“Knowed he was a sailor man all the time,” declared Cap’n Pem when the boys told him the news. “Couldn’t fool me! Jes’ as soon’s I seed him grab a han’ spike, I knowed it.”
“Well, what’s dumb Pete?” laughed Jim, “and one-eyed Ned? I suppose you’ll say you knew they were sailors, too!”
“Nope,” chuckled the old whaleman, “never will be. Dunno what Pete wuz, but he’s a fust class blacksmith now. Reckon Ned wuz a sojer.”
Several times, whales were sighted and boats were lowered in chase, for the _Hector_ was out of the track of regular trade and the captain had little fear of meeting hostile U-boats, but luck seemed to be against the whalemen and no catch was made.
“Ain’t a mite s’prised ’ile’s so high,” declared Cap’n Pem. “Never did see sparm whales so skittish—git gallied soon’s we lower away. Reckon they’re skeered o’ the war.”
“Been shot at too much,” vouchsafed Mr. Kemp. “Every chaser an’ destroyer that sighted a whale took pot shots at ’em, thinkin’ they might be subs.”
But whatever the reason, the whales proved so universally shy that at last the skipper vowed he’d not lower for another, even if it scratched its back against the bark’s planking, and gave all his attention to hurrying towards his distant goal.
The Cape Verde Islands had been left far astern, the bark for several days had been drifting almost motionless upon a polished, oil-like sea with idle sails flapping and tackles creaking as the ship rolled to an invisible swell, and the boys’ observations told them they were nearing the equator. Then one morning, they noticed that something mysterious was going on among the crew. They gathered in little knots and conversed in low tones and more than once the men approached Mr. Kemp, or the one-legged bo’sun, and after a few words, went away grinning.
“What are the men up to?” Tom asked their old friend, Cap’n Pem. “If they weren’t so good-natured and didn’t talk to Mr. Kemp and old Mike I’d think they were planning a mutiny.”
The old whaleman chuckled. “Don’t ye go askin’ too many questions,” he replied. “Reckon ye’ll know long ’bout day arter to-morrer.” And despite teasing and questioning, the old man refused to say anything more. The boys then turned their attention to the bo’sun and Mr. Kemp, but with no better results, and every time they started to go forward Cap’n Pem or the second mate found some reason for calling them aft.