Authors: K Martin Gardner
“Really.”
“So, you want to be a Headsman?
That’s where they put the new men, you know.”
“Sure.”
Black Jack said.
I will call your bluff
, he thought.
“No, Black Jack, I’m only joking with you.
They’ll probably put you on after-oarsman.
You’ll be good ballast back there!”
Sam said.
“That’ll be fine as well.”
“Right, so here’s how it goes.”
Sam began.
“My crew is first on the roster, so we’ll be going out first when they call the broach.
I happen to be the Headsman, so you’ll see me drop my flense where I stand and start running for that skiff you see down there on the beach.”
Sam pointed to a boat sitting upside-down in the sand near the tail of a nearby whale. He continued, “You’ll see about eight other men scrambling from all over and helping me to right the boat and throw the gear in:
That’ll be our water jug, our biscuit tin, and our line.
But we’re not going out there for a picnic mate.
Oh, no, it’ll probably be the rest of the day, if we stick the fish or not.
When we
do
shove off from the beach, try not to be the first or the last one in. You’ve got to clear the waves, and once you do, you’re gonna see eight men row a boat faster than you’ve ever seen your own ship sail,
no lie
.
That fish will be one, maybe two miles out there, and they don’t wait around.
I’m gonna be standing on the bow, though, with an oar longer than this pole, steering us right up to the whale.
I’ll be saying silly things like,
send us alongside, laddies, now give way
, and
hurrah, my bonnies, hearty and strong!
Sounds stupid, I know; but believe me, it really gets my boys going.
Especially since they know how many whales they’ve landed with me as their Headsman!”
Sam carried on, “Now, when the boat touches the back of that whale, I’ve got to be quicker than the ferryman in Hades.
I’ll notch that oar, so hopefully it will still be there when the fun is all over; ‘cause this is where it gets good.
You payin’ attention there, Black Jack?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.”
said Sam.
“So I pick up the harpoon, which is heavier than a Mahogany log; but it’s got balance, see:
If you lift it just right, it swings itself out over the target like a boom and waits for you, nice as a feather.
Then I’ve got one hand rear of its middle for leverage, and one all the way back to drive it home.
Then I scream at the top of my livin’, lovin’ lungs
--
I
scream
Jack, like my Celtic forefathers back on the highland battlegrounds
--
All clear!
Give it to her good!
For that timeless second, the salt air and the vile in my bile make for a wicked cocktail of vicious gall; and my body becomes God’s cannon.
The harpoon comes out of me like Thor’s hammer and parts the black mass that is the almighty whale.
And if ever a man could dread more the coming together, back to back, of any two events in time, it is when he must stand witness to the
release
of the harpoon and the subsequent
reaction
of the whale.
Whether he has fallen from a great height and lived to tell about it; or he can show the scar from a shot fired from close range during a duel; or even brag of being treed by a tiger:
No man can honestly claim that he has suffered all of the effects and feelings that come just before death, save for the actual departing of the last breath from his body; as those which beset the whaler when his skiff is thrust into flight by the angry leviathan. You catch my drift, Black Jack?”
“Yes!”
“Then the beast dives for Hell,” Sam raged on,
“trying to quench the fire in her back, but it is futile.
She begins to drown in her own blood, suddenly cursed to be born with lungs in what will now become her watery grave.
Can you believe that, Jack?
A fish with lungs!
What was God thinking on
that
day of Creation, Jack?”
“I dunno. The Bible says Jonah was swallowed by a whale; so maybe God needed a way for Jonah to get air so he wouldn’t drown down there.”
“All right, fair enough. But
lungs
, Jack.
It just seems like a cruel trick for God to play on his largest creation in the world:
Here’s the biggest creature in my kingdom.
Now I’m going to set him in water and watch him try not to drown for the rest of eternity.
That’s a bad joke, don’t you think, Jack?”
“Maybe. But it all depends on how you look at it, I reckon.”
Mama always told me, God makes examples that are plain to see, so all his children can learn from them, if they open their eyes.
If it's the biggest living thing in the world, then I suppose God is sayin’,
Look here, fool, and witness this soul’s trials in getting his daily breath of life
.
Or a bird without wings:
that would surely cause a thoughtless man to stop and think about that poor soul’s plight.
I think God shows us things, so we will come to know him better if we make up our minds to.”
Sam stood there staring at Black Jack for a moment. “Well, what about the deaf and blind beggar, Jack.
Will he come to know God?
