A lone1 whale, in plain view from the deck, was sporting lazily on the surface about a mile and a half off our starboard bow. The three boats were hurriedly lowered and the crews scrambled3 in. We took to the oars4, for not a breath of air was stirring and the sea was as smooth as polished silver. Away went the boats together, as if from a starting line at the crack of a pistol, with the whale as the goal and prize of the race.
Mr. Winchester had often boasted of the superiority of his crew. Mr. Landers had not seemed interested in the question, but Gabriel resented the assumption. "Just wait," he used to say to us confidentially5. "We'll show him which is de bes' crew. Our time'll come." The men of the mate's boat had shared their officer's vainglorious6 opinion. They had long swaggered among us with a self-complacent assurance that made us smart. Our chance had at last come to prove their pride a mockery under the skipper's eyes. If ever men wanted, from the bottom of their hearts, to win, we did. We not only had our name as skillful oarsmen to vindicate7, but a grudge8 to wipe out.
So evenly matched were the crews that the boats rushed along side by side for at least half a mile, Mr. Winchester insouciant9 and superciliously10 smiling, Mr. Landers indifferent, Gabriel all eagerness and excitement. Perhaps Mr. Landers knew his crew was outclassed. If he did not, he was not long in finding it out, for his boat began to drop steadily12 behind and was soon hopelessly out of the contest. But the other two crews, stroke for stroke, were proving foemen worthy13 of each other's prowess.
"Oho, Gabriel," Mr. Winchester laughed contemptuously, "you think your boat can out-pull us, eh? Bet you ten pounds of tobacco we beat you to the whale."
"I take you," cried Gabriel excitedly. "Dat's a bet."
If Gabriel accepted the challenge, so did we, and right heartily14 at that. We threw ourselves, heart and soul, into the struggle. The men in the mate's boat, holding us cheaply, believed they could draw away whenever they chose and go on to win, hands down. The mate kept looking over at us, a supercilious11 smile still curling the corners of his mouth.
"Come on now, my boys," he cried. "All together. Shake her up a bit. Give those fellows a taste of your mettle15."
We heard his words as distinctly as his own crew heard them—he was only a few boat lengths away. They inspired us to greater exertion16 than they inspired his own men. They spurted18. So did we. Still the two boats raced neck and neck. We were not to be shaken off. The mate looked disconcerted. His men had done their level best to take the lead and they had failed. That spurt17 marked the crisis of the race.
The mate's smile faded out. His face grew anxious. Then it hardened into an expression of grim determination. He had sat motionless at the beginning. Now when he saw his vaunted superiority slipping through his fingers he began to "jockey"—throwing his body forward in violent lunges at every stroke of the sweeps, pushing with all his might on the stroke oar2, and booming out, "Pull, my boys; pull away, my boys."
But old Gabriel was "jockeying," too, and encouraging us in the same fashion.
"We show dat mate," he kept repeating. "We show him. Steady together, my lads. Pull away!"
And we pulled as if our lives depended on it, bending to the oars with every ounce of our strength, making the long sweeps bend in the water. We began to forge ahead, very slowly, inch by inch. We saw it—it cheered us to stronger effort. Our rivals saw it—it discouraged them. Under the heart-breaking strain they began to tire. They slipped back little by little. They spurted again. It was no use. We increased our advantage. Open daylight began to broaden between the stern of our boat and the bow of theirs. They were beaten in a fair trial of strength, oarsmanship, and endurance.
We shot along at undiminished speed, pulling exultantly20. What the whale was doing or how close we were to it, we at the oars could not see.
"Stand by, Louis," said Gabriel presently.
"Aye, aye, sir," responded Louis.
"Give it to him, Louis," cried Gabriel.
And as the boat glanced against that island of living ebony, Louis's harpoon22 sank deep into the soft, buttery mass. We heard the tiny concussion23 of the cap of the tonite gun, and a fraction of a second later the bomb exploded with a muffled24 roar in the whale's vitals.
"Stern, stern!" shouted Gabriel. "Stern for your lives!"
We backed water as hard as we could. The great back went flashing down, the mighty25 tail rose up directly over us, shutting out the sky. It curled over away from us and smote26 the sea with deafening27 thunder. As quick as lightning it rose into the air again, curled high above us with tragic28 menace, and came crashing down, this time toward us. But we had backed just out of harm's way. Death and that terrible tail missed us by about three feet.
The mate's boat came rushing up. It was too late. The whale—our whale—had sounded.
"Your boat can beat us, eh?" Gabriel called tauntingly29 to Mr. Winchester. "Not much. I know we break blackskin first. I know we win dat race."
Our line began to dance and sing, leaping up from its neatly30 laid coils in the tub in dizzy spirals and humming out over the bow.
