one, for he smoked it very often. Moreover, Tom's pipe was uncommonly
short, so short that I always wondered how he escaped burning the end of
his nose. Indeed, some of the men said that the redness of the end of
Tom's nose was owing to its being baked like a brick by the heat of his
pipe. Tom took this pipe from his mouth, and while he was pushing down
the tobacco with the end of his little finger, he said--
"D'ye know, lads, I've been thinkin'--"
"No, have ye?" cried one of the men, interrupting him with a look of
pretended surprise. "Well now, I do think, messmates, that we should ax
the mate to make a note o' that in the log, for it's not often that Tom
Lokins takes to thinkin'."
There was a laugh at this, but Tom, turning with a look of contempt to
the man who interrupted him, replied--
"I'll tell you wot it is, Bill Blunt, if all the thoughts that _you_
think, and especially the jokes that you utter, wos put down in the log,
they'd be so heavy that I do believe they would sink the ship!"
"Well, well," cried Bill, joining in the laugh against himself, "if they
did, _your_ jokes would be so light and triflin' that I do believe
they'd float her again. But what have you been a-thinkin' of, Tom?"
"I've been thinkin'," said Tom slowly, "that if a whale makes his
breakfast entirely off them little things that you can hardly see when
you get 'em into a tumbler--I forget how the captain calls 'em--wot a
_tree-mendous_ heap of 'em he must eat in the course of a year!"
"Thousands of 'em, I suppose," said one of the men.
"Thousands!" cried Tom, "I should rather say billions of them."
"How much is billions, mate?" inquired Bill.
"I don't know," answered Tom. "Never could find out. You see it's
heaps upon heaps of thousands, for the thousands come first and the
billions afterwards; but when I've thought uncommon hard, for a long
spell at a time, I always get confused, because millions comes in
between, d'ye see, and that's puzzlin'."
"I think I could give you some notion about these things," said Fred
Borders, who had been quietly listening all the time, but never putting
in a word, for, as I have said, Fred was a modest bashful man and seldom
spoke much. But we had all come to notice that when Fred spoke, he had
always something to say worth hearing; and when he did speak he spoke
out boldly enough. We had come to have feelings of respect for our
young shipmate, for he was a kind-hearted lad, and we saw by his
conversation that he had been better educated than the most of us, so
all our tongues stopped as the eyes of the party turned on him.
"Come, Fred, let's hear it then," said Tom.
"It's not much I have to tell," began Fred, "but it may help to make
your minds clearer on this subject. On my first voyage to the
whale-fishery (you know, lads, this is my second voyage) I went to the
Greenland Seas. We had a young doctor aboard with us--quite a youth;
indeed he had not finished his studies at college, but he was cleverer,
for all that, than many an older man that had gone through his whole
course. I do believe that the reason of his being so clever was, that
he was for ever observing things, and studying them, and making notes,
and trying to find out reasons. He was never satisfied with knowing a
thing; he must always find out _why_ it was. One day I heard him ask
the captain what it was that made the sea so green in some parts of
those seas. Our captain was an awfully stupid man. So long as he got
plenty of oil he didn't care two straws for the reason of anything. The
young doctor had been bothering him that morning with a good many
questions, so when he asked him what made the sea green, he answered
sharply, `I suppose it makes itself green, young man,' and then he
turned from him with a fling.
"The doctor laughed, and came forward among the men, and began to tell
us stories and ask questions. Ah! he was a real hearty fellow; he would
tell you all kinds of queer things, and would pump you dry of all you
knew in no time. Well, but the thing I was going to tell you was this.
One of the men said to him he had heard that the greenness of the
Greenland Sea, was caused by the little things like small bits of jelly,
on which the whales feed. As soon as he heard this he got a bucket and
hauled some sea-water aboard, and for the next ten days he was never
done working away with the sea-water; pouring it into tumblers and
glasses; looking through it by daylight and by lamplight; tasting it,
and boiling it, and examining it with a microscope."
"What's a microscope?" inquired one of the men.
"Don't you know?" said Tom Lokins, "why it's a glass that makes little
things seem big, when ye look through it. I've heerd say that beasts
that are so uncommon small that you can't see them at all are made to
come into sight, and look quite big, by means o' this glass. But I
can't myself say that it's true."
