THE CAPTAIN GOES ASHORE
Favoured by exquisite weather, and trade-winds hanging well to the
northward, the _Grampus_ ploughed steadily along towards her objective,
no one but the skipper knowing that it was Brava. After the first three
days of almost frantic labour the skipper’s experienced eye noted
how stale the men had become; want of rest and poor food had reduced
them so that threats and blows no longer goaded them; they were fast
approaching that stage when nothing matters, and suffering least of
all, because it had become a normal condition. So Captain Da Silva,
being anything but a fool, ‘let up’ on them as he termed it, not
because he considered their punishment at all adequate to the crime
they had committed of being beaten in spite of having done their best,
but because he needed their services in the future. He restored their
regular watches, and although the amount of quite unnecessary work
still carried on would have caused a mutiny in any British merchant
ship, this crew chuckled to think what a good time they were now
having. And, besides, their lives were not so devoid of interest, for
there could be no doubt that they were bound to some anchorage--it did
not matter much where--they would see the land again and perhaps taste
vegetables.
And the sorely wounded mate, despite the roughness of his treatment,
the almost utter absence of nursing, steadily improved. His iron
constitution, a certain ox-like patience, and the absence of drugs
combined with perfectly pure air--all these helped to make his recovery
marvellously rapid. But he almost had a relapse ten days after the
accident. He had so far progressed as to be able to sit up upon an
improvised little platform by the taffrail, and was watching the
sea, when his dull eye suddenly brightened, his form stiffened, and
lifting up his voice he raised the cry of ‘Blow!’ The skipper since
the surgical operation had held no conversation with the injured man,
except one or two of the briefest remarks passed each day, just what
were absolutely necessary. But now he spun round on his heel, his black
eyes flaming, and shouted, ‘Whar away, Mr. Court? Aloft there! wut ye
doin’? Kain’t ye see ’t all?’ Springing up on the little hurricane
deck peculiar to all whaleships, he at once caught sight of the whale,
a big lone fellow, proceeding in leisurely fashion due south. Without
apparently considering for one moment the fact that he had only two
boats to use, he issued his orders, sharp and sudden like rifle-shots.
Sail was shortened to the topsails, the vessel put upon the other
tack; then, springing upon the starboard quarter, where the best boat
hung, he shouted, ‘’Way boats!’ sweeping contemptuously away the third
mate, who of course was standing by to take his place in his regular
craft. A whirring of the sheaves followed, and down went the boat,
striking the water fairly and being released at once with a smartness
delightful to see. Then, grasping the dangling falls with one hand,
the skipper turned to the mate, who lay fretting himself into a fever
at his inability to move, saying as coolly as if just setting off for
a pleasure trip, ‘Guess yew k’n con th’ ship whar y’ air, Mr. Court,
kain’t ye?’ ‘Sure, sir,’ murmured the mate, the prospect of being able
to do something seeming delightful to him. No answer, but for a moment
the skipper’s body was outlined against the sky as he launched himself
downwards, struck the boat, seized the steer oar, and issued his
orders. Away flew both boats as if the lives of their crews depended
upon their utmost speed.
Now, I do not wish to weary my readers with repeated accounts of
whale-fights, and therefore I must omit all the circumstantial
details of this one. But I do need to say that Captain Da Silva had
apparently found exceeding compensation for his late tribulations in
this opportune encounter, and he behaved as one possessed of a demon of
destruction, to whom no mishap could possibly come. Yet he was by no
means reckless. Every precaution that could be taken against disaster
he took, but, on the other hand, he neglected no opportunity of rushing
in whenever and wherever the slightest opening presented itself.
Scorning bomb-lances, he used only the long primitive spear, and with
fiendish howls he ordered the second mate to keep aloof in readiness
to aid in case of accident. The whale, evidently an old hand at the
game, tried every ruse known to whales, but in vain, for, rolling over
towards the oncoming boat, and sinking his body in the middle in order
to get a grip of the boat with his gaping jaws, he felt suddenly the
diamond-shaped head of a lance gliding through the thick muscles of
his throat downward to his mighty heart. Six feet from that searching
point the captain leaned his shoulder upon the lance-butt, lending all
his great strength to the thrust. The boat passed to the other side of
the body. ‘Pull ahead all!’ yelled the skipper, and out drew the steel,
distorted to the likeness of a conventional lightning flash. ‘Pull
all!’ again yelled the skipper, and in response the boat shot away from
the vast writhing body, so fatally pierced that in three minutes, with
a few gigantic convulsions, it lay still, dead.
