Jules Verne (10 page)

To the third line, it was soon necessary to join the fourth, and that
was not done without making the sailors somewhat anxious touching their
future part of the prize.

"The devil! the devil!" murmured Captain Hull. "I have never seen
anything like that! Devilish jubarte!"

Finally the fifth line had to be let out, and it was already half
unrolled when it seemed to slacken.

"Good! good!" cried Captain Hull. "The line is less stiff. The jubarte
is getting tired."

At that moment, the "Pilgrim" was more than five miles to the leeward
of the whale-boat. Captain Hull, hoisting a flag at the end of a
boat-hook, gave the signal to come nearer.

And almost at once, he could see that Dick Sand, aided by Tom and his
companions, commenced to brace the yards in such a manner as to trim
them close to the wind.

But the breeze was feeble and irregular. It only came in short puffs.
Most certainly, the "Pilgrim" would have some trouble in joining the
whale-boat, if indeed she could reach it. Meanwhile, as they had
foreseen, the jubarte had returned to the surface of the water to
breathe, with the harpoon fixed in her side all the time. She then
remained almost motionless, seeming to wait for her young whale, which
this furious course must have left behind.

Captain Hull made use of the oars so as to join her again, and soon he
was only a short distance from her.

Two oars were laid down and two sailors armed themselves, as the
captain had done, with long lances, intended to strike the enemy.

Howik worked skilfully then, and held himself ready to make the boat
turn rapidly, in case the whale should turn suddenly on it.

"Attention!" cried Captain Hull. "Do not lose a blow! Aim well, boys!
Are we ready, Howik?"

"I am prepared, sir," replied the boatswain, "but one thing troubles
me. It is that the beast, after having fled so rapidly, is very quiet
now."

"In fact, Howik, that seems to me suspicious. Let us be careful!"

"Yes, but let us go forward."

Captain Hull grew more and more animated.

The boat drew still nearer. The jubarte only turned in her place. Her
young one was no longer near her; perhaps she was trying to find it
again.

Suddenly she made a movement with her tail, which took her thirty feet
away.

Was she then going to take flight again, and must they take up this
interminable pursuit again on the surface of the waters?

"Attention!" cried Captain Hull. "The beast is going to take a spring
and throw herself on us. Steer, Howik, steer!"

The jubarte, in fact, had turned in such a manner as to present herself
in front of the whale-boat. Then, beating the sea violently with her
enormous fins, she rushed forward.

The boatswain, who expected this direct blow, turned in such a fashion
that the jubarte passed by the boat, but without reaching it.

Captain Hull and the two sailors gave her three vigorous thrusts on the
passage, seeking to strike some vital organ.

The jubarte stopped, and, throwing to a great height two columns of
water mingled with blood, she turned anew on the boat, bounding, so to
say, in a manner frightful to witness.

These seamen must have been expert fishermen, not to lose their
presence of mind on this occasion.

Howik again skilfully avoided the jubarte's attack, by darting the boat
aside.

Three new blows, well aimed, again gave the animal three new wounds.
But, in passing, she struck the water so roughly with her formidable
tail, that an enormous wave arose, as if the sea were suddenly opened.

The whale-boat almost capsized, and, the water rushing in over the
side, it was half filled.

"The bucket, the bucket!" cried Captain Hull.

The two sailors, letting go their oars, began to bale out the boat
rapidly, while the captain cut the line, now become useless.

No! the animal, rendered furious by grief, no longer dreamt of flight.
It was her turn to attack, and her agony threatened to be terrible.

A third time she turned round, "head to head," a seaman would say, and
threw herself anew on the boat.

But the whale-boat, half full of water, could no longer move with the
same facility. In this condition, how could it avoid the shock which
threatened it? If it could be no longer steered, there was still less
power to escape.

And besides, no matter how quickly the boat might be propelled, the
swift jubarte would have always overtaken it with a few bounds. It was
no longer a question of attack, but of defense.

Captain Hull understood it all.

