One morning, when a stark calm left, the surface of the bay as smooth as a mirror, I was watching a few stealthily-gliding barracouta sneaking about over the plainly visible bottom, though at a depth of seven or eight fathoms. Ordinarily, these fish must be taken with a live bait; but, remembering my experience with the dolphin, I determined to try a carefully arranged strip of fish from one recently caught. In precisely the same way as the dolphin, these long, snaky rascals carefully tested the bait, lying still for sometimes as long as two minutes with the bait in their mouths, ready to drop it out on the first intimation that it was not a detached morsel. After these periods of waiting the artful creature would turn to go, and a sudden jerk of the line then reminded him that he was no longer a free agent, but mounting at headlong speed to a strange bourne whence he never returned to tell the tale. My catch that lovely morning scaled over a hundredweight in less than an hour, none of the fish being less than ten pounds in weight.
The Maories have quite an original way of catching barracouta. They prepare a piece of "rimu" (red pine) about three inches long, by an inch broad, and a quarter of an inch thick. Through one end of this they drive an inch nail bent upwards, and filed to a sharp point. The other end is fastened to about a fathom of stout fishing-line, which is in turn secured to the end of a five-foot pole. Seated in a boat with sail set, they slip along until a school of barracouta is happened upon. Then the peak of the sail is dropped, so as to deaden the boat's way, while the fishermen ply their poles with a sidelong sweep that threshes the bit of shining red through the water, making it irresistibly attractive to a struggling horde of ravenous fish. One by one, as swiftly as the rod can be wielded, the lithe forms drop off the barbless hook into the boat, till the vigorous arm can no longer respond to the will of the fisherman, or the vessel will hold no more.
Such were the goodly proportions of this first Solander whale of ours that, in spite of the serious loss of the case, we made thirteen and a half tuns of oil. When the fifteen huge casks containing it were stowed in their final positions, they made an imposing show, inspiring all of us with visions of soon being homeward bound. For the present we were, perforce, idle; for the wind had set in to blow steadily and strongly right up the Straits, preventing any attempts to get out while it lasted. The time did not hang heavy on our hands, for the surrounding country offered many attractions, which we were allowed to take full advantage of. Spearing eels and flounders at night by means of a cresset hung out over the boat's bow, as she was slowly sculled up the long, shallow creeks, was a favourite form of amusement. Mr. Cross, the resident, kindly allowed us to raid his garden, where the ripe fruit was rotting by the bushel for want of consumers. We needed no pressing; for fruit, since we left Vau Vau, of any kind had not come in our way; besides, these were "homey"—currants, gooseberries, strawberries—delightful to see, smell, and taste. So it came to pass that we had a high old time, unmarred by a single regrettable incident, until, after an enforced detention of twenty days, we were able to get to sea again.
Halfway down the Straits we sighted the CHANCE, all hands ripping the blubber off a sizeable whale in the same "anyhow" fashion as they handled their ship. They were in high glee, giving us a rousing cheer as we passed them on our westward course. Arriving on the ground, we found a goodly company of fine ships, which I could not help thinking too many for so small an area. During our absence, the TAMERLANE had been joined by the ELIZA ADAMS, the MATILDA SAYER, the CORAL, and the RAINBOW; and it was evident that no whale venturing within the radius of the Solander in the daytime would stand much chance of escaping such a battery of eager eyes. Only three days elapsed after our arrival when whales were seen. For the first time, I realized how numerous those gigantic denizens of the sea really are. As far as the eye could reach, extending all round one-half of the horizon, the sea appeared to be alive with spouts—all sperm whales, all bulls of great size. The value of this incredible school must have been incalculable. Subsequent experience satisfied me that such a sight was by no means uncommon here; in fact, "lone whales" or small "pods" were quite the exception.
