Читать книгу The Deep Sea Hunters: Adventures on a Whaler - A. Hyatt Verrill - Страница 5

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No sooner had the bark commenced to move down the harbor, than a magic change appeared to take place. At the wheel, one of the boat steerers stood staring ahead and deftly gave the spokes a twirl as he kept the Hector to the tug’s course. Back and forth on the quarter-deck strode Captain Edwards, hands behind back and hat pulled low over his eyes. At the break of the poop, stood old Cap’n Pem, his ancient, peaked cap jammed on one side of his head, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows and his bushy brows drawn together in a frown. Below him, stood the lanky second officer, Mr. Kemp, barking out sharp, quick orders. From the galley, a slender column of smoke rose upwards, showing the cook was already at work. The crew were busy here and there under the directions of the boat steerers and the carpenter was wedging down a hatch cover. It was evident that strict discipline was now in order and the boys, resolved to do their part and to act as though they were bona fide members of the crew, commenced coiling down ropes that trailed across the decks. As they did so, Mr. Kemp grinned and Cap’n Pem winked at the skipper who stopped an instant in his stride to glance at the busy boys.

Then, Cap’n Pem’s voice roared out orders to loosen sails and the two boys, anxious to show their skill and knowledge, as well as their willingness, ran nimbly up the ratlines and were the first out on the yards. One by one the great topsails were unfurled and halliards were manned.

“They call me Hanging Johnny,

Away-e-Oh!

They call me Hanging Johnny,

So hang, boys, hang.”

Thus roared the men, and, as the boys joined in the chorus, the heavy yards rose slowly, the sails were sheeted home, and as the bark passed the harbor mouth and caught the fresh offshore wind, the tug cast off her lines, blew a parting blast on her whistle and the Hector, under her own canvas, headed towards the open sea.

The breeze was fair and steady and under topsails and to’gallant sails the bark swept smoothly on, a crinkle of white water under her forefoot, a yeasty wake trailing off astern and the soft hum of the wind in her taut rigging and great billowing sails. The boys, who had never been to sea except in steamers, thought they had never experienced anything so delightful as the sensation of sailing without the throb and noise of engines and the mess and dirt of smoke and cinders, and they were sure that they had never seen anything so beautiful as the huge, white sails straining at their braces, gleaming like silver in the sun, softly purple in the shadows and swaying majestically across the blue summer sky as the boys gazed upward at them in admiration.

Dim and hazy in the distance, were the hills and shores; a mere smudge of smoke marked New Bedford; to port lay Martha’s Vineyard; and straight ahead was the broad Atlantic.

But the two boys had been too well trained by Cap’n Pem to idle away the time admiring the pyramids of snowy sails overhead, or the gentle rise and fall of the deck beneath their feet, but busied themselves about the ship, coiling down ropes, explaining orders to the green crew, lending a hand here and there and making themselves generally useful. Presently, Mr. Kemp approached. “Mr. Potter’d like Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop to step aft,” he said.

For a moment the boys hesitated, puzzled, and then, despite every effort, laughed, for the officer’s formal method of addressing them struck them as very funny. They had never dreamed that they would be treated other than as boys and to be spoken to as officers was a distinct surprise.

Quickly recovering themselves, however, the two hurried to the poop where the old whaleman was standing.

“What is it, Cap’n Pem—?” began Tom, but he was instantly interrupted by the other. “Mr. Potter, sir!” corrected the old man with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes, sir, what is it, sir?” inquired Tom, trying hard to hide a grin.

“Cap’n Edwards wants ye an’ Mr. Lathrop to git ready fer to take observations, sir,” replied Cap’n Pem. “He says as how he’d like fer ye two youngs—Oh, gosh-ding it all what’s ther use! I’ll be blowed ef I kin keep it up. Call me Cap’n Pem ef ye like. I’m a-goin’ ter call ye young scallywags or anythin’ else same’s I allers has. Well the ol’—Cap’n Edwards I mean—wants ter hev ye shoot the sun an’ work out the position so’s he kin see how much ye know. It’s pretty nigh eight bells now, so hustle down inter my cabin and fetch up them two sextants there, an’ git busy.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Potter!” chuckled Jimmy, as the two boys dived down the companionway.

Regaining the deck, the two boys took up positions and commenced squinting through their instruments, while the old whaleman watched them critically. Unnoticed by them, Captain Edwards also drew near, and even Mr. Kemp ceased swearing at his crew long enough to glance at the two, for it was a novel sight to see two boys standing on the poop of a whaleship and handling sextants like old hands.

