CHAPTER VII—THE BOTTLENOSE FISHING
"The Arctic sun rose broad above the wave,
The breeze now sank, now whispered from his cave."
Newfoundland looked more attractive in April than it did when we left, doing about was pleasanter and we saw everything worth seeing in the neighborhood of St John's. On board, great changes took place. All the sheathing was torn off and the ship cleaned inside and out. Her overhauling was complete. The rigging was set up, the masts were scraped and oiled and the ship painted. The punts were all cleared away and our beautiful whale-boats took their place.
The Aurora was peculiar in having two boats, one above the other, on each quarter. We fished ten boats altogether, four down each side and two upper quarter boats.
The crew of a whale-boat is six, a harpooner, a boat-steerer and four men pulling. The harpooner rows until ordered by the boat-steerer to stand by his gun. In the bow the harpoon-gun is mounted on a swivel, and fast to the harpoon is the "foregoer." This is a very pliable, untarred rope, about two and a half inches in circumference and eighteen fathoms long. It is coiled in a tub, sitting on the port bow of the boat, while on the starboard side, in a convenient rest, lies the hand-harpoon.
The bollard head, around which a turn of the line is taken, is an important structure; it stands in the bow, beside the gun. Many a boat has gone down through the line fouling at the bollard head.
To the "foregoer" or "foreganger," is attached the whale line. The term "line" means, generally, one rope 120 fathoms long, and there are five of these carried in each boat, one and a half being stowed amidships and the rest aft. They are 2 1/2-inch ropes, and tarred. The greatest care must be observed in coiling these lines, and by the line manager in the boat as the line runs out.
A struck whale generally starts at about seven or eight miles an hour. Should the rope, running out at this rate, uncoil unevenly, a kink in it might foul one of the crew and instantly take him down. This has often happened.
Each boat has several six-foot lances ready for use when the whale is exhausted; the idea being, to sever with the long sharp lance some of the large vessels, thus bleeding the animal to death.
The oars in a whale-boat work on mats on the gunwale, and a thole-pin is used instead of rowlocks. An arrangement on the oar keeps it from slipping through the grummet on the thole-pin, when it is let go. The mat is to prevent noise. A little piggin is used for bailing the boat, and, when hoisted on a boat hook, is the signal for more lines. The shaft of the harpoon is made of soft, Swedish iron, so that it can be twisted in any conceivable way without breaking.
A little barrel of bread and cheese is carried in each boat and this must not be broached until after the boat has been away from the ship a considerable time; water is also carried. The great long steering oar is very important. With it a dexterous boat-steerer can do wonders. He can sweep the boat around very quickly or can scull noiselessly up to a whale when the oars or paddles would frighten it away. The steering oar works on a pin and mat, as do the others.
The whale fisher has many incentives. As he is generally a man who has to labor for a living, and as he is partly paid by the result of his work, the capture of a whale means to him a good deal, probably several pounds. This stimulates him. Again, the sooner he fills the ship, the sooner he sails for home. While there is not much chance of filling the ship nowadays, the securing of a good summer catch probably saves him a weary, cold autumn, fishing on the west side. Last, but not least, the pursuit of whales is often attended with great danger, which is one of the principal factors of good sport. The average game hunter is not exposed to as great risk as the average whaler.
What danger is there in the pursuit of any member of the deer or antelope family, and what chance has the animal in these days of high power rifles? Sometimes the whale has no chance for its life and the destruction of such a huge creature is not exciting, but, generally, there is danger, as the history of the industry proves. Hunting rhino or buffalo is better sport than hunting deer because the former may charge and kill one. The whale hunter may be snatched to instant death by a foul line, or starved to death in an open boat, and these possibilities elevate the sport greatly.
One cannot help sometimes being sorry for the animal one has killed, the excitement of the chase over and the beast lying dead, especially when only the head is wanted, and when everything else must be left to spoil. A dead whale means creature comforts to many poor people; and I, personally, have had more qualms at the escape of a wounded buck than I have had over all the whales we killed.
Fishing for bottlenose, the year before (1883), the Aurora lost two men, and the Esquimaux lost one this year. While we were killing our whales off Hudson Straits, he was snatched out of the boats and never seen again. A few years before, this man's father was lost from the same ship.
