William H. Macy  Source  Whalesite

Leaves from the Arethusa's Log.
No. 8

W. H. Macy

Flag of our Union.
Vol. 23, No. 32 (Aug  8, 1868)
p. 510.

Leaves from the Arethusa's Log.

No. 8.

BOILING. — CUTTING THE LINE. — DUTCH COURAGE. — "MAN OVERBOARD."

      The "case" having been stripped of its oleaginous treasures, was cut adrift, and the Arethusa, with the yards again trimmed to the breeze, stood on her course to the southward. The "junk" was then cut up and thrown into casks, to save all the oil that was continually oozing from it, and the fires were started for boiling. "Try-watches" were set at night, by dividing the time into two equal portions, each watch taking the whole five or six hours on one stretch. The Portuguese Manoel and myself were appointed to work in the blubber-room, which is, perhaps, the best station in trying out, as the fortunate incumbent has but one department to attend to, and being under deck, is not exposed to the weather. Besides, he is much of the time "out of sight out of mind," and, by cutting fast for an hour or two, may gain upon his work so as to find time for "slants" of sleep or "catnaps," so termed, till roused again by the cry of "horsepieces!" at the hatchway. Now and then, Father Grafton, in going the rounds, would stoop over the hatchway, and peer in between decks, with a call to the sleepers:

      "Halloo, Blacksmith! Manoel, what are you doing away in there?"

      "Leaning, sir!" would be the ready reply of the Portuguese; which was strictly true. He was "leaning" against a cask, sound asleep.

      A whaleship trying out at night presents one of the most weird and striking pictures that can well be imagined. But to enjoy it in full, the observer must take his station near the mainmast, looking forward, and this during his watch below, as his duties would otherwise subject him to certain interruptions which sadly mar the poetry of the thing. Alone, on the face of the waters, rides your floating home; the darkness around her intensified and rendered more opaque by the glare of light from the try-fires, and utterly impervious on the lee-beam and quarter from the thick clouds of smoke continually floating off in that direction. The brawny forms of the boatsteerers, thrown into strong relief in the centre group, as they tend the fires and the seething caldrons, which require their constant care and attention to ensure a fine quality of oil; the "mincer" on the left, industriously flourishing his broad, keen knife in the firelight; the cooper, fudging at a leaky cask, half hidden in darkness under the lee of the "cooler;" the deckhands flitting about at their various duties, appearing and vanishing in gloom, like spirits dancing in an ever-changing light, now livid, now lurid; now dying away till the smoke pall seems almost to envelop the whole picture, then suddenly bursting forth again with startling brightness, as the boatsteerer throws a fresh greasy scrap on the "back arches," and runs his long pike under the fires to stir up "Old Hallett;" the brilliant glare upon the rigging and sails of the foremast, seeming to reveal each lay of the cordage, each thread of the canvas, with a fidelity and minuteness of detail far exceeding that produced by daylight; all together form a scene to which no description can do justice, but of which every whaleman must acknowledge having felt the influence. The captain and the officers who are not on duty on the first watch seem to loiter round the mainmast, as though unwilling to lose the pleasure of the view even to seek necessary rest; and to enjoy their pipes with more than ordinary zest, as they call up reminiscences of large fares taken on former voyages, or count the tiers of sturdy ironbound casks already filled and lashed along the rail, and glancing between decks at the blubber yet uncut, make calculations and estimates of the probable yield of the whale. All is cheerfulness and hope at such times, and the prospects of the voyage seemed to partake of the brightness of the caboose fires. Wives and children are remembered with new affection at such moments; and each feels nearer to home and friends at each recurring sound of the light-driven bung, and the inspiring cry, "Away cask!" Truly is it remarked by old whalemen that the most delightful parts of a voyage are "boiling" and arriving home.

      The weather continued fine during the whole time occupied in boiling and stowing down, so that I may say I saw the first whale killed and taken care of under very favorable circumstances, and treating lightly the croaking hints of the oldsters, thus formed an opinion of whaling in general which subsequent experience did not altogether confirm.

