Mardi: and A Voyage Thither, Vol. I

  Now, no fair one with golden locks is more assiduously waited upon,or more delicately handled by her tire-women, than the slender whale-boat by her crew. And out of its element, it seems fragile enough tojustify the utmost solicitude. For truly, like a fine lady, the finewhale-boat is most delicate when idle, though little coy at a pinch.

  Besides the "davits," the following supports are provided Two smallcranes are swung under the keel, on which the latter rests,preventing the settling of the boat's middle, while hanging suspendedby the bow and stern. A broad, braided, hempen band, usually workedin a tasteful pattern, is also passed round both gunwales; andsecured to the ship's bulwarks, firmly lashes the craft to its place.Being elevated above the ship's rail, the boats are in plain sightfrom all parts of the deck.

  Now, one of these boats was to be made way with. No facilematter, truly. Harder than for any dashing young Janizary to run offwith a sultana from the Grand Turk's seraglio. Still, the thing couldbe done, for, by Jove, it had been.

  What say you to slyly loosing every thing by day; and when nightcomes, cast off the band and swing in the cranes? But how lower thetackles, even in the darkest night, without a creaking more fearfulthan the death rattle? Easily avoided. Anoint the ropes, and theywill travel deftly through the subtle windings of the blocks.

  But though I had heard of this plan being pursued, there was a degreeof risk in it, after all, which I was far from fancying. Another planwas hit upon; still bolder; and hence more safe. What it was, in theright place will be seen.

  In selecting my craft for this good voyage, I would fain havetraversed the deck, and eyed the boats like a cornet choosing hissteed from out a goodly stud. But this was denied me. And the "bowboat" was, perforce, singled out, as the most remote from thequarter-deck, that region of sharp eyes and relentless purposes.

  Then, our larder was to be thought of; also, an abundant supply ofwater; concerning which last I determined to take good heed. Therewere but two to be taken care of; but I resolved to lay in sufficientstore of both meat and drink for four; at the same time that thesupplemental twain thus provided for were but imaginary. And if itcame to the last dead pinch, of which we had no fear, however, I wasfood for no man but Jarl.

  Little time was lost in catering for our mess. Biscuit and salt beefwere our sole resource; and, thanks to the generosity of theAreturion's owners, our ship's company had a plentiful supply. Casksof both, with heads knocked out, were at the service of all. In bagswhich we made for the purpose, a sufficiency of the biscuit wasreadily stored away, and secreted in a corner of easy access. Thesalt beef was more difficult to obtain; but, little by little,we managed to smuggle out of the cask enough to answer our purpose.

  As for water, most luckily a day or two previous several "breakers"of it had been hoisted from below for the present use of the ship'scompany.

  These "breakers" are casks, long and slender, but very strong. Ofvarious diameters, they are made on purpose to stow into spacesintervening between the immense butts in a ship's hold.

  The largest we could find was selected, first carefully examining itto detect any leak. On some pretense or other, we then rolled themall over to that side of the vessel where our boat was suspended, theselected breaker being placed in their middle.

  Our compendious wardrobes were snugly packed into bundles and laidaside for the present. And at last, by due caution, we had everything arranged preliminary to the final start. Let me say, though,perhaps to the credit of Jarl, that whenever the most strategy wasnecessary, he seemed ill at ease, and for the most part left thematter to me. It was well that he did; for as it was, by his untimelystraight-forwardness, he once or twice came near spoiling everything. Indeed, on one occasion he was so unseasonably blunt, thatcuriously enough, I had almost suspected him of taking that odd sortof interest in one's welfare, which leads a philanthropist, all othermethods failing, to frustrate a project deemed bad; by pretendingclumsily to favor it. But no inuendoes; Jarl was a Viking, frank ashis fathers; though not so much of a bucanier.

  CHAPTER VIEight Bells

  The moon must be monstrous coy, or some things fall out opportunely,or else almanacs are consulted by nocturnal adventurers; but so itis, that when Cynthia shows a round and chubby disk, few daring deedsare done. Though true it may be, that of moonlight nights, jewelers'caskets and maidens' hearts have been burglariously broken into--andrifled, for aught Copernicus can tell.

  The gentle planet was in her final quarter, and upon her slender hornI hung my hopes of withdrawing from the ship undetected.

