A Whale Hunt
Happy, says the proverb, is the nation that has no history. And since
history is so largely made up of the unspeakable horrors of war with
all its attendant retinue of resultant miseries, there would really
seem to be more truth in this proverb than in most. Yet it must not be
forgotten that, surfeited as we are with tales wherein all those things
that make life a burden almost too grievous to be borne are set forth
in hideous detail, it is no easy task to make a peaceful narrative
interesting nowadays. As difficult as to wean the epicure’s palate from
highly seasoned and mysteriously concocted dishes back to the simple
luxuries of childhood.
Nevertheless it is an inestimable privilege to be allowed to try, and
I do hope to show that these simple happy folk possessed the true grit
and manliness that all must admire while being totally free from that
whining hypocrisy and hateful assumption of spurious virtue that makes
the world generally disgusted with so many professed religionists. And
here let me say that these happy islanders were what they were from
love of the infinitely good and in no wise from the fear of a punishing
hell too terrible even to be thought of by their simple trustful minds.
Very early the next morning, Grace, in perfect health and strength,
and in accordance with time-honoured custom, took her babe down to
the sea and bathed him in those waters which henceforth would be as
familiar to him as the dry land. And as she laved his tiny limbs in the
shining waves, she noted with swelling heart how strongly and sturdily
he kicked, and she longed to take him in her arms and plunge into deep
water at once. But she realized that so severe an ordeal could not be
good for him, and although she sorely missed her morning swim, was
about to return when she heard her husband’s voice behind her.
“Give him to me, Grace,” he cried.
“Thank you, dear,” she replied, and laying the babe in his strong arms,
she turned back and sprang joyously into the sea, plunging and flashing
through the surf like a fish or a seal in the perfect abandonment of
delight that these children of the wave know when in the element they
love so well. Prudence restrained her from going too far yet, so in
a few minutes she returned, and taking the crowing babe from Philip
she sat sedately down upon a fallen tree trunk and watched her mighty
husband as he in turn hurled himself through the surf and sported like
a porpoise. His bath over, they returned to their home and breakfasted
as they had supped, simply and heartily, and then, leaving Grace to
receive the visits of matrons and maidens who would presently come
trooping along, he departed to his work of cultivating their tiny
fields.
But it was ordained that on this eventful day he was not to remain long
at that peaceful task. He had not been thus engaged for more than an
hour when a long-drawn cry arrested his attention and caused him to
drop the tool he was using. It was the signal, well known to them all,
that whales were coming close in; the watcher on a high overhanging
cliff had spied them and sent his powerful voice ringing across the
settlement, from which came hurrying an eager company ready for the
great combat with the monsters of the deep. They gathered round the
boats where, carefully covered in against the fervent heat of the sun,
these precious craft lay waiting with all the gear, harpoons, lances,
lines, etc., neatly stored in a shed by their sides.
Swiftly and with hardly a word their boats were equipped, the
necessary preparations made, and in less than half an hour from the
first sounding of the alarm the two boats, with six men in each, were
launched and springing seaward under the pressure of five long ash oars
wielded by men who were almost insensible to fatigue and whose rowing
was a wonder and a delight to behold.
The watcher on the cliff guided them by means of well understood signs,
that is, he made a human semaphore of himself, for it is not until very
near to whales that men in boats can see them, and moreover the sperm
whale does not send aloft a high column of vapour into the air as do
other whales. His breathings are copious, but owing to the shape and
position of the spiracle or blow-hole, the thick, highly charged breath
spreads itself in a cloud immediately upon leaving his body. And that
cloud does not ascend, it is thrust forward ahead of the whale, and
being heavier than the air only spreads and gradually settles.
So guided by the look-out man, they laid to their oars with great
energy, pulling with a peculiarly noiseless stroke. The blades entered
the water cleanly and gripped it so firmly that the tough ash of the
looms bent like the lower half of a fishing-rod when catching tarpon.
