Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell - Страница 43
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buy a share in some other ship and follow. My companions agreed that
there was nothing else to do. I knew, of course, that I could count on
Mipps to accompany me, but when I thought to take a fond farewell of our
Indian I was mistaken. He had
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married a girl from amongst the Gay-head Indians who inhabit the
beautiful island named ‘Martha’s Vineyard’, a tribe who from time
immemorial have fought the great leviathan. He proposed that we should
journey there, and then cross to the next island of Nantucket, from
which port he had been told the fastest and the largest whale-ships
sailed. A thriving town, too, much reliable wealth. Indeed, so
prosperous was this whaling trade that we could find no owner willing to
see us a vessel outright.
At last, however, I struck a bargain with a famour family of the
trade named Coffin, by insuring the safe return of a vessel called
Ezekiel, which was to be handed back with half profits upon the
conclusion of the voyage. In this way the Coffins stood to gain, but not
to lose. However, their experience was invaluable, for they found us a
full complement of tried men with a captain of their own whose integrity
they vouched for. I sailed on the ship’s papers as half owner of the
voyage, who wished to study the art of the harpoon. Mipps was shipped as
carpenter, and Shuhshuhgah, who had never been to sea, as a Greenhorn.
On this good ship we have now been to sea for two whole years. We have
rounded the dreadful Horn in storms as mighty as the ever-growing hate
in my heart. We have beat about Good Hope and killed fine whales there,
and now we are back again after sperm whale in the Pacific, which has so
far proved to be our best successful hunting -ground. But I hunt other
than a whale. As I sharpen my blade I think only of plunging it into his
black heart.
Two days later, Tony; for we have been hard driven cutting up two
mighty animals. Both of them forty-barreled Jonahs, and in one pleasant
lump of ambergris. I will not weary you with whaler’s jargon, though
some day I will write you a treatise on the subject. I love a good
harpoon! It is a godlike weapon. Mine is a marvel, and I trust no whale
will robe me of it, for I hope one day to send it crashing into human
ribs. Aye, into Nicholas.
Exhausted, we looked around upon an empty sea, for we had been towed
far out of sight fro m the lofty masthead of the ship, and there was
nothing for it but to lie alongside our valuable corpse till morning. A
salt breeze now fanned us, so that we were the more hopeful that the
Ezekiel’s sails would fill enough to follow us. We were far too weary to
commence the tedious business of towing back our prize. Also it was
easier for the ship to find us than for us to locate the ship. So we
rigged what is known as a wall-pole. This is a slender mast which is
thrust into the dead whale’s spout hole, and a lighted lantern hoisted
to its head. As the night set in under a clear moon, Shuhshuhgah pointed
towards the horizon, and we saw white canvas moving up into the skyline. At first we took this to be the mother ship searching for its lost
child, but as her rigging mounted higher, our old oarsman contradicted
us.
“That ship, don’t listen for the clacking of an old woman’s needles
in Nantucket,” he said. ‘A New Englander she may be, but not from our
port. No. You can tell by the set of her.’
We all de voutly hoped he was right, for the vessel never showed her
hull above the horizon, and our little flicker from the lantern was
evidently lost to her look-out in the dancing moon-sparks on the sea.
Scratching for the breeze, she changed her course and tacked down below
the line again, and we were once more alone.
All that night we lay beside our dead antagonist. Before dawn, the
breeze has freshened, and as the sun came up so did the sails of the
Ezekiel, and we were safe.
Our carcass lashed safely alo ngside the Ezekiel, I left the cutters
at work to take a glass of grog with the captain. He had a story to
tell. Having seen
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my whale -boat charted so ferociously out of sight, the captain had taken
our direction before attending to the other boats, one of which lost
their whale through the depth of its soundings, so that they had to cut
the line for their life, and the other killing quickly the fine fellow
to ours. He was waiting for the breeze to bring him nearer to us, when
he sighted the very ship which we had seen. A whaler, too, but with
every tun overflowing, and so bound for home rejoicing.
Aye, my good Tony, let me if possible anticipate your guess. She was
the Isaiah from New Bedford. Our Nantucket had been correct. Had he but
known her name, I would have abandoned our carcass and rowed for her, to
get my reckoning. But let me tell you in the captain’s words. ‘She
signaled us for a Gam’ (This, my good Tony, is a word for a high seas
courtesy call between two captains.) ‘They lowered a boat, and, much to
my amazement, when the boat was manned and the captain standing at the
helm an admiral’s cradle was lowered bearing a woman. It was his
captain’s wife. She was very beautiful and still but a girl, though when
she was hauled aboard us, she told me that her little son was asleep in
her cabin. The captain was a pleasant enough fellow in his cups, and
they were plentiful. He owned his ship and had done well for himself and
crew. You may believe that I anxiously questioned him about your whaleboat, and whether he had seen it. He had not. After that, all went
merrily over drinks, but being anxious about your fate, I kept referring
to you as one of the most outstanding harpooners I had shipped with. It
was when I described
you that his wife se ized his arm and whispered. At once a cold fear
seemed to possess both. The reason I cannot explain. Immediately they
insisted upon departure. I tried to dissuade them, for in the morning I
had hoped they would have aided our search for you. However, go they
would. On porting I learned his name was Nicholas Tappitt.’
Tony, had I not chased that whale, I could have harpooned him in the
cabin of the Ezekiel —in front of her eyes, too. But I learned further
things from our captain, without in any way rousing his suspicious.
Things that may prove useful to me. Nicholas upon the voyage has
subjected his body to the stupid torture of the tattoonist. He is a mss
of symbols and designs: tattooed from head to food. It will make him at
least the more noticeable, and many inquiries after him the easier. He
is now for home, or rather, his home port. But, as he said over his
cups, he is no more for the whaling. He thinks to sail his ship into the
Caribbean Seas. He sees a great promise in piracy, I gather. Our captain
considered this but drunken boasting. I have my own opinion. Well, if
his black conscience takes him there through fear of me, it is there
that I shall follow. Who knows, Tony, but that your college friend, so
blinded with hate, which is all-consuming, may not also hoist the Jolly
Roger, and, like a lone shark, prey on pirate ships till I can kill him?
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Chapter 15
Syn Hoists the Black Flag
Four years after the Ezekiel had sailed from Nantucket, she returned
full-laden with the richness of many a great whale. The Coffins were
more than pleased with the results, and treated Captain Clegg
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