Finback Whale Sounding.
Finback Whale Sounding.
Lancing Finback: Giving the Death-blow.
Lancing Finback: Giving the Death-blow.
Pumping Carcass with Air so that it will float.
Pumping Carcass with Air so that it will float.
Dead Finback Set Adrift with Buoy and Flag.
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 the engine-room told that the ship was headed after another whale. The sea was rising and the wind was beginning to whistle through the rigging. Colin felt well satisfied that the canvas was stowed and that he would not have to go aloft during the night. The evening light, however, was still good enough for a shot, and Hank, at the bow, was swinging the heavy gun from side to side on its stand to assure himself that it was in good condition.
Owing to the approaching darkness, there was no time to wait for an exact shot, and Hank fired at the big finback on the first opportunity. The ship was rolling and pitching, however, and the harpoon, instead of striking 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 feet long, the weapon going almost through him.
Apparently unconscious of what had happened to her baby, the mother whale sounded and sounded deep, not coming up for nearly twentyminutes. When she rose, she was at least a quarter of a mile away, and Colin, who was standing by Hank in the bow, wondered why the ship did not go in pursuit.
"Why don't we chase her up?" he asked.
"She'll come lookin' for her calf," the old whaler answered, "an' as long as we stay near that she'll come up to us. Lots of whalers shoot the calves a-purpose, makin' it easier to get the old whales, but I don't hold with that. I've never done it. Shootin' this one was just an accident, but as long as the little chap is dead anyhow, we might as well make use of him."
Just as the old whaler had predicted, in less than five minutes the mother whale spouted, coming in the direction of the vessel. In less than five minutes more she spouted again, just a little distance from the calf. Not understanding what had happened, she swam around as though to persuade the little one to follow her, and as she circled round the calf she came within range of the harpoon-gun. It was far too dark to see 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 answeredwith a dissatisfied air, "but not just where I wanted."
The boy thought it wonderful that he should have been able to hit the monster at all, so small a portion of the body was exposed and so heavily was theGullpitching. The whale, instead of sounding directly, dived at a sharp angle and the line ran out like lightning.
"What's that, Hank?" asked Colin in a startled voice, pointing over to the water just below the little calf, which had been hauled in by hand alongside the ship.
"Killers, by all that's holy!" ejaculated the whaler. "They'll get every blessed 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 they mean harm for the baby."
It was growing dark and Colin leaned over the rail to see. Suddenly up from the deep, with a rush as of a pack of maddened hounds, ten or a dozen ferocious creatures, from fifteen to twenty feet in length, snatched and bit and tore at the body of the baby whale. A big white spot behindeach eye looked like a fearful organ of vision, their white and yellowish undersides and black backs flashed and gleamed and the big fins cut the water like swords. The huge curved teeth gleamed in the reddened water as the 'tigers of the sea' lashed round, infuriated with lust for blood.
Then with a violent gesture of reminder, as though he had forgotten that which was of prime importance, Hank took a few quick steps to the rope that held fast the baby whale to the ship and cut it with his sheath-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 body of the little one sinking through the water and dashed for it. Colin could have shouted with triumph in the hope that vengeance would be served out upon the orcas, but he was not prepared for the next turn in the tragedy. Like a pack of ravening wolves the killers hurled themselves at the mother whale, three of them at one time fastening themselves with a rending grip upon the soft lower lip, others striking viciously with their rows of sharp teethat her eyes. The issue was not in doubt for a minute. No creature could endure such savage ferocity and such united attack. The immense whale threshed from side to side, always round the vessel, which seemed still to carry to her the scent of the baby whale.
"Has she any chance?" the boy asked, full of pity for the victim of such rapacity.
"Not the ghost of a chance," the whaler answered.
For a minute or two the whale seemed to have thrown off her demon foes and turned away, but scarcely a moment was she left alone, for up in front of her again charged five or six killers, rending and tearing at her head, and the whale, blinded, gashed in a thousand places and maddened by fear and pain, fled in the opposite direction.
