About a fortnight after this, when we were about fifty miles to the southward of the Galapagos, I one morning at sunrise having gone aloft, caught sight of a sail between us and the islands, and almost ahead. My heart gave a bound, for I made sure that she was the “Lady Alice.” As, however, we neared her, when I again went aloft to look out, much to my disappointment I saw that she was a much smaller craft, a schooner, standing from the eastward for the islands. Another look at her a little later showed me that she was of the same size and appearance as that of the craft whose piratical crew had attacked us. I felt, indeed, convinced that she was the same. On coming down on deck I told the captain, unable, however, to conjecture what he would do. At first I thought it possible that he might make chase, and attempt to capture her; but then I reflected that though we had four guns she probably carried many more, with a larger crew, and that, at all events, we could not venture to fire at her unless she attacked us.
“We’ll let her alone, Jack, whether she’s the pirate, schooner or not, but we must take care that she does not come alongside the ship while the boats are away, or the rascals aboard her may take the liberty of relieving us of our money and stores,” observed the captain.
The moment he said this the thought flashed across my mind, “What if she should have fallen in with the ‘Lady Alice’?” The idea was too terrible to dwell on. Yet once conceived, I could not banish it from my mind. I spoke to Medley on the subject. He tried to console me by saying that even if the schooner we had seen was a pirate it was not at all likely that she should have fallen in with the “Lady Alice,” and if she had, have ventured to attack her. As may be supposed, I more eagerly than ever looked out for our fellow-cruiser, but day after day went by and not a white speck denoting a distant sail was to be seen above the horizon.
We were all this time very unsuccessful in our business. We gave chase to three whales, which, one after the other, got away before the boats reached them. The captain swore that he would have the next. Not one was seen, however, for a whole week. The men grumbled and wondered why we remained on the station. At last one morning, just at daybreak, the look-out, who had just gone to the masthead, gave the welcome shout of “There she spouts! there she spouts!”
In a moment the watch on deck aroused those below by the loud stamping of their feet, and up they tumbled. The captain and mates rushed out from their cabins half-dressed. The four boats were lowered, and away they pulled in the direction the whale was seen, about two miles to windward. Medley and I, with two seamen, the doctor, and other idlers, remained to take care of the ship, and to beat her up after the boats. The whale sounded, and remaining down fifty minutes rose again nearer the ship, so that we could clearly see what took place.
The boats and their crews giving way with might and main, gathered round from different directions. The captain was the first to strike his harpoon into the whale, following the weapon with a couple of lances; he was fast, but he quickly backed off from the monster, which, leaping half out of the water, and turning partly round made a dash with open mouth at another boat coming up, and in an instant crushed it into fragments as if it had been built of paper. The crew sprang overboard on either side, endeavouring to escape—whether any were killed we could not ascertain—and the next instant the whale, raising its powerful flukes, struck a third boat, shattering her by the blow, and throwing her high into the air, bottom upwards, her people and gear being scattered around on the foam-covered surface of the water. The other boats pulled away to avoid the same fate, which it seemed likely would be theirs, for the old lone whale was savagely bent on mischief it was very evident, when he suddenly sounded, dragging out the line like lightning after him. A second line was secured to the first, but that reached the bitter end before the first mate’s boat, engaged in trying to rescue the drowning men, could come up, and it was cut to save the boat from being dragged under water. Not till then could the captain go to the assistance of the people still struggling for their lives. Some were holding on to oars, others to fragments of planks. At length the survivors were picked up, and the two boats returned on board. The men, as they came alongside, looked very downcast. Three of our shipmates had disappeared—two of whom had been crushed by the monster’s jaws, the other killed by the blow of his flukes—as many more were severely injured, the third mate was among the killed. The captain, ordering the carpenter at once to put together two boats to supply the places of those destroyed, went to his cabin. I had never before seen him so much out of spirits. He seemed to think that some fatality was attending the voyage. In less than half an hour he returned on deck, looking flushed and excited.
“We must have that whale if we lose a couple more of our boats in taking him,” he exclaimed, addressing the first mate. “Keep a bright look-out for him.” This was not so easily done, for darkness was coming on, and the monster might possibly have swum away from the ship.
The mate answered, “Ay, ay, sir,” and hailed the look-out aloft.
Some time passed and no whale appeared; a large one, such as that attacked, can remain down eighty minutes, and swim some distance in that time. At last night came down upon us, and the chances of discovering the creature decreased. The weather too, hitherto fine, changed, and before morning the ship was under close-reefed topsails, dashing through the fast-rising foaming seas. Had we got the whale alongside we should probably have had to cut from it. The captain, however, had no intention of giving up the search. We beat backwards and forwards in the neighbourhood for three days, till the gale abated, and then made several circuits round the spot, increasing the radius without seeing the old whale or any other.
The men who had before grumbled at being kept so long on the station now declared that the captain had gone out of his mind, and I feared that if he persisted much longer they would break into open mutiny. Still day after day he continued sailing round and round, till one morning when we had been running to the eastward, and he ordered the watch to brace up the yards, they stood with their hands in their pockets or folded on their breasts, while they stamped loudly with their feet. At that instant the watch below came rushing up on deck armed with weapons of all descriptions, some having muskets and pistols, others cutlasses, pikes, harpoons, and blubber spades. The captain on this, calling on the two mates, Medley, and me to stand by him, rushed into his cabin, from which he quickly returned with a rifle in his hand, and several pistols stuck in his belt. A shout of derisive laughter from the crew greeted him. He took no notice of it, but cried out to us, “Go and arm yourselves, and we’ll soon put down these mutinous rascals.” As he spoke he raised his rifle, and half a dozen muskets were pointed at him. At that juncture the look-out at the masthead shouted, “A dead whale away to the southward!”