The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Deep Sea Hunters, by A. Hyatt (Alpheus Hyatt) Verrill

The Deep Sea Hunters

BY A. HYATT VERRILL

THE DEEP SEA HUNTERS

THE BOOK OF THE MOTOR BOAT

ISLES OF SPICE AND PALM

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Publishers New York

The

DEEP SEA HUNTERS

ADVENTURES ON A WHALER

BY

A. HYATT VERRILL

AUTHOR OF “THE REAL STORY OF THE WHALER,” “ISLES OF

SPICE AND PALM,” “THE BOOK OF THE MOTOR BOAT,” ETC.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

NEW YORK : : 1922 : : LONDON

COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

THE DEEP SEA HUNTERS

CHAPTER I
THE BOYS MAKE A BARGAIN

“Oh, Tom!” cried Jim Lathrop, as he dashed into his chum’s den, “what do you think? They’re fitting the Hector out for a cruise!”

“Come on, I don’t believe it. You can’t fool me that way,” replied Tom, tossing aside his book. “What’s the joke? Why the old Hector wouldn’t float—she’s had grass growing out of her seams for years.”

“Honest, they are, though,” asserted Jim. “If you don’t believe it come along and see.”

Grabbing his cap, Tom hurried out with his friend, and the two boys ran down the shady, sleepy streets of old Fair Haven towards the water front.

It was little wonder that Tom was incredulous of Jim’s news, for, to the boys, the ancient whaling bark Hector was as much of a fixture as the village church or the town hall. As long as they could remember the old ship had lain on the mud flat beside the abandoned old whaling docks, her dingy, weather-beaten sides rising far above the rotting stringpieces of the wharf; her spars, gray from countless storms and years of sunshine, sagging and awry; her tattered and frayed standing rigging slack and her deck warped and with open seams. Built nearly one hundred years ago, the Hector had for generations been the pride of the great New Bedford whaling fleet, but, long before either of the boys had been born, she had been towed to her resting place upon the Fair Haven flats and abandoned to the elements.

But to the boys of the village she had been a source of never failing amusement. Upon her decks they had played pirate, buccaneer and whaler by turns. Within her tumble-down deck houses imaginary mutineers and freebooters had massacred innumerable officers. From her broad, stout crosstrees the boys had peered forth at countless treasure islands, and within her dark and musty hold they had languished in chains or had stowed away on imaginary voyages.

Somehow, upon the old ship, the boys seemed actually to live in the stirring days they reacted, for old Capt’n Pem, the dock watchman, had spent many an afternoon spinning yarns of his youthful whaling days while seated on the heel of the Hector’s bowsprit. He had related stories of cannibal attacks, of mutinies, of boats stove in and ships rammed by frantic whales. The boys had listened breathlessly to his accounts of men drifting in open whaleboats for thousands of miles after being towed out of sight of their ships by whales, and as he had served as mate on two voyages of the Hector, the boys had but to close their eyes to see the characters he described and the exciting events in which he had taken part. Moreover, Jim, or, as his friends called him, “Jimmy,” had found the old log of the Hector in the Historical Society’s museum across the river in New Bedford, and the boys had read it word for word and had found it more fascinating than any book of fiction, for they knew every inch of the old bark as they did their own homes. They knew the very yardarm from which a mutineer had once been hung; they could still see the holes made by the bullets of Chinese pirates in the stout cabin door; they searched for and found the very bunk wherein the mate had been pinned down by the spear of a Solomon Island cannibal, and the criss-cross cuts where poor “Crazy Ned” had cut his “baccy” on the fo’c’sle steps were still visible. Tom, too—who was forever reading books on strange, far-away lands—had told the other boys of the places the old ship had touched on its many cruises. He painted vivid word pictures of the desolate Croisettes, of little-known Gough Island and volcanic Kerguelan in the storm-lashed Antarctic. He described the queer penguins and broad-winged albatrosses, the palm-fringed coral isles of the tropics, the swift proas of the Malays, the frozen wastes of the Arctic and the blistering doldrums, until he and his friends could transport themselves at will to any part of the world, or any spot in the seven seas, merely by clambering on to the Hector’s warped old decks and setting sail in make believe on a three years’ cruise.

And, best of all, the boys’ parents encouraged them, for they all were of old whaling stock and had almost as much fondness for the old Hector and the past glories of the whaling fleet as did the boys. Moreover, the boys’ fathers were not slow to notice that, by playing about the old bark and listening to Cap’n Pem’s yarns, the boys were absorbing a vast amount of useful knowledge of the sea and of seamanship, as well as of foreign lands and people. They had learned to climb aloft, to run up the ratlines and to man the yards like real sailors, and they acquired a full command of nautical terms, orders and phrases. And in this old Cap’n Pem had been their instructor. He had shown them how to knot, splice and bend ropes; he had made them repair the rotting ratlines and footropes; he had insisted that they must be “proper sailor men” in their play; and, in order to teach them how to swing and square the yards, clew up the sails and otherwise “navigate” the old hulk, he had helped them rig braces, halliards, clewlines and other running rigging from odds and ends stowed in his cozy little home at the head of the wharf. Under his tutelage the boys had learned how to box the compass, how to steer, how to give orders for trimming sail, and both Tom and Jim had gone a step farther and had learned how to “shoot the sun” and work out latitude and longitude.

Often, the old seaman would take a part in the boys’ fun himself; sometimes as captain, at other times as able-bodied seaman, which he always took as a huge joke, remarking with a chuckle that, “I’ve seen a mighty queer lot o’ timber a-callin’ o’ theirsel’s sailors; but I’ll be stowed if I ever seen a wooden-legged A. B. afore.”

But despite his wooden leg, Cap’n Pem managed to get about as lively as any of his young friends, and he would tail on to a brace and roar out some deep-sea chantey with the boys joining in the chorus, with as much vigor and heartiness as though the Hector were once more plowing her way through blue seas instead of being high and dry on a mud flat.

But neither Cap’n Pem nor the boys had ever dreamed of the Hector going to sea in reality. From her opened seams, grass and weeds were growing luxuriantly; within her hold the tide rose and fell exactly as it did outside and, as the old salt vowed that New Bedford whalers were built to last forever, the Hector seemed doomed to be a permanent landmark at the end of the elm-shaded street.

So, as the two boys hurried to the dock, Jim found it hard work to convince Tom that they were about to lose their wonderful playground.

“I just went down to see if you or any of the fellows were there,” explained Jim, “and I found a whole crowd of workmen. They had a truck full of rope and tackle and paint and tar and everything. Some of them were on board and others on the dock and they’d already taken off a lot of the old rigging and were tearing the grass and stuff out of the seams. Cap’n Pem was there too and I asked him what they were doing and he chuckled and said, ‘Didn’t I tell ye, Jimmy, a New Bedford ship weren’t never too old to go a-cruisin’? They’re a-fittin’ of the Hector fer a v’yge.’”

“I’ll bet he was just jollying you,” declared Tom. “Perhaps they’re going to fix her up and take a movie of her, just as they did on the Viola, you know. Perhaps that’s what Cap’n Pem meant—a movie voyage. Why, Jimmy, the Hector couldn’t go to sea.”

“Well, we’ll soon know,” replied Jim. “Look at that now! They’re taking down her yards.”

The boys had now reached the dock, and sure enough, as Jim had said, a crowd of laborers were busy on the wharf and on the Hector, and the sound of hammers and axes, of loud orders, and the creak of tackle blocks awoke echoes which the dock had not heard for generations.

Already nearly all the yards of the old ship had been taken down and were laid upon the dock where men were planing and cutting them; the grass and weeds had been removed from the cracks in the planking and men were busy cutting and tearing out the old caulking. The ragged shrouds were being taken off and, on a hanging stage under the bowsprit, carpenters were working on the massive stem.

“Gosh! It does look as if you’re right,” admitted Tom, as the two boys stopped, and with wonder, gazed upon the bustling scene. “Oh, there’s Cap’n Pem! Let’s go and ask him all about it.”

Approaching their old friend, the boys plied him with questions.

“Sure, they’re a-fittin’ of her out fer a cruise,” he avowed, seating himself on one of the yards. “Reckon ’iles so almighty sky high—what with this ’ere war an’ all—that old man Nye jest couldn’t resist the temptation o’ fittin’ out fer a cruise.”

“Where’s she goin’?” he continued in answer to the boys’ queries.

“Gosh hanged ef I know! Any seas mos’ likely. Ain’t nary one o’ the chaps here as knows nothin’ ’bout it. Jest had orders ter overhaul the ol’ Hector an’ git her ship-shape an’ ready fer sea. Jake Potter’s gang ’tis. Ain’t seed Jake or I’d know more erbout it.”

“But aren’t you surprised?” asked Tom. “When Jim told me, I wouldn’t believe it. Why, it don’t seem possible. How on earth can that old hulk float?”

