Almost every day, we spied Black Fish; coal-black and glossy. Theyseemed to swim by revolving round and round in the water, like a wheel;their dorsal fins, every now and then shooting into view, like spokes.
Of a somewhat similar species, but smaller, and clipper-built aboutthe nose, were the Algerines; so called, probably, from their corsairpropensities; waylaying peaceful fish on the high seas, andplundering them of body and soul at a gulp. Atrocious Turks! acrusade should be preached against them.
Besides all these, we encountered Killers and Thrashers, by far themost spirited and "spunky" of the finny tribes. Though little largerthan a porpoise, a band of them think nothing of assailing leviathanhimself. They bait the monster, as dogs a bull. The Killers seizingthe Right whale by his immense, sulky lower lip, and the Thrashersfastening on to his back, and beating him with their sinewy tails.Often they come off conquerors, worrying the enemy to death. Though,sooth to say, if leviathan gets but one sweep al them with his terribletail, they go flying into the air, as if tossed from Taurus' horn.
This sight we beheld. Had old Wouvermans, who once painted a bullbait, been along with us, a rare chance, that, for his pencil. AndGudin or Isabey might have thrown the blue rolling sea into thepicture. Lastly, one of Claude's setting summer suns would haveglorified the whole. Oh, believe me, God's creatures fighting, finfor fin, a thousand miles from land, and with the round horizon foran arena; is no ignoble subject for a masterpiece.
Such are a few of the sights of the great South Sea. But there is notelling all. The Pacific is populous as China.
CHAPTER XIVJarl's Misgivings
About this time an event took place. My good Viking opened his mouth,and spoke. The prodigy occurred, as, jacknife in hand, he was bendingover the midship oar; on the loom, or handle, of which he kept ouralmanac; making a notch for every set sun. For some forty-eight hourspast, the wind had been light and variable. It was more thansuspected that a current was sweeping us northward.
Now, marking these things, Jarl threw out the thought, that the morewind, and the less current, the better; and if a long calm came on,of which there was some prospect, we had better take to our oars.
Take to our oars! as if we were crossing a ferry, and no oceanleagues to traverse. The idea indirectly suggested all possiblehorrors. To be rid of them forthwith, I proceeded to dole out ourmorning meal. For to make away with such things, there is nothingbetter than bolting something down on top of them; albeit, oftrepeated, the plan is very apt to beget dyspepsia; and the dyspepsiathe blues.
But what of our store of provisions? So far as enough to eat wasconcerned, we felt not the slightest apprehension; our suppliesproving more abundant than we had anticipated. But, curious to tell,we felt but little inclination for food. It was water, bright water,cool, sparkling water, alone, that we craved. And of this, also, ourstore at first seemed ample. But as our voyage lengthened, andbreezes blew faint, and calms fell fast, the idea of being deprivedof the precious fluid grew into something little short of a mono-mania; especially with Jarl.
Every hour or two with the hammer and chisel belonging to the tinderbox keg, he tinkered away at the invaluable breaker; driving down thehoops, till in his over solicitude, I thought he would burst themoutright.
Now the breaker lay on its bilge, in the middle of the boat, wheremore or less sea-water always collected. And ever and anon, dippinghis finger therein, my Viking was troubled with the thought, thatthis sea-water tasted less brackish than that alongside. Of coursethe breaker must be leaking. So, he would turn it over, till its wetside came uppermost; when it would quickly become dry as a bone. Butnow, with his knife, he would gently probe the joints of the staves;shake his head; look up; look down; taste of the water in the bottomof the boat; then that of the sea; then lift one end of the breaker;going through with every test of leakage he could dream of. Nor washe ever fully satisfied, that the breaker was in all respects sound.But in reality it was tight as the drum-heads that beat at Cerro-Gordo. Oh! Jarl, Jarl: to me in the boat's quiet stern, steering andphilosophizing at one time and the same, thou and thy breaker were astudy.
