Dec. 30, 1905.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
888 
little craft down and the next sea would turn her 
turtle. 
“‘Smash those boats!' yelled the captain, .and we 
tumbled and rolled to the poop, caved in the boats and 
smashed the bulwarks to let out the water and righted 
just as the next wave slipped under us. In our com- 
pany that morning were five big, new lOO-ton 
schooners; when the typhoon broke they were nowhere 
to be seen, and were never heard of again. Each ves- 
sel with its crew of thirty men had gone down. Of? 
Vancouver, 1887, I rode out a hurricane in a little 40- 
ton schooner when two big 3000-ton square-riggers 
went down, the St. Stephens and the Harvey , Mills. 
“There is another thing up there that puts the fear 
of- God into the soul of a sealer, and that is the Killer 
or Sea Wolf. Some say it is a species of grampus, 
others a species of whale; but we call it the ‘Killer.’ 
They are about half the length of a -whale, from twenty 
.to thirty feet, have teeth about three or four inches 
long and an inch through and a fin eight or ten feet 
long on the back. I have seen them swallow whole 
.".ea lion calves, weighing from 75 to 100 pounds. Two 
or three of them can get away with a big whale. If a 
seal boat gets in the vicinity of those killers, or even 
one of them, it gets away as quickly as possible. Many 
men and boats have disappeared in fair weathc-r and 
have never been heard of again. , A killer does not 
hesitate to attack a small boat and, striking it amid- 
ships, will hurl it ten feet or more in air. The blood 
of the seals bailed out of the boats attracts the killers, 
they come for the boat with a rush, and it’s ‘lost at sea’ 
for that boat’s crew. Frequently a ship or steamer 
comes to port, the passengers of which will have a 
thrilling story about witnessing an encounter between 
a thresher or killer and a whale; that they had seen 
and heard the resounding whacks of the attacking 
party’s flukes against the back and sides of a whale. 
To sealers and whalers this is amusing. In the first 
place, the tongue of a whale is the point of attack, and 
in the second place, when a whale is attacked, he goes 
down deep, and he goes fast and stays down until he 
is away from the scene of danger. "What they saw 
was a cow whale lobtailing with her calf. The calf 
stands on its head and swats the old cow across the back 
with its tail. They will play on the surface of the water 
in this manner for an hour at a time, swimming around 
in a kind of a circle. 
“I have been sealing and otter hunting since early 
in the eighties, but there is nothing in it any more. 
The otters are disappearing, and Americans have no 
rights in the North Pacific and the Behring Sea. An 
American goes up there and is chased out- by the 
revenue cutters of his owm country, while sealers of 
other nations give him the laugh and keep right on 
killing. It looks like a land job for me from now on, 
though I may make a last try for otter down the south 
coast.” 
Dan was in that raid of the Carmencita on the Rus- 
sian rookeries on Copper Island last season, but he 
will not talk about it for publication. The man that 
headed that raid was Captain Alexander McLean, who, 
six years before, had picked up him and his mates after 
they had been adrift in the Behring Sea in open boats 
for two days and nights and then abandoned his cruise 
and brought them home. Hence Dan does not care 
to say anything that might cause his rescuer and former 
captain any inconvenience, inasmuch as his alleged 
backers are under indictment from the Federal grand 
jury in San Francisco for illegal sealing, and there are 
two similar indictments against McLean, who is still 
at sea. There is one man, however, who will talk, and 
that is Oscar Wazschoff, mate of the Carmencita, whom 
McLean marooned on Clayoquot last April: 
“McLean has a grudge against the Russians,” says 
Wa.zschoff, “and, mark you, he will play even. I don’t 
know where his grudge began, but I think, maybe, it 
was what he saw in the boats when, he picked up Dan 
Claussen and his mates fifteen years ago of? Copper 
Islands. 
“When we cleared from San Francisco we had a 
provisional register from Mexico to take a cargo from 
Victoria to Acapulco, but even a plow-tail sailor com- 
ing aboard would have known that that was a bluff. 
Thirty good men forward. Big Alec McLean aft, and a 
rack full of repeating rifles in the captain’s cabin didn’t 
look like we were going after a load of pine lumber. 
