“In some instances the whales are drawn out upon the slip in the Norwegian way.”
In Shimonoseki, where one of the offices of the whaling company is located, I found the president of the Toyo Hogei Kabushiki Kaisha (Oriental Whaling Company, Ltd.) most cordial in his attitude toward my proposed work. He offered to assist me in every possible way, and a few days later I boarded a little Japanese freight steamer which all day and night plowed her way through the beautiful islet-dotted waters of the Inland Sea to Oshima, famous in Japanese history.
At Oshima I made my home with Mr. Ikeda, the manager, and his wife, in a delightful little house built into the side of a hill which overlooked the beautiful bay with the village of Kishimoto on the opposite shore. I have lived with many people in many lands while wandering about the world, but never have I had a host or hostess who did more to further my work and personal comfort than these two delightful Japanese.
The whales are handled in such an unusual way in Japan that there was much to learn about the industry itself. The stations are usually situated not far from the feeding grounds of the animals, in or near one of the little fishing villages which dot the coast in every bay or harbor. Eight or ten large wooden buildings compose the factory, and there is always a long wharf projecting into deep water, at the end of which stand upright a pair of long heavy poles inclined forward and joined at their extremities by a massive crosspiece; from this are suspended the blocks through which run wire cables from the steam winch.
In some instances the whales are drawn out upon the slip in the Norwegian way, but the more usual Japanese method is a modification of that used by the deep-sea whalers; the animals are cut in while lying in the water, the poles at the end of the wharf being substituted for the masts of a ship.
“She was listing far to starboard and we could see the huge flukes of a blue whale ... waving at her bow.”
Late in the morning on the day after I arrived at Oshima the long-drawn wail of a siren whistle sounded far down the bay, and in a few moments a little whaling vessel swept proudly around a picturesque rocky headland and steamed swiftly toward the station. She was listing far to starboard and we could see the huge flukes of a blue whale, the shiro-nagasu kujira of the Japanese, waving at her bow, the carcass stretching alongside almost to the stern.
She slipped quietly up to the end of the wharf and two cutters sculled a sampan out to meet her. There were a few hoarse shouts, a sharp command, the rattle of a heavy chain, and a great splash as the whale was dropped into the water.