REUBEN EDDY, MARINER
We left Rube not only entered conclusively upon his new career, the
very antithesis of all his previous experiences, but, by one of those
mysterious happenings which prove how little we know of the workings of
the human brain, completely dissociated from that former life of his as
if it had never been. And yet by some merciful connection, inexplicable
in view of his entire loss of memory, but certainly bridging the dark
gulf, his former Christian training not merely influenced him, but
its effect was intensely deepened and strengthened. So with all his
old attributes of patience, of kindliness, of love; attributes which
all must confess may exist without any acknowledgment on the part of
their possessor of the power of Christianity at all. Also his physical
powers developed amazingly. Seemingly quite careless what he ate, but
always with bared head returning thanks to God for it, he throve upon
that poor food until his torso would have served as a model for an
ancient Greek statue of Hercules. Upon his bright face the shadow of
a frown was never seen, his serenity of mind seemed proof against all
the pettiness of aggravation that men allow to do so much harm in the
world, the gnat-bites of daily intercourse which fester into various
plagues far more deadly in their continual evil than all the great
crimes which shock us so by the horrors of their incidence upon the
life of man.
And with all this he was essentially a _man_, taking with highest
intelligence his daily part in all around him, excelling in ability
as he did in strength every one of his shipmates until he came to be
looked upon by them as a kind of demi-god whose superiority in all
things they ungrudgingly acknowledged because he himself was obviously
entirely unconscious of it. Forward and aft it was the same. If any
felt they had aught to teach him they immediately did so for the sheer
joy of the thing; he was so eager to learn, so keen-witted in absorbing
new knowledge, so humble and entirely grateful. At first this attitude
of his was looked upon with suspicion by his shipmates, for suspicion
and jealousy are baleful plants that thrive apace on shipboard among
the crew, especially on long voyages; then, when the impossibility of
being suspicious or jealous of such a man had been fully demonstrated,
good-natured, bantering toleration took its place. This was succeeded
by reverence, which gradually overcame the most sceptical, those who
longest maintained that ‘Rube wuz jest a easy-goin’ loony ’at y’ c’d
do anythin’ y’ liked with.’ This latter phase of feeling towards him
arose, I think, as far as the foc’s’le was concerned, in consequence of
the stand he took against rows in their common abiding place. Whenever
men quarrelled (and shore-folk can hardly imagine how difficult it is
to keep the peace in a small apartment tenanted by thirty men), Rube
was at once on hand, unless it happened to be his wheel or masthead
look-out. And, owing to his great size and strength and utter
disregard of himself, it was impossible to bring off a fight when he
was about. For he would propose the most absurd things, such as that
the two belligerents, if they felt they must beat somebody, should beat
him in turn; but beat one another they should not while he was able to
prevent them, and they could not doubt his ability to do that. Once an
infuriated man did strike him a heavy blow full in the mouth. It was
like striking a rock. Rube leaped at the striker, caught his fist, and,
holding it up, said, ‘Poor feller, jes’ look at them knuckles, they’re
all cut about shameful. Less get a bit er rag an’ tie ’em up.’
What could they do with a man like that but love him? Nothing. And
surely never was man so loved aboard ship before. When in the long
evenings after the first dog-watch the crew lolled about the fore part
of the deck smoking, it became quite an institution for Rube to sit
(he didn’t smoke) and tell them stories in his own quaint language out
of the Bible from memory. He possessed the only one on board, and read
it continually in his watch below, giving up to its delights much of
the time his great frame needed for sleep. Perhaps the quotation of a
sample of his Bible yarns (as the fellows termed them) may be admitted.
‘Way back in the old days, boys, it seems t’ me thet most people hed
a mighty rough time of it. In th’ cities, frum what I c’n see, they
wuz pow’ful little ’musement fur the wealthy folks ’cept buildin’
uncomfortable palaces, stuffin’ grub down their necks they didn’t feel
to want, gettin’ drunk, an’ seein’ a lot of poor people suffer. Funny
how a man or woman should _like_ to see _sufferin_’, ain’t it? Even
then when these rich folks was havin’ what they persuaded themselves
wuz a hot ole time, they wuz always expectin’ some feller’d come along
an’ make a big hole in ’em with one o’ them old-fashioned stickers you
see in pictures, about a foot long, four inches wide, and razzur sharp
on both edges. But they was a lot o’ people hadn’t got no palaces.
