HUMANITY REWARDED
Doubtless many of the superior persons, who, like Matthew Arnold, their
high priest, have led sheltered lives, will, also like him, curl the
lip of scorn at any sorely pressed human creature in his extremity of
need lifting his heart in prayer to God for help. Let them do so, if it
please them, while they may. For many thousands know most gratefully
that prayer is indeed a perfect communication between man and his
Maker, and is answered so fully and so frequently as to put all coldly
logical or brilliantly poetical objectors entirely out of court. Who,
indeed, would accept the evidence of a blind man as to the value of
a certain picture, or of a deaf man upon the merits of an oratorio?
Therefore, _pace_ Matthew Arnold and his ‘Self Help,’ let me gratefully
return to the comforted little company in that sorely bestead
whaleboat. In the midst of that wilderness of kelp, with the awful hand
of the gale pressing them back from the goal they so sorely desired,
they yet felt a security, a peace such as can only accrue to those who,
in a like position, know that underneath them are the Everlasting Arms.
Almost literally inch by inch they fought their way seaward. Much as
they valued the smooth which the kelp brought them, its hindering
environment was terribly wearisome to the humanly limited strength.
But doggedly they toiled on, often only half consciously, as squalls
of sleet slashed savagely across their cowering faces and every fresh
blast of wind beat at them as if it were the spirit of some malicious
demon determined upon their destruction. Suddenly they emerged from the
slimy smoothness of the kelp into the free dash of the great waves.
And as they did so Mr. Peck, with a great voice, shouted, ‘Now, boys,
for y’r lives; out oars an’ pull jest a leetle bit; perhaps we can
histe a rag of sail and keep her away a bit presently. That’s it--lift
her, lift her; oh, too good, boys, too good, one, two, three; better
’n’ better. I see the ship! She ain’t no distance off. Stick t’ it,
me hearties, give ’r all you got--thet’s y’r style.’ In such wise did
the fine fellow encourage his men, who were taking the last ounce out
of themselves in their desperate fight with the forces of nature.
And the passengers cowering in the bottom of the boat heard and saw
not, endured dimly, dumbly; until just as it seemed impossible that
the overborne sailors could hold out any longer came the glorious cry
of ‘Boat ahoy!’ A yell of thankful reply, and the great bulk of the
ship materialised out of the darkness. A minute or two of breathless
suspense as the boat swung off the wind, and then a blessed sense of
security and calm as she surged up under the lee of the grand old tub,
where all hands, by the light of the flaring try-works, were awaiting
them. Life from the dead, fellow creatures welcomed back from out the
gaping jaws of the grave--how glorious a sensation to true men! And
when the whisper ran round that some of the saved ones were women there
were chokings and dim eyes among these rough-looking but tender-hearted
fellows, although comments were mostly limited to the commonplace
expression, ‘Poor things, poor things.’
Safely on board, and the boat hoisted into her place, Captain Hampden
whispered an order to his mate to keep all the southing he could
so as to get well clear of that awful pile of rock, still much too
near for comfort. Then with a courtly old-world grace he led the way
to his cabin, and begged his strangely shipped passengers to make
themselves at home. The three quaint little figures revealed themselves
as ladies--young, but haggard with anxiety and privation. Alone in
the world, too. For the story of the lost ship from which they had
escaped was just this, so bald and simple, yet so full of pathos to the
imaginative mind. She was a huge four-master, with splendid passenger
accommodation, bound for Australia, and specially recommended as
affording a grand opportunity for a perfect sea trip for consumptives.
So thirty poor wrecks of humanity, but possessing money enough to buy
a chance of life, availed themselves of the opportunity, for, after
all, the fare was much lower than in a fast steamer, and the attendance
likely to be much better. But the crew! What agony the Captain endured
as he found that sailing-ships were in such bad odour that men could
not be obtained--that if he would get to sea at all he must needs ship
men who hardly knew a cringle from a scupper-hole. However, this is one
of the penalties a man must pay to-day when working his way up in a
sailing-ship prior to taking charge in steam. And Captain Weston paid
it. Running the easting down, he found his handful of wastrels not
merely incompetent, but afraid--a poor group of fellows whom no threats
or bribes could make do their duty, while he had upon his heart
the helpless passengers. So he ran her, recklessly as it appeared,
really because he could do nothing else, and strained his heartstrings
nightly as he looked up through the blackness at those great sails, and
wondered what _would_ happen should they blow away, for to take them in
he knew was impossible.