We stood away for Attu, the most westerly of the 
Aleutian group and cruised about until along the latter 
part of August, until the killin’ season was well over 
on Copper Island. I can’t say the trip was uneventful, 
for events were happening every little bit in the fo’c’sle 
and on deck. Nearly all the thirty men were discharged 
soldiers from the Philippines; there was not over half a 
dozen men in the lot that knew how to hand, reef and 
steer, but they knew the smell of burnt powder and could 
handle a .30-30 smokeless. There was more liquor aboard 
than we could have drunk in a year if we laid off and let 
the Carmencita work her own way about; there was 
something for Big Alec and the sober ones to do, 
quellin’ events as they happened, freequent, too. 
“It was a thick, murky morning along the last of 
August when we laid to about fifteen miles off the 
Coppers. The eight boats went over the side, three 
men in a boat, each boat with three pairs of oars, com- 
pass, provisions, water and three repeating rifles. You 
see. Alec had figured that there wouldn’t be anybody 
on the island but the agent and a few Indian sealers, 
Russia being some busy on the mainland and having 
need of men who could handle a rifle. We run through 
the murk to within 300 yards of the island before the 
fog thinned, and we could see all the boats pretty well 
bunched with two in the lead. We could hear thousands 
of seals barking and the roar of the surf, but could see 
no signs of human life on the island. All at once a 
fellow by the name of de Smidt, in the lead boat, threw 
up an oar with his coat on it and begun to signalize us. 
We could not make it out, but we saw his boat put 
about and then the boat-puller in Dan Claussen’s boat 
tumbled to the bottom. The next minute the ‘put- 
put-put' of bullets through our clinker-built boats and 
little thin curls of smoke from behind the rocks' put us 
wise as to wdiat was doin’. I ain’t a sayin’ just -what 
Avent on next, all I know is that I didn’t fire no shots; 
I heard afterward that some of the devils in the bgats 
wanted to make a spurt and charge the island, but it 
would have been suicide, as not a man could have 
reached the island alive. We didn’t see a man on the 
island and put back to the schooner with Walter York, 
of Missouri, shot through the mouth and a boat-puller 
by the name of Friedlander, shot in the calf of the leg. 
Poor York lived until w'e reached Seattle, where he 
died in a hospital. 
“I was mate of the craft, and on the way back Alec 
and I had some differences and arguments, and he put 
me ashore at Cloyoquot with two others. He come 
ashore in an hour or so with three pairs of irons to take 
us back to the schooner; he was pleasant about it, but 
we wouldn’t go back. He tried to get the provincial 
constable to go away to some quiet place for half an 
hour and give him a chance to take us back, but we had 
put the constable wise to the fact that the Carmencita 
was a sailin’ without papers, and he would not stand 
for Alec’s work, though I will admit there was some- 
thin’ doin’ in Clayoquot before he give us up. The 
Dora Siewerd took us off and brought us to Van- 
couver.” 
As a result of that trip, four well-known San hran- 
cisco men are under indictment for conspiracy to de- 
fraud the Government, and in addition to conspiracy, 
Alexander McLean is charged with seal poaching. His 
alleged backers have been arrested and released on 
$3,000 bail. . , 
McLean is the original of Wolf Larsen m the Sea 
Wolf”; a typical rover, 45 years old and of Scotch 
parentage. He was born on Cape Breton, and was 
mate of the clipper ship Santa Clara when 21. For 
nearly a quarter of a century he has roamed the ocean 
and knows the currents of the North Pacific and the 
Behring Sea better than the seals he tracks across the 
waters. He was cruising off the shores of Alaska with 
his brother in a little seven-ton sloop twenty-two_ years 
ago, and since that time has been a seeker for pirate's 
treasure in the islands off Central and South America, 
has run contrabrand cargoes for rebellious States and 
into belligerent ports, and has followed the seal and 
otter. When he put to sea from San Francisco a year 
or more ago under a temporary Mexican register to 
Carry a cargo from Acapulco, he did not go there but 
headed into the north, a staunch craft under him, a 
rack of repeating rifles in the cabin _ and thirty good 
men forward. Recently he was obliged to put into 
Victoria for supplies and to dispose of his seal skirus. 
His crew libeled his catch for their wages, and he is 
held for extradition on the part of the American au- 
thorities. 
Hiawatha^s Fishing. 
