There is always a certain amount of pleasure to be derived from the
tracing of any subject of interest back to its origin. We have already
seen how--like a noble river, which has its fountain-head in some
mountain lakelet that would scarcely serve as a washing-basin for a
Cyclops--the grand cod-fishing industry, which has enriched the world,
and found employment for thousands of men for centuries, had its
commencement in the crew of the _Water Wagtail_! we shall now show that
another great industry, namely, the Newfoundland seal-fishery, had its
origin in the same insignificant source.
King Grummidge was walking one morning along the shore of Wagtail Bay,
with hands in pockets, hat on back of head, and that easy roll of gait
so characteristic of nautical men and royalty. He was evidently
troubled in mind, for a frown rested on his brow, and his lips were
compressed. It might have been supposed that the cares of state were
beginning to tell upon him, but such was not the case: food was the
cause of his trouble.
"Fish, fish, fish," he growled, to Little Stubbs, who was his companion
in the walk. "I'm sick tired o' fish. It's my opinion that if we go on
eatin' fish like we've bin doin' since we was cast away here, we will
turn into fish, or mermaids, if not somethin' worse. What are ye
laughin' at?"
"At the notion o' you turnin' into a _maid_ of any sort," replied
Stubbs.
"That's got nothin' to do wi' the argiment," returned Grummidge sternly,
for his anxieties were too serious to permit of his indulging in levity
at the time. "What we've got to do is to find meat, for them auks are
nigh as dry as the fish. _Meat_, lad, meat, wi' plenty o' fat, that's
the question o' the hour."
"Yes, it's _our_ question, no doubt," rejoined Stubbs.
He might as well have bestowed his bad pun on a rabbit, for Grummidge
was essentially dense and sober-minded.
"But we've had a few rabbits of late, an' ducks an' partridges," he
added.
"Rabbits! ducks! partridges!" repeated his companion, with contempt.
"How many of them delicacies have we had? That's what I wants to know."
"Not many, I admit for there's none of us got much to boast of as
shots."
"Shots!" echoed Grummidge. "You're right, Stubbs. Of all the blind
bats and helpless boys with the bow, there's not I believe, in the whole
world such a lot as the popilation of Wagtail Bay. Why, there's not two
of ye who could hit the big shed at sixty paces, an' all the fresh meat
as you've brought in yet has bin the result o' chance. Now look 'ee
here, Stubbs, a notion has entered my head, an' when a notion does that,
I usually grab that notion an' hold 'im a fast prisoner until I've made
somethin' useful an' ship-shape of 'im. If it works properly we'll soon
have somethin' better to eat than fish, an' more substantial than
rabbits, ducks, partridges, or auks."
We may remark in passing that the animals which those wrecked sailors
called rabbits were in reality hares. Moreover, the men took an easy,
perhaps unscientific, method of classifying feathered game. Nearly
everything with wings that dwelt chiefly on lake, river, or sea they
called ducks, and all the feathered creatures of the forest they styled
partridges. From this simple classification, however, were excepted
swans, geese, eagles, and hawks.
"Well, Grummidge, what may be your notion?" asked Stubbs.
"My notion is--seals! For all our hard rowin' and wastin' of arrows
we've failed to catch or kill a single seal, though there's such swarms
of 'em all about. Now this is a great misfortin', for it's well known
that seals make first-rate beef--leastwise to them as ain't partic'lar--
so we'll set about catchin' of 'em at once."
"But how?" asked Stubbs, becoming interested under the influence of his
comrade's earnest enthusiasm.
"This is how. Look there, d'ye see that small island lyin' close to the
shore with several seals' heads appearin' in the channel between?"
"Yes--what then?"
"Well, then, what I mean to do is to have nets made with big meshes, an'
set 'em between that island an' the shore, and see what comes of it."
"But where's the twine to come from?" objected Stubbs.
"Twine! Ain't there no end o' cordage swashin' about the _Water
Wagtail_ ever since she went ashore? An' haven't we got fingers? Can't
we undo the strands an' make small cord? Surely some of ye have picked
oakum enough to understand what that means!"
