Times of the Islands Summer 2019

native and boat captain Oscar Talbot, based on stories he
had heard from his father and grandfather, “Local Turks
Islanders regularly set out on their own to hunt whales
to supply Salt Cay and Grand Turk with meat, which was
considered the delicacy of the day.” Tim Dunn, another Salt
Cay native and whale expert, noted that Taylor Hill, the
highest point in Salt Cay at 74 feet (23 meters), functioned
as a look-out for spotting whales.
Once harpooned, Mr. Talbot said, “The whale would
run for miles and miles pulling the boat along,” thus experiencing
a Nantucket Sleigh Ride in TCI style. Mr. Talbot
recalled hearing how one whaler got his foot cut off after
becoming entangled in the outgoing rope, leaving no
doubt that TCI whalers faced the same dangers as other
whalers back in the day.
Typically, the whales would be hauled to “Whale
Island,” a spit of land barely above sea level about 200
feet (70 meters) from the shore of Salt Cay’s northeast
windward side. There, the whalers cut up and dispersed
meat to the people who would preserve it by first soaking
it in salt water and then leaving it out to dry—necessary in
the absence of refrigeration. “In the late 1800s,” Mr. Dunn
said, “Salt Cay had a population of almost 1,000 people
and imported nearly all of its food. So hauling in a massive
whale could feed everyone for months.” One can easily
imagine a festive scene of the whole island gathering to
watch the spectacle and anticipating the meal they would
soon enjoy. Only ruins remain of a stone house where this
took place, leaving just enough to step back to the days
when Salt Cay celebrated its intrepid whalers.
Perhaps the most intriguing connection to whales,
however, is the story of Salt Cay islanders dipping their
infant children in the blood of a whale in the belief that
the child would be infused with the strength of the whale.
The ritual was first reported in the 2001/2002 Winter issue
of Times of the Islands, in the story, “Whale Watching” by
Marsha Pardee Woodring, and sourced to long time Salt
Cay resident and TCI historian Josiah Marvel.
While TCI whaling has long gone, the wonderment for
whales never ceased, and neither did the encounters. Mr.
Talbot recalled some 40 years ago when he captained a
sloop from Grand Turk to Salt Cay. Along the way, a whale
unexpectedly headed straight for the boat in a scene right
out of Moby Dick and the Essex. Seeing the aggressive
approach, Mr. Talbot managed to tack the boat away from
the on-coming whale, thereby minimizing the impact. He
then sailed toward a shallow reef where the whale could
not follow, and got away unscathed.
Schoolchildren on Grand Turk and Salt Cay have grown
up with the lore of the whales. When the whales breach
just offshore—especially from Salt Cay where the school
is just 300 feet (90 meters) from the beach—teachers let
students out to witness this gift of nature bequeathed to
them, a childhood memory of astonishment remembered
well into adulthood.
Whaling today
Islands of the Eastern Caribbean—Dominica, St. Lucia, St.
Vincent and the Grenadines, and Grenada—have all hunted
whales at some time. Of these, the small island of Bequia,
the northernmost island of the Grenadines, held on tightest
to the tradition—from 1875 right up to the present.
For most of the second half of the 20th century, whaler
Athneal Ollivierre dominated the hunt, plunging hand harpoons
into the whales just like they did in the 1800s. To
help guide him, Islanders would run along a ridge flashing
mirrors to signal the direction the whale was swimming. As
once happened in Grand Turk and Salt Cay, the captured
whale is even today brought to the shore and divided up
among the community to great rejoicing.
Aboriginal peoples in Greenland, Siberia, and Alaska
also hunt whales throwing hand-held harpoons as their
ancestors did one or two thousand years ago, though
now most use grenades on the harpoons to hasten the
death. But these small whaling communities take very few
whales and hardly threaten the population. Hence, the
International Whaling Commission’s (IWC) allowance for
aboriginal whalers, that includes, interestingly, the whalers
of Bequia (though not without skeptics questioning how
“aboriginal” has been applied).
Far more important for the IWC is the protection of
whales from larger scale whaling. Established in 1946, the
IWC develops policies and agreements for whale conservation,
but leaves for individual countries to adopt and
enforce them, such as the US through the Endangered
Species Act. Those efforts, however, are challenged and
undercut by Japan, Norway, and Iceland who claim sustainable
whaling as a cultural heritage. Recently, these
nations increased the catch of minke whales once the IWC
took them off the endangered list. Japan, in particular, has
succeeded in getting an IWC exception to kill whales for
“scientific” research and sell the meat for consumption.
To bolster its position, Japan has provided significant
development aid to some Eastern Caribbean countries. The
unstated quid-pro-quo? Become IWC members and vote
in favor of Japanese government initiatives to allow limited
whaling. For hard-pressed Caribbean island nations,
including St. Vincent and the Grenadines, the choice
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