The "Porpoise" (Beluga or White Whale) Fishery on the St. Lawrence
The so-called "porpoise" of the St. Lawrence is in reality the French marsouin, the English beluga, a word of Russian origin, signifying white. The Beluga (Delphinapterus leucas), is a real whale with its most striking characteristic the white, or rather cream-coloured, skin described by some writers as very beautiful. Like the narwhal it has no dorsal fin. Though the smallest member of the whale family it is sometimes more than twenty feet long; but usually ranges from thirteen to sixteen feet. The young are bluish black in colour and may be seen swimming beside their mother who feeds them with a very thick milk. These young grow rapidly and become mottled and then white as they grow older. The beluga is peculiar to northern regions where the water is cold: when one is seen at the mouth of an English river it is a subject of special note. There are numbers in Hudson Bay and they have been found in the Yukon River, it is said, 700 miles from its mouth, whither they went no doubt after salmon or other fish.
Jacques Cartier saw the beluga disporting itself off Malbaie nearly 400 years ago and in summer it is still to be seen there almost daily. It is never alone. One sees the creatures swimming rapidly in single file. They come to the surface with a prolonged sigh accompanied by the throwing of a small jet of water; the perfectly white bodies writhe into view as the small round heads disappear. Sometimes the beluga makes a noise like the half suppressed lowing of oxen and, since the aquatic world is so silent, sailors have christened the beluga, for this slender achievement, the "sea canary." It is a playful creature and is apparently attracted by man's presence. Before its confidence in him was shaken it used to linger about wharves and ships. But, in spite of the extremely small aperture of its ear, it is very sensitive to sound and modern man with his fire arms and clatter of machinery frightens it away. In 1752 the Intendant Bigot issued special instructions to check the use of firearms on the point at Rivière Ouelle, in order that the beluga might not be frightened, to the ruin of the extensive fishery that has existed there for more than two hundred years. Its sight, touch and taste are also well developed but it has no olfactory nerve and is apparently without the sense of smell. The creature has qualities that we should hardly expect. It has been tamed and almost domesticated. The enterprising Barnum exhibited in New York a beluga which drew a boat about in his aquarium. At Boston another beluga from the St. Lawrence drew about a floating car carrying a woman performer. It knew its keeper and at the proper time would appear and put its head from the water to be harnessed or to take food. This beluga would take in its mouth a sturgeon and a small shark confined in the same tank, play with them and allow them to go unharmed. It would also pick up and toss stones with its mouth.
The beluga is greedy. In the early spring, when he is thin and half starved, capelin and smelt in great numbers come to spawn along the north and south shores of the St. Lawrence. With high tide comes the beluga's chance to feed on the spawning fish and he will rush in quite near to shore for his favourite food. So voracious is he that with the fish he takes quantities of sand into his stomach. In eight or ten days he will eat enough to form from five to eight inches of fat over his whole body. "The facility with which he thus grows fat is explained," says the Abbé Casgrain, "by the easy assimilation of such food and by the considerable development of his digestive apparatus."
No doubt the beluga enjoys himself hugely. But Nemesis awaits him. His fish diet has a soporific effect; gorged with food he becomes stupid and is easily taken. Man's trap for him is simple and ingenious. A century and a half ago it was to be seen at Pointe au Pic and to-day it is in operation at Rivière Ouelle on the south side of the river. The weir or fishery for the beluga must be on a large scale and is expensive to keep up; it is for this reason that when the number of these creatures declined it was no longer possible to maintain the fishery at Pointe au Pic. At Rivière Ouelle annually more than 7000 stakes, from 18 to 20 feet long, are necessary to keep in repair the fishery which is almost entirely destroyed each year by ice. Beginning at the shore a line of stakes is carried out into the river placed perhaps a foot apart to form a rough semi-circle about a mile and a third long. The stakes curve back to the shore leaving however a passage of perhaps 1000 feet open between the farther end and the shore. This outer end of the weir is completed by a smaller circle of stakes, so arranged as to make entrance easy by following within the line of stakes, but exit difficult. The distance between high and low water mark at Rivière Ouelle is about a mile and a half and along this great stretch of beach the small fish come in great numbers to spawn. There is a considerable point at the mouth of the little Rivière Ouelle. The wide beach, bare at low water, and this point furnish an admirable combination for the beluga fishery. At high tide the beluga comes rushing in near to shore after his prey, sometimes in water so shallow that his whole body comes into view. In his progress along the shore he is checked by the stakes reaching out from the point, so close together that he cannot get through. The stakes sway with the current and sometimes strike together making considerable noise. Early whalers thought the beluga would try to pass by squeezing between the stakes and to prevent this they fastened the stakes together with ropes. But this was not necessary. Frightened by the noise the timid beluga's instinct leads him to make for the open water. He dashes across the semi-circle of the fishery only to be checked by the line of stakes on its outer edge. The line like a wall he follows, looking for an opening, and may be led insensibly into the labyrinthine circle at its end from which he will hardly escape. If he heads back towards shore where he came in, he is frightened by the shallow water which he disregarded only when in pursuit of his prey. Where was shallow water indeed he may now find dry land for the tide is running out. So the creature becomes bewildered. He swims about slowly, as it were feeling his way, or disappears at the bottom, to be stranded when the tide goes out and thus becomes the prey of his enemy, man.
