The moment the accident was perceived Mr Griffiths ordered the only
remaining boat away, and jumped into her, for the carpenter had not yet
finished the two building to replace those lost off Cape Horn. I asked
to go.
"No! You stay on board and help to work the ship up to us," he
answered.
I accordingly went to the helm, as I steered better than most of those
remaining on board, while the doctor and steward lent a hand to the rest
in pulling and hauling, as we had continually to go about; but the wind
was light, and it was not very hard work. I kept an eye constantly
towards the boats, and soon saw a whift planted on the back of the last
whale attacked, which showed that it was dead.
Our anxiety was relieved when, instead of returning, they made chase
after another whale. It proved that although the boat had been
destroyed, the men had escaped with their lives.
"I do believe we shan't have the skipper aboard again," observed Horner.
"I hope so," I said.
"Ahem!" was his answer, as he walked away.
At length, shortening sail, we ran up alongside the first whale that had
been killed. The men descended to its back with ropes round their
waists to hook on the tackles to its head and flukes. We had then to
wait until the boats towed the other whale up to the opposite side. We
eagerly watched their proceedings.
The third whale was attacked. After sounding twice and carrying out,
apparently, three, if not four lines, we saw it suddenly come to the
surface and leap completely out of the water. This is called breaching.
It then began rolling round and round, endeavouring in its agony to get
rid of the weapon sticking in it. The boats for some time kept at a
distance. Then once more they approached, again to pull off as the
whale commenced lashing the water with its huge flukes.
"It's in its flurry," observed the doctor, who was looking through his
telescope, which he handed to me.
At last we saw the three boats approaching, towing the whale by the
nose. The wind having fallen, and having a whale alongside, we were
unable to near them to save them their long pull. On they came, towing
the monster at the rate of a mile and a half an hour. It was thus
upwards of that period of time before they got alongside.
The first man handed up was Miles Soper--or Robinson Crusoe, as we
called him--whose leg had been broken by the second whale attack. He
had willingly endured the suffering, lying at the bottom of the boat,
rather than give up the chase. No one else had been injured, though all
had run a great risk of being drowned; but a whaler's crew know that
such may be their fate at any moment. The doctor at once took the man
under his charge. No time was lost in hooking on the other whale, and
commencing the operation of "cutting-in." This I may briefly describe
as taking off the blubber with large spades, the handles of which are
twenty feet long. The whale is turned round and round by means of
tackles brought to the windlass, the blanket-piece, or blubber covering,
being thus gradually stripped off till it reaches the tail, which is
hove on board with the last piece. The blubber is lowered down the main
hatchway and cut up into small pieces, called "horse pieces." These are
afterwards piled up on deck to be minced into thin slices for boiling in
the pots. The operation of "cutting-in" is a very dangerous one when
there is any sea on to make the ship roll. The first and second mates
stand on stages lowered over the side, cutting the blubber from the
whale as the crew heave it round with the windlass. The four
boat-steerers are on the gang-ways attending to the guys and tackles,
the captain superintending the whole process, while the carpenter grinds
the spades.
All round the sea swarms with sharks attracted by the oil and blubber.
When not otherwise employed, Tom and I and Horner attacked them with the
spades and killed great numbers. We worked away until night, but did
not finish even then, as it takes twelve hours to strip the blubber off
a large whale. We commenced again at daylight, and it was dark before
we began to cut into the second whale. We had still a third to operate
on, but as each was worth nearly a thousand pounds, no one complained.
Fortunately the weather remained fine, and we got the blubber of the
third whale on board by the end of the next day. We had also boiled the
spermaceti oil out of the head, with small buckets at the ends of long
poles. This is the most valuable production of the whale, and is used
for making candles.
For night work the ship's company was divided into two watches, from six
to one, and from one to six. The instant the last piece of blubber was
on board, the carcasses were cast loose to be devoured by fish and fowl.
We began the operation of trying-out, as boiling the blubber is called,
by first putting some wood under the try-pots. As soon as the blubber
was boiled, the scraps which rose to the surface were skimmed off with a
large ladle, and after being thrown into a pot with holes in the bottom
to drain off the oil remaining in them, were used as fuel for boiling
the remainder of the blubber.
The appearance our decks presented, with huge fires blazing away under
our pots, and the men with the ladles skimming off the scraps, or baling
out the oil into the coolers, was strange and weird in the extreme. Had
I been suddenly introduced among them, I should not have recognised them
as my shipmates, begrimed as they were with smoke and oil. I was,
however, much in the same condition. Dr Cockle had become accustomed
to it, but I cannot fancy that it was very pleasant to him.
The doctor told me that he should be glad, whenever I could, if I would
go below and talk to poor Miles Soper.
I willingly did so. He was suffering occasionally great pain, but in
the intervals it cheered him to have some one to speak to. I found that
he was even more ready to talk than listen, and I accordingly got him to
tell me about himself. He happened to ask my name. I told him.
"Peter Trawl!" he exclaimed. "Trawl! That's curious. I remember a
chap of your name aboard the _Lapwing_ brig-of-war."