"White, quiet sails from the grim icy coasts,
That bear the battles of the whaling hosts,
Whose homeward crews, with feet and flutes in tune,
And spirits roughly blithe, make music to the moon."
July 22nd. Tuesday. During the night the rain changed into snow and in the morning it was blowing a gale. In fact, it was a wild, winter's day. We were amongst loose ice, with our main yard aback and there was no open water to be seen anywhere. During the day the snow ceased but the wind kept up until late in the afternoon, when we found ourselves in a triangular pool of water, the sides of the triangle being about half a mile long and the base, three or four hundred yards. The ship was anchored to one side and she lay parallel with the base and twenty or thirty yards away from it. This hole appeared to have been formed by large floes. It was quite free from ice and afforded us an ideal harbor.
July 23rd. Wednesday. All hands turned out shortly after four in the morning as a whale was seen at the apex of this triangle. One boat had been left fast to the ship's stern. This went in pursuit and the others lowered away, the one I was in being ordered to remain fast to a line from the ship's stem. Long before the boats reached the whale, it sounded and did not appear again, so they came on board, all but the one I was in. Our bows were towards the ship's stern and the boat's side was twenty yards from the ice edge. We had been there about an hour when, with a great commotion, a tremendous whale came up between the ship and the ice edge. Its head was alongside our boat before we realized what had happened; and by the time we had slipped the line the leviathan had passed us, as it was going fast. We could almost have touched him with the oars, but by the time we turned the boat and were under way, down went the fish to look for another breathing place elsewhere and we returned to our berths. Had the bow of the boat been the other way, we could have fastened the whale easily.
At eight bells, we came on board for breakfast. Just as I entered the cabin, I heard the rushing on deck and, going up, found two boats off after a whale. It had simply come up to breathe and, having breathed, it went down again and disappeared from our harbor. One boat remained at the apex of the triangle and the other returned; and, on the way, a fish came up a hundred yards in front of it. They pulled hard and took a long shot as it humped its back going down. They got fast and the whale went off! under the ice. From the barrel, a small water hole could be seen half a mile away, and to this several ran, carrying a rocket gun which could be fired from the shoulder. Before they had gone very far, however, the harpoon drew and, as there was no use firing rockets into a free fish, they came on board again. It was now blowing pretty hard and very cold, but we still kept a boat at the apex of the triangle and one beside the ship. Now occurred a very exciting race. A whale came up half way along one side of the hole, and was travelling slowly towards the base. The boat at the apex followed, the one by the ship did not move, and every man on board was watching what would happen. Reaching the base, the whale halted to take a few long breaths before going down, the boat rapidly neared, the whale humped its back and the boat had to fire. From where we were, we saw the harpoon fly up into the air with the foregoer wriggling after it, then it fell, missing the whale as completely as if it had not been fired at it. I was sorry for that harpooner. He was a big man from Aberdeen, with a yellow beard, and he was a nervous wreck when he came on board. This fearfully bad luck was maddening, and we were all on edge; for, though the place was swarming with whales, we never got one. Had we got fast to half a dozen, we would have lost them all through lines being cut by the ice, or fouling.
By the evening, the wind had gone down and the ice was slacker, the whole east side of our pool moving away.
July 24th, Thursday, was a beautiful day after the storm and we had open water astern once more. We unhooked after breakfast and steamed slowly towards the south side again, and while steaming, we sighted a whale down the Sound. The ship was anchored to the ice and the boats distributed in the usual way. This whale did not come up after being first seen until it was at the ice edge, when one of our boats got fast. It then went under the floe—a most unusual proceeding when it had lots of open water. We were along the ice edge, nearly a mile from the fast boat, and wondering what would happen next, when, in a very small hole, 150 yards from my boat, up came the head of the whale. The hole was not many times larger than the head. The under surface of the lower jaw was towards us. It had a very white appearance. The head turned around very slowly presenting a wonderful sight. Gyles, the harpooner, in whose boat I was, seized a rocket gun and, running to the hole, fired, and the head went down as slowly as it came up. Presently the fish appeared in the open water and was immediately harpooned again. Its experience under the ice, or Gyle's rocket, had affected it so that it did not remain down but soon came up again and submitted patiently to the lancing operation which ended its life. This removed the gloom caused by the awful luck of the previous day. We had now more than three tons of bone, and that alone would be a fair voyage. The flensing began just as soon as the crew had food and was not finished until bedtime.
July 25th. Friday. Every one was cheerful. Some of the hands were cleaning bone, two boats were on the bran, and one after narwhals, as there were many of them about.