"But I can," said Fred, "for I have seen it with my own eyes. Well,
after a good while, I made bold to ask the young doctor what he had
found out.
"`I've found,' said he, `that the greenness of these seas is in truth
caused by uncountable numbers of medusae--'"
"Ha! that's the word," shouted Tom Lokins, "Medoosy, that's wot the
captain calls 'em. Heave ahead, Fred."
"Well, then," continued Fred, "the young doctor went on to tell me that
he had been counting the matter to himself very carefully, and he found
that in every square mile of sea-water there were living about eleven
quadrillions, nine hundred and ninety-nine trillions of these little
creatures!"
"Oh! hallo! come now!" we all cried, opening our eyes very wide indeed.
"But, I say, how much is that?" inquired Tom Lokins.
"Ah! that's just what I said to the young doctor, and he said to me,
`I'll tell you what, Fred Borders, no man alive understands how much
that is, and what's more, no man ever will; but I'll give you _some
notion_ of what it means;' and so he told me how long it would take
forty thousand men to count that number of eleven quadrillions, nine
hundred and ninety-nine trillions, each man of the forty thousand
beginning `one,' `two,' `three,' and going on till the sum of the whole
added together would make it up. Now, how long d'ye think it would take
them?--guess."
Fred Borders smiled as he said this, and looked round the circle of men.
"I know," cried one, "it would take the whole forty thousand a _week_ to
do it."
"Oh! nonsense, they could do it easy in two days," said another.
"That shows how little you know about big numbers," observed Tom Lokins,
knocking the ashes out of his pipe. "I'm pretty sure it couldn't be
done in much less than six months; workin' hard all day, and makin'
allowance for only one hour off for dinner."
"You're all wrong, shipmates," said Fred Borders. "That young doctor
told me that if they'd begun work at the day of creation they would only
have just finished the job last year!"
"Oh! gammon, you're jokin'," cried Bill Blunt.
"No, I'm not," said Fred, "for I was told afterwards by an old clergyman
that the young doctor was quite right, and that any one who was good at
'rithmetic could work the thing out for himself in less than
half-an-hour."
Just as Fred said this there came a loud cry from the mast-head that
made us all spring to our feet like lightning.
"There she blows! There she breaches!"
The captain was on deck in a moment.
"Where away?" he cried.
"On the lee beam, sir. Sperm whale, about two miles off. There she
blows!"
Every man was at his station in a moment; for, after being some months
out, we became so used to the work, that we acted together like a piece
of machinery. But our excitement never abated in the least.
"Sing out when the ship heads for her."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Keep her away!" said the captain to the man at the helm. "Bob Ledbury,
hand me the spyglass."
"Steady," from the mast-head.
"Steady it is," answered the man at the helm.
While we were all looking eagerly out ahead we heard a thundering snore
behind us, followed by a heavy splash. Turning quickly round, we saw
the flukes of an enormous whale sweeping through the air not more than
six hundred yards astern of us.
"Down your helm," roared the captain; "haul up the mainsail, and square
the yards. Call all hands."
"All hands, ahoy!" roared Bill Blunt, in a voice of thunder, and in
another moment every man in the ship was on deck.
"Hoist and swing the boats," cried the captain. "Lower away."
Down went the boats into the water; the men were into their places
almost before you could wink, and we pulled away from the ship just as
the whale rose the second time, about half a mile away to leeward.
From the appearance of this whale we felt certain that it was one of the
largest we had yet seen, so we pulled after it with right good will. I
occupied my usual place in the captain's boat, next the bow-oar, just
beside Tom Lokins, who was ready with his harpoons in the bow. Young
Borders pulled the oar directly in front of me. The captain himself
steered, and, as our crew was a picked one, we soon left the other two
boats behind us.
Presently a small whale rose close beside us, and, sending a shower of
spray over the boat, went down in a pool of foam. Before we had time to
speak, another whale rose on the opposite side of the boat, and then
another on our starboard bow. We had got into the middle of a shoal of
whales, which commenced leaping and spouting all round us, little aware
of the dangerous enemy that was so near.
