Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
FIGHTING THE WHALES, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN TROUBLE, TO BEGIN WITH.
There are few things in this world that have filled me with so much
astonishment as the fact that man can kill a whale! That a fish, more
than sixty feet long, and thirty feet round the body; with the bulk of
three hundred fat oxen rolled into one; with the strength of many
hundreds of horses; able to swim at a rate that would carry it right
round the world in twenty-three days; that can smash a boat to atoms
with one slap of its tail, and stave in the planks of a ship with one
blow of its thick skull;--that such a monster can be caught and killed
by man, is most wonderful to hear of, but I can tell from experience
that it is much more wonderful to see.
There is a wise saying which I have often thought much upon. It is
this: "Knowledge is power." Man is but a feeble creature, and if he had
to depend on his own bodily strength alone, he could make no head
against even the ordinary brutes in this world. But the knowledge which
has been given to him by his Maker has clothed man with great power, so
that he is more than a match for the fiercest beast in the forest, or
the largest fish in the sea. Yet, with all his knowledge, with all his
experience, and all his power, the killing of a great old sperm whale
costs man a long, tough battle, sometimes it even costs him his life.
It is a long time now since I took to fighting the whales. I have been
at it, man and boy, for nigh forty years, and many a wonderful sight
have I seen; many a desperate battle have I fought in the fisheries of
the North and South Seas.
Sometimes, when I sit in the chimney-corner of a winter evening, smoking
my pipe with my old messmate Tom Lokins, I stare into the fire, and
think of the days gone by, till I forget where I am, and go on thinking
so hard that the flames seem to turn into melting fires, and the bars of
the grate into dead fish, and the smoke into sails and rigging, and I go
to work cutting up the blubber and stirring the oil-pots, or pulling the
bow-oar and driving the harpoon at such a rate that I can't help giving
a shout, which causes Tom to start and cry:--
"Hallo! Bob," (my name is Bob Ledbury, you see). "Hallo! Bob, wot's
the matter?"
To which I reply, "Tom, can it all be true?"
"Can _wot_ be true?" says he, with a stare of surprise--for Tom is
getting into his dotage now.
And then I chuckle and tell him I was only thinking of old times, and so
he falls to smoking again, and I to staring at the fire, and thinking as
hard as ever.
The way in which I was first led to go after the whales was curious.
This is how it happened.
About forty years ago, when I was a boy of nearly fifteen years of age,
I lived with my mother in one of the seaport towns of England. There
was great distress in the town at that time, and many of the hands were
out of work. My employer, a blacksmith, had just died, and for more
than six weeks I had not been able to get employment or to earn a
farthing. This caused me great distress, for my father had died without
leaving a penny in the world, and my mother depended on me entirely.
The money I had saved out of my wages was soon spent, and one morning
when I sat down to breakfast, my mother looked across the table and
said, in a thoughtful voice--
"Robert, dear, this meal has cost us our last halfpenny."
My mother was old and frail, and her voice very gentle; she was the most
trustful, uncomplaining woman I ever knew.
I looked up quickly into her face as she spoke. "All the money gone,
mother?"
"Ay, all. It will be hard for you to go without your dinner, Robert,
dear."
"It will be harder for you, mother," I cried, striking the table with my
fist; then a lump rose in my throat and almost choked me. I could not
utter another word.
It was with difficulty I managed to eat the little food that was before
me. After breakfast I rose hastily and rushed out of the house,
determined that I would get my mother her dinner, even if I should have
to beg for it. But I must confess that a sick feeling came over me when
I thought of begging.
Hurrying along the crowded streets without knowing very well what I
meant to do, I at last came to an abrupt halt at the end of the pier.
Here I went up to several people and offered my services in a wild sort
of way. They must have thought that I was drunk, for nearly all of them
said gruffly that they did not want me.
Dinner time drew near, but no one had given me a job, and no wonder, for
the way in which I tried to get one was not likely to be successful. At
last I resolved to beg. Observing a fat, red-faced old gentleman coming
along the pier, I made up to him boldly. He carried a cane with a large
gold knob on the top of it. That gave me hope, "for of course," thought
I, "he must be rich." His nose, which was exactly the colour and shape
of the gold knob on his cane, was stuck in the centre of a round,
good-natured countenance, the mouth of which was large and firm; the
eyes bright and blue. He frowned as I went forward hat in hand; but I
was not to be driven back; the thought of my starving mother gave me
power to crush down my rising shame. Yet I had no reason to be ashamed.
I was willing to work, if only I could have got employment.
Stopping in front of the old gentleman, I was about to speak when I
observed him quietly button up his breeches pocket. The blood rushed to
my face, and, turning quickly on my heel, I walked away without uttering
a word.
"Hallo!" shouted a gruff voice just as I was moving away.
I turned and observed that the shout was uttered by a broad
rough-looking jack-tar, a man of about two or three and thirty, who had
been sitting all the forenoon on an old cask smoking his pipe and
basking in the sun.
"Hallo!" said he again.
"Well," said I.
"Wot d'ye mean, youngster, by goin' on in that there fashion all the
mornin', a-botherin' everybody, and makin' a fool o' yourself like that?
eh!"
"What's that to you?" said I savagely, for my heart was sore and heavy,
and I could not stand the interference of a stranger.
