; it touches

something--the hair of my shipmate, sinking for the last time.

"Help here!" And Fisher and Black Hawk are at my side. They seize his

shoulders and he is roused into the boat, and laid, face down, across

the thwarts.

"Give way for the ship!" And we are quickly alongside, for she is

now lying with the head yards aback, and lights set to tell us her

whereabouts.

All has passed so quickly that I seem to have dreamed it all, and to

have woke now for the first time. He soon shows signs of life, under

the active treatment he is receiving, and he has revived sufficiently

to sit up and look about him before the question is asked, by the old

man:

"How did he fall overboard?"

No one seems to know. Black Hawk answers that he heard the splash in

the water, and a cry immediately after, and running to the side, saw a

head bob up abreast the fore-chains, and gave the alarm.

By this time, Farrell enlightens us himself, by pointing forward with

his arm, gasping out the single word "Parrp'ses," then is taken with

retching again, brings up another pint of sea-water, and can give no

further information at present.

I ran forward. The porpoise line (which was kept ready rove in

tail-block on the bowsprit) was towering under the bow. I seized and

rounded it in, and brought up the "iron," or rather the pole and

socket thereof, the shank being broken off close up. It would seem

that Farrell, having the lookout, and all the rest being comfortably

snoozing, had discovered porpoises playing under the bow, and being

in the humor for a lark, determined to strike one "on his own hook,"

without calling for reinforcements until after he was "fast." But

neither his head nor his heels being very trustworthy at the time, he

darted the iron in one direction from the martingale guy, and himself

in another. The porpoise must have been struck most effectually, and

while we were busily engaged in saving the man, he had writhed in his

agony under the bows, till he had wrung the shank of the iron off.

"Well, Farrell, my boy," said Mr. Grafton, "how do you feel after your

Baptism?"

"Well, sir, I feel pretty well bothered, but I'll warrant the parr'pus

is nearer dead than I am."

"Yes, you struck him solid, at any rate," said the mate.

"An' sure, sir," returned Farrell, "don't you always stern all, sir, as

soon as you're fast?"

"Yes, that's according to rule; but circumstances may alter cases. It

was a narrow squeak for you, at any rate. You'll be in no hurry to

catch porpoises again in a dark night, alone."

"Bad luck to the soaking I got?" said Farrell, as he went forward.

"It's taken all the snap out o' me--and the schnapps too."

Manifold were the jokes cracked at the young Irishman's expense, after

this adventure; for with seamen, as with soldiers, a miss is as good

as a mile, always, and that which is almost a tragedy becomes the very

ideal of a farce.

But the redoubtable Burley was effectually stripped of his teeth and

claws. He was as harmless as an old blunderbuss, which after having

been apparently well loaded, primed and _schnapped_, has flashed in the

pan. The captain said nothing to indicate that he knew any thing of the

liquor having been brought on board. He was not a man to say much to

his crew, except in the way of necessary duty; and he probably resolved

to be silent and more watchful in the future. But I overheard him

telling the mate, the next night, as I stood at the wheel, that Farrell

seemed a smart young fellow, and he thought he would make a slashing

boatsteerer, if one should be wanted, "especially," he added, dryly,

"if we could always speak a Dutchman just before we lowered."

There She Blows! Or, The Log of the Arethusa · 第 8 / 24 章