Away, away the good ship flew to round the far-famed Cape Horn. Stern
and majestic it rose on our starboard-hand; its hoary front, as it
looked down on the meeting of two mighty oceans, bore traces of many a
terrific storm. Now all was calm and bright, though the vast
undulations of the ocean over which the ship rode, as they met the
resistance of the cliffs, were dashed in cataracts of spray high up in
the air, and gave evidence of what would be the effect when a storm was
raging across them. There was something more grand in the contemplation
than in the actual appearance of the scene, when we reflected where we
were--on the confines of those two great seas which encompass the earth,
and which wash the shores of nations so different in character--the one
having attained the height of civilisation, the other being still sunk
in the depths of a barbarism too terrible almost for contemplation, as I
afterwards had good reason to know. Then there was that strange, vast,
dreamy swell--the breathings, as it were, of some giant monster. It
seemed as if some wondrous force were ever acting on that vast body of
water--that it could not for a moment rest quiet in its bed, but must
ever go heaving on, in calm and sunshine as well as in storm and
tempest. There was likewise in sight that wild weather-beaten shore,
inhabited, as report declared, by men of gigantic stature and untameable
fierceness; while to the south lay those mysterious frost-bound regions
untrod by the foot of man--the land of vast glaciers, mighty icebergs,
and wide extended fields of ice. On we sped with a favouring breeze,
till we floated calmly on the smooth surface of the Pacific off the
coast of Chili.
With regard to Patagonia, old Knowles told me he had been there, but
that, as far as he saw, the people were not much larger than the
inhabitants of many other countries. Some were big men; a few nearly
seven feet high, and proportionably stout. They are capital mimics--the
very parrots or magpies of the genus Man.
"I say, Jack, bear a hand there now," exclaimed one, repeating the words
after a sailor who had just spoken.
"What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,"
said Knowles, thinking he had found a civilised man in that distant
region.
"What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,"
repeated the savage with a grin, putting out his hand.
"I should think I did! What other lingo am I likely to speak?" answered
Knowles, shaking the Patagonian's huge paw.
"What other lingo am I likely to speak?" said the savage, with perfect
clearness.
"Why, I should have thought your own native Patagonian, if you are a
Patagonian," exclaimed Knowles, examining the savage's not over-handsome
physiognomy.
"If you are a Patagonian!" said the savage, looking in like manner into
Knowles' face.
"I--I'm an Englishman, I tell you!" cried Tom, somewhat puzzled.
"I'm an Englishman, I tell you!" cried the Patagonian in the same
indignant tone.
"That's just what I want to arrive at," said Tom. "So now just tell me
where we can get some good baccy and a glass of honest grog."
The Patagonian repeated the words.
"But I ask you!" said Tom.
"But I ask you!" said the savage.
"I tell you I'm a stranger here!" exclaimed Tom.
"I tell you I'm a stranger here!" cried the savage.
"Where do you come from then?" asked Tom.
"Where do you come from then?" repeated the savage.
"I tell you I'm an Englishman," cried Knowles, getting angry.
"I tell you I'm an Englishman!" exclaimed the Patagonian in the same
indignant tones.
"That's more than I'll believe; and, to speak my mind plainly, I believe
that you are an arrant, bamboozling hum-bug!" cried Tom. "No offence,
though. You understand me?"
Whether it was Tom's expression of countenance, or the tone of his
voice, I know not, but as he uttered these words, all the savages burst
into loud fits of merry laughter; and as he thought they were laughing
at him, he said that he should have liked to have gone in among them,
and knocked them down right and left with his fists; but they were such
precious big fellows, that he thought he should have got the worst of it
in the scrimmage.
He used with infinite gusto frequently to tell the story for our
amusement.
I am not quite certain, however, whether he was describing the
Patagonians or the inhabitants of Terra del Fuego. The latter are very
great mimics and are much smaller in size, less clothed, and more savage
in appearance than the Patagonians.
We touched at Valparaiso, in Chili, or, as it may be called, the Vale of
Paradise. It is certainly by nature a very beautiful and healthy spot,
built on a number of high hills with ravines intervening; but man, by
his evil practices and crimes, made it, when I was there, much more like
the Vale of Pandemonium. Drunkenness and all sorts of crimes were
common, and the _cuchillo_--the long knife--was in constant requisition
among the Spaniards, scarcely a night passing without one or more
murders being committed. It was then little more than a village, but
has now become quite a large town, with a number of English and American
merchants settled there. The houses are built with very thick walls, to
withstand the constant attacks of earthquakes which they have to
undergo. Having supplied ourselves with fresh provisions and water, we
sailed, and stretched away into the wide Pacific.
We had left the coast of Chili about a day's sail astern. A light
easterly breeze was just ruffling the blue sea--the noon-day sun shining
brightly over it--the hands going listlessly about their work, rather
out of spirits at our want of success, not a whale having hitherto been
seen--when the cheery shout of the first mate reached our ears from the
look-out, of "There she spouts! there she spouts, boys!"
