C. B.’s Departure
Now that this momentous time in our hero’s life had arrived, all the
affection felt for him by every member of the community welled up, and
the slight reserve, manifested in spite of all efforts to hide it,
because of his furious onslaught upon the savage strangers, melted
away, leaving not a trace behind. He was hardly left alone a minute;
both men and women crowded around him as if eager to see everything
they could of him as long as they could. Many of the girls wept
copiously, for he had been secretly worshipped by a goodly number of
them, although he was quite fancy free, and had never singled one out
for special notice. He might have been affianced to any girl he chose,
for he possessed all the qualities that make a man beloved, but by
some curious twist, the delights of love for the other sex had never
appealed to him--as yet the love of one Christian for another, fostered
by the love of God as it should be, had been found all sufficient for
the needs of his heart.
At all this display of affection Captain Taber looked on amazed, for
he had never seen anything like it before. In his experience people
were shy of showing how much they loved a popular favourite, but
these simple children of the sun believed in showing their love and
were in no wise ashamed of doing so. He kept close by C. B.’s mother,
who exercised a sort of fascination over him, and in response to her
repeated entreaties that he would be good to her boy, replied--
“My dear lady, for lady you are of the greatest, I regard your son as a
holy trust. He’s just the finest man to look at and hear speak I ever
set eyes on, and as far as I am concerned, you may take it that he’ll
do well. I have no favourites; as long as a man does his duty on board
my ship he’s entitled to and gets the best treatment I can give him,
and I take care that he isn’t put upon by anybody. But be comforted,
marm, your son’s bound to make his way anywhere. He’ll get imposed
upon, of course, until he learns that people such as you are very
scarce outside this island. But that won’t do him much harm, I take it.
Hallo! what’s this?”
_This_ was the gathering together of the entire population of the
island, including the temporary visitors, upon an open grassy knoll
almost in the centre of the settlement, which was quite near to
where Captain Taber and Grace were standing. As the people disposed
themselves in picturesque attitudes upon the grass, Grace said to the
captain--
“They are about to hold a prayer meeting to commend my son to the
care of God while he is absent from us. We always do it when any one
leaves the island, for we know how lonely they will feel but for the
fellowship of Jesus.”
The captain bowed his head gravely, but did not trust himself to say
anything. For one thing he felt sad and ashamed, knowing how careless
and lax in respect to spiritual things he had long been, although his
innate kindliness and sweet temper had preserved him from much evil.
The captain of the _Thetis_ drew near and exchanged a cordial
handshake with his American compeer, saying as he did so--
“We are apparently about to witness a peculiar sight--a whole people at
prayer who all believe in what they’re doing. It is a moving spectacle.”
There was no time for more conversation, for all had arrived, and
without further delay the white-haired old patriarch took up his
parable, saying to his assembled flock--
“My beloved ones, let us in accordance with our valued custom commend
our brother Christmas Bounty Adams to our loving Father. He goes out
from us for a time into a world where we have heard that the name
of God is lightly esteemed, where the worship of God is performed
at stated intervals, but the life that has God for its centre and
circumference is known to and lived by but a very few. But our God is
able to keep our dear brother as he kept Philip his father, and we send
him away full of confidence that he will live so as to show every one
with whom he comes in contact that he is a Christ’s man and that it is
a good and pleasant thing to be so. Now let us sing our favourite hymn,
‘O God of Bethel, by whose Hand.’”
The two captains turned pale under their tan, and their frames trembled
with emotion as the glorious burst of human melody, unaided by any
instrument, rose upon the still air. Never had they imagined anything
like it, nor could they hardly believe their eyes when they saw the
tears streaming down nearly every face. And when at last the sweet
strains ceased, it seemed as if a certain beauty had suddenly left
the world. Then the grand old leader’s voice arose in tenderest,
most intimate intercourse with their Friend and Father. Nothing of
the stereotyped, pumped-up oration, utterly misnamed prayer, so
often heard in pseudo prayer meetings, but the close confidence of
beloved children with a Father whose love was known and proved hourly
throughout life. When he had finished, Philip stood up in touching
simplicity and blessed God for his son’s strength and beauty and good
life, held him up in his spiritual arms as it were, and gave him to
the Father as Abraham did Isaac. Grace followed in an even deeper,
sweeter strain, and then as her voice faltered and died away, as if
at a preconcerted signal, all the gathering broke out in the majestic
strains of St. Ann’s to “O God, our help in ages past,” followed
immediately by the Old Hundredth.