"Oh! it's nothin' to me of course," said the sailor, picking his pipe
quietly with his clasp-knife; "but come here, boy, I've somethin' to say
to ye."
"Well, what is it?" said I, going up to him somewhat sulkily.
The man looked at me gravely through the smoke of his pipe, and said,
"You're in a passion, my young buck, that's all; and, in case you didn't
know it, I thought I'd tell ye."
I burst into a fit of laughter. "Well, I believe you're not far wrong,
but I'm better now."
"Ah, that's right," said the sailor, with an approving nod of his head,
"always confess when you're in the wrong. Now, younker, let me give you
a bit of advice. Never get into a passion if you can help it, and if
you can't help it get out of it as fast as possible, and if you can't
get out of it, just give a great roar to let off the steam and turn
about and run. There's nothing like that. Passion han't got legs. It
can't hold on to a feller when he's runnin'. If you keep it up till you
a'most split your timbers, passion has no chance. It _must_ go a-starn.
Now, lad, I've been watchin' ye all the mornin', and I see there's a
screw loose somewhere. If you'll tell me wot it is, see if I don't help
you!"
The kind frank way in which this was said quite won my heart, so I sat
down on the old cask, and told the sailor all my sorrows.
"Boy," said he, when I had finished, "I'll put you in the way o' helpin'
your mother. I can get you a berth in my ship, if you're willin' to
take a trip to the whale-fishery of the South Seas."
"And who will look after my mother when I'm away?" said I.
The sailor looked perplexed at the question.
"Ah, that's a puzzler," he replied, knocking the ashes out of his pipe.
"Will you take me to your mother's house, lad?"
"Willingly," said I, and, jumping up, I led the way. As we turned to
go, I observed that the old gentleman with the gold-headed cane was
leaning over the rail of the pier at a short distance from us. A
feeling of anger instantly rose within me, and I exclaimed, loud enough
for him to hear--
"I do believe that stingy old chap has been listening to every word
we've been saying!"
I thought I observed a frown on the sailor's brow as I said this, but he
made no remark, and in a few minutes we were walking rapidly through the
streets. My companion stopped at one of those stores so common in
seaport towns, where one can buy almost anything, from a tallow candle
to a brass cannon. Here he purchased a pound of tea, a pound of sugar,
a pound of butter, and a small loaf,--all of which he thrust into the
huge pockets of his coat. He had evidently no idea of proportion or of
household affairs. It was a simple, easy way of settling the matter, to
get a pound of everything.
In a short time we reached our house, a very old one, in a poor
neighbourhood, and entered my mother's room. She was sitting at the
table when we went in, with a large Bible before her, and a pair of
horn-spectacles on her nose. I could see that she had been out
gathering coals and cinders during my absence, for a good fire burned in
the grate, and the kettle was singing cheerily thereon.
"I've brought a friend to see you, mother," said I.
"Good-day, mistress," said the sailor bluntly, sitting down on a stool
near the fire. "You seem to be goin' to have your tea."
"I expect to have it soon," replied my mother.
"Indeed!" said I, in surprise. "Have you anything in the kettle?"
"Nothing but water, my son."
"Has anybody brought you anything, then, since I went out?"
"Nobody."
"Why, then, mistress," broke in the seaman, "how can you expect to have
your tea so soon?"
My mother took off her spectacles, looked calmly in the man's face, laid
her hand on the Bible, and said, "Because I have been a widow woman
these three years, and never once in all that time have I gone a single
day without a meal. When the usual hour came I put on my kettle to
boil, for this Word tells me that `the Lord will provide.' I _expect_
my tea to-night."
The sailor's face expressed puzzled astonishment at these words, and he
continued to regard my mother with a look of wonder as he drew forth his
supplies of food, and laid them on the table.
In a short time we were all enjoying a cup of tea, and talking about the
whale-fishery, and the difficulty of my going away while my mother was
dependent on me. At last the sailor rose to leave us. Taking a
five-pound note from his pocket, he laid it on the table and said--
"Mistress, this is all I have in the world, but I've got neither family
nor friends, and I'm bound for the South Seas in six days; so, if you'll
take it, you're welcome to it, and if your son Bob can manage to cast
loose from you without leaving you to sink, I'll take him aboard the
ship that I sail in. He'll always find me at the Bull and Griffin, in
the High Street, or at the end o' the pier."
While the sailor was speaking, I observed a figure standing in a dark
corner of the room near the door, and, on looking more closely, I found
that it was the old gentleman with the nose like his cane-knob. Seeing
that he was observed, he came forward and said--
"I trust that you will forgive my coming here without invitation; but I
happened to overhear part of the conversation between your son and this
seaman, and I am willing to help you over your little difficulty, if you
will allow me."
The old gentleman said this in a very quick, abrupt way, and looked as
if he were afraid his offer might be refused. He was much heated, with
climbing our long stair no doubt, and as he stood in the middle of the
room, puffing and wiping his bald head with a handkerchief, my mother
rose hastily and offered him a chair.
"You are very kind, sir," she said; "do sit down, sir. I'm sure I don't
know why you should take so much trouble. But, dear me, you are very
warm; will you take a cup of tea to cool you?"
"Thank you, thank you. With much pleasure, unless, indeed, your son
objects to a `_stingy old chap_' sitting beside him."
I blushed when he repeated my words, and attempted to make some apology;
but the old gentleman stopped me by commencing to explain his intentions
in short, rapid sentences.