Colin heard the captain give a wild cry from the poop and felt the engines stop and reverse beneath him. He cast one glance over the rail and like every man on board was struck motionless and silent. In the phosphorescent gleams of the waves churned up by the incredible muscular power of the killers, the old whale—sixty feet in length at least, and weighing hundreds of tons—was rushing at a maddened spurt of fifteen or even twenty miles an hour straight for the vessel's side, where a blind instinct made her believe her calf still was to be found. There was a death-like pause and then—a shock.
Almost every man aboard was thrown to the deck, and the vessel heeled over to starboard until it seemed she must turn turtle. But she righted herself, heavily and with a sick lurch that spoke of disaster. The ship'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 a heavy list to starboard. In a minute or two the stokers came up from below 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!" he cried.
"I'm thinkin'," the engineer said quietly, looking at the windy sky and stormy sea, the last streaks of twilight disappearing in the west,"I'm thinkin' 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 the captain, as soon as the boats were all swung out on the davits; "she won't go down all of a hurry. Slide into warm clothes, all of you, and get 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 came up from the fo'c'sle in oilskins and mittens. "No, there's only fifteen of you!"
"I'm here, Captain Murchison," spoke up Colin, emerging from the companion hatch with a heavy pilot coat. "I thought you'd need something for 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! All right? Cast off. Lower away the big pram! All right. Get busy on that small 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'll never see land, I can tell you. Cast off."
TheGullwas rolling heavily with an uneven drunken stagger that told how fast she was filling, and the starboard rail was close to the water's edge. The captain ran his eye over the boats and counted the men to see that all had embarked safely.
"Don't bring her too close, Hank!" he cried warningly, as he saw the old whaler edge the boat toward him, and stepping on the poop-rail, hejumped into the sea. But the gunner, judging accurately the swell of the waves, brought the boat to the very spot where the captain had struck the water and hoisted him on board. Without a word he made his way to the stern and took the tiller.
The boat pulled away a score of strokes or so and then the men rested on their oars. The sunset colors had faded utterly but a dim after-glow remained, and overhead a young moon shone wanly through black wisps of scudding cloud. TheGullsank slowly by the bow.
"She's one of the last of the old-timers," said the captain sadly. "This was her seventieth whaling season and that's old age for ship as well as man. I wish, though——"
"What is it, Captain Murchison?" asked Colin.
"Ah, it's nothing, boy," was the reply. "Only we're foolish over things we love, and theGullwas all that I had left. It's a dark and lonely death she's having there. I wish——"
"Yes, sir?" the boy whispered.
"I wish she'd had her lights," the captain said, and his hands were trembling on the tiller, "it's hard to die in the dark."
For a moment Colin had a wild idea of leapinginto the sea and swimming to the sinking craft, and blamed himself bitterly for not having looked after the port and starboard lights at sundown, as he often did when the watch on deck was too busy to see to them. He would have given anything to have done it, rather than to have to sit beside the captain with his eyes fixed on the desolate unlighted ship! Boy though he was, he nearly broke down.
"Good-by,Gull, good-by," he heard the captain whisper under his breath.
Then, as if the ache in the boy's heart had been a flame to cross the sea, it seemed that a tiny spark kindled upon the sinking ship, and the captain, 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 the wheel myself."
Solemnly the captain took off his hat.
"It's where the light should be," he said at last, "to shine upon her course to the very end."
The quick, uneasy pitching of the boat and a sudden dash of ice-cold spray roused the captain from the fit of abstraction into which the sinking of his ship had plunged him.
"Step the mast, men," he said; "we've got to make for the nearest land. It's going to be a dirty night, too."
"Did you want us to put a reef in, sir?" asked the old whaler.
"When I want a sail reefed," the captain answered shortly, "I'll tell you."
As the mast fell into place and the sail was hoisted, the whale-boat heeled sharply over and began to cut her way through the water at a good speed, leaving the two prams far in the rear. The captain, who was steering mechanically, paid no heed to them, staring moodily ahead into the darkness. Hank looked around uneasily from time to time, then in a few moments he spoke.
