CHAPTER XVI--WHALING IN LANCASTER SOUND

"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.

They sang so loud that we could often hear their weird songs coming over the water from other ships similarly engaged. Our friends, the fulmar petrels, were always with us upon occasions of this kind, and all that were in the Sound, I think, spent the day with us.

The outer skin of the whale is about as thick as stiff paper, and black. It peels off readily, and the men cut book markers out of it. Under this comes a layer, nearly an inch thick, of rather gelatinous stuff, which the Eskimos eat raw, then the blubber between this and the superficial fascia, by which the body heat is preserved. It took us practically all the rest of the day to flense.

_July 29th. Tuesday_. We had a visit from two natives; they were prosperous looking people with a good sled and dogs. I admired the protection from the sun which they wore. It was a piece of wood with a slit cut in it. This was very efficacious, but unbecoming. We learned from these people that many whales had been seen by them this year. They had some bear skins with them for trade, and some walrus ivory. This was much inferior to the narwhal ivory, which was very fine and was worth, at this time, I think, one pound ten per pound, that of the walrus being only worth half a crown. I had a long walk with a gun but did not see anything.

_July 30th. Wednesday_. All hands "making off." I tried to skin a fulmar, but could not do it, it was so fat. I wanted a skin badly, but this was too much for me. All the birds we killed were fat, a provision of nature against cold. The men said, however, that they could not wear oil soaked clothes in cold weather.

I was in the "crow's nest" a good while. It was most difficult to see anything at a distance owing to the mirage. During the afternoon I tried to shoot some narwhal near us. I shot at their heads with a rifle from the boat, and although they had sometimes been killed with the rifle, so little of the head showed when the beast was lying on the surface, that I fancy they must have been shot from the ship, which stood high.

_July 31st_. Immediately after breakfast, four boats were away after a whale. I remained on board and watched from the barrel. It was a long pull and the whale got away amongst loose ice without giving the boats a chance. We captured a female narwhal in the afternoon.

_August 1st. Friday_. Lovely day but very cold. In the morning I was sitting on the after grating, scraping a bear's skull, when a hundred yards or so astern of us arose a whale with the usual blast. The water was like a mirror and the fish lay there for several minutes and breathed heavily. No one spoke or moved. There in front of us was a fine whale, its jet black head and back showing up well and reflected on the absolutely glassy surface of the sea. When it slowly sank with its head towards us, we knew it would go under the ice, but we would not lower away until we were sure it was under. I was leaning over the after rail, peering into the water, when I saw the whale coming slowly under where I was standing. I first noticed a large, gray bow coming towards me; it was the under jaw, and as it passed beneath the vessel I could see distinctly the large round, dark spots on the huge lower lip. It passed a very short distance under our keel. There was no movement of either flukes or tail. I watched the great horizontal tail in the hope of seeing some movement. Only the man in the "crow's nest" and I alone saw the fish passing under the ship, and as soon as we were sure that it was safe, the boats went away as noiselessly as possible and we waited for the result with bated breath. It came up almost beside the ship and Jimmy Watson put in both gun and hand harpoons, then came the joyful shout "A fall," and we started down the Sound. As the fish was well fastened, it was safe to snub the line around the bollard head of the boat; there was no fear of the irons drawing and it made a heavy drag on the whale. The line, in running out, passes through the hands of the har-pooner before going around the bollard head. Of course, he wears several pairs of mittens, but these are generally torn to pieces. Our friend shortly came to the surface rather exhausted, as the line had been well snubbed, but Thor put another iron into him. This smarted and one could have heard his tail strike the water miles away. He lashed it with such force that no boat could go close; and before a rocket could be fired into him, he was off. This time the drag was very heavy, for he had two boats. It did seem absurd that this huge monster, more than sixty feet long and forty around the waist, could be conquered by having those little bits of harpoons stuck in with their little threads of lines attached, but whales of this species are clumsy and stupid and turn very slowly, and it is this inability to turn fast that proves their undoing. Upon appearing the next time, a rocket was instantly fired into a vital place and the final flurry came at once and made lancing unnecessary. The row back was a pleasure, and our joyful shanties could be heard for a long distance. We were alongside by midday, and after dinner, flensing commenced. I amused myself again with the fulmars. Getting a boat, I laid my left elbow over the side so that I could look between it and the gunwale. Every time a fulmar came under, I darted my right hand over, catching him by the neck and taking him on board. When I had a great flock of them, I put them on the poop, around which there was a base board about four inches high, and above this the iron railing. The birds had eaten so much blubber that they could not get over the base board. One had to be careful of bites, as they had the curved, pointed bills peculiar to the albatross, shearwater and other birds of this tribe. It is curious that the great albatross and diminutive storm petrel, the wren of the sea, should belong to the same species. In a very short time, I saw the advisability of throwing my flock of pets overboard. We did not go below for supper until the fish was flensed.

