CHAPTER IX.

THE WHALER.

It was an intensely cold morning. As the sun raised his golden head of light above the horizon, huge icebergs could be seen far away to the southward, looking like monuments of dazzling crystal; and a westerly wind, combined with the smell of the bergs, was sufficient to nip any prominent part of the face left exposed to its freezing blast. On board the _Pandora_ not a sound was to be heard, save the footsteps of Mr Coffin, as he tramped steadily up and down the deck, turning an occasional glance upon the _Daisy_, a little barque of four hundred tons, that was sailing alongside of them. The _Daisy_ was a whaler, built at Glasgow, and hailing from Peterhead. Her commander, Captain Rae, was a rough, weather-beaten old son of Neptune--stern on duty and fearless of danger; but when on shore (which was seldom), a favourite with women, and beloved of little children. Everybody in Peterhead knew Captain Rae, and accorded him a hearty welcome whenever his barque anchored in port. The men met him with outstretched hands; the women smiled upon him graciously; and the children clung to his sleeves and coat tails, like barnacles on a water-logged plank.

‘It won’t do to go any further down south,’ he observed to his chief officer, Mr Green, who had just emerged from the booby hatch, after taking a cup of steaming coffee, ‘because we shall be falling in with too much ice, and I like to give them bergs a wide berth. Besides, I’ve a notion we shall fall in with some fish before long, if that darned passenger packet to leeward don’t scare ’em away. Let her come to two points,’ he called out to the man at the wheel. ‘Keep her due east.’

And the sailor, having put his helm down, the captain retired to the sanctity of his cabin. The mate watched him disappear, and then, unceremoniously squirting a jet of tobacco juice on the unholystoned deck, muttered something about ‘the _Pandora’s_ petticoats,’ and commenced to take rapid strides along the boards. Jabez Aminadab Green was a down-easter--a tall, lanky fellow, with long body and spindle-shank legs. He was some years older than the skipper--streaks of grey having already shown themselves in his short grey beard. His eyes were blue, like blue glass beads, having no expression in them. He had hollow cheeks, an aquiline nose, and a wide mouth, which was generally kept open to display an irregular set of teeth, stained and decayed by the constant use of tobacco.

At four bells all hands on watch aboard of both crafts turned to--the sailors of the _Pandora_ being employed in scrubbing their decks for the reception of the passengers, whilst the hardy old whalers lazily crawled out of their forecastle, and, after dashing a few buckets of water over the captain’s quarters, betook themselves to the ’tween decks, where they stretched new lines, and vied with each other in telling the ‘longest twister’ (that is, in nautical parlance, the most improbable untruth) they could possibly think of. When the bells were struck to announce breakfast aboard the _Daisy_, their sound re-echoed on the _Pandora_, and the seamen of the smaller craft were surprised to see the poop deck of their big neighbour crowded with bright dresses and brighter faces; whilst the ladies of the _Pandora_ wondered, in their turn, at the appearance of so large a crew on such a little vessel, and their interest continued throughout the day.

‘_There she spouts!_’ sang out the man on the look-out at the fore-topmast head of the whaler, not half-an-hour afterwards.

‘Where away?’ bawled Mr Green.

‘Two points on the starboard bow,’ was the answer.

‘Aye! aye!’ said the mate, catching sight of the whale, as it rose close to the _Pandora_.

‘Are there many?’ hastily inquired Captain Rae, who had deserted his breakfast as soon as he heard the welcome news.

‘Wal, I guess so, sir,’ replied Mr Green. ‘There are some in the wake of that packet ahead theer; and I saw one critter breach away here on the quarter. There he goes again!’ continued the mate, pointing to a large dark object which had leapt right out of the water, and fallen in again with a tremendous splash.

When the intelligence reached the saloon of the _Pandora_ that a school of whales was playing right under her bow, the passengers, frantic with excitement, left their breakfast to take care of itself, and, gathering together every spy-glass and binocular that could be borrowed or stolen, rushed upon deck, and remained there until the play was over, and the curtain fell.

The _Daisy’s_ helm was put down, and her foresail laid to the mast, and when her clew garnets were chock-a-block, the boats were quickly but cautiously lowered. The chief officer, in charge of the first boat, was stationed in the stern, grasping a long sweep to steer her with. Six hands on the thwarts manned the oars, and Christopher Thommasen, a Norwegian harpooner, with his deadly weapons, sat in the bow. With long muffled strokes the rowers laid back on their blades, and in a short space of time reached the desired spot, not, however, before they had ‘gallied’ (or alarmed) one of the ‘bulls,’ who began to shoot his spout of water to a great height. Some of the ‘cows’ approached very close to the boat--so close, indeed, that at times she was in imminent danger of being upset, and all hands expected to be toppled into the water, and delivered over to the mercy of Davy Jones.

When the old Norwegian, Christopher Thommasen, had selected his fish, and the boat was pulled in its wake, the order was given, ‘_Stand up and give it him!_’ and the harpooner, poising his dart above his head, and taking careful aim, let the shaft fly with all his might, and it whizzed through the air, embedding itself deeply in the body of the whale.

The wounded creature ‘bobtailed,’ lashing the billows with its powerful tail, and sending up quantities of white foam, which fell in a heavy shower over the men, drenching them to the skin.

‘_Stern all!_’ shouted the mate, perceiving their danger, and the frail craft was instantly back-watered out of harm’s way. Finding that this manœuvre did not dispose of his assailants, nor relieve him of the agonising harpoon (which he probably mistook for the teeth of a swordfish), the monster of the deep dived to an immense depth, drawing out the line with amazing velocity. This is the whale’s method of freeing himself from his piscatorial enemies, who, being unable (as he is) to sustain the pressure of a deep ocean, are compelled to let go of him.

‘There goes flukes,’ shouted Thommasen, as he saw the whale disappear, and the men shipped their oars, and prepared for an exciting chase. Away went the ‘schoolmaster’ at his topmost speed, rising at intervals to the surface to give vent to a plaintive moan, and diving again with breathless rapidity, as he towed his persecutors through the water after him at a considerable rate. Then more darts were planted into the heaving flanks of the labouring fish, who had commenced to tremble violently. Red columns of blood spurted from his wounds, and fell back upon his aching sides, dyeing the water around him crimson. Suddenly the ‘flurry’ (which is the whaling term for the expiring struggles of the fish), and the sharp, cracking noise which had sounded from the blowholes, ceased, and the huge brute turned upwards, and lay upon the ocean dead. Then the carcase was slowly towed past the passenger vessel, amidst the cheers of the spectators, back to the _Daisy_, who had got under weigh again, and made fast to her side by chains. Two men cut off the ‘blanket,’ or scarf-skin, with their spades, whilst others heaved away on the capstan, and turned the body round.

The head was taken aboard whole, and then the operation of ‘flewsing,’ or cutting away the blubber, was gone through. When all the useful parts had been secured--the head, which contains a large amount of oil--the blubber--the bag, from which the whalers extract ambergris, and the teeth--the order was given to ‘_Haul in chains_,’ and the huge white carcase floated astern, and was immediately covered by myriads of water-fowl, who quarrelled and fought over their unexpected treat.

The passengers of the _Pandora_ witnessed the chase and capture from the port bow of their vessel, and many were their ignorant conjectures as to the mode of boiling down and preserving the dead fish, and they watched the _Daisy_ perseveringly with their glasses until a large cloud of black smoke, arising from her cauldrons, announced that the blubber had been finally disposed of; and the operation of ‘whaling’ was over.

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