FIGHTING THE WHALES

CONTENTS


CHAP.

I. IN TROUBLE, TO BEGIN WITH
II. AT SEA
III. OUR FIRST BATTLE
IV. "CUTTING IN" THE BLUBBER AND "TRYING OUT" THE OIL
V. A STORM, A MAN OVERBOARD, AND A RESCUE
VI. THE WHALE--FIGHTING BULLS, ETC.
VII. TOM'S WISDOM--ANOTHER GREAT BATTLE
VIII. DEATH ON THE SEA
IX. NEWS FROM HOME--A GAM
X. RETURN HOME


CHAPTER I

IN TROUBLE, TO BEGIN WITH

There are few things in this world that have filled me with so much
astonishment as the fact that man can kill a whale! That a fish, more
than sixty feet long, and thirty feet round the body; with the bulk of
three hundred fat oxen rolled into one; with the strength of many
hundreds of horses; able to swim at a rate that would carry it right
round the world in twenty-three days; that can smash a boat to atoms
with one slap of its tail, and stave in the planks of a ship with one
blow of its thick skull;--that such a monster can be caught and killed
by man, is most wonderful to hear of, but I can tell from experience
that it is much more wonderful to see.

There is a wise saying which I have often thought much upon. It is
this: "Knowledge is power". Man is but a feeble creature, and if he
had to depend on his own bodily strength alone he could make no head
against even the ordinary brutes in this world. But the knowledge
which has been given to him by his Maker has clothed man with great
power, so that he is more than a match for the fiercest beast in the
forest, or the largest fish in the sea. Yet, with all his knowledge,
with all his experience, and all his power, the killing of a great old
sperm whale costs man a long, tough battle, sometimes it even costs him
his life.

It is a long time now since I took to fighting the whales. I have been
at it, man and boy, for nigh forty years, and many a wonderful sight
have I seen; many a desperate battle have I fought in the fisheries of
the North and South Seas.

Sometimes, when I sit in the chimney-corner of a winter evening,
smoking my pipe with my old messmate Tom Lokins, I stare into the fire
and think of the days gone by till I forget where I am, and go on
thinking so hard that the flames seem to turn into melting fires, and
the bars of the grate into dead fish, and the smoke into sails and
rigging, and I go to work cutting up the blubber and stirring the
oil-pots, or pulling the bow-oar and driving the harpoon at such a
rate that I can't help giving a shout, which causes Tom to start and
cry:

"Hallo! Bob" (my name is Bob Ledbury, you see). "Hallo! Bob, wot's
the matter?"

To which I reply, "Tom, can it all be true?"

"Can _wot_ be true?" says he, with a stare of surprise--for Tom is
getting into his dotage now.