Part 21

“About fifteen years ago now, as near as I can reckon (for we don’t keep much account of time except we’re on monthly wage), I was cruising the Kingsmills in the old _Salem_, Captain Ramirez. They told me her name meant ‘Peace,’ and that may be; but if so, all I can say is that never was a ship worse named. Why, there wasn’t ever any peace aboard of her. Quiet there was, when the old man was asleep, for nobody wanted him wakened; but peace--well, I tell ye, boys, she was jest hell afloat. I’ve been fishing now a good many years in Yankee spouters, and there’s some blood-boats among ’em, but never was I so unlucky as when I first set foot aboard the _Salem_. Skipper was a Portugee from Flores, come over to the States as a nipper and brung up in Rhode Island. Don’t know and don’t care how he got to be skipper, but I guess Jemmy Squarefoot was his schoolmaster, for some of his tricks wouldn’t, couldn’t, have been thought of anywheres else but down below. I ain’t a-goin’ to make ye all miserable by telling you how he hazed us round and starved us and tortured us, but you can let your imagination loose if you want to, and then you won’t overhaul the facts of his daily amusements.

“Well, I’d been with him about a year when, as I said at first, we was cruising the Kingsmills, never going too close in, because at that time the natives were very savage, always fighting with each other, but very glad of the chance to go for a ship and kill and eat all hands. Then again we had some Kanakas aboard, and the skipper knew that if they got half a chance they would be overboard and off to the shore.

“Sperm whales were very plentiful, in fact they had been so all the cruise, which was another proof to all of us who the skipper was in co. with, for in nearly every ship we gammed the crowd were heart-broken at their bad luck. However, we’d only been a few days on the ground when one morning we lowered for a thundering big school of middling-size whales. We sailed in full butt, and all boats got fast. But no sooner was a strain put on the lines than they all parted like as if they was burnt. Nobody there ever seen or heard of such a thing before. It fairly scared us all, for we thought it was witchcraft, and some of ’em said the skipper’s time was up and his boss was rounding on him. Well, we bent on again, second irons, as the whales were all running anyhow, not trying to get away, and we all got fast again. ’Twas no good at all; all parted just the same as before. Well, we was about the worst gallied lot of men you ever see. We was that close to the ship that we knew the old man could see with his glasses everything that was going on. Every one of us knew just about how he was bearing it, but what could we do? Well, boys, we didn’t have much time to serlilerquise, for before you could say ‘knife’ here he comes, jumping, howling mad. Right in among us he busted, and oh! he did look like his old father Satan on the rampage. He was in the bow of his boat, and he let drive at the first whale he ran up against. Down went the fish and pop went the line same as before. Well, I’ve seen folks get mad more’n a little, but never in all my fishing did ever I see anything like he showed us then. I thought he’d a sploded all into little pieces. He snatched off his hat and tore it into ribbons with his teeth; the rattle of Portugee blasphemion was like our old mincing-machine going full kelter, and the foam flew from between his teeth like soapsuds.

“Suddenly he cooled down, all in a minute like, and said very quiet, ‘All aboard.’ We were all pretty well prepared for the worst by this time, but I do think we liked him less now than we did when he was ramping around--he looked a sight more dangerous. However, we obeyed orders smart, as usual, but he was aboard first. My! how that boat of his just flew. ’Twas like a race for life.

“We were no sooner on board than we hoisted boats and made them fast. Then the skipper yelled, ‘All hands lay aft.’ Aft we come prompt, and ranged ourselves across the quarter-deck in front of where he was prowling back and forth like a breeding tigress. As soon as we were all aft he stopped, facing us, and spoke. ‘Somebody aboard this ship’s been trying to work a jolt off on me by pisonin’ my lines. Now I want that man, so’s I can kill him, slow; ’n I’m going to have him too ’thout waiting too long. Now _I_ think this ship’s been too easy a berth for all of you, but from this out until I have my rights on the man I want she’s agoing to be a patent hell. Make up yer mines quick, fer I tell yer no ship’s crew ever suffered what you’re agoin’ to suffer till I get that man under my hands. Now go.’