Is it fair to put such a strain upon one man as this? I do not think
so, yet most captains of our big sailing-ships must shoulder such a
burden to-day, and for, at most, £200 a year. No wonder the Mercantile
Marine is unpopular. Captain Weston endured his load almost helplessly
in view of the season and the quality of his crew; and when, while
snatching a few moments’ sleep in his chart-room, he felt his ship
go over, over, over, until on her beam ends, and knew that she had
broached-to in the height of one of the southern gales, he gave a sigh
almost of relief as knowing the worst. Out of the half-dozen boats he
carried one succeeded in getting away with three ladies on board, whose
charges, a consumptive father, uncle, and sweetheart, were practically
killed by the shock. There were also two male passengers, the mate, and
four seamen. And these were all the survivors of that awful mid-sea
catastrophe, when a great ship, through bad steering, was thrown on her
beam ends and, her decks bursting, sank like a broken cup in the midst
of that lonely ocean.
For two days the surviving boat and her miserable freight managed to
keep ahead of the hungry, following sea, until, in the blackness of
the third night, when hope was well-nigh dead, she entered the kelp
fringing Gough Island, and after a series of hairbreadth escapes the
whole party succeeded in landing upon its frowning shores. There, for
nearly three months, they had maintained life in semi-savage fashion,
wondering whether they were doomed to spend the rest of their days
there, when help came in the shape of the hardly beset _Xiphias_, and
they were once more restored to a little world of living people.
With a sigh Captain Hampden bore up for Cape Town. It was much out of
his way, and, besides, he was so far to the southward that it would be
difficult to make the port, especially in such a sluggish old craft.
But the idea of carrying those poor ladies on to the Mauritius, which
was the only place that lay anywhere near his track whence they could
be shipped home, was not to be thought of for one moment. And having
decided upon what to do, he did it with all his heart, allowing no one
to see what a struggle it had cost him. All sail was made, therefore,
and the course set for Cape Town, the rescued mate and his four
shipmates taking a vigorous part in the handling of the ship, so that
the _Xiphias’_ crew could finish their heavy task of securing the oil
from their previous catch.
She was a mighty busy ship, as well as a happy one, for there was
so much to do with the two and a half tons of baleen secured, after
the oil was all stored below, that no one had any time of leisure.
This peculiar substance--‘whalebone,’ as we have agreed to call
it--is really of the nature of dried gristle or soft horn, and when
it is green--_i.e._, newly taken from the whale--it needs constant
care and labour in scraping, drying in the sun, and other trade
treatment. Without this it soon becomes valueless, and, since it is so
high-priced when properly cured, it is obviously the most important
duty on a whaleship to attend to it. But this duty tries the patience
of all hands most sorely. In the present case, however, there were
compensations. For, in the first place, Captain Hampden was not the man
to keep his crew at other work all day and scraping, &c., whalebone all
night; and, secondly, a cheery whisper ran round the ship that he (the
old man) intended landing the stuff at Cape Town for transhipment to
market.
And then, to the great joy of the crew and the unbounded chagrin of
the passengers, the ship ran one morning at daybreak into the midst
of a vast school of sperm-whales, extending from one horizon to the
other. Their numbers no man could calculate, any more than what
stupendous stores of food must be necessary to feed such an army of
monsters. Captain Hampden’s heart glowed with thankfulness that he
had been by humanity turned thus far out of his intended course, and,
in obedience to his newly born instinct, went away into a corner by
himself and lifted up his heart, not merely in gratitude to God, but
for wisdom, after all these years of experience, to do just the right
thing in the manipulation of this great store so lavishly spread
before him. It only took a minute or two (how simply and quickly can
we prefer our petitions and praises to the King of kings), and he was
back again among his men, the guiding, ruling spirit of all. As if
his plan of campaign had been laid out a week ahead, he apportioned
to each officer his place in the coming struggle, took advantage of
the presence of the passenger mate and four seamen to give them the
handling of the vessel, and then gaily took the field himself with five
boats, skipper leading.
