WHALE HUNTING _with_ GUN _and_ CAMERA
A NATURALIST’S ACCOUNT OF THE MODERN SHORE WHALING INDUSTRY, OF WHALES
AND THEIR HABITS, AND OF HUNTING EXPERIENCES IN VARIOUS PARTS OF THE
WORLD
BY
ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS
ASSISTANT CURATOR OF MAMMALS, AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, NEW
YORK; FELLOW OF THE NEW YORK ACADEMY OF SCIENCES; MEMBER OF THE
BIOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF WASHINGTON, ETC.
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATED
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK LONDON
1916
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO
MY WIFE
WITHOUT WHOSE ENCOURAGEMENT IT
WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
AND TO
MY MOTHER
WHO HAS BORNE THE ANXIETIES
OF HER SON’S LONG WANDERINGS
PREFACE
In this book I have endeavored to tell of modern shore whaling as I have
seen it during the past eight years while collecting and studying
cetaceans for the American Museum of Natural History. This work carried
me twice around the world, as well as northward on two expeditions to
Alaska, and southward to the tropic waters of Borneo and the Dutch East
Indies.
I have also tried to give, in a readable way, some of the most
interesting facts about whales and their habits, confining myself,
however, to those species which form the basis of the shore whaling
industry, or are commercially important, and which have come under my
personal observation.
In all of this work the camera has necessarily played a large part, for
it is only by means of photographs that whales can be seen in future
study as they appear alive or when freshly killed. It is hardly
necessary to say that the photographing has been intensely interesting,
and to any one who is in search of real excitement I can heartily
recommend camera hunting for whales.
It should be understood that this book is in no sense a manual of the
large Cetacea. I hope, however, at some future time to write a volume
which will treat of this wonderful mammalian order in a less casual way,
and thus satisfy a desire which has been ever present in my mind since I
began the study of whales.
Some portions of this book have been published as separate articles in
the _American Museum Journal_, _World’s Work_, _Metropolitan_, _Outing_,
_National Geographic_, and other magazines, but by far the greater part
of it is new.
There have been many pleasurable sides to the work, but one of the most
delightful has been the friends that I have made, and my cordial
reception by the officials of the whaling companies in whatever corner
of the world I have chanced to be.
Space will not permit me to mention all those to whom I am indebted and
who have contributed to the success of the various expeditions, but I
wish first to express my gratitude to the Trustees of the American
Museum of Natural History, under whose auspices all my work upon
cetaceans has been conducted, and especially to President Henry
Fairfield Osborn for his encouragement and wise counsel.
Captains I. N. Hibberd and John Barneson have never failed in kindness
and the President and Directors of the Toyo Hogei Kabushiki Kaisha of
Osaka, and Mr. D. Ogiwara of Shimonoseki, Japan, are in a large measure
responsible for the success of the work conducted in the Orient. Not
only did these gentlemen freely extend the courtesies of their ships and
stations, but also presented to the American Museum of Natural History
skeletons of all the large Japanese cetaceans, which are the only
specimens of Asiatic whales in America.
Thanks are due to the Directors of the (former) Pacific Whaling Company
of Victoria, B. C., and to the (former) managers of the stations, Mr.
Sidney C. Ruck, V. H. Street and J. H. Quinton. Mr. Ruck also furnished
me with valuable data as to the progress of the American West Coast
whaling industry and assisted in other ways.
I cannot mention, individually, all the gunners who have entertained me
ashore and afloat, but the kindness of Captains H. G. Melsom, Fred Olsen
and Y. E. Andersen I shall never forget. Captain Melsom has also read
portions of the manuscript of this book and in criticism has afforded me
the benefit of his long experience and keen observation.
My wife, Yvette Borup Andrews, has transcribed practically all of this
book from my dictation and has assisted in numberless other ways
throughout its preparation, and to her my thanks are due.
Lastly, I wish to express my gratitude for material assistance
throughout the work upon cetaceans to Dr. Frederic A. Lucas, Director of
the Museum; Dr. J. A. Allen, Dr. Herman C. Bumpus, Messrs. George H.
Sherwood, (late) George S. Bowdoin and Mr. and Mrs. Charles L.
Bernheimer.
ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS,
American Museum of Natural History,
New York City.
_February 8, 1916._
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PAGE
The development of shore whaling and its progress throughout the
world—The floating factory—A modern shore station—The ship,
harpoon-gun and apparatus—What shore whaling is doing for
science 1
CHAPTER I
MY FIRST WHALE HUNT
Making ready for the hunt—Three humpbacks sighted—The first
kill—Inflating the whale—Cutting in a whale by
machinery—Disposition of the parts 22
CHAPTER II
HOW A HUMPBACK DIVES AND SPOUTS
Diving—How far down whales can go—Spouting—Construction of the
blowholes 38
CHAPTER III
AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE IN ALASKA
A fruitless chase of two humpbacks—Another humpback sighted—It
bursts from the water half under the vessel’s side 46
CHAPTER IV
THE “VOICE” OF WHALES AND SOME INTERESTING HABITS
The voice—How long whales can remain under water—Where whales
sleep—The “double-finned” whale 54
CHAPTER V
THE PLAYFUL HUMPBACK
The whalebone, or baleen—What whales eat and how—Affection for
young—The fighting qualities of humpbacks—Breeding
habits—Nursing the baby whale with milk—A story of whale milking 63
CHAPTER VI
JAPANESE SHORE STATIONS
Studying whales in Japan—Japanese shore stations and their method
of cutting in—Cutting in at night—Whale meat as a food 77
CHAPTER VII
A JAPANESE WHALE HUNT
Hunting sei whales off the coast of North Japan—The whale
runs—Moving pictures—The second whale 91
CHAPTER VIII
CHARGED BY A WILD SEI WHALE
The first sight—The shot—The charge—The death flurry—Sharks 107
CHAPTER IX
HABITS OF THE SEI WHALE
A distinct species—Wandering disposition—Migration—Distinguishing
characteristics—Food—Speed 122
CHAPTER X
A LONG BLUE WHALE CHASE
The whale runs—The ship dragged through the water—A broken harpoon
line—Caught after a day’s chase 129
CHAPTER XI
THE LARGEST ANIMAL THAT EVER LIVED
Weight and size of a blue whale—Why whales grow so large—A
new-born baby 25 feet long—The wonderful strength of a blue
whale—A remarkable hunt described by J. G. Millais 140
CHAPTER XII
WHAT HAS BECOME OF THE WHALE’S LEGS
Watching a whale swim—The flippers and hind-limbs—Ventral
folds—Blubber—A blue whale which followed a ship 24 days 148
CHAPTER XIII
THE GREYHOUND OF THE SEA
A finback hunt in Alaska—A finback struck by two harpoons—Finished
with the lance—A humpback—A finback mother and calf 158
CHAPTER XIV
SHIPS ATTACKED BY WHALES
Sinking the _Sorenson_—Whales attacking ships—Habits of blue and
