The next day after leaving Flores we passed within sight of Fayal.
This island presented a gorgeous appearance; the many vineyards on
the sloping side of the mountains, looking to us like so many squares
in a quilt of the most luxurious green, forming a patchwork of Dame
Nature’s handiwork, in inimitable colors. An hour after, we saw the
Peak of Pico, rearing its cone-shaped pinnacle high in the clouds. At
its extreme summit, I noticed an appearance resembling a chimney, into
which, I was informed, steps were hewn for the convenience of those
whom curiosity led to ascend or descend the acclivity.
About this time, I recollect, we had our first experience of bending
on to a sleeper. It is customary in good weather (particularly whilst
running down the trades, when, from the regularity of the winds, there
is scarce any working ship to be done) for the members of the watch,
with the exception of the man at the wheel and another on the look-out,
to come on deck, provided with two or three coats, for the purpose of
indulging in a caulk or sleep on deck. As soon as the watch is all
out, and the officer has had a look to assure himself of the fact,
a soft plank in the deck is selected on which one spreads himself,
covering up snug with the coats; an example religiously followed by
the others. Soon they are as soundly asleep as if in a comfortable
bed at home, unmindful of the noise made by the creaking of the yards
and rigging, or the hissing of the sea. This practice is winked at
by the officer of the deck, so long as all are at hand on a call;
but on the night to which I now have reference, all the comfortable
places under the lee of the weather rail being occupied, the unlucky
wight whose dilatoriness in turning out when the watch was called,
had excluded him from forming one of the caulkers, attracted by the
inviting appearance of the forecastle, and thinking himself unnoticed,
slipped down, deposited himself on the chests, and was soon fast
asleep. The man on the look-out having seen him descend the ladder,
waited in vain for his exit, and after allowing him sufficient time
to get into a deep slumber, went down, assured himself of the fact,
and then woke up two or three of the sleepers who were noted for their
indulgence in practical jokes, and who at any time would forego a good
nap to enjoy a hearty laugh. Having informed them of his intentions,
the mischievous trio lashed a tail-block to a barricade of spars over
the forecastle, rove a spare piece of rope through it, and attached
one end to the sleeper’s leg. When all was in readiness they awoke the
remainder of the watch, and having manned the fall strong, with a long
pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether, the poor fellow was jerked
half way up the companion-way before he was fully awake. Discovering
his position, he grasped the ladder to retard his ascent, and, like the
Knight of Snowdon, bade them--
“Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I.”
For a minute the jokers were non-plussed; their victim having the laugh
on his side; but this was soon remedied by the fastenings of the ladder
giving away, and the pendant caulker was whipped up on deck amid the
jeers of his companions. This remedy is generally effectual; but I have
seen a case of persistency in this, to a seaman, odious habit, which
after everything else had failed, was eradicated by tying the caulker’s
leg fast to a large pig, which, upon being roused up by the tormentors,
travelled fore and aft the deck with Kedge Anchor in tow. Previous to
this he had been repeatedly soused with water, bent on to, made fast
to the bell, getting a reprimand for the _peal_ he unwittingly rang,
and lashed to the studding-sails on the forecastle, where, at times,
he would remain the greater part of the night; but all to no purpose,
until a humorous genius one night, when nothing else was on the carpet,
proposed uniting Kedge to the porker, and, as I before stated, the
remedy was effectual.
Our cook, a German, who had been to sea before, having an eye to
creature comforts, purchased, whilst at Flores, a number of jackass
cheeses. These he had carefully saved, intending to make them last as
long as he possibly could, and for this purpose he locked them up in
his chest; but, unfortunately, during the night some person or persons
went clandestinely to his chest and feloniously appropriated the
cheeses therein to his or their benefit. The cook, on the whole, was a
good-natured fellow, but losing his cheeses soured his disposition, and
he swore vengeance. His Dutch oaths soon attracted attention, and old
Jack, as the oldest man in the forecastle, was appointed inquisitor,
to find out the perpetrator or perpetrators of the heinous crime;
sailors viewing theft from a shipmate, even of the slightest article,
as an offence second in enormity only to murder; and woe betide the
poor wretch who is detected in the act, as he can never recover an
intimate footing with his shipmates.