  Now, making a tranquil passage across the ocean, we kept at this timewhat are called among whalemen "boatscrew-watches." That is, insteadof the sailors being divided at night into two bands, alternately ondeck every four hours, there were four watches, each composed of aboat's crew, the "headsman" (always one of the mates) excepted. Tothe officers, this plan gives uninterrupted repose--"all-night-in,"as they call it, and of course greatly lightens the duties of the crew.

  The harpooneers head the boats' crews, and are responsible for theship during the continuance of their watches.

  Now, my Viking being a stalwart seaman, pulled the midship oar of theboat of which I was bowsman. Hence, we were in the same watch; towhich, also, three others belonged, including Mark, the harpooner.One of these seamen, however, being an invalid, there were only twoleft for us to manage.

  Voyaging in these seas, you may glide along for weeks withoutstarting tack or sheet, hardly moving the helm a spoke, so mild andconstant are the Trades. At night, the watch seldom troublethemselves with keeping much of a look-out; especially, as a strangesail is almost a prodigy in these lonely waters. In some ships, forweeks in and weeks out, you are puzzled to tell when your nightlyturn on deck really comes round; so little heed is given to thestanding of watches, where in the license of presumed safety, nearlyevery one nods without fear.

  But remiss as you may be in the boats-crew-watch of a heedlesswhaleman, the man who heads it is bound to maintain his post on thequarter-deck until regularly relieved. Yet drowsiness beingincidental to all natures, even to Napoleon, beside his own sentrynapping in the snowy bivouac; so, often, in snowy moonlight, or eboneclipse, dozed Mark, our harpooneer. Lethe be his portion thisblessed night, thought I, as during the morning which preceded ourenterprise, I eyed the man who might possibly cross my plans.

  But let me come closer to this part of my story. During what arecalled at sea the "dog-watches" (between four o'clock and eight inthe evening), sailors are quite lively and frolicsome; their spiritseven flow far into the first of the long "night-watches;" but uponits expiration at "eight bells" (midnight), silence begins to reign;if you hear a voice it is no cherub's: all exclamations are oaths.

  At eight bells, the mariners on deck, now relieved from their cares,crawl out from their sleepy retreats in old monkey jackets, or coilsof rigging, and hie to their hammocks, almost without interruptingtheir dreams: while the sluggards below lazily drag themselves up theladder to resume their slumbers in the open air.

  For these reasons then, the moonless sea midnight was just the timeto escape. Hence, we suffered a whole day to pass unemployed; waitingfor the night, when the star board-quarter-boats'-watch, towhich we belonged, would be summoned on deck at the eventful eight ofthe bell.

  But twenty-four hours soon glide away; and "Starboleens ahoy; eightbells there below;" at last started me from a troubled doze.

  I sprang from my hammock, and would have lighted my pipe. But theforecastle lamp had gone out. An old sea-dog was talking about sharksin his sleep. Jarl and our solitary watch-mate were groping their wayinto their trowsers. And little was heard but the humming of thestill sails aloft; the dash of the waves against the bow; and thedeep breathing of the dreaming sailors around.

  CHAPTER VIIA Pause

  Good old Arcturion! Maternal craft; that rocked me so often in thyheart of oak, I grieve to tell how I deserted thee on the broad deep.So far from home, with such a motley crew, so many islanders, whoseheat
hen babble echoing through thy Christian hull, must have gratedharshly on every carline.

  Old ship! where sails thy lone ghost now? For of the stout Arcturionno word was ever heard, from the dark hour we pushed from her fatedplanks. In what time of tempest, to what seagull's scream, thedrowning eddies did their work, knows no mortal man. Sunk shesilently, helplessly, into the calm depths of that summer sea,assassinated by the ruthless blade of the swordfish? Such things havebeen. Or was hers a better fate? Stricken down while gallantlybattling with the blast; her storm-sails set; helm manned; and everysailor at his post; as sunk the Hornet, her men at quarters, in somedistant gale.

  But surmises are idle. A very old craft, she may have foundered; orlaid her bones upon some treacherous reef; but as with many a farrover, her fate is a mystery.

  Pray Heaven, the spirit of that lost vessel roaming abroad throughthe troubled mists of midnight gales--as old mariners believe ofmissing ships--may never haunt my future path upon the waves.Peacefully may she rest at the bottom of the sea; and sweetly sleepmy shipmates in the lowest watery zone, where prowling sharks comenot, nor billows roll.