_August 2nd, Saturday,_ was cold and cloudy, but no wind. We were hooked on with two boats on the bran; all hands making off during the afternoon.

_August 4th. Monday_. Three of the four boats were after a whale among some loose ice to the north of us. One boat got fast and all immediately lowered away. When we reached the ice, navigation became difficult and the fish came up where we could not touch it. Several boats came out of the ice and tried to row around. Ours was one of these; then we found that the harpoon had drawn and the whale had vanished. We pursued some distance down the Sound and had nothing for our trouble but exercise.

_August 5th. Tuesday_. Much loose ice in the Sound, caused by wind during the night. Narwhal were abundant, and two boats went after them with no result. Later the ship unhooked and steamed east looking for open water. I spent a long time in the "crow's nest," and, as there was no mirage, got a beautiful view of the south coast--very wintry at bed time.

_August 6th. Wednesday_. The rushing of feet overhead brought me to the deck on a gloomy cold morning, and before I had time to add anything to the clothes in which I slept, we were a mile from the ship. A whale had been seen some distance to the north and four boats pursuing it. We paused and put on some more clothes to keep out the keen Arctic air, and then we went off again, as the whale had come up. Long before the leading boat got near, it had disappeared, but we were not discouraged, so kept on, and this hard work continued until we were far from the ship and getting amongst pans of loose ice. The whale we were following was a fast traveller and we were ultimately obliged to give up the chase and return. The row back was long and wearisome, and when I reached the ship I had my long delayed breakfast and retired, but the moment I turned in to my berth, the rush above told of more whales in sight, so I went on deck. A fish had been seen blowing a long way down the Sound and six boats were away, but bed appealed to me more than another long pull, so I returned to it and remained there until the following morning. Our boats did not get a shot but had a long chase and did not return until very late.

The day was cold and the density of the atmosphere uniform, so I was able to see all the other ships distinctly with the glass. Some swell had broken up the edge of our floe and some pieces had been driven up the Sound, so it looked more icy than any day since the time when all the whales came. During the afternoon we hooked on to a large floe. The _Polynia and Esquimaux_ were near us, but to the south; the _Arctic_ was some distance down the Sound. Swarms of white whales were about us in the open places.

_August 7th. Thursday_. The loose ice was gone. We had unhooked during the night and steamed west to the fast floe. I went up to the barrel and the Captain went down to get his pipe. While gazing at distant things, I heard a noise on deck and, looking over, saw all hands lowering away for two whales astern of us. I must have been looking in another direction when they appeared, because the first I knew of it, was the noise below. Our boats lay about half on each side and were playing the usual waiting game. The Captain came up to the barrel and I went down, but too late to enter a boat, as they had all gone, except the two upper quarter boats. This was a great disappointment to me, as I had assisted in killing every whale we had taken on board. After a while, one fish came up on the south or port side and was fastened by the farthest south boat. The whale went under the ice, but came out nearer the ship and was fastened again. This proved the worst whale we had seen. It did not go down again but rolled about so much and slapped the water with its flukes to such an extent that the boats were rather afraid of it. This went on for a long time, when the Captain called out that he would kill it himself, so he came down and ordered the port upper quarter boat launched. All boats had their gear ready, whether we used them or not. A crew of irregulars was called, the Captain as harpooner, myself next, the sailmaker next, third engineer, cooper, etc. The Captain went up at once and, driving a lance into the whale's neck, began churning it up and down. The fish allowed itself to sink a few feet, and the bows of the boat glided over it as the Captain held on to the lance. Then coming to the surface again, it tumbled the boat over on its starboard side and instantly gave a great blast from its lungs. My oar came out of the water, so I let it go and, grasping the seat with my right hand and putting my left on the whale's back, I got the full charge of blood and water over my side and shoulder, as I was almost over the blow-hole, and such was the force, that my thick pilot coat was soaked with-blood, and also the thick coat underneath. I saw the sailmaker, who was in front of me, turn around; his face was green, in spite of the tan. He was almost in the water. The boat, fortunately, slid off the slippery neck and a serious accident was averted. The great danger would have been from being caught between the whale and the many lines it had wound around itself. After this, a couple of rockets were put in and the most troublesome fish of the season gave up its ghost. As all this happened beside the ship, we were saved the usual tedious tow, and in an hour flensing was commenced. It was six when we had all on board. The second whale did not reappear--probably finding a breathing place in the floe. The sky was overcast at bedtime and there was a bitterly cold wind. Having the engines aft made a great difference to the temperature of the cabin, as the bulkhead between the pantry and engine room was always hot.