Besides the breaker, we had, full of water, the two boat-kegs,previously alluded to. These were first used. We drank from them bytheir leaden spouts; so many swallows three times in the day; havingno other means of measuring an allowance. But when we came to thebreaker, which had only a bung-hole, though a very large one, dog-like, it was so many laps apiece; jealously counted by the observer.This plan, however, was only good for a single day; the water thengetting beyond the reach of the tongue. We therefore daily pouredfrom the breaker into one of the kegs; and drank from its spout. Butto obviate the absorption inseparable from decanting, we at last hitupon something better,--my comrade's shoe, which, deprived ofits quarters, narrowed at the heel, and diligently rinsed out in thesea, was converted into a handy but rather limber ladle. This we keptsuspended in the bung-hole of the breaker, that it might never twiceabsorb the water.
Now pewter imparts flavor to ale; a Meerschaum bowl, the same to thetobacco of Smyrna; and goggle green glasses are deemed indispensableto the bibbing of Hock. What then shall be said of a leathern gobletfor water? Try it, ye mariners who list.
One morning, taking his wonted draught, Jarl fished up in his ladle adeceased insect; something like a Daddy-long-legs, only morecorpulent. Its fate? A sea-toss? Believe it not; with all thoseprecious drops clinging to its lengthy legs. It was held over theladle till the last globule dribbled; and even then, being moist,honest Jarl was but loth to drop it overboard.
For our larder, we could not endure the salt beef; it was raw as alive Abyssinian steak, and salt as Cracow. Besides, the Feegee similewould not have held good with respect to it. It was far from being"tender as a dead man." The biscuit only could we eat; not to bewondered at; for even on shipboard, seamen in the tropics are butsparing feeders.
And here let not, a suggestion be omitted, most valuable to anyfuture castaway or sailaway as the case may be. Eat not your biscuitdry; but dip it in the sea: which makes it more bulky and palatable.During meal times it was soak and sip with Jarl and me: one on eachside of the Chamois dipping our biscuit in the brine. This planobviated finger-glasses at the conclusion of our repast. Upon thewhole, dwelling upon the water is not so bad after all. The Chineseare no fools. In the operation of making your toilet, how handy tofloat in your ewer!
CHAPTER XVA Stitch In Time Saves Nine
Like most silent earnest sort of people, my good Viking was a patternof industry. When in the boats after whales, I have known him carryalong a roll of sinnate to stitch into a hat. And the boats lyingmotionless for half an hour or so, waiting the rising of the chase,his fingers would be plying at their task, like an old lady knitting.Like an experienced old-wife too, his digits had become so expert andconscientious, that his eyes left them alone; deeming opticsupervision unnecessary. And on this trip of ours, when not otherwiseengaged, he was quite as busy with his fingers as ever: unravelingold Cape Horn hose, for yarn wherewith to darn our woolen frocks;with great patches from the skirts of a condemned reefing jacket,panneling the seats of our "ducks;" in short, veneering our brokengarments with all manner of choice old broadcloths.
With the true forethought of an old tar, he had brought along withhim nearly the whole contents of his chest. His precious "Ditty Bag,"containing his sewing utensils, had been carefully packed away in thebottom of one of his bundles; of which he had as many as an old maidon her travels. In truth, an old salt is very much of an old maid,though, strictly speaking, far from deserving that misdeemedappellative. Better be an old maid, a woman with herself for ahusband, than the wife of a fool; and Solomon more than hints thatall men are fools; and every wise man knows himself to be one.When playing the sempstress, Jarl's favorite perch was thetriangular little platform in the bow; which being the driest andmost elevated part of the boat, was best adapted to his purpose. Herefor hours and hours together the honest old tailor would sit darningand sewing away, heedless of the wid
e ocean around; while forever,his slouched Guayaquil hat kept bobbing up and down against thehorizon before us.
It was a most solemn avocation with him. Silently he nodded like thestill statue in the opera of Don Juan. Indeed he never spoke, unlessto give pithy utterance to the wisdom of keeping one's wardrobe inrepair. But herein my Viking at times waxed oracular. And many's thehour we glided along, myself deeply pondering in the stem, hand uponhelm; while crosslegged at the other end of the boat Jarl laid downpatch upon patch, and at long intervals precept upon precept; hereseveral saws, and there innumerable stitches.
CHAPTER XVIThey Are Becalmed
On the eighth day there was a calm.
