CHARGED BY A WILD SEI WHALE
[Illustration:
“We hunted them for two hours, trying first one and then the
other—they had separated—without once getting near enough even for
pictures.”
]
The ship got under way at two o’clock the next morning, and within half
an hour was pitching badly in a heavy sea. At five Andersen and I turned
out and climbed to the bridge, both wearing oilskins and sou’westers to
protect ourselves from the driving spray. The sun was up in a clear sky,
but the wind was awful. The man in the top shouted down that he had seen
no whales, but that many birds were about, showing that food must be
plentiful and near the surface. Captain Andersen turned to me with a
smile:
“Don’t you worry! We’ll see one before long. I’m always lucky before
breakfast.”
Almost while he was speaking the man aloft sang out, “_Kujira!_” The
_kujira_ proved to be two sei whales a long way off. When we were close
enough to see, it became evident that it would only be a chance if we
got a shot. They were not spouting well and remained below a long time.
[Illustration:
“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.”
]
We hunted them for two hours, trying first one and then the other—they
had separated—without once getting near enough even for pictures. It was
aggravating work, and I was glad to hear Andersen say:
“We’ll leave them and see if we can find some others. They are
impossible.”
When we came up from breakfast six other ships were visible, some of
them not far away and others marked only by long trails on the horizon.
We passed the _San Hogei_ near enough to hear Captain Hansen shout that
he had seen no whales, and then plowed along due south directly away
from the other ships. In a short time, one by one, they had dropped away
from sight and even the smoke paths were lost where sky and sea met.
[Illustration:
“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.”
]
It was eleven o’clock before we raised another spout, but this animal
was blowing frequently and the great cloud of birds hovering about
showed that he was “on feed.” 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, but 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.
As we came close we saw that the whale was in a school of sardines, the
fish frantically dashing here and there, often jumping clear out of the
water and causing their huge pursuer a deal of trouble to follow their
quick turnings. But he managed his lithe body with wonderful rapidity,
and ever before the fish left him many yards behind was plowing after
them, his great tail sending the water in swirling green patches astern.
We were going at full speed and came down to half when a hundred fathoms
away, but we could not take it slow, for the whale was running directly
from us. I got two pictures of the birds and from where I was standing
beside the gun could plainly follow the animal in his course. As he rose
about sixty fathoms ahead and turned to go down, his back came into view
and just behind the fin a large white mark was visible.
“That’s a harpoon scar,” said Andersen. “It is a bad sign. He may give
us a run for it, after all.”
The engines were at dead slow now, for the whale had surely seen us and
might double under water, coming up astern. Andersen was ready at the
gun, swinging the huge weapon slightly to and fro, his feet braced,
every few seconds calling out to the Bo’s’n aloft, “Miye masu ka?” (Do
you see him?)
We had been waiting two minutes (it seemed hours) when the Bo’s’n
shouted:
“He’s coming. He’s coming. On the port bow.”
In a second the water began to swirl and boil and we could see the
shadowy form rise almost to the surface, check its upward rush, and dash
along parallel with the ship.
[Illustration:
A sei whale showing a portion of the soft fatty tongue.
]
“_Dame_ (no good), _dame_, he won’t come up!” exclaimed Andersen. “_Mo
sukoshi_ (a little more) speed, _mo sukoshi_ speed! _Dame, dame_, he’s
leaving us. Half speed, _half_ speed!”
[Illustration:
“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. Andersen’s last words were drowned
in the crashing roar of the gun.”
]
Never shall I forget the intense excitement of those few minutes! The
huge, ghost-like figure was swimming along just under the surface, not
five feet down, aggravatingly close but as well protected by the shallow
water-armor as though it had been of steel. Andersen was shouting beside
me:
“He won’t come, _dame, dame_. Yes, now, now! Look out! I shoot, I
_shoot_!”
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. Andersen’s last words were drowned in the crashing
roar of the gun. Before we could see through the veil of smoke we heard
the sailors shout, “_Shinda!_” (dead), and the next instant the black
cloud drifted away showing the whale lying on its side motionless. I
tried to change the plate in my camera, but before the slide could be
drawn and the shutter reset, the animal had sunk. Apparently it had been
killed almost instantly, for the rope was taut and hung straight down.
In a few minutes Andersen gave the word to haul away, and the Engineer
started the winch. No sooner had the rattling wheels ground in a few
fathoms than we saw the line slack and then slowly rise. Faster and
faster it came, the water dripping in little streams from its vibrating
surface.
In a few seconds the whale rose about ninety fathoms ahead and blew, the
blood welling in great red clots from his spout holes. He lay motionless
for a moment and then swung about and swam directly toward the vessel.
At first he came slowly, but his speed was increasing every moment. When
almost opposite us, about thirty fathoms away, suddenly, with a terrific
slash of his tail, he half turned on his side and dashed directly at the
ship.
“Full speed astern!” yelled the gunner, dancing about like a madman.
“_He’ll sink us; he’ll sink us!_”
The whale was coming at tremendous speed, half buried in white foam,
lashing right and left with his enormous flukes. In an instant he hit
us. We had half swung about and he struck a glancing blow directly
amidships, keeling the little vessel far over and making her tremble as
though she had gone on the rocks; then bumped along the side, running
his nose squarely into the propeller. The whirling blades tore great
strips of blubber from his snout and jaws and he backed off astern.
Then turning about with his entire head projecting from the water like
the bow of a submarine, he swam parallel with the ship. As he rushed
along I caught a glimpse of the dark head in the mirror of my camera and
pressed the button. An instant later the great animal rolled on his
side, thrust his fin straight upward, and sank. It had been his death
struggle and this time he was down for good. As the water closed over
the dead whale I leaned against the rail trembling with excitement, the
perspiration streaming from my face and body. Andersen was shouting
orders in English, Norwegian, and Japanese, and cursing in all three
languages at once.