It was an ideal day, the great sun just rising from the smooth ocean
bed into an absolutely clear sky--clear from clouds, that is, but
splashed with all the splendid colours of a tropical dawn, the glassy
undulating sea-surface broken in all directions by the lolling masses
of the sea monsters, each lazily exhaling his or her bushy tuft of
vapour. Occasionally the heavenly silence was broken by a playful rush
of a dozen or so of these colossal forms in some given direction,
making the placid sea foam and curdle around their massive bodies as
if it had suddenly met some newly risen rocks. Or a few sedate bulls
would gravely invert themselves, and as if by a concerted movement
slowly beat upon the sea with their great flukes, the gigantic strokes
reverberating along the silent surface like the echoes of a distant
cannonade.
Yes, they were a happy, placid company, recking not of evil, least of
all apparently of the presence of those five small white things that,
a hundred fathoms or so apart, were coming gliding among them, each
with cruel points protruding from its front and glittering fiercely
in the rays of the mounting sun. And before any attempt at flight
could be made by one member of that great company, the five boats were
among them, each boat had singled out the largest victim near (for so
had run the Captain’s orders), and the slaughter had begun. Now while
it is undoubtedly true that the sperm-whale is brave and will under
ordinary circumstances fight for his life with a fury and sagacity not
to be excelled by those of any mammal afloat or ashore, it is also
quite true that occasionally, especially in large companies like the
present one, sperm-whales will become panic-stricken, and, making not
the slightest attempt either to fight or flee, will suffer themselves
to be slain like a flock of silly sheep when the wolf leaps into the
fold among them. The present was one of those occasions. Harpoons
flew and lances flashed, the boats rode easily, hardly moving in any
direction amid closely packed squads of utterly demoralised whales,
and the sea speedily became foul with blood and oil. It needed all the
skipper’s power of command to call his men off, frantic as they were
with the lust of killing, which overtakes the gentlest and most amiable
of mankind once the first shudder of compunction has been overcome. But
Captain Hampden’s cool judgment realised that already--only one hour
from lowering--sufficient work had been provided to last all hands,
work as they would, until the odour of their spoil would become utterly
intolerable, which is the principal drawback in sperm-whaling to taking
full advantage of such an opportunity as the present one.
Reluctantly the boats drew each to her prey, unwillingly the officers
ceased plying their lances among the aimlessly wandering monsters, and
there amid lanes of coming and going whales they laboured to attach
their tow-lines to dead whale flukes, while the Captain, returning on
board, took charge of his ship again, and aided by a gentle southerly
breeze that had just sprung up, manœuvred her around in order to
secure the spoil. It was a wonderful sight when all the great carcasses
had been secured alongside to see the assembled hundreds--maybe
thousands--of survivors surrounding the ship as if held there by
some dread fascination they were unable to resist. Usually the sight
or scent or presence of blood is sufficient to send them fleeing at
the top of their speed to the four airts; but now was one of the
exceptions, and in the clear sleeky water around the ship their vast
bodies rolled and turned without apparent objective, until one of the
passengers was fain to ask the skipper whether he did not think they
were meditating an attack in force upon her. Captain Hampden laughed
loud and long, for he had several times been privileged to witness a
similar scene, and he knew that no more danger was to be apprehended
from the presence of all those whales than there was from the coming of
the thousands of sharks that in all the fury of their ravenous hunger
were already tearing at the mighty carcasses secured to the ship.
Again was that ship’s company involved in the most tremendous toil,
but better fitted than before by experience, and unhindered by the
awful prospect of imminent death by their vessel being dashed ashore.
Moreover, the weather was beautifully fine as well as mild, the
barometer stood steadily high, the sea was as smooth as it ever is in
35° S., and there were seven willing additional hands. All the more
willing because the skipper assured them that as soon as ever the
cutting-in was accomplished he would make sail again for Cape Town, and
that this splendid accession to his profits for the voyage would only
hinder their progress for at most a couple of days. A ship’s company
all in the highest spirits, working as if their very lives depended
upon the amount they did, with never a harsh word spoken; every man,
seaman or officer, bubbling over with cheerfulness and good temper, and
seven splendid auxiliaries joining their forces as if the whole affair
was a gigantic piece of fun. It was too. For as the capture of the
whales had been the easiest on record for sperm-whales, the whole seven
taken having been slain in less than one hour, so the weather was as
perfect as the most exacting desire could make it. The little southerly
breeze that had been so valuable in the getting of the spoil alongside
had died completely away, and the only movement of the vessel, hardly
noticeable, was due to an almost imperceptible westerly swell. As Mr.
