Drinkwater shuddered, feeling a sudden guilt for his unsympathetic attitude to Germaney. 'Poor devil,' he said, adding 'you have him under sedation?'
Singleton nodded, 'Laudanum, sir.'
'Very well. And what of our other lost cause, Macpherson?'
'He will not last the week either.'
After Singleton had left the cabin Drinkwater sat for some minutes recollecting the numbers of men he had seen die. Of those to whom he had been close he remembered Madoc Griffiths, Master and Commander of the brig Hellebore who had died on the quarterdeck of a French frigate in the Red Sea; Blackmore, the elderly sailing master of the frigate Cyclops worn out by the cares and ill usage of the service. Major Brown of the Lifeguards had been executed as a spy and hung on a gibbet above the battery at Kijkduin as a warning to the British cutters blockading the Texel. More recently he thought of Mason, master's mate of the bomb vessel Virago who had died after the surgeon had failed to extract a splinter, of Easton, Virago's sailing master, who had fallen at Copenhagen during a supposed 'truce'. And Matchett who had died in his arms. Now Germaney, a colleague who might, in time, have been a friend.
A sudden world-weariness overcame him and he was filled with a poignant longing to return home. To lie with Elizabeth would be bliss, to angle for minnows in the Tilbrook with his children charming beyond all reason.
But it was impossible. All about him Melusine, with her manifold responsibilities, creaked and groaned as the swell rolled her easily and the rudder bumped gently. He suddenly needed the refreshment of occupation and stood up. Flinging on his greygoe he went on deck.
A light breeze had sprung up from the westward and he received Bourne's report with sudden interest. Most of the whalers were flensing their catches, rolling the great carcases over as the masthead tackles lifted strips of pale blubber from the dead whales whose corpses were further despoiled by scores of Greenland sharks. Flocks of screaming and hungry gulls filled the air alongside each of the whalers and only one had her boats out in search of further prey.
'Very well, Mr Bourne, be so kind as to rig out the gig immediately. I shall require a day's provisions and, tell Mr Pater, two kegs of rum, a breaker of water well wrapped in canvas. One of the young gentlemen may accompany me and Mr Quilhampton is to command the boat. They may bring muskets. You will command in my absence.'
'Aye, aye, sir.' Drinkwater watched Bourne react to this news by swallowing hard.
He turned away to pace the quarterdeck while the boat was being prepared. A day out of the ship would do him good. He had a notion to cruise towards the Faithful or the Narwhal and renew his acquaintance with Sawyers or Harvey. The expedition promised well and already he felt less oppressed.
It was so very easy to forget Germaney dying in his cot. The wind steadied at a light and invigorating breeze which set the green sea dancing in the sunlight. The ice shone with quite remarkable colours which little Frey identified as varying tints of violet, cerulean blue and viridian. The larger bergs towered over the gig in wonderful minarets, towers and spires, appearing like the fantastic palaces of fairy folk and even the edges of the ice floes were eroded in their melting by the warmer sea into picturesque overhangs and strange shapes that changed in their suggestion of something else as the boat swept past.
Somehow Drinkwater had imagined the Arctic as a vast area of icy desert and the proliferation and variety of the fauna astonished him. Quilhampton suggested taking potshots at every seal they saw but Drinkwater forbade it, preferring to encourage Mr Frey's talents with his pencil. It seemed there was scarcely a floe that did not possess at least one seal. They saw several walruses while the air was filled with gulls, ivory gulls, burgomaster gulls, the sabre winged fulmar petrels and the pretty little kittiwakes with their chevron-winged young. The rapid wing beats of the auks as they lifted hurriedly from the boat's bow seemed ludicrous until they spotted a pair swimming beneath the water. The razorbills raced after their invisible prey with the agility of tiny dolphins.
Under her lugsail the gig raced across the water, Quilhampton's ingenious wooden hand on the tiller impervious to the cold.
'She goes well, Mr Q.'
'Aye, sir, but not as fast as the Edinburgh Mail,' Mr Q gazed dreamily to windward his thoughts far from the natural wonders surrounding him and filled only with the remembered image of Catriona MacEwan.
