There She Blows! Or, The Log of the ArethusaMacy, William Hussey
General
There She Blows! Or, The Log of the Arethusa
Macy, William Hussey
Sea stories; Whaling -- Fiction
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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