Catching of the whale and seal

by Anonymous

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE WHALE.

CHAPTER I.
THE DIFFERENT AND MOST REMARKABLE SPECIES OF THE WHALE TRIBE.

“Nature’s strange work, vast Whales of different form,

Toss up the troubled flood, and are themselves a storm.

Uncouth the sight, when they, in dreadful play,

Discharge their nostrils, and refund a sea.”

You recollect, my son, that some time since in a morning’s walk you pointed out to me an enormous arch over a field gate, which I told you was formed of the jaw-bones of the whale, and I then promised you an account of these enormous fishes. Among the numberless tribes of living animals that people the northern seas, the class of whales are by far the largest, and although living in the water, they are in many respects similar to quadrupeds; they not only bring forth their young alive, but suckle them as do the land animals; they have also a thick layer of fatty substance, called blubber, surrounding their whole body, beneath the skin, and it is by this covering, my son, that Providence enables them to defy the most dreadful extremities of cold even under the ice at the Poles. Although they are the “mightiest animals that swim the ocean stream” their bulk has been often exaggerated, they being rarely more than 60 feet long, which implies a weight of 70 tons, being nearly that of 300 fat oxen. The tail is the most active limb of this mighty animal; its power is tremendous; a single blow throws a large boat with its crew into the air. There are several varieties of the whale. The most dangerous one is the Razor Back, which is longer than the Common Black or Right Whale, and although smaller in circumference, is a more powerful animal, swimming at the rate of twelve miles an hour, and has been known to run off 480 fathoms of line with a harpoon attached to him in one minute. They are difficult to obtain, often obliging the sailors to cut the line in order to escape destruction; but as this species contains only ten or twelve tons of oil of an inferior quality, the whalers generally shun his encounter; sometimes however they mistake him in the water for the common one. The other species of whale eagerly sought after by man, is the Cachalot or Spermaceti; this animal is almost invariably found in large herds of from 150 to 200.

CHAPTER II.
MODE OF LIVING—MANNER OF TAKING THEIR FOOD, &c.

The Spermaceti as well as the Common Whale feeds on the smallest insects or animalcula of the ocean, its capacious mouth with the vast fringes of whalebone attached to the inside of its mouth is a most excellent filter, enabling it to receive a large quantity of water at a mouthful, and to separate the sea-weed and gravel from it, even of the size of a pin’s head. This substance, called whalebone, is taken from the upper jaw of the animal, and is very different from the real bones, which resemble those of great land animals. When we reflect, my son, that the same almighty power, whose will has formed the immense whale, has also given animation and senses to the smallest sea insects which are the food of this marine monster, how must our pride be lowered, while we are so unable to comprehend the mechanism which puts them in motion, and much less that intelligence and power which has given them life. Let us then exclaim in astonishment and gratitude with the sweet singer of Israel, “O Lord, how inscrutable are thy ways, how magnificent thy works!” As the whale must rise to the surface of the sea to breathe, its tail is placed horizontally, to enable it to ascend and descend more quickly. This animal is dull of hearing, although its sense of seeing is acute. They will discover one another in clear water when under the surface at an amazing distance; when at the top of the water however they do not see far. They have no voice, but in breathing or blowing they make a very loud noise; they throw the water through their blow holes, which are situated upon the head, many yards high, which looks at a distance like a puff of smoke; and, when the whale is wounded, is often red with blood. Although this animal is so large, it will sometimes descend perpendicularly after being harpooned, at the astonishing velocity of eight miles an hour; their usual rate of swimming when not pursued is never more than half that number. They are seldom found asleep; they are however occasionally found sleeping in calm weather among the ice in northern latitudes. When the whale feeds, it swims pretty swiftly with its mouth open just below the surface of the sea. This animal has but one young at a time, which is from ten to fifteen feet long at its birth; it goes with its mother for at least one year, until it is supposed that the whalebone or filter has grown sufficient to enable it to procure its own food. The love of the whale for its young is great, so that whalers, whenever they can harpoon them, are pretty sure of getting its parent; for whenever the young rises to the surface of the water to breathe, the old whale will join and encourage it to swim off, and will often take it under her fin, and seldom deserts it while life remains. I will give you, William, to-morrow, an incident which took place in 1811, on board of a Northern Whaler.

CHAPTER III.
THE TAKING OF A WHALE WITH HER YOUNG—ITS ENEMIES, &c.

