point. They proceed to lance whenever the second harpoon is struck,
and strike more harpoons as the auxiliary boats progressively arrive
at the place. When the fish is killed, it is often at a distance from
the ship, and so circumstanced that the ship cannot get near it.
In such cases, the fish must be towed by the boats to the ship; an
operation which, among crowded ice, is most troublesome and laborious.
4. _Bay-ice fishing._—Bay-ice constitutes a situation which, though
not particularly dangerous, is yet, on the whole, one of the most
troublesome in which whales are killed. In sheets of bay-ice, the
whales find a very effectual shelter; for so long as the ice will
not carry a man, they cannot be approached with a boat without
producing such a noise as must certainly warn them of the intended
assault; and if a whale, by some favourable accident, were struck,
the difficulties of completing the capture are always numerous, and
sometimes prove insurmountable. The whale having free locomotion
beneath the ice, the fishers pursue it under great disadvantage.
The fishers cannot push their boats toward it but with extreme
difficulty, while the whale, invariably warned by the noise of their
approach, possesses every facility for avoiding its enemies.
In the year 1813, I adopted a new plan of fishing in bay-ice, which
was attended with the most successful result. The ship under my
command, the Esk, of Whitby, was frozen into a sheet of bay-ice,
included in a triangular space, formed by several massive fields and
floes. Here a number of small whales were seen sporting around us in
every little hole or space in the bay-ice, and occasionally they were
observed to break through it for the purpose of breathing. In various
little openings free of ice near the ship, few of which were twenty
yards in diameter, we placed boats, each equipped with a harpoon and
lines, and directed by two or three men. They had orders to place
themselves in such a situation that if a fish appeared in the same
opening they could scarcely fail of striking it. Previous to this, I
supplied myself with a pair of ice-shoes, consisting of two pieces of
thin deal, six feet in length, and seven inches in breadth. They were
made very thin at both ends, and in the centre of each was a hollow
place, exactly adapted for the reception of the sole of my boot, with
a loop of leather for confining the toes. I was thus enabled to
retain the ice-shoes pretty firmly to my feet when required, or, when
I wished it, to disengage them in a moment. Where the ice was smooth,
it was easy to move in a straight line, but in turning I found a
considerable difficulty, and required some practice before I could
effect it without falling. I advanced with tolerable speed, where
the ice was level on the surface, by sliding the shoes alternately
forward, but when I met with rough hilly places I experienced great
inconvenience. When, however, the rough places happened to consist of
strong ice, which generally was the case, I stept out of my ice-shoes
until I reached a weaker part. Equipped with this apparatus, I
travelled safely over ice which had not been frozen above twenty-four
hours, and which was incapable of supporting the weight of the
smallest boy in the ship.
Whenever a fish was struck, I gave orders to the harpooner, in
running the line, to use every means of drowning it; the trouble of
hauling it up, under the circumstances in which the ship was placed,
being a matter of no consideration. This was attempted by holding
a steady tight strain on the line, without slacking it or jerking
it unnecessarily, and by forbearing to haul the line when the fish
stopped. By this measure, one fish, the stoutest of the three which
we got, was drowned. When others were struck, and the attempt to
drown them failed, I provided myself with a harpoon, and observing
the direction of the line, travelled towards the place where I
expected the fish to rise. A small boat was launched, more leisurely,
in the same direction for my support; and whenever the ice in my
track was capable of supporting a man, assistance was afforded me
in dragging the line. When the wounded fish appeared, I struck my
harpoon through the ice, and then, with some occasional assistance,
proceeded to lance it, until it was killed. At different times, the
fish rose beneath my feet, and broke the ice on which I stood; on
one occasion, where the ice was happily more than usually strong,
I was obliged to leave my ice shoes, and skip off. In this way we
captured three fish, and took their produce on board, while several
ships near us made not the least progress in the fishery. After they
were killed, we had much trouble in getting them to the ship, but
as we could not employ ourselves to advantage in any other way, we
were well satisfied with the issue. This part of the business I could
not effect alone, and all hands, who were occasionally employed in
it, broke through the ice. Some individuals broke in two or three
times, but no serious accident ensued. As a precaution, we extended
a rope from man to man, which was held in the hands of each in their
progress across the ice, and which served for drawing those out of
the water who happened to break through. Sometimes ten or a dozen of
them would break in at once, but so far was such an occurrence from
exciting distress, that each of their companions indulged a laugh at
their expense, notwithstanding they probably shared the same fate a
minute or two afterwards.
5. _Fishing in storms._—Excepting in situations sheltered from the
ice, it would be alike useless and presumptuous to attempt to kill
whales during a storm. Instances, however, occur, wherein fish that
were struck during fine weather, or in winds which do not prevent
the boats from plying about, remain entangled, but unsubdued, after
the commencement of a storm. Sometimes the capture is completed, at
others the fishers are under the necessity of cutting the lines, and
allowing the whale to escape. Sometimes, when they have succeeded
in killing it, and in securing it during the gale with a hawser to
the ship, they are enabled to make a prize of it on the return of
moderate weather; at others, after having it to appearance secured by
means of a sufficient rope, the dangerous proximity of an ice-pack
constrains them to cut it adrift and abandon it for the preservation
of their vessel. After thus being abandoned, it becomes the prize of
the first who gets possession of it, though it be in the face of the
original capturers. A storm commencing while the boats are engaged
with an entangled fish, sometimes occasions serious disasters.
Generally, however, though they suffer the loss of the fish, and
perhaps some of their boats and materials, yet the men escape with
their lives.
6. _Fishing in foggy weather._—The fishery in storms can never be
voluntary; but in foggy weather, though occasionally attended with
hazard, the fishery is not altogether impracticable. The fogs which
occur in the icy regions in June and July are generally dense and
lasting: they are so thick, that objects cannot be distinguished at
the distance of 100 or 150 yards, and frequently continue for several
days without attenuation. To fish with safety and success, during
a thick fog, is, therefore, a matter of difficulty, and of still
greater uncertainty. When it happens that a fish conducts itself
favourably, that is, descends almost perpendicularly, and, on its
return to the surface, remains nearly stationary, or moves round in a
small circle, the capture is usually accomplished without hazard or
particular difficulty; but when, on the contrary, it proceeds with
any considerable velocity in a horizontal direction, or obliquely
downwards, it soon drags the boats out of sight of the ship, and
shortly so confounds the fishers in the intensity of the mist, that
they lose all traces of the situation of their vessel. If the fish,
in its flight, draws them beyond the reach of the sound of a bell,
or a horn, their personal safety becomes endangered; and if they are
removed beyond the sound of cannon, their situation becomes extremely
hazardous, especially if no other ships happen to be in the immediate
vicinity. Meanwhile, whatever may be their imaginary or real danger,
the mind of their commander must be kept in the most anxious suspense
until they are found; and whether they may be in safety or near
perishing with fatigue, hunger, and cold, so long as he is uncertain
of their fate, his anxiety must be the same.
Before entering on the subsequent operations of the whalers,
connected with a successful fishery, I shall give a few examples
of remarkable strength, activity, or other peculiarity, in the
behaviour of whales after they have been struck, being a few of the
curious circumstances connected with the fishery which I have myself
observed, or have received from unquestionable authority. On the
25th June, 1812, one of the harpooners belonging to the Resolution,
of Whitby, under my command, struck a whale by the edge of a small
floe of ice; assistance being promptly afforded, a second boat’s
lines were attached to those of the fast-boat in a few minutes after
the harpoon was discharged; the remainder of the boats proceeded to
some distance in the direction which the fish seemed to have taken.