“When we got forrard we found the fo’c’s’le scuttle screwed up so’s we couldn’t get below. There was no shelter on deck from the blazing sun, the hatches was battened so we couldn’t get into the fore-hold, so we had to just bear it. One man went aft to the scuttle butt for a drink of water, and found the spigot gone. The skipper saw him, and says to him, ‘You’ll fine plenty to drink in the bar’l forrard,’ and you know the sort of liquor _that’s_ full of. Some of us flung ourselves down on deck, being dog tired as well as hungry and thirsty, but he was forrard in a minute with both his shooting-irons cocked. ‘Up, ye spawn, ’n git some exercise; ye’r gettin’ too fat ’n lazy,’ says he. So we trudged about praying that he might drop dead, but none of us willing as yet to face certain death by defying him. The blessed night came at last, and we were able to get a little rest, he having gone below, and the officers, though willing enough to keep in with him at our expense, not being bad enough to drive us all night unless he was around to see it done. Along about eight bells came the steward, with a biscuit apiece for us and a bucket of water--about half a pint each. We were so starved and thirsty that the bite and sup was a godsend. What made things worse for us was the suspicion we had one of the other. As I said, we was, as usual, a mixed crowd and ready to sell one another for a trifle. He knew that, curse him, and reckoned with considerable certainty on getting hold of the victim he wanted. Well, the night passed somehow, and when morning came he was around again making us work, scouring iron-work bright, holy-stoning decks, scrubbing overside, as if our very lives depended on the jobs being done full pelt.

“We was drawing in pretty close to a small group of islands, closer than we had been yet in those waters, and we all wondered what was in the wind. Suddenly he gave orders to back the mainyard and have the dinghy lowered. She was a tiny tub of a craft, such as I never saw carried in a whaler before, only about big enough for three. A little Scotchman and myself was ordered into her, then to our amazement the old man got in, shoved off, and headed her for the opening through the reef surrounding the biggest island of the group. It was fairly well wooded with cocoa-nut trees and low bushes, while, unlike any of the other islets, there were several big rocks showing up through the vegetation in the middle of it. We weren’t long getting to the beach, where we jumped out and ran her up a piece so’s he could step out dry. We waited for a minute or two while he sat thinking, and looking straight ahead of him at nothing. Presently he jumped out and said to me, ‘Come,’ and to Sandy, ‘Stay here.’ Off he went up the beach and straight into the little wood, just as if somebody was calling him and he had to go. Apparently there wasn’t a living soul on the whole island except just us three. We had only got a few yards into the bush when we came to a little dip in the ground: a sort of valley. Just as we got to the bottom, we suddenly found ourselves in the grip of two Kanakas, the one that had hold of the skipper being the biggest man I ever saw. I made one wriggle, but my man, who was holding my two arms behind my back, gave them a twist that nearly wrenched them out of their sockets and quieted me good. As for the skipper, he was trying to call or speak, but although his mouth worked no sound came, and he looked like death. The giant that had him flung him on his face and lashed his wrists behind him with a bit of native fish-line, then served his ankles the same. I was tied next, but not so cruel as the skipper, indeed they didn’t seem to want to hurt me. The two Kanakas now had a sort of a consultation by signs, neither of them speaking a word. While they was at it I noticed the big one was horribly scarred all over his back and loins (they was both naked except for a bit of a grass belt) as well as crippled in his gait. Presently they ceased their dumb motions and came over to me. The big one opened his mouth and pointed to where his tongue had been, also to his right eye-socket, which was empty. Then he touched the big white scars on his body, and finally pointed to the skipper. Whole books couldn’t have explained his meaning better than I understood it then. But what was coming? I declare I didn’t feel glad a bit at the thought that Captain Ramirez was going to get his deserts at last.

“Suddenly the giant histed the skipper on his shoulder as if he had been a baby, and strode off across the valley towards the massive heap of rocks, followed by his comrade and myself. We turned sharply round a sort of gate, composed of three or four huge coral blocks balanced upon each other, and entered a grotto or cave with a descending floor. Over the pieces of rock with which the ground was strewed we stumbled onward in the dim light until we entered water and splashed on through it for some distance. Then, our eyes being by this time used to the darkness, the general features of the place could be made out. Communication with the sea was evident, for the signs of high-water mark could be seen on the walls of the cave just above our heads. For a minute or so we remained perfectly still in the midst of that dead silence, so deep that I fancied I could hear the shell-fish crawling on the bottom. Then I was brought a few paces nearer the Captain, as he hung upon the great Kanaka’s shoulder. Taking my eyes from his death-like face I cast them down, and there, almost at my feet, was one of those enormous clams such as you see the shells of thrown up on all these beaches, big as a child’s bath. Hardly had the horrible truth dawned on me of what was going to happen than it took place. Lifting the skipper into an upright position, the giant dropped him feet first between the gaping shells of the big clam, which, the moment it felt the touch, shut them with a smash that must have broken the skipper’s legs. An awful wail burst from him, the first sound he had yet made. I have said he was brave, and he was, too, although such a cruel villain, but now he broke down and begged hard for life. It may have been that the Kanakas were deaf as well as dumb; at any rate, for all sign of hearing they showed, they were. He appealed to me, but I was as helpless as he, and my turn was apparently now to come. But evidently the Kanakas were only carrying out what they considered to be payment of a due debt, for after looking at him fixedly for awhile, during which I felt the water rising round my knees, they turned their backs on him and led me away. I was glad to go, for his shrieks and prayers were awful to hear, and I couldn’t do anything.