In an instant every one was aroused into the fullest activity--the watch
below sprung on deck--Captain Carr hurried from his cabin, and with his
hand to his mouth, shouted eagerly, "Where away?--where away?"
"About a mile on the starboard-bow," cried Mr Benson, the first mate,
in return.
"Lower the boats, my lads!" exclaimed the captain, preparing to go in
the leading one himself; the first and third mate and the boatswain went
in command of the others. Both Newman and I, as new hands, remained on
board, as did the second mate, to take charge of the ship.
Before the boats were in the water, the whale had ceased spouting; but
just as they were shoving off, the look-out broke forth in a cheerful
chorus, "There again--there again--there again!" the signal that the
whale was once more sending up its spout of spray into the air. The
words were taken up by all on deck, while we pointed with excited looks
at the whale, whose vast head and hump could be clearly distinguished as
he swam, unsuspicious of evil, through the calm waters of the deep.
Away flew the boats, urged on by rapid strokes, in hot pursuit. The
captain took the lead. We who were left behind felt that we were
accompanying them in heart and spirit. The foam bubbled and hissed
round the bows of the boats as they clove their way through the water.
Not a moment was there to lose--the distance was great--the whale had
been for some time breathing, and might go down, and perhaps be lost
altogether, before the boats could get up to her, or they might have to
chase her for many miles before they could again reach her. Meantime,
the wind being fair, the ship was kept almost in the wake of the boats.
Away they flew; each was anxious to strike the first whale, but the
captain's took the lead, and maintained it. As they got nearer the
monster, it was necessary to be careful, lest he should take the alarm,
and, seeing his pursuers, go down to escape them. The men bent to their
oars even more energetically than before; the captain stood up, harpoon
in hand; his weapon was raised on high; we thought that the next instant
it would be buried in the monster, when up went his small--the enormous
flukes rose high in air--"Back of all!--back of all!" we cried; not that
our voices could be heard. If not, that terrific stroke it is giving
will shiver the boat in atoms. The boat glided out of the way, but just
in time, though her crew were drenched with spray. Down went the
whale--far, far into the depths of the ocean.
Nothing is to be had without trying for it--our captain knew this well.
All eyes were now turned to watch where the whale would next rise, for
rise, we knew, he before long must, and in all probability within sight;
so the boats paddled slowly on, the men reserving their strength for the
moment when it would be required; while we on board shortened sail, that
we might have the ship more under command, to follow wherever they might
lead. Every one was watching with intense eagerness; the four boats
were separated a short distance from each other; now and then the
officers would stand up to see if the monster had risen, and then they
would turn their gaze towards the ship for a signal from the look-out
aboard. Still the time passed away, and no whale appeared.
An hour had elapsed, when again the inspiriting shout was heard of
"There she spouts! there she spouts!" the look-outs pointing, as before,
over the starboard-bow, where the whale had again risen, not much more
than a mile away from the boats. Again they were in rapid movement. We
doubted not that this time they would reach the monster. Through our
glasses we made him out to be a bull--an old greyhead, and probably a
cunning fellow, one likely to try every dodge which a whale can think of
to escape, and if failing to do that, and hard pressed, one who was
likely to turn on his pursuers, and attack them with his open jaws or
mighty flukes.
"Well, whatever freak he takes, our captain is the man to meet him,"
observed old Tom Knowles--a long-experienced hand in the South-Seas, but
who, having hurt his arm, was unable to go in the boats. "As long as
daylight lasts, he'll not give up the chase."
I had thought that when a whale was seen, it was merely necessary to
pull after him, dig the harpoons into him, and allow him to drag the
boats along till he died; but I found it was often a far more difficult
task than this to kill a whale.
"There again--there again!" shouted the look-outs from aloft; and the
cry was repeated by all on deck, while the whale continued spouting.
Fast as at first, if not faster, the boats flew after him--the captain's
again leading.
"This time we'll have him, surely," exclaimed Newman, who was as eager
as any of us.
"Not quite so sure of that, Ned," observed old Knowles. "I've seen one
of these old chaps go down half-a-dozen times before a harpoon was
struck in him, and, after all, with three or four in his side, break
away, and carry them off just as the sun was setting, and there was no
chance of getting another sight of him. I say, never be certain that
you've got him, till he's safe in the casks. I've seen one, after he
has been killed, go down like a shot, for no reason that anyone on board
could tell, except to spite us for having caught him."
While old Tom was speaking, the boats had approached close to the whale.
For my own part, after what I had heard, I fully expected to see him
lift his flukes, and go down as he had done before. The captain's boat
was up to him--the rest hung back, not to run the risk of alarming the
wary monster. The captain stood up in the bows--a fine bold figure he
looked, as he poised his glittering harpoon in his right hand, high
above his head. "There!--peak your oars," cried old Tom, as the crew
raised them with a flourish to a perpendicular position, having given
the boat sufficient impetus to take her alongside the whale. Off flew
the weapon, impelled by the captain's unerring arm, and buried itself up
to the socket in the fat coating with which the leviathan was clothed.
