afternoon, and towards evening we sent a line on board, to see if that
would stop the big fish, and the topsails were lowered, so as to throw
some of the ship's weight on him, but the irons drew out with the
strain. However, we determined to try it again. Another line was sent
aboard about eight o'clock, and the topsails were lowered, but the line
snapped immediately. Well, we held on to that whale the whole of that
night, and at four o'clock next morning, just thirty-six hours after he
was first struck, two fast lines were taken aboard the ship. The breeze
was fresh, and against us, so the top-gallant sails were taken in, the
courses hauled up, and the topsails clewed down, yet, I assure you, that
whale towed the ship dead against the wind for an hour and a half at the
rate of two miles an hour, and all the while beating the water with his
fins and tail, so that the sea was in a continual foam. We did not kill
that fish till after forty hours of the hardest work I ever went
through."
Some of my shipmates seemed to doubt the truth of this story; but, for
my part, I believed it, because the mate was a grave, truthful man,
though he was gruff, and never told lies, as far as I knew. Moreover, a
case of the same kind happened some years afterwards, to a messmate of
mine, while he was serving aboard the _Royal Bounty_, on the 28th of May
1817.
I know that some of the stories which I now tell must seem very wild and
unlikely to landsmen; but those who have been to the whale-fishery will
admit that I tell nothing but the truth, and if there are any of my
readers who are still doubtful, I would say, go and read the works of
Captain Scoresby. It is well known that this whaling captain was a
truly religious man, who gave up the fishing, though it turned him in
plenty of money, and became a minister of the gospel with a small
income, so it is not likely that he would have told what was untrue.
Well, in his works we find stories that are quite as remarkable as the
one I have just told, some of them more so.
For instance, he tells us of one whale, in the Greenland Seas, which was
not killed till it had drawn out ten thousand four hundred and forty
yards, or about _six miles_ of line, fastened to fifteen harpoons,
besides taking one of the boats entirely under water, which boat was
never seen again.
The mate told us two or three more stories, and a lot of us were
gathered round him, listening eagerly, for there is nothing Jack likes
so much as a _good yarn_, when all of a sudden, the man at the mast-head
sang out that a large sperm whale was spouting away two points off the
lee-bow. Of course we were at our posts in a moment.
"There she blows! there she breaches!" sung the look-out.
"Lower away!" roared the captain.
The boats were in the water, and the men on their seats in a moment.
The whale we were after was a very large one; we could see that, for
after two hours' hard pulling we got near enough to throw a harpoon, and
after it was fixed he jumped clean out of the water. Then there was the
usual battle. It was fierce and long; so long that I began to fear we
would have to return empty handed to the ship. We put ten harpoons into
him, one after another, and had a stiff run between the fixing of each.
It is astonishing the difference between the fish. One will give you no
trouble at all. I have often seen a good big fellow killed in half an
hour. Another will take you half a day, and perhaps you may lose him
after all. The whale we were now after, at last took to showing fight.
He made two or three runs at the boat, but the mate, who was in command,
pricked him off with the lance cleverly. At last we gave him a severe
wound, and immediately he dived.
"That was into his life," remarked Tom Lokins, as we sat waiting for him
to come up again. The captain's boat was close to ours, about ten yards
off. We had not to wait long. The sudden stoppage and slacking off of
all the lines showed that the whale was coming up. All at once I saw a
dark object rising directly under the captain's boat. Before I could
make out what it was, almost before I could think, the boat flew up into
the air, as if a powder magazine had exploded beneath it. The whale had
come up, and hit it with his head right on the keel, so that it was
knocked into pieces, and the men, oars, harpoons, lances, and tackle
shot up in confusion into the air.
Immediately after that the whale went into his flurry, but we paid no
attention to him, in our anxiety to pick up our companions. They all
came to the surface quickly enough, but while some made for the boats
vigorously, others swam slowly and with pain, showing that they were
hurt, while one or two floated, as if dead, upon the water.
Most of the men had escaped with only a few cuts and bruises, but one
poor fellow was hauled out of the water with a leg broken, and another
was so badly knocked about the head that it was a long time before he
was again fit for duty. The worst case, however, was that of poor Fred
Borders. He had a leg broken, and a severe wound in the side from a
harpoon which had been forced into the flesh over the barbs, so that we
could hardly get it drawn out. We laid him in the stern of the boat,
where he lay for some time insensible; but in a short time he revived,
and spoke to us in a faint voice. His first words were--"I'm dying,
messmates."
