Читать книгу The War of the Axe; Or, Adventures in South Africa - J. Percy Groves - Страница 8

“I have already stated,” began Mr. Weston, “that I was educated at Rugby, where I first became acquainted with our young friend’s father. Mat Flinders and I were both school-house boys, and we shared the same study, fagged for the same sixth-form boy, belonged to the same form, and no doubt—if the truth is to be told—were often flogged with the same birch; so we were, as a matter of course, firm allies.

“Shortly before my fourteenth birthday I was offered a midshipman’s rating on board the Thétis, a fine 36-gun frigate which had been taken from the French and purchased into the navy in 1808; and as my father—a retired rear-admiral who had served with distinction under Keppel and Rodney—was determined that I should follow in his footsteps and serve King George afloat, I bade farewell to the old school and all my chums and journeyed down to Chatham, where the frigate was ‘fitting foreign.’

“Those were stirring times in the navy, I can tell you, my friends! and our captain was no niggard of shot and shell; indeed a more dashing officer never trod his majesty’s quarter-deck!

“His invariable rule was to engage every Frenchman under a ‘74’ that he fell in with, and he certainly managed to fall in with a good many; so that during the four years I remained in the Thétis I saw my share of fighting, and was twice wounded—once when engaged in a ‘cutting-out’ affair, and again in action with a 50-gun ship, which I’m proud to say we took.

“Having powerful interest at the Admiralty it was not long before I received my commission, and when barely twenty years of age I was appointed second lieutenant of the Dido, a corvette on the West Indian station.

“My messmates regarded me as one of fortune’s special favourites, but the ‘fickle goddess’ treated me scurvily enough in the end; and if my promotion had been rapid, at any rate I was not destined to enjoy it for any length of time.

“Whilst at Jamaica I stumbled up against my old school-fellow, Mat Flinders, then a lieutenant in the—th Foot. Mat was quartered at Kingston, and as the Dido had been docked to undergo certain repairs we saw a good deal of each other, and renewed our friendship.

“But now it was that Dame Fortuna began to frown upon me, or perhaps it would be more honest to say that I incurred her displeasure by my rash conduct. It so happened that I had the ill-luck to offend my captain, a man of imperious overbearing temper; high words ensued between us, and in a moment of ungovernable passion I knocked him down. Of course my prospects in the navy were for ever blighted; no provocation could be urged as an excuse for such a gross act of insubordination; no interest with the ‘powers that be’ could shield me from the consequences of my rash act.

“A court-martial assembled, and I was tried, found guilty of the charges preferred against me, and sentenced to be dismissed his majesty’s service.

“My fair-weather friends gave me the cold shoulder, for Captain B—was a near relation of the Governor and a man of considerable influence; so everybody took his part, and abused me roundly. No, not everybody! I had one true friend—Matthew Flinders. If I were to tell all that Tom’s father did for me during that miserable time I might keep you round this table until we reach Table Bay. Suffice it to say, that never did poor unfortunate meet with a kinder or stauncher comrade.

“I returned to England under arrest, and the sentence of the court having been approved and confirmed I was broken and turned adrift. My father closed his doors against me, with a curt intimation that he would have nothing more to say to a son who had disgraced himself and his family as I had done; he would listen to no explanation, and returned my letters unopened.

“I had a few pounds in my pocket, and they represented all my means; but I was a good sailor, and had no fear but that I could earn my own living. Through the kind offices of Matthew Flinders, who had given me a letter to a relative of his connected with the mercantile marine, I obtained a berth as second mate on board a merchant brig, and in her I made three voyages to the Cape.

“An offer was then made to me to ship on board a South Sea whaler as second mate, with the understanding that I should be promoted chief mate after my first trip; this offer I closed with. My captain was a gentleman, and a right good fellow, and I made two voyages with him; he then retired. I succeeded him in command of the ship, and shortly afterwards married his youngest daughter.

“Several years passed happily enough, and two children—George and Gracie—blessed our union; but my happiness was short-lived, for when Gracie was nine years of age my wife died of a fever.

“Two years after this sad event I received news of my father’s death, and that I was entitled to a few thousand pounds, which it was not in his power to will away from me, for, implacable to the last, he had left the bulk of his fortune to a distant relative, who had already more money than he knew what to do with.