In the spring of 1811, on board of Capt. Scoresby’s ship, one of the harpooners struck a young whale, with the hope of its leading to the capture of its mother. Presently she arose close by his boat and seizing its young one dragged out nearly 100 fathoms of line with amazing swiftness. Again she arose to the surface, darted furiously on and appeared in great agony, seemingly regardless of the danger which surrounded her. At length one of the boats came near enough to throw a harpoon which hit, but did not hold; a second harpoon failed also, but the third was fastened; still she did not attempt to escape, but allowed other boats to approach so that in a few minutes three more harpoons were fastened, and in the course of an hour afterwards she was killed. Is it not extremely painful, William, to destroy an animal of so much affection for its young? There are also two enemies to the whale found in the sea, the Sword Fish and a cetaceous animal called by our fishermen the Killer. At the sight of the former the whale seems agitated in an extraordinary manner, leaping from the water as if with affright; wherever it appears, the whale perceives it at a distance, and flies from it in an opposite direction, and having no instrument of defence except its tail, it endeavors to strike it; but the Sword Fish is as active as the other is strong, and easily eludes the blow. It often cuts the whale in such a manner as to colour the water all around with blood. The Killer is a more destructive enemy, with strong and very powerful teeth. A number of these fish are said to surround the whale, some attacking it with their teeth behind, others before, till at last he dies from the loss of blood; and what is singular, my son, it is said that the tongue of the whale is the only part they devour. The whale is naturally a timid animal, for it is said that the Northern Petrel, a bird of the genus of the Mother Cary’s Chicken of our coasts, will sometimes alight upon its back, and set it off in great agitation and terror. It is also frequently annoyed by the larger species of Sharks, as the wounds sometimes found upon their tails evidently show. The flesh of the whale is highly prized by the Esquimaux, who not only eat the very fattest part, but will drink the oil with great relish; the children, also, devour the skin raw. Capt. Lyon, who was present at a feast in an Esquimaux village, says: “the houses were all lighted up with lamps, all the pots were filled with flesh, and the women, while cooking, pick out and devour the most dainty morsels. One man takes up a large piece, applies it to his mouth, and severs with his teeth as much as his mouth can possibly hold, then hands it to his neighbor, and he passes it to the next, till all is eaten; a new piece is then supplied, and thus it continues till they are completely gorged. A young man named Toolooak received into his stomach in 21 hours upwards of ten pounds of flesh and a gallon and a pint of water.” The obtaining of their food is so precarious, my son, that for many days after this they may not have a single morsel to eat.

INSTRUMENTS FOR TAKING THE WHALE.

No. 1. Hand Harpoon. No. 2. Blubber Lance. No. 3. Gun Harpoon.

CHAPTER IV.
BOATS—HAND HARPOON—BLUBBER LANCE—GUN HARPOON—MANNER OF TAKING THE WHALE, &c.

“As when enclosing harpooneers assail,

In wintry seas, the slumbering Whale;

Soon as the harpoons pierce the scaly side,

He groans, he darts impetuous down the tide;

And rack’d all o’er with lacerating pain,

He flies remote beneath the flood in vain.”

