Boy With the U. S. Fisheries Read online

  THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FISHERIES

  CHAPTER I

  MAROONED BY A WHALE

  "There she blows!"

  Colin Dare, who was sitting beside the broken whale-gun and who had beenpromised that he might go in the boat that would be put out from theship if a whale were sighted, jumped to his feet at the cry from the'barrel' at the masthead.

  "Where?" he shouted eagerly, rushing to the rail and staring as hard ashe could at the heaving gray waters of the Behring Sea.

  "There she blo-o-ows!" again cried the lookout, in the long echoing callof the old-time whaler, and stretching out his hand, he pointed to aspot in the ocean about three points off the starboard bow. Colin'sglance followed the direction, and almost immediately he saw the faintcloud of vapor which showed that a whale had just spouted.

  "Do you suppose that's a whalebone whale, Hank?" asked the boy, turningto a lithe Yankee sea-dog with a scraggy gray beard who had been busilyworking over the mechanism of the whale-gun.

  "No sayin'," was the cautious reply, "we're too fur off to be able totell yet a while. How fur away do you reckon we be?"

  "A mile or two, I suppose," Colin said, "but we ought to catch up withthe whale pretty soon, oughtn't we?"

  "That depends," the gunner answered, "on whether the whale's willin' ornot. He ain't goin' to stay, right there."

  "But you usually do catch up?"

  "If it's a 'right' whale we generally try to, an' havin' steam to helpus out makes a pile o' difference. Now, in the ol' days, I've seen adozen whales to wind'ard an' we couldn't get to 'em at all. By the timewe'd beaten 'round to where they'd been sighted, they were gone."

  "Well, I hope this is a 'right' whale," Colin said with emphaticearnestness.

  "Why this one 'specially?" the old sailor asked.

  "I heard Captain Murchison say that if we came up with a whale while thegun was out of order, rather than lose a chance, he would send a boatout in the old-fashioned way."

  "An' you want to see how it's done, eh?"

  "I got permission to go in the boat!" the boy answered triumphantly,"and I just can't wait."

  "It's the skipper's business, I suppose, but I don't hold with takin'any chances you don't have to," was the gruff comment, "an' if you'lltake the advice of an old hand at the game you'll keep away."

  "But I want to go so much, Hank," came the reply.

  "What for?"

  "I'm trying to get Father's permission to join the Bureau of Fisheries,"explained the boy, "and when Captain Murchison started on this trip, Ibegged him to let me come. The captain is an old friend of his."

  "I'd rather you went in somebody else's boat than mine, then," was theungracious response.

  "Why, Hank!" exclaimed Colin in surprise, "what a thing to say!"

  The old sailor nodded sagely.

  "The skipper don't know much more about boat-whalin' than you do," hesaid, "that was all done away before his time. He's willin' to tackleanythin' that comes along, all right, but a whalin' boat is just aboutthe riskiest thing that floats on water."

  "How's that, Hank?" asked the boy. "I always thought they were supposedto be so seaworthy."

  "They may be seaworthy," was the grim reply, "but I never yet saw ashipwright who'd guarantee to make a boat that'd be whaleworthy."

  "But I'm sure I've read somewhere that whales never attacked boats,"persisted Colin.

  "Mebbe," rejoined the gunner, "but I don't believe that any man whatwrites about whalin' bein' easy, has ever tried it in a small boat."

  "Well," said the boy, "isn't it true that the only time a whale-boat issmashed up is when the monster threshes around in the death-flurry andhappens to hit the boat with his tail?"

  "Not always."

  "You mean a whale does sometimes go for a boat, in spite of what thebooks say?"

  "I never heard that whales cared much about literatoor," the sailoranswered with an attempt at rough humor, "an' anyway, most o' them booksyou've been readin', lad, are written about whalin' off Greenland an' inthe Atlantic."

  "What difference does that make?" queried Colin. "Isn't a whale the samesort of animal all the world over?"

  "There's all kinds of whales," the gunner said, as though pitying theboy for his lack of knowledge, "some big an' some little, some good an'some bad. Now, a 'right' whale, f'r instance, couldn't harm a baby, butthe killers are just pure vicious."

  "You mean the orcas?" the boy queried. "Only just the other day CaptainMurchison was talking about them. He called them the wolves of the sea,and said they were the most daring hunters among all things that swim."

  "Sea-tigers, some calls 'em," the other agreed, "an' they're fiercerthan any wolves I've ever heard about, but I never saw any of 'emattackin' a boat. I have seen as many as twenty tearin' savagely at awhale that was lyin' alongside a ship an' was bein' cut up by the crew.The California gray whale--the devil-whale is what he really is--looks alot worse to me than a killer. He's as ugly-tempered as a spearfish, asvicious as a man-eatin' shark, as tricky as a moray, an' about asrelentless as a closin' ice-floe."

