STRANGE VISITORS
Four days after their exciting experience with the U-boat the boys saw
the hazy blue mountains of the Azores looming above the horizon, and all
through the day they watched with intense interest as the beautiful
panorama of the islands was spread before them. But the winds were light
and baffling in the lee of the land, and it was daylight the next
morning when, at last, the bark dropped anchor in the harbor of Fayal.
Here, Captain Edwards was to take on fresh vegetables and fruits, and he
hoped also to obtain additional men, for while he had enough for
ordinary whaling it was his intention to land parties on several of the
far southern islands and to have enough to insure a large catch of sea
elephants and a full cargo of oil as quickly as possible, in order that
he might return to New Bedford while the high price of oil still
prevailed.
As the bark was to be in port several days, the two boys had a splendid
opportunity to see the town and the island, and as soon as the port
formalities were over, they were pulled ashore in one of the boats with
Cap’n Pem accompanying them.
It took some little time for Tom and Jim to become accustomed to the
feeling of solid ground under their feet once more, and both were highly
amused at the strange sensations they underwent as they walked up the
quaint, old street leading from the quay. After many days of constantly
pitching and rolling decks, which had become so familiar to them that
they seemed perfectly natural and steady, the two boys were surprised to
find that the street appeared to roll and toss, and they staggered along
like drunken men. Cap’n Pem remarked that they had not got their “land
legs” yet and he vowed that many a time, after a long voyage, he had
been deathly “land-sick” when he first went ashore.
The picturesque town, with its old world buildings, narrow, steep
streets, jutting balconies and brilliant color, fascinated the boys who
had never before been away from the States, and they grew wildly excited
over the feathery, waving palms, the luscious tropical fruits and the
many strange sights which greeted them at every turn. Cap’n Pem, who had
visited the islands many times, showed them all the sights about the
town and took them on a long jaunt through the lovely island with its
neatly kept fruit orchards and gardens, its lofty green mountains, its
tumbling cataracts and its rich valleys. Then, at last, the time came to
leave, and with a dozen more men added to the crew and with an abundance
of fresh fruits and vegetables, live poultry and sheep and with every
available cask filled with fresh, spring water, the _Hector’s_ anchor
was weighed, the great white sails were spread and the bark quickly
dropped Fayal astern.
Heeling to the fresh trade wind, with every sail set, with a smother of
foam sweeping past her lee rail and a turquoise wake stretching far
astern, the gallant old ship plunged southward, burying her staunch,
bluff bows to the catheads in the blue sea, shaking tons of water from
her streaming decks as she lifted to the long Atlantic rollers; every
sheet, brace and sail straining and her taut rigging humming like harp
strings.
“Like ter see one o’ them derned submarines cotch us now!” chuckled old
Pem, as the boys, fascinated by the sight, gazed alternately at the
great pyramids of canvas and the swiftly passing foam to leeward.
“What’s she making!” asked Tom.
The old whaleman glanced aloft and then astern. “Reckon ’bout ten
knots,” he replied.
“And a sub can make over twenty,” laughed Jim. “I hope we don’t see
one.”
“Wall, o’ course I ’spose they _could_ cotch us,” admitted old Pem, “but
I’ll be blowed if I don’t wisht I’d tried a bomb lance on that there
chap back there. Bet I could a-fetched him! Reckon them boats ain’t no
tougher than a bull sparm whale.”
“Next time we see one we’ll ask Captain Edwards to lower a boat and let
you tackle it with an iron and a lance,” laughed Tom, “but I’ll bet you
won’t get a boat’s crew to go with you.”
“Jes’ the same,” argued the old whaleman, “ye got ter admit I saved the
ship. Ef I hadn’t a killed that there whale an’ got him ’longside
where’d we been, eh?”
Captain Edwards, who had approached unseen, laughed. “I expect
one-legged Mike would claim he saved us,” he remarked. “At any rate, he
showed the stuff that’s in him and that he can handle men. I’m going to
make him bo’sun.”
Cap’n Pem scratched his head. “Derned if I ever heard tell o’ a
one-legged bo’sun,” he declared. “Jes’ the same, I never heard tell o’ a
peg-legged mate afore, neither. Reckon ye might as well keep it up. Sort
o’ got the habit I reckon.”
Day after day, the wind held steady and the bark tore on under full sail
with never a hand laid to sheet, brace or tackle, and day after day, the
drilling of the men continued, until it seemed to the boys that there
could be nothing more for them to learn. They had been taught the
running and standing rigging; they had been forced aloft until all but
one or two could straddle the royal yards or cling to the swaying,
heaving footropes “with their toe nails” as Mr. Kemp put it; and when
all this had been mastered, they were kept busy at splicing, making
chafing-gear, serving and parcelling, taring down and a thousand and one
other jobs on deck. And in this work, the wooden-legged bo’sun, Mike,
proved himself invaluable. For while he could not go aloft, yet, he
seemed to know everything else about a ship even better than old Pem
himself. Then one day, the truth came out, and while talking with the
boys, for whom he had developed a great fondness, he divulged the fact
that for many years he had served in the navy, and that he had lost his
leg in the battle of Manila on Admiral Dewey’s flagship.