There was no noise either from the rowlocks, for they were padded with
thick mats covered with green hide and kept well greased. This great
care to preserve silence is absolutely necessary, for although as far
as we can tell the sperm whale has little or no sense of hearing as we
understand it, he is peculiarly susceptible to strange sounds, and the
accidental clatter of an oar on a gunwale is quite sufficient to alarm
a school of whales at over a mile’s distance. What this other sense
which answers the purpose of sight, scent, and hearing may be we do not
know, we can only imagine; like so many other matters connected with
the mysterious life of the whale it is hidden from us.
For an hour they thus toiled at the oar, being by that time several
miles from the land they had left, so far indeed that even their keen
sight could hardly distinguish the movements of their ally on the
cliff, and then at the raising of the leader’s hand they all ceased
from their labour, lay on their oars and gazed keenly around. No sign
of whale or spout was visible; but that only meant that it would be
well to pause awhile, because the probability was that the creatures
they were hunting had, according to their usual custom, sounded or gone
down in quest of food.
Now as they did not know what the approximate size of the whales might
be, they could only wait and watch, for small whales may only remain
below from twenty minutes to half an hour, while full-sized bulls have
been known to remain under water for as long as ninety minutes. Of
course they kept good watch and patient withal, but when an hour had
gone by and no sign came, each man felt that it was useless prolonging
the quest. So they only waited now for the signal to return, being in
any case too far from the land for a successful capture, that is, to
get their enormous prize home, supposing they did slay one.
The signal was soon given, and without a word of regret or grumbling,
the boats’ heads were turned shoreward, and with a leisurely stroke
they began to retrace their way. There being no necessity now for
silence, the boats’ crews, as their custom was, began to sing, raising
their tuneful voices in the melodious strains of some well-known hymn,
until Philip suddenly lifted his hand in an authoritative gesture, at
which singing and rowing stopped simultaneously. Without a word, all
eyes being fixed upon him, he pointed ahead, where within a cable’s
length all saw the lazy spout of a whale, almost like a puff from a big
pipe, rise from the sea.
With great care the oars were peaked, that is, the inner ends of them
were drawn inboard until they could be tucked into circular cleats
prepared for them, and short, broad paddles were produced, by means
of which the boats were quite noiselessly propelled towards the
unconscious whale. Philip, perched on a pair of cleats in the stern,
guided the boat, which was well ahead of her sister, as she silently
stole nearer the victim. Presently Philip swung his boat round, making
the signal to the harponeer to spring to his feet with his weapon as
the boat glided alongside the quiet monster. And, then to the amazement
of everybody, Philip shouted, “Put that iron down, Fletcher! This
whale is safe from us. Look, boys!” All hands did look, and saw that
the object of their pursuit was a cow with a calf clinging to her huge
breast, the nipple held in the angle of its immature jaw.
The boat lay perfectly still until the other boat came up, Philip
raising his hand to warn his father that something unusual had
occurred. The new-comer swung alongside as Philip had done, and all
hands stared at the pretty sight. And owing to their habit of thought,
every one of those strong men understood intuitively why Philip had
countermanded the attack, and not at all considering the loss to
themselves in a monetary sense, fully agreed with him. So they lay on
their oars and watched the mother, as supremely happy she lolled upon
the shining sea and felt her offspring draining the life-giving milk.
Then suddenly turning over on the other side to present the other
breast, for the young whale cannot suck under water, she became aware
of the presence of intruders and sank, settled noiselessly, leaving
scarcely a ripple to mark the spot where she had been.