Shooting between two ice floes they came upon the Faithful in the very act of lowering after a whale. Captain Sawyers hailed them and Drinkwater stood up in the boat to show himself.
'I give you God's love, Captain, follow us by all means but I beseech thee to lower thy sail or the fish will see it and sound,' the Quaker called from his quarterdeck through a trumpet. 'Thou seest now the wonders of God, Captain…' Drinkwater recollected their valedictory remarks in Bressay Sound and waved acknowledgement.
'Douse the sail, Mr Q, let us warm the hands at the oars and, Tregembo, do you show these whale-men how they are not the only seamen who can pull a boat.'
'Aye, zur.'
Melusine's gig took station astern of Faithful's Number One boat with the redoubtable Elijah Pucill at her bow oar. The gig's crew did their best, but their boat was heavier and it was not long before they were overtaken by young Sawyers and then left astern as a third boat from the whaler, her crew grinning at the out-paced naval officers as they sat glumly regarding the sterns of the racing whale-boats.
There were two spare oars in the boat and Drinkwater touched Quilhampton's arm and nodded at them. Quilhampton took the hint.
'Mr Frey, do you ship an oar and lay your back into it eh? Better than looking so damned chilly,' he added with rasping kindness. The men lost stroke as Frey shipped an oar forward, but the boat was soon under way again and began to close upon the whalers.
'Come lads, pull there! We gain on them!' There were grins in the boat but Drinkwater, who had been studying events ahead cooled them.
'I fear, Mr Q, that you are not gaining. The others have stopped. I suspect the whale has sounded… there, see that flock of birds, the gulls that hover above the boats…'
'Oars!' ordered Quilhampton and the blades came up horizontally. The men panted over their looms, their breath cloudy and their faces flushed with effort. The boat lost way and they lay about half a cable from the whale-boats.
Carefully Drinkwater stood as Quilhampton ordered the oars across the boat.
'Issue a tot of grog, Mr Q,' said Drinkwater without taking his eyes from the patch of swirling water that lay between the whale-boats. In each of them the harpooners were up in their bows, weapons at the ready, while at the stern each boat-steerer seemed coiled over his steering oar. Drinkwater was aware of a fierce expectancy about the scene and while in his own boat a mood of mild levity accompanied the circulation of the beaker, the whale-boat crews were tense with the expectation of a sudden order.
Just ahead of them the Faithful's third boat lay, with Pucill's slightly broader on the starboard bow and Sawyers's to larboard.
Suddenly it seemed to Drinkwater that the circling gulls ceased their aimless fluttering. He noted some arm movements in the boat ahead, then it began to backwater fast. The gulls were suddenly overhead, screaming and mewing.
'Give way, helm hard a-starboard!'
Even as he shouted the instruction it seemed the sea not ten yards away disappeared and was replaced by the surfacing leviathan. The great jaw with its livid lower lip covered by strange growths seemed to tower over them. Then the blue-black expanse of the creature's back rolled into view as it spouted, covering them with a warm, foetid-smelling mist. The oar looms bent as the men pulled the boat clear and Quilhampton held the tiller over to bring the gig round onto a course parallel with that of the whale.
As the sea subsided round the breaching monster they caught a glimpse of its huge tail just breaking the surface. From somewhere Pucill's boat appeared and they saw the other two beyond the cetacean. The whale did not seem to have taken alarm and, pulling steadily, they managed
to keep pace as Pucill raced past them. Drinkwater saw the speksioneer raise his harpoon as his boat drew level with the whale's hump and it spouted again.
The weapon struck the whale and for a second the monster seemed not to have felt it. Then it increased speed. Drinkwater could see the harpoon line snaking round the loggerhead and the faint wisp of smoke from the burning wood as Pucill paid it out. But the whale began to tow Pucill's boat. Already it was leaving Melusine's gig behind and its flag was up to signal to the Faithful and the other boats on the far side of the whale that he was fast to a fish.
Then mysticetus lifted his mighty tail and sounded again. Pucill paid out line and Drinkwater judged the whale's dive to be almost vertical, as though the great animal sought safety in depth. Pucill's boat ceased its forward rush and the others, including the gig closed on him. Drinkwater saw frantic signals being made and Sawyers's boat ran alongside Pucill's to pass him more line. The speksioneer's boat began to move forward again, indicating the whale had levelled off and was swimming horizontally. Both the speksioneer's and the mate's boats were now in tandem, Sawyers's astern of Pucill's and Drinkwater bade Quilhampton follow as the third of Faithful's boats was also doing.
