Just before fallin' inta a deep sleep, I heard Gee's gentle whisper inside my head. "Wishes, I was with you all the time. You were in expert hands. Yours was not the first case of hypothermia they have treated, and I am certain it is not their last. Time to sleep. I will lie right here by your bed."

When I woke up, Gee was right there, just like he promised. "Good mornin' Gee."

"Did you sleep well?" He asked. Then he yawned. When a giant salamander yawns it looks like his whole head splits open. All his teeth show, top and bottom. Seein' those sharp teeth makes me forget that he's vegetarian. Regular salamanders are carnivores, but they don't have self-awareness like Gee. Actually, even though he is in a salamander's body, he is as much Keeper as any. Keepers don't kill.

"Can we join the whale hunt?"

"No, Wishes, the hunters left hours ago before daylight. We all agreed that bed rest was what you needed most."

"Did Freck go?"

"Freck chose to stay behind. She was extremely tired. She also thought she could be of assistance should you need anything."

Just then Freck stumbled into my room rubbin' her eyes, "How ya doing? You sure look a lot better than you did last night. All of us were plenty gol darned scared." She yawned and I'd swear it was almost as big as Gee's. I warn't sure if'n her mouth would split right open. I was probably the only one who slept well last night. I'll bet there was sumpin' in that broth ta make me sleep."

"Sorry," she apologized. It didn't seem to me that an apology for yawnin' was necessary. Then she turned to Gee and asked, "Even though we didn't go out with the whale hunters is there a way we can see what's goin' on? I'm gonna jump clean outta my skin if I have ta wait until later to find out what happened."

"There is a way to do exactly that. I can create an open-link, mind-mesh for the three of us. Once inside we can peer through the eyes of hunters and see everything they see. We will experience, if we choose, to access their other senses..."

Freck butted in, "Ya mean we can hear, smell, touch, and taste too? Wow that's way better than a movie. Though I'm not sure that smellin' a whalin' ship is a good idea. Ain't they really stinky?"

"In the olden days a whaler would leave port for two or three years at a time. It was not just the stench of the catch, but the crew reeked of it too. It was said that the odor was so strong their stink reached port before their mast crested the horizon."

"Eww!" We both said while holdin' our noses and squinchin' our eyes.

"Of course modern whaling ships do not smell quite that bad. Still, it would be wise to let them keep their stink.You may not want to experience their tastes either. They are rough hewn people. Mostly men, but not all. Some smoke. Some chew tobacco. A hip flask with rotgut whiskey is usually near at hand. If you got a swig of that on your tastebuds, believe me you would rather have your mouths washed out with soap. You will want to hear to understand the events, but be warned, sailor talk is not like tender lullabies. You will be exposed to some of the foulest utterances on earth."

◽️◽️◽️

We meditated as we were taught, and joined Gee in the whale hunt mind-mesh. Suddenly I was seein' through the eyes of a total stranger. He was planted by the port rail and scannin' the seas ahead for blows.

I was pretty curious about the odor, so I decided to take a quick sniff through his nose. It was awfully strong; almost as horrible as gettin' skunk sprayed. At least that's how I experienced it. My sailor when he sniffed for me didn't smell anything awful at all. To him everythin' was shipshape. It was familiar, like bein' home. He was enjoyin' the sunny day, the salty ocean breezes, and the roll of the ship under his feet. Same odor, two different reactions. Huh.

"Freck," I mentally called out, "where are you?"

"I'm in one of the speedboats. It's plenty bumpy out here. My host ain't worried. In fact, he's calm, but nervous about the hunt. Everyone knows how important it is.

"Gee, and where are you?" I asked.

"I am in Ol'Grizz. The entire crew, except for the Captain, are glued to the windows. It appears that I have hitched a ride inside of our copilot, Sam. He is scanning the ocean looking for a school. Whales are not loners you know. They travel together in groups called pods or schools. That is very good for us because it is much easier to spot a group instead of searching for just a single. We are flying at a much lower altitude than normal. The ocean's water is clear. Under these conditions we should be able to see them if they are out here."

Gee," I mind-spoke, "I really don't know that much about whales, do you?"

"What do you know?"

"Well . . . I knows they ain't fish. They ain't got gills to breathe underwater. I understand that they have to come up for air, and when they do they shoot geysers of water out of holes in their heads."

Gee replied to both of us, "Those water spouts are what they call blows. They are a dead give away to whale hunters. Once they see one it leads them straight to their prey. It is like shooting off a flare. The problem is that spotting a single blow in the vast ocean is like hunting for an individual star in the night sky. The ocean is so enormous that an island as big as Manhattan could be dropped into the middle and never be found--skyscrapers and all.

Imagine a pod heading south and you were searching north. Maybe you missed them by mere minutes, you would never know. It is a challenging task to accomplish in a week or two. Remember, they only have one day to find and land two bowheads."

"Gee, why do they want bowheads 'specially? Ain't there more than one kind of whales 'round here?"

"The Amoraks need enough food to carry them through. There are three kinds of whales that live in these waters at this time of year: Bowheads, Beluga, and Narwhal. Of the three, Bowheads are the largest. The humpbacks, which are larger, don't arrive until spring."

Frock's shoulders slumped. "We ain't no better off than the old time Thule. If the hunters cain't see 'em, or at least their blows, we's  sunk, right?"