“I now purchased and fitted out the Sea-mew, a barque of 300 tons; my intention being to take a long whaling cruise in the South Seas, and, if successful, to retire altogether from a seafaring life, and settle down in one of the colonies. Save 500 pounds, which I left in my agent’s hands, I embarked every guinea of my slender fortune in this venture; though fortunately I took the precaution to insure the barque for about half her value.

“Not wishing to be separated from my children for so long a period I determined that they should accompany me. I therefore engaged the carpenter’s wife—who had no youngsters of her own, and was a highly respectable woman—to attend on Gracie; and the surgeon of the Sea-mew, Angus McDougal, an old shipmate of mine and a sound scholar, volunteered to superintend George’s education.

“On the 22nd January, 1842, we sailed from England, and after a tedious and perilous voyage arrived at our fishing ground, and prepared for our campaign against the ‘spermaceti.’

“But we did not meet with the success I had anticipated; three months passed away and still we had a clean hold; the whales seemed to have disappeared from those seas!

“This continued ill-luck sent my hopes of realising a modest competence down to zero, and, moreover, it dispirited the crew, rendering them discontented and sullen.

“At length one morning we observed many polypi, medusae, and squid—”

“And what?” interrupted Tom Flinders, who was listening to Weston’s narrative “auribus erectis.” “What on earth is squid?”

“Squid isn’t on earth at all,” retorted Mr. Weston; “it floats on the surface of the water, and is nothing more or less than a sort of jelly-fish upon which the whale feeds. Well, the sight of this raised our hopes, for we knew that we should probably fall in with a whale before long; and sure enough we were soon roused to action by the welcome cry: ‘There she spouts!’

“I was on deck at the moment, and springing up the shrouds to the main-top-mast head, I descried three whales right ahead of us and at no great distance. Two of them appeared to be half grown, or what we South Sea whalers call ‘forty-barrel bulls,’ forty barrels being about the quantity of oil we usually get out of them; the third was a regular old stager, a magnificent fellow of enormous proportions.

“In a very few minutes we had four boats in the water manned and ready to push off; I went as ‘headsman’ of the largest, of which—at his special request—Doctor McDougal pulled the stroke-oar; the second and third mates and the boatswain took charge of the others.

“Now I must tell you that the older and larger whales, besides proving the most valuable prizes, are by far the easiest to kill; whereas the ‘forty-barrel bulls’ are difficult to come up with, and dangerous customers to tackle. So I directed my second mate and the boatswain to go in chase of the old whale, whilst I and the third mate—a very experienced headsman—attacked the young bulls.

“Away we pulled, and in a short time approached within four hundred yards of the young whales, when the one nearest to us ‘peaked his flukes’—that is, went down head foremost; but his companion remained above water and showed no inclination to avoid us.

“ ‘We’ll make sure of that fellow and leave the other alone for the present,’ I shouted to the third mate. ‘Give way, my lads!’ Then the two boats raced through the smooth water, and we were soon within striking distance of our prey.

“Up to this time the two boat-steerers had been pulling the bow-oars of their respective boats, whilst the headsman steered; but now they laid in their oars, and, seizing their harpoons, stood up ready to strike. My boat was the first in action, and the harpoon flew from the steersman’s grasp and sank deep into the whale’s body, just as he was in the act of ‘sounding;’ down, down he went, and our line uncoiling rapidly from its tub ran out with a loud whirring noise. I now changed places with my boat-steerer, and, armed with several lances, took my stand in the bow, ready to give the whale the coup de grâce the instant he reappeared.

“In less than half an hour the stricken monster rose to the surface about a quarter of a mile distant, and set off at a good ten knots an hour, towing the two boats after him, for the mate had bent his line on to mine. Suddenly he stopped and commenced plunging furiously, lashing the water into a boiling foam, and spurting jets of blood from his blow-holes—a sign of approaching death. (Apertures or nostrils placed on the highest part of a whale’s head, through which he breathes.)

“ ‘He’s in his flurry! Stern all! stern all!’ was the cry, and quickly we backed our boats out of harm’s way. Soon the whale ceased his struggles and lay like a huge log on the bloodstained water, apparently exhausted; then once more we dashed forward, and as the boats came alongside, the mate and I thrust our lances up to the stocks into his carcass, close to the fin.

“Alas, in our eagerness to make sure of our prize we forgot our usual caution! The leviathan was not yet vanquished, but still had sufficient life left in him to make one final effort to avenge himself on his relentless foes!

