THERE SHE BLOWS!
No sooner had the bark commenced to move down the harbor, than a magic
change appeared to take place. At the wheel, one of the boat steerers
stood staring ahead and deftly gave the spokes a twirl as he kept the
_Hector_ to the tug’s course. Back and forth on the quarter-deck strode
Captain Edwards, hands behind back and hat pulled low over his eyes. At
the break of the poop, stood old Cap’n Pem, his ancient, peaked cap
jammed on one side of his head, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows
and his bushy brows drawn together in a frown. Below him, stood the
lanky second officer, Mr. Kemp, barking out sharp, quick orders. From
the galley, a slender column of smoke rose upwards, showing the cook was
already at work. The crew were busy here and there under the directions
of the boat steerers and the carpenter was wedging down a hatch cover.
It was evident that strict discipline was now in order and the boys,
resolved to do their part and to act as though they were bona fide
members of the crew, commenced coiling down ropes that trailed across
the decks. As they did so, Mr. Kemp grinned and Cap’n Pem winked at the
skipper who stopped an instant in his stride to glance at the busy boys.
Then, Cap’n Pem’s voice roared out orders to loosen sails and the two
boys, anxious to show their skill and knowledge, as well as their
willingness, ran nimbly up the ratlines and were the first out on the
yards. One by one the great topsails were unfurled and halliards were
manned.
“They call me Hanging Johnny,
Away-e-Oh!
They call me Hanging Johnny,
So hang, boys, hang.”
Thus roared the men, and, as the boys joined in the chorus, the heavy
yards rose slowly, the sails were sheeted home, and as the bark passed
the harbor mouth and caught the fresh offshore wind, the tug cast off
her lines, blew a parting blast on her whistle and the _Hector_, under
her own canvas, headed towards the open sea.
The breeze was fair and steady and under topsails and to’gallant sails
the bark swept smoothly on, a crinkle of white water under her forefoot,
a yeasty wake trailing off astern and the soft hum of the wind in her
taut rigging and great billowing sails. The boys, who had never been to
sea except in steamers, thought they had never experienced anything so
delightful as the sensation of sailing without the throb and noise of
engines and the mess and dirt of smoke and cinders, and they were sure
that they had never seen anything so beautiful as the huge, white sails
straining at their braces, gleaming like silver in the sun, softly
purple in the shadows and swaying majestically across the blue summer
sky as the boys gazed upward at them in admiration.
Dim and hazy in the distance, were the hills and shores; a mere smudge
of smoke marked New Bedford; to port lay Martha’s Vineyard; and straight
ahead was the broad Atlantic.
But the two boys had been too well trained by Cap’n Pem to idle away the
time admiring the pyramids of snowy sails overhead, or the gentle rise
and fall of the deck beneath their feet, but busied themselves about the
ship, coiling down ropes, explaining orders to the green crew, lending a
hand here and there and making themselves generally useful. Presently,
Mr. Kemp approached. “Mr. Potter’d like Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop to
step aft,” he said.
For a moment the boys hesitated, puzzled, and then, despite every
effort, laughed, for the officer’s formal method of addressing them
struck them as very funny. They had never dreamed that they would be
treated other than as boys and to be spoken to as officers was a
distinct surprise.
Quickly recovering themselves, however, the two hurried to the poop
where the old whaleman was standing.
“What is it, Cap’n Pem—?” began Tom, but he was instantly interrupted by
the other. “Mr. Potter, sir!” corrected the old man with a twinkle in
his eyes.
“Yes, sir, what is it, sir?” inquired Tom, trying hard to hide a grin.
“Cap’n Edwards wants ye an’ Mr. Lathrop to git ready fer to take
observations, sir,” replied Cap’n Pem. “He says as how he’d like fer ye
two youngs—Oh, gosh-ding it all what’s ther use! I’ll be blowed ef I kin
keep it up. Call me Cap’n Pem ef ye like. I’m a-goin’ ter call ye young
scallywags or anythin’ else same’s I allers has. Well the ol’—Cap’n
Edwards I mean—wants ter hev ye shoot the sun an’ work out the position
so’s he kin see how much ye know. It’s pretty nigh eight bells now, so
hustle down inter my cabin and fetch up them two sextants there, an’ git
busy.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Potter!” chuckled Jimmy, as the two boys dived down the
companionway.
Regaining the deck, the two boys took up positions and commenced
squinting through their instruments, while the old whaleman watched them
critically. Unnoticed by them, Captain Edwards also drew near, and even
Mr. Kemp ceased swearing at his crew long enough to glance at the two,
for it was a novel sight to see two boys standing on the poop of a
whaleship and handling sextants like old hands.