  By quitting the Arcturion when we did, Jarl and I unconsciouslyeluded a sailor's grave. We hear of providential deliverances. Wasthis one? But life is sweet to all, death comes as hard. And formyself I am almost tempted to hang my head, that I escaped the fateof my shipmates; something like him who blushed to have escaped thefell carnage at Thermopylae.

  Though I can not repress a shudder when I think of that old ship'send, it is impossible for me so much as to imagine, that ourdeserting her could have been in any way instrumental in her loss.Nevertheless, I would to heaven the Arcturion still floated; that itwas given me once more to tread her familiar decks.

  CHAPTER VIIIThey Push Off, Velis Et Remis

  And now to tell how, tempted by devil or good angel, and a thousandmiles from land, we embarked upon this western voyage.

  It was midnight, mark you, when our watch began; and my turn at thehelm now coming on was of course to be avoided. On some plausiblepretense, I induced our solitary watchmate to assume it; thus leavingmyself untrammeled, and at the same time satisfactorily disposing ofhim. For being a rather fat fellow, an enormous consumer of "duff,"and with good reason supposed to be the son of a farmer, I made nodoubt, he would pursue his old course and fall to nodding over thewheel. As for the leader of the watch--our harpooner--he fell heir tothe nest of old jackets, under the lee of the mizzen-mast, left niceand warm by his predecessor.

  The night was even blacker than we had anticipated; there was notrace of a moon; and the dark purple haze, sometimes encountered atnight near the Line, half shrouded the stars from view.

  Waiting about twenty minutes after the last man of the previous watchhad gone below, I motioned to Jarl, and we slipped our shoes from ourfeet. He then descended into the forecastle, and I sauntered afttoward the quarter-deck. All was still. Thrice did I pass my handfull before the face of the slumbering lubber at the helm, and rightbetween him and the light of the binnacle.

  Mark, the harpooneer, was not so easily sounded. I feared toapproach him. He lay quietly, though; but asleep or awake, no moredelay. Risks must be run, when time presses. And our ears were apointer's to catch a sound.

  To work we went, without hurry, but swiftly and silently. Our variousstores were dragged from their lurking-places, and placed in theboat, which hung from the ship's lee side, the side depressed in thewater, an indispensable requisite to an attempt at escape. And thoughat sundown the boat was to windward, yet, as we had foreseen, thevessel having been tacked during the first watch, brought it to leeward.

  Endeavoring to manhandle our clumsy breaker, and lift it into theboat, we found, that by reason of the intervention of the shrouds, itcould not be done without, risking a jar; besides straining the craftin lowering. An expedient, however, though at the eleventh hour, washit upon. Fastening a long rope to the breaker, which was perfectlytight, we cautiously dropped it overboard; paying out enough line, toinsure its towing astern of the ship, so as not to strike against thecopper. The other end of the line we then secured to the boat's stern.

  Fortunately, this was the last thing to be done; for the breaker,acting as a clog to the vessel's way in the water, so affected hersteering as to fling her perceptibly into the wind. And by causingthe helm to work, this must soon rouse the lubber there stationed, ifnot already awake. But our dropping overboard the breaker greatlyaided us in this respect: it diminished the ship's headway; whichowing to the light breeze had not been very great at any time duringthe night. Had it been so, all hope of escaping without firstarresting the vessel's progress, would have been little short ofmadness. As it was, the sole daring of the deed that night achieved,consisted in our lowering away while the ship yet clove the brine,though but moderately.

  All was now ready: the cranes swung in, the lashings adrift,and the boat fairly suspended; when, seizing the ends of the tackleropes, we silently stepped into it, one at each end. The dead weightof the breaker astern now dragged the craft horizontally through theair, so that her tackle ropes strained hard. She quivered like adolphin. Nevertheless, had we not feared her loud splash uponstriking the wave, we might have quitted the ship almost as silentlyas the breath the body. But this was out of the question, and ourplans were laid accordingly.

  "All ready, Jarl?"

  "Ready."

  "A man overboard!" I shouted at the top of my compass; and likelightning the cords slid through our blistering hands, and with atremendous shock the boat bounded on the sea's back. One mad sheerand plunge, one terrible strain on the tackles as we sunk in thetrough of the waves, tugged upon by the towing breaker, and ourknives severed the tackle ropes--we hazarded not unhooking theblocks--our oars were out, and the good boat headed round, with prowto leeward.