finback whales—Killing a finback off the Shetland
coast—Wanderings of whales 175
CHAPTER XV
REDISCOVERING A SUPPOSEDLY EXTINCT WHALE
Whales on the Pacific Coast—The devilfish of Korea—Living in
Korea—Theft of bones—My first gray whale 186
CHAPTER XVI
HOW KILLERS TEAR OUT A GRAY WHALE’S TONGUE
Stampeding a herd of gray whales—Cleverness in avoiding
capture—Migrations 197
CHAPTER XVII
SOME HABITS OF THE GRAY WHALE
What gray whales eat—Affection—Diseases—Parasites—Hair 207
CHAPTER XVIII
THE WOLF OF THE SEA
Captain Scott’s experience with killers—Killers in the
Antarctic—The swordfish and thresher 215
CHAPTER XIX
A STRANGE GIANT OF THE OCEAN
The giant sperm
whale—Spermaceti—Ambergris—Teeth—Scrimshawing—Food—Size—Blowing
and Diving—Sperms off the Japan coast—Ferocity—Length of life in
whales 224
CHAPTER XX
A DEEP-SEA SPERM WHALE HUNT
Old-time whaling—Killing with a hand lance—“Diary of a Whaling
Cruise,” by Mr. Slocum 238
CHAPTER XXI
THE RIGHT WHALE AND BOWHEAD
The beginning of whaling—The right whale and bowhead—Valuable
whalebone—Right whales killed with the harpoon-gun—How bowheads
are hunted—The Eskimo whalers—A right whale captured at
Amagansett, Long Island 245
CHAPTER XXII
THE BOTTLENOSE WHALE AND HOW IT IS HUNTED
Hunting the bottlenose whale—Habits of the
bottlenose—Peculiarities of the ziphioid whales—Teeth of
Layard’s and Gray’s whales—Skulls—Existing ziphioid whales the
last survivors of an ancient race 258
CHAPTER XXIII
HUNTING WHITE WHALES IN THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER
Porpoises and dolphins—Hunting white whales in the St. Lawrence
River 267
CHAPTER XXIV
THE BOTTLENOSE PORPOISE IN CAPTIVITY
A bottlenose porpoise fishery at Cape Hatteras—“The Porpoise in
Captivity,” by Dr. Charles H. Townsend 278
CHAPTER XXV
THE BLACKFISH
An exciting blackfish hunt in the Faroe Islands—Habits 291
CHAPTER XXVI
THE PASSING OF THE WHALE
The commercial extermination of the right whale—Capture of the
bowhead—“Whaling in Newfoundland,” by Dr. F. A. Lucas—The
American Pacific coast—Sub-Antarctic whaling—Japan—Needed
legislation 296
APPENDIX
Classification of the Cetacea—Diagnoses of the whales described in
this book—The skeleton of the Cetacea—Adaptation as shown by the
Cetacea 307
INDEX 323
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A modern shore whaling station at Kyuquot, Vancouver Island, B. C. 9
The _Orion_ with three humpback whales at Sechart, Vancouver
Island 10
The harpoon-gun on the _Rex Maru_ 13
The harpoon is tipped with a hollow point called the “bomb,” which
is filled with powder and ignited by a time fuse 15
The harpoon after it has been fired into the body of a whale 15
A trial shot with the harpoon-gun 16
A near view as the gun is fired at a target 18
Captain Balcom at the gun on the _Orion_ 23
Loading the harpoon-gun 26
Model of a humpback whale in the American Museum of Natural
History 28
“The man in the barrel called down, ‘Whales on the port bow’!” 29
“Two men with long-handled knives began to cut off the lobes of
the tail” 32
“A hollow, spear-pointed tube of steel ... was jabbed well down
into the whale’s abdomen, the engines started, and the animal
slowly filled with air” 34
Flensing a whale at one of the Vancouver Island stations 36
A humpback whale “sounding” 39
A humpback whale with a very white breast 40
“The tail of the humpback as the animal ‘sounds’ looks like a
great butterfly which has alighted upon the water” 43
“The flukes of a big humpback just disappearing below the surface
on the starboard side” 47
“The captain swung the vessel’s nose into just the right position
and they appeared close beside the starboard bow” 49
“Scrambling up, I ... snapped the camera at the huge body partly
hidden by the boat” 51
Bringing in a humpback at the end of the day’s hunt 53
“Suddenly, not more than two hundred fathoms in front of the ship,
four humpbacks spouted and began to feed” 58
Two humpback whales swimming close together at the surface 61
A humpback whale “lobtailing” 65
The tongue of a humpback whale, which has been forced out of the
animal’s mouth by air pumped into the body to keep it afloat 68
Pulling the barnacles off a humpback whale 71
A humpback partly in the water at the station in North Japan 73
The result of a single day’s hunt 76
“In some instances the whales are drawn out upon the slip in the
Norwegian way” 78
“She was listing far to starboard and we could see the huge flukes
of a blue whale ... waving at her bow” 80
“A steel wire cable was looped about the tail just in front of the
flukes, and the huge carcass drawn slowly upward over the end of
the wharf” 81
“Section by section the carcass was cut apart and drawn upward to
fall into the hands of the men on the wharf and be sliced into
great blocks two or three feet square” 83
“Transverse incisions were made in the portion of the body
remaining in the water, a hook was fastened to a blanket piece
and as the blubber was torn off by the winch the carcass rolled
over and over” 85
The inner side of a strip of blubber as it is being torn from a
whale 87
“What ... remains is first tried out to extract the oil, then
chipped by means of hand knives, and dried in the sun for
fertilizer” 88
Whale meat on the washing platforms ready to be sent to market 89
The whaling station at Aikawa, North Japan 92
A sei whale on the slip at Aikawa 93
The spout of a sei whale 94
“He ... would sometimes swim just under the surface with only the
tip of the dorsal fin exposed” 95
“I pressed the button of the camera as the broad back came into
view” 97
The sei whale 98
“The winch was then started and the whale drawn slowly toward the
ship” 99
A sei whale at Aikawa, Japan 101
“‘There’s a whale dead ahead. He spouted six times’” 102
“The click of the camera and the crash of the gun sounding at
almost the same instant” 103
“We were just off Kinka-san at half-past six, and by seven were
blowing the whistle at the entrance to the bay” 105
“We hunted them for two hours, trying first one and then the
other—they had separated—without once getting near enough even
for pictures” 107
“He was running fast but seldom stayed down long, his high
sickle-shaped dorsal fin cutting the surface first in one
direction, then in another” 108
“Always the center of a screaming flock of birds which sometimes
swept downward in a cloud, dipping into the waves and rising
again, the water flashing in myriads of crystal drops from their
brown wings” 109
A sei whale showing a portion of the soft fatty tongue 110
“In the mirror of my camera I could see the enormous gray head
burst from the water, the blowholes open and send forth a cloud
of vapor, and the slim back draw itself upward, the water
streaming from the high fin as it cut the surface” 112
“Then turning about with his entire head projecting from the water
like the bow of a submarine, he swam parallel with the ship” 115
“I was ... gazing down into the blue water and waiting to catch a
glimpse of the body as it rose, when suddenly a dark shape
glided swiftly under the ship’s bow” 116
“Two boat hooks were jabbed into the shark’s gills and it was
hauled along the ship’s side until it could be pulled on deck” 118
Making the sei whale fast to the bow of the ship 119
A sei whale swimming directly away from the ship 120
