There is a certain large, foreign general store here which seems to be an informal club, as therein one meets all sorts and conditions of men hailing from the seven seas, whose stories are a joy and delight to the seeker after “copy.”
Mr. X., the urbane and gentle proprietor, in his many years of residence in Japan has acquired a host of many interesting and not a few exciting experiences; his stories anent bygone days in Nagasaki being particularly interesting. Given a wet day with the cares and requirements of business not too importunate, seated by the open cracker bar'l, one gathers some idea of the local social amenities of some forty years ago.
It must have been a particularly thrilling experience, for example, somewhere in the early 70's, when for a week or so the popular amusement of the local Samurai - annoyed at the curtailment of their privileges - exhibited their displeasure at the changing times by cutting down inoffensive people encountered on the streets, without the slightest apparent pretext.
The few foreign residents, it was gathered, acting upon instructions received from their respective Consuls, kept themselves indoors as much as possible during this exciting period or, when forced to go abroad, carried a complete and comprehensive edition of International Law (Coke upon Littleton, as revised by Capt. Colt) in their hip pockets or, more conveniently for a quick draw, under their left arm. Various accounts of that period seem to indicate that survival appeared to resolve itself into a mere matter of “quickness on the draw.” A sword unsheathed “one inch” was by established custom considered to indicate that the wearer of same meant serious business, hence the sight of that amount of cold steel was considered ample justification for shooting down any swashbuckler, even though he was dropped before the sword was fully unsheathed and brandished.
During this, fortunately brief, period, many inoffensive townsfolk were cut down without the slightest provocation. A number of British naval seamen, spending the evening at Maruyama, presumably at the Y. M. C. A., were murdered in their beds without a chance of defending themselves.
Into the store one wet afternoon drifted a breezy, blue-eyed Norseman, the commander of one of the fleet of steam whalers which operate on the Japanese coast. This gentleman's life afloat apparently is one prolonged thrill, and his stories, together with photographs, in one of which one saw the harpoon actually entering the whale - while the smoke of the gun mounted on the fo'c'sle was slowly dispersing to leeward were extremely interesting.
From this gentleman's account of present day methods, whaling seems to be no longer carried on in the manner depicted in Bullen's “Cruise of the Cachelot.” Steam and the harpoon gun have rendered the exciting boat work obsolete - at least insofar as whaling in Japanese waters and the adjacent seas is concerned, thus another big slice of the romance of the sea has departed.
Beyond the cold and exposure, life in a Japanese whaler does not appear to be unduly arduous and almost every night sees the vessel snugly at anchor in some sheltered cove, pending an early start again the following morning.
Sea-cuts and salt water chafes appear to be the most prominent discomforts, always excepting the first portion of what is universally known afloat as the “sailors' delight.” The latter portion, however, of that condition - the “empty belly” - cannot he said to be applicable, as the boats are invariably “well found.”
The procedure seems to be, as soon as the lookout in his dizzy cage at the masthead reports “kugera” and its bearing, to steam as slowly and as silently as possible within range. Then comes the exciting moment. A miss, and away goes several thousand Yen for the owners, and shares pro rata for captain and crew; a hit, and the triumphant ones return with the whale in tow.
Some species of whale, especially the sperm, at times put up a stiff fight; have indeed, been known to charge the steamer and the impact of so many tons, plus momentum, is no trifling matter. Bang! Goes the gun and as the harpoon enters the whale, the barbs open out and the bomb attached explodes, deep in or below the blubber. Away rushes the whale dragging out the large five inch line of Italian hemp, care being taken to prevent if possible, the whale sounding (diving.)
At the earliest opportunity, the line is put on the steam winch and hove in, the engines assisting to ease the strain and, when within range, more harpoons and bombs are fired into the whale which finally becomes exhausted, when the steamer is hove close alongside and the whale receives the coup de grace with lances.
The discomforts attendant upon flenshing and trying out are nowadays avoided by the simple expedient of lashing the whale alongside the steamer and towing it to the shore station, where a large staff of both sexes attend to that most disagreeable aspect of the whaling industry. Besides the valuable oil and baleen obtained from the carcase, whale-meat for the table is taken and esteemed, if not exactly a delicacy, at least as a valuable adjunct thereto.
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