By Victor Forbin.
A vivacious account by a French journalist of his introduction to a curious sport of which practically nothing is known in this country.
Fora long time a hotbed of patriotic Anglophobia, St. Malo, the ancient city whose proud boast it is that it has never been conquered, has been of recent years quietly annexed, so to speak, by its former foe, and has become a popular resort with English tourists, so that the poorest of its shops is proud to display on its front windows the welcoming motto, "English spoken."
The Malouins themselves are the boldest sailors of France; it is a saying among them that "they have the love of the sea in their blood." The sons and grandsons of daring privateers, they pass nearly their whole lives at sea, many of them going every year to the Grand Banks of Newfoundland for the cod-fishing season.
Even the well-to-do classes, gentry or bourgeoisie, are fond of maritime pastimes such as fishing and yachting. Their favourite diversion, however, is dolphin-hunting, a sport which the authorities encourage by every means in their power, since dolphins and porpoises are causing terrible havoc among the schools of herring and sardines on the French coast, thus destroying the livelihood of the fisher-folk.
"DELPHINUS DELPHIS," THE LARGEST SPECIES OF DOLPHIN FOUND OFF THE BRITTANY COAST—IT WEIGHS FROM THREE TO FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS, AND MAY REACH NINE FEET IN LENGTH.From a Photograph.
"DELPHINUS DELPHIS," THE LARGEST SPECIES OF DOLPHIN FOUND OFF THE BRITTANY COAST—IT WEIGHS FROM THREE TO FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS, AND MAY REACH NINE FEET IN LENGTH.From a Photograph.
"DELPHINUS DELPHIS," THE LARGEST SPECIES OF DOLPHIN FOUND OFF THE BRITTANY COAST—IT WEIGHS FROM THREE TO FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS, AND MAY REACH NINE FEET IN LENGTH.
From a Photograph.
During a recent stay in the suburbs of St. Malo, my host insisted upon introducing me to the enchantment of a sport of whose very existence I had hitherto been ignorant.
"You cannot possibly return to Paris until you have killed your porpoise, can you?" he asked, insinuatingly.
"I am here for rest, not for butchery," I replied, indolently.
"But just think of the story you will have to tell," he continued. "A dolphin hunt! It is old to us Malouins, but what a novelty for you, a newspaper man, a Parisian!"
"A novelty, to be sure," I returned. "But what about sunstroke? I tell you, my dear Desmond, in this terrific heat the shade of your apple trees is good enough for me. Bother your dolphin-hunting!"
That is what I told him, and at the moment I meant it; yet I must confess that I allowed myself to be conquered in the end by a monetary argument.
"But you're losing money," urged my host. "You forget that a certain official is ready to pay you a five-franc piece for each dolphin's head you may bring him!"
Five francs! I rose to the bait. What glory for a writer to be able to boast that he has earned money with his gun! How I could crow over my fellow-scribes! So, tempted by glorious visions of many five-franc pieces, I weakly surrendered.
It is quite likely that dreams of sport caused me to sleep more soundly than I ought to have done, for when my friend's shouts awoke me atlast I unjustly scolded my alarm-clock, which had done its duty.
Fortunately, everything was ready, down to thecafé-au-laitandpetit painthat the maid was bringing in. A few minutes later I hastily jumped aboard the yachtChristiane, where Desmond and hismousse(cabin-boy), Jean-Marie Le Floch, were waiting for me, meanwhile endeavouring to ascertain from some old salts in which direction and at about what distance out we should be likely to meet with a school ofmarsouins.
"Marsouins?" ejaculated one old fisherman, between puffs at his pipe. "The confounded vermin are to be met with everywhere and nowhere."
Never expect, by the way, to receive precise information from a Breton fisherman. But never mind; we shall reach our objective some time or other with the help of the breeze and the good-will of the dolphins!
Presently the yacht was ploughing her way gracefully through the waves, and for the time being we had nothing else to do but search the horizon and talk about our intended victims. Meanwhile I learnt from my friend many interesting details about dolphins and their ways.
It appears that several species of dolphins are to be met with near the shores of Brittany. The largest is known to science asDelphinus delphis, and differs from other varieties by its long jaws—very like the beak of a big bird, and armed with about sixty teeth as hard and sharp as steel. Its length may reach nine feet, and it weighs from three to four hundred pounds. A swift swimmer, it preys on the schools of herrings, following them right up to Scottish waters. In spite of its greed, it is noted for its mild temper, and frequently amuses itself by playing round ships in the open sea.
Then there is theDelphinus tursio, orsouffleur. This is smaller, and its beak is shorter, though armed with strong, powerful teeth that enable it to attack a big fish, pinning it down to the rocks with such force that its nose is often deeply marked with numerous cuts. This dolphin hates the very sight of a ship and never comes close to one.
My friend was beginning to tell me something about the porpoise, ormarsouin, the smallest species of the genus, when Jean-Marie Le Floch put an end to the scientific discourse by a sudden shout. He was positive, he declared, that he had just seen a dolphin jumping out of the water about five hundred yards ahead of us!
"Are you quite certain about it,mon garçon?" said Desmond, eagerly grasping his gun. "Did you really?"
