CHAPTER EIGHT.
DEATH ON THE SEA.
The whale which we had taken, as I have related in the last chapter, wasour largest fish of that season. It produced ninety barrels of oil, andwas worth about 500 pounds sterling, so that we did not grieve much overthe loss of our boat.
But our next loss was of a kind that could not be made up for by oil ormoney, for it was the loss of a human life. In the whale-fishery menmust, like soldiers, expect to risk their lives frequently, and theyhave too often, alas! to mourn over the loss of a shipmate or friend.Up to this time our voyage had gone prosperously. We had caught so manyfish that nearly half our cargo was already completed, and if we shouldbe as lucky the remainder of the voyage, we should be able to returnhome to Old England much sooner than we had expected.
Of course, during all this time we had met with some disappointments,for I am not describing everything that happened on that voyage. Itwould require a much thicker volume than this to tell the half of ouradventures. We lost five or six fish by their sinking before we couldget them made fast to the ship, and one or two bolted so fast that theybroke loose and carried away a number of harpoons, and many a fathom ofline. But such misfortunes were what we had to look for. Every whalermeets with similar changes of luck, and we did not expect to faredifferently from our neighbours. These things did not cause us muchregret beyond the time of their occurrence. But it was far otherwisewith the loss that now befell us.
It happened one forenoon. I was standing close to the starboard gangwayearly that morning, looking over the side into the calm water, for therewas not a breath of wind, and talking to the first mate, who was agruff, surly man, but a good officer, and kind enough in his way wheneverything went smooth with him. But things don't go very smoothgenerally in whaling life, so the mate was oftener gruff than sweet.
"Bob Ledbury," said he, "have you got your cutting-in gear in order?I've got a notion that we'll `raise the oil' this day."
"All right, sir," said I, "you might shave yourself with theblubber-spades. That was a good fish we got last, sir, wasn't it?"
"Pretty good, though I've seen bigger."
"He gave us a deal of trouble too," said I.
"Not so much as I've seen others give," said he. "When I was fishing inthe Greenland Seas we made fast to a whale that cost us I don't know howmany hundred dollars." (You must know the first mate was a Yankee, andhe reckoned everything in dollars.)
"How was that, sir?" asked I.
"Well, it was something in this fashion. We were floating about in theNorth Atlantic one calm, hot day, just something like this, only it wasthe afternoon, not the morning. We were doing nothing, and whistlingfor a breeze, when, all of a sudden, up comes five or six whales allround the ship, as if they had spied her from the bottom of the sea, andhad come up to have a squint at her. Of course the boats were manned atonce, and in less than no time we were tearing after them like allalive. But them whales were pretty wildish, I guess. They kept uspullin' the best part of five hours before we got a chance at them. Myboat was out of sight of the ship before we made fast to a regularsnorer, a hundred-barreller at the least. The moment he felt the iron,away he went like the shot out of a gun; but he didn't keep it up long,for soon after, another of our boats came up and made fast. Well, forsome two or three hours we held fast, but could not haul on to him touse the lance, for the moment we came close up alongside of his tail hepeaked flukes and dived, then up again, and away as fast as ever. Itwas about noon before we touched him again; but by that time two moreharpoons were made fast, and two other boats cast tow-lines aboard ofus, and were hauled along. That was four boats, and more than sixteenhundred fathoms of line, besides four harpoons that was fast to thatwhale, and yet, for all that, he went ahead as fast as we could haverowed, takin' us along with him quite easy.
"A breeze having sprung up, our ship overhauled us in the course of theafternoon, and towards evening we sent a line on board, to see if thatwould stop the big fish, and the topsails were lowered, so as to throwsome of the ship's weight on him, but the irons drew out with thestrain. However, we determined to try it again. Another line was sentaboard about eight o'clock, and the topsails were lowered, but the linesnapped immediately. Well, we held on to that whale the whole of thatnight, and at four o'clock next morning, just thirty-six hours after hewas first struck, two fast lines were taken aboard the ship. The breezewas fresh, and against us, so the top-gallant sails were taken in, thecourses hauled up, and the topsails clewed down, yet, I assure you, thatwhale towed the ship dead against the wind for an hour and a half at therate of two miles an hour, and all the while beating the water with hisfins and tail, so that the sea was in a continual foam. We did not killthat fish till after forty hours of the hardest work I ever wentthrough."
