A Whaleman's Wife

by Frank Thomas Bullen

That evening Captain Hampden communicated to his officers his plans. He intended making a passage with all possible speed to the Bonins, hoping there to pick up half-a-dozen good men, and then go on the Japan ground for a season—it being then at the height of its fame. But, he said, he was not without hope that on the way thither they might meet with some whales, and be fortunate enough to obtain such an addition to their stock as would repay them for their recent losses. All the officers were in the best possible spirits. They felt that, depleted as the crew was, if only favoured with opportunity they would all give the best possible account of themselves, and each reiterated his firm belief that this would yet be a most successful voyage. Then they separated for the night.

At daylight in the morning the gladsome cry was again heard from the crow’s-nest notifying the nearness of sperm-whales. And for the next week they had a real, old-fashioned busy time. They killed four fine large bulls, one of which was apparently very sick, and, besides, so fat that each lance-thrust was almost like piercing a bladder of lard. So peculiar was his lethargy that, in the absence of any apparent reason for it in the shape of recent encounters with whalers, the Captain decided upon an unusual examination of the body, which, favoured by wonderfully fine weather and a smooth sea, Mr. Peck was able to accomplish successfully. The search revealed an enormous mass of ambergris, packed tightly in the lower bowel, and weighing over two hundredweight. This alone at the lowest possible quotation of $5 an ounce represented nearly $18,000, or about £3,500, more than the value of the whole four whales put together, although in those days sperm oil and spermaceti were easily worth $500 per ton to the ship.

All hands rejoiced exceedingly, feeling that the monetary loss of their late disaster was well wiped out, and anticipating again a most prosperous voyage. Heartened and encouraged thus, they worked so splendidly that by the time they reached the Sunda Straits the vessel was in her normal state of cleanliness and fitness for further adventure. But none came along. They just glided quietly through the straits, buying up with great delight the stores of fruit and vegetables brought by the islanders, who could hardly believe their good fortune. For most of the sailing ships that loiter through there do not yield the canoe-men much profit—the trade is mostly barter, an old shirt for a punnet of sweet potatoes, a pair of shoes for a section bunch of bananas, &c. And the demand for monkeys, parrots, musk-deer,&c., has greatly fallen off even in homeward bound ships. The Xiphias’ crew, however, took all the fresh food that came along, and got it a bargain, because they paid for it in silver dollars or five-franc pieces, money current all over the islands of the Indian Ocean from Madagascar to Singapore.

All the way along from Anjer to Luzon they coasted peacefully, keeping wide-eyed watch for possible thieves—it would be using too big a word to call them pirates—who, even to this day, are ever ready to pounce upon a helpless craft and rifle her, incidentally killing her crew. Our splendid sea-patrol, ever engaged in keeping the peace all round the world, is specially busy in Eastern waters protecting the world’s commerce from these polyglot marauders, and on the East Coast of Africa in suppressing slavery. Yet for this truly beneficent work one never hears a word of praise. All our sins, or even our supposed sins, are remembered—not merely, I regret to say, on the Continent of Europe, where we expect it to be so, but in the United States of America, and all our good deeds are studiously ignored, or, worse still, distorted into deep-dyed hypocritical designs upon some innocent people’s independence. But I often wonder what would become of Eastern commerce if the British Fleet in those seas were to be suddenly withdrawn.

One more piece of good fortune awaited the Xiphias and her good crew before getting clear of those mazy waters. It was just after they had cleared the Molucca Passage, and were hauling up north for the Bonins. About half an hour before sunset the fore crow’s-nest reported something, he didn’t know what, but it was making a tremendous commotion in the water away ahead about four or five miles. The vessel being under full sail, and with a moderate breeze, nothing more could be done but keep her as she was going, except that Captain Hampden mounted up to the fore-topgallant yard with his glasses and succeeded in noting a black object in the sea. No more disturbance was visible. The sun went down, the quick tropical twilight faded into night, and still the skipper kept his eyes fixed upon the spot. Then to his great joy the moon rose—in that clear atmosphere shedding a flood of light along the sea. Suddenly the skipper’s voice rang out of the darkness above: ‘Lower away y’r boat, Mr. Peck, an’ keep her jest ez we’re goin’. I think yew’ll find somethin’ worth havin’ jest ahead there. The res’ of th’ hands shorten sail an’ heave ship to.’ ‘Aye, aye, sir,’ responded the cheery voice of the mate. And in about three minutes the vessel was lying-to, the rattle of boat’s falls was heard, and the faint glimmer of a lantern was seen as Mr. Peck sped away along the lane of silver sheen spread by the moon on the surface of the quiet waters. He was no sooner gone than the skipper reached the deck, and immediately kept the ship away again after the boat. In half an hour all hands were straining to get alongside the biggest whale any of them had ever seen, slain apparently by one of his fellows, since his jaw and part of his throat were completely torn away. Thus, without any effort on their part, beyond realising the spoil, they had gained a prize worth about $6,000; a sort of crumb flung to them out of the boundless wealth of the sea.

And now, much to my sorrow, we must part company with Captain Hampden and his crew. The further matters treated of in this history do not concern him: he did not even hear of them till two years later. It would be a pleasant task to tell of how he reached the Bonins in peace, and found there the recruits he needed, also an indefinite rumour, which gave him many anxious hours, of some men having been there in the Grampus, who said they had been lost from his ship. For his own peace of mind he was bound to put it down to one of those loosely invented tales that ship-frequenters in foreign ports concoct in order to get on fairly intimate speaking terms with shipmen; terms which, skilfully manipulated, should result in profit to the tale-tellers. Also of how, through the usual thrilling series of adventures which always fell to the lot of a whaleship in those days out for a three-years’ cruise to the uttermost parts of the sea, Captain Hampden and his men passed unscathed bodily and exceedingly prosperous financially, since the Xiphias returned, having been absent three years to the week, with almost the largest cargo ever brought from the depths of the sea to New Bedford, or, indeed, any other port in New England.

But that must not be. Our business now is with the Grampus, and to her, however unwillingly, we must return, bidding the Xiphias a long farewell.

CHAPTER XXIV

CHECK TO THE KING, AND A NEW MOVE

As on a previous and never-to-be-forgotten occasion, in the midst of the multifarious activities prevailing on the deck of the Grampus there was a sense of profound peace. And now there was also a feeling of fierce delight that their tyrant was tasting in his own body some of the pains he had so joyously inflicted upon others. All the white men’s faces wore a pleasant expression, not at all mitigated by the presence of the Portuguese jealously noting the satisfaction and fully aware of its cause. And, human nature being what it is, there is no doubt whatever that had Captain Da Silva died, his Portuguese henchmen would have been compelled to eat the humblest of humble-pie, or commit themselves to a fearful mutiny with all its consequences.