This whale may not have regarded his life as of sufficient value to be worth fighting for. At any rate, his actions and appearance aroused suspicions, and when he was cut-in the suspicions were apparently confirmed, for the blubber was light and dry. Accordingly, instead of cutting the carcass adrift, they cut into it, and proceeded to investigate his internal economy with spades and knives. I hung over the rail and watched the operation with much interest. It reminded me of the occasion, five or six years before, when Jimmy Appleby and I had dissected two rats, with rather dull knives, on the top of his high back fence. We got thoroughly smeared with blood and gurry, but found nothing of value, and did not add to our information on the subject of rats. The whale was much the same, so far as I could see. The men got very thoroughly smeared, but they found nothing of value.
While we were in the midst of this bloody business, and most of the men who were not engaged in it were hanging over the rail, as I was, I felt a tap upon my shoulder. I turned and saw Peter, who took me to the port side.
“Look there, Timmie,” he said, pointing.
I had no trouble in seeing what he was pointing at. It was the Annie Battles, only three or four miles off, and headed directly for us. There was a brisk breeze, which she had just forward of the beam, very nearly her best point of sailing. She was coming fast, and was a pretty sight, I thought. Peter had the same thought. We watched her in silence for some minutes, and then he sighed and shook his head.
“A pretty sight,” he said, “and an able boat. There ’s none better, and it ’s a pity.”
“A pity that there ’s none better?” I asked.
“A pity that it should mean trouble every time she heaves in sight. I don’t know what kind of mischief she ’s up to this time, but look at our officers, lad. They don’t know either, but they expect trouble of some kind. Would n’t you think so yourself?”
Captain Nelson, with Mr. Baker, Mr. Brown and Mr. Macy, was standing just forward of the after house, his glass at his eye. None of the four were saying anything, but all were gazing soberly at the Battles, which held her course as if she meant to run us down. The captain said something in a low tone to Mr. Baker, who nodded and started leisurely forward.
“I wish,” said Peter, “that she ’d leave us alone, and get about her business. It ’s over two months since we ’ve seen her, and I hoped that was the last. But she seems to be keeping tabs on us, and to know just where to find us. She ’ll keep turning up, like enough, all through our voyage, just when we ’ve begun to forget her. I ’d give something to know what they ’re up to. What does she want, anyway? What is she doing it for?”
It is very likely, even in the light of our later knowledge of the Annie Battles, that they were not up to anything in particular, and did not want anything except to plague us, and exasperate us, and set us all to wondering just as they were doing. At sea, on a long voyage, with a faster vessel, and the certainty of being able to sail around us in any weather, that exasperation could be carried to a high pitch. We had no means of knowing what was going on in the Battles; but, all this granted, I could not guess their motive. It was possible that they were after our whales, but Captain Coffin was an able whaling master, and if that was the explanation—I put the question to Peter.