The Red Eric by R. M. Ballantyne (world of reading txt) 📖

between the two ships. Jim Scroggles on that particular afternoon found himself in the crow’s-nest at the masthead, roaring “Thar she blows!” with a degree of energy so appalling that one was almost tempted to believe that that long-legged individual had made up his mind to compress his life into one grand but brief minute, and totally exhaust his powers of soul and body in the reiterated vociferation of that one faculty of the sperm-whale. Allowance must be made for Jim, seeing that this was the first time he had been fortunate enough to “raise the oil” since he became a whaler.

The usual scene of bustle and excitement immediately ensued. The men sprang to their appointed places in a moment; the tubs, harpoons, etcetera, were got ready, and in a few minutes the three boats were leaping over the smooth swell towards the fish.

While this was taking place on board the Red Eric, a precisely similar scene occurred on board the other whale-ship, and a race now ensued between the boats of the two ships, for each knew well that the first boat that harpooned either of the whales claimed it.

“Give way, my lads,” whispered Captain Dunning eagerly, as he watched the other boats; “we shall be first—we shall be first; only bend your backs.”

The men needed not to be urged; they were quite as anxious as their commander to win the races and bent their backs, as he expressed it, until the oars seemed about to break. Glynn sat on the after thwart, and did good service on this occasion.

It soon became evident that the affair would be decided by the boats of the two captains, both of which took the lead of the others, but as they were advancing in opposite directions it was difficult to tell which was the fleeter of the two. When the excitement of the race was at its height the whales went down, and the men lay on their oars to wait until they should rise again. They lay in anxious suspense for about a minute, when the crew of Captain Dunning’s boat was startled by the sudden apparition of a waterspout close to them, by which they were completely drenched. It was immediately followed by the appearance of the huge blunt head of one of the whales, which rose like an enormous rock out of the sea close to the starboard-quarter.

The sight was received with a loud shout, and Tim Rokens leaped up and grasped a harpoon, but the whale sheered off. A spare harpoon lay on the stern-sheets close to Glynn, who dropped his oar and seized it. Almost without knowing what he was about, he hurled it with tremendous force at the monster’s neck, into which it penetrated deeply. The harpoon fortunately happened to be attached to a large buoy, called by whalers a drogue, which was jerked out of the boat like a cannon-shot as the whale went down, carrying harpoon and drogue along with it.

“Well done, lad,” cried the captain, in great delight, “you’ve made a noble beginning! Now, lads, pull gently ahead, she won’t go far with such an ornament as that dangling at her neck. A capital dart! couldn’t have done it half so well myself, even in my young days!”

Glynn felt somewhat elated at this unexpected piece of success; to do him justice, however, he took it modestly. In a few minutes the whale rose, but it had changed its course while under water, and now appeared close to the leading boat of the other ship.

By the laws of the whale-fishery, no boat of one vessel has a right to touch a whale that has been struck by the boat of another vessel, so long as the harpoon holds fast and the rope remains unbroken, or so long as the float to which the harpoon is connected remains attached. Nevertheless, in defiance of this well-known law, the boat belonging to the captain of the strange ship gave chase, and succeeded in making fast to the whale.

To describe the indignation of Captain Dunning and his men on witnessing this act is impossible. The former roared rather than shouted, “Give way, lads!” and the latter bent their backs as if they meant to pull the boat bodily out of the water, and up into the atmosphere. Meanwhile all the other boats were in hot pursuit of the second whale, which had led them a considerable distance away from the first.

“What do you mean by striking that fish?” shouted Captain Dunning, when, after a hard pull, he came up with the boat, the crew of which had just succeeded in thrusting a lance deep into a mortal part of the huge animal, which soon after rolled over, and lay extended on the waves.

“What right have you to ask?” replied the captain of the strange ship, an ill-favoured, powerful man, whose countenance was sufficient to condemn him in any society, save that of ruffians. “Don’t you see your drogue has broke loose?”

“I see nothing of the sort. It’s fast at this moment; so you’ll be good enough to cut loose and take yourself off as fast as you please.”

To this the other made no reply, but, turning to his men, said: “Make fast there, lads; signal the other boats, and pull away for the ship; look sharp, you lubbers.”

“Och! captain dear,” muttered Phil Briant, baring both arms up to the shoulders, “only give the word; do, now!”

Captain Dunning, who was already boiling with rage, needed no encouragement to make an immediate attack on the stranger, neither did his men require an order; they plunged their oars into the water, ran right into the other boat, sprang to their feet, seized lances, harpoons, and knives, and in another moment would have been engaged in a deadly struggle had not an unforeseen event occurred to prevent the fray. This was the partial recovery of the whale, which, apparently resolved to make one final struggle for life, turned over and over, lashed the sea into foam, and churned it up with the blood which spouted in thick streams from its numerous wounds.

