For well-nigh six weeks we were endeavouring to get round Cape Horn,
when the weather moderated, making way to the westward, but again being
driven back often over more ground than we had gained.
The captain was constantly on deck, exhibiting on all occasions his
splendid seamanship. He was ever on the look-out to take advantage of
the least change of wind which would enable us to lay our course. Day
and night were alike to him; he seemed indifferent to the piercing wind
and tremendous storms of sleet and hail we encountered. Twice we
sighted Cape Horn, but each time, before many hours had passed, were
again to the eastward of it. The captain thought he could endure
anything, and certainly did not expose others more than he did himself.
We saw numerous sea birds--albatrosses, Cape pigeons, stormy-petrels (or
Mother Carey's chickens, as they are called), and many more. The
albatross appeared to me a truly noble bird when on the wing; no matter
how rough the weather or how heavy the sea, he sat on the water
perfectly at ease, seeming to defy the very elements.
One of the mates having got a strong line with a large hook at the end
of it, a piece of meat as bait, and a cork to float it, let it drop
astern. In an instant a huge albatross pounced down on the tempting
bait, and was hooked. It required two men, however, to draw him on
board over the taffrail. Even when brought on deck he attacked everyone
who came near him. The doctor advised us to stand clear of his wings
and beak, but Horner thoughtlessly held out his hat, when the bird,
seizing hold of it, bit the crown clean out in a moment. Not until he
had had several blows on the head with a handspike did he drop dead. He
measured seventeen feet from tip to tip of the wings. The feathers
under his wings and breast were as white as snow, and as they glanced in
the sunlight, shone like silver.
In contrast with the albatross was the stormy-petrel, a black bird
scarcely larger than a sparrow, and, of course, web-footed. Vast
numbers flew about the ship, but they were more difficult to catch than
the albatrosses.
Again we sighted Cape Horn, standing out solitary and grand into the
Southern Ocean. The wind had moderated and become more in our favour,
although the vast billows rolled on like moving mountains of water. Now
the ship forced her way to the summit of one, the next instant to glide
down rapidly into the vale below, performing the same course again and
again.
At length even the billows subsided, and we began to look forward to
having fine weather. About noon one day the look-out from the masthead
shouted--
"There she spouts! There she spouts!"
A school of whales was in sight.
"Lower two boats," cried the captain.
No sooner was the order given than their crews, hurrying aft, jumped
into them, and very few minutes were sufficient to place all their gear
in readiness and to lower them into the water.
The captain himself went in one as harpooner, the second mate in the
other. I should have liked to go, but I knew that it was useless to ask
leave of the captain.
Away the boats pulled at a rapid rate to windward, the direction in
which the whales had been seen, and that we might keep as near them as
possible the ship was hauled close up. They were soon not discernible
from the deck, and on they went increasing their distance till even the
look-out from the masthead could no longer distinguish them. Still the
first mate had carefully noted the direction they had taken, and seemed
to have no doubt about picking them up. The weather, however, which had
been fine all day, now gave signs of changing, and in a short time the
wind began to blow in strong gusts, creating a nasty sea, but still it
was not worse than whale-boats have often to encounter.
Whether or not they had succeeded in striking a fish we could not tell,
for the days were very short, and evening drew on.
Fresh look-outs were sent to each of the mastheads, and we waited with
anxiety for their reports. They soon hailed that they could see neither
of the boats. At length, the darkness increasing, they were called
down, and lanterns were got ready to show the position of the ship.
"Shouldn't be surprised if we were to lose our skipper and the boats'
crews," said Horner to me. "I've heard that such accidents have
happened before now."
"I hope not," I answered, "for although our captain is a severe man, it
would be dreadful to have him and the other poor fellows lost out in
this stormy ocean, with no land for hundreds of miles where they could
find food and shelter, even were they to reach it."
While we were speaking a heavy squall struck the ship, and the remaining
hands were ordered aloft to take two reefs in the topsails. Jim and I
were on the fore-yardarm. We had just finished our task, when Jim
declared that he saw a light away to windward.
On coming on deck we told Mr Griffiths. He at once ordered a gun to be
fired as a signal. A blue light was then burnt, the glare of which, as
it fell on our figures, gave us all so ghastly an appearance that
Horner, who had never seen one before, cried out, "What has come over
you fellows? Is anything dreadful going to happen?"
As the firework died out we looked in the direction Jim had seen the
light, and in a little time we caught sight of it from the deck. The
men on this gave a hearty cheer to show their satisfaction. Now the
light disappeared, now it came in sight again, as the boat rose on the
summit of a sea.
The ship was hove-to. Presently a faint hail was heard. We answered it
with a shout from our united voices. At length one boat could be
distinguished. Where was the other?
The captain's voice assured us that he was in the first. He was soon on
deck, and the boat was hoisted up. He looked pale and haggard, and much
annoyed at not having killed a whale. The other boat he said was not
far off.
We kept hove-to for her, fearing that if she did not soon appear she
might be swamped before she could be hoisted in, for as the wind and sea
were now rapidly rising every moment was of importance. At length she
came alongside, but it was with the greatest difficulty that the men got
out of her. They looked thoroughly worn out with their long pull. We
had scarcely made sail again and were standing on our course when the
gale came down on us, more furiously than before, blowing right in our
teeth. It was now evident that had a whale been killed we should have
been compelled to abandon it.
