Chips, The Carpenter

'Chips' whom I knew for months by no other name, was ship's carpenter of tha whaler Gazelle of ÍTew Bedford. He was 26 years old, six feet high, and as strong as a tree. He was the favorite son of the ship - and no wonder. He was tender and gentle, perhaps because he was strong ; he was peacef ui because he was powerful. And the soft word which turned away wrath, with a gentle hand to soothe a sufferer are often needed in the whale flsheries. Most of the foremast hands of the Gazelle were rough Portugese Jads, from the Western Islands, on their first voyage. They were treated with coarse contempt by the iew American seamea and by the officers. The only 'white man' as the Yankee sailor loves to cali himself - who was kind and patiënt with the rude boys was Chips ; and he was never tired of showing them or teaching them something of what he knew. He was one of those unselöshf ellows who did not believe in keeping knowledge to themselves. He had never been to sea before, but during the flrst two years of this voyage he had attended to so many things beside his own easy work, that he was considered one of the best and coolest whalesmen aboard. Although exempt from standing watch, he had insisted on doing duty from the flrst day out. At night, if the weather was good, he would sit on the main batch in the centre of a ring of the Portugese lads, and with wonderful patience teach them to make splices and knots and to speak English. He never tired of doing this or any other kindly thing for them. In the day time if there was work for him at 'his trade he still had them around him, explaining every thing as he sawed or planed, as if he wished to make them as good carpenters as he was himself. Oq Sunday, when every one brought his letters and pietures on deck, Chips showed the only sign3 of sadness we ever saw. He was tl only one on board - except myself' - who had neither pictures nor lt tters, neither face nor word to remind him of home. When the ship touched at some port with a postofiice and every one ran for letters, Chips remained aboard - he knew there was none for him. In one of the boys' albums he found a picture of an old white haired woman - -the lad's mother - and every Sunday af ternoon he asked for that album, and always gave it back wnen he had turned and looked at that picture. The ship had been two years out when I flrst saw Chips. Throngh strange and unhappy ciroumstances I was afloat on the Indian ocean, in a small boat, when this New Bedford whaler nove in sight, and ran for me. The first man to spring out in the mizzen chains to help me aboard. was strong-handed Chips, with tears of sympathy in his eyes. On deck the Captain met me with open hand and heart, and for eight months I sailed with the whalemen, and took part in the good and ill that befell them. Chips and I were friends from the instant our hands struck. Shaking hands is one of the best tests of character. Some people shake, your hands so pohtelv that vou feel they would care mighty Httle about shaking your acquaintance; some men slip their hands iiito yours and make you íeel as if you were squeezing a fish ; some people's hauds are so thick, and lat and cold that you might as well grasp the fingen of a leather dummy Most people, and nice people, shake hands as a prelituiuiary to conversation ; but now and then one's hand strikes Lnto synipathetic paims, the fingers take iull hold, the thumbs interlock and close - and when that friendly grip is over, there is not a word to be said - it spoke all friendly greeting in its own good language. fciuch a kindly and grim grip did Chip give me the flrst time we met. When 1 boarded the wWer I was in a bad way for clothes ; ail that belonged to me iu the world wereafew branded rags that I had worn in the boat. Sailors are used to such things; and they know the remedy. Every one carne forward witii Lis liltle offering. One brought a hat, another a jacket, another a pair of sea-boots, a jackknife, a cake of tobáceo, and so on, until I had a bunk full of marine ecessities. Chips had least to give of all, for he had shipped without a regular outtit. But when he saw all that had been given, smiling at the rough boys as each one handed his offering, he drew me off to his own cubby-hole, and hauled round his own chest. Out on his bed carne the contents: and in a minute there was a fair división of all it contained- üannels, shirts, stockings and everythmg to a handkerchief. 