"It's socket up!" cried old Knowles. "Hurrah, lads--hurrah! our first
whale's struck--good-luck, good-luck--hurrah, hurrah!" The cheer was
taken up by all on board, as well as by those in the boats. They now
gave way with a will after the whale; the harpooner, as another boat got
up, sending his weapon into its side.
But it is no child's play now. The captain had time to dart a lance
into him, when, "Stern all--stern all!" was now the cry of the headsman;
and the crews, with their utmost strength, backed the boats out of the
way of the infuriated animal, which in his agony began to lash the water
with his huge flukes, and strike out in every direction with a force
which would have shattered to atoms any boat they met. Now his vast
head rose completely out of the water--now his tail, as he writhed with
the pain the weapons had inflicted. The whole surface of the
surrounding ocean was lashed into foam by the reiterated strokes of
those mighty flukes, while the boats were deluged with the spray he
threw aloft--the sound of the blows reverberating far away across the
water. The boat-steerer now stood ready to let the lines run through
the loggerhead over the bows of the boat. Should anyone be seized by
their coils as they are running out, his death would be certain. Soon
finding the hopelessness of contending with his enemies above water, the
whale lifted his flukes and sounded.
Down, down he went into the depths of the ocean. Away flew the line
over the bows of the boat. Its rapid motion would have set fire to the
wood, had not the headsman kept pouring water over it, as it passed
through its groove.
An oar was held up from the captain's boat: it was a sign that nearly
the whole of their line, of two hundred fathoms, had run out. With
caution, and yet rapidity, the first mate in the second boat bent on his
line; soon the captain's came to an end, and then that flew out as
rapidly as the first had done. To assist in stopping the whale's
downward course, drogues were now bent on to the line as it ran out; but
they appeared to have little more effect in impeding his progress than a
log-ship has in stopping the way of a vessel; and yet they have, in
reality, much more, as every pound-weight in addition tells on the back
of a racer.
Again an oar went up, and the third boat bent on, adding more drogues to
stop his way. They at length appeared to have effect. "There; haul in
the slack," cried old Tom. "He's rising, lads; he's rising!"
The boat-steerer was seen in the last boat busily coiling away the line
in the tub as he hauled it in. When he had got all his line, that
belonging to the next boat was in like manner coiled away; then the
captain's line was hauled in.
Thick bubbles now rose in rapid succession to the surface, followed by a
commotion of the water, and the huge head of the monster rushed suddenly
upward, sending forth a dense spout on high. The captain's boat was now
hauled gently on, the boat-steerer guiding it close up to the fin of the
wounded whale. Again Captain Carr stood up with his long lance in hand,
and plunged it, as few on board could have done, deep into his side. At
the same moment the rest of the boats pulled up on the opposite side,
the harpooner in the leading one striking his harpoon into him. Again
the cry arose of "Stern all--stern all!" It was time, indeed, to get
out of the way, for the whale seemed to feel that he was engaged in his
last struggles for freedom and for life. He threw himself with all his
monstrous bulk completely out of the water, in a vain attempt to get
loose from his foes. Off from him all the boats backed.
He now became the assailant. He rushed at them with his head and lower
jaw let drop, seemingly capable of devouring one of them entire. I
almost thought he would; but he was already fatigued with his wounds and
previous exertions. The line, too, of the mate's boat had many times
encircled his body. Suddenly it parts! The boat of the captain, after
he had darted his lance, was backed in time, and got clear from the
whale's attack, but the first mate was not so fortunate. The whale
seemed to have singled him out as the victim of his revenge. Having in
vain lashed at him with his flukes, he turned towards him with his head,
rushing on with terrific force. He caught the boat as she was
retreating, in an instant capsizing her, and sending all her crew
struggling in the waves. I thought he would immediately have destroyed
them; but he swam on, they happily escaping the blows of his flukes, and
went head out across the ocean, followed by the first boat and the two
others.
Were they going to allow our shipmates to perish unaided? I thought and
fully expected to hear the second mate order another boat to be lowered
to go to their assistance. But they did not require any. Two of the
men could not swim, but the others supported them till they got them up
to the boat, from which they had been a little way separated, and then
by pressing down the gunwale they quickly righted her. They then,
holding on on either side, baled away till they could get into her, and
still have her gunwale above water, when they very quickly freed her
altogether. Everything had been secured in the boat, so that nothing
was lost; and as soon as she was to right, off she started again in the
chase.
Away flew the captain's boat, dragged on by the line, at the rate, it
seemed, of full ten knots an hour. The other boats followed as fast as
their crews could lay their backs to the oars; but for a long time they
could gain nothing on him, but were fast falling astern. We had again
filled, and were standing on. At last he began to slacken his pace.
The loss of blood from his many wounds, and his evident exertions, were
rapidly weakening him. Still, so far-off had he gone, that the
captain's boat was scarce to be seen, and the others were mere specks on
the ocean.