I said that old Jack was appointed inquisitor. He went about his task
very methodically. Taking a number of matches, he handed one to each
of the denizens of the forecastle, stating that he would call on them
to return them in half an hour, and that the one who should then have
possession of the longest one would be considered the culprit. On
calling the matches in, one was found to have been broken off by its
recipient, and information was immediately given to the captain by old
Jack, who had satisfied himself regarding the guilty party. The boy was
questioned, but denied the point so strenuously that we did not know
whether to think him guilty or not. The captain let it pass without
further remark, and some twelve months afterwards we discovered the
offender; then the boy who had previously been suspected, acknowledged
that he had broken off his match so that there should be no question
about his having the longest one; and in his endeavors to ward off
suspicion, took the readiest means of arousing it--old Jack saying that
his conscious guilt caused him to break his match.
When our North latitude had been almost run out we were struck by
a very heavy squall. By working smart we managed to get all snug
without being damaged. On the succeeding morning we saw three
merchant vessels, one of whom had lost her maintopmast; a second, her
foretopgallant mast; and the third a whole suite of sails. A fourth
vessel, that we saw to windward in distress, with several vessels
around her, appeared from her heavy rolling to be water-logged. During
the night she fired rockets and blue-lights. All these vessels,
as we ascertained, had met these casualties in the squall that we
experienced. It is customary with merchant vessels to hang on to
their canvass until the very last minute, and, as in nine cases out
of ten these ships go short-handed, the consequence is, that when
a heavy squall breaks upon them, something must go before they get
their sails stowed. If asked their reason for crowding sail in such a
manner, they will answer you with a shrug of the shoulders, that “Time
is money;” but it is not so with a whaleship, except when homeward
bound--then everything that a ship will drag or carry is packed on to
her to make her keep pace with the impatient spirits aboard. When on
the whaling-ground, however, the ship is allowed to glide along under
easy sail, royal yards, studding-sail booms, and, if in boisterous
latitudes, the foretopgallant mast is sent down, and the flying
jib-boom is sent in, so that if bad weather comes on suddenly, the
little canvass spread makes her easy to handle. Another advantage the
whaler possesses, she has thirty-four or five men to handle a vessel
of three or four hundred tons, whereas a merchant ship of the same
size would not have more than a dozen; hence the great proportionate
disparity between the accidents to whalemen and merchantmen. The whaler
is better manned, and is not drove under by a press of sail, whilst
the latter is groaning under her burden from the time she leaves dock
until the time she returns to it; providing there is breeze enough to
keep her going.
From this time until we reached the Cape of Good Hope, little of
interest transpired. Occasionally we were called to look over the rail
and see the fin-back whale sending his spout in a spiral column towards
the clouds; or the blackfish, grampus, or porpoise, gambolling amongst
the great waves. At times the scene was diversified by the appearance
of the shark, dolphin, benita, and flying-fish, each preying on the
other. The last three mentioned are easily caught, and are eagerly
angled for by seamen. The manner of catching the dolphin and skip-jack
is to bait the hook with a piece of white rag, and allow it to sway
with the vessel’s motion. The fish thinks it a flying-fish taking its
flight, rushes towards it and gulps it down. I had often heard stories
of the dolphin’s extraordinary change of color when dying, but must
confess myself so unromantic as to say, I think there is so little
change in his colors that none but the most acute observer could detect
it. His beauty is confined to the period when sporting in his native
element; then his motions are full of grace and vigor; but caught and
landed on deck, he is a flat fish with a round head, and great, goggle,
staring eyes. His flesh, however, is indifferent eating, as is that of
the benita. The latter, when caught, goes into spasms, shaking like a
man with an ague fit, sometimes disjointing the vertebra in its throes.
They are at times so violent, that if the fish is large a man cannot
hold one.
The flying-fish, the last that I mentioned, has been so often
described, that I shall not attempt it. It is preyed upon both by
larger fish and by the birds. I have seen the tropic birds and dolphin
acting so nearly in concert, as almost to convince one that they
understood each other’s mode of operation. The dolphin would chase the
little creatures until they would take to their wings, when the tropic
bird, or garnet (which is a beautiful white bird, about the size of
our common pigeon, with red legs and bill, and a tail resembling a
marling-spike, by which name they usually go amongst sailors), would
pounce upon them; and, tired with their serial flight, they would again
resort to the water, only to become a prey to their finny enemy.