      Our good ship sped merrily on her voyage, and, after taking the trade winds, still more rapid progress was made. The equator was crossed without any of those time-honored ceremonies of initiation into old Neptune's realms which have formed the staple of so many yarns by old voyagers. Indeed, it is hardly to be supposed that the green hands would be subjected to much abuse or rough treatment from their equals in rank, where they themselves form the majority of the ship's company. Mr. Dunham, however, did not let the occasion pass without attempting a practical joke. Having the first watch on deck, he came forward, and calling a young greenhorn from Connecticut, who rejoiced in the ironical appellation of "Black Hawk," perhaps from his utter want of resemblance, in any one particular, to that illustrious chieftain:

      "Black Hawk," said he, confidentially, "I want you to get the cook's axe, and go out on the martingale, and stand by to cut the line. I expect we shall be up with it now in about half an hour, and you must look sharp and cut it quick, or it will bring the ship up all standing."

      "How big round is it?" asked the apparently innocent Black Hawk.

      "About as thick as your arm; but if you get a good lick at it, you'll cut it in time, or at least cut some of the strands, so the ship will break it without stopping her."

      "Do ships always have to cut the line when they pass along here, sir?" inquired the youngster, who was not half so green as his appearance indicated.

      "Yes, certainly they do."

      "And how does it get j'ined together again?"

      "Why, old Neptune and his crew pick up the ends and splice it, after the ship has passed by," said Mr. Dunham, who was rather puzzled by this catechism, and did not quite understand the drift of it.

      "And how long does it take 'em to get it j'ined again?"

      "Well — I suppose it would take two or three hours to get the strands all tucked, and put it in good order."

      "Well, sir, when I came down from aloft (you know I had the sundown masthead, sir), there was a ship in sight ahead, and I guess she must have cut it about an hour ago; so they haint got through j'inin' on it yet. I guess we can slip through, sir, while the bars are down." And the baffled second mate went aft with a flea in his ear.

      Black Hawk, with all his apparent verdancy, was probably his superior in general knowledge; and though he had seen the black equator on the maps, had a pretty clear idea of the meaning of the words "imaginary line."

      We had light and baffling weather after crossing the line, and made but little progress for some days. We fell in company with several merchant vessels, all bound to the southward; but as they were always making the best of their way to a port of destination, they held no intercourse with us, beyond showing their national flags, and, if near enough for it to be seen, their longitude, chalked upon a blackboard, we responding in each case by showing ours. In one instance, however, we communicated with a stranger, which led to incidents both serious and ludicrous, to break the monotony of our sea life. A bark had been in sight of us all day, steering on the same course as ourselves. She had shown Dutch colors, but the wind being very light in the afternoon, the old man ordered his boat lowered, and pulled alongside of her. He was absent about a couple of hours, and returned with some Dutch cheese and other small matters. I noticed that some of the boat's crew appeared unusually jolly and demonstrative when they came alongside; but the boat was hoisted and they went forward, no attention being paid to them. It was surmised, of course, that they had been treated to a glass while on board the Dutchman. I asked Farrell, who was as happy as a lord, what the bark's name was.

      "Divil a name of her I can tell ye," said Farrell; "but she belongs to some dam place or other; there's a dam about it, anyhow, 'pon my soul. I think it's Rotterdam. But they've got the good stuff there that'll warm your heart and loosen your tongue. Come here till I show ye." And dodging behind the galley, he produced from the capacious folds of his shirt a bottle of schnapps!

      "Dhrink," said Farrell. "Dhrink a health to the rotten-dam Dutchman."

      "But how did you manage to smuggle this on board, Farrell?"

      "Ah, lave Corny Farrell alone for that! Don't say a word; Burley has the twin to it."