The two captains were close together all the time, but neither spoke,
hardly breathed, so impressed were they by the simple yet tremendous
scene. When all was over, Captain Taber said sententiously--
“This just lays over all my experience. I’ve been to camp meetin’s
before now and they begun quiet enough, but before they got far there
was mor’en half of ’em just crazy, jumping mad, howlin’ and screechin’
like ’sif they was possessed with devils, as the Scripture says. But
these folks seems full of earnestness, yet quiet and reverent all the
time.”
“Yes,” responded the British captain, “though I’ve never been to a
camp meeting, I’ve been to some other meetings in England where the
behaviour of the folks has made me blush all over my body. And then
again I’ve been to other meetings where everything was so formal and
perfunctory that I could not think that any of them believed what they
were saying or what they were hearing.”
Just then the old patriarch came up and claimed his guest, the British
captain, but the latter said that he must rejoin his ship at once
if the stuff was ready that he had purchased. He was amazed to find
that during his stay ashore one heavy boatload had already been taken
aboard, inquiring as he did so if his two passengers were ready and he
would see them put on board. They were brought along helpless to hurt
anybody, but using their foul tongues to their full power. The captain
had serious thoughts of gagging them, but exercised his patience,
remembering that once in the cells on board of his ship they might
curse themselves dumb and hurt nobody’s ears.
So he departed, never to forget that visit and never to be forgotten
by the people whom he had relieved, and in an hour’s time the _Thetis_
turned on her heel and sped seaward on her way to Sydney. Then came C.
B.’s turn. All his farewells were said, his exceedingly scanty wardrobe
was packed in a mat, and all being snugly stowed in the whaleship’s
boat, he, at the captain’s request, took the steer oar, while willing,
loving hands ran the boat out on the crest of a departing roller and,
the oars being handled with the usual skill, she shot out into the
smooth beyond, amidst a chorus of farewells rapidly growing fainter as
she receded.
Reaching the ship the ample load of fresh provisions was taken aboard
with the usual smartness, and the boat hoisted into her place, while
the new-comer gazed with keenest interest as the sails were trimmed and
the ship filled away. For it must be remembered that for all his skill
in handling a boat, whether under sail or oars, and his many visits to
vessels, he had hitherto never been on board one of them while she was
being handled, and consequently the whole business was of the newest
and strangest to him. And here I must say that in all my conversations
with landsmen about the sea life, I have ever found it one of the
hardest tasks to explain that even the most experienced sailors,
upon first going on board ship, have some considerable difficulty in
becoming acquainted with her details. To the untrained eye she may look
precisely the same as the ship our sailor has just left, but to the
man who has to find in the blackest depth of night the gear about the
deck by means of which the sails high over head are worked, there are
certain to be many acute differences leading to much blundering and
botherment until he gets used to them.
But this is very technical and needs much more space than can be spared
to elucidate it properly, and even then I doubt very much whether
the result would be considered worth while. So I fall back upon the
fact that C. B., grand fellow as he undoubtedly was, stood and looked
at what was going on, as the _Eliza Adams’_ yards were trimmed for
standing off to sea, with a sense of utter bewilderment, which went
far to dispel the admiration that his fine physique had excited among
the crew in the morning--especially among his fellows, the other
harponeers, who were all Portuguese, all full of enthusiasm for
their business as well as of skill in carrying it on, but absolutely
destitute of the finer feelings of humanity, ruthless and cruel beyond
belief, and only restrained from excesses among their boats’ crews
while on a whale by a wholesome respect for the strong man who ruled
them.
These men bore no good will towards C. B. as a stranger and an
interloper, and besides, they were jealous of the favour with which
the skipper regarded him. Therefore, when he exhibited his ignorance
of the handling of the ship, they were unrestrained in their jeering
at him, and used their coarse limited English to its full extent in
letting him see how they regarded him. But he only looked at them
thoughtfully and wondered why they thus spoke to him, seeing that he
had not offended them in any way as far as he could tell. And then
the ship being fairly on her course for the south-east the mate, Mr.