To make a long story short, he offered to look after my mother while I
was away, and, to prove his sincerity, laid down five shillings, and
said he would call with that sum every week as long as I was absent. My
mother, after some trouble, agreed to let me go, and, before that
evening closed, everything was arranged, and the gentleman, leaving his
address, went away.
The sailor had been so much filled with surprise at the suddenness of
all this, that he could scarcely speak. Immediately after the departure
of the old gentleman, he said, "Well, good-bye, mistress, good-bye,
Bob," and throwing on his hat in a careless way, left the room.
"Stop," I shouted after him, when he had got about half-way down stair.
"Hallo! wot's wrong now?"
"Nothing, I only forgot to ask your name."
"Tom Lokins," he bellowed, in the hoarse voice of a regular boatswain,
"w'ich wos my father's name before me."
So saying, he departed, whistling "Rule Britannia" with all his might.
Thus the matter was settled. Six days afterwards, I rigged myself out
in a blue jacket, white ducks, and a straw hat, and went to sea.
CHAPTER TWO.
AT SEA.
My first few days on the ocean were so miserable that I oftentimes
repented of having left my native land. I was, as my new friend Tom
Lokins said, as sick as a dog. But in course of time I grew well, and
began to rejoice in the cool fresh breezes and the great rolling billows
of the sea.
Many and many a time I used to creep out to the end of the bowsprit,
when the weather was calm, and sit with my legs dangling over the deep
blue water, and my eyes fixed on the great masses of rolling clouds in
the sky, thinking of the new course of life I had just begun. At such
times the thought of my mother was sure to come into my mind, and I
thought of her parting words, "Put your trust in the Lord, Robert, and
read His Word." I resolved to try to obey her, but this I found was no
easy matter, for the sailors were a rough lot of fellows, who cared
little for the Bible. But, I must say, they were a hearty, good-natured
set, and much better, upon the whole, than many a ship's crew that I
afterwards sailed with.
We were fortunate in having fair winds this voyage, and soon found
ourselves on the other side of the _line_, as we jack-tars call the
Equator.
Of course the crew did not forget the old custom of shaving all the men
who had never crossed the line before. Our captain was a jolly old man,
and uncommonly fond of "sky-larking." He gave us leave to do what we
liked the day we crossed the line; so, as there were a number of wild
spirits among us, we broke through all the ordinary rules, or, rather,
we added on new rules to them.
The old hands had kept the matter quiet from us greenhorns, so that,
although we knew they were going to do some sort of mischief, we didn't
exactly understand what it was to be.
About noon of that day I was called on deck and told that old father
Neptune was coming aboard, and we were to be ready to receive him. A
minute after, I saw a tremendous monster come up over the side of the
ship and jump on the deck. He was crowned with sea-weed, and painted in
a wonderful fashion; his clothes were dripping wet, as if he had just
come from the bottom of the sea. After him came another monster with a
petticoat made of sailcloth, and a tippet of a bit of old tarpaulin.
This was Neptune's wife, and these two carried on the most remarkable
antics I ever saw. I laughed heartily, and soon discovered, from the
tones of their voices, which of my shipmates Neptune and his wife were.
But my mirth was quickly stopped when I was suddenly seized by several
men, and my face was covered over with a horrible mixture of tar and
grease!
Six of us youngsters were treated in this way; then the lather was
scraped off with a piece of old hoop-iron, and, after being thus shaved,
buckets of cold water were thrown over us.
At last, after a prosperous voyage, we arrived at our fishing-ground in
the South Seas, and a feeling of excitement and expectation began to
show itself among the men, insomuch that our very eyes seemed brighter
than usual.
One night those of us who had just been relieved from watch on deck,
were sitting on the lockers down below telling ghost stories.
It was a dead calm, and one of those intensely dark, hot nights, that
cause sailors to feel uneasy, they scarce know why. I began to feel so
uncomfortable at last, listening to the horrible tales which Tom Lokins
was relating to the men, that I slipt away from them with the intention
of going on deck. I moved so quietly that no one observed me; besides,
every eye was fixed earnestly on Tom, whose deep low voice was the only
sound that broke the stillness of all around. As I was going very
cautiously up the ladder leading to the deck, Tom had reached that part
of his story where the ghost was just appearing in a dark churchyard,
dressed in white, and coming slowly forward, one step at a time, towards
the terrified man who saw it. The men held their breath, and one or two
of their faces turned pale as Tom went on with his description, lowering
his voice to a hoarse whisper. Just as I put my head up the hatchway
the sheet of one of the sails, which was hanging loose in the still air,
passed gently over my head and knocked my hat off. At any other time I
would have thought nothing of this, but Tom's story had thrown me into
such an excited and nervous condition that I gave a start, missed my
footing, uttered a loud cry, and fell down the ladder right in among the
men with a tremendous crash, knocking over two or three oil-cans and a
tin bread-basket in my fall, and upsetting the lantern, so that the
place was instantly pitch dark.
I never heard such a howl of terror as these men gave vent to when this
misfortune befell me. They rushed upon deck with their hearts in their
mouths, tumbling, and peeling the skin off their shins and knuckles in
their haste; and it was not until they heard the laughter of the watch
on deck that they breathed freely, and, joining in the laugh, called
themselves fools for being frightened by a ghost story. I noticed,
however, that, for all their pretended indifference, there was not one
man among them--not even Tom Lokins himself--who would go down below to
relight the lantern for at least a quarter of an hour afterwards!