"Don't say that, Fred," said I, while my heart sank within me. "Cheer
up, my boy, you'll live to be the death of many a whale yet. See, put
your lips to this can--it will do you good."
He shook his head gently, being too weak to reply.
We had killed a big fish that day, and we knew that when he was "tried
in" we should have completed our cargo; but there was no cheer given
when the monster turned over on his side, and the pull to the ship that
evening seemed to us the longest and heaviest we ever had, for our
hearts were very sad.
Next day Fred was worse, and we all saw that his words would come
true,--he was dying.
I was permitted to nurse my poor messmate, and I spent much of my time
in reading the Bible to him, at his own request.
He lived about a week after the accident and then he died. We buried
our shipmate in the usual sailor fashion. We wrapped him in his
hammock, with a cannon-ball at his feet to sink him. The captain read
the burial-service at the gangway, and then, in deep silence, we
committed his corpse to the deep.
CHAPTER NINE.
NEWS FROM HOME--A GAM.
The death of poor Fred Borders cast a gloom over the ship for many days.
Every one had respected, and many of us had loved the lad, so that we
mourned for him long and truly. But a sailor's life is such a rough
one, requiring so much energy and hearty good-will to his work, that he
cannot afford to allow the sorrows of his heart to sit long on his
countenance. In a day or two after no one would have supposed we had
lost one of our best men. Whales appeared in great numbers around us.
The old cry of "There she blows!" ran out frequently from the mast-head,
and the answering cry from the captain, "Where away?" was followed by
the "Stand by to lower!--lower away." Then came the chase, with all its
dangers and excitement--the driving of the harpoon, the sudden rush of
the struck fish, the smoke and sparks of fire from the logger-head, the
plunging of the lance, the spouting blood, the "flurry" at the end, and
the wild cheer as we beheld our prize floating calmly on the sea. And
in the midst of such work we forgot for a time the solemn scene we had
so recently witnessed. But our hearts were not so light as before, and
although we did not show it, I knew full well that many a joke was
checked, and many a laugh repressed, for the memory of our dead
shipmate.
The man who was most affected by his death was the captain; but we were
not prepared for the great change that soon appeared in his manner and
conduct. After a time he laughed with the rest of us at a good joke,
and cheered as loud as the best when a big fish turned belly up, but his
behaviour to us became more gentle and kind, and he entirely gave up the
habit of swearing. He also forbade working on Sunday. Many a whale
have I seen sporting and spouting near us on that day, but never did we
lower a boat or touch a harpoon on Sunday. Some of the men grumbled at
this, and complained of it to each other, but they never spoke so as to
let the captain hear, and they soon gave up their grumbling, for the
most of us were well pleased with the change, and all of us had agreed
to it.
The first Sunday after Fred's death, the captain assembled the crew on
the quarter-deck, and spoke to us about it.
"My lads," said he, "I've called you aft to make a proposal that may
perhaps surprise some of you. Up to this time, you know very well,
there has been little difference aboard this ship between Saturday and
Sunday. Since our poor shipmate died I have been thinkin' much on this
matter, and I've come to the conclusion that we shall rest from all work
on Sunday, except such as must be done to work the ship. Now, lads, you
know me well enough by this time. I have never been a religious man all
my life, and I don't pretend to say that I'm one now. I'm not very
learned on this matter, and can't explain myself very well; but what
think you, lads, shall we give the whales a rest on Sundays?"
We all agreed to this at once, for the effect of the captain's speech
was great upon us. It was not so much what he said, as the way in which
he said it. He was by nature a bold, determined man, who never flinched
from danger or duty, and when we heard him talking in that way we could
scarcely believe our ears.
This was all that was said about the matter between us and the captain,
but we had many a hot discussion in the forecastle amongst ourselves
after that. Some were in favour of the new move, and said, stoutly,
that the captain was a sensible fellow. Others said he was becoming an
old wife, and that no luck would follow the ship. In the course of
time, however, we found the benefit of the change in every way; and the
grumblers were silenced, because in spite of their wise shakings of the
head, we filled the ship with oil as full as she could hold, much sooner
than we had expected.
Shoregoing people have but little notion of the ease with which the
heart of a jack-tar is made to rejoice when he is out on a long voyage.
