Somewhat wearily he mounted to the crow’s-nest again, only remembering as he did so that in the excitement of his manifold duties he had forgotten to eat, and it was now nearly noon. So he hailed the deck and ordered all hands to snatch what bites they could, but be ready to trim sails as needed. He received the usual answer, and went on with his scrutiny of the vast blazing expanse spread out before him. At last to his great relief he located the three boats, each certainly fast to a whale, and as far as he could judge with the whales dead. Fortunately, I had almost said providentially, but remembered C. B.’s persistent efforts to keep his ship to windward, the boats were all well to loo’ard, which simplified his task considerably.
But oh! the weary, weary wait of it all. A whaleship’s best gait is slow, with two whales towing it is hardly perceptible, and presently with a delightful start, as if he had made an original discovery, C. B. decided that he might relieve himself of his duty without any harm or hindrance, having set the course. So he came down and was astonished to find how the food set before him revived him and made him take quite a roseate view of difficulties which a few minutes before seemed almost unsurmountable.
When he had been thus refreshed he gave orders for all cutting gear to be got ready, knowing that there would be plenty of time and that the hands were all rested. Then he went below, where he found his skipper bandaged and swathed until he looked like a mummy sleeping soundly with only a light flush on his face, and Merritt, a half emptied plate of food by his side, sitting almost bolt upright, fast asleep, but looking as ghastly as a dead man. But then with people of that complexion you never can tell. They are not to be judged by ordinary rules at all.
Feeling that in both cases the men were better without interference on his part he went on deck again, and seeing the carpenter and cooper standing by, he went up to them and said—
“The captain and Mr. Merritt are both doing well, they’re fast asleep. Have you had your dinner?” They both nodded and he then went on, “I’ll look after the ship now if you’d both like a little rest, for I reckon it’ll be another hour before we are up to the first boat, and it will be hard enough for us all then.”
The two old tradesmen looked at him and then at each other, finally muttering—
“I guess we’ll keep you company. What you can do we can, and anyhow you ain’t half a bad chap.” That was all, but it meant a good deal.
Now of the subsequent proceedings in picking up the three whales I need not write, except to say that as soon as Mr. Winsloe got on board C. B. handed the control of the ship over to him with a full report of what had happened since he had left the skipper’s company. The story of the next week is just one of savage unremitting toil, only to be compared to the way in which men work for the saving of their lives. Mr. Winsloe developed in a direction that C. B. had never suspected him of, he became a bowelless taskmaster, apparently needing no rest himself nor imagining that anybody else could want any.
Merritt took his place in the fighting line the next day, apparently none the worse for his awful experiences, although a keen observer might have seen in his sunken cheeks and hollow eyes indelible signs of the great struggle. But the poor skipper was in evil case. Only the natural vigour of his constitution and the tremendous force of his will pulled him through. For four days he lay alternating between stupor and delirium, never left by night or day, of course, entirely unconscious of how the great business of the voyage was being carried on without him.
When at last he emerged into the land of sense Winsloe was with him, having snatched a few minutes from the work to come down and have a look at his suffering chief. And when he found that the captain was sane again he felt a great lump in his throat, a weight lifted from his chest, for with all his undoubted faults he loved the skipper and would have felt his loss, in spite of the immediate benefit to himself, as a blow for which there could be no adequate compensation. Captain Taber raised his sadly attenuated hand and groped for that of Mr. Winsloe, saying feebly—