Feeling none the worse for my fall, I went forward and leaned over the
bow of the ship, where I was much astonished by the appearance of the
sea. It seemed as if the water was on fire. Every time the ship's bow
rose and fell, the little belt of foam made in the water seemed like a
belt of blue flame with bright sparkles in it, like stars or diamonds.
I had seen this curious appearance before, but never so bright as it was
on that night.
"What is it, Tom?" said I, as my friend came forward and leaned over the
ship's bulwark beside me.
"It's blue fire, Bob," replied Tom, as he smoked his pipe calmly.
"Come, you know I can't swallow that," said I; "everybody knows that
fire, either blue or red, can't burn in the water."
"Maybe not," returned Tom; "but it's blue fire for all that. Leastwise
if it's not, I don't know wot else it is."
Tom had often seen this light before, no doubt, but he had never given
himself the trouble to find out what it could be. Fortunately the
captain came up just as I put the question, and he enlightened me on the
subject.
"It is caused by small animals," said he, leaning over the side.
"Small animals!" said I, in astonishment.
"Ay, many parts of the sea are full of creatures so small and so thin
and colourless, that you can hardly see them even in a clear glass
tumbler. Many of them are larger than others, but the most of them are
very small."
"But how do they shine like that, sir?" I asked.
"That I do not know, boy. God has given them the power to shine, just
as he has given us the power to walk or speak; and they do shine
brightly, as you see; but _how_ they do it is more than I can tell. I
think, myself, it must be anger that makes them shine, for they
generally do it when they are stirred up or knocked about by oars, or
ships' keels, or tumbling waves. But I am not sure that that's the
reason either, because, you know, we often sail through them without
seeing the light, though of course they must be there."
"P'raps, sir," said Tom Lokins; "p'raps, sir, they're sleepy sometimes,
an' can't be bothered gettin' angry."
"Perhaps!" answered the captain, laughing. "But then again, at other
times, I have seen them shining over the whole sea when it was quite
calm, making it like an ocean of milk; and nothing was disturbing them
at that time, d'ye see."
"I don' know _that_," objected Tom; "they might have bin a-fightin'
among theirselves."
"Or playing, may be," said I.
The captain laughed, and, looking up at the sky, said, "I don't like the
look of the weather, Tom Lokins. You're a sharp fellow, and have been
in these seas before, what say you?"
"We'll have a breeze," replied Tom, briefly.
"More than a breeze," muttered the captain, while a look of grave
anxiety overspread his countenance; "I'll go below and take a squint at
the glass."
"What does he mean by that, Tom," said I, when the captain was gone, "I
never saw a calmer or a finer night. Surely there is no chance of a
storm just now."
"Ay, that shows that you're a young feller, and han't got much
experience o' them seas," replied my companion. "Why, boy, sometimes
the fiercest storm is brewin' behind the greatest calm. An' the worst
o' the thing is that it comes so sudden at times, that the masts are
torn out o' the ship before you can say Jack Robinson."
"What! and without any warning?" said I.
"Ay, _almost_ without warnin'; but not _altogether_ without it. You
heer'd the captain say he'd go an' take a squint at the glass?"
"Yes; what is the glass?"
"It's not a glass o' grog, you may be sure; nor yet a lookin'-glass.
It's the weather-glass, boy. Shore-goin' chaps call it a barometer."
"And what's the meaning of barometer?" I inquired earnestly.
Tom Lokins stared at me in stupid amazement.
"Why, boy," said he, "you're too inquisitive. I once asked the doctor
o' a ship that question, and says he to me, `Tom,' says he, `a barometer
is a glass tube filled with quicksilver or mercury, which is a metal in
a soft or fluid state, like water, you know, and it's meant for tellin'
the state o' the weather.'
"`Yes, sir,' I answers, `I know that, well enough.'
"`Then why did you ask?' says he, gettin' into a passion.
"`I asked what was the meanin' o' the _word_ barometer, sir,' said I.
"The doctor he looked grave at that, and shook his head. `Tom,' says
he, `if I was to go for to explain that word, and all about the
instrument, in a scientific sort o' way, d'ye see, I'd have to sit here
an' speak to you right on end for six hours or more.'
"`Oh, sir,' says I, `don't do it, then. _Please_, don't do it.'
"`No more I will,' says he; `but it'll serve your turn to know that a
barometer is a glass for measurin' the weight o' the air, and, _somehow
or other, that_ lets ye know wots a-coming. If the mercury in the glass
rises high, all's right. If it falls uncommon low very sudden, look out
for squalls; that's all. No matter how smooth the sea may be, or how
sweetly all natur' may smile, don't you believe it; take in every inch
o' canvas at once.'"
"That was a queer explanation, Tom."
"Ay, but it was a true one, as you shall see before long."
As I looked out upon the calm sea, which lay like a sheet of glass,
without a ripple on its surface, I could scarcely believe what he had
said. But before many minutes had passed I was convinced of my error.
While I was standing talking to my messmate, the captain rushed on deck,
and shouted--
"All hands tumble up! Shorten sail! Take in every rag! Look alive,
boys, look alive."