Some of my shipmates seemed to doubt the truth of this story; but, formy part, I believed it, because the mate was a grave, truthful man,though he was gruff, and never told lies, as far as I knew. Moreover, acase of the same kind happened some years afterwards, to a messmate ofmine, while he was serving aboard the _Royal Bounty_, on the 28th of May1817.
I know that some of the stories which I now tell must seem very wild andunlikely to landsmen; but those who have been to the whale-fishery willadmit that I tell nothing but the truth, and if there are any of myreaders who are still doubtful, I would say, go and read the works ofCaptain Scoresby. It is well known that this whaling captain was atruly religious man, who gave up the fishing, though it turned him inplenty of money, and became a minister of the gospel with a smallincome, so it is not likely that he would have told what was untrue.Well, in his works we find stories that are quite as remarkable as theone I have just told, some of them more so.
For instance, he tells us of one whale, in the Greenland Seas, which wasnot killed till it had drawn out ten thousand four hundred and fortyyards, or about _six miles_ of line, fastened to fifteen harpoons,besides taking one of the boats entirely under water, which boat wasnever seen again.
The mate told us two or three more stories, and a lot of us weregathered round him, listening eagerly, for there is nothing Jack likesso much as a _good yarn_, when all of a sudden, the man at the mast-headsang out that a large sperm whale was spouting away two points off thelee-bow. Of course we were at our posts in a moment.
"There she blows! there she breaches!" sung the look-out.
"Lower away!" roared the captain.
The boats were in the water, and the men on their seats in a moment.
The whale we were after was a very large one; we could see that, forafter two hours' hard pulling we got near enough to throw a harpoon, andafter it was fixed he jumped clean out of the water. Then there was theusual battle. It was fierce and long; so long that I began to fear wewould have to return empty handed to the ship. We put ten harpoons intohim, one after another, and had a stiff run between the fixing of each.
It is astonishing the difference between the fish. One will give you notrouble at all. I have often seen a good big fellow killed in half anhour. Another will take you half a day, and perhaps you may lose himafter all. The whale we were now after, at last took to showing fight.He made two or three runs at the boat, but the mate, who was in command,pricked him off with the lance cleverly. At last we gave him a severewound, and immediately he dived.
"That was into his life," remarked Tom Lokins, as we sat waiting for himto come up again. The captain's boat was close to ours, about ten yardsoff. We had not to wait long. The sudden stoppage and slacking off ofall the lines showed that the whale was coming up. All at once I saw adark object rising directly under the captain's boat. Before I couldmake out what it was, almost before I could think, the boat flew up intothe air, as if a powder magazine had exploded beneath it. The whale hadcome up, and hit it with his head right on the keel, so that it wasknocked into pieces, and the men, oars, harpoons, lances, and tackleshot up in confusion into the air.
Immediately after that the whale went
into his flurry, but we paid noattention to him, in our anxiety to pick up our companions. They allcame to the surface quickly enough, but while some made for the boatsvigorously, others swam slowly and with pain, showing that they werehurt, while one or two floated, as if dead, upon the water.
Most of the men had escaped with only a few cuts and bruises, but onepoor fellow was hauled out of the water with a leg broken, and anotherwas so badly knocked about the head that it was a long time before hewas again fit for duty. The worst case, however, was that of poor FredBorders. He had a leg broken, and a severe wound in the side from aharpoon which had been forced into the flesh over the barbs, so that wecould hardly get it drawn out. We laid him in the stern of the boat,where he lay for some time insensible; but in a short time he revived,and spoke to us in a faint voice. His first words were--"I'm dying,messmates."
"Don't say that, Fred," said I, while my heart sank within me. "Cheerup, my boy, you'll live to be the death of many a whale yet. See, putyour lips to this can--it will do you good."
He shook his head gently, being too weak to reply.
We had killed a big fish that day, and we knew that when he was "triedin" we should have completed our cargo; but there was no cheer givenwhen the monster turned over on his side, and the pull to the ship thatevening seemed to us the longest and heaviest we ever had, for ourhearts were very sad.
Next day Fred was worse, and we all saw that his words would cometrue,--he was dying.
I was permitted to nurse my poor messmate, and I spent much of my timein reading the Bible to him, at his own request.
He lived about a week after the accident and then he died. We buriedour shipmate in the usual sailor fashion. We wrapped him in hishammock, with a cannon-ball at his feet to sink him. The captain readthe burial-service at the gangway, and then, in deep silence, wecommitted his corpse to the deep.