Revealed: the blood and guts tales of Scottish whalers

The Herald Scotland

7 hours ago

But as the converted Second World War Royal Navy corvette dipped and swayed in the pounding South Atlantic waves, his first challenge would not be with whales, but with the sea itself.
'It was a lively ship,' he remembers. 'She could roll pretty well, almost lifeboat to lifeboat.
'It was frightening to begin with, but you learned to cope.'
Whale catcher vessel, Southern Jester, brings home its catch (Image: South Georgia Museum)
The next challenge would be the gruesome sight of a factory ship's deck, swimming with blood and its crew smeared head to toe in guts.
It was 1958, and the Shetland lad was among a stream of Scots who would make the long journey to a world of icy beauty where pristine seas bubbled with blood and the sickening stench of boiling whale meat lingered in the air.
Over three years, he grew from boy to man chasing whales in the sub-Antarctic, one of thousands of mainly Scots employed to hunt and process vast numbers of whales to near oblivion.
Brutal as it was, from seasickness to the nauseating sight of crews waist deep in entrails, blood and sludge, there would be excitement and a unique bond between men who, perhaps surprisingly given the environment, would go on to show tenderness and care for each other.
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Now their memories of living, working and bonding in the Southern Hemisphere's long-gone whaling industry have been gathered for a new digital archive that explores the reality of the British whaling industry.
The Whalers' Memory Bank, including previously untold stories from former whalers, their families and communities from all corners of Scotland, will be unveiled by historian Dan Snow in Dundee on Friday.
Its launch brings to a climax two years of work with former whaling communities by the South Georgia Heritage Trust and the South Georgia Museum to shine light on an uncomfortable chapter of Scotland's industrial heritage.
A whale undergoes processing on the Flensing Plan at Grytviken Whaling Station on South Georgia (Image: South Georgia Museum)
Whale numbers in the northern hemisphere had already been seriously depleted when attention in the early 1900s turned to bountiful numbers in the south.
Britain became the world's leading whaling country, home to whaling companies that earned fortunes from whale meat, byproducts and oil. With largely Scottish workforces, they established huge whaling stations and ran fishing fleets and factory ships to handle their catch.
Despite the violent seas and logistical challenges of the South Atlantic, whaling fleets would leave species there tottering on the brink.
It came to an end in 1965, by which time whale numbers had slumped and the manufacture of items such as margarine, soap and cosmetics had shifted from using whale products to vegetable alternatives.
Whalers take a break over a drink (Image: South Georgia Museum/Eric Stevenson)
As well as highlighting whalers' stories, the archive explores the wider social and environmental impacts of the industry, including how whale produce became an essential ingredient in British life.
While in some cases, the industry played a vital role in sustaining remote communities that might otherwise have dwindled.
For Gibbie, now 83, whaling offered adventure and opportunity when there were few jobs for young men like him.
'We were living in a backwater, where nothing had really changed from the 1930s,' he recalls. 'Work was hard to come by and you had to leave to go to sea or move away for work.
'This was a fantastic adventure. Life on a whale catcher was to me a boy's adventure, a dream.'
Grytviken Whaling Station on South Georgia (Image: South Georgia Museum)
Once in South Georgia, he was thrown into the role of deck mess boy keeping the whale catcher ship clean, serving food, washing and scrubbing.
Although the youngest on board and one of only four Scots among a crew of mainly Norwegians, he was quickly treated as one of the men. Within days and despite no experience, he was given the wheel of the ship only to rapidly wander wildly off course.
Other times, he'd be at the helm peering into the darkness, trying to avoid ice floes while the crew played cards below deck.
The violent and stormy seas left some whalers dangerously ill - conditions could test even the toughest sailor.
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But, he adds: 'It was fantastic and exciting. And we were wild and free.'
While his whale catcher hunted down its prey, factory ships processed the carcasses, gutting their enormous bulk on board and leaving decks and water around blood red.
It left an unforgettable impression.
'The factory ship was a vision of hell,' says Gibbie, who is chair of the Shetland ex-Whalers Association. 'I could see the deck and it was red with blood and meat, people cutting up whales and big holes in the deck leading to cookers down below.
'It was a terrible place; the smell was something else.'
Humpback whale lunge feeding in the waters around South Georgia (Image: British Antarctic Survey)
Whaling began in Cumberland Bay in December 1904 when whales were plentiful. In the first season 183 whales were caught.
But demand soared for whale produce that could be used for lubricants, in food production and nitro-glycerine for explosives.
By 1925, some 8,000 whales were processed at the Leith Harbour works, many weighing up to 90 tons.
For Edinburgh-based whale company Salvesen, there were handsome profits of £300,000 profit a year - equivalent to £100 million today.
Shetland man James (Jeemie) Balfour was among hundreds of Scots whalers (Image: Balfour Family)
Over 1,000 workers were employed on South Georgia whaling ships and land-based processing stations, staying from May until October.
Before the industry came to a halt, a staggering 176,000 whales had been processed island-wide.
Although Gibbie recalls awful sights, there were also remarkable acts of compassion among the whalers. When one burly Norwegian fell ill with what Gibbie now suspects may have been aggressive motor neurone disease, men rallied to build a makeshift iron lung to help his breathing during his final days.
Another, who sustained a dreadful fall from a ship's mast to its deck, was tenderly cared for at Leith Harbour hospital by a doctor carrying out delicate surgery aided by a mess boy.
By October, most men returned home with pockets stuffed with wages to see them and their families through the winter months.
A blue whale is hauled into position, ready to be processed (Image: discoveryinvestigations.ac.uk)
According to Shetland native Helen Balfour, whose grandfathers both worked as whalers and who is Assistant Curator of South Georgia Museum at the former whaling station at Grytviken, whaling was a vital component that helped keep fragile island communities intact.
The experiences left a mark on both of them, she says.
'My grandad Jimmy Balfour was there for ten seasons with mostly Norwegian crews. He could speak fluent Norwegian with the same accent that they had.
'My other grandfather, Alan Leask, came from Yell. A lot of men went whaling from there because there were so few jobs.
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'Whaling was very helpful for the Shetland economy,' she adds.
'Quite a few men came home with enough money to invest in fishing boats or other businesses, and it meant they didn't have to find work at sea or move away.'
Alongside insights into what life was like for whalers on South Georgia, the digital memory bank includes a 3D tour of a whaling station on South Georgia.
The Whalers' Memory Bank has been backed by the National Lottery Heritage Fund and supported by the Scottish Fisheries Museum, the Scottish Maritime Museum, the Shetland Museum & Archives and Dundee Heritage Trust's Verdant Works.
The Whalers' Memory Bank brings together whalers' stories, photographs and other material for the first time (Image: South Georgia Museum)
The Salvesen Ex-Whalers Club and the Shetland ex-Whalers Association have also been instrumental in sharing their experiences and memories.
Its launch is the centrepiece of a three-day festival organised by the South Georgia Heritage Trust in Dundee which includes interactive exhibitions, activities, talks from world-renowned polar explorers and scientists, and the unveiling of a new artwork, Commensalis, by Scottish sculpture Michael Visocchi which reflects on the whaling industry.