“Surprised?” chuckled the old salt. “Say, son, time ye git as ol’ as I be an’ been to sea fer a matter o’ forty year, ye won’t find nothin’ to surprise ye. ’Sides, what’s so surprisin’ ’bout a good ship goin’ t’ sea after a bit o’ rest? Float? Course she’ll float. Why, boys, I’ve been a-cruisin’ fer sparm in the western ocean an’ jammed in the ice in Behring Sea fer five years in a ship what was jes’ punk ’longside o’ this ’ere Hector. Float! Why, bile me down fer blubber, if she ain’t a floatin’ long after these ’ere new-fangled, sawed-timber jimcracks o’ ships what the gov’ments a-buildin’ of has been scrapped fer a hundred year. Why, boys, don’t ye know the ol’ Hector well enough to know she’s jes’ as sta’nch an’ sound as the day she was built? Long’s her timbers ’re sound an’ her keel an’ garboard strake’s not rotten, she’s all right; an’ I’ll bet my wooden leg ’gainst a chew o’ baccy thet she’s as sound as a trivet to-day.”

“But won’t it cost more to fix her up than to build a new ship?” asked Jim.

The old skipper shook his grizzled head. “No, sirree,” he declared. “Ships is mighty costly these days, an’ ’sides, where ye goin’ ter find any one thet knows how ter build a proper whale ship? Why, blow me, ye can’t find a man what knows a blubber-hook from a fluke-chain nor a clumsy-cleat from a scrap-hopper outside o’ New Bedford. Course she’ll need a bit o’ tinkerin’, few new planks an’ riggin’; a bit o’ caulkin’, and like as not, some new spars. But shucks, that ain’t much. Reckon’ they’ll have her all fine an’ dandy an’ ready fer sea inside a month.”

“But how are they going to caulk her and fix her here in the mud?” inquired Tom. “Won’t they have to tow her over to the dry dock?”

Cap’n Pem roared with merriment.

“Bless yer heart, no!” he cried when he could control his laughter. “Didn’t ye ever see a ship hove-down? But o’ course ye haven’t. Why, they’ll jes clap a tackle on to her mastheads and heave her down till they git to her bottom, easy as eatin’ pie.”

“Well, I’ll like to see that,” declared Tom. “I should think it would pull the masts out or crack her wide open.”

“Nary a mite,” the captain assured him. “Whale ships is made fer hard work an’ knockin’ about, not fer looks. Course there ain’t many o’ these ’ere schooners nowadays what’ll stand fer it; but ye jes wait an’ see how the ol’ Hector takes it.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Tom and Jim, in company with a number of boy friends who joined them, stood upon the dock watching with interest, and not without pangs of regret, the rapid dismantling of the bark.

“Reckon ’tis kind o’ hard on ye kids,” remarked Cap’n Pem, when one of the boys expressed his sorrow at losing the old ship. “Durned if I don’t hate ter have her go myself. Kind o’ like losin’ of an ol’ friend. Jest hope I’ll be spared ter see her comin’ hom’ ag’in. Bet she’ll be full up and with a shark tail on her jibboom.”

Not until the laborers knocked off work did the boys turn from the dock towards their various homes, and by then, the Hector had been stripped bare of her rigging; huge pieces of rotten wood had been cut from her stem; planks had been torn from sides and decks; her cabin and galley had been ripped out; and, as Tom remarked, she looked more like a wreck than ever.

As Jim lingered to talk with Tom before the latter’s home, Mr. Chester drove up in his car, and instantly the two boys told him the wonderful news of the bark.

“Yes, boys, I heard about it,”’ he replied. “Mr. Nye was in the office to-day to see about outfitting. He’s fitting the Hector out for a voyage to the South Shetlands for sea elephant oil. Come in and have dinner with us, Jimmy, and I’ll tell you both all about it.”

“Gosh, that’s way down by the South Pole,” exclaimed Jim as the two boys followed Tom’s father into the house. “Say, Tom, what are sea elephants? You never told us anything about them.”

“I don’t exactly know myself,” admitted the other. “Seems to me I did read something about them in some book; sort of a giant seal, I think, but I don’t understand how a whaler can go after them for oil.”

Tom’s father, however, soon explained all about sea elephants, the gigantic seal-like creatures with trunklike noses, which dwell in the Antarctic seas and upon the desolate islands there.

Formerly, Mr. Chester told them, the sea elephants congregated in herds of countless thousands upon the shores of the South Shetlands, Kerguelan, the Croisettes and other Antarctic islands, but as they were stupid creatures and had never seen men, they fell an easy prey to whalers who killed them for their blubber. So rapidly were they slaughtered that they would soon have become as extinct as the Dodo or the Great Auk, if the European governments, who owned the islands, had not taken steps to protect them and prevent hunting them.

“Then how can the Hector go after them?” asked Tom.

“Because, owing to the war, there has been such a shortage of oil that the British government has given permission to hunt them under special license,” replied Mr. Chester.

“Do you really think the old bark ever will get there?” asked Jim.

“I haven’t a doubt of it—unless she’s sunk by a submarine. Those old ships were built to last forever, as Captain Pem says, and Nye’s had the Hector looked over and her timbers and most of her planking are sound. It will be a far more difficult matter to find a crew than to get the bark into seagoing shape.”

“Golly, wouldn’t that be a dandy cruise to take!” exclaimed Tom. “Just think of seeing penguins and albatrosses and sea elephants and icebergs and everything!”

“Yes, and think of really going whaling on the old Hector!” cried Jim.

“Sea elephanting, you mean,” laughed Tom. “Say, father, will they call the crew ‘sea elephant men’?”

“They’ll do considerable whaling too, I expect,” laughed his father, “and no matter what a whaleman does he’s still a whaler—even when they went to Africa after slaves in the old days and never hunted whales.”

“Then ’twould be all the more fun—if they hunted whales, too,” declared Tom. “Gee, I do wish we could go along. Couldn’t we go as part of the crew or something, Dad? You always said we’d ought to go on a real cruise, you know.”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Chester. “You two boys would be a nuisance, and besides, even if Nye would let you go, and I didn’t object, and the captain gave his consent, your mother and Jim’s parents would be worried to death. The ship might be sunk by a submarine, and she’ll probably be away for a year or more and where we never could hear from her. Besides, you’d be sick and tired of the trip before it really began. You don’t realize what a whaling cruise is like. Go over and see Nye to-morrow and he’ll tell you a few truths that will make you change your views about a whaling life being a lark.”

“Well if we don’t, and Mr. Nye will let us go, and Jimmy’s folks will let him go, and the captain will sign us on, then will you let me go?” teased Tom.

“There are altogether too many ‘ifs’ in that,” laughed Mr. Chester, “but I’ll make a bargain. If Nye and his skipper are fools enough to let you two go and all the other ‘ifs’ are eliminated I’ll give my consent on one condition, and that is, that old Captain Pem is the mate.”

“Hurrah!” cried the boys in unison.

Mr. Chester chuckled.

“I’m perfectly safe in making that bargain,” he declared. “There’s about as much chance of a wooden-legged mate on a whaler as there is of the Hector coming back with a load of ambergris!”

CHAPTER II
OUTWARD BOUND

The boys scarcely could wait to finish their breakfasts, so anxious were they to see the owner of the Hector. Arriving in New Bedford across the harbor, they at once hurried to Mr. Nye’s office, only to find that he was not in and was not expected for an hour.

“Let’s go over to the museum,” suggested Tom, and the two boys hurried downstairs, turned into a waterfront street, and a few moments later, reached the Old Dartmouth Historical Society with its wonderful whalers’ museum.

Here they always found plenty to interest them and the time passed quickly as they studied the fascinating exhibits of whaling weapons and utensils, old prints, log books, and, best of all the half-size model of a New Bedford whaling ship complete in every detail.

As they were about to leave the building and passed by the office, they noticed the genial curator talking with a man whose back was towards them.

“Hello, boys!” called the curator, “I understand you’re about to lose your ship. Where are you off to now?”

“Yes,” replied Tom, “but we’re going to try and go on her. We’re going to see Mr. Nye now and ask him if we can.”

The curator laughed.

“Want to turn real whalemen, eh? How about your parents’ consent?”

“Oh, they’ve consented,” replied Jim, “that is, Tom’s father said he could go if Mr. Nye and the captain were willing and if Cap’n Pem went as mate and my folks said they’d agree to that, too.”

“Well, well!” chuckled their friend. “So now you’re going to ask Nye and try to get him to ship old Pem just to help you, I suppose! Well, there are worse mates than he’d make. Come in here, boys, I want you to meet an old friend of mine.”

As they entered the office the stranger turned and the boys saw he was a clean-shaven, leather-faced old man with a merry twinkle in his keen, blue eyes.

“Captain,” said the curator, “here are a couple of boys who want to ship on the Hector, Jimmy Lathrop and Tom Chester. You know Chester, the ship chandlery and hardware man, Tom’s father. How do you think they’ll do for whalemen? Boys, this is Captain Edwards of the Hector.”

Shaking hands cordially, the old whaleman considered for a moment.

“Hmm,” he said at last, “what’s your rating, boys, A. B.’s, boat steerers, coopers, cooks, cabin boys, navigators or just ordinary deck hands?”

The boys laughed.

“I don’t know,” admitted Jim. “Anything, if we can go, except cooks or coopers or boat steerers.”

“Then you’ve had previous experience, eh?” asked the captain striving to maintain a grave face. “What ships have you been on?”

“The Hector,” promptly replied Tom, with a grin. “We’ve been everything on her from stowaways to captain.”

Captain Edwards burst into a hearty laugh. “So you’re some of the youngsters that have been using my ship for a playground, eh?” he exclaimed. “And now you’d like to take a real try at the game. And your dads said you could if I’d take old Pem for mate, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tom, “and father said that was just about as likely as for the Hector to bring back a load of ambergris.”