"The mate's signaling, I think, sir," he said.
Colin looked round but could only just see the outline of the larger of the two boats, and knew it was too dark to distinguish any motions on board her. He looked inquiringly at Hank, but the old gunner was watching the captain.
"What does he want?" questioned the captain angrily.
"Orders, sir, I suppose," the whaler answered.
The captain felt the implied rebuke and looked at him sharply, but although he was a strict disciplinarian, he knew Hank's worth as a seaman of experience and kept back the sharp reply which was upon his lips. Then turning in his seat he realized how rapidly they had sped away from the boats they were escorting, and said:
"I'll bring her up."
He put the tiller over and brought the whale-boat up into the wind, and in a few minutes the mate's boat and the smaller pram came alongside.
"Don't you want us to keep together, sir?" cried the mate as soon as he was within hearing.
"Of course," the captain answered. "You can't keep up, eh?"
"Not in a breeze like this, sir," the mate declared.
"All right, then," was the response; "we'll reef." He nodded to the gunner and the reef points were quickly tied, thus enabling the three boats to keep together.
As the night wore on the wind increased until quite a gale was blowing, and the whale-boat began to plunge into the seas, throwing spray every time her nose went into it. The oilskins shone yellow and dripping in the feeble light of a lantern and although it was nearly the end of June a cold wind whipped the icy spume-drift from the breaking whitecaps.
"Doesn't feel much like summer, Hank!" said Colin, shivering from cold and fatigue, also partly from reaction following his exciting adventure with the gray whale.
"Behring Sea hasn't got much summer to boast of," the old whaler replied; "leastwise not often. You may get one or two hot days, but when the sun goes down the Polar current gets in its work an' it's cold."
"Where do you suppose we're going, Hank?" the boy asked, with a firm belief that the old whaler knew everything. "I don't like to bother Captain Murchison."
"Nor I," the gunner answered, looking toward the stern of the boat; "let him fight his troubles out alone. As for where we're goin', I don't know. I can't even see the stars, so I don't know which way we're headin'."
"Do you suppose we'll strike Alaska?" Colin queried. "Or perhaps the north of Japan? Say, it would be great if we fetched up at Kamchatka or somewhere that nobody had ever been before!"
The lad's delight in the thought of landing at some inhospitable northern island off the coast of Asia was so boyish that in spite of the discomfort of their present position, the old whaler almost laughed outright.
"Japan's a long ways south of here," he said. "We'd strike the Aleutian or the Kuril Islands before we got near there. I reckon we ought to try for some place on the Alaska coast, but as I remember, the wind was dead east when we left theGullan' I don't think it's changed much."
Colin gave a long yawn and then shivered.
"I wouldn't mind being in my berth on theGull!" he said longingly; "I'm nearly dead with sleep."
"Why don't you drop off?" Hank advised. "There's nothin' you can do to help. Here,change places with me an' you won't get so much spray."
"But you'll get it then!" the boy protested.
"If I had a dollar for every time I've got wet in a boat," the old whaler answered, "I wouldn't have to go to sea any more."
He got up and made Colin change places.
"Are you warmer now?" he asked a minute or two later.
"Lots," the boy murmured drowsily, and in a few seconds he was fast asleep. The old whaler gently drew the boy towards him, so that he would be sheltered from the wind and spray, and held him safe against the rolling and pitching of the little boat. The long hours passed slowly, and Colin stirred and muttered in his dreams, but still he slept on through all the wild tumult of the night, his head pillowed against Hank and the old whaler's arm around him.
He wakened suddenly, with a whistling, roaring sound ringing in his ears. Dawn had broken, though the sun was not yet up, and Colin shivered with the wakening and the cold, his teeth chattering like castanets. A damp, penetrating fog enwrapped them. Four of the sailors were rowing slowly, and the sail had been lowered and furledwhile he was asleep. Every few minutes a shout could be heard in the distance, which was answered by one of the sailors in the whale-boat.
