Майн Рид
The Ocean Waifs: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea

Chapter Fifty Nine.
Aboard the Body of a Whale

The object of their united reconnoissance was the same which, but a few moments before, had occupied the attention of the sailor. They were standing on the dead body of a whale that had been killed by harpoons. Where were the people who had harpooned it?

After scanning the horizon with the same careful scrutiny as before, the sailor once more turned his attention to the huge leviathan, on whose back they were borne.

Several objects not before seen now attracted the attention of himself and companion. The tall flag, known among whalers by the name of “whift,” was not the only evidence of the manner in which the cachalot had met its death. Two large harpoons were seen sticking out of its side, their iron arrows buried up to the socket in its blubber; while from the thick wooden shanks, protruding beyond the skin, were lines extending into the water, at the ends of which were large blocks of wood floating like buoys upon the surface of the sea.

Ben identified the latter as the “drogues,” that form part of the equipment of a regular whale-ship. He knew them well, and their use. Before becoming a man-o’-war’s-man, he had handled the harpoon; and was perfectly au fait to all connected with the calling of a whaler.

“Yes,” resumed he, on recognising the implements of his ci-devant profession, “it ha’ been jest as I said. A whaler ’a been over this ground, and killed the spermacety. Maybe I’m wrong about that,” he added, after reflecting a short while. “I may be wrong about the ship being over this very ground. I don’t like the look o’ them drogues.”

“De drogue?” inquired the Coromantee. “Dem block o’ wood dat am driffin’ about? Wha’ for you no like dem, Massa Brace?”

“But for their bein’ thear I could say for sartin a ship had been here.”

“Must a’ been!” asserted Snowball. “If no’, how you count for de presence ob de flag and de hapoons?”

“Ah!” answered the sailor, with something like a sigh; “they kud a’ got thear, without the men as throwed ’em bein’ anywhere near this. You know nothin’ o’ whalin’, Snowy.”

This speech put Snowball in a quandary.

“You see, nigger,” continued the sailor, “the presence o’ them drogues indercates that the whale warn’t dead when the boats left her.” (The ci-devant whaler followed the fashion of his former associates, in speaking of the whale, among whom the epicene gender of the animal is always feminine.) “She must a’ been still alive,” continued he, “and the drogues were put thear to hinder her from makin’ much way through the water. In coorse there must a’ been a school o’ the spermacetys; and the crew o’ the whaler didn’t want to lose time with this ’un, which they had wounded. For that reason they have struck her with this pair o’ drogued harpoons; and stuck this whift into her back. On fust seein’ that, I war inclined to think different. You see the whift be stickin’ a’most straight up, an’ how could that a’ been done by them in the boats? If the whale hadn’t a’ been dead, nobody would a’ dared to a clombed on to her an’ fix the flag that way.”

“You are right dar,” interrupted Snowball.

“No,” rejoined the sailor, “I ain’t. I thought I war; but I war wrong, as you be now, Snowy. You see the flag-spear ain’t straight into the back o’ the anymal. It’s to one side, though it now stand nearly on top; because the body o’ the whale be canted over a bit. A first-rate ‘heads-man’ o’ a whale-boat could easily a’ throwed it that way from the bottom o’ his boat, and that’s the way it ha’ been done.”

“Spose ’im hab been jest dat way,” assented Snowball. “But wha’ matter ’bout dat? De whale have been kill all de same.”

“What matter? Everything do it matter.”

“’Splain, Massa Brace!”

“Don’t ye see, nigger, that if the spermacety had been dispatched while the boats were about it, it would prove that the whale-ship must a’ been here while they were a killin’ the creature; an’ that would go far to prove that she couldn’t be a great ways off now.”

“So dat wud, – so im wud, fo’ sa’tin sure.”

“Well, Snowy, as the case stands, thear be no sartinty where the whaler be at this time. The anymal, after being drogued, may a’ sweemed many a mile from the place where she war first harpooned. I’ve knowed ’em to go a score o’ knots afore they pulled up; an’ this bein’ a’ old bull, – one o’ the biggest spermacetys I ever see, – she must a sweemed to the full o’ that distance afore givin’ in. If that’s been so, thear ain’t much chance o’ eyther her or we bein’ overhauled by the whaler.”

As the sailor ceased speaking he once more directed his glance over the ocean; which, after another minute and careful scrutiny of the horizon, fell back upon the body of the whale, with the same expression of disappointment that before had been observable.

Chapter Sixty.
A curious Cuisine

During all that day, the sailor and the ex-cook of the Pandora kept watch from the summit of the dead cachalot.