With the usual variations of weather we wended our course through the
South Atlantic--at one time becalmed, at another struggling with a
heavy gale, until we arrived in the vicinity of the Islands of Tristan
D’Acunha, when one morning we were startled by our mastheadsman
shouting, “There blows! and a forked spout, _sir_.” This informed us of
the presence of right whales; their spout, unlike that of other whales,
being forked. Our boats were lowered; but we had no sooner got in their
neighborhood than they peaked their flukes and went to windward, eyes
out--which means as fast as the wind. It was useless to follow them,
and we returned aboard with fishermen’s luck--a wet skin, and hungry
stomach.
When down in the boats at this time I had a _near_ view of a whale. We
were not more than a boat’s length from a large one, when he sounded,
and, as he threw his tail in the air, I had an excellent sight of
his small and flukes. What I felt I cannot describe; but the shining
skin covering all, and the manifestation of power and bulk, in every
movement, made me think of some vast piece of iron machinery; and I
cannot imagine a more effective battering ram than a whale’s flukes
employed by himself.
In these latitudes we saw numbers of varied specimens of the
ornithological family. The albatross, monimoke, old horse, noddy, cape
pigeon, garnet, mutton bird, and Mother Carey’s chicken or petrel,
all existing here in great numbers. The albatross I have seen measure
fifteen feet from the extremity of one wing to the tip of the other.
It is a beautiful bird, and comes around a ship in great numbers when
a whale is alongside. They are ever on the alert for something to eat,
appear at all times hungry, and their voraciousness makes them an
easy prey. They are often caught. Their quills are not fit for pens,
but are used by sailors to splice their pipes; their feathers are
used in making beds and pillows; their feet are skinned and made into
tobacco-pouches; whilst the head and bill are cleaned and taken home
as a curiosity. As a general thing they are not eaten; but our cook
at one time agreed to cook them, if we would catch and dress them.
They were soon ready for him; and after being cooked they were very
palatable, although they had an oily flavor, somewhat resembling that
of the canvas-back duck. The mess having succeeded so well, it became a
favorite, but was indulged in so often that it soon fell into distaste,
and the practice was not again revived; the more so, as the captain
had a peculiar regard for the birds, and professed to place implicit
confidence in the assertion, that if they were misused by a ship’s
crew, those who maltreated them would assuredly meet with some evil
fortune.
The Cape pigeon is a beautiful bird, about the same size as our
domestic bird of the same name. They are uniform in color, alternate
stripes of black and white coursing their plumage.
The monimoke, and old horse, resemble in appearance the albatross, but
are not more than half its size. At times, from the similarity of their
appearance, I have been led to suppose them their young; and as regards
the monimoke, I am still at a loss to determine as to whether the goney
has a claim to its paternity or not: but the old horse or stinker, by
both of which names it is indiscriminately known, is a totally distinct
species; and when handled, it emits a most offensive odor, which clings
with tenacity to its feathers long after being separated from the bird.
The diver is about the size of the pigeon, and is only remarkable for
the great depth to which it descends in search of food. The spectator
may be watching the bird gracefully sailing on the surface of the
water, when suddenly it disappears from view, and if the water be
clear, he may be seen, with his pinions spread, pursuing his course
through it with as much facility as if he were in the air, for fathoms
below the surface. After a short time he gradually ascends, until,
emerging from the water, he takes wing and skims through the air,
unwearied by his immersion.
The petrel, or Mother Carey’s chicken, is a pretty bird, smaller than
the swallow, and quick as lightning in its movements; although so
small, it is found in company with the larger birds unmolested.
At sea not only do we see marine birds, but often, when near any point
or headland, we are visited by land birds, who, blown off from the
land, pursue their bewildered flight until exhausted, or, meeting a
vessel, they alight upon it to refresh their wearied forms. At first
they fly around and around the ship, as if fearful of molestation,
when, overcome by fatigue, they forget their natural dread of mankind,
and alight in the boats, or on deck, unable to move farther. Their
wants are supplied by the sailors, and fresh water, of which they
appear most in need, given them. After a stoppage of twelve or
twenty-four hours they renew their flight, always in the direction of
land.