"Tenez, m'sieur!" replied the lad. "There! there! Did you see it?"
A YACHT CHASING A SCHOOL OF DOLPHINS.From a Photograph.
A YACHT CHASING A SCHOOL OF DOLPHINS.From a Photograph.
A YACHT CHASING A SCHOOL OF DOLPHINS.
From a Photograph.
Sure enough, a black object had just shot out of the water, disappearing again so quicklythat I almost thought I had made a mistake. Not so my friend. He had seen enough to convince him that the dolphin was coming towards us at full speed, and accordingly got his gun ready, meanwhile giving me some rapid hints about the best way of shooting.
"Now, don't aim at the head," he told me. "Never at the head, whatever you do."
"What a queer idea!" said I. "Wouldn't a bullet through its head stop it dead?"
HAULING A DOLPHIN INTO THE YACHT'S DINGHY.From a Photograph.
HAULING A DOLPHIN INTO THE YACHT'S DINGHY.From a Photograph.
HAULING A DOLPHIN INTO THE YACHT'S DINGHY.
From a Photograph.
"Most certainly; but you would waste your powder and shot. The dolphin would sink at once, taking away to the depths of the ocean both your bullet and your five-franc premium. No; you must aim squarely at the belly. Otherwise——Dear me!"
At that very moment the dolphin jumped clear out of the waves quite close to us. Swift as lightning Desmond aimed at the flying monster, shining in the sunlight about a hundred yards ahead, and pulled trigger.
"Well done! A splendid shot!" I shouted enthusiastically, as the bullet took effect and the dolphin disappeared.
"It wastoosplendid!" grumbled Desmond.
Without another word he jumped into the dinghy, towing astern, where the boy was already waiting for him, a harpoon in his hand.
"Keep an eye upon it as soon as it comes up," he shouted to me, as he scrambled for an oar.
"There it is! I see it, bleeding!" I cried. The wounded dolphin had reappeared a short distance away, the foam of the waves around being tinted red with its life-blood. Pointing out the right direction to the pair in the boat, I shouted a few remarks after them.
"I should say it is sinking. Make haste!Dépêchez-vous!It is turning over on its back; I see only its white underside. Quick! Quick!"
"Malheur de ma vie!" I heard Desmond groaning in despair.
Under his very nose, just at the moment when Jean-Marie Le Floch was about to throw his harpoon, the white spot suddenly disappeared; the sea had swallowed the dead dolphin in an instant.
At that moment of bitter disappointment I foresaw the saddénouementof the venture: our shameful return empty-handed to the littleharbour amid the sneers of the old fishermen, who would inquire eagerly:—
"What about the porpoises, gentlemen? How many dolphins are you bringing in?"
Assuredly there must be a special Providence which looks after hunters—especially amateur ones. Just as I was about to sit down, in a fit of despair, a flash caught my eye. Less than sixty yards from the bow, where I was standing, and at about half that distance from the dinghy, a school of dolphins had suddenly appeared!
With a quick motion I seized my gun, and as I raised it to my shoulder my friend's admonitions were clean forgotten.
Bang! bang! bang! A positive frenzy of slaughter appeared to have taken hold of me, and I kept on shooting just as long as the magazine of my rifle held out. Meanwhile the two spectators in the dinghy were frantic with joy. Never in my life have I heard so thick a rain of flattering words as they showered upon me then.
THE CABIN-BOY WITH THE LAST DOLPHIN SHOT BY THE AUTHOR.From a Photograph.
THE CABIN-BOY WITH THE LAST DOLPHIN SHOT BY THE AUTHOR.From a Photograph.
THE CABIN-BOY WITH THE LAST DOLPHIN SHOT BY THE AUTHOR.
From a Photograph.
It is quite likely that several of my victims sank while breathing their last, for I really cannot believe that a single one of my dozen shots missed its mark. Be this as it may, however, I had undoubtedly broken the record in dolphin-hunting, for, as a matter of fact, Desmond and the boy succeeded in harpooning and bringing back half-a-dozen of the creatures.
I am satisfied that Desmond is a sincere and trustworthy friend. Nevertheless, I am not prepared to swear that he was not just a little bit envious when we re-entered the harbour a few minutes after noon. Just think of it! He, the veteran hunter, was coming back as he had gone, empty-handed, whereas his pupil—the man to whom he had had to explain what dolphin-hunting was—would be able to bring to-morrow to thecommissaire des pêches, the responsible official, six dolphin tails, receiving from that worthy no less a sum than thirty francs! Truly it must have been a sad blow for him.
Later in the afternoon the tide brought in a dying dolphin, too weak to resist the flood and fight its way towards the open sea. Success makes one generous, and I begged of Jean-Marie Le Floch to help himself freely and take possession of the tail of my seventh dolphin, asking him, by way of exchange, to pose as heroically as possible in front of the camera by the side of my last victim.
Such was thedébutof a Parisian journalist as a dolphin-hunter. Do not ask me if I went out again on a similar quest. My initial exploit has established my reputation as a dead shot, and I do not care to risk the loss of my laurels.