The South Sea Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“A short life and a merry one,” cried the party, as they passed the cup rapidly round. The liquor soon began to take effect on their already exhausted frames. They shouted and sang songs, but their voices sounded hollow and cracked; and several rolled over, laughing idiotically at their own condition. The Frenchmen, who had been watching these proceedings, and waiting their opportunity, now rushed aft, and knocking over those who opposed them, seized the cask, and carried it off in triumph. The French boatswain endeavoured to persuade them to take only a small quantity; but they laughed at his warnings, and were soon in the same condition as the Englishmen. Some sang and shrieked; and others, getting up, attempted to dance, till one unhappy man in his gyrations tumbled overboard. Some of his companions attempting to catch hold of him, nearly fell in likewise. Their efforts were of no avail, and he sank almost within arm’s length. The accident partly sobered some of them. Capstick, calling on the Englishmen, who were still sober enough to move, then endeavoured to regain possession of the cask, when in the struggle the bung-hole was turned downwards, and the greater portion of the contents ran out. A general fight ensued, both parties accusing each other of being the cause of the loss. Knives were drawn, and wounds inflicted. The Englishmen, however, secured the prize, and had to continue the fight to preserve it. The two boatswains stood aloof encouraging their respective parties; while the doctor and Tidy, who attempted to act the part of pacificators, were knocked over, the Irishman narrowly escaping being thrown into the sea. The fight continued for some time, till the combatants, many of them badly wounded, sank down utterly exhausted. The doctor, notwithstanding the hurts he had received, wished to do his duty, and went among them to examine their hurts. His sorrow was great when he found that no less than five were dead,—chiefly, he believed, from the effects of the spirits they had drunk; while several more were in a state which showed him that, even should help speedily come, they were too far gone to recover. Before the sun rose next morning, not a dozen people remained alive on the raft.

The doctor and Tidy had agreed to keep watch and watch, to protect each other, and they were thus able to preserve a little of the water and a small piece of beef which remained in the cask. It might be supposed that the fearful results of the drink would have been a warning to the survivors; but their desire for liquor was as strong as ever; and as soon as they awoke, they insisted on again attacking the rum-cask. A common misfortune seemed at length to have united the two parties; but their leaders stood aloof from each other. The men, however, began sharing the rum out equally among themselves. This went on for some time, till, the liquor running short, they commenced quarrelling as before. The doctor urged Tidy to take no part in any dispute. “Our countrymen are as much to blame as the Frenchmen,” he observed. “If we assist our boatswain, we shall be guilty of their death.” Tidy’s Irish spirit, however, would hardly allow him to follow the doctor’s advice.

It had now fallen perfectly calm. Mr Lawrie, overcome by the heat, had fallen fast asleep, and Tidy, who had undertaken to keep watch, was dozing by his side. Most of the party were by this time reduced to such a state of weakness that very few appeared likely to survive much longer. Evening was rapidly approaching, when suddenly the doctor was awakened by hearing the Irishman exclaim, “Faith, sir, they are at it again; and if they are not stopped, one or both of them will get the worst of it.” The doctor started up, when he saw the two boatswains standing facing each other at the further end of the raft. Each had a drawn knife in his hand. The Frenchman was at the outer end of the raft, while two of his countrymen, the only men among them able to exert themselves, were standing near him. “Hold! What murderous work are you about?” shouted the doctor. But his voice came too late; the combatants closed as he spoke, stabbing each other with their weapons. The next moment the Frenchman, driven back by the English boatswain, was hurled bleeding into the water. His two countrymen, who had hitherto remained looking on, sprang to his assistance. One of them, losing his balance, fell overboard; while the boatswain, seizing the other by the throat, stabbed him to the heart. Then turning round with fury in his eyes, he shrieked out, “I will treat every man in the same way who interferes with me!” No one, however, appeared inclined to do so. The sun, already dipping, disappeared beneath the horizon as the scene of blood was concluded; and the boatswain, who seemed suddenly to have been excited into savage fury, sank down exhausted on the raft.

Some more hours passed away, when Mr Lawrie, Tidy, and the boatswain alone remained alive of all those who had lately peopled the raft. The surgeon did his utmost to restore the wretched boatswain, binding up his wounds, and pouring a little of the remaining spirits and water down his throat. It seemed surprising, considering the injuries he had received, that he had not succumbed as the others had done. He evidently possessed no ordinary amount of vitality. A few scraps of beef remained in the cask, of which the surgeon gave him a portion. He ate it eagerly. His continual cry, however, was for water.

As the night advanced, the sea got up, tumbling the raft fearfully about. Mr Lawrie and Tidy dragged the boatswain to the centre of the raft, and it was only by great exertions they held themselves and him on. The dark, foam-crested seas came rolling up, threatening every instant to break aboard and sweep them away. The boatswain had sufficient consciousness to be well aware of his danger; and fearful must have been the sensations of that bold bad man, his hands red with the blood of his fellow-creatures, as he contemplated a speedy death and the judgment to come. He groaned and shrieked out, yet not daring to ask for mercy. The surgeon would thankfully have shut out those fearful cries from his ears. Like a true man, he resolved to struggle to the last to preserve his own life and the lives of his companions.

Thus hour after hour went slowly by, till the grey light of morning appeared above the horizon, broken by the rising and falling seas. Mr Lawrie found his own strength going, and Dan was in a still worse condition. They had no food, and not a drop of water remaining, and no land in sight. Stout-hearted as they both were, they could not help feeling that ere long they must yield, and share the fate of those who were already buried beneath the waves. The doctor knew, however, that it was his duty to struggle to the last, and he did his utmost to encourage poor Dan.

“Shure, Mr Lawrie, it’s myself has no wish to become food for the fishes, if it can be helped at all at all, and as long as I can I’ll hold fast for dear life to the planks,” he said in answer to Mr Lawrie’s exhortations. “Maybe a ship will come and pick us up. Just look out there, sir! What do you see? If my eyes don’t decave me, there is a boat; and she’s pulling towards us.”

Mr Lawrie looked, as Dan told him; and there, sure enough, he saw a boat approaching the raft, but very slowly. Now she was hidden by intervening seas, and now again she came into sight on the crest of a wave.

“Shure, can it be the captain’s boat, or one of the other boats which have been looking for us since the ship went down?” exclaimed Dan.

On hearing the word “captain,” the boatswain lifted up his head and tried to get a glimpse of the approaching boat. “It may be one of our boats; but if it is the captain’s, just heave me overboard at once, for he will hear all that’s happened.”