“For many years the sei whale was supposed to be the young of
either the blue or the finback whale, and it was not until 1828
that it was recognized by science as being a distinct species” 122
A sei whale fast to the ship 123
A blue whale, eighty-five feet long, at Kyuquot, Vancouver Island 125
“In the water the sei whale may be easily recognized at a
considerable distance by the form of the spout and the high
dorsal fin which is prominently displayed as the animal swims at
the surface” 126
“The sei whale has a roving disposition and wanders restlessly
from one coast to another, sometimes ... suddenly appearing in
waters where it has never before been known” 127
“Suddenly a cloud of white vapor shot into our very faces and a
great dripping body rounded out under the ship’s bow” 129
“For ten minutes the silence continued, then the Captain said in a
quiet voice: ‘There he is, far away on the beam!’” 131
“I ran on deck just as the great brute rounded up right beside the
bow and the gun flashed out in the darkness” 134
“The rope attached to the first harpoon floated backward in
dangerous proximity to the propeller and it required some
careful work to get the animal fast to the bow and the line
safely out of the way” 137
Bringing the blue whale to the station 138
A blue whale at Aikawa, Japan 141
An eighty-two foot blue whale at Vancouver Island 142
The open mouth of a blue whale 144
The upper jaw of a blue whale, showing the mat of hairlike
bristles on the inner edges of the baleen plates 145
Posterior view of a blue whale on the slip at Aikawa, Japan 149
The flipper of a humpback whale 150
After the humpback’s flipper has been stripped of blubber 151
The folds on the throat of a finback whale 152
A cross section of the folds on the breast of a humpback whale 154
The eye and ear of a blue whale 155
The skull of an eighty-foot blue whale, the skeleton of which was
sent to the American Museum of Natural History from Japan 157
“The finback whale is the greyhound of the sea ... for its
beautiful slender body is built like a racing yacht and the
animal can surpass the speed of the fastest ocean steamship” 159
“I was standing on the bridge with the camera focused and pressed
the button as they rose to the surface” 160
“An instant later came the crash of the harpoon-gun and the
nearest whale, throwing its flukes and half its body out of the
water, turned head down in a long dive” 162
The finback whale reaches a length of about seventy-five feet 163
“I had climbed to the barrel at the masthead ... and was watching
the little pram as it neared the dying finback” 165
Marked with a flag and left to float until the end of the day’s
hunt 166
The whale is made fast to the bow by a heavy chain and the ship
starts on the long tow to the station 167
“Sorenson hesitated, swung the gun a little to one side and fired” 170
Bringing in a finback 171
A finback lying in the water at Aikawa just before it is “cut in” 172
Drawing up a finback at Aikawa, Japan 173
The long slender body of a finback lying on its side; the outer
edges of the whalebone plates in the mouth are well shown 175
The spout of a finback whale 177
A finback whale “sounding” or taking the “big dive” 179
When sounding the finback sinks lower and lower until the dorsal
fin disappears; this is the last part of the body to leave the
surface 180
A finback taking an “intermediate” or “surface” dive 182
The upper jaw of a finback whale, showing the bristles on the
inner edges of the baleen plates 184
The side view of a model of a gray whale in the American Museum of
Natural History prepared under the direction of the author from
studies made in Korea 188
A ventral view of the gray whale model 189
The whaling station at Ulsan, Korea 190
“At the port bow hung the dark flukes of a whale, the sight of
which made me breathe hard with excitement” 191
Cutting in a gray whale 193
“When the winch began slowly to lift the huge black body out of
the water, a very short examination told me that the _kaku
kujira_ really was the long-lost gray whale” 194
Cutting through the body of a gray whale 198
The posterior part of a gray whale 200
The flukes of a gray whale 203
A strip of blubber from the back of a gray whale with the short
flipper at the end of it 205
Captain Melsom about to lance a gray whale from the pram 209
After the death stroke 211
“The killer is the wolf of the sea and like the land wolves hunts
in packs of twenty or more individuals which will attack and
devour almost anything that swims” 216
A posterior view of a killer showing the high dorsal fin 217
An anterior view of a killer 222
A sperm whale lying on the slip at Kyuquot, Vancouver Island 224
Stripping the blubber from the head of a sperm whale 226
“The sperm ... has from eighteen to twenty-five massive teeth on
each side of the lower jaw; these fit into sockets in the upper
jaw and assist in holding the whale’s food” 228
Cutting away the “junk” from the “case” of a sperm whale 229
An interior view of a young male sperm whale 231
The tongue of a sperm whale; it is strikingly different from the
enormous flabby tongue of the whalebone whales 233
The head of the sixty-foot sperm whale, the skeleton of which was
sent to the American Museum of Natural History, from Japan 234
A posterior view of the head of the Museum’s sperm whale 236
A female sperm whale at Aikawa, Japan 239
A posterior view of the Museum’s sperm whale 241
Cutting in a sperm whale at sea by the old-time method 242
A model of a right whale in the American Museum of Natural History 246
A small (calf) right whale on the beach at Amagansett, L. I. 247
Stripping the blubber from the large right whale at Amagansett 250
The Amagansett whale covered with ice after the blubber had been
stripped off the carcass 252
“We had to stand in freezing water while cutting away at the huge
mass of flesh which encased the bones” 254
The baleen of a right whale 256
The white whale, or white porpoise 268
The posterior part of a white whale 271
“A big white fellow slipped under only a hundred feet away, headed
directly for us” 273
“We beached it in a sandy cove, where the gray rock wall rose in a
jagged mass, making a perfect background for the white body, its
purity intensified by the bright red streaks of blood which
dripped from the bullet holes” 276
“They are taken with a net of extra heavy twine, about 1,000 feet
long, which is placed about 200 yards outside the line of surf
and parallel with it” 279
“Thirty-three porpoises were beached in the haul of the seine
which provided our specimens” 281
“Immediately after their capture at Hatteras ... the porpoises
were placed for 24 hours in a deep salt water pond, just back of
the ocean beach” 285
“The captive porpoises are very lively, and keep swimming day and
night, rising to blow usually with each circuit of the pool” 288
A school of blackfish at Cape Cod 293
A Pacific blackfish (_Globicephalus scammoni_) 294
A skeleton of a finback whale in the American Museum of Natural
History 303
WHALE HUNTING
WITH GUN AND CAMERA
INTRODUCTION
THE DEVELOPMENT OF SHORE WHALING
Although the commercial products of whales have contributed largely to
the comfort and welfare of the civilized world for over a thousand
years, never have the animals been of greater economic importance than
they are today.
