A cookery-book, in the possession of my good mother, advises one to
catch one's hare before cooking it. On the same principle I deferred
describing how a whale is disposed of till I had seen one caught; for I
have heard that it is possible for a ship to return clean, or without
having caught a single whale; and this might possibly, I feared, be our
case. Every one on board, from the captain downwards, was now in good
spirits.
We had got a fish; but it was necessary to secure it carefully
alongside, lest it might sink even there, and be lost after all our
trouble--such misfortunes having occurred to careless fishers. The
first thing we did was to secure at the stern of the ship, on the
larboard side, a tackle, which is called a nose tackle, from its being
fastened to the nose or head of the fish. A tail tackle was secured to
the tail of the fish, and this was brought on board at the fore-chains.
Thus the head of the fish was towards the stern of the ship, and the
tail towards the bows, the body being extended as much as possible. The
right side fin, which was next the ship (it being remembered that the
whale was on its back), was then lashed upwards towards the gunwale.
To "cant" or "kent," in nautical phraseology, is to turn over or on one
side. The tackle, therefore, composed of many turns of ropes and
blocks, which turns the whale over as the blubber is cut off, is called
the "kent purchase" or tackle. One part was fastened to the neck of the
whale, or rather the part of the body next the head--for a whale, even
in courtesy, cannot be said to have a neck--and the other was tied to
the head of the main-mast, the fall being passed round the windlass.
The neck, or rather the part which would be the neck if it had one, is
called the "kent."
From the size of the whale, it was impossible to lift it more than
one-fifth part out of the water; and this was only done after heaving
away at the windlass. Till this operation was performed, not one of us
had rested from our labours.
"Knock off, my lads, and turn-to to breakfast," sung out the master in a
cheerful tone. The order was obeyed with right good-will; and perhaps
never did a more hungry crew of fishermen sit down to a more jovial
meal. Breakfast was soon over, and, strengthened and refreshed, we
prepared to turn-to at our task.
On going on deck again, I found that our booty had attracted round us
many birds and fish of all descriptions, ready to prey on what we should
leave. There were fulmars in thousands, eager to pounce down upon the
morsels which they knew would be their share. They were of a dirty grey
colour, with white breasts and strong crooked bills, formed to tear
flesh easily, and able to give a very severe bite. Then there were
numbers of the arctic gull, who may be considered the pirate of the icy
regions, as he robs most other birds, not only of their prey, but of
their eggs and young. The sea-swallow, or great tern, however, like an
armed ship of size, bravely defends himself, and often beats off his
antagonist; while the burgomaster a large and powerful bird, may be
looked upon as a ship of war, before whom even the sea-swallow flies
away, or is compelled to deliver up his prize. There were a few also of
the ivory gull, a beautiful bird of immaculate whiteness. They are so
timid that they dare not rest on the whale, but fly down, and while
fluttering over it, tear off small bits, and are off again before the
dreaded burgomaster can come near them.
But now to our prize. First, the harpooners secured to their feet what
we called spurs, that is, spikes of iron, to prevent them from slipping
off the back of the whale, on which they now descended. I and three
other youngsters were meantime ordered to get into two of the boats,
into which were thrown the blubber-knives and spades, bone-knives, and
other instruments used in the operation in which they were about to
engage.
Our duty was to keep alongside the whale, to hand them what they
required, and to pick any one up who should by chance fall into the
water. The specksioneer, or chief harpooner, took post in the centre of
the rest to direct them. The fat is, as it were, a casing on the
outside of the whale, so that it can easily be got at. With their
blubber-knives the men then cut it into oblong pieces, just as a fish is
cut across at table; and with their spades they lifted it from the flesh
and bones, performing the same work on a larger scale that the
fish-knife does. To the end thus first lifted a strap and tackle is
fastened, called the "speck-tackle," by which those on deck haul it up.
This operation is called "flensing."
As the huge mass is turned round and round by the kent-tackle, the
harpooners continue cutting off the slips, till the whole coat of fat is
removed. The fins and tail are also cut off; and, lastly, the
whale-bone is cut out of the mouth. The whale-bone is placed in two
rows in the mouth, and is used instead of teeth, to masticate the food,
and to catch the minute animals floating in the water on which it feeds.
Each side of bone consists of upwards of three hundred laminae, the
interior edges of which are covered with a fringe of hair. Ten or
twelve feet is the average size. In young whales, called "suckers," it
is only a few inches long. When it is above six feet, the whale is said
to be of _size_, a term I have before used.
The tongue of the whale is very large; it has a beard, and a very narrow
throat. While I was handing a blubber-spade to old David, as I looked
over the side of the boat, I saw a pair of bright green eyes glancing up
at me with such a knowing, wicked look, that I drew back with a shudder,
thinking it was some uncommon monster of the deep, who was watching for
an opportunity to carry one of us off.