Once again, however, we were overtaking them. The captain was once more
hauling in the slack--the other boats were getting up--the headsmen
standing, harpoon in hand, ready to give the whale fresh and still more
deadly wounds. They ranged up alongside, and harpoons and lances flew
from the boats. The monster no longer threw up water alone, but blood
was sent in a thick spout from his blow-hole, sprinkling the men in the
boats, and staining the bright blue sea around. Still, in spite of all
his foes, he struggled on bravely for life. Lashing the water, so as to
drive his relentless assailants to a distance, he once more lifted his
flukes and sounded; but they were prepared to let the lines run. Down
he went again.
"He'll be lost--he'll be lost!" I exclaimed, as did others not
accustomed to the work.
"Not a bit of it on that account," said old Knowles. "He can't remain
long under water after what he's gone through. He'll be up again soon;
and then stand by, my hearties, for his flurry!"
Old Knowles was right. Up came the whale again, at a short distance
only from where he had gone down, having dragged out from each boat not
a hundred fathoms of line. Once more the boats approached, and fresh
lances were darted into him; but they quickly had to retreat, for now
his head went up, now his tail; now he sprung again right out of the
water, twisting and turning in every direction.
"He has his death-pang on him," cried Old Knowles. "He'll be ours
before long;--but, ah! one of them has caught it!"
One of the boats had indeed caught it. We could not tell which, for the
others were covered with the foam and ensanguined water cast on every
side by the monster in his wild contortions. The fragments lay
floating, scattered far and wide, and several men were seen striking out
towards the other boats, half-turning their heads, as if in expectation
of being pursued. But, as we counted their number, they did not appear
to be all there. There were but five. One, we feared, was missing.
Anxiously we kept our eyes fixed on the spot, hoping to see our
shipmate, whoever he might be, appear.
"Hurrah!--he's there--he's there!" we shouted, as we discovered the
sixth man swimming out from among the mass of bloody foam which
surrounded the whale, who for an instant seemed to be resting from his
exertions. While the boats were taking them on board, again the whale
darted rapidly out, but this time it was to perform the segment of a
circle.
"He's in his flurry, lads--he's in his flurry!" shouted old Knowles.
"He'll be dead in another minute."
"Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history," said
Newman, who through his glass had been eagerly watching the chase. As
the words went out of his mouth the whale rolled over on his side, a
well-won prize, and loud shouts from the crews of the boats and from all
on deck rent the air.
The fragments of the shattered boat being collected, and the three
remaining ones made fast to the whale, they began towing it towards the
ship, while we made sail to meet them.
All hands were employed for an instant in congratulating each other when
we got the whale alongside, and then every means were taken to secure it
for "cutting-in"--so the operation of taking off the blubber is called.
The coopers had meantime been getting ready the large caldrons for
boiling the blubber; which operation is called "trying-out." A rope
passed round the windlass, and rove through a block fast to the head of
the mainmast, was carried over the side, with a large hook at the end of
it. The first thing done was to cut off the head of the whale, which,
with the neck-part up, was strongly secured, and floated astern.
"That head has got better than a ton of oil in it," observed old
Knowles, who was aiding the work. "It's worth no end of money."
"Wears yet a precious jewel in his crown," observed Newman, leaning
eagerly over the side. "It's fine work this, though."
A stage had been let down at the side of the vessel, on which those who
had cut off the head were stationed. One of them now made a hole in the
blubber with the instrument used for cutting-in, called a spade. A rope
was then fastened round the waist of another man, and he descended on
the body of the whale, taking the hook I have spoken of in his hand.
This hook he fastened into the hole he had cut. The operation now
began.
Some with spades cut the blubber or fat mass which surrounds the body
into a strip between two and three feet wide, in a spiral form, while
others hoisted away on the tackle to which the hook was attached.
Slowly the blanket-piece, thus cut off, ascended over the side, the body
turning round and round as its coat or bandage, for so we may call it,
was unwound. By the side of the pots were _horses_--blocks of wood--on
which the blubber was cut up. As the long strip was drawn up, another
hook was secured lower down, and the upper part of the blanket-piece was
cut off and chopped into thin pieces on the blocks. The pieces were
then thrown into big pots, under which fires were kindled. After the
first caldrons-full had been boiled, the lumps of blubber from which the
oil had been extracted were taken out, and served as fuel to continue
our fires. In reality, the whole operation was performed in a very
cleanly and orderly way; but a stranger at a distance would scarcely
think so.
Night overtook us while we were engaged in the work, and watch and watch
we continued it, lest a gale might spring up and compel us to abandon
our prize before it was all secured. No scene could be wilder or more
unearthly than that presented during the night by the whaler's decks.
The lurid fires surrounding the seething caldrons cast a red glare on
all around--on the masts and rigging of the ship, enveloped in the dense
wreaths of smoke which ascended from them--on the sturdy forms of the
seamen, with their muscular arms bared to the shoulder. Some were
cutting off huge blanket-pieces; others chopping them small on the
horses; others throwing them into the pots, or with long poles stirring
the boiling fluid, or raking out the scraps, as the refuse is called, to
feed the flames; while others, again, were drawing off the oil into the
casks ready to receive it, and stowing them away in the hold.
