IN WHICH I AM A TERRIFIED WITNESS OF A WONDERFUL PHENOMENON
Evening was dropping down and I was woefully hungry. Being sure that the
Wavecrest was safely moored to the body of the dead leviathan, I set
about correcting the need which preyed upon me. I was thankful, indeed,
that I had stocked my larder so well on that last day at Bolderhead.
There was plenty of water, too. I could ride out a week's storm here
beside the whale I was very sure, and then have plenty of provisions to
serve me until I could beat back to the mainland.
I got out my lanterns, filled and trimmed them, and cutting steps in the
side of the whale with the boat-hatchet, I mounted to the top of the
great body and there stuck my oar upright in the blubber and hung a
lantern to it. I was pretty sure that no vessel would pass that signal
light without investigating, even in the gale.
I made a very comfortable supper indeed. I managed now to force the
cabin door and closed the sliding hatch. Then I warmed the cabin well
with the spirit stove, stripped off my wet clothes, and got into dry
garments. I went out on deck at nine o'clock, saw that my moorings were
fast and the lanterns burning brightly, and then turned in. After the
uncertainties of the day and the lack of sleep suffered the night
before, I slept as soundly when I now turned in on one of the bunks as
ever I did in my own bed at home!
At daybreak--another drab dawning of the new day--I was up and climbed
the whale for the lantern. In its place I left attached to the upright
oar a shirt to flutter in the wind for a signal. I hoped that any vessel
passing near enough to see my signal would stop for me. But of one thing
I was sure: If it chanced that a whaling ship came within sight of the
dead leviathan my peril would soon be over. This huge beast had not been
long dead and it would be all clear gain to any "blubber boiler" that
chanced to pass that way.
Nor was the possibility of being rescued by a whaleship so slight as it
would have been a few years before. There were for two decades, few
whaling barks put forth from the New England ports; but of late years
there is either a greater demand for whale-oil, or the cachelot (the
sperm whale) is becoming more frequently seen both in northern and
southern seas, and is being hunted both by steam vessels and by the
old-time whaling ships.
I didn't know where I was--that is, my position in the North Atlantic;
but I believed that I had sailed so far and so fast in the sloop that I
was about midway of the course of the British steam lines running 'twixt
Halifax and the Bermudas. Those two ports are between seven and eight
hundred miles apart, and I suspected I was nearer one or the other than
I was to Boston! I knew I had done some tall sailing since being swept
out of Bolderhead Harbor.
After having cooked and eaten a hearty breakfast, despite the blowing of
the gale--for dirty weather prevailed and rain swept down in torrents
every hour or two--I set about making such slight repairs as I could
with the tools and materials I had at hand. And while thus engaged I
made a discovery that--to say the least--startled me.
Dragging over the bows of the Wavecrest was the cable by which she
had been moored in Bolderhead Harbor. I had never chanced to draw it
aboard. Now I did so. It was only a bit, some three or four feet long.
And instead of finding it frayed and broken by the strain of the sloop
as she dragged at her old anchorage, I found that the hemp had been cut
sharply across. Nothing less than a knife--and a sharp one--had severed
that cable when it was taut!
The appearance of the bit of rope gave me such a jolt that I sat down
and stared at it. I had been quite sure that Paul Downes and his friends
knew I was aboard the Wavecrest when they nailed me into the cabin.
But it really never crossed my mind that they had deliberately cut the
sloop adrift. But here was evidence of the crime. There was no doubting
it. I had been imprisoned on the Wavecrest and then the sloop was sent
on a voyage which Paul and his friends must have realized could end in
nothing less than death.
It was an awful thought. In sudden and uncontrollable anger my cousin
had attempted to stab me when we had our unfortunate quarrel aboard the
sloop; but this crime was far greater than his former attempt. He had
deliberately planned my death.
And if Ham Mayberry, or any of my other friends, took the pains to look
at the Wavecrest's mooring cable, they would know that the sloop had
been cut adrift. The evidence lay in both pieces of the cable.
Perhaps, however, it would not be known--it might never be suspected,
indeed--that I had been swept out to sea in the sloop. The mere fact
that I had left my tender tied to the mooring buoy might not be
understood. Beside, the tender might have been cut adrift, too. Or the
gale might have done much havoc in Bolderhead Inlet. Other craft could
easily have been strewn along the rocky shores, or carried--like the
Wavecrest--out into the open sea.
The mystery of my disappearance might never be explained--until I
returned home. And when would I get back? I did not like to think of
this. I worried over the effect my disappearance would have upon my
mother's mind. And, while I was absent, Mr. Chester Downes would have
full swing.
