It was an ideal day, the great sun just rising from the smooth ocean bed into an absolutely clear sky—clear from clouds, that is, but splashed with all the splendid colours of a tropical dawn, the glassy undulating sea-surface broken in all directions by the lolling masses of the sea monsters, each lazily exhaling his or her bushy tuft of vapour. Occasionally the heavenly silence was broken by a playful rush of a dozen or so of these colossal forms in some given direction, making the placid sea foam and curdle around their massive bodies as if it had suddenly met some newly risen rocks. Or a few sedate bulls would gravely invert themselves, and as if by a concerted movement slowly beat upon the sea with their great flukes, the gigantic strokes reverberating along the silent surface like the echoes of a distant cannonade.
Yes, they were a happy, placid company, recking not of evil, least of all apparently of the presence of those five small white things that, a hundred fathoms or so apart, were coming gliding among them, each with cruel points protruding from its front and glittering fiercely in the rays of the mounting sun. And before any attempt at flight could be made by one member of that great company, the five boats were among them, each boat had singled out the largest victim near (for so had run the Captain’s orders), and the slaughter had begun. Now while it is undoubtedly true that the sperm-whale is brave and will under ordinary circumstances fight for his life with a fury and sagacity not to be excelled by those of any mammal afloat or ashore, it is also quite true that occasionally, especially in large companies like the present one, sperm-whales will become panic-stricken, and, making not the slightest attempt either to fight or flee, will suffer themselves to be slain like a flock of silly sheep when the wolf leaps into the fold among them. The present was one of those occasions. Harpoons flew and lances flashed, the boats rode easily, hardly moving in any direction amid closely packed squads of utterly demoralised whales, and the sea speedily became foul with blood and oil. It needed all the skipper’s power of command to call his men off, frantic as they were with the lust of killing, which overtakes the gentlest and most amiable of mankind once the first shudder of compunction has been overcome. But Captain Hampden’s cool judgment realised that already—only one hour from lowering—sufficient work had been provided to last all hands, work as they would, until the odour of their spoil would become utterly intolerable, which is the principal drawback in sperm-whaling to taking full advantage of such an opportunity as the present one.
Reluctantly the boats drew each to her prey, unwillingly the officers ceased plying their lances among the aimlessly wandering monsters, and there amid lanes of coming and going whales they laboured to attach their tow-lines to dead whale flukes, while the Captain, returning on board, took charge of his ship again, and aided by a gentle southerly breeze that had just sprung up, manœuvred her around in order to secure the spoil. It was a wonderful sight when all the great carcasses had been secured alongside to see the assembled hundreds—maybe thousands—of survivors surrounding the ship as if held there by some dread fascination they were unable to resist. Usually the sight or scent or presence of blood is sufficient to send them fleeing at the top of their speed to the four airts; but now was one of the exceptions, and in the clear sleeky water around the ship their vast bodies rolled and turned without apparent objective, until one of the passengers was fain to ask the skipper whether he did not think they were meditating an attack in force upon her. Captain Hampden laughed loud and long, for he had several times been privileged to witness a similar scene, and he knew that no more danger was to be apprehended from the presence of all those whales than there was from the coming of the thousands of sharks that in all the fury of their ravenous hunger were already tearing at the mighty carcasses secured to the ship.
Again was that ship’s company involved in the most tremendous toil, but better fitted than before by experience, and unhindered by the awful prospect of imminent death by their vessel being dashed ashore. Moreover, the weather was beautifully fine as well as mild, the barometer stood steadily high, the sea was as smooth as it ever is in 35° S., and there were seven willing additional hands. All the more willing because the skipper assured them that as soon as ever the cutting-in was accomplished he would make sail again for Cape Town, and that this splendid accession to his profits for the voyage would only hinder their progress for at most a couple of days. A ship’s company all in the highest spirits, working as if their very lives depended upon the amount they did, with never a harsh word spoken; every man, seaman or officer, bubbling over with cheerfulness and good temper, and seven splendid auxiliaries joining their forces as if the whole affair was a gigantic piece of fun. It was too. For as the capture of the whales had been the easiest on record for sperm-whales, the whole seven taken having been slain in less than one hour, so the weather was as perfect as the most exacting desire could make it. The little southerly breeze that had been so valuable in the getting of the spoil alongside had died completely away, and the only movement of the vessel, hardly noticeable, was due to an almost imperceptible westerly swell. As Mr. Pease said, ‘Anybody ’d think we wuz ridin’ snug in some harbour.’
As the weather was so propitious, every effort was directed at first to getting the whales beheaded, and the strange spectacle was to be witnessed of men hacking away at those great masses below them from little stages slung all round the ship, wherever a whale’s head could be got at comprehensively. And all this to such good purpose that by sunset, although the men were not over-fatigued, the whole of the seven heads were off and floating astern at the ends of stout ropes, and one whale had been skinned and his blubber carefully stowed below. A perfect illumination of the ship by means of cressets was devised, each of which, slung where it could be of the most service, was kept supplied with whale ‘scrap,’ or the blubber from preceding whales, from which as much oil had been boiled as possible. This is the only fuel used for boiling the oil, and as it blazes almost like a Lucigen light it makes a splendid illuminant as well. Besides, the glorious moon, a huge disc of blazing silver, made the night bright, enough to read quite small print—so bright, indeed, that although there was not a trace of cloud or mist, the pretty stars were hardly visible. So as soon as the well-earned supper was eaten a system was devised whereby ten men and two officers at a time should have two hours’ sleep, there being then quite sufficient to handle the windlass and rip off the blubber.