The whole of the following day and the following night found us employed
in a similar manner. At last the whole carcass was stripped to the very
flukes of every particle of blubber, and, to our no little satisfaction,
cast loose to float away, and to become a feast for the fish of the sea
and the birds of the air. The head, full of the valuable spermaceti,
was now floated alongside. A bucket was then forced down through the
neck; by means of a long pole, into the case, till, by repeated dips, it
was entirely emptied of its contents; and, as Knowles predicted, the
case was found to contain even more than a ton of oil. The spermaceti
was carefully boiled by itself--an operation necessary to preserve it.
The blubber surrounding the head was also taken off and boiled down, and
the empty skull was then cast loose, and sunk, by its own weight, with
rapidity to the bottom--there, perhaps, to form the caverned abode of
some marine monster never yet seen by human eye. It took us nearly
three days to cut-in, try-out, and stow away that huge whale, the
produce altogether being no less than eighty-five barrels! We broke
forth into loud shouts when our work was accomplished and our first fish
stowed away.
I have no great sympathy with those who talk of the cruelty of the work.
A whale feels acutely, no doubt, and so does a mouse or a sparrow, when
wounded; but not having huge bodies to twist and turn about in their
agony, they do not appear to suffer so much as does the mighty monarch
of the deep. I suspect that the amount of pain felt by the small animal
is equally great with that felt by the large one. However, I would make
my argument a plea for merciful treatment of all alike, and urge that
pain should never be unnecessarily inflicted on even the smallest of
created beings in whose nostrils is the breath of life.
Our success put us all in spirits, and we were ready to do or to dare
anything. Our captain had heard that sperm whales were to be found in
the icy seas towards the Antarctic Pole, and, accordingly, before
keeping across to New Zealand and the isles of the Indian Ocean, he
resolved to take a cruise to the south for a few weeks in order to try
our fortune. Over the seas on which we were sailing it was necessary,
both night and day, to keep a very sharp look-out; not only for whales,
but to avoid the dangers of coral-reefs, and islands of all sizes, which
in many parts sprinkle it so thickly.
"Land ahead!" was shouted from the foretopmast-head one forenoon, as we
were slowly gliding over the blue surface of the deep. As we got up
with it, we saw that it was a long, low, almost barren island, a few
trees only in the higher parts retrieving it from actual sterility. It
was a wild, desolate, melancholy-looking spot, such as would make a man
shudder at the very thought of being wrecked on it. At one end, inside
a reef over which the surf was breaking violently, lay a dark object.
As the officers were inspecting it through their glasses, they
pronounced it to be a wreck. There could be no doubt about it, and
Captain Carr resolved at once to visit the spot, to discover whether any
of the crew still remained alive.
As we stood on, a loud sound of roaring and yelping reached our ears,
and we saw on many of the rocks which surrounded the island a vast
number of seals, of the sort called "sea-lions." Newman and several of
us were eager to get in among them, to knock some of them on the head,
that we might make ourselves caps and jackets for our cruise in the icy
seas. The captain was equally anxious to get some seal-skins, and he
told us that, after we had visited the wreck, and explored the island,
we should try and catch some of the animals.
Seals are curious-looking creatures. The head, with its large mild
eyes, and snout, and whiskers, looks like that of some good-natured,
intelligent dog; and one expects, as they are swimming, to see four legs
and a thin curly tail come out of the water. Instead of that, the body
narrows away till there is seen a tail like that of a fish. The
hind-feet are like those of a duck when in the water, and the front ones
have, beyond the skin, only a flapper or paw with claws, at the end of
it. They are covered with thick, glossy hair, closely set against the
skin. The form of their jaws and teeth proves that they are
carnivorous, and they are known to live on fish, crabs, and sea-birds.
The birds they catch in the water, as they can swim with great rapidity
and ease. They can remain also for a considerable time under the water,
without coming to the surface to breathe.
The sea-lion, which was the species of seal we were hoping to attack,
grows to the length of ten feet. The colour is of a yellowish-brown,
and the males have a large mane, which covers their neck and shoulders,
so that they have very much the appearance of lions when their upper
part alone is seen above the water. Such were the monsters which seemed
to be guarding the island towards which we were pulling, their roar
vying in loudness with the hoarse sound of the surf as it beat on the
rock-bound shore.
Newman and I were in the captain's boat. As we pulled in for the land,
we saw that the surf rolled up on every side, and for some time we could
not discover a clear spot through which we might urge the boats. We
continued pulling on for half a mile or more, and caught sight of what
appeared to be a channel between the reefs. The captain ordered us to
give way, and bending to our oars, we pulled on with a will. A sailor
loves a run on shore, even though that shore may be but a barren sand;
but here we had two objects to excite our interest. The deserted wreck
claimed our first attention. It was easy to see how she had got into
her present position. An unusually high-tide and heavy gale must have
lifted her over the reef, and driven her on shore; and the wind falling
before she had time to go to pieces, must have left her comparatively
safe from further injury. The captain stood up in his boat to watch for
an opportunity to enter the passage.