Some old belugas are very cunning; they are called by the French Canadian the savants, the knowing ones, and seem to understand the wiles of the fisherman. They warn off the others and so foil the design against them. But greediness proves often their destruction. From over-feeding year after year they become fat and stupid and they too are likely in time to be taken. The less knowing beluga has usually slight chance of escape when once he encounters the line of stakes stretching out from the point and, since they follow each other blindly, if one is taken a whole troop is likely to meet the same fate.
The Abbé Casgrain, who, since his childhood was spent at the Manor House at Rivière Ouelle, was long familiar with the "porpoise" fishery, describes the scene witnessed there by him on May 1st, 1873. It was a glorious day and the belugas appeared in greater numbers than for many years. They swarmed off the mouth of the Rivière Ouelle. At high tide they came in, skirting the rocks within a stone's throw of shore and devouring greedily the innumerable small fish. The surface of the shallow water in which they swam was white with their gleaming bodies. When they puffed they spurted jets of water into the air which fell in spray that sparkled in the sunlight. The Abbé then describes how the creatures became entrapped in the fishery. Instances of the mother's devotion are recorded. They have been known to wait outside the stakes for their young, caught within, and to allow themselves to be stranded and killed rather than leave their offspring.
When the tide is low the slaughter begins. In the season of the spring tide the water at Rivière Ouelle retreats so far that the entrapped "porpoises" are left high and dry in the fishery and are readily killed. But in the season of neap tides enough water is left for them to swim about within the semi-circle of stakes. Boats are taken into the fishery through the outer line of stakes and then begins a regular whale hunt within a very circumscribed area. If the belugas are numerous their captors have not a moment to lose for the creatures may escape with the next tide. And numerous they sometimes are; 500 have been taken in a single tide; at Rivière Ouelle, about 1870, 101 were killed in one night by only four men. They had not expected such a host and had no time to send for help before the tide should rise again.
The captors are armed with barbed harpoons and with spears. The harpoon is sometimes thrown at the beluga from a considerable distance. When struck the creature rushes to the surface, plunges and rolls to get free. He never defends himself but thinks only of flight. It is an accident if a boat is upset by the stroke of its tail; such accidents sometimes happen but the victim gets little more than a soaking, much to the merriment of his companions. The harpooned beluga will make off at full speed dragging in his wake the assailant's boat which flies over the face of the water, boiling with the mighty strokes of the monster's tail. Soon the water is red for each beluga sheds eight or ten gallons of blood. When he is tired the boat is drawn in closer by the rope fastened to the animal. As opportunity offers the spear is used and, driven home by a strong hand, it sometimes goes clear through the body. A skilful man will quickly strike some vital spot; otherwise the beluga struggles long.
"Picture if possible," says the Abbé, "the animation of the beluga hunt when a hundred of them are in the weir, when twenty-five or thirty men are pursuing them, when five or six boats dragged by the creatures are ploughing the enclosed waters in every direction, when the spears are hurled from all sides and the men are covered with the blood which gushes out in streams. Some years ago the passengers of a passing steamer from Europe were witnesses of such a scene and showed their keen interest by firing a salvo of cannon."
When the belugas have been killed the next task is to get them to shore. The work must be done quickly for the next tide will stop all work and may sweep the animals away. Horses are brought and the bodies are dragged ashore or partly floated with the aid of the rising tide. The task of cutting up and boiling follows immediately. Workmen with long knives take off the skin and separate the blubber from the flesh. The Abbé Casgrain describes the process in detail. In the end the blubber is cut up into small pieces and boiled in huge caldrons. The poor never fail to come for their share of the catch and, with proverbial charity, the Company carrying on the operations never send them away empty. "The share-holders" says the Abbé Casgrain, "are convinced that the success of their labours depends upon the gifts which they make to God, and their generosity merits His benediction," Many a habitant goes home with a mass of blubber in his pot or hooked to the end of a stout branch.
The fishery is old and has been very profitable. La Potherie describes the industry as it existed at Kamouraska in 1701: that at Rivière Ouelle is found in 1707 and it remained in the hands of the heirs of the original promoters until, in 1870, it was found necessary to form them into an incorporated company. The oil is highly valued. It is very clear and has good lubricating qualities. Before the universal sway of petroleum it was much used for lighting purposes; an ordinary lamp would burn for 72 hours without going out. The Abbé Casgrain says that a barrel of the oil is worth from 100 to 200 dollars and since each beluga would yield not less than a barrel the value of the fishery in a good season is evident. The skin is very thick and of extraordinary strength. It has no grain and will take a beautiful polish.
[Beddard, "A Book of Whales" (London, 1900), pp. 244 sqq.
Sir Harry Johnston, "British Mammals," (London, 1903), pp. 22 sqq.
La Potherie, "Histoire de l'Amérique Septentrionale," (Paris, 1703), Vol. 1, Lettre X., pp. 273 sqq.
Casgrain, "Une Paroisse Canadienne au XVIIe Siècle," Œuvres, Vol. 1, pp. 530 sqq.
Casgrain, "Eclaircissements sur La Pêche aux Marsouins," Ib. p. 563 sqq.]