“Did you ever see a cuttlefish?” I asked eagerly.
Kreelman was silent for some time. Then he replied:
“I’ve seen big pieces of ’em which come out of the stomachs of sperm whales, but I never see a live one, and I don’t know any one who ever did. When you talk of them great things at the bottom of the ocean it kind of makes you creep. Some folks say that they’ve come up to the surface and run their big arms all over vessels and taken the crew under water and eaten ’em up. I never seen it. Whalemen don’t like to talk much about the cuttlefish, but some do say that the whaleship which sees a cuttlefish never returns to port.”
I saw that Kreelman was not disposed to continue the conversation. Just then Lakeum passed. Kreelman waited until he was well aft and then said:
“That’s a strange man. He seems out of place on this vessel. He’s a good sailor and all that, but there’s somethin’ about his life that we don’t know. He’s been edicated and he comes of well-to-do folks. He’s got a will of his own, but he treats the men fair, and you never hear no swearin’. The men in your boat say that if you hadn’t ’a been a greenie, you never would have cut the warp to-day, and that you would have got it straight in the face if any one but Lakeum had been mate of the boat. But he treated you well, and no doubt he’s made it all right with the captain by this time. Fancy Chest, that man’s name ain’t Coster Lakeum. Nobody never had such a name. No one knows his given name. Now you keep to yourself what I’ve said.”
I went to my bunk in a more cheerful mood, and that night I dreamt that I was boat-steerer and that I made fast to a sperm that stowed down oil worth five thousand dollars.
CHAPTER V
CAPTURING AND CUTTING-IN
I have said that there is a wide difference between a merchantman and a whaler. A ship that carries a cargo that is to be delivered must make the port of delivery with all possible speed. On arrival the sailors, who are paid wages, are not very likely to desert; and, if they do, their places are usually easily filled. The food on a merchantman generally strikes a pretty good average, because, in most cases, recruits are obtained in the ports visited. It is different with the whaler. There isn’t so much variety to or change in the food on the whaler; the sail is shortened at night, and the slower she goes at all times the better. Her cargo is to be taken from the sea, and the whales are just as likely to find her as she is to find them. Then the whaler is a home, such as it is, for three or four years, and it is the duty of the captain to keep away from ports as much as he can.
The Seabird took it very leisurely. Day followed day and we saw no whales. I had to take my place in the hoops, and I searched the sea for whales until my eyes fairly ached. I noticed that as we cruised farther south, most of the birds were different from those of the North Atlantic and far more numerous. The most interesting to me were the albatross. They would come very near the vessel. They seemed to float along rather than fly like other birds, and their cry was somewhat like the braying of an ass. It is said that when they have gorged themselves with fish and jellyfish, they will sit motionless on the water and may be taken with the hand. One of them seemed almost bent on getting on the ship, and some of the men, watching their opportunity, captured him and secured him on the deck. He measured fifteen feet in spread of wings. The plumage was soft and mostly white. The beak was long and hooked at the point and was of a delicate pink. The most curious things about him were his webbed-feet with no hind toe or claw. The capture of the bird afforded a pleasant change in our lives and provided a theme of conversation for the rest of the day.
After covering six or seven thousand miles, we reached the Rio de la Plata, called by whalemen the River Plate. This is an estuary between Uruguay and Argentina, and is a famous whaling ground. Here once occurred one of the most terrible battles with a sperm whale of which there is any record. When struck, the whale cut the boat in two with his jaw and thrashed the wreck into bits. After the men were picked up, two other boats planted irons in him and he smashed both these boats to pieces. Of the men in the water, two could not swim, so they climbed up on the whale’s back and sat down just forward of the hump. Another boat arrived and took all the men on board. The whale had six harpoons in him, but he made no effort to escape. Two spare boats having come up, the whale tried to sweep his jaw through the bottom of one of them, but the craft was, for a time, well handled. He succeeded, however, in rushing through the boat, and after four boats, about twelve hundred fathoms of line and all the whaling gear were lost, the whale made off.