"Now, again, my lads, give way!" he shouted. The boat lifted on the
summit of a roller, and rushing on with the dark rocks and hissing foam
on either side of us, in another instant we found ourselves calmly
floating in a reef-surrounded lagoon or bay. We had to pull back for
some distance to get to the wreck, and as we advanced, we looked along
the shore to discover, if we could, traces of any of the crew. All,
however, was silent and desolate.
From the appearance of the island, Newman observed that he thought it
must be the crater of an extinct volcano, and that even the lapse of
ages had allowed scarcely soil enough to collect on it, to permit of
more than the scanty vegetation which was visible.
As we approached the wreck, we found that she had gone stem on into the
mouth of a little creek, and there had been held fast by two rocks. Her
build at once made us suspect that she was a whaler like ourselves. All
her boats and bulwarks were gone, and her stern was much stove in. Her
main and mizzen-masts had been carried away, so had her foretopmast and
the head of the foremast below the top, the stump only remaining. On
this a yard still hung across, and the tattered fragment of a sail,
showing us that she had run stem on into her present position. As her
stern could be approached by water which was quite smooth, we ran the
boats under it, and climbed on board. The sea had made a clean breach
through the stern, and inundated the cabin, which presented a scene of
ruin and desolation. The bulkheads had been knocked away; the contents
of the sideboard, and sleeping-places, and lockers, all lay scattered
about, shattered into fragments, in the wildest confusion, among sand,
and slimy sea-weed, and shells, which thickly coated the whole of the
lower part of the cabin; while the hold itself, between which and the
cabin all the partitions had been knocked away, was full of water. No
living being remained on board to tell us how the catastrophe had
occurred. On going forward, we found that the rocks between which she
was jammed were separated from the shore, and that without a boat it
would have been difficult to get aboard. After the captain had examined
the wreck, he gave it as his opinion that she had been there three or
four years, if not longer. One thing appeared certain, that she could
not have got where she was without people on board to steer her; and
then the question arose, what had become of them?
If any of them were still alive on the shore, they must long ago have
seen the ship, and would have been waiting to receive us. The captain
thought that they might have possibly been taken off by another ship
soon after the wreck; still he resolved not to return without having
searched thoroughly for them. We pulled round astern of the wreck, and
there, in a sort of natural dock, found an easy landing-place.
As we walked across the island, we found that some of the lower spots,
the dells and valleys, produced a greater amount of vegetation than had
appeared at a distance; but could not retrieve the character of
desolation given by the black, barren hills, and dark abrupt cliffs
which arose on every side. We had given up all expectation of finding
anyone alive, or any signs of the spot ever having been inhabited, when
we heard a cry from Newman, who had wandered a little on one side.
We found him standing on a green hillock, raised a little above the
valley, whence on one side a wide view over the blue sparkling sea could
be obtained, with some shrubs of semi-tropical luxuriance, and the
bright yellow sands forming the foreground, while behind arose the dark
frowning cliffs and hills I have described. On the top of the hillock
were four mounds, side by side, and at one end of each was seen a rough,
flat piece of wood, a rude substitute for a grave-stone. There were
names on them of Englishmen, and dates showing that they had died at
intervals of a month or two from one another.
Where were the survivors?--who had buried these men? was now the
question. A group of cocoa-nut trees, all that were on the island,
marked the spot. It was one selected with much taste. The discovery
induced us to persevere in our search. We wandered on for another hour,
turning in every direction; for so full of undulations was the island,
that we might easily have passed the very spot we were in search of. At
last we were again called together by a shout from Newman.
We found him standing before a rude hut erected in front of a cave,
which formed, indeed, a back apartment to it. There was only one rough
bed-place on one side of it, though there were several stools, and a
table in the centre. A seaman's chest stood open, and contained a few
articles of clothing. There were two muskets, and some powder-flasks
hung up against the wall; but there was no food, although an iron pot
and a saucepan, with a place where a fire had been made, showed that
provisions had at one time been cooked there. On a shelf there were
several books, both in English and in foreign languages, and above them
was a flute with a music-book. A few carpenter's tools were arranged on
another shelf. Several things showed that the place had last been
inhabited by a person of superior education. On opening the books, a
name was found in several of them. It was that of William Evans. Two
of them Newman discovered to be on medical subjects, which of course
made us conjecture that they had belonged to the surgeon of the ship.
The decayed state of the books showed that it was long since they had
been opened, and on a further examination of the hut, it also was found
to be in a very dilapidated condition. From the number of things left
in the hut, Captain Carr surmised that the last occupants must have left
the place very suddenly, if, indeed, they had left it at all. One thing
was certain, that we were not likely to find any of them on the island.
We were, therefore, on our return to the boats, when I saw the figure of
a man sitting, with his back to a rock, on a gentle slope, whence a view
could be obtained of the blue ocean. I had separated a little from my
companions. I called to him, and I thought I heard him answer, "Halloa,
who calls?" His face was turned away from me, and he did not move. I
called again, and at that moment Newman broke through the brushwood, and
joined me. Together we climbed the hill, both equally surprised that
the man we saw did not get up to meet us. In another minute we were by
his side. The straw-hat, stained and in tatters, covered a skull; the
clothes, decayed and discoloured, hung loosely on a fleshless skeleton.