"Ha, boys," sang out Kaiuli, our Kanaka bow oarsman. "Now for fine ride behind Arctic race horse—eh?"
With a whale harnessed to our boat and a sea as smooth as any turnpike for our highway, we settled ourselves for the ride. The friction31 of the line set the boat going. It gathered momentum32. In a little while we were tearing along through that sea of oil, our bow deep in the smother33 as the whale pulled down upon it, and flashing walls of white spray flaring34 out on either side.
The other boats pulled for the point at which it seemed most probable the whale would come up. When it rose to the surface, the mate's boat was nearest.
"Lay me on four seas off and I'll get him," we heard Long John shout to Mr. Winchester. The mate did just that. The whale was up but a moment and Long John tried for it, but it was too long a dart35, and his harpoon fell into the sea. Before he had recovered his iron we had shot past. When the whale rose again, we bumped out of water on its body. A second harpoon drove home in its back, a second bomb exploded in its insides. A great shudder36 seized the monster. The water foamed37 white with its throes. Then everything grew still. Slowly the great body rolled over, belly38 up.
Big Foot Louis danced up and down in the bow, raising his knees high in a sort of joyful39 cake-walk. Gabriel, equally excited, waved his hat.
"By golly," he shouted, "dat mate don't strike him. Dat feesh is all ours. It takes old Gabriel fer kill de whale, by golly."
When we got back to the brig we looked like snow-powdered Santa Clauses. The spray kicked up in our wild ride behind the Arctic Ocean race horse had wet us from head to foot and, freezing on our fur clothes, had frosted us all over with fine white ice. Mr. Winchester was a good sportsman and paid his bet promptly40. Out of his winnings Gabriel gave each man of his boat's crew a plug of tobacco.
After the whale had been brought alongside the ship and the blubber had been peeled off its body, it fell to the lot of Big Foot Louis to cut in the "old head." It was his first opportunity to show his experience in such work and he was as elated as a boy. He threw off his coat with a theatrical41 flourish, hitched42 up his trousers, seized an axe43, and with an air of bravado44 climbed down on the stripped carcass. A little sea had begun to run and the whale was bending sinuously45 throughout its length and rolling slightly from side to side.
Louis chopped two little ledges46 in the whale's flesh with the deftness47 of an old hand, and planting his feet in these, began raining blows with his axe on the neck. He was getting on famously, and the crew, hanging over the bulwarks48, was watching with admiring eyes. Suddenly the whale gave an unexpectedly violent roll—our Arctic Ocean race horse was proving a bronco even in death—and Louis's big foot slipped off into the water. He lost his balance, pitched forward, and sprawled49 face downward on the whale, his axe sailing away and plunking into the sea. He clutched frantically50 at the whale, but every grip slipped loose and, inch by inch, with eyeballs popping out of his head, he slid off into the sea and with a yell went under.
Everybody laughed. The captain held his sides and the officers on the cutting stage almost fell off in the violence of their mirth. Louis came up spluttering and splashing. He was an expert swimmer, as expert as the Kanakas among whom he had lived for years, and he needed all his skill to keep afloat in his heavy boots and skin clothes. As soon as the mate could control his merriment, he stuck the long handle of his spade down and Louis grasped it and was pulled back on the whale's body. He sat there, dripping and shivering and with chattering51 teeth, rolling his white eyes up at the laughing crew along the rail with a tragic "Et tu, Brute52" expression. He couldn't see the joke.
"Lemme aboard," he whimpered.
"Stay where you are," roared the captain, "and cut in that head."
Louis lived in mortal fear of the skipper, and the way he straightened up in his slippery seat and said "Aye, aye, sir!" made the crew burst out laughing again. Another axe was passed down to him. He floundered to his feet, and though he found it harder than ever in his wet boots to keep his footing, and slipped more than once and almost fell off again, he finally succeeded in cutting off the head. He had regained53 his air of bravado by the time he had scrambled back on deck.
"Pretty close shave, Louis," ventured a sailor.
"Humph," returned Louis, "dat's nothin'—nothin' at all." And with quite lordly dignity, despite the dripping brine, he stalked off to the cabin to change his clothes.
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1
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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vainglorious
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| adj.自负的；夸大的 | |
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vindicate
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| v.为…辩护或辩解，辩明；证明…正确 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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insouciant
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| adj.不在意的 | |
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superciliously
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| adv.高傲地；傲慢地 | |
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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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harpoon
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| n.鱼叉；vt.用鱼叉叉，用鱼叉捕获 | |
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concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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tauntingly
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| 嘲笑地，辱骂地； 嘲骂地 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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42
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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sinuously
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| 弯曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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47
deftness
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48
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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49
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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50
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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51
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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52
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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53
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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