We met with no "luck" for some time, and the faces of the harpooners grew daily longer, the great heat of those sultry waters trying all tempers sorely.But Captain Slocum knew his business, and his scowling, impassive face showed no signs of disappointment, or indeed any other emotion, as day by day we crept farther north.At last we sighted the stupendous peak of Comoro mountain, which towers to nearly nine thousand feet from the little island which gives its name to the Comoro group of four.On that same day a school of medium-sized sperm whales were sighted, which appeared to be almost of a different race to those with which we had hitherto had dealings.They were exceedingly fat and lazy, moving with the greatest deliberation, and, when we rushed in among them, appeared utterly bewildered and panic-stricken, knowing not which way to flee.Like a flock of frightened sheep they huddled together, aimlessly wallowing in each other's way, while we harpooned them with the greatest ease and impunity.Even the "old man" himself lowered the fifth boat, leaving the ship to the carpenter, cooper, cook, and steward, and coming on the scene as if determined to make a field-day of the occasion.He was no "slouch" at the business either.Not that there was much occasion or opportunity to exhibit any prowess.
The record of the day's proceedings would be as tame as to read of a day's work in a slaughter-house.Suffice it to say, that we actually killed six whales, none of whom were less than fifty barrels, no boat ran out more than one hundred fathoms of line, neither was a bomb-lance used.Not the slightest casualty occurred to any of the boats, and the whole work of destruction was over in less than four hours.
Then came the trouble.The fish were, of course somewhat widely separated when they died, and the task of collecting all those immense carcasses was one of no ordinary magnitude.Had it not been for the wonderfully skilful handling of the ship, the task would, I should think, have been impossible, but the way in which she was worked compelled the admiration of anybody who knew what handling a ship meant.Still, with all the ability manifested, it was five hours after the last whale died before we had gathered them all alongside, bringing us to four o'clock in the afternoon.
A complete day under that fierce blaze of the tropical sun, without other refreshment than an occasional furtive drink of tepid water, had reduced us to a pitiable condition of weakness, so much so that the skipper judged it prudent, as soon as the fluke-chains were passed, to give us a couple of hours' rest.As soon as the sun had set we were all turned to again, three cressets were prepared, and by their blaze we toiled the whole night through.Truth compels me to state, though, that none of us foremast hands had nearly such heavy work as the officers on the stage.What they had to do demanded special knowledge and skill; but it was also terribly hard work, constant and unremitting, while we at the windlass had many a short spell between the lifting of the pieces.Even the skipper took a hand, for the first time, and right manfully did be do his share,By the first streak of dawn, three of the whales had been stripped of their blubber, and five heads were bobbing astern at the ends of as many hawsers.The sea all round presented a wonderful sight.There must have been thousands of sharks gathered to the feast, and their incessant incursions through the phosphorescent water wove a dazzling network of brilliant tracks which made the eyes ache to look upon.A short halt was called for breakfast, which was greatly needed, and, thanks to the cook, was a thoroughly good one.He--blessings on him!--had been busy fishing, as we drifted slowly, with savoury pieces of whale-beef for bait, and the result was a mess of fish which would have gladdened the heart of an epicure.Our hunger appeased, it was "turn to" again, for there was now no time to be lost.The fierce heat soon acts upon the carcass of a dead whale, generating an immense volume of gas within it, which, in a wonderfully short space of time, turns the flesh putrid and renders the blubber so rotten that it cannot be lifted, nor, if it could, would it be of any value.So it was no wonder that our haste was great, or that the august arbiter of our destinies himself condescended to take his place among the toilers.By nightfall the whole of our catch was on board, excepting such toll as the hungry hordes of sharks had levied upon it in transit.A goodly number of them had paid the penalty of their rapacity with their lives, for often one would wriggle his way right up on to the reeking carcass, and, seizing a huge fragment of blubber, strive with might and main to tear it away.Then the lethal spade would drop upon his soft crown, cleaving it to the jaws, and with one flap of his big tail he would loose his grip, roll over and over, and sink, surrounded by a writhing crowd of his fellows, by whom he was speedily reduced into digestible fragments.
The condition of the CACHALOT's deck was now somewhat akin to chaos.From the cabin door to the tryworks there was hardly an inch of available space, and the oozing oil kept some of us continually baling it up, lest it should leak out through the interstices in the bulwarks.In order to avoid a breakdown, it became necessary to divide the crew into six-hour watches, as although the work was exceedingly urgent on account of the weather, there were evident signs that some of the crew were perilously near giving in.So we got rest none too soon, and the good effects of it were soon apparent.The work went on with much more celerity than one would have thought possible, and soon the lumbered-up decks began to resume their normal appearance.