In about a quarter of an hour, the fast-boat, to my surprise, again
made a signal for lines. As the ship was then within five minutes’
sail, we instantly steered towards the boat, with the view of
affording assistance by means of a spare boat we still retained on
board. Before we reached the place, however, we observed four oars
displayed in signal order, which, by their number, indicated a most
urgent necessity for assistance. Two or three men were at the same
time seen seated close by the stern, which was considerably elevated,
for the purpose of keeping it down, while the bow of the boat, by
the force of the line, was drawn down to the level of the sea, and
the harpooner, by the friction of the line round the bollard, was
enveloped in smoky obscurity. At length, when the ship was scarcely
one hundred yards distant, we perceived preparations for quitting
the boat. The sailors’ pea jackets were cast upon the adjoining ice;
the oars were thrown down; the crew leaped overboard; the bow of
the boat was buried in the water; the stern rose perpendicularly,
and then majestically disappeared. The harpooner having caused the
end of the line to be fastened to the iron ring at the boat’s stern
was the means of its loss; and a _tongue_ of the ice, on which was
a depth of several feet of water, kept the boat, by the pressure of
the line against it, at such a considerable distance as prevented
the crew from leaping upon the floe. Some of them were, therefore,
put to the necessity of swimming for their preservation, but all of
them succeeded in scrambling upon the ice, and were taken on board
the ship in a few minutes. It may be here observed, that it is an
uncommon circumstance for a fish to require more than two boats’
lines in such a situation; none of our harpooners, therefore, had
any scruple in leaving the fast-boat, never suspecting, after it had
received the assistance of one boat with six lines, or upward, that
it would need any more.
Several ships being about us, there was a possibility that some
person might attack and make a prize of the whale, when it had so far
escaped us that we no longer retained any hold of it; as such, we set
all sail the ship could safely sustain, and worked through several
narrow and intricate channels in the ice in the direction I observed
the fish had retreated. After a little time, it was descried by the
people in the boats at a considerable distance to the eastward; a
general chase immediately commenced, and within the space of an hour
three harpoons were struck. We now imagined that the fish was secure,
but our expectations were premature. The whale resolutely pushed
beneath a large floe that had been recently broken to pieces by the
swell, and soon drew all the lines out of the second fast-boat, the
officer of which, not being able to get any assistance, tied the
end of his line to a hummock of ice and broke it. Soon afterwards,
the other two boats, still _fast_, were dragged against the broken
floe, when one of the harpoons drew out. The lines of only one
boat, therefore remained fast to the fish, and this, with six or
eight lines out, was dragged forward into the shattered floe with
astonishing force; pieces of ice, each of which were sufficiently
large to have answered the purpose of a mooring for the ship, were
wheeled about by the strength of the whale; and such was the tension
and elasticity of the line that, whenever it slipped clear of any
mass of ice, after turning it round into the space between any two
adjoining pieces, the boat and its crew flew forward through the
crack with the velocity of an arrow, and never failed to launch
several feet upon the first mass of ice that it encountered.
While we scoured the sea around the broken floe of the ship, and
while the ice was attempted in vain by the boats, the whale continued
to press forward in an easterly direction towards the sea. At length,
when fourteen lines, about 1,680 fathoms, were drawn from the fourth
fast-boat, a slight entanglement of the line broke it at the stern.
The fish again made its escape, taking along with it a boat and
twenty-eight lines. The united length of the lines was 6,720 yards,
or upwards of three English miles and three-quarters; value with
the boat above £150 sterling. The obstruction of the sunken boat to
the progress of the fish must have been immense, and that of the
lines likewise considerable, the weight of the lines alone being
thirty-five hundred weight. So long as the fourth fast-boat, through
the medium of its lines, retained its hold of the fish, we searched
the adjoining sea with the ship in vain, but in a short time after
the line was divided we got sight of the object of pursuit at the
distance of near two miles to the eastward of the ice and boats, in
the open sea. One boat only with lines, and two empty boats, were
reserved by the ship. Having, however, happily fine weather and a
breeze of wind, we immediately gave chase under all sails, though it
must be confessed with the insignificant force by us, the distance
of the fish, and the rapidity of its flight considered, we had but
very small hopes of success. At length, after pursuing it five or
six miles, being at least nine miles from the place where it was
struck, we came up with it, and it seemed inclined to rest after its
extraordinary exertion. The two dismantled or empty boats having
been furnished with two lines each, (a very inadequate supply,)
they, together with the one in good state of equipment, now made an
attack upon the whale. One of the harpooners made a blunder; the
fish saw the boat, took the alarm, and again fled. I now supposed it
would be seen no more; nevertheless, we chased nearly a mile in the
direction I imagined it had taken, and placed the boats to the best
of my judgment in the most advantageous situations. In this instance
we were extremely successful. The fish rose near one of the boats,
and was immediately harpooned. In a few minutes, two more harpoons
entered its back, and lances were plied against it with vigour and
success. Exhausted by its amazing exertions to escape, it yielded
itself at length to its fate, received the piercing wounds of the
lances without resistance, and finally died without a struggle. After
all, it may seem surprising that it was not a particularly large
individual, the largest lamina of whalebone only measuring nine feet
six inches, while those affording twelve feet bone are not uncommon.
The quantity of line withdrawn from the different boats engaged in
the capture was singularly great. It amounted altogether to 10,440
yards, or nearly six English miles. Of these, thirteen new lines were
lost, together with the sunken boat, the harpoon connecting them
with the fish having dropped out before the whale was killed. Thus
terminated with success an attack upon a whale, which exhibited the
most uncommon determination to escape from its pursuers, seconded by
the most amazing strength, of any individual whose capture I ever
witnessed.
When engaged in the pursuit of a large whale, it is a necessary
precaution for two boats at all times to proceed in company, that
the one may be able to assist the other on any emergency. With
this principle in view, two boats from the Esk were sent out in
chase of some large whales, on the 13th of June, 1814. No ice was
within sight, the boats had proceeded some time together, when they
separated in pursuit of two whales, not far distant from each other,
when, by a singular coincidence, the harpooners each struck his fish
at the same moment. They were a mile from the ship. Urgent signals
for assistance were immediately displayed by each boat, and, in
a few minutes, one of the harpooners was under the necessity of
slipping the end of his line. Happily, the other fish did not descend
so deep, and the lines in the boat proved adequate to the occasion.
One of the fish being then supposed to be lost, five of the boats,
out of seven, attended on the fish which yet remained entangled, and
speedily killed it. A short time afterwards, the other fish supposed
to be irrecoverably lost, was descried at a little distance from the
place where it was struck; three boats proceeded against it; it was
immediately struck, and in twenty minutes also killed. Thus were
successfully captured two whales, both of which had been despaired
of. They produced us near forty tuns of oil, value at that time
£1,400. The lines attached to the fish last killed were recovered in
a remarkable manner. The harpooners were busily engaged in attempting
to secure them, when the harpoon, by which alone they were prevented
from sinking, slipped out; but as it descended in the water, it
luckily hooked the line belonging to another boat, by which both
harpoon and lines were preserved.
It is very generally believed by the whalers, that fish have
occasionally been struck, which, by sudden extension or heave of the
body, have instantly disengaged themselves from the harpoon. This
usually happens when the whale is struck “with a slack back,” as
that position of the fish is denominated, in which the back being
depressed the flesh is relaxed. A harpoon then struck occasions
an uncommon wound. Hence, if the fish suddenly extends itself and
elevates its back, the wound appears of twice the size of the
harpoon, and consequently the weapon is capable of being thrown
out by the jerk of the body. Under such circumstances as these, a
large whale was struck by a harpooner belonging to the ship Howe,
of Shields. The fish extending and lifting its back with uncommon
violence, the harpoon was disengaged and projected high into the air,
when, at the same moment, the fish rolled over upon its back, and
received the point of the falling weapon in its belly, whereby it was
captured and caught. This circumstance, romantic as it may appear,
is so well authenticated by the person who struck the fish, together
with others who were in the boat at the same time, and were witnesses
of the fact, that I have no scruple in introducing it here.
On the 28th of May, 1817, the Royal Bounty, of Leith, captain
Drysdale, fell in with a great number of whales, in the lat. 77° 25′
north, and long. 5° or 6° east. Neither ice nor land was in sight,
nor was there supposed to be either the one or the other within fifty
or sixty miles. A brisk breeze of wind prevailed, and the weather
was clear. The boats were, therefore, manned and sent in pursuit.