“Eight bells!” cried Tom presently. “Eight bells!” echoed Jim, and at
their words the eight mellow notes rang out from the bronze bell below.
Hurrying down to the cabin, the boys commenced to work out their
latitude while, on deck, Cap’n Pem slapped his thigh and chuckled.
“Han’led them sextants jes’ as well as me or you could!” he declared
addressing the skipper. “Bet ye, ye kin depen’ on ’em jes’ as well as
any orcifer ye’d find. Jes’ wait ’till they give ye their figgers.
They’ll be purty clost to kerect or I’m a Dutchman!”
“Here are the figures and position, sir,” said Tom as he appeared from
the companionway and handed two slips of paper to the captain.
Captain Edwards glanced at them and a satisfied smile spread over his
wrinkled, tanned face. “Your longitude is right,” he said, “and
there’s only thirty seconds difference in your two positions. Neither is
out quite a minute—or less than a knot—and that’s mighty close work for
the first observation you’ve ever taken aboard a ship at sea. You’ve
done very well—er—Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop. From now on, you may
consider yourselves as third and fourth officers and entitled to lays of
one in fifty each. I shall expect you to take observations daily.”
“Told ye they’d be derned near _k_erect!” cried Cap’n Pem.
“But, captain, can’t we help with the work just the same, if we are
officers?” asked Tom. “It’s lots of fun.”
The captain rubbed his chin reflectively. “Third and fourth mates
usually have to work a bit,” he replied. “Yes, I guess ’twon’t ruin
ship’s discipline if you’re boys most of the time and officers when I
need you. But don’t get too familiar or friendly with the crew.”
“What in Sam Hill’s the matter now!” exclaimed Cap’n Pem a few moments
later, when angry shouts from Mr. Kemp were heard.
Following their old friend to the break of the deck, the boys saw the
second officer shaking his fists and yelling at a ragged man who stood
before him with a vacant, noncomprehending expression on his face, and
moving and wiggling his fingers in a curious manner.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Kemp?” called the captain.
The second mate turned and glanced up. “It’s this greenie, sir,” he
replied. “Just up from the foc’sle, an’ jus’ stands here and looks
silly, twiddlin’ his thumbs. Don’t answer back or nothin’ and won’t obey
orders. Don’t know if it’s some new kind of jag or if he’s just plain
crazy.”
“Aye tank he bane daf an’ doomb, sir,” put in the cooper, approaching
and touching his cap. “Aye haf daf an’ doomb coosin bane twoggle fingers
same vay. Mebbe Aye bane able talk mit him.”
“Reckon Ole’s right,” agreed Cap’n Pem.
“Try it and see, Swanson,” ordered the skipper.
Standing before the man, the cooper moved his big, knotted fingers, and
instantly, a look of understanding passed over the other’s features and
his hands moved swiftly.
Presently, the Swede turned towards the watching officers. “Yas,” he
said “he bane daff an’ doomb. He say he bane shanghaied. He never bane
sailor man before.”
“’Spect like enough he was shanghaied,” growled Cap’n Pem, “but we can’t
help that none. What we goin’ fer to do with him, Cap’n? Blow me if I
ever run afoul o’ a dummy han’ on a whaleship afore.”
“He can work just as well if he is deaf and dumb,” replied Captain
Edwards.
“Yes, but how’n tarnation’s he goin’ fer ter take orders?” exploded the
old whaleman. “’Twouldn’t do no harm if ev’ry one o’ the critters was
dumb. Wish t’ they was. But a deaf han’ ain’t worth nothin’. Dern the
shark what shipped him!”
“Swanson,” called the skipper, “take charge of this man. You’re the only
one can talk to him. Teach him what you can and make him work at
something, sharpening spades and irons, or anything else.”
No further incidents of note occurred during the day and the following
morning the boys came on deck to find the _Hector_ out of sight of land
and rolling majestically to the long, blue swell of the ocean.
“Reckon this is a purty good day to begin breakin’ in the greenies,”
remarked Cap’n Pem at breakfast. “Have the starboard boats cleared and
ready to lower, Mr. Kemp. It’s mighty good weather for breakin’ of ’em
in to the oars arter we’ve had a bit of a set-to with ’em in the
riggin’.”
When they reached the deck, Cap’n Pem had Mr. Kemp summon the green men
aft, and standing at the break of the poop, he gave them a short
harangue on what was expected of them.
The boys felt really sorry for the men, for, with few exceptions, all
were deathly seasick, and terribly frightened at their surroundings.