  "There she blo-o-ows!" came the cry again from the crow's-nest.

  Hank, looking over the side, caught sight of the spout and, with a twistof the shoulder, walked aft to the first boat.

  "I'm going, too," Colin reminded him.

  The old whaler looked at him thoughtfully and disapprovingly.

  "Orders is orders," he said at last, "an' if the skipper said you couldgo, why, I reckon that ends it. An' if you're goin' anyway, you're saferin the big boat than in the 'prams.' Tumble in."

  Colin clambered into the double-ended boat with its high prow and sternand settled himself down excitedly.

  "I never really believed I'd get the chance to see any whale-spearing,"he said. "Whaling with a cannon is only a make-believe. Now, this issomething like!"

  "Foolishness I calls it," put in one of the younger sailors. "Why don'tthe skipper put in somewhere an' get the gun put to rights? An' Hank isjust as likely to fix that gun so as he'll blow some of us up with itwhen he does get it goin'."

  "Always croakin', Gloomy," said the old gunner. "Blowin' you up would beno great loss. You'd ought to be glad to see what whalin' was like whenyour betters was at it."

  "I'm glad," said Colin, as he pulled steadily at his long oar, "that wedid wrench the gun-frame when that heavy sea came aboard."

  "I don't see it," said the gunner; "mebbe you'll think presently thatyou'd ha' done better to be satisfied with readin' about whalin' inthose books of yours."

  "Well, it got me the chance to see the fun!" responded Colin.

  "That wouldn't have been enough to start this business a-goin' if ithadn't been that the _Gull_ was an old whalin'-ship before they putsteam into her. The little bits of whalin'-steamers they build now onlycarry a little pram or two, nothin' like this boat you're in now. The_Gull's_ one of the old-timers."

  "She hails from New Bedford, doesn't she?"

  "She took the Indian Ocean whalin' in the sixties an' came round theHorn every season in the seventies," Hank replied; "an' there's notmany of her build left. Easy with that oar, Gloomy," he added, speakingto the melancholy sailor, who was splashing a good deal in his stroke,"an' avast talkin', all."

  Swiftly, but with oars dipping almost noiselessly, the boat slipped upto where the two whales were floating whose spouts had been seen fromthe ship. The sea was tinged with pink from the masses of shrimp-foodwhich had attracted the whales, and the great creatures were feedingquietly. The surface was not rough, but there was a long, slow rollwhich tossed the boat about like a cork. Presently Hank, who was in thestern, held up one hand.

  "Hold your starboard oars," he said quietly; "we'll back up to thislargest one."

  This near approach to the whales was too much for Gloomy's nerves.Instead of merely holding his long sweep steady in the water so that thestroke of the port oars would bring the boat around, he tried to make along backward drive. As he reached back, the boat mounted sidewise on as
well, leaving Gloomy clawing at the air with his oar; then, the boat assuddenly swooped down with a rush, burying the oar almost to therow-locks; it caught Gloomy under the chin and all but knocked himoverboard. The splash and the shout distracted Hank's attention for asecond, and when he looked round a swirl of water was all that remainedto show where the whales had been.

  "I told you what it would be!" said Gloomy, picking himself up andspeaking in an injured tone, as though he blamed everybody else for hisown carelessness.

  His protests, however, were silenced by a steady stream of descriptiveepithet from Hank. The old gunner, without even raising his voice,withered any possible reply on the part of the clumsy sailor, whoseinexpertness had caused their failure to get the whale.

  "They were only humpbacks, however," added Hank, after Gloomy had beenreduced to silence. Indeed, so shamefaced was the luckless sailor, thatwhen he saw a spout a minute or two later he only pointed with hisfinger, without saying a word.

  Noticing the gesture, Colin turned and saw with amazement a tall jet ofvapor that had spouted from a whale close by. He looked at Hankexpectantly, hoping to hear him spur the crew to a new venture, but theold whaler looked grave.

  "Finback?" the boy queried.

  "Gray whale, I reckon," answered the gunner.

  "Devil-whale? Oh, Hank!" the boy cried, his eyes shining withexcitement. "I hope it is!"

  "That shows how little you know," the other replied.

  "Are you going to harpoon him?"

  Hank looked at the boy, smiling slightly at his utter fearlessness.

  "I wish you were aboard the ship," he said, "an' I would. But I reckonit's wiser to keep out of trouble."

  "But I don't want to be on the _Gull_," Colin protested; "at least notwhen there's anything going on out here. And," he added craftily, "Ididn't think you were really afraid!"

  "Wa'al," the old whaler said, his jaw setting firmly, "I don't wantanybody to think I'm backin' down, just because I'm in a boat again. ButI tell you straight, I don't like it. Gloomy," he continued, "an' therest of you, stand by your oars. That's a gray whale an' I'm goin' afterhim."

