A Whaleman's Wife

by Frank Thomas Bullen

Then the mate gives vent to his feelings. His cursings comprehensively embrace everything he can bring to memory, himself chiefly. When he is exhausted Rube’s lips are seen to be moving, and the mate, fiercely desirous of some animate object whereupon to vent his rage, yells, ‘You hayseed, what you mumblin’ about?’ (I suppress even the blank profanity with which every word or two is loaded.) Rube softly replies, ‘I was so sorry for your disappointment and the skipper’s that I was just askin’ God that all our labour shouldn’t be lost.’

The mate was dumb—what could he say to this? And every man in the boat looked at Rube as if he were uncanny—they had no more idea than most professing Christians have of the simple faith that believes in an immanent God always ready and willing to hear the requests of His children. And up into the midst of their wonderment rose the whale, the long line trailing behind him, evidently exhausted by his tremendous efforts to reach a depth of safety. A dozen strokes in reply to the swiftly shouted orders of the mate, and they were alongside of him, the harpooner had hooked up the line and passed it into the boat, and the mate had thrust his long lance so fiercely in between the third and fourth ribs of the leviathan that the whole vast body quivered from snout to flukes with the pangs of approaching death. Secure in the knowledge that he had dealt a deathblow, the mate shouted to the harpooner to cut the loose line adrift; but even that small loss was avoided, for the second mate’s boat sheered alongside in the nick of time and took it.

No other stroke was needed; a thin stream of blood was seen to be trickling over the edge of the spiracle, and the next great expiration hurled into the air, with a bursting groan, masses of clotted blood so large that it was almost miraculous how they had been forced along the single air-tube which supplies the lungs with breath. Filled with a great awe, the new hands drew off slowly in obedience to the orders given, unable to take their eyes off the dying giant. And then, to their horror, they saw him suddenly rear his gigantic head high in air, and hurl his body along the blood-stained sea-surface in hundred-foot leaps, swaying first to this side and then to that as if under the influence of an agony so intolerable that he was endowed with at least ten times his usual great strength. All around his awful way the sea was torn into a thousand fantastic shapes, and blocks of purple foam were flung on high and caught by the wind, which drove them like some dreadful snow in showers of flakes far to leeward. At last—and although the paroxysm had only lasted about three minutes, they seemed like hours—there was a momentary lull: the whale disappeared. But almost immediately after there was an upheaval like the rearing of a suddenly formed volcano in the midst of the sea, and high into the air soared the whole mighty mass, apparently hung suspended there for an appreciable space, and fell! In the thundering noise and violent commotion occasioned by that great act, the hunters lost for a moment their strained attention on the whale. When they regained it he lay an inert mass, gently undulating to the touch of the waves, with his head as usual pointed straight towards the wind’s eye.

HIGH INTO THE AIR SOARED THE WHOLE MIGHTY MASS.

There was a great peace succeeding the tumult, and a moaning little voice in the wind which filled the air with mournfulness. Also the plash of the wavelets over the quiet bank of flesh had in it, to all seeming, a murmur of regret. The influences of that restful time affected all for a brief space, and Rube’s eyes glistened as he thought of the cruel end so suddenly befalling the brave, strong, harmless monster, a short hour ago so placidly enjoying his life, and perfectly filling his appointed place in the scheme of things. But with a jerk all musings were ended, for the mate’s voice broke harshly upon the accented silence, as he shouted, ‘Naow, then, m’ lads, pull two, starn three, an’ le’s git th’ tow line fast, ’relse the ship’ll be here ’fore we’re half ready.’ She was coming straight for them before the wind, and only about a mile away—a homely, clumsy-looking craft enough, but invested for each of the green hands with a new character now, a home of rest after their late heavy toil, a place where they would be met with a great satisfaction as returning conquerors bringing their gigantic spoil with them, warriors who had abundantly justified the training they had received. They had been able in that one fleeting hour of tremendous experiences to attain unto the highest physical pleasure of which man is capable—the sense that, by the use of his puny powers, rightly directed, he is able to overcome what seems to be at first sight the most overwhelming odds brought against him. All the solemnity of the first moments of victory was forgotten, and even Rube’s eyes sparkled with delight as he watched the look of content glowing on the mate’s face, as with his short boat spade he hacked at the great limber tail until he had cut a hole in it through which the tow-line could be passed.

The ship rounded to as easily as one of the boats would have done, only about her own length from the whale. And the mate with a triumphant roar of ‘Give way, m’lads!’ steered for her, no man prouder than he of the way in which his ‘greenies’ had acquitted themselves on their maiden venture. The grizzled leonine head of the skipper loomed in the waist, where, the boards out, all was in readiness to receive them. And as ready hands hooked up the tow-line, and prepared to walk up alongside the huge mass of their prize, he said to the mate standing beneath him erect in the stern of the boat: ‘Wall, Mr. Pease, yew du seem t’ hev got on t’ a logy this time. I sh’d say he’s all ov a hundred an’ forty bar’l be his look, ’less he’s dry-skin.’ ‘Nary dry-skin ’baout him, Cap’n Hampden,’ replied the mate, cheerfully. ‘He’s jest a-teemin’ outer him. Iron went in’s if it hed fell into a kag er butter. Fattes’ whale ever I struck, ’n’ thet’s the cole truth, sir.’

Then with a joyful noise all hands tallied on to the tow-line, and snaked that whale alongside in great shape. Everything had been prepared for the arrival, cutting falls rove, spades ranged, cutting stage ready, and although the experience was absolutely novel to most of the men, they were so keen, so eager to do as they were told to the best of their ability, that really I doubt whether the most seasoned crew could have made a better show than they did. And this in spite of the almost feverish desire possessed by all to look upon the gigantic prize they had won in fair fight from his appointed realm, the vasty deep. It was all so wonderful, so new, so strange. And then in hurried glimpses they saw coming up in the clear blue around hosts of queer-looking creatures (to them, for none of the new hands had ever seen a shark before). One fellow, a lank Kentuckian, in a stolen moment remarked in a stage whisper to a shipmate, as they leaned over the rail hauling at the fluke-chain, ‘Gosh! look’t all them little fish daown thar.’ Said little fish, rising rapidly, presently revealed themselves as sharks averaging ten feet in length, who, regardless of consequences, hurled themselves end-ways at the whale’s body, and gouged at it furiously, as if driven mad by hunger.

The whale fairly secured alongside, the skipper’s voice rose above the tumult, commanding instant attention from everybody. ‘Mr. Pease, let th’ boys go to dinner. I guess we won’t miss an hour, and th’ weather looks sorter settled.’ ‘Dinner!’ shouted the mate, and there was a stampede forward, for every man, as soon as he had time to think of it, was ravenously hungry. The cook had, under orders from the skipper, made a few additions to the usual dietary, and it is not too much to say that every man there when he sat down to enjoy his well-earned meal was, for the time being, as happy as ever he had been in his life. And only because the man who controlled their destinies for the time had in addition to his fund of common-sense, a little of the milk of human kindness.

A little judicious appreciation costs nothing, and is so valuable: it often lifts weary men over the dead centres of life; indeed, it often makes a youth who, full of fear lest in his very anxiety to do well he has made some irreparable mistake, feel that no effort can be too great to please a man who has recognised his desire to do his duty. And when, at the call of ‘Turn to!’ the rested, well-fed crowd climbed on deck again into the keen, pure air, and found that while they had been dining the skipper and his officers had been toiling at the stupendous task of cutting off the whale’s head, they almost felt ashamed at having taken so long over their meal.