MODERN WHALING AND 

 BEAR-HUNTING 



CHAPTER I 



IT blows, it blows, at Balta Sound, a cold, strong wind, 

 and yet we are in June. I think it always blows at 

 this northern end of Shetland, but we on our little 

 steam- whaler, the HaJdane, are sheltered from the sea by 

 the low green shore and the low peaty hills half shrouded 

 in mist. 



One after another herring steam-drifters come up the 

 loch and collect round the hulk of a retired sailing-ship to 

 sell their catch on board it by auction. The hull of the 

 wooden ship is emerald-green and the small sombre-coloured 

 steamers crowd around it. On their black funnels each shows 

 its registered number in white between belts of vivid scarlet, 

 blue or yellow. 



Our Haldane lies at anchor somewhat aloof from these 

 herring-boats, as becomes our dignity and position, for we 

 are whalers ! in from deep-sea soundings hunters of the 

 mighty leviathan of the deep, the Balsenoptera Sibbaldii, the 

 Balsenoptera Borealis, the Balsenoptera musculus : commonly 

 called Blue, all of which we call Finners, the largest mammals 

 living or extinct. We are smaller than the herring-drifters. 

 They are a hundred to a hundred and twenty feet long and 

 we are only ninety-five, still we consider ourselves superior : 

 are we not distinguished by a crow's nest at our short fore- 

 mast, and all the lines of our hull are classic bow and stern 

 somewhat after the style of the old Viking ships meant for 

 rapid evolutions, not merely for carrying capacity ? 



Our colour is light greenish khaki, and if red lead paint 

 and rust show all over our rides, it is an honourable display 

 B 17 