"Fortunately locating a whale is easier today than it was back then. First, we have a good idea of when and where they go. Their migration patterns are carefully recorded. Whale charting is an ancient practice that still continues to this day. 

"Also, like all living things they have to eat. They feed off tiny shrimpish creatures called krill. They are about the size of an office paperclip. Imagine how many millions of krill it takes to satisfy the hunger of just one bowhead for a day. To feed a pod takes billions of krill. If you know where their food supply is, and what their normal travel routes are, you at least have a place to begin.

"Modern technology helps a lot. This airplane is a good example. It allows us to cover more territory faster and see further.

"Also a whaling ship is equipped with state of the art sonar. Sonar gives them a really good idea of what is in the deep waters. If it is big and it's moving it is probably a whale.

"The speedboats, like the one Freck is on has sonar too. It's not quite as powerful as the ship's, but since they can range out further they could spot something that the ship's sonar might miss.

"And we have radio."

"Radio?" I was surprised, "how does radio help find them?"

"Maybe I should have said capture rather than find. Because whaling ships lacked a way to keep in instant communication with the harpoon boats, many whales were lost to the deep. To say nothing of injuries on the boats. Now days if there is a problem, help can be on the way before it is too late.

"Whale hunting goes way back. Experts say that the first hunt was around 3,000 B.C. Radio in comparison is a recent tool. The first radio transmission was in 1880. Nearly 5,000 years went by before radio was invented. It took awhile more for it to be available for ocean use. It was not until the 1920's before ships began using radio."

"Knowin' that, we have a good shot at gettin' 'em gives me a bucketload of hope," I was sayin'.

Gee responded, "Hope is good, but even with all the improvements there is no guarantee. Finding the needle in the haystack is easier if you have a good idea of where it is. It does not mean you will find it for certain."

"Hey everybody!" It was the dour navigator callin' for attention. "Starboard, two o'clock, approximately two nautical miles—south, southwest."

After confirmation of the sightin' by two other crew members, Sam sent out the radio call. He provided the current latitude and longitude coordinates, direction of travel, and as close as possible, the speed of the pod.

It dawned on me that a considerable amount of math was needed if they wanted to find the pod where it would be, not where it was. I resolved to make sure I did well in math classes.

So far it looked like the hunt was gonna be successful. "Gee," I asked, "what happens once we reach the whales?"

"The speedboats like the one Freck's host is on will circle the school until one surfaces. Freck do you see the mechanism mounted to the front of the boat?"

"How could I miss it? It's pretty dang big."

"That is a harpoon gun. The gunner stands up and looks through the sights for a clear shot. He fires when he has it. It is a little like hooking a fish and reeling it in. The harpoon, as you can see Freck is much bigger than a fishhook. It's more like a barbed spear with a grenade explosive in the tip."

Freck sounded a little upset when she thought, "That's like shooting a bomb in them. How awful."

I wanted to know, "Does the explosion kill the whale?"

"It is supposed to, but if it does not, a harpooner will finish it with a 50 caliber gun. Every attempt is made to prevent prolonged suffering. Once it is dead, it is towed back to the ship. Modern whalers process the meat onboard, but since the Amorak want it whole they will stop after cleaning the carcass. They will secure the catch to the vessel and head back to Nuuk as fast as possible."

I wanted to be closer to the action, so I left my host aboard the ship, and opened my eyes through a member of a speedboat crew. It was a different boat than Freck's. All together there were four speedboats full throttle chargin' toward the meeting point. My host was holdin' on tight. That was a good thing because the waves were slappin' the bottom of the boat so hard we was practically tossed in the air. Up, then BAM down. How much could the boat take of this before the hull cracked? Up, then BAM down. Up then BAM down. It seemed ta go on forever. We were in the air at least as much as on the water. My host looked 'round at the other occupants. None of them appeared concerned at all.  I imagined the boat as a wild mustang bein' broken, and myself as a very determined cowboy. Wahoo!

I knew we was close 'cuz the boat throttled back. That's how they say it. I would'a said slowed down. The three other boats arrived as well. I saw our airplane fly overhead and heard the radio crackle, "Whale hunters you are at the right location. The pod is below you. It's a big school with at least thirty head. We estimate fifteen are large enough to satisfy the agreement. Good luck. Over and out."

I was so excited I could wet myself. My host, thank goodness, was in control of his bladder. Freck mind-spoke, "Have you ever thought that anythin' would be as thrillin' as this? . . . Yikes!" A geyser broke the water a little too close ta her boat. The shiny black back of the bowhead created a wave that nearly 'em over. Or that is how it seemed ta me. They couldn't get off a shot.

The boats backed off a bit ta give the whales more room ra surface. It warn't long b'fore spouts came two, and three at a time. I heard the big harpoon gun fire. KABOOM! The recoil jerked us back. A second later, a shout went up from the crew as the harpoon hit, and the grenade point exploded. My host stood and went forward to assist. He positioned himself at the bow with a grappling hook attached ta a rope in hand. The 50 caliber rifle was trained on the beast waitin' for signs of life. I guess it was a clean kill because the big gun warn't needed. They winched the cable attached ta the harpoon ta reel it in.

It was dead alright. As its enormous head approached the boat I could see a huge lifeless eye. The excitement I felt gave way to a kinda sick feelin'. I realized that this magnificent miracle of nature was just livin' its life free and easy, 'till we came along. No wonder the Keeper's don't kill.

BANG! Another harpoon gun was fired.

.