The captain and the curator burst into hearty laughter.

“That’s pretty good!” declared the old skipper at last. “But stranger things have happened to whalemen, boys. Many a ship’s brought home a mighty good cargo of ambergris and I’ve sailed with a wooden-legged captain, let alone a mate.”

“These boys can navigate,” put in the curator. “Cap’n Pem’s taught them nearly all there is to know about handling a ship, except going to sea.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the captain with new interest. “Now, boys, let me ask you some questions.”

For the next half hour Captain Edwards plied the boys with queries on seamanship, navigation, ropes and rigging, handling sails, nautical and whalemen’s terms, and in fact, everything he could think of. Then, banging his fist on his knee, he exclaimed, “Why, hang it all, Frank! These two kids could get second officer’s tickets to-morrow, if they were old enough. Boys, come along over to Nye’s office.”

“Gosh! I’d forgotten about seeing him,” cried Tom as he and Jim rose and hurried out with the captain.

Arrived at the ship owner’s office, the boys quickly told Mr. Nye of their desire to go on the Hector and repeated the conditions on which their parents had consented. Then, when they had finished, the captain drew the owner to one side and conversed in low tones with him for a few moments.

“Well, boys,” said the Hector’s owner, resuming his seat, “I have no objection if Captain Edwards hasn’t, and he tells me he’d be glad to take you, as you might be useful. You see, it’s mighty difficult to get a crew of any sort now and navigators are scarce as hens’ teeth. Of course, he wouldn’t count on you as full-fledged officers; but he thinks you’d be more useful than ornamental and that two husky, wide-awake boys who really know the old Hector from stem to stern would be worth their keep—might help in breaking in the green hands, you know. Of course, you’d find it a mighty rough life—not all beer and skittles by any means—and a dirty job too. But I was younger than either of you when I first went on a cruise and it did me a pile of good—made a man of me and taught me a lot—and hard work never hurt any boy yet. Yes, as far as I’m concerned, and Captain Edwards too, you’re more than welcome on the Hector; but, of course, that doesn’t mean you’re going. Don’t forget old Pem is one of the conditions, and I’ve never had a wooden-legged mate on one of my ships yet!”

“Oh, darn!” exclaimed Jim, “I think they might let us go, anyway.”

“I’m not going to be discouraged yet,” declared Tom. “I’ll bet I can tease dad into letting us go, even if Cap’n Pem isn’t mate.”

But despite his statement, the two boys felt downhearted and discouraged the rest of the day, for it was even worse to have the captain’s and the owner’s consent and still be unable to go on the cruise than it would have been had their parents refused to listen to their pleas in the first place. And that evening, when Tom endeavored to wheedle his father into withdrawing the conditions he had made, he found him obdurate. While he was still arguing, Jim and Mr. Lathrop called and the latter declared that he, too, would stick to his original conditions. Very disconsolate were the two boys as they sat down to dinner, for they realized now that their cause was hopeless, that in giving their conditional consent their parents had known they were perfectly safe.

But presently their spirits began to revive and they were chatting and laughing as gaily as ever. Then, when the meal was nearly over, the door bell rang and the servant announced: “A gentleman to see you, Master Tom. He said to tell you he was mate of the Hector. He’s waiting in the library.”

“Mate of the Hector!” exclaimed Tom in puzzled tones, “I wonder what he wants. I didn’t know Captain Edwards had a mate yet. I’ll bet he’s come to tell us he’s mate just so we’ll know there’s no chance. Gee! I think Mr. Nye might have taken Cap’n Pem just for our sakes.”

“Nye’s sending the bark after oil, not to please you boys,” Mr. Chester reminded him as he left the room.

As Tom reached the library and glanced within, he started as if he had seen a ghost and stood speechless, staring with unbelieving eyes at the figure seated in the big Morris chair.

“Reckon I did surprise ye!” chuckled Cap’n Pem. “Jest signed on fer mate o’ the ol’ Hector an’ kinder thought——”

What he was about to say was drowned in the wild yell Tom let out as, turning, he dashed down the hall.

“Jim!” he shouted as he burst open the dining room door. “Jim! We’re going! It’s Cap’n Pem and he’s mate of the Hector! Hurrah! Hurrah!”

Leaping from his chair, Jim tore into the library with his friend, both yelling like Indians and prancing about the old sailor until he thought they had gone stark, staring mad.

“Avast there! Lay off!” he cried. “What in the name o’ tarnation’s the matter with ye?”

Presently in disjointed sentences, the two boys managed to explain the cause of their excitement.

“I’ll be blowed!” exclaimed the old whaleman. “So that’s how the land lays, eh? So you’re the two third mates ol’ man Edwards was talkin’ erbout. Wondered what in Sam Hill he wanted two fer. Well, well, so we’re goin’ fer to be shipmates, eh? ’Spect Nye wuz jest jollyin’ of ye all the time. He knowed I wuz a-goin’ last night. Cap’n Edwards wuz over ter see me an’ wanted fer me ter go, but I wuz a leedle mite skittish ’bout this timber leg. Then, this arternoon, he come over ter see the ol’ Hector an’ he sez ter me, Pem, he sez, ye’ve jes’ gotter sign on. ’Lessen ye do I won’t have no other nav’gator erlong. Can’t git ’em ’lessen you come too. So I jes’ signed on then an thar.”

“Hurrah for Captain Edwards!” shouted the boys. Then, as their parents entered the room, Tom cried: “Now what do you say, father? I’ll bet you’re surprised. Isn’t it bully, though!”

Mr. Lathrop coughed and covered his mouth with his handkerchief and Mr. Chester strove to conceal a smile and winked at his friend.

“Well, wonders will never cease,” he replied. “Luck seems to be with you, boys. I hope it will last through the cruise. And it will be some cruise, eh, Lathrop? Mate with a wooden leg, two boys for third mates, an eighty-year-old ship and Heaven alone knows what kind of a crew!”

“Don’t ye fear erbout the crew, Mr. Chester,” spoke up Cap’n Pem. “That’s my job an’ my name ain’t Pem Potter if I don’ git ’em, if I have ter bust open the jail or the poor house an’ take the critters inside.”

The others laughed. “I shouldn’t be surprised if they’d prove better than anything you’ll get elsewhere,” chuckled Mr. Lathrop. “The war’s taken every able-bodied man there is. You won’t find the crowd of park loafers and bums that used to form the bulk of whaling crews.”

“Who said anythin’ erbout able-bodied men?” exclaimed the old seaman. “Jes’ so long’s they’ve got two feet an’ two han’s it’s all I ask. Give me three months at sea with ’em an’ I’ll make whalemen outer anything what’s human. But I reckon I’ll be h’istin’ to’sails an’ gettin’ under way. I gotter be mighty busy from now on.”

Bidding them all good night, and with a parting injunction to the boys to report at the owner’s office and sign articles in the morning, old Cap’n Pem left the house and went stumping down the street on his wooden leg and so overjoyed at the prospect of being once more on a cruise that he broke into a rollicking old chantey.

Now who d’ ye think’s the chief mate o’ her?
Blow, boys, blow!
A big mu-latter come from Antigua!
Blow, my bully boys, blow!

Long after he was out of sight, the boys could hear the chorus wafted to them on the soft night breeze.

The next few weeks were busy ones for the two boys. They signed on as members of the Hector’s crew, although there were difficulties to be overcome in doing that, for they were too young to secure navigators’ licenses. Finally it was arranged that they should be rated as “boys” and as such were entitled to “lays” of 1/100 of the ship’s catch or, in other words, one barrel of oil out of every hundred, for whalers never work for wages, and when all this was attended to, the boys felt like real whalemen. Then, at Captain Edward’s suggestion, they worked daily at the Hector, sometimes on the rigging, and still oftener looking after the gear of the whale boats and the supplies which were being rapidly gathered together in readiness for the day when the bark would be ready for sea. It was a never-ending wonder to the boys to find what an enormous quantity of stores were required. As Tom put it, there was enough to supply a city and they could not believe that such a vast amount was necessary. Indeed, when the boys came to total up the lists of stores which they checked off, they discovered there were over seven hundred different articles and that the total cost was nearly one hundred thousand dollars. It seemed a stupendous undertaking to stow all this away and the ship itself appeared a hopeless tangle of rigging, fittings and odds and ends. But gradually order came from chaos. The Hector was spick and span with a fresh coat of paint; her tall, tapering spars rose high above the docks; her massive yards were in place; her rigging taut and well tarred; and, at last one day, a fussy, little tug came hurrying across the harbor, and with a huge, new flag flying from her mizzen gaff and strings of bright bunting everywhere, the stout old ship was towed from her berth and moored in the stream. To the elated boys, standing upon the clean, smooth decks it seemed impossible that the stately vessel whose shining masts and spars towered above their heads could be the same weather-beaten, dingy, dilapidated hulk which for so long had lain upon the mud flat and had formed a playground for them and their comrades.

Soon lighters were alongside; the countless stores were rapidly put aboard; the immense sails were bent to the yards; and all was ready for the voyage, save the crew.

Old Cap’n Pem had had his hands full getting enough men together to man the ship and do the work when they reached the hunting grounds, and he vowed, that never in all his experience had he seen such a good-for-nothing, worthless lot of human derelicts as the sharks had offered him.