After a chase of about five hours, the harpooner, commanding a boat,
who, with another in company, had rowed out of sight of the ship,
struck one of the whales. This was about four A.M., of the 29th. The
captain, supposing from the long absence of the two most distant
boats that a fish had been struck, directed the course of the ship
towards the place where he had last seen them, and about eight A.M.
he got sight of a boat which displayed the signal for being _fast_.
Some time afterwards, he observed the other boat approach the fish, a
second harpoon struck, and the usual signal displayed. As, however,
the fish dragged the two boats away with considerable speed, it was
midday before any assistance could reach them. Two more harpoons were
then struck, but such was the vigour of the whale that, although it
constantly dragged through the water four to six boats, together
with a length of 1,600 fathoms of line which it had drawn out of the
different boats, yet it pursued its flight nearly as fast as a boat
could row and such was the terror that it manifested on the approach
of its enemies, that, whenever a boat passed beyond its tail, it
invariably dived. All their endeavours to lance it were, therefore,
in vain.
The crews of the loose boats being unable to keep pace with the
fish, caught hold of and moored themselves to the fast-boats; and
for some hours afterwards, all hands were constrained to sit in
idle impatience, waiting for some relaxation in the speed of the
whale. Its most general course had hitherto been to windward,
but a favourable change taking place, enabled the ship, which had
previously been at a great distance, to join the boats at eight P.M.
They succeeded in tacking one of the lines to the ship which was
fast to the fish, with a view of retarding its flight. They then
furled the top-gallant sails, and lowered the top sails; but after
supporting the ship a few minutes head to wind, the wither of the
harpoon upset or twisted aside, and the instrument was disengaged
from its grasp. The whale immediately set off to windward with
increased speed, and it required an interval of three hours before
the ship could again approach it. Another line was then taken on
board, which immediately broke. A fifth harpoon had previously been
struck, to replace the one which had been pulled out, but the line
attached to it was soon afterwards cut. They then instituted various
schemes for arresting the speed of the fish, which occupied their
close attention nearly two hours. But its velocity was yet such that
the master, who had himself proceeded to the attack, was unable to
approach sufficiently near to strike a harpoon. After a long chase,
however, he succeeded in getting hold of one of the lines which the
fish dragged after it, and in fastening another line to it. The
fish then happily turned towards the ship, which was a considerable
distance to leeward.
At four P.M. of the 30th, thirty-six hours after the fish had been
struck, the ship again joined the boats, when, by a successful
manœuvre, they secured two of the fast lines on board. The wind
blowing a moderately brisk breeze, the top-gallant sails were taken
in, the courses hauled up, and the top sails clewed down, but,
notwithstanding the resistance a ship thus situated must necessarily
offer, she was towed by the fish directly to windward with the
velocity of at least one-half to two knots during an hour and a half;
and then, though the whale must have been greatly exhausted, it beat
the water with its fins and tail in so tremendous a way, that the sea
around was in a continual foam, and the most hardy of the sailors
scarcely dared to approach it. At length, about eight P.M., after
forty hours of almost incessant, and for the most part fruitless
exertion, this formidable and astonishing animal was killed. The
capture and the flensing occupied forty-eight hours. The fish was
eleven feet four inches in bone, (the length of the longest lamina of
whalebone,) and its produce filled forty-seven butts, or twenty-three
and a half tun casks, with blubber.
I proceed now to enumerate the proceedings of the fishers after a
whale is killed. Some preliminary measures are requisite before a
whale can be flensed. The first operation performed on a dead whale
is to lash it with a rope, passed several times through two holes
pierced through the tail to the bow of the boat. The more difficult
operation of freeing the whale from the entanglement of the line is
then attempted. As the whale, when dead, always lies on its back or
on its side, the lines and harpoons are generally far under water.
When they are seen passing obliquely downwards, they are hooked
with a grapnel, pulled to the surface, and cut. But, when they hang
perpendicular, or when they cannot be seen, they are discovered by
a process called “sweeping a fish.” This is performed by taking
a part of a whale-line in two different boats, ten or fifteen
fathoms asunder, and while one boat lies at rest, supporting the
end of a line, the other is rowed round the fish, and the bight or
intermediate part of the line allowed to sink below the fish as it
proceeds, until each of the parts held in the two boats are again
brought together. Hence, when one part of the line has made a circuit
of the fish, it must evidently inclose every other line or appendage
affixed to it. Thus inclosed, they are pulled up to the surface of
the water, and each of them cut at the splice of the fore-ganger,
leaving the harpoon sticking in the fish, with its fore-ganger
attached, and allowing the end of the line to sink, and be hauled on
board of the boat from whence it was withdrawn at the convenience of
the crew. While this is in progress, the men of other boats, having
first lashed the tail to a boat, are employed in lashing the fins
together across the belly of the whale.
On one occasion I was myself engaged in the capture of a fish, upon
which, when to appearance dead, I leaped, cut holes in the fins,
and was in the act of “reeving” a rope through them to lash them
together, when the fish sank beneath my feet. As soon as I observed
that the water had risen above my knees, I made a spring towards a
boat, at the distance of three or four yards from me, and caught
hold of the gunwale. Scarcely was I helped on board, before the fish
began to move forward, turn from its back upon its belly, reared its
tail aloft, and began to shake it with such prodigious violence, as
to resound through the air to the distance of two or three miles. In
the meanwhile all the sailors very properly kept aloof, and beheld
its extraordinary power with the greatest astonishment. After two or
three minutes of this violent exercise, it ceased, rolled upon its
side, and died.
A fish being properly secured, is then “taken in tow;” that is, all
the boats form themselves in a line, by ropes always carried for the
purpose, and unite their efforts in rowing towards the ship. Towing
a fish is usually considered a cheerful though laborious operation,
and is generally performed with great expressions of joy. A large
whale, by means of six boats, can be towed at a rate of nearly a
mile per hour. The fish having reached the ship, is taken to the
larboard side, arranged and secured for flensing. For the performance
of this operation, a variety of knives and other instruments are
requisite. Towards the stern of the ship the head of the fish is
directed, and the tail, which is first cut off, rests abreast of the
fore-chains; the smallest or posterior part of the whale’s body,
where the tail is united, is called the rump, and the extremity or
anterior part of the head, the nose or nose-end. The rump, then,
supported by a tackle, is drawn forward by means of a stout rope,
called the rump-rope; and the head is drawn in an opposite direction,
by means of the “nose-tackle.” Hence the body of the fish is forcibly
extended. The right-side fin, being next the ship, is lashed upwards
towards the gunwale. A band of blubber, two or three feet in width,
encircling the fish’s body, and lying between the fins and the head,
being the fat of the neck, or what corresponds in other animals with
the neck, is called the kent, because by means of it the fish is
turned over, or kented. Now, to the commencement of this imaginary
band of fat, or kent, is fixed the lower extremity of a combination
of powerful blocks, called the kent-purchase. Its upper extremity
is fixed round the head of the main-mast, and its fall or rope is
applied to the windlass, drawn tight, and the upper surface of the
fish raised several inches above the water. The enormous weight of
a whale prevents the possibility of raising it more than one-fourth
or one-fifth part out of the water, except indeed when it has been
some days dead, in which case it swells, in consequence of air
generated by putrefaction, until one-third of its bulk appears above
the surface. The fish then lying belly upward, extended, and well
secured, is ready for commencing the operation of flensing. In this
state a suspension of labour is generally allowed, in which the crew
refresh themselves and prepare for the ensuing duties.
An unhappy circumstance once occurred in an interval of this kind.
