"White, quiet sails from the grim icy coasts,
That bear the battles of the whaling hosts,
Whose homeward crews, with feet and flutes in tune,
And spirits roughly blithe, make music to the moon."
_July 22nd. Tuesday._ During the night the rain changed into snow and in
the morning it was blowing a gale. In fact, it was a wild, winter's day.
We were amongst loose ice, with our main yard aback and there was no
open water to be seen anywhere. During the day the snow ceased but the
wind kept up until late in the afternoon, when we found ourselves in a
triangular pool of water, the sides of the triangle being about half
a mile long and the base, three or four hundred yards. The ship was
anchored to one side and she lay parallel with the base and twenty or
thirty yards away from it. This hole appeared to have been formed by
large floes. It was quite free from ice and afforded us an ideal harbor.
_July 23rd. Wednesday_. All hands turned out shortly after four in the
morning as a whale was seen at the apex of this triangle. One boat had
been left fast to the ship's stern. This went in pursuit and the others
lowered away, the one I was in being ordered to remain fast to a line
from the ship's stem. Long before the boats reached the whale, it
sounded and did not appear again, so they came on board, all but the one
I was in. Our bows were towards the ship's stern and the boat's side was
twenty yards from the ice edge. We had been there about an hour when,
with a great commotion, a tremendous whale came up between the ship and
the ice edge. Its head was alongside our boat before we realized what
had happened; and by the time we had slipped the line the leviathan had
passed us, as it was going fast. We could almost have touched him with
the oars, but by the time we turned the boat and were under way, down
went the fish to look for another breathing place elsewhere and we
returned to our berths. Had the bow of the boat been the other way, we
could have fastened the whale easily.
At eight bells, we came on board for breakfast. Just as I entered the
cabin, I heard the rushing on deck and, going up, found two boats off
after a whale. It had simply come up to breathe and, having breathed,
it went down again and disappeared from our harbor. One boat remained at
the apex of the triangle and the other returned; and, on the way, a fish
came up a hundred yards in front of it. They pulled hard and took a long
shot as it humped its back going down. They got fast and the whale went
off! under the ice. From the barrel, a small water hole could be seen
half a mile away, and to this several ran, carrying a rocket gun
which could be fired from the shoulder. Before they had gone very far,
however, the harpoon drew and, as there was no use firing rockets into a
free fish, they came on board again. It was now blowing pretty hard and
very cold, but we still kept a boat at the apex of the triangle and one
beside the ship. Now occurred a very exciting race. A whale came up half
way along one side of the hole, and was travelling slowly towards the
base. The boat at the apex followed, the one by the ship did not move,
and every man on board was watching what would happen. Reaching the
base, the whale halted to take a few long breaths before going down, the
boat rapidly neared, the whale humped its back and the boat had to fire.
From where we were, we saw the harpoon fly up into the air with
the foregoer wriggling after it, then it fell, missing the whale as
completely as if it had not been fired at it. I was sorry for that
harpooner. He was a big man from Aberdeen, with a yellow beard, and he
was a nervous wreck when he came on board. This fearfully bad luck was
maddening, and we were all on edge; for, though the place was swarming
with whales, we never got one. Had we got fast to half a dozen, we would
have lost them all through lines being cut by the ice, or fouling.
By the evening, the wind had gone down and the ice was slacker, the
whole east side of our pool moving away.
_July 24th, Thursday_, was a beautiful day after the storm and we had
open water astern once more. We unhooked after breakfast and steamed
slowly towards the south side again, and while steaming, we sighted a
whale down the Sound. The ship was anchored to the ice and the boats
distributed in the usual way. This whale did not come up after being
first seen until it was at the ice edge, when one of our boats got fast.