"Where's the mate's boat, Hank?" asked the boy, realizing he had heard only one shout.
"She got out of hailin' distance, a little while before breakfast," the other answered, "but that doesn't matter so much, because she can't very well get lost now."
"But why is the sail down?"
The old whaler held up his hand.
"Do you hear that noise?" he asked.
"Of course I hear it," the boy answered; "that's what woke me up. But what is it?" he continued, as the roar swelled upon the wind.
"What does it sound like?" the gunner asked him.
The boy listened carefully for a minute or two and then shook his head.
"Hard to say," he answered. "It sounds like a cross between Niagara and a circus."
Scotty, who had overheard this, looked round.
"That's not bad," he said; "that's just about what it does sound like."
"But what is the cause of it, Hank?" the boy queried again. "I never heard such a row!"
"Fur seals!" was the brief reply.
"Seals?" said Colin, jumping up eagerly. "Oh, where?"
"Sit down, boy," interrupted the captain sternly; "you'll see enough of seals before you get home."
"All right, Captain Murchison," Colin answered; "I'm in no hurry to be home."
In spite of his recent loss the captain could not help a grim smile stealing over his face at the boy's readiness for adventure, no matter where it might lead. But he had been a rover in his boyhood himself, and so he said no more.
"Why, there must be millions of seals to make as much noise as that!" Colin objected.
"There aren't; at least, not now," was Hank's reply. "There were tens of millions of fur seals in these waters when I made my first trip out here in 1860, but they've been killed off right an' left, same as the buffalo. The government has to protect 'em now, an' there's no pelagic sealin' allowed at all."
"What's pelagic sealing?" asked Colin.
"Killing seals at sea," the whaler answered. "That's wrong, because you can't always tell ayoung male from a female seal in the water, an' the females ought never to be killed. But you'll learn all about it. Beg pardon, sir," Hank continued, speaking to the captain, "but by the noise of the seals those must be either the Pribilof or the Commander Islands?"
"Pribilof, by my reckoning," the captain answered. "Do you hear anything of the third boat?"
"No, sir," answered the old whaler, after shouting a loud "Ahoy!" to which but one answer was returned, "but we'll see her, likely, when the fog lifts."
"Doesn't lift much here," the captain said. "But with this offshore wind, they ought to hear the seals three or four miles away."
In the meantime the whale-boat was forging through the water slowly and the noise of the seals grew louder every minute. The sun was rising, but the fog was so dense that it was barely possible to tell which was the east.
"Funny kind of fog," said Colin; "seems to me it's about as wet as the water!"
"Reg'lar seal fog," Hank replied. "If it wasn't always foggy the seals wouldn't haul out here, an' anyway, there's always a lot of fogaround a rookery. Must be the breath of so many thousands o' seals, I reckon."
Spearing Seals at Sea.
Spearing Seals at Sea.
Pelagic sealing by Aleut natives now forbidden by the governments of the United States, Great Britain, Russia, and Japan.
Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries.
"Pretty things, seals," said the boy.
"Where did you ever see any?" his friend queried.
"Oh, lots of places," Colin answered, "circuses and aquariums and places like that. I even saw a troupe of them on the stage once, playing ball. They put up a good game, too."
"Those weren't the real fur seals," Hank replied; "what you saw were the common hair seals, an' they're not the same at all. You can't keep fur seals alive in a tank!"
"There are two fur seals in the aquarium of the Fisheries Building at Washington," interposed the captain, "but those are the only two."
"There!" cried the boy, pointing at the water; "there's one now!"
"You'll see them by hundreds in a few minutes, boy," the captain said. "I think I make out land."
As he spoke, an eddy of wind blew aside part of the fog, revealing through the rift a low-lying island. Within a minute the fog had closed down again, but the glimpse had been enough to give the captain his bearings. The noise from the seal-rookery had grown deafening, so that the men had to shout to one another in the boat and presently—and quite unexpectedly—the boat was in the midst of dozens upon dozens of seals, throwing themselves out of the water, standing on their hind flippers, turning somersaults, and performing all manner of antics.