Worried as I was because of my situation, here in the seemingly empty
Atlantic, my greatest anxiety was for my mother. More and more had I
come to fear the evil machinations of Mr. Chester Downes. While I had
been on hand to defend mother from her brother-in-law--and defend her
from her own innocent belief in him, as well!--I was but mildly
disturbed. If worse came to worse, I could always write to Lawyer
Hounsditch whom I believed would never see my mother cheated.
But now--and God only knew for how long a time--it was beyond my power
to do a single thing toward guarding my mother from Chester Downes. How
I wish I had taken the old attorney of the Darringford Estate into my
confidence before this time!
These were some of my sad thoughts following the discovery of the
severed cable. I remained in a very, very low state of mind indeed
during that forenoon. The gale did not abate; nothing but the boisterous
sea and the overcast sky could I see about me. Not even a seabird came
to the dead whale. I was alone--stark alone.
At mid-afternoon, however, I sighted something to the southward. I had
climbed to the top of the whale for a better observation and against the
horizon I beheld a long ribbon of smoke--just a faint streak against the
lighter colored clouds. I knew that a steamer was there; but she was
far, far away, and would never sight the whale, or my fluttering
signal.
I thought of all manner of curious plans to attract attention to my
plight from a long distance over the sea. Fire was my main thought. I
knew that no vessel--scarcely a mail-carrying steamship--would pass a
fire at sea without investigation. Had I been a modern Munchausen I
might have found some way of drawing a wick through the whale and
setting fire to its blubber!
As it was, had I been likely to run short of burning fluid I surely
would have endeavored to "try out" some of the blubber. I knew that,
before the day of mineral oil--kerosene--people used whale oil almost
altogether for lamps. But I was fortunately well supplied with oil,
water and food. I might ward off starvation for a month; but I was not
at all sure that I wished to exist so long under the then prevailing
conditions.
But life is very sweet to us, and I suppose I should have clung to the
last shred of mine had Fate intended me to remain in this abandoned
state so long. This day and another night passed. I went to bed and
slept well. The whale's carcass might roll over and crush my boat, or
some other accident happen to the Wavecrest during my retirement. But
I could do nothing to fend off Fate did I keep awake and had already
made up my mind that I had little to fear.
As for the whale sinking again, that was impossible. It may have sunk
after being killed; but putrefaction had set in within the carcass and
the gases which had thereby formed would keep the whale afloat until the
fish and seabirds had stripped its bones, in great part at least.
With the returning day the clouds broke. I had noted before arising that
the gale was subsiding. The sun showed his face and I welcomed him
enthusiastically. The sea did not subside however. I could not think of
leaving my sure haven yet. It did not look exactly like settled weather
but the sun shone warmly for part of that forenoon.
Before noon several screaming gulls had found the dead whale and were
circling around it, gaining courage to attack. The presence of the sloop
moored to it bothered them at first. But in a few hours there were other
scavengers of the sea at hand which were afraid of nothing. I sighted
the first ugly fin soon after eating my dinner. Then another, and
another and another appeared, and soon the voracious sharks were
tearing at the whale from beneath while the increasing number of
seabirds were hovering and fighting above the carcass.
Both the finned and winged denizens of the sea became so fearless that I
could have stroked the sides of the sharks with my hand or got upon the
whale and knocked the birds over with a club. Blood as well as oil ran
from the great carcass and the sea was soon streaked all around with
foulness. A dreadful stench began to be apparent, too. The fetid gasses
from the abdominal cavity of the dead creature were escaping.
But I could not afford to change my anchorage just for a bad smell!
Anxious as I was to get home again, I dared not start for land yet
awhile. I must wait for a fair wind and the promise of a spell of steady
weather. I knew that by heading into the northwest I must reach the New
England coast if I sailed far enough; but otherwise I was quite ignorant
of my position. Having a nicely drawn chart in my chest did not help me
in the least now, for I did not know my position and had no means of
learning it had I been a navigator.
This day passed likewise and an uncertain, windy night was ushered in.
I set my lantern again on the whale's back, the birds having become less
troublesome; but determined to keep watch for part of the night, at
least. To this end I rolled myself in my blanket and lay down on the
bench at the stern. The clouds still fled across the skies, harried by
the wind; and the wind itself fluctuated, wheeling around to various
points of the compass within a short hour.
I fell asleep occasionally and finally, before dawn, descended into a
heavy slumber. I don't know what awoke me. The wind was whining very
strangely through the sloop's standing rigging. My oar had tumbled down
and oar and lantern were in the sea. The birds had all disappeared, nor
were the fins of the sharks visible. Off to the south'ard was a strange,
copper colored bank of cloud. The east was streaked lividly, for it was
all but sunrise.
I rose and stretched, yawning loudly. I suddenly felt a prickling
sensation all over me. I knew that the air must be strongly impregnated
with electricity. Despite the whining of the wind here beside the dead
whale there seemed to have fallen a calm.
