All through the first day the men were busy preparing the implements and getting things ready for slaughtering and trying out the sea elephants. Spades were sharpened and placed in readiness; the big boiling kettles were brought out and the try-works built; the casks were arranged for filling; the killing clubs were selected and with everything prepared for the killing to begin the following day, the men sat down to a hearty meal of sea elephants’ tongues and liver, baked beans and plum duff, while the boys and Cap’n Pem dined on some delicious fresh fish which one of the men had caught, with fresh crabs and craw fish from among the rocks of the shore.
When the meal was over, the boys insisted on the mate keeping his promise to tell them the story he had mentioned and after a few objections, the old man gave in and lighting his pipe, while everybody gathered about and listened, he began.
“Wall,” said the old whaleman, “I was sayin’ to ye boys that I knowed o’ whalemen rowin’ over three thousan’ miles in their boats, but I reckon I’d oughter ha’ said I’d heard on ’em. But I hev knowed o’ whalemen a-rowin’ more’n a thousan’ miles, and what’s more, I wuz boy on the ship what picked ’em up in the end, so ye’ll hev to b’lieve this ’ere yarn ’cause it’s true as is, an’ I kin swear to it. Hows’ever I calc’late I’d better begin at the beginnin’ an’ not git all aback an’ in stays an’ afoul o’ my own hawse by beginnin’ tail en’ fust. ’Twas ’long back in ’59, purty long spell ago, an’ the bark Janet, hailin’ from Westport, was a-cruisin’ fer sparm in the Pacific ’long ’bout the equator an’ ’bout a hundred an’ ten west. Eve’ything’d been a-goin’ fust rate an’ one o’ the boats made fast to a bull whale late in the arternoon and by the time he’d spouted blood an’ turned fin-up, ’twas purty near night. Wall, they got their fluke-chain round the critter all right an’ was a startin’ to pull him to the Janet, what was hull down, when a heavy sea caught the boat jes’ right an’ capsized her. ’Course ’twan’t much trouble to right her, but everything they had was lost—kag o’ water, biscuits, compass, lantern an’ all fittin’s—an’ while the crew got her right side up in a jiffy they couldn’t bail her out ’cause o’ the bucket an’ bailer bein’ gone. An’ I tell ye, ’tain’t no picnic tryin’ to keep a water-filled boat right side up in a heavy sea an’ blowin’ a holy gale. Some reason or t’other the ship hadn’t seen ’em an’ they couldn’t signal the bark, an’ to keep the boat from capsizin’ again they lashed the oars ’crost her an’ worked her over ’longside the dead whale and done their best to tip her up an’ dump the water outen her. But ’twan’t no ’arthly use count o’ heavy seas a-breakin’ over ’em an’ at last they give up and started a paddlin’ their way toward the Janet’s lights what was vis’ble. They kep’ at it all night, an’ come mornin’, they found as they was farther off than before, so knowin’ they was jus’ usin’ of their strength for nothin’ they let her drift. Nex’ mornin’ the wind let up a mite an’ the sea went down, an’ the men managed somehow to capsize the boat an’ git her back on her keel with a bit less water in her, but while they was a-doin’ of it, one was drownded. Jes’ recollec’ that for forty-eight hours these chaps hadn’t had nary a drop o’ water nor a bite to eat and had been a-lyin’ in salt water up ter their armpits and ye can’t blame two more on ’em fer goin’ crazy. Derned if ’tain’t a wonder they didn’t all go mad. There they was, driftin’ about in the middle o’ the Pacific jes’ under the line without nothin’ to eat or drink an’ the nearest lan’, Cocos Islan’, more’n a thousan’ miles away. Not one o’ the crew was strong enough to pull oar, but by workin’ like blazes they managed for to tear out the boat’s ceilin’ and lashed it up like a sort o’ sail an’ started off afore the wind.
