A DISASTROUS DAY
Undoubtedly there was a certain fierce delight in Mr. Court’s mind,
as well as great relief, when he fled precipitately on deck from the
presence of the terrible man who was his present commander. As any
other man of his abilities and bravery would have done, he felt a
certain measure of contempt for himself that he should be so meekly
subservient to one whom he believed in his heart of hearts to be no
braver or more skilful than he was himself; but the deeply ingrained
habit of discipline prevented that feeling from reaching its logical
conclusion. And, unlike the Dago, he, being an Anglo-Saxon, also
felt a certain compassion for a man stricken down by accident in the
performance of his duty, and utterly unwilling to take the smallest
advantage thereof. More, in some dim manner he felt that if his part
were well played now, there might be some alleviation in the lot of
that pale saint (for in such a light had the mate come to regard
Priscilla--you cannot keep family secrets on board a ship); and so,
fired with all the best ambitions that can energise a man, he sprang on
deck, every sense keenly alert.
The air was full of wailing cries of ‘Bl-o-o-o-o-w.’ All hands were
waiting ready by their boats with an air of expectation, as if each
man was taking the highest personal interest in the outcome of the
present adventure. The second mate, standing on the little bridge over
the wheel conning the ship, no sooner saw his superior than he said,
‘School o’ th’ biggest sparm whale ever I sot eyes on, sir. Ain’t one
under a hundred an’ thutty bar’l, I swar. An’ thar’s one--ef he ain’t
the father of all the whales ever bo’n I ain’t ever seen one before.’
For all answer the mate shouted ‘’Way boats! Down from aloft.’ And
for the next few minutes the whirring of patent sheaves, as the
graceful boats ran waterwards, the hoarse, gasping orders given by
the boat-headers, and the sharp concussions in the water, filled the
air. What a scene of furious energy manifested by men who a little
while before were lolling uncouthly about as if incapable of any
exertion whatever, under no matter what stimulus or provocation!
Within five minutes the ship was deserted by all her crew, save only
the discontented half-dozen whose unhappy lot it was to abide by the
stuff and labour monotonously to keep the ship as far to windward of
the arena of battle as might be. In every man’s heart there was a deep
sensation of thankfulness that one ominous figure was absent from
this fray--that for once they were free to do their best unhampered
by the paralysing knowledge that, whatever they did, their efforts
would surely be rewarded by savage treatment which they must endure,
because no safe way of rebellion presented itself. How the rowers did
lay to their oars! How keenly when, a sufficient weather gauge being
reached, the sails were set and the boats bounded blithesomely over the
blue waves under the stress of the freshening breeze, did every man
peer forward for sight of their gigantic prey; and how fervently each
harpooner hoped that he might be privileged to strike the first blow!
I have never been able to understand how it is that all other seamen
seem to have cherished contemptuous feelings towards the whale-fishers.
That they always have done so is undoubtedly true, and possibly the
foundation of so utterly false a sentiment may have been that it is but
seldom that ordinary seafarers have been able to witness the mighty
conflict between men and whales. Usually when sailors meet whalers it
is at a time when the latter are conserving their energies against the
coming of the next great fight, or are greasily labouring to harvest
their spoil, an occupation which needs much true appreciation of the
romantic to see anything in it at all worthy of admiration. In the rare
cases that have occurred when sailors have been in at the death of a
whale, they have been simply stricken dumb with admiring wonder, and
thenceforward have enjoyed a vicarious popularity as the retailers of
yarns in the dog-watches to a gaping but utterly sceptical crowd of
their shipmates.
So, swiftly the four boats sped whalewards, the mate always ahead,
for his intense nervous energy had communicated itself to his crew,
who, not content with the pace being made under the pressure of the
wind, had each stealthily seized a paddle, and were thrusting them
deeply into the hissing waters alongside at every opportunity that was
presented, as if their overmastering impatience could not let them
rest for one instant. Strange to say, on this occasion, although it
seemed to the mate that, large as the whales were, they should have
long ago made their periodical descent, they did not do so, but lolled
about on the bright sea-surface in an orderly series of rows which
converged, until at the apex, as it were, of the whole school lay the
gigantic leader of whom the second mate had spoken in such breathless
terms of admiration. There could at last be no doubt about the matter:
that school of whales had seen their aggressors coming, and for some
mysterious reason had decided that on this occasion they would not obey
their natural promptings bidding them flee, but would await the foe and
do battle with him in befitting manner, with never a doubt as to the
issue.
