DISILLUSIONMENT
Perhaps it is high time that we returned for a while to the career of
our heroine in her new sphere. It must be remembered that she, as so
many other young women have done, took a leap in the dark, committing
herself and her future to the care of a man about whose antecedents and
character she knew absolutely nothing, having only in the few short
days of their acquaintance seen him at his very best. But such was the
glamour with which she had invested her hero that, although she was
startled and troubled in mind by his brutal language and still more
brutal treatment of the men under his command from the first hour that
she came on board his ship, she attributed it all to the necessities of
a captain’s position. Every oath made her shudder, every blow made her
wince, yet she bore it all without remark, as belonging to a new order
of things of which she had hitherto been entirely ignorant, and upon
the merits of which at present she felt herself quite unable to give
an opinion. Perhaps, had she been able to hear the remarks that were
passed by the crew to one another when they thought such remarks might
safely be made, she would have shuddered still more. But, poor girl,
all such warning words were hidden from her, neither did she know--how
could she, indeed?--that her husband bore the unenviable reputation
of being the hardest skipper of all the hard-bitten crowd of such
men sailing from the whaling ports of North America. Still, even her
trustful heart could not fail to be wounded at the incessant cruelty
which she was now compelled to witness.
The crew, driven on board at the last moment before sailing like a pack
of cowed dogs, were a set of miserable ragamuffins, taken, apparently,
because none others could be obtained at any price. There were only
two Americans among them--two poor lads from the Western States, who
had run away from home to go to sea; the rest were representatives of
almost as many races as there were members. This, in itself, made for
the safety of the officers--made the brutality much less likely to be
resented successfully, because, among that medley of foreigners, there
could be no banding together for a common purpose of revenge. Not that
such an event was at all probable, because, according to the fixed plan
pursued on board the majority of such vessels, the precaution was taken
while yet the crew, who were nearly all green hands, were in the throes
of nausea and bewilderment at their strange surroundings, to beat them,
with or without pretext, until their spirits were thoroughly broken and
the possibility of their retaliating was hopelessly remote. Captain
Da Silva, in spite of the presence of his wife, which might have been
expected to have a humanising influence over him, was this voyage more
savagely brutal than ever he had been before. His four officers, who
knew him well, and who were all eager followers of his plans (had to
be, indeed, in order to keep their position with him), confessed one
to another that the old man seemed as if he wanted to show his bride
how black a demon he _could_ be. _He_ said, not by way of excuse, but
apparently stating a mournful fact, in conversation with his officers,
that in all his fishing he had never had such a crowd to deal with
as he had got this time, and before they had been at sea a week he
discussed with the officers elaborate plans for running across to the
Azores, driving his present crew overboard and shipping a crowd of his
fellow-countrymen therefrom. But this was going a little too far, for
three of his officers were Americans, and they by no means relished the
prospect of having an entire crew of Portuguese on board an American
ship. They felt that it would be indeed exchanging the devils they knew
for the devils they did _not_ know, and, as far as they dared, made
this plain to their brutal commander. And he, wise as well as wicked,
took the hint, for he could not afford to lose such splendid whalemen
as his officers had proved themselves to be. So, instead of working
to the eastward, they shaped a course for the Line, and met with such
good fortune in the shape of weather that, without the parting of a
rope-yarn, they found themselves at the end of a fortnight well within
the Tropics.
It was one of the characteristics of Da Silva’s career that he always
seemed to have extraordinary luck. This voyage was no exception, for
no sooner was the vessel shipshape, the whaling gear rigged, and all
fishing preparations made, than he, taking the masthead trip one
morning, sighted a grand school of sperm whales. Instantly his voice
rang throughout the ship, calling all hands to action, and even those
unhappy men who had had the hardest experience of his cruelty could not
withhold a tribute of admiration for his wonderful powers of command,
presence of mind, and exact knowledge of how to do the right thing at
the right moment.
That scratch crew of wastrels, broken-spirited as they were, seemed
to catch a spark of his enthusiasm, and exerted themselves in
extraordinary ways in order to gain his approval.
Priscilla, utterly neglected amid this hurly-burly, sat perched on
the taffrail looking with wide-eyed wonderment upon the busy scene. A
thrill of terror seized her as she saw her husband, standing erect in
the stern of the first boat lowered, urging his crew, with an unbroken
stream of profanity, to the highest efforts of which they were capable.
She could see the whales, but she hardly knew what was afoot. All that
was real to her was that the ship was deserted by almost all hands,
including the commander, only three or four being left to handle the
sails. So there she sat solitary, alarmed, full of fears for her
husband’s safety, for the result of this tremendous manœuvre, the
object of which she only dimly understood. The cries from the two men
at the masthead to those on deck she understood not at all, nor did she
dare to ask the helmsman for any information for fear that her innocent
inquiry might reach her husband’s ears later and be fiercely resented
by him. But he had obtained such a hold over her that even now she did
not blame him: she only felt sorry that he should not have had time (as
she put it to herself) to acquaint her with the reason for his hurried
departure.
