Peter Trawl; Or, The Adventures of a Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Brown, on hearing this remark, stood up, with his harpoon in hand, but the savage brute seemed to know its danger, and kept just beyond his reach, eyeing us, we thought, as if he expected to make a feast of the whole party.

The men made their remarks on the shark, for having had sufficient food they had somewhat recovered their spirits. Still I wished that the shark would take its departure, but it kept on swimming alongside the boat, and as the breeze freshened it made faster way to keep up with us. Brown at last proposed shooting it, for our powder, being in a metal flask, had kept dry, but Mr Griffiths objected to any being expended for the purpose. It was a hundred to one that the shark would be killed, he said, and every charge might be of value. Still, as no flying-fish had been caught, the men cried out that they must have the shark, and Mr Griffiths at length allowed Brown, who was a good shot, to try and hit it in a vital part. Just, however, as he stood up with the musket in his hands the shark dived and disappeared.

“Ah, ha, Jack Shark know what you going to do. Him know eberyting,” said Sam Coal.

Shortly after this the sun sank amid a bank of black clouds, and darkness came down on the world of waters, the weather again looking very threatening. I was awakened by a splash of water in my face. On sitting up, though a heavy sea was running, I found that the boat was still keeping on her course. The sail had been reefed, but it was as much as we could carry. Again and again the sea broke on board. The sleepers were all aroused, and we had to bale as fast as we could.

Presently the mate said, “We must heave her to, lads. Get the raft rigged.”

We soon had this done, but as we were rounding to a heavy sea came rolling up, and breaking on board, nearly carried Sam Coal over the side. The raft was hove into the water, and we lay head to wind as before, with the oar apeak. This did not prevent the seas from occasionally breaking on board, though they came with less violence than they would otherwise have done; but the boat was severely strained and shattered as they beat against her, and she now began to leak in a way which gave us just cause for alarm.

We spent the night baling as hard as we could, all striving to save our lives; but we hoped almost against hope that we should succeed.

At last some of the men, as before, began to despair, saying that it was as well to die now as a few hours later, and that it would be better to give in and let the boat sink, but seeing the mate and doctor calm and composed as ever, I tried to imitate their example.

“God wants us to labour on, lads,” cried Mr Griffiths. “He’ll help us if we do. Gales in these latitudes never last long. Perhaps to-morrow we shall have a fine day and catch some more flying-fish, or maybe we are not far off from an island and we shall be able to stretch our legs and find plenty of cocoanuts, and perhaps yams and pigs. We shall soon have a fire alight and something cooking before it, and then won’t we eat, boys!”

This sort of talk had a good effect upon the men, and they no longer had any thought of giving in. Still, the night went by very slowly. Sleeping, even if we had had time, with the water washing into the boat, was next to impossible.