The reason for this strange behaviour could not, of course, be known to
the mate, since even the keenest of human observers has never been able
to penetrate the motives influencing what we are pleased to call the
‘lower animals’ in their pursuance of any abnormal course of behaviour;
although there can be no doubt that had he known why the whales thus
awaited him, the knowledge would not have caused him to alter his
procedure in any way. For he was a perfectly brave man, whom no amount
of prospective peril could turn aside from what he considered to be the
path of duty. True, he was but an ordinary example of the New England
whale-fisher; but it must ever be remembered that this wonderful
calling--_i.e._, hunting the sperm whale--of necessity bred a most
extraordinary type of man, having as it did the grand old Puritan stock
to work upon.
So Mr. Court led his little flotilla into battle, every man watching
with keenest anticipation the gently heaving masses of the mighty
foes, and wondering much what so unusual an attitude portended. Some
of the fellows felt a queer clutching sensation at the pit of the
stomach as every bound of the buoyant craft brought them nearer those
silent, listless-looking whales. But it was not fear; it was but the
nerve-centres notifying the brain to call up all the energies of the
body to face the unknown, and it would at the first crash of battle be
replaced by a tautening of every muscle, an exaltation of spirit heady
as that produced by wine, and a great, if dimly understood, sense of
the power of man in the world.
A short, blast-like order, and Mr. Court, gripping his steer-oar
fiercely, bent his body almost double and swung his boat’s head round
at right angles to the leader of the great company. His harpooner,
Gonsalvo, one thigh firmly pressed into the ‘clumsy cleat,’ raised the
harpoon high overhead, and a hissing expiration burst from his clenched
teeth as the weapon flew from his hand and buried itself up to the
hitches in the whale’s broad side. One could see the convulsive quiver
run through that vast body as the stab was felt; but Gonsalvo did not
look; he snatched up his second iron and hurled it after the first to
such good purpose that it buried itself like the first one--only about
a foot higher up the body. Then, turning coolly round, the gratified
assailant cast adrift the backstays of the mast and proceeded to roll
up the sail as if quietly coming alongside a wharf. Meanwhile the
boat had swung up into the wind and lay side by side with the whale,
at a distance of about twenty feet. Hoarsely the mate encouraged his
crew in their efforts to get the hampering mast unshipped, keeping
at the same time a wary eye upon his prey. He was astonished beyond
measure to see that the whale made no sign beyond that quivering of
the skin before spoken of, but lay as if meditating upon this strange
event. Then without further sign the whale sank, sank with hardly a
ripple, and for a moment or two all was quiet, just giving Mr. Court
an opportunity to glance around and see that his lieutenants were all
busily engaged similarly to himself.
There was no lack of readiness or watchfulness; but suddenly a vast
black mass appeared on the other side of the boat, and with a perfectly
indescribable motion turned a somersault in the air, just missing, in
the downward sweep of that awful tail, the frail boat by an inch or so.
But the steer-oar was snapped off soundlessly, like a radish severed by
the sweeping blow of a knife, leaving the boat helpless. Mr. Court’s
orders flew; his men seconded him nobly, pulling first on this side,
then on that, to turn the boat; but, bereft of that great oar aft, her
movements were slow and hesitating. Then uprose that massive head, with
jaws wide extended, which, taking the boat amidships, crashed through
her as if she had been a stick of celery, destroying utterly two men
and seriously injuring the mate. His right arm and leg were broken, and
his whole side lacerated in appalling fashion.