It was not altogether for this purpose they remained there, – since the mast of the Catamaran would have given them an observatory of equal and even greater elevation.

There were several reasons why they did not cast off from the carcass, and continue their westward course: the most important being the hope that the destroyers of the whale might return to take possession of the valuable prize which they had left behind them.

There was, moreover, an undefined feeling of security in lying alongside the leviathan, – almost as great as they might have felt if anchored near the beach of an actual island, – and this had some influence in protracting their stay.

But there was yet another motive which would of itself have caused them to remain at their present moorings for a considerable period of time.

During the intervals of their protracted vigil, they had not been inattentive to the objects immediately around them: and the carcass of the whale had come in for a share of their consideration. A consultation had been held upon it, which had resulted in a determination not to leave the leviathan until they had rendered its remains, or at least a portion of them, useful for some future end.

The old whaleman knew that under that dark epidermis over which, for two days, they had been recklessly treading, there were many valuable substances that might be made available to their use and comfort, on board the Catamaran.

First, there was the “blubber,” which, if boiled or “tried,” would, from the body of an old bull like that, yield at the very least, a hundred barrels of oil.

This they cared nothing about: since they had neither the pots to boil, the casks to hold, nor the craft to carry it, – even if rendered into oil for the market.

But Ben knew that within the skull of the cachalot there was a deposit of pure sperm, that needed no preparation, which would be found of service to them in a way they had already thought of.

This sperm could be reached by simply removing the “junk” which forms the exterior portion of a cachalot’s huge snout, and sinking a shaft into the skull. Here would, or should, be found a cavity filled with a delicate cellular tissue, containing ten or a dozen large barrels full of the purest spermaceti.

They did not stand in need of anything like this quantity. A couple of casks would suffice for their need; and these they desired to obtain for that want which had suggested itself to both Snowball and the sailor. They had been long suffering from the absence of fuel, – not wherewith to warm themselves, – but as a means of enabling them to cook their food. They need suffer no longer. With the spermaceti to be extracted from the “case” of the cachalot, they could lay in a stock that would last them for many a day. They had their six casks, – five of them still empty. By using a couple of them to contain the oil, the raft would still be sufficiently buoyant to carry all hands, and not a bit less worthy of the sea.

Both of these brave men had observed the repugnance with which Lilly Lalee partook of their raw repasts. Nothing but hunger enabled her to eat what they could set before her. It had touched the feelings of both; and rendered them desirous of providing her with some kind of food more congenial to the delicate palate of the child.

Long before they had any intention of abandoning the dead body of the whale, – in fact shortly after taking possession of it, – Ben Brace, assisted by Snowball and little William, – the latter having also mounted upon the monster’s back, – cut open the great cavity of the “case” with the axe; and then inserting a large tin pot, – which had turned up in the sailor’s sea-kit, – drew it put again full of liquid spermaceti.

This was carried down to the deck of the Catamaran when the process of making a fire was instantly proceeded with.

By means of some untwisted strands of tarry rope, ingeniously inserted into the oil, the pot was converted into a sort of open lamp, – which only required to be kindled into a flame.

But Ben Brace had not been smoking a pipe for a period of nearly thirty years, without being provided with the means of lighting it. In the same depository from which the tin pot had been obtained was found the proper implements for striking a light, – flint, steel, and tinder, – and, as the latter, within the water-tight compartment of the man-o’-war’s-man’s chest, having been preserved perfectly dry, there was no difficulty in setting fire to the oil.

It was soon seen burning up over the rim of the pot with a bright clear flame; and a large flake of the dried fish being held over the blaze, in a very short space of time became done to a turn.

This furnished all of them with a meal much more palatable than any they had eaten since they had been forced to flee from the decks of the burning Pandora.

Chapter Sixty One.
An Assembly of Sharks

As the spermaceti in the pot still continued to blaze up, – the wick not yet having burnt out, – it occurred to Snowball to continue his culinary operations, and broil a sufficient quantity of the dead fish to serve for supper. The ex-cook, unlike most others of his calling, did not like to see his fuel idly wasted: and therefore, in obedience to the thought that had suggested itself, he brought forth another flake of shark-flesh, and submitted to the flames, as before.

While observing him in the performance of this provident task, a capital idea also occurred to Ben Brace. Since it was possible thus to cook their supper in advance, why not also their breakfast for the following morning, then dinner for the day, their supper of to-morrow night, – in short, all the raw provisions which they had on their hands? By doing this, not only would a fire be no longer necessary, but the fish so cooked, – or even thoroughly dried in the blaze and smoke, – would be likely to keep better. In fact, fish thus preserved, – as is often done with herrings, ling, codfish, mackerel, and haddock, – will remain good for months without suffering the slightest taint of decomposition. It was an excellent idea; and, Ben having communicated it to the others, it was at once determined that it should be carried out.

