AN EXCITING EXPERIENCE IN ALASKA
After leaving Vancouver Island I had gone north to Murderer’s Cove,
Tyee, Alaska, and was being most hospitably entertained on board Captain
Charles Grahame’s ship, the _Tyee_. We were hunting in the waters of
Frederick Sound and had been out two days. A big finback had given us an
exciting time of it in the afternoon and evening of the second day and I
had gone to bed tired out.
Next morning at five o’clock I was awakened by a hand on my shoulder and
the voice of the Mate saying:
“We’re in a bunch of humpbacks, sir. You’d better get up if you want
some pictures.”
As I had only removed my coat and shoes the night before, in five
minutes I was on deck with my camera and plate holders. It was a gray
day, heavy clouds lining the sky and a strong wind blowing from the
westward. Already the little steamer was pitching and rolling in a way
which made me hate even the thought of breakfast, but catching sight of
the flukes of a big humpback just disappearing below the surface on the
starboard side, I forgot for a moment that there was such a thing as
seasickness. I climbed to the bridge beside the Mate who was at the
wheel and after getting the camera ready for instant use, took out my
notebook and glasses.
The whales were all about us but feed was evidently scarce and far below
the surface, for the animals were swimming long distances under water,
only rising to blow at irregular intervals. For three hours we kept up a
fruitless chase after first one and then another of the humpbacks, once
or twice getting so close that a shot seemed imminent. At last the
Captain, who had come on deck, said:
[Illustration:
“The flukes of a big humpback just disappearing below the surface on
the starboard side.”
]
“It’s no use to bother with these fellows; there is no feed and we may
stay here all day without killing; we’ll go over toward Fanshaw, and see
if we can’t find another bunch.”
Two hours of steaming brought us in sight of Storm Island and far over
near the shore we could see several spouts. Now and then flukes would
show as one of the animals went down, indicating to my satisfaction that
some, at least, were humpbacks. When we neared the whales I left the
bridge, making my way forward along the deck to the harpoon-gun, and
with camera ready braced myself against a rope. The steamer was pitching
furiously and it was all I could do to keep my feet, but clinging to a
line with one hand and shielding the lens of my camera with the other, I
awaited the reappearance of a whale that had gone down on the starboard
side.
Suddenly the gunner shouted, “There he comes!” and pointed over the bow
where the water was beginning to smooth out in a large, green patch
about thirty fathoms away.
Before I could focus my camera, the whale had burst into view, sending
his spout fifteen feet into the air. Evidently he saw us for he was down
again in a second, only to reappear several fathoms astern. Time after
time he showed himself, never near enough for a shot but keeping me busy
exposing plates.
After about an hour another humpback appeared beside him and together
they seemed to be enjoying to the fullest extent the game of tag they
were playing with us. Once the larger of the two threw himself clear out
of the water, showing even the tips of his flukes, and fell back with a
splash which sounded like the muffled clap of two great hands. Again he
thrust his head into the air and, whirling about, I caught him with the
camera just before he sank back out of sight.
[Illustration:
“The captain swung the vessel’s nose into just the right position and
they appeared close beside the starboard bow.”
]
For over an hour the game of tag continued, but once, when the whales
had been down an unusually long time, the Captain swung the vessel’s
nose into just the right position and they appeared close beside the
starboard bow. The roar of the gun almost deafened me and instinctively
I pressed the button of the camera, but a wave had thrown the steamer
into the air at just the wrong time and the harpoon struck the surface
several feet below the whale. Both animals went down churning the water
into foam, and when next we saw them they were close together, far
astern.
Although the chase had been an aggravation to the whalers, I had reaped
a harvest of pictures and had exposed every plate in the holders. While
Sorenson, the gunner, was reloading the gun, I descended into the hold,
substituted fresh plates, and packed the others in the pasteboard boxes.
My work was hastened by the sudden stopping and starting of the engines
which proclaimed that another whale had been sighted and the chase
already begun.
Pushing away the hatch which covered the entrance to the hold, I swung
up the steep ladder to the deck above. Sure enough a big humpback was
spouting only a short distance away, now and then rolling on his side
and throwing his great black and white fin in the air.
“He’s feeding,” said Sorenson, as I stepped up beside him; “but he’s
pretty wild. Perhaps we’ll kill this time.”
Back and forth for two hours we followed the animal, sometimes getting
so close that when I saw him burst to the surface I held my breath,
expecting to hear the roar of the gun beside me; but Sorenson, somewhat
chagrined by his miss at the last whale, wished to be sure of this shot
and would not take a chance. The Captain swung the boat in a long circle
each time the animal disappeared and it seemed almost certain that we
would at last be near when he came up. And so it happened, for when we
had almost despaired of getting a shot the man in the barrel shouted,
“He’s coming, right below us.”
[Illustration:
“Scrambling up, I ... snapped the camera at the huge body partly
hidden by the boat.”
]
Looking down into the water I could see the ghostly form of the whale
rising to the surface with tremendous force just in front of the bow.
There was no time to stop the ship and the animal burst from the water
half under the vessel’s side. I started back, shielding my camera from
the spout, and, stumbling over a pile of chains on the deck, slid almost
to the forecastle companionway. Scrambling up, I jumped to the rail and
snapped the camera at the huge body partly hidden by the boat.
The whale seemed dazed by his sudden appearance under the steamer, and
rolling on his side, went down only a few feet, reappearing ten fathoms
away. Sorenson, who had held to the gun, steadied himself, swung the
muzzle about, and taking deliberate aim, planted the harpoon squarely
behind the fin. It was a beautiful shot, and the whale went down without
a struggle. The quiet which followed the deafening explosion was broken
only by the soft swish of the line running out from the winch and the
men going to their places. I was leaning against the side almost weak
from the excitement of the last few minutes when Sorenson, a pleased
grin on his sunburned face, turned and said, “I didn’t miss him that
time, did I? He never moved after I fired.”
Four hours more of chasing first one and then another brought the vessel
close to a humpback and again Sorenson sent the harpoon crashing into
the lungs, killing at the first shot. As the day had been a tiring one
and it was too dark to take pictures, I picked up my camera and climbed
down the narrow companionway into the Captain’s cabin. After reloading
the plate holders I lay down on the bunk listening to the rattling of
chains and the tramp of feet on the deck above as the dead whale, with
the other which had been picked up, was made fast to the bow of the
vessel.
[Illustration:
Bringing in a humpback at the end of the day’s hunt. The whale’s
flukes weigh more than a ton.
]
The boat had started on the thirty-mile tow to the station and,
gradually becoming accustomed to the rolling, I was lulled to sleep by
the steady “chug, chug, chug” of the engines and the splashing of the
water against the side.