“They led me to where they had first caught us, made me fast to a tree, and left me. Overcome with fatigue and hunger I must have fainted, for when I come to I found myself loose, lying on the sand, and two or three of my shipmates attending to me. As soon as I was able to speak they asked me what had become of the skipper. Then it all rushed back on me at once, and I told them the dreadful story. They heard me in utter silence, the mate saying at last, ‘Wall, sonny, it’s a good job fer yew the Kanakers made ye fast, or yew’d have had a job ter clear yersef of murder.’ And so I thought now. However, as soon as I was a bit rested and had something to eat, I led them to the cave, keeping a bright look-out meanwhile for a possible attack by the Kanakas. None appeared though, and the tide having fallen again we had no difficulty in finding the skipper. All that was left of him, that is, for the sea-scavengers had been busy with him, so that he was a sight to remember with a crawling at your stomach till your dying day. He was still fast in the grip of the clam, so it was decided to leave him there and get on board again at once.

“We did so unmolested, getting sail on the ship as soon as we reached her, so as to lose sight of that infernal spot. But it’s no use denying the fact that we all felt glad the skipper was dead; some rejoiced at the manner of his death, although none could understand who called him ashore or why he obeyed. Those who had whispered the theory of the finish of his contract with Jemmy Squarefoot chuckled at their prescience, as fully justified by the sequel, declaring that the big Kanaka whom I had seen was none other than Satan himself come for his bargain.

“Matters went on now in quite a different fashion. The relief was so great that we hardly knew ourselves for the same men, and it affected all hands alike, fore and aft. The secret of the breaking line was discovered when Mr. Peck, the mate, took the skipper’s berth over. In a locker beneath the bunk he found the pieces of a big bottle, what they call a ‘carboy,’ I think, and in hunting up the why of this a leakage through the deck was found into the store-room where the cordage was kept. Only two other coils were affected by the stuff that had run down, and of course they were useless, but the rest of the stock was all right. Now, I don’t know what it was, nor how it came there, nor any more about it, and if you ain’t tired of listening I’m mighty tired of talking. Pass that ‘switchel’[1] this way.”

[1] A drink of molasses, vinegar, and water.

MARATHON OF THE SEALS

Far beyond the roaring track of the homeward-bound merchantman, lie in the South Pacific the grim clusters of salt-whitened isles marked on the chart as the South Shetlands. Many years have come and gone since their hungry shores were busy with the labours of the sealers, that, disdainful of the terrors of snow-laden gale and spindrift-burdened air, toiled amid the Antarctic weather to fill their holds with the garments of the sea-folk. Then, after perils incredible, the adventurers would return to port, and waste in a week of debauch the fruit of their toil, utterly forgetful of crashing floe or hissing sea, frozen limbs or wrenching hunger pains. When all was spent they would return, resolutely forgetting their folly and wreaking upon the innocent seal all the rage of regret that _would_ rise within them. They spared none--bull, cow, and calf alike were slain, as if in pure lust of slaughter, until the helplessness of utter fatigue compelled them to desist and snatch an interval of death-like sleep, oblivious of all the grinding bitterness of their surroundings. Life was held cheap among them, a consequence, not to be wondered at, of its hardness and the want of all those things that make life desirable. And yet the stern existence had its own strong fascination for those who had become inured to it. Few of them ever gave it up voluntarily, ending their stormy life-struggle in some sudden ghastly fashion and being almost immediately forgotten. Occasionally some sorely-maimed man would survive the horrors of his disablement, lying in the fetid forecastle in sullen endurance until the vessel reached a port whence he could be transferred to civilisation. But these unhappy men fretted grievously for the vast openness of the Antarctic, the gnashing of the ice-fangs upon the black rocks, the unsatisfied roar of the western gale, and the ceaseless combat with the relentless sea.

