A “STOVE” BOAT.
The Montpelier’s boats, at the moment when Stump succeeded in
hoisting the recall signal, were lying motionless in an open space
of water, situated near the center of the floe to which we have
already alluded. This little lake, of which the surrounding bergs and
compact squares of ice formed the shores, was of sufficient size to
contain all the boats, and the captain and his mates had expressed
much satisfaction because the position afforded them every facility
to maneuver their light vessels in case of the appearance of whales
in their vicinity. Upright, in the stern-sheets, with his steering
oar under his arm, stood each officer, throwing keen glances around
him, in every direction, and now and then addressing an angry word
to some awkward booby among his crew, who, by moving an arm or a
leg, caused his paddle to strike against his thwart. Nor were the
mates the only watchers, for the young harpooners, conspicuous among
whom towered the tall, neatly-dressed figure of Harry Marline, were
equally on the alert, piercing the many long, glittering galleries,
winding passages, fantastic arches, and caverns among the ice, with
their penetrating and practiced glances; while, seated close to the
gunwales of their boats--each man with his paddle ready for use--the
swarthy crews directed their indolent glances toward the reflection
of their own faces in the still surface of the water, or watched the
countless numbers of seals that stared upon them with timid eyes from
the polished floors of their floating halls.
One of the sailors threw a glance toward the bay where the ship was
anchored, and which was so far off that only the three masts of the
vessel could be distinguished, and these but faintly, on account
of the gray background beyond. But the red signal, flying at the
main-truck, did not escape the keen eyes of the spectator, and he at
once called the attention of the officer of his boat--Mr. Briggs--to
this circumstance.
“Ay, ay, blast you!” replied the irritable Briggs; “you are always
fancying that you see the recall signal. If it was a whale, now, I’ll
wager my pipe that you wouldn’t see it, even though the creature
spouted right under your nose! You’ve a strong imagination, Bates,
for signals, even when there ain’t any to be seen!”
“You can see it, sir, by turning your head. I am sure I wasn’t
deceived!”
“I wouldn’t believe you, though you took your oath upon a stack of
Bibles as high as the fore-truck. So, just keep your eyes the other
way, and don’t let me catch you lookin’ after signals again!”
As the man resumed his former position, however, the mate, after
having leisurely filled his pipe, and placed it in his mouth, turned
and looked toward the bay.
Unfortunately, this happened a second after Driko had pulled down the
red bunting, and dropped it to the deck. As a natural consequence,
Mr. Briggs, after having carefully surveyed the three naked royal
masts, came to the conclusion that Bates’ imagination had deceived
him.
“You thick-skinned lubber!” he muttered, in a low voice, seizing a
paddle, and lifting it, with the intention of breaking it across his
informer’s skull; “you empty-pated greenhorn, this isn’t the first
time that--”
“There blows! blows!--there blows! A whale right ahead, sir, and two
more to windward!” interrupted Harry Marline, addressing the mate, in
a shrill, penetrating whisper.
Quickly, but noiselessly, replacing the paddle in the bottom of the
boat, the first officer, with his teeth set, and his eyes glaring,
seized his steering-oar firmly, and hissed out his orders to the crew.
“Paddle ahead--every mother’s son of you! Spring! spring! my
lads--softly, but heartily--spring! It’s a bull!”
The men obeyed, and, shooting into a narrow passage, about a hundred
yards from the mouth of which the first whale, a huge bowhead, was
leisurely rolling and spouting, unconscious of the near vicinity of
enemies, the mate’s boat darted swiftly, and almost noiselessly,
upon its course, followed by the other three boats. The officers of
the latter, how ever, soon became aware that it would be necessary
for them to turn their attention to the whales to windward, for the
channel was too narrow to enable them to pass the mate’s boat, which,
on that account, would certainly be the first to reach the monster
ahead of it.
But, as the harsh grating of the cedar planks against the compact
masses of ice, among which the rear boats must be directed when their
course should be changed, would certainly “gally” (frighten) the
leviathan in the passage, the captain made a sign to the second and
third officers to stop the exertions of their men for the present.
This silent mandate was obeyed, and the three boats soon became
nearly motionless, their officers and crews watching the progress of
the mate with breathless interest.
He was nearing the whale with great rapidity, and the huge animal,
as it rolled leisurely along, with its great barnacled hump rising
and dripping in the cool element, still seemed unconscious of the
vicinity of foes.