'These ar yours, and these are mine,' said Chips; 'and l'll make you a chest to-morrow.' That's the sort of man he is in every thing. No wonder that the boys loved him, and that the one word spoken in the best tones of the ship was the name of the kind-hearted, manly , Chips. He was as brave as he was kind. When wliales were chased, Chips went down in a boat, and there was no cool er head among them when the fragüe Shell was to be laid broadside to a monster nearly as long as the ship. Once when the boat was stove in by a sweeper of the awful flukes in the death-flurry, one of the boys was prushed by the blow and driven leas unJer the water. When Chips carne to the surface he counted the lieada and missed one, and down in the bloody brine he went among the sharks and flshed up the sinking body. He was a mighty swimui and with only an oar to cling to, he neld the senseess man out of the water untilrescued. But to the story. The Gazelle had been cruising for three months R few hundred miles off the coast of Western Australia - the great penal colony of England- and during that time had not fallen in with a single sperm wh alp.. One raw afternoon, with a harsh breeze and a rising sea, at last we ueard the long sing-song cry irom the masthead, 'He blows! ther - re - blo-o-ws!' Four times, at regular intervals of about forty seconds, the cry was repeated ; and then we knew it was a sperm whale. lt was about 5 o'clock in the evening wheii the first cry was heard, aad the sun went down at 6 :30, with scarcely flve minutes of twilight. As a rule, on board American whalers, when whales are seen late in the evening, the boats are not sent down unless circumstances, such as weather. light apd so on, are very favorable. In rnost cases the course of the whales and the speed of their travel are carefully noted. When 'on a course,' a school of sperm whales will move at the rate of about six miles an hour ; when 'feeding' they keep on the same 'ground' not moving more than a few miles a day. When seen late in the evening, the ship is steered during the night according to the observations, and often ünds the school in sight in the morning, when the boats are at once sent down. This course was not followed on the evening in question. It was not a 3chüol we saw, but a 'lone whale' and one of extraordinary size. The night promised to be a rough one, and. the whales motions were strangely irregular, as if he had lost himself in an unknown sea. There was something solemn and mysterious ia the sight of "lone whales" and marvelous superstitions are current among whalesmen respecting them. Though spending year ter year on the great waters, whalers become more impressionable to supernatural things than other seamen, and long observation of the shoals or schools of the vast creatures they pursue tends to flll them with amazement and awe when they meet with a solitary leviathan who has abandoned al] fellowship with his kind, who lives by his own law - lonely, mighty and terribie. Soon after the cry from aloft, we saw the whale from the deck, only a short distance from the ship, and we might have seen him long before had not his white, bushlike spout been lost in the anpry whiteness that was fast spreading over the sea. For a moment all eyes were fastened on the long body, like a great black tube, over which the waves washed. Every fa.ce was wonder-stricken at the immense size of the whale. Capt. Clifford had been examining him through a glass, which he handed in turn to each of his offlcers. 'Whatdoyousay, Mr. Hussey?' he isquired of the first mate, who glanced at the sun and an3wered: 'Go down, sir ; we can do it.' 'Mr. Joseph ?' and the captain turned to the second mate, an old Portuguese of extraordinary size, and perhaps the most famous whalesman alive. "Go down, sir, if we want to get the fellow; we'll never see him again. Theother two offlcers were younger men, and of the same mind. Therei was no time lost in f urther consultation, 'Swing the boats !' shouted the 'old man.' The lines and irons had already been thrown in by the crews. A 'heave oh !' and a straining sound, and in one minute the four boats struck the water, and the men were settled on the thwarts with the long oars out. The sun was low and large and red and the whole western sea and sky was magniücient in crimson and gold and black. The picture was one of the finest 1 ever saw. The rising sea was jet black, except where it was bloody ; a broad road of crimson shimmered from the ship to the sun; the long body of the whale, even blacker than the sea, was plainly seen in the ruddy glare; and life was added to the immense scène by the four white specks - the whaleboats - closing to a point as they drew near the motionless monster. lt was not until the boats had lelt the ship that we realized how threatening was the weather. Every moment the sea carne wilder and heavier against the vessel. Only now and again, as they were liited on a sea, eould we catch sight of the brave little boat3. The breeze grew stronger at every moment, and, before the first boat neared, the wind was whistling through the ligging in the wild way that tells of a coming gale. The Captain regretted the lowering of the boats, and soon signaled them to return. But the men were excited, and refused to see the signal. Filled to the gunwale, the see lashing over them every moment, oh tbey went where only a thing so nearly perfect as a whale-boat could keep afloat. As the flrst boat swung round to run down to leeward of the whale the red sun f-tood fairly on the black field of ocean. Talk about the bravery of soldiers in battle, or of men ashore in any enterprise you please ; what is it to the bvavery of such a deed as this? A thousand miles from land, six men in a little twenty-eight-foot shell coolly going down in a stormy sea to do battle with the mighüest created animal ! It is the extreme of human coolness and courage, because it is the extreme of danger. The soldier faces one peril- the bullet. The whaleman, in such a case as this, has three mighty enemies to íight-the sea, the gale and the whale. We saw the harpooner of each boat stand up as they came within heaving distance and send in his two irons. All the boats were fast before the monster seemed to feel the first blow. Then came the fight, the cruel and unnatural fiight between vast power and keen skill. The black water was churned white as the ilukes struck out in rage and agony. The sun disappeared and the gale screamed wilder in the rigging. We could no longer see the boats from the ship. The few men on board clewed up the light sail and took a reef in the topsails, and by this time the night was dark as pitch and the gale had whipped and howled itself into a huracane. It was fearful to think of the four small boats out in such a sea as was then running. We on the ship had to cling to the raü or the rigging; the terrible strength of the waves swept the heavy vessel about like cork. I saw the captain's face a moment as he passed the binnacle lamps, and it was absolutely deiormed with grief and terror - not for himself, brave old soldier, but for his boys in the boats. 'Who's at the wheel V he shouted. 'Send a steady man to the wheel.' 'Ay, ay, sirl' answered in the dark a deep, quiet voice; 'I've got the wheel.' That was Chips, and I walked aft to be near him. Just then a loag hail carne through the darkness, and we saw the 3ash of a boat's lantern on the lee-quarter. In a minute more a line was flung aboard, and we soonhad one crew safe on deck. It was the rnate's boat. 'Where were the others?' was the first question. Tast to the whale,' was the answer, 'and there are no lanterns on the boats.' One of the men from the boat relieved Chips at the wheel;and hewent forward to rig lanterns at the i'ore and main tops. When this was done we stood together on the forecastle, looking and listening for the boats. Suddenly he turned to me and said : 'We're going to lose some one tonight. While I was at the wheel it seemed to me as if somethiner ed in my ear that we're going to lose one man to-night.' I said he was growing as superstitious as old Kanaka Joe, and he answered : 'I can't help it. It seemed that I heard that whisper, and so plain was it that I nearly dropped the wheel in terror.' Another shout from the sea put off further talk, and we soon had two more boats at the davits. The absent one was Mr. Joseph's, and we knew that through thick and thin he would hold on to the whale. It was hours before we found him, and when we did he ref used to cut his line from the carcass. The captain cried to him that we could not hold the wbale in such asea, but the whalemai cried back : 'He's a hundred-an'-fifty barreier, and if you don't take the line aboard, we'll stick to him in the boat.' Soon after, as the gale was moderating, the line was taken in, passing through a strong ïron brace, screwed on to the starboard rail just forward of the gangway amidships, from which it was taken back and made fast to the windlass bits at the foot of the mammast. It was a new line of stout Manila hemp, and its strength was put to a fearful test. A hundred fathoms astern of the ship it held the monstrous carcass; and as the vessei rolled heavily to the sea the strain on the line was terriftc. Standing forward of it I laid my hand on the line as the strain eame, and found it stretch and contract like a rope of Indian rubber. Mr. Joseph's boat had come alongside, and the Captain, standing on the starboard rail, was shouting to him through a trumpet. The line from the whale passing from astern to the brace forward, and back to the bits amidships, made an acute angle, inside of which the Captain was standing. I notieed also, in the dark a tall man who seemed to be leaning against the üne. 