After doubling the Cape of Good Hope, which we effected without
experiencing extraordinarily heavy weather, we spent several weeks in
beating up towards Port Dauphin, in the Island of Madagascar, off which
is a noted locality for the sperm whale fishery. Finding that we made
but little headway, we kept away for the off-shore, St. Paul’s ground,
and after a fine run found ourselves among the right whales. Here we
saw several vessels--the Pioneer and Catharine, of New Bedford, and
the Monmouth, of Cold Springs. These vessels had been absent from the
United States twelve months each, and had aboard from one hundred to
five hundred barrels of oil. The Monmouth reported having lost a boat
and a boat’s crew, a few weeks previous, at the Island of St. Paul’s.
The boat was headed by her second mate, who had remained fast to a
whale until drawn into the breakers, which left not a vestige of the
boat or crew in their pitiless destruction.
On this ground, after numerous lowerings away and coming aboard--after
seeing whales almost daily, although we found it impossible to get
within gun-shot of them, they appearing shy and not at home--one Sunday
afternoon the mate and fourth mate lowered away, the other boats being
retained aboard the ship. No sooner were we down than, encouraged by
the regular movements of the fish, we were convinced we should make
a capture, and therefore the chase was conducted with an eagerness
not displayed in our former lowerings away. No sooner had we touched
the water in the larboard boat, than the mate, after glancing at the
spout, gave us orders to shove the boat clear of the ship; then “Out
with your oars, my hearties;” and to make us the more eager, he offered
us a dollar apiece should we make a capture. As we neared the whale,
sinking his voice to a whisper, he urged us to greater exertions, by
continually speaking of the whale. “There she lays, my boys; an old
soaker, with a back as broad as the deck of our ship. Pull, lads, pull
with a will! Give way! every man, fore and aft. Do pull! The boat
scarcely moves. Now one more try. She is only two seas off. What do
you say now. Put the boat right on top of her. Pull hard, do pull!”
Now we draw nearer and nearer, and his enthusiasm is at a boiling heat
for fear that we will yet lose the whale; and determined to give vent
to his excitement, he offers all his clothes, all his tobacco, and all
his money, if we will only get the boat alongside the fish, which by
this time is done. Just as the mate heaves his hat over in despair,
the boat glides against the monster’s unwieldy carcass at a portion of
his body which secures us from the sweep of his immense flukes, and
the boatsteerer springs to his feet, and, with nervous arm, drives his
harpoon to the socket in the yielding blubber. The mate now loses his
excited manner, and, throwing the boat from the whale to escape the
mighty effort he makes for our destruction, again becomes the cool and
steady whaleman; but our work is not yet done. No sooner is the fish
struck, than off he goes, like a charger with the bit in his teeth,
perfectly unmanageable, and for an hour we dash through the water at
locomotive speed, until the whale exhausts himself with the violence of
the effort. Now comes the order to haul line, and the boat is gradually
drawn into the whale’s neighborhood, when a bomb lance is discharged,
and, fortunately, is lodged on the line of the vertebra, disabling his
whaleship from farther flight. They were cognizant of our operations
aboard the ship, where the mastheadsman sung out, “There he gives it
to him,” the moment we fastened; and immediately after, “The larboard
boat’s fast.” The two boats on the cranes were lowered away, manned,
and pulled for the scene of action. They arrived in about fifteen
minutes after the whale was struck. The waist boat was the second
fast. The fish was bleeding at every pore, hand-lances having been
darted into him. He attempted to descend, but his debility from loss
of blood prevented him going but a few feet below the surface; he lay
and rolled, opening wide his huge jaws, displaying his flabby tongue,
lashing the water with his gigantic flukes, and bellowing like a whole
bevy of mad bulls, from the intense pain he suffered in dying. The
other boats, on coming up, fastened, and soon the bloody discharge from
his spout holes became thicker, until it had obtained the consistency
of tar, when the suffering brute, moderating its bellowing to gasps and
sobs, slowly described a circle, throwing its head toward the sun, and
after a brief but terrific struggle, rolled fin out, without life or
motion. We then cut a hole through the flukes and towed him in triumph
to the ship.