“Stand up, Harry!” whispered Briggs, when the boat was within seven
fathoms of the intended prey; and quickly, but noiselessly, springing
to his feet, the young harpooner seized his iron, and stood prepared.
The mate now pointed the bow of the boat directly toward the hump of
the monster, and then, in a scarcely audible whisper, ordered his men
to stop pulling, and take their places upon their thwarts.
This command was readily obeyed, but the light boat still continued
to glide on under the impetus which it had received, and, in a few
moments, it was within four fathoms of the leviathan.
“Now then--give it to him!” thundered Briggs.
The barbed weapon flew whistling from the hands of the stout-armed
harpooner, with a force that buried it to the socket in the whale’s
hump. The second iron immediately followed.
“Starn! starn all!” roared the mate, as the startled giant of the
deep, writhing with pain, threw his tremendous body toward the boat.
“Starn, you beef-eating rascals--_starn_!”
But the oar-blades, striking against the ice, greatly impeded the
motions of the men, and the boat was not yet quite out of the
monster’s reach, when, lifting his tremendous flukes, he brought
them down sideways with a force which would have shivered the forward
part of the little craft to atoms had not the watchful Briggs, by a
dexterous movement of his steering-oar, caused the bow to swing off
to the right.
The little craft, however, did not wholly escape injury, for it
received a light tap from the edge of the creature’s flukes, which
caused the cedar planks to crack in more than one place, and
dislodged the bow oarsman from his thwart.
The man was not injured, and he resumed his place, just as the whale
disappeared in the green depths of the sea.
Away went the boat with the speed of a whirlwind, the line smoking as
it ran around the loggerhead, and the tub oarsman pouring water upon
it to prevent it from burning.
The harpooner and the mate now changed places, the latter individual
taking his station in the bow, after Marline had relieved him in the
stern-sheets. Each of the two men found it difficult to maintain
his position, for the whale had, this time, “milled” (turned under
water), and was now dragging the light boat through heavy fragments
of ice, that caused it to sway from side to side with that quick,
jerking motion which only a well-balanced body can resist.
The constant jamming of the boat against the rough edges of the
floating bergs, through which it was forced onward like a wedge,
seamed it with many cracks; but, as the bottom had not yet been
injured, the water did not enter with sufficient rapidity to
overpower the efforts of the man who was “bailing out.”
“Look out there! look to your oars!” shouted Briggs, as the flying
vessel approached the entrance to one of those floating tunnels
that form one of the many icy curiosities of the northern seas. It
was about twenty feet in length, and the passage was so narrow--the
roof so low--that the mate, as they continued to approach it, placed
his hand upon the knife in the bow, feeling half conscious that it
was his duty to sever the line and loose the whale, rather than to
risk the lives of himself and his crew by attempting the dangerous
channel; for when he should have entered it, the slightest deviation
of the boat from its direct course, would result in its destruction.
He threw a glance behind him, to see whether, in case such an
event should take place, his fellow-officers would be near enough
to witness it and to come to the rescue in time; but his surprise
may well be imagined, when he discovered that the three vessels he
had left astern were no longer visible, on account of one of those
sudden fogs so common in that region, and which now covered the whole
surface of the ice behind him, and also the open stretch of blue
water beyond.
“Well!” he exclaimed, turning to Marline, “here’s a dirty fog coming
upon us, without a moment’s warning!”
“There were signs of it before we struck the whale--in fact, when we
first lowered!” replied the harpooner. “I saw it gathering in the
nor’west, and a breeze has sprung up since then and hurried it along.”
“Ay, ay, I don’t doubt it,” answered Briggs. “But there’s no time
to lose in chattering about it. What d’ye say, men,” he added,
addressing the crew; “shall we cut, or hold on and try the tunnel? I
am willing to try it for one.”
“So am I!” cried Bates, and the rest of the men expressing themselves
in a similar manner, the mate breathed a sigh of relief, for he now
felt as though a load had been lifted from his conscience.
By this time the boat was within a few feet of the tunnel, and the
men placed their oars lengthwise across the thwarts, so that they
might not come in contact with the sides of the narrow passage, and
bowed their heads to prevent them from striking against the low,
jagged roof of ice.
With unabated speed the light vessel flew on, and presently it
darted, with the swiftness of a discharged arrow, into the mouth of
the archway.