Again the voice of the skipper arose--no note of triumph in it, no
suggestion of rest for his crew. ‘Hull in thet line, lively naow. Hyar
yew,’ to the after oarsman, ’histe thet wheft’ (small blue signal
flag) ‘’n’ wave fur th’ secon’ mate t’ come up.’ So they hauled up
alongside of the whale and cut the line from the harpoon, by which time
Mr. Winslow, who had kept close to the fight all the time, was also
alongside. ‘Naow,’ shouted the skipper to him, ‘git thet fluke-rope
passed ’s if ye knew haow, an’ be ready with yer eend to pass aboard
when I come. Pull two, starn three, so, all together,’ and away shot
the boat towards the ship, which was coming down towards them at a fine
rate. So fast, indeed, did the two craft draw together, that barely
ten minutes had elapsed from the time the skipper’s boat left the
whale until he was again on board and, hoisting his boat, was issuing
his orders as if he were an engineer handling the cranks, levers, and
throttle-valves of his engines. Now he was in his element--now he
felt the primal delight of power--to rule his fellows and bend to his
moulding will. The whale was not large as regards bulk, but full of
fatness--so full, indeed, that the utmost care must needs be exercised
lest the hoisting gear should tear out of the almost rotten blubber.
The operations were conducted in peerless fashion, the skipper being
apparently the mind of all hands--his late disablement appeared to
have given him an impetus that none of his previous experiences had
supplied. So great, indeed, was he that muttering passed from man to
man after this fashion: ‘Oh, but he’s a horse, ain’t he?’ ‘Don’t he do
it?’ ‘What a man he is!’ &c.
The work of securing the spoil was carried on with such vigour, such
exquisite skill, and due apportionment of labour, that before the day
was closed all the worst of the duty was done, and the skipper strode
proudly the scanty limits of his quarter-deck with the mien of a man
who could not possibly learn from any a better way of doing his work.
And, as I have already noted, he had also earned the intense admiration
of all hands, although each one of those men was aching from head to
heel with the extraordinary strain put upon him.
And Priscilla? Well, she had not suffered. She had learnt to wait in
patience the outcome of all things--not to be distressed by strange
noises as of strife, or no less strange interludes of silence, when
it seemed as if everyone but herself was dead. Even when upon the
deep quiet (as of the grave) which enwrapped her there impinged a
great noise, she did not shrink or shudder: she just looked up and was
comforted. That she should have been thus becalmed, as it were, in the
midst of tempests, that to her wilful, wayward heart should have come
so bountiful a measure of the Divine patience, will naturally seem
incredible to many--quite as great a miracle as the raising of the
widow’s son. But, thank God! there are also many of us who know that
such miracles are daily wrought by the direct interposition of God.
Sometimes man is honoured by being the instrument in such cases, but
more often they are the outcome of an answer given by the trembling,
tired soul out into the darkness whence comes the comforting, still
small voice.
When at last the skipper came down he wore all the self-conferred
honours of a successful tyrant. He had vindicated his position as the
one man who could do things without making mistakes, who could be
depended upon to come upon the scene when disaster seemed imminent,
and, taking the helm of affairs, conduct them triumphantly to victory.
And the knowledge was almost too much for him. He strode into his
state-room and flung his orders at Priscilla much as if she had been a
negro slave--with little distinction between her and the steward. And
she, with calmest demeanour, obeyed him to the foot of the letter. She
gave him no cause of complaint, and to his intense surprise he found
himself looking furtively at her and wondering how it was she did not
cry or protest or do something, anything except act like one whom
nothing could make unhappy or disobedient. At last he could no longer
endure the spur of his curiosity, and he said, in strangely subdued
tones (the steward having gone on deck), ‘Wut’s th’ matter with ye,
Pris? Ain’t feelin’ sick, air ye? Yer lookin’ kinder curis, y’ know.’
She turned her calm face to him and said, ‘No, Ramon; I’m feeling very
well, thank you. Is there anything more I can do for you?’ He did not
answer. For his keen Latin wits had come up against something that was
quite outside of his experience. Something of the baffled rage of the
early persecutors possessed him as he realised that his wife had passed
into a region from which he was quite shut out. So he hurled a savage
curse, a farrago of Portuguese blasphemy, at her, which sounded like
the rattling of manacles, and passed on deck again.