They was something like sailors ashore--always on th’ move, carryin’
their grub with ’em, an’ only stoppin’ any length o’ time where there
was water an’ plenty grass fur th’ live stock. ’Course they managed
t’ steal a lot of poor fellers ’at didn’t know enough t’ keep out er
the way, and make these slaves do all the work. We’re most of us built
like that. Comfort was a word that hadn’t come into use those days;
but then neither had indigestion, nerves, corns, or rheumatics. Well,
among these people was one a good deal better’n most ov ’em, though, of
course, he had his faults, an’ his name was Isaac. Only that. Jest a
given name, an’ no more: easy to remember. Now this good man was well
off as those days went. He had lots o’ sheep ’n’ goats an’ donkeys an’
camels, an’ a mighty big country to travel about in, an’ let ’em feed
wherever they would, with no rent or taxes to pay. He had a wife he was
very fond of--only one, which was sing’lar for those times, when th’
best o’ men didn’t seem able to get along without a bunch o’ wives.
An’ he had two sons. One of these sons was a fine fellow, free an’
open an’ brave, fond of all manly sports, but one of those chaps such
as we say’ll never get on in th’ world. He was his father’s darlin’.
The other was a quiet, say-nothin’-t’-nobody sort o’ feller, fond of
hangin’ around the tents and looking after the breedin’ o’ the cattle
an’ sheep, an’ he was what we call a good business man. But you had to
watch him close, or he’d get t’ wind’ard of ye every time. His name was
a sort o’ warning to anybody t’ keep their weather eye liftin’ when he
was havin’ truck with ’em. It was Jacob, meanin’ a feller that gets
into another feller’s place after he’s jockeyed him out of it. An’ he
wasn’t partikler who it was he bested, his father or his brother jes’
as soon as anybody else. He was his mother’s favourite.
‘Well, after both boys had grown up, an’ Jacob had ben workin’ off his
little schemes pretty frequent, ’specially on his twin brother Esau,
his dotin’ mother puts him up to a dodge to take in the old man, who
was gettin’ pretty shaky, so’s he’d scratch Esau outer his will, and
put Jacob in. And between ’em they rigged up Jacob in goatskins to make
him feel like Esau, who was one of those big, burly, hairy men, so as
his poor old father, who was blind, shouldn’t know the difference, an’
give him all the property as well as his blessin’, which counted in
them days fur even more than property. And th’ scheme worked all right.
But when Esau come home from the country, and found it out, Jacob had
to quit, or else Esau would have killed him sure. So his mother lost
him altogether. I don’t s’pose that bothered him greatly. Anyhow, he
did just as well in the new country he run to, and in just the same
way. An’ he kem back a good many years after with quite a procession of
wives an’ children an’ no end of property, an’ who should meet him but
Esau, without any wives an’ children or property, but an army, which
was almost the best thing to have in those days, ’cause when you’d got
it you could get the other things whenever you wanted ’em by taking ’em
away from somebody else.
‘And Jacob, bein’ scared ’most to death, offers to buy Esau off from
what he s’posed was goin’ to be his revenge, with a whole heap of his
property. But Esau says, “Thanks, old man, I don’t want to take away
what belongs to you; I’ve got all I want. But I’ll send a bit of my
army along with you to see that nobody else comes and robs ye.” But
Jacob says to himself, “Oh, no, this is just a scheme for taking all
I’ve got away bymeby.” So he refused. An’ they parted, an’ never saw
one another again.’