At that period of the fishery, (forty or fifty years ago,) when a
single stout whale was sufficient to remunerate the owners of a
ship for the expenses of the voyage, great joy was exhibited on
the capture of a whale by the fishers. They not only had a dram of
spirits, but were sometimes provided with some favourite “mess,”
on which to regale themselves before they commenced the arduous
task of flensing. At such a period, the crew of an English vessel
had captured their first whale. It was taken to the ship, placed
on the lee-side, and though the wind blew a strong breeze, it was
fastened only by a small rope attached to the fin. In this state
of supposed security, all hands retired to regale themselves, the
captain himself not excepted. The ship being at a distance from any
ice, and the fish believed to be secure, they made no great haste in
their enjoyment. At length, the specksioneer, having spent sufficient
time in indulgence and equipment, with an air of importance and
self-confidence, proceeded on deck, and naturally turned to look on
the whale. To his astonishment it was not there. In some alarm, he
looked astern, ahead, on the other side, but his search was useless;
the ship drifting fast had pressed forcibly upon the whale, the rope
broke, the fish sank, and was lost. The mortification of this event
may be conceived, but the termination of their vexation will not
easily be imagined, when it is known that no other opportunity of
procuring a whale occurred during the voyage. The ship returned home
clean. The blessings of Divine Providence, of a temporal and also
of a spiritual kind, are bestowed and continued in union with the
activity and watchfulness of those who receive them, and it is a law
of the earthly, and also of the heavenly treasure, that “whosoever
hath, to him shall be given; and whosoever hath not, from him shall
be taken even that which he seemeth to have.”
After the whale is properly secured, and the men are sufficiently
refreshed, the harpooners, having their feet armed with “spurs,”
to prevent them from slipping, descend upon the fish. Two boats,
each of which is under the guidance of one or two boys, attend upon
them, and serve to hold all their knives and other apparatus. Thus
provided, the harpooners, directed by the specksioneer, divide the
fat into oblong pieces, or “slips,” by means of “blubber-spades”
and “blubber-knives;” then affixing a “speck-tackle” to each slip,
progressively flay it off as it is drawn upward. The speck-tackles,
which are two or three in number, are rendered effective by
capsterns, winches, or other mechanical powers. Each of them consists
of a simple combination of two single blocks, one of which is
securely fixed in a strong rope, extended between the main-top and
the fore-top, called a guy, and the other is attached by a strap
to the blubber of the whale. The flensers commence with the belly
and under-jaw, being the only part then above water. The blubber,
in pieces of half a ton to a ton each, is received upon deck by the
boat-steerers and line-managers, the former with “strand-knives”
divide it into portable, cubical, or oblong pieces, containing near
a solid foot of fat, while the latter, furnished with “pick-haaks,”
pass it between decks, down a hole in the main-hatches. It is then
received by two men styled kings, who pack it in a receptacle
provided for it in the hold, or other suitable place, called the
flense-gut, where it remains until further convenience.
All the fat being taken away from the belly, and the right fin
removed, the fish is then turned on its side, by means of the kent,
which, by the power of the windlass, readily performs this office.
The upper surface of fat is again removed, together with the left
fin, and after a second kenting one of the “lips” is taken away,
by which the whale-bone of one side of the head, now lying nearly
horizontal, is exposed. The fish being a little further turned,
the whalebone of the left side is dislodged by the use of the “bone
hand-spikes,” “bone-knives,” and “bone-spades.” Four instruments,
which, when combined, constitute what is called the bone-geer, are
used, with the assistance of two speck-tackles, for taking up the
whalebone in one mass. On its arrival on deck, it is split with
“bone-wedges” and “junks,” containing from five to ten blades each,
and stowed away. A further kenting brings the fish’s back upward,
and the next exposes the second side of bone. As the fish is turned
or kented round, every part of the blubber becomes progressively
uppermost and is removed. At length, when the whole of the blubber,
whalebone, and jawbones have been taken on board, the kent, which now
appears a slip of perhaps thirty feet in length, is also separated,
together with the rump-rope and nose-tackle, on which the carcase
being at liberty, generally sinks in the water and disappears. When
it floats, however, it becomes food for bears, sharks, and various
kinds of birds, all of which attack it with the most voracious
earnestness. It is known by the name of the kreng.
When sharks are present, they generally take the liberty of helping
themselves very bountifully during the progress of the flensing, but
they often pay for their temerity with their lives. Fulmars pay close
attendance in immense numbers. They seize the fragments occasionally
disengaged by the knife while they are swimming in the water, but
most of the other gulls who attend on the occasion take their share
on the wing. The burgomaster is decidedly the master of the feast.
Hence, every other bird is obliged to relinquish the most delicious
morsel when the burgomaster descends to claim it. Bears seldom
approach so near the ship as to become partakers of the banquet.
When dispatch is seconded by ability, the operation of flensing
can be accomplished on a fish affording from twenty to thirty tons
of blubber in the space of three or four hours, and, probably, the
average time with British fishers but little exceeds four hours.
Some years ago, I was witness of a circumstance in which a harpooner
was exposed to the most imminent risk of his life, at the conclusion
of a flensing process, by a very curious accident. This harpooner
stood on one of the jaw-bones of a fish with a boat by his side. In
this situation, while he was in the act of cutting the kreng adrift,
a boy inadvertently struck the point of the boat-hook, with which
he usually held the boat, through the ring of the harpooner’s spur,
and in the same act seized the jawbone of the fish with the hook of
the same instrument. Before this was discovered, the kreng was set
at liberty, and began instantly to sink. The harpooner then threw
himself towards the boat, but being firmly entangled by the foot,
he fell into the water. Providentially he caught the gunwale of the
boat with his hands, but, overpowered by the force of the sinking
kreng, he was on the point of relinquishing his grasp when some of
his companions got hold of his hands, while others threw a rope round
his body. The carcase of the fish was suspended entirely by the
poor fellow’s body, which was, consequently, so dreadfully extended
that there was some danger of his being drawn asunder. But such was
his terror of being taken under water, and not, indeed, without
cause, for he could never have risen again, that, notwithstanding
the excruciating pain he suffered, he constantly cried out to his
companions to “haul away the rope.” He remained in that dreadful
state until means were adopted for hooking the kreng with the
grapnel, and bringing it back to the surface of the water. Had he not
caught hold of the boat as he was sinking and met with such prompt
assistance, he must infallibly have perished.
Next to the process of flensing is that of making-off. When the
flens-gut is filled with blubber, or when, no fish being seen, a
favourable opportunity of leisure is presented, the operation of
making-off is generally commenced. This consists of freeing the fat
from all extraneous substances, especially the muscular parts and
the skin, then cutting it into small pieces, and putting it into
cask through the bung-holes. In the first instance, the ship must be
moored to a convenient piece of ice, or placed in an open situation,
and the sails so reduced as to require no further attention in the
event of bad weather occurring. The hold of the ship must be cleared
of its superstructure of casks, until the “ground tier,” or lowest
stratum of casks is exposed, and the ballast-water must be “started,”
or pumped out of all the casks that are removed upon deck, as well
as out of those on the ground tier, which are first prepared for
the reception of the blubber. In “breaking out the hold,” it is not
necessary to lay open more of the ground tier at a time than three or
four casks extend in length.
While the line-managers, together with the “skee-man,” (the officer
who has the direction of operations in the hold,) the cooper, and
perhaps a few others, are employed in breaking out the hold, the rest
of the crew on the deck arrange all the variety of apparatus used
for the preparation of the blubber before it is put into the casks.
Of this apparatus, the most considerable part is the “speck-trough,”
with its appendages. It consists of a kind of oblong box or chest,
about twelve feet in length, one and three quarters feet in breadth,
and one and a half feet in depth. The speck-trough is fixed upon the
deck, as nearly as possible over the place where the casks are to
be filled in the hold. A square hole made in its bottom is placed
either over the nearest hatchway to the scene of operations, or
upon a corresponding hole cut in the deck. The speck-trough is then
secured, and its lid turned backwards into an horizontal position.
The surface of the lid, forming a level table, is then covered with
blocks of whale’s-tail from end to end. This substance makes an
excellent chopping-block, and preserves the chopping-knives from
injury when used for dividing the blubber upon it. Into the square
hole in the bottom of the speck-trough is fitted an iron frame, to
which is suspended a canvas tube, or “hose,” denominated a “lull.”