The crew fairly held their breath with anxiety, and kept their eyes
upon the pointed bow of the little craft, which was now in a straight
line with the opening at the further ends, but which, at any moment,
was liable to swerve either to the right or the left. In fact, before
the boat had reached the center of the passage, there was a loud,
swashing noise, as the larboard gunwale heeled over, until it was
almost level with the water, while the bows dipped and swayed with
that uncertain motion which almost invariably serves as a warning to
the crew of a fast boat, that the whole is about to change its course.
“Trim boat! trim boat, every man!” hissed the mate, through his
closely compressed teeth, “and stand by, Marline, to do what you can
to keep the bows from swinging.”
“Ay, ay, sir, but that won’t be much,” responded the harpooner, “for
there’s little room in this narrow channel to work a steering-oar.”
Scarcely had the speaker concluded, when Briggs, whose watchful
eye had noted every motion of the little craft, perceived that the
boat’s head was about to swing to the right and strike against the
side of the passage; and seizing a knife, he quickly severed the
running line, thus freeing the vessel from the whale but not in time
to prevent the bow, under the impetus it had already received, from
being dashed with considerable force against the icy wall.
The result of the concussion was the cracking of the light cedar
planks near the bottom of the boat; and the water now entered the
craft with such rapidity, that the exertions of three men were
required to prevent the vessel from filling.
The rest of the crew were ordered to “take their paddles,” and as
they worked vigorously, the boat was soon clear of the dangerous
channel.
By this time, however, the fog had become so dense that the after
oarsman could scarcely distinguish the person of the harpooner, who
had just exchanged places with the mate, so that he now occupied his
proper position in the bow.
The loss of the whale had increased the ill-humor of Briggs, and he
proceeded to bemoan his “bad luck,” as he called it, in true sailor
terms. Stamping upon his cap, several times, he wound up by stating
that he wished all ice-tunnels were sent to the pit to be melted in
brimstone.
This rude witticism was received with a shout of laughter by Tom
Plaush, the little Portuguese, who pulled the tub oar, and who
was always ready to show his appreciation of all jokes--however
stale--that fell from the lips of any of the officers. The laugh had
a good effect upon Briggs, who, believing that he had said something
brilliant, assumed a waggish air, and glided at once into a pleasant
humor.
The good-humor of the mate, however, was not destined to continue
for a long time; for like a rusty wheel which has been set in
motion by the application of oil to certain parts of it, but which
stops and gets in bad condition again the moment it meets with an
obstruction--so when at length the boat became jammed between heavy
fragments of ice that rendered it impossible for the crew to use
their oars with success, the irritability of Briggs again made itself
manifest. Rough contact with the floating bergs, through which the
light craft had been forced, after it passed out of the tunnel, had
so widened the cracks in the thin planks, that the water entered with
a rapidity that, taxed to the utmost the energies of those engaged in
bailing. The mate sprung upon one of the blocks of ice by which they
were surrounded, and ordered every man with the exception of Marline
to imitate his example.
“I want a man I can depend upon to take charge of the boat,” he said,
addressing the young harpooner, “while I go with the crew to search
for our shipmates and inform ’em of our condition!”
“Wouldn’t it be better, sir,” suggested Marline, “for all of us to
stay here, and wait for the other boats? If we blow the boat-horn I
have no doubt that they will soon reach us.”
“Ay, ay,” growled the mate, impatiently, “and do you suppose that
I would be contented to stay here in this plight, waiting for the
boats? Not a bit of it, young man. I am now in a hurry to get aboard
ship, for that cutting from the whale has spoilt all _my_ fun.”
“If you will take my advice, you’ll not go far, in search of the
other boats,” said Marline, “for I think it hardly possible that you
will find them, in this fog.”
“And I think exactly the other way,” retorted the mate, impatiently.
“All a man has to do to find ’em is to follow his own nose to the
north’ard, as I take it; for we’ve been going south, and the other
boats must be somewhere astern of us--not far off either.”
At this moment the sound of a horn was heard, apparently
proceeding from the direction in which the mate had stated that
his fellow-officers might be found; and he now turned his eyes
triumphantly toward the harpooner.
“Ay, ay--d’ye see, young man--it’s just as I said. Them boats are
astarn of us, though further off than I thought they were. But
by moving quickly over the ice, we’ll soon reach ’em. Come on,
men--there’s no time to lose,” he added, turning to the crew.
Leaping from berg to berg, the five men followed closely upon the
footsteps of their leader, and in a few seconds they were all
shrouded from the view of the harpooner by the dense fog.
