The next words of Doctor Syn's Odyssey can be best described in his own words, which he penned at sea to his friend Antony Cobtree of Dymchurch. As things befell, however, it took many a long year reaching its destination, for having taken the pains to write it, the Doctor's caution persuaded him to keep it back, and it lay in his sea-chest till he ultimately returned to Romney Marsh.
My dear Tony (it read), In the hopes of meeting with some home-bound ship, which may carry these lines to you, I am writing in my cabin aboard the whale-ship Ezekiel, which is at the moment lying becalmed in the Southern Pacific.
More moons ago than I care to count, I wrote to you of our adventures with the Redskins. Should it reach you, you will by this have read how my bloodbrothers of the tribe got news of our enemy and of how Shuhshuhgah, whom no arguments of mine could induce to stay behind, your humble servant, and my faithful Dymchurch carpenter, Mipps, set out upon his trail.
We got on our enemy's track easily enough, and followed him, sometimes hard upon his heels. Even in the larger towns we found that Nicholas had not kept quiet, and we could always depend upon some gossip concerning him at the chief inns. It was in one of these that a garrulous landlord told us that our friend the Captain journeyed with his wife and son towards the little port of New Bedford in Massachusetts, where he intended to fit out a trading vessel, which he would sail himself. This gossip rang true to me, when our Indian told me that from this port there sailed many a whale-ship for long voyages. Since these ships have no destination but whales, Nicholas would think such a voyage a good means of giving me the slip. Other gossipers confirming this, we set our horses' heads for this same port. On reaching it, we made our way to the harbour, where we saw one of these whale-ships casting off. We watched her as she cleared the roads for the open sea. A sturdy little craft, but pretty too under her full-set canvas. Mingling with the crowd, who were whale-minded to a man, we learned that her name was Isaiah. We watched this valiant little vessel disappear upon her hunting quest, and then proceeded to an inn, where we made inquiries concerning Nicholas. As you know, I am, my dear Tony, something of a fatalist. Well, I needed all my philosophy then; for would you credit it? The Isaiah had been purchased by Nicholas, and he had manned her with experienced whalemen, and we had seen her sail not knowing that he was aboard. And, Tony, he had taken her with him and the boy. At first I could have wept for rage, but my philosophy told me that I, too, must buy a share in some other ship and follow. My companions agreed that there was nothing else to do. I knew, of course, that I could count on Mipps to accompany me, but when I thought to take a fond farewell of our Indian I was mistaken. He had married a girl from amongst the Gay-head Indians who inhabit the beautiful island named 'Martha's Vineyard', a tribe who from time immemorial have fought the great leviathan. He proposed that we should journey there, and then cross to the next island of Nantucket, from which port he had been told the fastest and the largest whale-ships sailed. A thriving town, too, with much reliable wealth.
Indeed, so prosperous was this whaling trade that we could find no owner willing to sell us a vessel outright.
At last, however, I struck a bargain with a famous family of the trade named Coffin, by insuring the safe return of a vessel called Ezekiel, which was to be handed back with half profits upon the conclusion of the voyage. In this way the Coffins stood to gain, but not to lose. However, their experience was invaluable, for they found us a full complement of tried men with a captain of their own whose integrity they vouched for. I sailed on the ship's papers as half owner for the voyage, who wished to study the art of the harpoon. Mipps was shipped as carpenter, and Shuhshuhgah, who had never been to sea, as a Greenhorn. On this good ship we have now been to sea for two whole years. We have rounded the dreadful Horn in storms as mighty as the ever-growing hate in my heart. We have beat about Good Hope and killed fine whales there, and now we are back again after sperm whale in the Pacific, which has so far proved to be our most successful hunting-ground. But I hunt other than a whale. As I sharpen my blade I think only of plunging it into his black heart.
Two days later, Tony; for we have been hard driven cutting up two mighty animals. Both of them forty-barrelled Jonahs, and in one a pleasant lump of ambergris. I will not weary you with whaler's jargon, though some day I will write you a treatise on the subject. I love a good harpoon! It is a godlike weapon. Mine is a marvel, and I trust no whale will rob me of it, for I hope one day to send it crashing into human ribs. Aye, into Nicholas.