The first and principal thing, my son, in the whaling ships, are the boats, which are made to float lightly upon the water; their bow and stern are made sharp, and they are capable of being rowed with great speed, and readily turned round,—and are of such size as to carry six or seven men and seven or eight hundred weight of whale-lines. The instruments used in the capture are the harpoon and lance; besides these they have used occasionally the harpoon-gun, which is a kind of swivel. This gun was invented in the year 1731: being however difficult and somewhat dangerous in its application, it is now seldom used. One of the most essential particulars in the Dutch whale ships is the “Crow’s Nest,” a sort of sentry box made of canvass or light wood, pitched on the main-top-mast head. This is the post of honor, where the master or officer of the watch often sits for hours provided with a spy glass, a speaking trumpet, and a rifle gun. As soon as they have arrived in those seas which are the haunt of the whale, the crew are keeping watch day and night;—seven boats are kept hanging by the sides of the ship ready to be launched in a few minutes. The captain or some principal officer, seated in the crow’s nest, surveys the waters, and the instant he sees the back of the huge animal, gives notice to the watch who are stationed upon the deck, part of whom leap into the boat, and are followed by a second boat, a harpooner being in each. Owing to those mighty fields and mountains of ice, the dangers of the Northern or Greenland whale fishery is ten times greater than are those of this country, as our whale ships take these fish upon the coast of Japan, in the Pacific Ocean, and upon the Brazil Banks, and always in the open sea. There are several rules among whalers which are observed in approaching this fish, to prevent as far as possible the animal from taking the alarm. As the whale is dull of hearing, but quick in sight, the boat steerer always endeavors to get behind it. Smooth, careful rowing is always requisite, and sometimes sculling is practised. Whenever a whale lies on the surface of the water, unconscious of the approach of its enemies, the hardy fisher rows directly upon it; and an instant before the boat touches it, buries his harpoon in its back: the wounded whale, in the surprise and agony of the moment, makes a convulsive effort to escape; then, my dear son, is the moment of danger. The boat is subjected to the most violent blows from its head or its fins, but particularly from its ponderous tail, which sometimes sweeps the air with such tremendous fury, that both boat and men are exposed to one common destruction. The head of the whale is avoided, because it cannot be penetrated with the harpoon; but any part of the body between the head and tail, will admit of the full length of the instrument. The utmost care is necessary in every person in the boat, while the lines are running out—fatal consequences having sometimes arisen from the entanglement of the line while the whale is going with amazing swiftness. A sailor from Greenock, in 1818, happening to step into the centre of a coil of running rope, had his foot entirely carried off; another belonging to the ship Henrietta had carelessly cast some part of the line under his feet, when a sudden dart of the fish made it twist round his body, and he had but just time to cry out, “Clear away the line! O dear!” when he was cut almost asunder, dragged overboard and never more seen. The immense distances to which whales will run is very surprising; a harpoon was thrown from the boat of the ship Resolution, in 1812, into one, which run out 10,440 yards, or about six miles of line.

CATCHING WHALE IN THE ARCTIC SEAS.

Every boat fast to a living whale carries a flag, and the ships to which such boats belong, also wear a flag, until the whale is either killed or makes its escape. These signals serve to indicate to surrounding ships the exclusive title of the “fast ship” to the entangled whale, and to prevent their interference, excepting in the way of assistance in the capture. A full grown whale generally occupies the whole of the boats belonging to one ship in its capture, which sometimes takes the whole day; they have been taken in half an hour from the throwing of the harpoon. The ease with which some whales are killed, is truly surprising; but with others it is equally astonishing that neither line nor harpoon can effect their capture. Some escape with four or five harpoons, while others equally large have been killed with a single harpoon; indeed, my son, whales have been taken by the entanglement of a line, without any harpoon at all. One was taken by the crew of the ship Nautilus, in 1814, by its accidentally having taken the line into its mouth, and by the compression of its lips, they having cut the end of the line from a whale which they had just killed; and as it was sinking in the water, another one engaged in feeding was advancing with its mouth wide open, accidentally caught this line between its extended jaws, which induced it to shut its mouth and grasp the line so firmly as to effect its capture.

A whale sometimes causes danger by proving to be alive after having exhibited every symptom of death. Capt. Scoresby mentions the instance of one which appeared so decidedly dead, that he himself had leaped on the tail, and was putting a rope through it, when he suddenly felt him sinking from beneath him. He made a spring towards a boat that was some yards distant, and grasping its side was drawn on board. The fish then moved forwards, reared his tail aloft, and shook it with such prodigious violence, that it could have been heard for several miles off. After a few minutes of this violent struggle he rolled on his side and expired.

The many accidents which have taken place in the Greenland and Spitzbergen whale fishery, even under the direction of the most experienced mariners are lamentable and manifold; and I will now, William, relate to you some of the many which have occurred to the English and Dutch whalers. The most common is that of a ship being beset and sometimes dashed to pieces by the collision of those mighty masses or mountains of ice with which northern seas are continually filled. The Blecker, Capt. Pitt, was driven against the ice with such violence that in an instant all her rigging was dashed in pieces; the crew, however, escaped upon the ice, and after a few days were taken off by a Dutch ship. Capt. Bile, some years afterwards, lost a ship richly laden, which went down suddenly; after which the crew wandered in boats over the sea for fourteen days before they were taken up. Thirteen other vessels perished the same year in those seas. Three years afterwards, Capt. Bile lost a second ship, the crew having just time to save themselves on the ice.

William here asked his father if whale ships were not sometimes lost at sea? Yes, my son, many fishing-ships as well as merchantmen have foundered at sea, and have never been heard from since their departure. I remember, father, says William, a piece of poetry which aunt Mary learnt me a long time since on the loss of a vessel.

Deep in the silent waters,

A thousand fathoms low,

A stately ship lies perishing,

She foundered long ago.