Stubbs was convinced. Moreover, the rest of the men were so convinced
that the plan promised well, when it was explained to them, that they
set to work with alacrity, and, in a brief space of time, made a strong
net several fathoms in length, and with meshes large enough to permit of
a seal's head squeezing through.
No sooner was it ready than the whole community went down to see it set.
Then, with difficulty, they were prevented from waiting on the shore to
watch the result. In the afternoon, when Grummidge gave permission,
they ran down again with all the eagerness of children, and were
rewarded by finding six fat seals entangled in the net and inflated
almost to bursting with the water that had drowned them.
Thus they were supplied with "beef," and, what was of almost equal
importance, with oil, which enabled them to fry the leanest food,
besides affording them the means of making a steadier and stronger light
than that of the log fires to which they had hitherto been accustomed.
It may be here remarked by captious readers, if such there be, that this
cannot appropriately be styled the beginning of that grand sealing, or,
as it is now styled, "swile huntin'," industry, which calls into action
every year hundreds of steam and other vessels, and thousands of men,
who slaughter hundreds of thousands of seals; which produces mints of
money, and in the prosecutions of which men dare the terrible dangers of
ice-drift and pack, in order that they may bludgeon the young seals upon
the floes.
As well might it be objected that a tiny rivulet on the mountain-top is
not the fountain-head of a mighty river, because its course is not
marked by broad expanses and thundering cataracts. Grummidge's net was
undoubtedly the beginning, the tiny rill, of the Newfoundland
seal-fishery, and even the bludgeoning was initiated by one of his
party. It happened thus:--
Big Swinton went out one morning to try his fortune with the bow and
arrow in the neighbourhood of a range of cliffs that extended far away
to the northward. Swinton usually chose to hunt in solitude. Having
few sympathies with the crew he shut up his feelings within his own
breast and brooded in silence on the revenge he was still resolved to
take when a safe opportunity offered, for the man's nature was
singularly resolute and, at the same time, unforgiving.
Now it chanced that Grummidge, in utter ignorance of where his foe had
gone, took the same direction that morning, but started some time later,
intending to explore the neighbourhood of the cliffs in search of
sea-fowls' eggs.
On reaching the locality, Swinton found that a large ice-floe had come
down from the Arctic regions, and stranded on the shore of the island.
On the ice lay a black object which he rightly judged to be a seal. At
first, he supposed it to be a dead one, but just as he was about to
advance to examine it the animal raised its head and moved its tail.
Love of the chase was powerful in Swinton's breast. He instantly
crouched behind a boulder, and waited patiently till the seal again laid
its head on the ice as if to continue its nap.
While the seaman crouched there, perfectly motionless, his brain was
active. Arrows, he feared, would be of little use, even if he were
capable of shooting well, which he was not. Other weapon he had none,
with the exception of a clasp-knife. What was he to do? The only
answer to that question was--try a club. But how was he to get at the
seal with a club?
While pondering this question he observed that there was another seal on
the same mass of ice, apparently sleeping, behind a hummock. He also
noticed that both seals were separated from the water by a considerable
breadth of ice--especially the one behind the hummock, and that there
was a tongue of ice extending from the floe to the shore by which it
seemed possible to reach the floe by patient stalking without disturbing
the game. Instantly Swinton decided on a plan, and commenced by
crawling into the bushes. There, with his clasp-knife, he carefully cut
and peeled a club which even Hercules might have deigned to wield.
With this weapon he crawled on hands and knees slowly out to the floe,
and soon discovered that the seals were much larger than he had at first
supposed, and were probably a male and a female. Being ignorant of the
nature of seals, and only acquainted with the fact that the tender nose
of the animal is its most vulnerable part, he crept like a cat after a
mouse towards the smaller seal, which he judged to be the female, until
near enough to make a rush and cut off its retreat to the sea. He then
closed with it, brought his great club down upon its snout, and laid it
dead upon the ice. Turning quickly round, he observed, to his surprise,
that the male seal instead of making for the water, as he had expected,
was making towards himself in floundering and violent bounds!