His pleasures and amusements are so few that he is thankful to make the
most of whatever is thrown in his way. In the whale-fisheries, no
doubt, he has more than enough of excitement, but after a time he gets
used to this, and begins to long for a little variety--and of all the
pleasures that fall to his lot, that which delights him most is to have
a gam with another ship.
Now, a gam is the meeting of two or more whale-ships, their keeping
company for a time, and the exchanging of visits by the crews. It is
neither more nor less than a jollification on the sea,--the inviting of
your friends to feast and make merry in your floating house. There is
this difference, however, between a gam at sea and a party on land, that
your _friends_ on the ocean are men whom you perhaps never saw before,
and whom you will likely never meet again. There is also another
difference--there are no ladies at a gam. This is a great want, for man
is but a rugged creature when away from the refining influence of woman;
but, in the circumstances, of course, it can't be helped.
We had a gam one day, on this voyage, with a Yankee whale-ship, and a
first-rate gam it was, for, as the Yankee had gammed three days before
with another English ship, we got a lot of news second-hand; and, as we
had not seen a new face for many months, we felt towards those Yankees
like brothers, and swallowed all they had to tell us like men starving
for news.
It was on a fine calm morning, just after breakfast, that we fell in
with this ship. We had seen no whales for a day or two, but we did not
mind that, for our hold was almost full of oil-barrels. Tom Lokins and
I were leaning over the starboard bulwarks, watching the small fish that
every now and then darted through the clear-blue water like arrows, and
smoking our pipes in silence. Tom looked uncommonly grave, and I knew
that he was having some deep and knowing thoughts of his own, which
would leak out in time. All at once he took his pipe from his mouth and
stared earnestly at the horizon.
"Bob," said he, speaking very slowly, "if there ain't a ship right off
the starboard beam, I'm a Dutchman."
"You don't mean it!" said I, starting with a feeling of excitement.
Before another word could be uttered, the cry of "Sail ho!" came ringing
down from the mast-head. Instantly the quiet of the morning was broken;
sleepers sprang up and rubbed their eyes, the men below rushed wildly up
the hatchway, the cook came tearing out of his own private den,
flourishing a soup-ladle in one hand and his tormentors in the other,
the steward came tumbling up with a lump of dough in his fist that he
had forgot to throw down in his haste, and the captain bolted up from
the cabin without his hat.
"Where away?" cried he, with more than his usual energy.
"Right off the starboard beam, sir."
"Square the yards! Look alive, my hearties," was the next order; for
although the calm sea was like a sheet of glass, a light air, just
sufficient to fill our top-gallant sails, enabled us to creep through
the water.
"Hurrah!" shouted the men as we sprang to obey.
"What does she look like?" roared the captain.
"A big ship, sir, I think," replied the look-out, "but I can only just
make out the top of her main t-gallan' s'l."--(Sailors scorn to speak of
_top-gallant sails_).
Gradually, one by one, the white sails of the stranger rose up like
cloudlets out of the sea, and our hearts beat high with hope and
expectation as we beheld the towering canvas of a full-rigged ship rise
slowly into view.
"Show our colours," said the captain.
In a moment the Union Jack of Old England was waving at the mast-head in
the gentle breeze, and we watched anxiously for a reply. The stranger
was polite; his colours flew up a moment after, and displayed the
Stripes and Stars of America.
"A Yankee!" exclaimed some of the men in a tone of slight
disappointment.
I may remark, that our disappointment arose simply from the fact that
there was no chance, as we supposed, of getting news from "home" out of
a ship that must have sailed last from America. For the rest, we cared
not whether they were Yankees or Britons--they were men who could speak
the English tongue, that was enough for us.
"Never mind, boys," cried one, "we'll have a jolly gam; that's a fact."
"So we will," said another, "and I'll get news of my mad Irish cousin,
Terrence O'Flannagan, who went out to seek his fortin in Ameriky with
two shillin's and a broken knife in his pocket, and it's been said he's
got into a government situation o' some sort connected with the jails,--
whether as captain, or leftenant o' police, or turnkey, I'm not rightly
sure."
"More likely as a life-tenant of one of the cells," observed Bill Blunt,
laughing.
"Don't speak ill of a better man than yerself behind his back," retorted
the owner of the Irish cousin.
"Stand by to lower the jolly-boat," cried the captain.
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Lower away!"
