OUR FIRST BATTLE
I shall never forget the surprise I got the first time I saw a whale.
It was in the forenoon of a most splendid day, about a week after we
arrived at that part of the ocean where we might expect to find fish.
A light nor'-east breeze was blowing, but it scarcely ruffled the sea,
as we crept slowly through the water with every stitch of canvas set.
As we had been looking out for fish for some time past, everything was
in readiness for them. The boats were hanging over the side ready to
lower, tubs for coiling away the ropes, harpoons, lances, &c., all were
ready to throw in, and start away at a moment's notice. The man in the
"crow's-nest", as they call the cask fixed up at the masthead, was
looking anxiously out for whales, and the crew were idling about the
deck. Tom Lokins was seated on the windlass smoking his pipe, and I
was sitting beside him on an empty cask, sharpening a blubber-knife.
"Tom," said I, "what like is a whale?"
"Why, it's like nothin' but itself," replied Tom, looking puzzled.
"Why, wot a queer feller you are to ax questions."
"I'm sure you've seen plenty of them. You might be able to tell what a
whale is like."
"Wot it's like! Well, it's like a tremendous big bolster with a head
and a tail to it."
"And how big is it?"
"They're of all sizes, lad. I've seen one that was exactly equal to
three hundred fat bulls, and its rate of goin' would take it round the
whole world in twenty-three days."
"I don't believe you," said I, laughing.
"Don't you?" cried Tom; "it's a fact notwithstandin', for the captain
himself said so, and that's how I came to know it."
Just as Tom finished speaking, the man in the crow's-nest roared at the
top of his voice, "There she blows!"
That was the signal that a whale was in sight, and as it was the first
time we had heard it that season, every man in the ship was thrown into
a state of tremendous excitement.
"There she blows!" roared the man again.
"Where away?" shouted the captain.
"About two miles right ahead."
In another moment the utmost excitement prevailed on board. Suddenly,
while I was looking over the side, straining my eyes to catch a sight
of the whale, which could not yet be seen by the men on deck, I saw a
brown object appear in the sea, not twenty yards from the side of the
ship; before I had time to ask what it was, a whale's head rose to the
surface, and shot up out of the water. The part of the fish that was
visible above water could not have been less then thirty feet in
length. It just looked as if our longboat had jumped out of the sea,
and he was so near that I could see his great mouth quite plainly. I
could have tossed a biscuit on his back easily. Sending two thick
spouts of frothy water out of his blow-holes forty feet into the air
with tremendous noise, he fell flat upon the sea with a clap like
thunder, tossed his flukes or tail high into the air, and disappeared.
I was so amazed at this sight that I could not speak. I could only
stare at the place where the huge monster had gone down.
"Stand by to lower," shouted the captain.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the men, leaping to their appointed stations;
for every man in a whale-ship has his post of duty appointed to him,
and knows what to do when an order is given.
"Lower away," cried the captain, whose face was now blazing with
excitement.
In a moment more three boats were in the water; the tubs, harpoons,
&c., were thrown in, the men seized the oars, and away they went with a
cheer. I was in such a state of flutter that I scarce knew what I did;
but I managed somehow or other to get into a boat, and as I was a
strong fellow, and a good rower, I was allowed to pull.
"There she blows!" cried the man in the crow's-nest, just as we shot
from the side of the ship. There was no need to ask, "where away" this
time. Another whale rose and spouted not more than three hundred yards
off, and before we could speak a third fish rose in another direction,
and we found ourselves in the middle of what is called a "school of
whales".
"Now, lads," said the captain, who steered the boat in which I rowed,
"bend your backs, my hearties; that fish right ahead of us is a
hundred-barrel whale for certain. Give way, boys; we _must_ have that
fish."
There was no need to urge the men, for their backs were strained to the
utmost, their faces were flushed, and the big veins in their necks
swelled almost to bursting, with the tremendous exertion.
"Hold hard," said the captain in a low voice, for now that we were
getting near our prey we made as little noise as possible.
The men at once threw their oars "apeak", as they say; that is, raised
them straight, up in the air, and waited for further orders. We
expected the whale would rise near to where we were, and thought it
best to rest and look out.
While we were waiting, Tom Lokins, who was harpooner of the boat, sat
just behind me with all his irons ready. He took this opportunity to
explain to me that by a "hundred-barrel fish" is meant a fish that will
yield a hundred barrels of oil. He further informed me that such a
fish was a big one, though he had seen a few in the North-West Seas
that had produced upwards of two hundred barrels.
I now observed that the other boats had separated, and each had gone
after a different whale. In a few minutes the fish we were in chase of
rose a short distance off, and sent up two splendid water-spouts high
into the air, thus showing that he was what the whalers call a "right"
whale. It is different from the sperm whale, which has only one
blowhole, and that a little one.
We rowed towards it with all our might, and as we drew near, the
captain ordered Tom Lokins to "stand up", so he at once laid in his
oar, and took up the harpoon. The harpoon is an iron lance with a
barbed point. A whale-line is attached to it, and this line is coiled
away in a tub. When we were within a few yards of the fish, which was
going slowly through the water, all ignorant of the terrible foes who
were pursuing him, Tom Lokins raised the harpoon high above his head,
and darted it deep into its fat side just behind the left fin, and next
moment the boat ran aground on the whale's back.