There were blessings poured upon her,

When from her port she sailed,

And prayers and anxious weeping,

Went with her o’er the sea.

But how that fine ship perished,

None knew, save him on high;

No island heard her signal,

No other bark was nigh.

We only know from Boston

She sailed, far o’er the main;

We only know to Boston

She never came again.

You will find, my son, by referring to Irving’s Sketch Book, a most thrilling description of a wreck at sea.

The whale-fishery is not more distinguished for examples of sudden peril and besetment than for unexpected deliverance from the most alarming situations.

“Three Dutch ships, after having completed a rich cargo on the northern coast of Spitzbergen, were at once so completely beset, that the crews in general urged the necessity of proceeding over the ice, and endeavoring to reach some other vessel. The captain of one of the three, however, strongly urged the obligation of doing all in their power to preserve such valuable property, and they agreed to make a further trial; when, in twenty days, the ice opened, and they had a happy voyage homeward.

The Dame Maria Elizabeth, had set out early for the fishery, and was so fortunate as, by the 30th of May, to have taken fourteen whales. Then, however, a violent gale from the south blew in the ice with such violence, that the captain found himself completely beset, and saw two Dutch vessels and one English go to pieces at a little distance. At length a brisk gale from the north gave him the hope of being extricated; when presently he was involved in a dense fog, which froze so thick upon the sails and rigging, that the ship appeared a mere floating iceberg. As the atmosphere cleared, the faint light, and the birds winging their way to the southward, announced the closing in of winter. Unable to make any progress, the seamen looked forward in despair to the prospect of spending the season in that frozen latitude. They had nearly come to the end of their provisions, and famine was already staring them in the face, when they thought of broiling the whales’ tails, which proved very eatable, and even salutary against the scurvy. Thus they hoped to exist till the middle of February, beyond which the prospect was very dismal; but on the 12th November there arose a violent north wind, which dispersed the ice. Their hopes being now awakened, every effort was strained; and on the 18th a north-wester brought on so heavy a rain, that next day they were entirely clear of the ice, and had a prosperous voyage homeward.

Capt. Broerties, in the Guillamine, arrived on the 22d June at the great bank of northern ice, where he found fifty vessels moored and busied in the fishery. He began it prosperously: the very next day indeed he killed a large whale. The day after, a tempest drove in the ice with such violence that twenty-seven of the ships were beset, of which ten were lost. Broerties, on the 25th July, seeing some appearance of an opening, caused his ship to be warped through by the boats; but, after four days’ labor, she found herself, with four other ships in a narrow basin, enclosed by icy barriers on every side.

On the 1st August the ice began to gather thick, and a violent storm driving it against the vessels, placed them in the greatest peril for a number of days. On the 20th a dreadful gale arose from the north-east, in which the Guillamine suffered very considerable damage. In this awful tempest, out of the five ships two went down, while a third had sprung a number of leaks. The crews were taken on board of the two remaining barks, which they greatly incommoded. On the 25th all the three were completely frozen in, when it was resolved to send a party of twelve men to seek aid from four vessels which a few days before had been driven into a station at a little distance; but by the time of their arrival two of these had been dashed to pieces, and the other two were in the most deplorable condition. Two Hamburgh ships, somewhat farther removed, had perished in a similar manner. Meantime the former came in sight of Gale Hamkes’ Land, in Greenland, and the tempest still pushing them gradually to the southward, Iceland at length appeared on their left. The two more distant ships found a little opening, through which they contrived to escape. The crews of the three others were beginning to hope that they might at last be equally fortunate, when, on the 13th September, a whole mountain of ice fell upon the Guillamine. The men, half naked, leaped out upon the frozen surface, saving with difficulty a small portion of their provisions. The broken remnants of the vessel were soon buried under enormous piles of ice. Of the two other ships, one commanded by Jeldert Janz had just met a similar fate, and there remained only that of one other, to which all now looked for refuge. By leaping from one fragment of ice to another, the men, not without danger, contrived to reach this vessel, which, though in extreme distress, received them on board. Shattered and overcrowded, she was obliged immediately after to accommodate fifty other seamen, the crew of a Hamburg ship which had just gone down, the chief harpooner and twelve of the mariners having perished. These numerous companies, squeezed into one vessel, suffered every kind of distress. Famine, in its most direful forms, began to stare them in the face. All remoter fears, however, gave way, when on the 11th October, the vessel went to pieces in the same sudden manner as the others, leaving to the unfortunate sailors scarcely time enough to leap upon the ice with their remaining stores. With great difficulty they reached a field of some extent, and contrived with their torn sails to rear a sort of covering; but, sensible that, by remaining on this desolate spot, they must certainly perish, they saw no safety except in scrambling over the frozen surface to the coast of Greenland, which was in view. With infinite toil they effected their object, and happily met some inhabitants, who received them hospitably, and regaled them with dried fish and seals’ flesh. Thence they pushed across that dreary region till they succeeded at length, on the 13th March, in reaching the Danish settlement of Frederickshaab. Here they were received with the utmost kindness, and, being recruited from their fatigues, took the first opportunity of embarking for Denmark, whence they afterward sailed to their native country.