Then the great night’s work began. The rattling of the windlass pawls was incessant; there seemed to be no pause in the steady ascent of the great black-and-white blankets, and the shouting of orders, the cheerful gabble, and the roaring of the fires made a most pleasant tumult. In the midst of it all, after midnight, a voice was heard across the sea shouting, ‘Ship ahoy! Want any assistance?’ Mr. Pease, in charge at the time, roared back, ‘No; why?’ ‘Thought ye was on fire. I’ll send a boat on board.’ And sure enough from a trim frigate, which had stolen up by the aid of the light upper airs, came a boat, full of sorely puzzled men, who had never witnessed a scene like it in their lives, and, having witnessed it, would never be likely to forget it. It was only by the most careful piloting and obedience to the instructions shouted at them from the deck of the whaler that the boat was able to pick her way among those floating masses; but, that difficulty successfully overcome, the officer in charge leaped on to the rail and stood gazing with wide-eyed wonder upon the deck. For, do what they would, the hardly pressed toilers had been unable to stow more than the blubber from two whales in the blubber-room, so that the blankets of three others were encumbering the deck and making it, to anybody but a whaleman, almost impassable.
The visitor clambered aft and introduced himself to Captain Hampden, newly awakened, as a lieutenant of H.M.S. Griffon, and apologised for intrusion, saying that he, with all the rest of his ship’s company, could not help but believe that they were coming in the nick of time to the assistance of a vessel on fire. But he added, while he was glad to find that not the case, he was delighted to have had the opportunity of gazing upon such a scene, which his wildest dreams of sea-happenings had never before pictured. Then the skipper gave him the news of the rescue, and asked if it would be agreeable to have the passengers transferred. This, however, they themselves demurred to, feeling no doubt that such an opportunity as now presented itself for gaining experience was not to be lightly given up; and, besides, they found that there would be no saving of time, as the warship was bound to Ascension. So, after a hearty shake hands all round, the gallant officer swung himself over the rail and departed, primed with material for yarns for years to come.
That night passed with almost the rapidity of a sound sleep, but its hours had been so well utilised that when the lovely morning broke and gilded the haggard faces of the toilers, all the carcasses had been disposed of and the great heads were ranged alongside ready for dissection. Now these whales, though large, were by no means of the largest, and therefore it occurred to the skipper to test his lifting-gear to the utmost. So he had the ‘junk’ or snout point of the first cut off, hoisted on deck, and secured; then, hooking both tackles on to the remainder of the head, all hands buckled on to the windlass, and, although the old vessel listed dangerously, succeeded in bringing the great mass on deck. Now for activity. A long rip fore and aft the case; ten willing hands dipping their buckets at once into the reservoir of spermaceti. Plenty more behind passing it away into the tanks. Wonderful! In twenty minutes it is empty, and at a word from the skipper as the ship rolls to starboard, two or three swift spade blows release the empty head and it slides massively into the sea. Hurrah! Now for another. Will these men never tire? Apparently not. But the skipper’s brow is knotted with care. Receptacles for the bland spermaceti, semi-liquid as it is, are beginning to fail. ‘Cooper, what shall we do? Tanks are all full. Kain’t ye git us some pipes?’ ‘Gimme three hands, sir, ’n’ I’ll git y’ all yew want.’ ‘Bully fur you, cooper. Jim, Rube, Manuel, go with the cooper and help him.’ And in half-an-hour two 336-gallon pipes are ready to receive the rest of the spermaceti: the difficulty is met.
Four P.M. sees the Xiphias so utterly blocked from knight-heads to cabin skylight with blubber that the passenger seamen look solemnly at one another and wonder what will be the end of it all. They do not know how recently this crowd have disposed of an almost similar difficulty, with an awful shore grinning up at them from close a-lee. A faint westerly breeze springs up, the passengers are asked if they will make sail, and as they gladly assent, away goes the grand old tub under every stitch, smoking like two or three steamers rolled into one, and leaving behind her a wide wake of smoothness from exuding oil—for she is fast becoming more like an oil-saturated sponge than a ship. But nothing daunts her crew. They are happy. Visions of a glorious ending of their voyage, of farms bought, and a position among their stay-at-home neighbours proudly pre-eminent, fill their minds and make them call up the last ounce of energy to cut a horse-piece or turn the mincer-handle when they have felt for the last half-hour that it was impossible to put in another stroke.
These visions come to all but Rube. For of him it may truly be said that he lives in the present. The past has no memories for him, the future no anticipation. To all the cheery chatter of his shipmates anent their plans for the future he turns a disinterested ear. When they say, ‘Wut you goin’ t’ do, Rube ole man, w’en yew gits home?’ he replies solemnly, ‘Only God knows. I ain’t got no plans. I want Him to ’range things fur me, then I know they’ll be all right. Anyhow, I know I kain’t be any happier than I am ’mong yew dear fellers—I never thought ’t would be possible t’ be so happy ’s I am naow. But, dear chaps, ef I wuz yew I wouldn’t go buildin’ too many castles. Y’ see at fust, yew know, they’re only castles in th’ air, but ef yew go on buildin’ an’ buildin’, bimeby they gets t’ be so real t’ yew thet w’en yew finds ’at yew kain’t build ’em indeed, th’ disappointment is awful.’ So he talked, and, good-naturedly, they bantered him. And meanwhile the great work was being well done; so well done that two days before they entered Table Bay, and passing close under Robben Island, anchored well clear of the mail steamers’ track into the harbour, the last trace of foulness was removed from the old ship—she looked clean as a ship should look. She did not smell sweet, but that, alas! could not be helped. In those warm climates it is only possible to avoid bad smells in a whaler that has no luck, and the Xiphias certainly had redeemed her apparent bad luck at last; for she had only been out seven months, and now she had on board 800 barrels of sperm oil and 550 right-whale oil, besides two and a half tons of baleen, so that her catch at the market price of that day may be invoiced thus:—