(Borrowed from Longfellow). 
By “The Amateur Angler” in the London Fishing Gazette. 
‘■The Song of Hiawatha” is probably known to most 
of your readers, but it struck me that as a Christmas 
yarn a short epitome of the story and a few extracts 
from the chapter on fishing may serve to refresh the 
memory of those who have read it in bygone days, and 
be of passing interest to those who have not. 
Hiawath.! was a personage of miraculous birth, who 
was sent among the North American Indians to clear 
their rivers, forests, and fishing grounds, and to teach 
them the’ arts of peace. The scene of the poem is 
among the Ojibways, on the southern shore of Lake 
Superior. As the story is easily convertible into prose, 
I shall string my extracts together by prose mostly in 
the words of the poem. 
“Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, who have 
faith in God and nature, listen to this simple story; 
ye who sometimes in your rambles, through the green 
lanes of the country, read this song of Hiawatha.” 
Wenonah the beautiful was the daughter of 
Nokomis. Her mother had warned her not “to stoop 
down among the lilies, lest the West Wind. Mudje- 
keewis. should come and harm her.” But she heeded 
not the warning, and the West Wind came at evening 
and found the beautiful Wenonah; he wooed her with 
his words of sweetness, till she bore a son in Sorrow— 
Thus was born the child of wonder, Hiawatha, but 
his mother died, deserted by the false and faithless 
West Wind, and the wrinkled old Nokomis nursed 
the little Hiawatha, and brought him up. Once the 
little boy saw the moon rise from the water, and 
whispered, “What is that, Nokomis?” and she answered: 
“Once a warrior, very angry, 
Seized his grandmother, and threw her 
Up into the sky at midnight; 
Right against the moon he threw her, 
Up into the sky at midnight; 
’Tis her body that you see there.” 
Time passed, Hiawatha became a man, and he de- 
termined to build himself a light canoe that should float 
upon the river like a yellow leaf in autumn. So he 
went to the Birch-tree, and said, “Give me of your 
bark, O, Birch-tree,” and the tree with all its branches, 
rustled in the breeze of morning, saying, “Take my 
cloak, O, Hiawatha!” Then he called upon the Cedar, 
“Give me of your boughs, O Cedar! my eanoe to make 
more steady,” and the terrified cedar whispered, bend- 
ing downward, “Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!” Then 
he went to the Larch-tree, and the Fir-tree, and- last 
of all to the Hedgehog for quills to make a girdle for 
his beautiful boat, and so the birch canoe was builded 
in the valley by the river, and it floated like a yellow 
water-lily, and Hiawatha sailed down the rushing 
Taquamenah, and cleared its bed of root and sandbar. 
And now we come to the time when Hiawatha went 
a-fishing. He went 
Forth upon the Gitche Gurnee, 
On the shining big sea water, 
With his fishing line of cedar 
Of the twisted bark of cedar, 
Forth to catch .the sturgeon Nahma, 
Mishe-Nahma, King of Fishes, . 
In his birch canoe exulting 
All alone went Hiawatha. 
Down in the depths he could see the fishes swimming; 
the yellow perch, the sahwa, the shawgashee, the craw- 
fish; on the bows of the canoe, with tail erected,, sat 
the squirrel, Adjidaumo, and on the white sand of the 
bottom 
Lay ilie monster, Mishe-Nahma, 
Lay the .Sturgeon, King of Fishes, 
Through his gills he breathed the water, ; 
With his fins he fanned and winnowed. 
With his tail he swept the sand floor. 
There he lay in all his armor, plates of bone upon his 
forehead, with spines projecting. Above him came 
Hiawatha sailing in his birch canoe, with his fishing 
line of cedar. 
“Take my bait!” said Hiawatha, 
Down into the depths beneath him, 
“Take my bait, O Sturgeon, Nahma! 
Come up from below the water, i 
Let us see which is the stronger!” 
And he dropped his line of cedar 
Through the clear transparent water. 
Waited vainly for an answer, ^ i 
Long sat waiting for an answer. 
And repeating, loud and louder, 
“Take my bait, O King of Fishes!” 
