“I can if nobody else will, but I’ll give Rafferty the job. He’s a fine swimmer,” and he beckoned to the boatswain.
“Board the launch,” quoth Janson to him curtly, “and bring her ashore.”
Rafferty made no remark on this terse order, but slipped quickly down the ledges that led to the rocks below. He kicked off his boots, dropped his jacket upon the stones, and poising his hands above his head, sprang like a dart into the still pool. There was scarcely a splash as he struck the surface, but he rose almost instantly in a circle of foam, while a shrill yell of agony burst from his lips. He threshed desperately back to the shore, still screaming horribly.
Howling and cursing, he flung himself upon the stones, and, oblivious of all considerations of modesty, tore off his clothes. He apostrophized every saint in the Catholic calendar. He squirmed, he bellowed, and believing him struck with sudden madness we raced toward him, utterly at fault to find explanation of this sudden explosion. But as we drew near our eyes soon found a cause.
The unfortunate seaman was red as any lobster. His skin was blistered and parboiled. It hung, as he himself explained in no uncertain voice, “in tathers and shtrips.” The waters of the rising lake had scalded him horribly.
We caught the unfortunate seaman as he wriggled upon the cool stones, and wrapped him in our coats. One of the men ran back for our blankets, nothing, as I well knew, being so dangerous for him as exposure to the air. What he needed most was thick coverings and oil. But, unfortunately, the whole stock of the latter was aboard the ship.
In this extremity the long black bulk of the stranded whale beneath the cliff caught my eye. It was no time for discussion. Gerry and I snatched up the kicking mariner, and bore him loudly complaining toward the carcass. We hacked great greasy lumps from its reeking sides, and then, as the blankets arrived, packed the victim tightly in this carrion, twisting the folds of blanket round the layers of blubber. So, muttering condemnation on all and sundry, and sniffing most melancholiously as the stench of the putrid wrapping filled his nostrils, we set him down, while we devised other means of reaching the ship across the steaming lake.
The launch was now only about sixty yards away, turning slowly as the ripples rose from the centre of the pool. One of the sailors produced a ball of string. To one end of this we tied a sizable pebble, and Gerry, who is a noted man at throwing the cricket ball, managed after some half-dozen attempts to land the stone in the bottom of the boat. Careful tugs brought her ashore, and in less than a minute we were aboard the ship.
I ran forward and knotted a loose rope to the foremast. Then, taking the slack, we jumped back into the boat, and bent our backs to the oars. Ever so slowly the ship got way and followed us, till the grating of the keel against the shallows told us she could come no further. We looked at the cleavage of the rocks. We saw with gladness that it had widened yet more, for the blue horizon line of ocean shone distinct across it, and the peaks of the nearer bergs jutted up into the vista. The others who had watched us from the heights now began to descend the granite stairway.
In straggling procession, the sailors weighed down with our surplus stores, they joined us as we strained upon the rope. The ladies were quickly ferried across the few yards between the rocks and the ship, and some of us tossed the various impedimenta aboard, while half-a-dozen ran back up the rocks to collect all leavings. Then, dumping everything anyhow upon the deck, we got a strong crew of six in one of the boats, hoisted the launch aboard, and gradually got the bows turned cliffward.