As soon as she had disappeared Philip cried, “Out oars, boys, and let’s
get home,” following up his order by breaking out into song, in which
all the twelve lustily joined in perfect harmony until nearing the
beach, upon which the vast rollers of the Pacific, despite the glorious
weather, broke in massive rollers topped with dazzling foam. A sweep
or two of the steering oars and the graceful craft swung round head to
seaward, and as the mighty combers came irresistibly shoreward just a
measured stroke or two was made to meet them. Then, when the boats had
mounted the glowing crests of the breakers, the oars were peaked and
they were borne shorewards upon the shoulders of the advancing hill of
water until they touched the beach, when every man but the steersmen
sprang overboard, and snatching the gunnels of the boats rushed
beachwards, digging their toes into the yielding sand as the retreating
wave swept past them, until it was gone and they were all high ashore.
This feat, nothing to them who practised it nearly every day of their
lives, is one of the supreme tests of boatmanship and must be witnessed
or taken part in to realize the resistless onrush of the roller and
the no less mighty drawback when, baffled, the vast rolling mass
retreats. It is a manoeuvre to try the skill and stamina of the best,
and the roll of its victims is very long. I speak feelingly, for on
my first encounter with this business I was as near being drowned
as could be. For not realizing the danger, I too leaped out of the
boat with the others, and was at once hurled seaward like a piece of
drifting seaweed, dazed and helpless, buried in the heart of a wave.
But my Kanaka shipmates, as much at home in that immense turmoil as if
they stood on the beach, grabbed me and held me against the rush of
retreating water, then hauled me to land and in rough but effectual
ways restored me to the world I had so nearly quitted. That was on the
steep beach of lava fragments at Sunday Island in the Kermadecs.
A throng of villagers hastened down to greet the returned adventurers,
full of eager questioning and sympathy. Some of them had been on the
Head with the lookout man, and had witnessed the last encounter. Of
course they could not understand what had happened, but in a few words
Philip explained, and when he had done so, the public endorsement of
the righteousness of his action was spontaneous and complete. For,
after all, to this happy community what was a trifling loss like that
compared with the gain which each felt they had made in the practice of
mercy, of yielding to the best and truest impulses of the heart. And
so there were no sour faces, no recriminations, only the usual mutual
rejoicings.
Philip only paused long enough to see his gear bestowed and then strode
away through the smiling meadows to his pretty home, where he found his
Grace holding quite a little Court surrounded by maidens, matrons and
children; she sat upon the threshold of the house, and her friends were
picturesquely disposed about her. The baby was asleep upon her lap,
undisturbed by the chorus of song that was going up from that concourse
of fifty persons. It was a scene to gladden the heart of a painter or
poet, and if it had been possible to bring it in its entirety before
any assemblage of cynics in the world, they would certainly have been
unable to resist its perfect charm.
Philip’s coming was hailed with a long cry of joy, and he was
immediately surrounded by a bevy of girls who pushed and pulled him
into a place by the side of his wife. And there, enthroned as it were,
they sat while the joyous crowd, augmented every moment until almost
the whole community was present, sang and talked and sang again,
offering all the love and congratulations that their hearts could feel
or their lips express. The happening of the day out at sea was fully
commented upon, calling forth immense manifestations of approval, for
it was just the kind of thing that appealed to these gentle children
of the sun, and thus the happy time wore on until the arrival of the
patriarch minister who, however, wielded no priestly influence whatever.
All loved him and reverenced him for his saintly character as well as
venerable age, but no one, not even the youngest, imagined that he
had any prescriptive right to approach their God for them. Every one
was taught as soon as able to understand that God was the all Father,
Christ the near and dear brother, and to choose a go-between from men
was to do dishonour to the great love manifested towards men by God, to
show practical disbelief in every word set down in the New Testament
for their guidance and comfort.
Therefore though all showed the deepest respect and readiest reverence
to Mr. McCoy at his coming, it was a respect and reverence entirely
devoid of superstition, the loving homage of children to a father, or
friend to friend. They gathered round him, brought him to the seat of
honour beside Philip and Grace, and then waited with intense interest
for what he should say to them, knowing that he had come amongst them
for that purpose.