It came on by night: so that waking at daybreak, and folding my armsover the gunwale, I looked out upon a scene very hard to describe.The sun was still beneath the horizon; perhaps not yet out of sightfrom the plains of Paraguay. But the dawn was too strong for thestars; which, one by one, had gone out, like waning lamps after aball.
Now, as the face of a mirror is a blank, only borrowing characterfrom what it reflects; so in a calm in the Tropics, a colorless skyoverhead, the ocean, upon its surface, hardly presents a sign ofexistence. The deep blue is gone; and the glassy element liestranced; almost viewless as the air.
But that morning, the two gray firmaments of sky and water seemedcollapsed into a vague ellipsis. And alike, the Chamois seemeddrifting in the atmosphere as in the sea. Every thing was fused intothe calm: sky, air, water, and all. Not a fish was to be seen. Thesilence was that of a vacuum. No vitality lurked in the air. And thisinert blending and brooding of all things seemed gray chaos inconception.
This calm lasted four days and four nights; during which, but a fewcat's-paws of wind varied the scene. They were faint as the breath ofone dying.
At times the heat was intense. The heavens, at midday, glowing likean ignited coal mine. Our skin curled up like lint; our vision becamedim; the brain dizzy.
To our consternation, the water in the breaker becamelukewarm, brackish, and slightly putrescent; notwithstanding we keptour spare clothing piled upon the breaker, to shield it from the sun.At last, Jarl enlarged the vent, carefully keeping it exposed. Tothis precaution, doubtless, we owed more than we then thought. It wasnow deemed wise to reduce our allowance of water to the smallestmodicum consistent with the present preservation of life; stranglingall desire for more.
Nor was this all. The upper planking of the boat began to warp; hereand there, cracking and splintering. But though we kept it moistenedwith brine, one of the plank-ends started from its place; and thesharp, sudden sound, breaking the scorching silence, caused us bothto spring to our feet. Instantly the sea burst in; but we made shiftto secure the rebellious plank with a cord, not having a nail; wethen bailed out the boat, nearly half full of water.
On the second day of the calm, we unshipped the mast, to prevent itsbeing pitched out by the occasional rolling of the vast smooth swellsnow overtaking us. Leagues and leagues away, after its fierce raging,some tempest must have been sending to us its last dying waves. Foras a pebble dropped into a pond ruffles it to its marge; so, on allsides, a sea-gale operates as if an asteroid had fallen into thebrine; making ringed mountain billows, interminably expanding,instead of ripples.
The great September waves breaking at the base of the NeversinkHighlands, far in advance of the swiftest pilot-boat, carry tidings.And full often, they know the last secret of many a stout ship, neverheard of from the day she left port. Every wave in my eyes seems asoul.
As there was no steering to be done, Jarl and I sheltered ourselvesas well as we could under the awning. And for the first two days, oneat a time, and every three or four hours, we dropped overboard for abath, clinging to the gun-wale; a sharp look-out being kept forprowling sharks. A foot or two below the surface, the waterfelt cool and refreshing.
On the third day a change came over us. We relinquished bathing, theexertion taxing us too much. Sullenly we laid ourselves down; turnedour backs to each other; and were impatient of the slightest casualtouch of our persons. What sort of expression my own countenancewore, I know not; but I hated to look at Jarl's. When I did it was aglare, not a glance. I became more taciturn than he. I can not tellwhat it was that came over me, but I wished I was alone. I felt thatso long as the calm lasted, we were without help; that neither couldassist the other; and above all, that for one, the water would holdout longer than for two. I felt no remorse, not the slightest, forthese thoughts. It was instinct. Like a desperado giving up theghost, I desired to gasp by myself.
From being cast away with a brother, good God deliver me!
The four days passed. And on the morning of the fifth, thanks be toHeaven, there came a breeze. Dancingly, mincingly it came, justrippling the sea, until it struck our sails, previously set at thevery first token of its advance. At length it slightly freshened; andour poor Chamois seemed raised from the dead.
Beyond expression delightful! Once more we heard the low humming ofthe sea under our bow, as our boat, like a bird, went singing on its way.