“Bet ye, ye’ll see some fun when we git out o’ soundin’s an’ start to break ’em in,” he declared. “Mebbe ye boys think as I’m a mighty easy-goin’ ol’ cuss but I reckon ye’ll think I’m a snortin’, tough ol’ bucko mate when we git to sea. Treat ’em rough’s the only way ter handle of ’em. Ain’t nary one of ’em thet knows a marlin spike from a scuttle-butt I’ll bet.”

“Why, aren’t they sailors?” asked Jim.

“Sailors!” cried the old whaleman. “Sailors! Well I’ll be scuttled! Course they ain’t sailors. Why, bless your hearts, no whaler cap’n’d ship sailors if they paid their passage. Jest scum they be—gutter sweepin’s an’ bums on’y worse ’an usual ’cause o’ the war.”

“But if you don’t have sailors, how can you sail the bark?” asked Tom. “And why don’t you want sailors anyway?”

“The mates an’ the four boat steerers sail the ship,” explained the old fellow. “Thought I told ye all ’bout sech things long ago. An’ the cooper an’ steward lend a han’, providin’ they’re needed, an’ arter we’ve broke in the greenies they’ll han’le the ol’ bark. Why don’ we want sailor men? ’Cause sailors ain’t any use ’board a whaler. Fust place they growl an’ cause trouble, secon’ place they desart at the fust po’t an’ third place they won’t work fer lays. Now I gotter be a-gittin’ along an’ lookin’ arter things. The ol’ man’s given orders we’re a sailin’ at ebb tide to-morrer, so ye boys be on han’ before ten.”

Despite their eagerness to go on the cruise, and their excitement, still the boys felt a touch of homesickness and a lump in their throats as they bade good-by to their parents and their boy friends, the following morning, and realized that they would not see the quiet, shady streets of Fair Haven or their own comfortable homes for twelve long months or more.

When they reached the Hector they found Captain Edwards, the second mate, the four boat steerers, the cooper, the cook and a carpenter on board. The second mate, or officer, was a long, lanky, down-east fellow with a ghastly scar across one cheek and which they learned had been received when his ship had been sunk by a German U-boat a few months previously. The boat steerers were all Portuguese from the Cape Verde Islands; the cook was a coal-black negro from Jamaica; the cooper was a blond-headed Swede and the carpenter a tiny, dried-up, white-haired Irishman. Soon after the boys were aboard, two boats approached loaded with men and with old Cap’n Pem in the first. Running alongside, the men scrambled and clambered onto the deck and as they stared stupidly about, the boys thought they never had seen such a rough, unkempt, disreputable-looking lot of men. Sixteen in all, there was not one of their number who was not ragged and dirty. They were of every age, color and nationality from a tousled-headed, pop-eyed “boy” to a gray-headed, red-nosed, old rascal fully sixty, and several were negroes. But they had scant time to look about at their new surroundings for scarcely was the last one on board, before the second mate began to give orders, hustling the new hands about, and putting them to work, and while some were inclined to loaf and others were surly and answered back, the majority fell to and evidently did their best to follow instructions, although it was plain that the mate’s words held little meaning for them. Then the capstan was manned, a tug drew alongside and, as the boat steerers joined the men at the handspikes and walked the heavy cable in, their voices broke into the old, old chantey of Sally Brown:

“Oh, Sally Brown of New York City,
Aye Sally,—Sally Brown,
Of pretty Sal this is a ditty,
I’ll spend my money on Sally Brown!”

So sang the men as the great anchor rose slowly to the catheads, and a moment later, the tug’s propeller churned the water and the boys saw the docks and buildings of New Bedford slipping slowly astern. The crowd on the piers and moored ships shouted and waved hats and handkerchiefs. The tug gave a farewell toot and the boys’ voyage had begun.

CHAPTER III
THERE SHE BLOWS!

No sooner had the bark commenced to move down the harbor, than a magic change appeared to take place. At the wheel, one of the boat steerers stood staring ahead and deftly gave the spokes a twirl as he kept the Hector to the tug’s course. Back and forth on the quarter-deck strode Captain Edwards, hands behind back and hat pulled low over his eyes. At the break of the poop, stood old Cap’n Pem, his ancient, peaked cap jammed on one side of his head, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and his bushy brows drawn together in a frown. Below him, stood the lanky second officer, Mr. Kemp, barking out sharp, quick orders. From the galley, a slender column of smoke rose upwards, showing the cook was already at work. The crew were busy here and there under the directions of the boat steerers and the carpenter was wedging down a hatch cover. It was evident that strict discipline was now in order and the boys, resolved to do their part and to act as though they were bona fide members of the crew, commenced coiling down ropes that trailed across the decks. As they did so, Mr. Kemp grinned and Cap’n Pem winked at the skipper who stopped an instant in his stride to glance at the busy boys.

Then, Cap’n Pem’s voice roared out orders to loosen sails and the two boys, anxious to show their skill and knowledge, as well as their willingness, ran nimbly up the ratlines and were the first out on the yards. One by one the great topsails were unfurled and halliards were manned.

“They call me Hanging Johnny,
Away-e-Oh!
They call me Hanging Johnny,
So hang, boys, hang.”

Thus roared the men, and, as the boys joined in the chorus, the heavy yards rose slowly, the sails were sheeted home, and as the bark passed the harbor mouth and caught the fresh offshore wind, the tug cast off her lines, blew a parting blast on her whistle and the Hector, under her own canvas, headed towards the open sea.

The breeze was fair and steady and under topsails and to’gallant sails the bark swept smoothly on, a crinkle of white water under her forefoot, a yeasty wake trailing off astern and the soft hum of the wind in her taut rigging and great billowing sails. The boys, who had never been to sea except in steamers, thought they had never experienced anything so delightful as the sensation of sailing without the throb and noise of engines and the mess and dirt of smoke and cinders, and they were sure that they had never seen anything so beautiful as the huge, white sails straining at their braces, gleaming like silver in the sun, softly purple in the shadows and swaying majestically across the blue summer sky as the boys gazed upward at them in admiration.

Dim and hazy in the distance, were the hills and shores; a mere smudge of smoke marked New Bedford; to port lay Martha’s Vineyard; and straight ahead was the broad Atlantic.

But the two boys had been too well trained by Cap’n Pem to idle away the time admiring the pyramids of snowy sails overhead, or the gentle rise and fall of the deck beneath their feet, but busied themselves about the ship, coiling down ropes, explaining orders to the green crew, lending a hand here and there and making themselves generally useful. Presently, Mr. Kemp approached. “Mr. Potter’d like Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop to step aft,” he said.

For a moment the boys hesitated, puzzled, and then, despite every effort, laughed, for the officer’s formal method of addressing them struck them as very funny. They had never dreamed that they would be treated other than as boys and to be spoken to as officers was a distinct surprise.

Quickly recovering themselves, however, the two hurried to the poop where the old whaleman was standing.

“What is it, Cap’n Pem—?” began Tom, but he was instantly interrupted by the other. “Mr. Potter, sir!” corrected the old man with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, sir, what is it, sir?” inquired Tom, trying hard to hide a grin.

“Cap’n Edwards wants ye an’ Mr. Lathrop to git ready fer to take observations, sir,” replied Cap’n Pem. “He says as how he’d like fer ye two youngs—Oh, gosh-ding it all what’s ther use! I’ll be blowed ef I kin keep it up. Call me Cap’n Pem ef ye like. I’m a-goin’ ter call ye young scallywags or anythin’ else same’s I allers has. Well the ol’—Cap’n Edwards I mean—wants ter hev ye shoot the sun an’ work out the position so’s he kin see how much ye know. It’s pretty nigh eight bells now, so hustle down inter my cabin and fetch up them two sextants there, an’ git busy.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Potter!” chuckled Jimmy, as the two boys dived down the companionway.

Regaining the deck, the two boys took up positions and commenced squinting through their instruments, while the old whaleman watched them critically. Unnoticed by them, Captain Edwards also drew near, and even Mr. Kemp ceased swearing at his crew long enough to glance at the two, for it was a novel sight to see two boys standing on the poop of a whaleship and handling sextants like old hands.

“Eight bells!” cried Tom presently. “Eight bells!” echoed Jim, and at their words the eight mellow notes rang out from the bronze bell below.

Hurrying down to the cabin, the boys commenced to work out their latitude while, on deck, Cap’n Pem slapped his thigh and chuckled. “Han’led them sextants jes’ as well as me or you could!” he declared addressing the skipper. “Bet ye, ye kin depen’ on ’em jes’ as well as any orcifer ye’d find. Jes’ wait ’till they give ye their figgers. They’ll be purty clost to kerect or I’m a Dutchman!”

“Here are the figures and position, sir,” said Tom as he appeared from the companionway and handed two slips of paper to the captain.

Captain Edwards glanced at them and a satisfied smile spread over his wrinkled, tanned face. “Your longitude is right,” he said, “and there’s only thirty seconds difference in your two positions. Neither is out quite a minute—or less than a knot—and that’s mighty close work for the first observation you’ve ever taken aboard a ship at sea. You’ve done very well—er—Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop. From now on, you may consider yourselves as third and fourth officers and entitled to lays of one in fifty each. I shall expect you to take observations daily.”