I will now, before going farther, describe the demeanor of a boat’s
crew when fast to a whale. In the first place the officer goes close
enough to the whale to give the boatsteerer a good opportunity to
strike him. As soon as the irons leave his hand the head of the boat
is thrown from the whale, to avoid the sweep of his tremendous tail,
which he invariably exercises the moment he is struck. The officer
and boatsteerer now exchange positions, the boatsteerer assuming the
management of the boat, whilst the officer takes his position in the
bows, and, by the assistance of the bow oarsman, clears away a lance,
preparatory to striking the fatal blow. The whale, on being struck,
either sounds, or rushes with great rapidity over the surface of the
water. In either case the line runs out with marvellous rapidity, and
water is continually poured upon it to prevent the wood from igniting
by friction. Shortly afterwards, if the whale has moderated his speed,
the line is manned by all the crew of the boat, with the exception of
the boatsteerer and after-oarsman, who are busily occupied coiling it
away in the stern sheets of the boat, so as to prevent its entangling,
if again run out by the whale, and the boat is hauled close to him,
so as to give the officer an opportunity to lance and despatch him.
If he shows a good chance, this is the work of but a few minutes,
and the monster is turned up with little or no trouble; but it often
happens that hours intervene, before you have an opportunity to kill
the whale, and oftentimes are obliged to cut, from the near approach of
nightfall. But to return to our whale. We got him alongside, and made
him fast by a strong chain, encircling his flukes, passed through the
hawse-hole, and secured to the bitts on the forecastle; then a hole
was cut close to the whale’s eye, the tackles attached, the cutting
fall taken to the windlass, and with a merry song we bowsed his jacket
in, stripping the blubber from the carcass, and allowing the latter,
with the flukes, to go adrift. Next the head was hove in and lashed
on the quarter-deck, then several men with axes split the bone from
the jaw, to which it was attached by an adhesive substance known as
the gum; it was then scraped, in preparation for the home market,
and, after scraping, stowed away in the hold, where no moisture could
reach it. The appearance of this bone in the jaw, before separation,
is beautiful; its regular arrangement, and long, fringe-like edging,
giving it the appearance of an artificial grotto. After disposing of
the head and heaving in all the blubber, this, as fast as stripped, is
deposited between decks in the main hold--which apartment is designated
as the “blubber-room.” The try works being started, two men go into the
blubber-room, and, with sharp spades and knives, cut off the lean from
the blubber, and divide the fat into pieces about six inches wide by
eighteen in length, suitable for the mincing-machine. They then, with
pikes, pitch it into a tub placed on deck for its reception, whence it
is carried to the machine, where it is minced into pieces half an inch
in thickness, and consigned to the pot. After all the oil is separated
from it, the scraps are taken from the pot and the oil poured into
a copper cooler, whence it runs into a cool try pot, and thence is
bailed into casks, which are rolled on to the quarter-deck, where it
is allowed to cool preparatory to stowing below in the hold. Meantime
the pots are again filled up, and the scraps from the preceding pot
are used in heating the works--these scraps forming an excellent and
remarkably economical fuel; for if the whale did not furnish material
for rendering its own oil, the fuel which would have to be substituted
would be a costly item. From the embers, united with fresh water,
an excellent lye is made, which is useful in extracting grease from
clothes, washing the paint work and so forth. The oil is usually
allowed to stand for twenty-four hours before stowing below, and when
ready a trap is removed, which is cut through the deck, a tub lashed
under it between decks, and a hose with a cock attached; a cask is now
rolled on to this trap, the bung extracted, a vent pipe introduced, and
soon the whole produce of the fish is in the hold, never to be removed,
except in case of leakage, during the remainder of the voyage. This
whale made us ninety barrels of oil. After capturing him, we remained
on this ground for several weeks, without farther success in increasing
our cargo; in two instances the boatsteerer missing whales, and in a
third striking one with the irons, causing him to spout blood; but most
of the chief mate’s line being run out, he bent to his that belonging
to the bow boat. On its passage from the tub, it brought with it a
formidable array of harpoons and lances, with which it had become
entangled. “Foul line,” was sung out, the line severed, and the whale
allowed to go adrift. We saw him for some time afterward, and bending
to our oars, we pulled to windward with a will, in pursuit of him, but
to no purpose. Whilst chasing him to windward, the bomb-lance gun, in
the mate’s boat, went off without leave, and pierced a hole through the
head of the boat, so disabling her, that she had to return aboard; as
we all did at noon. Afterward the whale came close to the ship, and,
peaking his flukes, gave us a view of our line, wound in a thousand
contortions around his small and tail. We again lowered for him, but
without success.