“Knowed he was a sailor man all the time,” declared Cap’n Pem when the
boys told him the news. “Couldn’t fool me! Jes’ as soon’s I seed him
grab a han’ spike, I knowed it.”
“Well, what’s dumb Pete?” laughed Jim, “and one-eyed Ned? I suppose
you’ll say you knew they were sailors, too!”
“Nope,” chuckled the old whaleman, “never will be. Dunno what Pete wuz,
but he’s a fust class blacksmith now. Reckon Ned wuz a sojer.”
Several times, whales were sighted and boats were lowered in chase, for
the _Hector_ was out of the track of regular trade and the captain had
little fear of meeting hostile U-boats, but luck seemed to be against
the whalemen and no catch was made.
“Ain’t a mite s’prised ’ile’s so high,” declared Cap’n Pem. “Never did
see sparm whales so skittish—git gallied soon’s we lower away. Reckon
they’re skeered o’ the war.”
“Been shot at too much,” vouchsafed Mr. Kemp. “Every chaser an’
destroyer that sighted a whale took pot shots at ’em, thinkin’ they
might be subs.”
But whatever the reason, the whales proved so universally shy that at
last the skipper vowed he’d not lower for another, even if it scratched
its back against the bark’s planking, and gave all his attention to
hurrying towards his distant goal.
The Cape Verde Islands had been left far astern, the bark for several
days had been drifting almost motionless upon a polished, oil-like sea
with idle sails flapping and tackles creaking as the ship rolled to an
invisible swell, and the boys’ observations told them they were nearing
the equator. Then one morning, they noticed that something mysterious
was going on among the crew. They gathered in little knots and conversed
in low tones and more than once the men approached Mr. Kemp, or the
one-legged bo’sun, and after a few words, went away grinning.
“What are the men up to?” Tom asked their old friend, Cap’n Pem. “If
they weren’t so good-natured and didn’t talk to Mr. Kemp and old Mike
I’d think they were planning a mutiny.”
The old whaleman chuckled. “Don’t ye go askin’ too many questions,” he
replied. “Reckon ye’ll know long ’bout day arter to-morrer.” And despite
teasing and questioning, the old man refused to say anything more. The
boys then turned their attention to the bo’sun and Mr. Kemp, but with no
better results, and every time they started to go forward Cap’n Pem or
the second mate found some reason for calling them aft.
They were still wondering about it, and watching the crew from the break
of the after deck, two days later, when muffled cries and grunts were
heard and the crew rushed forward and peered over the rail. The next
moment, a weird figure appeared clambering up the bark’s side as if he
had just emerged from the sea. A long, tow-colored beard descended to
his waist, his long hair fell over his shoulders, his blue togalike gown
was dripping water and covered with bits of seaweed, while upon his head
was a golden crown and in one hand he held a three-pronged spear.
“Gosh!” exclaimed Jim. “Who on earth is that?”
“Derned if ’tain’t old Father Neptune hisself!” cried Cap’n Pem who
stood near. “Reckon he’s come aboard ter ’nitiate ev’ry one what’s never
crossed the line afore.”
Following close at Neptune’s heels came two other figures, one, a huge
black man bearing an immense wooden razor, the other dressed as a woman
wearing a crown and carrying a trident. Surrounded by the crew Neptune
approached the after deck, where Captain Edwards had now joined the boys
and the mates, and addressing the skipper, declared that he had come
aboard to initiate those who never before had crossed the equator, and
asked the captain’s permission to proceed with the ceremony. While he
was speaking, a number of men had appeared, all dressed in grotesque
costumes, and had placed a huge tub of water, a chair and a pail on the
deck. Immediately the fun began. Seizing one of those who stood nearest,
two of Neptune’s retinue dragged him to the chair and held him firmly in
place despite his struggles, while a third liberally plastered his face
with the thick flour paste from the pail. Then the negro with the razor
stepped forward and with slashing strokes, “shaved” the protesting
initiate, whereupon his chair was abruptly tipped up and he was tumbled
headlong into the tub of water.
Every one roared with laughter, in which the spluttering victim joined,
and Neptune’s assistants started for the next man. But the crew were now
prepared and ran and dodged about the decks and up the rigging until one
slipped and fell, to be immediately pounced upon and carried to the
“barber.” With all their attention centered on the comical sight and
almost choking with laughter, the boys had failed to notice two men who
had stealthily approached, until they were suddenly grabbed, and with
loud shouts of glee from their captors, were carried to the deck.