The lull is open at both ends. Its diameter is about a foot, and its
length sufficient to reach from the deck to the bottom of the hold.
To the middle, or towards the upper part of the lull, is attached
a “pair of nippers,” consisting of two sticks fastened together by
a kind of hinge at one end, and capable of being pressed together
at the other. The nippers being passed across the body of the lull,
and their detached extremities brought together, they embrace it so
closely that nothing can pass downward while they remain in this
position; but when, on the other hand, the nippers are extended, the
lull forms a free channel of communication between the speck-trough
and the hold.
Everything being in readiness, the blubber, as it is now thrown
out of the flens-gut by the kings, undergoes the following several
operations. It is received upon deck by the “krengers,” whose office
is to remove all the muscular parts, together with such spongy or
fibrous fat as is known by experience to produce very little oil.
When these substances, which go under the general denomination
of kreng, are included among the blubber in the casks, they pass
through a kind of fermentation, and generate such a quantity of
gas as sometimes to burst the containing vessels, and occasion the
loss of their contents. From the krengers the blubber passes to the
harpooners. Each of these officers, provided with a blubber-knife,
or a strand-knife, places himself by the side of the “closh,” fixed
in the deck. An attendant, by means of a pair of “hand-hooks,” or a
“pick-haak,” then mounts a piece of blubber upon the spikes of the
closh, and the harpooner slices off the skin. From the skinners,
the blubber passes into an open space, called the bank, prepared
as a depository in front of the speck-trough, and it is then laid
upon the chopping-blocks as wanted. It now falls under the hands of
the boat-steerers, who, armed with chopping-knives, are arranged
in a line by the side of the chopping-blocks with the speck-trough
before them. Thus prepared, they divide the blubber, as it is
placed on their blocks, into oblong pieces, not exceeding four
inches in diameter, and push it into the speck-trough intended for
its reception. And finally, the blubber falls under the direction
of the line-managers, stationed in the hold, who receive it into
tubs through the lull, and pass it with their hands into the casks,
through their bung-holes. When a cask is nearly filled, the packing
is completed by the use of a “pricker,” one piece after another being
thrust in by this instrument until it can contain no more. It is then
securely bunged up.
When the ground-tier casks, as far as they have been exposed are
filled, the second-tier of casks is stowed upon it, and likewise
filled with blubber, together with the third-tier casks when
necessary. When fish can be had in sufficiency, the hold is filled
and likewise the space between decks. When a ship is deficient in
casks, vacancies adapted for the reception of the cargo are filled
with blubber in bulk. The operation of making off was in the early
ages of the fishery performed on shore, and even so late as the
middle of the last century, it was customary for ships to proceed
into a harbour, and remain while this process was going on.
In the Greenland whale-fishery, the importance of a code of laws
was at a very early period apparent. A fish struck by the people
of two different ships became an object of dispute, the first
striker claiming the whole, and the second demanding a share for his
assistance. Stores saved from wrecked vessels, and especially the
cargoes of wrecks, being objects of much moment, were also liable to
occasion disputes in a still higher degree. Hence, about the year
1677, the Dutch issued a code of regulations, founded on equitable
principles, for the prevention of quarrels and litigation among the
fishers. As these were found to be insufficient, the States-General
of Holland and West Friesland, in the year 1696, approved and
confirmed the general regulations with respect to the saving of the
crews and stores of vessels wrecked in the ice, the right to whales
under peculiar circumstances, and other matters connected with the
fishery. They consisted of twelve articles, and every captain,
specksioneer, and officer concerned in the fishery, was obliged to
subscribe them. After being duly announced, these articles were
enforced by commissioners, chosen from among the principal Greenland
owners of Holland, for conducting and carrying into effect this and
other matters connected with the prosperity and regulation of the
fishery.
Among the British whale-fishers, it does not appear that any
particular laws were ever expressly laid down for the adjusting
of differences; yet custom has established certain principles as
constituting the rule of right, the legality of which is sufficiently
acknowledged by their being universally respected. The fundamental
articles are two. First, that a fast fish, or a fish in any way in
possession, whether alive or dead, is the sole and unquestionable
property of the persons so maintaining the connection or possession;
and secondly, that a loose fish, alive or dead, is fair game. The
first of these regulations can need no modification, but the second
can only be recommended for its simplicity and tendency to prevent
litigation, since circumstances may, and do, sometimes occur, in
which its application is liable to some objection. In this, as in
other departments of human conduct, it is impossible by any strict
regulations to prevent all kinds of injustice. The highest code of
human morals enjoins on men what they shall be, as well as what they
shall do, and provides for them the one golden precept, “Whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.” Conduct,
which it is impossible to punish by appeal to any human tribunal, is
often most fearfully in violation of this law, and must await the
decisions of that day, when God shall try every man’s work of what
sort it is.
The following circumstance, which occurred a good many years ago,
has a tendency to illustrate the existing Greenland laws, and to
set them in a prominent light. During a storm of wind and snow,
several ships were beating to windward, under easy sail, along the
edge of a pack. When the storm abated and the weather cleared, the
ships steered towards the ice. Two of the fleet approached it about
a mile asunder, abreast of each other, when the crews of each ship
accidentally got sight of a dead fish at a little distance, within
some loose ice. Each ship now made sail to endeavour to reach the
fish before the other, which fish, being loose, would be the prize
of the first that should get possession of it. Neither ship could
outsail the other, but each continued to press forward toward the
prize. The little advantage one of them had in distance, the other
compensated with velocity. On each bow of the two ships was stationed
a principal officer, armed with a harpoon, in readiness to discharge.
But it so happened that the ships came in contact with each other,
when within a few yards of the fish, and in consequence of the shock
with which their bows met, they rebounded to a considerable distance.
The officers at the same moment discharged their harpoons, but all
of them fell short of the fish. A hardy fellow, who was second-mate
of the leeward ship, immediately leaped overboard, and with great
dexterity swam to the whale, seized it by the fin, and proclaimed it
his prize. It was, however, so swollen, that he was unable to climb
upon it, but was obliged to remain shivering in the water until
assistance should be sent. His captain, elated with his good luck,
forgot, or at least neglected, his brave second-mate, and before
he thought of sending a boat to release him from his disagreeable
situation, prepared to moor his ship to an adjoining piece of ice.
Meanwhile, the other ship tacked, and the master himself stepped
into a boat, pushed off, and rowed deliberately towards the dead
fish. Observing the trembling seaman still in the water, holding by
the fin, he addressed him with, “Well, my lad, you’ve got a fine
fish here,” to which, after a natural reply in the affirmative,
he added, “But don’t you find it very cold?” “Yes,” replied the
shivering sailor, “I’m almost starved; I wish you would allow me to
come into your boat until ours arrive.” This favour needed no second
solicitation; the boat approached the man, and he was assisted into
it. The fish being again loose and out of possession, the captain
instantly struck his harpoon into it, hoisted his flag, and claimed
his prize. Mortified and displeased as the other master felt at this
trick, for so it certainly was, he had nevertheless no redress,
but was obliged to permit the fish to be taken on board of his
competitor’s ship, and to content himself with abusing the mate for
his want of discretion, and with condemning himself for not having
more compassion on the poor fellow’s feelings, which would have
prevented the disagreeable misadventure.
Success in the whale-fishery has been very generally supposed to
depend, not upon the exercise of talent and industry on the part
of the masters and crews of the fishing-ships, but solely upon
the freaks of fortune. That the fishery, however, is altogether a
chain of casualties, is as false as it is derogatory to the credit
of the persons employed in the enterprise. The most skilful, from
adventitious and unavoidable circumstances, may occasionally fail,
and the unskilful may be successful; but if we mark the average of
a number of years, that is, where the means are equal, a tolerable
estimate may be formed of the adventurer’s ability, and his fitness
for the undertaking in which he is engaged.
