The whale fairly secured alongside, the skipper’s voice rose above the tumult, commanding instant attention from everybody. ‘Mr. Pease, let th’ boys go to dinner. I guess we won’t miss an hour, and th’ weather looks sorter settled.’ ‘Dinner!’ shouted the mate, and there was a stampede forward, for every man, as soon as he had time to think of it, was ravenously hungry. The cook had, under orders from the skipper, made a few additions to the usual dietary, and it is not too much to say that every man there when he sat down to enjoy his well-earned meal was, for the time being, as happy as ever he had been in his life. And only because the man who controlled their destinies for the time had in addition to his fund of common-sense, a little of the milk of human kindness.
A little judicious appreciation costs nothing, and is so valuable: it often lifts weary men over the dead centres of life; indeed, it often makes a youth who, full of fear lest in his very anxiety to do well he has made some irreparable mistake, feel that no effort can be too great to please a man who has recognised his desire to do his duty. And when, at the call of ‘Turn to!’ the rested, well-fed crowd climbed on deck again into the keen, pure air, and found that while they had been dining the skipper and his officers had been toiling at the stupendous task of cutting off the whale’s head, they almost felt ashamed at having taken so long over their meal.
I know very well that there will be many a cynical sneer at this, but that does not matter at all so long as the thing is true. If men (and I care not whether they be white, black, brown, or yellow) are treated like cattle they will yield worse than bovine service; if they are pampered and allowed to feel that they can do as they like, they will, their natural depravity getting the upper hand, become practically worthless; but if, as under Captain Hampden, they are kept under discipline, yet made to feel that their efforts to do well are fully appreciated, they will behave as men should behave who realise to the full the dignity of obeying the call of duty, who realise abundantly how good it is to be a _man_.
Of definite purpose I have italicised the adjective in the heading of this chapter because I have often feared that readers of ‘The Cruise of the _Cachalot_’ may have been led to believe that there could not be such a thing as a good whaleship. And yet even there I did try to show how vast a difference a change of captains made. The _Xiphias_, however, was good from the beginning. A certain amount of unavoidable suffering was endured by the new hands at the beginning of the cruise, consequent entirely upon the sudden violent change in their lives. And perhaps the officers were just a trifle exuberant in their attentions to the helpless, clumsy men they were endeavouring to lick into shape. But there never was any actual cruelty. Discipline once firmly established, and rudimentary ideas of the work they must do instilled into the men’s minds, their lives became as comfortable as a sailor’s life can ever be at sea. They worked hard, but only at necessary duties, and they were never wantonly deprived of needed rest. Their food was none too good, but it was certainly better than usual and always plentiful. Even here the genial spirit of the skipper was able to exercise itself beneficially for the comfort of his men. He and his officers were always on the keenest look-out for fish of any sort, and no effort was spared to catch them, all sorts of fishing tackle being carried for the purpose. He knew, too, many little dodges by means of which sea-fowl could be rendered palatable, and was a past master in the art of devising changes of dietary for his crew.