At 1.30 P. M., all hands were called to flense the whale alongside. By means of tackle made fast to the lower jaw, called the nose tackle, the mouth could be opened and the tongue and the bone removed. The right whale (Balaena Mysticetus), of which this was a specimen, supplies practically all the whalebone. It grows from the sides of the upper jaw, three hundred blades hanging down on each side. They are ten and twelve inches wide where inserted into the gum, and narrow as they descend. The inner edge is frayed and the outer unbroken. These frayed inner edges form a sort of sieve through which the water passes when the whale shuts its mouth, but through which the whale food cannot pass.
The bone from each side is brought on board generally in one piece, sufficient gum being taken with it to hold the lamellae together. This is divided with a wedge into smaller pieces of about a dozen lamellae each, and subsequently each lamella is slit off with the wedge and freed from gum and oil. The longest blades are those in the centre on each side and they vary in length according to the size of the animal—twelve feet being large. The size of a whale is estimated by the length of the longest blade, "a twelve-foot fish" being one in which this measures twelve feet. The bone is about a quarter of an inch thick and tears easily into long pieces. It is an albuminous substance, containing calcium phosphate, and can be moulded when heated by steam, retaining its shape if cooled under pressure.
The busy part of a whaler during flensing is the deck between the main mast and foremast. Between these masts is the blubber guy, a stout wire rope to which blocks are strapped, and through these are rove the tackles which haul the long strips of blubber on board as they are pulled off the whale.
The specksioneer and all the harpooners except the mate get on to the whale or into the mollie boats in attendance; they have spikes on their boots to keep them from slipping; and they remove the blubber and bone with their knives and spades. The mate of a ship is a busy man, but the mate of our whaler flensing was, I think, the busiest person I ever saw. Acting under the captain's directions and from his own initiative, he was everywhere, giving orders and seeing them carried out.
In removing the blubber the first thing done is to start cutting a ribbon of it around the neck, called the kant. This piece, probably two feet wide, when pulled upon, turns the carcass, and from it, running towards the tail, the long strips are cut and hauled on board. First the piece around the neck is well started. Then with spades a strip is started. As this is hauled on by the capstan the men with spades cut along each side and it is simply peeled off. When the piece raised up is several hundred pounds, it is cut off, hoisted on board, and the tackle refastened. When the exposed part has been flensed, the neck piece or kant is again pulled on by the windlass, which turns the whale over a little, and so on. When all the blubber has been removed, the head tackle is cut out and the carcass, or kreng as it is called, sinks as soon as the tail is cut off. The tail is taken on board and used afterwards for chopping blubber on. The blubber as it comes on board is cut into smaller pieces by the boat-steerers and thrown into the 'tween-decks by the line managers, from which it is taken a day or two later, cut small and put into tanks. Flensing a fish is a very cheerful occupation and the ship is certainly oily, but there is no unpleasant smell. As soon as a whale is killed, the fulmar petrels (P. Glacialis) come in swarms, and they gorge themselves with fat until they cannot sit up; then they become dreadfully ill and begin all over again. There was always a current where we flensed and this current would carry away a stream of overgorged birds, too full to do anything but drift. I sat in a boat one day and amused myself catching the birds as they paddled past until I had numbers in the boat. I found it better, however, to leave them in the water, or to let them stagger about among the men's feet at work. This was a ten-foot fish and would probably yield thirteen tons of oil. The following is a copy of the scale used long ago by whalers:—
Of course there are exceptions to this old rule.
The afternoon clouded up while we were so busy, and by the time we had finished, it was blowing. When I turned in there was some snow and it was much colder.
July 6th. Sunday. I found the ship with the main yard aback, dodging about in a rather choppy sea. The sky was cloudy and it looked like winter. Three ships were in sight down the Sound, all under canvas. We were quite close to the south side, as the captain believed that fish would come up that way, and it proved that he was correct. After breakfast a whale was seen blowing among some loose ice to the north of us. Six boats put off in pursuit, while the ship followed. Two of the boats kept straight to the ice while the other four, including Jack McLean's, in which I was, kept around it. The sea was quite choppy and the air cold, but we warmed up with the rowing.