In a few minutes more, up comes the big one again that we had first
seen. He seemed very active and wild. After blowing on the surface
once or twice, about a quarter of a mile off, he peaked his flukes, and
pitched down head foremost.
"Now then, lads, he's down for a long dive," said the captain; "spring
your oars like men, we'll get that fish for certain, if you'll only
pull."
The captain was mistaken; the whale had only gone down deep in order to
come up and breach, or spring out of the water, for the next minute he
came up not a hundred yards from us, and leaped his whole length into
the air.
A shout of surprise broke from the men, and no wonder, for this was the
largest fish I ever saw or heard of, and he came up so clear of the
water, that we could see him from head to tail, as he turned over in the
air, exposing his white belly to view, and came down on his great side
with a crash like thunder, that might have been heard six miles off. A
splendid mass of pure white spray burst from the spot where he fell, and
in another moment he was gone.
"I do believe it's _New Zealand Tom_," cried Bill Blunt, referring to an
old bull whale that had become famous among the men who frequented these
seas, for its immense size and fierceness, and for the great trouble it
had given them, smashing some of their boats, and carrying away many of
their harpoons.
"I don't know whether it's New Zealand Tom or not," said the captain,
"but it's pretty clear that he's an old sperm bull. Give way, lads, we
must get that whale, whatever it should cost us."
We did not need a second bidding; the size of the fish was so great that
we felt more excited than we had yet been during the voyage, so we bent
our oars till we almost pulled the boat out of the water. The other
boats had got separated, chasing the little whales, so we had this one
all to ourselves.
"There she blows!" said Tom Lokins, in a low voice, as the fish came up
a short distance astern of us.
We had overshot our mark, so, turning about, we made for the whale,
which kept for a considerable time near the top of the water, spouting
now and then, and going slowly to windward. We at last got within a few
feet of the monster, and the captain suddenly gave the word, "Stand up."
This was to our harpooner, Tom Lokins, who jumped up on the instant, and
buried two harpoons deep in the blubber.
"Stern all!" was the next word, and we backed off with all our might.
It was just in time, for, in his agony, the whale tossed his tail right
over our heads, the flukes were so big that they could have completely
covered the boat, and he brought them down flat on the sea with a clap
that made our ears tingle, while a shower of spray drenched us to the
skin. For one moment I thought it was all over with us, but we were
soon out of immediate danger, and lay on our oars watching the writhings
of the wounded monster as he lashed the ocean into foam. The water all
round us soon became white like milk, and the foam near the whale was
red with blood.
Suddenly this ceased, and, before we could pull up to lance him, he went
down, taking the line out at such a rate that the boat spun round, and
sparks of fire flew from the logger-head, from the chafing of the rope.
"Hold on!" cried the captain, and next moment we were tearing over the
sea at a fearful rate, with a bank of white foam rolling before us, high
above our bows, and away on each side of us like the track of a steamer,
so that we expected it every moment to rush in-board and swamp us. I
had never seen anything like this before. From the first I had a kind
of feeling that some evil would befall us.
While we were tearing over the water in this way, we saw the other
whales coming up every now and then, and blowing quite near to us, and
presently we passed close enough to the first mate's boat to see that he
was fast to a fish, and unable, therefore, to render us help if we
should need it.
In a short time the line began to slack, so we hauled it in hand over
hand, and Tom Lokins coiled it away in the tub in the stern of the boat,
while the captain took his place in the bow to be ready with the lance.
The whale soon came up, and we pulled with all our might towards him.
Instead of making off again, however, he turned round and made straight
at the boat. I now thought that destruction was certain, for, when I
saw his great blunt forehead coming down on us like a steamboat, I felt
that we could not escape. I was mistaken. The captain received him on
the point of his lance, and the whale has such a dislike to pain, that
even a small prick will sometimes turn him.
For some time we kept dodging round this fellow; but he was so old and
wise, that he always turned his head to us, and prevented us from
getting a chance to lance him. At last he turned a little to one side,
and the captain plunged the lance deep into his vitals.