Remember, if you would blame Priscilla for not trying to win this bad
man, that she knew him, knew that any language she might use would be
utterly unintelligible to him, knew that his long and successful career
of cruelty had hardened in him all the baser attributes, and she felt
it would be hopeless to try. She felt, too, that she would only be
bringing more suffering down upon herself, and was not at all confident
as to the limit of her endurance. She was wrong, of course: she had not
a sufficiently ample idea of the power of God to save. But we dare not
blame her: many of us in her position would have gone mad. And she did
pray for him, but without the faintest belief that her prayer would
be answered. She felt, as Mr. Moody once expressed it, as if when she
prayed for that man the heavens above her were as brass, that prayers
on his behalf could not ascend.
So the _Grampus_ sped onward towards Brava under the most favourable
conditions possible. The work of securing the spoil of the whale was
carried through in marvellous fashion; the wind held true to the north,
even sometimes a point to the westward of north, and freshened enough
to give the old ship a speed, rap-full, of five knots an hour. Whether
it was any anticipation of meeting old acquaintances (a man like that
never has friends) or not, the skipper, too, was certainly less severe
than usual in his treatment of his men. He even condescended to inquire
occasionally after the health of his mate, who was doing wonderfully
well in the pure air and utter lack of all medicine, aided by his
splendid constitution. So well, indeed, did the old ship progress, that
by the time she had been restored to her ordinary condition of spotless
cleanliness, the beautiful outlines of the islands were sighted, and
all hands, with quickened pulse-beats, began to look forward to a
little change in the ordered monotony of their lives. But great was
their disappointment when they found that, instead of going as closely
in as was safe, the Captain anchored his ship in thirty fathoms of
water--far out to sea. And without the loss of an hour he ordered his
boat to be manned (by Portuguese only), and, dressed like a bridegroom,
mounted the rail preparatory to descending. The second mate stood
near; the mate listened from the corner aft, where he sat helpless,
with painful earnestness for any word the skipper might drop of his
intentions.
‘See here, Mr. Winslow,’ drawled the skipper, ‘ye’ll keep the men at
work, watch on watch, same’s at sea. Yew’ll keep a bright look-out
for me comin’ back, as I shall be ’fore long, anyway. An’ if anythin’
happens ’at ye want me sudden, set the ensign at the peak.’ And without
another word he was gone, and his boat’s crew, with the splendid stroke
of the trained American whaleman, was making the pretty craft fly
towards the shore, its captain standing erect in the stern, handling
his steer-oar, like a figure of stone. The second mate watched him
out of definition range, then, descending from the rail with a sigh,
he sought the mate, saying, ‘Well, Mr. Court, whut ye think of him?
Ain’t he a daisy? I really dunno haow it es, but th’ wuss he is th’
more I admire at him, until his back’s turned, ’n’ then I want t’ kill
him. An’,’ dropping his voice, ‘d’ jever before in a ’Merican ship see
a lady treated like this one? I have stood, I k’n stand, a good deal
frum him, but if ever he raises his hand t’ thet poor broken-hearted
woman when I’m erroun’ I’m goin’t’ kill him right in his tracks--naow,
yew hear me!’ ‘Oh, shet yer head!’ fretfully replied the mate. ‘I know
all abaout thet; wut’s th’ use er chawin’ it over? What I wunt t’
know is, wut sort of a gang of dagoes is he goin’ t’ bring with him.
All his own relations, I suppose, ’n’ thar’ll be the usual amount er
spyin’ an’ lyin’ an’ devilishness generally. If only I had this leg
’n’ arm o’ mine usable! I ben thinkin’ over a good many things sense
I ben a-laying here, I tell ye, but I got one idea solid, ’n’ that is
thet, live er die, I’m a-goin’ t’ stand up t’ him an’ whoever he brings
aboard here, an’ hev’ my rights as mate. You, too, I know, Winslow; but
only as man to man; no hatchin’ anything’ or conspirin’. We’ll leave
that to them. But I do wish we could help the poor woman.’
‘Thank you, friends,’ said Priscilla, who had glided on deck and
overheard the last portion of the mate’s remarks. ‘It’s very good of
you to think about me, but I shall be grateful if you will behave as if
I were not on board. I cannot, must not, be a source of trouble, and,
moreover, the Captain is my husband. Now don’t, please don’t, think
of helping me, as you call it, any more. I’ve got help of the best
kind always available. I didn’t know I had until a short time ago. I’d
forgotten God, as it seems to me God _is_ forgotten at sea. But when
I was ready to go mad with what I thought was my undeserved trouble,
He came to my rescue, and now I feel I can bear anything. And, anyhow,
what is my trouble compared with yours? Ah, Mr. Court, I have felt so
much for you in your awful pain, and not to be able to help you at all.