The boats going straight to the ice were able to pass through and entered open water beyond before we got around to it. The fish came up and gave the second mate a long shot just as she was going down; but a harpoon easily enters a whale's bent back so he got fast and "A fall! a fall!" was joyfully shouted by us all. As we passed the fast boat we saw her jack flying proudly and her bow enveloped in smoke as McKechnie tightened the line around the bollard head. Gyles was standing by, so with the other boats we pulled in the direction the fish had gone, and as we were getting close to more loose ice, those of us who were rowing and consequently looking astern saw the fast boat—which had been well down by the bow—right herself and we knew that the iron had drawn. We pulled away however in the hope of again getting fast, but this whale was only seen once more, a long way off, and after a hard row through loose ice we gave up. The ship had followed and she now picked us up. As the wind had gone down we sailed back towards the south side and made fast to the solid floe, getting our bran boats out before tea time. We picked up the fast boat on the way, she having her lines on board. The weather looked very settled at bedtime and the unusual exertion of the past two days made me sleep well.
July 7th. Monday. Summer had returned by morning and the making off had already begun when I came on deck. We were lying almost opposite the mouth of Admiralty Inlet and fast to a nice straight floe edge with not a bit of loose ice any place. There was more life on deck at the "making off" than there was at the flensing and every one was busy. The blubber had been cut into pieces two or three feet square and put down the main hatch. These big cubes of a faint orange color were taken on deck with the winch, and any pieces of adherent flesh being removed they were cut into blocks of a few pounds each. Along each side of the deck stood uprights; on the top of each was a plate with spikes called a clash, and beside each stood a harpooner with a long sharp knife. A block of blubber was lifted by a man with clash hooks and stuck on the clash spikes, with the skin up. The harpooner cut the skin off and the piece was then thrown into a heap in front of the speck trough. The speck trough, which was about two and a half feet square, was placed across the deck over the hatch; forward of this stood the boat-steerers and in front of each was a block of whale's tail resting on the opened back lid of the trough. Each man had a chopper, and as the pieces of blubber from the heap were thrown to them, they chopped them into little bits and swept them into the speck trough, from which they were conducted to the tanks through a canvas tube attached to an opening underneath. A man in the 'tween-decks directed this tube to the tank he desired to fill. The bone was stowed down the quarter hatch. It was always important to keep the ship clean and get the blubber away, as there was no regularity about the appearance of fish. A number might come at once, and several being killed, the crew could be blocked with work, while again there might not be another seen for a month.
When the making off was over, the decks were scrubbed down.
July 8th. Tuesday. The Arctic, Esquimaux and Narwhal were all in sight to the north of us. During the forenoon we lowered away for a fish, six boats going after it. We saw the spout near the ice edge and were ready for its return, but it came not, probably finding a breathing place somewhere and after resting coming out north of us. We waited a long time and had a tiresome row back. The native picked up by us when we first came had been landed near the south shore, where he had his dogs. Now we saw three coming along the floe and we picked them up, sledges, dogs and all. They belonged to Navy Board Inlet. Hardly were they on board when all hands were called and the boats were away, as spouting had been seen astern. I was in one of the four boats between the ship and the south coast, and we must have sat there half an hour before anything occurred; in fact, we thought the fish had gone elsewhere. The men were all pretty restless, when suddenly the water broke two boats from me and the report of a gun was followed by the cry—"A fall." I saw the whale throw its tail straight up as it went slowly down; then it started north and we pulled past the ship in that direction and scattered out to wait its reappearance. In the usual length of time the fish appeared in our midst and another iron was put in. Away we went again in the best of spirits. Of course, the fast boat in each case remained and moved only as towed by the whale. I was in Watson's boat, and at the whale's next appearance we were almost on the top of it and he immediately lanced, but the game stood very little tickling of that sort and was soon off. Again it came up beside us, and this time very breathless as it had such a short breathing spell before. Three boats were at once busy with lances, and in a very short time we registered a kill. When the lines were cut, and the flukes and tail attended to, we returned to the ship, pulling to the shanty, "A-roving, a-roving, since roving has been my ruin," and having the whale in tow, we were very much elated by our afternoon's work, but there was a great surprise in store for us. Arriving on board, the whale was made fast and I went down to have some coffee. When I came up I found that the crew of the first fast boat, having taken their line to the ice to facilitate pulling it in, had utterly failed to get it beyond a certain point. Thinking it had fouled something at the bottom, they were ordered to come on board and take their line in with the steam winch. This was done, and when after great pulling the very tight line was almost in, behold, there was a dead whale at the end of it. One must be on board a whaler to appreciate a pleasant surprise like this. It is not so much the extra money, as the satisfaction of success. What had happened was this.
