The Boy With the U. S. Fisheries | Page 8

ship squarely, as a whale--a medium-sized finback--came
up right under the vessel's bow. The reversed screws took the craft
astern so as to show the broad back about twenty-five feet away, and
Hank fired.
The crashing roar of the harpoon-gun was followed by a swirl as the
whale sounded for a long dive, but a moment later there came a dull,
muffled report from the water, the explosive head of the harpoon,
known as the 'bomb,' having burst. For a minute or two there was no
sound but the 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,
and then 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 seemed
very 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
come so suddenly.
"My boy," was the reply, "I'm not whaling for my health. Other people
have a share in this, besides myself and the crew, and what they're after
is whales--not sport. The business isn't what it was; in the old days
whale-oil was worth a great deal and whaling was a good business.
Then came the discovery of petroleum and the Standard Oil Company
soon found out ways of refining the crude product so that it took the
place of whale-oil in every way and at a cheaper price."
"But I thought whalebone was what you were after!" said Colin in
surprise.
"It was for a time," the captain answered, "after the oil business gave
out. But within the last ten years there have been so many substitutes
for whalebone that its value has gone down. There's a lot of whalebone
stored 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 be
got out of whaling now, then?" the boy queried.
"Oil again," was the reply; "for fine lubricating work there's nothing as
good. It's queer, though, how things have changed around. Fifty years
ago, New Bedford was the greatest whaling port in the world, ten years
ago 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 gone
back to the old port."
In the meantime, while Colin had been telling the story of the

adventure with the gray whale, and the captain had been bemoaning the
decay of the whaling industry, the work of bringing the dead whale to
the surface had been under way. Letting out more slack on the rope
attached to the harpoon 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. The winch was run by a small donkey-engine, and for
about ten minutes the line was hauled in, fathom after fathom being
coiled on the deck. Presently, as Colin looked over the rail, the dark
body of the whale was seen coming to the surface, and as he was
hauled alongside a chain was 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 for
several 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-handy donkey-engine was used to work the pump, and the body of
the whale was slowly 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
with much curiosity.
"So that he will float," the captain answered. "You can't tow a whale
that'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 called it,
into oil. They always carried a cooper along, too, and made their own
barrels, so that after a long voyage a ship would come back with her
hold 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.