CHAPTER XV--FLOE EDGE FISHING

"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.