The first harpoon fortunately struck deep in the shoulder of whale No. 1, which immediately sounded in shallow water and broke its neck. No. 2 was not a fast fish at all when we first saw it. Now, we had a fish on each side, and as soon as the crew had refreshed themselves with supper, the work of flensing started with a will. When things were well under way I turned in, very tired, and when I tumbled out four hours after, one fish was on board. The men were now ordered to turn in for four hours, except, of course, the lookout and a few nondescript people like myself and the engineer. I learned another thing about the ways of the Arctic this morning; directly the crew had turned in, the clock in the companion was put forward an hour, and when two hours had passed it went on another hour, then all hands were called and our second whale taken on board. This fish was flensed in about three hours, the crew turning in, except a boat's crew on the bran and the lookout. The Esquimaux came steaming towards us during the night, which annoyed us greatly, as the fish were coming up the south side and we thought our berth rather good. She steamed past and hooked on five or six hundred yards south of us. The Aurora immediately unhooked and passed her, while she repeated the performance mid a storm of abuse from both barrels. Our Captain was afraid to go closer to the shore, so we remained where we were. When we hooked on first, the natives had left us, going north to the other ships. We now saw a number of well loaded sledges coming up the south coast. It was evident that they would board the Esquimaux first, so we would lose the chance of bartering with them. Consequently, we sent a boat off to pick them up and bring them on board. Our opponents saw what we were doing, so sent a boat also. As it had a shorter distance to go than ours, it picked up the whole caravan and brought it back. Our boat noticing a sledge far away with two people in it, waited for them and brought them to the Aurora. It happened that these two old natives owned all the barter on the other sledges, and as we kept them on board, everything had to be turned over to the Aurora by the other ship, greatly to their disgust. The Captain obtained from them quite a lot of narwhals' tusks and bear skins. The incident amused us very much.
July 9th. Wednesday. Two boats on the bran and the balance of the crew washing down the ship. I had my first ride on an Eskimo sled. Giving a native a plug of tobacco, he removed from his sled all the movable things and I got on. Then addressing a few remarks to his dogs, off they started. As the ice was smooth I enjoyed it at first, but we came to a hummocky place where it was not so pleasant. I did my best to stop the dogs, but they followed their leader, and finally I tumbled off and returned to the ship, the dogs going on probably home. The runners of the sledge were made of whales' jaws with bone cross pieces lashed to them. When I went on board I found a boat just starting for a bear to the north of us. I don't think I ever saw one any distance from the water; this was along the floe edge and several miles away. Between us there was a peninsula of ice on which there were some hummocks. I landed here to try a stalk and the boat rowed around. For a time I did very well, the bear wandering aimlessly and slowly about, but before I got within three hundred yards of him, he had seen me and was off to the water. I fired several times, but without effect. He plunged in and started to swim across from the peninsula to the main floe. The boat had by this time doubled the cape and bruin had a bullet in his head before he had gone very far. We hauled him on to the ice and skinned him. The men cut some steaks for themselves, but I never had the pleasure of trying polar bear, as the Captain did not care for carnivorous animals as a food.
A great many white whales were now around. I wished we could have driven a school of them up a fiord the way they drive the potheads up the Shetland voes. When we returned we found that a narwhal had been killed, but we did not like to disturb the right whales by hunting these very much.
As the ship was generally hooked on to the floe which extended across the Sound, her bow was pointed up and her stern down, consequently astern nearly always meant down the Sound, as the current setting in that direction held the ship in that position.