The Davis’s Strait fishery has also been marked with very frequent and fatal shipwrecks. In 1814 the Royalist, Capt. Edmonds, perished with all her crew; and in 1817, the London, Capt. Mathews, shared the same fate. The only account of either of these ships ever received was from Capt. Bennet of the Venerable, who, on the 15th April, saw the London in a tremendous storm, lying to windward of an extensive chain of icebergs, among which, it is probable she was dashed to pieces that very evening. Large contributions were raised at Hull for the widows and families of the seamen who had suffered on these melancholy occasions.

Among accidents on a smaller scale, one of the most frequent is, that of boats employed in pursuit of the whale being overtaken by deep fogs or storms of snow, which separate them from the ship, and never allow them to regain it. A fatal instance of this kind occurred to the Ipswich, Capt. Gordon; four of whose boats, after a whale had been caught, and even brought to the ship’s side, were employed on a piece of ice hauling in the line, when a storm suddenly arose, caused the vessel to drift away, and prevented her, notwithstanding the utmost efforts, from ever coming within reach of the unfortunate crews who composed the greater part of her establishment. Mr. Scoresby mentions several casualties of the same nature which occurred to his boats’ companies, all of whom, however, in the end, happily found their way back. One of the most alarming cases was that of fourteen men who were left on a small piece of floating ice, with a boat wholly unable to withstand the surrounding tempest; but amid their utmost despair they fell in with the Lively of Whitby, and were most cordially received on board.

The source, however, of the most constant alarm to the whale-fisher is connected with the movements of that powerful animal, against which, with most unequal strength, he ventures to contend. Generally, indeed, the whale, notwithstanding his immense strength, is gentle, and even passive; seeking, even when he is most hotly pursued, to escape from his assailants, by plunging into the lowest depths of the ocean. Sometimes, however, he exerts his utmost force in violent and convulsive struggles; and every thing with which, when thus enraged, he comes into collision, is dissipated or destroyed in an instant. The Dutch writers mention Capt. Vienkes of the ship Barley Mill, who, after a whale had been struck, was hastening with a second boat to the support of the first. The fish, however, rose, and with its head struck the boat so furiously, that it was shivered to pieces, and Vienkes was thrown with its fragments on the back of the huge animal. Even then this bold mariner darted a second harpoon into the body of his victim; but unfortunately he got entangled in the line and could not extricate himself, while the other party were unable to approach near enough to save him. At last, however, the harpoon was disengaged, and he swam to the boat.

Mr. Scoresby, in one of his earliest voyages, saw a boat thrown several yards into the air, from which it fell on its side, plunging the crew into the sea. They were happily taken up, when only one was found to have received a severe contusion. Capt. Lyons of the Raith of Leith, on the Labrador coast, in 1802, had a boat thrown fifteen feet into the air; it came down into the water with its keel upwards, yet all the men except one were saved.

The crew of Mr. Scoresby the elder, in 1807, had struck a whale, which soon reappeared, but in a state of such violent agitation that no one durst approach it. The captain courageously undertook to encounter it in a boat by himself, and succeeded in striking a second harpoon; but another boat having advanced too close, the animal brandished its tail with so much fury, that the harpooner, who was directly under, judged it most prudent to leap into the sea. The tail then struck the very place that he had left, and cut the boat entirely asunder, with the exception of two planks, which were saved by having a coil of ropes laid over them; so that had he remained, he must have been dashed to pieces. Happily all the others escaped injury. The issues, however, were not always so fortunate. The Aimwell of Whitby in 1810, lost three men out of seven, and, in 1812, the Henrietta of the same port lost four out of six, by the boats being upset, and the crews thrown into the sea.