Both boats were in imminent danger, and the men sprang to their oars in order to pull out of the range of the monster’s dying struggles. In this effort the strange boat was successful, but that of Captain Dunning fared ill. A heavy blow from the whale’s tail broke it in two, and hurled it into the air, whence the crew descended, amid a mass of harpoons, lances, oars, and cordage, into the blood-stained water.

The fish sheered away for some distance, dragging the other boat along with it, and then rolled over quite dead. Fortunately not one of the crew of the capsized boat was hurt. All of them succeeded in reaching and clinging to the shattered hull of their boat; but there they were destined to remain a considerable time, as the boat of the stranger, having secured the dead fish, proceeded leisurely to tow it towards their ship, without paying the slightest attention to the shouts of their late enemies.

A change had now come over the face of the sky. Clouds began to gather on the horizon, and a few light puffs of air swept over the sea, which enabled the strange vessel to bear down on her boat, and take the whale in tow. It also enabled the Red Eric to beat up, but more slowly, towards the spot where their disabled boat lay, and rescue their comrades from their awkward position. It was some time before the boats were all gathered together. When this was accomplished the night had set in and the stranger had made off with her ill-gotten prize, the other whale having sounded, and the chase being abandoned.

“Now, of all the disgustin’ things that ever happened to me, this is the worst,” remarked Captain Dunning, in a very sulky tone of voice, as he descended to the cabin to change his garments, Ailie having preceded him in order to lay out dry clothes.

“Oh! my darling papa, what a fright I got,” she exclaimed, running up and hugging him, wet as he was, for the seventh time, despite his efforts to keep her off. “I was looking through the spy-glass at the time it happened, and when I saw you all thrown into the air I cried—oh! I can’t tell you how I cried.”

“You don’t need to tell me, Ailie, my pet, for your red, swelled-up eyes speak for themselves. But go, you puss, and change your own frock. You’ve made it as wet as my coat, nearly; besides, I can’t undress, you know, while you stand there.”

Ailie said, “I’m so very, very thankful,” and then giving her father one concluding hug, which completely saturated the frock, went to her own cabin.

Meanwhile the crew of the captain’s boat were busy in the forecastle stripping off their wet garments, and relating their adventures to the men of the other boats, who, until they reached the ship, had been utterly ignorant of what had passed.

It is curious that Tim Rokens should open the conversation with much the same sentiment, if not exactly the same phrase, as that expressed by the captain.

“Now boys,” said he, slapping his wet limbs, “I’ll tell ye wot it is, of all the aggrawations as has happened to me in my life, this is out o’ sight the wust. To think o’ losin’ that there whale, the very biggest I ever saw—”

“Ah! Rokens, man,” interrupted Glynn, as he pulled off his jacket, “the loss is greater to me than to you, for that was my first whale!”

“True, boy,” replied the harpooner, in a tone of evidently genuine sympathy; “I feel for ye. I knows how I should ha’ taken on if it had happened to me. But cheer up, lad; you know the old proverb, ‘There’s as good fish in the sea as ever came out o’t.’ You’ll be the death o’ many sich yet, I’ll bet my best iron.”

“Sure, the wust of it all is, that we don’t know who was the big thief as got that fish away with him,” said Phil Briant, with a rueful countenance.

“Don’t we, though!” cried Gurney, who had been in the mate’s boat; “I axed one o’ the men o’ the stranger’s boats—for we run up close alongside durin’ the chase—and he told me as how she was the Termagant of New York; so we can be down on ’em yet, if we live long enough.”

“Humph!” observed Rokens; “and d’ye suppose he’d give ye the right name?”

“He’d no reason to do otherwise. He didn’t know of the dispute between the other boats.”

“There’s truth in that,” remarked Glynn, as he prepared to go on deck; “but it may be a year or more before we foregather. No, I give up all claim to my first fish from this date.”

“All hands ahoy!” shouted the mate; “tumble up there! Reef topsails! Look alive!”

The men ran hastily on deck, completing their buttoning and belting as they went, and found that something very like a storm was brewing. As yet the breeze was moderate, and the sea not very high, but the night was pitchy dark, and a hot oppressive atmosphere boded no improvement in the weather.

“Lay out there, some of you, and close reef the topsails,” cried the mate, as the men ran to their several posts.

The ship was running at the time under a comparatively small amount of canvas; for, as their object was merely to cruise about in those seas in search of whales, and they had no particular course to steer, it was usual to run at night under easy sail, and sometimes to lay-to. It was fortunate that such was the case on the present occasion; for it happened that the storm which was about to burst on them came with appalling suddenness and fury. The wind tore up the sea as if it had been a mass of white feathers, and scattered it high in