In the suddenness of the shock the mate was mercifully spared the
full realisation of his injuries; but the absence of pain only made
his brain more active, and his mental agony was extreme. For not
only had he been the victim of a complete defeat, but he did not know
how matters were proceeding with his subordinates, and he feared
the worst. Then as he paddled mechanically, conscious of a whelming
drowsiness stealing over him, his left arm touched something hard--an
empty line-tub. With one last flash of energy he rove his arm through
its becket and passed immediately into blissful unconsciousness, that
merciful suspension of the ‘suffering’ faculties that has been Divinely
provided to smooth the way from life to death of shrinking, sensitive
flesh. His poor fellows, those who were left, were fortunately
uninjured, but thoroughly demoralised at the terrible shock they had
received. They also were able to support themselves amid the whirling
waters upon fragments of the broken boat; but, of course, like their
officer, in a most precarious and tentative fashion.
And round about them, in leisurely fashion, as if contemplating the
result of his strategical effort, swam the whale, neither doing nor
attempting to do them any harm, but putting them in serious danger of
drowning from the abnormal whirling of the water which the passage of
his monstrous bulk effected. Occasionally, too, there would appear,
cutting the water in erratic directions, the tall dorsal fin or ‘gaff
topsail’ of a great shark, hunger-driven almost to madness by the
taint of blood in the water, but (as yet) scrupulously respecting the
bodily integrity of the hapless men still living. Overhead flitted
restlessly a few birds, screaming mournfully, as if they realised that
in the effort of providing a great banquet for them man had utterly
failed this time. But of everything except the fast-weakening desire
of living the principal actors in this stormy scene were utterly
oblivious, and thus for a while we must leave them.
The other three boats, arriving upon the scene of conflict almost
simultaneously, saw their leader get fast to the monarch of the school.
And had they obeyed the regular rule, well known to them all, they
would certainly have deputed the fourth boat to lie off and watch
events, in case of need for assistance. But, freed from the baleful
overglance of the skipper and fired to utmost emulation of each other
as they were, it was easy to forget so necessary a precaution, and
consequently, each singling out his whale, the three boats rushed to
the attack, all harpooning about the same time. At once the scene
became almost indescribable. For the stricken whales, unlike their
leader, each fought with Titanic energy to free himself from the
galling weapon, rearing monstrous heads high in the air at one moment,
at the next flourishing with sufficient force to smash in a ship’s side
their mighty tails, the supple corners of which actually snapped like
whip-lashes from the vigour with which they were lashed to and fro.
Also the loose whales, apparently with some indefinite object in view
of rendering aid, glided about and between the combatants, making it
impossible for the men to do what they tried and converting the sea
into the semblance of the surface of a huge cauldron of water fiercely
boiling.
Yet such was the skill and energy displayed by these hardly bestead
hunters that for a considerable time they all escaped damage, although
they often did so by a couple of inches only. At last, as they were
weakening, the first calamity came, sudden and complete. The third
mate’s boat was towed swiftly in a certain direction (and so furious
had been the fight that the sail had not yet been secured) until the
crew found themselves between two ominously revolving bodies, one that
of the whale to which the fourth mate was fast, and the other their
own quarry. There was no room wherein to use oars, nor was there time
had there been place, when the two huge carcasses, rolling in opposite
directions, crashed against the tender shell of the boat, which
collapsed into matchwood, while the crew leapt madly upon the shiny,
slippery bodies of the monsters, and, slithering downwards, disappeared
in the smother of foam around.
With a groan of regret the fourth mate cut from his whale, and,
regardless of his own immediate danger, incited his crew with all his
powers to pick up their shipmates. And they did strive, literally for
dear life. The huge bulk of the whales brushing past them, the frantic
motions of their boat, apparently harassed them not at all. Intent upon
the orders of the erect, keenly observant figure at the stern, they
pulled, backed, peaked oars, or lay still as commanded, and while in
the full tide of their tremendous labours were suddenly hoisted, as
if by some submarine earthquake, upon the uprushing head of a whale
ten feet into the air. They were flung in a writhing heap from their
thwarts, and when they recovered themselves they were clinging sadly to
a wreck, for the boat, although still holding together as to her frame,
had her keel or backbone broken in three places, and, full of water,
just sufficed to sustain their weary heads occasionally above the sea
surface. Even at that dread time the minds of all were bent upon the
fate of those whom they had failed to rescue. For themselves they cared
nothing; they were comparatively safe with something floatable beneath
their uncertain feet; but alas for those who in that tormented whirl of
waves had not even a splinter unto which they might cling hopefully.