"Why don't we land?" asked Colin, as he noticed that the boat was running parallel with the shore instead of heading directly for it.
"Land on a seal-rookery?" said Hank. "Haven't you had trouble enough with whales so far?"
"Would seals attack a boat?" asked Colin in surprise.
"No, you couldn't make 'em," was the instant reply, "but I never heard of a boat landin' at a rookery. The row would begin when you got ashore."
Gradually the boat drew closer to the land, as close, indeed, as was possible along the rocky shore, and then the land receded, forming a shallow bay flanked by two low hills on one side and one sharper hill on the other. The captain rolled up his chart and headed straight for the shore.
"St. Paul, I reckon," said Hank, as the outlines of the land showed clearly, "but I don't jus' seem to remember it."
"Yes, that's St. Paul," the captain agreed. "It has changed since your time, Hank. There has been a lot of building since the government took hold."
"Why, it looks quite civilized!" exclaimed Colin in surprise, as he saw the well-built, comfortable frame houses and a stone church-spire which stood out boldly from the hill above the wharf.
"When I first saw St. Paul," said the old whaler, "it looked just about the way it was when the Russians left it—huts and shacks o' the worst kind an' the natives were kep' just about half starved."
"It's different nowadays," said the captain as they drew near the wharf, putting under his arm the tin box that held the ship's papers. "The Aleuts are regular government employees now and they have schools and good homes and fair wages. Everything is done to make them comfortable. I was here last year and could hardly believe it was the same settlement I saw fifteen years ago."
It was still early morning when the boat was made fast to the wharf, and Colin was glad tostretch his legs after having slept in a cramped position all night. The damp fog lay heavily over everything, but the villagers had been aroused and the group of sailors was soon surrounded by a crowd, curious to know what had happened. Hank, who could speak a 'pigeon' language of mixed Russian and Aleut, was the center of a group composed of some of the older men, while Colin graphically described to all those who knew English (the larger proportion) the fight with the gray whale, and told of the sinking of theGullby the big finback, maddened by the attack of the killers. He had just finished a stirring recital of the adventures when the other two boats from theGullloomed up out of the fog and made fast to the wharf.
Hearing that the only breakfast the shipwrecked men had been able to get was some cold and water-soaked provender from the boat, two or three of the residents hurried to their homes on hospitable errands bent, and in a few minutes most of the men were thawing out and allaying the pangs of hunger with steaming mugs of hot coffee and a solid meal. So, when the captain came looking for Colin that he might take him to the Fisheries agent's house, he found the lad—whowas thoroughly democratic in his ways—breakfasting happily with the sailors and recounting for the second time the thrills and perils of the preceding day.
Rejoining the captain an hour or so later at the house to which he had been directed, Colin was effusively greeted by the assistant to the agent, a young fellow full of enthusiasm over the work the Bureau of Fisheries was doing with regard to fur seals. A natural delicacy had kept him from troubling Captain Murchison, but as soon as he discovered that Colin was interested in the question and anxious to find out all he could about seals, he hailed the opportunity with delight.
"I've just been aching for a chance to blow off steam," he said. "It's an old story to the people here. Obviously! I don't think they half realize how worth while it all is. I'm glad to have you here," he continued, "not only so that we can help you after all your dangers, but so that I can show you what we do."
"I'm still more glad to be here," Colin replied, after thanking him. "I've been trying to persuade Father to let me join the Bureau, but this is such an out-of-the-way place that I never expected to be able to see it for myself."
"It is a little out of the way," the official replied. "But in some ways, I think it's the most important place in the entire world so far as fisheries are concerned. It's the one strategic point for a great industry. Of course!"
"Why is it so important, Mr. Nagge?" Colin queried. "Just because of the seals, or are there other fisheries here?"
"Just seals," was the reply, in the jerky speech characteristic of the man. "Greatest breeding-place in the world. You'll see. Nothing like it anywhere else. And, what's more, it's almost the last. This is the only fort left to prevent the destruction not of a tribe—but of an entire species in the world of life. Certainly!"