Exhausted, we looked around upon an empty sea, for we had been towed far out of sight from the lofty masthead of the ship, and there was nothing for it but to lie alongside our valuable corpse till morning. A salt breeze now fanned us, so that we were the more hopeful that the Ezekiel's sails would fill enough to follow us. We were far too weary to commence the tedious business of towing back our prize. Also it was easier for the ship to find us than for us to locate the ship. So we rigged what is known as a wall-pole. This is a slender mast which is thrust into the dead whale's spout hole, and a lighted lantern hoisted to its head. As the night set in under a clear moon, Shuhshuhgah pointed towards the horizon, and we saw white canvas moving up into the sky-line. At first we took this to be the mother ship searching for its lost child, but as her rigging mounted higher, our old oarsman contradicted us.
'That ship, don't listen for the clacking of an old woman's needles in Nantucket,' he said. 'A New Englander she may be, but not from our port. No.
You can tell by the set of her.'
We all devoutly hoped he was right, for the vessel never showed her hull above the horizon, and our little flicker from the lantern was evidently lost to her look-out in the dancing moon-sparks on the sea. Scratching for the breeze, she changed here course and tacked down below the line again, and we were once more alone.
All that night we lay beside our dead antagonist. Before dawn the breeze had freshened, and as the sun came up so did the sails of the Ezekiel, and we were safe.
Our carcase lashed safely alongside the Ezekiel, I left the cutters at work to take a glass of grog with the captain. He had a story to tell. Having seen my whale-boat charioted so ferociously out of sight, the captain had taken our direction before attending to the other boats, one of which lost their whale through the depth of its soundings, so that they had to cut the line for their life, and the other killing quickly the fine fellow to ours. He was waiting for the breeze to bring him nearer to us, when he sighted the very ship which we had seen. A whaler, too, but with every tun overflowing, and so bound for home rejoicing.
Aye, my good Tony, let me if possible anticipate your guess. She was the Isaiah from New Bedford. Our Nantucketer had been correct. Had he but known her name, I would have abandoned our carcase and rowed for her, to get my reckoning. But let me tell you in the captain's words. 'She signalled us for a Gam.' (This, my good Tony, is a word for a high seas courtesy call between two captains.) 'They lowered a boat, and, much to my amazement, when the boat was manned and the captain standing at the helm an admiral's cradle was lowered bearing a woman. It was his captain's wife. She was very beautiful, and still but a girl, though when she was hauled aboard us she told me that her little son was asleep in her cabin. The captain was a pleasant enough fellow in his cups, and they were plentiful. He owned his ship and had done well for himself and the crew. You may believe that I anxiously questioned him about your whale-boat, and whether he had seen it. He had not. After that all went merrily over drinks, but being anxious about your fate, I kept referring to you as one of the most outstanding harpooners I had shipped with. It was when I described you that his wife seized his arm and whispered. At once a cold fear seemed to possess both. The reason I cannot explain. Immediately they insisted upon departure. I tried to dissuade them, for in the morning I had hoped they would have aided our search for you. However, go they would. On parting I learned his name was Nicholas Tappitt.' Tony, had I not chased that whale, I could have harpooned him in the cabin of the Ezekiel—in front of her eyes, too. But I learned further things from our captain, without in any way rousing his suspicions. Things that may prove useful to me. Nicholas upon the voyage has subjected his body to the stupid torture of the tattooist. He is a mass of symbols and designs: tattooed from head to foot. It will make him at least the more noticeable, and many inquiries after him the easier. He is now for home, or rather, his home port. But, as he said over his cups, he is no more for the whaling. He thinks to sail his ship into the Caribbean Seas. He sees great promise in piracy, I gather. Our captain considered this but drunken boasting. I have my own opinion. Well, if his black conscience takes him there through fear of me, it is there that I shall follow.
Who knows, Tony, but that your college friend, so blinded with hate, which is all-consuming, may not also hoist the Jolly Roger, and, like a lone shark, prey on pirate ships till I can kill him?p