Are you in pain now?’ ‘Oh, no, ma’am, thank you kindly,’ murmured the
mate; ‘that’s all over and done with. Anyhow, it was never quite as
bad as you might think. Sounds a good deal worse than it is. I’m hurt
more at havin’ to lie here doin’ nothin’ than by any pain I’ve got.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you say so. Now I must go down. I feel that I’m
doing wrong sitting up here talking to you, as I should certainly not
be doing if my husband were here.’ And she departed below, leaving the
two mates, with a totally new set of sensations, staring at each other
dumbly.
Unfortunately, mischief had been done. One of the Portuguese sailors
had been ostensibly occupied in renewing the seizings on the mizen
shrouds, but for the last ten minutes he had devoted all his faculties
to listening. Vainly; he did not know enough of the language to take
in the conversation, but he knew that the Captain’s wife had been
talking for a long time to the two mates. And he determined that the
knowledge should not be wasted. The two officers, so deeply interested
were they, did not notice this man, and when presently the second
mate almost guiltily resumed his oversight of the men and their work
he did not even see Lazzaro furtively glancing at him from the mizen
rigging. No more was said by either of the mates or Mrs. Da Silva on
the subject, and the work of the ship went on throughout the day with
something of its old machine-like regularity. Night fell, and still no
sign of the skipper. With deepening distrust and anxiety the officer
saw the watches set, attending to every detail of his duties with the
utmost fidelity, and reporting at eight o’clock all his doings to the
mate. Mr. Court sent a respectful message to Priscilla on hearing this,
acquainting her with the condition of affairs and assuring her that
she had no cause for alarm. She would receive instant attention to her
lightest wish, and probably the Captain would be aboard before morning.
And so, quietly enough to all outward seeming, but with much anxiety
among the afterguard, the night passed away.
Ashore the Captain was having what sailors term a mighty good time.
Congenial spirits awaited him of both sexes, long known to him, and,
flinging aside all the restraints he felt he had been bound by during
the last year, he plunged into the wildest excesses. He was one of
those men to whom such an outburst, even at very long intervals, seems
a necessity of life--one that when the opportunity for obtaining it
arrives can by no effort of will be refrained from, although it is hard
to suppose that such an effort is ever made or attempted. And yet he
could be, as far as abstention from vulgar vice was concerned, a very
eremite for a year at a time, otherwise he would never have reached his
present position; for the American shipowner--or, indeed, employer of
any kind--is entirely intolerant of drunkenness or debauchery among
his servants, and will have none of it if by any means he can prevent
it. Now, however, his boat’s crew disposed of--allowed to run a little
riot of their own among their cronies, and merely ordered to turn up
in the morning at eight o’clock, bringing six recruits with them, he
abandoned himself to the fierce delights of the Latin seaman when let
loose.
But in spite of the long night’s excesses there was little alteration
in his appearance or manner when he met his men in the morning, noting
with high approval that they had succeeded in obtaining the new hands
he wanted: six huge piratical-looking ruffians, three of whom were
of that peculiar type of Portuguese which can only be found in the
islands of the North-West Atlantic--men, that is, with the high-bred
facial characteristics of the Portuguese allied to a perfect blackness
of skin. Some of these men are of great size, and almost all of them
know something about sperm-whaling, since all of these islands were for
hundreds of years most prolific haunts of the cachalot. Therefore they
have always been welcomed as recruits for whaleships, their undoubted
courage and great powers of endurance adding to their desirability. But
to Captain Da Silva they represented more than these advantages. They
were his own countrymen, and might be relied upon to abet him in any
scheme of devilry he might devise, in which he would certainly lack
the support of his American officers. And a dim idea of vengeance upon
those officers was certainly taking shape within his mind, which, once
definitely arranged, he would spare no pains to carry out nor allow any
peevish scruples to prevent him doing so.