“For seven days they sailed on with nothin’ to eat or drink ’cause there wasn’t so much as a drop o’ rain fell, an’ all the time under the blazin’ sun o’ the ’quator. By that time, things got so bad they begun to draw lots an’ one o’ the men was killed an’ t’others eat him up. An’ then, jes’ as if Almighty God had a-taken pity on ’em, a shower come along an’ give ’em plenty to drink. On the eighth day arter being adrift, another man died, but nex’ day another shower come along an’ a big dolphin flopped right into the boat. Ye can’t tell me there ain’t no sech thing as Providence arter that, an’ every day arter then a bird’d come so clost the men could cotch him, an’ twenty days arter leaving of the whale, they sighted the Islan’. Gettin’ ashore, they killed a wild pig and they was a-dinin’ like kings offen him an’ a eatin’ of coconuts when the old Leonidas, with Pem Potter aboard as cabin boy, run inter the Cocos fer water an’ found ’em.”
“That’s a fine story,” declared Tom. “It does seem as if they were saved by a miracle.”
“Yes, and if any one read it in a book they wouldn’t believe it,” added Jim.
“Tha’s right,” commented one of the New Bedford boat steerers. “Me, I myself, one time mek long row in da whale boat. Mebbe you like hear heem, yes?”
“Sure we would,” Jim assured him. “Go on, Manuel, and tell us the story.”
“Alla right,” assented the boat steerer, showing his white teeth in a pleased smile. “You know heem, da Pedro Varela schooner, no? Well, two, three year ago, me, myself, I was boat steerer on heem when he mek da cruise for da sperm whale een Atlantic. We mek fine cruise an’ fin’ plenty whale an’ pretty near fill up down by da islan’s an’ da Cap’n he say he think mebbe he strike two, three more whale an’ fill up on da way home. So he mek da course north an’, sure thing, we fin’ da whale jus’ by Bermuda, mebbe leetle way south an’ eas’.
“Oh, boy, I, me myself, tell da worl’, we fin’ heem! One day da lookout, he sing out, ‘There she blow,’ an’ da other lookout he sing out same leetle minute, ‘There she blow,’ an’ we see ten, twelve, one dozen mebbe, blowin’. He on’y three boat ship, da Varela, an’ da cap’n an’ mate an’ secon’ mate, they all lower. Me, myself, I was in da secon’ mate boat an’ got fast da firs’. Long time me, myself, I been whalin’ an’ never not een my life do I see whale so mad. Oh, boy! Firs’ thing he sound, six hundred fathom he go, two line, an’ then he breach so dam queek we no can pull in da slack an’ he mill an’ then, Santa Maria! He mek off all same like he goin’ for tow us to Flores. Never, never, do I see one whale go like that. One whole hour he run an’ leetle by leetle we draw in an’ then, jus’ when we think we get heem, da iron draw an’ we los’ heem. Then we look ’roun’ an’ no see da Varela nowhere. No, sir, I, me myself, I tell you we los’. Mebbe, we think, da Varela fin’ us in da night, so all da night we burn lantern lash to da oar an’ stick eet up, but da schooner she no come an’ when da day come da mate he say, ‘look like we bes’ row home, boys.’ So we eat leetle biscuit an’ drink leetle water an’ head nor’wes’ and row all day. Nex’ day jus’ da same; eat leetle, leetle biscuit, drink leetle, leetle water an’ row. Third day—’bout six bell—biscuit he all finish an’ water he finish, too. Then we feel mighty seek, I myself, I tell da worl’, an’ we row an’ row an’ ’bout four bell, mebbe, we see smoke. Pretty soon we see da steamer an’ come our way an’ we signal an’ he see an’ come near. He spik us an’ want tek us aboard, but da mate he ask heem where he boun’ an’ when he say ‘Englan’,’ da mate he ask us eef we want go Englan’ an we all say no. So da mate he say we not go aboard, but if he give us grub an’ water an’ course for New Bedford, we thank heem ve’y much and row home. Da skipper of da steamer he say we crazy, yes, an’ laf; but he give us plenty grub an’ water an’ da course and we eat plenty an’ row an’ bimeby we see Gay Head light an’ we mek New Bedford.”