"Look through the sleet and look through frost,
Look to the Greenlands' caves and coast.
By the iceberg is a sail
Chasing of the swarthy whale;
Mother doubtful, mother dread,
Tell us, has the good ship sped?"
July 10th. Thursday. We moved from our neighbor, the Esquimaux, and dodged north under canvas, hooking on five or six miles away. The Sound was frozen completely across this year, and during our stay, the ice never opened. Probably we could have forced our way in had we been bent on exploration, but the ice floe edge fishing was very desirable and suited us exactly.
All hands were employed making off when I came up and we had a busy day getting two whales into our tanks. Although they were not very large, it took many hours and every one was tired when it was over.
The Sound being frozen over was a great disappointment to me as it prevented our going up Barrow Strait, or visiting Beechy Island, where Sir John Franklin spent his last winter. There I was, within a few miles of the place consecrated to the memory of those heroes and doomed to return home without seeing it. Up this waterway, Sir James Ross and McClure had passed to make their great discoveries of the magnetic polar area and the northwest passage. There had been, at one time or another, nearly all the Arctic explorers, of whom I had ever heard.
As the clock in the companion had been moved about so much lately, and as there was not a watch, on the ship, going, our ideas of time were vague in the extreme.
July 11th. Friday. The weather was fine, and during the afternoon, positively warm. The boats spent the day on the bran, but there were no whales in sight. An interesting phenomenon was, however, in evidence, namely, refraction. Byam Martin's Mountains looked wild and precipitous, and the coast line appeared as a continuous high cliff, quite unlike the land we had been beside for the past week. What I found most interesting was to watch the Narwhal, which was lying not far off. At one moment her hull stretched up, making her look like an old line of battle ship, while her masts shrank down, then the hull would close down like a concertina and the masts would stretch up to the sky. Pieces of ice and little hummocks became great white chimneys and big icy mountains. I saw a row of white masses far above the ice. They looked like puffs of smoke from a battery, the guns being pointed up. Presently a white lump would appear on the ice underneath each puff and in a minute they would become connected and look like a row of top-heavy white pillars. The middle part would then become attenuated until it resembled a white thread and then the tops of the pillars would settle down and disappear. The changes were kaleidoscopic and one could watch them by the hour. When the sun was warm, we often had this phenomenon, owing to the different densities of the various atmospheric strata.
July 12th. Saturday. Hearing "All hands" during the night, I tumbled out of bed, picked up my bundle of clothes, ran on deck and got into a lower quarter boat that was being lowered. Probably within sixty seconds after being asleep I was pulling for dear life towards some loose ice north of us, beyond which a whale had been seen. When we reached the ice, we rested and put on some clothes. The fish was just as likely to come up where we were as at any other place, so we did not want to frighten him by disturbing the ice. After a wait of ten minutes, we saw and heard the blast of a fish to the northeast. It had turned and was going out again. We pulled through the ice with difficulty; it cannot be pushed about by a whale boat, but we kept on in the direction in which the whale was last seen. However it did not come up again where we could see it, and so we returned to the ship. It was very cold coming back and had begun to blow.
The sky was much overcast during the afternoon, and as it was blowing hard, the boats were taken in before bedtime.
July 13th. Sunday. There was a regular little gale this day, so we kept in open water, with the main yard aback and the fires banked. We received news of the Greely party from the Arctic as she had spoken some of the slower ships and heard it from them.
During the afternoon quite a choppy sea was on and ice was coming in as the wind was blowing up the Sound. We dodged out through this ice and then sailed north, sighting nearly all the other ships of the fleet. Sundays were stormy days in this place, and to sit on a ship all day, listening to her strain, and to the wind howling through the shrouds, was not pleasant, especially when we were only killing time and accomplishing nothing. When I turned in, we were still under canvas.
July 14th, Monday, was a gloomy day. We were hooked to the ice, with a boat out on each side. The crew were busy filling the bunkers and then cleaning up, also overhauling some fishing gear. The blacksmith was employed straightening out harpoons. The iron of which they are made is soft and tough. It bends and twists every way but does not break.
I amused myself polishing little tusks which I had taken out of the female narwhals' heads. We were very restless, knowing that the Arctic had more whales than we had. We heard from her that all the ships had fish a few days before.