      I was fearful we should have some trouble before the two bottles were disposed of. However, I had no idea of turning informer, but even took a small drink from Farrell's bottle, thinking there would be the less for some one else, and the more it was subdivided, the less effect it would have on any one man.

      The bottles were passed round the forecastle, and there was enough to make all hands a little lively and talkative, but not enough to produce any ill effect, except in the case of the two proprietors of the bottles themselves, who had taken the lion's share at starting, and had preserved the remnants for private consumption. Old Jeff said to me, during our watch on deck, on coming out of the forecastle where he had been to light his pipe:

      "Blacksmith, there'll be fun, I think, when the starboard watch is called. Farrell is pretty noisy and happy; he wont make any trouble unless it's by some wild freak; but Burley is as tight as a brick, and it's his turnout wheel. He's blowing about his rights, and swears he wont go to the wheel, nor he wont stand a watch; so I think there'll be fun, for Mr. Dunham wont stand much nonsense with him."

      "Well, I guess his blowing wont amount to much," said I. "He'll cool down as soon as the second mate comes."

      "Think so?" said Jeff anxiously.

      "Yes," spoke up Obed B. "There'll be no great trouble with him."

      "I hear that you and Kelly wound him up and set him back. Was that so Hoeg? I didn't see that fun, for I was at the masthead. I only heard of it afterwards."

      "Well, he hasn't tried to bully either of us since," said Hoeg. "It's my opinion he's a great coward."

      Six bells struck, and the watch was called. Mr. Dunham came on deck, and, as usual, looked to see if the wheel was relieved. Finding it was not, he came forward.

      "Antone, do you know whose wheel it is?" he asked.

      "Burley's, sir."

      "Why isn't he there?"

      "He say he no goin' to stand watch to-night, sir."

      "Why not? is he sick?"

      "I don't know 'f he call sick. I call drunk, sir."

      "O that's it? Well, we'll see about that."

      The second mate put his head over the scuttle, and listened a moment. Burley was laying down law and logic at a terrible rate, in spite of the remonstrances of his watchmates, who entreated him either to go on deck or else turn in, and let others have rest and quiet.

      "I know my rights, and I'm the man to stand up for 'em!" said Burley. "I'm not going to stand a watch to-night, and I'd just like to see the live man that would make me go on deck!"

      "Here he is then!" said Mr. Dunham, as, clearing the ladder with a swing of his body, he landed on his feet by the side of the astonished sea-lawyer.

      "On deck, sir, at once, before I put you there!"

      Burley turned his head and caught the second mate's eye. His Dutch courage failed him altogether. He found the upper deck so quick that the officer would not have found it easy to overtake him, had he been disposed to assault him; though he evidently did not consider him worth wasting wrath upon.

      "What did I tell you?" said Obed B., quietly.

      "Now," said Mr. Dunham, "you keep above deck the next four hours, and don't put your head below the scuttle. I don't want you at the wheel now; you are not fit to be there. Antone, go to the wheel. I'll see that he stands your next trick and his own too."

      "Arrah, Misther Burley! and where's your rights that you've been blowin' about?" said Farrell. "You've only been making Billy Fitzgibbons's mother of yerself, and yer perfarmances don't come up to yer promises, at all."

      I fell asleep with Farrell rattling away at him over my head; but I was sure the contemptible scamp was nearly powerless now as to any influence over the youngsters; for we had all set him down as a very Bob Acres, whose courage would ooze out at his fingers' ends, when brought to the scratch.

      I had just got into a sound sleep, when we were all brought out of our bunks on the jump by the thrilling cry — I almost think I hear it now — "Man overboard!"