What of the second mate? Well, some might call him a coward, for
although he had got fast like the rest, before three minutes had
passed, having witnessed the disaster which had overtaken his senior
officer, he had coolly cut his line and withdrawn with all the speed
he could command from the arena. One thing, and one only, was in his
mind, and that was how he could avoid being entangled in a fight, so
that he might, as soon as opportunity offered, rush in and rescue
some of the drowning ones. But, as he afterwards said, never in all
his fishing had such a task fallen to his lot. For every whale in the
school seemed to make for him, and although they did not attack, whales
being magnanimous beyond all other powerful and sensible animals, they
circled about him with majestic movement, occasionally scarifying the
faces of himself and his patient men with the blistering drops from
their condensed spoutings as they blew across his boat, and clearly
made him understand that he existed only by their favour. And he was
fretting his heart to fragments over his inactivity, and wondering how
long it would be ere he could emerge from his august environment, and
save those shipmates of his whom he knew to be perishing so near. Even
then he had no notion of the completeness of the disaster. But his
heart failed him as he thought of meeting the tyrant of his life, on
that terrible man’s recovery, and endeavouring to explain away so great
a failure.
Meanwhile as far as the eye could reach the boat was hemmed in by
whales, that with majestic movement circled around their tiny captive,
or, perpendicularly erected in the water, protruded their vast
cylindrical heads from the surface like symmetrical columns of black
rock. Then, as if at a given signal, the great assemblage divided,
leaving between their closely packed ranks a lane of clear water. Not
an instant was lost by Mr. Winslow; if his hand trembled, in its grip
of the steer-oar, his voice did not; if his men looked wistfully at
one another and at their gigantic escort, they pulled none the less
lustily at the word of command. And presently they came upon a pitiful
sight. In an area that might have been covered by a big ship’s mainsail
floated listlessly six men, each clinging to some derelict portion of
their late vessel’s equipment. None of them appeared able to appreciate
their most perilous position; no gasp of fear passed their cracked and
blistered lips when the long, quivering body of some ravening shark
glided closely past them. No; for them nothing mattered any longer:
they had passed beyond the reach of either hope or fear. And had one
remembered how painful were their lives, how remote the possibilities
of brightness ever lightening their dreary way through the world, the
thought would inevitably have compelled admission that it was almost
criminal to bring them back again to the suffering they had left
behind--especially remembering how full of pain to them would be the
process.
Such an idea, however, never occurred to those tender-hearted if
ruffianly looking rescuers. Forgetting all their own danger--oblivious,
indeed, to anything else but the manifestly urgent needs of the
perishing ones they saw around them--they toiled furiously to get the
exhausted men into their boat. Nor did they desist until, the gunwale
of the boat being just awash, they were warned that any further
attempts to pick up men would certainly mean the loss of all, both
rescuers and rescued. Six were still a-missing, but that could not be
helped, and with the utmost care they moved heavily off towards the
ship, which was standing down the wind in their direction. A careful
shipkeeper of a whaleship always devotes all his energies, as soon
as boats have left, to keeping his vessel to windward of the scene
of conflict--a position of advantage whence, when the great fight is
over, he may run down with a free sheet and pick up the boats and their
gigantic prizes.
So that, although the time seemed interminably long, it was really
only a matter of minutes before the boat was alongside the ship and
the broken men were being hauled on board. All the time this work
was going on the ship was the centre of a vast assemblage of whales,
seemingly satisfied that their enemies were now powerless to harm them,
and, although majestically refusing to attack a helpless foe, quite
determined to let that foe see unmistakably what might be his fate
should his late prospective victims become aggressive. No sooner were
the rescued men on board than Mr. Winslow, as if he and his crew were
machines of iron rather than men of weariable muscles, pushed off from
the ship’s side and carefully steering between the bulky bodies of the
assembled whales, made the best of their way back to where they hoped
to find the remainder of their shipmates. Six were still missing, among
them the mate, who since the captain’s accident had endeared himself
to all hands. But it really seemed as if their colossal escort knew
the errand they were upon, for their progress was hindered in the most
extraordinary manner by the whales crowding about them. No assault was
made; had it been, however slight, they must all have perished; but it
was as if they were incessantly reminded by the whales that forbearance
had, even with such magnanimous monsters, its limits, and that while no
advantage would be taken of primary helplessness, they (the whalers)
would not lightly be permitted to help those who were receiving the due
reward of their own aggression.
