Part 23 (1/2)
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 ma.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p, 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-gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+p, had been utterly ignorant of what had pa.s.sed.
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 b.u.t.toning 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 s.h.i.+p 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 ma.s.s of white feathers, and scattered it high in air. The mizzen-topsail was blown to ribbons, and it seemed as if the other sails were about to share the same fate. The s.h.i.+p flew from billow to billow, after recovering from the first rude shock, as if she were but a dark cloud on the sea, and the spray flew high over her masts, drenching the men on the topsail-yards while they laboured to reef the sails.
”We shall have to take down these t'gallant-masts, Mr Millons,” said the captain, as he stood by the weather-bulwarks holding on to a belaying-pin to prevent his being washed away.
”Shall I give the order, sir?” inquired the first mate.