"What is it now, youngster? Have you bit your nose?" asked David,
laughing.
"No," I replied breathlessly. "Look there--what is that?" I pointed
out the eyes, which were still glaring up at me.
"That--why that, my green lad, is only a blind shark. Have not you ever
seen one of them before?"
"Only a shark!" I exclaimed with horror, remembering all I had heard
about sharks. "Won't he eat one?"
"No, not he; but just run a boat-hook into him, and try and drive him
away, for he's drawing five shillings' worth of oil out of the fish
every mouthful he takes, the glutton," said David.
I did as I was desired; but though the point ran right into his body, he
only shifted his post a little, and made a fresh attack directly under
the stern of the boat. I again wounded him; but he was either so
engaged with gorging himself, or so insensible to pain, that he
continued with his nose against the side of the whale, eating away as
before.
I afterwards learned that this Greenland shark is not really blind,
though the sailors think so because it shows no fear at the sight of
man. The pupil of the eye is emerald green; the rest of it is blue,
with a white worm-shaped substance on the outside. This one was upwards
of ten feet in length, and in form like a dog-fish. It is a great foe
to the whale, biting and annoying him even when alive; and by means of
its peculiarly-shaped mouth and teeth it can scoop out of its body
pieces as large as a man's head.
But the most persevering visitors during the operation of flensing were
the sailors' little friends the Mollies. The moment the fish was struck
they had begun to assemble, and they were now pecking and tearing away
at the flesh with the greatest impudence, even among the men's long
knives. One at last got between David's legs, which so tried his
patience, that he took it up and flung it from him with a hearty shake,
abusing it for running the risk of being hurt; just as a cab-driver does
a child for getting into the road, without the slightest idea of
injuring it. But the Molly would not take the hint, and with the
greatest coolness returned to its repast, thinking, probably, that it
had as much right to its share as we had to ours.
The Mollies do not evince an amiable disposition towards each other; and
as the "krang" (such is the name given to the refuse parts of the whale)
is cut off, they were to be seen sitting on the water by thousands
tearing at the floating pieces, and when one morsel seemed more tempting
than another, driving their weaker brethren away from it, and fighting
over it as if the sea was not covered with other bits equally good. All
the time the noise they made "poultering" down in the water, and
quacking or cackling--I do not know which to call it--was most
deafening.
My good friend Andrew pointed them out to me. He never lost an
opportunity of giving me a useful lesson. "There," he said, "that's the
way of the world. We are never content with what we have got, but must
fight to gain something else. Now take my advice, Peter. Do your duty
as a man; and when you light upon a piece of krang, stick to it, and be
thankful that you've found it." I have never since been in a noisy,
quarrelsome crowd, that I did not think of the Mollies and the krang.
I must not forget the green-eyed monster which had so startled me. The
surgeon had got a hook ready, covered by a piece of blubber; and letting
it fall quietly over the stern before its nose, the bait was instantly
gorged. To hook a fish of ten feet long, and to get him on board, are
two different things; and our good _medico_ was very nearly drawn
overboard in a vain attempt to do the latter without assistance, which,
just then, all hands on board were too much engaged to afford. The line
was very strong, or the shark would have broken it, as now, finding
himself hooked, he had sense enough to struggle violently in order to
get free.
I must confess that, when I came on deck after the krang had been cast
adrift, I was not sorry to see my friend in that condition. After some
trouble we got the bight of a rope over his head, and another round his
tail, and hoisted him on deck. If a cat has nine lives, a Greenland
shark may be said to have ninety. We cut him on the head and tail with
hatchets, and knocked out any brains he might have possessed, and still
he would not die. At last the surgeon cut him up, and hours after each
individual piece seemed to have life remaining in it.
Sometimes when the tackles are removed the carcase of the whale sinks,
and the fish at the bottom are alone the better for it; but at other
times, as in this case, it floats, and not only the birds and sharks,
but the bears find a hearty meal off it. This krang floated away; and
afterwards, as I shall have presently to relate, was the source of much
amusement. I ought to have said, that while the harpooners were
flensing the whale, another division of the crew were employed in
receiving it on deck, in pieces of half a ton each, while others cut it
into portable pieces of about a foot square; and a third set passed it
down a hole in the main hatches to between decks, where it was received
by two men, styled kings, who stowed it away in a receptacle called the
"flense gut." Here it remained till there was time for "making off."
