The South Sea Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The mate had brought several pieces of rope, which were fastened round the fins of the turtle, and the poor creature was dragged on its back up to the encampment. The doctor was eager to cut it up; but the mate suggested that it would be better to let it remain alive till the morning, that they might be able to carry some of the meat home with them. “At all events, we may hope, as this turtle has come to the shore, that others may also visit it, and afford us an abundant supply of wholesome food,” he observed.

The turtle cannot move when turned on its back, but as a further security it was tethered by the two fore paws to a stick stuck in the ground near the fire.

As all the party were tired, they did not sit up late; but soon lay down in their respective bed-places, with a few boughs stuck in the ground to shelter their heads. They had not been long asleep when they were all aroused by a terrific peal of thunder, and looking up, they saw that the sky, which had been glittering with countless stars when they went to sleep, was now obscured by dark masses of clouds rushing across it. Vivid flashes of lightning illumined the air, now darting across the ocean, now playing round the topmost boughs of the trees; while the wind began to blow with great violence, increasing every instant, and sending the leaves and twigs flying around them, sometimes tearing off huge branches, and even breaking the stout stems in two, or hurling whole trees to the ground. Alice was sheltered in her hut; the mate did not at first like to propose that she should leave it, but he watched with great anxiety the tree-tops bending. At last he felt that it would be wrong for them any longer to run the risk of being crushed by a falling tree, or being injured by the lightning which ever and anon played around the trees near them.

“We shall be safer under yonder rocks than here,” he said; “although our little lady will, I fear, soon be drenched to the skin.”

The doctor agreed with him. “And the sooner we are off the better,” he added. The mate, therefore, called to Alice, and, accompanied by Walter and the rest of the party, hurried down to a high rock which overhung the beach, where a hollow at the bottom of it afforded some protection from the storm. Scarcely had they left their encampment when a tremendous crash was heard; and Walter, looking back, saw that a tall tree had fallen nearly over the spot where they had been sitting, and directly on Alice’s hut. Most mercifully had they been preserved; a moment later, and his dear little sister must have been crushed to death. They all sat down in the cave, with Alice in the midst of them—by which means they managed to shield her from the rain, which came pouring down in torrents—and they could hear the water rushing over the ground like a mill-sluice. Looking out seaward, they saw the waves, foam-crested, rolling in large billows across the channel; but, happily, as they were on the lee side of the island, the surf did not reach them, though it sometimes came hissing up to within twenty feet of where they were sitting. The question was, whether the tide was rising. If it was, too probably they might be driven from their retreat, and be compelled to retire back to the high ground, where they would be again exposed to the danger of falling trees. They anxiously watched the foaming waters which thundered and dashed on the projecting rocks, and, as the seas came rolling round from the weather side, sent the white foam high into the air, glittering brightly amid the darkness during the repeated flashes of vivid lightning which darted from the clouds.

“What should we have done had we been at sea!” exclaimed Alice.

“I tink we all go to de bottom,” observed Nub. “Bery glad we here.”

“We may all be very thankful that we are here,” said the mate. “I dreaded bad weather when I first thought of continuing our voyage in the boat, but I hope that we may not be exposed to such a gale as is now raging. As far as I can judge from the look of things, the present gale is as heavy as any we are likely to encounter.”

They sat watching the surf as it rolled up over the smooth sand. Nearer and nearer it came. The mate had ascertained that there was a secure retreat to the high ground, or he would not have ventured to remain so long. He held Alice securely in his arms, as, should the surf come higher up than before,—not unfrequently the case during a storm,—she would be safe from the risk of being swept away, or from the lesser danger of being wetted through. Alice had witnessed two or three thunderstorms at sea, but this surpassed them all. Crash succeeded crash with fearful rapidity. The lightning often showed objects around as clearly as at noonday, and the next moment all was inky darkness. But few words were exchanged among the party, for who could speak at such a fearful time?

“De sea come nearer still, Massa Shobbrok,” said Nub at length, as he darted forward a few paces to ascertain how far the surf had reached.