Although they had no real part in the chase it seemed to every man in the gig that it was now a matter not only of honour but of intense interest to keep up with the frightened and wounded whale. But it was back-breaking work and soon clearly a vain effort, for the towed boats swung north and headed inexorably for the ice edge where a large floe blocked their passage.
They could hear faint shouts. 'Cut! Cut!' and 'Give her the boat, Elijah! Give her the boat!' There was a scrambling of bodies from the speksioneer's boat into that of the young mate then the latter was cut and free and swung aside. Pucill's boat was smashed against the edge of the floe under which the whale had passed yet the two remaining boats seemed to disregard this unhappy circumstance. Their courses diverging, they each headed for opposite extremities of the floe.
'I think, Mr Q, that it is time we set our sail again, I believe the wind to have strengthened.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
Taking the nearer gap in the ice Quilhampton gave chase the instant the sail was sheeted home. Both the remaining whale-boats had hoisted flags and from occasional glimpses of these over the lower floes they were able to keep in touch. However it was soon apparent that the freshening of the wind was now to their advantage and they made gains on the nearer whale-boat as they wove between the ice. It was an exhilarating experience, for in the narrow leads the water was smooth yet the wind was strong as it blew over the flatter floes or funnelled violently between those with steeper sides. It seemed the whale was working to leeward. Unaware of the dangers of unseen underwater ledges of ice they were fortunate to escape with only a slight scraping of the boat as they rounded a small promontory of rotten ice from which half a dozen surprised seals plopped hurriedly into the sea, surfacing alongside to peer curiously at the passing gig-Then, quite suddenly they came upon the death throes of the whale. Sawyers's boat was already alongside as the beast rolled and thrashed with its huge flukes. They let fly the sheets and watched as the unbarbed lances were driven into the fish again and again in an attempt to strike its heart. After a few minutes of agony it seemed to lie still and Quilhampton pointed to the approach of the second boat. Of the wrecked boat there was no sign, though the drag it had imposed upon the whale had clearly exhausted it. There was suddenly a boiling of the sea and a noise like gunfire. The whale's flukes struck the surface of the water with an explosive smack several times and then, as Sawyers continued to probe for its life, it twisted over and brought those huge flukes down upon the stern of its tormentor's boat. The Melusines watched in stupefied horror as the boat's bow flew into the air and her crew tumbled out and splashed into the sea.
But leviathan was dead. His heart had burst from the deadly incisions of Sawyers's lance and the muscle-rending effort of his dying act. The open water between the floes was red with its blood.
'Get that sail down, Tregembo! Give way and pick those men out of the water. Mr Frey, have the rum ready, the poor devils are going to need it.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
'I thank thee for thy assistance, Friend.' Captain Sawyers raised his glass and Drinkwater savoured the richness of the Quaker's excellent port. A bogie stove in Faithful's cabin burned cheerfully and Drinkwater felt warmed within and without. There remained only the ache in his neck and shoulder which he had come almost to disregard now. The sodden whale-boat's crew had been rolled in hot blankets and seemed little the worse for their experience, though Drinkwater had been chilled to the very marrow from a partial wetting in getting the hapless seamen out of the water. He remarked upon this to Sawyers.
'Aye, 'tis often to be wondered at. We have found men die of the cold long after being chafed with spirits and warmed with blankets. But the over-setting of a boat, whilst not common, is not unusual. Whalers are naturally hardy and wear many woollen undergarments, also the nature of their trade and the almost natural expectation of mishap, leads them to suffer less shock from the experience. These factors and a prompt rescue, Friend, I believe has preserved the life of many an immersed whale-man.'
'It was fortunate the fish turned down-wind or we could not have followed with such speed.'
