Christmas Day drew near, beloved of Englishmen all the world over, though thought little of by Americans.The two previous ones spent on board the CACHALOT have been passed over without mention, absolutely no notice being taken of the season by any one on board, to all appearance.In English ships some attempt is always made to give the day somewhat of a festive character, and to maintain the national tradition of good-cheer and goodwill in whatever part of the world you may happen to be.For some reason or other, perhaps because of the great increase in comfort; we had all experienced lately, I felt the approach of the great Christian anniversary very strongly; although, had Ibeen in London, I should probably have spent it in lonely gloom, having no relatives or friends whom I might visit.But what of that? Christmas is Christmas; and, if we have no home, we think of the place where our home should be; and whether, as cynics sneer, Dickens invented the English Christmas or not, its observance has taken deep root among us.May its shadow never be less!
On Christmas morning I mounted to the crow's-nest at daybreak, and stood looking with never-failing awe at the daily marvel of the sunrise.Often and often have I felt choking for words to express the tumult of thoughts aroused by this sublime spectacle.
Hanging there in cloudland, the tiny microcosm at one's feet forgotten, the grandeur of the celestial outlook is overwhelming.
Many and many a time I have bowed my head and wept in pure reverence at the majesty manifested around me while the glory of the dawn increased and brightened, till with one exultant bound the sun appeared.
For some time I stood gazing straight ahead of me with eyes that saw not, filled with wonder and admiration.I must have been looking directly at the same spot for quite a quarter of an hour, when suddenly, as if I had but just opened my eyes, I saw the well-known bushy spout of a sperm whale.I raised the usual yell, which rang through the stillness discordantly, startling all hands out of their lethargy like bees out of a hive.After the usual preliminaries, we were all afloat with sails set, gliding slowly over the sleeping sea towards the unconscious objects of our attention.The captain did not lower this time, as there only appeared to be three fish, none of them seeming large.Though at any distance it is extremely difficult to assess the size of whales, the spout being very misleading.
Sometimes a full-sized whale will show a small spout, while a twenty-barrel cow will exhale a volume of vapour extensive enough for two or three at once.
Now although, according to etiquette, I kept my position in the rear of my superior officers, I had fully determined in my own mind, being puffed up with previous success, to play second fiddle to no one, if I could help it, this time.Samuela was decidedly of the same opinion; indeed, I believe he would have been delighted to tackle a whole school single-handed, while my crew were all willing and eager for the fight.We had a long, tedious journey before we came up with them, the wind being so light that even with the occasional assistance of the paddles our progress was wretchedly slow.When at last we did get into their water, and the mate's harpooner stood up to dart, his foot slipped, and down he came with a clatter enough to scare a cachalot twenty miles away.It gallied our friends effectually, sending them flying in different directions at the top of their speed.But being some distance astern of the other boats, one of the fish, in his headlong retreat, rose for a final blow some six or seven fathoms away, passing us in the opposite direction.His appearance was only momentary, yet in that moment Samuela hurled his harpoon into the air, where it described a beautiful parabola, coming down upon the disappearing monster's back just as the sea was closing over it.Oh, it was a splendid dart, worthy of the finest harpooner that ever lived! There was no time for congratulations, however, for we spun round as on a pivot, and away we went in the wake of that fellow at a great rate.I cast one look astern to see whether the others had struck, but could see nothing of them; we seemed to have sprung out of their ken in an instant.
The speed of our friend was marvellous, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that these animals usually run in circles --sometimes, it is true, of enormous diameter, but seldom getting far away from their starting-point.But as the time went on, and we seemed to fly over the waves at undiminished speed, I began to think this whale might be the exception necessary to prove the rule, so I got out the compass and watched his course.Due east, not a degree to north or south of it, straight as a bee to its hive.The ship was now far out of sight astern, but I knew that keen eyes had been watching our movements from the masthead, and that every effort possible would be made to keep the run of us.
The speed of our whale was not only great, but unflagging.He was more like a machine than an animal capable of tiring; and though we did our level best, at the faintest symptom of slackening, to get up closer and lance him, it was for some time impossible.After, at a rough estimate, running in a direct easterly course for over two hours, he suddenly sounded, without having given us the ghost of a chance to "land him one where he lived." Judging from his previous exertions, though, it was hardly possible he would be able to stay down long, or get very deep, as the strain upon these vast creatures at any depth is astonishingly exhausting.After a longer stay below than usual, when they have gone extra deep, they often arrive at the surface manifestly "done up" for a time.Then, if the whaleman be active and daring, a few well-directed strokes may be got in which will promptly settle the business out of hand.
