Seals float at one time and not at another, but I shall not do so here, beyond
saying that adult Seals when fat generally float, and that the respiration has
little to do with the matter, whilst the position in which the Seal is lying in
the water at the moment of death is all-important. One should never under any
circumstances shoot at a Seal that is ‘ standing’ perpendicularly in the water,
whilst a shot as it lies along the surface or even at the Seal swimming
may sometimes be taken. Females and immatures will float more readily than
the old males, for they are generally in better condition. Even these, however,
have their seasons, and only experience can give the young hunter the lesson in
restraint that he really requires. I have killed, and picked up floating, four Seals
in as many shots, but this was owing to my having selected the right Seals to
shoot at. Dogs can be taught to retrieve Seals, but the use of them is to be
deprecated unless the owner has good opportunities for training the hound
properly. Almost any good-plucked retriever will go out to the Seal, but it
requires knowledge and additional courage to seize the floating fore-flipper
without pushing the whole body beneath the surface.
The water-glass, which may be made by fixing a sheet of glass in the bottom
of a box or small barrel, is a useful adjunct in Seal-hunting, for with its aid, even
if the surface of the water be ruffled, one can see to a depth of six to twelve fathoms.
A good deal however depends upon the nature of the sea-bottom. When the Seal
is found it can generally be recovered by the use of the Seal-gaff, a long pole with
a few cod-hooks firmly fixed at the end. The best retriever in this case is the human
one, and when I have been Seal-hunting of late years I have generally enjoyed the
company of my brother-in-law, Captain Skipwith, or Mr. H. Prichard, the novelist,
who were both accomplished swimmers and divers, and seldom lost a Seal that could
be seen.
In all forms of the chase our pleasure is mostly due to the charm of the
natural surroundings, and Seal-hunting is a fascinating sport because it leads us
into such strange places and such beautiful scenery. Every man who has ever
ranged the primitive isles of the North Atlantic with their barren coasts and
sea-swept corries, their great precipices and foaming surges, must have felt the
indescribable charm of a sport freed from the artificiality that often clogs the
surroundings of deer forests and covert shoots. He can be alone with perhaps
a trusted friend, and do all his own hunting amidst some of the grandest scenery
in the world. He can bask in the sun and the spray, find his game and stalk it
himself, and there is a certain pleasure even in waiting for hours on a solitary
promontory whilst the cold rain sweeps before the winter blast as he watches
patiently for the Seal to give him a chance. To the true hunter the rapture of
pursuing depends but slightly on the name of the animal pursued. Under certain
circumstances a boy in his teens may shoot a tiger or a stag, but little does he
know of the delight of following, out-manoeuvring, and finally securing unaided an
animal difficult of approach, and it is in this that the essence of real sport lies.
Some of the happiest days of my life have been spent in the northern
islands, going Seal or bird hunting with the people of the sea. The crofters of
Orkney and Shetlands are very different from the men of the Scotch west coast
or the Hebrides, who are often lazy, drunken, and illiterate. The northern men
are really more Scandinavian than Celtic, and are often well educated as well as
pleasant-mannered. It is on account of their extreme kindness of heart and
general amiability of character that we grow to love these men of the northern
seas. Frequently it has been my good fortune to engage men for the day who
have been quite hurt on being offered money, and they have assured me that it
was a great pleasure to meet a stranger and have a talk.
One Charles Ratter, a splendid giant with the smile of a child, came with me
for two days’ hunting and entertained me like a prince. He told me that he was
much ‘ addicted to philosophy ’ and that it had been a bitter blow to him when
the little library at North Rooe (Shetland) had been burnt after an outbreak of
diphtheria. Fancy a Sussex or Wiltshire labourer being ‘ addicted to philosophy’ !
Even as I write these lines, the daughter of the crofter in whose house I am at
present residing is reciting Shetland poetry, with no little feeling and power, to
the rest of the family.
The following is an account of two days’ Seal-hunting taken from my diary:
‘ August 18, 1898.— As the tide was half-ebb in Balranald Bay I saw four
of the old males that frequent this shore go up on the small rock near the north
end of the bay. This rock is low and out of shot from every point on the land
side, as well as from the little island of S ’geiralaban, which lies outside it. I have
noticed, however, that when the Seals are moved off the small rock they swim
slowly out to sea, going close to the larger one in doing so. The water there is
about twelve feet deep and quite clear on a sandy bottom, so to-day I tried the
experiment of being landed on the outer rock and afterwards sending the boat
with Philip round the Bay to come on the Seals from the land side, and so put
them towards me. This was perfectly successful, for on the boat approaching
within three hundred yards two of the largest Seals at once slid into the water