"Ha! that's touched his life," cried Tom, as a stream of blood flew up
from his blow-holes, a sure sign that he was mortally wounded. But he
was not yet conquered. After receiving the cruel stab with the lance,
he pitched right down, head foremost, and once more the line began to
fly out over the bow. We tried to hold on, but he was going so straight
down that the boat was almost swamped, and we had to slack off to
prevent our being pulled under water.
Before many yards of the line had run out, one of the coils in the tub
became entangled.
"Look out, lads," cried Tom, and at once throwing the turn off the
logger-head, he made an attempt to clear it. The captain, in trying to
do the same thing, slipped and fell. Seeing this, I sprang up, and,
grasping the coil as it flew past, tried to clear it. Before I could
think, a turn whipped round my left wrist. I felt a wrench as if my arm
had been torn out of the socket, and in a moment I was overboard, [see
frontispiece] going down with almost lightning speed into the depths of
the sea. Strange to say, I did not lose my presence of mind. I knew
exactly what had happened. I felt myself rushing down, down, down, with
terrific speed; a stream of fire seemed to be whizzing past my eyes;
there was a dreadful pressure on my brain, and a roaring, as if of
thunder, in my ears. Yet, even in that dread moment, thoughts of
eternity, of my sins, and of meeting with my God, flashed into my mind,
for thought is quicker than the lightning flash.
Of a sudden the roaring ceased, and I felt myself buffeting the water
fiercely in my efforts to reach the surface. I know not how I got free,
but I suppose the turn of the line must have slackened off somehow. All
this happened within the space of a few brief moments; but oh! they
seemed fearfully long to me. I do not think I could have held my breath
a second longer.
When I came to the surface, and tried to look about me, I saw the boat
not more than fifty yards off, and, being a good swimmer, I struck out
for it, although I felt terribly exhausted. In a few minutes my
comrades saw me, and, with a cheer put out the oars and began to row
towards me. I saw that the line was slack, and that they were hauling
it in--a sign that the whale had ceased running and would soon come to
the surface again. Before they had pulled half-a-dozen strokes I saw
the water open close beside the boat, and the monstrous head of the
whale shot up like a great rock rising out of the deep.
He was not more than three feet from the boat, and he came up with such
force, that more than half his gigantic length came out of the water
right over the boat. I heard the captain's loud cry--"_Stern all_!"
But it was too late, the whole weight of the monster's body fell upon
the boat; there was a crash and a terrible cry, as the whale and boat
went down together.
For a few moments he continued to lash the sea in his fury, and the
fragments of the boat floated all round him. I thought that every man,
of course, had been killed; but one after another their heads appeared
in the midst of blood and foam, and they struck out for oars and pieces
of the wreck.
Providentially, the whale, in his tossings, had shot a little away from
the spot, else every man must certainly have been killed.
A feeling of horror filled my heart, as I beheld all this, and thought
upon my position. Fortunately, I had succeeded in reaching a broken
plank; for my strength was now so much exhausted, that I could not have
kept my head above water any longer without its assistance. Just then I
heard a cheer, and the next time I rose on the swell, I looked quickly
round and saw the mate's boat making for the scene of action as fast as
a stout and willing crew could pull. In a few minutes more I was
clutched by the arm, and hauled into it. My comrades were next rescued,
and we thanked God when we found that none were killed, although one of
them had got a leg broken, and another an arm twisted out of joint.
They all, however, seemed to think that my escape was much more
wonderful than theirs; but I cannot say that I agreed with them in this.
We now turned our attention to the whale, which had dived again. As it
was now loose, we did not know, of course, where it would come up, so we
lay still awhile. Very soon up he came, not far from us, and as fierce
as ever.
"Now, lads, we _must_ get that whale," cried the mate; "give way with a
will."
The order was obeyed. The boat almost leaped over the swell, and,
before long, another harpoon was in the whale's back.
"Fast again, hurrah!" shouted the mate, "now for the lance."
He gave the monster two deep stabs while he spoke, and spouting the red
stream of life, it rolled on the sea in agony, obliging us to keep well
out of its way.
