Reconciliation

The original version (in Russian) was published in MyBlog at www.accentee.com on October 19, 2009. Now I have it translated into English while keeping in mind Bob Ryan, a man of merit.

Lately my regard toward my self has significantly deteriorated. When I usually saw myself in the mirror - and I had to do it regularly, at least for shaving - I might think: that’s quite a nice phiz, even with some signs of intelligence on the face. And I would smile to myself in the mirror, and even wink, and we both were pleased.

But time was passing, and one morning, looking in the mirror I tried to smile as always, but... I couldn’t. I tried to wink, but it turned somehow sour. What is it?! I moved closer. Less than pleasant face was looking at me (so far I would not say - very unpleasant), and traces of intelligence could only be seen with great difficulty, as if they were hiding in the folds of the terrain.

 

Since then, while shaving, I tried not to meet eyes in the mirror and not to express any kind of emotion. I managed doing so with some stress. But one day, unable to stand any longer, I decided to meet myself face to face, I met ... and said, aloud, but softly: - Well, muzzle ...

 

I did not expect such an insult and did not know how to react. Head down, I left the bathroom and then did not shave for two days, having the benefit of the weekend. But on Monday, when I had to once again take a look at myself in the mirror, I was upset even more, and suddenly gave a hoarse voice: - Well, such a mu-u-ug ... This was too much, and I snapped at first angrily : - No worse than yours! - And then, unable to restrain myself, I pinched my body below the waist.

It was painful. Should I respond in kind or leave it unpunished? I was going to do the first, but suddenly got a thought: what are the limits? For example, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. So, I’ll lose my eyes and I won’t see any more this nasty ... you understand what. I’ll lose my teeth and I won’t be able to even mumble the proper disgust. Superfine situation, isn’t it? Peace and quiet and grace of God ...

I cooled down a bit, I thought about how other people get over a similar point in their life. Should I talk with my friends, peers? They’ll make fun of me. Turn to a psychologist? It’s too early; let me first learn something about myself on the internet. Wow! It turned out there was a lot of studies and statistics on this matter which is called self-harm. Some people deliberately inflict themselves a physical damage of various degrees of severity, from a scratch to an injury. And this is not a senseless or irrational behavior.

 About 1% of the population at least once in their lives caused themselves this or that physical damage as a means of coping with overwhelming circumstances or emotions. The population of the United States is 300 million people, which gives us 3 million of self-harmers! It is quite a solid number, and they are people of all ages. But one group draws much attention and gives me a sense of shame - girls under the age of fourteen. It’s so regrettable, they are young and inexperienced, but you, the one in the mirror - wise, white-haired, with your miserable problem of not liking your muzzle, you see... You just lived too long, that's what it is, and nobody is to blame. So, write a complaint against yourself!

 

- OK, I will! - said I stubbornly. I called the court explaining that my case was not complicated, but urgent, and the judge agreed to receive me the next day.

- Your name, age, address, - asked the judge. I replied.

- What is your claim? - asked the judge.

- I was subjected to an insult, combined with aggressive physical action, - I replied.

- Name and address of the offender, - the judge asked. I replied.

The judge raised his eyebrows: - It's your data!

- And his as well, - I replied.

- Is it your twin with the same name? - asked the judge.

- No, it's myself.

The judge swallowed hard and raised his voice: - I have no time for jokes!

- It's no joke, - I replied. - Show me the law under which I do not have the right to sue myself!

At this point the judge first looked into my eyes. He did not respond for a long time and then said, moderating the tone: - And couldn’t you... e-ah ... to settle the conflict with yourself? I would recommend you a good mediator...

I quickly realized what he had in mind, and firmly said: - I do not need a psychiatrist, and please give me a straight answer!

The judge thought for a moment, then said: - I have to consult with colleagues, please wait in the hallway, I'll call you.

There was a young woman in the hallway sitting on a chair. -Who do you litigate with? - she asked sympathetically.

- With myself - I said glumly.

- A good joke, - she smiled.

- No time for jokes, - I replied.

- This is interesting - said she after some thought. - And would you let me take a picture of you?  

It was only then I noticed that she was hung with all kinds of photo and film cameras.