Tuesday. Two narwhals were killed, male and female. I was in a boat with the Captain, but we did not get any. We used paddles instead of oars, as we could approach more quietly with them.
July 16th. Wednesday. We were still hanging on to the ice with a boat on the bran on each side. Again we pursued narwhals and secured another fine male with a four-foot horn. There were such crowds of these beautiful creatures that I wished the Captain would turn all hands after them, but he was afraid of disturbing any whales which might be around so we did not pursue them vigorously. Some white whales passed us, but we were not far enough up the Sound for white whaling.
Narwhals are playful creatures and very noisy. The first thing any whale does on coming up is to blow most of the air out of its lungs, and this in a very noisy manner. For its size, the narwhal makes more noise than the others. Before going down, they generally take a deep, noisy inspiration. Nearly all the time we were in Lancaster Sound, if calm, we could hear whales of some kind puffing and blowing around. I often saw narwhals raise their tusks out of the water, and when black whales were taking a final header, on starting for a long dive, they generally threw the tail up in the air in a graceful manner. We did not like to see one going tail up, as it meant that probably we had seen the last of that particular fish.
July 17th, Thursday, was a fine day with mirage in the morning; the effects were wonderful. A small piece of ice, miles away, would look like a berg. About noon we made out that the Polynia had a fish and this was more than we could bear. We decided that there was a Jonah on board and circumstances pointed strongly to one of the crew. A suit of his clothes was procured, with his cap, half a pound of powder was packed into it with a fuse attached and it was run up to the main yard arm. The Captain went below and turned in, but rifles and ammunition were supplied and we had a lively practice at the effigy for a time; then the fuse was touched off and bang went Jonah. This performance cleared the atmosphere forward completely, every one believing that the spell was broken and that we would now find fish. In the cabin, Jack, the steward, greased the horseshoe and that made the after guard feel better, and to crown it all, a bear was killed during the evening, in the water near the ship. Personally, I felt greatly encouraged by these ceremonies, and went to bed feeling that at any moment "A fall! a fall!" might be heard.
If some misfortune happens to a whaler—such as having his harpoon gun passed to him through the rigging, instead of around it, or if his boat should start away from the ship stern first and not be brought back, hooked on, hauled up and lowered again—then he would go after a whale certain that he would miss it, whereas, should he dream the night before that he had got fast to a fish, then he would approach it with the utmost confidence.
July 18th. Friday. I had an undisturbed night and awoke to find it blowing and the ship under sail. Going on deck, I found the topsails aback and much loose ice about. After breakfast, all hands were away after a whale seen among the loose ice. This was a hopeless kind of rowing, so we scattered about, following different leads. We saw the fish blowing in several different places, but could not get near it, so came on board. During the afternoon, the wind went down and the loose ice drifted out again, so we hooked on to the solid floe about three miles from the south side and a boat was put on each side, as usual. Numbers of narwhals around during the afternoon, induced a boat to follow them, and a big female was secured with a calf. The undeveloped tusks of the latter were hollow like cigarette holders.
July 19th. Saturday. I had not been asleep long when I heard "All hands!" and, rushing up, went off in my usual boat, the lower quarter boat on the starboard side. I heard that a fish had been seen spouting down the Sound. In a few minutes, we all saw it off the south shore, a mile from the ship. We gave way with a will and soon had the boats in open order along the floe, where we thought it had passed under. Our patience was rewarded when it came up between the mate and Watson. Mr. Adam, being the nearer, swept down on its quarter and, as it made a back to sound, he gave it both gun and hand in the shoulder. This was a big fish and a fine chase began. I had seen the mate strike and I knew the irons would not draw. Straight down the Sound we went, the wounded animal taking out much line.
