Fighting the Whales by R. M. Ballantyne (best novels for students txt) 📖

“What does he mean by that, Tom,” said I, when the captain was gone, “I never saw a calmer or a finer night. Surely there is no chance of a storm just now.”

“Ay, that shows that you’re a young feller, and han’t got much experience o’ them seas,” replied my companion. “Why, boy, sometimes the fiercest storm is brewin’ behind the greatest calm. An’ the worst o’ the thing is that it comes so sudden at times, that the masts are torn out o’ the ship before you can say Jack Robinson.”

“What! and without any warning?” said I.

“Ay, almost without warnin’; but not altogether without it. You heer’d the captain say he’d go an’ take a squint at the glass?”

“Yes; what is the glass?”

“It’s not a glass o’ grog, you may be sure; nor yet a lookin’-glass. It’s the weather-glass, boy. Shore-goin’ chaps call it a barometer.”

“And what’s the meaning of barometer?” I inquired earnestly.

Tom Lokins stared at me in stupid amazement.

“Why, boy,” said he, “you’re too inquisitive. I once asked the doctor o’ a ship that question, and says he to me, ‘Tom,’ says he, ‘a barometer is a glass tube filled with quicksilver or mercury, which is a metal in a soft or fluid state, like water, you know, and it’s meant for tellin’ the state o’ the weather.’

“‘Yes, sir,’ I answers, ‘I know that well enough.’

“‘Then why did you ask?’ says he, gettin’ into a passion.

“‘I asked what was the meanin’ o’ the word barometer, sir,’ said I.

“The doctor he looked grave at that, and shook his head. ‘Tom,’ says he, ‘if I was to go for to explain that word, and all about the instrument, in a scientific sort o’ way, d’ye see, I’d have to sit here an’ speak to you right on end for six hours or more.’

“‘Oh, sir,’ says I, ‘don’t do it, then. Please, don’t do it.’

“‘No more I will,’ says he; ‘but it’ll serve your turn to know that a barometer is a glass for measurin’ the weight o’ the air, and, somehow or other, that lets ye know wots a-coming. If the mercury in the glass rises high, all’s right. If it falls uncommon low very sudden, look out for squalls; that’s all. No matter how smooth the sea may be, or how sweetly all natur’ may smile, don’t you believe it; take in every inch o’ canvas at once.’”

“That was a queer explanation, Tom.”

“Ay, but it was a true one, as you shall see before long.”

As I looked out upon the calm sea, which lay like a sheet of glass, without a ripple on its surface, I could scarcely believe what he had said. But before many minutes had passed I was convinced of my error.

While I was standing talking to my messmate, the captain rushed on deck, and shouted—

“All hands tumble up! Shorten sail! Take in every rag! Look alive, boys, look alive.”

I was quite stunned for a moment by this, and by the sudden tumult that followed. The men, who seemed never to take thought about anything, and who had but one duty, namely, to obey orders, ran upon deck, and leaped up the rigging like cats; the sheets of nearly all the principal sails were clewed up, and, ere long, the canvas was made fast to the yards. A few of the smaller sails only were left exposed, and even these were close reefed. Before long a loud roar was heard, and in another minute the storm burst upon us with terrific violence. The ship at first lay over so much that the masts were almost in the water, and it was as impossible for any one to walk the deck as to walk along the side of a wall. At the same time, the sea was lashed into white foam, and the blinding spray flew over us in bitter fury.

“Take in the topsails!” roared the captain. But his voice was drowned in the shriek of the gale. The men were saved the risk of going out on the yards, however, for in a few moments more all the sails, except the storm-try-sail, were burst and blown to ribbons.

We now tried to put the ship’s head to the wind and “lay to,” by which landsmen will understand that we tried to face the storm, and remain stationary. But the gale was so fierce that this was impossible. The last rag of sail was blown away, and then there was nothing left for us but to show our stern to the gale, and “scud under bare poles.”

The great danger now was that we might be “pooped,” which means that a huge wave might curl over our stern, fall with terrible fury on our deck, and sink us.

Many and many a good ship has gone down in this way; but we were mercifully spared. As our safety depended very much on good steering, the captain himself took the wheel, and managed the ship so well, that we weathered the gale without damage, farther than the loss of a few sails and light spars. For two days the storm howled furiously, the sky and sea were like ink, with sheets of rain and foam driving through the air, and raging billows tossing our ship about like a cork.

During all this time my shipmates were quiet and grave, but active and full of energy, so that every order was at once obeyed without noise or confusion. Every man watched the slightest motion of the captain. We all felt that everything depended on him.

As for me, I gave up all hope of being saved. It seemed impossible to me that anything that man could build could withstand so terrible a storm. I do not pretend to say that I was not afraid. The near prospect of a violent death caused my heart to sink more than once; but my feelings did not unman me. I did my duty quietly, but quickly, like the rest; and when I had no work to do, I stood holding on to the weather stanchions, looking at the raging sea, and thinking of my mother, and of the words of kindness and counsel she had so often bestowed upon me in vain.

The storm ceased almost as quickly as it began, and although the sea did not all at once stop the heavings of its angry bosom, the wind fell entirely in the course of a few hours, the dark clouds broke up into great masses that were piled up high into the sky, and out of the midst of these the glorious sun shone in bright rays down on the ocean, like comfort from heaven, gladdening our hearts as we busily repaired the damage that we had suffered from the storm.