Well, we all "waded in," getting, some two, some one whale apiece, according to the ability of the crews or the fortune of war.Only one fell to our lot in the CACHALOT, but it was just as well.We had hardly, got him fast by the fluke alongside when it began to pipe up from the north-east.In less than one watch the sea was fairly smoking with the fierceness of the wind.We were unable to get in anywhere, being, with a whale alongside, about as handy as a barge loaded with a haystack; while those unfortunate beggars that had two whales fast to them were utterly helpless as far as independent locomotion went, unless they could run dead before the wind.Every ship made all snug aloft, and hoisted the boats to the top notch of the cranes, fully anticipating a long, hard struggle with the elements before they got back to the cruising ground again.Cutting-in was out of the question in such weather; the only thing possible was to hope for a shift of wind before she got too far out, or a break in the weather.Neither of these events was probable, as all frequenters of South New Zealand know, bad weather having there an unhappy knack of being as persistent as fine weather is brief.
Night drew on as our forlorn and heavily handicapped little fleet bore steadily seaward with their burdens, the angry, ever-increasing sea, battering at us vengefully, while the huge carcasses alongside tore and strained at their fastenings as if they would rend the ships asunder.Slowly our companions faded from sight as the murky sky shut down on us, until in lonely helplessness we drifted on our weary way out into the vast, inhospitable Southern Ocean.Throughout the dark and stormy night our brave old ship held on her unwilling way right gallantly, making no water, in spite of the fearful strain to which she was subjected, nor taking any heavy sea over all.
Morning broke cheerlessly enough.No abatement in the gale or change in its direction; indeed, it looked like lasting a month.
Only one ship was visible far to leeward of us, and she was hull down.Our whale was beginning to swell rapidly, already floating at least three feet above the surface instead of just awash, as when newly killed.The skipper eyed it gloomily, seeing the near prospect of its entire loss, but he said nothing.In fact, very little was said; but the stories we had heard in the Bay of Islands came back to us with significant force now that their justification was so apparent.
Hour after hour went by without any change whatever, except in the whale, which, like some gradually filling balloon, rose higher and higher, till at nightfall its bulk was appalling.
All through the night those on deck did little else but stare at its increasing size, which when morning dawned again, was so great that the animal's bilge rode level with the ship's rail, while in her lee rolls it towered above the deck like a mountain.
The final scene with it was now a question of minutes only, so most of us, fascinated by the strange spectacle, watched and waited.Suddenly, with a roar like the bursting of a darn, the pent-up gases tore their furious way out of the distended carcass, hurling the entrails in one horrible entanglement widespread over the sea.It was well for us that it was to leeward and a strong gale howling; for even then the unutterable foetor wrought its poisonous way back through that fierce, pure blast, permeating every nook of the ship with its filthy vapour till the stoutest stomach there protested in unmistakable terms against such vile treatment.Knowing too well that the blubber was now worthless, the skipper gave orders to cut the corrupt mass adrift.This was speedily effected by a few strokes of a spade through the small.Away went eight hundred pounds' worth of oil--another sacrifice to the exigencies of the Solander, such as had gained for it so evil a reputation.
Doubtless a similar experience had befallen all the other ships, so that the aggregate loss must have run into thousands of pounds, every penny of which might have been saved had steam been available.
That gale lasted, with a few short lulls, for five days longer.
When at last it took off, and was succeeded by fine weather, we were so far to the southward that we might have fetched the Aucklands in another twenty-four hours.But, to our great relief, a strong southerly breeze set in, before which, under every rag of canvas, we sped north again.
Steady and reliable as ever, that good south wind carried us back to our old cruising ground ere it blew itself out, and we resumed our usual tactics as if nothing had happened, being none the worse as regards equipment for our adventures.Not so fortunate our companions, who at the same time as ourselves were thrust out into the vast Southern Ocean, helplessly burdened and exposed defenceless to all the ferocity of that devouring gale, Two of them were here prowling about, showing evident signs of their conflict in the battered state of their hulls.The glaring whiteness of new planking in many places along the bulwarks told an eloquent story of seas bursting on board carrying all before them, while empty cranes testified to the loss of a boat in both of them.As soon as we came near enough, "gamming" commenced, for all of us were anxious to know how each other had fared.
As we anticipated, every whale was lost that had been caught that day.The disappointment was in nowise lessened by the knowledge that, with his usual good fortune Captain Gilroy had not only escaped all the bad weather, but while we were being threshed within an inch of our lives down in the bitter south, he was calmly trying-out his whale (which we had seen him with on our outward journey) in the sheltered haven of Port William.Many and deep were the curses bestowed upon him by the infuriated crews of those two ships, although he had certainly done them no harm.But the sight of other people's good fortune is gall and wormwood to a vast number of people, who seem to take it as a personal injury done to themselves.