In a few minutes we were leaping over the calm sea in the direction of
the strange ship, for the breeze had died down, and we were too eager to
meet with new faces, and to hear the sound of new voices, to wait for
the wind.
To our joy we found that the Yankee had had a gam (as I have already
said) with an English ship a few days before, so we returned to our
vessel loaded with old newspapers from England, having invited the
captain and crew of the Yankee to come aboard of us and spend the day.
While preparation was being made for the reception of our friends, we
got hold of two of the old newspapers, and Tom Lokins seized one, while
Bill Blunt got the other, and both men sat down on the windlass to
retail the news to a crowd of eager men who tried hard to listen to both
at once, and so could make nothing out of either.
"Hold hard, Tom Lokins," cried one. "What's that you say about the
Emperor, Bill?"
"The Emperor of Roosia," said Bill Blunt, reading slowly, and with
difficulty, "is--stop a bit, messmates, wot _can_ this word be?--the
Emperor of Roosia is--"
"Blowed up with gunpowder, and shattered to a thousand pieces," said Tom
Lokins, raising his voice with excitement, as he read from _his_ paper
an account of the blowing up of a mountain fortress in India.
"Oh! come, I say, one at a time, if you please," cried a harpooner; "a
feller can't git a word of sense out of sich a jumble."
"Come, messmates," cried two or three voices, as Tom stopped suddenly,
and looked hard at the paper, "go ahead! wot have ye got there that
makes ye look as wise as an owl? Has war been and broke out with the
French?"
"I do believe he's readin' the births, marriages, and deaths," said one
of the men, peeping over Tom's shoulder.
"Read 'em out, then, can't ye?" cried another.
"I say, Bill Blunt, I think this consarns _you_," cried Tom: "isn't your
sweetheart's name Susan Croft?"
"That's a fact," said Bill, looking up from his paper, "and who has got
a word to say agin the prettiest lass in all Liverpool?"
"Nobody's got a word to say against her," replied Tom; "but she's
married, that's all."
Bill Blunt leaped up as if he had been shot, and the blood rushed to his
face, as he seized the paper, and tried to find the place.
"Where is it, Tom? let me see it with my own two eyes. Oh, here it is!"
The poor man's face grew paler and paler as he read the following
words:--
"Married at Liverpool, on the 5th inst, by the Reverend Charles Manson,
Edward Gordon, Esquire, to Susan, youngest daughter of Admiral Croft--"
A perfect roar of laughter drowned the remainder of the sentence.
"Well done, Bill Blunt--Mister Blunt, we'll have to call him hereafter,"
said Tom, with a grim smile; "I had no notion you thought so much o'
yourself as to aim at an admiral's daughter."
"All right, my hearties, chaff away!" said Bill, fetching a deep sigh of
relief, while a broad grin played on his weather-beaten visage.
"There's _two_ Susan Crofts, that's all; but I wouldn't give _my_ Susan
for all the Admirals' daughters that ever walked in shoe-leather."
"Hallo! here come the Yankees," cried the captain, coming on deck at
that moment.
Our newspapers were thrown down at once, and we prepared to receive our
guests, who, we could see, had just put off from their ship in two
boats. But before they had come within a mile of us, their attention,
as well as ours, was riveted on a most extraordinary sight.
Not more than a hundred yards ahead of our ship, a whale came suddenly
to the surface of the water, seeming, by its wild motions, to be in a
state of terror. It continued for some time to struggle, and lash the
whole sea around it into a white foam.
At once the boats were lowered from both ships, and we went after this
fish, but his motions were so violent, that we found it utterly
impossible to get near enough to throw a harpoon. When we had
approached somewhat closely, we discovered that it had been attacked by
a killer fish, which was fully twenty feet long, and stuck to it like a
leech. The monster's struggles were made in trying to shake itself free
of this tremendous enemy, but it could not accomplish this. The killer
held him by the under jaw, and hung on there, while the whale threw
himself out of the water in his agony, with his great mouth open like a
huge cavern, and the blood flowing so fast from the wound that the sea
was dyed for a long distance round. The killer fought like a bulldog.
It held on until the whale was exhausted, but they passed away from us
in such a confused struggle, that a harpoon could not be fixed for an
hour after we first saw them. On this being done, the killer let go,
and the whale, being already half dead, was soon killed.
