CHAPTER X.
WHALING NEAR THE FALKLANDS.—DEATH OF MR. JOHNSON.
No more whales were seen till the Arethusa had passed the latitude of 48 degrees south, and was nearly up with the Falklands. The wind was fresh from south-west, and the ship close-hauled on the south-south-east tack, diving into a head sea under whole topsails, making wet weather of it; while the aspect of the heavens was threatening, and indicated more wind before night. Mr. Dunham, who went to the masthead in the forenoon, reported a large "breach" on the weather quarter five miles distant. The ship stood on for a short time, and then going about, headed up nearly in the direction where the breach was seen. In an hour after tacking, spouts were seen, and were soon made out beyond question to be those of three large sperm whales going slowly to leeward. When they went down again they were not more than two miles from us; but it was by this time high noon, and the wind and sea had increased, so that the ship was brought down to double-reefed topsails. The chances were not at all favorable for chasing whales with much prospect of success. But Captain Upton and his officers were not to be daunted by trifles, with sperm whales in sight; and their doctrine was, that as long as a boat could live she could tackle a whale and kill him. So everything was cleared for action, and after standing on till he judged the ship near enough, the captain ordered the maintopsail hauled aback, and the boats hoisted and swung. This was hardly accomplished when the whales broke water within half a dozen ship's lengths of the lee-beam.
"Lower away!" was the word, and down went all three boats, the starboard boat having the advantage in this case from being on the lee quarter, and getting clear of the ship in advance of the rest.
The whales were as yet apparently undisturbed, and the chance of striking what would be considered a sure one, as they would not readily take the alarm in such weather. There was no need of spreading a sail to a breeze like this; it was only necessary to head the boat off before the wind and sea, and giving her a slight impetus with the paddle-strokes, to drive quietly down upon the prey.
The two mates, as they shoved astern of the ship, saw the exact state of things, and merely suffered their boats to run to leeward, without effort, so as to be at hand to support the captain if he should strike, without interfering with his chance by competition. Seated at the bow thwart next the boatsteerer, I had a fair view of the advance to the attack, and regarded the progress of the starboard boat with eager interest, not unmixed with anxiety, as I thought of the difficulty and danger of grappling with these monsters in such weather. Mr. Johnson stood up in the head of his boat grasping the bight of the warp in his left hand, the right resting on his "iron poles," while the other four continued dipping their paddles to add to the speed of the lively boat, which was sliding down to leeward, as it were, at a rate that promised soon to place her within striking distance. Already she was within a ship's length of the right hand one, for which the captain was steering, when the off whale of the three took the alarm, as was evinced by his elevating his head rather more than usual, and then cutting out a corner of his flukes with that peculiar movement known to whalemen as indicative of an intention to leave soon. The panic spread to the others instantly, by that sort of magnetic communication which whales seem to employ even when miles apart. A sudden and convulsive movement was observed in all three of them at the same instant. It was evident that like Macbeth's guests, they would "stand not upon the order of their going." The left-hand whale, who had first perceived the danger, was gone like a flash, his tail skimming out just above the surface; his next neighbor shot ahead half his length with a sudden effort, and threw his flukes high in air; the third, who had just blown off his spout, attempted the same manœuvre, but it was too late; the boat was shooting too quick for him. As he threw up his body, the head of the boat was just abreast of his "small," rushing down the declivity of a wave.
"Dart!" cried Captain Upton, in a voice that rose high above the roaring of the wind and sea; "dart, and try him!"