Winsloe, came to him and said--
“Now then, C. B., you had better see your quarters and make yourself
acquainted with your shipmates. I can see you know but dern little
about a ship, but I guess you’ll learn mighty quick. Come along.”
He led C. B. below to the narrow apartment on the port side where the
harponeers, the carpenter and cooper, cook and steward lived together
in a certain state, waited upon by a mulatto lad, and fed in precisely
the same way as the captain and officers. Here Mr. Winsloe introduced
him to the senior harponeer, a huge black Portuguese from Terceira,
saying--
“Pepe, just take this chap in hand and show him the ropes. I believe
he’s a boss whaleman, but a ship’s strange to him, and we want him to
get used to her as soon as may be. And say”--here his voice dropped to
a whisper--“just pass the word to the other fellows that there’s to be
no fool hazing of this chap. He’s too good for it and we don’t want him
spoiled. Besides, he’s quite up to acting ugly, and if he does and gets
a knife between his ribs there’s going to be big trouble with the old
man, an’ a joke ain’t worth all that.”
Fortunately C. B. heard nothing of this, but he noted the deep scowl on
Pepe’s face as he replied--
“All right, sir. But you don’t ’spects me to look after him ’n keep
d’other fellows from hazin’ ’im, do ye? Kaze if ye do I cain’t say as I
thinks it far an’ reasonable, specially as he’s such a greenie.”
“Now, that’s enough er that guff, Pepe,” returned the mate warningly;
“I know all about you and you know all about me.” Then turning to C. B.
the mate went on--
“Now, young man, this is your home and this man is the boss of the
show, not but what you’re all equal in theory; but there, you’ll find
out what I mean quick enough, and I hope you’ll learn how to take a
good-natured joke if you don’t know already.” And he departed on deck
again, leaving the two men face to face.
For a while they eyed each other in silence, each apparently engaged in
taking the other’s measure; but while C. B.’s gaze was full of kindly
consideration, Pepe’s looked full of scowling hatred. At last Pepe
muttered some foul remark and turned away somewhat discomfited. He
could not understand the calm untroubled gaze, and he was far too good
a judge of men not to know that the young giant that stood before him
would be much too big a handful for even him to manage, big as he was,
if it came to a rough and tumble. This in itself was enough to make him
dislike the new-comer, for no man likes being suddenly deposed from a
position of supremacy over his fellows.
Then the other harponeers came trooping down to supper, followed by the
carpenter and cooper, who were both taciturn Down East Yankees of a
good type, but, like most of their kind, utterly callous and godless,
although splendid workmen and brave men. In the babel that ensued C. B.
could not but notice that there were many blasphemous remarks levelled
at him obliquely, although no one spoke to him direct. And this was
in truth a fiery ordeal, seeing that he had never in his life heard
anything of the kind except a few broken words that the two escaped
prisoners used so freely, and they were scarcely intelligible to him.
But far harder to bear than that, he noted with surprise, was the air
of enmity aroused by his presence; he who was so sensitive that even
the slight reserve manifested towards him after his outbreak in defence
of his sister had cut him to the very soul.
But his father had warned him that he might expect something of the
sort and that he must steel his heart against it, be strong to endure
and rest in the Lord, like the three holy children before the king of
Babylon. So he breathed an inward prayer for strength, and drawing
up to a vacant place at the table, helped himself to some food. From
life-long habit he bowed his head over his plate in thanks to the Giver
for a moment, and there burst out a roar of harsh laughter. But this
created a diversion, for the cooper growled--
“Shet up, ye heathen, an’ don’t jeer a better man than yerselves when
he’s asking a blessin’. Doan’t ye take no notice of ’em, youngster;
they don’t know no better.”
C. B. gave him a grateful glance and bravely attacked his food, having
a perfectly healthy appetite, and the meal proceeded in silence. But
when all hands lit pipes and corn cob cigarettes, the reek of the place
immediately sickened him, and turning deathly pale he hurried on deck
for air. The smell of the place, full as it was of the odours of stale
oil, the smoke from the lamp and the effluvia of bilge-water, was bad
enough to lungs that had always been accustomed to pure air, and the
added fumes of tobacco made the combination unbearable.
