"What's your name?" asked the captain, while Andrew was feeling his
pulse.
"Ewen Muckilligan," was the answer.
As I heard the name, I looked more particularly than before at the young
stowaway's features, and recognised an old schoolfellow and chum of
mine. Both his parents being dead, he had been left under charge of
some relatives who cared very little for him.
"He only requires some food to bring him round, but the sooner he has it
the better," observed Andrew.
With the captain's permission, I got him placed in my berth, where,
after swallowing a basin of broth, he fell asleep. By frequent
repetition of the same remedy, he was able, after a couple of days, to
stand on his feet, when the captain administered a severe lecture,
telling him that he must send him back by the first vessel we might fall
in with. Ewen, however, begged so hard to remain, that the captain
promised to consider the matter.
"I may as well make a virtue of necessity, for we are not at all likely
to fall in with any homeward-bound craft," he afterwards observed to
Andrew.
Hearing this, I told Ewen that he might make his mind easy, that if he
had determined to be a sailor he had now an opportunity of learning his
profession, though he would gain his experience in a very rough school.
As Ewen was in every sense a gentleman, he was allowed to mess with us;
for which permission I was very grateful to Captain Hudson, as most
captains would have sent him forward to take his chance with the men.
He soon proved that he intended to adhere to his resolution. On all
occasions he showed his willingness to do whatever he was set to, while
he was as active and daring as any one on board.
We were forward one evening, talking to the men, after they had knocked
off work, the second mate having charge of the deck, the captain, first
mate, and Andrew being below, when it was suggested that we two should
try who could first reach the main truck. One was to start from the
fore-top, the other from the mizen cross-trees. We were to come down on
deck and then ascend the main-mast. We cast lots. It was decided that
Ewen should start from the fore-top, I from the latter position. The
second mate liked the fun, and did not interfere. We took up our
positions, waiting for the signal--the wave of a boat-flag from the
deck. The moment I saw it, without waiting to ascertain what Ewen was
about, I began to run down the mizen shrouds; he in the meantime
descended by the back stay and was already half up the main rigging on
the port side before I had my feet on the ratlines on the starboard
side. When once there I made good play, but he kept ahead of me and had
already reached the royal-mast, swarming up it, before I had got on the
cross-trees. As he gained the truck he shouted "Won! won!"
I slid down, acknowledging myself defeated, and feeling not a little
exhausted by my exertions. Judging by my own sensations, I feared that
he might let go and be killed. I dared not, as I made my way down, look
up to see what he was doing. Scarcely had I put my foot on deck than he
stood by my side, having descended by the back stay.
The crew applauded both of us, and Ewen was greatly raised in their
estimation when they found that he had never been before higher than the
maintop.
Sandy Steggall, the boatswain, however, who soon afterwards came on
deck, scolded both of us for our folly, and rated the men well for
encouraging us.
"What would ye have said if these twa laddies had broken their necks, or
fallen overboard and been drowned?" he exclaimed.
We had, I should have said, four dogs on board, all powerful animals;
two were Newfoundland dogs, one was a genuine Mount Saint Bernard, and a
fourth was a mongrel, a shaggy monster, brought by our captain from
Norway. They were known respectively as Bruno, Rob, Alp and Nap.
We had crossed the Arctic circle, sighted the coast of Norway; and, with
the crow's nest at the mast head, and the boats all ready, we were
approaching the latitude where we might expect at any hour to fall in
with ice. We had already seen several rorquals or finners; but those
mighty monsters of the deep, the largest species of the whale, it was
considered unadvisable to attack, as they afford comparatively little
oil and are apt to turn upon the boats and destroy them.
"There she spouts! There she spouts!" shouted the captain from the
crow's nest, which he or one of the mates had occupied continually.
In a few minutes the boats were in the water, and the watch below came
tumbling on deck, carrying their clothes with them. As I could pull a
good oar, I got a seat in one of the boats. We were in chase of the
true whale, which can easily be distinguished from the rorqual by the
mode of its spouting. Marking the spot where it sounded, we had hopes
of getting up to it the next time it should rise to the surface.
We lay on our oars waiting anxiously for its appearance. Presently up
it came half a mile off. We gave way with a will. As we approached the
monster, our harpooner, Sandy, throwing in his oar, got his gun ready.
He fired, and in a moment we were fast. The sea around us was broken
into foam, and we were covered with spray as the creature dived,
dragging out the line which flew over the bollard at a rate which would
soon have set it on fire had not water been thrown upon it. Immediately
a staff, with the Jack at the end, was raised in our boat as a signal
that we were fast, and the other two boats came pulling up to our
assistance. Two lines were drawn out, and the boat was dragged along at
a rapid rate, sending the water flying over her bows. At length the
pace slackened and we were able to haul in our line until the whole of
one and part of the other was again coiled away in the tubs. By this
time the other boats had reached us. First one on one side, then on the
other, got close enough to fire two more harpoons into the body of the
monster, besides which several lances were darted into it. Again the
whale dived, leaving the surface covered with blood and oil, but it was
only for a short time. Now again rising, she lay almost motionless,
while we pulled up and plied her with our deadly lances, trying to find
out the most vital parts. Then there came a cry of "Back! back! all of
you!"
