MR. BlTLLEN'S NEW BOOK.*
A NEW book of sea-stories from Mr. Bullen is an event which all who enjoy an exciting narrative set forth in a picturesque and animated manner have good reason to be thankful for. Wc all know from the famous example of the nineteenth-century poet that it is possible to combine a deep admiration for the sea on paper with a total inability to endure its mildest motions. Mr. Bullen's enthusiasm, however, is very far from being of this kind ; indeed, the best proof of its genuineness is that it has survived many years spent in the merchant service under conditions by no means conducive to the development of a sense of the picturesque. Men who are overworked and underfed cannot be expected to enjoy the beauties of Nature. But both for good or evil, the sea and the seafaring life exercise a potent influence on character. There are very few colourless personages among those who habitually go down to the sea in ships, whether for demoniacal ferocity or heroic self-sacrifice, they are distinguished from landsmen, and this tendency of human character to run to extremes in the seafaring life justifies the vivid portraiture of Mr. Bullen. On a long voyage on a sailing-ship human nature is capable de toia. Given a writer like Mr. Bullen, who has made many such voyages, who remembers everything, who has also the gift of eloquence, and the stimulating quality of the entertainment is assured in advance. What is more remarkable is that amid all the ordeals and hardships and miseries so vividly depicted in these pages there is invariably some element of hope, some trait of devotion, some striving after righteousness, as a set-off to the darker side of the sailor's lot.
Admirably picturesque as Mr. Bullen undoubtedly is in delineating the various phases of sea life, he is never more happily inspired than when his subject is "the monarch of all the seas, the sperm whale, whom man alone is capable of meeting in fair fight and overcoming." One of the boldest of his descriptive sketches is that entitled "A Monarch's Felt', which recounts the tremendous struggle for the overlordship of a school of whales. Here Mr. Bullen, greatly during, personifies the combatants to the extent of putting long Homeric speeches in their mouths before the final onset which • Amy Sea Plundorings. By Frank T. Bullen. F.B.G.S. With 8 Illustration* by Arthur Twidle. London : Smith, Elder, and Co. [Sa] is tó deeide—if 'we may adapt Virgil--quis pelago imperitet quem tots armenta acquainnr. The rhetoric is a trifle ponderous,
as indeed befits monsters with heads huge and square as a rail. way earl but the picture of the discrowned and defeated monarch, on whom " in some mysterious manner the seal of loneliness was set, so that he was shunnedhy all," is finely done. Even more impressive is the battlepiece called "The Last Stand of the Decapods," a submarine Armageddon in which the final issue of supremacy in the underseas is fought out between the sperm whale and the cuttlefish. To those who find these efforts of imagination too much alloyed with artifice we can recommend the two brilliant stories of the actualities of whale warfare, "Through Fire and Water" and "The Debt of the Whale." In' the latter we are shown the monomania of a whaling captain who ranges the seas with the sole desire of killing one particular spotted whale, which on several occasions had wrought disaster on his ship and crew, and eventually slays its pursuer,—a grim and novel variation on the ordinary vendetta. From the former, which incidentally pays a splendid tribute to the generous chivalry of a rough Yankee whaler, we may quote this stirring picture of a whale hunt as witnessed from the deck of a neighbouring clipper :—
" As he spoke an unusual bustle was noticeable on board of the stranger. Four boats dropped from her davits with such rapidity that they seemed to fall into the sea, and as each struck the water she shot away from the side as if she had been a living thing. An involuntary murmur of admiration ran through the crew of the clipper. It was a tribute they could scarcely with- hold, knowing as they did the bungling, clumsy way in which a merchant seaman performs a like nianceavre. Even the con- temptuous Curzon was bushed ; and the passengers, interested beyond measure, yet.unable to appreciate what they saw, looked blankly at one another and at the officers, as if imploring en- lightenment. With an easy gliding motion, now resting in the long green hollow between two mighty waves; and again poised, bird-like, upon a foaming crest, with bow and stern a-dry, those lovely boats sped away to the southward under the impulse of five oars each. Now the excitement on board the Mirsapere rose to fever-heat. The crew, unheeded by the officers, gathered on the forecastle-head, and gazed after the departing boats with an intensity of interest far beyond that of the passengers. For it was interest born of intelligent knowledge of the conditions under which