I could not look upon the dying struggles of this enormous fish without
feelings of regret and self-reproach, for helping to destroy it. I felt
almost as if I were a murderer, and that the Creator would call me to
account for taking part in the destruction of one of His grandest living
creatures. But the thought passed quickly from my mind as the whale
became more violent and went into its flurry. It began to lash the sea
with such astonishing violence, that all the previous struggles seemed
as nothing. The water all round became white like milk, with great
streaks of red blood running through it, and the sound of the quick
blows of its tail and fins resembled that of dull hollow thunder. We
gazed at this scene in deep silence and with beating hearts.
All at once the struggles ceased. The great carcass rolled over belly
up, and lay extended on the sea in death. To me it seemed as if a dead
calm had suddenly fallen around us, after a long and furious storm, so
great was the change when that whale at length parted with its huge
life. The silence was suddenly broken by three hearty cheers, and then,
fastening a rope to our prize, we commenced towing it to the ship, which
operation occupied us the greater part of the night, for we had no fewer
than eight miles to pull.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
DEATH ON THE SEA.
The whale which we had taken, as I have related in the last chapter, was
our largest fish of that season. It produced ninety barrels of oil, and
was worth about 500 pounds sterling, so that we did not grieve much over
the loss of our boat.
But our next loss was of a kind that could not be made up for by oil or
money, for it was the loss of a human life. In the whale-fishery men
must, like soldiers, expect to risk their lives frequently, and they
have too often, alas! to mourn over the loss of a shipmate or friend.
Up to this time our voyage had gone prosperously. We had caught so many
fish that nearly half our cargo was already completed, and if we should
be as lucky the remainder of the voyage, we should be able to return
home to Old England much sooner than we had expected.
Of course, during all this time we had met with some disappointments,
for I am not describing everything that happened on that voyage. It
would require a much thicker volume than this to tell the half of our
adventures. We lost five or six fish by their sinking before we could
get them made fast to the ship, and one or two bolted so fast that they
broke loose and carried away a number of harpoons, and many a fathom of
line. But such misfortunes were what we had to look for. Every whaler
meets with similar changes of luck, and we did not expect to fare
differently from our neighbours. These things did not cause us much
regret beyond the time of their occurrence. But it was far otherwise
with the loss that now befell us.
It happened one forenoon. I was standing close to the starboard gangway
early that morning, looking over the side into the calm water, for there
was not a breath of wind, and talking to the first mate, who was a
gruff, surly man, but a good officer, and kind enough in his way when
everything went smooth with him. But things don't go very smooth
generally in whaling life, so the mate was oftener gruff than sweet.
"Bob Ledbury," said he, "have you got your cutting-in gear in order?
I've got a notion that we'll `raise the oil' this day."
"All right, sir," said I, "you might shave yourself with the
blubber-spades. That was a good fish we got last, sir, wasn't it?"
"Pretty good, though I've seen bigger."
"He gave us a deal of trouble too," said I.
"Not so much as I've seen others give," said he. "When I was fishing in
the Greenland Seas we made fast to a whale that cost us I don't know how
many hundred dollars." (You must know the first mate was a Yankee, and
he reckoned everything in dollars.)
"How was that, sir?" asked I.
"Well, it was something in this fashion. We were floating about in the
North Atlantic one calm, hot day, just something like this, only it was
the afternoon, not the morning. We were doing nothing, and whistling
for a breeze, when, all of a sudden, up comes five or six whales all
round the ship, as if they had spied her from the bottom of the sea, and
had come up to have a squint at her. Of course the boats were manned at
once, and in less than no time we were tearing after them like all
alive. But them whales were pretty wildish, I guess. They kept us
pullin' the best part of five hours before we got a chance at them. My
boat was out of sight of the ship before we made fast to a regular
snorer, a hundred-barreller at the least. The moment he felt the iron,
away he went like the shot out of a gun; but he didn't keep it up long,
for soon after, another of our boats came up and made fast. Well, for
some two or three hours we held fast, but could not haul on to him to
use the lance, for the moment we came close up alongside of his tail he
peaked flukes and dived, then up again, and away as fast as ever. It
was about noon before we touched him again; but by that time two more
harpoons were made fast, and two other boats cast tow-lines aboard of
us, and were hauled along. That was four boats, and more than sixteen
hundred fathoms of line, besides four harpoons that was fast to that
whale, and yet, for all that, he went ahead as fast as we could have
rowed, takin' us along with him quite easy.