It is true that the magnificent fleet of ships which had its birth in
the New England States has passed away, and that the smoke of
cotton-mills now drifts over the famous old city of New Bedford where
once the harbor was filled with the towering masts of scores of whaling
vessels.
But as one chapter of whaling history closed another opened and the
scene shifted to Norway where Tønsberg, a little city in Christiania
Bay, has become the Alpha and Omega of the modern whaling alphabet. It
was there, in 1864, that Svend Foyn invented the harpoon-gun and brought
into existence the sturdy little steamships which were destined to take
the place of New England’s fleet, destroyed by the Confederate raiders
during the Civil War.
Although despised by the “deep-water” whalers of New Bedford,
nevertheless shore whaling has rapidly grown into a world industry which
today, in the height of its prosperity, yields a revenue of nearly
$70,000,000 a year.
In the old days only three species, the sperm, bowhead and right whale,
were hunted and until Svend Foyn invented the harpoon-gun the fin
whales, of less commercial value, were seldom captured. Their yield of
oil was so small, and the whalebone so short and coarse, that if these
products alone were utilized they were not worth the trouble of killing.
Moreover, the great speed of the animals in the water and their tendency
to sink when dead made them unacceptable to the men who hunted in a
small boat with a hand harpoon and lance.
With the development of steam whalers the situation was changed, for
they made possible the capture of “finners” in sufficient numbers to
warrant the erection of stations at certain points on the shore, near
the feeding grounds of the animals, where the huge carcasses could be
brought in and converted into commercial products.
The perfection of the harpoon-gun and steam whale ships came only after
long discouragement and persistent effort upon the part of Svend Foyn.
Foyn was born in Tønsberg in 1809, and died there in 1894. He went to
sea at fourteen in the merchant service and later entered the sealing
fleet where he eventually made considerable money. It was while sealing
that he conceived the idea of capturing the fin whales with a bomb
harpoon, and 360,000 _kronen_ were spent in experimenting before he
succeeded in building a suitable gun and vessel.
In 1864 he went to Finmark for the first time in the small ship _Spes et
Fides_, but caught nothing and was equally unsuccessful in the two
following years. In 1867 he secured the first whales at Vardö, in
Varangerfjord, and the next season killed 30. In 1869 he went north with
two ships but got only 17 whales, and in 1870 only 36. It was in this
year that at Kirkeö the first factory for converting whale flesh into
guano, or fertilizer, was built and successfully operated. Foyn’s best
years were between 1871 and 1880, when 506 whales were killed, having a
value of about 2,000,000 kronen.
In 1877 a competitive company began work in Jarfjord, and in 1881 two
others started at Vardö and two in West Finmark near the North Cape. In
1882 Norway had 8 companies and 12 ships, and five years later 20
companies and 35 ships. In 1890 the whales began to show the effect of
continual persecution, decreasing rapidly in numbers, and five companies
shifted their operations to Iceland. In 1896 the 18 ships hunting there
killed 792 whales, yielding 49,500 barrels of oil; in the same season 29
ships off the Finmark coast caught 1,212 whales.
From the very beginning the Norwegian fishermen were hostile to the
shore whalers, for they believed that the whales drove the fish toward
the land and into their nets and that their industry was being greatly
injured by the slaughter of the animals. Although it has been clearly
demonstrated that whales have no direct influence upon the movements of
fish, nevertheless in 1903 the Störthing prohibited shore whaling
altogether.
The efforts of the Norwegian whalers had been watched with interest in
other parts of the world and in 1897 shore whaling began in
Newfoundland; there it thrived amazingly, and by 1905 eighteen stations
were in operation upon the island and in its immediate vicinity.
In 1905 the first shore station on the Pacific coast of America was
built at Sechart, in Barclay Sound, on the west side of Vancouver
Island. This factory was under the management of the Pacific Whaling
Company, of Victoria, B. C., and although their first season was not a
success, a revision of the methods of handling the carcasses resulted in
a lucrative business being established. In 1907 a second fine station
was erected at Kyuquot, one hundred miles north of Sechart.
About this time the Tyee Company was formed under the direction of
Captains Hibberd and Barneson, and a station was constructed at
Murderer’s Cove, on the southern end of Admiralty Island, Alaska. The
hunting here was entirely conducted in the inland waters of Frederick
Sound, and after a few seasons the whales became so reduced in numbers
that operations had to be transferred to the open sea about Cape
Ommaney, sixty miles away; the Tyee Company was later re-formed as the
United States Whaling Company.
In 1910 the Pacific Whaling Company was sold to the Canadian North
Pacific Fisheries, Ltd., with stations at Rose and Naden Harbor, Queen
Charlotte Islands, and Bay City, Washington, besides the two Vancouver
factories. Another establishment, known as the Alaska Whaling Company,
started work at Unimak Pass, Aleutian Islands, Alaska, and a Norwegian
firm built a station on the Pacific coast of Mexico.
About the time Newfoundland became interested in shore whaling, the
Russians and Japanese started operations along the coasts of Siberia and
Japan, respectively. The Russian industry there was abruptly ended at
the time of the Russian-Japanese war and has not since been resumed, but
the Japanese have continued their work with great success and today vie
with the Norwegians in the development of shore whaling, for by their
methods almost every particle of a whale’s carcass is utilized for human
consumption.
The Toyo Hogei Kabushiki Kaisha, of Osaka, is the largest whaling
company in the world, owning fifteen stations and twice as many ships,
and conducting operations in almost every part of the Japanese Empire.
The South African industry was founded by Mr. John Bryde, of Sandefjord,
Norway, who in 1909 erected the first station in Durban and another in
the following year in Saldanha Bay on the west coast. Stations have also
been built at several places in Australia and Tasmania, and in New
Zealand humpback whales are being caught in wire nets. This method is so
unique that a description of it here may be of interest.
The station is owned by the Messrs. Cook Brothers and is located south
of the Bay of Islands, at the village of Wangamumu. On their annual
migrations the humpback whales often pass through a narrow channel just
under Cape Brett, which separates a cluster of outlying rocks from the
mainland, and makes an ideal spot to place the nets. Having a stretch of
five hundred or six hundred feet and a depth of two hundred, the nets,
meshed to seven feet and made of three-eighths-inch wire rope, are hung
on strong cables buoyed by huge floats and drogues. When a whale is
sighted from the coast, steam launches place the three nets, which are
allowed to float loose, the principle being to so hamper the whale by
the entangling wires that it falls an easy prey to the hunters. What
happens when a whale is caught can best be told in the words of an
eye-witness.
When the nets are in position the launches and attendant whale-boats,
with their crews, take up their stations at some distance to watch for
the upheaval and dancing float-line that marks the “striking” of a
whale.... Suddenly a sort of shudder runs through the sea. There are
tossing billows and wild commotions away by the bobbing float-lines.
“Hurrah! She’s struck!” is the cry.
Away go the boats, each racing to be first “fast” to the struggling
“fish” and so earn the bonus that rewards the winning crew.