those wonderful boatmen were working, and also tempered by a feeling of compunction for the ignorant deprecia- tion they had often manifested of a greasy spouter: Presently the boats disappeared from ordinary vision, although some of the more adventurous passengers mounted the rigging, and, fixing themselves in secure positions. glued their eyes to their glasses trained upon the vanishing boats. But none of them saw the object of those eager oarsmen. Of course, the sailors knew that they were after whales; but not even a seaman's eye, unless he be long accustomed to watching for whales, possesses the necessary discernment for picking up a vapoury spout five or six miles away, as it lifts and exhales like a jet of steam against the broken blue surface. Neither could any comprehend the original signals made by the ship. Just a trifling manipulation of an upper sail, the dipping' or hoisting of a dark flag at the main-mast head, or the disappearance of another at the gaff-end sufficed to guide the bunters in their chase, giving them the advantage of that lofty eye far behind them. More than an hour passed thus tantalizingly on board the Mirsapere, and even the most eager watchers had tired 'of their fruitless gazing over the sea and at the sphinx-like old ship so near them. Then some one suddenly raised a shout, Here they come!' It was time. They were coming -a-zoonin', as Uncle Remus would say. It was a sight to fire the most sluggish blood. About five hundred yards apart two massive bodies occasionally broke the bright surface up into a welter of white, then. disappeared for two or three minutes, to reappear at the same furious rush. Behind each of them, spreading out about twenty fathoms apart, came two of the boats, leaping like dolphins from crest to crest of the big waves, and occasionally hidden altogether by a curtain of spray. Thus they passed the Mir:opera, their gigantic steeds in full view of that awe-stricken ship's company, privileged for once in their lives to see at close quarters one of the most heart-lifting sights under heaven—the Yankee whale-fisher at hand-grips with the mightiest, as well as one t)f the fiercest, of all created things. No one spoke as that great chase swept by, but every face told eloquently of the pent-up emotion within. Then a strange thing happened. The two ,hales, as they passed the Mirsepore, swerved each from his direct course until they met in full career, and in a moment were rolling each over each in a horrible entanglement of whale-line amid a smother of bloody foam. The buoyant craft , danced around, one stern figure erect in each bow poising a long slender lance ; while in the' stern of each boat stood another man, who manipulated a giant oar as if it had been a feather, to swing his craft around as occasion served. The lookers-on scarcely breathed. Was it possible that men—just homely, unkempt figures like these—could dare thrust themselves into such a vortex ationgnitthose wallowing; Maddened Titans P Indeed it was. The boats drew nearer, became ' volved ; lances flew, oars bent, and blood—torrents of blood— befouled the glorious azure of the waves. Suddenly the watchers gasped in terror, and little cries of pain and sympAthy escaped them ; a boat had disappeared. Specks floated, just visible in, the tumult—ftagments of oars, tabs, and heads of men. But' there was no sound, which made the scene all the more impres. ave."
Ill the remaining sketches and stories which make up thin . attractive volume Mr. Bulleri gives us a whole portrait gallery- of skippers,—genial, cranky, saturnine, and even homicidal. For the rest, the dramatis personae are of all races and colours,, and the dialogue is largely leavened with the argot of the. fo'c's'le. "The Scientific Cruise" is an excursion into the domain of sea-farce in the manner of Marryat. "The Skipper's Wife" is a pretty sketch of conjugal devotion, for- Mr. Bullen is not afraid of being sentimental, and in more. than one of these sketches has happily illustrated the strange and unexpected camaraderie of the sea. In fact. there is something in the book to please almost every taste,- and very little to call for serious criticism, Mr. Bullen's exuberant imagination and his fondness for sonorous and rhythmic periods do not always lend themselves to the circum- scribed dimensions of the short story. He falls at times under- the tyranny of the conventional epithet, and has not attaine& a perfect mastery of the art of omission. Perhaps, also, he is not to be acquitted of an occasional extravagance, as when he ., makes the crew in the story of "You Sing" emulate the feat- of the Kilkenny cats. But when the matter and manner- are in the main so varied and engaging, and the moral so, healthy, it is ungenerous to insist on these trifling flaws. The- book deserves to be, and will be, read by all who look to. literature to provide them with refreshment and recreation., ,
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