  "How do you know it's a California whale, Hank?" asked the boy, as theywaited for the creature to reappear.

  "By the spout," was the prompt reply. "It's not as high an' thin as afinback's, it's not large enough for the low, bushy spout of a humpback,an' it goes straight up instead of at a forward angle so it can't be asperm. Must be a gray whale, can't be anythin' else."

  For a few minutes the men rested on their oars, and Colin grew restless.

  "Why doesn't he come up again?" he said impatiently. "First thing weknow he'll be out of sight!"

  The old whaler smiled again at the lad's eagerness.

  "While the gray is the fastest swimmer of all the whales," he said, "youneedn't be afraid that we'll lose sight of him. Most whales swim veryslow, not much faster than a man can walk."

  "There he is," called another of the sailors, pointing to a spout threeor four hundred yards away.

  "All right, boys," Hank said, "he's makin' towards the shore."

  The long oars bit into the water again and Colin was glad to feel theboat moving, for it rolled fearfully on the long heaving swell. But withsix good oars and plenty of muscle behind them, the little craft wasnot long in reaching the place where the 'slick' on the water showedthat the whale had come up to breathe and then dived again. Acting underthe gunner's orders the crew rested on their oars a short distancebeyond the place where the whale had sounded. Presently, a couple ofhundred yards from the boat, on the starboard side, the whale came up tospout, evidently having turned from the direction in which it had beenslowly traveling, and the rowers made for the new objective. This timethere was another long wait.

  "How long do they stay down, Hank?" asked the boy.

  "No reg'lar rule about it," the whaler answered; "sometimes for quite awhile, but I reckon ten to fifteen minutes is about the usual. Some of'em can stay down a long while sulkin' when they've got a harpoon or twoin 'em, but I reckon three-quarters of an hour would be about thelimit."

  Again the boat sped onward, this time without any order from Hank, forall hands had seen the whale not more than fifty yards away, and Hankgrasped the shoulder harpoon-gun. But before the boat could reach thewhale and turn stern on so as to give the gunner a good chance for ashot, the whale had 'sounded' or dived.

  "Next time," said Hank quietly, and told Scotty, one of the sailors, toclear away the first few coils of the rope in the barrel and make surethat it was free from tangles.

  Colin noticed that the three places where the whale had spouted formed aslight arc and that Hank was directing the boat along a projection ofthis curve, so he was quite ready when a command came to stop rowing.Then, at the whaler's orders, the boat was swung round and the men heldtheir oars ready to back-water.

  The place could not have been picked out with greater accuracy if thewhaler had known the exact spot where the big cetacean was going toappear. Within thirty feet of the boat the water began to swirl andboil.

  "He's right there!" said Colin with a thrill of expectation not whollydevoid of fear.

  In obedience to a wave of the old whaler's hand, the boat went asternslowly and fifteen seconds later the great back appeared near thesurface and the monster 'blew,' his pent-up breath escaping suddenlywhen he was still a foot below the surface, and driving up a column ofmixed water and air, the roar sounding like steam from a pipe of largesize.

  "Stand by the line, Scotty!" shouted Hank, as he raised the clumsyharpoon-gun to his shoulder.

  The sailor who had been standing near the barrel nodded, as he drew hissheath-knife from its sheath, holding it between his teeth, ready to cutthe line should a tangle occur, but keeping his hands free to attend tothe coils of rope. To Colin the seconds were as years while the oldwhaler held the gun raised and did not fire. It seemed to the boy as ifhe were never going to pull the trigger, but the old gunner knew theexact moment, and just as the whale was about to 'sound' the back heavedup slightly, revealing the absence of a dorsal fin, and thus determiningthat it was a devil-whale in truth; at that instant Hank fired.

  With the sudden pang of the harpoon the whale gave an upward leap for adive and plunged, throwing the flukes of the tail and almost a third ofhis body out of water, and sounded to the bottom, taking down line at atremendous speed. The line ran clear, Scotty watching every coil, andthough the heavy rope was soaking wet, it began to smoke with thefriction as it ran over the bow.

  WHALE HARPOON GUN LOADED AND BEING TURNED SO AS TO POINTAT THE WHALE.

  _Photograph by permission of Mr. Roy C. Andrews._]

  FINBACK WHALE BEING STRUCK WITH THE HARPOON; THE INSTANTOF DISCHARGE.

  A remarkable photograph, scores of plates having been used in the effortto catch the exact moment. Note the wadding in the air, the smoke, thehead of the harpoon, and the slick on the water as the whale sounded.

  _Photograph by permission of Mr. Roy C. Andrews._]

  "Fifty fathom!" cried Scotty, as the line flew out.

  "Sixty!" he called a moment later, and then, immediately after,

  "Seventy--and holding!"

