CHAPTER XXIII.
Bailey’s Island.—Turtle.—Whaling.—Ship “James Allen.”—Water-spouts.—A heavy Gale.—Monotony.—A Swimming Adventure.—Ship “Atkins Adams.”—Spanish Jack again.—Tow-line Tea.—Captain’s stump Speech.—A large Whale.—Bark “Antelope.”—Strange Incident.—Passage to the Group.—Pitt’s Island.—Bark “Smyrna.”—A rummy Set.—Ship “Susan.”—Fearful Tragedy.—Passage to Strong’s Island.—Ship “Atlantic.”—Ship “Charles W. Morgan.”—“At home” once more.—Rev. Mr. Snow.—Characteristic Meanness.—Rotumah Dance.—Feast and Dance.—Sickness of Mr. L.—Divine Service on Board.—New Zealand Native.—Farewell to Strong’s Island.
Nothing of interest transpired on the passage, unless we may speak of continued boisterous weather, until Wednesday, May 4th, when we sighted Bailey’s Island, one of the Bonin Group. Here we sent a boat on shore, and procured a load of sweet potatoes, watermelons, green corn, etc., and about twenty large turtle, which abound here in great numbers. We need not say that “turtle soup” soon became no luxury with us.
We cruised around these islands about a month, taking two large whales in the mean time, which cheered us considerably, although we were far from doing as well as we had expected. The usual course of Japan whalemen is to cruise in the vicinity of the Bonin Islands during the month of May and the early part of June, and then work gradually to the eastward until the close of the season in September, when they are compelled to leave from the severity of the weather.
On Wednesday, June 2d, we saw another whaleman from “Yankee Land,” the “James Allen,” Captain Newcomb, of New Bedford. He bore down to us with the ever-beautiful “stars and stripes” waving proudly from the mizzen-peak, and passed our stern in gallant style. We had a very interesting gam with them, although hard at work putting the dollars in our ship’s hold in the shape of sperm oil.
The next day we saw several large water-spouts, which are very common in these latitudes. They passed some distance from us, and we were very careful to give them a wide berth, as several ships had lately suffered from them, having their spars and rigging severely injured.
These latitudes are also very often visited by fearful hurricanes, called “typhoons.” On the 18th of June we experienced the “tail-end” of one, as seamen call it. As we had received warning from the barometer, sail was taken in, and every thing secured in a substantial manner. The violence of the wind seemed to sweep every thing before it, forcing the old ship almost on her beam ends. The sea appeared like moving mountains; occasionally it would dash against her sides, giving her a shock that would cause her to tremble in every part. The heavy and labored rolling of the ship—the creaking of the timbers—the wind shrieking through the rigging—clouds of spray flying with almost the rapidity of lightning—clashing of the backstays—dashing of the waves, intermingled with the hoarse shouting of the sailors, made night hideous, and rendered the scene altogether indescribable. All longed for morning, and when daylight appeared a most awful yet grand sight presented itself. The gale was still howling in all its fury; a lull for a few moments would ensue, then heavy and sudden blasts would follow in quick succession, striking the ship with such force as to make every plank in her shake and tremble. She would plunge headlong into an immense abyss, and then rise rapidly to the top of a mountain wave, showing a fearful chasm on either side, which threatened to ingulf her and finish the scene. Every thing conspired to render our situation an awful one; and yet it was a grand, glorious sight. At noon the gale broke, and its fury soon abated, leaving us once more with pleasant weather.
We recollect reading, during our wanderings, in a newspaper which we procured from the States, in some ship, a letter written by some European tourist, in which he complained sadly of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic,” which occupied ten long weary days. We thought, at the time, we would like very much to have the writer take one cruise in a whaler of seven or eight months, where he would see nothing but blue water for six of those months. We hardly think he would complain of the “monotony of a voyage across the Atlantic” again. We were now cruising where, day after day, week after week, nothing but blue water was visible around us; the same dull round of duties; not even a brother whaleman hove in sight with whom we could enjoy a friendly gam. To add to all this, we could see no whales; the captain and all hands were getting discouraged, and feared we should have to leave the ground in September with but little more oil than when we came upon it. At last the captain appeared to wake up, and offered a bounty of twenty dollars to the man who should first raise a whale.
At length a laughable incident occurred, which served to enliven our dull life somewhat, and keep us from sinking entirely into a state of nonentity. Several of the crew, one calm day, were out on the jib-boom, endeavoring to hook some fish which were around the ship in great numbers, that they might indulge in the luxury of a mess of fresh fish for dinner. One of the number, in hauling up a large albicore, lost his hat overboard. Spanish Jack being on deck, sang out,
“What you give me get your hat?”