190 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



of chance stranded rorquals. It was in every sense more catholic. 

 The Amerindian needed oil just as much as did the early colonist. 

 Moreover, he was aware of the existence of an almost unlimited 

 supply of oils in the sea, and he had since time immemorial devised 

 methods of obtaining them. The mighty black right whales provided 

 only one source, and a very unreliable one at that. If the red man 

 relied on these whales alone and a school did not come by the bay 

 where he lived in any one year, or if he and his comrades were un- 

 lucky in their capture of a specimen, his whole community might go 

 hungry throughout a long and rigorous winter. These great whales 

 came only twice a year, but there were little whales in the river 

 mouths, gulfs, and inlets all year round. These were the porpoises, 

 dolphins, and other smaller species, and upon these the Amerindians 

 founded several regular industries centuries before the white man 

 came to the Western Hemisphere. And the amazing thing is that the 

 red men kept up these enterprises until they themselves disappeared 

 from the industry and the white man took over the occupation. 



There is still a "little-whale" enterprise in the St. Lawrence, and 

 there were, until recently, others in the Bay of Fundy and at Cape 

 Hatteras. These were based upon completely different animals, but 

 they had much in common and in practice. The industry still pur- 

 sued in Canada is not greatly different from a similar one that was 

 carried on for centuries in the Bay of Fundy by the Passamaquoddys 

 up until a time within the memory of living men. Simply stated, the 

 procedure was this: men went out from shore in canoes or small 

 rowboats whenever small cetaceans were sighted and either har- 

 pooned them or, later, shot them with rifles or smooth-bored guns, 

 then gaffed them and towed them ashore. Latterly, the fishermen of 

 Cape Hatteras found that they could net their quarry in large seines, 

 and thus gave up the more hazardous practice of harpooning. This 

 so-called porpoise industry — though the animals involved were 

 never specifically porpoises — is common to the seashores of the en- 

 tire world, as we have already seen and shall continue to see as our 

 tale unfolds. 



About Cape Hatteras the industry eventually developed a highly 

 novel aspect, for here a species of dolphin was regularly taken in 

 seine nets. The net was about a thousand feet long and made of 

 extra-heavy, tarred twine. It was set some fifty yards to seaward of 



