The South Sea Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Walter laughed. “I am sure he will not do that,” he answered. “He is too much occupied at present to come below.”

When Walter went on deck again, Alice felt very forlorn. Nub, however, now and then looked in to cheer her up.

“It’s all right, Miss Alice, only de wind it blow bery hard,—enough to shave a man in half a minute. The captain told me to keep below or I turn into one icicle.” Towards the evening Nub brought in a pot of hot coffee, which he had managed to boil at the galley-fire; and presently the captain and Walter came down. The captain had no time to eat anything, but he drank two cupfuls of the coffee scalding hot.

“Bless you, my child,” he said to Alice. “We have a stormy night before us; but God looks after us, and I wish you to turn in and try and go to sleep. We are doing our best, and the ship behaves well, so keep up a good heart and all will be right.”

The mates and Mr Lawrie came down, and Nub supplied them also with coffee. The surgeon declared he could stand it no longer, and as he was not required on deck he sat down in the cabin and tried to read; but he had to give it up and stagger off to his berth. Walter at last came below again, saying that his father would not allow him to remain longer on deck; though, like a gallant young sailor, he had wished to share whatever the rest had to endure. In a very few minutes, notwithstanding the tossing of the ship and the uproar of the elements, he was fast asleep.

All night long the ship stood on close-hauled, battling bravely with the gale, showers of sleet, snow, and hail driving furiously against the faces of the crew. The captain, with his mates and both watches, remained on deck, to be ready for any emergency.

The topgallant-masts and royal-masts had been sent down; the studding-sail-booms and gear unrove, to lighten the ship as much as possible of all top hamper.

It was still dark when Walter awoke. The ship was pitching into the seas as heavily as before, and the wind roaring as loudly. He longed to go on deck to ascertain the state of things; but the captain had told him to remain in his berth till summoned, and he had learned the important duty of implicit obedience to his father’s commands. At length the light of day came down through the bull’s-eye overhead into his little berth. He quickly dressed, and entering the main cabin, found that his father had just come below. He was taking off his wet outer clothing preparatory to throwing himself on his bed.

“You go on deck now, Walter; but don’t remain long, or you will be well-nigh frozen,” he said. “I am to be called should any change in the weather take place.”

Walter sprang on deck, but he had need of all his courage to stand the keen cutting south-westerly wind, which seemed sufficient to blow his teeth down his throat. The ship looked as if made of glass, for every rope and spar was coated over with ice. The men were beating their hands to keep them warm; and when they moved about the deck they had to keep close to the bulwarks, and catch hold of belaying-pins, ropes, or stanchions, to prevent themselves from slipping away to leeward. The sea, as it broke on board, froze on the deck, till it became one mass of ice. Walter, who had thought only of smooth seas and summer gales, was little prepared for this sort of weather.