Loud cries of ‘Bully for Esau!’ and opprobrious remarks about Jacob,
changing into utter bewilderment when next evening Jacob’s subsequent
history was told in the same quaintly familiar fashion, and the
justification of his being chosen by God was pointed out. For not
only did Rube tell Bible stories, but in the most artless manner he
based conversation upon them; never arguing, but gently suggesting;
familiarising his hearers with Scripture in the most pleasing way, and
never attempting to compel belief by his efforts. It is no exaggeration
to say that in spite of the disappointment felt by the men at the long
period of unsuccessful searching, Rube’s sweet influence was felt by
all hands. And although many of them still had their occasional doubts
of his sanity, none doubted the perfect goodness and beauty of his
character.
They became a very smart crew. Every duty they were called upon to
perform they did as if they loved it, and the skipper’s rugged face
glowed with eagerness to see how they would behave on whales if and
when the chance came. But it was not until they were midway between
the Line and Cape Horn that they sighted their first sperm whale. He
was a lone whale of enormous size, and evidently making a passage to
some other feeding-ground, since he kept his course as if steering by
compass, spouting with the utmost regularity a given number of times,
descending and rising again as if timed by a chronometer. Cautiously,
but with all the attention possible, the ship was worked to windward
of him, until, in a suppressed shout, Captain Hampden gave the order,
‘’Way boats!’ It had previously been decided that only two boats were
needed for the job, so the first and second mates’ boats started,
dropped alongside lightly as foam flakes, and with a long, swinging
stroke they pulled away to windward. Rube was in the mate’s boat
pulling midship oar--the heaviest of the five--and the mate simply
gasped with astonishment to see how this recent yokel handled his
eighteen-foot oar, how all his powers were given to its manipulation,
and what a beautiful stroke he had. They pulled for half an hour, then
with sails set to the strong breeze that was blowing, bore down upon
the unconscious whale, the other boat following hard after them at a
cable’s distance. Nearer, nearer they drew, all hands holding their
breath. Now a wide sheer to port because of that little eye’s power of
seeing astern. They gain rapidly; they are abeam. A strong sweep of the
steer oar, the main sheet is slacked off, and the boat sweeps round and
leaps at the whale’s broadside like a living thing. Before she strikes,
the harpooner has hurled his iron, and it sinks its length into the
black side; the whale is fast. Haul aft the sheet, flat as possible,
the boat flies up into the wind, the harpooner casting out the stray
line meanwhile, and there, although tossing tremendously because of the
fuss being made by the indignant whale, they get the hampering sail
rolled up and mast unshipped and fleeted aft out of the way.
Before they have finished their task the second mate is alongside
awaiting orders. He is told not to go near, but wait and see what
the whale is going to do, always an uncertain factor in scenes like
this. The whale is going to behave in orthodox fashion--_i.e._,
descend to where beyond these voices there is peace. Downward he goes
deliberately, as if hurry were never less needed, but apparently taking
no heed of the strain kept on the line by the buoyant boat above.
Presently it becomes evident that he is a stayer, for the second
line-tub is nearly empty, and he shows no signs of slackening in his
downward path. So the second mate is called upon to pass the end of his
line aboard, and it is spliced on at once. (The strands are always kept
plaited up, so that a splice may be made almost as rapidly as a knot,
and much neater and more safe.) Still he goes down, down, down; while
faces gather blackness as fake after fake of line disappears. Will he
_never_ weaken? The heavy drogue (equal in retarding strain to four
boats) has been bent on at the splice, but seems to have no effect upon
him. The mate’s heart sinks. Up goes the urgent wheft, a signal to the
ship that more line is needed immediately; but, alas! it is too late.
There is a short interval of almost agonising suspense, and the end of
the line flips over the bows. He is gone!
Then the mate gives vent to his feelings. His cursings comprehensively
embrace everything he can bring to memory, himself chiefly. When he is
exhausted Rube’s lips are seen to be moving, and the mate, fiercely
desirous of some animate object whereupon to vent his rage, yells,
‘You hayseed, what _you_ mumblin’ about?’ (I suppress even the blank
profanity with which every word or two is loaded.) Rube softly replies,
‘I was so sorry for your disappointment and the skipper’s that I was
just askin’ God that all our labour shouldn’t be lost.’
