Gemina Garland-Lewis is a National Geographic Young Explorers
Grantee recording the stories of former whalers in the Azores who used
19th century techniques until ending their hunts entirely in the 1980s.
Greetings all! I’ve just finished my third week in the field
documenting the stories of ex-whalers in the Azores, and this week has
held some of the most incredible stories yet. It’s also brought several
chances for me to be involved in the present-day culture surrounding the
whaleboats and whaler’s festivals. I’m going to spotlight one man’s
story from the week, as it’s too incredible to give the abridged
version.
Women
make up an important part of the new culture surrounding the whaleboats
- I join one of the teams from Horta for a practice before the regatta,
where they ended up taking 3rd. Photo by Gemina Garland-Lewis.
From the Jaws of a Whale and Back Again
José “Silvino” do Silveira Jorge recalled his incredible story for me
while we sat on the harbor wall in his home of São Mateus, Pico,
waiting for the sailing regatta to start. He comes from a family of
whalers, and on the day of the accident he was the harpooner and his
father was the official on the same whaleboat. They were far from home
when Silvino threw the first harpoon, but instead of fleeing straight
ahead, the whale started circling the boat. Silvino had struck the whale
with his lance three times, and his brother in a nearby whaleboat had
also struck it once. Because of the whale’s movements, however, they
could never get the right shot. Silvino told his father to stop the boat
so that the whale would pass them and he could get a better angle. Sure
enough, the opportunity came and Silvino threw his lance once again.
This time the lance sunk very deeply, and the whale turned over on its
side and came under the bow of the boat with its chin, throwing Silvino
and three other men into the water.
Sitting
in the whaleboat Senhora da Guia as we're towed by the motor launch -
just like in the old days, except now it's for a regatta. Photo by
Gemina Garland-Lewis.
What happened next is the stuff of folklore. Silvino fell into the
whale’s mouth, where he was pierced by a tooth at the end of the jaw
when the whale closed its mouth on him. He grabbed for the line leading
back into the boat, but the whale started to swim downwards with him. As
he was pulled beneath the water, he started to say his prayers and his
goodbyes. Soon after he realized that he was feeling his wound with the
hand that wasn’t holding the line, and he knew the whale had let him go.
He was still being pulled downwards, however, and understood they had
cut the line from the boat and he was now only holding on to the whale.
He let go and swam to the surface, grabbing onto his boat. The whale
resurfaced after him, smashing him and breaking three of his ribs.
"Silvino"
shows his hands as he talks about always praying for wind while out
whaling - rowing too much would greatly damage the men's hands. Photo by
Gemina Garland-Lewis.
A nearby motor launch boat started to rush towards him to help, but
with the fear of the moment the captain didn’t see another man in the
water, and would have run him over if Silvino’s other brother on the
boat didn’t pull the power to the engines in time. This man was saved
and Silvino was taken from the water; now began the rush to the
hospital. It was completely dark by the time they arrived in the channel
between the islands of Pico and Faial, and a fishing boat in the
channel didn’t have their lights on. In the darkness and frenzy of that
moment this boat was run over by the motor launch carrying Silvino. A
hit and run, the motor launch carried on to port. Silvino had not lost
consciousness the whole time, and after arriving at the hospital
overheard a doctor saying that he wouldn’t make it. Again he began to
say his goodbyes. At this point another doctor, the most trusted in the
islands, came in to examine him. After poking around in Silvino’s
wounds, he realized the injury was superficial – the tooth had pierced
through the side of his abdomen but shot upwards and came out a few
inches above, much like a needle stitch. Without damage to his internal
organs the doctor said Silvino would live, and he breathed his first
sigh of relief of the day.
A whaleboat from Horta sneaks ahead in the sailing regatta in São Mateus. Photo by Gemina Garland-Lewis.
He was in the hospital for 30 days recovering, and was whaling again
within five months of his release, and for many years after that. When I
asked if he ever thought about leaving whaling after the accident, he
said that, although he was nervous about going back for several months,
he never considered another profession. Whaling nearly took his life,
and did end up taking the life of one of his brothers, but this is where
he stayed. As I sat next to him watching the whaleboat regatta, I
couldn’t stop thinking: you have been in the mouth of a whale, and here
you are at age 77, drinking wine in the afternoon sun.
"Silvino," left, watches the regatta with friends in his home of São Mateus on Pico. Photo by Gemina Garland-Lewis.
I’d like to thank everyone who helped me get to the island of São
Jorge this week to meet with three whalers there. The preservation of
whaling culture in São Jorge is incredibly minimal compared to Faial and
especially Pico, making these men’s stories some of the least heard on
the islands. Two of the whalers I met with in the town of Topo had been
whaling together many times, and it was incredible to see them bouncing
memories off each other as they recalled their shared stories.
Many
decades ago, Augusto Sousa Correia, 82, and Tibério Borba, 87, spent a
lot of time whaling together out of Topo, São Jorge. Photo by Gemina
Garland-Lewis.
Finally I’d like to say a heartfelt goodbye to José Luís Garcia, a
whaler I interviewed four years ago who died a week ago. I wasn’t able
to speak with him again this time, as he was already in the hospital at
the time I arrived. His passing showed me how little time there really
is to record the stories of these men before their stories are lost with
them.
José Luís Garcia with his lance in 2008. Rest in peace, old whaler. Photo by Gemina Garland-Lewis.
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