05 Whale Adventure

by Willard Price

  Suddenly there was a shout, a scream from the winches, and the carcass as big-as a railway carriage was turned over as easily as one would flip a pancake. Then the other side was peeled in the same way.

  Another roar of machinery and the skinned carcass was frisked through a tunnel - Hell’s Gate, the captain said it was called because of the rolling steam and deafening noise that came out of it - to the forward deck.

  Here there were more machines that sliced off the meat faster than one could carve a turkey. Down went the meat through more holes in the deck. Not just any hole. Each part had a hole of its own, and under each hole was a machine to handle that part of the whale and nothing else.

  The liver, weighing a ton, went down to the liver plant. The pituitary gland took a different route, the pancreas another, and so on. Each went down to special pots and special chemists who knew just what to do with them. In five minutes there was nothing left of the whale but the skeleton.

  Even that was not to be wasted. Huge power-saws, each fifteen feet long, descended to saw up the great bones and drop the pieces into bone-boilers where the oil would be cooked out of them. What was left would be ground into bonemeal.

  It was only half an hour since Roger’s whale had come aboard and now it had completely disappeared. ‘We can process forty-eight whales in twenty-four

  hours,’ said the captain. ‘Thirty minutes for each whale. There are ten thousand tons of machinery on this ship. Most of it you can’t see - it’s down below. There are two decks under that whale-deck, both of them full of processing plants and laboratories. Also there’s a freshwater plant. The cookers require a lot of water and it must be fresh. We take in salt water and turn it into fresh at the rate of two thousand tons a day. Want to see the bridge?’

  They climbed to the bridge. Here there were more wonders. An automatic pilot kept the ship on course. A radar screen showed everything within forty miles. A fathometer told the depth of water beneath the ship. A local phone made it possible to talk to any man anywhere on the vessel. A radio telephone reached far out, so that the captain could chat with the captain of any one of his catchers or the pilot of any one of his helicopters. Not only that - it was just as easy to talk to the owners in London on the other side of the world.

  It was even possible to receive messages from whales. When a whale that had been killed could not be brought in at once it was left afloat and a small radio transmitter was shot into its hide. This gave out continuous signals that were picked up by an instrument on the bridge of the factory ship. Thus the location of the floating whale was known exactly and it could be picked up whenever convenient.

  The boys were still studying these marvels when another visitor appeared on the bridge. It was Captain Grindle.

  ‘I want to see the captain,’ he snapped.

  ‘You’re talking to him,’ said Captain Ramsay.

  ‘Sir, I am Captain Grindle, master of the bark Killer. I have come to demand action. If you don’t give it to me at once I’ll report you to the police.’

  Captain Ramsay gazed with surprise at the bristling Grindle. One of his catchers had saved this man and his crew from almost certain death. He had supposed that Grindle had come up to thank him. Instead of expressing gratitude Grindle was scolding and threatening. At the very least, he was showing very bad manners. However, Captain Ramsay’s reply was quiet and polite.

  ‘You have had a very unfortunate experience, Captain Grindle. We are glad to have been of service to you. If there’s anything more we can do for you, you have only to let us know.’

  ‘I’ll let you know fast enough,’ Grindle rasped. ‘And if you don’t do what I say you’ll suffer for it.’

  ‘Now, now, my dear captain,’ said Ramsay soothingly. ‘1 know you’ve had a rough time of it and it has upset your nerves. Suppose you just relax and tell me what I can do for you.’

  ‘Relax, the man says! Relax!’ roared Grindle. ‘I’ll not relax till this thing is set right. My ship was sunk and we had to take to the boats. You know that much. But I’ll bet the skunks didn’t tell you the rest of it. They didn’t tell you that they mutinied. They didn’t tell you that they put me, their captain, in the brig. They didn’t tell you that their carelessness sank the ship. They didn’t tell you that you have a pack of mutineers on board at this very minute.’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ said Captain Ramsay, ‘your second mate has told me the whole story - of course, from his point of vie,w.’

  “Then why didn’t you clap them in the brig instead of tucking them in soft beds, feeding them pap, and having

  your doctor fussing over them as if they were innocent babes instead of desperate criminals?’

  ‘In the first place,’ said Captain Ramsay, ‘we have no brig. We don’t need it. In the second place, mutiny on your ship is your responsibility, not mine. Of course I’ll give you any reasonable assistance. I should say that the first thing for you to do is to notify the owners. Who are they?’

  ‘Kane Whaling Company, St Helena. I’ll send Mr Kane a radiogram - and will I make it a sizzler!’

  ‘You can do better than send him a message,’ suggested Captain Ramsay. ‘You can talk to him.’

  ‘Talk! Do you realize St Helena is half-way round the world from here?’

  ‘Of course.’ Captain Ramsay took up the phone and spoke to his radio operator. ‘Call the radio station on St Helena. Have them connect with Mr Kane of the Kane Whaling Company. Sunset here - it’ll be early morning there. Get him up out of bed if necessary. It’s important.’

  In an amazingly short time Grindle found himself talking to his boss. True to his word he told a sizzling story. Some of it was true, most of it was not.

  He told of the mutiny. He said nothing of the events that had led up to it - the brutalities, the flogging of the men, the harsh treatment of Roger, the death of the sailmaker dragged at the end of a line until he was taken by a shark.

  Hal, listening, was astonished to hear his own name mentioned. He was named the chief conspirator. He, Grindle said, had stirred up the men to mutiny, and he should be the first to hang. Grindle, evidently, had never forgiven Hal for telling him he was unfit to command a ship, for beating him in a fight, and, worst of all, for saving him from the sinking ship. Gratitude being an emotion unknown to him, Grindle nursed a grudge because he had had to be rescued by his enemy.