The Yankee boats were the first to come up with this fish, so the prize
belonged to them. We were well pleased at this, as we could afford to
let them have it, seeing that we could scarcely have found room to stow
away the oil in our hold. It was the Yankees' first fish, too, so they
were in great spirits about it, and towed it to their ship, singing
"Yankee-doodle" with all their might.
As they passed our boat the captain hailed them.
"I wish you joy of your first fish, sir," said he to the Yankee captain.
"Thank you, stranger. I guess we're in luck, though it ain't a big one.
I say, what sort o' brute was that, that had hold of him? Never seed
sich a crittur in all my life."
"He's a killer," said our captain.
"A killer! Guess he just is, and no mistake: if we hadn't helped him,
he'd have done the job for himself! What does he kill him for?"
"To eat him, but I'm told he only eats the tongue. You'll not forget
that you've promised to gam with us to-night," cried our captain, as
they were about to commence pulling again.
"All right, stranger, one half will come to-night, before sundown;
t'other half to-morrow, if the calm holds. Good-day. Give way, lads."
The men dipped their oars, and resumed their song, while we pulled back
to our ship. We did not offer to help them, because the fish was a
small one, and the distance they had to go not great.
It was near sunset when, according to promise, the Yankees came on
board, and spent a long evening with us. They were a free,
open-hearted, boastful, conceited, good-humoured set of fellows, and a
jolly night we had of it in the forecastle, while the mates and captains
were enjoying themselves and spinning their yarns in the cabin.
Of course, we began with demands for home news, and, when we had pumped
out of them every drop they had, we began to sing songs and to spin
yarns. And it was now that my friend Tom Lokins came out strong, and
went on at such a rate, that he quite won the hearts of our guests. Tom
was not noisy, and he was slow in his talk, but he had the knack of
telling a good story; he never used a wrong word, or a word too many,
and, having a great deal of humour, men could not help listening when he
began to talk.
After this we had a dance, and here I became useful, being able to play
Scotch reels and Irish jigs on the fiddle. Then we had songs and yarns
again. Some could tell of furious fights with whales that made our
blood boil; others could talk of the green fields at home, until we
almost fancied we were boys again; and some could not tell stories at
all. They had little to say, and that little they said ill; and I
noticed that many of those who were perfect bores would cry loudest to
be heard, though none of us wanted to hear them. We used to quench such
fellows by calling loudly for a song with a rousing chorus.
It was not till the night was far spent, and the silver moon was sailing
through the starry sky, that the Yankees left us, and rowed away with a
parting cheer.
CHAPTER TEN.
RETURN HOME.
Six months after our "gam" with the Yankees Tom Lokins and I found
ourselves seated once more in the little garret beside my dear old
mother.
"Deary me, Robert, how changed ye are!"
"Changed, mother! I should think so! If you'd gone through all that
I've done and seen since we last sat together in this room you'd be
changed too."
"And have ye really seen the whales, my boy?" continued my mother,
stroking my face with her old hand.
"Seen them? ay, and killed them too--many of them."
"You've been in danger, my son," said my mother earnestly, "but God has
preserved you safe through it all."
"Ay, mother, He has preserved my life in the midst of many dangers,"
said I, "for which I am most thankful."
There was a short silence after this, during which my mother and I gazed
earnestly at each other, and Tom Lokins smoked his pipe and stared at
the fire.
"Robert, how big is a whale?" inquired my mother suddenly.
"How big? why, it's as big as a small ship, only it's longer, and not
quite so fat."
"Robert," replied my mother gravely, "ye didn't used to tell untruths;
ye must be jokin'."
"Joking, mother, I was never more in earnest in my life. Why, I tell
you that I've seen, ay, and helped to cut up, whales that were more than
sixty feet long, with heads so big that their mouths could have taken in
a boat. Why, mother, I declare to you that you could put this room into
a whale's mouth, and you and Tom and I could sit round this table and
take our tea upon his tongue quite comfortable. Isn't that true, Tom?"
My mother looked at Tom, who removed his pipe, puffed a cloud of smoke,
and nodded his head twice very decidedly.
"Moreover," said I, "a whale is so big and strong, that it can knock a
boat right up into the air, and break in the sides of a ship. One day a
whale fell right on top of one of our boats, and smashed it all to bits.
Now that's a real truth!"
Again my mother looked at Tom Lokins, and again that worthy man puffed
an immense cloud of smoke, and nodded his head more decidedly than
before. Being anxious to put to flight all her doubts at once, he said
solemnly, "Old ooman, that's a fact!"