A Bounty Boy / Being Some Adventures of a Christian Barbarian on an Unpremeditated Trip Round the World

by Frank Thomas Bullen

So without further pressing C. B. lifted up his sweet tenor and sang “O God of Bethel,” amid a silence that was positively painful in its intensity of attention. And as soon as he had finished he was disconcerted by a very tempest of applause and vociferous shouts of “Same man sing agen. Bully for you, old hoss,” etc., etc. And nothing loth C. B. sang again and again, his repertoire being tolerably extensive and his memory as good as his bringing up would naturally make it, until tired out he had to cry off. Then, and not till then, it was found that all hands in the ship, forgetting the gam, had crowded as near to the half deck as possible, charmed by the sweet strains.

The whole incident brings forcibly to my memory an experiment of my own once when gamming a ship called the Cornelius Howland off the Three Kings, New Zealand. I was one of the visiting boat’s crew, and after the usual topics of conversation flagged a song was called for. I explained that I had some pretensions to a voice, but could only sing hymns, for in the sect among whom I was converted it was esteemed wrong to sing anything secular, and mortal sin to go to any place of amusement whatever. It was immediately explained to me that so long as I sang, the words did not matter in the least, especially as scarcely anybody would understand me. So I piped up instantly with a favourite of mine from Sankey’s book, “Through the Valley of the Shadow I must go.” It was received with shouts of joy, one man who was especially delighted saying, “Well, —— my eyes, that’s what I call a —— good song, d’ye know. I could sit and listen to that kind o’ singin’ all night.”

I humbly apologize for the blanks, but the reader will, I hope, feel as I did, that the forcible expletives they represent meant nothing to the speaker, who was only using his ordinary language. I only know that I went on singing to the exclusion of everybody else, and was quite hoarse the next day from the unaccustomed vocal exercise, for we didn’t sing very much in my ship. After all, it was not much to be wondered at, for the polyglot crowd met with in the forecastle and half decks of a whaler has usually one gift in common—an intensely musical ear, although the execution of pleasing music is denied them in nearly every instance. And for instrumental music they usually have that truly infernal instrument, the accordion, from which the most ingenious musician that ever lived can draw nothing but noise. So that a little real music is received with great joy.

At midnight the cry was heard, “Eliza Adams’ boat’s crew away,” and C. B. sprang to his post, but not before his new-found friend “Chips” had handed over to him his choicest treasure, a small parcel of well-thumbed books, ragged copies of Dickens and Charles Reade, with one or two others by less known authors, but all to C. B. a storehouse of wonders, a treasure unlocked. Then with a warm handshake they parted, C. B. feeling happier than he had done since leaving home. Never before had he realized how much he had craved for sympathy and the opportunity to express himself in terms of love and admiration for his Father in heaven. And when they presently reached the ship Captain Taber said to him—

“You seem to have had a pretty good time, Christmas. I heard you singing away and remembered how your folks used to sing. It must have been quite a treat to you to let loose again.”

C. B. said nothing, for he did not feel that any answer was required of him, but he longed with greater desire than ever to be able to talk about the matter that lay nearest his heart. No one who has not been in a similar position can begin to realize what it means to be dumb upon the one topic that interests you. To feel that if you mention it to anybody you will not only not be understood, but your words will be construed as an insult. But he gave a great sigh and took the matter quietly to the Lord as was his wont, feeling much comforted thereby, strengthened to wait and endure as long as he should be called upon to do so. And all unknown to him relief was at hand.

Two days after meeting with the Matilda Sayer the crow’s-nest reported whale in the usual manner. But this time it was a lone whale of very large size steadily making a passage across the ground at a leisurely pace. Now a lone whale is always potentially very dangerous, because his loneliness is due to the fact that he has been cast out of the society of his kind. A big bull whale only maintains his position as leader of the school as long as he is able to beat all aspirants to the dignity. And as the young bulls growing up are continually striving to attain that position, it will easily be seen that to keep it the holder must be of exceptional strength and vigour, while the day will surely come when in the natural order of events he will have to abdicate, which does not mean that he may take an inferior position in the school, but that he must leave it altogether and from henceforth until the end, which may be many years distant, he must roam solitary.

But this condition of existence for the whale naturally means that he becomes morose, savage and wary. And if he should in addition have been the object of attack by whalemen and have got away from them, he becomes doubly dangerous because of the never-to-be-forgotten lessons he has learned as to how to act, and also because it usually happens that he carries with him, imbedded in his flesh, some rankling fragments of bombs and certainly a galling harpoon.

Now in consequence of these well-known facts concerning the lone whale, it is usual to approach him with considerable caution. But there are many whalemen to whom caution in dealing with their gigantic quarry is a word of no meaning, they are reckless in the extreme, and no amount of disaster ever seems sufficient to teach them. Of such was Mr. Merritt: that strange composed man took fire within when approaching a whale. He “saw red” as the saying is, and although handling his boat and using his weapons with consummate skill, he had not one iota of prudence in his whole make up.

Now on this momentous occasion, because it was a lone whale, Captain Taber ordered the chief and fourth officers away, keeping the other boats in readiness to lower of course should there be any necessity, but not anticipating that more would be needed. It was a fine day, but the wind was high and the sea was correspondingly heavy. According to etiquette Mr. Winsloe was first on the whale, into which Pepe with his usual skill planted both irons right up to the hitches. Mr. Merritt lay off a little with his boat, noting with some surprise that no frantic wallowings and struggling followed the dart. Assuming, as was most natural, that Pepe had failed to strike the whale, he pulled up rapidly, having dowsed his own sail, to where Mr. Winsloe’s men were busy getting their mast down.