The South Sea Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“We will think about that to-morrow,” answered one of the men. “We are thirsty now, after the hard work we have been doing, and we want a glass of grog or two to give us a little strength.”

The boatswain expostulated; but he himself longed to have a glass of rum, and his opposition grew weaker. The cask was broached, and a cupful—a large allowance—was served out to each Englishman, including the doctor and Tidy. Mr Lawrie, however, managed to throw some of his away, and to fill it up with water from a breaker which he had secured, and on which he was sitting—treating Tidy’s in the same way. The Frenchmen, on seeing what was going forward, clamoured loudly for rum; for French sailors, and especially under the circumstances in which these were placed, generally show as strong an inclination for spirits as do Englishmen.

“Well, you shall have it if you obey orders,” answered the boatswain; the grog he had taken making him more inclined to be good-humoured than before, as well as to forget his suspicions. The seamen were also willing enough to share their treasure with their companions in misfortune. The quantity they had taken at first produced no apparent ill effects, though it tended to raise their spirits and make them forget the dangerous position in which they were placed. Some became loquacious, others sang songs; and both parties shook hands, and vowed that they regarded each other as brothers and friends.

The next day, however, a change had come over their spirits. The French boatswain declared that, as he had assisted to build the raft, he had as much right to the command as Capstick, as well as to half the rum and provisions. To this the latter would not agree; but the Frenchmen, after remaining quiet for some little time, suddenly sprang up, made a dash at one of the casks of rum, and capturing it, carried it in among them.

“Let them have their way,” said Mr Lawrie. “Keep your own people sober, and if the Frenchmen get drunk, you will the more easily master them.”

This advice, however, was not followed; some even of the better men making such frequent visits to the cask that several of them were utterly stupified. The Frenchmen meantime having broached their cask, many of them were soon in the same condition. The raft, however, was tumbling about too much to allow them to move,—this more than anything else preventing the two parties from coming to blows on the subjects of dispute which frequently arose. Those who had retained their senses had become hungry, and now demanded food. The doctor and Tidy had managed to knock off the head of the beef-cask, and they served out a portion to each man. It was, however, salt and hard, and tended to increase their thirst.

Thus the day wore on, and Mr Lawrie could not help looking with serious apprehensions to the future. As yet the two parties had not come to actual blows, but it was evident that they would do so on a very slight provocation. The only person over whom he could assert any beneficial influence was Tidy, who, notwithstanding an Irishman’s proverbial affection for a “dhrop of the crater,” willingly followed his advice, and took only a small quantity of spirits with his share of water. Tidy had fortunately filled his pockets with biscuit when he went into the cabin to look for Alice. This he shared with the doctor, thus preventing the beef from producing the thirst which it did in the others, who ate it by itself. The Frenchmen had complained that smaller rations were served out to them than the Englishmen took for themselves, and, watching their opportunity, they suddenly rushed towards the beef-cask. Capstick and his party defended it, and soon drove them back again. Though no knives were drawn on the occasion, blows were inflicted, and two of the combatants struggling together fell overboard,—when, locked in a deadly embrace, they sank before their companions could rescue them. Their fate for a time had the effect of sobering the rest; and the doctor, in the hope of keeping them at peace, advised that the two boatswains should together serve out the beef, and see that their countrymen had equal shares.

We cannot follow the history of the unhappy men from day to day. Their provisions had now come nearly to an end. One cask of rum and a portion only of a breaker of water remained; and had not the doctor and Tidy exerted themselves, this also would have been exhausted. Several men were lying on the raft, and the doctor knew that they were dying, but he could do nothing for them. He warned the rest; but they only laughed at him, declaring that the men had only a little too much grog aboard, and would soon come round.

They had made some progress to the westward, sometimes becalmed, and sometimes considerably tossed about, when, soon after daybreak one morning, they caught sight of a dead whale floating on the surface. The boatswain steered towards it, intending, as he said, to get some blubber, which would help out their beef. But perceiving a fire on its back as he got nearer, he at once declared his conviction that the captain and his boat’s crew, and perhaps those of the other boats, must be there; so he vowed that nothing should induce him to place himself in his power, telling his own people that if the captain were to take the command of the raft, he would stop their grog, and eat up the remainder of the provisions. He called on them, therefore, to stand by him while he kept the raft on a course which would carry her some distance from the whale. The Frenchmen, in the meantime, seeing the flag on the whale, and the fire burning, and believing that boats must be alongside, frantically stretched out their hands, and shouted at the top of their voices, not recollecting that they were too far off to be heard. They shrieked and shouted, and danced about, every now and then turning with violent gestures towards the boatswain, telling him to steer for the whale. He, however, took no heed of their entreaties, but, feeling dependence on the men about him, continued his course till the raft had got considerably to leeward of the whale, when it was impossible to get up to it—all the oars which had been on board, with the exception of the one by which he steered, having been lost during the frequent struggles which had taken place. The Frenchmen, finding their shouts disregarded, then returned to their seats, talking together, and casting threatening looks at the whaler’s crew. The boatswain and his companions laughed at their threats.

Hunger and thirst were by this time assailing them, when one of the men proposed to broach the remaining cask of spirits. In vain the doctor endeavoured to dissuade them from touching it; the boatswain offered but a slight resistance. They dragged it from the spot in the after part of the raft, where it had been stowed, and were soon engaged in drinking its contents.