“That shows how little you know about big numbers,” observed Tom Lokins, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “I’m pretty sure it couldn’t be done in much less than six months; workin’ hard all day, and makin’ allowance for only one hour off for dinner.”
“You’re all wrong, shipmates,” said Fred Borders. “That young doctor told me that if they’d begun work at the day of creation they would only have just finished the job last year!”
“Oh! gammon, you’re jokin’,” cried Bill Blunt.
“No, I’m not,” said Fred, “for I was told afterwards by an old clergyman that the young doctor was quite right, and that any one who was good at ’rithmetic could work the thing out for himself in less than half-an-hour.”
Just as Fred said this there came a loud cry from the mast-head that made us all spring to our feet like lightning.
“There she blows! There she breaches!”
The captain was on deck in a moment.
“Where away?” he cried.
“On the lee beam, sir. Sperm whale, about two miles off. There she blows!”
Every man was at his station in a moment; for, after being some months out, we became so used to the work, that we acted together like a piece of machinery. But our excitement never abated in the least.
“Sing out when the ship heads for her.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Keep her away!” said the captain to the man at the helm. “Bob Ledbury, hand me the spyglass.”
“Steady,” from the mast-head.
“Steady it is,” answered the man at the helm.
While we were all looking eagerly out ahead we heard a thundering snore behind us, followed by a heavy splash. Turning quickly round, we saw the flukes of an enormous whale sweeping through the air not more than six hundred yards astern of us.
“Down your helm,” roared the captain; “haul up the mainsail, and square the yards. Call all hands.”
“All hands, ahoy!” roared Bill Blunt, in a voice of thunder, and in another moment every man in the ship was on deck.
“Hoist and swing the boats,” cried the captain. “Lower away.”
Down went the boats into the water; the men were into their places almost before you could wink, and we pulled away from the ship just as the whale rose the second time, about half a mile away to leeward.
From the appearance of this whale we felt certain that it was one of the largest we had yet seen, so we pulled after it with right good will. I occupied my usual place in the captain’s boat, next the bow-oar, just beside Tom Lokins, who was ready with his harpoons in the bow. Young Borders pulled the oar directly in front of me. The captain himself steered, and, as our crew was a picked one, we soon left the other two boats behind us.
Presently a small whale rose close beside us, and, sending a shower of spray over the boat, went down in a pool of foam. Before we had time to speak, another whale rose on the opposite side of the boat, and then another on our starboard bow. We had got into the middle of a shoal of whales, which commenced leaping and spouting all round us, little aware of the dangerous enemy that was so near.
In a few minutes more, up comes the big one again that we had first seen. He seemed very active and wild. After blowing on the surface once or twice, about a quarter of a mile off, he peaked his flukes, and pitched down head foremost.
“Now then, lads, he’s down for a long dive,” said the captain; “spring your oars like men, we’ll get that fish for certain, if you’ll only pull.”
The captain was mistaken; the whale had only gone down deep in order to come up and breach, or spring out of the water, for the next minute he came up not a hundred yards from us, and leaped his whole length into the air.
A shout of surprise broke from the men, and no wonder, for this was the largest fish I ever saw or heard of, and he came up so clear of the water that we could see him from head to tail as he turned over in the air, exposing his white belly to view, and came down on his great side with a crash like thunder, that might have been heard six miles off. A splendid mass of pure white spray burst from the spot where he fell, and in another moment he was gone.
“I do believe it’s New Zealand Tom,” cried Bill Blunt, referring to an old bull whale that had become famous among the men who frequented these seas for its immense size and fierceness, and for the great trouble it had given them, smashing some of their boats, and carrying away many of their harpoons.
“I don’t know whether it’s New Zealand Tom or not,” said the captain, “but it’s pretty clear that he’s an old sperm bull. Give way, lads, we must get that whale whatever it should cost us.”
We did not need a second bidding; the size of the fish was so great that we felt more excited than we had yet been during the voyage, so we bent our oars till we almost pulled the boat out of the water. The other boats had got separated, chasing the little whales, so we had this one all to ourselves.
“There she blows!” said Tom Lokins, in a low voice, as the fish came up a short distance astern of us.
We had overshot our mark, so, turning about, we made for the whale, which kept for a considerable time near the top of the water, spouting now and then, and going slowly to windward. We at last got within a few feet of the monster, and the captain suddenly gave the word, “Stand up.”
This was to our harpooner, Tom Lokins, who jumped up on the instant, and buried two harpoons deep in the blubber.
“Stern all!” was the next word, and we backed off with all our might. It was just in time, for, in his agony, the whale tossed his tail right over our heads, the flukes were so big that they could have completely covered the boat, and he brought them down flat on the sea with a clap that made our ears tingle, while a shower of spray drenched us to the skin. For one moment I thought it was all over with us, but we were soon out of immediate danger, and lay on our oars watching the writhings of the wounded monster as he lashed the ocean into foam. The water all round us soon became white like milk, and the foam near the whale was red with blood.
Suddenly this ceased, and, before we could pull up to lance him, he went down, taking the line out at such a rate that the boat spun round, and sparks of fire flew from the logger-head from the chafing of the rope.
“Hold on!” cried the captain, and next moment we were tearing over the sea at a fearful rate, with a bank of white foam rolling before us, high above our bows, and away on each side of us like the track of a steamer, so that we expected it every moment to rush in-board and swamp us. I had never seen anything like this before. From the first I had a kind of feeling that some evil would befall us.
While we were tearing over the water in this way, we saw the other whales coming up every now and then, and blowing quite near to us, and presently we passed close enough to the first mate’s boat to see that he was fast to a fish, and unable, therefore, to render us help if we should need it.
In a short time the line began to slack, so we hauled it in hand over hand, and Tom Lokins coiled it away in the tub in the stern of the boat, while the captain took his place in the bow to be ready with the lance. The whale soon came up, and we pulled with all our might towards him. Instead of making off again, however, he turned round and made straight at the boat. I now thought that destruction was certain, for, when I saw his great blunt forehead coming down on us like a steamboat, I felt that we could not escape. I was mistaken. The captain received him on the point of his lance, and the whale has such a dislike to pain, that even a small prick will sometimes turn him.
For some time we kept dodging round this fellow; but he was so old and wise, that he always turned his head to us, and prevented us from getting a chance to lance him. At last he turned a little to one side, and the captain plunged