In spite of his fatigue the captain remained on deck, swearing fearfully
at his ill-luck. Those who had been away with the boats were allowed to
turn in, but the rest of us were kept on deck, for at any moment all our
strength might be required.
Suddenly, while I was aft, the captain uttered a loud cry, or shriek it
seemed to me.
"What's the matter, sir?" asked the mate.
"I cannot see!" groaned the captain. "Where am I? What has happened?"
The mate went to him and took his arm. "It may be but for a moment," he
said.
There had been no lightning; nothing, as far as we could discover, to
produce blindness. Still the captain refused to leave the deck,
declaring that it would pass over. The doctor, who had turned in, was
called up, and came to him.
The increasing gale compelled the mate to attend to the duties of the
ship. The doctor summoned me to assist in leading the captain below. I
took his arm; he was trembling like an aspen. We led him to his berth,
and assisted him to undress.
"Shall I be better in the morning, think you, doctor?" he asked, in an
agitated tone.
"I cannot say, Captain Hawkins. I believe that this blindness has come
on in consequence of your having overtaxed your physical powers. In
course of time, with rest and a warmer climate, I trust that you will
recover your sight."
"Oh that it may be so!" cried the captain, as he laid his head on the
pillow.
We had a heavier gale that night than we had before encountered. The
seas again and again washed over the deck. It seemed wonderful that
more of the men did not knock up.
The first mate looked thin and haggard, and so did most of the other
officers and men. The bulwarks on both sides had been carried away, two
of the boats had been injured, and the ship had suffered various other
damages.
Still we kept at it; the wind shifted; Cape Horn was actually weathered,
and at length a joyous cheer burst from the throats of the crew as the
ship's head was directed to the north-west. It was some days, however,
before we felt any sensible change of climate, but after that it grew
warmer and warmer, for we were now fairly in the Pacific.
The captain was disappointed in his expectations of recovering his
sight. He came daily on deck and stood turning his head round in every
direction, and I observed a painful expression on his countenance.
"I'll tell you what, Peter, I've a notion how the captain came to lose
his sight," said Horner to me in a confidential tone. "It's a
punishment to him for the way he treated Esdale, and you, and Jim."
"We have no right to think that," I answered; "even if he had treated me
ten times worse than he has done, I should not wish him to suffer what
must be to a man of his nature so terrible a misfortune."
"Well, then, I suppose I must keep my opinion to myself," answered
Horner.
In a few days we reached the island of Juan Fernandez, and hove-to off
it that the boats might go in close to the shore to catch some fish.
Mr Griffiths gave Jim and me leave to go in one of them. We were
provided with hooks and lines. The water was so clear that we could see
the fish take the bait, which they did so ravenously, that in a short
time we had as many rock cod and other fish as we required. We
afterwards landed and brought off a quantity of wild mint, which grows
in profusion over the island. We made it into tea, which we enjoyed
very much after drinking pea-coffee so long.
While we were collecting the mint we saw a number of goats bounding
among the rocks, some standing still and looking down on us. They were
descendants of those which inhabited the island in the days of Alexander
Selkirk, who was taken off by Dampier during his last voyage to the
Pacific.
At first we thought that there were no inhabitants, but just as we were
shoving off we heard a shout, and a white man and negro were seen
rushing down towards us, shouting and gesticulating furiously.
They were both dressed in skins, with high fur caps, and had long sticks
in their hands to help themselves as they ran.
"Why, I do believe that must be Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday,"
cried Horner, at which all hands laughed.
"He got home long ago, or he never could have written his history,
stupid," said the mate, "but whoever they are we'll wait for them."
Still Horner had not got his first idea out of his head. He had not
read much, but he had read Robinson Crusoe, and believed in it as a
veracious history.
The strangers soon reached the boat.
"Now, I say, ain't you Robinson Crusoe?" cried Horner, as the white man
got up to the boat.
"No, my name is Miles Soper, and I know nothing of the chap you speak
of," answered the stranger.
"I say, mister," he continued, turning to the mate, "will you take us
poor fellows off? We were cast ashore some six months ago or more, and
are the only people out of our ship, which went down off there, who
saved their lives, as far as I can tell. Sam Cole here and I came
ashore on a bit of a raft, and we have had a hard time of it since
then."
"Why, as to that, my man, if you're willing to enter and serve aboard
our ship, I daresay the captain will take you, but he doesn't want
idlers."
"Beggars can't be choosers," answered Miles Soper. "If you are willing
to take us we shall be glad to go, and both Sam and I are able seamen."
"Well, jump in, my lads," said the mate; "but haven't you anything at
the place where you have lived so long to bring away?"
"No, we've nothing but the clothes we stand up in, except it may be a
few wooden bowls and such like things," answered the stranger, who
looked hard at the mate as he spoke, probably suspecting that we might
pull off, and that he and his chum might be left behind. Both the men
seemed in tolerably good condition. They told us that they had had
abundance of goat's flesh and vegetables, as well as fruit, but that
they had got tired of the life, and had had a quarrel with four mongrel
Spaniards, who lived on another part of the island, whom they thought
might some day try to murder them.