A mighty gray-black head, entangled in a clinging web of wire, rears
from out the water. Up, up, it goes till a huge bulk of body towers a
good fifty feet in the air, its side fins thrashing wildly in a
smother of foam. It curves in an arch and then, like an arrow, down go
whale and net together for the “sound.”
Not for long, though. The upward drag of the bunched net-floats, and
its necessity for breath, bring the “fish” quickly to the surface—a
spouting, snorting, wallowing mass; mad with rage, wild with terror of
the unknown, clinging horror that envelopes it.
Bang! bang! go the guns from each boat, in quick succession. Both
irons are home and well placed. A wild quiver of flukes and fins, and
the whale either “sounds” again or “races” along the surface, towing
the boats after it at express speed. But the net holds fast, and at
each new effort for freedom the victim becomes more hopelessly “wound
up” than before.
Soon, exhausted with futile struggling, the whale comes to rest, and
there is a momentary cessation of the mad fight as the leviathan
pauses for breath. Huge, panting air-gasps are plainly audible aboard
our launch at a distance of half a mile.
The crews are quick to seize the opportunity. With the lance-men ready
in the bow, the boats sweep in, one on either side. “Steady with the
lance.” “Now!” Eight-foot steel blades drive deep for the heart behind
the pectoral fins.
A shiver, a hissing spout of water and blood, a wallow and roll of the
huge, wire-tangled carcass, flashes of red and white foam in the
sunlight, and the black heave of a twenty-foot fin that for one dread
instant, scimitar-shaped, a falling wall of bone and sinew, hangs over
the boat and its occupants. The boat’s crew back out like lightning,
just in time. Down crashes the mighty flail, missing its blow by a
barefoot. There is a roar and clap of many thunders, and jetting
spurts of spray leap high into the blue.
The boats, backed clear, still hang to the lines, the crews watching
events and waiting the end. It may be that the dying whale will
“sound” again, or “race” in a final effort.
But, no. The lances have gone home. A few more wallows’ of despair,
the great tail-flukes thrash the water with lessening force, and
presently the huge body, inert, lifeless, lies quietly on the surface.
Hawsers are made fast to the dead whale, and while the boats return to
their stations to watch the remaining nets it is towed by the launch
to the flensing jetty ashore.[1]
Footnote 1:
D. W. O. Fagan in the _Wide World Magazine_, pp. 423–432.
Since the beginning of the last century the sub-antarctic islands known
as the Shetlands, South Orkneys, Falklands, South Georgia and Kerguelen
have proved to be the greatest whaling grounds of modern times, and are
today yielding nearly $35,000,000 per year—just one-half of the total
world revenue derived from the shore whaling industry. On South Georgia
alone, eight companies with headquarters in Norway, England, Scotland,
and Argentina are in operation, and all the other islands have one or
more stations or “floating factories.”
In South America there are several stations on the coast of Brazil,
Argentina, and Chile, and operations are also being carried on at
Spitzbergen, the Faroe Islands, Shetland, the Hebrides, Greenland, and
the Galapagos Islands. Shore whaling is, therefore, a world industry in
the truest sense of the word.
[Illustration:
A modern shore whaling station at Kyuquot, Vancouver Island, B. C. The
flensing slip, carcass platform and wharf are shown in the
foreground. In the background is the manager’s dwelling.
]
When it was discovered that in certain localities the whales were being
rapidly killed off and the vessels had to hunt so far from the stations
as to make the trip unprofitable, the “floating factory” was devised.
This is a large steamship of five or six thousand tons which is fitted
with huge boiling vats and can be moved about from place to place as the
whales themselves travel. Usually two or three steamers operate from one
floating factory for formerly when only the blubber was used and the
carcass was turned adrift, one ship could not supply enough whales to
make the work profitable. These factories are used most extensively on
the South Atlantic grounds.
[Illustration:
The _Orion_ with three humpback whales at Sechart, Vancouver Island.
]
The modern shore station is usually situated in a bay or cove not far
from the open sea. The flensing slip and carcass platforms are the most
striking portions of the establishment, and these are surrounded by
boiling vats, the machine for drying the flesh, the engine house, wharf,
bunk houses, offices, and the dwelling of the manager, the whole forming
an imposing group of buildings.
Many of the whaling stations have very comfortable quarters and those on
the bleak islands of the South Atlantic are even luxurious. The
manager’s house is often beautifully furnished, with electric light,
bathrooms, and even steam heat, so that when one becomes accustomed to
the all-pervading odor from the “dryer,” the station is a delightful
place at which to work. Although each one differs in respect to food,
nevertheless the meals are for the most part excellent, for the managers
realize that if their men are to be contented they must be well fed.
The whaling ships usually return to the station each night and, if one
is free from seasickness, furnish a rather inviting home for a short
stay. They are trim, high-bowed vessels of about one hundred tons
burden, ninety to one hundred feet long, and have a speed of from nine
to twelve knots per hour. Round-bottomed to facilitate speedy
manipulation, they ride the water like a cork but roll and pitch almost
beyond belief in the slightest seaway.
Most striking of all the upper works is the harpoon-gun mounted upon a
heavy iron support at the very bow. It is a short cannon, 51½ inches
long, with a 3-inch bore, and turns easily upon a swivel up and down and
from side to side.
At the butt end, under a short wooden handle, is an iron lever, the
trigger, which when pressed upward explodes the gun. The charge is 300
to 375 drams of very coarse, black powder which is sewed up in a
cheesecloth sack and rammed home from the muzzle; then come wads of
oakum, hard rubber or cork, and wool, after which the harpoon, well
greased, is pushed in and hammered solidly into place with a wooden
mallet. Some guns require more powder than others but if too much is
used the iron will be bent as it leaves the muzzle.
The harpoon is 76 inches in length, and has a double shaft, at the end
of which are 4 twelve-inch flukes, or barbs; these are tied to the shaft
but spread widely upon entering the whale’s body and prevent the iron
from drawing out. The harpoon is tipped with a hollow point, called the
“bomb,” which is filled with powder and ignited by a time fuse set for
the desired interval. Three or four seconds after the gun is fired the
bomb bursts, frequently killing the whale almost instantly.
The harpoon is made of the best Swedish iron and weighs one hundred and
ten pounds. After it has been fired into the body of a whale it is
usually badly bent and twisted, but the tough, elastic iron can be
straightened by the station blacksmith and made as good as new.
[Illustration:
The harpoon-gun on the _Rex Maru_. The gun is loaded and the harpoon
is shown projecting from the muzzle; coiled on the iron pan below is
the rope which is carried with the iron in its flight. The winch may
be seen in front of the bridge at the left of the picture.
]
A large ring slides easily along the double shaft of the harpoon, and to
this one end of a five-inch rope is fastened. Forty or fifty fathoms of
a somewhat smaller line, called the “forerunner,” are coiled on a heavy
iron pan just under the gun, giving slack to be carried with the harpoon
as it flies through the air.
