The fourth officer of the Rainbow, a taciturn Englishman, whose speech and manner excited wonder as to how he came in that galley, was called upon in his turn to contribute. Without hesitation, as if professional story-telling was his métier, he began:
“‘’Ere she white water-r-rs! Ah blo-o-ow!’ came ringing down from the main crow’s nest of the Megantic, South Sea whaler of Martha’s Vineyard, as she heeled solemnly to the steady trade on the ‘off-shore’ ground one lovely morning.
“‘Where away? Haow fer off?’ roared the skipper, while, slinging his glasses, he prepared to elevate his sixteen stone painfully to the giddy height above him.
“‘Two p’ints on the starb’rd baouw, sir, ’baout five mile off. Looks like sparm whale, sir,’ was the prompt reply.
“‘All right, keep her az she goes, Mr. Slocum, ’n’ clar away boats,’ said the ‘old man,’ as with many a grunt he began his pilgrimage of pain.
“There was no need to call all hands. The first cry had startled them into sudden activity. Before its echoes died away, they were on deck, with no trace of drowsiness among them. Being in a high state of discipline, each man went straight to his boat, standing ready, at the word, to lower and be off after the gambolling leviathan ahead. Silence reigned profound, except for the soothing murmur of the displaced sea as the lumbering old barky forged slowly ahead, or the soft flap of a hardly-drawing staysail as she rolled to windward. Seated upon the upper topsail yard, the ‘old man’ soliloquised grumblingly, ‘What in the ’tarnal blazes ’s he doin’ of? Gaul bust my gol-dern skin ef ever I see sech a ninseck ’n my life. I be everlastin’ly frazzled ef ’taint mos’ ’s bad ez snakes in yer boots. Mr. Slocum, jes’ shin up hyar a minit, won’t ye?’
“As if unable to trust his own senses any longer, he thus called upon the mate to help him out. More agile than the skipper in his movements, it was but a few seconds before Mr. Slocum was by his chief’s side, peering with growing bewilderment through the binoculars at the strange object ahead. What had at first sight seemed an ordinary full-sized bull cachalot leisurely playing upon the surface of the sea, had now resolved itself into an indescribable, ever-shifting mass of matter, from the dark centre of which writhing arms continually protruded and retreated. The golden glare lavished along the glittering sea by the ascending sun added to the mystery surrounding the moving monster or monsters, for it or they lay right in the centre of that dazzling path.
“‘Wall—whatjer mek ov it, Mr. Slocum?’ queried the skipper sarcastically.
“Slowly, as if spelling his words, the mate replied, ‘Thutty-nine year hev I ben a-fishin’, but ef ever I see ennythin’ like that befo’, may I never pump sparm whale ag’in. Kaint fine no sorter name fer it, sir.’
“‘Lemme see them glasses agen,’ said the ‘old man’ wearily. ‘’Pears like ’s if she’s a-risin’ it, whatever ’tes, consider’ble sudden;’ and, readjusting the focus, he glued his eyes to the tubes again for another long searching look at the uncanny sight. His scrutiny was evidently more satisfying than at first, for without removing the glasses from his eyes, he yapped, ‘’Way down frum aloft! Heave to, ’n low’r away, Mr. Slocum. Guess yew’ll fine a “fish” thar, er tharabout.’