"Calling it a fort seems strange," Colin remarked.
"Well, isn't it? It's the heroic post, the forlorn hope, the last stand of the battle-line," the Fisheries enthusiast replied. "All the nations of the world were deliberately allowing all the fur seals to be killed off. Uncle Sam stopped it. It's not too late yet. The Japanese seal-pirates must be exterminated absolutely! Could you run a ranch if every time a steer or cow got more than three miles away from the corral anybody couldcome along and shoot it? Of course not. Obviously!"
"But this isn't a ranch!"
"Why not? Same principle," the assistant agent answered. "Ranchers breed cattle in hundreds or thousands. We breed seals in hundreds of thousands; yes, in millions. And a fur seal is worth more than a steer. Oh, yes!"
"Do seals breed as largely still?" Colin asked in surprise.
"Would if they had the chance," was the indignant answer. "Undoubtedly millions and millions have been killed in the last fifty years. Takes time to build up, too! Only one baby seal is born at a time. A run-down herd can't increase so very fast. But we're getting there. Certainly!"
"Our gunner was telling me," Colin said, "that killing seals at sea was the cause of all the trouble."
"Yes. Lately. Before that, rookery after rookery had been visited and every seal butchered. Old and young alike. No mercy. Worst kind of cruelty."
"But hasn't the sea trouble been stopped?"queried the boy. "I thought it had, but you said something just now about seal-pirates."
"Stopped officially," his informant said. "Can't kill a seal in the ocean, not under any consideration. That is, by law. Not in American waters. Nor in Russian waters. Nor in Japanese waters. Nor in the open sea. International agreement determines that. Of course. But lots of people break laws. Obviously! Big profit in it. There's a lot of killing going on still. Stop it? When we can!"
"But how about killing them on land?" Colin asked. "You do that, I know, because I've read that the Bureau of Fisheries even looks after the selling of the skins. While it may be all right, it looks to me as though you were killing them off, anyhow. What's the good of saving them in the water if you wipe them out when they get ashore."
"You don't understand!" his friend said. "Got anything to do right now?"
"Not so far as I know," Colin answered.
"You've had breakfast?"
"Yes, thanks," the boy answered, "and I tell you it tasted good after a night in the boat."
"Come over to the rookery," the assistantagent said. "I'm going. I count the seals every day. That is, as nearly as I can. Tell you all about it. If you like, we'll go on to the killing grounds afterwards. Yes? Put on your hat."
Colin realized that his host seldom had a listener, and as he was really anxious to learn all that he could about the fur seals, these creatures that kept up the deafening roar that sounded like Niagara, he followed interestedly.
"Looks a little as if it might clear," he suggested, as they left the house. "We could stand some sunshine after this fog."
The other shook his head.
"Don't want sunshine," he said. "Fog's much better."
"What for?" asked Colin in surprise. "Why should any one want fog rather than sunshine?"
"Fur seals do," was the emphatic response. "No seals on any other groups of islands in the North Pacific. Just here and Commander Islands. Why?"
"Because they are foggier than others?" hazarded Colin at a guess.
"Exactly. Fur seals live in the water nearly all year. Water is colder than air. Seals arewarm-blooded animals, too—not like fish. They've got to keep out the cold."
"Is that why they have such fine fur?"
"Obviously. And," the Fisheries official continued, "under that close warm fur they have blubber. Lots of it."
"Blubber like whales?"
"Just the same. Fur and blubber keeps 'em warm in the cold water. Too much covering for the air. Like wearing North Pole clothing at the Equator. If the sun comes out they just about faint. On bright days the young seals make for the water. Those that have to stay on the rookery lie flat on their back and fan themselves. Certainly! Use their flippers just the way a woman uses a regular fan. See 'em any time."
Colin looked incredulously at his companion.
"I'm not making it up," the other said. "They fan themselves with their hind flippers, too. Just as easy."