[Illustration: "TOM LOKINS RAISED THE HARPOON"]
"Stern all, for your lives!" roared the captain, who, before his order
was obeyed, managed to give the creature two deep wounds with his
lance. The lance has no barbs to its point, and is used only for
wounding after the harpoon is fixed.
The boat was backed off at once, but it had scarcely got a few yards
away when the astonished fish whirled its huge body half out of the
water, and, coming down with a tremendous clap, made off like lightning.
The line was passed round a strong piece of wood called the
"logger-head", and, in running out, it began to smoke, and nearly set
the wood on fire. Indeed, it would have done so, if a man had not kept
constantly pouring water upon it. It was needful to be very cautious
in managing the line, for the duty is attended with great danger. If
any hitch should take place, the line is apt to catch the boat and drag
it down bodily under the waves. Sometimes a coil of it gets round a
leg or an arm of the man who attends to it, in which case his
destruction is almost certain. Many a poor fellow has lost his life in
this way.
The order was now given to "hold on line". This was done, and in a
moment our boat was cleaving the blue water like an arrow, while the
white foam curled from her bows. I thought every moment we should be
dragged under; but whenever this seemed likely to happen, the line was
let run a bit, and the strain eased. At last the fish grew tired of
dragging us, the line ceased to run out, and Tom hauled in the slack,
which another man coiled away in its tub. Presently the fish rose to
the surface, a short distance off our weather bow.
"Give way, boys! spring your oars," cried the captain; "another touch
or two with the lance, and that fish is ours."
The boat shot ahead, and we were about to dart a second harpoon into
the whale's side, when it took to "sounding",--which means, that it
went straight down, head foremost, into the depths of the sea. At that
moment Tom Lokins uttered a cry of mingled anger and disappointment.
We all turned round and saw our shipmate standing with the slack line
in his hand, and such an expression on his weather-beaten face, that I
could scarce help laughing. The harpoon had not been well fixed; it
had lost its hold, and the fish was now free!
"Gone!" exclaimed the captain with a groan.
I remember even yet the feeling of awful disappointment that came over
me when I understood that we had lost the fish after all our trouble!
I could almost have wept with bitter vexation. As for my comrades,
they sat staring at each other for some moments quite speechless.
Before we could recover from the state into which this misfortune had
thrown us, one of the men suddenly shouted, "Hallo! there's the mate's
boat in distress."
We turned at once, and, truly, there was no doubt of the truth of this,
for, about half a mile off, we beheld our first mate's boat tearing
over the sea like a small steamer. It was fast to a fish, and two oars
were set up on end to attract our attention.
When a whale is struck, it sometimes happens that the whole of the line
in a boat is run out. When this is about to occur, it becomes
necessary to hold on as much as can be done without running the boat
under the water, and an oar is set up on end to show that assistance is
required, either from the ship or from the other boats. As the line
grows less and less, another and another oar is hoisted to show that
help must be sent quickly. If no assistance can be sent, the only
thing that remains to be done is to cut the line and lose the fish; but
a whale-line, with its harpoon, is a very heavy loss, in addition to
that of the fish, so that whalers are tempted to hold on a little too
long sometimes.
When we saw the mate's boat dashing away in this style, we forgot our
grief at the loss of our whale in anxiety to render assistance to our
comrades, and we rowed towards them as fast as we could. Fortunately
the whale changed its course and came straight towards us, so that we
ceased pulling, and waited till they came up. As the boat came on I
saw the foam curling up on her bows as she leaped and flew over the
sea. I could scarcely believe it possible that wood and iron could
bear such a strain. In a few minutes they were almost abreast of us.
"You're holding too hard!" shouted the captain.
"Lines all out!" roared the mate.
They were past almost before these short sentences could be spoken.
But they had not gone twenty yards ahead of us when the water rushed in
over the bow, and before we could utter a word the boat and crew were
gone. Not a trace of them remained! The horror of the moment had not
been fully felt, however, when the boat rose to the surface keel up,
and, one after another, the heads of the men appeared. The line had
fortunately broken, otherwise the boat would have been lost, and the
entire crew probably would have gone to the bottom with her.
We instantly pulled to the rescue, and were thankful to find that not a
man was killed, though some of them were a little hurt, and all had
received a terrible fright. We next set to work to right the upset
boat, an operation which was not accomplished without much labour and
difficulty.
Now, while we were thus employed, our third boat, which was in charge
of the second mate, had gone after the whale that had caused us so much
trouble, and when we had got the boat righted and began to look about
us, we found that she was fast to the fish about a mile to leeward.
"Hurrah, lads!" cried the captain, "luck has not left us yet. Give
way, my hearties, pull like Britons! we'll get that fish yet."
We were all dreadfully done up by this time, but the sight of a boat
fast to a whale restored us at once, and we pulled away as stoutly as
if we had only begun the day's work. The whale was heading in the
direction of the ship, and when we came up to the scene of action the
second mate had just "touched the life"; in other words, he had driven
the lance deep down into the whale's vitals. This was quickly known by
jets of blood being spouted up through the blowholes. Soon after, our
victim went into its dying agonies, or, as whalemen say, "his flurry ".
This did not last long. In a short time he rolled over dead. We
fastened a line to his tail, the three boats took the carcass in tow,
and, singing a lively song, we rowed away to the ship.
Thus ended our first battle with the whales.