From the pan the rope passes backward over a roller in the bow of the
ship to a double winch just in front of the bridge and down into the
hold, where a thousand fathoms (6,000 feet), or more, are carried. By
means of the winch the whale is “played” as one would use a reel on a
fishing rod, and after the animal has been killed it is hauled to the
surface and fastened to the side of the ship.
The harpoon lines are made of the finest Italian hemp and tested for a
breaking point of eighteen tons, but the forerunner is tested for only
fifteen or sixteen tons. Some, made especially for use in hunting the
giant blue whale, will resist a strain of twenty-eight tons. If a tight
line is kept and there are no sudden jerks the ropes seldom break.
Not far beyond the winch the mast is stepped, bearing near its peak a
small barrel, called the “crow’s nest,” from which the whales are
sighted.
The vessels carry a crew of ten or twelve men beside the captain, who is
usually also the gunner. In Japan vessels are required by the coasting
laws to have a Japanese in command, and consequently a native captain is
employed who takes the ship in and out of the harbor. He is really the
pilot, and the vessel is turned over to the Norwegian gunner as soon as
the open sea is reached.
[Illustration:
The harpoon is tipped with a hollow point called the “bomb,” which is
filled with powder and ignited by a time fuse. The barbs, or flukes,
are tied to the shaft of the iron.
]
[Illustration:
The harpoon after it has been fired into the body of a whale. The bomb
has exploded and the shaft is bent.
]
Although in various parts of the world I have met two or three gunners
who were not Norwegians, there are not many such. From their Viking
ancestors the Scandinavians have inherited their love for the sea and,
since Svend Foyn’s time, Tønsberg has sent forth her sons to the
whaleships much as did New Bedford half a century ago. Thus the present
generation has grown up as the industry developed, and from boys to men
they have seen it in all its phases and learned not only how to shoot a
whale but how to handle it afterward, which is fully as important.
[Illustration:
A trial shot with the harpoon-gun. The harpoon line is shown, and
three men may be seen in the barrel at the mast head.
]
Even as the harpoon-gun brought with it a new era of whaling, so it gave
to the scientist undreamed-of opportunities for the study of cetaceans.
Until shore stations were established, few indeed were the naturalists
who had examined more than five or six whales during their entire lives.
These carcasses were usually of whales which had met with some accident
at sea and had been cast up on the beach; almost always the animals had
been dead for days before they came under the notice of a competent
scientific observer, and had lost much of their original proportions and
color. A whale’s body begins to generate gases at an astounding rate as
soon as the animal is dead, and within a very few hours becomes so
swelled and distorted that the true proportions are almost lost. Even
trained naturalists did not always take this fact into consideration,
and their descriptions and figures were consequently notable chiefly for
their inaccuracy.
It is only within a very few years that it has been generally recognized
how rapidly cetaceans change color when dead, and often in scientific
papers whales are described as “black” which are never black in life. By
far the greater number of whales and dolphins have various shades of
slate, or gray, on the upper parts, and if exposed to the sun for a few
hours these portions turn jet black.
Again, there is in all cetaceans great variation among individuals of
the same species, and whales from the same school or “pod” may differ
widely in proportions and general color. Some may be long and slender,
others short and thick; one may have a light gray back and pure white
underparts, while a second, taken from the same herd, is dark slate
above and strongly shaded below; and, moreover, the skeletons often vary
almost as greatly as the external characters.
[Illustration:
A near view as the gun is fired at a target. The harpoon rope is
visible through the smoke.
]
Quite naturally when these extremes came under the notice of a scientist
who had, perhaps, seen but three or four whales in his entire life, they
were at once judged to be representative of different species and were
given new names. This course cannot be wholly condemned, for under
existing conditions it was almost the only one to be followed. Although
it did put on record many valuable facts concerning the history of the
animals, it also resulted in multiplying nominal species to such an
extent that the work of later investigators in separating the valid from
the invalid has become a herculean task; quite false conclusions as to
the distribution of the various whales were also drawn, which only a
vast amount of labor and study can rectify.
The number of whales taken during a season varies greatly with the
locality, but at one of the Vancouver Island stations when I was there
in 1908, three hundred and twenty-five were killed in seven months by
one ship. In a single week twenty-six whales were captured, and on June
10, the _S. S. St. Lawrence_, Captain Larsen, brought in four humpbacks,
one blue whale, and one finback.
Whales are such enormous creatures that the ordinary methods used in the
study of other animals cannot be applied to them. Instead of having
actual specimens before one for comparison, a naturalist must depend
almost entirely upon photographs, notes, measurements, and descriptions.
Until shore whaling began such data were rare and most unsatisfactory.
When a whale is cut in as it lies along the side of a ship, it is never
possible to see the entire animal at once; it is almost impossible to
secure photographs of real value for comparative work, and even
measurements can be taken only with difficulty and not without a large
percentage of error. Internal anatomical investigations are out of the
question, because as soon as the blubber has been stripped off the
carcass is turned adrift.
By the establishment of shore stations these difficulties have been
largely eliminated. The whales are usually drawn entirely out of the
water upon the slip where, before the blubber is stripped off, they can
be measured, photographed, and described. As they are being cut in it is
possible to make a fairly detailed study of the fresh skeleton and other
parts of the anatomy—if the investigator is not afraid of blood and
grease. Moreover the great number of whales of a single species brought
to the stations allows a study of individual variation, which evidently
is greater among some of the large cetaceans than in other groups of
mammals.
Since shore stations are located in widely separated parts of the world,
they have facilitated investigations of the distribution, life history,
and relationships of large whales, which otherwise would have been
impossible. Thus it is obvious that a naturalist who is fortunate enough
to stay for some time at a modern factory has opportunities for original
work such as were undreamed of before the days of steam whaling.
The directors of the companies, and the managers of the stations, have
usually been glad to assist in the study of the animals which form the
basis of their industry, and have generously extended the courtesies of
their ships and stations. In some instances they have gone to
considerable trouble to secure specimens which could be prepared and
presented to museums in various parts of the world for exhibition and
osteological study. It is deeply to be regretted that the wholesale
slaughter of whales will inevitably result in their early commercial
extinction, but meanwhile science is profiting by the golden
opportunities given for the study of these strange and interesting
animals. Thus, the old saying that “it is an ill wind that blows good to
no one” applies very decidedly to the whaling industry.
CHAPTER I
MY FIRST WHALE HUNT
Great lumbering swells of gray water rolling out of the fog from the
wide sweep of the open Pacific were the picture I saw through the round,
brass-bound frame of the porthole on the _S. S. Tees_. It was the last
of May, but the cold of winter still hung in the sea air, and even when
we drew in toward the foot of the mountains which poked their fir-clad
summits far up into the mist clouds, I shivered in my heavy coat and
tramped about on deck to keep warm. Finally when we were right under the
towering mountain’s walls, we swung abruptly into smooth water, the long
roll and pitch of the ship slackened and died, and we were quietly
plowing our way up river-like Barclay Sound, which, from the west coast,
cuts into the very heart of Vancouver Island.