"I think they must be the noisiest things alive," said Colin, putting his fingers in his ears as they rounded the point and the full force of the rookery tumult reached them.
"The row never stops," the assistant agent admitted. "Just as much at night as daytime.Seals are used to swimming under water where light is dimmer. Darkness makes little difference. Seemingly! Don't notice it after a while."
"The queer part of it is," the boy said, listening intently, "that there seem to be all sorts of different noises. It's just as I said coming into the bay, it sounds like a menagerie. I'm sure I can hear sheep!"
"Can't tell the cry of a cow fur seal from the bleating of an old sheep," was the reply. "The pup seal 'baa-s' just like a lamb, too. Funny, sometimes. On one of the smaller islands one year we had a flock of sheep. Caused us all sorts of trouble. The sheep would come running into the seal nurseries looking for their lambs when they heard a pup seal crying. The lambs would mistake the cry of the cow seal for the bleating of their mothers."
"Why do you call the mother seal a cow seal?" asked the boy.
"Usual name," was the reply.
"Then why is a baby seal a pup?" asked Colin bewildered. "I should think it ought to be called a calf!"
The Fisheries official laughed.
"Seal language is the most mixed-up lingo Iknow," he said. "Mother seal is called a 'cow,' yet the baby is called a 'pup.' The cow seals are kept in a 'harem,' which usually means a group of wives. The whole gathering is called a 'rookery,' though there are no rooks or other birds around. The big 'bull' seals are sometimes called 'Sea-Catches' or 'Beachmasters.' The two-year-olds and three-year-olds are called 'Bachelors.' The 'pups,' too, have their 'nurseries' to play in."
But Colin still looked puzzled.
"Our gunner was talking about 'holluschickie'?" he said. "Are those a different kind of seal?"
"No," was the reply, "that's the old Russian-native name for bachelors. There are a lot of native words for seals, but we only use that one and 'kotickie' for the pups."
"If the cow seals bleat," said Colin, "and the pups 'baa' like a lamb, what is the cry of the beachmaster?"
"He makes the most noise," the agent said. "Never stops. Can you hear a long hoarse roar? Sounds like a lion!"
"Of course I can hear it," the boy answered; "I thought that must be a sea-lion."
"A sea-lion's cry is deeper and not so loud," his friend replied. "No. That roar is the bull seal's challenge. You're near enough to hear a sort of gurgling growl?"
"Yes," said Colin, "I can catch it quite clearly."
"That's a bull talking to himself. Then there's a whistle when a fight is going on. When they're fighting, too, they have a spitting cough. Sounds like a locomotive starting on a heavy grade. Precisely!"
"Do they fight much?" the boy asked.
"Ever so often!" his informant replied. "Can't you hear the puffing? That shows there's a fight going on. I've seldom seen a rookery without a mix-up in progress. That is, during the early part of the season after the cows have started to haul up. There's not nearly as much of it now, though, as there used to be."
"Could I see a fight?" the boy asked eagerly.
"Hardly help seeing one," was the reply. "Watch now. We're just at the rookery. Immediately!"
Turning sharply to the left, the older man led the way between two piles of stones heaped up soas to form a sort of wall, and shut off at the sea end.
"What's this for?" asked Colin.
"Path through the rookery. Want to count the seals every once in a while," the agent said. "Must have some sort of gangway. Obviously! Couldn't get near enough, otherwise."
"Why not?" queried Colin. "Would the beachmasters attack you?"
"They won't start it," was the reply. "Sea-catch keeps quiet unless he thinks you're going to attack his harem. About two weeks ago, I only just escaped. Narrow squeeze. Wanted to get a photograph of one of the biggest sea-catches I had ever seen. Took a heavy camera. The sea-catch didn't seem excited. Not particularly. So, I came up quite close to him."
"How close, Mr. Nagge?"
"Ten or twelve feet. Just about. I got under the cloth. Focused him all right. Then slipped in my plate. Just going to press the bulb when he charged. Straight for me. No warning. I squeezed the bulb, anyhow; grabbed the camera and ran. Promptly!"
