EXPEDITION TO SOUTH GEORGIA 249 



blackfish are moving leisurely at the surface the back fin is exposed most of 

 the time, but occasionally they lie idly, with the head, fin and flukes all 

 under water and only the rounded angle of the high caudal ridge projecting 

 above. When they rise to breathe the great square "junk" or snout, which 

 yields the most valuable of all lubricating oils, is commonly thrust out of 

 water as far as the eyes and the angle of the mouth. They are rather wary 

 cetaceans, often avoiding the whaleboats with tantalizing skill, leading on 

 the oarsmen only to render the pursuit hopeless in the end. Lying quietly 

 at the surface they wait until the boat draws almost within striking distance 

 and then "let go," as whale-men say, that is they sink straight down with- 

 out appreciably altering the inclination of the body. From the masthead 

 I have watched them thus lowering far down into the clear water until they 

 became indistinct shadows. Within a few moments they reappear a short 

 distance away, and sometimes, as if in mockery, raise their hinder ends out of 

 water and beat the surface ten or a dozen times with the flat of the flukes, 

 making a loud tattoo — a trait which recalls the "lob-tailing" of the right 

 whale. If however the blackfish harpooner be so fortunate as to make a 

 successful dart, the members of the herd gather about their wounded com- 

 rade and it then becomes comparatively easy for the other boats to select 

 and strike their victims. Once fast, the struggle is but begun, for blackfish 

 are strong fighters, sometimes tearing out even deeply buried irons. Usually 

 they pull straight away for a short distance, and then resort to dodging 

 tactics, jerking the boat violently from side to side or spinning it end after 

 end. As the prize becomes exhausted and the boat is drawn close, there is a 

 final flurry in which the captive lashes itself back and forth under the bow 

 with terrific jerks, so that quick and skillful work is required in lancing. 



In the South Atlantic, visible animal life was far more abundant than we 

 had found it within the Tropics. Vast flocks of petrels of many species 

 were our constant companions, and during rough weather numbers were 

 caught on fishlines from the stern of the vessel, an exciting form of angling, 

 especially if the game chanced to be an albatross or giant petrel with the 

 baited bent nail at the end of a slender hand-line jammed in the hook of its 

 bill, the bird being held only by its own resistance. The smaller petrels 

 such as Cape pigeons, were caught on fishhooks and were hauled from the 

 air as animated kites after they had pounced upon the trailing baits and 

 had started to fly off with them. 



The day after we had "made the land" at South Georgia the "Daisy" 

 was towed by one of the whaling steamers into King Edward Cove, Cumber- 

 land Bay. This cove is the old "Pot Harbor" of American sealers, a term 

 which has been preserved in a translated form as the name of Captain 

 Larsen's whaling station — Grytmken. The tiny, land-locked haven nowa- 

 days greets the visitor through his sense of smell long before he rounds the 

 point which shuts its entrance from view. The "whaly" odor increases 



