Peter Trawl; Or, The Adventures of a Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“What’s the matter? What has happened?” I asked, thinking he had gone out of his mind.

“I can’t bear it!” he exclaimed. “It’s too dreadful. I couldn’t help it.”

“What is dreadful? What could you not help?” I inquired.

“The brutes of crocodiles. Poor fellows,” he stammered out. “There won’t be a bit of them left presently!” and he pointed to where we had buried our poor shipmates, and where he ought to have been watching.

The men and I set off running to the spot. A dreadful sight met our eyes. The body of one man lay half eaten on the sand. A huge crocodile was dragging off the other. He had dragged it under the water before we could reach the spot. We could do nothing but shout at the crocodiles. Horner confessed that he had gone to a distance for a short time, during which the brutes had landed and killed the two men. We returned very sad to the boat. As for Horner, it was a long time before he could get over the horror he felt for his neglect of duty. Several canoes filled with natives came into the harbour from Gillolo, bringing potatoes and other vegetables. One of them brought a number of clam-shells of various sizes. One which we hoisted on board weighed four hundred-weight, and we afterwards saw on shore one which must have weighed a quarter of a ton. The natives use them as tubs; I saw a woman bathing a child in one. The meat of the creature when fried is very palatable. I also obtained some beautiful specimens of coral, which I wanted to carry home to Mary and my Shetland relations. I bought also two gallons of nutmegs for an old file, and a large number of shells for some old clothes. The harbour swarmed with sharks, which prevented us from bathing. We here cut some splendid spars for the use of the ship. I may mention that the inner harbour, from its perfect security, has obtained the name of “Abraham’s Bosom.” Were it not for the sharks and crocodiles the place would be perfect.

All the crew having recovered from scurvy, and the ship being refitted, we once more put to sea. The weather was delightful, and we sailed on over the calm ocean with a light breeze.

We had to keep a constant look-out for rocks and reefs.

I can assert, though it is often denied, that when passing under the lee of the Spice Islands, the scent which came off from the shore was perfectly delicious. Whether this arises from the flowers of the cloves and nutmegs, or from the nature of the soil, I cannot determine.

Though we generally had a light breeze, we were sometimes completely becalmed, on which occasions, when near shore, we ran the risk of being driven on the rocks by the currents, and more than once we had all the boats towing ahead to keep her off them till the breeze should spring up. We continued our course, passing to the eastward of Ceram and Banda, and steering for Timor, to the north-west of Australia. We had other dangers besides calms and currents. We had just left the Serwatty Islands astern when the wind dropped, and we lay becalmed.

Though there was little chance of catching whales, we always kept a look-out for them from the masthead, as we could stow one or two more away. We were most of us on deck whistling for a breeze, when the look-out aloft shouted that he saw three craft stealing up from behind the island to the eastward. The second mate went up to have a look at them through his glass, and when he returned on deck he reported that they were three large proas, pulling, he should say, twenty oars or more, and full of men, and that he had no doubt they were pirates. Those seas, we knew, were infested with such gentry—generally Malays, the most bloodthirsty and cruel of their race. Many a merchant vessel has been captured by them and sunk, all hands being killed.