      All was dark; the light in the forecastle had gone out; but, guided by the little patch of sky showing down the scuttle, I was on deck in an instant, with my trousers in my hand. Here, all was confusion; the ship was coming up to the wind with everything slatting; the watch were clearing away the starboard boat, Fisher having already cut the gripes, and I was in her before she was half way down the side. I remember asking "Who is it?" and some one, I did not know who, said, "Farrell." I remember thinking that I had heard Farrell say he could swim a little. We shoved clear of the ship, and got our oars out; she had taken aback, and was going round, but we pulled out as near as possible in her old wake — nothing was to be seen! With anxious eyes and heavy hearts we looked about us. Here is something floating; we lay round for it; it is the life-preserver which has been cut adrift from the taffrail; but where is the man?? We pull still further out in the wake of the ship, and heave up again; something ripples here abeam of us. "Lay round quick!"

      We pass the spot. I think I can see a white pool or ring on the surface, and I involuntarily thrust my arm deep down; it touches something — the hair of my shipmate, sinking for the last time.

      "Help here!" And Fisher and Black Hawk are at my side. They seize his shoulders and he is roused into the boat, and laid, face down, across the thwarts.

      "Give way for the ship!" And we are quickly alongside, for she is now lying with the head yards aback, and lights set to tell us her whereabouts.

      All has passed so quickly that I seem to have dreamed it all, and to have woke now for the first time. He soon shows signs of life, under the active treatment he is receiving, and he has revived sufficiently to sit up and look about him before the question is asked, by the old man:

      "How did he fall overboard?"

      No one seems to know. Black Hawk answers that he heard the splash in the water, and a cry immediately after, and running to the side, saw a head bob up abreast the fore-chains, and gave the alarm.

      By this time, Farrell enlightens us himself, by pointing forward with his arm, gasping out the single word "Parrp'ses," then is taken with retching again, brings up another pint of sea-water, and can give no further information at present.

      I ran forward. The porpoise line (which was kept ready rove in tail-block on the bowsprit) was towering under the bow. I seized and rounded it in, and brought up the "iron," or rather the pole and socket thereof, the shank being broken off close up. It would seem that Farrell, having the lookout, and all the rest being comfortably snoozing, had discovered porpoises playing under the bow, and being in the humor for a lark, determined to strike one "on his own hook," without calling for reinforcements until after he was "fast." But neither his head nor his heels being very trustworthy at the time, he darted the iron in one direction from the martingale guy, and himself in another. The porpoise must have been struck most effectually, and while we were busily engaged in saving the man, he had writhed in his agony under the bows, till he had wrung the shank of the iron off.

      "Well, Farrell, my boy," said Mr. Grafton, "how do you feel after your Baptism?"

      "Well, sir, I feel pretty well bothered, but I'll warrant the parr'pus is nearer dead than I am."

      "Yes, you struck him solid, at any rate," said the mate.

      "An' sure, sir," returned Farrell, "don't you always stern all, sir, as soon as you're fast?"

      "Yes, that's according to rule; but circumstances may alter cases. It was a narrow squeak for you, at any rate. You'll be in no hurry to catch porpoises again in a dark night, alone."

      "Bad luck to the soaking I got?" said Farrell, as he went forward. "It's taken all the snap out o' me — and the schnapps too."

      Manifold were the jokes cracked at the young Irishman's expense, after this adventure; for with seamen, as with soldiers, a miss is as good as a mile, always, and that which is almost a tragedy becomes the very ideal of a farce.

      But the redoubtable Burley was effectually stripped of his teeth and claws. He was as harmless as an old blunderbuss, which after having been apparently well loaded, primed and schnapped, has flashed in the pan. The captain said nothing to indicate that he knew any thing of the liquor having been brought on board. He was not a man to say much to his crew, except in the way of necessary duty; and he probably resolved to be silent and more watchful in the future. But I overheard him telling the mate, the next night, as I stood at the wheel, that Farrell seemed a smart young fellow, and he thought he would make a slashing boatsteerer, if one should be wanted, "especially," he added, dryly, "if we could always speak a Dutchman just before we lowered."

Source:

W. H. Macy.
"Leaves from the Arethusa's Log - No. 8."
      Flag of Our Union.
Vol. 23, No. 32 (Aug  8, 1868)
p. 510.

William H. Macy  Source  Whalesite