Many years came and went while the Southern sealer plied his trade, until at last none of the reckless skippers could longer disguise from themselves the fact that their harvest fields were rapidly becoming completely barren. Few and far between were the islets frequented by the seals, the majority of the old grounds being quite abandoned. One by one the dejected fishermen gave up the attempt, until in due time those gaunt fastnesses resumed their primitive loneliness. The long, long tempest roared questioningly over the deserted islands, as if calling for its vanished children, and refusing to be comforted because they were not. Years passed in solitude, but for the busy sea-fowl, who, because they had no commercial value, were left unmolested to eat their fill of the sea’s rich harvest, and rear among the bleak rock-crannies their fluffy broods. At last, out of the midst of a blinding smother of snow, there appeared one day off the most southerly outlier of the South Shetlands a little group of round velvety heads staring with wide, humid eyes at the surf-lashed fortresses of the shore. Long and warily they reconnoitred, for although many generations had passed since their kind had been driven from those seas, the memory of those pitiless days had been so steadily transmitted through the race that it had become a part of themselves, an instinct infallible as any other they possessed. No enemy appearing, they gradually drew nearer and nearer, until their leader, a fine bull seal of four seasons, took his courage in both flippers and mounted the most promising slope, emerging from the foaming breakers majestically, and immediately becoming a hirpling heap of clumsiness that apparently bore no likeness to the graceful, agile creature of a few moments before. Obediently his flock followed him until they reached a little patch of hard smooth sand sheltered by a semi-circle of great wave-worn boulders, and admirably suited to their purpose. Here, with sleepless vigilance of sentinels, they rested, rather brokenly at first, as every incursion of the indignant sea-fowl startled them, but presently subsiding into ungainly attitudes of slumber.

Whence they had come was as great a mystery as all the deep-water ways of the sea-people must ever be to man, or how many halting-places they must have visited and rejected at the bidding of their unerring instinct warning them that the arch-destroyers’ visits were to be feared. However, they soon made themselves at home, fattening marvellously upon the innumerable multitudes of fish that swarmed around the bases of those barren islands, and between whiles basking in the transient sun-gleams that occasionally touched the desolate land with streaks of palest gold. And as time went on, being unmolested in their domestic arrangements, the coming generation tumbled about the rugged shore in those pretty gambols that all young things love, learning steadily withal to take their appointed places in the adult ranks as soon as they had proved their capability so to do. Thus uneventfully and happily passed the seasons until the little party of colonists had grown to be a goodly herd, with leaders of mighty prowess, qualified to hold their own against any of their kind, and inured to combat by their constantly recurring battles with each other, their love affairs, in which they fought with a fury astonishing to witness.

But one bright spring morning, when after a full meal the females were all dozing peacefully among the boulders, and the pups were gleefully waddling and tumbling among them, there came a message from the sea to the fighting males, who instantly suspended their family battles to attend to the urgent call. How the news came they alone knew, its exact significance was hidden even from them, but a sense of imminent danger was upon them all. The females called up their young and retreated farther inland among the labyrinth of rocky peaks that made the place almost impossible for human travel. The males, about forty of them, ranged uneasily along the shore, their wide nostrils dilated and their whiskers bristling with apprehension. Ever and anon they would pause in their watchful patrol and couch silently as if carved in marble, staring seaward with unwinking eyes at the turbulent expanse of broken sea. Presently, within a cable’s length of the shore, up rose an awful head--the enemy had arrived. Another and another appeared until a whole herd of several scores of sea-elephants were massed along the land edge and beginning to climb ponderously over the jagged pinnacles shoreward. Not only did they outnumber the seals by about four to one, but each of them was equal in bulk to half-a-dozen of the largest of the defenders. Huge as the great land mammal from whom they take their trivial name, ferocious in their aspect, as they inflated their short trunks and bared their big gleaming teeth, they hardly deigned to notice the gallant band of warriors who faced them. Straight upward they came as if the outlying rocks had suddenly been endowed with life and were shapelessly invading the dry land. But never an inch did the little company of defenders give back. With every head turned to the foe and every sinew tense with expectation they waited, waited until at last the two forces met. Such was the shock of their impact that one would have thought the solid earth trembled beneath them, and for a while in that writhing, groaning, roaring mass nothing could be clearly distinguished. Presently, however, it could be seen that the lighter, warier seals were fighting upon a definite plan, and that they carefully avoided the danger of being overwhelmed under the unwieldy masses of their enemies. While the huge elephants hampered each other sorely, and often set their terrible jaws into a comrade’s neck, shearing through blubber and sinew and bone, the nimbler seals hung on the outskirts of the heavy leviathans and wasted no bite. But the odds were tremendous. One after another of the desperately fighting seals fell crushed beneath a mammoth many times his size; again and again a fiercely struggling defender, jammed between two gigantic assailants, found his head between the jaws of one of them, who would instantly crush it into pulp. Still they fought on wearily but unflinchingly until only six remained alive. Then, as suddenly as if by some instant agreement, hostilities ceased. The remnant of the invaders crawled heavily seaward, leaving the rugged battle-ground piled mountainously with their dead. The survivors sank exhausted where they had fought such a memorable fight, and slept securely, knowing well that their home was safe, the enemy would return no more. And the rejoicing, ravenous birds came in their countless hosts to feast upon the slain.

OCEAN CURRENTS