Fighting the Whales | Page 5

At last, after a prosperous voyage, we arrived at our fishing-ground in
the South Seas, and a feeling of excitement and expectation began to
show itself among the men, insomuch that our very eyes seemed
brighter than usual.
One night those of us who had just been relieved from watch on deck,
were sitting on the lockers down below telling ghost stories.
It was a dead calm, and one of those intensely dark, hot nights, that

cause sailors to feel uneasy, they scarce know why. I began to feel so
uncomfortable at last, listening to the horrible tales which Tom Lokins
was relating to the men, that I slipt away from them with the intention
of going on deck. I moved so quietly that no one observed me; besides,
every eye was fixed earnestly on Tom, whose deep low voice was the
only sound that broke the stillness of all around. As I was going very
cautiously up the ladder leading to the deck, Tom had reached that part
of his story where the ghost was just appearing in a dark churchyard,
dressed in white, and coming slowly forward, one step at a time,
towards the terrified man who saw it. The men held their breath, and
one or two of their faces turned pale as Tom went on with his
description, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. Just as I put my
head up the hatchway the sheet of one of the sails, which was hanging
loose in the still air, passed gently over my head and knocked my hat
off. At any other time I would have thought nothing of this, but Tom's
story had thrown me into such an excited and nervous condition that I
gave a start, missed my footing, uttered a loud cry, and fell down the
ladder right in among the men with a tremendous crash, knocking over
two or three oil-cans and a tin bread-basket in my fall, and upsetting the
lantern, so that the place was instantly pitch dark.
I never heard such a howl of terror as these men gave vent to when this
misfortune befell me. They rushed upon deck with their hearts in their
mouths, tumbling, and peeling the skin off their shins and knuckles in
their haste; and it was not until they heard the laughter of the watch on
deck that they breathed freely, and, joining in the laugh, called
themselves fools for being frightened by a ghost story. I noticed,
however, that, for all their pretended indifference, there was not one
man among them--not even Tom Lokins himself--who would go down
below to relight the lantern for at least a quarter of an hour afterwards!
Feeling none the worse for my fall, I went forward and leaned over the
bow of the ship, where I was much astonished by the appearance of the
sea. It seemed as if the water was on fire. Every time the ship's bow
rose and fell, the little belt of foam made in the water seemed like a belt
of blue flame with bright sparkles in it, like stars or diamonds. I had
seen this curious appearance before, but never so bright as it was on

that night.
"What is it, Tom?" said I, as my friend came forward and leaned over
the ship's bulwark beside me.
"It's blue fire, Bob," replied Tom, as he smoked his pipe calmly.
"Come, you know I can't swallow that," said I; "everybody knows that
fire, either blue or red, can't burn in the water."
"Maybe not," returned Tom; "but it's blue fire for all that. Leastwise if
it's not, I don't know wot else it is."
Tom had often seen this light before, no doubt, but he had never given
himself the trouble to find out what it could be. Fortunately the captain
came up just as I put the question, and he enlightened me on the
subject.
"It is caused by small animals," said he, leaning over the side.
"Small animals!" said I, in astonishment.
"Ay, many parts of the sea are full of creatures so small and so thin and
colourless, that you can hardly see them even in a clear glass tumbler.
Many of them are larger than others, but the most of them are very
small."
"But how do they shine like that, sir?" I asked.
"That I do not know, boy. God has given them the power to shine, just
as he has given us the power to walk or speak; and they do shine
brightly, as you see; but how they do it is more than I can tell. I think,
myself, it must be anger that makes them shine, for they generally do it
when they are stirred up or knocked about by oars, or ships' keels, or