THE WHALER.
It was an intensely cold morning. As the sun raised his golden head of
light above the horizon, huge icebergs could be seen far away to the
southward, looking like monuments of dazzling crystal; and a westerly
wind, combined with the smell of the bergs, was sufficient to nip any
prominent part of the face left exposed to its freezing blast. On
board the _Pandora_ not a sound was to be heard, save the footsteps
of Mr Coffin, as he tramped steadily up and down the deck, turning an
occasional glance upon the _Daisy_, a little barque of four hundred
tons, that was sailing alongside of them. The _Daisy_ was a whaler,
built at Glasgow, and hailing from Peterhead. Her commander, Captain
Rae, was a rough, weather-beaten old son of Neptune--stern on duty and
fearless of danger; but when on shore (which was seldom), a favourite
with women, and beloved of little children. Everybody in Peterhead knew
Captain Rae, and accorded him a hearty welcome whenever his barque
anchored in port. The men met him with outstretched hands; the women
smiled upon him graciously; and the children clung to his sleeves and
coat tails, like barnacles on a water-logged plank.
‘It won’t do to go any further down south,’ he observed to his chief
officer, Mr Green, who had just emerged from the booby hatch, after
taking a cup of steaming coffee, ‘because we shall be falling in with
too much ice, and I like to give them bergs a wide berth. Besides,
I’ve a notion we shall fall in with some fish before long, if that
darned passenger packet to leeward don’t scare ’em away. Let her come
to two points,’ he called out to the man at the wheel. ‘Keep her due
east.’
And the sailor, having put his helm down, the captain retired to the
sanctity of his cabin. The mate watched him disappear, and then,
unceremoniously squirting a jet of tobacco juice on the unholystoned
deck, muttered something about ‘the _Pandora’s_ petticoats,’ and
commenced to take rapid strides along the boards. Jabez Aminadab
Green was a down-easter--a tall, lanky fellow, with long body and
spindle-shank legs. He was some years older than the skipper--streaks
of grey having already shown themselves in his short grey beard. His
eyes were blue, like blue glass beads, having no expression in them.
He had hollow cheeks, an aquiline nose, and a wide mouth, which was
generally kept open to display an irregular set of teeth, stained and
decayed by the constant use of tobacco.
At four bells all hands on watch aboard of both crafts turned to--the
sailors of the _Pandora_ being employed in scrubbing their decks for
the reception of the passengers, whilst the hardy old whalers lazily
crawled out of their forecastle, and, after dashing a few buckets of
water over the captain’s quarters, betook themselves to the ’tween
decks, where they stretched new lines, and vied with each other in
telling the ‘longest twister’ (that is, in nautical parlance, the most
improbable untruth) they could possibly think of. When the bells were
struck to announce breakfast aboard the _Daisy_, their sound re-echoed
on the _Pandora_, and the seamen of the smaller craft were surprised to
see the poop deck of their big neighbour crowded with bright dresses
and brighter faces; whilst the ladies of the _Pandora_ wondered, in
their turn, at the appearance of so large a crew on such a little
vessel, and their interest continued throughout the day.
‘_There she spouts!_’ sang out the man on the look-out at the
fore-topmast head of the whaler, not half-an-hour afterwards.
‘Where away?’ bawled Mr Green.
‘Two points on the starboard bow,’ was the answer.
‘Aye! aye!’ said the mate, catching sight of the whale, as it rose
close to the _Pandora_.
‘Are there many?’ hastily inquired Captain Rae, who had deserted his
breakfast as soon as he heard the welcome news.
‘Wal, I guess so, sir,’ replied Mr Green. ‘There are some in the wake
of that packet ahead theer; and I saw one critter breach away here on
the quarter. There he goes again!’ continued the mate, pointing to a
large dark object which had leapt right out of the water, and fallen in
again with a tremendous splash.