I was quite stunned for a moment by this, and by the sudden tumult that
followed. The men, who seemed never to take thought about anything, and
who had but one duty, namely, to _obey orders_, ran upon deck, and
leaped up the rigging like cats; the sheets of nearly all the principal
sails were clewed up, and, ere long, the canvas was made fast to the
yards. A few of the smaller sails only were left exposed, and even
these were close reefed. Before long a loud roar was heard, and in
another minute the storm burst upon us with terrific violence. The ship
at first lay over so much that the masts were almost in the water, and
it was as impossible for any one to walk the deck as to walk along the
side of a wall. At the same time, the sea was lashed into white foam,
and the blinding spray flew over us in bitter fury.
"Take in the topsails!" roared the captain. But his voice was drowned
in the shriek of the gale. The men were saved the risk of going out on
the yards, however, for in a few moments more all the sails, except the
storm-try-sail, were burst and blown to ribbons.
We now tried to put the ship's head to the wind and "_lay to_," by which
landsmen will understand that we tried to face the storm, and remain
stationary. But the gale was so fierce that this was impossible. The
last rag of sail was blown away, and then there was nothing left for us
but to show our stern to the gale, and "scud under bare poles."
The great danger now was that we might be "pooped," which means that a
huge wave might curl over our stern, fall with terrible fury on our
deck, and sink us.
Many and many a good ship has gone down in this way; but we were
mercifully spared. As our safety depended very much on good steering,
the captain himself took the wheel, and managed the ship so well, that
we weathered the gale without damage, farther than the loss of a few
sails and light spars. For two days the storm howled furiously, the sky
and sea were like ink, with sheets of rain and foam driving through the
air, and raging billows tossing our ship about like a cork.
During all this time my shipmates were quiet and grave, but active and
full of energy, so that every order was at once obeyed without noise or
confusion. Every man watched the slightest motion of the captain. We
all felt that everything depended on him.
As for me, I gave up all hope of being saved. It seemed impossible to
me that anything that man could build could withstand so terrible a
storm. I do not pretend to say that I was not afraid. The near
prospect of a violent death caused my heart to sink more than once; but
my feelings did not unman me. I did my duty quietly, but quickly, like
the rest; and when I had no work to do, I stood holding on to the
weather stanchions, looking at the raging sea, and thinking of my
mother, and of the words of kindness and counsel she had so often
bestowed upon me in vain.
The storm ceased almost as quickly as it began, and although the sea did
not all at once stop the heavings of its angry bosom, the wind fell
entirely in the course of a few hours, the dark clouds broke up into
great masses that were piled up high into the sky, and out of the midst
of these the glorious sun shone in bright rays down on the ocean, like
comfort from heaven, gladdening our hearts as we busily repaired the
damage that we had suffered from the storm.
CHAPTER THREE.
OUR FIRST BATTLE.
I shall never forget the surprise I got the first time I saw a whale.
It was in the forenoon of a most splendid day, about a week after we
arrived at that part of the ocean where we might expect to find fish. A
light nor'-east breeze was blowing, but it scarcely ruffled the sea, as
we crept slowly through the water with every stitch of canvas set.
As we had been looking out for fish for some time past, everything was
in readiness for them. The boats were hanging over the side ready to
lower, tubs for coiling away the ropes, harpoons, lances, etcetera, all
were ready to throw in, and start away at a moment's notice. The man in
the "crow's nest," as they call the cask fixed up at the mast-head, was
looking anxiously out for whales, and the crew were idling about the
deck. Tom Lokins was seated on the windlass smoking his pipe, and I was
sitting beside him on an empty cask, sharpening a blubber-knife.
"Tom," said I, "what like is a whale?"
"Why, it's like nothin' but itself," replied Tom, looking puzzled.
"Why, wot a queer feller you are to ax questions."
"I'm sure you've seen plenty of them. You might be able to tell what a
whale is like."
"Wot it's like! Well, it's like a tremendous big bolster with a head
and a tail to it."
"And how big is it?"
"They're of all sizes, lad. I've seen one that was exactly equal to
three hundred fat bulls, and its rate of goin' would take it round the
whole world in twenty-three days."
"I don't believe you," said I, laughing.
"Don't you?" cried Tom; "it's a fact notwithstandin', for the captain
himself said so, and that's how I came to know it."
Just as Tom finished speaking, the man in the crow's nest roared at the
top of his voice, "There she blows!"
That was the signal that a whale was in sight, and as it was the first
time we had heard it that season, every man in the ship was thrown into
a state of tremendous excitement.
"There she blows!" roared the man again.
"Where away?" shouted the captain.
"About two miles right ahead."
In another moment the utmost excitement prevailed on board. Suddenly,
while I was looking over the side, straining my eyes to catch a sight of
the whale, which could not yet be seen by the men on deck, I saw a brown
object appear in the sea, not twenty yards from the side of the ship;
before I had time to ask what it was, a whale's head rose to the
surface, and shot up out of the water. The part of the fish that was
visible above water could not have been less than thirty feet in length.
It just looked as if our longboat had jumped out of the sea, and he was
so near that I could see his great mouth quite plainly. I could have
tossed a biscuit on his back easily. Sending two thick spouts of frothy
water out of his blow-holes forty feet into the air with tremendous
noise, he fell flat upon the sea with a clap like thunder, tossed his
flukes, or tail, high into the air, and disappeared.
