05 Whale Adventure (13 page)

‘It would be great if we could get aboard a factory ship or catcher,’ he said, ‘and see how the new way compares with the old.’

‘Perhaps with good luck, you will,’ said Scott.

Hal was to remember that remark. ‘With good luck,’ Scott had said. It was to be bad luck, not good, that would introduce the boys to modern whaling.

Night closed in over the ship of the mutineers.

The breeze held steady, the sails needed no trimming, the men were idle. Down in the fo’c’sle they ate and talked over the events of the day.

On deck all was quiet. The helmsman dozed over the wheel. The caged captain tried the four-foot bed of slats that he had designed for the discomfort of his men. He gave it up and lay on the deck. The deck was wet with spray, and cold. His dinner had been bread and water.

Grindle was sorry for himself. It did not occur to him to be sorry for all the others he had put into this wretched little prison.

Outside of the brig stood a guard. This was the seaman Brad.

Brad spent half his time watching his prisoner and half regarding the lights of the catcher that had stopped sailing for the night and lay hove to a few miles off.

‘Brad,’ whispered the captain hoarsely.

Brad came close to the bars,

‘Listen,’ Grindle whispered, ‘how about getting me out of here?’

‘Me, get you out? Shut up and go to sleep.’

‘It would be worth your while.’

‘Why?’

‘It would save your neck.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Heavens, man, don’t you know what happens to mutineers? Every man will be hanged by the neck until dead. All except you. If you stick with me I’ll see that you get off scot free. Besides, there’ll be some cash in it for you. Say two hundred pounds. How does that sound?’

‘It sounds crazy,’ said Brad. ‘Suppose I let you out of there - what would they do to me? They’d slaughter me.’

‘They won’t have a chance. We’ll be off the ship and away before they know what’s going on. We’ll slip the dory into the water and row over to that catcher.’

‘Mmm,’ hesitated Brad. T dunno. I’ll have to think it over.’

‘You haven’t time to think it over,’ urgently whispered Grindle. ‘We’ll be leaving the catcher astern. You gotta act now, or never. Never mind thinking it over. Just think of your neck.’

Brad felt a noose tightening round his throat. Yes, anything was better than that.

‘I’ll get the key,’ he said.

He slipped aft and down the companion to the supply-room.

At the other end of the ship Roger looked over the edge of his bunk. Hal in the bunk below was fast asleep. The other men had turned in. Only one sputtering, smoking whale-oil lamp had been left burning. Dark shadows crept about the room.

Roger had something on his mind. He would have liked to talk to his brother about it, but didn’t want to wake him. Probably everything was all right. But he couldn’t help wondering about Brad.

Brad had been posted to guard the brig. Roger had reason to distrust Brad. Brad was the one who had been detailed to hold the lifeline when Roger had spent the night on the dead whale, fighting off the sharks. Brad had gone to sleep on the job. It was no thanks to him that Roger had come out of that night alive. Could such a man be depended upon to guard the brig?

‘It’s none of my business,’ said Roger to himself. The mate had picked Brad, and what the mate did was usually right. Roger turned over and tried to go to sleep. He found himself more awake than ever. Tt won’t hurt just to take a look.’ He slid down from his bunk, pulled on his trousers, and, without bothering to put on his sea-boots, slipped quietly up the companion to the deck.

Hiding behind anything that came handy, the galley, the capstan, the masts, Roger crept close to the brig.

He could make out a black shadow. That must be Brad. He could hear a slight scraping sound as of metal against metal. A key was being slowly turned in the lock. Then the barred door of the brig was being opened very gradually so that it might not squeak. Another shadow appeared. That must be the captain.

What should Roger do? He must slip back and rouse the mate.

He left his hiding-place, but before he could gain another he found himself gripped firmly from behind and a great hand clapped over his mouth.

my fine lad,’ it was Grindle’s hoarse whisper,

‘you’d spy on us, would you?’

Brad was already regretting what he had done. ‘I told you it wasn’t safe. We’ll have the whole pack of them on us in a minute. You better get back in the brig.’

‘Don’t lose your nerve,’ retorted the captain. ‘As for this young sneak, he won’t trouble us long. Ill hold him while you slip your knife into him. A little higher - just, over the heart. That will do it.’

Roger felt the prick of the steel point on his bare chest.