  As the pressure of the brake on the line tightened, the boat began totear through the water, still requiring the paying out of the rope. Foran instant it slackened and the winch reeled in a little line. There wasa sudden jerk and then the line fell slack. Working like demons, the menmade the winch handles fairly fly as the line came in, and withinanother minute the whale spouted, blowing strongly and sounding again.He sulked at the bottom for over twenty minutes, coming up suddenlyquite near the boat. Scotty had lost no time, and not more thanthirty-five fathom of line was out when the monster rose.

  "He's a big un, Hank!" called Scotty. "Want the other line?"

  "Got it!" was the brief reply, and Colin saw that the harpoon-gun hadbeen reloaded.

  "Sounding again!" called Scotty as the rope fell slack.

  "No!" yelled Hank. "Stand by, a
ll!"

  Then suddenly:

  "Back oars! Back, you lubbers! Hard as you know how!"

  The oars bent like yew-staves.

  "Back starboard! Hard!"

  With the blood rushing to his brain, Colin, who was on the starboardside of the boat, threw his whole energy into the back stroke, and theboat spun round like a top into what seemed to be the seething center ofa submarine volcano, for, with a roar that made the timbers of the boatvibrate, the gray whale spouted not six feet from where the boy wassitting. Dimly he saw the harpoon hurtle through the spray and the sharpcrack of the explosion sounded in his ear.

  Catching his breath chokingly, Colin was only conscious of the fact thathe was expected to pull and he leapt into the stroke as the six oarsshot the boat ahead.

  Not soon enough, though! For, as the boat plunged from the crest of awave the whale swirled, making a suction like a whirlpool into which thecraft lurched drunkenly. Then the great creature, turning with a speedthat seemed incredible, brought down the flukes of his tail in thedirection of the boat, snapping off the stroke oar like a pipe-stem.Avidsen, the oarsman, a burly Norwegian, though his wrist was sharplyand painfully wrenched by the blow, made no complaint, but reached outfor one of the spare oars the boat always carried.

  Colin was not so calm. Despite his courage, the shock of that tremendoustail striking the water within arm's-length of the boat had shaken hisnerve, and the sudden drenching with the icy waters of Behring Sea hadtaken his breath away. But he was game and stuck to his oar. Looking atHank, he saw that the old fighter of the seas had dropped theharpoon-gun and was holding poised the long lance.

  This was hunting whales with a vengeance!

  The monster had not sounded but was only gathering fury, and in a fewseconds he came to the surface with a rush, charging straight for theboat.

  "Stand by to pull," said Hank quietly.

  The two forward oars, watching, dipped lightly and moved the boat a yardor two, then waited, their oars in the water and arms extended for thestroke. Colin would have given millions, if he had possessed them, topull his oar, to do something to get away from the leviathan charginglike an avenging fury for the little boat. But Hank stood motionless.Another second and Colin could almost feel the devil-whale plungingthrough the frail craft, when Scotty suddenly yelled,

  "Pull!"

  As Scotty yelled, Colin vaguely--for everything seemed reeling abouthim--saw Hank lunge with the long steel lance. The suction half whirledthe boat round, but the whale sounded a little, coming up to the surfaceforty feet away and spouting hollowly. Even to the boy's untrained earthere was a difference, and when he noticed that blood was mixed withthe vapor thrown out from the blowhole, his hope revived. The secondrush of the whale was easily avoided, and Hank thrust in the lanceagain. Then, for the first time, the old whaler permitted himself tosmile, a long, slow smile.

  "That's the way it used to be done in the old days!" he said, with justa shade of triumph in his voice. "Pull away a little, boys, to be clearof the flurry. Have you a buoy ready, Scotty?"

  The sailor nodded.

  "There won't be much of a flurry, Hank," he said; "you got the lungswith the lance both times."

  The old whaler looked at Colin, who was a little white about the lips.

  "Scared you, I reckon?" he said. "You don't need to feel bad over that.Any one's got a right to be scared when a whale's chargin' the boat.I've been whalin' for nigh on forty-five years an' that's only thesecond devil-whale I've ever killed with a hand-lance. He pretty nearcaught us with his flukes that first time, too!"

  "Guess that's the end of him," said Scotty, as the big animal beat theair with his tail, the slap of the huge flukes throwing up a fountain ofspray.

  "That's the end," agreed Hank.

  Almost with the word the great gray whale turned, one fin looming abovethe water as he did so, and sank heavily to the bottom, the buoy whichhad been attached to the harpoon-line by Scotty showing where he sank,so that the ship could pick up the carcass later.

  "How big do you suppose that whale was?" queried the boy as they startedto pull back to the ship.

  "'Bout forty-five foot, I reckon," was the reply, "an' we ought to getabout twenty barrels of oil out of him."