In 1809, one of the men belonging to the Resolution of Whitby, struck a sucking whale; after which the mother, being seen wheeling rapidly round the spot, was eagerly watched. Mr. Scoresby, being on this occasion in the capacity of harpooner in another boat, was selecting a situation for the probable reappearance of the parent fish, when suddenly an invisible blow stove in fifteen feet of the bottom of his barge, which filled with water and instantly sank. The crew were saved.

CHAPTER V.
PROCEEDINGS AFTER A WHALE IS KILLED.

“Before a whale can be flensed, as the operation of taking off the fat and whalebone is called, some preliminary measures are requisite. These consist in securing the fish to a boat, cutting away the attached whale-lines, lashing the fins of the whale together, and towing it to the ship.

The first operation performed on a dead whale is to secure it to a boat. This is easily effected by lashing it with a rope, passed several times through two holes pierced in the tail, to the boat’s bow. The more difficult operation of freeing the whale from the entanglement of the lines is then attempted. As the whale, when dead, always lies on its back, or on its side, the lines and harpoons are generally far under water. While this is in progress, the men of the other boats, having first lashed the tail to a boat, are employed in lashing the fins together across the belly of the whale.

On one occasion, says a whaler, I was engaged in the capture of a fish, upon which, when to appearance dead, I leaped, cut holes in the fins, and was in the act of reeving a rope through them, when the fish sunk beneath my feet. As soon as I observed that the water had risen above my knees, I made a spring towards a boat at the distance of three or four yards from me, and caught hold of the gunwale. Scarcely was I on board before the fish began to move forward, turned from its back upon its belly, reared its tail aloft and began to shake it with such prodigious violence, that it resounded through the air to the distance of two or three miles. After two or three minutes of this violent exercise, it ceased, rolled over upon its side, and died.

In the year 1816, a fish was to all appearance killed. The fins were partly lashed, and the tail on the point of being secured, and all the lines excepting one were cut away, the fish meanwhile lying as if dead. To the astonishment and alarm, however, of the sailors, it revived, began to move, and pressed forward in a convulsive agitation; soon after, it sunk in the water to some depth, and then died. One line remained attached to it, by which it was drawn up and secured. A fish being properly secured, is then “taken in tow,” that is, all the boats join themselves in a line, by ropes always carried for the purpose, and unite their efforts in rowing towards the ship. The course of the ship, in the mean time, is directed towards the boats, but in calms, or when the ship is moored to the ice, at no great distance, or when the situation of the fish is inconvenient or inaccessible, the ship awaits the approach of the fish.

The fish having reached the ship is taken to the larboard side, arranged and secured for flensing. For the performance of this operation a variety of knives and other instruments is requisite.

The enormous weight of a whale prevents the possibility of raising it more than one fourth, or one fifth part out of the water, except, indeed, when it has been some days dead, in which case it swells in consequence of air generated by putrefaction, until one third of its bulk appears above the surface; the fish then lying belly upwards, extended and well secured, is ready for the operation of flensing.

After the whale is properly secured along side of the ship, the harpooners, having their feet armed with spurs, to prevent them from slipping, descend upon the fish. Two boats each of which is under the guidance of one or two boys, attend upon them, and serve to hold all their knives, and other apparatus. Thus provided, the harpooners divide the fat into oblong pieces, or ‘slips,’ by means of ‘blubber spades’ and ‘blubber knives;’ then, affixing a ‘tackle’ to each slip, flay it progressively off as it is drawn upwards. The flensers commence with the belly and under jaw, being the only part then above water. The blubber, in pieces of half a ton each, is received on deck, and divided into portable, cubical, or oblong pieces, containing near a solid foot of fat, and passed down between decks, when it is packed in a receptacle provided for it in the hold, or other suitable place, called the flens-gut, where it remains until further convenience.

All the fat being taken away from the belly, and the right fin removed, the fish is then turned round on its side. As the fish is turned round, every part of the blubber becomes successively uppermost and is removed. At length, when the whole of the blubber, whalebone, and jaw bones have been taken on board, the carcass being set at liberty, generally sinks in the water and disappears.”

When sharks are present they generally help themselves very plentifully during the cutting up. Birds pay close attendance, particularly the larger species of Petrel or Mother Cary’s Chicken, seizing the pieces of flesh as it falls in the water. Gulls also attend in great numbers to get their share; but the large Petrel or Fulmar is decidedly master of the feast. Hence the others are obliged to relinquish the most delicious morsel when he claims it.

CREW OF A WHALER KILLING PENGUINS.