'I hope he is forward of it,' I said to myself as I went on with what I was about. I had not taken six steps from the spot when something strange oecurred. The ship steadied, as if the wind had ceased. There was no sound greater than the storm ; but, iisstead there seemed to fall suddenjy a stillness. I ran amidsbips and grasped for the line in the dark. Itwasgone! A rush to the rail and all was clear. The strain had torn out the braee. The mighty pull of the whale astern had jerked the line straight, like the cord of a gigantic bow, aüd the Captain who had been standing on the rail, was struck by the flying rope and thrown senseless into the sea. All this had been seen by the men sinthe boat beiore any one on board had realized the affair. In less than a minute the cry of 'Saved !' reached us from Mr. Joseph, and, in a shorter time than can be imagined by a landsman, the boat was hanging at the davits, and the injured cominander was being cared for in his cabin. Rum and hard rubbing are the potent remedies on a whaler, and by dint of these the captain opened his eyes in a quarter of an hour. He had been stunned, but n ot seriously injured. He was amazed at flrst at seeing the mate and myself standing over him with the rum bottle. But without a word he realized the situation. 'llow is the weather?' he asked. 'The wind has gone down,' said Mr. Joseph. 'We're under foresail jib and ïeefed topsails, and running right away from the whale.' Goneï' said the old wian. 'Gonel' said Mr. Joseph ruefully. 'Stanchion dragged, aud the line parted and $8,000 went without an owner.' 'Teil Chips to see to the broken rail,' said the captain, closing his eyes drowsily. 'Ay, ay, sir!' said the old second mate, as he stamped on deck. I heard him stop at the after-hatch, where the boat-steerers and the oarpenter lived, and cali 'Chips!' two or three times. At last there was an answer in another voice - not Chips; then a round of liurried feet on deck, a shout down the forecastle, and a shout back in answer. There was no Chips there. Two minutes after a heavy foot came aft to the cabin stairs, and Mr. Joseph, with a white face, entered. I knew what he had to teil. I know now- just as if I hadseen it all- who the tall man was whom I had lately seen leaning against the line. The captain looked at the second mate. 'Chips is gone, sir.' said the old sailer, with a tremor in his rough voiee : 'Chips was knocked over by the line and we've gone four knots since it parted. l've put her about, and we're running down again.' There was a dead silence. We all knew that the search was hopeless. -No man could swim in such a sea, and we had a thought, though noonespoke it that the brave Chips had been killed by the lme before he touched the water. AU night we beat about the place where we thought it had occured. The wind and sea feil, and the moon came out in great beauty to help our sad search Every man on board stayed on deck till the sun rose, and then we looked far and vainly over the heedless swell of the sea. Chips was dead. The rough Portuguese lads found it hard to believe that the kind heart and strong hand of their friend had gone forever. We all knew that the best man in the ship was taken away. Two years afterward, when I found myself in Boston, 1 took from my sacred things a letter, wbich I found in Chips' chest. It was addressed to a woman, with the name and number of a Cambridge street. I found the place - a small frame-house, with lots of Chips' handiwork around it. Ilis mother met me at the door, a whitehaired woman. She seemed to have been waiting and watching for somebody. The letter was for her, and she read it over - the letter of her only boy, asking forgiveness for his one great and only disobedience- and as slie read, the white head bent lower and lower, till it met the thin hands, and I turned and lef t the little room 1 had darkened, with all its poor ornaments, useless now, and, as 1 walked toward Boston, 1 could not help thinking that God's ways are often woef ully far from being our ways.