Captain Nye, Of The Loriotte, Who Had
Been An Old Whaleman, Was In The Stern-Sheets, And Fell Mightily
Into The Spirit Of It.
"Bend your backs and break your oars!"
said he.
"Lay me on, Captain Bunker!" "There she flukes!" and
other exclamations, peculiar to whalemen. In the meantime, it
fell flat calm, and being within a couple of miles of the ship,
we expected to board her in a few moments, when a sudden breeze
sprung up, dead ahead for the ship, and she braced up and stood
off toward the islands, sharp on the larboard tack, making good
way through the water. This, of course, brought us up, and we
had only to "ease larboard oars; pull round starboard!" and go
aboard the Alert, with something very like a flea in the ear.
There was a light land-breeze all night, and the ship did not come
to anchor until the next morning. As soon as her anchor was down,
we went aboard, and found her to be the whaleship, Wilmington and
Liverpool Packet, of New Bedford, last from the "off-shore ground,"
with nineteen hundred barrels of oil. A "spouter" we knew her to
be as soon as we saw her, by her cranes and boats, and by her stump
top-gallant masts, and a certain slovenly look to the sails, rigging,
spars and hull; and when we got on board, we found everything to
correspond, - spouter fashion. She had a false deck, which was
rough and oily, and cut up in every direction by the chimes of
oil casks; her rigging was slack and turning white; no paint on
the spars or blocks; clumsy seizings and straps without covers,
and homeward-bound splices in every direction. Her crew, too,
were not in much better order. Her captain was a slab-sided,
shamble-legged Quaker, in a suit of brown, with a broad-brimmed
hat, and sneaking about decks, like a sheep, with his head down;
and the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than they did
like sailors.
Though it was by no means cold weather, (we having on only our red
shirts and duck trowsers,) they all had on woollen trowsers - not blue
and shipshape - but of all colors - brown, drab, grey, aye, and green,
with suspenders over their shoulders, and pockets to put their hands
in. This, added to guernsey frocks, striped comforters about the
neck, thick cowhide boots, woollen caps, and a strong, oily smell,
and a decidedly green look, will complete the description. Eight or
ten were on the fore-topsail yard, and as many more in the main,
furling the topsails, while eight or ten were hanging about the
forecastle, doing nothing. This was a strange sight for a vessel
coming to anchor; so we went up to them, to see what was the matter.
One of them, a stout, hearty-looking fellow, held out his leg and
said he had the scurvy; another had cut his hand; and others had
got nearly well, but said that there were plenty aloft to furl the
sails, so they were sogering on the forecastle.
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