“Eight bells!” cried Tom presently. “Eight bells!” echoed Jim, and at their words the eight mellow notes rang out from the bronze bell below.

Hurrying down to the cabin, the boys commenced to work out their latitude while, on deck, Cap’n Pem slapped his thigh and chuckled. “Han’led them sextants jes’ as well as me or you could!” he declared addressing the skipper. “Bet ye, ye kin depen’ on ’em jes’ as well as any orcifer ye’d find. Jes’ wait ’till they give ye their figgers. They’ll be purty clost to kerect or I’m a Dutchman!”

“Here are the figures and position, sir,” said Tom as he appeared from the companionway and handed two slips of paper to the captain.

Captain Edwards glanced at them and a satisfied smile spread over his wrinkled, tanned face. “Your longitude is right,” he said, “and there’s only thirty seconds difference in your two positions. Neither is out quite a minute—or less than a knot—and that’s mighty close work for the first observation you’ve ever taken aboard a ship at sea. You’ve done very well—er—Mr. Chester and Mr. Lathrop. From now on, you may consider yourselves as third and fourth officers and entitled to lays of one in fifty each. I shall expect you to take observations daily.”

“Told ye they’d be derned near _k_erect!” cried Cap’n Pem.

“But, captain, can’t we help with the work just the same, if we are officers?” asked Tom. “It’s lots of fun.”

The captain rubbed his chin reflectively. “Third and fourth mates usually have to work a bit,” he replied. “Yes, I guess ’twon’t ruin ship’s discipline if you’re boys most of the time and officers when I need you. But don’t get too familiar or friendly with the crew.”

“What in Sam Hill’s the matter now!” exclaimed Cap’n Pem a few moments later, when angry shouts from Mr. Kemp were heard.

Following their old friend to the break of the deck, the boys saw the second officer shaking his fists and yelling at a ragged man who stood before him with a vacant, noncomprehending expression on his face, and moving and wiggling his fingers in a curious manner.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Kemp?” called the captain.

The second mate turned and glanced up. “It’s this greenie, sir,” he replied. “Just up from the foc’sle, an’ jus’ stands here and looks silly, twiddlin’ his thumbs. Don’t answer back or nothin’ and won’t obey orders. Don’t know if it’s some new kind of jag or if he’s just plain crazy.”

“Aye tank he bane daf an’ doomb, sir,” put in the cooper, approaching and touching his cap. “Aye haf daf an’ doomb coosin bane twoggle fingers same vay. Mebbe Aye bane able talk mit him.”

“Reckon Ole’s right,” agreed Cap’n Pem.

“Try it and see, Swanson,” ordered the skipper.

Standing before the man, the cooper moved his big, knotted fingers, and instantly, a look of understanding passed over the other’s features and his hands moved swiftly.

Presently, the Swede turned towards the watching officers. “Yas,” he said “he bane daff an’ doomb. He say he bane shanghaied. He never bane sailor man before.”

“’Spect like enough he was shanghaied,” growled Cap’n Pem, “but we can’t help that none. What we goin’ fer to do with him, Cap’n? Blow me if I ever run afoul o’ a dummy han’ on a whaleship afore.”

“He can work just as well if he is deaf and dumb,” replied Captain Edwards.

“Yes, but how’n tarnation’s he goin’ fer ter take orders?” exploded the old whaleman. “’Twouldn’t do no harm if ev’ry one o’ the critters was dumb. Wish t’ they was. But a deaf han’ ain’t worth nothin’. Dern the shark what shipped him!”

“Swanson,” called the skipper, “take charge of this man. You’re the only one can talk to him. Teach him what you can and make him work at something, sharpening spades and irons, or anything else.”

No further incidents of note occurred during the day and the following morning the boys came on deck to find the Hector out of sight of land and rolling majestically to the long, blue swell of the ocean.

“Reckon this is a purty good day to begin breakin’ in the greenies,” remarked Cap’n Pem at breakfast. “Have the starboard boats cleared and ready to lower, Mr. Kemp. It’s mighty good weather for breakin’ of ’em in to the oars arter we’ve had a bit of a set-to with ’em in the riggin’.”

When they reached the deck, Cap’n Pem had Mr. Kemp summon the green men aft, and standing at the break of the poop, he gave them a short harangue on what was expected of them.