There was no fear of their running short in the staple article of fuel. Ben assured them that the “case” of a cachalot of the largest size, – such as the one beside them, – often contained five hundred gallons of the liquid spermaceti! Besides, there was the enormous quantity of junk and blubber, – whole mountains of it, – both of which could be rendered into oil by a process which the whalers term “trying.” Other inflammable substances, too, are found in the carcass of the sperm-whale: so that, in the article of fuel, the crew of the Catamaran had been unexpectedly furnished with a stock by which they might keep up a blazing fire for the whole of a twelvemonth.

It was no longer any scarcity of fuel that could hinder them from cooking on a large scale, but a scantiness of the provisions to be cooked; and they were now greatly troubled at the thought of their larder having got so low.

While Ben Brace and Snowball stood pondering upon this, and mutually murmuring their regrets, a thought suddenly came into the mind of the sailor which was calculated to give comfort to all.

“As for the provisions in our locker,” said he, “we can easily ’plenish them, such as they be. Look there, nigger. There be enough raw meat to keep ye a’ cookin’ till your wool grows white.”

The sailor, as he said this, simply nodded toward the sea.

It needed no further pointing out to understand what he meant by the phrase “raw meat.” Scores of sharks, – both of the blue and white species, – attended by their pilots and suckers, were swimming around the carcass of the cachalot. The sea seemed alive with them. Scarce a square rod, within a circle of several hundred fathoms’ circumference, that did not exhibit their stiff, wicked-looking dorsal fins cutting sharply above the surface.

Of course the presence of the dead whale accounted for this unusual concourse of the tyrants of the deep. Not that they had any intention of directing their attack upon it: for, from the peculiar conformation of his mouth, the shark is incapable of feeding upon the carcass of a large whale. But having, no doubt, accompanied the chase at the time the cachalot had been harpooned, they were now staying by a dead body, from an instinct that told them its destroyers would return, and supply them with its flesh in convenient morsels, – while occupied in flensing it.

“Ugh!” exclaimed the sailor; “they look hungry enough to bite at any bait we may throw out to them. We won’t have much trouble in catchin’ as many o’ ’em as we want.”

“A doan b’lieve, Massa Brace, we hab got nebba such a ting as a shark-hook ’board de Cat’maran.”

“Don’t make yourself uneasy ’bout that,” rejoined the sailor, in a confident tone. “Shark-hook be blowed! I see somethin’ up yonder worth a score o’ shark-hooks. The brutes be as tame as turtles turned on their backs. They’re always so about a dead spermacety. Wi’ one o’ them ere tools as be stickin’ in the side o’ the old bull, if I don’t pull a few o’ them out o’ water, I never handled a harpoon, that’s all. Ye may stop your cookin’ Snowy, an’ go help me. When we’ve got a few sharks catched an’ cut up, then you can go at it again on a more ’stensive scale. Come along, my hearty!”

As Ben terminated his speech, he strode across the deck of the raft, and commenced clambering up on the carcass.

Snowball, who perceived the wisdom of his old comrade’s design, let go the flake of fish he had been holding in the blaze; and, parting from the pot, once more followed the sailor up the steep side of the cachalot.

Chapter Sixty Two.
A dangerous Equilibrium

Ben had taken along with him the axe; and, proceeding towards one of the harpoons, – still buried in the body of the whale, – he commenced cutting it out.

In a few moments a deep cavity was hewn out around the shank of the harpoon; which was further deepened, until the barbed blade was wellnigh laid bare. Snowball, impatiently seizing the stout wooden shaft, gave it a herculean pluck, that completely detached the arrow from the soft blubber in which it had been imbedded.

Unfortunately for Snowball, he had not well calculated the strength required for clearing that harpoon. Having already made several fruitless attempts to extract it, he did not expect it to draw out so easily; and, in consequence of his making an over-effort, his balance became deranged; his feet, ill-planted upon the slippery skin, flew simultaneously from beneath him; and he came down upon the side of the leviathan with a loud “slap,” – similar to what might have been heard had he fallen upon half-thawed ice.

Unpleasant as this mishap may have been, it was not the worst that might have befallen him on that occasion. Nor was it the fall itself that caused him to “sing out” at the top of his voice, and in accents betokening a terrible alarm.

What produced this manifestation was a peril of far more fearful kind, which at the moment menaced him.