‘Wait a minute,’ said Grindle. T have a better idea. He can help row us to the catcher. Keep your knife out. If he hollers, let him have it. Now listen, young fella. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. If you make a squawk, it’ll be your last. Got that clear?’

Roger managed to nod his head.

The hand over his mouth fell away. Grindle pushed him towards the dory. Brad kept close, the point of his knife tickling Roger’s back.

‘Mind you move quiet,’ ordered Grindle. ‘And keep outa sight o’ the wheel.’

The dory hung from the davits. It was a light cedar craft, half the size of a whaleboat. The two men and the boy climbed aboard. The falls were released and the boat was eased down slowly and noiselessly to the sea.

The surface was smooth. The wind had dropped and the ship was barely moving. The boat did not slap and bump - all was quiet, and Grindle could congratulate himself on a perfect getaway.

‘Cast off!’ he whispered.

The boat floated free. Roger stooped to find the oars. His hand touched the plug.

Each of the ship’s boats had a hole in the bottom. It was a round hole about two inches in diameter. It was not meant to let water in, it was there to let water out. The hole was filled by a round wooden plug, like a large cork. When water washed into the boat it was bailed out, but it was impossible to get rid of all of it in this way. So when the boat returned to the ship and was hauled up to the davits the plug was removed from the hole to allow the rest of the water to drain out. Then the plug was replaced.

Roger pretended to be still groping for the oars. His fingers were working to loosen the plug. Finally with a twist and a pull he got it out of the hole and slipped it into his pocket. Then he unshipped his oats and prepared to row.

Water was boiling up into the boat. Roger could already feel it up to his ankles.

‘What the Holy Harry!’ came Grindle’s harsh whisper. ‘Where’s the water coming from? Those all-fired deck-hands musta forgot to put in the plug. Find it, quick!’

He and Brad searched the boat’s bottom for the missing plug. Roger seized a leather bucket and pretended to bail. The boat was now half full.

Scrambling about between the thwarts the men could not avoid making considerable noise. They bumped into oars and gear. Roger could hear running feet on the ship’s deck, then the voice of the helmsman rousing the mate.

The boat was now completely awash. Slowly it rolled over and its occupants were spilled into the sea. They clung to the overturned boat. Grindle obstinately remained silent, but Brad began to yell.

‘Help! Help! Help!’

The ship was slowly passing. Soon they would be left behind in the great silent waste of waters. Brad yelled again.

There was a commotion on deck. Men were running, shouting. A whaleboat hit the water.

‘Where away?’ came a voice.

‘Over here,’ screamed Brad.

Grindle proudly held his tongue. He held it until he felt a nudging against his leg. A shark? All at once his pride left him and he yelled bloody murder. He kicked and splashed and bellowed. He seemed to go crazy with fear.

Roger watched him with a sly grin. For it was Roger, not a shark, that had nudged him. Again Roger gave him a poke. Again the big bully exploded with terror. Grindle would have been very happy at that moment to be back in his safe little jail.

He began to sob and wail like an oversized baby. His behaviour showed Roger once and for all that a ‘tough guy’s‘ bold front may have nothing but jelly behind it. He was seeing Grindle in his true colours - several shades of yellow.

The whaleboat came alongside and the three were hauled aboard. The dory was taken in tow and the whaleboat started back to the ship.

‘Who was doing all that blubbering?’ asked the mate.

Tt was the kid,’ said Grindle. ‘Scared out of his wits.’

Roger opened his mouth to speak, but decided to say nothing.

Grindle was tempted to make a bigger story out of it.

‘We were attacked by sharks,’ he said. ‘Must have been a dozen of them. I beat them off with my bare fists. Punched them right in the nose. That’s a shark’s most sensitive point you know - the nose. Lucky for these fellows that they had me along.’

The mate was not fooled. ‘Sounds too good to be true,’ he said sarcastically. Back on deck, Grindle was marched to his cage. ‘Now you’re not going to put me back in there,’ complained Grindle. ‘Not after me savin’ the lives of two men!’

‘Not only you,’ said the mate, ‘but Brad also.’ He turned to Roger. ‘And I’m afraid we’ll have to lock you up too.’

‘What for?’

‘For desertion. And for helping a prisoner to escape. I never would have thought it of you, kid.’ ‘Will you let me tell you just what happened?’ ‘Yes, but you’d better make it good.’ ‘I saw Brad unlock the brig and let the Captain out. I started to get you, but they grabbed me. They made me help row the boat. I pulled out the plug so the boat filled with water.’