"Did he chase you far?"
"A few yards. I knew there was no real danger. Best of it was that the plate caught the bull right in the act of charging! I've got a print up at the house. Show you when we get home!"
"I'd like to see it, ever so much," the boy answered.
As they came to a gap in the wall, the agent halted.
"There!" he said. "That's a rookery."
In spite of all that he had heard before of the numbers of seals, and although the deafening noise was in a sense a preparation, Colin was dazed at his first sight of a big seal rookery. For a moment he could not take it in. He seemed to be overlooking a wonderful beach of rounded boulders, smooth and glistening like polished steel; here and there pieces of gaunt gray rock projected above and at intervals of about every fifteen to forty feet towered a huge figure like a walrus with a mane of grizzled over-hair on the shoulders and long bristly yellowish-white whiskers. For a moment the boy stood bewildered, then suddenly it flashed upon him that this wonderful carpet of seeming boulders, this gleaming, moving pageantry of gray, was composed of living seals.
"Why, there are millions of them!" he cried.
Right from the water's edge back halfway to the cliffs, and as far as the eye could see into the white sea-mist, every inch of the ground was covered. Looking at those closest to him, Colin noticed that they lay in any and every possible attitude, head up or down, on their backs or sides, or curled up in a ball; wedged in between sharp rocks or on a level stretch—position seemed to make no difference. Nor were any of them still for a minute, for even those which were asleep twitched violently and wakened every few minutes. And over the thousands of silver-gray cow seals, the sea-catches, the lords of the harem, three or four times the size of their mates, stood watch and ward unceasingly.
"Why do you herd them so close together?" asked Colin. "I should have thought there was lots of room on the beaches of the island."
"They herd themselves," the agent said. "Don't go anywhere unless it is crowded. The more a place is jammed, the more anxious they are to get there. Newcomers won't go to empty harems. Unhappy with only one or two other cows. Try and find room in a crowded bunch where one sea-catch is looking after thirty females."
"But," said Colin, looking at the group which was nearest to him, "there are a lot of little baby seals in there! They'll get trodden on!"
"They are trodden on. Often," said the agent. "Can't be helped. Only a few pups right in the harems and they are all small. Obviously! Go away when they are a week old. Wander from the harem to find playfellows. Make up 'pods' or nurseries. Sometimes four or five hundred in one nursery. Stay until the end of the season. There's a pod of pups," he continued, pointing up the beach; "about sixty of them, I should judge. Happy-looking? Clearly!"
"They look like big black kittens," said Colin, as he watched them tumbling about on the pebbly beach, "and just as full of fun. Can they swim as soon as they are born, Mr. Nagge?"
"Seals have to learn to swim. Same as boys," he answered. "They teach themselves, apparently! Young seal, thrown into deep water, will drown. Queer. Become wonderful swimmers, too."
"About how long does it take them to learn?" Colin asked.
"Don't begin until they are three weeks old,"was the reply. "Practise several hours a day. Swim well in about a month."
"Why don't the father or the mother seals teach them?" queried the boy.
"A sea-catch doesn't see anything outside the harem. As long as a pup is within twelve feet of him, he will fight on the instant if the baby is in danger. Once it is in the nursery the bull seal forgets the little one's existence. He couldn't leave, anyway. Some other sea-catch would seize the harem."
"You mean that the old seal can't get away at all?"
"Not at all," was the reply.
"Then what does he get to eat?" asked Colin in surprise, "do the cow seals bring him food?"
"Not a bite. No. He doesn't eat at all. Not all summer."
"Never gets a bite of anything? I should think he'd starve to death," cried the lad.
"Fasts for nearly four months. From the time a sea-catch hauls up in May and preempts the spot he has chosen for his harem he doesn't leave that spot eight to sixteen feet square until late in August. Stays right there. He's active enough in some ways. No matter how much he floundersaround, he keeps right on his own harem ground. He could hardly get away from it if he tried."