Having now got our prize on board, the owners being probably 500 pounds
richer, should we reach home in safety, than they were a few hours
before, we set to work to make off the blubber, that is, to stow it away
in the casks in the hold. For this purpose we ran out some miles from
the ice, in smooth water, and hove to, with just sufficient sail set to
steady the ship. While the skee-man--the officer who has charge of the
hold--the cooper, and a few others, were breaking out the hold, that is,
getting at the ground or lowest tier of casks, we on deck were arranging
the speck-trough, and other apparatus required for preparing the
blubber.
The speck-trough is an oblong box, with a lid, about twelve feet in
length. The lid, when thrown back, forms a chopping-table; and it is
covered with bits of whale's tail from end to end, which, being elastic,
though hard, prevents the knives being blunted. In the middle of the
trough is a square hole, which is placed over the hatchway; and to the
hole is attached a hose or pipe of canvas, leading into the hold, and
movable, so as to be placed over the bungs of each cask. A pair of
nippers embrace it, so as to stop the blubber from running down when no
cask is under.
The krang is the refuse, as I have said, and the men who separate the
oily part from it are called "krangers." The "kings" throw the blubber
in rough out of the "flense gut" to the "krangers" on deck; from them it
is passed to the harpooners, who are the skinners. After the skin has
been sliced off, it is placed on the chopping-block, before which stand
in a row the boat-steerers, who with their long knives cut it up into
oblong pieces not larger than four inches in diameter, and then push it
into the speck-trough.
The line-managers are stationed in the hold, and guide the tube or lull
to the casks they desire to fill. Finally, when no more can fall in,
piece after piece is jambed in by a pricker, and the cask is bunged up.
Sometimes not only are all the casks on board filled, but the blubber is
stowed away in bulk in the hold, and even between decks; but this good
fortune does not often occur.
It will be seen by any one who has read an account, that the process of
preparing the cargo by the whalers in the southern seas is very
different. Andrew Thompson had once been in a South Sea whaler, and he
told me he never wished to go in another; for a wilder, more mutinous
set of fellows it was never his ill-luck, before or since, to meet.
This was, of course, owing partly to the captain, who was a rough,
uncultivated savage, and totally unfit to gain any moral restraint over
his men.
"I'll tell you what it is, Peter," said Andrew, as I sat by him in the
forecastle that evening, listening to his yarns, "till the masters are
properly educated, and know how to behave like officers and gentlemen,
the men will be mutinous and ill-conducted. When I say like gentlemen,
I don't mean that they should eat with silver forks off china, drink
claret, and use white pocket-handkerchiefs. Those things don't make the
gentleman afloat more than on shore. But what I like to see, is a man
who treats his crew with proper gentleness, who looks after their
interest in this world and the next, and tries to improve them to the
best of his power--who acts, indeed, as a true Christian will act--that
man is, I say, a gentleman. I say, put him where you will, ask him to
do what you will, he will look and act like a gentleman. Who would dare
to say that our good captain is not one? He looks like one, and acts
like one, at all times and occasions; and if we had many more like him
in the merchant service generally, we should soon have an improvement in
the condition of our seamen.
"But I have got adrift from what I was going to tell you about the South
Sea whalers. You see, the whales in those seas are generally
sperm-whales, with blunt bottle-noses, altogether unlike the fish about
here. There is not much difference in the way of killing them, except
that one has not to go among the ice for them, in the way we have here,
as they are met with in `schools' in the open sea. What we call
`making-off' is there called `trying-out.'
"You see, on account of the hot climates they have to come through to
return home, and partly from the value of the blubber, they have to boil
it to get out the oil; and for this object they have to build large
stoves or fire-places with brick on deck, between the fore-mast and main
hatchway; and above them are three or four large pots. The blubber is
then, you see, minced up, and pitched into the pots with long forks.
Just fancy what a curious scene there must be while the trying-out is
going on at night--the red glare of the fires, and the thick lurid smoke
ascending in dense columns round the masts! Any one, not knowing what
was going forward, would think, to a certainty, the ship was on fire;
and then the stench of the boiling oil, hissing and bubbling in the
pots--the suffocating feel of the smoke--the fierce-looking, greasy,
unwashed men--I say, those who have been in a South Sea whaler will
never wish to go again."
I told him that I had no wish, after his description, ever to belong to
one, though I liked the life, as far as I had seen of it, where I was.
"I have not a word to say against it, mate," replied Andrew. "But wait
a bit till we come to boring and cutting through the ice, in case we are
beset, and then you'll say that there is something like hard work to be
done."
It took us two hours to kill our first whale, and four to flense it. We
afterwards performed the last operation in less time, when all hands
were more expert.
The next morning we again stood in towards the ice, to see if there was
any opening through which we might force the ship, but none appeared.
