Modern Whaling & Bear-Hunting: A record of present-day whaling with up-to-date appliances in many parts of the world, and of bear and seal hunting in the Arctic regions

In Short

This book serves as both a historical record and a personal travelogue chronicling the transition from traditional, small-boat whaling to the era of mechanized harpoon cannons. The author, an artist and veteran of earlier Antarctic expeditions, joins the crew of the St Ebba to document the hunt for finner whales and the subsequent pursuit of polar bears in the Arctic. Part technical manual, part diary, and part adventure story, the work captures the spirit of a vanished industry and the stark, beautiful indifference of the northern seas.

The Story

The narrative begins in Tonsberg, Norway, where the author observes the birth of modern whaling technology. He details the machinery—the powerful cannons and heavy iron harpoons—that transformed the industry from a struggle of human strength against nature into a matter of industrial efficiency. The author joins the crew of the St Ebba, a vessel designed for these harsh conditions, and sets out to hunt in the North Atlantic. The early stages of the journey are marked by the physical realities of life on a specialized craft: intense bouts of seasickness, the constant buffeting of North Sea gales, and the grueling, repetitive labor required to maintain a ship that must function as both a hunter and a floating factory.

As the St Ebba navigates the waters near the Shetlands and beyond, the narrative shifts from the technical to the existential. The crew, a mix of seasoned sailors and international adventurers, spends long, often frustrating days scanning the horizon for the elusive "blow" of a whale. When they succeed, the process is brutal and systematic; the author describes the flensing of the massive carcasses and the conversion of whale meat, bone, and blubber into profitable oils and guano. The narrative finds a rhythm in these periods of waiting, punctuated by the excitement of the hunt and the camaraderie of the mess-room, where the men share music and stories to ward off the monotony and the biting cold.

The second half of the book transitions toward the Arctic regions, where the focus shifts from whaling to the hunting of polar bears and seals. Here, the tone takes on a more adventurous and sometimes perilous quality. The author recounts the crew’s experiences navigating the shifting pack ice, the tension of stalking bears across the floes, and the strange, quiet beauty of the polar landscape. There are accidents—the author suffers a painful self-inflicted axe wound while working on the ice—and moments of reflection on the "divinity" that shapes their ends, whether they are hunting or merely surviving. The story concludes with the expedition’s return, leaving the reader with a sense of the vastness of the polar world. The author reflects on the interplay between man and nature, the irony of the "protective coloration" of Arctic creatures, and the enduring, colorful memory of a life lived on the edge of the world. It is a portrait of a world that, even in 1917, was already feeling the weight of modernity, yet still retained the wild, unpredictable character of the frontier.

How It Unfolds

The industrial foundation The author visits the harpoon factory in Tonsberg, where he describes the heavy, specialized weaponry designed by the legendary Svend Foyn. These technical preparations set the stage for a new, colder, and more efficient era of hunting.

The testing of the St Ebba The ship sets sail into the North Sea, immediately encountering a fierce gale that tests both the vessel's design and the resilience of its crew. This section highlights the physical toll of life on a modern whaler, where even experienced sailors struggle with the ship's violent motion.

The long wait for the catch Weeks are spent in the cold, misty waters near the Shetlands, where the crew engages in the monotonous and often disappointing work of scanning the sea. The author captures the shifting moods of the ship, from the quiet focus of the bridge to the social warmth of the galley.

The transition to the Arctic The voyage moves into the pack ice, where the mission expands to include bear and seal hunting. The atmosphere shifts from industrial commerce to exploration, as the men face the hazards of the ice, including the risk of being crushed by shifting floes.

The final account The book concludes with reflections on the expedition’s successes and failures, including a quiet look at the bonds formed between the international crew. The author leaves the reader with a meditative perspective on the color and danger of the North.

The People

The book is populated by an eclectic group of figures who embody the drive and curiosity of early-century adventurers. The author, W. G. Burn Murdoch, acts as our steady, observant guide; he is an artist by trade and a historian by inclination, constantly translating his experiences into both words and sketches. He remains humble, often laughing at his own lack of expertise with an axe or his apprehension during moments of danger.

Harold Henriksen, the ship’s builder, and his father, "Old Man Henriksen," represent the technical mastery behind the venture. The elder Henriksen is a figure of deep respect, a pioneer who helped refine the harpoon technology that sustains the entire industry. His presence in the narrative highlights the continuity between the old guard of whaling and the new, mechanized reality.

Then there are the "Spanish friends," including De Gisbert and the various "Dons," who join the expedition as adventurers. They bring a touch of levity and unexpected grit to the crew, remaining cheerful through storms and dangerous encounters on the ice. Their presence emphasizes the international nature of these expeditions, showing how a shared pursuit of adventure—and perhaps the promise of profit—could draw men from vastly different backgrounds into the freezing isolation of the Arctic.

In Its Own Voice

"The gun or cannon for the bow weighs about two tons."

The author provides a precise, technical description of the heavy weaponry that defined the new, mechanized era of whaling.

"The sea did not hide its teeth for long."

This line captures the sudden transition from calm to violence as the St Ebba encounters a severe North Sea gale.

"If you think in black and white you miss the idea, and form a wrong impression all in black and white, just as I used to have from engravings, and which it is very difficult to put aside."

The author reflects on the surprising, delicate beauty of the Arctic, which he argues is defined by subtle color rather than mere monochrome.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is a meditation on the intersection of human industry and the natural world. It examines the transition from the romantic, arduous methods of the past to the cold, calculated efficiency of modern technology. The questions raised are not merely about the mechanics of the hunt, but about the human impulse to conquer the wild. The author explores why men continue to risk their lives in the harshest conditions on Earth, whether for profit, for the sake of scientific discovery, or for the sheer, elemental thrill of the adventure. There is a persistent tension between the "base commercial consideration" of the industry and the profound, almost spiritual beauty of the landscapes the characters traverse.

Why Read It Today

This book is a fascinating artifact for readers interested in the history of exploration, maritime engineering, or the evolution of humanity’s relationship with the environment. It captures a specific, transitional moment in time—the final frontier of industrial expansion before the world became fully mapped and regulated. The writing is warm, observant, and refreshingly devoid of modern self-consciousness; the author is genuinely interested in the mechanics of a harpoon, the taste of bear meat, and the stories of the people he meets.

Modern readers should be prepared for the period attitudes toward wildlife, which are framed entirely through the lens of sport and utility; the casual slaughter of seals and bears is described with an unblinking, matter-of-fact tone common to the era. The length and the inclusion of dense technical appendices mean it is best enjoyed in sections, like a journal one might dip into over time. What stays with the reader is not the industry itself, but the vivid, sensory details of the North: the scent of peat in a Shetland home, the "wicked" emerald eyes of a shark, and the quiet, shifting colors of the ice. It is a book that invites you to pull on a heavy coat and step out onto the deck, feeling the bite of the wind and the awe of the infinite, frozen horizon.