The third attack of the animal could not be entirely kept off. In
passing she grazed the whale-boat with her enormous dorsal fin, but
with so much force that Howik was thrown down from his bench.

The three lances, unfortunately affected by the oscillation, this time
missed their aim.

"Howik! Howik!" cried Captain Hull, who himself had been hardly able to
keep his place.

"Present!" replied the boatswain, as he got up. But he then perceived
that in his fall his stern oar had broken in the middle.

"Another oar!" said Captain Hull.

"I have one," replied Howik.

At that moment, a bubbling took place under the waters only a few
fathoms from the boat.

The young whale had just reappeared. The jubarte saw it, and rushed
towards it.

This circumstance could only give a more terrible character to the
contest. The whale was going to fight for two.

Captain Hull looked toward the "Pilgrim." His hand shook the boat-hook,
which bore the flag, frantically.

What could Dick Sand do that had not been already done at the first
signal from the captain? The "Pilgrim's" sails were trimmed, and the
wind commenced to fill them. Unhappily the schooner did not possess a
helix, by which the action could be increased to sail faster.

To lower one of the boats, and, with the aid of the blacks, row to the
assistance of the captain, would be a considerable loss of time;
besides, the novice had orders not to quit the ship, no matter what
happened. However, he had the stern-boat lowered from its pegs, and
towed it along, so that the captain and his companions might take
refuge in it, in case of need.

At that moment the jubarte, covering the young whale with her body, had
returned to the charge. This time she turned in such a manner as to
reach the boat exactly.

"Attention, Howik!" cried Captain Hull, for the last time.

But the boatswain was, so to speak, disarmed. Instead of a lever, whose
length gave force, he only held in his hand an oar relatively short. He
tried to put about; it was impossible.

The sailors knew that they were lost. All rose, giving a terrible cry,
which was perhaps heard on the "Pilgrim."

A terrible blow from the monster's tail had just struck the whale-boat
underneath. The boat, thrown into the air with irresistible violence,
fell back, broken in three pieces, in the midst of waves furiously
lashed by the whale's bounds.

The unfortunate sailors, although grievously wounded, would have had,
perhaps, the strength to keep up still, either by swimming or by
hanging on to some of the floating wreck. That is what Captain Hull
did, for he was seen for a moment hoisting the boatswain on a wreck.

But the jubarte, in the last degree of fury, turned round, sprang up,
perhaps in the last pangs of a terrible agony, and with her tail she
beat the troubled waters frightfully, where the unfortunate sailors
were still swimming.

For some minutes one saw nothing but a liquid water-spout scattering
itself in sheafs on all sides.

A quarter of an hour after, when Dick Sand, who, followed by the
blacks, had rushed into the boat, had reached the scene of the
catastrophe, every living creature had disappeared. There was nothing
left but some pieces of the whale-boat on the surface of the waters,
red with blood.

The first impression felt by the passengers of the "Pilgrim" in
presence of this terrible catastrophe was a combination of pity and
horror. They only thought of this frightful death of Captain Hull and
the five sailors. This fearful scene had just taken place almost under
their eyes, while they could do nothing to save the poor men. They had
not even been able to arrive in time to pick up the whale-boat's crew,
their unfortunate companions, wounded, but still living, and to oppose
the "Pilgrim's" hull to the jubarte's formidable blows. Captain Hull
and his men had forever disappeared.

When the schooner arrived at the fatal place, Mrs. Weldon fell on her
knees, her hands raised toward Heaven.

"Let us pray!" said the pious woman.

She was joined by her little Jack, who threw himself on his knees,
weeping, near his mother. The poor child understood it all. Dick Sand,
Nan, Tom, and the other blacks remained standing, their heads bowed.
All repeated the prayer that Mrs. Weldon addressed to God, recommending
to His infinite goodness those who had just appeared before Him.

Then Mrs. Weldon, turning to her companions, "And now, my friends,"
said she, "let us ask Heaven for strength and courage for ourselves."