Pease said, ‘Anybody ’d think we wuz ridin’ snug in some harbour.’
As the weather was so propitious, every effort was directed at first
to getting the whales beheaded, and the strange spectacle was to be
witnessed of men hacking away at those great masses below them from
little stages slung all round the ship, wherever a whale’s head could
be got at comprehensively. And all this to such good purpose that by
sunset, although the men were not over-fatigued, the whole of the
seven heads were off and floating astern at the ends of stout ropes,
and one whale had been skinned and his blubber carefully stowed below.
A perfect illumination of the ship by means of cressets was devised,
each of which, slung where it could be of the most service, was kept
supplied with whale ‘scrap,’ or the blubber from preceding whales,
from which as much oil had been boiled as possible. This is the only
fuel used for boiling the oil, and as it blazes almost like a Lucigen
light it makes a splendid illuminant as well. Besides, the glorious
moon, a huge disc of blazing silver, made the night bright, enough to
read quite small print--so bright, indeed, that although there was not
a trace of cloud or mist, the pretty stars were hardly visible. So as
soon as the well-earned supper was eaten a system was devised whereby
ten men and two officers at a time should have two hours’ sleep, there
being then quite sufficient to handle the windlass and rip off the
blubber.
Then the great night’s work began. The rattling of the windlass pawls
was incessant; there seemed to be no pause in the steady ascent of
the great black-and-white blankets, and the shouting of orders, the
cheerful gabble, and the roaring of the fires made a most pleasant
tumult. In the midst of it all, after midnight, a voice was heard
across the sea shouting, ‘Ship ahoy! Want any assistance?’ Mr. Pease,
in charge at the time, roared back, ‘No; why?’ ‘Thought ye was on fire.
I’ll send a boat on board.’ And sure enough from a trim frigate, which
had stolen up by the aid of the light upper airs, came a boat, full of
sorely puzzled men, who had never witnessed a scene like it in their
lives, and, having witnessed it, would never be likely to forget it. It
was only by the most careful piloting and obedience to the instructions
shouted at them from the deck of the whaler that the boat was able
to pick her way among those floating masses; but, that difficulty
successfully overcome, the officer in charge leaped on to the rail and
stood gazing with wide-eyed wonder upon the deck. For, do what they
would, the hardly pressed toilers had been unable to stow more than the
blubber from two whales in the blubber-room, so that the blankets of
three others were encumbering the deck and making it, to anybody but a
whaleman, almost impassable.
The visitor clambered aft and introduced himself to Captain Hampden,
newly awakened, as a lieutenant of H.M.S. _Griffon_, and apologised for
intrusion, saying that he, with all the rest of his ship’s company,
could not help but believe that they were coming in the nick of time
to the assistance of a vessel on fire. But he added, while he was
glad to find that not the case, he was delighted to have had the
opportunity of gazing upon such a scene, which his wildest dreams of
sea-happenings had never before pictured. Then the skipper gave him
the news of the rescue, and asked if it would be agreeable to have the
passengers transferred. This, however, they themselves demurred to,
feeling no doubt that such an opportunity as now presented itself for
gaining experience was not to be lightly given up; and, besides, they
found that there would be no saving of time, as the warship was bound
to Ascension. So, after a hearty shake hands all round, the gallant
officer swung himself over the rail and departed, primed with material
for yarns for years to come.