The boys felt really sorry for the men, for, with few exceptions, all were deathly seasick, and terribly frightened at their surroundings. Every time the bark rolled, they uttered doleful groans and clutched wildly at the nearest backstay or shroud, and when the old whaleman spoke of going aloft and the poor fellows glanced up at the soaring, lofty mastheads, their faces blanched with terror.

As Cap’n Pem finished speaking, the second mate ordered the men into the rigging. For an instant, they stood hesitating, terrified at the mere thought of climbing the ratlines rocking back and forth to the roll of the bark. But as Mr. Kemp started towards them, a rope’s end in one hand and a belaying pin in the other, the men fled before him, and flattening themselves against the shrouds, crawled up for a few feet above the deck. Only two went further, the pop-eyed youth who the boys had noticed and a huge, gorillalike negro, both of whom ran nimbly to the to’gallant crosstrees and seated themselves as comfortably as if they had been sailors all their lives.

Only one man had remained on deck, a gray-headed old reprobate. “Here you!” yelled Mr. Kemp with an oath, “Get aloft there and be durned quick about it!”

“Not a bit!” replied the old fellow insolently. “’Tis none av thim monkey shines Oi’ll be afther tryin’, an’ me wid me wooden lig!”

The second mate, who had started forward with belaying pin raised threateningly, stopped short and dropped his arm. “Well I’ll be—,” he began and then, turning, he shouted, “Mister Potter, here’s another of ’em—first a dummy an’ next a timber leg! Them sharks must have thought we was a floatin’ horspittel!”

“What’s that ye’re sayin’?” shouted old Pem. “What’s this erbout a timber leg?”

“This old cove here,” explained the other, “says as how he can’t go aloft cause he’s got a wooden leg.”

Old Pem was fairly bristling. “Sojerin’!” he yelled. “Git erloft there, ye ol’ bum!” and then, forgetting himself in his excitement, he added, “Ye ain’t no more one-legged than I be!”

“B’gorra Oi’d be hopin’ not,” burst out the other. “Faith, an’ Oi’d like to see yez a shinnyin’ up thim ropes wid a lig like this, ye ould omathon!”

As he spoke, he drew up his trouser leg and exhibited the artificial limb beneath.

“Sass me back, will ye!” roared the old whaleman, purple with rage. “By blastarnation, ef ye wasn’t a cripple I’d skin ye alive!”

“Cripple yerself,” shouted back the other. “Come down out of that an’ Oi’ll lick the stuffin’ out av yez, ye ould shellback!”

The boys fully expected to see Cap’n Pem dash down to the deck and rush at the impudent old fellow, but instead, he suddenly doubled up and roared with hearty laughter.

“I’ll be keelhauled!” he cried. “Ef this isn’t the dod-gastedest crew what ever sailed on a whale ship. Reckon misery loves comp’ny. Two timber-legs an’ a dummy! Mr. Kemp, muster them hands aft an’ see how many more derelicts ye’ve got ermong ’em.”

Grinning at the comical scene they had just witnessed, the crew gathered about and the second officer went over them one by one, questioning them, pounding them on backs and chests, slapping their arms and legs and ordering them to run and jump about, while, on the poop, the two boys and old Pem, as well as the skipper, stood and watched the procedure with amusement. Presently the second mate turned. “Here’s a chap with a glass eye,” he announced, indicating a sallow-faced, little man, “but I guess t’others are all sound.”

“Reckon so long’s his other eye’s good he don’t matter,” said Pem. “Go on with yer men, Mr. Kemp an’ put that one-legged ol’ shamrock to deck work till we’re ready fer the boats. Mebbe he’ll do fer a shipkeeper anyhow.”

For several hours, the “greenies” were kept on the jump, compelled to climb the rigging to the topsail yards, taught the standing and running rigging, made to understand what to do when an order was given. But while they were, as Cap’n Pem had put it, “treated rough,” there was none of the real brutality shown which the boys had expected from the tales they had heard and read of whalers. Indeed, both Tom and Jim agreed that Mr. Kemp was wonderfully patient and the few blows that were struck did not appear to trouble the tough crew in the least. When Tom spoke of this to Captain Edwards the latter remarked that such treatment as they were receiving was probably far gentler than anything they had ever experienced before.

Strangely enough too, the active work appeared completely to cure the men of seasickness, while their first terror of going aloft was rapidly overcome, although they still hugged the shrouds and held on with might and main whenever the bark rolled.

The boys were much amused at Cap’n Pem, for the old whaleman had painted himself as a hard-fisted, slave-driving mate when at sea, whereas, in reality, he was far easier on the men than the second officer, and several times he cautioned the latter against using unnecessary violence.