The great variety of success, which is observed to result from the
exertions of the different Greenland commanders, when the average
of several voyages is taken, confirmed the above position, and the
circumstance of some masters, in whatever ship they may sail, almost
always succeeding, whilst others, however favourably circumstanced,
seldom or ever procure a whole cargo, warrants this conclusion,
that, most generally, successful fishery depends on the experience,
determined perseverance, and personal talent of the master of the
vessel, supported by a necessary degree of skill among the people
composing his crew. There are occasions, however, especially in those
seasons when the Greenland Seas are open, or in some measure free
from ice, in which personal talent becomes of comparative little
avail. This was strikingly the case in the year 1817, and in some
degree in 1818. In the former season, the ice lay at a distance so
remote from Spitzbergen, that a space of about two thousand square
miles of the surface of the sea, which is usually covered with ice,
was wholly void of it. Whatever decisions the judicious fisher was
led by experience to form and act upon proved fallacious, and tended
only to embarrass him in all his proceedings. The only indication
which could be of the least service to the fisher to assist him in
the choice of a situation, was the colour of the sea. In places where
the water was transparent, and blue, or greenish blue, it was in
vain to look for whales, but in a certain stream of cloudy water, of
a deep olive-green colour, all the whales which were seen throughout
the season, or at least nine-tenths of them, occurred, and the chief
part of those which were caught were found in the same stream of
water. This kind of sea-water is the favourite resort of whales
during the fishing season, evidently because it abounds with various
descriptions of _actiniæ_, _sepiæ_, _medusæ_, and _cancri_, which
constitute the chief, if not the sole nourishment of the whale.
Success in the fishery is more certain in close than in open
seasons, and has some dependence on the suitable equipment of
the ships employed in the trade, on a sufficient apparatus, and
frequently in no inconsiderable degree on that valuable property
of the ship called fast-sailing. When any opening occurs in the
ice of a tempting appearance, it frequently happens that a number
of ships enter it together. The fastest sailers lead the way, and
often procure a whale or two or more before the heavy sailing ships
can perform a navigation, and by the time the latter accomplish it,
the run of fish is frequently over. Not a little depends in the
fishery on the confidence the sailors have in the skill of their
captain, and the efficiency of the personal talents and exertions
of their officers. If the officers are generally unsuccessful, they
are apt to lose confidence in them, and proceed, even when good
opportunities occur, without spirit to the attack. The greater
their spirits and confidence are, the greater is the probability of
their success. Hence, the crew of a ship which has met with success
can generally fish better, and more advantageously under the same
circumstances, than the people of a clean ship. For the regulation of
the ship’s movements, for the choice of a situation, for direction in
difficulties, for a stimulus when discouraged, for encouragement when
weary, and for a variety of other important matters, the master alone
must be looked to, on whom, indeed, almost every considerable effort
of judgment or forethought devolves.
I now subjoin a few instances of the dangers which accompany the
whale-fishery, most of which presented themselves within the sphere
of my own observation. Those employed in the occupation of killing
whales are, when actually engaged, exposed to danger from three
sources, namely, from the ice, from the climate, and from the
whales themselves. Of these, the casualties on the ice are the most
uncommon, and the least fatal; those from the climate the most fatal,
but not the most frequent; and the whale itself is the source of a
great proportion of the accidents which occur.
The following instance illustrates the danger from overhanging masses
of ice falling on the boats. The crew of one of the Hull whalers,
having killed a fish by the side of an iceberg in Davis’s Strait,
the fins were lashed together, and the tail secured to a boat in the
usual way, but by the efforts only of one boat’s crew, all the other
boats belonging to the same ship being engaged in the capture of two
more whales, neither of which were yet subdued. This circumstance
occasioned some altercation among the crew of the boat, as to the
propriety of their remaining by the dead whale, or of quitting it,
and proceeding in an empty boat which was at hand to the assistance
of their companions. The latter measure was carried, but as it was
deemed expedient that one man should remain in the boat, to which
none of them would consent, they were under the necessity of either
remaining in idleness by the fish, or leaving the fish and the boat
by themselves. But every one being anxious to participate in the more
active exercises of the fishery, they at length agreed unanimously
to quit the boat connected with the dead fish, and to proceed to the
aid of their comrades. The arrangements were just accomplished in
time, for they had not rowed many fathoms from the place before a
tremendous crash of the berg ensued, an immense mass of ice fell upon
the boat they had just quitted, and neither it nor the fish was ever
seen afterwards.
Another danger arises from ice when boats are inclosed and beset,
and their crews prevented from joining their ships. On June 17th,
1813, several Greenland fishing-ships penetrated the ice into an
enticing opening, in which a number of whales were sporting in
fancied security. The John, of Greenock, Neptune, of Aberdeen, Earl
Percy, of Kirkcaldy, were immediately, to appearance, successful.
The crew of the John in a short time killed several fish; the people
of the Neptune killed one, and struck a second; and the crew of the
Earl Percy struck one also. Things were in this state when I arrived
in the same situation with the Esk. My harpooners, happily as it
proved, did not succeed in any measure. The sea was as smooth as the
surface of a pond, but the ice I observed was in a strange state of
disturbance. Some floes, and some large pieces, moved with a velocity
of three to four miles per hour, while other similar masses were
at rest. The John, which, on her first arrival in this situation,
had navigated an open lake some leagues in circumference, was in
the space of a few hours closely beset. The captain of the Neptune,
alarmed by the danger to which his men and boats were exposed, left
his ship to the care of his second-mate, with eleven or twelve
men, and proceeded himself in a boat, making the fifth, to their
assistance. In a few minutes, these five boats, together with two
belonging to the Earl Percy, were closely fixed in the ice. The ships
were forced to a distance; the ice in the course of the following
morning spread to the width of seven or eight miles, and shortly
afterwards the people in the boats and those in the corresponding
ships lost sight of each other.
My father, who at this time commanded the John, had anticipated
the consequences of the ice closing, and found refuge in a cove in
an adjoining field filled with bay-ice, into which he thrust his
ship, and obtained shelter for himself and his comrades who were
thus beset. After three days, the ice slackened, and the Neptune
boats, together with those belonging to the Earl Percy, left the
John, although neither the sea nor their ships were visible. In this
adventure they proved successful. When they had rowed many hours to
the south-eastward, they discovered a ship, on their approach to
which they were invited on board, and received some refreshment.
After this, having received information of the relative situation
of their ships, they put off, and soon after had the happiness of
regaining their respective vessels. This circumstance, which was the
occasion of so much anxiety, danger, and loss of time to the crews of
the Neptune and Earl Percy, proved the contrary to the people of the
John, as they added to her cargo seventeen whales, within the space
of five days, and on the sixth, the ice having again slackened, they
made their escape into a place of safety.
The climate of the Polar regions becomes a source of danger to the
whale-fishers when boats are separated from the ship to which they
belong, in foggy weather when they are overtaken by a storm and
prevented from joining their ship, and when the people in the boats
are long exposed to inclement winds.
On the commencement of a heavy gale of wind, May 11th, 1813, fourteen
men put off in a boat from the Volunteer, of Whitby, with the view
of setting an anchor in a large piece of ice, to which it was their
intention to moor the ship. The ship approached; on a signal being
made the sails were clewed up, and a rope fixed to the anchor, but
the ice shivering with the violence of the strain, when the ship fell
astern the anchor flew out, and the ship went adrift. The sails being
again set, the ship was reached to the eastward, (wind at north,) the
distance of about two miles, but in attempting to wear and return,
the ship, instead of performing the evolution, scudded a considerable
distance to leeward, and was then reached out to sea, thus leaving
fourteen of her crew to a fate most dreadful, the fulfilment of
which seemed inevitable. The temperature of the air was 15° or 16°
of Fahrenheit, when these poor men were left upon a detached piece
of ice, without food, without shelter from the inclement storm, and
deprived of every means of refuge, except in a single boat, which,
on account of the number of men, and violence of the storm, was
incapable of conveying them to their ship. Death stared them in the
face whichever way they turned, and a division in opinion ensued.