Sometimes a fish goes deep and does not travel very far, but this one was a traveller. We pulled for about twenty minutes or more and then halted, the whale coming up ahead of us and going down again at once. The mate's boat had signalled for more lines by putting a piggin on a boat-hook, and another boat had stood by and bent on. Before long, the wounded one came up and another iron was put in; it was well puffed after its run and stayed up long enough to get some lances stuck in. A lance, cutting any large vessel in the neck or thorax, would cause it to bleed to death very quickly, but none of these lances touched vital parts, for the whale went down in a very lively way with four or five sticking in it, and it must have stayed down fifteen minutes, travelling fast all the time. When it reappeared, we were on to it at once, and it soon began to blow blood and give other evidences of approaching dissolution. Its plunges were dangerous and the reports caused by striking the water with its tail, were very loud. We always backed well off during one of these demonstrations, but were on to it at once when they ceased. There was much more danger from the flukes than the tail, as we were touching its sides with the boats. After one or two terrific blasts of blood and water, and a great flurry, it turned up its toes, and after the usual formalities, the long tow to the ship began. Shanties were sung with vigor and we pulled with a will. As I had not had anything to eat since ten P. M., the day before, and as we had been working hard all night, I was ready for breakfast when we reached the ship. The fast boats had come on board, taking their lines in with the winch. After breakfast all hands were called and it took many hours to flense this big fish, the bone of which was 10 1/2 feet. I examined the flukes after the blubber had been removed from them; they were like huge hands with nicely proportioned fingers. I entered in the log the death of the fish, and a little picture of its tail. This is the custom. In the log there was a paper model, which was held on the page with the finger and traced around the edge with a pencil. Then it was shaded, according to the ability of the artist, and the name of the harpooner was written above. On each side was stated whether killed by gun or hand, or both, and below was written the length of the bone. Should the harpoon draw, and the whale be lost, half a tail was sketched.
During the flensing, one of our firemen, Bob Graham, appeared at the engine room door with six pieces of rope yarn tied together, and to the free end of each he had fastened a piece of blubber, just big enough to pass comfortably through the throat of a mollie (as fulmars are called), either way. Graham was an ingenious fellow and remarkable for his fertility of resource; he was always amusing himself by devising little surprises to make life pleasant for others. He threw this affair into the sea and the six pieces of fat were instantly swallowed by the same number of mollies. All went well until it became evident that the birds were not of the same opinion as to the direction of their next move. This performance seemed to me cruel at first, but after watching it for a little while, I decided that the exercise was good for the fulmars and did not hurt them. Of course, there were little disappointments connected with it, but then creatures, higher in the social scale, have their disappointments also. It is just possible that the bird which played the game out and eventually swallowed all six pieces and the string, may have had regrets, but from what I have seen of this particular species, I don't think it suffered much.
When the flensing was over, every one was tired, and the men were ordered to turn in, excepting the lookout, all having been busy during the day. As whaling was a very irregular sort of life, it was the custom to sleep while one could, and as I had done a lot of rowing during the previous twenty-four hours, I sought my cabin. Our specksioneer, George Lyon, was an old man, but he was absolutely indefatigable, and when this order was given, he decided to go on the bran instead of to bed. Accordingly, he raised a crew of volunteers, but being short one man, he thought of me. There was one way of always bringing me on deck and that was to go to the companionway and shout down the word "bear." This George did and I at once appeared, rifle in hand. Seeing the boat being lowered, I tumbled in, and in a minute we were away; I then asked where the bear was and the specksioneer said that we might see one; so I knew his trick. We went some distance south of the ship and, hacking the boat up to the ice, laid the steering oar on it, which held us there, then we talked and smoked.
