Poor Jack. Frederick Marryat
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“I suppose you took the craft?”
“Yes; and her consort too. But many lost the number of their mess, and I lost all my beauty. Just hand me the ’baccy, messmate; and, Jack, go for the next pot of beer.”
I found them both smoking in silence when I returned; but, after a few minutes, my father said, “Messmate, as I have told you how I got this chalk, suppose you tell me in return how you got that nose of yours fixed so hard a starboard? That’s fair play.”
“Exactly so,” replied Ben. “Why, d’ye see? I sarved most of my early life in the whaling line. I was three voyages to the north; but taking the black whale counts for nothing; you must go south arter the sparmacitty if you wish to see sport.”
“I never was in that line,” replied my father; “but I’ve heard fellows spin the devil’s own yarns about it.”
“And so they may, and tell the truth, that’s sartain, shipmate. You see, the sparmacitty don’t take the harpoon quite so quietly as the black whale does; he fights hard to the last, and sometimes is very free with his jaws. The very large ones are the most easy to kill; so we always look out for them when we can, as they give less trouble, and more oil: the most dangerous are the half-grown, which we call ‘forty-barrel bulls,’ as that’s about what oil we get out of them.”
“Well,” said my father, “I’m blessed if ever I knew whales were called bulls before this night.”
“Yes, that’s our term,” replied Ben; “and now to my story. We were down off the coast of Japan; when, about one hour after daybreak, the man looking out at the masthead gave the usual word when he sees a whale blowing—‘There she spouts.’ And this he repeats every time the fish rises. We had a clean hold at the time, for we had but just come to our fishing-ground, and we were mighty eager. The boats were down in a jiffy, and away we pulled. We were within a quarter of a mile of the whale, when, to our disappointment, he peaked his flukes—”
“What’s that, messmate?” inquired my father.
“Why, you see, it’s the right term after all, for the tail of sparmacitty is like the flukes of an anchor; and, of course, now you understand me.”
“Yes, you mean to say he went down, I suppose.”
“Of course; for how could he go down head-foremost, without peaking his tail in the air?”
“One lives and larns as long as one lives,” observed my father. “Heave ahead again, old boy.”
“Well, as you can’t know what you haven’t heard anything about, I must now tell you that these animals be as regular as the bells in a man-of-war; and whenever they goes down to feed, they always stays exactly about the time allowed for dinner in a comfortable ship; that is, seventy minutes exactly. An hour, you see, is the regular time allowed, and the other ten minutes are by favour of the officer of the watch, or first lieutenant. We knew that we must wait that time for him, so we tossed up our oars, and laid by.”
“I suppose them sparmacitty chaps have a watch in their pockets,” said my father, smiling.
“It’s a true bill, nevertheless, messmate, and they never alter: how and why they keep to their time, the Lord who gave them the sense to do so only knows. It is one of the wonders of the deep, which they only who go on the great waters can bear witness to.”
“It beats my comprehension quite entirely,” replied my father; “and yet I have seen animals with a great deal of sense. In one ship, we had a sheep who would chew tobacco and drink grog. Now go ahead again.”
“Well, we had waited about half an hour, when we saw a whiff at the masthead of the ship; we knew that it was to direct our attention to some other point, so we looked round the horizon, and perceived that there was a ‘school’ of young bulls, about three miles from us. We were four boats in all; and the first mate desired my boat and another to go in chase of them, while he remained with the other two, for this old whale to come up again. Well, off we went, and soon came up with the school: they are the most awkward part of whale fishing; for they are savage, and, moreover, easily ‘gallied,’ that is, frightened. I picked out one, and tried to come up with him, but he was very shy, and at last he raised his head clean out of the water, and set off at the rate of ten miles an hour; this showed that he was aware of danger. I had just thought of giving him up, and trying for another, when he suddenly turned round, and came right towards the boats. That we knew meant mischief; but, in coming towards us, he passed close to the other boat, and the steersman gave him the harpoon right well into him. This made him more savage, and he stood right for my boat, ploughing up the sea as he rushed on. I was all ready in the bow with the harpoon, and the men were all ready with their oars to pull back, so as to keep clear of him. On he came, and when his snout was within six feet of us, we pulled sharp across him; and as we went from him, I gave him the harpoon deep into the fin. ‘Starn all!’ was the cry as usual, that we might be clear of him. He ‘sounded’ immediately, that is, down he went, head-foremost, which was what we were afraid of, for you see we had only two hundred fathoms of line in each boat; and having both harpoons in him, we could not bend one to the other, in case he ‘sounded’ deep, for sometimes they will go down right perpendicular, and take four lines, or eight hundred fathoms, with them; so we expected that we should this time lose the whale as well as our lines, for when they were run out, we must either cut or go down with him. Well, the lines ran out so swift, that we poured water on them that they might not fire—and we thought that it was all over, for the lines were two-thirds out, and he was going down as fast as ever, when all of a sudden he stopped. We were hauling in the slack lines, when we saw him rise again, about a quarter of a mile off. It was a hurrah, for we now thought that we had him. Off he set with his nose up, right in the wind’s eye, towing the two boats at the rate of twelve miles an hour; our stems cleaving through the sea, and throwing off the water like a plume of feathers on each side of the bows, while the sun’s rays pierced through the spray and formed bright rainbows. We hoped soon to tire him, and to be able to haul in upon our lines, so as to get near enough to give him our lances; but that was only hope, as you’ll hear. Of a sudden, he stopped, turned round, and made right for us, with his jaws open; then, all we had to do was to baulk him, and give him the lance. He did not seem to have made up his mind which boat he would attack—we were pretty near together, and he yawed at one, and then at the other. At last he made right for the other boat, and the boatsetter dodged him very cleverly, while we pulled up to him, and I put the lance up to the stock into his side. He made a plunge as if he were going to ‘sound’