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

by Frank Thomas Bullen

For an hour they thus toiled at the oar, being by that time several miles from the land they had left, so far indeed that even their keen sight could hardly distinguish the movements of their ally on the cliff, and then at the raising of the leader’s hand they all ceased from their labour, lay on their oars and gazed keenly around. No sign of whale or spout was visible; but that only meant that it would be well to pause awhile, because the probability was that the creatures they were hunting had, according to their usual custom, sounded or gone down in quest of food.

Now as they did not know what the approximate size of the whales might be, they could only wait and watch, for small whales may only remain below from twenty minutes to half an hour, while full-sized bulls have been known to remain under water for as long as ninety minutes. Of course they kept good watch and patient withal, but when an hour had gone by and no sign came, each man felt that it was useless prolonging the quest. So they only waited now for the signal to return, being in any case too far from the land for a successful capture, that is, to get their enormous prize home, supposing they did slay one.

The signal was soon given, and without a word of regret or grumbling, the boats’ heads were turned shoreward, and with a leisurely stroke they began to retrace their way. There being no necessity now for silence, the boats’ crews, as their custom was, began to sing, raising their tuneful voices in the melodious strains of some well-known hymn, until Philip suddenly lifted his hand in an authoritative gesture, at which singing and rowing stopped simultaneously. Without a word, all eyes being fixed upon him, he pointed ahead, where within a cable’s length all saw the lazy spout of a whale, almost like a puff from a big pipe, rise from the sea.

With great care the oars were peaked, that is, the inner ends of them were drawn inboard until they could be tucked into circular cleats prepared for them, and short, broad paddles were produced, by means of which the boats were quite noiselessly propelled towards the unconscious whale. Philip, perched on a pair of cleats in the stern, guided the boat, which was well ahead of her sister, as she silently stole nearer the victim. Presently Philip swung his boat round, making the signal to the harponeer to spring to his feet with his weapon as the boat glided alongside the quiet monster. And, then to the amazement of everybody, Philip shouted, “Put that iron down, Fletcher! This whale is safe from us. Look, boys!” All hands did look, and saw that the object of their pursuit was a cow with a calf clinging to her huge breast, the nipple held in the angle of its immature jaw.

The boat lay perfectly still until the other boat came up, Philip raising his hand to warn his father that something unusual had occurred. The new-comer swung alongside as Philip had done, and all hands stared at the pretty sight. And owing to their habit of thought, every one of those strong men understood intuitively why Philip had countermanded the attack, and not at all considering the loss to themselves in a monetary sense, fully agreed with him. So they lay on their oars and watched the mother, as supremely happy she lolled upon the shining sea and felt her offspring draining the life-giving milk. Then suddenly turning over on the other side to present the other breast, for the young whale cannot suck under water, she became aware of the presence of intruders and sank, settled noiselessly, leaving scarcely a ripple to mark the spot where she had been.

As soon as she had disappeared Philip cried, “Out oars, boys, and let’s get home,” following up his order by breaking out into song, in which all the twelve lustily joined in perfect harmony until nearing the beach, upon which the vast rollers of the Pacific, despite the glorious weather, broke in massive rollers topped with dazzling foam. A sweep or two of the steering oars and the graceful craft swung round head to seaward, and as the mighty combers came irresistibly shoreward just a measured stroke or two was made to meet them. Then, when the boats had mounted the glowing crests of the breakers, the oars were peaked and they were borne shorewards upon the shoulders of the advancing hill of water until they touched the beach, when every man but the steersmen sprang overboard, and snatching the gunnels of the boats rushed beachwards, digging their toes into the yielding sand as the retreating wave swept past them, until it was gone and they were all high ashore.

This feat, nothing to them who practised it nearly every day of their lives, is one of the supreme tests of boatmanship and must be witnessed or taken part in to realize the resistless onrush of the roller and the no less mighty drawback when, baffled, the vast rolling mass retreats. It is a manoeuvre to try the skill and stamina of the best, and the roll of its victims is very long. I speak feelingly, for on my first encounter with this business I was as near being drowned as could be. For not realizing the danger, I too leaped out of the boat with the others, and was at once hurled seaward like a piece of drifting seaweed, dazed and helpless, buried in the heart of a wave. But my Kanaka shipmates, as much at home in that immense turmoil as if they stood on the beach, grabbed me and held me against the rush of retreating water, then hauled me to land and in rough but effectual ways restored me to the world I had so nearly quitted. That was on the steep beach of lava fragments at Sunday Island in the Kermadecs.

A throng of villagers hastened down to greet the returned adventurers, full of eager questioning and sympathy. Some of them had been on the Head with the lookout man, and had witnessed the last encounter. Of course they could not understand what had happened, but in a few words Philip explained, and when he had done so, the public endorsement of the righteousness of his action was spontaneous and complete. For, after all, to this happy community what was a trifling loss like that compared with the gain which each felt they had made in the practice of mercy, of yielding to the best and truest impulses of the heart. And so there were no sour faces, no recriminations, only the usual mutual rejoicings.