Peter the Whaler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The fish had shaken himself clear of the harpoon, and escaped. Mighty must have been the force used, for the massive iron shaft was twisted and turned as a thin piece of wire might have been bent by a turn of the hand.

But, hurra! there are plenty more fish near; and with a will, little disconcerted, we gave way after them. One was seen at some distance from a floe, in which there was a crack. Now it is known that a whale generally rises close to the nearest floe; and if there is a crack in it, that part is selected instead of the outer edge. We got up to it before the fish appeared; our oars were out of the water; our harpooner standing up and watching eagerly every sign of the approach of our expected prey, guiding by signs the boat-steerer, who, with his oar, was silently impelling on the boat by sculling.

“Gently, boys—there’s her eddy—two strokes more—now avast pulling!”

I could just see the head, and the large black mass of the monster’s back, rising slowly from the water as he spoke, forming a strong contrast to the clear blue and white of the ice, and pure glittering sea. Then was heard the peculiar snorting blast, as she sent up in the air two watery jets; but in an instant we were upon her.

“Harden up, my lads!” shouted the harpooner; and a lusty stroke sent us almost on to the monster’s back; then flew forth his unerring harpoon. For a few moments, but for a few only, the whale seemed prepared to die without a struggle: a convulsive quiver passed through its frame; then, lifting up its flukes, it dived down, like its predecessor, beneath the floe. The iron had sunk in, and, raising our Blue Jack, with a loud shout we proclaimed a fall. Out flew the line with tremendous rapidity. Now the harpooner, sitting on his thwart, attempted to check the fish by turning the line round the bollard; but so quickly did it pass through his hands, shielded by mitts, that, almost in spite of the water thrown on it, smoke ascended from the burning wood, while the bows of the boat were drawn through the underwash to the solid floe beyond.

At times we thought the boat’s bow would have been drawn under the floe; again the line-manager let the line run out, and she rose once more, to be drawn down directly it was checked. But it was all-important to tire the fish, or otherwise all our line might be taken out before any assistance could come. Should this be the case, we might, after all, lose the fish. First one oar was elevated, to show our need of aid; then a second, a third, and a fourth, as the line drew near what is called the “bitter end.”

“Hold on, Darby, hold on!” we shouted in our eagerness; for we feared we might have to cut, or that the boat might be drawn under. Our shipmates tugged away at their oars with all their might; the boats from every direction dashing through the water to the point where they thought the fish might rise. Our line at the very edge began to slacken—a sign that she had ceased diving. She appeared about a quarter of a mile off or more, at the edge of the floe.

The quick-sighted eye of the first mate was on her almost before she had reached the surface; and before she could again seek safety in the ocean’s depths, another harpoon was plunged into her. We instantly began hauling in our lines; but before long she was off again, swimming away some depth below the surface, at a great rate, while we and the other boat were towed after her. Again the strain slackened, and she rose once more; but this time her foes were close to her. Another harpoon was struck, but it was needless. Without mercy lances were thrust into her on every side, till the shouts which reached our ears, as we slowly approached, hauling in our lines, proclaimed that our victory was complete. The fish was now secured, as I have before described, and made fast to a floe, while all but one boat made chase after another fish which blew temptingly near.

I ought to have said that, after securing the whale, all hands turned to with a right good-will to attack the bread and meat we had with us; for though whale-hunting beats hollow any other style of hunting, whether of deer, elephants, or tigers, yet it cannot by any manner of means be carried on without sustenance to the frame.

Away we went, then, the boat of the first mate leading. He, too, was successful in striking the fish. Three times she dived; but each time one or other of her enemies were upon her with harpoon and lances, while her eddying wake was dyed with blood, and a thick pellicle of oil, which attracted crowds of persevering Mollies to feast on it, marked her course.