A book was by his side. It was a copy of a Latin poet--Horace, Newman
told me. Before him was another book of manuscript; and, as we looked
about, we picked up the remains of pencil, which had dropped from the
dead man's fingers. Newman opened the manuscript, and though it was
rotten, and the characters much defaced, he could still decipher them.
He glanced his eye rapidly over them.
"Ah! poor fellow, his appears to have been a sad fate," he remarked,
with a voice full of sadness. "Compelled by a strong necessity to leave
England--to wrench asunder all the ties which held him there, and embark
on board a South-sea-man as surgeon--he seems to have had a hard life of
it with a drunken, brutal captain, and ignorant--not a human being with
whom he could sympathise. Unable to return home, after three years'
service he exchanged into another ship. His master and officers, with
all the boats, were away in chase of whales, which had appeared about
them in great numbers, when a gale arose. The crew, already too much
weakened by that scourge of the ocean, the scurvy, and the loss of
several men, were unable to shorten sail. The boats were far out of
sight, as they believed, to windward. In vain they endeavoured to beat
up to them. The main and mizzen-masts went by the board; and the gale
still further increasing, they were compelled to run before it, without
a prospect of picking up their shipmates in the boats.
"Away they drove for several days before the wind, till one night all
who were below were thrown out of their berths by a violent concussion.
Again and again the ship struck--the sea beat in her stern. They rushed
on deck. It was to find nearly all those who had been there washed
away. The next instant, the ship again lifting, was carried into smooth
water, and finally jammed fast in the position we had found her.
"Five only of all the crew then survived, and they were the most sickly.
The writer was himself suffering from illness; happily, however, he
bore up against it. They collected all the provisions, and all articles
likely to be useful, which the sea had not destroyed, and carried them
on shore, which they easily reached by means of a raft.
"They had food enough to last them for some time; but they had but a
scanty supply of water. In vain they searched through the island--no
springs were to be found. With great labour they got up all the casks
of water still uninjured from the hold, and resolved to husband the
contents. They formed themselves a habitation. They made reservoirs in
which to catch the rain when it fell; but, in those latitudes, for many
weeks together no rain falls. For a time, with their fire-arms, they
killed a few birds; but their ammunition failed them, and they could
kill no more. Their water was at last expended, and for many weeks
together the only moisture they could obtain was by chewing the leaves
of the shrubs and grass they found. They continued, as at first, very
weak. They talked of building a boat from the wreck, but had neither
strength nor knowledge among them sufficient for the undertaking.
"At last their spirits gave way, and disease made fearful progress with
them all. One by one they died, and the survivors buried them. The
writer of the sad journal was alone left." Alas! not a word did he say
about seeking consolation where alone it can be given--not a thought
about another world and judgment to come. The writer seemed to pride
himself on his heathen stoicism--heathen expressions of resignation were
alone mentioned. His dying eyes had rested on the pages of Horace--his
dying thoughts, were they heavenward?
"In vain had he crawled to the spot where we found him, day after day,
in the faint hopes of seeing a ship to bear him away. Three long years
had thus passed, and all the food that had been brought on shore had
been consumed; and he had not strength to search for more, so he came up
there and sat himself down, and his spirit passed away."
Mr Newman had read this rapid sketch of the last events in the life of
this unhappy exile before the captain came up, when he handed him the
journal. The captain desired Newman to keep the "Horace," observing
that he could not himself understand the contents.
We had found some tools in the hut, with which we dug a shallow grave
close to where we had found these sad remains of mortality, and in it we
placed them. On the rock above we cut the name of William Evans, and
the date of the day on which we found him dead. Loading ourselves with
the articles found in the hut, Newman being allowed to take most of the
books as his share, we returned to the boats.
Although a longer time had been spent on shore than the captain
intended, he allowed us to endeavour to capture some of the sea-lions.
After pulling, however, some way along the lagoon, we discovered that
they could not be approached from the land-side, as they had taken up
their quarters on some high rocks, almost islands by themselves, in
advance of the reefs. We were, therefore, compelled to pass into the
open sea before attacking them--the passage by which we entered; and,
waiting an opportunity, we dashed through in safety.
As we approached the largest rock, it was curious to watch the hundreds,
or, I may say, thousands of fierce-looking monsters which covered its
slippery surface. It would have required bold men, not acquainted with
their habits, to attack them, as they looked down upon us from their
seemingly unapproachable fortress. On one side, the surf broke far too
fiercely to allow the boats to venture near; but on the other, although
there was a good deal of surf, Captain Carr told us we might land. The
only way, however, to get on shore was to pull in on the summit of a
breaker; and while those in the bow leaped out on the rock, the rest of
the crew had to pull back the boat again with all their force into
smooth water. We were armed for the attack with two or three harpoons,
a lance, and the boat's stretchers.