It then went under the floe--a most unusual proceeding when it had lots
of open water. We were along the ice edge, nearly a mile from the fast
boat, and wondering what would happen next, when, in a very small hole,
150 yards from my boat, up came the head of the whale. The hole was not
many times larger than the head. The under surface of the lower jaw was
towards us. It had a very white appearance. The head turned around very
slowly presenting a wonderful sight. Gyles, the harpooner, in whose
boat I was, seized a rocket gun and, running to the hole, fired, and the
head went down as slowly as it came up. Presently the fish appeared in
the open water and was immediately harpooned again. Its experience under
the ice, or Gyle's rocket, had affected it so that it did not remain
down but soon came up again and submitted patiently to the lancing
operation which ended its life. This removed the gloom caused by the
awful luck of the previous day. We had now more than three tons of bone,
and that alone would be a fair voyage. The flensing began just as soon
as the crew had food and was not finished until bedtime.
_July 25th. Friday._ Every one was cheerful. Some of the hands were
cleaning bone, two boats were on the bran, and one after narwhals, as
there were many of them about.
I painted the figurehead, as the _Aurora_ was looking a little
dissipated with her out-stretched arm unhooked. This was only in
commission when in port; consequently, it looked younger than her
seagoing arm, which was a fixture across her breast and which had stood
the brunt of many gales.
_July 26th. Saturday._ All hands were "making off" the fish. They were
at it early and had finished by noon, and then there was a general clean
up for Sunday, but strict watch was kept. There were only white whales
and some narwhals around. The tusks we took from those we killed and
those we had bartered for, always lay on the after grating, which
covered the well down which the auxiliary propeller went; there was
never enough motion to roll them off.
July 27th. The usual Sunday gale was blowing and we were dodging about
under canvas all day. I was out on a yard during a snow squall and found
it very exciting. This was my first attempt at taking in sails when
there was much wind. We spoke the _Narwhal_; she had seven whales and
reported the _Arctic_ as having eight and all the rest well fished.
Towards evening we sailed to our favorite fishing ground on the south
side.
July 28th. Monday. All hands were away after a whale at six A. M. We
had a long pull, and lost her for a time amongst the loose ice. Rounding
tins, however, we reached her again and the mate got fast, McLean
putting in a second. We passed both boats and were in at the kill. When
we had backed off once for a flurry, I looked around and saw Watson
lancing. I thought the flukes would have smashed his boat, he took such
awful chances. This whale rolled about a great deal, and bristled with
lances which she had torn from the men's hands by rolling. She was also
dreadfully tangled up with lines which had caught on the lances. There
is sometimes danger from being caught under these lines and cut in two.
When a dead whale is lying on its back, the abdomen lies very low in the
water, and, when freshly killed, sinks with a man when he walks along
it. As we were a long way from the ship, she came after us and we soon
had the whale alongside. The capstan was used for taking on board the
big blanket pieces. At the order, "Heave away capstan," a shanty was
struck up by the men marching around.
[Illustration: 0301]
They sang so loud that we could often hear their weird songs coming over
the water from other ships similarly engaged. Our friends, the fulmar
petrels, were always with us upon occasions of this kind, and all that
were in the Sound, I think, spent the day with us.
The outer skin of the whale is about as thick as stiff paper, and black.
It peels off readily, and the men cut book markers out of it. Under this
comes a layer, nearly an inch thick, of rather gelatinous stuff, which
the Eskimos eat raw, then the blubber between this and the superficial
fascia, by which the body heat is preserved. It took us practically all
the rest of the day to flense.
_July 29th. Tuesday_. We had a visit from two natives; they were
prosperous looking people with a good sled and dogs. I admired the
protection from the sun which they wore. It was a piece of wood with a
slit cut in it. This was very efficacious, but unbecoming. We learned
from these people that many whales had been seen by them this year. They
had some bear skins with them for trade, and some walrus ivory. This was
much inferior to the narwhal ivory, which was very fine and was worth,
at this time, I think, one pound ten per pound, that of the walrus being
only worth half a crown. I had a long walk with a gun but did not see
anything.
_July 30th. Wednesday_. All hands "making off." I tried to skin a
fulmar, but could not do it, it was so fat. I wanted a skin badly, but
this was too much for me. All the birds we killed were fat, a provision
of nature against cold. The men said, however, that they could not wear
oil soaked clothes in cold weather.