Some were wishful to remain by the ice, but the ice could afford them
no shelter from the piercing wind, and would probably be soon broken
to pieces by the increasing swell; others were anxious to attempt
to join their ship, while she was yet in sight, but the force of
the wind, the violence of the sea, and the smallness of the boat in
comparison of the number of men to be conveyed, were objections which
would have appeared utterly insurmountable to any persons but men in
a state of despair. Judging that by remaining on the ice death was
but retarded for a few hours, as the extreme cold must eventually
benumb their faculties, and invite a sleep which would overcome the
remains of animation, they determined on making the attempt to row
to their ship. Poor creatures! what must have been their sensations
at this moment, when the spark of hope yet remaining was so feeble
that a premature death even to themselves seemed inevitable. They
made the daring experiment, when a few minutes’ trial convinced them
that the attempt was utterly impracticable. They then, with longing
eyes, turned their efforts towards recovering the ice they had left,
but their utmost exertions were unavailing. Every one now viewed his
situation as desperate, and anticipated as certain the fatal event
that was to put a period to his life. How great must have been their
delight, and how overpowering their sensations, when, at this most
critical juncture, a ship appeared in sight! She was advancing
directly towards them; their voices were extended, and their flag
displayed. But although it was impossible they should be heard, it
was not impossible they should be seen. Their flag was descried by
the people on board the ship, their courses were so directed as to
form the speediest union, and in a few minutes they found themselves
on the deck of the Lively, of Whitby, under circumstances of safety.
They received from their townsmen the warmest congratulations, and
while each individual was forward in contributing his assistance
towards the restoration of their benumbed bodies, each of the rescued
appeared sensible that their narrow escape from death was highly
providential.
The forbearance of God is wonderful. Perhaps these very men a few
hours before were impiously invoking their own destruction, or
venting imprecations upon their fellow-beings. True it is, the
goodness of the Almighty extendeth over all his works, and that
while “he delighteth in mercy” he is “slow to anger.” It is no
exaggeration to affirm, that every guilty soul of man unpardoned and
uncleansed through the blood of the Mediator, is exposed to a peril
equally portentous with that which threatened these fishermen. God
has, however, provided an ark of mercy, floating on the billows of
life’s tempestuous, dangerous ocean, within which every soul may
find perfect and permanent peace. That ark is even now present, and
entrance to it may be instantly secured. To delay is to increase the
peril, perhaps beyond the possibility of future relief. “Behold, now
is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Reader,
enter into this ark of mercy by faith in the Lord Jesus!
One of the most calamitous events which in modern times has occurred
in the fishery, was that which happened to the crew of the Ipswich,
captain Gordon, about fifteen years ago. A whale was struck and
killed by the Ipswich’s people early in the spring of the year, a
season in which the weather is most uncertain. A storm commenced,
accompanied with snow, before the capture was completed, but
nevertheless the fish was taken to the ship, and having shelter from
the ice it was flensed. Meanwhile, four boats’ crews were employed
on a piece of ice, in hauling in the lines of the fast-boats, etc.,
during the performance of which duties the ship drifted out of sight
of them. Every effort was then made by the captain for discovering
these unhappy men, who, being above twenty in number, constituted
nearly half of his crew. But the weather continuing thick and stormy,
and the frost most intense, it is probable that they all perished
before the conclusion of the gale; at least none of them were saved,
nor can I learn that any of their bodies were ever found.
The remarkable property of oil in smoothing the surface of the sea
when considerably agitated, and of preventing breakers in the main
ocean, was sometimes resorted to by the ancient whale-fishers for
their preservation, when overtaken by storms at sea. It was not
unusual, I believe, a century ago, for every whale-boat to carry
along with it a keg of oil for this very purpose; which oil, being
slowly poured overboard in a storm, afforded a sort of defence to
the boat as it drifted to leeward. The height of the waves, it is
true, is not affected by the action of the oil, but as it intercepts
the attraction which dry air possesses for water, it prevents the
immediate action of the wind, quells the ruffled surface of the
waves, and in a great degree prevents the tendency to breakers, which
constitutes the principal danger in a storm.
The most extensive source of danger to the whale-fisher, when
actively engaged in his occupation, arises from the object of his
pursuit. The fisher is liable to receive contusions from oars
forcibly struck by the fish, or from direct blows from its fins or
tail; he is liable to accidents from getting entangled by the lines,
or from the boat being drawn under water by the fish through the
medium of the lines; and he is in danger of being thrown overboard
by the heeling or jerking of the boat, or more particularly from the
boat being stove, upset, sunk, or projected into the air, by the
force of a blow from the whale.
One of the crew of the John, of Greenock, who was in a fast-boat in
the fishery of 1818, unfortunately slipped his foot through a coil of
line in the act of running out, which drew him forward to the boat’s
stern, and separated his foot by the ancle. He was conveyed by the
first boat to the ship, where the assistance of several surgeons
being procured, the lower part of the leg was cut off. After this,
the poor fellow, having received the most unremitting attention from
captain Jackson, with the best sustenance and accommodation the ship
could afford, was restored to health, and his wound nearly healed
before the conclusion of the voyage. It is worthy of being remarked,
that the captain and crew of the John subscribed upwards of £24 for
his relief, which was increased by the owners of the ship and others,
on arrival, to about £37. This sum was placed in the “Provident
Bank,” at Greenock, from whence he was permitted to draw it, after
the rate of 7_s._ per week.
A harpooner, belonging to the Henrietta, of Whitby, when engaged
in lancing a whale, into which he had previously struck a harpoon,
incautiously cast a little line under his feet that he had just
hauled into the boat, after it had been drawn out by the fish. A
painful stroke of his lance induced the whale to dart suddenly
downward, his line began to run out from beneath his feet, and in an
instant caught him by a turn round his body. He had but just time
to call out, “Clear away the line!”—“Oh dear!” when he was almost
cut asunder, dragged overboard, and drowned. The line was cut at
the moment, but without avail. The fish descended a considerable
depth and died, from whence it was drawn to the surface by the lines
connected with it, and secured.
On the 3rd of June, 1811, a boat from the ship Resolution, commanded
at the time by myself, put off in pursuit of a whale, and was rowed
upon its back. At the moment that it was harpooned, it struck the
side of the boat a violent blow with its tail, the shock of which
threw the boat-steerer to some distance into the water. A repetition
of the blow projected the harpooner and line-manager in a similar
way, and completely drenched the part of the crew remaining in the
boat with the sprays. One of the men regained the boat, but, as the
fish immediately sank and drew the boat away from the place, his
two companions in misfortune were soon left far beyond the reach of
assistance. The harpooner, though a practised swimmer, felt himself
so bruised and enervated by a blow he had received on the chest, that
he was totally incapacitated from giving the least support to his
fellow-sufferer. The ship being happily near, a boat, which had been
lowered on the first alarm, arrived to their succour at the moment
when the line-manager, who was unacquainted with the art of swimming,
was on the point of sinking to rise no more. Both the line-manager
and harpooner were preserved; and the fish, after a few hours’ close
pursuit, was subdued.
