It did not take long for the excited party to learn that the ship,
which now offered them a comfortable temporary home, was the Arctic,
Captain John Smith, of Bedford.
The rescued party were immediately taken into the captain’s cabin, and
for over an hour questioned as to their past adventures.
Jack Marcy concealed the fact of Captain Morris’ plot to sink the
Golden Moose with a grim resolution that, when he once more reached
Portland, the truth should be made known.
Inquiry from Captain Smith revealed the fact that the Arctic was a
whaler fully rigged for a cruise to the far North.
The castaways were cared for and treated with kindly consideration, and
the next morning the Captain said to Jack Marcy:
“We cannot change our course to get you ashore, boatswain.”
“We could not expect that, sir.”
“But should we meet a returning vessel?”
“’Taint likely at this season of the year.”
“No, not so early. Still, we make a landing five days ahead, with
favorable weather, and you can go ashore and wait for a ship going
back.”
“All right, Captain.”
“Or, if you and Hugo want to ship with us? We’re short-handed.”
Jack considered deeply.
“There’s the lads, sir.”
“We might make them useful, and, with a successful voyage, they might
get home almost as soon as waiting for a ship at our last landing
station.”
“I’ll think it over, sir,” said Jack. “Meantime, make us useful around
the ship.”
The boys were delighted with the Arctic, and the arrangements made for
the capture of whales and the securing of oil fairly fascinated them.
Were it not for thoughts of anxious friends at home Will Bertram would
have been glad to accompany the Arctic on her voyage.
Circumstances prevented their stopping at the landing place Captain
Smith had spoken of. A storm drove the ship out of its course, and
without passing a single ship, two weeks after picking up the sailors
and the boys the captain assigned them to duties on the ship.
“You’ll have to stay with the Arctic till she returns, now,” he said,
“and you might find less comfortable quarters.”
Jack and Hugo were easily provided for, and the boys were given light
duties to perform. The variety and excitement of the voyage made time
pass pleasantly, and they resigned themselves to the inevitable when
they learned that their return home was a matter of the far future.
“We’ve crossed the line of the whale hunting grounds, and you may
expect to see some sport,” said old Jack one day.
His prediction was verified soon afterwards. The Arctic had been
sailing into lower temperatures, and one morning, after passing several
large masses of ice, was put in order for a whale catch.
The boats and harpoons were got ready, and about noon the man on watch
sang out the cry so familiar to old whalers,
“Ahoy! There she blows!”
Immediately the deck was a scene of action. Two boats were lowered, and
the men piled into them indiscriminately.
Old Jack had arranged with the Captain to take part in the capture,
and, to Will’s delight, found a place for him by his side in one of the
boats.
A mile or more to the south every eye had noticed a volume of water
spurted into the air, the signal of the location of the whale.
There was a brisk rivalry between the two boats to reach the whale
first. The monster they were in pursuit of had disappeared beneath the
surface of the water, but became visible at times again, and the boats
were rapidly nearing its vicinity.
The boat Jack and Will were in was commanded by the mate of the Arctic
and soon gained a lead on the other boat.
At last they came so near to the whale that one of the sailors stood,
with harpoon poised, ready to strike at the proper moment.
Will, watching with profound interest, saw the harpoon fly forward. It
became lodged in the body of the whale. Then there was a quick jerk,
and the monster disappeared beneath the waves, the blood from its wound
dyeing the water a bright red.
The rope attached to the harpoon that had struck the whale was wound
round a stout reel in the boat, and this began to go out so rapidly
that it seemed as if it would saw itself in two whenever it touched the
edge of the boat.
The whale after diving deep came up again to the surface of the water
and began running at a terrible rate of speed.
“The reel’s out,” cried a sailor.
The oars were drawn in now and the boat abandoned entirely to the
caprice of the whale.
It was a novel experience for Will--a ride, with the marine monster as
a horse.
One of the sailors stood by the reel with a hatchet in his hand,
uplifted as if ready to sever the rope at a moment’s notice.
“What is he waiting for?” Will inquired of Jack.
“You see the rope is all played out?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if the whale should dive the boat would follow. See there!”
“Cut loose!”
This cry came from the mate, who had been watching the whale’s
maneuvers.
At the same moment the whale disappeared again.
The hatchet descended and cut the rope in two.
The men resumed their oars and rowed rapidly towards the spot where the
whale had last been seen.
A second harpoon, with a smaller reel of rope, was hastily got ready.
Suddenly there was a commotion directly by the side of the boat. The
practiced harpooner flung the harpoon as the whale came up, and then a
scene of indescribable confusion ensued.
The whale had struck the boat with its tail, crushing the boat in which
Will sat and flinging its occupants high in the air.
Old Jack seized Will as they fell into the water, and then caught at a
floating piece of the boat.
The other sailors swam towards the companion boat, which hurried to the
scene of the disaster and picked up all who were in the water.
Half an hour later the Arctic was signalled, and came to where the
whale lay floating on the water, dead from the wounds it had received.
The cutting up of the monster and the securing of the oil was an active
and interesting scene to the boys.
For nearly two weeks the Arctic cruised in the vicinity. Several other
whales were sighted, but evaded capture.
A terrible storm drove them northwards soon afterwards. During its
prevalence the boys were ordered to remain below.
At last one morning the tempest subsided, and the boys came on deck.
A cry of amazement and delight broke from their lips.
The Arctic was sailing onward amid fields of floating icebergs.