  His story told, he listened to Mr Kane’s instructions. He nodded and grunted and nodded again, and an evil smile spread over his face. When he put down the phone he seemed highly satisfied.

  ‘My orders are,’ he said, ‘to place all the mutineers under arrest. Special provision for Hunt - he’s to be put

  in solitary confinement. First chance I get I’m to take ‘em all back to Honolulu for a hearing before the British Consul.’ He grinned happily and his bristles stood out like black needles. ‘They’re as good as hanged already.’

  ‘As for arrest,’ said Captain Ramsay, ‘I can’t help you. I can only assure you they won’t escape from this ship. As for transportation, I’ll provide it. As soon as your men are able to travel I’ll put you all aboard one of my catchers and send you to Honolulu. It’s not so far - at fifteen knots you should be there in less than two days. You can radio the Honolulu police and have them meet the ship as she docks and jail your mutineers until the time comes for the hearing. I hope you feel that I am giving you every possible co-operation.’

  Grindle only grunted. His contemptuous gaze swept over Captain Ramsay and his visitors, and as he stamped his way off the bridge he could be heard mumbling: ‘Good as hanged already!’

  Chapter 30

  To African adventure

  When the catcher pulled up to the Honolulu docks two days later a row of police-vans were there to meet it.

  The mutineers were loaded into the vans and trundled away to enjoy the dubious comforts of the Honolulu jail.

  Only two men did not go behind bars - the one who had most to do with the trouble and the one
who had least to do with it - Captain Grindle, and his passenger, Mr Scott. Scott took advantage of his freedom to see the British Consul and give him his own honest account of what had happened on the Killer.

  Also he cabled John Hunt at his wild animal farm on Long Island, New York:

  ‘Your boys are in Honolulu jail.’

  John Hunt lost no time in winging his way to Honolulu.

  At the hearing Grindle told his side of the story and his men told theirs; The result was severely disappointing to Captain Grindle. The Consul in his report to Mr Kane recommended clemency towards the mutineers.

  The owner cabled back that he would prefer no charges against them.

  They were set free.

  As for Grindle, who had expected to see his crew hanged, he himself barely escaped the same fate. With all his brutalities exposed to view, he was condemned by press and public all the way from Honolulu to St Helena and back. He was never to command another ship.

  John Hunt, famous explorer, collector of wild beasts for zoos and circuses, sat in the garden of the Royal Hawaiian with his two sons and Mr Scott.

  They looked out upon the glittering semicircle of Waikiki Beach and the sparkling bay dotted with surf-riders, canoes and catamarans. Behind it all rose the grim bulk of Diamond Head.

  People strolling by looked at the four curiously. Most of the hotel guests had come from sunless offices on the mainland for a two weeks vacation and looked as pale as if they had lived under stones; but these four were as golden brown as ripe coconuts.

  Perhaps some of the passers-by recognized the two boys, for pictures of all the mutineers had appeared in the papers.

  Hal said to his father: ‘Hope you don’t mind being seen with a couple of jailbirds.’ John Hunt smiled.

  ‘No, indeed. Quite the opposite. I’m proud to be seen with you.’

  ‘You have reason to be,’ said Scott warmly. ‘Your boys had some tough breaks. When I think of the night Roger put in on that whale fighting off sharks and killers - and the way he prevented Grindle’s escape by pulling the plug of the boat - and the way Hal gave Grindle a blubber-bath and later saved him from going down with the ship - I think the boys did you a lot of credit.’

  ‘Anyhow,’ said Mr Hunt, ‘you certainly packed a lot of experience and adventure into three weeks. It may have been tough, but it’s been good education. Perhaps you’ve had enough of that sort of education for a while and would like to go home and rest.’

  The suggestion was not received with enthusiasm. In fact the boys looked as glum as if there had just been a death in the family.

  ‘Who wants to rest?’ said Roger. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to rest when we get to be your age.’

  John Hunt laughed. ‘And I’m afraid you won’t rest then, either. No, the Hunts aren’t very good resters. Well, if you don’t want to rest, I have another proposition for you.’

  The boys perked up immediately. New excitement came into their eyes.

  ‘Whatever it is, we accept,’ said Hal.

  ‘Now, don’t be in too big a hurry. You may not like it. Africa is quite different from the Pacific’

  ‘Africa!’ exclaimed Roger. His eyes shone like saucers.

  ‘Yes, Africa. Land of the malaria mosquito, the tsetse fly, the crocodile, man-eating lions and leopards, and all sorts of uncomfortable things.’

  He was trying to scare the boys, but he could see that he was not succeeding.

  ‘Go on,’ said Hal. ‘What do you want us to do in Africa?’

  ‘Well, we’re getting orders for more African animals than we can supply. Some of the zoos want hippos and rhinos and giraffes. A big circus wants elephants and lions. Of course, they all have to be taken alive - and that’s a lot harder than taking them dead. I’ll go with you and get you started. We can fly from here by way of Hong Kong and Calcutta to Nairobi. We’ll engage a good white hunter and he’ll take us on safari. Think about it until tomorrow morning.’

  The boys did not need to think about it - they had already decided. And yet they thought of little else all night. Their dreams were full of roaring lions and rampaging hippos and charging elephants. But they never gave a thought to the most dangerous monsters of the African jangle, the mosquito and the fly.

  And how they fared with the creatures of Africa, great and small, will have to be told in another book, African Adventure.