The mate was dumb--what could he say to this? And every man in the
boat looked at Rube as if he were uncanny--they had no more idea than
most professing Christians have of the simple faith that believes in
an immanent God always ready and willing to hear the requests of His
children. And up into the midst of their wonderment rose the whale, the
long line trailing behind him, evidently exhausted by his tremendous
efforts to reach a depth of safety. A dozen strokes in reply to the
swiftly shouted orders of the mate, and they were alongside of him,
the harpooner had hooked up the line and passed it into the boat, and
the mate had thrust his long lance so fiercely in between the third
and fourth ribs of the leviathan that the whole vast body quivered
from snout to flukes with the pangs of approaching death. Secure in
the knowledge that he had dealt a deathblow, the mate shouted to the
harpooner to cut the loose line adrift; but even that small loss was
avoided, for the second mate’s boat sheered alongside in the nick of
time and took it.
No other stroke was needed; a thin stream of blood was seen to be
trickling over the edge of the spiracle, and the next great expiration
hurled into the air, with a bursting groan, masses of clotted blood
so large that it was almost miraculous how they had been forced along
the single air-tube which supplies the lungs with breath. Filled with
a great awe, the new hands drew off slowly in obedience to the orders
given, unable to take their eyes off the dying giant. And then, to
their horror, they saw him suddenly rear his gigantic head high in air,
and hurl his body along the blood-stained sea-surface in hundred-foot
leaps, swaying first to this side and then to that as if under the
influence of an agony so intolerable that he was endowed with at least
ten times his usual great strength. All around his awful way the sea
was torn into a thousand fantastic shapes, and blocks of purple foam
were flung on high and caught by the wind, which drove them like
some dreadful snow in showers of flakes far to leeward. At last--and
although the paroxysm had only lasted about three minutes, they seemed
like hours--there was a momentary lull: the whale disappeared. But
almost immediately after there was an upheaval like the rearing of a
suddenly formed volcano in the midst of the sea, and high into the
air soared the whole mighty mass, apparently hung suspended there for
an appreciable space, and fell! In the thundering noise and violent
commotion occasioned by that great act, the hunters lost for a moment
their strained attention on the whale. When they regained it he lay an
inert mass, gently undulating to the touch of the waves, with his head
as usual pointed straight towards the wind’s eye.
[Illustration: HIGH INTO THE AIR SOARED THE WHOLE MIGHTY MASS.]
There was a great peace succeeding the tumult, and a moaning little
voice in the wind which filled the air with mournfulness. Also the
plash of the wavelets over the quiet bank of flesh had in it, to all
seeming, a murmur of regret. The influences of that restful time
affected all for a brief space, and Rube’s eyes glistened as he thought
of the cruel end so suddenly befalling the brave, strong, harmless
monster, a short hour ago so placidly enjoying his life, and perfectly
filling his appointed place in the scheme of things. But with a jerk
all musings were ended, for the mate’s voice broke harshly upon the
accented silence, as he shouted, ‘Naow, then, m’ lads, pull two, starn
three, an’ le’s git th’ tow line fast, ’relse the ship’ll be here ’fore
we’re half ready.’ She was coming straight for them before the wind,
and only about a mile away--a homely, clumsy-looking craft enough,
but invested for each of the green hands with a new character now, a
home of rest after their late heavy toil, a place where they would be
met with a great satisfaction as returning conquerors bringing their
gigantic spoil with them, warriors who had abundantly justified the
training they had received. They had been able in that one fleeting
hour of tremendous experiences to attain unto the highest physical
pleasure of which man is capable--the sense that, by the use of his
puny powers, rightly directed, he is able to overcome what seems to
be at first sight the most overwhelming odds brought against him. All
the solemnity of the first moments of victory was forgotten, and even
Rube’s eyes sparkled with delight as he watched the look of content
glowing on the mate’s face, as with his short boat spade he hacked at
the great limber tail until he had cut a hole in it through which the
tow-line could be passed.