That night passed with almost the rapidity of a sound sleep, but its
hours had been so well utilised that when the lovely morning broke
and gilded the haggard faces of the toilers, all the carcasses had
been disposed of and the great heads were ranged alongside ready
for dissection. Now these whales, though large, were by no means of
the largest, and therefore it occurred to the skipper to test his
lifting-gear to the utmost. So he had the ‘junk’ or snout point of
the first cut off, hoisted on deck, and secured; then, hooking both
tackles on to the remainder of the head, all hands buckled on to the
windlass, and, although the old vessel listed dangerously, succeeded
in bringing the great mass on deck. Now for activity. A long rip fore
and aft the case; ten willing hands dipping their buckets at once into
the reservoir of spermaceti. Plenty more behind passing it away into
the tanks. Wonderful! In twenty minutes it is empty, and at a word
from the skipper as the ship rolls to starboard, two or three swift
spade blows release the empty head and it slides massively into the
sea. Hurrah! Now for another. Will these men never tire? Apparently
not. But the skipper’s brow is knotted with care. Receptacles for the
bland spermaceti, semi-liquid as it is, are beginning to fail. ‘Cooper,
what shall we do? Tanks are all full. Kain’t ye git us some pipes?’
‘Gimme three hands, sir, ’n’ I’ll git y’ all yew want.’ ‘Bully fur you,
cooper. Jim, Rube, Manuel, go with the cooper and help him.’ And in
half-an-hour two 336-gallon pipes are ready to receive the rest of the
spermaceti: the difficulty is met.
Four P.M. sees the _Xiphias_ so utterly blocked from knight-heads to
cabin skylight with blubber that the passenger seamen look solemnly
at one another and wonder what will be the end of it all. They do
not know how recently this crowd have disposed of an almost similar
difficulty, with an awful shore grinning up at them from close a-lee.
A faint westerly breeze springs up, the passengers are asked if they
will make sail, and as they gladly assent, away goes the grand old tub
under every stitch, smoking like two or three steamers rolled into one,
and leaving behind her a wide wake of smoothness from exuding oil--for
she is fast becoming more like an oil-saturated sponge than a ship.
But nothing daunts her crew. They are happy. Visions of a glorious
ending of their voyage, of farms bought, and a position among their
stay-at-home neighbours proudly pre-eminent, fill their minds and make
them call up the last ounce of energy to cut a horse-piece or turn the
mincer-handle when they have felt for the last half-hour that it was
impossible to put in another stroke.
These visions come to all but Rube. For of him it may truly be said
that he lives in the present. The past has no memories for him, the
future no anticipation. To all the cheery chatter of his shipmates
anent their plans for the future he turns a disinterested ear. When
they say, ‘Wut _you_ goin’ t’ do, Rube ole man, w’en yew gits home?’
he replies solemnly, ‘Only God knows. I ain’t got no plans. I want Him
to ’range things fur me, then I know they’ll be all right. Anyhow,
I know I kain’t be any happier than I am ’mong yew dear fellers--I
never thought ’t would be possible t’ be so happy ’s I am naow. But,
dear chaps, ef I wuz yew I wouldn’t go buildin’ too many castles. Y’
see at fust, yew know, they’re only castles in th’ air, but ef yew go
on buildin’ an’ buildin’, bimeby they gets t’ be so real t’ yew thet
w’en yew finds ’at yew kain’t build ’em indeed, th’ disappointment
is awful.’ So he talked, and, good-naturedly, they bantered him. And
meanwhile the great work was being well done; so well done that two
days before they entered Table Bay, and passing close under Robben
Island, anchored well clear of the mail steamers’ track into the
harbour, the last trace of foulness was removed from the old ship--she
looked clean as a ship should look. She did not smell sweet, but that,
alas! could not be helped. In those warm climates it is only possible
to avoid bad smells in a whaler that has no luck, and the _Xiphias_
certainly had redeemed her apparent bad luck at last; for she had only
been out seven months, and now she had on board 800 barrels of sperm
oil and 550 right-whale oil, besides two and a half tons of baleen, so
that her catch at the market price of that day may be invoiced thus:--
800 barrels of sperm oil = 80 tons, at £100 =
$500 per ton £8,000 = $40,000
550 barrels of black oil = 55 tons, at £20 =
$100 per ton £1,100 = $5,500
2½ tons, bone at £1,500 =
$7,500 per ton £3,750 = $17,750
------- -------
£12,850 = $63,250
An ideal trip so far, and yielding even to the poor holder of the 250th
lay, a comfortable sum of £51 8_s._ = $256·50, of course subject to
deduction for slops, tobacco, advance, &c.