“Told ye they’d be derned near _k_erect!” cried Cap’n Pem.

“But, captain, can’t we help with the work just the same, if we are officers?” asked Tom. “It’s lots of fun.”

The captain rubbed his chin reflectively. “Third and fourth mates usually have to work a bit,” he replied. “Yes, I guess ’twon’t ruin ship’s discipline if you’re boys most of the time and officers when I need you. But don’t get too familiar or friendly with the crew.”

“What in Sam Hill’s the matter now!” exclaimed Cap’n Pem a few moments later, when angry shouts from Mr. Kemp were heard.

Following their old friend to the break of the deck, the boys saw the second officer shaking his fists and yelling at a ragged man who stood before him with a vacant, noncomprehending expression on his face, and moving and wiggling his fingers in a curious manner.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Kemp?” called the captain.

The second mate turned and glanced up. “It’s this greenie, sir,” he replied. “Just up from the foc’sle, an’ jus’ stands here and looks silly, twiddlin’ his thumbs. Don’t answer back or nothin’ and won’t obey orders. Don’t know if it’s some new kind of jag or if he’s just plain crazy.”

“Aye tank he bane daf an’ doomb, sir,” put in the cooper, approaching and touching his cap. “Aye haf daf an’ doomb coosin bane twoggle fingers same vay. Mebbe Aye bane able talk mit him.”

“Reckon Ole’s right,” agreed Cap’n Pem.

“Try it and see, Swanson,” ordered the skipper.

Standing before the man, the cooper moved his big, knotted fingers, and instantly, a look of understanding passed over the other’s features and his hands moved swiftly.

Presently, the Swede turned towards the watching officers. “Yas,” he said “he bane daff an’ doomb. He say he bane shanghaied. He never bane sailor man before.”

“’Spect like enough he was shanghaied,” growled Cap’n Pem, “but we can’t help that none. What we goin’ fer to do with him, Cap’n? Blow me if I ever run afoul o’ a dummy han’ on a whaleship afore.”

“He can work just as well if he is deaf and dumb,” replied Captain Edwards.

“Yes, but how’n tarnation’s he goin’ fer ter take orders?” exploded the old whaleman. “’Twouldn’t do no harm if ev’ry one o’ the critters was dumb. Wish t’ they was. But a deaf han’ ain’t worth nothin’. Dern the shark what shipped him!”

“Swanson,” called the skipper, “take charge of this man. You’re the only one can talk to him. Teach him what you can and make him work at something, sharpening spades and irons, or anything else.”

No further incidents of note occurred during the day and the following morning the boys came on deck to find the Hector out of sight of land and rolling majestically to the long, blue swell of the ocean.

“Reckon this is a purty good day to begin breakin’ in the greenies,” remarked Cap’n Pem at breakfast. “Have the starboard boats cleared and ready to lower, Mr. Kemp. It’s mighty good weather for breakin’ of ’em in to the oars arter we’ve had a bit of a set-to with ’em in the riggin’.”

When they reached the deck, Cap’n Pem had Mr. Kemp summon the green men aft, and standing at the break of the poop, he gave them a short harangue on what was expected of them.

The boys felt really sorry for the men, for, with few exceptions, all were deathly seasick, and terribly frightened at their surroundings. Every time the bark rolled, they uttered doleful groans and clutched wildly at the nearest backstay or shroud, and when the old whaleman spoke of going aloft and the poor fellows glanced up at the soaring, lofty mastheads, their faces blanched with terror.

As Cap’n Pem finished speaking, the second mate ordered the men into the rigging. For an instant, they stood hesitating, terrified at the mere thought of climbing the ratlines rocking back and forth to the roll of the bark. But as Mr. Kemp started towards them, a rope’s end in one hand and a belaying pin in the other, the men fled before him, and flattening themselves against the shrouds, crawled up for a few feet above the deck. Only two went further, the pop-eyed youth who the boys had noticed and a huge, gorillalike negro, both of whom ran nimbly to the to’gallant crosstrees and seated themselves as comfortably as if they had been sailors all their lives.

Only one man had remained on deck, a gray-headed old reprobate. “Here you!” yelled Mr. Kemp with an oath, “Get aloft there and be durned quick about it!”

“Not a bit!” replied the old fellow insolently. “’Tis none av thim monkey shines Oi’ll be afther tryin’, an’ me wid me wooden lig!”

The second mate, who had started forward with belaying pin raised threateningly, stopped short and dropped his arm. “Well I’ll be—,” he began and then, turning, he shouted, “Mister Potter, here’s another of ’em—first a dummy an’ next a timber leg! Them sharks must have thought we was a floatin’ horspittel!”

“What’s that ye’re sayin’?” shouted old Pem. “What’s this erbout a timber leg?”

“This old cove here,” explained the other, “says as how he can’t go aloft cause he’s got a wooden leg.”

Old Pem was fairly bristling. “Sojerin’!” he yelled. “Git erloft there, ye ol’ bum!” and then, forgetting himself in his excitement, he added, “Ye ain’t no more one-legged than I be!”

“B’gorra Oi’d be hopin’ not,” burst out the other. “Faith, an’ Oi’d like to see yez a shinnyin’ up thim ropes wid a lig like this, ye ould omathon!”

As he spoke, he drew up his trouser leg and exhibited the artificial limb beneath.

“Sass me back, will ye!” roared the old whaleman, purple with rage. “By blastarnation, ef ye wasn’t a cripple I’d skin ye alive!”

“Cripple yerself,” shouted back the other. “Come down out of that an’ Oi’ll lick the stuffin’ out av yez, ye ould shellback!”

The boys fully expected to see Cap’n Pem dash down to the deck and rush at the impudent old fellow, but instead, he suddenly doubled up and roared with hearty laughter.

“I’ll be keelhauled!” he cried. “Ef this isn’t the dod-gastedest crew what ever sailed on a whale ship. Reckon misery loves comp’ny. Two timber-legs an’ a dummy! Mr. Kemp, muster them hands aft an’ see how many more derelicts ye’ve got ermong ’em.”

Grinning at the comical scene they had just witnessed, the crew gathered about and the second officer went over them one by one, questioning them, pounding them on backs and chests, slapping their arms and legs and ordering them to run and jump about, while, on the poop, the two boys and old Pem, as well as the skipper, stood and watched the procedure with amusement. Presently the second mate turned. “Here’s a chap with a glass eye,” he announced, indicating a sallow-faced, little man, “but I guess t’others are all sound.”

“Reckon so long’s his other eye’s good he don’t matter,” said Pem. “Go on with yer men, Mr. Kemp an’ put that one-legged ol’ shamrock to deck work till we’re ready fer the boats. Mebbe he’ll do fer a shipkeeper anyhow.”

For several hours, the “greenies” were kept on the jump, compelled to climb the rigging to the topsail yards, taught the standing and running rigging, made to understand what to do when an order was given. But while they were, as Cap’n Pem had put it, “treated rough,” there was none of the real brutality shown which the boys had expected from the tales they had heard and read of whalers. Indeed, both Tom and Jim agreed that Mr. Kemp was wonderfully patient and the few blows that were struck did not appear to trouble the tough crew in the least. When Tom spoke of this to Captain Edwards the latter remarked that such treatment as they were receiving was probably far gentler than anything they had ever experienced before.

Strangely enough too, the active work appeared completely to cure the men of seasickness, while their first terror of going aloft was rapidly overcome, although they still hugged the shrouds and held on with might and main whenever the bark rolled.

The boys were much amused at Cap’n Pem, for the old whaleman had painted himself as a hard-fisted, slave-driving mate when at sea, whereas, in reality, he was far easier on the men than the second officer, and several times he cautioned the latter against using unnecessary violence.

“This ’ere ain’t no ol’ time whaleship,” he cried. “I’ve seed a-plenty o’ bulldozin’, bucko mates an’ I tell ye ’tain’t no use to smash a man up. Might jes’ as well let ’em take their time a’ larnin’ as to spend it mendin’ of a busted leg or stove-in head. Course, if any of ’em needs it, ye can give ’em a good lickin’. They gotter know who’s boss, but we don’ want broken bones nor murder.”

At last, the second mate seemed satisfied with what he had accomplished and ordered the topsail backed, and as the bark was hove-to and rested motionless on the sea, the two starboard boats were lowered and the green hands were ordered into them. Even the one-legged Irishman was compelled to embark, although he protested vigorously. With two of the boat steerers in each boat and with Mr. Kemp in charge of one and Cap’n Pem in the stern of the other, the fun began. Not a man in the crowd, with the exception of the boy and the big negro, both of whom had evidently served on ships before, had ever touched or handled an oar in their lives. And when, under the orders of the two mates, the fellows attempted to pick up and use the heavy ash oars, the result was so comical that the two boys burst into peals of laughter and even Captain Edwards chuckled. Constantly fouling one another’s oars, catching crabs, losing their oars overboard and getting in one another’s way, the men struggled valiantly and apparently thought it a regular lark. Indeed, after their terrifying session with the rigging, their instruction in boat handling must have seemed mere child’s play, and at each mishap the men roared and made fun of each other. Moreover, the mates and boat steerers took the matter good-naturedly, making biting and sarcastic remarks, but patiently striving to teach their men how to row. Much to the boys’ surprise, the crowd of human derelicts did wonderfully well, and after an hour’s work, managed to conquer the oars sufficiently to keep fairly good time with their strokes and actually to propel the big, thirty-foot whaleboats.