They both asked to take an oar, and, by the way they pulled, they showed
that they were likely to be useful hands. When we got on board the
_Intrepid_, Mr Griffiths spoke very kindly to them, and as they at once
said that they would be glad to enter, their names were put down as
belonging to the crew.
I took a liking from the first to Miles Soper, though he was perfectly
uneducated, and could neither read nor write. Sam also seemed an honest
merry fellow. He and the other Africans soon became friends.
The crew had been employed on the passage, whenever the weather
permitted, in preparing what is called the "cutting-in gear," which
consists of the various tackles and ropes for securing the whales
alongside when caught and taking off the blubber. Then there was the
gear of the various boats, and it would astonish anyone to see the
enormous number of articles stowed away in a whale-boat when she starts
after a whale.
Everything was now got ready, as we were in expectation every day of
falling in with whales, and the men were on the look-out from the
mastheads from dawn until dark, in the hopes of seeing them. I longed
to see a whale caught, for as yet the voyage had been profitless, and
every one was out of spirits. The captain, who still remained perfectly
blind, notwithstanding the assurances of Dr Cockle that he would
recover, was so especially. He seemed like a heartbroken man; his
countenance gloomy, as if troubled with melancholy thoughts, and his
whole manner and appearance were changed. It was sad to see him come on
deck and stand, sometimes for an hour together, turning his face round,
as if he were picturing to himself the sparkling ocean, the blue sky
overhead, and the busy scene which the deck of his ship presented.
I observed that Mr Griffiths never gave an order if he could help it
while the blind captain was on deck. The health of the latter, however,
by degrees improved, the colour returned to his cheeks, and his voice,
when he spoke, again had the ring in it which I had from the first
remarked.
Day after day, however, we sailed on without seeing a whale. At length
one day, soon after noon, the first mate having just taken an
observation, and the captain being in his cabin, we were cheered by the
cry from the masthead of--
"There she spouts! There she spouts!"
The loud tramping of the men on deck roused those below, who quickly
sprang up, eager to engage in the expected chase.
Among the first who appeared was the captain, who ran up the
companion-ladder with as much agility as he had ever displayed.
"Where away--where away?" he asked.
The men pointed to windward, and to our surprise the captain turned his
eyes in the same direction.
"Lower three boats," he shouted. "I'll go in one of them."
Presently I saw a low, bush-like spout of white mist rise from the
surface of the sea, not two miles off.
"There she spouts! There she spouts!" shouted the captain, showing that
he saw too.
With wonderful rapidity, as everything was prepared, the boats were
lowered. The doctor had come on deck.
"Where are you going, Captain Hawkins?" he asked, in an astonished tone.
"In chase of those whales out there," answered the captain; "for,
doctor, I can see them as well as you do."
Of this there could be no doubt. Several at that instant appeared at
various distances.
The excitement of the moment had given the required stimulus to the
captain's nerves, and he was restored to sight.
I remembered the fruitless chase off Cape Horn, when the captain and
those with him so nearly lost their lives, but this promised to be
successful. The captain's boat took the lead. His aim was to get up to
one of the monsters of the deep just as it returned to the surface for
breathing, as it would be some time before it could go down again, and
before that interval many a harpoon and lance might be plunged into its
body.
The captain soon took the lead; the men pulled as if their lives
depended on it. Before they were half a mile away a whale rose just
ahead of the captain's boat. Springing into the bows, he stood, harpoon
in hand, ready to strike.
Presently he was close up to the monster; the weapon flew from his
grasp, followed by three lances hurled in rapid succession. The whale,
feeling the pain, darted off. Another boat came up, and a second
harpoon was made fast, while several more lances were plunged into its
side.
Presently its enormous flukes rose in the air.
"He has sounded! He has sounded!" cried those on board.
The whale had dived, and the lines coiled away in the tubs ran rapidly
out. The monster, however, had not finished its breathing, and soon
after a second line had been secured to the first it came again to the
surface. The boats pulled rapidly towards it, and the harpooners plied
it with their lances. Presently we saw them pull away as if for their
lives. The whale rose nearly out of the water, and began turning round
and lashing the surface with its flukes, each blow being sufficient to
destroy any boat and her crew within its reach.
"The monster is in its flurry," I heard the doctor say. "It is ours to
a certainty."
He was right. After lashing the water into a mass of blood-tinged foam,
it lay perfectly still.
Those on board raised a shout as they saw a little flag fixed on the
body.
The boats now made chase after another whale, which gave them more
trouble than the first; but they attacked it bravely, now pulling up and
hurling harpoons and lances into it, and now pulling away to avoid being
attacked in return.
Presently we saw one boat again dash forward, almost the next instant
its fragments rose in the air, and the crew were scattered far and wide
around. Which boat it was we could not tell. Some fancied it was the
captain's, others that it was the second mate's.
"He regained his sight to-day," said an old Orkneyman. "It's a question
whether it wasn't that he might have a last look on his fellow-creatures
and the mighty sea."