It was hardly six o’clock in the morning when the wail of the ship’s
siren whistle shot into the deep mountain valley where the station of
the (former) Pacific Whaling Company is located at the one-time Indian
village of Sechart. With a great deal of curiosity I strained my eyes
through the fog to study the group of white frame buildings which
straggled up from the water’s edge back into the valley.
[Illustration:
Captain Balcom at the gun on the _Orion_.
]
I could see only one or two Indians, clad in dirty shirts and overalls,
loafing about placidly staring at the ship, but by the time she had been
warped in and the winch had started to swing aboard the great oil casks
which lined the wharf, two pleasant-faced men appeared, one of whom I
learned was Mr. Quinton, the station manager; to him my letters were
presented. With him was Mr. Rolls, the secretary of the station, who
showed me to a room at the house. I got out of my “store clothes” and
came down to the wharf, now lined with men of six nationalities—for
Norwegians, Americans, Newfoundlanders, Indians, Chinese, and Japanese
are employed at these west coast stations.
Tied up to the side of the pier was the ship _Orion_. She was typical of
all steam whalers, had been built in Norway and made, under her own
steam, the long stormy passage across the Atlantic to Newfoundland. A
few years of work there and she started for the Pacific around the Horn,
beating her way northward to the scene of her present work at Sechart.
The _Orion_ had not gone to sea that morning, for the fog outside made
it useless to hunt; even if the ship could have kept her bearings in the
mist it would have been impossible to see the spout of a whale, or to
follow the animal if one were found.
The crew were all ashore, and I met Captain Balcom, an alert young
Canadian, and one of the few successful gunners who was not a Norwegian.
He offered at once to take me “outside” with him when the weather
cleared but said we would see only humpbacks, for the blue whales and
finbacks had not yet appeared on these hunting grounds. At Kyuquot, a
station only one hundred miles farther up the coast, blue whales and
finbacks were taken with the humpbacks in March as soon as the station
opened, while at Sechart they did not come until July.
When the station was first located at Sechart, humpbacks were frequently
taken in Barclay Sound but were soon all killed, and others did not take
their places. At the time I was there, the _Orion_ seldom found whales
less than thirty miles at sea. She usually arrived about two o’clock in
the morning, dropped her catch, and in half or three-quarters of an hour
was again on the way out in order to reach the feeding grounds shortly
after daylight.
I went aboard with Captain Balcom at ten o’clock and turned in on the
Mate’s bunk. The cabin was small, but not uncomfortable, and it was not
long before I was asleep. I did not even hear the ropes being cast off
in the morning and only waked when the boy came down to call the
Captain. We were well down the Sound when I came on deck, and were
steaming swiftly along among little wooded islets half shrouded in gray
fog. Far ahead the ugly, foam-flecked rocks of Cape Beale stretched out
in a dangerous line guarding the entrance to the Straits of Juan de
Fuca; beyond was a sheer wall of mist shutting us out from the open sea.
The Captain was sure it was only a land fog hanging along the coastline,
and that we would soon run through it into clear air. As the ship rose
to the long swells of gray water and burrowed her way straight ahead
deeper and deeper into the mist, everyone on deck was drenched and
shivering. Fifteen minutes of steaming at full speed and the gray
curtain began to thin; soon we ran out of it altogether.
There was not a big sea running, but the little _Orion_ was dancing
about like a cork. Balcom said, “It is calm weather so long as she keeps
her decks dry,” and with this rather dubious comfort I settled down to
get used to the tossing as best I could.
Everything was intensely interesting to me, for it was my first trip on
a steam whaler. Already a man had been sent aloft and was unconcernedly
swinging about with glasses at his eyes watching the water ahead. I
learned later, when seasickness was a thing of the past, what a
wonderful view can be had from the crow’s nest. The whole level sea is
laid out below like a relief map and every floating object, even the
smallest birds, shows with startling distinctness. And if it is
comparatively smooth, one can look far down into the water and see a
whale or shark long before it is visible at the surface or to those on
deck.
[Illustration:
Loading the harpoon-gun. “The charge is 300 to 375 drams of very
coarse, black powder which is ... rammed home from the muzzle; then
come wads of okum, hard rubber or cork, after which the harpoon ...
is hammered solidly into place.”
]
Before we left the station, the harpoon-gun had not been loaded. The
muzzle was plugged with a wooden block and the iron rope-pan drawn
upward and tied against the gun’s support. When coming in from the last
trip the vessel had encountered heavy weather, and the rope was taken
off the pan to prevent it from being carried away by a wave and fouling
the propeller. Now as we were nearing the feeding grounds, the Bo’s’n
went forward to load the gun, re-coil the harpoon line, and see that all
was clear and running smoothly.
The men on board were greatly interested in my camera and anxious that
opportunities might be given for pictures. For two hours, with the Chief
Engineer and the Mate, I sat aft on the great coil of towing line, used
only in very heavy weather, listening to stories of the idiosyncrasies
of whales, especially humpbacks. Their firm conviction was that
one—never could guess what a “hump” was going to do—except that it would
be exactly what was least expected.
The Engineer had just finished telling about a big fellow that a few
days before had come up in front of the ship and swam towards it with
his enormous mouth wide open, when the man in the barrel called down,
“Whales on the port bow!”
I jumped as though a bomb had been exploded and grabbed my camera. The
other men took things rather quietly, for the whales were still a long
way off. The Captain tried to show me the spouts but it was several
minutes before I could distinguish the white columns of vapor shooting
up every few seconds.
[Illustration:
Model of a humpback whale in the American Museum of Natural History.
The model was prepared by Mr. James L. Clark, under the direction of
Dr. F. A. Lucas.
]
There were three of them—all humpbacks. On the instant, the dark bodies
slowly rounded into view and three huge, propeller-like tails were
smoothly lifted out of the water, elevated vertically to the surface,
and again drawn below. It is impossible to describe the ease and beauty
of the dive. To look at the heavy body and long, ungainly flippers of a
humpback one would hardly suspect that there could be grace in any
movement, and yet the enormous animals slide under the surface as
smoothly as a water bird.
[Illustration:
“The man in the barrel called down, ‘Whales on the port bow!’”
]
When the flukes came out, the Captain rang for half speed, for the
whales would probably be down several minutes. Turning the wheel over to
the Mate, he went forward to the gun, pushed up the spring which cocked
it, and waited, alert, for the animals to rise.
I had descended with him from the bridge and stood just behind the gun
platform. The ship, her engines stopped, was rolling about on the
mirror-like patches of water left by the whales as they went down. After
ten minutes of waiting three silvery clouds suddenly shot upward a
quarter of a mile away. Instantly the engine signal rang and the ship
swung about, plowing through the water at full speed until the whales
sounded. For two hours this kept on. Each time when we were almost
within range the big fellows would raise themselves a little higher,
arch their backs, and turn downward in a beautiful dive, waving their
huge flukes as though in derision.