I was so amazed at this sight that I could not speak. I could only
stare at the place where the huge monster had gone down.
"Stand by to lower," shouted the captain.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the men, leaping to their appointed stations; for
every man in a whale-ship has his post of duty appointed to him, and
knows what to do when an order is given.
"Lower away," cried the captain, whose face was now blazing with
excitement.
In a moment more three boats were in the water; the tubs, harpoons,
etcetera, were thrown in, the men seized the oars, and away they went
with a cheer. I was in such a state of flutter that I scarce knew what
I did; but I managed somehow or other to get into a boat, and as I was a
strong fellow, and a good rower, I was allowed to pull.
"There she blows!" cried the man in the crow's nest, just as we shot
from the side of the ship. There was no need to ask, "where away" this
time. Another whale rose and spouted not more than three hundred yards
off, and before we could speak a third fish rose in another direction,
and we found ourselves in the middle, of what is called a "school of
whales."
"Now, lads," said the captain, who steered the boat in which I rowed,
"bend your backs, my hearties; that fish right ahead of us is a
hundred-barrel whale for certain. Give way, boys; we _must_ have that
fish."
There was no need to urge the men, for their backs were strained to the
utmost, their faces were flushed, and the big veins in their necks
swelled almost to bursting, with the tremendous exertion.
"Hold hard," said the captain, in a low voice, for now that we were
getting near our prey, we made as little noise as possible.
The men at once threw their oars "apeak," as they say; that is, raised
them straight up in the air, and waited for further orders. We expected
the whale would rise near to where we were, and thought it best to rest
and look out.
While we were waiting, Tom Lokins, who was harpooner of the boat, sat
just behind me with all his irons ready. He took this opportunity to
explain to me that by a "hundred-barrel fish" is meant a fish that will
yield a hundred-barrels of oil. He further informed me that such a fish
was a big one, though he had seen a few in the North-west Seas that had
produced upwards of two hundred-barrels.
I now observed that the other boats had separated, and each had gone
after a different whale. In a few minutes the fish we were in chase of
rose a short distance off, and sent up two splendid water-spouts high
into the air, thus showing that he was what the whalers call a "right"
whale. It is different from the sperm whale, which has only one
blow-hole, and that a little one.
We rowed towards it with all our might, and as we drew near, the captain
ordered Tom Lokins to "stand up," so he at once laid in his oar, and
took up the harpoon. The harpoon is an iron lance with a barbed point.
A whale-line is attached to it, and this line is coiled away in a tub.
When we were within a few yards of the fish, which was going slowly
through the water, all ignorant of the terrible foes who were pursuing
him, Tom Lokins raised the harpoon high above his head, and darted it
deep into its fat side just behind the left fin, and next moment the
boat ran aground on the whale's back.
"Stern all, for your lives!" roared the captain, who, before his order
was obeyed, managed to give the creature two deep wounds with his lance.
The lance has no barbs to its point, and is used only for wounding
after the harpoon is fixed.
The boat was backed off at once, but it had scarcely got a few yards
away when the astonished fish whirled its huge body half out of the
water, and, coming down with a tremendous clap, made off like lightning.
The line was passed round a strong piece of wood called the
"logger-head," and, in running out, it began to smoke, and nearly set
the wood on fire. Indeed, it would have done so, if a man had not kept
constantly pouring water upon it. It was needful to be very cautious in
managing the line, for the duty is attended with great danger. If any
hitch should take place, the line is apt to catch the boat and drag it
down bodily under the waves. Sometimes a coil of it gets round a leg or
an arm of the man who attends to it, in which case his destruction is
almost certain. Many a poor fellow has lost his life in this way.
The order was now given to "hold on line." This was done, and in a
moment our boat was cleaving the blue water like an arrow, while the
white foam curled from her bows. I thought every moment we should be
dragged under; but whenever this seemed likely to happen, the line was
let run a bit, and the strain eased. At last the fish grew tired of
dragging us, the line ceased to run out, and Tom hauled in the slack,
which another man coiled away in its tub. Presently the fish rose to
the surface, a short distance off our weather-bow.
"Give way, boys! spring your oars," cried the captain; "another touch or
two with the lance, and that fish is ours."
The boat shot ahead, and we were about to dart a second harpoon into the
whale's side, when it took to "sounding,"--which means, that it went
straight down, head foremost, into the depths of the sea. At that
moment Tom Lokins uttered a cry of mingled anger and disappointment. We
all turned round and saw our shipmate standing with the slack line in
his hand, and such an expression on his weather-beaten face, that I
could scarce help laughing. The harpoon had not been well fixed; it had
lost its hold, and the fish was now free!
"Gone!" exclaimed the captain, with a groan.
I remember even yet the feeling of awful disappointment that came over
me when I understood that we had lost the fish after all our trouble! I
could almost have wept with bitter vexation. As for my comrades, they
sat staring at each other for some moments quite speechless. Before we
could recover from the state into which this misfortune had thrown us,
one of the men suddenly shouted, "Hallo! there's the mate's boat in
distress."
We turned at once, and, truly, there was no doubt of the truth of this,
for, about half a mile off, we beheld our first mate's boat tearing over
the sea like a small steamer. It was fast to a fish, and two oars were
set up on end to attract our attention.