What was curious, we hit the spot to which the krang of the fish we had
killed the day before had floated. We saw something moving on the ice,
as we approached, besides the clouds of wild-fowl which hovered over it,
and on the sea around.
We pointed it out to the second mate. He took his glass, and, putting
it to his eye, exclaimed, "There's a big white bear has just been
breakfasting, and has hauled up some of the krang on the ice, to serve
him for dinner; but we'll try what we can do to spoil his sport."
In accordance with this resolution, he went to the captain and asked
leave to take a boat to try and bring back Bruin, dead or alive.
"You may bring him back dead, but alive you'll never get him into that
boat, depend on it," answered Captain Rendall, laughing. "However, take
care he is not too much for you; for those bears are cunning fellows,
remember; and I should advise you to take a couple of muskets, and some
tough lances."
"Never fear, sir," answered the mate, preparing to lower a boat. "I
don't think a boat's crew need, any day, be afraid of a single bear."
Volunteers being asked for, Terence and I, old David and Stokes, and
three others, jumped into the boat, and pulled off towards where the
bear was seated quietly licking his paws after his meal. The mate had a
great idea of noosing him; and for this purpose he and David were each
armed with a coil of rope, with a bight to throw over his head, like a
lasso, while Terence and I were to take charge of the guns. The mate
first made us put him on the ice some few hundred yards on one side of
the bear, and then we pulled round to the same distance on the other.
Each had a lance besides his lasso, and the mate had a pistol in his
belt.
In case of extreme necessity, Terence and I were to fire, and then to
land and come to their rescue. As soon as the two had landed, they
began to move away from the edge, hoping thereby to cut Bruin off should
he attempt to escape. He had, however, no inclination to leave his
dinner; though, perhaps, had he not already eaten to repletion, he would
not have sat so quiet while we approached.
We meantime pulled close up to the krang, among all the ducks and gulls.
This Bruin did not mind, but sat still, looking quietly on. Of course
I could then easily have shot him; but that was not the mate's object.
All he did was to growl and show his teeth, as if he longed to have us
all within his paws. This made us bolder and less cautious, so we got
close up to him.
"We are still too far for me to heave the bight over his shoulders,"
cried Terence. "Just see if you can't get hold of his dinner with the
boat-hook, and that will bring him nearer."
I luckily held my gun in my left hand, while with my right, as I sprang
on the ice, I attempted to catch hold of the whale's flesh with the
boat-hook. This was too much for the equanimity even of Bruin, and with
a loud growl he sprang towards the boat, happily thinking me too
insignificant for punishment. I immediately ran off towards the mate;
while so great was the impetus which the bear had gained, that he went
head-foremost into the water, just catching the gunwale of the boat as
the men in her tried to shove off to avoid him.
Terence seized his musket, but it missed fire; and before either of the
others could get their lances ready, Bruin had actually scrambled on
board. No one can be surprised at their fright, nor that, as the bear
came in on one side, they should jump out on the other. They were all
good swimmers, so they struck out for the ice, on to which the mate and
I hauled them, while Bruin floated away in our boat.
We thought he would have jumped out again, and attacked us: but he
seemed perfectly content with his victory, and inclined for a cruise, as
he sat, with the greatest composure, examining the different articles in
the boat. How long he might have sat there I do not know, had not the
mate ordered me to try my skill as a shot. It was a long time since I
had had a gun in my hand, and my ambition was roused. I took a steady
aim at poor Bruin's eye, and he sunk down in the bottom of the boat.
The whole occurrence had been seen from the ship by our captain, who
despatched a boat to our assistance. We stood meantime, looking very
foolish, on the ice; and those who had been in the water shivering not a
little with the cold. After the boat had taken us on board, we pulled
towards ours, with the bear in it. We half-expected to see him jump up,
and, seizing the oars, pull away from us. Terence declared that he knew
a man who said that such a thing had once happened, and that the bear,
after a chase of many miles, got clean off with the boat; and that next
year, about the same latitude, he was seen cruising about by himself,
fishing for seals.
However, we got cautiously up to our boat; and there lay Bruin,
breathing out his last. By the time we got alongside, he was quite
dead. We all, especially the mate, got well laughed at for having had
our boat captured by a bear.
"And so, Mr Derrick," said the captain, "a boat's crew can possibly be
beaten by a bear, I see."
"They can, sir," answered the mate; "I own it; but if you'll remember,
you said I should never get that bear into the boat, alive or dead, and
I've done both."
"Not that," replied the captain. "He got himself in, and he got you
out; so I don't see that you've fulfilled your promise."
However, Bruin was hoisted on board, and the mate secured his skin,
which was what he wanted. Of course the adventure caused much joking
afterwards, and the boat was ever afterwards called "the bear's boat."