They had already noticed that those who protested and struggled the most
received the greatest attention from the barber and so, wisely deciding
to make the best of it and take their turns good naturedly, they
submitted without resistance. Partly owing to this, and partly to the
fact that they were mere boys and belonged aft, they were treated to a
mere dab of the paste brush and a single stroke of the razor and were
carefully ducked only to their ears in the tub.
As nearly all members of the crew were “greenies” who had never been to
sea before, it took several hours to capture and initiate all, but at
last it was over and Neptune’s “daughter” handed each one a card bearing
the name of the bark and the date, and certifying that the holder had
been duly initiated and enrolled by Father Neptune.
Captain Edwards then ordered refreshments served all around, the decks
were cleared, and throughout the day, the men frolicked and skylarked to
their hearts’ content while those on the after deck roared with laughter
at their antics or applauded vigorously as some one started a chantey or
a whaleman’s song to the music of a violin and a concertina with all
hands joining in the chorus. The boys vowed it was as good as any
vaudeville show they had ever seen. Even Captain Edwards dropped his
accustomed dignity and gravity to join in the hilarity, and calling to
the mate, cried out, “Give ’em a real good whaleman’s song, Pem. Fun’s
over at eight bells and it’s pretty near that now.”
“Blowed ef I will,” replied Cap’n Pem. “Ain’t sang a derned word fer
years. Give ’em one yerself Hen.”
“All right, Pem,” laughed the skipper, “I’ll give ’em one if you’ll give
’em another. That’s fair. Go ahead, Pem, yours first.”
“Wall,” muttered the old whaleman, “reckon ef the Cap’n tells me to,
I’ve gotter do it.” Walking to the break of the deck, he raised his
hand, cleared his throat and commenced to roar out the words of a famous
old whaling song. Instantly the men were hushed and motionless,
listening to his deep, bass voice as he sang:
Come, all ye bold seamen who are cruising for sparm.
Come, all ye jolly, bold seamen that have rounded Cape Horn,
For our cap’n has told us, an’ we hope he says true,
That there’s plenty o’ sparm whales on the coast o’ Peru.
The first whale that we raised, it was late in the day,
Which caused our bol’ cap’n these kind words to say,
“Get ye down to your hammocks an’ there quietly lay.
We’ll raise him in the mornin’ at break o’ the day.”
’Twas early next mornin’ just as the sun rose,
That a man at the masthead sung out, “Thar she blows!”
“Where away?” shouts the skipper, an’ the answer from aloft,
“Three p’ints on the lee bow an’ ’bout three mile off.”
“Then call up all han’s and be o’ good cheer,
Get your lines in your boats an’ your tackle-falls clear.
Hoist an’ swing fore and aft, stan’ by each boat’s crew,
Lower away, lower away, when the mainyard swings to.”
Now the cap’n is fast an’ the whale has gone down,
An’ the chief mate lies waitin’ his line to bend on.
Now the whale has come up, like a log he did lay.
It can never be said that he gave us fair play.
Amid the uproarious applause that followed, Cap’n Pem beat a hasty
retreat and the Captain rose and stepped forward.
“My turn now, boys,” he shouted, “and then the fun’s over,” and with his
words ringing far across the silent tropic sea, he sang:
’Twas a love of adventure and a longing for gold,
And a hardened desire to roam,
Tempted me far away o’er the watery world,
Far away from my kindred and home.
With a storm-beaten cap’n so fearless and bold,
And a score of brave fellows or two,
Far away to the hardships, the hunger and cold,
Sailed this fearless and jovial crew.
Have you ever cruised on Diego’s bold shores,
That are washed by the Antarctic wave?
Where the white-pluméd albatross merrily soars
O’er many a poor whaler’s grave?
Did you ever hear tell of that mighty sperm whale,
That when boldly attacked in his lair,
With one sweep of his mighty and ponderous tail
Sends the whaleboat so high in the air?
Did you ever join in those heart-wringing cheers,
With your face turned towards Heaven’s blue dome
As laden with riches you purchased so dear
You hoisted your topsails,—bound home?
Deafening were the hand clappings and shouts of approval that followed,
and then, as the eight silvery notes of the bell pealed out across the
waves the one-legged bo’sun leaped forward.
“Three cheers for the foinest cap’n phwat iver sailed a whaleship!” he
cried. Rousing were the huzzas that followed, and once again the
Irishman raised his voice. “An’ three more for our fri’nd Misther Potter
phwat saved the barrk—a foine, brave whaleman aven if he has a wooden
lig! An’ three toimes three fer Misther Kemp, phwat makes ye into foine
sailor min—aiven if he bates the loife out o’ yez to do it. An’ three
more for thim b’yes—the foine thurrd an’ fourth mates!”
“And now, men, three times three for the _Hector_, a full cargo and a
short voyage!” cried the skipper, as the lusty cheers died down. And
never were more heartfelt hurrahs heard upon a whaler than those which
responded to his words.