“Now for the finishing up of this dirty job,” cried I merrily, as we all woke up next morning at daybreak. And after the regular work was done, we commenced operations by raising a stand or rough scaffold on which the tubs full of blubber were placed and heavily pressed, so that the purest and finest oil overflowed into vessels underneath.
The blubber was afterward boiled in a caldron over a fire kindled at some distance from our abode, and by skimming and straining through a coarse cloth we succeeded in obtaining a large supply of excellent train oil, which in casks, and bags made of the intestines, was safely stowed away in the “cellar,” as the children called our roughest storeroom. This day’s work was far from agreeable, and the dreadful smell oppressed us all, more especially my poor wife, who, nevertheless, endured it with her accustomed good temper.
She very urgently recommended, however, that the new island should be the headquarters for another colony, where, said she, “any animals we leave would be safe from apes and other plunderers, and where you would find it so very convenient to boil whale blubber, strain train oil, and the like.”
This proposal met with hearty approval, especially from the boys, who were always charmed with any new plan. They were eager to act upon it at once, but when I reminded them of the putrefying carcass which lay there, they confessed it would be better to allow wind and storms, birds and insects to do their work in purging the atmosphere and reducing the whale to a skeleton before we revisited the island.
The idea of a rowing machine kept recurring to my brain. I determined to attempt to make one.
I took an iron bar, which when laid across the middle of the boat projected about a foot each way. I provided this bar in the middle with ribbed machinery, and at each end with a sort of nave, in which, as in a cart wheel, four flat spokes, or paddles, were fixed obliquely. These were intended to do the rowers’ part.
Then the jack was arranged to act upon the machinery in the middle of the iron crossbar in such a way that one of its strong cogwheels bit firmly into the ribs, so that, when it was wound up, it caused the bar to revolve rapidly, of course turning with the paddles fixed at either end, which consequently struck the water so as to propel the boat.
Although this contrivance left much to be desired in the way of improvement, still when Fritz and I wound up the machinery and went off on a trial trip across the bay we splashed along at such a famous rate, that the shores rang with the cheers and clapping of the whole family, delighted to behold what they considered my brilliant success.
Everyone wanted to go on board, and take a cruise, but as it was getting late, I could not consent. A trip next day, however, was promised to Cape Disappointment and the little settlement of Prospect Hill.
This proposal satisfied everybody. The evening was spent in preparing the dresses, arms, and food which would be required, and we retired early to rest.
Intending to be out all day, the house was left in good order, and we departed on our expedition, provided, among other things, with spades and mattocks, for I wished to get young coconut trees and shrubs of different kinds, that, on our way back, we might land on Whale Island and begin our plantation there.
We directed our course toward the opposite side of the bay. The sea was smooth, my rowing machine performed its work easily, and, leaving Safety Bay and Shark Island behind us, we enjoyed at our ease the panorama of all the coast scenery.
Landing near Prospect Hill, we moored the boat and walked through the woods to our little farm, obtaining some fresh coconuts, as well as young plants, on the way.
Before coming in sight of the cottage at the farm, we heard the cocks crow, and I experienced a sudden rush of emotion as the sound recalled, in a degree painfully vivid, the recollection of many a ride and walk at home, when we would be greeted by just such familiar sounds as we approached some kind friend’s house.
Here, but for the animals, utter solitude and silence prevailed, and I with my dear family advanced unnoticed to this lonely cottage. So long had been our absence that our arrival created a perfect panic. The original animals had forgotten us, and to their progeny, lambs, kids, and chickens, who had never seen the face of man, we seemed an army of fierce foes.
The fowls were enticed by handfuls of grain and rice, and my wife caught as many as she wished for.
We were by this time very ready for dinner, and the cold provisions we had with us were set forth, the chief dish consisting of the piece of whale’s tongue, which, by the boys’ desire, had been cooked with a special view to this entertainment.
But woeful was the disappointment when the tongue was tasted! One after another, with dismal face, pronounced it “horrid stuff,” begged for some pickled herring to take away the taste of train oil, and willingly bestowed on Fangs the cherished dainty.
Fortunately there was a sufficient supply of other eatables, and the fresh, delicious coconuts and goat’s milk put everyone in good humor again.
While the mother packed everything up, Fritz and I got some sugar-cane shoots which I wished to plant, and then we returned to the shore and again embarked.
Before returning to Whale Island, I felt a strong wish to round Cape Disappointment and survey the coast immediately beyond, but the promontory maintained the character of its name, and we found that a long sandbank, as well as hidden reefs and rocks, ran out a great way into the sea.
Fritz espying breakers ahead, we put about at once and, aided by a light breeze, directed our course toward Whale Island.
On landing I began at once to plant the saplings we had brought. The boys assisted me for a while, but wearied somewhat of the occupation and one after another went off in search of shells and coral, leaving their mother and me to finish the work.
Presently Jack came back, shouting loudly:
“Father! Mother! Do come and look. There is an enormous skeleton lying here; the skeleton of some fearful great beast—a mammoth, I should think.”
“Why, Jack,” returned I, laughing, “have you forgotten our old acquaintance, the whale? What else could it be?”
“Oh, no, father, it is not the whale. This thing has not fishbones, but real, good, honest, huge beast bones. I don’t know what can have become of the whale—floated out to sea, most likely. This mammoth is ever so much bigger. Come and see!”
We hurried to inspect Jack’s mammoth skeleton, which, of course, proved to be neither more nor less than that of the whale. I convinced him of the fact by pointing out the marks of our feet on the ground, and the broken jaws where we had hacked out the whalebone.
“What can have made you take up that fancy about a mammoth, my boy?”
“Ernest put it into my head, father. He said there seemed to be the skeleton of an antediluvian monster there, so I ran to look closer, and I never thought of the whale, when I saw no fishbones. I suppose Ernest was joking.
“The bones of the whale differ from those of animals simply in being of a hollow construction and filled with air so as to render the carcass more buoyant. The bones of birds are also hollow, for the same reason, and in all this we see conspicuously the wisdom and goodness of the great Creator.”
“What a marvelous structure it is, father!” said Fritz “What a ponderous mass of bones! Can we not make use of any of them?”
“Nothing strikes me at this moment. We will leave them to bleach here yet awhile, and perhaps, by sawing them up afterward, make a few chairs, or a reading desk for the museum. But now it is time to return home.”