Very soon the breeze freshened, a choppy sea began to rise and the boats were hoisted to the big wooden davits, the yards were swung and the Hector plunged onward through the deep-blue waves towards the distant Azores.

Thereafter, on every calm day, the boat drill was continued, and day after day, the men were sent aloft and taught to furl and reef sails, to swing the yards, to tail onto braces, sheets and halliards and to do the thousand and one things necessary to the handling of a square-rigged vessel. Most of the men learned rapidly, after they had once overcome their landsman’s dread of going aloft, and while a few were so utterly lacking in intelligence that they couldn’t learn the difference between a “main brace and a belaying pin,” as Mr. Kemp put it, yet all learned to handle the boats and seemed to take keen enjoyment in this part of the work, each boat’s crew constantly striving to outdo the other and holding hard fought races whenever opportunity offered. Moreover, the men had improved vastly in appearance. They had grown brown and strong; their muscles had developed; they had discarded their dirty shore rags for clean dungarees and went about lightly and surefootedly on newly acquired “sea legs” in their bare feet. From the boat steerers and mates, they had learned a number of chanteys and whalemen’s songs and whenever any work was done, the deep bass of the big negro, Sam, could be heard leading the chorus of some old-time, deep water chantey.

A few days after they had dropped land from sight, the captain had a man constantly perched on the topgallant crosstrees, keenly scanning the horizon, and Cap’n Pem explained to the boys that they were likely at any time to sight a sperm whale and that the skipper had no intention of letting one slip by.

“Sparm ’ile’s mighty high,” said the old man, “’an sperm’ceti’s higher an’ t’ain’t no use a lettin’ good dollars slip by. ’Sides, this ere gang’s gotter be taught whalin’ an’ the sooner the better.”

The two boys also took turns at maintaining a lookout from the crosstrees, each filled with hopes of being the first to sight a whale. But the days slipped by, vast beds of yellow “sargassum” or “gulf weed” dotted the indigo sea and the bark was rapidly approaching the islands and no sign of a whale had been seen.

Then, one day, as Tom swept his eyes about the vast circle of restless water, he caught a glimpse of a faint, indistinct mist rising a few feet above the sea, like the spray from a breaking wave. The next moment, a vast, black object lifted for an instant in the trough of a sea and, at the top of his lungs, Tom shouted: “There she blows!”

Scarcely were the words uttered, when all was excitement below and Cap’n Pem’s voice bellowed, “Where away?”

“About three points on the port bow,” shouted Tom.

Then followed a moment of breathless waiting, with all eyes strained in the direction Tom had indicated, until once more the tiny column of vapor rose in air and the whale’s flukes showed for a brief moment before he sounded.

CHAPTER IV
A NARROW ESCAPE

No sooner had the whale been sighted than all was bustle and hurry. Orders rang out sharply and rapidly; the men sprang to their tasks; the great yards swung and the bark was hove-to; and, in an incredibly short space of time, two boats had been lowered and were fairly racing across the waves, propelled by the five huge oars in each.

The two boys were woefully disappointed at not being allowed in the boats; but they realized that they would only be in the way, and that in the serious and dangerous attack on the whale, they had no place. From their perch on the crosstrees, however, they had a splendid view of all that was going on, and watched, fascinated, as the boats rapidly drew near the whale which was now swimming lazily along the surface of the sea. Presently, the boys saw the Portuguese boat steerer in Cap’n Pem’s boat, draw in his oar and step to the bow of the boat where, with hair tossing in the wind and naked to the waist, he stood with the heavy harpoon, or “iron,” poised and ready to strike. To the waiting boys it seemed as if the boat was about to bump into the immense, black bulk of the whale which rose, like the bottom of a capsized ship, far above the tiny boat. Closer and closer drew the little craft, the boys with bated breath watching every move and expecting each instant to see the iron dart forward and bury itself in the monster, when, without warning, the enormous flukes rose high in air, the whale disappeared in a boil of green and white foam, and with a crash that reached the boys’ ears, the mighty flukes struck the sea and hid the boat in a shower of spray.

“Sounded, by gum!” shouted Captain Edwards from the poop.

“Yah, he bane sound!” echoed the cooper. “But aye tank Mr. Potter bane get him yust da same.”

The two boats now rested motionless, waiting for the reappearance of the whale, every man with bent back ready to give way the instant their quarry “breached”; the boat steerers in the bows standing like bronze statues, and old Cap’n Pem in one boat and the second mate in the other grasping their enormous steering oars and peering intently ahead. Even before the boys saw the faint column of vapor that marked the rising whale, they saw the mate’s boat leap forward, and as the bulk of the creature’s body broke through the water, the iron flashed forward and buried itself in the whale’s side.

“Fast!” yelled the captain.

Instantly, the boat steerer sprang back, Cap’n Pem dropped his oar and scrambled nimbly forward, the boat steerer seized the oar and took the mate’s place and old Cap’n Pem crouched in the bow.

Then commenced such an exciting scene as the boys had never dreamed of. Hardly had the two men changed places in the boat when the whale threw himself bodily from the sea, a veritable giant of a creature, snapping his enormous jaws together as he did so, and the next second he was off like an express train, while behind him, the frail boat tore through the sea in a cloud of foam as it was hurtled by the terrified mountain of flesh to which it was fast. Straight away the huge creature sped, until the boat was a mere speck upon the horizon.

“Keep ’em in sight, lads! Keep ’em in sight!” yelled Captain Edwards, and leaping to the shrouds, he climbed quickly aloft and stood beside them on the crosstrees.

“Sounded again!” he exclaimed presently, and then, “headin’ this way!” Rapidly now the boat increased in size with the threshing flukes of the cetacean now and then visible, and headed apparently directly for the Hector.

As he approached the other whaleboat, the men bent to their oars, the craft leaped towards the stricken whale and as he rushed by, within a score of feet another iron was hurled and with both boats fast the whale sped on. But the second iron from Mr. Kemp’s boat had turned him in his mad course and he tore past the stern of the Hector within fifty feet—so close, in fact, that the boys could see the expressions on the men’s faces, could see the gear within the boats and caught the sound of Cap’n Pem’s shout as the gallant old whaleman waved a hand and yelled up to them.

“Derned near rammed us!” exclaimed the skipper. “Would have if Kemp hadn’t struck and turned him!”

Scarcely had he spoken when, so suddenly that the two boats overran the spot where he had been an instant before, the whale sounded and as the line rushed out through the bow-chock until it smoked, the tub-oarsmen doused it with water and Cap’n Pem and the second mate seized the ever-ready hatchets and held them poised to cut the lines in case of need. Everything now was taking place close to the ship and the watchers on the crosstrees seemed to look directly down into the two boats. Fathom after fathom of the line whirred over the boat’s bows as the whale dived straight for the ocean bottom and it seemed as if the whole three hundred fathoms in each boat would be exhausted ere the creature ceased sounding.

Then, to the watchers’ ears, came Cap’n Pem’s shout of “haul line!” and rapidly as hands could work, the dripping hemp was drawn in and coiled in its tub, and the boys, realizing the whale was coming up, watched breathlessly for his appearance. Suddenly he breached so close to the ship that, as he spouted, the spray drifted across the bark’s decks and the vessel rolled to the wave he created as he reared his gigantic head far above the sea and brought it crashing down. Then for a space, he lay quiet, and silently and cautiously the mate’s boat drew closer and closer to the monster and the boys held their breath as they saw Cap’n Pem grasp the long, keen lance and they realized that the old whaleman, disdaining new-fangled methods, planned to kill the whale by the old-fashioned lance which must actually be shoved into the animal’s side.

“Dern him!” whispered the captain. “Why don’t the old fool use the bomb lance? Does he want to be stove?”

Now the frail boat was within a few feet of the wounded whale. Cap’n Pem straightened up, grasped the lance firmly, braced himself, leaned slightly forward and, with a sudden lurch and a grunt which was audible to those on the bark, he drove the long-bladed lance deep into the creature’s side. Instantly, with a sweep of the oars, the boat darted back, and not a second too soon. Lashing the waves into a churning, boiling, seething mass of froth and foam, spouting blood which reddened the sea, lifting his great flukes and smashing them down in thunderous crashes, rearing his stupendous head and dropping it like a falling house, snapping, biting, sweeping to right and left with his immense jaw with its row of gleaming teeth, the whale went into his death flurry. Dodging the sweeps of his flukes, escaping by a hair’s breadth the terrible jaws, tossed about like chips on the crimson waves raised by the writhing titan beside them, the boats’ crews strove like madmen to preserve their lives and boats, while the skipper shouted and screamed from the crosstrees. The boys’ hearts beat like trip-hammers and the men on deck yelled in excitement. Then, with a final, convulsive shudder, the gigantic creature rolled over and lay still. From the boat came the glad, triumphant cry of “Fin out!” the whale was dead. Grabbing his old cap from his head, Cap’n Pem looked up and waved it towards the captain and the boys in the crosstrees, his features flushed with excitement and victory, a broad grin on his face.

“Reckon I ain’t fergot how ter kill a whale, eh, boys!” he shouted. “Ain’t had so much sport fer twenty year!”

