(fron "ISANA" No. 9, 1993)

Hisashi Hamaguchi
Chief of the General Affairs Division
Nishi-Muro Prefectural Branch Office
Wakayama Prefecture

Upon arriving at the island, I visited the home of the second harpooner who is an old and close friend, and enjoyed chatting with him about whaling. He became a whaler only two years ago but learned the skills of his trade so quickly that this year he was named second harpooner. When the chief harpooner - now an old man and a legend at the International Whaling Commission - retires, my friend will undoubtedly succeed him as chief harpooner, thus assuming responsibility for handing down the island's whaling culture to the next generation. The story of the hunt of February 18, as narrated to the author, was as follows:

The six-man whaling boat "WHYASK" left Friendship Bay as usual at 6:30 a.m., making its way toward Mustique Island to wait for a whale to appear. When the wind is favorable, the journey to Mustique usually takes about 90 minutes.

On Bequia Island, a lookout scanned the sea with his binoculars for signs of whales. Spotting humpback whales breaking the sea surface is extremely difficult because of the small waves caused by the constantly blowing trade wind.

"Blow!" A shout was heard. A white blow like a cloud - undoubtedly that of a humpback whale - had been spotted near Mustique. The lookout on land signalled his discovery to the boat by flashing a mirror in the sunlight. Soon afterwards, the lookout began communicating precise commands to the boat, such as "wait" and "go", via a marine transceiver.

By and by, the boat approached the humpback whale from behind and the chief harpooner prepared himself for action. The harpooner, now more than 70 years old but still leading the hunt, has kept the whaling tradition of Bequia alive virtually single-handed. Over the past 40 years he has caught about 60 humpback whales. A God-fearing man who neither smokes nor drinks, he goes about his work with gusto and has gained a reputation among his fellow islanders for courage.

Now the boat was no more than 10 feet behind the whale. The harpooner took his position at the bow, the harpoon held firmly in both hands. Inhaling deeply, he thrust the harpoon into the whale with all his might. The harpoon struck the whale with a thud.

The whale began to swim for its life, and the rope connected to the harpoon ran out of the boat with a rattling sound while a crewman doused it with seawater to prevent it from overheating from friction. This scene has been played out by the whalers of Bequia for well over 100 years.

The harpooner then took hold of a gun loaded with a bomb lance, and waited for the whale to weaken. This moment too is filled with tension, for under no circumstances can he afford to waste the valuable bomb lance. Then, with a hissing sound, the bomb lance was fired into the whale as close as possible to its vital organs. With all speed, the harpooner grabbed the hand-held lance to administer a final, fatal thrust. In a fountain of blood, the whale gasped its last breath. By the time another whale nearby had been taken, the hunt had lasted for two hours.

A crewmember dived into the sea and tied ropes from the mouths of the whales over their backs, and then fastened one whale to either side of the boat.

After a while, a motorboat arrived to tow the whaling boat to Petit Nevis Island where the whales were to be processed. Despite having the trade wind at their backs, the boat made slow progress, weighed down as it was by a catch weighing several tens of tons.

News of the successful hunt spread quickly across Bequia, with the call of "Fast all! Fast all!" The islanders were thrilled at the prospect of the coming feast. Some climbed the hill, some set out from port to greet the whalers, and some began the celebrations early by opening bottles of rum. When at last the two whales arrived at Petit Nevis, flensing began on the beach just below the processing station. Following instructions issued by the chief harpooner, the crew of the whaling boat cut open the whale. The masses of meat were then hand-winched onto land, to be cut up further into smaller loaves.

In accordance with a "share system," the blubber and meat were distributed to each of the whalers. Then the meat was sold to the residents gathered there. Beer and rum were sold nearby, and people began to sing and dance. This is a real feast day which happens at most once a year. Several days of revelry for Bequians follow.

By the time the second harpooner had finished relating his story, his father had joined us with his grandchild. "Steak of humpback whale. Eat it," he said. As a crewmember of a whaling boat, he had spent more than 30 years fighting leviathans.
"Does it taste good?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. "It's superb."
"Eat to your heart's content."
"Whale meat is really good," I said, after finishing my first plate. The grandson clearly agreed. "I like whale meat better than beef," he said. "Do you want to become a whaler?" I asked him. "Of course yes" he said, his eyes glimmering at the prospect. It is through such family conversations that the whalers' lineage is observed and handed down from fathers to their sons and grandsons.

Whaling, which was introduced to Bequia well over a hundred years ago, is now firmly rooted in the culture of the region, despite the occasional risk that it may be closed down. As long as fathers continue to relate tales of whaling to their sons, harpooning skills are taught to competent youths, and the inhabitants take pleasure in the feast that follows a successful hunt, the survival of whaling seems assured.

I wondered how many Japanese families back in Taiji or Ayukawa now talk about whaling over dishes of whale meat and how many children dream of becoming whalers with the sparkle in their eye that I saw on this island. Thinking of this, I felt a little sad as I partook of the humpback whale meat.

I hope that the day will come soon in Japan, too, when people can once again eat minke whales taken from coastal waters lapping at their feet.

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