On deck it was beautiful; a strong breeze was blowing, and the sturdy
ship under easy sail was making good way through the water. Under the
brilliant moon the bold outlines of his island home were fast fading
into indistinctness, and for all his high resolves he felt a pang as he
thought of all that he had left and the unknown troubles he was going
to meet. And then a deep kindly voice behind him said--
“Well, Mr. Man, feeling a bit homesick, are ye? That’ll wear off mighty
sudden, but in the meantime you’ve got to have some clothes. Come down
into the cuddy and I’ll fit ye up.”
It was the captain who had sought him out, knowing how easy it is for
these islanders to get a chill when first leaving the genial climate
of their home for the wide keenness of the sea, and knowing too how
scantily his new recruit was provided with clothes. So together they
went down into the little cabin, where, aided by the steward, Captain
Taber produced a complete outfit of clothes including boots, which C.
B. looked dubiously at and then shook his head merrily, saying--
“I’ve never had a boot on in my life, captain, and I’m afraid I
shouldn’t be able to walk in them now.”
“True, my boy, I’d forgotten that,” laughed the skipper. “Well, we’ll
cut the boots out, and now your account is twenty-two dollars, so you’d
better pray for whale to enable you to pay off your score. Cart your
dunnage below and get off to ye’er bunk, for I guess you’ve got the
middle watch.”
C. B. gathered up his bundle of clothes and carried them to his berth,
where he found several of his berth-mates had already turned in, but
they were all smoking furiously. So he could only stay below long
enough to get into some warm clothing, and then, feeling sick and
silly, he climbed on deck again, a blanket on his arm, to seek a spot
where he might sleep without fear of being suffocated. This experience
of knowing not where to lay his head was totally unexpected by him, for
it was the one thing his father had omitted to mention as being among
the hardships of a seafaring life. And he began to wonder whether in
all his career he should meet with anything harder to bear, being by
nature a perfect lover of pure air.
However, he found a corner which struck him as being out of the way,
and laid himself down upon the planks, drew the blanket over himself
and commended himself to God, and like a perfectly healthy animal was
almost immediately fast asleep. He was roughly aroused at midnight by
one of the harponeers, who inquired caustically whether he thought he
was going to be a passenger and have all night in. He at once sprang up
and asked what his duties were, but his interlocutor turned away with a
mocking laugh, muttering--
“Ef yew fink Ise goin’ t’ be yer nuss yous way off.”
So he went aft, where his instinct told him he should find the officer
of the watch, and when he discovered that functionary, a thickset
taciturn Yankee from Providence, Rhode Island, he courteously asked him
if he might be told what to do. Mr. Spurrell gave a snort, being in a
middle-watch humour, but he was a man of the most inflexible justice,
and his leading principle compelled him to answer the honest question
straightforwardly, instead of as so often happens overwhelming the
novice with contumely for asking. He informed C. B. that his only duty
was to keep on the alert, going forward occasionally to see if the
lookout was being properly kept by the man, and if any sail-trimming
had to be done to try and master the details of it, the how and why,
so that presently in case of an emergency he might be able to take the
watch himself.
C. B. thanked the officer gravely, and then, a happy thought striking
him, asked if he might put in his first watch on deck learning to steer
the ship. Steering a boat he was as we know an adept at, but using
a ship’s wheel and compass is a very different matter, and he was
unwilling to remain ignorant of anything for a moment longer than was
necessary for him to learn it. Fortunately there was an able Kanaka
from Samoa at the wheel, who spoke reasonably understandable English
and was delighted to show C. B. all he knew. Thus it came about that at
four bells, that is at the end of the Samoan’s trick at the wheel, C.
B. could steer almost as well as his teacher. For there are some men
born helmsmen, who learn with astounding ease and rapidity, others who
to the last day of their lives never seem to be able to keep a ship,
a sailing ship that is, anywhere near her course. Of course steering
steamships is, like so many other things at sea in steamers, a purely
mechanical process, and if a man does not do it well it argues that he
is careless or lazy or both.