The spot where the harpoon had been sticking was in the side of the cachalot, and, as the carcass lay, a broad space around the weapon presented an inclined plane, sloping abruptly towards the water. Lubricated as it was with the secreted oil of the animal, it was smooth as glass. Upon this slope Snowball had been standing; and upon it had he fallen.

But the impetus of the fall not only hindered him from lying where he had gone down, but also from being able to get up again; and, instead of doing either one or the other, he commenced sliding down the slippery surface of the leviathan’s body, where it shelved towards the water.

Good heavens! what was to become of him? A score of sharks were just below, – waiting for him with hungry jaws, and eyes glancing greedily upward. Seeing the two men mounted upon the carcass of the whale, and one wielding an axe, they had gathered upon that side, – in the belief that the flensing was about to begin!

It was a slight circumstance that saved the sea-cook from being eaten up, – not only raw, but alive. Simply the circumstance of his having held on to the harpoon. Had he dropped that weapon on falling, it would never have been grasped by him again. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to hold on to it; or perhaps the tenacity was merely mechanical. Whatever may have been the reason, he did hold on. Fortunately, also, he was gliding down on the side opposite to that on which floated the “drogue.”

These two circumstances saved him.

When about half-way to the water, – and still sliding rapidly downwards, – his progress was suddenly arrested, or rather impeded, – for he was not altogether brought to a stop, – by a circumstance as unexpected as it was fortunate. That was the tightening of the line attached to the handle of the harpoon. He had slidden to the end of his tether, – the other end of which was fast to the drogue drifting about in the sea, as already said, on the opposite side of the carcass.

Heavy as was the piece of wood, – and offering, as it did, a considerable amount of resistance in being dragged through the water, – it would not have been sufficient to sustain the huge body of the Coromantee. It only checked the rapidity of his descent; and in the end he would have gone down into the sea, – and shortly after into the stomachs of, perhaps, half a score of sharks, – but for the opportune interference of the ex-man-o’-war’s-man; who, just in the nick of time, – at the very moment when Snowball’s toes were within six inches of the water’s edge, caught hold of the cord and arrested his farther descent.

But although the sailor had been able to accomplish this much, and was also able to keep Snowball from slipping farther down, he soon discovered that he was unable to pull him up again. It was just as much as his strength was equal to, – even when supplemented by the weight of the drogue, – to keep the sea-cook in the place where he had succeeded in checking him. There hung Snowball in suspense, – holding on to the slippery skin of the cachalot, literally “with tooth and toe-nail.”

Snowball saw that his position was perilous, – more than that: it was frightful. He could hear noises beneath him, – the rushing of the sharks through the water. He glanced apprehensively below. He could see their black triangular fins, and note the lurid gleaming of their eyeballs, as they rolled in their sunken sockets. It was a sight to terrify the stoutest heart; and that of Snowball did not escape being terrified.

“Hole on, Massa Brace!” he instinctively shouted. “Hole on, for de lub o’ God! Doan’t leab me slip an inch, or dese dam brute sure cotch hold ob me! Fo’ de lub o’ de great Gorramity, hole on!”

Ben needed not the stimulus of this pathetic appeal. He was holding on to the utmost of his strength. He could not have added another pound to the pull. He dared not even renew either his attitude, or the grip he had upon the rope. The slightest movement he might make would endanger the life of his black-skinned comrade.

A slackening of the cord, even to the extent of twelve inches, would have been fatal to the feet of Snowball – already within six of the surface of the water and the snouts of the sharks!

Perhaps never in all his checkered career had the life of the negro been suspended in such dangerous balance. The slightest circumstance would have disturbed the equilibrium, – an ounce would have turned the scale, – and delivered him into the jaws of death.

It is scarcely necessary to conjecture what would ultimately have been the end of this perilous adventure, had the sailor and sea-cook been permitted to terminate it between themselves. The strength of the former was each instant decreasing; while the weight of the latter, – now more feebly clinging to the slippery epidermis of the whale, – was in like proportion becoming greater.

With nothing to intervene, the result might be easily guessed. In figurative parlance Snowball must have “gone overboard.”

But his time was not yet come; and his comrade knew this, when a pair of hands, – small, but strong ones, – were seen grasping the cord, alongside of his own. They were the hands of Little Will’m!

At the earliest moment, after Snowball had slipped and fallen, the lad had perceived his peril; and “swarming” up by the flipper of the whale, had hurried to the assistance of Ben, laying hold of the rope, – not one second too soon.

It was soon enough, however, to save the suspended Coromantee; whose body, now yielding to the united strength of the two, was drawn up the slippery slope, – slowly, but surely, – until it rested upon the broad horizontal space around the summit of that mountain of bones and blubber.