How changed the scene! Overhead, a sweet blue haze, distillingsunlight in drops. And flung abroad over the visible creation was thesun-spangled, azure, rustling robe of the ocean, ermined with wavecrests; all else, infinitely blue. Such a cadence of musical sounds!Waves chasing each other, and sporting and frothing in frolicsomefoam: painted fish rippling past; and anon the noise of wings as sea-fowls flew by.
Oh, Ocean, when thou choosest to smile, more beautiful thou art thanflowery mead or plain!
CHAPTER XVIIIn High Spirits, They Push On For The Terra Incognita
There were now fourteen notches on the loom of the Skyeman's oar:--Somany days since we had pushed from the fore-chains of the Arcturion.But as yet, no floating bough, no tern, noddy, nor reef-bird, todenote our proximity to land. In that long calm, whither might notthe currents have swept us?
Where we were precisely, we knew not; but according to our reckoning,the loose estimation of the knots run every hour, we must have saileddue west but little more than one hundred and fifty leagues; for themost part having encountered but light winds, and frequentintermitting calms, besides that prolonged one described. But spiteof past calms and currents, land there must be to the westward. Sun,compass, stout hearts, and steady breezes, pointed our prow thereto.So courage! my Viking, and never say drown!
At this time, our hearts were much lightened by discovering that ourwater was improving in taste. It seemed to have been undergoing anewthat sort of fermentation, or working, occasionally incident to shipwater shortly after being taken on board. Sometimes, for a period, itis more or less offensive to taste and smell; again, however,becoming comparatively limpid.
But as our water improved, we grew more and more miserly of sopriceless a treasure.
And here it may be well to make mention of another littlecircumstance, however unsentimental. Thorough-paced tar that he was,my Viking was an inordinate consumer of the Indian weed. Fromthe Arcturion, he had brought along with him a small half-keg, atbottom impacted with a solitary layer of sable Negrohead, fossil-marked, like the primary stratum of the geologists. It was the lasttier of his abundant supply for the long whaling voyage upon which hehad embarked upwards of three years previous. Now during the calm,and for some days after, poor Jarl's accustomed quid was no longeragreeable company. To pun: he eschewed his chew. I asked himwherefore. He replied that it puckered up his mouth, above allprovoked thirst, and had somehow grown every way distasteful. I wassorry; for the absence of his before ever present wad impaired whatlittle fullness there was left in his cheek; though, sooth to say, Ino longer called upon him as of yore to shift over the enormousmorsel to starboard or larboard, and so trim our craft.
The calm gone by, once again my sea-tailor plied needle and thread;or turning laundress, hung our raiment to dry on oars peakedobliquely in the thole-pins. All of which tattered pennons, the windbeing astern, helped us gayly on our way; as jolly poor devils, withrags flying in the breeze, sail blit
hely through life; and are merryalthough they are poor!
CHAPTER XVIIIMy Lord Shark And His Pages
There is a fish in the sea that evermore, like a surly lord, onlygoes abroad attended by his suite. It is the Shovel-nosed Shark. Aclumsy lethargic monster, unshapely as his name, and the last speciesof his kind, one would think, to be so bravely waited upon, as he is.His suite is composed of those dainty little creatures called Pilotfish by sailors. But by night his retinue is frequently increased bythe presence of several small luminous fish, running in advance, andflourishing their flambeaux like link-boys lighting the monster'sway. Pity there were no ray-fish in rear, page-like, to carry hiscaudal train.
Now the relation subsisting between the Pilot fish above mentionedand their huge ungainly lord, seems one of the most inscrutablethings in nature. At any rate, it poses poor me to comprehend. That amonster so ferocious, should suffer five or six little sparks, hardlyfourteen inches long, to gambol about his grim hull with the utmostimpunity, is of itself something strange. But when it is considered,that by a reciprocal understanding, the Pilot fish seem to act asscouts to the shark, warning him of danger, and apprising him of thevicinity of prey; and moreover, in case of his being killed, evincingtheir anguish by certain agitations, otherwise inexplicable; thewhole thing becomes a mystery unfathomable. Truly marvels abound. Itneeds no dead man to be raised, to convince us of some things. Evenmy Viking marveled full as much at those Pilot fish as he would havemarveled at the Pentecost.
But perhaps a little incident, occurring about this period, will bestillustrate the matter in hand.