It may be necessary here to state that there are several kinds of seals
in the northern seas, and that the "hood seal"--or, as hunters call it
the "dog-hood"--is among the largest and fiercest of them all. The male
of this species is distinguished from the female by a singular hood, or
fleshy bag, on his nose, which he has the power to inflate with air, so
that it covers his eyes and face--thus forming a powerful protection to
his sensitive nose, for, besides being elastic, the hood is uncommonly
tough. It is said that this guard will even resist shot and that the
only sure way of killing the dog-hood seal is to hit him on the neck at
the base of the skull.
Besides possessing this safeguard, or natural buffer, the dog-hood is
full of courage, which becomes absolute ferocity when he is defending
the female. This is now so well known that hunters always try to kill
the male first, if possible, when the female becomes an easy victim.
Swinton saw at a single glance that he had to deal with a gigantic and
furious foe, for the creature had inflated its hood and dilated its
nostrils into two huge bladders, as with glaring eyes it bounced rather
than rushed at him in terrific rage. Feeling that his arrows would be
useless, the man flung them and the bow down, resolving to depend
entirely on his mighty club. Being possessed of a good share of brute
courage, and feeling confident in his great physical strength, Swinton
did not await the attack, but ran to meet his foe, swung his ponderous
weapon on high, and brought it down with tremendous force on the seal's
head, but the hood received it and caused it to rebound--as if from
indiarubber--with such violence that it swung the man to one side. So
far this was well, as it saved him from a blow of the dog-hood's flipper
that would probably have stunned him. As it was, it grazed his
shoulder, tore a great hole in his strong canvas jacket and wounded his
arm.
Experience usually teaches caution. When the seal turned with increased
fury to renew the assault Swinton stood on the defensive, and as soon as
it came within reach brought his club down a second time on its head
with, if possible, greater force than before; but again the blow was
broken by the hood, though not again was the man struck by the flipper,
for he was agile as a panther and evaded the expected blow. His foot
slipped on the ice, however, and he fell so close to the seal that it
tumbled over him and almost crushed him with its weight. At the same
time the club flew from his hand.
Though much shaken by the fall, the seaman scrambled to his feet in time
to escape another onslaught, but, do what he would, he could make no
impression on the creature's head, because of that marvellous hood, and
body blows were, of course, useless. Still Big Swinton was not the man
to give in easily to a seal! Although he slipped on the ice and fell
several times, he returned again and again to the encounter until he
began to feel his strength going. As muscular power was his sole
dependence, a sensation of fear now tended to make matters worse; at
last he tripped over a piece of ice, and the seal fell upon him.
It was at this critical point that Grummidge came in sight of the
combatants, and ran at full speed to the rescue. But he was still at a
considerable distance, and had to cross the tongue of ice before he
could reach the floe.
Meanwhile the seal opened its well-armed jaws to seize its victim by the
throat. Swinton felt that death stared him in the face. Desperation
sharpened his ingenuity. He thrust his left hand as far as possible
down the throat of his adversary, and, seizing it with the other arm
round the neck, held on in a tight though not loving embrace!
The struggle that ensued was brief. The seal shook off the man as if he
had been but a child, and was on the point of renewing the attack when
it caught sight of Grummidge, and reared itself to meet this new enemy.
Grummidge possessed a fair-sized clasp-knife. Armed with this, he
rushed boldly in and made a powerful stab at the creature's heart.
Alas! for the poor man, even though his stabbing powers had been good
instead of bad, for he would only have imbedded the short weapon in a
mass of fat without touching the heart. But Grummidge was a bad
stabber. He missed his aim so badly as to plunge his weapon into the
hood! Nothing could have been more fortunate. The air escaped and the
hood collapsed. At the same moment Grummidge received an ugly scratch
on the cheek which sent him sprawling. As he rose quickly he observed
Swinton's club, which he grasped and brought vigorously down on the
seal's now unprotected nose, and felled it. Another effective blow
terminated its career for ever, and then the victor turned to find that
Big Swinton lay on the ice, quite conscious of what was going on though
utterly unable to move hand or foot.