  "That ought to help some," said Colin, "and you see my coming didn'thurt anything. Just think if I had missed all that fun!"

  "It turned out all right," the old whaler said, "but I tell you it was anarrow squeak. They'll have been worryin' on board, though, if any onehas been able to see that we were hitched up to a gray whale."

  "Isn't there any danger with other whales?"

  "Wa'al, you've got to know how to get at 'em, of course. But all you'vegot to do is to keep out o' the way. There's no whale except theCalifornia whale that'll charge a boat. I did know one chap that waskilled by a humpback, but that was because the whale come up suddenlyright under the boat and upset it--they often do that--an' when one ofthe chaps was in the water the whale happened to give a slap with histail an' the poor fellow was right under it."

  Colin was anxious to start the old whaler on some yarns of the earlydays, but as the boat was nearing the ship he decided to wait for anopportunity when there would be more time and the raconteur would havefull leeway for his stories.

  "Forty-five-footer, sir," called Hank, as they came up to the ship."Gray devil, sir."

  The captain lifted his eyebrows in surprise, for he had not thought of aCalifornia whale so far north, but he answered in an offhand way:

  "More sport than profit in that. Did you have a run for your money,Colin?"

  "I certainly did, Captain Murchison," the boy answered.

  "All right, tell me about it some time. Hank, you're on board just inthe nick of time. I found out what the trouble was with the carriage ofthe gun and repaired it while you were amusing yourselves out there. Getin lively, now, there's work to do."

  The men scrambled on board rapidly, and the boat was up in the davits inless than a minute, while the yards were braced round, and under sailand steam the _Gull_ headed north.

  "There's four whales in sight, Hank," said the captain; "humpbacks, Ithink, and two of them big ones."

  "If they'll bunch up like that, sir," the gunner said, "we may make agood trip out of it yet."

  "I hope so," the skipper answered, and turning on his heel, he went tothe poop. Thither Colin followed him and told him all the story of thewhale. The captain, who was an old friend of Colin's father when theyboth lived in a lumbering town in northern Michigan, was greatly takenaback when he found how dangerous the boat-trip had been, but he did notwant to spoil the boy's vivid memories of the excitement.

  "I suppose," he said, "that you want to go out as gunner next time."

  Colin shook his head.

  "I'm generally willing to try anything, Captain Murchison," he replied,"but I'm content to let Hank look after that end."

  "Hank's an unusual man," the captain said quietly. "I rather doubt ifany other man on the Pacific Coast could have won out with a gray whale.I'd rather have him aboard than a lot of mates I know, and as a gunner,of course, he's a sort of petty officer."

  The canvas began to shake as the boat turned on its course after thewhales, catching the skipper's eye, and he roared out orders to shortensail.

  "Clew up fore and main to'gans'ls," he shouted; "take in the tops'ls.Colin, you go and furl the fore to'gans'l, and if the men are still busyon the tops'l yards, pass the gaskets round the main to'gans'l as well."

  "Aye, aye, sir," the boy answered readily, for he enjoyed being aloft,and he clambered up the shrouds to the fore-topgallant yard and furledthe sail, taking a pride in having it lie smooth and round on the top ofthe yard.

  "What's the difference between a 'finback' and a 'humpback,' Hank?"asked the boy, after the canvas had been stowed, the vessel underauxiliary steam having speed enough to keep up with the cetaceans, "arethey 'right' whales?"

  "Neither of 'em," the gunner replied: "there's two kinds of right wh
ale,the bowhead and the black, and both have fine whalebone, an' that, asyou know, is a sort of strainer in the mouth that takes the place ofteeth. Humpbacks an' finbacks are taken for oil, an' they look quitedifferent. A humpback is more in bulk an' has only a short fin on theback, it's a clumsy beast an' throws the flukes of the tail out of thewater in soundin'. Now, a finback is built more for speed an' has a bigfin on the back--that's where it gets its name. The big sulphurbottom isa kind of finback, an' is the largest animal livin'. I've seen oneeighty-five feet long!"

  "Where does the sperm whale come in?" asked Colin.

  "It's got teeth, like the gray whale," was the reply, "but you neverfind it in cold water. Sperm whalin' is comin' into favor again. Butthose two over there--the ones we're after, are finbacks. You can tellby the spout, by the fin, by not seein' the flukes of the tail, an' bythe way they play around, slappin' each other in fun."

  Three hours were spent in the fruitless chase after this little group ofwhales. Then Hank, who had been standing in the bow beside the gun,watching every move of the cetacean during the afternoon, suddenlysignaled with his hand for "full speed astern," by this maneuverstopping the ship squarely, as a whale--a medium-sized finback--came upright under the vessel's bow. The reversed screws took the craft asternso as to show the broad back about twenty-five feet away, and Hankfired.

