Seal-hunting on the St. Lawrence—The white Porpoise.

Tadousac. July.

Before breakfast, this morning, I had the pleasure of taking fifteen common trout, and the remainder of the day I devoted to seal-hunting. This animal is found in great abundance in the St. Lawrence, and by the Indians and a few white people is extensively hunted. There are several varieties found in these waters; and the usual market price for the oil and skin, is five dollars. They vary in size from four to eight feet, and are said to be good eating. Many people make them a principal article of food; and while the Indians use their skins for many purposes, they also light their cabins with the oil. In sailing on the river, they meet you at every turn; and when I first saw one, I thought that I was looking upon a drowning man; for they only raise their heads out of the water, and thus sustain themselves with their feet, fins, pads, flippers, or whatever you may call them. They live upon fish, and in many of their habits closely resemble the otter. Their paws have five claws, joined together with a thick skin; they somewhat resemble the dog, and have a bearded snout, like a cat, large bright eyes, and long sharp teeth. They are a noisy animal, and when a number of them are sunning themselves upon the sand, the screams they utter are doleful in the extreme, somewhat resembling the cry of children.

My first seal expedition was performed in company with two professional hunters. We started from shore with a yawl and a canoe, and made our course for a certain spot in the St. Lawrence, where the waters of the Saguenay and the flood tide came together, and caused a terrible commotion. The canoe led the way, occupied by one man, who was supplied with a harpoon and a long line; while the other hunter and myself came up in the rear, for the purpose of rescuing the harpooner in case an accident should happen, and also for the purpose of shipping the plunder. The seal seems to delight in frequenting the deepest water and more turbulent whirlpools; and the object of using a canoe, is to steal upon him in the most successful manner. We had not floated about the eddy more than twenty minutes, before a large black animal made his appearance, about ten feet from the canoe; but, just as he was on the point of diving, the hunter threw his harpoon, and gave him the line, to which was attached a buoy. The poor creature floundered about at a great rate, dived as far as he could towards the bottom, and then leaped entirely out of the water; but the cruel spear would not loosen its hold. Finally, after making every effort to escape, and tinging the surrounding water with a crimson hue, he gasped for breath a few times, and sunk to the end of the rope, quite dead. We then pulled him to the side of the boat, and with a gaff-hook secured him therein, and the hunt was renewed. In this manner did my companions capture no less than three seals, before the hour of noon.

On one occasion, I noticed a large number of seals, sunning themselves upon a certain sandy point; and as I felt an “itching palm” to obtain, with my own hands, the material for a winter cap, I spent the afternoon in the enjoyment of a “shooting frolic, all alone.” I borrowed a rifle of one of my friends, and having passed over to the sandy point in a canoe, I secreted myself in the midst of some rocks, and awaited the game. I had not remained quiet but a short time before a huge black seal made his appearance, scrambling up the beach, where he kept a sharp look-out for anything that might do him harm. I admired the apparent intelligence of the creature, as he dragged his clumsy and legless body along the ground, and almost regretted that it was doomed to die. True to my ridiculous nature, however, I finally determined to leave him unmolested for the present, hoping that he would soon be accompanied by one of his fellow seals, and that I should have a chance of killing a pair. I was not disappointed; and you will, therefore, please to consider me in full view of one of the finest marks imaginable, and in the attitude of firing. Crack went the rifle; but my shot only had the effect of temporarily rousing the animals; and I proceeded to reload my gun, wondering at the cause of my missing, and feeling somewhat dissatisfied with matters and things in general. Again was it my privilege to fire, and I saw a stick fly into the air, about thirty feet to the left of my game. The animals were, of course, not at all injured, but just enough frightened to turn their faces towards the water, into which they shortly plunged, and entirely disappeared. I returned to my lodgings, honestly told my story, and was laughed at for my pains and bad luck. It so happened, however, that the owner of the gun imagined that something might be the matter with the thing; and on examining it, he found that one of the sights had been accidentally knocked from its original position, which circumstance had been the “cause of my anguish;” and, though it restored to me my good name as a marksman, it afforded me but little satisfaction.

But, that my chapter about seals may be worth sealing, I will give you the history of an incident, which illustrates the sagacity of an Indian in killing his game. A Mik-mak hunter, with his family, had reached the shore of the St. Lawrence, hungry and short of ammunition. On a large sand-bank which lay before him, at a time when the tide was low, he discovered an immense number of seals. He waited for the tide to flow and again to ebb, and as soon as the sand appeared above the water, he hastened to the dry point, in his canoe, carrying only a hatchet as a weapon. On this spot he immediately dug a hole, into which he crept, and covered himself with a blanket. He then commenced uttering a cry, in imitation of the seal, and in a short time had collected about him a very large number of those animals. He waited patiently for the tide to retire so far that the animals would have to travel at least a mile by land before reaching the water; and, when the wished-for moment arrived, he suddenly fell upon the affrighted multitude, and with his tomahawk, succeeded in slaughtering upwards of one hundred. To many this may appear to be an improbable story; but when it is remembered that this amphibious animal is an exceedingly slow land traveller, it will be readily believed. The manner in which our hunter managed to save his game, was to tie them together with bark, and when the tide rose, tow them to the main shore.

Since I have brought my reader upon the waters of the St. Lawrence, I will not permit him to go ashore until I have given him an account of another inhabitant of the deep which is found in very great abundance, not only in this river, but also in the Saguenay. I allude to the white porpoise. The shape of this creature is similar to that of the whale, though of a pure white colour, and usually only about fifteen feet in length. They are exceedingly fat, and yield an oil of the best quality; while the skin is capable of being turned into durable leather. They are extensively used as an article of food: the fins and tail when pickled are considered a delicacy; and their value is about twenty-five dollars a piece. They are far from being a shy fish; and, when sailing about your vessel in large numbers, as is often the case, they present a beautiful and unique appearance.

For taking this fish the people of this region have two methods. The first is to use a boat with a white bottom, behind which the fisherman tows a small wooden porpoise, which is painted a dark slate-colour, in imitation of the young of the species. With these lures the porpoise is often brought into the immediate vicinity of the harpoon, which is invariably thrown with fatal precision. In this manner an expert man will often take three or four fine prizes in a day.

Another mode for taking these creatures is by fencing them in. It appears that it is customary for this fish to wander over the sand-bars, at high-water, for the purpose of feeding. Profiting by this knowledge, the fishermen enclose one of the sandy reefs with poles set about three feet apart, and sometimes covering a square mile. They leave an appropriate opening for the porpoises, which are sure to enter at high-water, and, owing to their timidity, they are kept confined by the slender barrier until the tide ebbs, when they are destroyed in great numbers with very little trouble. It is reported that a party of fishermen, some ninety miles above the Saguenay, once took one hundred and forty porpoises at one tide; and it is also asserted, that in dividing the spoil the fishermen had a very bitter quarrel—since which time, as the story goes, not a single porpoise has ever been taken on the shoal in question.