When a whale is struck, it sometimes happens that the whole of the line
in a boat is run out. When this is about to occur, it becomes necessary
to hold on as much as can be done without running the boat under the
water, and an oar is set up on end to show that assistance is required,
either from the ship or from the other boats. As the line grows less
and less, another and another oar is hoisted to show that help must be
sent quickly. If no assistance can be sent, the only thing that remains
to be done is to cut the line and lose the fish; but a whale-line, with
its harpoon, is a very heavy loss, in addition to that of the fish, so
that whalers are tempted to hold on a little too long sometimes.
When we saw the mate's boat dashing away in this style, we forgot our
grief at the loss of our whale in our anxiety to render assistance to
our comrades, and we rowed towards them as fast as we could.
Fortunately the whale changed its course, and came straight towards us,
so that we ceased pulling, and waited till they came up. As the boat
came on I saw the foam curling up on her bows as she leaped and flew
over the sea. I could scarcely believe it possible that wood and iron
could bear such a strain. In a few minutes they were almost abreast of
us.
"You're holding too hard!" shouted the captain.
"Lines all out!" roared the mate.
They were past almost before these short sentences could be spoken. But
they had not gone twenty yards ahead of us when the water rushed in over
the bow, and before we could utter a word the boat and crew were gone.
Not a trace of them remained! The horror of the moment had not been
fully felt, however, when the boat rose to the surface keel up, and, one
after another, the heads of the men appeared. The line had fortunately
broken, otherwise the boat would have been lost, and the entire crew
probably would have gone to the bottom with her.
We instantly pulled to the rescue, and were thankful to find that not a
man was killed, though some of them were a little hurt, and all had
received a terrible fright. We next set to work to right the upset
boat, an operation which was not accomplished without much labour and
difficulty.
Now, while we were thus employed, our third boat, which was in charge of
the second mate, had gone after the whale that had caused us so much
trouble, and, when we had got the boat righted and began to look about
us, we found that she was fast to the fish about a mile to leeward.
"Hurrah, lads!" cried the captain, "luck has not left us yet. Give way,
my hearties, pull like Britons! we'll get that fish yet."
We were all dreadfully done up by this time, but the sight of a boat
fast to a whale restored us at once, and we pulled away as stoutly as if
we had only begun the day's work. The whale was heading in the
direction of the ship, and when we came up to the scene of action the
second mate had just "touched the life"; in other words, he had driven
the lance deep down into the whale's vitals. This was quickly known by
jets of blood being spouted up through the blow-holes. Soon after, our
victim went into its dying agonies, or, as whalemen say, "his flurry."
This did not last long. In a short time he rolled over dead. We
fastened a line to his tail, the three boats took the carcass in tow,
and, singing a lively song, we rowed away to the ship.
Thus ended our first battle with the whales.
CHAPTER FOUR.
"CUTTING-IN THE BLUBBER" AND "TRYING OUT THE OIL."
The scene that took place on board ship after we caught our first fish
was most wonderful.
We commenced the operation of what is called "cutting-in," that is,
cutting up the whale, and getting the fat or blubber hoisted in. The
next thing we did was to "try out" the oil, or melt down the fat in
large iron pots brought with us for this purpose; and the change that
took place in the appearance of the ship and the men when this began was
very remarkable.
When we left port our decks were clean, our sails white, our masts well
scraped; the brass-work about the quarter-deck was well polished, and
the men looked tidy and clean. A few hours after our first whale had
been secured alongside all this was changed. The cutting up of the huge
carcass covered the decks with oil and blood, making them so slippery
that they had to be covered with sand to enable the men to walk about.
Then the smoke of the great fires under the melting-pots begrimed the
masts, sails, and cordage with soot. The faces and hands of the men got
so covered with oil and soot that it would have puzzled any one to say
whether they were white or black. Their clothes, too, became so dirty
that it was impossible to clean them. But, indeed, whalemen do not much
mind this. In fact, they take a pleasure in all the dirt that surrounds
them, because it is a sign of success in the main object of their
voyage. The men in a _clean_ whale-ship are never happy. When
everything is filthy, and dirty, and greasy, and smoky, and black--
decks, rigging, clothes, and person--it is then that the hearty laugh
and jest and song are heard as the crew work busily, night and day, at
their rough but profitable labour.
The operations of "cutting-in" and "trying out" were matters of great
interest to me the first time I saw them.
After having towed our whale to the ship, cutting-in was immediately
begun. First, the carcass was secured near the head and tail with
chains, and made fast to the ship; then the great blocks and ropes
fastened to the main and foremast for hoisting in the blubber were
brought into play. When all was ready, the captain and the two mates,
with Tom Lokins, got upon the whale's body, with long-handled sharp
spades or digging-knives. With these they fell to work cutting off the
blubber.
I was stationed at one of the hoisting ropes, and while we were waiting
for the signal to "hoist away," I peeped over the side, and for the
first time had a good look at the great fish. When we killed it, so
much of its body was down in the water that I could not see it very
clearly, but now that it was lashed at full length alongside the ship,
and I could look right down upon it, I began to understand more clearly
what a large creature it was. One thing surprised me much; the top of
its head, which was rough and knotty like the bark of an old tree, was
swarming with little crabs and barnacles, and other small creatures.
The whale's head seemed to be their regular home! This fish was by no
means one of the largest kind, but being the first I had seen, I fancied
it must be the largest fish in the sea.