- Go ahead - I replied languidly, and at this point, the judge called me back into the room.

- Here is the form for a written statement of claim. Tomorrow morning come in for a forensic examination. Why? For the identification of possible physical signs of violence. Were there any witnesses? No? Perhaps you will be called to the investigator. And finally, you, I mean - the defendant, you will need an attorney, - the judge said.

- I will be the attorney for myself - I replied.

- That is, you want to defend yourself against yourself? - quietly asked the judge.

- Your Honor, is a defendant has no right to refuse having an attorney?

- Well, wellm - I was assured by the judge. - See you at the hearing of your case!

The next day my portrait flaunted on the first page of the city newspaper, accompanied by questions like "Who fights whom?", "Can’t you settle?" and even "is he a flagellant?" I did not answer the phone, carefully avoided journalists and acquaintances, and was not surprised when entering the courtroom I noticed it was filled to capacity. When I appeared, all eyes turned in my direction, and the noise in the courtroom got louder. The judge rapped with a hammer and announced that the trial begins.

 

- Here is coming up for hearing the case "Mr. Jack Pincher ..." - he raised his eyes ...

- Here - I said.

- "... against Mr. Jack Pincher" - he raised his eyes again.

- Here - I said.

Light laughter rang out over the hall. The judge said that the defendant refused to have an attorney and then turned toward the jury. I followed his example and noticed with satisfaction to myself, that the most of the jury were people of middle age.

- The plaintiff, the defendant, do you have any comments on the composition of the jury?

I answered "no" twice.

- The plaintiff, the defendant, haven’t you changed your mind in favor of settling the case before we proceed?

Again, I said "no" twice. The noise got louder, I looked back and saw that some were holding placards such as "Protect the rights of a man and his body from any attack!", or just "Let’s not allow it!”

 

The judge gave the floor to the Prosecutor.

- The Investigation studied the claim of Mr. Jack Pincher who was subjected to verbal and physical painful effects by the defendant, Mr. Jack Pincher ...

- Your honor - I could not restrain myself. – The defense is asking for the floor! - The judge allowed.

- The Prosecutor inaccurately describes the events, - I went on. - The plaintiff first told me "well, face," and I have acted in response (the audience erupted with laughter.)

- Mr. Prosecutor, stay closer to the facts, - the judge asked.

- So, - continued the Prosecutor - a forensic examination confirmed the presence of signs of vigorous pinching on the body of the plaintiff, on the right side below the waist.

- Your honor - I could not stand it again. – The defense is asking for the floor! - The judge allowed.

- There are similar signs on my body as well!

The audience could not restrain from laughing, and it was evident that both the judge and the jury could hardly contain themselves. To me it was no laughing matter.

Meanwhile, the Prosecutor went on calmly:

- It's not funny at all. We were approached by Mr. Jack Pincher, who was looking for protection from Mr. Jack Pincher, because he could not cope with it himself. He could apply to other, non-judicial authorities, but he chose the court, even though he knew that the only thing that a court can do is to punish the offender. And that means, this is exactly what he wants, and what he wants is to free himself from the function of self punishing and turn it into a legitimate punishing function of the court. Until now, the court had not considered this kind of cases, and, probably, the court should not do that in the future. But in this case, we decided that we can not cast aside this unique applicant.

 

The audience bursted into prolonged applause, and I found myself applauding with all others. Further procedural speeches were not interesting, and I have turned on my attention, when the judge began to read the sentencing:

- The jury unanimously recognized the defendant's guilt, but given the special nature of his relationship with the plaintiff, I decided to soften the penalty. Thus, the Court orders:

1) The defendant to pay a fine of $5,000 (the judge paused, audience held breath) in favor of the plaintiff (audience sighed with relief.)

2) The defendant to pay Court expenses of $8765.

Audience met this with a deathly silence, and when I went out to the hallway, I saw the people - friends and strangers – avoiding meeting eyes with me. But suddenly one man separated from the crowd, came over to me with a smile and, without hesitation, slapped me on the shoulder. - Hi, Jack! - he said. - My name is John; I am co-owner of "John and John Publishers.” I like your unusual approach to your difficult problem, and I would like to sign a contract with you to write a book about all of this. Advance payment of $30,000 you can receive right now.”