So, with infinite pains, the second mate and his hardly entreated
boat’s crew made their way back to the scene of conflict, and found one
man, the mate, still afloat, and possibly alive. They could not be sure
of the latter, but took him in on the chance. Further search, although
prolonged to the utmost limit of their endurance, failed to show them
any more of their lost shipmates, and at last in a faint voice Mr.
Winslow ordered them to give way for the ship. As his men doggedly
obeyed, and called up their final reserve of energy, the attendant
whales, as if satisfied with the progress of the day’s events, drew
off, and with their great leader well ahead, took their departure
to windward along the bright glorious path of the setting sun, whose
rays touched their mighty bodies with gold and made every little spray
they threw upwards in their stately progress glisten like a shower of
diamonds.
The overburdened crew reached the ship without further incident, and,
once alongside, realised how terrible had been the strain imposed. For
even the simple business of hoisting the boat, usually a matter of at
most two minutes, became a herculean task hardly to be accomplished
by the united efforts of all hands remaining capable of standing on
their feet. Once secured on her cranes, Mr. Winslow dismissed his
boat from his mind and wearily slouched to where the mate lay on a
mattress brought up by one of the harpooners. So great was his loss of
vigour, that although he saw the mate had recovered consciousness and
was now peacefully asleep in his drying clothes, he felt a dull want
of interest in that fact, as in everything else, and without taking
further interest of his surroundings or of the claims of his position,
he cast himself down in the little clear space abaft the wheel on the
starboard side, pillowed his head upon his right arm, and immediately
fell asleep.
The shipkeepers--that is, the four petty officers, carpenter, cooper,
steward, and cook, with the four men appointed to assist them in the
duty of managing the ship during the process of catching whales--had
been hardly pressed both by work and anxiety. But they saw and realised
how easy had been their lot as compared with that of the hunters; and
although they had well earned a relief, they said nothing, but went
grimly on with their by no means easy task of preparing the vessel for
the night, clearing away gear, &c.
Now during this terrible day Priscilla had found great peace. We left
her at its beginning comforted as only those heavy-laden ones can be
comforted who are in direct communication with the Comforter. Permeated
by that Peace which passeth all understanding, she felt content to
abide in quiet security any event that might happen, and she looked
down upon the insensible form by her side with something of the Divine
compassion, although without one spark of the human love which should
exist between husband and wife. All that her simple ideas of nursing
could suggest as good to be done for him she did assiduously, while his
face twitched convulsively, unintelligible muttering flowed ceaselessly
from his lips, and every muscle of his body seemed as if under the
influence of a powerful galvanic battery.
It was very quiet down in the small cabin. The workers on deck went
about their duties softly in dread of rousing the skipper, and only a
faint echo of an occasional carefully modulated cry from aloft came
stealing softly to her ears. She did not feel hunger, weariness, or
anxiety. Whenever the good darkey steward could spare a few minutes
from the work of the ship he stole down to see if he could do anything
for her; but beyond accepting a cup of tea and a biscuit at midday, she
gently declined all his kindly offers. The only feeling, as she said
afterwards, that did occasionally shoot athwart the placid state of her
mind was one of thankfulness that her husband was so long oblivious of
all that must, she knew, be going on, for she could not help realising
what his fury would be if, with all his senses about him, he should be
unable to take part in the hunting.
And so quietly the long day wore to its close. She remained in utter
ignorance of the outcome until, at about 7 P.M., the steward crept
to her side with a cup of soup, and begged her to sup it. While she
languidly did so, he sketched for her in a few hurried whispers the
condition of things, and wound up by saying, his swart face looking a
ghastly green in the dim light of the swinging lamp: ‘An’ de good Lawd
Hisself only knows wa’s gwine happen t’ us wen _he_ comes to an’ fine’s
eout abaout it. Lawd hab massy on us all den.’ She answered him not a
word, but, handing back the cup, laid her tired head back in her chair
and passed peacefully to sleep.