A Whaleman's Wife

by Frank Thomas Bullen

Mr. Court moved majestically among the toilers with the air of a man from whom an awful incubus has been removed, and to whom has come a veritable inspiration. He did not shout; all his orders were issued quietly, but how wise and far-seeing were all his arrangements! And, first of all, he told off Mr. Pease to watch Rube, who was fighting with all the splendid reserve of force in his clean, healthy body against the encroaching Angel of Death. Mr. Court’s reasons for this were two-fold. First, he needed badly to show his detestation of the malice which had placed this fine officer in the position of a seaman, and next he had noticed that in Rube’s delirium one name continually fell from his lips like a peal of dactyls, ‘Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla.’ And Mr. Court knew that Priscilla was the name of his skipper’s wife. Therefore, although he fully believed poor Rube’s chanting of that name to be a mere coincidence, he knew how essential it was that the skipper should not hear of it. For he was sure that in that case Rube’s days would be few and evil, supposing the skipper to live. So calling Mr. Pease to him, after being exceedingly careful to see that none of the Dagoes was within earshot, he explained the matter to him carefully, winding up by saying that at least until the devil was unchained again, he (Mr. Court) would see that a brother officer was, as far as possible, saved from the degradation deliberately prepared for him.

All this, of course, was seen, noted, and commented upon by the Portuguese, secure in the general utter ignorance of their language by the white men, and consequently not needing to get away in private for consultation. But all they could do under present circumstances was to ‘bide their time, doing their duty meanwhile as before, for they knew quite enough of their skipper to be sure that no amount of favouritism would be held to excuse slackness of work when money-making was to the fore. And as the Americans worked now with a hearty good will because of the absence of the skipper, it was truly marvellous to see how the tremendous task of cutting-in and trying-out was tackled. A spirit of emulation was abroad, manifesting itself in extraordinary ways. For instance, a lean American from Connecticut, who had somehow learned to swim splendidly, was down on the back of a whale for the purpose of hooking a mighty iron hook into what is called the ‘rising,’ or eye-piece. He sprang there at the word, alighting in the foul pool of grease and blood and salt water at the same moment as a gigantic Portuguese, but just as they both reached out for the hook a big swell came along, the ship gave a heave, and a vast volume of water swept over the carcass, washing both the men into the sea alongside, which as usual was alive with sharks. They disappeared for a moment among the shovel heads and dorsal fins crowding round; then, springing to the surface, Nat, the American, snatched at a strip of blubber, and by sheer agility flung himself back to his former position, grabbing at the dangling hook as he reached it, and yelling in a half-strangled voice, ‘Heave away!’ Then, with a contemptuous look at the Dago struggling to climb back, he seized the already rising parts of the tackle and swung himself on deck. The Dago’s friends had flung him a rope, and he mounted easily enough by its aid, but their remarks to him, aided by the satisfied chuckles of the white men, seemed to depress him very much. He was about to slouch off to the foc’s’le to change, when Mr. Court’s voice rang out clearly:

‘Whar you goin’?’

‘Changea me close,’ was the sullen answer.

‘You git right on with the work,’ said Mr. Court, and, taken by surprise, the man obeyed. He and his countrymen felt that it was only another item in the account to be paid off presently when their champion returned to his command.

Below, however, that champion was in evil case. In his previous mishap, although his bruises were many and severe, there had been no bones broken, but now his injuries were of so extensive a character that he could hardly find energy enough to curse his wife and the steward, his only attendants. In fact, the conditions of things were entirely altered. Mr. Court, in full vigour, was in charge, and came in to report to him twice a day in the most formal manner how matters were progressing on deck. The mate never asked him how he was, never attempted any conversation, and, after the report had been made, only answered questions, and that in the curtest manner possible. At certain intervals, being responsible for his commanders welfare, he made careful examination of the injuries, and saw that they were doing as well as possible under the circumstances. Also he gave the steward secret orders that all the ventilation possible should be secured in the cabin for the Captain’s wife’s sake, who throughout this trying time, as before, scarcely ever left her husband’s side.

On deck Rube progressed most favourably. His splendid constitution won in the great fight, and when at last he opened his eyes sanely on his devoted nurse, that much-tried man made up his mind at once that Rube would live. No matter that he was worn to a shadow, that he looked even worse than when rescued from the boat, he had evidently got a grip on life which he had no idea of relinquishing just yet. He wanted to live, and, as all doctors know, that is the great factor in the problem of recovery from any illness. But Mr. Pease was mightily puzzled as Rube grew stronger to find him so constantly referring to the early incidents occurring during the cruise of the Xiphias. He seemed to have no knowledge whatever of the stirring events which had happened since. Also Mr. Pease noticed that his eyes had an anxious careworn look in them as of a man who feels that the threads of his life are all entangled, and that he has no ability to clear them. He had, besides, a habit of muttering to himself and of mentioning names all unfamiliar to Mr. Pease, as if by some freak of memory a certain portion of his life, utterly forgotten until now, had just been recalled, while another portion, much more recent in its incidence upon his brain, had become completely obliterated. There was as well an utter absence of that cheery, wide-eyed outlook which he used to wear, the true expression of the Biblical injunction to take no thought for the morrow. Moreover, he was so anxious to get well. He did not know where he was, except that he was at sea and ill, and his helplessness worried him much. It took all Mr. Pease’s power of persuasion to convince him that by worrying he was retarding his own recovery, and that, as matters were, it really did not matter a pin whether he was fit again in a week or a month. But it was a difficult job to explain things to a man who knew absolutely nothing about the necessary details, who remembered nothing at all of the happenings of the last eleven months. At last Mr. Pease sought an audience of the mate, taking care that there should be a white man at the wheel, and that all the rest of the hands should be busy forward.

To him Mr. Pease told all that he knew about Rube, of his joining the ship, of his terrible accident and recovery therefrom, how since then he had always behaved more like an angel than a man, and how every man on board had grown from deriding him to loving him—in fact, the story which the reader knows. During the recital Mr. Court glanced from time to time most curiously at Mr. Pease, as if wondering whether the latter were crazed or not. Nor could this be wondered at, remembering the life Mr. Court had been leading in the Grampus. What wonder that he had come to disbelieve in the existence of a God at all?—having always been indifferent in his acceptance of the existence of a Supreme Being as a matter of course, and since he had been mate of the Grampus having grown certain that whether there was a God or not there must be a devil, and that this devil was apparently permitted to have everything his own way for the present. Now he was interested in spite of himself at the idea of one greenie having been permitted to alter the character of everybody on board his ship. Also he told Mr. Pease how Rube’s present condition was entirely due to his interference on behalf of his former officer. At this news, now first made known to him, Mr. Pease bowed his head, saying:

‘Wall, I alwuz thought he wuz a sure-’nough angel, but I never calculated on him so nearly coming to his death for me. Anyway, my life’s his frum this eout, ef he wants it—there’s no question ’bout that.’

Now, whether it was the intensity of devotion manifested towards Rube thenceforward by Mr. Pease, or his own innate vigour asserting itself, is no doubt a moot point, but certainly from that day Rube’s recovery was exceedingly rapid. But he was puzzled beyond expression at his former mate’s dog-like affection for him, also at the want of deference shown to Mr. Pease by all hands. And as it was entirely useless trying to remember anything about recent events or to understand what he was told about them, he resigned himself to the mystery. Long before the skipper was able to move sufficiently to come on deck he had resumed his place among the crew, and was doing his work, but with a hesitation, awkwardness, and want of spring that made Mr. Pease tremble for his welfare when once the skipper had again taken command of the ship.