Every time the bark rolled, they uttered doleful groans and clutched
wildly at the nearest backstay or shroud, and when the old whaleman
spoke of going aloft and the poor fellows glanced up at the soaring,
lofty mastheads, their faces blanched with terror.
As Cap’n Pem finished speaking, the second mate ordered the men into the
rigging. For an instant, they stood hesitating, terrified at the mere
thought of climbing the ratlines rocking back and forth to the roll of
the bark. But as Mr. Kemp started towards them, a rope’s end in one hand
and a belaying pin in the other, the men fled before him, and flattening
themselves against the shrouds, crawled up for a few feet above the
deck. Only two went further, the pop-eyed youth who the boys had noticed
and a huge, gorillalike negro, both of whom ran nimbly to the to’gallant
crosstrees and seated themselves as comfortably as if they had been
sailors all their lives.
Only one man had remained on deck, a gray-headed old reprobate. “Here
you!” yelled Mr. Kemp with an oath, “Get aloft there and be durned quick
about it!”
“Not a bit!” replied the old fellow insolently. “’Tis none av thim
monkey shines Oi’ll be afther tryin’, an’ me wid me wooden lig!”
The second mate, who had started forward with belaying pin raised
threateningly, stopped short and dropped his arm. “Well I’ll be—,” he
began and then, turning, he shouted, “Mister Potter, here’s another of
’em—first a dummy an’ next a timber leg! Them sharks must have thought
we was a floatin’ horspittel!”
“What’s that ye’re sayin’?” shouted old Pem. “What’s this erbout a
timber leg?”
“This old cove here,” explained the other, “says as how he can’t go
aloft cause he’s got a wooden leg.”
Old Pem was fairly bristling. “Sojerin’!” he yelled. “Git erloft there,
ye ol’ bum!” and then, forgetting himself in his excitement, he added,
“Ye ain’t no more one-legged than I be!”
“B’gorra Oi’d be hopin’ not,” burst out the other. “Faith, an’ Oi’d like
to see yez a shinnyin’ up thim ropes wid a lig like this, ye ould
omathon!”
As he spoke, he drew up his trouser leg and exhibited the artificial
limb beneath.
“Sass me back, will ye!” roared the old whaleman, purple with rage. “By
blastarnation, ef ye wasn’t a cripple I’d skin ye alive!”
“Cripple yerself,” shouted back the other. “Come down out of that an’
Oi’ll lick the stuffin’ out av yez, ye ould shellback!”
The boys fully expected to see Cap’n Pem dash down to the deck and rush
at the impudent old fellow, but instead, he suddenly doubled up and
roared with hearty laughter.
“I’ll be keelhauled!” he cried. “Ef this isn’t the dod-gastedest crew
what ever sailed on a whale ship. Reckon misery loves comp’ny. Two
timber-legs an’ a dummy! Mr. Kemp, muster them hands aft an’ see how
many more derelicts ye’ve got ermong ’em.”
Grinning at the comical scene they had just witnessed, the crew gathered
about and the second officer went over them one by one, questioning
them, pounding them on backs and chests, slapping their arms and legs
and ordering them to run and jump about, while, on the poop, the two
boys and old Pem, as well as the skipper, stood and watched the
procedure with amusement. Presently the second mate turned. “Here’s a
chap with a glass eye,” he announced, indicating a sallow-faced, little
man, “but I guess t’others are all sound.”
“Reckon so long’s his other eye’s good he don’t matter,” said Pem. “Go
on with yer men, Mr. Kemp an’ put that one-legged ol’ shamrock to deck
work till we’re ready fer the boats. Mebbe he’ll do fer a shipkeeper
anyhow.”
For several hours, the “greenies” were kept on the jump, compelled to
climb the rigging to the topsail yards, taught the standing and running
rigging, made to understand what to do when an order was given. But
while they were, as Cap’n Pem had put it, “treated rough,” there was
none of the real brutality shown which the boys had expected from the
tales they had heard and read of whalers. Indeed, both Tom and Jim
agreed that Mr. Kemp was wonderfully patient and the few blows that were
struck did not appear to trouble the tough crew in the least. When Tom
spoke of this to Captain Edwards the latter remarked that such treatment
as they were receiving was probably far gentler than anything they had
ever experienced before.
Strangely enough too, the active work appeared completely to cure the
men of seasickness, while their first terror of going aloft was rapidly
overcome, although they still hugged the shrouds and held on with might
and main whenever the bark rolled.
The boys were much amused at Cap’n Pem, for the old whaleman had painted
himself as a hard-fisted, slave-driving mate when at sea, whereas, in
reality, he was far easier on the men than the second officer, and
several times he cautioned the latter against using unnecessary
violence.
