Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1883-04-26
Hardy and Fearless.


Gray's Harbor live various tribes OF
Indians, who, as hunters and fishers,
are as hardy and fearless as any race
of aboriginal men in the known world.
While the writer was at Quillute, the
Indian village forty miles below Cape
Flattery, last fall, Il whale was sighted
off the beach, and four canoes at once
started toward him. Soon we were
upon the monster, who, lolling lazily
along, paid no heed to the demonstra-
tions OF his puny assailants, but he was
rudely awakened The foremost canoe
darted forward, and "thudr' went the
harpoon into his broad back, buried
nearly to the shaft. The canoe was
stopped and suddenly backed, and none
too soon, for. with a sudden and ter
rife smash of his flukes on the water,
barely missing the nearest canoe, he
sounded. A number of sealskin blad-
ders, fast to the harpoon-line, were
thrown over, and each canoe, in turn
as it came up, made fast with line to
the foremost canoe. Up came the mon
ster. and with fearful lurch all four
canoes were dragged through the water
at fearful rate as he started for the
ocean.
-Four or five miles was run at this
rate, when his pace slackencd, and the
hindmost canoe was hauled cautiously
past the others and another harpoon
was deXterously planted, and this
canoe assumed the front place in the
procession; with the others bringing up
the rear. Another wild rush, but
shorter than the first, and arepetition of
the performance, until there were half
a dozen harpoons affixed and double as
many sealskin bladders drifting around
the exhausted monster, preventing his
sinking or sounding. Finally, after
hours of prolonged fight for his life
against his relentless foes, the coup de
grace was given with the lance, a final
plunge and he was ours. Three hours
of padding and nasty little swell on
and the whale sunk beneath the water
was the hard task before the whalerS
before the prize could be beached and
fairly called their own; but gallantly
they buckled to it, keeping time to
their work with high-keyed, monoto-
nous chant, and an occasional ear-pierc-
ing, blood-curdling yell injected into it
that was calculated to raise a casual
spectators hair on end.
On the beach the entire remaining
population of the village were await
ing around huge bonfires the return of
the hunters, but by no means in silence,
for the yelling, whooping. singing,
crouching, dancing, dusky, half-naked
figures, as they plunged in and out the
ruddy blaze of the huge drift-wood
fires, reminded one of descriptions of
internal regions. The canoes are safe
ly beached, the whale hauled up as far
as strong hands can drag him, and left
till the outgoing tide exposes his full
proportions on the beach, when knife
and axe and saw do their work till of
the huge animal naught is left but
few well-stripped bones, on and over
which the village dogs feed and fight
and snarl till the incoming tide covers
them with layer of sand.
The carcass is divided among all con-
cerned in the capture then and there
alike, except that the honor piece, eX-
tending entirely around the animal and
including the dorsal fn, is the property
of him whose lucky harpoon was the
first to strike the whale. For many
days, feasts, songs and small potlaches
celebrate their lucky capture and the
village finally assumes its normal condi-
tion.