Grindle laughed. ‘The young rascal - he’s just trying to save his own skin. Now you’d better let me tell you the truth. The kid was in it with us from the start. He sneaked down and got the key and let me out.’

‘Then what did he do with the key?’ demanded the mate. ‘I don’t know - put it in his pocket, I suppose.’ ‘Search them,’ the mate said to Jimson. Before Jimson could move to do so, Brad was seen to draw something from his pocket and throw it away. He had meant to cast it into the sea, but it struck the rail and bounced back on deck. The mate picked it up. It was the key to the brig.

‘Now we have a pretty good idea who unlocked the brig,’ the mate said to Roger. ‘But that still doesn’t prove that you weren’t in league with them. How can you prove that you tried to stop them by pulling out the plug?’

‘He can’t,’ snorted Grindle. ‘I can tell you all about that plug. I forgot - now I remember. Yesterday I took it out of the boat myself. I put it down in my cabin.’

‘Why did you take it out?’

T had good reason. Some of the men were getting unruly. I suspected some o’ them might grab the boat and try to desert. So I hid the plug. Makes sense, don’t it?’

‘It makes sense,’ admitted the mate and turned again to Roger. ‘You’re in a tough spot, chum. You claim you were loyal to us - that you pulled out the plug so these fellows couldn’t get away. The captain says he removed it himself and took it below, then forgot about it. Do we have to search his cabin to find out which of you is telling a straight story?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Roger said. He drew the plug from his trouser pocket and put it in the mate” hand.

Grindle’s eyes bulged with surprise. The men cheered. They liked the boy and were happy that he had been able to clear himself. The mate clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good for you, my lad!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re no lad, you’re as good a man as any on this ship. If it hadn’t been for you these scum woulda got clean away. Say, we had lemon pie in the officer’s mess tonight. Go to the galley and cut yourself a big piece of it. Tell the cook I sent you. And as for^you two,’ fie said to Grindle and Brad, ‘since you’re so fond of each other’s company you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy it. Get in there, both of you.’ He pushed them into the brig and locked the door.

This time a more reliable man, the big harpooner Jim-son, was placed on guard.

‘Blows! Whale on the lee bow!’ shouted the foremast lookout late in the afternoon of the next day.

‘Blows! Three points off weather-bow!’ came from the lookout on the mainmast.

‘Another to leeward!’ yelled the first.

‘Two straight ahead!’ announced the second.

‘Whales! A dozen of ‘em! Ganging up on us!’

‘Whales! Whales! Whales!’

The mate scrambled up the mainmast to the rings. An amazing spectacle lay before him. Ahead and on both sides silver fountains leaped into the sky. At least a dozen whales were sporting in the waves.

They did not behave like the usual school or pod of whales. This was no family group, quiet and dignified. The height of their spouts showed they were all full-grown monsters, and probably all males.

They flung themselves out of the sea. They soared up like black meteors. They arched above the waves like curved bridges. They threw their enormous tails into the air and brought them down with a gigantic slap. It was one big wild party.

They seemed to have noticed the ship and were closing in on it - ganging up on it, as the lookout had said. ‘Bulls on a rampage!’ muttered the mate. ‘I only hope they leave us alone.’

Mr Scott on deck was watching the whales through binoculars. Hal and Roger stood beside him. ‘What do you make of it?’ Hal asked. ‘Bachelors out on a binge,’ said Scott. ‘Whales are like men. Sometimes they leave the ladies and children and go off and raise Cain. The ringleaders may be young bulls that have no families or old bulls who have lost theirs. Sometimes the leaders are ones that have been injured by harpoons or lances, and their suffering makes them wild and dangerous. Usually an old or wounded bull will go off by himself. When they gang up this way it’s bad. Just like men. One teddy-boy or hoodlum may lack nerve, but get a dozen of them together and they’ll try anything.’ ‘Why doesn’t the mate order the boats lowered?’ ‘It’s too late. The sun has set and it will be dark in fifteen minutes. It would be risky enough by daylight to run a boat into that pack of rowdies; at night it would be suicide. You’ll have to wait until morning.’ ‘We’ll leave them far behind before morning.’ ‘I doubt it. They’re coming closer. They seem to be taking a lot of interest in the ship. Chances are they’ll go right along with us. It won’t be too pleasant.’