“Without a moment’s warning the dying whale reared his enormous head and rushed open-mouthed at the mate’s boat, which, unable to avoid the charge, was capsized and sunk; then the monster gave one last mighty plunge, and with a stroke of his powerful tail sent my boat flying into the air, scattering the crew into the foaming water.

“The mate, his boat-steerer, and one man must have gone down at once, but the others saved themselves by clinging to their oars. My boat’s crew were even more unfortunate, for I alone escaped; the rest were either killed when the whale struck us, or else sank to rise no more. I thus lost, literally at one blow, my poor friend Angus McDougal, and seven of my best hands; also two boats with all their gear.

“The accident had been witnessed by the other boats, and the boatswain at once pulled for the scene of the mishap and picked us up.

“About six weeks after this disaster sickness broke out in the Sea-mew. The carpenter and the carpenter’s wife were the first who succumbed; the cook and one of the oldest boat-steerers were the next victims, and several of the crew sickened, but recovered after laying many days in the ‘sickbay’ almost at death’s door.

“We were now so short-handed, and the survivors of the crew were so discontented and mutinous, that I resolved to abandon the cruise and make for some port where I might be able to pick up fresh hands to help take the ship home, and accordingly I shaped my course for Table Bay. But my cup of misfortune was not yet full.

“A fortnight after doubling Cape Horn a stiff gale got up, and increased in fury until it developed into one of the most fearful storms that it has ever been my lot to cope with.

“The storm continued for a day and a night, and when it abated the poor Sea-mew was left a dismasted wreck at the mercy of the waves. We were all much exhausted, and sorely needed rest, but not a man could be spared from the pumps, for the ship had sprung a leak, which gained upon us slowly but surely. Five more of my crew, including the first mate, had gone to their last account, three having been washed overboard and two killed by the fall of the main-mast.

“By almost incredible exertions we succeeded in keeping the battered ship afloat, and the sea having gone down we were able to discover and stop the leak. We then got a spare try-sail up on the stump of the foremast, and put the barque before the wind.

“Rest was now absolutely necessary, for we had been working unceasingly for the last thirty-six hours. The second mate begged that I would take the first spell, whilst he kept watch; as he appeared the fresher of the two, I consented, and retiring to my cabin was soon fast asleep. When I awoke and returned on deck I found that my cowardly crew had deserted the ship, in the only boat that was seaworthy, leaving me and my poor children to perish.

“But a merciful Providence watched over our safety. After drifting for three or four days the barque ran on a rock, off the island where you discovered us, and as it was quite calm at the time we succeeded in getting ashore without much difficulty. A week later the poor old Sea-mew was broken up by a gale, but after she went to pieces we managed to secure some casks of provisions, and several useful articles. I also saved the ship’s papers, and other private documents of importance. On exploring the island we found that it was not altogether bare of vegetation, and that it was inhabited by a small herd of very lean goats—whose progenitors had probably been left there by the benevolent captain of some passing vessel, for the benefit of any persons who, like ourselves, might be cast ashore; there were also hundreds of sea-birds, and a plentiful supply of good water; so that there was no fear of our perishing of hunger or thirst. Of clothes, we had only those we stood up in, and when they wore out, we replaced them with goatskins.

“I will not weary you with an account of our life on the island; as you may well imagine, the time hung heavily on our hands, though we did all we could to lessen the monotony of our existence, but at times we felt very down-hearted; still we never quite lost hope that, some day or other, a vessel might come within hail, and take us off.

“At length, after thirteen months of solitude and privation, that hope was realised—when a kind Providence sent the Surat Castle to rescue us from our desert home and restored us to the society of our fellow-creatures.”

“Well!” exclaimed Captain Ladds when Weston finished his narrative; “you certainly have had a run of ill-luck! Let us hope that brighter days are in store for you. The tide must turn at last, you know; and you shall not want friends to help you to retrieve your fortunes.”

“No, indeed!” cried Master Tom impulsively. “If the pater don’t stand by you, I’m jolly well mistaken. You must come to Rustenburg until something turns up. But I say, Mr. Weston,” he went on; “you’ve had about enough of the sea! I’d try my luck on ‘terra firma’ now, if I were you!”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Tom,” Mr. Weston replied; “and I might do worse than settle down in Cape Colony. The anxieties and dangers of my last voyage have rather sickened me, and if there is a suitable berth to be found on shore, I don’t think I shall be tempted to go afloat again.”