On the 12th of November, a merchant barque ran across our stern,
which, on speaking, we discovered to be the Eliza Carrew, of Boston.
So far, all was very well; but on crossing our stern, she luffed up
under our lee, and, our sails taking the wind from hers, she became
unmanageable. The next moment she was aboard of us, crushing the lee
boats to pieces, carrying away cranes and davits, snapping off the
spanker-boom, and carrying away the entire larboard mizzen rigging.
After a short interval she got clear from us, when we found that she
had not escaped scot free. We saw that her maintopsail yard was snapped
off outside the head ear-ring, her foreyard carried away in the slings,
and about twenty feet of her bow rail, on the starboard side, stoven
to atoms. After the two vessels had swung clear from each other, the
third mate and his boatsteerer jumped into the bow boat, which had
broken down and lay floating alongside, for the purpose of saving
the craft. Almost as soon as they got into her, she became detached
from the ship, drifted astern, and capsized; so that we were obliged
to lower away our only whole boat, that on the starboard quarter, to
rescue the two adventurers, who were taking it very coolly, seated on
the bottom of the wreck. In a short time we had them aboard the ship;
but in the operation, the bow of the starboard boat came in contact
with the stoven one, and had a hole knocked into it. So here we were on
a whaling-ground, in the height of the season, with plenty of whales
around us, without a single whole boat on the cranes; and were it not
that we had spare boats, the damage would have been irreparable; as on
this side the Good Hope, whale-boats cannot be procured at any port
nearer than Hobartown, and this, involving a long run, loss of time,
and port expenses, to compass it, would have caused a total forfeiture
of the whole season’s work. The broken boat was hoisted aboard, and
then the Carrew ran close to and spoke us, asking if all was right with
our vessel and men. Our captain answered quickly and curtly, and in an
undertone desired him to take his departure, for, should he repeat his
manœuver, he would give him occasion to regret it. During the whole of
this time, and for weeks subsequent to the accident, we were under the
impression, as she had shown no colors, that she was a Johnny Crapeau,
and sailed under the tri-color; but we learned afterward that she was
a Boston ship. Different reasons were assigned by different individuals
as to the cause of the unseamanlike conduct in managing the Carrew;
some stating that they distinctly heard her captain ask ours for a
porpoise iron, and supposed that he came close to us in order to have
it handed aboard without the bother of lowering a boat; whilst others,
less charitable, stated that she was loaded with liquor from the
Mauritius: that the captain had broken bulk, and imbibed so much that
it had set his wits wool-gathering. As to the first reason assigned,
having heard nothing regarding the iron, I can give no opinion; as to
the second, not having data sufficient to draw so sweeping a charge
from, I will not advance so gross an accusation, but allow the matter
to rest: the public, of course, having heard from the master of the
Carrew his version of the matter, as we saw by the papers that he had
reported the collision on his arriving at port. On the whole, both
vessels were extremely fortunate in escaping with so little injury; as
two vessels seldom come into contact, even in port, where they are in
smooth water, without the result being much more disastrous than in our
case.