Its body was forty feet long, and twenty feet round at the thickest
part. Its head, which seemed to me a great, blunt, shapeless thing,
like a clumsy old boat, was eight feet long from the tip to the
blow-holes or nostrils; and these holes were situated on the back of the
head, which at that part was nearly four feet broad. The entire head
measured about twenty-one feet round. Its ears were two small holes, so
small that it was difficult to discover them, and the eyes were also
very small for so large a body, being about the same size as those of an
ox. The mouth was very large, and the under jaw had great ugly lips.
When it was dying, I saw these lips close in once or twice on its fat
cheeks, which it bulged out like the leather sides of a pair of gigantic
bellows. It had two fins, one on each side, just behind the head. With
these, and with its tail, the whale swims and fights. Its tail is its
most deadly weapon. The flukes of this one measured thirteen feet
across, and with one stroke of this it could have smashed our largest
boat in pieces. Many a boat has been sent to the bottom in this way.
I remember hearing our first mate tell of a wonderful escape a comrade
of his had in the Greenland Sea fishery. A whale had been struck, and,
after its first run, they hauled up to it again, and rowed so hard that
they ran the boat right against it. The harpooner was standing on the
bow all ready, and sent his iron cleverly into the blubber. In its
agony the whale reared its tail high out of the water, and the flukes
whirled for a moment like a great fan just above the harpooner's head.
One glance up was enough to show him that certain death was descending.
In an instant he dived over the side and disappeared. Next moment the
flukes came down on the part of the boat he had just left, and cut it
clean off; the other part was driven into the waves, and the men were
left swimming in the water. They were all picked up, however, by
another boat that was in company, and the harpooner was recovered with
the rest. His quick dive had been the saving of his life.
I had not much time given me to study the appearance of this whale
before the order was given to "hoist away!" so we went to work with a
will. The first part that came up was the huge lip, fastened to a large
iron hook, called the blubber hook. It was lowered into the
blubber-room between decks, where a couple of men were stationed to stow
the blubber away. Then came the fins, and after them the upper-jaw,
with the whalebone attached to it. The "right" whale has no teeth like
the sperm whale. In place of teeth it has the well-known substance
called whalebone, which grows from the roof of its mouth in a number of
broad thin plates, extending from the back of the head to the snout.
The lower edges of these plates of whalebone are split into thousands of
hairs like bristles, so that the inside roof of a whale's mouth
resembles an enormous blacking brush! The object of this curious
arrangement is to enable the whale to catch the little shrimps and small
sea-blubbers, called "medusae," on which it feeds. I have spoken before
of these last as being the little creatures that gave out such a
beautiful pale-blue light at night. The whale feeds on them. When he
desires a meal he opens his great mouth and rushes into the midst of a
shoal of medusae; the little things get entangled in thousands among the
hairy ends of the whalebone, and when the monster has got a large enough
mouthful, he shuts his lower-jaw and swallows what his net has caught.
The wisdom as well as the necessity of this arrangement is very plain.
Of course, while dashing through the sea in this fashion, with his mouth
agape, the whale must keep his throat closed, else the water would rush
down it and choke him. Shutting his throat then, as he does, the water
is obliged to flow out of his mouth as fast as it flows in; it is also
spouted up through his blow-holes, and this with such violence that many
of the little creatures would be swept out along with it, but for the
hairy-ended whalebone which lets the sea-water out, but keeps the
medusae in.
Well, let us return to our "cutting-in." After the upper-jaw came the
lower-jaw and throat, with the tongue. This last was an enormous mass
of fat, about as large as an ox, and it weighed fifteen hundred or two
thousand pounds. After this was got in, the rest of the work was
simple. The blubber of the body was peeled off in great strips,
beginning at the neck and being cut spirally towards the tail. It was
hoisted on board by the blocks, the captain and mates cutting, and the
men at the windlass hoisting, and the carcass slowly turning round until
we got an unbroken piece of blubber, reaching from the water to nearly
as high as the mainyard-arm. This mass was nearly a foot thick, and it
looked like fat pork. It was cut off close to the deck, and lowered
into the blubber-room, where the two men stationed there attacked it
with knives, cut it into smaller pieces, and stowed it away. Then
another piece was hoisted on board in the same fashion, and so on we
went till every bit of blubber was cut off; and I heard the captain
remark to the mate when the work was done, that the fish was a good fat
one, and he wouldn't wonder if it turned out to be worth 300 pounds
sterling.
Now, when this process was going on, a new point of interest arose which
I had not thought of before, although my messmate, Tom Lokins, had often
spoken of it on the voyage out. This was the arrival of great numbers
of sea-birds.
Tom had often told me of the birds that always keep company with
whalers; but I had forgotten all about it, until I saw an enormous
albatross come sailing majestically through the air towards us. This
was the largest bird I ever saw, and no wonder, for it is the largest
bird that flies. Soon after that, another arrived, and although we were
more than a thousand miles from any shore, we were speedily scented out
and surrounded by hosts of gonies, stinkards, haglets, gulls, pigeons,
petrels, and other sea-birds, which commenced to feed on pieces of the
whale's carcass with the most savage gluttony. These birds were
dreadfully greedy. They had stuffed themselves so full in the course of
a short time, that they flew heavily and with great difficulty. No
doubt they would have to take three or four days to digest that meal!