"Stand by, my lads--now's the time!" shouted our captain, as the two
boats rolled in towards the shore. He led the way, lance in hand;
Newman and I and old Knowles following from his boat. Our sudden
appearance on the confines of their fortress evidently not a little
astonished the sea-lions. Opening wide their jaws, and gnashing with
their formidable tusks, they glanced at us from the heights above, and
then, with reiterated and terrific roars, began to descend with
impetuous force, as if with their overwhelming numbers to drive us into
the sea. An old sea-lion led the van--a fierce monster, who looked
capable of competing with all of us together. So he might, if he had
possessed legs instead of fins or flappers, the latter only enabling him
to twist and turn and slide down the inclined plane on which we stood
into the sea. On the beasts came in dense masses, roaring and snarling.
I certainly did look for a moment at the boats, and wish myself safe
back again in them; but it was only for a moment, for our antagonists
demanded all our strength and agility to compete with them. Our captain
advanced boldly towards the old leader, and as he came right at him,
plunged his lance into his side. It had not the effect of stopping the
beast in his career; but, instead, very nearly carried him and the lance
into the water. Old Knowles was, I thought, very inadequately armed
only with a thick stick, which he always carried on shore with him,
curiously cut and carved, and fastened to his wrist by a lanyard.
"Let me alone," said he; "Old Trusty is better in a scrimmage, whether
with man or beast, than all your fire-arms and steel weapons. He always
goes off, and never gets blunt."
Newman and I were armed with harpoons. Newman, following the captain's
example, plunged his harpoon into the side of a seal, just as the beast,
with the greatest impetus, was sliding down the rock. In attempting to
stop its way, his foot slipped, and with the line coiled round his arm,
before any of us could go to his assistance, he was dragged off into the
boiling waters. He was a first-rate swimmer, but with so huge a
sea-monster attached to him, how could he hope to escape. The rock
sloped in a different direction to where the boats were, so that they
could render him no assistance. I thought of the scene we had just
witnessed--the unhappy exile dying alone on the desert island--and I
dreaded a similar fate for my friend. With a cry of dismay we looked
towards the drowning man. He disappeared among the foaming breakers.
Still, but with little hope, we watched the spot. Yes--there was his
head! He was swimming free! Bravely he mounted the crest of a roller;
it rushed in for the rock; but before he could find his footing, or we
could stretch out our arms to help him, he was carried off again among
the foaming waves. Meantime old Knowles had climbed up the rock in the
face of the sea-lions, whom he was knocking on the head right and left
with his club, and signalled the boats to pull round to Newman's
assistance. Still, however, with only a couple of hands in each, it
would take, I saw, a considerable time before they could reach him, and
I resolved to make one attempt to save his life, at the risk, though it
might be, of my own. Sticking my harpoon in a crevice of the rock which
my eye at that instant fell on, I seized the end of the line, and in
spite of the sea-lions, which kept rushing past me, I struck out into
the surf as I saw Newman once more approaching. Happily I grasped him
by the collar as the sea was once more heaving him back, and the captain
and other shipmates coming to our assistance, we were hauled safely up
the rocks.
There was not now a moment to be lost if we would capture any seals.
Although many had escaped, still a good number remained near; and
following the example set by old Knowles, we began laying about us on
every side most lustily with our weapons, bestowing heavy blows on the
heads of the frightened beasts. One blow was generally sufficient to
stun, if not to kill them outright, and we then quickly despatched them
with our knives. "On, my lads, on!" cried the captain; and up the rocky
steep we went, meeting the maddened inhabitants as they came floundering
down upon us. We had literally often to climb over the fallen bodies of
the slain. Sometimes one of our party would miss his footing, and he
and half-a-dozen seals would go sliding away down the rock, the beasts
biting at him, and he struggling to get free, and in no small terror of
being carried away into the surf. Such would inevitably have been the
lot of more than one of us had not we all kept a watch to help each
other out of such difficulties.
Our captain's combat with the old lion was the most severe. As the
captain, unwilling to lose his lance or the beast, holding on to the
former, was dragged downwards, they reached a ledge of rock which sloped
in an opposite direction to the surrounding parts, and thus formed a
table on which they could rest. Here the monster, finding that he could
not escape from his opponent, turned bravely to bay, and grinning with
his large, strong teeth, made fiercely at him. The captain held on
pertinaciously to the handle of the spear, springing actively out of the
way of the beast's mouth, as in its contortions and struggles it
approached him too nearly. The lion roared, and snarled, and struggled,
and the captain held on bravely, but I believe would soon have had to
let go had not old Knowles, springing down the rock, given the animal a
blow on the head with his stick, which effectually settled him.
There were many other single combats, and more of one man against
half-a-dozen beasts; but the result was that we came off victorious
without the loss of anyone, while we could boast of having killed
upwards of sixty seals. Our next work was to flay them. This, in the
hands of experienced operators, was soon performed, and in a short time
we had sufficient skins ready to load our boats, and to make caps and
jackets for all hands, besides what were required for the ship's use.
The boats now came back to the spot where we were to embark, and by
carefully waiting our time, we leaped on board with no other damage than
wet jackets.
"Williams," said Newman, as we were pulling on shore, "you have nobly
preserved my life at the risk of your own. I trust that I may be
grateful."