It is said that misfortunes seldom come singly; and, indeed, in the
experience of a lifetime, circumstances seem to justify the correctness
of the adage. So it was in our case. A short time previous to our
last misfortune, the larboard watch was sent aloft to double reef
the foretopsail. It was about half an hour after eight bells, in
the first watch at night--the watch below had turned in, but were
not as yet sleeping--when, directly after the watch had manned the
foretopsail yard, the men in the forecastle were startled by the fall
of a heavy body on deck, directly over their heads. A rush was made
for the ladder, and on getting on deck, a youngster, who belonged to
New Bedford, was found prostrate, without sense or motion. By the
orders of the first officer, who thought him dead, he was immediately
carried into the cabin. The watch on the yard were instructed to lay
down from aloft. On carrying the sufferer into the cabin, it was found
that his heart beat; he was bled, and in the course of a few hours
he regained consciousness, and continued gradually to mend, until,
after the lapse of a few weeks, he was perfectly recovered, without,
apparently, any serious effect from his fall, except the increase of
an already craving appetite, and corresponding augmentation in length
and breadth of person. His fall may be attributed to a superabundance
of heavy clothing, beside a coarse, heavy pair of boots, united making
him clumsy and unwieldy aloft. Although, from his account, it would
appear that, at the time of the accident, he was very nearly, or quite,
asleep, as he retained no remembrance of their having occasion to reef
the topsail, and no recollection of having been on the yard, or any
other circumstance connected with his fall, the only reason that we
can assign for the slight injuries he sustained, is the supposition
that in his descent his fall was broken by his striking against the
foretop, the mainstay, and a barricade of spars that were lashed
forward. I think you will agree with me that he required some easing
down, when I state that he fell from the weather yard-arm, close by the
bunt, at least forty-five feet from deck. A few weeks after this we
had another specimen of lofty tumbling whilst we were gammoning with
the barque Pioneer, of New Bedford. The watch had gone aloft to furl
the foretopsail, and had so far progressed as to be ready to pass the
yard-arm gaskets. Jose, a Portuguese, was at the end of the starboard
yard-arm coiling the outside gasket, preparatory to encircling the
sail with it, when his feet slipped from the horse; keeping firm hold
of the gasket, which reached about half way to the water, he slid to
its extreme end. The weather was light, and the ship pretty steady. He
remained suspended for a moment, when, watching for the weather roll,
he let go, descended into the water, rose, and struck out like a good
fellow. The second mate ran on to the house, caught up a boat’s fall,
made a bowling in the end of it, and hove it to him; he slipped it over
his head and under his arms, and was soon hauled aboard, without other
damage than a good wetting, of which he made very little account.
Having recorded several instances of a serious character, I shall take
occasion to speak of the numerous practical jokes that are enacted
aboard ship. The monotony of the life at sea renders a hearty laugh
somewhat of a relief, and assists in passing away the time; and this
end is desirable on the whaling-ground on account of the many hours of
inactivity. At night, in the vicinity of a place of known resort for
the fish, sail is shortened, and all hands, except one boat’s crew and
its boatsteerer, go below; the officers remaining all day on deck, and
standing no watch at night. In a four-boat ship, the night is divided
into four watches. The night watch, therefore, is so short as to be
anything but onerous; hence the early part of the night is devoted to
singing, yarning, &c. But I set out with the intention of telling a
joke, and as I have digressed a little I hope the reader will pardon
me. One fine Sunday morning Kedge Anchor expressed a desire to have his
hair cut. Here was an opening--and a conspiracy was immediately formed
against his cranial adornment. One went to work and cut his hair. When
finished, a dozen voices exclaimed against the barbarian who had put
so _outre_ a cut on his poor head; others recommended a little more
off behind. The victim acquiesced, and submitted to the operation. A
second, third, fourth, and fifth, lent their aid in denuding his skull,
and by the time the last had finished he was a picture for a painter.
The poor fellow had not a hair on his head more than a quarter of an
inch in length, and, as his forehead was receding, his appearance can
be better imagined than described. Suffice it to say, that for weeks
after the shearing his appearance was greeted with hearty laughter;
and, as with him laughter was contagious, he always joined in the
shout. For a long time he did not discover that he was the butt, but
when he did discover his loss he was rather pleased than otherwise at
the singularity of his appearance. This is but one of the many tricks
of this kind that I have witnessed. I remember seeing a green hand
sent to tell the steward to overhaul the captain’s chronometer box for
a swab to clean up the forecastle. Another sent to the masthead to
ask the man stationed there the time of day, or to see if the sun had
risen. Another to the officer of the deck to advise him to secure the
barometer, or to tell him that the masts were working. And I remember
one poor fellow, who prided himself much on his agility, giving us
a specimen of the movements of the kangaroo, sweating and exerting
himself for a whole afternoon, delighting us, as he supposed, with his
farcical antics, until he discovered on his back a large paper figure
in imitation of himself. He said not a word at the time, and sat down
totally abashed; but ere long a paper Punch figured on the back of the
supposed instigator.