'Aye, 'tis true that mysticetus will commonly run to windward but he sensed dense ice in that direction and from the exertions necessary to his escape had, perforce, to turn towards open water where he might breathe. Also friend, the wind freshened, which reminds me that if it backs another point or two thou shoulds't expect a gale of wind. For your assistance in rescuing my men I thank you as I do also for thy assistance in towing the fish alongside; there cannot be many who command King's ships who engage in such practices.' Sawyers smiled wryly.
Drinkwater tossed off his glass and picked up his hat. He grinned at the older man. 'The advantages of being a Tarpaulin officer, Captain, are better employed in the Arctic than in Whitehall.'
They shook hands and Drinkwater took his departure. Scrambling down the Faithful's easy tumble-home he was aware that the cutting-in of the whale had already begun. Undeterred by his ducking, Elijah Pucill was already wielding his flensing iron as the try-tackles began to strip the blanket-piece from the carcase.
'By God, sir,' remarked Quilhampton as he settled himself in the stern sheets of the gig, 'they don't work Tom Cox's traverse aboard there.'[3]
'Indeed not, Mr Q.'
'The ship bore east-nor'-east from the whaler's mizen top, sir, about two leagues distant.'
'Very well, Mr Q, carry on.'
'Wind's freshening all the time, Mr Hill.'
'And backing Mr Gorton, wouldn't you say?'
'Aye, and inclined to be a trifle warmer I think, not that there's much comfort to be derived from that.'
'Ah, but what should you deduce from that observation, Mr Gorton?'
Gorton frowned and shook his head.
'Fog, Mr Gorton, fog and a whole gale before the day is out or you may rate me a Dutchman. You had better inform Mr Bourne and then hoist yourself aloft and see if you can spot the captain's boat.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
Bourne came on deck, anxiety plain on his face. 'Have you news of the Captain, Mr Hill?'
'No, Mr Bourne, but Gorton's going aloft with a glass.'
Bourne looked aloft. Melusine lay under her spanker and fore-topmast staysail, her reefed maintopsail aback. Hove-to she drifted slowly to leeward, ready to fill her topsail and work to windward. Bourne looked to starboard. The nearest ice lay a league under the sloop's lee.
'D'you know the bearing of the nearest whaler, Mr Hill?'
'Faithful's west-sou'-west with the Narwhal and Truelove further to the west among heavier ice.'
'Very well. Fill the main tops'l, we'll work the ship towards the ice to windward. That will be…' he looked at the compass.
'West-sou'-west,' offered Hill.
'Very well.' Bourne claspe
d his hands behind his back and walked to the windward rail. Standing at the larboard hance by Captain Palgrave's fussy brass carronade now covered in oiled canvas, Lieutenant Bourne felt terribly lonely. He began to worry over the rising wind while Hill had the watch brace the mainyards round. The last few days had demonstrated the dangers of the ice floes to a ship of Melusine's light build. The speed with which the ice moved had amazed them and all their skill had been needed to manoeuvre the ship clear of the danger. Captain Drinkwater's written orders to his watch-keeping officers had been specific: At all costs close proximity with the ice is to be avoided and offing is to be made even at the prospect of losing contact with the whalers. To move Melusine to safety now meant that the captain might be unable to relocate them and with fog coming on there was no longer the refuge contained in Captain Drinkwater's order book: If in any doubt whatsoever, do not hesitate to inform me.
In a moment of angry uncertainty Bourne damned Germaney for his insanity. Then worry reasserted itself, worming in the pit of his stomach like some huge parasite. He looked again and looked in vain for the ice edge. Already a white fog was swirling towards them. He ran forward and lifted the speaking trumpet.
'Masthead there!'
'Sir?' Gorton leaned from the crow's nest.
'D'you see anything of the gig?'
'Nothing, sir.'
'God damn and blast it!' He thought for a moment longer and then made up his mind, hoping that Captain Drinkwater had remained safe aboard one of the whalers.
'Mr Hill! Put the ship about, course south, clear of this damned ice.'
Like the good sailing master he was, Hill obeyed the order of the young commissioned officer and brought Melusine onto the starboard tack. Then he crossed the deck and addressed Bourne.
'Mr Bourne, if the captain's adrift in this fog he'll lose the ship. My advice is to give him minute guns and heave to again after you've run a league to the southward.'
Bourne looked at the older man and Hill saw the relief plain in his eyes.
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