While the same ship navigated an open lake of water in the 81° north
lat., during a keen frost and strong north wind, on the 2nd of June,
1806, a whale appeared, and a boat put off in pursuit. On its second
visit to the surface of the sea it was harpooned. A convulsive heave
of the tail which succeeded the wound struck the boat at the stern,
and, by its reaction, projected the boat-steerer overboard. As the
line in a moment dragged the boat beyond his reach, the crew threw
some of their oars towards him for his support, one of which he
happily seized. The ships and boats being at a considerable distance,
and the fast-boat being rapidly drawn away from him, the harpooner
cut the line, with the view of rescuing him from his dangerous
situation. But no sooner was this act performed than, to their
extreme mortification, they discovered, in consequence of some oars
being thrown towards their floating comrades, and others being broken
or unshipped by the blow from the fish, one oar only remained, with
which, owing to the force of the wind, they tried in vain to approach
him. A considerable period elapsed before any boat from the ship
could afford him assistance, though the men strained every nerve for
the purpose. At length, when they reached him, he was found with his
arms stretched over an oar, almost deprived of sensation. On his
arrival at the ship he was in a deplorable condition. His clothes
were frozen like mail, and his hair constituted a helmet of ice. He
was immediately conveyed into the cabin, his clothes taken off, his
limbs and body dried and well rubbed, and a cordial administered to
him. A dry shirt and stockings were then put upon him, and he was
laid in the captain’s bed. After a few hours’ sleep, he awoke, and
appeared considerably relieved. He complained of a painful sensation
of cold. He was therefore removed to his own berth, and one of his
messmates ordered to lie on each side of him, whereby the diminished
circulation of the blood was accelerated, and the animal heat
restored. The shock on his constitution, however, was greater than
was anticipated. He recovered in the course of a few days so as to
be able to engage in his ordinary pursuits, but many months elapsed
before his countenance exhibited its wonted appearance of health.
A remarkable instance of the power which the whale possesses in its
tail was exhibited within my own observation, in the year 1807.
On the 29th of May, a whale was harpooned by an officer belonging
to the Resolution. It descended a considerable depth, and on its
reappearance evidenced an uncommon degree of irritation. It made
such a display of its fins and tail, that few of the crew were hardy
enough to approach it. The captain, (my father,) observing their
timidity, called a boat, and himself struck the second harpoon.
Another boat immediately followed, and, unhappily, advanced too
far. The tail was again reared into the air in a terrific attitude.
The impending blow was evident. The harpooner, who was directly
underneath, leaped overboard. At the next moment, the threatened
stroke was impressed on the centre of the boat, which buried it in
the water. Happily no one was injured. The harpooner, who leaped
overboard, escaped certain death by the act, the tail having struck
the very spot on which he stood. The effects of the blow were
astonishing. The keel was broken, the gunwales and every plank,
excepting two, were cut through, and it was evident the boat would
have been completely divided had not the tail struck directly upon a
coil of lines. The boat was rendered useless.
The Dutch ship, Gort-Moolen, commanded by Cornelius Gerard Ouwekaas,
with a cargo of seven fish, was anchored in Greenland, in the year
1660. The captain, perceiving a whale ahead of his ship, beckoned
his attendants, and threw himself into a boat. He was the first to
approach the whale, and succeeded in harpooning it before the arrival
of the second boat, which was on the advance. Jacques Vienkes, who
had the direction of it, joined his captain immediately afterwards,
and prepared to make a second attack on the fish when it should
remount to the surface. At the moment of its ascension, the boat of
Vienkes happening unhappily to be perpendicularly above it, was so
suddenly and forcibly lifted up by a stroke of the head of the whale,
that it was dashed to pieces before the harpooner could discharge
his weapon. Vienkes flew along with the pieces of the boat, and fell
upon the back of the animal. This intrepid seaman, who still retained
his weapon in his grasp, harpooned the whale on which he stood, and
by means of the harpoon and the line, which he never abandoned, he
steadied himself firmly upon the fish, notwithstanding his hazardous
situation, and regardless of a considerable wound that he received
in his leg, in his fall along with the fragments of the boat. All
the efforts of the other boats to approach the whale and deliver
the harpooner were futile. The captain, not seeing any other method
of saving his companion, who was in some way entangled with the
line, called to him to cut it with his knife, and betake himself to
swimming. Vienkes, embarrassed and disconcerted as he was, tried
in vain to follow this counsel. His knife was in the pocket of his
drawers, and, being unable to support himself with one hand, he could
not get it out. The whale meanwhile continued advancing along the
surface of the water with great rapidity, but happily never attempted
to dive. While his comrades despaired of his life, the harpoon by
which he held at length disengaged itself from the body of the
whale. Vienkes, being then liberated, did not fail to take advantage
of this circumstance. He cast himself into the sea, and, by swimming,
endeavoured to regain the boats which continued the pursuit of the
whale. When his shipmates perceived him struggling with the waves,
they redoubled their exertions. They reached him just as his strength
was exhausted, and had the happiness of rescuing this adventurous
harpooner from his perilous situation.
In one of my earliest voyages to the whale-fishery, I observed a
circumstance which excited my highest astonishment. One of our
harpooners had struck a whale; it dived, and all the assisting boats
had collected round the fast-boat before it rose to the surface. The
first boat which approached it advanced incautiously upon it. It rose
with unexpected violence beneath the boat, and projected it and all
its crew to the height of some yards in the air. It fell on its side,
upset, and cast all the men into the water. One man received a severe
blow in his fall, and appeared to be dangerously injured; but, soon
after his arrival on board of the ship, he recovered from the effects
of the accident. The rest of the boat’s crew escaped without any hurt.
Captain Lyons, of the Raith, of Leith, while prosecuting the
whale-fishery on the Labrador coast, in the season of 1802,
discovered a large whale at a short distance from the ship. Four
boats were dispatched in pursuit, and two of them succeeded in
approaching it so closely together, that two harpoons were struck at
the same moment. The fish descended a few fathoms in the direction
of another of the boats, which was on the advance, rose accidentally
beneath it, struck it with its head, and threw the boat, men, and
apparatus, about fifteen feet into the air. It was inverted by the
stroke, and fell into the water with its keel upwards. All the
people were picked up alive by the fourth boat, which was just at
hand, excepting one man, who, having got entangled in the boat, fell
beneath it, and was drowned. The fish was soon afterwards killed.
When a ship has on board an ample cargo, or when the fogs set in, and
the whales totally disappear, so as to put a period to the fishery
for that season, there remains no sufficient motive to induce further
stay in the country; the course of each ship is therefore directed
immediately homeward. On the arrival of a fishing-ship at the port
from whence she sailed, the mustering-officer of the customs repairs
on board, receives the manifest of the cargo, (which is a kind of
schedule in writing, containing all particulars respecting it,) with
a true copy thereof, examines into the identity and number of the
crew, by the usual form of mustering, and places an officer or two
on board, to take charge of the cargo on the part of the revenue.
The duty of these officers is to take account of every cask or
other article of which the cargo consists, as it is discharged from
the ship, and one of them accompanies the same to its destination,
carrying an account thereof in writing, and not quitting the lighter,
wherein it is contained, until he is relieved by another officer, who
is placed in the capacity of landing-waiter on the premises where the
blubber is warehoused or boiled.
Within twenty-four hours after the ship arrives in port, the master
is required, under the penalty of one hundred pounds, to attend at
the custom-house to make his report; that is, to make affidavit
of the built, burden, and cargo of the ship he commands; on which
occasion he must deliver his manifest to the collector or other
chief officer, (if it has not before been demanded of him,) under
the penalty of two hundred pounds. At the same time, the log-book
must be produced, and its contents, as required by law, verified on
the oath of the master and mate, and affidavit also made by the same
persons of their faithful dealings according to the requirements
of the law during the voyage. After these things are accomplished,
the mustering-officer’s certificate and schedule of the crew, the
commissioners’ license, and the affidavits of master and mate are
transmitted to the commissioners, who, being satisfied of the
faithfulness of all the proceedings, are required to order payment of
the bounty on demand.
Previous to the cargo being admitted to entry, free from the duties
imposed on the produce of foreign fishery, the owner, importer, or
consignee of the cargo, together with the master or commander of the
vessel, must severally make oath, each to the best of his knowledge
and belief, that the said cargo was the produce of fish, etc.,
actually caught by the crew of a British-built vessel, wholly owned
by her Majesty’s subjects, usually residing in Great Britain, etc.,
registered and navigated according to law. The importer or consignee
of any goods imported into Britain is required, within twenty
days after the master should have made his report, under certain
penalties, to make a due entry with the collector or other chief
officer of the customs, at the port where the ship shall arrive,
of all the goods by him imported therein, and pay the full duties
thereon.