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flaps of blubber from around its jaws, hawser shackle was rigged in holes c ut
in these flaps and in a moment the winches were ripping the blubber off t
he huge carcase, the flensers cutting it clear of the meat as it was rolled
back. To clear the blubber from the belly, they winched the whale over on to
its back, and as it thudded over on the deck urine poured out of its stomac h
in a wave and the pink mass of the tongue flopped over like a huge jelly.
Stripped of its blubber it was winched to the fore-plan. The meat was cut aw
ay from the backbone and then the bone itself was cut up and sent to the pot
s. In just over an hour that hundred-ton monster had been worked up and abso
rbed by the factory ship.
I want to give a clear impression of this ship, because only then is it poss
ible to appreciate the shock of what happened later. She was a floating fact
ory - a belching, stinking, muck-heap of activity two thousand miles from ci
vilization. Her upper works were black with grease and filth from the cloud of
smoke that rolled out of her trying out funnel. And over everything hung the
awful smell of whale. It was like a pall. It was the smell of decaying f lesh,
mingled with oil and fish, and lying on the air, thick and cloying, li ke an
inescapable fog. But though her decks might present the appearance of some
gargantuan slaughter-house, below all was neat and ordered as in a fact ory.
There were the long lines of boilers, hissing gently with the steam tha t was
being injected into them and with gutters bubbling with the hot oil. T
here was the refrigeration plant and machinery for cutting and packing and d
ehydrating the meat. There were crushing machines for converting the bone to
fertilizer. There were laboratories and worskshops, sick bays, mess rooms,
living quarters, store rooms, electric generating plant - everything. The So
uthern Cross was a well-stocked, well-populated factory town.
When we got up on deck again, the five catchers that had been lying idle ast
ern of us had already scattered in search of whale. Four carcases were lying
alongside, gashed to prevent decay through the internal heat of the mass of
dead flesh, and horribly bloated through being inflated with air to keep th em
afloat. One of the towing ships was bringing in five more.
The whole fleet was in action now with whales spouting all round us. It was an
incredible sight. Standing there on the deck of the factory ship we cou ld
hear the dull double thud of the harpoon guns in action. I saw one catch er
quite close. The sky tier was running down the catwalk that connected th e
bridge with the gun platform perched precariously on the high bows. He se ized
the gun, his legs braced apart, waiting for the moment to strike. Twic e the
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catcher drove the whale under. Then suddenly the spout was right unde r the
catcher's bow. I saw the sharp-ended point of the harpoon dip as the gun was
aimed. Then it flew out - a hundred and fifty pound javelin-like pr ojectile
with a light forerunner snaking after it. There was the sharp crac
k of the gun and then the duller boom of the warhead eroding inside the wha le
as it sounded. Next moment the line was taut, dragging at the masthead s
hackles and accumulator springs as the heavy line ran out and the winch bra
kes screamed. The whole thing took on the proportions of a naval operation.
But by this time my stomach was in open revolt. I thanked my guide hurriedly
and staggered off to my cabin. Maybe if I hadn't been so tired, my stomach
could have stood it. But the gale and sleepless days had weakened my resista
nce to that insidious, filthy smell. I gave up all I had to the cabin basin
and, cold with sweat, fell into an exhausted sleep on my bunk, I didn't wake
up until Kyrre, the second officer, came in. He grinned at me as I opened m y
eyes. 'You are ill, yes?' The corners of his eyes creased in a thousand wr
inkles and he roared with laughter. He was a big, blond fellow with a beard
and gold fillings to his teeth. 'Soon you are better,' he added. 'No more wh
ale.'
'You mean you've finished catching for the day?' I struggled up on to my el
bow. I felt weak, but my stomach was all right now.
'Finish for the day. Ja.' His eyes suddenly lost their laughter. 'Finish for
al together, I think,' he said. 'The whale go south. It is what you say the
migrat ion.' He shook his big head. 'I do not know,' he muttered. 'It is very
funny, t his season. I have been four times to the Antarctic. But it was never
like this before.' He scratched at his beard with a great, dirty paw of a
hand. 'Maybe w e have to go south, too.'
That means going through the pack ice, doesn't it?' I said, putting my feet ov
er the side of the bunk.
'Ja,' he said and his eyes looked troubled. 'Ja - through the pack ice. It is
bad, this season. The Haakon she is going south already. We go also, I think
.' Then suddenly he grinned and clapped me on the back. 'Come, my friend. We
go to have some food, eh? But first, you try some aquavit. That is good for t
he stomach.' He produced a bottle and glasses. This is good stuff- real Line
aquavit.'' He thrust the bottle in front of me so that I could see through th
e colourless spirit the back of the label on which was printed the name of th
e ship in which the liquor had crossed the Line.
'Skaal!' he said when he'd filled the glasses. He knocked it straight back. I
di d the same. It was like a fire in my throat. 'God!' I said. 'Real
firewater.'
'Firewater!' He roared with laughter. 'Ja. That is good. Firewater! Now we ea
t, eh?'
The officers' mess was plain and well scrubbed, the predominating note ble ak
cleanliness. Most of the men wore beards. They didn't talk. I don't ima gine
they ever talked much once the food was served. But a sense of tensio n
brooded over the table. Covert glances were cast at Bland where he sat w ith
Judie on one side of him and Hide on the other, Judie was toying with her
soup. Her eyes were blank. She might have been alone. The man next to her made
some remark. She ignored it.
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'Which is Erik Bland?' I asked my companion.
It was as I had guessed. The man sitting next to Judie was her husband. He was
taller and much slimmer than his father but he had the same round head and
short, thick neck. Stripped of his beard, the features might have been those
of Bland thirty or forty years ago. But there wasn't the same strengt h. There
was no violent set of the jaw, no dragging down of the brows from a wide
forehead. Instead there was a sort of arrogance.
I drank my soup and watched him as he talked to the secretary who was sitti ng
on the other side of him. His manner suggested there was more of his mot her
than his father in his make-up. Nevertheless, with his fair hair and bl ue
eyes, he looked a fair example of clean-limbed Norwegian youth.
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