With a few quiet words to the newcomers about pay, position, &c., also
the time of meeting to make the engagement--a very simple matter in
those ships--he gave them some money, and went his way to purchase
three new whaleboats. In this he was also fortunate, for a local bay
whaling company had just dissolved partnership, and all their gear was
on sale. He succeeded in purchasing from the representative of the late
company four boats and a large quantity of gear for less than half
their ordinary value, which pleased him so much that he determined to
stay another night ashore and continue his enjoyment. But first he made
arrangements for his new purchases to be taken off to the ship. The
only message he condescended to send was that the boat should return
for him the next day at 10 A.M. And not an ounce of fresh meat or
fruit or vegetables went off. These articles were cheap enough in all
conscience, but Captain Da Silva never pampered his crew, especially
this early in a long voyage, and, besides, there was punishment to be
carried out. And no form of punishment on board ship as applied to a
whole crew is more effective than to be anchored near a fruitful shore
after months of bad salt food and be denied a taste of the delicious
things they can almost see growing. Under ordinary conditions such a
deprivation would be next to impossible, as there are always people
along shore anxious to earn a little by catering for the needs of a
ship’s company, except in the most savage lands. And if there be no
money on board, barter can always be resorted to: quite a quantity of
sweet potatoes, oranges, or bananas can be obtained for a shirt. The
Captain, however, had arranged all that; according to his wishes not a
boat had been near his ship. And, besides, she was a long way out.
When the officers saw the gear and boats, and received the message,
they looked at each other significantly, but said no word. Mr. Court,
now able to hobble about, took charge of operations, and in quite a
short time the newly acquired boats had been placed in position, had
each received a coat of white paint, that being the colour of the
_Grampus’s_ boats, their gear fitted to them, and everything made ready
for their lowering to a whale. They came alongside at midday, and by
nightfall were ready for use. During all this activity Priscilla had
been quite forgotten. The officers felt doubtful how she would receive
any information about her husband which, in answer to questions,
they might have felt tempted to supply, so they did not mention the
matter. Only the genial darkey steward, in the perfectly respectful yet
familiar manner common to negro servants in America, chatted away to
his mistress, and kept her from being too lonely or dwelling too much
upon the unknown reasons which had induced her husband to leave her on
board the ship for two days without giving her any information at all
of his doings. Had she known it, she might have felt surprised that he
had never so much as given her a thought. But she would hardly have
been grieved at anything he did now to her, having fortified her mind
against the worst that could befall.
Punctually at the time appointed the boat arrived at the place ordered
by the Captain, who almost immediately appeared, and gave orders for
the transhipment to the boat of a number of cases. Altogether they made
a heavy cargo for such a frail boat; but whalers are most expert at
this business, and effect transportation by means of these boats that
seems impossible to any ordinary sailormen. This done they shoved off,
Captain Da Silva standing erect in the stern, his eyes fixed upon his
ship, and noting detail after detail as they became visible. A frown,
never entirely absent from his handsome face, deepened upon it as he
failed to see any cause for complaint. She looked beautifully trim; not
a rope yarn out of its place, the weather-beaten patches on her side
carefully touched up, the boats all bright with new paint, the three
mastheads manned, and, as he came alongside, the mate at the gangway
to receive him, and the crew all standing by the boat’s falls ready to
hoist her up the moment he should step on board.
As he put his foot on the rail, Mr. Court said, ‘Good morning, sir.’
But instead of replying, the Captain said, ‘Whyn’t ye git under weigh?’
And without pausing for an answer shouted: ‘Man th’ windlass.’ The
cry was re-echoed all over the ship, and almost immediately nothing
could be heard for the clatter of the pawls as the big windlass barrel
revolved at top speed. ‘Down frum aloft there an’ loose sail, courses,
taups’les, an’ t’gallantsails,’ again shouted the Captain. ‘Lively
naow; think yer goin’ t’ sit up thar an’ sleep while th’ ship’s gittin’
under weigh?’ Oh, he was a hustler, was Captain Da Silva. In ten
minutes from the time he came on board the boat’s cargo was discharged,
she was hoisted, the _Grampus_ was under weigh, and pointing south for
the resumption of the long and weary voyage. Then, and not till then,
did the skipper condescend to say anything to his chief officer. He
called him, and with a coldly sarcastic curl of his lip as he saw him
hobbling aft on improvised crutches, he said, ‘Anythin’ t’ report?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Mr. Court, ‘’cept thet I’ve returned t’ duty.’ ‘No
need t’ report _thet_, anyhaow,’ growled the skipper; ‘I k’n use my
eyes. But yew don’t look pretty, ’n thet’s a fact. Mout’s well hide
yerself a bit longer, moutn’t ye? Hain’t gut tired doin’ nawthin’, I’m
sure.’ ‘See here, Captain Da Silva,’ hissed the mate, ‘you’ve gut th’
whip hand now, I’ll own, but if ever I git on equal terms with ye, all
this’ll hev t’ be settled fur.’ ‘Go, lie daown, dog,’ muttered the
Captain. ‘I’ll attend t’ you an’ all th’ rest right along ’n’ git all
th’ sleep I need too.’ And the _Grampus_ began to rise and fall gently
to the incoming swell as the Captain went below.