Ch. 8: Harpooner O'Ryan

Shortly after Ishmael's chat with the illustrious Mr. Tout, while continuing to jot down his story of the white whale, he heard, "Boy-o, da ya t'ink Mr. Tout's got all the glory on this vessel?"

"Ah...no, Sir, but I'm sure I'm about to be apprised of some glories known to you and those among your associates. How may I address you, since we've not been formally introduced?"

"Call me Patty O'Ryan if ye choose, er Stars, er even O'rion, sicond boat harp'ner but sicond to none in the chase an' kill business!!" responded a burly, freckled red-head who was stripped to the waist to display some interesting tattoos.

"A pleasure to meet you, O'Ryan," Ishmael responded, "and what might be the way you want to be remembered down through the ages of literary history when I compose my next great tale?" As he said this, he picked up a second notebook that was the beginning of his story of the sea since his rescue by the Rachel and its crew.

"Ye see these tattoos, here on me chest? They're tha symbol that I was born to be a great hunter of whales as Orion himself is called the Great Hunter of the sky! I even keep this token of the tale wi' me to show to folks like yerself that we red-headed hunters are more famous than ye t'ink." He indicated several clearly discernible stars that unmistakeably represented the constellation of Orion from his waist to his shoulders. "This card also tells tha story."

"Very well done tattoos, I must say; especially as one who wears my own of various sorts with pride. Perhaps you should have a card made up with a likeness of yourself holding a harpoon instead of the club and a whale instead of a lion?"

"I've thought of that meself, but I'm so busy being the hunter I haven't taken the time to pose and improve upon the card set."

"You mean there are more of these?"

"Aye, I've got the whole set in me bag. On one of me short times on land, I came across 'em in London. They're called Urania's Mirror. I t'ink me Celtic Gram would use them to tell fortunes, but I don't hold wi' all that, if ye know wha' I mean! I figger the good Lor' put muh fam'ly name in the heavens so I shouldn't go messin' about wi' temptin' Him and His workin's."

"Sounds like a wise policy. So give over your tale in brief, if you will," said Ishmael as he licked his pencil, preparing to write.

"Whill, it's really simple ye see...even though Mr. Second Mate Murray and I jine togither in the second boat, we still have landed more spouters and gi'en more oil to tha barrels below than Mr. Tout would care t'admit. So, ye might say, even bein' number two, we're really number one!" His proud grin was winning to all the company except Mr. Tout, who happened to be part of it.

"Oy, Mistur Stars...blow all the spray you want, Mr. Lions and I still say that spouter off'n the Feegees was our'n and ye got the credit. But no matter, when you read the Rachel's register, our portions of the take still beat yours and Tight Fist Murray." Tout's considerably red face got perhaps a shade or two deeper during the exchange, but there was still the underlying good humor of men in competition who would sacrifice their lives for each other when a mutual adversary appeared.

"Well, I for one am glad to meet you both and expect you're the excellent harpooners you claim to be, based on the fact that Rachel's belly is full."

During this exchange, the Rachel continued to make its way to Honolulu for resupply for the next leg of its voyage.