Yes! They could not too earnestly implore the aid of Him who can do all
things, for their situation was one of the gravest!

This ship which carried them had no longer a captain to command her, no
longer a crew to work her. She was in the middle of that immense
Pacific Ocean, hundreds of miles from any land, at the mercy of the
winds and waves.

What fatality then had brought that whale in the "Pilgrim's" course?
What still greater fatality had urged the unfortunate Captain Hull,
generally so wise, to risk everything in order to complete his cargo?
And what a catastrophe to count among the rarest of the annals of
whale-fishing was this one, which did not allow of the saving of one of
the whale-boat's sailors!

Yes, it was a terrible fatality! In fact, there was no longer a seaman
on board the "Pilgrim." Yes, one—Dick Sand—and he was only a
beginner, a young man of fifteen. Captain, boatswain, sailors, it may
be said that the whole crew was now concentrated in him.

On board there was one lady passenger, a mother and her son, whose
presence would render the situation much more difficult. Then there
were also some blacks, honest men, courageous and zealous without a
doubt, ready to obey whoever should undertake to command them, but
ignorant of the simplest notions of the sailor's craft.

Dick Sand stood motionless, his arms crossed, looking at the place
where Captain Hull had just been swallowed up—Captain Hull, his
protector, for whom he felt a filial affection. Then his eyes searched
the horizon, seeking to discover some ship, from which he would demand
aid and assistance, to which he might be able at least to confide Mrs.
Weldon. He would not abandon the "Pilgrim," no, indeed, without having
tried his best to bring her into port. But Mrs. Weldon and her little
boy would be in safety. He would have had nothing more to fear for
those two beings, to whom he was devoted body and soul.

The ocean was deserted. Since the disappearance of the jubarte, not a
speck came to alter the surface. All was sky and water around the
"Pilgrim." The young novice knew only too well that he was beyond the
routes followed by the ships of commerce, and that the other whalers
were cruising still farther away at the fishing-grounds.

However, the question was, to look the situation in the face, to see
things as they were. That is what Dick Sand did, asking God, from the
depths of his heart, for aid and succor. What resolution was he going
to take?

At that moment Negoro appeared on the deck, which he had left after the
catastrophe. What had been felt in the presence of this irreparable
misfortune by a being so enigmatical, no one could tell. He had
contemplated the disaster without making a gesture, without departing
from his speechlessness. His eye had evidently seized all the details
of it. But if at such a moment one could think of observing him, he
would be astonished at least, because not a muscle of his impassible
face had moved. At any rate, and as if he had not heard it, he had not
responded to the pious appeal of Mrs. Weldon, praying for the engulfed
crew. Negoro walked aft, there even where Dick Sand was standing
motionless. He stopped three steps from the novice.

"You wish to speak to me?" asked Dick Sand.

"I wish to speak to Captain Hull," replied Negoro, coolly, "or, in his
absence, to boatswain Howik."

"You know well that both have perished!" cried the novice.

"Then who commands on board now?" asked Negoro, very insolently.

"I," replied Dick Sand, without hesitation.

"You!" said Negoro, shrugging his shoulders. "A captain of fifteen
years?"

"A captain of fifteen years!" replied the novice, advancing toward the
cook.

The latter drew back.

"Do not forget it," then said Mrs. Weldon. "There is but one captain
here—Captain Sand, and it is well for all to remember that he will
know how to make himself obeyed."

Negoro bowed, murmuring in an ironical tone a few words that they could
not understand, and he returned to his post.

We see, Dick's resolution was taken.

Meanwhile the schooner, under the action of the breeze, which commenced
to freshen, had already passed beyond the vast shoal of crustaceans.

Dick Sand examined the condition of the sails; then his eyes were cast
on the deck. He had then this sentiment, that, if a frightful
responsibility fell upon him in the future, it was for him to have the
strength to accept it. He dared to look at the survivors of the
"Pilgrim," whose eyes were now fixed on him. And, reading in their
faces that he could count on them, he said to them in two words, that
they could in their turn count on him.