MODERN FIN-WHALING 173 



After a day of fruitless battling with the wind and sea 

 we lay up in Balta Sound, Unst, for the night. At midday 

 the wind went down, and the captain and mate, who had 

 gone to the summit of a mountain to spy, were seen running 

 at full-speed for the boat. Steam was up and the anchor 

 weighed as soon as their feet touched the deck, and we ran 

 out for one mile eastward, where we found a large bull and 

 cow Finner. Several times a shot seemed imminent, but 

 the whales went down. After two hours' pursuit the captain 

 decided that these whales were too "wild," so we stood out 

 to the north, encountering several herds of Pilot Whales and 

 three Lesser Rorqual, the first I had seen. About six o'clock 

 in the evening we encountered the fringe of the main herd 

 of Finbacks, which were spouting in all directions. We 

 pursued whale after whale, but all seemed wild except one 

 monster which refused to leave the side of the vessel, and in 

 consequence could not be shot at. At last the mate got a 

 shot at 7 P.M., and missed. He was much crestfallen, and 

 retired to the galley to enjoy the healing balm of coffee and 

 potatoes. At 7.30 it was bitterly cold when Captain Stokken 

 again stood beside the gun, and we were in full pursuit of 

 a large female Finback that seemed tamer than the rest. 

 Eventually in its final " roll " the whale raised itself about 

 ten yards from the gun, and the whaler tipping the muzzle 

 downwards fired and struck the quarry under the backbone. 



At first the Finback was rather quiet, and then it began 

 to run, the strong line rushing out at a speed of about 

 15 knots. When some two miles of rope had gone over the 

 bow I turned to Captain Stokken, and said : 



"How much line have you got?" 



"About three mile," was the curt reply. 



"But when that three miles goes, what then?" 



