A Whale for the Killing
detect and follow underwater objects with great accuracy, and could guide depth charges, bombs and other deadly devices to the unseen target. Although, to my knowledge, the matter has never been investigated or even publicly discussed, there is no doubt that tens of thousands of whales were killed by the men who hunted submarines with ships or planes. A commander in the Royal Canadian Navy who served four years in corvettes, frigates and destroyers in the North Atlantic told me he believed a
fidelity, to some powerful but unheard aquatic rhythm. They were supremely beautiful beings. “It’s like watching a fantastic ballet,” was Claire’s response. “Perfect control and harmony! They aren’t swimming through the water... they’re dancing through it!” Dancing? It seemed a wildly imaginative concept, for I knew these beasts weighed seventy or eighty tons apiece. And yet I cannot better Claire’s description. Man, being a terrestrial beast of rather rigid perceptivity, is
Muddy Hole that Tuesday evening, the Hann brothers knew nothing of this new assault upon the whale. They had spent several quiet hours in her company earlier in the day and had begun to take an almost proprietary interest in her, and even to feel a strengthening sympathy for her predicament. “What a hard business,” Kenneth remembered. “’Twasn’t fitting for a creature the like of she to be barred off. Whales likes company, you see. Was times Doug and me thought she was after looking to we for
Anderson brothers (a pair of dour little men who owned the only capelin seine in Burgeo); Kenneth and Douglas Hann; and Curt Bungay and Wash Pink. The Hanns and the Andersons would each provide a dory to assist in working the seine. Although high tide was not due until after midnight, I thought it would be wise to make a preliminary reconnaissance soon after dark. Curt agreed and we set off in his boat. The sea, black and motionless as stretched silk, was literally alive with herring.
Although most of the people present were seemingly content just to watch, the hostility between myself and the speedboat crowd hung over the Pond like a miasma. I was afraid that not even the presence of the policeman would be enough to restrain them, and I dreaded the possibility of another outburst such as had occurred on Sunday. The tension was eased somewhat when a party of officers from the CGS Montgomery came ashore to see the whale. The oceanographer was with them and he proved to be