Meanwhile the five boats, their crews straining at the oars to the
utmost limit of their strength, sped away at right angles to the
direction in which the whales lay. The Captain kept the lead, not that
the men in the other boats were not doing their best, but that he had a
picked crew, and that every man of them was working as if in imminent
bodily fear of some terrible punishment unless he exerted all his
muscular power. The oars rose and fell with the regularity of steam
pistons, the water foamed past the boats, but no other sound was heard
save the laboured panting of the men and the low, hissing execrations
of the Captain. It is popularly supposed that when rowing boats after
whales there is a great deal of shouted encouragement, either kindly or
the reverse, that the men themselves are apt to break into song, as Dr.
Beale permits himself to say, ‘The men sang the time-honoured whaling
chant of “Away, my boys, away, my boys, it’s time for us to go,”’ but
when it is remembered how very slight a sound, even at the distance of
miles, will suffice to alarm the valuable quarry, it will at once be
seen that experienced whale hunters would not be likely to do such a
foolish thing as to make unnecessary noises, even supposing that they
had breath to spare for doing so.
At last, when the rowers felt as if their arms would drop off at the
shoulders, the Captain’s deep voice was heard saying, ‘Peak oars, step
mast, up sprit.’ These actions were immediately copied by each of
the other boats, and, in three minutes from the time they had ceased
rowing, the five boats, under the steady stress of their big sails,
were bounding over the bright sea before the wind down on to the
whales. The propulsion with the oars had only been resorted to for the
purpose of obtaining a good weather gauge. That once reached, and the
sails set, the boats’ heads were turned at right angles to the course
they had been pursuing so that they might now, with the wind almost
astern, run down upon the whales at high speed, and with the least
possible amount of splash.
It was a splendid sight, that group of unconscious monsters calmly
and methodically pursuing their way, quietly attending to their own
business of procuring food and enjoying their life; and here, close
at hand, stealing upon them like pirates upon a helpless merchantman,
this little flotilla of destroyers. Each officer and harpooner was now
in the throes of expectation, every nerve tense, all their hopes high
that they would reach their prey before the periodical descent of the
whales took place. In nine cases out of ten this would not have been
the case, but here again, Captain Da Silva’s luck appeared to be in the
ascendant, for, as if the boats were living creatures, full of eager
desire to come to close quarters with the enemy, they leaped forward
with ever-accelerating speed, until the foremost whale, a large bull of
about seventy barrels (or, say, sixty feet in length) was only a couple
of lengths ahead of the skipper’s boat. Hoarsely he growled, ‘Stand up,
Jose!’ The harpooner’s crouching form straightened itself, and, raising
the harpoon in both hands while steadying himself by his left thigh in
the hollow of the clumsy cleat, he waited, a heroic figure, until,
by a skilful sweep of the steering oar, the boat swung end on to the
whale’s broad side, and struck it, at the same moment as the harpoon
flew from those nervous hands and buried itself in the quivering
blubber up to the hitches. Calmly pitching the stray line out of the
box over the boat’s side, the harpooner turned to go aft with the face
of a man knowing that his duty had been well done. Without taking the
slightest notice of the writhings of the tortured leviathan so near or
the tremendous commotion in the water, he superintended the rolling
up of the sail, the unshipping of the mast, and the passing of it aft
where it would be out of the way of the operations.
[Illustration: THE WHALE WENT STEADILY DOWN, DOWN, DOWN.
_P. 49._]
While the crew of the boat were thus engaged the Captain, with that
skill for which he was justly famous, had, by means of the big steering
oar, manipulated the boat so that she lay at a safe distance from the
whale. The hardly-pressed monster, in orthodox fashion, finding that
he could not free himself from the galling weapon, descended steadily,
taking out line at a gentle rate, while the Captain changed ends with
the harpooner, unsheathed his favourite lance, and awaited the return
of the whale to the surface. While so doing, his countenance was a
study in ferocity. The immediate prospect of bloodshed seemed to arouse
in him all the animal, and, as he glared fiercely around upon his crew,
they hardly dared meet his eye, so terrible did he look. But he was
compelled to forego his delightful occupation for a while, and remain
as quiet as it was possible for him to do while the whale went steadily
down, down, down. Meanwhile, by a piece of amazing good fortune, each
of the other boats had succeeded in getting fast to a whale without
any accident, and now they were all engaged in the same manner as the
Captain’s boat, waiting, with such patience as the officers could
command, for the rising to the surface of their respective whales.