I was in the "crow's nest" a good while. It was most difficult to see
anything at a distance owing to the mirage. During the afternoon I tried
to shoot some narwhal near us. I shot at their heads with a rifle from
the boat, and although they had sometimes been killed with the rifle, so
little of the head showed when the beast was lying on the surface, that
I fancy they must have been shot from the ship, which stood high.
_July 31st_. Immediately after breakfast, four boats were away after a
whale. I remained on board and watched from the barrel. It was a long
pull and the whale got away amongst loose ice without giving the boats a
chance. We captured a female narwhal in the afternoon.
_August 1st. Friday_. Lovely day but very cold. In the morning I was
sitting on the after grating, scraping a bear's skull, when a hundred
yards or so astern of us arose a whale with the usual blast. The
water was like a mirror and the fish lay there for several minutes and
breathed heavily. No one spoke or moved. There in front of us was a fine
whale, its jet black head and back showing up well and reflected on the
absolutely glassy surface of the sea. When it slowly sank with its head
towards us, we knew it would go under the ice, but we would not lower
away until we were sure it was under. I was leaning over the after rail,
peering into the water, when I saw the whale coming slowly under where
I was standing. I first noticed a large, gray bow coming towards me;
it was the under jaw, and as it passed beneath the vessel I could see
distinctly the large round, dark spots on the huge lower lip. It passed
a very short distance under our keel. There was no movement of either
flukes or tail. I watched the great horizontal tail in the hope of
seeing some movement. Only the man in the "crow's nest" and I alone saw
the fish passing under the ship, and as soon as we were sure that it was
safe, the boats went away as noiselessly as possible and we waited for
the result with bated breath. It came up almost beside the ship and
Jimmy Watson put in both gun and hand harpoons, then came the joyful
shout "A fall," and we started down the Sound. As the fish was well
fastened, it was safe to snub the line around the bollard head of the
boat; there was no fear of the irons drawing and it made a heavy drag
on the whale. The line, in running out, passes through the hands of the
har-pooner before going around the bollard head. Of course, he wears
several pairs of mittens, but these are generally torn to pieces. Our
friend shortly came to the surface rather exhausted, as the line had
been well snubbed, but Thor put another iron into him. This smarted and
one could have heard his tail strike the water miles away. He lashed it
with such force that no boat could go close; and before a rocket could
be fired into him, he was off. This time the drag was very heavy, for
he had two boats. It did seem absurd that this huge monster, more than
sixty feet long and forty around the waist, could be conquered by having
those little bits of harpoons stuck in with their little threads of
lines attached, but whales of this species are clumsy and stupid and
turn very slowly, and it is this inability to turn fast that proves
their undoing. Upon appearing the next time, a rocket was instantly
fired into a vital place and the final flurry came at once and made
lancing unnecessary. The row back was a pleasure, and our joyful
shanties could be heard for a long distance. We were alongside by
midday, and after dinner, flensing commenced. I amused myself again with
the fulmars. Getting a boat, I laid my left elbow over the side so that
I could look between it and the gunwale. Every time a fulmar came under,
I darted my right hand over, catching him by the neck and taking him on
board. When I had a great flock of them, I put them on the poop, around
which there was a base board about four inches high, and above this the
iron railing. The birds had eaten so much blubber that they could not
get over the base board. One had to be careful of bites, as they had the
curved, pointed bills peculiar to the albatross, shearwater and
other birds of this tribe. It is curious that the great albatross and
diminutive storm petrel, the wren of the sea, should belong to the same
species. In a very short time, I saw the advisability of throwing my
flock of pets overboard. We did not go below for supper until the fish
was flensed.
_August 2nd, Saturday,_ was cold and cloudy, but no wind. We were
hooked on with two boats on the bran; all hands making off during the
afternoon.
_August 4th. Monday_. Three of the four boats were after a whale among
some loose ice to the north of us. One boat got fast and all immediately
lowered away. When we reached the ice, navigation became difficult and
the fish came up where we could not touch it. Several boats came out of
the ice and tried to row around. Ours was one of these; then we found
that the harpoon had drawn and the whale had vanished. We pursued some
distance down the Sound and had nothing for our trouble but exercise.