We had barely time to escape from beneath her flukes, with which she
furiously lashed the water, until, her strength exhausted, she floated a
lifeless mass.
A jack was stuck into her body and we made chase after a second whale
which had just before appeared, and after a pretty severe fight we
succeeded in killing it. We had now to tow our two prizes alongside the
ship, already a considerable distance off, the wind being too light to
enable her to beat up to us. As only one of the whales could be brought
alongside at a time, the last we killed was taken in tow by the other
boats, while we remained with the first which we had struck.
"Come, lads," said Sandy, "we will take our fish in tow, and get as near
the ship as we can. The weather looks a bit threatening, and the sooner
we are alongside the better."
We did as he advised, though we made but little progress. We had not
gone far when another whale was seen spouting in an opposite direction
to the ship. The temptation to try to kill it was too great to be
resisted, and, regardless of the threatening look of the weather,
casting off from our prize we made chase. The whale sounded just before
we got up to her, but we knew she would rise to the surface again before
long, and we lay on our oars waiting for her appearance.
"There she spouts, there she spouts!" cried Sandy, and we saw, not a
quarter of a mile off, our chase.
Again we gave way. As we got close to the monster Sandy stood up with
his gun ready. He fired, following up his shot with his hand harpoon.
The lines ran out at a rapid rate until the ends were reached and we had
no others to bend on.
Instead of sounding, the whale swam along the surface, dragging the boat
after her right in the wind's eye, while the foam in thick masses flew
over us. The sea was getting up, and soon not only spray but the tops
of the waves came washing over the gunwale. Still our only chance of
winning the prize was to hold on, and we hoped, from the exertions the
whale was making, that its strength would soon be exhausted. I looked
astern. The ship was nowhere to be seen, nor could I distinguish the
flag of the other whale. Our position was critical, and we had to
depend entirely upon ourselves. At length the whale began to slacken
its speed, and we began to haul in the lines. Sandy got another gun
ready, and had half-a-dozen lances at hand to dart into the back of the
monster when we should get up to it. We were within half-a-dozen
fathoms when, suddenly raising its huge flukes, down it went again,
dragging out the lines.
Suddenly the man whose business it was to attend to the coil of the hand
harpoon gave a loud cry. Before anyone could stop him he was overboard,
disappearing in an instant under the water. It was no use cutting the
line, and, unless by a miracle the whale should return to the surface,
his fate was sealed. Out ran the lines, but a few fathoms remained in
the tubs.
"Get the axe ready, Tom," said Sandy to the man who had taken the other
poor fellow's place. In vain he attempted to take a turn round the
bollard, to check the monster's descent; each time that he did so the
bows dipped, and it seemed as if the boat must inevitably be drawn down,
but as he let the line out her bows rose. Still the hope of obtaining
the whale made him hold on. We might also recover the body of our
shipmate; that he should be alive we knew was impossible. The line ran
out, it was near the bitter end. I sprang to the after-part of the boat
to assist in counter-balancing the pressure forward. But this did not
avail, already the water was rushing over the bows. Two sharp blows
were given. The whale was loose. We might yet, however, recover the
lines, as the wounds the monster had received must ultimately prove
mortal.
Again we took to our oars to keep the boat's head to the sea, while we
watched for the reappearance of the whale which we knew must soon rise
to the surface. We had been too eagerly engaged to pay attention to the
appearance of the weather. It had now, we found, become very much worse
than before. Even should we kill the whale we could not hope to tow it
to the ship. With bitter disappointment we had to acknowledge that our
shipmate's life had been uselessly lost and our own labour thrown away,
while we could only hope against hope that the weather would again
moderate and that we should fall in with the whale we had before killed.
We had now to consider our own safety, and to try to get back to the
ship. We knew that she would have beat up to the boats which had the
whale in tow. We had the wind in our favour, but to run before the fast
rising seas would soon be perilous in the extreme. It must be done,
however, for we had come away without food or water, and hunger and
thirst made us doubly anxious to get on board.
Already the sun had set. We had been a far longer time away than we had
supposed. Night came down upon us. The boat's compass feebly lighted
by the lantern would, however, enable us to steer a proper course. We
bent to our oars, but, unaccustomed to pull in so heavy a sea, I had
great difficulty in keeping mine moving. Every instant it seemed as if
we must be overwhelmed by the foaming billows which rolled up astern.