The remainder of the school, having apparently lost all control of
themselves, wandered aimlessly around the little company of boats,
going slowly backwards and forwards, thrusting their great heads out of
the water without apparently the slightest idea of what to do or where
to go, and arousing in the minds of the officers, especially in that of
the Captain, the fiercest resentment at their inability to take more
advantage of so splendid an opportunity as was now offered them. After
a wait of nearly half an hour, all the harpooned whales came to the
surface at nearly the same moment, and immediately the scene underwent
a change as complete as it is possible to imagine. The wounded
monsters, rushing frantically in every direction in their vain efforts
to escape, the fierce guttural yells of the officers as they plied
their slender, gleaming lances upon those vast bodies, the welling
fountains of blood that befouled the bright sea surface, all went to
make up a picture of savagery which could hardly be equalled by that
presented in any land battle. So successful was the conduct of this
first encounter that hardly two hours had elapsed since the boats first
left the ship when the whole five whales were dead, the boats cleared
up, and all was in readiness for the prey to be taken alongside the
ship. She, being well and smartly handled by the three or four people
left on board, and having got well to windward of the area of battle,
now ran down to where the Captain’s boat lay by the side of his dead
whale. Having made the line fast to a hole in the whale’s fluke, he
ordered his boat to run alongside the ship, and, climbing smartly on
board, he superintended the hauling of the whale alongside. Now, the
ship being hampered by that gigantic body made fast to her, it became
necessary for the crews of the other boats to tow their whales as best
they could in the direction of the vessel. Fearfully long and tedious
was the process, and the impatience of the Captain rose to a height
of almost maniacal fury, although he knew full well that every man
was doing his utmost to perform the tremendous task allotted to him.
Without a break they toiled until the sun was nearly setting, nor was
one moment’s respite allowed them until the whole of the day’s catch
was secured alongside and astern of the ship. Then, and not till then,
the Captain shouted with a grudging note in his voice, ‘Mr. Court, send
the hands to dinner.’ The order was repeated by the mate, and the men
wearily dragged themselves below, where the food--cooked long ago--was
awaiting them. But as they went the Captain shouted again, ‘Look lively
now; yew wanter be on deck again in twenty minutes.’ Having delivered
himself thus, he turned towards his cabin, where, for the first time
that day, he greeted his wife. She, quite bewildered by the day’s
proceedings, summoned up all her affection, and came to greet him with
arms outspread, but he, glowering fiercely at her, said, ‘I got no time
for fooling now; I got something else to think about.’
This rebuff reduced her to a pitiable state of mind, for it was utterly
incomprehensible. That she had done anything to deserve it she could
not feel, and, indeed, it was a strange thing that a man in the height
of his success, having inaugurated his cruise in so splendid a fashion,
with enormous profits lying only waiting to be realised, should be so
hatefully morose and savage in his demeanour.
It was a puzzle beyond hope of solution. The meal was taken in utter
silence, the food being bolted in truly animal fashion; and, while yet
the last mouthfuls were being masticated, the skipper rose abruptly
from his seat and said, ‘Now, then, Mr. Court, start the hands again.’
While they had been at dinner the shipkeepers had completed their task
of getting the gear ready for cutting in, so that when the officers
came on deck and summoned the hands it only remained to commence
cutting in the whales at once. Loud orders resounded along the decks,
but, for perhaps half a minute, there was no response, and this seemed
to act upon the Captain maddeningly. Snatching a belaying-pin from the
rail, he strode forward muttering curses, and, beating his weapon upon
the scuttle hatch of the forecastle, he roared down into the gloomy
cavern, ‘D’ ye want to be smoked out like a nest of hornets?’ Full of
alarms, the weary men clambered up the steep ladder, but as the first
one reached the deck he was met by a tremendous blow full in the face,
which sent him reeling to the deck.
It must be admitted that captain and officers worked hardest of all;
in fact, they seemed like men of steel rather than of flesh and blood,
and even the weary seamen could hardly refuse a tribute of admiration
to the way in which they were led. By midnight, under the glare of
blazing cressets suspended from the davit heads, they had managed to
cut in two of the whales, and had decapitated the remaining three,
the great columnar heads being strung astern by hawsers. Then the
Captain reluctantly gave orders that half the crew should retire for an
hour while the other half busied themselves in making some sort of a
clearance on the deck, which was now piled almost from end to end with
blubber, and ankle-deep in oil. How speedily that hour passed for the
privileged ones only they could tell. Indeed, it seemed but a moment
before they were back at work again, and the other half were sent for
the same brief period to rest. But the savage brute of a captain took
no rest. He seemed superhuman, and when day dawned the whole of the
spoil had been taken on board, with the exception of the three heads,
for which no room could be found at present.