All this explanatory matter, taking so long to set down, was as familiar as breathing to Captain Da Silva, yet his only emotion upon ‘raising’ the whale so closely alongside was black, murderous rage. He dared not shout for fear of scaring or ‘galleying’ the whale. But his enforced quiet made his hissed-out orders sound all the more furious. The men flew to their stations silently. The boats were lowered by inches at a time, and with the utmost deliberation, lest the rattle of the patent sheaves should alarm the as yet unconscious monster. Only two boats went—the mate’s and the second mate’s—and the skipper sat on his high perch and watched them depart with bitter muttered comments upon all they did. Every movement was criticised as if the makers of it were ‘greenies’ just commencing the great business. And the worst of the matter was that the men in the boats knew this. It made them less confident than they would otherwise have been, and therefore they felt as if they were going into a fight whereof the issue was already half decided against them.
Still, they paddled steadily towards the foe without him betraying by the slightest sign a knowledge of any danger likely to be threatening him. By common consent the boats parted company as they neared him, and came on at the great head sheering slightly to either side. Suddenly he saw them or felt them—no one knows which it is—and with one great sweep of his flukes he leapt forward. Too late. Both boats closed in on him like sentient destroyers, and as if at one signal the harpoons flew from either harpooner’s nervous hands and sank quivering into the flank of the whale. Instead of turning to fight, as usual, he settled at once, quite quietly, and immediately the attackers felt an impetus forward, steady and increasing. Away he went, well below, only momentarily breaking the surface to spout, and getting up speed in such a fashion that in a very few minutes, despite the smoothness of the sea, it was evident that all the boatmen could do was to hold on and wait until their gigantic steed tired.
On board the skipper watched with eyes aflame, blaming them all impartially for what he was pleased to call their idiotic behaviour, only his expressions were not so mild as that, and cursing his inability, owing to the absence of wind, to follow them up. Priscilla watched too, fascinated, and all unconscious of the danger the brave fellows were in. And then, with a suddenness seen only in tropical latitudes,
The sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out;
At one stride comes the dark;
and the fleeing boats fade from view. Only then does it dawn upon her what awful danger these men are in, and even then, such is the deadness of her mind, she cannot bring herself to realise as she thinks she ought to do the peril of her shipmates. There is a great silence on board. No one can do anything but wait, except the Captain, who can, and does, keep up a muttered succession of evil words in his own language. The leaden-footed minutes creep along, the heavy dews fall, a solemn silence, only accentuated by the creak of a spar or the slight rattle of a block, reigns supreme, for the Captain has gone below, and she is up there quite alone. And suddenly relief comes. Into her dry heart there steals the blessed consciousness of God’s loving presence, her almost deadened mental perceptions revive on the memory of ‘I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,’ and immediately she is able to pray. Not for herself—that has not yet come—but for the safety of those whom she has seen go out into the night. Most fervently she implores the Father that they may be preserved through the perils around them, and that when they return (as she at once feels assured they will) her terrible husband may be merciful to them. As she forms the petitions in her heart there is a great cry from many throats, a rushing, roaring sound, a crash, and the babel of many voices. All hands spring into violent activity, and high over all the other sounds rises the voice of the Captain. Another boat is lowered into the darkness, which is presently illuminated in ghastly fashion by a blue light which is fired and spreads its glare all around the ship.
We must leave Priscilla for a few minutes suffering all the tortures of uncertainty, and avail ourselves of our privilege of knowing at once all that is happening. Dragged away at such speed in the darkness, and dependent entirely upon the phosphorescent glare in the water for their knowledge of the whale’s whereabouts, the two boats’ crews were in no enviable case. But the officers did their manful best, whenever a slackening in the whale’s speed gave them opportunity to get near him, to hurl lances and fire bombs into his shadowy-looking mass. But all had apparently been of little or no avail in staying his forward rush, and as for its direction they knew absolutely nothing. In the midst of this confusion there suddenly towered up before them the great bulk of the ship, menacing like the shadow of death. Both officers drew knives and touched the tow lines, yelling at the same moment, ‘Lay off—lay on!’ So as the impetus brought them alongside, instead of coming end on at that great speed and being dashed in pieces, one sheered to port and the other to starboard, both intact and safe. They heard the crash, though, in the midst of that strange evolution, and feared the worst. It was not, however, as bad as they feared, although bad enough. The whale, nearing his end, and collecting all his powers to meet it, had suddenly become instinctively aware of the ship confronting him, and, swerving to the left almost cleared her. But his great head struck the rudder such a tremendous blow that it was wrenched from the sternpost, without, however, doing that essential portion of the ship any damage. The rudder was simply gone clean, and none of them ever saw it again.
Then were heard the strange noises made by a whale in its dying agonies close alongside the ship. She rolled and heaved in the swell he made, but he was not near enough to give her another blow. Presently the silence closed in upon them again. It was broken by the skipper, who, excited beyond endurance, yet compelled to inaction, almost screamed, ‘’Longside thar! See anythin’ of th’ whale? Hez he stove in th’ counter, or wut? ’R ye all dead? ’n’ ef y’ ain’t, why’nt ye do somethin’ or say somethin’ ’r make a sign?’ Then compliments after his foul fashion.
Presently up out of the darkness came a voice, Mr. Court’s:
‘All right, sir, we’ve got hold of him; just passin’ tow-line.’
There was a growl like that of a wild beast in response, and an order to light up all the suspended cressets. All hands girded up their loins for the long night’s work pending, and as the tow-line was passed on board bent their backs to the task of hauling the great whale alongside, thinking meanwhile of the possibility of his having started a butt when he collided with the stern fittings. Priscilla, her heart full of gratitude for answered prayer, went below, lay down, and in a few minutes slept the blessed sleep of a relieved mind.