I had my notebook and pencil at work as well as the camera but it was
getting pretty difficult to use either. The wind had risen and I was
deathly seasick; even the best sailors lose their “sea legs” when aboard
one of these little eggshell boats after a long period ashore, and mine
were gone completely. The _Orion_ was twisting and writhing about as
though possessed of a demon, and every time she climbed a huge wave to
rock uncertainly a moment on the crest and then plunge headlong down its
smooth, green slope, I was certain she would never rise again. Balcom
was doggedly hanging to the gun, but just after we had both been soaked
by a big sea that came over the ship’s nose he shouted, “If we don’t get
a shot soon we’ll have to leave them.”
At that time we were heading for the whales, which were spouting only a
short distance away. One of them had left the others and seemed to be
feeding. He was swimming at the surface, sometimes under for a second or
two, but never far down. The ship slid nearer and nearer with engines at
dead slow until the huge body disappeared not thirty fathoms away.
“In a minute he’ll come again,” shouted Balcom, feet braced and bending
low over the gun.
I was clinging to a rope just behind him, trying to focus the camera,
but the flying spray made it well-nigh impossible. Suddenly I saw the
Captain’s muscles tighten, the tip of the harpoon drop an inch or two,
and caught a glimpse of a phantom shape rushing upward.
Almost on the instant a blinding cloud of vapor shot into our very
faces, followed by the deafening roar of the gun. I saw the black flukes
whirl upward and fall in one tremendous, smashing blow upon the water;
then the giant figure quivered an instant, straightened out, and slowly
sank. For a moment not a sound was heard on the vessel save the steady
“flop, flop, flop” of the line on the deck as the dead weight of forty
tons dragged it from the winch.
Balcom leaned over the side and saw the rope hanging rigidly from the
ship’s bow. “I must have caught him in the heart,” he said, “and killed
him instantly.”
[Illustration:
“Two men with long-handled knives began to cut off the lobes of the
tail.”
]
As the Captain straightened up he shouted to the Engineer to check the
line. Then began the work of bringing to the surface and inflating the
dead whale. Taking a hitch about a short iron post, the harpoon rope was
slacked and run through a spring pulley-block on the mast, just below
the barrel, to relieve the strain of raising the great body. As the
winch ground in fathom after fathom of line the vessel heeled far over
under the tremendous weight. I was clinging to the ship’s side looking
down into the water and soon saw the shadowy outline of the whale, fins
wide spread, nearing the surface. As it came alongside a lead-weighted
line was thrown over the tail, a rope pulled after it, then a small
chain, and finally the heavy chain by which the carcass was made fast to
the bow.
The winch had not yet stopped when two men with long-handled knives
began to cut off the lobes of the tail to prevent the flukes from
pounding the rail as the body swung up and down in the seaway. Already
other sailors were working at a long coil of small rubber hose, one end
of which was attached to an air pump and the other to a hollow,
spear-pointed tube of steel, perforated along its entire length. This
was jabbed well down into the whale’s abdomen, the engines started, and
the animal slowly filled with air. When the body had been inflated
sufficiently to keep it afloat, the tube was withdrawn and the incision
plugged with oakum.
The other whales were a long way off when the ship was ready to start.
The man in the “top” reported them as far to the south and traveling
fast. As there was little chance of getting another shot that day and
the wind was blowing half a gale, the Captain decided to turn about and
run for the station.
We reached Sechart at 1:30 A. M. and the whale was left floating in the
water, tied to the end of the wharf near a long inclined platform called
the “slip”; then the _Orion_ put out to sea and I went to bed at the
station. I shall never forget my intense surprise next morning when I
saw the humpback “cut in.” Work began at seven o’clock, and as the
Manager had just awakened me, I ran out and did not wait for breakfast,
thinking there would be ample time to eat when the operations were under
way. It soon became evident, however, that there were no breathing
spells when whales were being cut in, and every soul was at his work
until the last scrap of flesh was in the boiling vats.
[Illustration:
“A hollow, spear-pointed tube of steel ... was jabbed well down into
the whale’s abdomen, the engines started, and the animal slowly
filled with air.”
]
After a heavy wire cable had been made fast about the posterior part of
the whale, just in front of the flukes, the winch was started. The cable
straightened out, tightened, and became as rigid as a bar of steel.
Slowly foot after foot of the wire was wound in and the enormous
carcass, weighing at least forty tons, was drawn out of the water upon
the slip.
One of the Japanese scrambled up the whale’s side and, balancing himself
on the smooth surface by the aid of his long knife, made his way forward
to sever at the “elbow” the great side fin, or flipper, fifteen feet in
length.
Before the carcass was half out of the water other cutters were making
longitudinal incisions through the blubber along the breast, side, and
back, from the head the entire length of the body to the flukes. The
cable was made fast to the blubber at the chin, the winch started, and
the thick layer of fat stripped off exactly as one would peel an orange.
When the upper side had been denuded of its blubber covering, the whale
was turned over by means of the canting winch, and the other surface was
flensed in the same manner.
It was a busy and interesting scene. The strange, unfamiliar cries of
the Orientals mingled with the shouts of the cutters and the jarring
rattle of the winch as the huge strips of fat were torn from the whale’s
body, fed into the slicing machine, carried upward, and dumped into
enormous vats to be boiled or “tried out” for the oil.
When the blubber was entirely gone, the carcass was split open by
chopping through the ribs of the upper side and cutting into the
abdomen, letting a ton or more of blood pour out and spread in a crimson
flood over the slip. A hook was attached to the tongue bones (hyoids)
and the heart, lungs, liver, and intestines were drawn out in a single
mass.
The body was then hauled to the “carcass platform” at right angles to,
and somewhat above, the “flensing slip,” the flesh was torn from the
bones in two or three great masses by the aid of the winch, and the
skeleton disarticulated.
[Illustration:
Flensing a whale at one of the Vancouver Island stations. A great
strip of blubber is being torn from the animal’s side.
]
After the bones had been split and the flesh cut into chunks two or
three feet square, they were boiled separately in great open vats which
bordered the carcass platform on both sides. When the oil had been
extracted, the bones were crushed by machinery making bone meal to be
used as fertilizer, and the flesh, artificially dried and sifted, was
converted into a very fine guano. Even the blood, of which there were
several tons, was carefully drained from the slip into a large tank, and
boiled and dried for fertilizer. Finally, the water in which the blubber
had been tried out was converted into glue.
The baleen, or whalebone, which alone remained to be disposed of, was
thrown aside to be cleaned and dried as opportunity offered. The baleen
of all the fin whales is short, stiff, and coarse and in Europe and
America has but little value. In Japan, however, it is made into many
useful and beautiful things.
I learned that the cutting operations at Sechart and the other west
coast stations were conducted in the Norwegian way which is followed in
almost all parts of the world except Japan. In the Island Empire a new
method has been adopted, which, while it has the advantage of being very
rapid, is correspondingly dangerous and will not, I think, ever be
widely used.