Will he come to know God if he
chooses to open his eyes?
Tell me, Jack.”
“Every man has a mind; and every mind has an eye with which to see what it chooses.
That’s what Mama always told me.”
“Right!
Well, then, the whale is pretty much done at that point; if I’ve done my job correctly.
If not, look out!”
“How so?”
“Well, I’ve never had it happen to me, but I’ve seen it happen to less experienced crews.
If the harpoon does not find its mark, then you get a flying fish! The giant turns, and gives chase to its hunters.
It bears down like a train on the water, staring straight at the skiff; and just short of the sloop, shoots into the air leaving its prey to pray to that monumental black monolith for a momentous moment.
Following this second of silence, the whale falls to the water, like a slick, wet Redwood being felled; and the explosion of wind and sound blasts far harder than any cannon a man could fire.
It is then that the men must prove that their intent was to bring the fight to the fish; and not the other way around, as the dying black island furiously flaps her tail and fins, as if unfurling a flag to claim her cemetery plot. Selfish even in death, she fittingly wants to claim the very spot directly beneath the boat that is now painted with her own blood.”
“That is fantastic.
And you are quite the poet.
Did you know that?”
“I get on a roll, now and then.
The chaps all like it.
They set the words to song sometimes.
Keeps ‘em happy when we’re towing that bloody bitch back in from five miles out! You know, they also call the Right Whale a Black Whale.”
“Well, maybe
that
is the reason why it is the right whale to hunt!”
Sam laughed hard, and said,
“Sharp, Jack, very sharp.”
II
The beach was remarkably quiet for a place so full of people.
The bright sun shone down out of a clear sky. Warm breeze blew dry air over the bay and onto the sand littered with marooned kelp.
A gull screeched overhead occasionally, accentuating the infrequent clang of men’s tools, and the complete lack of any talking.
The whalers had struck a happy, hypnotic medium following the excitement of welcoming the new arrivals and having gotten to know them.
Everyone moved about as spirits in their own world, working efficiently and interacting silently with all whom surrounded them.
There was no longer any need to speak, so Nature had improvised by playing her beautiful song in the background.
The ships moored in the bay bobbed in order along their row as waves cut across the channel and sprawled out on the shore.
The salty, meaty smell of seaweed mingled with the greasy stench of simmering whale oil; and both fragrances sparred in turn with the aroma of the strewn, rotting, rancid flesh which held rank above all others smells on the beach.
“Are you scared?”
Sam asked Black Jack out of the blue.
“I don’t know what to be scared of.”
“You’ve never killed a whale, then.”
“I’ve never hunted an animal that large, no.”
“Well, mate, if you’re scared,
say
you’re scared.
There’s no shame in it.
That’s part of the game.”
“Like I say, I won’t know if I’m frightened of the whale or
killing
the whale, until the time comes.”
“Well mate, how about this:
When the time comes, go out with me and
my
crew, and see how it’s done properly.
One of my blokes will be happy to trade places with you.”
“I don’t know if that is right.
What will my crew think of me then?”
“Jack, it’s like this:
Right now, your men are all nubs.
They don’t know what they’re doing; and chances are they won’t come anywhere near getting a whale their first time out.
Now along comes you after being out with me, with some experience under your belt, and they won’t think twice about it.
They’ll make you Headsman, and you’ll be king of your boat!”
That does seem to make sense
, he thought.
“All right.” Said Black Jack.
“I’ll give it a go.”
“Great, now listen closely.”
Suddenly, from up on the hill, the loud cry came:
“Thar she blows!
And
close
...
one mile!
Two spouts!
Thar she blows!”
Sam’s face had frozen as he heard the Lookout’s shout, and he listened for the vital, subtle clues laced throughout the report such as type of whale, number, and distance.
Sam yelled to Black Jack, “C’mon, then!
Follow me and do everything I tell you.” Sam scrambled for the gear, shoving items into Jack’s arms and running for the water.
As they reached the water, he shouted,
“Now, Jack, grab the aft.
Let’s turn her right.
That’s it, now into the waves.
Chuck the gear in.
Here come the rest of the boys!”
Men came sprinting from all points on the beach, sand flying behind them as they pumped their arms and legs.
They bounded into the waves and dashed into the skiff, splashing Sam and Black Jack as they stood waist deep in the waves steadying the boat.
The oars seemed to mechanically rise out of the bottom of the boat and set themselves in the rings as the two men on either end hoisted themselves in. The boat cleared the waves and it was away.