“This ’ere ain’t no ol’ time whaleship,” he cried. “I’ve seed a-plenty
o’ bulldozin’, bucko mates an’ I tell ye ’tain’t no use to smash a man
up. Might jes’ as well let ’em take their time a’ larnin’ as to spend it
mendin’ of a busted leg or stove-in head. Course, if any of ’em needs
it, ye can give ’em a good lickin’. They gotter know who’s boss, but we
don’ want broken bones nor murder.”
At last, the second mate seemed satisfied with what he had accomplished
and ordered the topsail backed, and as the bark was hove-to and rested
motionless on the sea, the two starboard boats were lowered and the
green hands were ordered into them. Even the one-legged Irishman was
compelled to embark, although he protested vigorously. With two of the
boat steerers in each boat and with Mr. Kemp in charge of one and Cap’n
Pem in the stern of the other, the fun began. Not a man in the crowd,
with the exception of the boy and the big negro, both of whom had
evidently served on ships before, had ever touched or handled an oar in
their lives. And when, under the orders of the two mates, the fellows
attempted to pick up and use the heavy ash oars, the result was so
comical that the two boys burst into peals of laughter and even Captain
Edwards chuckled. Constantly fouling one another’s oars, catching crabs,
losing their oars overboard and getting in one another’s way, the men
struggled valiantly and apparently thought it a regular lark. Indeed,
after their terrifying session with the rigging, their instruction in
boat handling must have seemed mere child’s play, and at each mishap the
men roared and made fun of each other. Moreover, the mates and boat
steerers took the matter good-naturedly, making biting and sarcastic
remarks, but patiently striving to teach their men how to row. Much to
the boys’ surprise, the crowd of human derelicts did wonderfully well,
and after an hour’s work, managed to conquer the oars sufficiently to
keep fairly good time with their strokes and actually to propel the big,
thirty-foot whaleboats.
Very soon the breeze freshened, a choppy sea began to rise and the boats
were hoisted to the big wooden davits, the yards were swung and the
_Hector_ plunged onward through the deep-blue waves towards the distant
Azores.
Thereafter, on every calm day, the boat drill was continued, and day
after day, the men were sent aloft and taught to furl and reef sails, to
swing the yards, to tail onto braces, sheets and halliards and to do the
thousand and one things necessary to the handling of a square-rigged
vessel. Most of the men learned rapidly, after they had once overcome
their landsman’s dread of going aloft, and while a few were so utterly
lacking in intelligence that they couldn’t learn the difference between
a “main brace and a belaying pin,” as Mr. Kemp put it, yet all learned
to handle the boats and seemed to take keen enjoyment in this part of
the work, each boat’s crew constantly striving to outdo the other and
holding hard fought races whenever opportunity offered. Moreover, the
men had improved vastly in appearance. They had grown brown and strong;
their muscles had developed; they had discarded their dirty shore rags
for clean dungarees and went about lightly and surefootedly on newly
acquired “sea legs” in their bare feet. From the boat steerers and
mates, they had learned a number of chanteys and whalemen’s songs and
whenever any work was done, the deep bass of the big negro, Sam, could
be heard leading the chorus of some old-time, deep water chantey.
A few days after they had dropped land from sight, the captain had a man
constantly perched on the topgallant crosstrees, keenly scanning the
horizon, and Cap’n Pem explained to the boys that they were likely at
any time to sight a sperm whale and that the skipper had no intention of
letting one slip by.
“Sparm ’ile’s mighty high,” said the old man, “’an sperm’ceti’s higher
an’ t’ain’t no use a lettin’ good dollars slip by. ’Sides, this ere
gang’s gotter be taught whalin’ an’ the sooner the better.”
The two boys also took turns at maintaining a lookout from the
crosstrees, each filled with hopes of being the first to sight a whale.
But the days slipped by, vast beds of yellow “sargassum” or “gulf weed”
dotted the indigo sea and the bark was rapidly approaching the islands
and no sign of a whale had been seen.
Then, one day, as Tom swept his eyes about the vast circle of restless
water, he caught a glimpse of a faint, indistinct mist rising a few feet
above the sea, like the spray from a breaking wave. The next moment, a
vast, black object lifted for an instant in the trough of a sea and, at
the top of his lungs, Tom shouted: “There she blows!”
Scarcely were the words uttered, when all was excitement below and Cap’n
Pem’s voice bellowed, “Where away?”
“About three points on the port bow,” shouted Tom.
Then followed a moment of breathless waiting, with all eyes strained in
the direction Tom had indicated, until once more the tiny column of
vapor rose in air and the whale’s flukes showed for a brief moment
before he sounded.