“It’s a wild-goose chase,” muttered Marline, as he proceeded to
bail out the boat, “and nobody except a man of Briggs’ restless and
impatient nature would have thought of undertaking it until he had
first sounded the horn, and that had failed to bring our shipmates to
us.”
As minute after minute passed away, and neither the party nor the
boats made their appearance, the young man became more confirmed
than ever in his opinion, that Briggs’ expedition was a useless
undertaking. He even began to fear that the mate and his men had lost
themselves among the floating galleries and caverns of ice, and were,
therefore, neither able to advance in the right direction nor to
return.
Once or twice, since the departure of his shipmates, he had heard the
sound of a horn, but the notes of the instrument were so faint that
he believed the boats were receding from, instead of approaching, the
spot he occupied.
While his mind was still busy with conjectures and fears, he suddenly
started to his feet, listening with eager attention, for he fancied
he heard a rushing noise ahead of him like that of some heavy object
forging slowly through the ice. The noise became louder every
moment, and presently the ears of the young man were saluted with
the creaking of ropes, the dull flapping of canvas, and the murmur
of voices. An instant afterward the broad black bows and the square
foresail of a ship loomed up indistinctly through the fog, a few
fathoms ahead of the boat, which lay directly in the track of the
vessel.
“Ship ahoy!” thundered Marline. “Up helm, and keep off, or you will
run me down!”
He was evidently heard by those on board, for a dark face was
suddenly thrust over the bulwarks forward, but its owner, instead of
directing the man at the wheel to “keep off,” ordered him to “luff.”
The head of the advancing ship, as she came booming on, was therefore
within a few feet of the boat before it could obey the helm, the
consequence of which was that the bows of the little craft received
a thump from the vessel as she swung to windward, that caused a few
of the thin planks to give way like the shell of an egg beneath the
blow of a man’s fist.
The boat filled rapidly, and as it sunk the young harpooner leaped
upon one of the blocks of ice by which he was surrounded, in time to
seize a rope, which was thrown to him by Tom Lark, as the ship came
up into the wind with her main topsails aback.
“The Montpelier!” shouted Marline--“the Montpelier, by all that’s
good!”
“Ay, ay,” gruffly responded Lark, “and the less said about it the
better!”
The speaker was a tall man, of herculean frame, and with one of those
swarthy, hang-dog faces, that never fail to inspire the beholder with
feelings of distrust. He wore gray pants, a fez cap of blue cloth,
and a black woolen shirt, the latter of which, being open at the
throat, disclosed the sinewy muscles of an enormous neck.
“What is the ship doing here?” pursued Harry. “We left her anchored
in the bay. And how came you at liberty? Where is Stump? and Alice
How--”
“One question at a time, youngster,” interrupted Lark, with a broad
grin. “You’ll know every thing presently, and--”
“There’s villainy at work here, Tom Lark--ay, downright villainy!”
cried the harpooner, as a suspicion of the truth flashed upon his
mind.
Grasping the lower part of the main chains, and drawing himself to
the rail, he sprung upon the deck, to be confronted by the mutineer,
who drew from one of the pockets of his Guernsey a heavy pistol,
which he pointed at the head of the youth.
“You’ve got yourself into a hornet’s nest, youngster. It might have
been better for you if you had stuck to the ice!”
“Ay, ay,” said Marline, with perfect coolness, as he fixed his clear,
unwavering eye upon the face of the giant. “You have the advantage of
me, at present, and can murder me if you wish, but you will swing for
it in the end.”
“Thank you, for your good advice,” gruffly responded the other, “but,
I have no intention of murdering you--leastways, not just now--unless
you try to kick against what you can’t help. I’m just using this
iron to keep you quiet, while the steward goes after the handcuffs!”
“And by what authority,” angrily demanded the young man, “do you
thus--”
“Tut! tut!” growled the mutineer, “none of your polly-wow with me,
lad. You know how things are as well as I do. I generally do what I
please in my own ship.”
“And dare you pretend that this vessel--”
“Is mine? Certainly,” interrupted Lark. “She’s mine by the law of
equal rights. Captain Howard had her for awhile. Now, it’s my turn.
I’ve been confined in the run a long time, and need a little fresh
air, besides the satisfaction of putting some of the captain’s
friends in my place. As you are the first of these that I’ve met
with, you shall have the honor of filling that position. I rebelled
against Captain Howard’s authority--you rebel against mine. Captain
Howard puts _me_ in the run--Captain Lark puts _you_ in the run.
That’s what I call equal rights!”