The excitement was now over, and climbing down from their lofty perch, the boys went to the bark’s starboard rail and watched the process of getting the dead whale alongside. Quickly and deftly the two boats’ crews worked, getting a chain around the dead whale’s flukes, while, aboard the bark, spades and blubber hooks, hoisting tackle, cutting tackle and the other appliances for cutting in the whale were being made ready. The carpenter and his assistants were busy rigging the cutting stage to be slung under the ship’s gangway. The huge kettles for boiling the blubber were brought out, shavings and wood were placed in the try works ready for firing, and by the time the carcass of the whale was alongside, everything was in readiness for cutting in the blubber. Leaping onto the whale, one of the boat steerers quickly cut a hole in the blubber between the whale’s eye and his fin and in this, inserted a huge, iron hook attached to a tackle which led up to the mast. Then, standing upon the cutting stage, the men, armed with their long-handled spades, prepared to start the work. At this moment, the deaf mute, who had been sent aloft to clear the tackle, came down the shrouds with a rush, and unceremoniously yanking the busy Swanson from his work, whirled him about and began gesticulating wildly.

“Hi there!” yelled Cap’n Pem. “Get that dumb fool outer here. What’s he a thinkin’ on?”

“Yaas, sir,” replied the big Swede. “He say dere bane whale yust off der quvarter.”

“He does!” exclaimed the mate. “Run aloft, Mr. Kemp, an’ see if he knows what he’s a-talkin’ erbout.”

Reaching the crosstrees, the second officer glanced rapidly around and the next instant his startled shout caused every one to drop work and tools and scramble to the decks.

“Whale!” screamed Mr. Kemp. “It’s a German sub!”

With anxious faces the crew scrambled up the rigging, striving to get a glimpse of the U-boat while the boys and Cap’n Pem rushed to the after deck where Captain Edwards already stood, searching the sea with his glasses.

For a space the boys could see nothing and then Jim’s sharp eyes caught the slender periscope of the underseas boat and the tiny trail of white behind it.

“There ’tis, Tom! Look! Just beside that big patch of weed!” he cried.

“Dern their dirty hides!” exclaimed old Pem. “Fetch me a bomb lance, boys. I’ll show ’em!”

“No!” commanded the captain, “we can do nothing. Possibly they may spare us if they see we are a whaleship and have no oil aboard. Get the other boats over, Mr. Potter. If we’re sunk we have enough boats to save all hands, thank Heaven.”

Turning, the mate bawled the orders to the crew, and, badly frightened as they were, and realizing their helplessness, the men flew about the work of getting more boats in the water. Meanwhile, the submarine had gradually emerged from the water and now floated with her deck awash, and her conning tower and superstructure well above the sea. Presently, from a hatchway, a uniformed figure appeared, stared at the Hector through his glasses for a space and raised a megaphone to his lips. Then, thin but clear across the intervening sea, the anxious watchers on the bark heard the fateful words, “Take to your poats! We’re apout to sink dot shib!”

Panic-stricken, the crew rushed to the waiting whaleboats and commenced to pile into them, the Portuguese and negroes leading, and all fighting and striking in a mad attempt to be first to reach a place of safety, for, while fearless in attacking the giants of the seas and cheerfully facing death a dozen times a day in the pursuit of their calling, yet these men were terrified out of all reason at the thought of being blown to atoms by a torpedo. There were more than enough boats for all, but like frightened sheep, the men all dashed for one boat. Hurrying to the deck, the captain and mates strove to restore order, shouting, and threatening, but all to no avail. The men were insane with terror. And then, suddenly, a wild figure sprang among them, gray hair flying, eyes blazing, a boarding-knife in one hand, a heavy iron bar in the other.

It was the one-legged Irishman, and before his impetuous onslaught the crowd fell back.

“Wan at a toime, ye spalpeens!” he screeched. “Take it aisy now! B’gorra ye’re a foine bunch! Shure there’s enough boats an’ to sphare! Tumble into thim in order now—six in aich, mind ye, an’ Oi’ll shtick the furst thot rushes! Howly St. Pathrick, but it’s foine cowards, yez arre! Shure ’tis no sinse ye have, at all, at all!”

Presently the boats were manned, the doughty little Irishman clambered into one with the two boys and Cap’n Pem at his heels. Mr. Kemp took his place in another and Captain Edwards, last to leave the bark, leaped into the third as painters were cast loose and the men bent to their oars. Scarcely had they taken a dozen strokes from the doomed ship when there was a deafening explosion. An upleaping mountain of water enveloped the Hector, and the next moment the boats were almost swamped in a descending avalanche of water, blood, flesh and blubber.

Frightened, dazed, choking and spluttering the boys looked about. Rocking to the force of the explosion, with water pouring in cataracts from her scuppers, but apparently unhurt, the bark towered above the sea.

“Well I’ll be—,” began Cap’n Pem, but his words were cut in twain by a shout from Mr. Kemp.

“Destroyer a-comin’!” he yelled.

Instantly, all eyes were turned from the bark to where, half-hidden by the great bow-wave thrown up by her passage, and with black smoke belching from her four funnels, a lean, gray destroyer came tearing through the sea. Leaping to their feet, tossing hats in air, waving their ponderous oars, the men cheered wildly and then, realizing that the Hector was still afloat and that all danger from the submarine was over, they swung their craft about and pulled madly back to their ship. Even before they had gained the bark’s side they were tossing on the wake of the rushing destroyer, and, in rapid succession, came the heavy detonations of her depth-bombs.

Clambering over the Hector’s side, the boys and men gazed about in amazement, for the moment utterly at a loss to understand by what miracle the ship was still afloat. Then, rushing to the gangway, old Cap’n Pem gave one glance over the side and let out a lusty shout. “Well, I’ll be blowed!” he yelled. “I’ll everlastin’ly be keelhauled! Derned if that critter didn’t save the ship! They jes’ blowed the whale to smithereens!”

Every one hurried to his side and peered over. It was perfectly true. The torpedo had struck the whale, blowing it into a thousand fragments, scattering blubber, flesh and blood over decks, sails and sea, but leaving the bark uninjured. The mountain of meat and bone had saved the ship! As they stood speechless, awed into silence by the miraculous escape of the bark, no one noticed the destroyer, which had drawn near, until a hail from her bridge reached their ears.

“Bark ahoy!” shouted an officer. “Shall we stand by? Are you badly injured?”

Captain Edwards cupped his hands and was about to reply, but before he could speak old Pem sprang onto the rail, and grasping a backstay with one hand shook his fist at the spot where he had last seen the submarine. “No!” he roared. “No, by heck! We ain’t hurt none, but them sneakin’ thieves jes’ robbed us out o’ a hund’ed bar’ls o’ ’ile!”

The tension was broken, every one roared with laughter and even the destroyer’s officers shook with mirth at the old whaleman’s words.

“Did you get the sub?” shouted Captain Edwards when the merriment subsided.

“Can’t be sure,” came back the answer. “There’s so darned much whale oil on the water, there’s no way to tell. The sea’s slicked with grease for half a mile round. Want us to convoy you to Fayal?”

“Guess not,” yelled back the skipper. “Reckon you scared ’em off if you didn’t get ’em. Guess we’ll risk it.”

“All right, then,” replied the other. “Better not loaf about after whales, though. Two or three subs about and you’re easy game hove-to. Good luck!”

A moment later, the destroyer was tearing towards the west, and by the time the Hector’s yards were squared and she was once more on her course, a mere smudge on the horizon was all that marked the little craft which had arrived on the scene in the nick of time.

CHAPTER V
STRANGE VISITORS

Four days after their exciting experience with the U-boat the boys saw the hazy blue mountains of the Azores looming above the horizon, and all through the day they watched with intense interest as the beautiful panorama of the islands was spread before them. But the winds were light and baffling in the lee of the land, and it was daylight the next morning when, at last, the bark dropped anchor in the harbor of Fayal. Here, Captain Edwards was to take on fresh vegetables and fruits, and he hoped also to obtain additional men, for while he had enough for ordinary whaling it was his intention to land parties on several of the far southern islands and to have enough to insure a large catch of sea elephants and a full cargo of oil as quickly as possible, in order that he might return to New Bedford while the high price of oil still prevailed.

As the bark was to be in port several days, the two boys had a splendid opportunity to see the town and the island, and as soon as the port formalities were over, they were pulled ashore in one of the boats with Cap’n Pem accompanying them.

It took some little time for Tom and Jim to become accustomed to the feeling of solid ground under their feet once more, and both were highly amused at the strange sensations they underwent as they walked up the quaint, old street leading from the quay. After many days of constantly pitching and rolling decks, which had become so familiar to them that they seemed perfectly natural and steady, the two boys were surprised to find that the street appeared to roll and toss, and they staggered along like drunken men. Cap’n Pem remarked that they had not got their “land legs” yet and he vowed that many a time, after a long voyage, he had been deathly “land-sick” when he first went ashore.

The picturesque town, with its old world buildings, narrow, steep streets, jutting balconies and brilliant color, fascinated the boys who had never before been away from the States, and they grew wildly excited over the feathery, waving palms, the luscious tropical fruits and the many strange sights which greeted them at every turn. Cap’n Pem, who had visited the islands many times, showed them all the sights about the town and took them on a long jaunt through the lovely island with its neatly kept fruit orchards and gardens, its lofty green mountains, its tumbling cataracts and its rich valleys. Then, at last, the time came to leave, and with a dozen more men added to the crew and with an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, live poultry and sheep and with every available cask filled with fresh, spring water, the Hector’s anchor was weighed, the great white sails were spread and the bark quickly dropped Fayal astern.

