Part 4 (1/2)
”Hand me an iron and line, Bob,” said Tom, looking up at me. ”I've got a spite agin that feller. He's been up twice already. Ah! hand it down here, and two or three of ye stand by to hold on by the line.
There he comes, the big villain!”
The shark came close to the side of the whale at that moment, and Tom sent the harpoon right down his throat.
”Hold on hard,” shouted Tom.
”Aye, aye,” replied several of the men as they held on to the line, their arms jerking violently as the savage fish tried to free itself.
We quickly reeved a line through a block at the fore yard-arm, and hauled it on deck with much difficulty. The scene that followed was very horrible, for there was no killing the brute. It threshed the deck with its tail, and snapped so fiercely with its tremendous jaws, that we had to keep a sharp look-out lest it should catch hold of a leg. At last its tail was cut off, the body cut open, and all the entrails' taken out, yet even after this it continued to flap and thresh about the deck for some time, and the heart continued to contract for twenty minutes after it was taken out and pierced with a knife.
I would not have believed this had I not seen it with my own eyes. In case some of my readers may doubt its truth, I would remind them how difficult it is to kill some of those creatures with which we are all familiar. The common worm, for instance, may be cut into a number of small pieces, and yet each piece remains alive for some time after.
The skin of the shark is valued by the whalemen, because, when cleaned and dry, it is as good as sand-paper, and is much used in polis.h.i.+ng the various things they make out of whales' bones and teeth.
When the last piece of blubber had been cut off our whale, the great chain that held it to the s.h.i.+p's side was cast off, and the now useless carca.s.s sank like a stone, much to the sorrow of some of the smaller birds, which, having been driven away by their bigger comrades, had not fed so heartily as they wished perhaps! But what was loss to the gulls was gain to the sharks, which could follow the carca.s.s down into the deep and devour it at their leisure.
”Now, lads,” cried the mate, when the remains had vanished, ”rouse up the fires, look alive, my hearties!”
”Aye, aye, sir,” was the ready reply, cheerfully given, as every man sprang to his appointed duty.
And so, having ”cut in” our whale, we next proceeded to ”try out” the oil.
CHAPTER V
A STORM, A MAN OVERBOARD, AND A RESCUE
The scenes in a whaleman's life are varied and very stirring.
Sometimes he is floating on the calm ocean, idling about the deck and whistling for a breeze, when all of a sudden the loud cry is heard, ”There she blows!” and in a moment the boats are in the water, and he is engaged in all the toils of an exciting chase. Then comes the battle with the great leviathan of the deep, with all its risks and dangers. Sometimes he is unfortunate, the decks are clean, he has nothing to do. At other times he is lucky, ”cutting in” and ”trying out” engage all his energies and attention. Frequently storms toss him on the angry deep, and show him, if he will but learn the lesson, how helpless a creature he is, and how thoroughly dependent at all times for life, safety, and success, upon the arm of G.o.d.
”Trying out” the oil, although not so thrilling a scene as many a one in his career, is, nevertheless, extremely interesting, especially at night, when the glare of the fires in the try-works casts a deep-red glow on the faces of the men, on the masts and sails, and even out upon the sea.
The try-works consisted of two huge melting-pots fixed upon brick-work fireplaces between the fore and main masts. While some of the men were down in the blubber-room cutting the ”blanket-pieces”, as the largest ma.s.ses are called, others were pitching the smaller pieces on deck, where they were seized by two men who stood near a block of wood, called a ”horse”, with a mincing knife, to slash the junks so as to make them melt easily. These were then thrown into the melting-pots by one of the mates, who kept feeding the fires with such ”sc.r.a.ps” of blubber as remain after the oil is taken out. Once the fires were fairly set agoing no other kind of fuel was required than ”sc.r.a.ps” of blubber. As the boiling oil rose it was baled into copper cooling-tanks. It was the duty of two other men to dip it out of these tanks into casks, which were then headed up by our cooper, and stowed away in the hold.
As the night advanced the fires became redder and brighter by contrast, the light shone and glittered on the b.l.o.o.d.y decks, and, as we plied our dirty work, I could not help thinking, ”what would my mother say, if she could get a peep at me now?”
The s.h.i.+p's crew worked and slept by watches, for the fires were not allowed to go out all night. About midnight I sat down on the windla.s.s to take a short rest, and began talking to one of the men, Fred Borders by name. He was one of the quietest and most active men in the s.h.i.+p, and, being quite a young man, not more than nineteen, he and I drew to one another, and became very intimate.
”I think we're goin' to have a breeze, Bob,” said he, as a sharp puff of wind crossed the deck, driving the black smoke to leeward, and making the fire flare up in the try-works.
”I hope it won't be a storm, then,” said I, ”for it will oblige us to put out the fires.”
Just then Tom Lokins came up, ordered Fred to go and attend to the fires, sat down opposite to me on the windla.s.s, and began to ”lay down the law” in regard to storms.
”You see, Bob Ledbury,” said he, beginning to fill his pipe, ”young fellers like you don't know nothin' about the weather--'cause why?
you've got no experience. Now, I'll put you up to a dodge consarning this very thing.”
I never found out what was the dodge that Tom, in his wisdom, was to have put me up to, for at that moment the captain came on deck, and gave orders to furl the top-gallant sails.