Midmorning by the Ice 159 



whale, which they now called the sardako baleak, and more particu- 

 larly when they had dropped any hint as to exactly where or when 

 this feat had been accomplished. 



Putting together in his mind a lot of facts thus gleaned, Captain 

 Vettewinkel had long since decided to take his ship in search of these 

 creatures, and he had, in fact, been feeling out the route when, quite 

 by accident and much to the surprise even of his Basques, he had 

 struck a lone one in those latitudes where the Greenland Sea joins 

 the more arctic East Greenland Sea. Could it be because the ice was 

 so late in retreating north this year? And if so, could it mean that 

 the sardako baleak must be sought by the Ice-front? Captain Vette- 

 winkel was not going to ask these questions of anybody, or do any 

 other talking. First he wanted to see what he had got. 



It would have been quite undignified and distinctly undiplomatic 

 to have gone ashore to watch the mundane operations of hauling 

 the whale up the slipway. Besides, there was quite enough excite- 

 ment and talk about it already and a considerable crowd, composed 

 of all the polyglot gangs left from crews of the hundred-odd vessels 

 using the port. Also, the crews who lived ashore all summer had 

 gathered by the jetty to give advice, both useless and useful. And 

 while the captain watched excitedly but morosely from over the 

 water, a ten-oared gig pulled out from behind the jetty, drove a 

 spike into the whale's head, and, running out a short line, began to 

 pull lustily to the accompaniment of a sea chantey. Slowly the vast 

 bulk of the beast slewed around so that it drifted headfirst out into 

 the sound, while the shore gang, holding a line, maneuvered the 

 tail into position over the slipway, where it disappeared below the 

 still water's edge. 



Presently, four immense capstans — such as are used to haul the 

 heaviest ships on to shallows for careening — set up on solid stone 

 bases, each supplied with eight arms and each of these pushed by 

 six men apiece start to turn in unison, their lines converging upon 

 the tail of the whale. And slowly the great corpse begins to inch out 

 of the still, dark waters up the great slipway. The boatswain and 

 the cox of the shore gang are seen running about hither and yon, 

 placing a little grease here or there, testing ropes, or shouting orders 

 to the crew of the gig, whose duty it is to keep the head of the 

 monster pointed directly in line with the slipway. The minutes 