_August 8th. Friday_. We were off Cape Hay when I came on deck and sailing east under topsails. This cape was a wonderful place for looms. They bred there in thousands; but we did not land or go very close, so I had no chance of seeing much.

Quite a number of the ships had already left the Sound, among others the _Arctic_. Her captain, having secured thirteen black whales, had decided to try his luck in Repulse Bay, Fox Channel, where he had had former success. Owing to the amount of ice in the Sound and on the west coast, he had come to this decision. Consequently he had sailed to Hudson's Straits, passing from Frobisher Bay through Gabriel Straits and encountering the dreadful current for which the neighborhood is noted. Ice was met with about Salisbury Island, and beyond this he was unable to take his ship, so he returned to Cumberland Gulf and from there home without adding to his cargo.

Lancaster Sound was beginning to look and feel like winter, the weather being very frosty. The mountains on the south side, which are about two thousand feet high, were very white, as a number of snow storms had passed over them. We were anticipating with pleasure a visit to Pond's Bay and the points usually called at on the west coast. One can generally take a ship by Navy Board Inlet through Eclipse Sound to Ponds Bay, but this year the ice precluded such a trip.

We kept under sail, to save our coal, and ended off Wollaston Islands at the entrance of Navy Board Inlet, without having seen any whales. Here we hooked on to a large floe.

_August 9th. Saturday._ After breakfast all hands were called to make off. It was a very cheerful performance, our men being in good spirits. The day was bitterly cold, but work kept them warm. Ice formed where the sun did not strike the water as there was hardly any wind to disturb it.

By dinner time the whale was made off and during the afternoon the watch employed cleaning up. We remained hooked on all night.

Sunday was a bitterly cold day and blowing a little, so we went further down the sound under topsails. About ten A. M. we sighted a whale and sent four boats in pursuit. I was in the second mate's. After a long chase the mate got fast. There was much ice about, so it was dangerous work for the fast boat, as it was impossible to avoid the pieces when being towed, and should the boat strike a floe it would be smashed at once and all hands would have to jump.

When the fish came up first there was no boat near, but on coming up a second time Watson got in an iron and we had a very lively run down the Sound. With two harpoons in, there was a considerable drag on, and in a short time she reappeared and a boat was soon lancing.

Our boat had been delayed by pieces of ice, so that it was late when we arrived on the scene. However this was a very vital whale and difficult to kill. I saw our specksioneer Lyon's boat almost smashed by one of the flukes during a flurry.

The perfectly fearless old man was so absorbed in his lancing operations that he did not notice the fluke coming, and but for the quick action of his boat-steerer, an accident would have occurred.

The ship had followed us, so we had no towing when the battle was over, as she picked the boats up, taking the whale with her to a floe where she anchored. Two more boats had been lowered away when they heard "A fall" called. One had gone to help the mate with more line, and the other had taken part in the chase.

After having something to eat, flensing was the order of the day, our cheerful crew singing with great spirit to the orders "Heave away capstan" and "Heave away windlass." This, our tenth whale, was a heavy one and it was late when we got it all on board.

The ship remained at the floe all night, drifting with it down the Sound.

_Monday, the 11th_, was a wintry day, bitterly cold and an overcast sky. During the afternoon we had some snow squalls. We dodged about under topsails, but did not see even a narwhal. It was evident that our chance of catching white whales this year in Prince Regent Inlet was small. We anchored to the ice off Cape Liverpool at night.

_Tuesday, August 12th_, all hands were engaged making off in the morning and doing a general clean up during the afternoon.