Heeling to the fresh trade wind, with every sail set, with a smother of foam sweeping past her lee rail and a turquoise wake stretching far astern, the gallant old ship plunged southward, burying her staunch, bluff bows to the catheads in the blue sea, shaking tons of water from her streaming decks as she lifted to the long Atlantic rollers; every sheet, brace and sail straining and her taut rigging humming like harp strings.

“Like ter see one o’ them derned submarines cotch us now!” chuckled old Pem, as the boys, fascinated by the sight, gazed alternately at the great pyramids of canvas and the swiftly passing foam to leeward.

“What’s she making!” asked Tom.

The old whaleman glanced aloft and then astern. “Reckon ’bout ten knots,” he replied.

“And a sub can make over twenty,” laughed Jim. “I hope we don’t see one.”

“Wall, o’ course I ’spose they could cotch us,” admitted old Pem, “but I’ll be blowed if I don’t wisht I’d tried a bomb lance on that there chap back there. Bet I could a-fetched him! Reckon them boats ain’t no tougher than a bull sparm whale.”

“Next time we see one we’ll ask Captain Edwards to lower a boat and let you tackle it with an iron and a lance,” laughed Tom, “but I’ll bet you won’t get a boat’s crew to go with you.”

“Jes’ the same,” argued the old whaleman, “ye got ter admit I saved the ship. Ef I hadn’t a killed that there whale an’ got him ’longside where’d we been, eh?”

Captain Edwards, who had approached unseen, laughed. “I expect one-legged Mike would claim he saved us,” he remarked. “At any rate, he showed the stuff that’s in him and that he can handle men. I’m going to make him bo’sun.”

Cap’n Pem scratched his head. “Derned if I ever heard tell o’ a one-legged bo’sun,” he declared. “Jes’ the same, I never heard tell o’ a peg-legged mate afore, neither. Reckon ye might as well keep it up. Sort o’ got the habit I reckon.”

Day after day, the wind held steady and the bark tore on under full sail with never a hand laid to sheet, brace or tackle, and day after day, the drilling of the men continued, until it seemed to the boys that there could be nothing more for them to learn. They had been taught the running and standing rigging; they had been forced aloft until all but one or two could straddle the royal yards or cling to the swaying, heaving footropes “with their toe nails” as Mr. Kemp put it; and when all this had been mastered, they were kept busy at splicing, making chafing-gear, serving and parcelling, taring down and a thousand and one other jobs on deck. And in this work, the wooden-legged bo’sun, Mike, proved himself invaluable. For while he could not go aloft, yet, he seemed to know everything else about a ship even better than old Pem himself. Then one day, the truth came out, and while talking with the boys, for whom he had developed a great fondness, he divulged the fact that for many years he had served in the navy, and that he had lost his leg in the battle of Manila on Admiral Dewey’s flagship.

“Knowed he was a sailor man all the time,” declared Cap’n Pem when the boys told him the news. “Couldn’t fool me! Jes’ as soon’s I seed him grab a han’ spike, I knowed it.”

“Well, what’s dumb Pete?” laughed Jim, “and one-eyed Ned? I suppose you’ll say you knew they were sailors, too!”

“Nope,” chuckled the old whaleman, “never will be. Dunno what Pete wuz, but he’s a fust class blacksmith now. Reckon Ned wuz a sojer.”

Several times, whales were sighted and boats were lowered in chase, for the Hector was out of the track of regular trade and the captain had little fear of meeting hostile U-boats, but luck seemed to be against the whalemen and no catch was made.

“Ain’t a mite s’prised ’ile’s so high,” declared Cap’n Pem. “Never did see sparm whales so skittish—git gallied soon’s we lower away. Reckon they’re skeered o’ the war.”

“Been shot at too much,” vouchsafed Mr. Kemp. “Every chaser an’ destroyer that sighted a whale took pot shots at ’em, thinkin’ they might be subs.”

But whatever the reason, the whales proved so universally shy that at last the skipper vowed he’d not lower for another, even if it scratched its back against the bark’s planking, and gave all his attention to hurrying towards his distant goal.

The Cape Verde Islands had been left far astern, the bark for several days had been drifting almost motionless upon a polished, oil-like sea with idle sails flapping and tackles creaking as the ship rolled to an invisible swell, and the boys’ observations told them they were nearing the equator. Then one morning, they noticed that something mysterious was going on among the crew. They gathered in little knots and conversed in low tones and more than once the men approached Mr. Kemp, or the one-legged bo’sun, and after a few words, went away grinning.

“What are the men up to?” Tom asked their old friend, Cap’n Pem. “If they weren’t so good-natured and didn’t talk to Mr. Kemp and old Mike I’d think they were planning a mutiny.”

The old whaleman chuckled. “Don’t ye go askin’ too many questions,” he replied. “Reckon ye’ll know long ’bout day arter to-morrer.” And despite teasing and questioning, the old man refused to say anything more. The boys then turned their attention to the bo’sun and Mr. Kemp, but with no better results, and every time they started to go forward Cap’n Pem or the second mate found some reason for calling them aft.

They were still wondering about it, and watching the crew from the break of the after deck, two days later, when muffled cries and grunts were heard and the crew rushed forward and peered over the rail. The next moment, a weird figure appeared clambering up the bark’s side as if he had just emerged from the sea. A long, tow-colored beard descended to his waist, his long hair fell over his shoulders, his blue togalike gown was dripping water and covered with bits of seaweed, while upon his head was a golden crown and in one hand he held a three-pronged spear.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Jim. “Who on earth is that?”

“Derned if ’tain’t old Father Neptune hisself!” cried Cap’n Pem who stood near. “Reckon he’s come aboard ter ’nitiate ev’ry one what’s never crossed the line afore.”

Following close at Neptune’s heels came two other figures, one, a huge black man bearing an immense wooden razor, the other dressed as a woman wearing a crown and carrying a trident. Surrounded by the crew Neptune approached the after deck, where Captain Edwards had now joined the boys and the mates, and addressing the skipper, declared that he had come aboard to initiate those who never before had crossed the equator, and asked the captain’s permission to proceed with the ceremony. While he was speaking, a number of men had appeared, all dressed in grotesque costumes, and had placed a huge tub of water, a chair and a pail on the deck. Immediately the fun began. Seizing one of those who stood nearest, two of Neptune’s retinue dragged him to the chair and held him firmly in place despite his struggles, while a third liberally plastered his face with the thick flour paste from the pail. Then the negro with the razor stepped forward and with slashing strokes, “shaved” the protesting initiate, whereupon his chair was abruptly tipped up and he was tumbled headlong into the tub of water.

Every one roared with laughter, in which the spluttering victim joined, and Neptune’s assistants started for the next man. But the crew were now prepared and ran and dodged about the decks and up the rigging until one slipped and fell, to be immediately pounced upon and carried to the “barber.” With all their attention centered on the comical sight and almost choking with laughter, the boys had failed to notice two men who had stealthily approached, until they were suddenly grabbed, and with loud shouts of glee from their captors, were carried to the deck.

They had already noticed that those who protested and struggled the most received the greatest attention from the barber and so, wisely deciding to make the best of it and take their turns good naturedly, they submitted without resistance. Partly owing to this, and partly to the fact that they were mere boys and belonged aft, they were treated to a mere dab of the paste brush and a single stroke of the razor and were carefully ducked only to their ears in the tub.

As nearly all members of the crew were “greenies” who had never been to sea before, it took several hours to capture and initiate all, but at last it was over and Neptune’s “daughter” handed each one a card bearing the name of the bark and the date, and certifying that the holder had been duly initiated and enrolled by Father Neptune.

Captain Edwards then ordered refreshments served all around, the decks were cleared, and throughout the day, the men frolicked and skylarked to their hearts’ content while those on the after deck roared with laughter at their antics or applauded vigorously as some one started a chantey or a whaleman’s song to the music of a violin and a concertina with all hands joining in the chorus. The boys vowed it was as good as any vaudeville show they had ever seen. Even Captain Edwards dropped his accustomed dignity and gravity to join in the hilarity, and calling to the mate, cried out, “Give ’em a real good whaleman’s song, Pem. Fun’s over at eight bells and it’s pretty near that now.”

“Blowed ef I will,” replied Cap’n Pem. “Ain’t sang a derned word fer years. Give ’em one yerself Hen.”

“All right, Pem,” laughed the skipper, “I’ll give ’em one if you’ll give ’em another. That’s fair. Go ahead, Pem, yours first.”

“Wall,” muttered the old whaleman, “reckon ef the Cap’n tells me to, I’ve gotter do it.” Walking to the break of the deck, he raised his hand, cleared his throat and commenced to roar out the words of a famous old whaling song. Instantly the men were hushed and motionless, listening to his deep, bass voice as he sang:

Come, all ye bold seamen who are cruising for sparm.
Come, all ye jolly, bold seamen that have rounded Cape Horn,
For our cap’n has told us, an’ we hope he says true,
That there’s plenty o’ sparm whales on the coast o’ Peru.