  The crashing roar of the harpoon-gun was followed by a swirl as thewhale sounded for a long dive, but a moment later there came a dull,muffled report from the water, the explosive head of the harpoon, knownas the 'bomb,' having burst. For a minute or two there was no sound butthe swish of the line and the clank of the big winch as it ran out,while the animal sank to the bottom. There was a moment's wait, andthen Hank, seeing the line tauten and hang down straight, called back:

  "We can haul in, sir; I got him just right."

  Compared to the excitement of the chase in the open boat this seemedvery tame to Colin, and he said so to the captain, when he went aft,while the steam-winch gradually drew up the finback whose end had comeso suddenly.

  "My boy," was the reply, "I'm not whaling for my health. Other peoplehave a share in this, besides myself and the crew, and what they'reafter is whales--not sport. The business isn't what it was; in the olddays whale-oil was worth a great deal and whaling was a good business.Then came the discovery of petroleum and the Standard Oil Company soonfound out ways of refining the crude product so that it took the placeof whale-oil in every way and at a cheaper price."

  "But I thought whalebone was what you were after!" said Colin insurprise.

  "It was for a time," the captain answered, "after the oil business gaveout. But within the last ten years there have been so many substitutesfor whalebone that its value has gone down. There's a lot of whalebonestored in New Bedford warehouses that can't be sold except at a loss."

  "Well, if the oil is replaced and whalebone has no value, what is to begot out of whaling now, then?" the boy queried.

  "Oil again," was the reply; "for fine lubricating work there's nothingas good. It's queer, though, how things have changed around. Fifty yearsago, New Bedford was the greatest whaling port in the world, ten yearsago there wasn't a ship there, they had all gone to San Francisco. Now'Frisco is deserted by whalers, and the few in the business have goneback to the old port."

  In the meantime, while Colin had been telling the story of the adventurewith the gray whale, and the captain had been bemoaning the decay of thewhaling industry, the work of bringing the dead whale to the surface hadbeen under way. Letting out more slack on the rope attached to theharpoon a bight of it was passed through a sheave-block at the masthead,thus giving a greater purchase for the lifting of the heavy body. Thewinch was run by a small donkey-engine, and for about ten minutes theline was hauled in, fathom after fathom being coiled on the deck.Presently, as Colin looked over the rail, the dark body of the whalewas seen coming to the surface, and as he was hauled alongside a chainwas thrown around his flukes, and the body was made fast to the vessel,tail foremost.

  Just as soon as the whale was secured a sailor jumped on the body,carrying with him a long steel tube, pierced with a number of holes forseveral inches from the bottom. To this he attached a long rubber tube,while the other end was connected with a small air-pump. The ever-handydonkey-engine was used to work the pump, and the body of the whale wasslowly filled with air in the same way that a bicycle tire is inflated.

  "What's that for?" asked Colin, who had been watching the process withmuch curiosity.

  "So that he will float," the captain answered. "You can't tow a whalethat's lying on the bottom!"

  "But I thought you were going to cut him up!"

  "And boil down the blubber on board?"

  "Yes."

  "That's very seldom done now," the captain explained. "In the old days,when whaling-ships went on three and four year voyages they 'fleshed'the blubber at sea and boiled it down or 'tried it out,' as they calledit, into oil. They always carried a cooper along, too, and made theirown barrels, so that after a long voyage a ship would come back with herhold full of barrels of whale-oil."

  "What's the method now, Captain Murchison?" asked Colin.

  "Nearly all whaling is done by steamers and not very far from the coast,say within a day's steaming. We catch the whales, blow them out in theway you see the men doing now, and tow them to the nearest 'trying out'factory. These places have conveniences that would be impossible onshipboard, they get a better quality of oil, and they use up all theanimal, getting oil out of the meat as well as the blubber. Then theflesh is dried and sold for fertilizer just as the bones are. The finsand tail are shipped to Japan for table delicacies. Even the water inwhich the blubber has been tried out makes good glue. So, you see, itpays to tow a whale to the factory. And besides, the smell of trying outon one of the old whalers was horrible beyond description."

  During this explanation the huge carcass of the whale had been distendedto almost twice its natural size, and now it floated high out of thewater. The steel tube was pulled out and a buoy with a flag wasattached to the whale, which was then set adrift to be picked up andtowed to the factory later.

  FINBACK WHALE SOUNDING.]

  LANCING FINBACK: GIVING THE DEATH-BLOW.]

  PUMPING CARCASS WITH AIR SO THAT IT WILL FLOAT.]

  DEAD FINBACK SET ADRIFT WITH BUOY AND FLAG.