In approaching a black fish, the eye must be avoided. Going "eye on" is a serious matter, as the whale is not such a fool as it looks, and the tremendously powerful tail can smite with terrific force. The lifting power of the tail has not been much studied; but a chance to observe it occurred on the Nova Zembla some time ago when the mate got his boat over one. Those who saw the accident say that the tail was lifted without any apparent effort, throwing the boat many feet up and breaking the bottom out of it. Fortunately the occupants were spilt out, and fell clear of the danger zone, because the fish struck the boat again and reduced it to match wood.
A week after our arrival, the Aurora had been pretty well cleaned and greatly changed in appearance. A small spruce tree was fastened to each masthead, the end of each yard-arm, and to the point of the jib-boom. Every one now had an easy time until the actual sailing day. Quite a number of vessels of all sorts had arrived, as the ice had disappeared from the coast; amongst them was the Allen steamer Newfoundland, from Halifax, bringing us English mail. The Greely relief ship Bear had also come in.
May 1st. Thursday. The Aurora was receiving finishing touches. We were lying at the south side but our launch had steam up and took us across when we wanted to go.
May 2. Taking a gun, I went with Dr. Crawford, of the Arctic, straight up the hill from the ship and found on the other side a growth of little trees so dense as to be practically impenetrable in places. I shot a hare crossing a little open place, and saw a splendid big hawk flying about, but it never came within shot. Returning with the hare, the Captain stopped me just as I was going on board. A hare was too unlucky, so I gave it to a man on the wharf. Captain Guy was standing on the Arctic and, seeing this, came on shore and cut the hare's feet off, throwing them on to the Aurora; he was ever fond of a joke. The most unlucky parts of this unlucky animal in no way interfered with our prosperity, however.
May 3rd. As the Lough Garry had come in I went on board. She was an ordinary iron or steel steamer of about 1,000 tons and had been chartered to take 500 tons of coal north for the relief expedition. She was not fortified or specially prepared in any way for the work, but still she managed to get along very well as far as her services were required. Going on board, I encountered the mate, who recognized me, he having been the mate of the Thetis who had given me the information I sought about whaling while in Dundee the autumn before. He showed me over the ship and told me many interesting facts about a whaling voyage.
The Esquimaux sailed this day and the Narwhal had already gone. The desire to find Greely was certainly starting us all north a couple of weeks before the usual time.
May 4th. Sunday. The Bear sailed. She was unlike any other ship going north this year, because she had her black funnel forward of the main mast and her crow's-nest on the foremast. The Arctic had her funnel in the same place, but her crow's-nest was on the mainmast. Their rigs also differed. These are small matters, but we soon could recognize any of the ships a long way off by their little peculiarities. During the day I went on board the Polynia. She was ready for sea and lying in the harbor. Captain Walker, who had command of her, was a naturalist and sportsman and it was a pleasure meeting him. She proceeded north before morning.
May 5th. Spent some time on board the Arctic. She was ready for sea and looked clean and nice with her spacious decks and cabins—very unlike a whaler. Her lines were graceful, and she had powerful engines, but she could not have stood as much in ice as the Aurora. Captain Guy told me about killing a whale with an old Eskimo harpoon buried in its blubber. He gave me this interesting souvenir of my voyage and told me about Captain McKay of Dundee killing a whale in which he found a harpoon with which the fish had been struck forty-two years before. This iron is now in the Dundee Museum.
May 6th and 7th. Took my last look at St. John's and made my cabin comfortable. I had now been in it for three months, so knew exactly what was required.
There does not seem to be any connection between a whaler and Florida water; but still I venture to say that there was not a sailor on our ship who had not from one to half a dozen bottles of this commodity. Some were for trade with the Eskimos and some for their sweethearts at home. The Captain had laid in a quantity of colored handkerchiefs and such things, which the men were permitted to purchase afterwards from the slop-chest for purposes of barter. The slop-chest was the ship's shop and was superintended by the second mate. One could purchase a wonderful lot of useful things from this institution.