I think none of us realized until then just what a narrow escape we had
had. If the whale had struck squarely he would have torn such a hole in
the steamer’s side that her sinking would have been a matter of seconds.
The only thing that saved her was the quickness of the man at the wheel,
who had thrown the vessel’s nose about, thus letting the blow glance
from her side. It was a miracle that the propeller blades had not been
broken or bent so badly as to disable us; why they were not even injured
no one can tell—it was simply the luck that has always followed this
vessel since Captain Andersen came aboard.
[Illustration:
“Then turning about with his entire head projecting from the water
like the bow of a submarine, he swam parallel with the ship.”
]
It should not be inferred that the whale deliberately attacked the ship
with the intention of disabling her. There is little doubt in my mind
but that the animal was blindly rushing forward in his death flurry, and
the fact that he struck the vessel was pure accident. Nevertheless, the
results would have been none the less serious if he had hit her
squarely.
[Illustration:
“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.”
]
After a hasty examination showed that the propeller was uninjured, the
whale was hauled to the surface. I was standing on the gun platform
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. At first I thought it was only imagination, an aftereffect
of the excitement, but another followed, then another, and soon from
every side specter-like forms were darting swiftly and silently here and
there, sometimes showing a flash of white as one turned on its side.
They were giant sharks drawn by the floating carcass as steel is drawn
by a magnet. Like the vultures which wheel and circle in the western sky
far beyond the reach of human sight, watching for the death of some
poor, thirst-smitten, desert brute, so these vultures of the sea quickly
gathered about the dead whale. I watched them silently fasten to the
animal’s side, tearing away great cup-shaped chunks of blubber, and
shivered as I thought of what would happen to a man if he fell overboard
among these horrible, white-eyed sea-ghosts.
Within three minutes of the time when the whale had been drawn to the
surface over twenty sharks, each one accompanied by its little striped
pilot fish swimming just behind its fins, were biting at the carcass.
“_Dame, dame_, they’ll eat my whale up,” shouted Andersen in Japanese.
“Bo’s’n, bring the small harpoon.”
[Illustration:
“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.”
]
One big shark, the most persistent of the school, had sunk his teeth in
the whale’s side and, although half out of water, was tearing away at
the blubber and paying not the slightest attention to the pieces of old
iron which the sailors were showering upon him. When the harpoon was
rigged and the line made fast, Andersen climbed out upon the rope-pan in
front of the gun and jammed the iron into the shark’s back. Even then
the brute waited to snatch one more mouthful before it slid off the
carcass into the water. It struggled but little and seemed more
interested in returning to its meal than in freeing itself from the
harpoon, but two boat hooks were jabbed into its gills and it was hauled
along the ship’s side until it could be pulled on deck. This was no easy
task, for it must have weighed at least two hundred pounds and began a
tremendous lashing with its tail when the crew hauled away.
“_Ya-ra-cu-ra-sa_,” sang the sailors, each time giving a heave as the
word “_sa_” was uttered, and the shark was soon flapping and pounding
about on deck. The seamen prodded it with boat hooks and belaying pins
and I must confess that I had little sympathy for the brute when the
blood poured out of its mouth and gills, turning the snow-white breast
to crimson. I paced its length as it lay on the deck, taking good care
to miss the thrashing tail and the vicious snaps of its crescent-shaped
jaws. It measured just twelve feet and, although a big one, was by no
means the largest of the school.
[Illustration:
Making the sei whale fast to the bow of the ship.
]
When the whale had been finally made fast and the ship started, the
shark, now half dead, was pushed over the side. It had not gone ten feet
astern before the others of the pack were tearing away at their
unfortunate brother with as great good will as they had attacked our
whale.
Andersen and I went below to an excellent tiffin, for which I had a
better appetite than at breakfast, as the sea had subsided. The course
was set for the station to get coal and water for the next day’s run,
but we could not be in before seven or eight o’clock. The gunner lay
down in the cabin for a short nap, and after lighting my pipe I went
“top sides” to the bridge. I had been there not more than ten minutes,
when “puf-f-f” went a sei whale about two hundred fathoms away on the
starboard beam.
[Illustration:
A sei whale swimming directly away from the ship. The nostrils or
blowholes are widely expanded and greatly protruded.
]
The air pumps were still at work inflating the carcass alongside, and
the gun had not yet been loaded. Captain Andersen ran forward with the
powder charge sewed up in its neat little sack of cheesecloth; and after
the Bo’s’n had rammed it home, wadded the gun, and inserted the harpoon,
we were ready for work. The vessel had been taking a long circle about
the whale, which was blowing every few seconds, and now we headed
straight for it.
Like the last one, this animal was pursuing a school of sardines and
proved easy to approach. Andersen fired at about fifteen fathoms,
getting fast but not killing at once, and a second harpoon was sent
crashing into the beautiful gray body which before many hours would fill
several hundred cans and be sold in the markets at Osaka. The sharks
again gathered about the ship when the whale was raised to the surface,
but this time none was harpooned as we were anxious to start for the
station.
It was nearly three o’clock when the ship was on her course and fully
six before we caught a glimpse of the summit of Kinka-San, still twenty
miles away. A light fog had begun to gather, and in the west filmy
clouds draped themselves in a mantle of red and gold about the sun. Ere
the first stars appeared, the wind freshened again and the clouds had
gathered into puffy balls edged with black, which scudded across the sky
and settled into a leaden mass on the horizon. It was evident that the
good weather had ended and that we were going to run inside just in time
to escape a storm.