He rose, and in trembling tones began--
“Beloved children, especially you by my side, Grace and Philip; I
am full of joy at being among you at this happy time. Surely we are
peculiarly blessed among all the people on earth, here in this little
out-of-the-way corner of the great globe. We live in love, fearing no
evil, having all our wants supplied to the full. We suffer neither
from cold nor heat; from hunger nor surfeit. Disease comes not near us
nor our live stock, and best of all this heavenly care has not made us
arrogant and careless, for we feel as full of gratitude as our hearts
can hold. And every day sees new mercies showered upon us. Some one of
our little company has a special blessing, and being one in heart and
mind we all rejoice in that blessing, and feel our mouths filled with
praise.
“The latest is the babe bestowed upon our beloved ones here, a babe
lusty in form and beautiful of face, and given to us on the day
whereon we celebrate the coming to earth of our brother, God manifest
in the flesh, which in itself is a matter of great rejoicing. Truly
it is a blessed babe. I know but little of the great world with its
teeming millions, I have been too happy among you all my life to wish
to see more than I did on my one voyage, but what little I do know
convinces me that it is rare if not unheard of for a child to come
amongst a community and be received with such fervent love and sincere
thanksgiving as this one. We all rejoice, for we have no doubt that
he will be a beloved brother amongst us, worthily maintaining the
high and sweet standard of love towards God and man which has so long
prevailed among us. And if it should be the good pleasure of our Father
that he leaves us for a time and visits other countries, we shall
confidently look forward to his keeping up the character that we are so
pleased to bear, the character of being children of God, not haughtily
holding that we are better than others, but that we are only happy in
the knowledge of the love of our Father for us His loving, grateful
children. Little Christmas Bounty! upon your baby head rest all the
prayers, all the love of this people, all united to you by ties of
blood, but far more closely knit to you in the one bond of Christian
love.
“Brother and sisters, it is time for us to separate, for the day
draws to its close. And before we sing our parting song of praise and
thanksgiving, let us unite in the spoken word to our Father. Father,
most good and gracious, we all thank you for your love. We have all
that we can ask or think. Blessings innumerable crowd upon us. We
have nothing to ask you for, only to praise you for the abundant joy
and happiness you have given us in overflowing measureless plenty.
Nothing, that is, for ourselves, but for those who suffer and sin, for
those who toil hopelessly in darkness and slavery of various kinds, we
ask that they may know Thee as we know Thee. That they may receive as
we do receive. They are as worthy as we are, but have not the same
inestimable advantages. Ah, dear Father, bless our less fortunate
brothers and sisters scattered about Thy beautiful world. Hear their
pitiful cries, heal their gaping wounds, fill their hungry hearts, and
may they all know Thy boundless love through Thy messenger Jesus, our
Beloved One, the Saviour of mankind. Let us sing, dear ones, ‘O God,
our help in ages past.’”
That response was one to stir the most sluggish heart: no books, no
instrumental help, but the grandest of all music, the glorious human
voice when trained in harmony. The lovely woods and vales were filled
with golden melody, every soul pouring itself out in purest praise.
If only the most ardent scoffer at holy things could have been there,
he would have found his pointed sarcasm grow blunt, his ready sneer
fall harmless, for here was a people beyond the arrows of scorn, whose
worship was indeed single-eyed. They worshipped God because they loved
Him. They praised Him because they could not help it. No thought of
gaining heaven or of avoiding hell entered their minds. They had
already begun their heaven, and as for hell they never thought of it.
If pressed they would doubtless have admitted that they believed in
such a place, but with a thrusting aside shudder. What had it to do
with them?
The sweet strain ceased, and the aged minister, rising to his unsteady
feet, lifted his hands in blessing, his voice full of happy tears:
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God Almighty, the
leading of the Holy Spirit and the full knowledge of this intimate
communion with the unseen be with each and all of you now and for
evermore. Amen.”
A moment’s silence and the gathering quietly melted away to their happy
homes, while the bright silver moon shed a splendid radiance over the
peaceful scene.