When the intelligence reached the saloon of the _Pandora_ that a school
of whales was playing right under her bow, the passengers, frantic with
excitement, left their breakfast to take care of itself, and, gathering
together every spy-glass and binocular that could be borrowed or
stolen, rushed upon deck, and remained there until the play was over,
and the curtain fell.
The _Daisy’s_ helm was put down, and her foresail laid to the mast, and
when her clew garnets were chock-a-block, the boats were quickly but
cautiously lowered. The chief officer, in charge of the first boat,
was stationed in the stern, grasping a long sweep to steer her with.
Six hands on the thwarts manned the oars, and Christopher Thommasen,
a Norwegian harpooner, with his deadly weapons, sat in the bow. With
long muffled strokes the rowers laid back on their blades, and in a
short space of time reached the desired spot, not, however, before they
had ‘gallied’ (or alarmed) one of the ‘bulls,’ who began to shoot his
spout of water to a great height. Some of the ‘cows’ approached very
close to the boat--so close, indeed, that at times she was in imminent
danger of being upset, and all hands expected to be toppled into the
water, and delivered over to the mercy of Davy Jones.
When the old Norwegian, Christopher Thommasen, had selected his fish,
and the boat was pulled in its wake, the order was given, ‘_Stand up
and give it him!_’ and the harpooner, poising his dart above his head,
and taking careful aim, let the shaft fly with all his might, and it
whizzed through the air, embedding itself deeply in the body of the
whale.
The wounded creature ‘bobtailed,’ lashing the billows with its powerful
tail, and sending up quantities of white foam, which fell in a heavy
shower over the men, drenching them to the skin.
‘_Stern all!_’ shouted the mate, perceiving their danger, and the
frail craft was instantly back-watered out of harm’s way. Finding that
this manœuvre did not dispose of his assailants, nor relieve him of
the agonising harpoon (which he probably mistook for the teeth of a
swordfish), the monster of the deep dived to an immense depth, drawing
out the line with amazing velocity. This is the whale’s method of
freeing himself from his piscatorial enemies, who, being unable (as he
is) to sustain the pressure of a deep ocean, are compelled to let go of
him.
‘There goes flukes,’ shouted Thommasen, as he saw the whale disappear,
and the men shipped their oars, and prepared for an exciting chase.
Away went the ‘schoolmaster’ at his topmost speed, rising at intervals
to the surface to give vent to a plaintive moan, and diving again with
breathless rapidity, as he towed his persecutors through the water
after him at a considerable rate. Then more darts were planted into
the heaving flanks of the labouring fish, who had commenced to tremble
violently. Red columns of blood spurted from his wounds, and fell back
upon his aching sides, dyeing the water around him crimson. Suddenly
the ‘flurry’ (which is the whaling term for the expiring struggles of
the fish), and the sharp, cracking noise which had sounded from the
blowholes, ceased, and the huge brute turned upwards, and lay upon
the ocean dead. Then the carcase was slowly towed past the passenger
vessel, amidst the cheers of the spectators, back to the _Daisy_, who
had got under weigh again, and made fast to her side by chains. Two men
cut off the ‘blanket,’ or scarf-skin, with their spades, whilst others
heaved away on the capstan, and turned the body round.
The head was taken aboard whole, and then the operation of ‘flewsing,’
or cutting away the blubber, was gone through. When all the useful
parts had been secured--the head, which contains a large amount of
oil--the blubber--the bag, from which the whalers extract ambergris,
and the teeth--the order was given to ‘_Haul in chains_,’ and the huge
white carcase floated astern, and was immediately covered by myriads of
water-fowl, who quarrelled and fought over their unexpected treat.
The passengers of the _Pandora_ witnessed the chase and capture from
the port bow of their vessel, and many were their ignorant conjectures
as to the mode of boiling down and preserving the dead fish, and they
watched the _Daisy_ perseveringly with their glasses until a large
cloud of black smoke, arising from her cauldrons, announced that the
blubber had been finally disposed of; and the operation of ‘whaling’
was over.
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