  "Man overboard!" was now shouted from stem to stern. And directly weheard the confused tramping and shouting of the sailors, as theyrushed from their dreams into the almost inscrutable darkness.

  "Man overboard! Man overboard!" My heart smote me as the human cry ofhorror came out of the black vaulted night.

  "Down helm!" was soon heard from the chief mate. "Back the main-yard!Quick to the boats! How's this? One down already? Well done! Hold on,then, those other boats!"

  Meanwhile several seamen were shouting as they strained at the braces.

  "Cut! cut all! Lower away! lower away!" impatiently cried thesailors, who already had leaped into the boats.

  "Heave the ship to, and hold fast every thing," cried the captain,apparently just springing to the deck. "One boat's enough. Steward;show a light there from the mizzen-top. Boat ahoy!--Have you got thatman?"

  No reply. The voice came out of a cloud; the ship dimly showing likea ghost. We had desisted from rowing, and hand over hand were nowhauling in upon the rope attached to the breaker, which we soonlifted into the boat, instantly resuming our oars.

  "Pull! pull, men! and save him!" again shouted the captain.

  "Ay, ay, sir," answered Jarl instinctively, "pulling as hard as everwe can, sir."

  And pull we did, till nothing could be heard from the ship but aconfused tumult; and, ever and anon, the hoarse shout of the captain,too distant to be understood.

  We now set our sail to a light air; and right into the darkness, anddead to leeward, we rowed and sailed till morning dawned.

  CHAPTER IXThe Watery World Is All Before Them

  At sea in an open boat, and a thousand miles from land!

  Shortly after the break of day, in the gray transparent light, aspeck to windward broke the even line of the horizon. It was the shipwending her way north-eastward.

  Had I not known the final indifference of sailors to such disastersas that which the Arcturion's crew must have imputed to the nightpast (did not the skipper suspect the truth) I would have regardedthat little speck with many compunctions of conscience. Nor, as itwas, did I feel in any very serene humor. For the consciousness ofbeing deemed dead, is next to the presumable unp
leasantness of beingso in reality. One feels like his own ghost unlawfully tenanting adefunct carcass. Even Jarl's glance seemed so queer, that I beggedhim to look another way.

  Secure now from all efforts of the captain to recover those whom hemost probably supposed lost; and equally cut off from all hope ofreturning to the ship even had we felt so inclined; the resolutionthat had thus far nerved me, began to succumb in a measure to theawful loneliness of the scene. Ere this, I had regarded the ocean asa slave, the steed that bore me whither I listed, and whose viciouspropensities, mighty though they were, often proved harmless, whenopposed to the genius of man. But now, how changed! In our frailboat, I would fain have built an altar to Neptune.

  What a mere toy we were to the billows, that jeeringly shoulderedus from crest to crest, as from hand to hand lost souls may be tossedalong by the chain of shades which enfilade the route to Tartarus.

  But drown or swim, here's overboard with care! Cheer up, Jarl! Ha!Ha! how merrily, yet terribly, we sail! Up, up--slowly up--toiling upthe long, calm wave; then balanced on its summit a while, like aplank on a rail; and down, we plunge headlong into the seethingabyss, till arrested, we glide upward again. And thus did we go. Nowburied in watery hollows--our sail idly flapping; then lifted aloft--canvas bellying; and beholding the furthest horizon.

  Had not our familiarity with the business of whaling divested ourcraft's wild motions of its first novel horrors, we had been but arueful pair. But day-long pulls after whales, the ship left milesastern; and entire dark nights passed moored to the monsters, killedtoo late to be towed to the ship far to leeward:--all this, and muchmore, accustoms one to strange things. Death, to be sure, has a mouthas black as a wolf's, and to be thrust into his jaws is a seriousthing. But true it most certainly is--and I speak from no hearsay--that to sailors, as a class, the grisly king seems not half sohideous as he appears to those who have only regarded him on shore,and at a deferential distance. Like many ugly mortals, his featuresgrow less frightful upon acquaintance; and met over often andsociably, the old adage holds true, about familiarity breedingcontempt. Thus too with soldiers. Of the quaking recruit, threepitched battles make a grim grenadier; and he who shrank from themuzzle of a cannon, is now ready to yield his mustache for a sponge.