  _All Photos by permission of Mr. Roy C. Andrews._]

  Almost immediately the "tink-tink" of the bell of the signaler to theengine-room told that the ship was headed after another whale. The seawas rising and the wind was beginning to whistle through the rigging.Colin felt well satisfied that the canvas was stowed and that he wouldnot have to go aloft during the night. The evening light, however, wasstill good enough for a shot, and Hank, at the bow, was swinging theheavy gun from side to side on its stand to assure himself that it wasin good condition.

  Owing to the approaching darkness, there was no time to wait for anexact shot, and Hank fired at the big finback on the first opportunity.The ship was rolling and pitching, however, and the harpoon, instead ofstriking the big whale, went clear over her and into the water beyond,crashing into the side of a little calf whale not more than sixteen feetlong, the weapon going almost through him.

  Apparently unconscious of what had happened to her baby, the motherwhale sounded and sounded deep, not coming up for nearly twentyminutes. When she rose, she was at least a quarter of a mile away, andColin, who was standing by Hank in the bow, wondered why the ship didnot go in pursuit.

  "Why don't we chase her up?" he asked.

  "She'll come lookin' for her calf," the old whaler answered, "an' aslong as we stay near that she'll come up to us. Lots of whalers shootthe calves a-purpose, makin' it easier to get the old whales, but Idon't hold with that. I've never done it. Shootin' this one was just anaccident, but as long as the little chap is dead anyhow, we might aswell make use of him."

  Just as the old whaler had predicted, in less than five minutes themother whale s
pouted, coming in the direction of the vessel. In lessthan five minutes more she spouted again, just a little distance fromthe calf. Not understanding what had happened, she swam around as thoughto persuade the little one to follow her, and as she circled round thecalf she came within range of the harpoon-gun. It was far too dark tosee clearly, but Hank chanced a shot. The sudden roar startled Colin.

  "Did you get her?" he asked anxiously.

  "I hit her, all right," the gunner answered with a dissatisfied air,"but not just where I wanted."

  The boy thought it wonderful that he should have been able to hit themonster at all, so small a portion of the body was exposed and soheavily was the _Gull_ pitching. The whale, instead of soundingdirectly, dived at a sharp angle and the line ran out like lightning.

  "What's that, Hank?" asked Colin in a startled voice, pointing over tothe water just below the little calf, which had been hauled in by handalongside the ship.

  "Killers, by all that's holy!" ejaculated the whaler. "They'll get everyblessed whale we've landed to-day. Did you ever see such luck!"

  "What are they after?" asked Colin, "the calf whale?"

  "Yes, or any other of 'em. See, the mother has smelt 'em and knows theymean harm for the baby."

  It was growing dark and Colin leaned over the rail to see. Suddenly upfrom the deep, with a rush as of a pack of maddened hounds, ten or adozen ferocious creatures, from fifteen to twenty feet in length,snatched and bit and tore at the body of the baby whale. A big whitespot behind each eye looked like a fearful organ of vision, their whiteand yellowish undersides and black backs flashed and gleamed and the bigfins cut the water like swords. The huge curved teeth gleamed in thereddened water as the 'tigers of the sea' lashed round, infuriated withlust for blood.

  Then with a violent gesture of reminder, as though he had forgotten thatwhich was of prime importance, Hank took a few quick steps to the ropethat held fast the baby whale to the ship and cut it with hissheath-knife.

  "What's that for?" said Colin.

  "Let's get away from here," Hank replied, and signaled to go ahead.

  As he did so, the mother whale caught sight of the remains of the bodyof the little one sinking through the water and dashed for it. Colincould have shouted with triumph in the hope that vengeance would beserved out upon the orcas, but he was not prepared for the next turn inthe tragedy. Like a pack of ravening wolves the killers hurledthemselves at the mother whale, three of them at one time fasteningthemselves with a rending grip upon the soft lower lip, others strikingviciously with their rows of sharp teeth at her eyes. The issue was notin doubt for a minute. No creature could endure such savage ferocity andsuch united attack. The immense whale threshed from side to side, alwaysround the vessel, which seemed still to carry to her the scent of thebaby whale.

  "Has she any chance?" the boy asked, full of pity for the victim of suchrapacity.

  "Not the ghost of a chance," the whaler answered.

  For a minute or two the whale seemed to have thrown off her demon foesand turned away, but scarcely a moment was she left alone, for up infront of her again charged five or six killers, rending and tearing ather head, and the whale, blinded, gashed in a thousand places andmaddened by fear and pain, fled in the opposite direction.

  Colin heard the captain give a wild cry from the poop and felt theengines stop and reverse beneath him. He cast one glance over the railand like every man on board was struck motionless and silent. In thephosphorescent gleams of the waves churned up by the incredible muscularpower of the killers, the old whale--sixty feet in length at least, andweighing hundreds of tons--was rushing at a maddened spurt of fifteenor even twenty miles an hour straight for the vessel's side, where ablind instinct made her believe her calf still was to be found. Therewas a death-like pause and then--a shock.