Well, we all "waded in," getting, some two, some one whale apiece, according to the ability of the crews or the fortune of war. Only one fell to our lot in the CACHALOT, but it was just as well. We had hardly, got him fast by the fluke alongside when it began to pipe up from the north-east. In less than one watch the sea was fairly smoking with the fierceness of the wind. We were unable to get in anywhere, being, with a whale alongside, about as handy as a barge loaded with a haystack; while those unfortunate beggars that had two whales fast to them were utterly helpless as far as independent locomotion went, unless they could run dead before the wind. Every ship made all snug aloft, and hoisted the boats to the top notch of the cranes, fully anticipating a long, hard struggle with the elements before they got back to the cruising ground again. Cutting-in was out of the question in such weather; the only thing possible was to hope for a shift of wind before she got too far out, or a break in the weather. Neither of these events was probable, as all frequenters of South New Zealand know, bad weather having there an unhappy knack of being as persistent as fine weather is brief.
Night drew on as our forlorn and heavily handicapped little fleet bore steadily seaward with their burdens, the angry, ever-increasing sea, battering at us vengefully, while the huge carcasses alongside tore and strained at their fastenings as if they would rend the ships asunder. Slowly our companions faded from sight as the murky sky shut down on us, until in lonely helplessness we drifted on our weary way out into the vast, inhospitable Southern Ocean. Throughout the dark and stormy night our brave old ship held on her unwilling way right gallantly, making no water, in spite of the fearful strain to which she was subjected, nor taking any heavy sea over all. Morning broke cheerlessly enough. No abatement in the gale or change in its direction; indeed, it looked like lasting a month. Only one ship was visible far to leeward of us, and she was hull down. Our whale was beginning to swell rapidly, already floating at least three feet above the surface instead of just awash, as when newly killed. The skipper eyed it gloomily, seeing the near prospect of its entire loss, but he said nothing. In fact, very little was said; but the stories we had heard in the Bay of Islands came back to us with significant force now that their justification was so apparent.
Hour after hour went by without any change whatever, except in the whale, which, like some gradually filling balloon, rose higher and higher, till at nightfall its bulk was appalling. All through the night those on deck did little else but stare at its increasing size, which when morning dawned again, was so great that the animal's bilge rode level with the ship's rail, while in her lee rolls it towered above the deck like a mountain. The final scene with it was now a question of minutes only, so most of us, fascinated by the strange spectacle, watched and waited. Suddenly, with a roar like the bursting of a dam, the pent-up gases tore their furious way out of the distended carcass, hurling the entrails in one horrible entanglement widespread over the sea. It was well for us that it was to leeward and a strong gale howling; for even then the unutterable foetor wrought its poisonous way back through that fierce, pure blast, permeating every nook of the ship with its filthy vapour till the stoutest stomach there protested in unmistakable terms against such vile treatment. Knowing too well that the blubber was now worthless, the skipper gave orders to cut the corrupt mass adrift. This was speedily effected by a few strokes of a spade through the small. Away went eight hundred pounds' worth of oil—another sacrifice to the exigencies of the Solander, such as had gained for it so evil a reputation.
Doubtless a similar experience had befallen all the other ships, so that the aggregate loss must have run into thousands of pounds, every penny of which might have been saved had steam been available.
That gale lasted, with a few short lulls, for five days longer. When at last it took off, and was succeeded by fine weather, we were so far to the southward that we might have fetched the Aucklands in another twenty-four hours. But, to our great relief, a strong southerly breeze set in, before which, under every rag of canvas, we sped north again.
Steady and reliable as ever, that good south wind carried us back to our old cruising ground ere it blew itself out, and we resumed our usual tactics as if nothing had happened, being none the worse as regards equipment for our adventures. Not so fortunate our companions, who at the same time as ourselves were thrust out into the vast Southern Ocean, helplessly burdened and exposed defenceless to all the ferocity of that devouring gale, Two of them were here prowling about, showing evident signs of their conflict in the battered state of their hulls. The glaring whiteness of new planking in many places along the bulwarks told an eloquent story of seas bursting on board carrying all before them, while empty cranes testified to the loss of a boat in both of them. As soon as we came near enough, "gamming" commenced, for all of us were anxious to know how each other had fared.