I scrambled up the side of the whale and turned to look northward.
Glory! Within five miles was a bark, under full sail, coming down upon
me--a vision of rescue that brought the stinging tear-drops to my eyes.
I was saved.
I did not care for the oar and the lost lantern now. I stood there and
waved the coat that I had dragged off at first sight of the vessel. I
knew her company must see me. I was as positive of rescue as of anything
in the world. The bark was flying before a stiff breeze, and it was head
on to the whale. I could not be missed.
Although the on-coming ship sailed so proudly, however, the breeze that
filled her canvas did not breathe upon my cheek. Nor was it the whining
of that favoring wind I had heard since first opening my eyes. I swung
about suddenly and looked to the south. Up from that direction rolled
the copper colored cloud--and it seemed veritably to roll along the
surface of the sea.
The sound came from this cloud. Before it the sea itself turned white.
Far above, the upper reaches of the rolling mist seemed to writhe as
though in travail of some great phenomenon. And it was so! Out of this
mass of vapor I saw born within the hour the most remarkable of all
sea-spells.
But at first my attention was divided between the tornado coming up from
the south and the bark approaching from the north. Not at once did the
favoring wind leave the craft. Where the dead whale lay seemed to be a
belt of calm between the bark and the coming tornado. And this craft in
which my hope was set was really a bark, by the way; I do not use the
word poetically. Her fore and mainmasts were square rigged while her
mizzen mast was rigged fore and aft like my little Wavecrest.
As I watched her I saw that her navigator had espied the coming tempest
from the south and the crew began to swarm among the sails. She still
came on at a spanking pace; but her canvas was reefed down rapidly until
there was nothing left but the foretopsail, flying jib and the spanker.
Soon these began to shake and then her fair wind left her entirely. She
had reached the belt of calm in which the dead whale and my sloop still
lay.
In my ears the savage voice from the cloud to the south'ard was now a
roar. The remaining canvas on the bark was reefed down. She lay waiting
for the tempest. I turned to descend from my rather slippery situation.
I preferred to be in the sloop when the tempest struck us, for possibly
I would be obliged to cast off from the dead mammal.
But before I could get off the whale the writhing cloud changed its
appearance--and changed so rapidly that I was held spellbound. It was
sweeping over the seas so close, it seemed that the topmasts of the bark
could not have cleared it. Now whirling tongues of cloud shot downward
while dozens of spiral columns of water leaped up to meet these gyrating
tongues. Thus sucked up by the whirling cloud the waterspouts were
formed, and dozens of them swept on across the sea beneath the hovering
cloud.
As the cloud advanced the wind which accompanied it beat the waves flat.
But they boiled about the waterspouts and the roaring sound increased
rapidly. The heavens above and to the north and east grew dark. The
rising sun seemed snuffed out. A vivid glare which was neither sunlight
nor starlight accompanied the tempest as it swept on.
I trembled at the sight and as the seconds passed I grew more
terrified--and for good reason. What would happen to me if any of those
whirling columns of water and mist struck the dead whale? If they burst
upon the drifting mammal where would I be? What would happen to the
Wavecrest?
And then quite suddenly there came a change in the on-rushing tornado.
Amid thunderous reports--like nothing so much as the explosions of great
guns--the dozens of small spouts ran together, or were quenched as it
might be, in one huge, whirling column of water which, swept on by the
wind, charged down upon me as though aiming at my particular
destruction.
I fell upon my knees and clung with both hands to the slot I had cut in
the whale's blubber in to which to thrust the oar. I dug my fingers into
the greasy flesh and hung on for dear life. I actually expected that the
whale--and of course my sloop--would be overwhelmed.
The waterspout, traveling with the speed of an express train, bore down
upon me. With it came the wind, roaring deafeningly. I lost all other
sound, with such enormous confusion the tornado swept upon me. The whale
rolled as though it had come to sudden life again.
Over and over it canted. I know my sloop was lifted completely out of
the sea. The waterspout whirled past--within three cable-lengths of the
dead leviathan,--and the tempest shrieked after. The whale rolled back.
I slid down the curve of the carcass and dropped into my plunging sloop.
I feared to remain longer near the dead whale, but cast off both at bow
and stern, and let the sea carry me some yards from the heaving, rolling
carcass.
And then I could once more see the waterspout. It was still careening
over the sea, its general direction being nor'west; but it whirled so
that it was quite impossible to be sure of its exact direction.
However, of one thing I was confident. The sailing vessel which I had so
joyfully discovered an hour ago, lay in the track of the waterspout. She
lay still becalmed and if the spout threatened to board her, there
would be no possible chance of the vessel's escaping destruction.