The South Sea Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Darkness found them still engaged in the task. Their intention was, next morning to make a step for the mast and to build a little cabin aft for Alice.

As there was not room to lie down on the raft, the boat was propped on it; and they all got into her, having also stowed away on board the cask of water, the remaining biscuits, the bottles of wine, two harpoons and spears, and a portion of the fish. Walter and Alice occupied the stern sheets; the mate lay down amidships; while Nub, who was to keep the first watch, sat in the bows. Nub, finding himself in a boat, felt much more secure than he had done on the raft. He had kept the morning watch, and had been working hard all day. It is not surprising, therefore, that when he ought to have been sitting with his eyes wide open he allowed them to close, and fell asleep. The mate himself, though generally very wakeful, experienced a feeling of security he had not for long enjoyed, and slept more soundly than usual. It was almost a dead calm when they lay down, and the sea was perfectly smooth; no vessel could run over them, for none could approach without wind; indeed, unless to be prepared for a change in the weather, it seemed almost needless to keep watch.

Some hours, probably, had passed, when suddenly the voyagers were awakened by a loud roaring sound, and by feeling the boat lifted on a sea and sent surging forward. They all started up, the mate and Nub looking around them, while Walter held Alice in his arms, thinking something terrible was about to happen.

“Out with the oars!” cried the mate. “Walter, ship the tiller.” He was instantly obeyed, fortunately for them; for should such another sea as that which had washed the boat off the raft catch her broadside, it might roll her over and over. By great exertions the mate got her round, head to the sea, and there he and Nub were able to keep her. But what had become of the raft? In the darkness it could nowhere be seen. Perhaps it was afloat near them, or it might, deprived of their weight, have been turned over and knocked to pieces by the seas. Happily, most of the articles on which they depended for existence were in the boat; but their mast and sail had gone, with the chest, and the greater portion of their tools. In vain the mate and Nub looked around on every side in the hope of seeing it. Could they find it, even though it should be sorely battered, they might hang on to leeward of it by a hawser, and thus, in comparative security, ride out the gale; as it was, they must keep their oars moving all night to prevent the seas from breaking into the boat. They were, fortunately, rested; and the flesh of the nutritious sword-fish had restored their strength.

“Pull away, boys; pull away!” sung out Nub. “It’s a long lane dat has no turning. We better off dan on de raft, which de sea would have washed over ebery moment. Here we pretty dry—only have to keep de oars moving. Pull away, boys; pull away!”

“That’s the right spirit, Nub,” said the mate. “I only wish that I could sing as you do.”

“I sing to cheer up Missie Alice,” said Nub in a low voice. “I don’t tink I could sing oderwise.”

Walter had learned to steer well, and kept the boat’s head carefully to the seas, so that she rose over each of them as they came hissing by. The wind was blowing on the land; and though the boat’s head was turned the other way, she was in reality drifting towards it. Without a sail they could not attempt to put her stem to the seas, and they must therefore remain in their present position until the weather should again moderate: when that might be it was impossible to say. However, the mate and Nub, being happily inured to hard work, could keep on rowing for many hours together.

Thus the night passed away; and when daylight returned, the rolling seas hissing and bubbling around them were alone to be seen. They naturally looked out for the raft. The boat had just risen on the crest of a rolling wave, when Nub exclaimed, “I see de raft on de larboard hand,”—and he pointed with his chin to indicate the direction; “but it look bery much knocked about.”

“But I see it on the starboard bow,” exclaimed Walter. “It seems to me as if it had kept perfectly together, though the mast has gone.”