I said that old Jack was appointed inquisitor. He went about his task very methodically. Taking a number of matches, he handed one to each of the denizens of the forecastle, stating that he would call on them to return them in half an hour, and that the one who should then have possession of the longest one would be considered the culprit. On calling the matches in, one was found to have been broken off by its recipient, and information was immediately given to the captain by old Jack, who had satisfied himself regarding the guilty party. The boy was questioned, but denied the point so strenuously that we did not know whether to think him guilty or not. The captain let it pass without further remark, and some twelve months afterwards we discovered the offender; then the boy who had previously been suspected, acknowledged that he had broken off his match so that there should be no question about his having the longest one; and in his endeavors to ward off suspicion, took the readiest means of arousing it—old Jack saying that his conscious guilt caused him to break his match.
When our North latitude had been almost run out we were struck by a very heavy squall. By working smart we managed to get all snug without being damaged. On the succeeding morning we saw three merchant vessels, one of whom had lost her maintopmast; a second, her foretopgallant mast; and the third a whole suite of sails. A fourth vessel, that we saw to windward in distress, with several vessels around her, appeared from her heavy rolling to be water-logged. During the night she fired rockets and blue-lights. All these vessels, as we ascertained, had met these casualties in the squall that we experienced. It is customary with merchant vessels to hang on to their canvass until the very last minute, and, as in nine cases out of ten these ships go short-handed, the consequence is, that when a heavy squall breaks upon them, something must go before they get their sails stowed. If asked their reason for crowding sail in such a manner, they will answer you with a shrug of the shoulders, that “Time is money;” but it is not so with a whaleship, except when homeward bound—then everything that a ship will drag or carry is packed on to her to make her keep pace with the impatient spirits aboard. When on the whaling-ground, however, the ship is allowed to glide along under easy sail, royal yards, studding-sail booms, and, if in boisterous latitudes, the foretopgallant mast is sent down, and the flying jib-boom is sent in, so that if bad weather comes on suddenly, the little canvass spread makes her easy to handle. Another advantage the whaler possesses, she has thirty-four or five men to handle a vessel of three or four hundred tons, whereas a merchant ship of the same size would not have more than a dozen; hence the great proportionate disparity between the accidents to whalemen and merchantmen. The whaler is better manned, and is not drove under by a press of sail, whilst the latter is groaning under her burden from the time she leaves dock until the time she returns to it; providing there is breeze enough to keep her going.
From this time until we reached the Cape of Good Hope, little of interest transpired. Occasionally we were called to look over the rail and see the fin-back whale sending his spout in a spiral column towards the clouds; or the blackfish, grampus, or porpoise, gambolling amongst the great waves. At times the scene was diversified by the appearance of the shark, dolphin, benita, and flying-fish, each preying on the other. The last three mentioned are easily caught, and are eagerly angled for by seamen. The manner of catching the dolphin and skip-jack is to bait the hook with a piece of white rag, and allow it to sway with the vessel’s motion. The fish thinks it a flying-fish taking its flight, rushes towards it and gulps it down. I had often heard stories of the dolphin’s extraordinary change of color when dying, but must confess myself so unromantic as to say, I think there is so little change in his colors that none but the most acute observer could detect it. His beauty is confined to the period when sporting in his native element; then his motions are full of grace and vigor; but caught and landed on deck, he is a flat fish with a round head, and great, goggle, staring eyes. His flesh, however, is indifferent eating, as is that of the benita. The latter, when caught, goes into spasms, shaking like a man with an ague fit, sometimes disjointing the vertebra in its throes. They are at times so violent, that if the fish is large a man cannot hold one.
The flying-fish, the last that I mentioned, has been so often described, that I shall not attempt it. It is preyed upon both by larger fish and by the birds. I have seen the tropic birds and dolphin acting so nearly in concert, as almost to convince one that they understood each other’s mode of operation. The dolphin would chase the little creatures until they would take to their wings, when the tropic bird, or garnet (which is a beautiful white bird, about the size of our common pigeon, with red legs and bill, and a tail resembling a marling-spike, by which name they usually go amongst sailors), would pounce upon them; and, tired with their serial flight, they would again resort to the water, only to become a prey to their finny enemy.
With the usual variations of weather we wended our course through the South Atlantic—at one time becalmed, at another struggling with a heavy gale, until we arrived in the vicinity of the Islands of Tristan D’Acunha, when one morning we were startled by our mastheadsman shouting, “There blows! and a forked spout, sir.” This informed us of the presence of right whales; their spout, unlike that of other whales, being forked. Our boats were lowered; but we had no sooner got in their neighborhood than they peaked their flukes and went to windward, eyes out—which means as fast as the wind. It was useless to follow them, and we returned aboard with fishermen’s luck—a wet skin, and hungry stomach.
When down in the boats at this time I had a near view of a whale. We were not more than a boat’s length from a large one, when he sounded, and, as he threw his tail in the air, I had an excellent sight of his small and flukes. What I felt I cannot describe; but the shining skin covering all, and the manifestation of power and bulk, in every movement, made me think of some vast piece of iron machinery; and I cannot imagine a more effective battering ram than a whale’s flukes employed by himself.
In these latitudes we saw numbers of varied specimens of the ornithological family. The albatross, monimoke, old horse, noddy, cape pigeon, garnet, mutton bird, and Mother Carey’s chicken or petrel, all existing here in great numbers. The albatross I have seen measure fifteen feet from the extremity of one wing to the tip of the other. It is a beautiful bird, and comes around a ship in great numbers when a whale is alongside. They are ever on the alert for something to eat, appear at all times hungry, and their voraciousness makes them an easy prey. They are often caught. Their quills are not fit for pens, but are used by sailors to splice their pipes; their feathers are used in making beds and pillows; their feet are skinned and made into tobacco-pouches; whilst the head and bill are cleaned and taken home as a curiosity. As a general thing they are not eaten; but our cook at one time agreed to cook them, if we would catch and dress them. They were soon ready for him; and after being cooked they were very palatable, although they had an oily flavor, somewhat resembling that of the canvas-back duck. The mess having succeeded so well, it became a favorite, but was indulged in so often that it soon fell into distaste, and the practice was not again revived; the more so, as the captain had a peculiar regard for the birds, and professed to place implicit confidence in the assertion, that if they were misused by a ship’s crew, those who maltreated them would assuredly meet with some evil fortune.
The Cape pigeon is a beautiful bird, about the same size as our domestic bird of the same name. They are uniform in color, alternate stripes of black and white coursing their plumage.
The monimoke, and old horse, resemble in appearance the albatross, but are not more than half its size. At times, from the similarity of their appearance, I have been led to suppose them their young; and as regards the monimoke, I am still at a loss to determine as to whether the goney has a claim to its paternity or not: but the old horse or stinker, by both of which names it is indiscriminately known, is a totally distinct species; and when handled, it emits a most offensive odor, which clings with tenacity to its feathers long after being separated from the bird.
The diver is about the size of the pigeon, and is only remarkable for the great depth to which it descends in search of food. The spectator may be watching the bird gracefully sailing on the surface of the water, when suddenly it disappears from view, and if the water be clear, he may be seen, with his pinions spread, pursuing his course through it with as much facility as if he were in the air, for fathoms below the surface. After a short time he gradually ascends, until, emerging from the water, he takes wing and skims through the air, unwearied by his immersion.