_August 5th. Tuesday_. Much loose ice in the Sound, caused by wind
during the night. Narwhal were abundant, and two boats went after them
with no result. Later the ship unhooked and steamed east looking for
open water. I spent a long time in the "crow's nest," and, as there was
no mirage, got a beautiful view of the south coast--very wintry at bed
time.
_August 6th. Wednesday_. The rushing of feet overhead brought me to the
deck on a gloomy cold morning, and before I had time to add anything to
the clothes in which I slept, we were a mile from the ship. A whale
had been seen some distance to the north and four boats pursuing it. We
paused and put on some more clothes to keep out the keen Arctic air,
and then we went off again, as the whale had come up. Long before the
leading boat got near, it had disappeared, but we were not discouraged,
so kept on, and this hard work continued until we were far from the ship
and getting amongst pans of loose ice. The whale we were following was
a fast traveller and we were ultimately obliged to give up the chase and
return. The row back was long and wearisome, and when I reached the ship
I had my long delayed breakfast and retired, but the moment I turned in
to my berth, the rush above told of more whales in sight, so I went on
deck. A fish had been seen blowing a long way down the Sound and six
boats were away, but bed appealed to me more than another long pull,
so I returned to it and remained there until the following morning. Our
boats did not get a shot but had a long chase and did not return until
very late.
The day was cold and the density of the atmosphere uniform, so I was
able to see all the other ships distinctly with the glass. Some swell
had broken up the edge of our floe and some pieces had been driven up
the Sound, so it looked more icy than any day since the time when all
the whales came. During the afternoon we hooked on to a large floe. The
_Polynia and Esquimaux_ were near us, but to the south; the _Arctic_ was
some distance down the Sound. Swarms of white whales were about us in
the open places.
_August 7th. Thursday_. The loose ice was gone. We had unhooked during
the night and steamed west to the fast floe. I went up to the barrel and
the Captain went down to get his pipe. While gazing at distant things, I
heard a noise on deck and, looking over, saw all hands lowering away for
two whales astern of us. I must have been looking in another direction
when they appeared, because the first I knew of it, was the noise below.
Our boats lay about half on each side and were playing the usual waiting
game. The Captain came up to the barrel and I went down, but too late to
enter a boat, as they had all gone, except the two upper quarter boats.
This was a great disappointment to me, as I had assisted in killing
every whale we had taken on board. After a while, one fish came up on
the south or port side and was fastened by the farthest south boat. The
whale went under the ice, but came out nearer the ship and was fastened
again. This proved the worst whale we had seen. It did not go down again
but rolled about so much and slapped the water with its flukes to such
an extent that the boats were rather afraid of it. This went on for a
long time, when the Captain called out that he would kill it himself, so
he came down and ordered the port upper quarter boat launched. All boats
had their gear ready, whether we used them or not. A crew of irregulars
was called, the Captain as harpooner, myself next, the sailmaker next,
third engineer, cooper, etc. The Captain went up at once and, driving
a lance into the whale's neck, began churning it up and down. The fish
allowed itself to sink a few feet, and the bows of the boat glided
over it as the Captain held on to the lance. Then coming to the surface
again, it tumbled the boat over on its starboard side and instantly gave
a great blast from its lungs. My oar came out of the water, so I let it
go and, grasping the seat with my right hand and putting my left on the
whale's back, I got the full charge of blood and water over my side and
shoulder, as I was almost over the blow-hole, and such was the force,
that my thick pilot coat was soaked with-blood, and also the thick coat
underneath. I saw the sailmaker, who was in front of me, turn around;
his face was green, in spite of the tan. He was almost in the water. The
boat, fortunately, slid off the slippery neck and a serious accident was
averted. The great danger would have been from being caught between
the whale and the many lines it had wound around itself. After this,
a couple of rockets were put in and the most troublesome fish of the
season gave up its ghost. As all this happened beside the ship, we were
saved the usual tedious tow, and in an hour flensing was commenced.