  Almost every man aboard was thrown to the deck, and the vessel heeledover to starboard until it seemed she must turn turtle. But she rightedherself, heavily and with a sick lurch that spoke of disaster. Theship's carpenter ran to the pumps and sounded the well.

  "Four inches, sir!" he called.

  A moment later he dropped the rod again.

  "Five and a half inches, sir," he cried, "an' comin' in fast."

  It hardly needed the carpenter to tell the story, for the ship had aheavy list to starboard. In a minute or two the stokers came up frombelow and close upon their heels, the engineer.

  "The water is close to the fire-boxes, Captain Murchison," he said.

  "I know, Mr. Macdonald," the captain answered. "Boat stations!" hecried.

  "I'm thinkin'," the engineer said quietly, looking at the windy sky andstormy sea, the last streaks of twilight disappearing in the west, "I'mthinkin' it may be a wee bit cold. Are we far from land, Captain?"

  "We're none too close," the skipper said shortly. "Cook," he called,"are the boats provisioned?"

  "Yes, sir," was the reply.

  "Water-casks in and filled?"

  Every boat reported casks in good condition.

  "Sound the well, carpenter."

  The sounding-rod was dropped and the wet portion measured.

  "Nine inches, sir."

  "You've got time to get what you want from below, boys," said thecaptain, as soon as the boats were all swung out on the davits; "shewon't go down all of a hurry. Slide into warm clothes, all of you, andget a move on. Stand by to clear."

  He waited a minute or two, then noticed one of the sailors busy on deck.

  "What are you doing there, Scotty?" he called out.

  "Putting a buoy on the line, sir; she's our whale."

  "Looks to me more as though the whale had us, than we had the whale,"the captain said grimly. "Are you all ready?" he added as the men cameup from the fo'c'sle in oilskins and mittens. "No, there's only fifteenof you!"

  "I'm here, Captain Murchison," spoke up Colin, emerging from thecompanion hatch with a heavy pilot coat. "I thought you'd need somethingfor the boats, too."

  The captain nodded his thanks.

  "Lower away the whale-boat first," the captain said. "Never mind me,I'll come along presently. Look alive there! That's the idea, Hank! Allright? Cast off. Lower away the big pram! All right. Get busy on thatsmall pram, there. Here you, Gloomy, if I have to come down there----!All ready? Lower away. If you don't manage any better than that you'llnever see land, I can tell you. Cast off."

  The _Gull_ was rolling heavily with an uneven drunken stagger that toldhow fast she was filling, and the starboard rail was close to thewater's edge. The captain ran his eye over the boats and counted the mento see that all had embarked safely.

  "Don't bring her too close, Hank!" he cried warningly, as he saw the oldwhaler edge the boat toward him, and stepping on the poop-rail, hejumped into the sea. But the gunner, judging accurately the swell of thewaves, brought the boat to the very spot where the captain had struckthe water and hoisted him on board. Without a word he made his way tothe stern and took the tiller.

  The boat pulled away a score of strokes or so and then the men rested ontheir oars. The sunset colors had faded utterly but a dim after-glowremained, and overhead a young moon shone wanly through black wisps ofscudding cloud. The _Gull_ sank slowly by the bow.

  "She's one of the last of the old-timers," said the captain sadly. "Thiswas her seventieth whaling season and that's old age for ship as well asman. I wish, though----"

  "What is it, Captain Murchison?" asked Colin.

  "Ah, it's nothing, boy," was the reply. "Only we're foolish over thingswe love, and the _Gull_ was all that I had left. It's a dark and lonelydeath she's having there. I wish----"

  "Yes, sir?" the boy whispered.

  "I wish she'd had her lights," the captain said, and his hands weretrembling on the tiller, "it's hard to die in the dark."

  For a moment Colin had a wild idea of leaping into the sea and swimmingto the sinking craft, and blamed himself bitterly for not having lookedafter the port and starboard lights at sundown, as he often did when thewatch on deck was t
oo busy to see to them. He would have given anythingto have done it, rather than to have to sit beside the captain with hiseyes fixed on the desolate unlighted ship! Boy though he was, he nearlybroke down.

  "Good-by, _Gull_, good-by," he heard the captain whisper under hisbreath.

  Then, as if the ache in the boy's heart had been a flame to cross thesea, it seemed that a tiny spark kindled upon the sinking ship, and thecaptain, speechless for the moment, pointed at it.

  "Is that a light, boy?" he said hoarsely, "or am I going mad?"

  Like a flash, Colin remembered.

  "It's the binnacle, sir," he cried; "I lighted it for the man at thewheel myself."

  Solemnly the captain took off his hat.

  "It's where the light should be," he said at last, "to shine upon hercourse to the very end."