About midnight all was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the narwhals and white whales in the sea, and of those who slept in the boat; it was easy enough to sleep, sitting at an oar. I was awake, the boat-steerer was standing on the ice, and the man in the ship's barrel was scanning the Sound for fish, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, there was a great commotion in the water, at the side of our boat, and up came a whale with a fearful blast. This first blast of a whale, which has been holding its breath for a long time, sounds very loud, when one is within ten feet of it. It reminds one of a train coming suddenly out of a tunnel. The boat-steerer instantly pushed the boat well off, getting in at the same time He then said "Give way," which we did. The whale was moving very slowly, and one sweep of the boat-steerer's oar brought us around to it, then I heard the orders, "Stand by your gun!" and "Avast pulling!" I would have given anything for one look; but the lives of all the crew depended upon each man doing as he was told, so I sat perfectly still and leaned well away from the line running up the middle of the boat. Presently there was a bang, and the line began running out, while every one called "A fall." I was now in a boat, fast to a fresh whale, which was an experience the average amateur rarely had. As the harpooner took a turn of the line around the bollard head in the bows, and paid the line out through his hands, the bow of the boat was dragged very low and the stern tilted very high, but the speed we travelled at was not so great as I had expected. The whale came up between the boat and the ship, and we were being towed down the Sound. All the boats were away from the ship in a minute. We called out the number of lines out, and they had no difficulty in finding about where the whale was, and being ready for it when it came up. A second iron was put in when it appeared and off it went again. The water being absolutely free from ice, the chase was an easy one, as a boat could generally go faster than a whale. All I had to do was to sit quiet and keep well away from the line. As there was no ice to endanger the boat, the line was put several times around the bollard head and kept very tight, so we were towed much faster than if it had been loose. After the whale was killed and all the lines cut free, we were called on board to have or lines hauled in, after which the ship unhooked and steamed off to pick up her boats. The sky was very much overcast when we brought the whale alongside, and the tired crew, after getting some food, had to flense at once, as a change of weather might have been serious.
The Aurora now looked as a successful whaler should—a big whale in the 'tween-decks and another alongside tons and tons of blubber lying about everywhere, and the passage between the engine room and skylight, and the bulwarks, piled with bone.
Before the flensing was over, it had commenced to blow and it was quite rough by the time we had finished. Then we unhooked and ran down the Sound a little way, while the crew turned in for a watch. As our main yard was aback, it required very few men to handle the ship. All night we were dodging about.
July 21st. Monday. For some time, the clock had not been watched. Had it been, it would have conveyed little information, because, when it suited, it was put backward or forward. When a man going to bed saw by the clock that it was midnight, and when he arose and saw by the same clock that it was six, he probably felt refreshed. In the end, of course, it would tell on him if the full amount of rest registered had not been obtained; but for a time it worked very well. It certainly took a long time to make off our two whales, and it gave us a substantial feeling to be able to say, "Five fish on board." When the decks were cleared up, the crew were ordered below, excepting the lookout, but shortly after, it came on to blow hard and the sky was much overcast. Later, some rain fell, so we unhooked and lay off the ice edge with the main yard aback.
"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.
I painted the figurehead, as the Aurora was looking a little dissipated with her out-stretched arm unhooked. This was only in commission when in port; consequently, it looked younger than her seagoing arm, which was a fixture across her breast and which had stood the brunt of many gales.
July 26th. Saturday. All hands were "making off" the fish. They were at it early and had finished by noon, and then there was a general clean up for Sunday, but strict watch was kept. There were only white whales and some narwhals around. The tusks we took from those we killed and those we had bartered for, always lay on the after grating, which covered the well down which the auxiliary propeller went; there was never enough motion to roll them off.
July 27th. The usual Sunday gale was blowing and we were dodging about under canvas all day. I was out on a yard during a snow squall and found it very exciting. This was my first attempt at taking in sails when there was much wind. We spoke the Narwhal; she had seven whales and reported the Arctic as having eight and all the rest well fished. Towards evening we sailed to our favorite fishing ground on the south side.
July 28th. Monday. All hands were away after a whale at six A. M. We had a long pull, and lost her for a time amongst the loose ice. Rounding tins, however, we reached her again and the mate got fast, McLean putting in a second. We passed both boats and were in at the kill. When we had backed off once for a flurry, I looked around and saw Watson lancing. I thought the flukes would have smashed his boat, he took such awful chances. This whale rolled about a great deal, and bristled with lances which she had torn from the men's hands by rolling. She was also dreadfully tangled up with lines which had caught on the lances. There is sometimes danger from being caught under these lines and cut in two. When a dead whale is lying on its back, the abdomen lies very low in the water, and, when freshly killed, sinks with a man when he walks along it. As we were a long way from the ship, she came after us and we soon had the whale alongside. The capstan was used for taking on board the big blanket pieces. At the order, "Heave away capstan," a shanty was struck up by the men marching around.