It was six when we had all on board. The second whale did not
reappear--probably finding a breathing place in the floe. The sky was
overcast at bedtime and there was a bitterly cold wind. Having the
engines aft made a great difference to the temperature of the cabin, as
the bulkhead between the pantry and engine room was always hot.
_August 8th. Friday_. We were off Cape Hay when I came on deck and
sailing east under topsails. This cape was a wonderful place for looms.
They bred there in thousands; but we did not land or go very close, so I
had no chance of seeing much.
Quite a number of the ships had already left the Sound, among others the
_Arctic_. Her captain, having secured thirteen black whales, had decided
to try his luck in Repulse Bay, Fox Channel, where he had had former
success. Owing to the amount of ice in the Sound and on the west coast,
he had come to this decision. Consequently he had sailed to Hudson's
Straits, passing from Frobisher Bay through Gabriel Straits and
encountering the dreadful current for which the neighborhood is noted.
Ice was met with about Salisbury Island, and beyond this he was unable
to take his ship, so he returned to Cumberland Gulf and from there home
without adding to his cargo.
Lancaster Sound was beginning to look and feel like winter, the weather
being very frosty. The mountains on the south side, which are about
two thousand feet high, were very white, as a number of snow storms had
passed over them. We were anticipating with pleasure a visit to
Pond's Bay and the points usually called at on the west coast. One can
generally take a ship by Navy Board Inlet through Eclipse Sound to Ponds
Bay, but this year the ice precluded such a trip.
We kept under sail, to save our coal, and ended off Wollaston Islands at
the entrance of Navy Board Inlet, without having seen any whales. Here
we hooked on to a large floe.
_August 9th. Saturday._ After breakfast all hands were called to make
off. It was a very cheerful performance, our men being in good spirits.
The day was bitterly cold, but work kept them warm. Ice formed where the
sun did not strike the water as there was hardly any wind to disturb it.
By dinner time the whale was made off and during the afternoon the watch
employed cleaning up. We remained hooked on all night.
Sunday was a bitterly cold day and blowing a little, so we went further
down the sound under topsails. About ten A. M. we sighted a whale and
sent four boats in pursuit. I was in the second mate's. After a long
chase the mate got fast. There was much ice about, so it was dangerous
work for the fast boat, as it was impossible to avoid the pieces when
being towed, and should the boat strike a floe it would be smashed at
once and all hands would have to jump.
When the fish came up first there was no boat near, but on coming up a
second time Watson got in an iron and we had a very lively run down the
Sound. With two harpoons in, there was a considerable drag on, and in a
short time she reappeared and a boat was soon lancing.
Our boat had been delayed by pieces of ice, so that it was late when we
arrived on the scene. However this was a very vital whale and difficult
to kill. I saw our specksioneer Lyon's boat almost smashed by one of the
flukes during a flurry.
The perfectly fearless old man was so absorbed in his lancing operations
that he did not notice the fluke coming, and but for the quick action of
his boat-steerer, an accident would have occurred.
The ship had followed us, so we had no towing when the battle was over,
as she picked the boats up, taking the whale with her to a floe where
she anchored. Two more boats had been lowered away when they heard "A
fall" called. One had gone to help the mate with more line, and the
other had taken part in the chase.
After having something to eat, flensing was the order of the day,
our cheerful crew singing with great spirit to the orders "Heave away
capstan" and "Heave away windlass." This, our tenth whale, was a heavy
one and it was late when we got it all on board.
The ship remained at the floe all night, drifting with it down the
Sound.
_Monday, the 11th_, was a wintry day, bitterly cold and an overcast sky.
During the afternoon we had some snow squalls. We dodged about under
topsails, but did not see even a narwhal. It was evident that our chance
of catching white whales this year in Prince Regent Inlet was small. We
anchored to the ice off Cape Liverpool at night.
_Tuesday, August 12th_, all hands were engaged making off in the morning
and doing a general clean up during the afternoon.
[Illustration: 0315]