May 8th. After breakfast, all being ready, the Aurora sailed for the whale fishing. In Scotland, a fish means a salmon, but in Greenland, a black whale is always spoken of as a fish, never anything else. We sailed out of the narrows and turned north. It was blowing a little from the southeast, so there was some swell. We got square sails on the ship presently, and with this breeze on her quarter, made good time, the engines going full speed.
Our intention was to try the bottlenose whale fishing off Resolution Island at the mouth of Hudson's Straits, for a few days, then go over to the Greenland side and follow the usual route. As there were many bergs coming down and quantities of field ice at this season, we kept rather well away from the coast, along which it came. At night the canvas was taken off the ship and a bright lookout kept for ice. For the next three days we steered north. The weather was fine and the sea smooth. Going up the Labrador coast, we saw some heavy floes, but kept well to the east of them and did not sight land. We did not see anything of interest, so it was rather monotonous.
May 12th. It was a lovely morning when I came on deck, with the wind from the southeast. We had our fore and afters set and were steaming full speed. Astern of us was the Nova Zembla and we were towing her, an act of brotherly love.
I had seen the ship in Dundee and was struck by her beauty. She and the Jan Mayen were very handsome little ships, and she looked far better at sea than in dock. We towed her part of the day. During the afternoon, the wind died down and the evening was beautiful; not a breath of air, but some swell rolling in from the southeast and the surface of the sea like glass. The people to-day were employed coiling lines in boats and arranging fishing gear as we might see the bottlenose whales any time.
May 13th. A beautiful calm day. The men were getting ready the whale-boats and filling the bunkers. We were well off Cape Chidley, the northeast corner of Labrador, in the morning. In the evening a school of bottlenose whales was seen, and six boats were lowered away. Two of the boats immediately filled as they had been out of the water so long, but the others pulled after the whales. I was oh the bridge watching the sport. It was splendid. The ship and boats rising and falling on a rather heavy swell, the surface of the water like oil, the boats freshly painted, and the harpoons glistening in the sun, presented an interesting picture of the sea; while the school of very lively little whales rolling about like porpoises and then disappearing, to come up suddenly, gave it animation.
The boats had several shots, but they were quick and difficult. One, however, was captured by Alex. McKechnie, the second mate, and after a short play, killed and brought alongside. This beast (Hyperoodon Rostratus, or the northern sperm whale) is small, but of remarkable appearance, having a long round beak, which protrudes from the lower part of its large head. Its oil is very good; that flowing from the cancellous bones of the head solidifying on deck at a comparatively high temperature, and when solid, looking like spermaceti. Many of the men took bottles full of this oil for use in future sprains and bruises. Late in the evening another whale was killed by Thors, and, from the numbers we saw around, there was no reason why the Aurora should not have picked up a profitable cargo in this neighborhood, but the desire for the valuable whalebone took us to the north.
May 14th. We were off Frobisher's Bay and after the little whales again, and another was captured. I was not in the boats at all at this fishing, as the movement of the whales was so fast that they capsized boats frequently and only experienced oarsmen were wanted. I was told that more men lost their lives at this than at the right whale fishing. We learned afterwards that the Nova Zembla picked up seven here, while the Arctic bagged seventeen. The whale killed in the morning by McLean was over twenty feet long. The other two were smaller. The heads were brought on board so I had a good look at them.
I saw white stalactites of spermaceti hanging from them to stalagmite incrustations of the same on deck, and I noticed that the oil was free from smell.
The neighborhood of Resolution Island was notorious for its awful currents, and the rise and fall of tide about the western end of Hudson Straits made navigation on these comparatively uncharted waters exceedingly dangerous.
I once heard Captain Guy tell of a narrow escape he had in the neighborhood of the upper Savage Islands. From the barrel, he saw a rock ahead, and ordered the lead cast. Three fathoms was found, so he backed off and anchored. In a few hours he was astonished to find an island where the submerged rock had been, and he afterwards learned from a reliable source that the rise and fall of tide at this place was over forty feet. Caribou were abundant on the north coast of the straits, and musk-ox were also found. Sometimes whalers coming down for the southwest fishing, in the autumn, killed numbers of both. The caribou was the barren land variety, and some of the heads were enormous. In this species the beam was long and straggly, and the palmation was not very pronounced.