Sandy had taken his place at the steering oar, and with cheering words
urged us to continue our exertions; but all hands by this time were
pretty well knocked up with what we had previously gone through.
We tugged and tugged away; now a sea roared up on one side, now on the
other; now we plunged down into a deep gulf from which it seemed as if
we should never rise. I had supposed it impossible that a boat could
live in such tumultuous waters. Not a star could be discovered over
head, while around we could only dimly discern dark liquid masses capped
with hissing foam. How earnestly I longed for daylight and quiet, and
to be once more on the deck of our ship! I knew too how anxious my
brother would be. Though tumbled and tossed, the boat still continued
to float. Hour after hour passed by, they seemed to be days or weeks.
We had been pulling I fancied all night, and expected daylight every
moment to appear, when Sandy exclaimed--
"Hurrah boys, there's the ship's light. We shall get safe on board
now."
Although we could see the ship's light, we could not be seen from her
deck, and she might be standing away from us. Sandy anxiously watched
the light, then altered our course more to the eastward, whereby the sea
being brought on our beam rendered our condition even more dangerous
than before. Sandy assured us, however, that we were getting nearer;
and at last, believing that we might be heard, we all shouted together
at the top of our voices, forgetting that the rattling of the blocks and
dash of the sea against the sides of the ship would have rendered our
cries inaudible. I had for long been pulling on mechanically, scarcely
knowing what I was about, when I heard Sandy again shout out, "Heave
lad, heave," and looking round I saw the bowman standing up with a rope
in his hand. It had been hove to him, but the end must have been slack.
We had now to regain the ship which was flying from us, but could that
be done, I asked myself.
Again Sandy cheered us up by exclaiming, "She'll heave to, lads; never
doubt it, she'll heave to."
Of that I feared there was but little chance, for her dark hull quickly
again disappeared, and I could no longer see even the least glimmer of
light. Sandy, however, declared that he could, and on we pulled as
before. I should have said that we passed another long hour before we
once more saw the hull of the ship, and her tall masts swaying to and
fro against the sky. It was no easy matter to get alongside, half full
of water as was our boat. Thanks to the skill of Sandy, we at length
succeeded in hooking on, and the boat was hoisted on board, by which
time I was more dead than alive.
My brother and Ewen carried me below, and I was speedily restored by a
basin of hot broth. Ewen had begun to tell me what had happened to the
other boats and the whale, when, eager as I was to know, I dropped off
fast asleep.
In the morning, when I awoke, I found a furious gale raging, and the
ship hove to. It was a mercy we had got on board when we did, for if
not we should in all probability have been lost. Andrew told me that
the whale had been towed up alongside, but that, before half the blubber
had been cut off, they had been compelled to cast it adrift. The
captain intended to wait where we were in the hopes of again getting
hold of it, and of picking up the other whale we had killed, and perhaps
also the one we had wounded.
I had now to learn what a down-right gale at sea really is. I had
thought it would be good fun, but I found it very much the contrary.
The stout ship was tossed about like a shuttle-cock; the masts, yards,
bulkheads, and every timber in her, creaked and groaned; the leaden seas
capped with foam, now rose high above the bulwarks, now sank down
forming a yawning gulf, while the stout ship was tossed from one wave to
the other like a shuttle-cock. As my duty did not require me to be on
deck, I lay down, fearfully tired, intending to go to sleep; but, before
I dropped off, the captain came into his cabin to look at his chart. I
asked him to tell me our position. We had been drifting some hours to
the northward, and Bear Island, which lies between Spitzbergen and
Norway, was not far off.
While he was sitting at the table with his compasses in his hand, I felt
a sudden shock, and, though for an instant the ship appeared to be
motionless, she trembled throughout every timber. Then came a sound
like the roar of thunder, followed by a fearful crashing and rending of
planks, while a sudden heave sent me and everything loose in the cabin
to leeward.
The captain rushed on deck, and I sprang up after him. My first
impression was that the ship was going down, and that the waves were
already rolling over her.
A tremendous sea had struck her on the beam and came pouring down on our
deck like a cataract sweeping all before it. Wreck and destruction met
my view. The quarter-deck was cleared of rails and bulwarks,
stanchions, binnacle, and the greater portion of the wheel, while one of
the quarter boats, having been torn away from the davits, the wreck hung
in two fragments battering against the side.
A piercing shriek reached my ear. It rose from a poor fellow whom I
could see floating away to leeward on the binnacle, well knowing that no
human power could assist him. Another also who had been on deck was
missing, struck probably by fragments of bulwarks, and carried away.
The captain took in at a glance the state of things, and then issuing
his orders in a firm tone, raised confidence in the men. A long tiller
was shipped to replace the shattered wheel. The wreck was cleared.
Spars were lashed to the stanchions to serve as bulwarks, and in a
wonderfully short time comparative order was restored.