The sturgeon, Nahma, lay quietly fanning the water, 
till wearied of the call and clamor, he said to the pike, 
the Maskenozah, “Take the bait of this rude fellow, 
break the line of Hiawatha!” Hiawatha felt the loose 
line jerk and tighten, and it tugged so that the birch 
canoe stood endwise, like a birch log in the water; but 
Hiawatha was full of scorn when he saw the pike com- 
ing nearer and nearer to him, and he shouted through 
the water, “Shame upon you! You are but the pike; 
you. are not the fish I wanted, you are not the King of 
Fishes!” Then the sunfish seized the line of Hiawatha, 
swung with all his weight upon it, made a whirlpool 
in the water, till the water flags and rushes nodded in 
the distant marshes. “Esa! Esa! shame upon you! you 
are Ugudwash, the sunfish, you are not the fish I 
wanted.” 
At last Nahma heard the shout, and challenge of de- 
fiance, and 
Up fie rose with angry gesture. 
Quivering in each nerve and fibre, 
Clashing all his plate of armor. 
Gleaming bright with all his warpaint; 
In his wrath he darted upward. 
Flashing, leaped into the sunshine. 
Opened his great jaws and swallowed 
Both canoe and Hiawatha! 
Naturally, you would think, this is the end of Hia- 
watha! but not a bit of it. Here is another Jonah, in 
the sturgeon’s belly; how he fared, he and his faith- 
ful little squirrel and his canoe, and how he got out, 
must be told in his own words: 
“Down into that darksome cavern 
Plunged the headlong Hiawatha, 
As a log on some black river 
Shoots and plunges down the rapids. 
Found himself in utter darkness, i 
Groped about in helpless -wonder, 
Till he felt a great heart beating. 
Throbbing in that utter darkness, 
• And he smote it in his anger. 
With his fist, the heart of Nahma, 
Felt the mighty King of Fishes 
Shudder through each nerve and fibre. 
Heard the water gurgle round him 
As he leapt and staggered through it. 
Sick at heart, and faint and weary.” 
Then Hiawatha drew his canoe crosswise, fearing 
that in the turmoil and confusion he might be hurled 
forth from the jaws of Nahma and perish. The squirrel, 
Adjidaumo, frisked and chattered gaily and toiled and 
tugged with Hiawatha, till the labor was completed, 
and Hiawatha thanked his little friend, and then it was 
that he christened him, and said the boys should hence- 
forth call him. Adjidaumo, Tail-in-air. 
-\nd again the Sturgeon, Nahma, 
Gasped and quivered in the water, 
Ihen was still, and drifted landwards 
Till he grated on the pebbles. 
Till the listening Hiawatha 
Heard him grate upon the pebbles. 
Knew that Nahma, King of Fishes, 
Lay there dead upon the margin. 
Hiawatha heard a clang and flapping, a screaming 
and confusion as of birds of prey contending; he saw 
a gleam of light above him, shining through Nahma’s 
ribs, and the glittering eyes of seagulls gazing at him 
through the opening, and he heard them saying to each 
other, ‘‘ ’Tis our brother Hiawatha.” 
And he shouted from below them. 
Cried exultjrig from the caverns; 
“O ye seagulls! O my brothers! 
I have slain the Sturgeon, Nahma; 
Make the rifts a little larger. 
With your claws the opening widen. 
Set me free from this dark prison, 
And henceforward and forever 
Men shall sp-eak of your achiev’ments. 
Calling you Kayoshk, the seagulls. 
Yes, Kavoshk, the noble scratchers! 
Then the wild and clamorous seagulls toiled with 
beak and claws, and made the rifts and openings wider 
in the mighty ribs of Nahma, and thus they released 
Hiawatha. 
Hiawatha called his grandmother, old Nokomis, and 
pointing to the sturgeon, Nahma, lying lifeless on the 
pebbles, to hold her that he had slain “The King of 
Fishes.” 
“Drive them not away, Nokomis, 
They have saved me from great peril 
In the body of the sturgeon; 
Wait until, their meal is -ended'. 
Till their craws are full with feasting-- 
Then bring all your pots and kettles 
And make oil for us in winter.” 
Three whole days and nights did it take Nokomis and 
the gulls to strip the oily flesh of Nahma — 
“Till the waves washed through the rib-bones, 
Till the seagulls came no longer. 
And upon the sands lay nothing 
But the skeleton of Nahma.” 