The ship rounded to as easily as one of the boats would have done, only
about her own length from the whale. And the mate with a triumphant
roar of ‘Give way, m’lads!’ steered for her, no man prouder than he
of the way in which his ‘greenies’ had acquitted themselves on their
maiden venture. The grizzled leonine head of the skipper loomed in the
waist, where, the boards out, all was in readiness to receive them.
And as ready hands hooked up the tow-line, and prepared to walk up
alongside the huge mass of their prize, he said to the mate standing
beneath him erect in the stern of the boat: ‘Wall, Mr. Pease, yew
du seem t’ hev got on t’ a logy this time. I sh’d say he’s all ov
a hundred an’ forty bar’l be his look, ’less he’s dry-skin.’ ‘Nary
dry-skin ’baout him, Cap’n Hampden,’ replied the mate, cheerfully.
‘He’s jest a-teemin’ outer him. Iron went in’s if it hed fell into a
kag er butter. Fattes’ whale ever I struck, ’n’ thet’s the cole truth,
sir.’
Then with a joyful noise all hands tallied on to the tow-line, and
snaked that whale alongside in great shape. Everything had been
prepared for the arrival, cutting falls rove, spades ranged, cutting
stage ready, and although the experience was absolutely novel to
most of the men, they were so keen, so eager to do as they were told
to the best of their ability, that really I doubt whether the most
seasoned crew could have made a better show than they did. And this in
spite of the almost feverish desire possessed by all to look upon the
gigantic prize they had won in fair fight from his appointed realm,
the vasty deep. It was all so wonderful, so new, so strange. And then
in hurried glimpses they saw coming up in the clear blue around hosts
of queer-looking creatures (to them, for none of the new hands had
ever seen a shark before). One fellow, a lank Kentuckian, in a stolen
moment remarked in a stage whisper to a shipmate, as they leaned over
the rail hauling at the fluke-chain, ‘Gosh! look’t all them little
fish daown thar.’ Said little fish, rising rapidly, presently revealed
themselves as sharks averaging ten feet in length, who, regardless
of consequences, hurled themselves end-ways at the whale’s body, and
gouged at it furiously, as if driven mad by hunger.
The whale fairly secured alongside, the skipper’s voice rose above the
tumult, commanding instant attention from everybody. ‘Mr. Pease, let
th’ boys go to dinner. I guess we won’t miss an hour, and th’ weather
looks sorter settled.’ ‘Dinner!’ shouted the mate, and there was a
stampede forward, for every man, as soon as he had time to think of it,
was ravenously hungry. The cook had, under orders from the skipper,
made a few additions to the usual dietary, and it is not too much to
say that every man there when he sat down to enjoy his well-earned meal
was, for the time being, as happy as ever he had been in his life. And
only because the man who controlled their destinies for the time had
in addition to his fund of common-sense, a little of the milk of human
kindness.
A little judicious appreciation costs nothing, and is so valuable: it
often lifts weary men over the dead centres of life; indeed, it often
makes a youth who, full of fear lest in his very anxiety to do well
he has made some irreparable mistake, feel that no effort can be too
great to please a man who has recognised his desire to do his duty. And
when, at the call of ‘Turn to!’ the rested, well-fed crowd climbed on
deck again into the keen, pure air, and found that while they had been
dining the skipper and his officers had been toiling at the stupendous
task of cutting off the whale’s head, they almost felt ashamed at
having taken so long over their meal.
I know very well that there will be many a cynical sneer at this, but
that does not matter at all so long as the thing is true. If men (and
I care not whether they be white, black, brown, or yellow) are treated
like cattle they will yield worse than bovine service; if they are
pampered and allowed to feel that they can do as they like, they will,
their natural depravity getting the upper hand, become practically
worthless; but if, as under Captain Hampden, they are kept under
discipline, yet made to feel that their efforts to do well are fully
appreciated, they will behave as men should behave who realise to the
full the dignity of obeying the call of duty, who realise abundantly
how good it is to be a _man_.