The wind held steady, so that the new-comer had no opportunity of
learning anything about sail handling this watch, but it had passed
away very rapidly and pleasantly, and when eight bells struck C. B.
felt more contented than he had been since coming on board. Also he
recognized how much he would have to learn, and was correspondingly
eager to get on with that learning. But now he had to face the hole
below, for the work of cleansing the ship for the day was beginning,
the _Eliza Adams_ being, like all those old-time south-seamen from
New England, kept as spick and span as any yacht, quite contrary to
generally accepted notions, and also in great contrast to the condition
in which our English whalers used to be allowed to remain.
The foul atmosphere caught him by the throat as he entered, but he
set his teeth and persevered, climbing into his bunk and lying there
suffering until he went off into an almost drugged slumber. From this
he was aroused at seven bells, 7.20 a.m., to breakfast, which was good
and plentiful; but he was not able to eat a morsel, and had to rush
on deck for relief. As soon as he appeared the captain saw him, and
immediately noticed that there was something wrong with him. Calling
him, the skipper inquired in kindly fashion after his health, and
on being told what was the matter, raised his eyebrows wonderingly,
for the complaint was new to him. And indeed it is nothing short of
miraculous to me how men could live at all in such foul dens, reeking
with stench and disease-laden air as they were. But of course the
poisoning process did not go on long enough to kill, and the strong
pure air of heaven when they came on deck soon acted as an antidote
to the evil in the blood. A greater mystery still is the way in which
our peasantry deliberately choose thus to poison themselves. Working
all day in the strong pure breath of the fields, they will go to their
cottages and, in company with a large family, close up every cranny
whereby a little fresh air can creep in, and soak in that foul fug
until the morning. Ugh!
So all the consolation the skipper could give C. B. was that he would
soon get used to it as everybody else had to. And with that poor
comfort C. B. had to be content. Now while the captain went on talking
to him about the island life there was a cry from aloft, “Porps,
porps.” A school of porpoises had joined the vessel, and were indulging
in their graceful sinewy gambols under the bows as usual.
“Now, my boy,” cried the skipper, “is your time to show your shipmates
what you can do with the iron. Your shot yesterday was a fancy one,
I’ll admit, but this is a different matter. Come along forrard.”
Already a harpoon had been passed out to the bowsprit and attached to a
stout line, which was rove through a block secured there in readiness
and the other end passed in on deck. At the skipper’s direction C. B.
slid down the martingale on to the guys and stood there, his shoulders
braced against the martingale or dolphin-striker, while the old ship
plunged along, occasionally bringing his feet within a few inches of
the waves.
Beneath him the graceful agile sea-creatures rolled and sprang and
plunged like mad things in the seething foam from the bluff bows of the
advancing ship. C. B. poised his iron, pointed it at one of the rising
porpoises, and at the moment it broke the water beneath him the iron
flew from his hands. It struck the creature fairly in the middle of the
back and sank through him as C. B. shouted--
“Haul up!”
And the men on deck running away with the line jerked the writhing mass
out of the water up to the block, where a running bowline was dropped
over its broad tail, by means of which it was hauled inboard. Another
iron was hastily bent on and passed out, and the first victim had
hardly been cut loose from the barb before another was transfixed in
the same manner and lay struggling by the side of its fellow.
Again and again the feat was repeated, for the new harponeer’s aim
seemed to be unerring, until eleven large porpoises lay in a heap
abaft the windlass. And then a really wonderful thing happened. Two
porpoises rose at once, rolling over and over each other as they did
so, and just as they broke water the harpoon flew and pierced them both
at once! Almost all hands saw the amazing stroke, and a great shout
of approbation went up, for none of them had ever seen such a feat
performed before.
The pair were hauled inboard and another shot made, but this time the
iron went through the creature’s side, and in its tremendous efforts
it wrenched the iron out of its body and fell, a torn and bleeding
mass, back into the sea. In a moment the whole school rushed after it
and, like a pack of starving wolves, rent it in fragments, leaping
high into the air in their frenzied eagerness to get a share of the
cannibal feast. So there was no more hunting for the time, but C. B.’s
reputation as a harponeer was established upon the firmest basis,
and only his fellow-harponeers were ungenerous enough to mutter that
perhaps he wouldn’t do so well when it came to striking whales.