“This ’ere ain’t no ol’ time whaleship,” he cried. “I’ve seed a-plenty o’ bulldozin’, bucko mates an’ I tell ye ’tain’t no use to smash a man up. Might jes’ as well let ’em take their time a’ larnin’ as to spend it mendin’ of a busted leg or stove-in head. Course, if any of ’em needs it, ye can give ’em a good lickin’. They gotter know who’s boss, but we don’ want broken bones nor murder.”

At last, the second mate seemed satisfied with what he had accomplished and ordered the topsail backed, and as the bark was hove-to and rested motionless on the sea, the two starboard boats were lowered and the green hands were ordered into them. Even the one-legged Irishman was compelled to embark, although he protested vigorously. With two of the boat steerers in each boat and with Mr. Kemp in charge of one and Cap’n Pem in the stern of the other, the fun began. Not a man in the crowd, with the exception of the boy and the big negro, both of whom had evidently served on ships before, had ever touched or handled an oar in their lives. And when, under the orders of the two mates, the fellows attempted to pick up and use the heavy ash oars, the result was so comical that the two boys burst into peals of laughter and even Captain Edwards chuckled. Constantly fouling one another’s oars, catching crabs, losing their oars overboard and getting in one another’s way, the men struggled valiantly and apparently thought it a regular lark. Indeed, after their terrifying session with the rigging, their instruction in boat handling must have seemed mere child’s play, and at each mishap the men roared and made fun of each other. Moreover, the mates and boat steerers took the matter good-naturedly, making biting and sarcastic remarks, but patiently striving to teach their men how to row. Much to the boys’ surprise, the crowd of human derelicts did wonderfully well, and after an hour’s work, managed to conquer the oars sufficiently to keep fairly good time with their strokes and actually to propel the big, thirty-foot whaleboats.

Very soon the breeze freshened, a choppy sea began to rise and the boats were hoisted to the big wooden davits, the yards were swung and the Hector plunged onward through the deep-blue waves towards the distant Azores.

Thereafter, on every calm day, the boat drill was continued, and day after day, the men were sent aloft and taught to furl and reef sails, to swing the yards, to tail onto braces, sheets and halliards and to do the thousand and one things necessary to the handling of a square-rigged vessel. Most of the men learned rapidly, after they had once overcome their landsman’s dread of going aloft, and while a few were so utterly lacking in intelligence that they couldn’t learn the difference between a “main brace and a belaying pin,” as Mr. Kemp put it, yet all learned to handle the boats and seemed to take keen enjoyment in this part of the work, each boat’s crew constantly striving to outdo the other and holding hard fought races whenever opportunity offered. Moreover, the men had improved vastly in appearance. They had grown brown and strong; their muscles had developed; they had discarded their dirty shore rags for clean dungarees and went about lightly and surefootedly on newly acquired “sea legs” in their bare feet. From the boat steerers and mates, they had learned a number of chanteys and whalemen’s songs and whenever any work was done, the deep bass of the big negro, Sam, could be heard leading the chorus of some old-time, deep water chantey.

A few days after they had dropped land from sight, the captain had a man constantly perched on the topgallant crosstrees, keenly scanning the horizon, and Cap’n Pem explained to the boys that they were likely at any time to sight a sperm whale and that the skipper had no intention of letting one slip by.

“Sparm ’ile’s mighty high,” said the old man, “’an sperm’ceti’s higher an’ t’ain’t no use a lettin’ good dollars slip by. ’Sides, this ere gang’s gotter be taught whalin’ an’ the sooner the better.”

The two boys also took turns at maintaining a lookout from the crosstrees, each filled with hopes of being the first to sight a whale. But the days slipped by, vast beds of yellow “sargassum” or “gulf weed” dotted the indigo sea and the bark was rapidly approaching the islands and no sign of a whale had been seen.

Then, one day, as Tom swept his eyes about the vast circle of restless water, he caught a glimpse of a faint, indistinct mist rising a few feet above the sea, like the spray from a breaking wave. The next moment, a vast, black object lifted for an instant in the trough of a sea and, at the top of his lungs, Tom shouted: “There she blows!”

Scarcely were the words uttered, when all was excitement below and Cap’n Pem’s voice bellowed, “Where away?”

“About three points on the port bow,” shouted Tom.

Then followed a moment of breathless waiting, with all eyes strained in the direction Tom had indicated, until once more the tiny column of vapor rose in air and the whale’s flukes showed for a brief moment before he sounded.