On returning home I first went to the mirror, expecting a decisive showdown. Imagine my surprise when the one in the mirror gave me a wide smile, then winked and said: - Don’t worry, my friend, we’ll stick together.

Iosif Benenson

August 18, 2013

Whalers: people and vessels

The original version (in Russian) was published in MyBlog at www.accentee.com on April 3, 2011. Since many people expressed interest in the story I have it translated into English and started this MyBlogg for other possible translations.

Back in the fifties among the major ceremonial events lauded in Soviet media and reels, were the seeing off and meeting of the whaling flotilla “Slava” ("Glory"). In Odessa, where the flotilla was based, these days were holidays. The events were even depicted in the Dunayevsky’s famous operetta "White Acacia". A girl Tonya played by the beautiful actress Tatiana Shmyga, worked as a radio operator on one of the flotilla whalers.

To explain a bit, a whaler is a whale-hunting vessel, 40-60 meters in length, which is relatively small compared to the fleet’s base (a floating plant for cutting and processing whales). There were about eight whalers working with the floating base "Slava". All the people on board the flotilla, who traveled to distant waters of Antarctica, were called by the same word: whalers.

In recent decades, commercial whaling was halted by international conventions, and it all went down in history. The farther away from us any story is, the more we know, there are people who want to write about it as experts or witnesses. Recently I decided to see what is published on the internet about the history of whaling in Russia. It turned out - a lot, though the stories often repeat each other. What I noticed - when it comes to describing the technical details of whale hunting, there are numerous absurdities, such as a harpoon weighing 100 kg (in fact much less), or some guys were going to fire a whaling gun during a strong gale (not even funny). This clearly suggests that the authors themselves did not see it, and probably have never been to whaling. And then I thought: I’ve been there, seen it all, and even ... touched it. So I have to tell you about it, while I am still alive, especially because I keep a few old photos from the event.

Here's how it was. I studied naval architecture, and in the spring of 1957 I had to choose a theme for a graduation project, which was usually tied to a certain type of vessel and its location. Looking through my options I ran across the "whaling vessel for the Far East," and immediately felt a pleasant excitement. I knew that there was another Soviet flotilla, "Aleut", whaling in the Bering Sea, and the theme itself together with a long journey to that remote destination were promising a lot of interesting things.

So it all happened. Plane fare was not covered for the students, but this was for the better: a week on the train from Moscow to Vladivostok through Russia, on the rails and on the map - that was great. My path was supposed to continue onboard a tanker through the Sea of Japan, the La Perouse Strait, Sea of Okhotsk, the one of Kuril Straits and then farther north to the Commander Islands, the whaling waters of “Aleut”. The tanker was one of those who made ​​regular trips to the "Aleut", delivering fuel oil to the mother ship and taking whale oil back in the same tanks (after cleaning and steaming). The tankers also provided resupply of food, spare parts, and sometimes replacement of individual members of the crew. They also inevitably brought parcels from relatives, but more on that later.

The way from Vladivostok to "Aleut" usually took about four days, but this time things went wrong. First, engine trouble was discovered after a short voyage in a completely calm sea, so we went to the nearest port of Nakhodka, where the vessel was sentenced to several days of repairs. We were moored side-by-side with another tanker and pumped all the contents of our tanks into theirs. So we continued on. And then, in the Sea of Okhotsk, where violent storms happen even in summer, we got into a big one. Rough sea from the wheelhouse is an unusual sight. The tanker itself is huge, the wheelhouse is at high elevation, however "the ninth shaft" completely buries the bow into the water and rides through the entire vessel, banging in the wheelhouse light ports, as if right in your face. Also unusual to watch an oncoming vessel on top of a wave, when the stern is exposed completely and screw propellers are spinning idle. One has to see it to believe it.

But again, the unexpected happened: during the storm the propeller shaft thrust bearing was damaged, the engine turned off, no speed meant no maneuverability, the waves positioned the vessel along their crests transforming it into a rolling float. The rescue tug came after half a day, all the while I sat in the cabin, looking at the porthole, which then went deep into the water, then surfaced and looked into the sky. The tug brought us to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, where it took a day to do ​​necessary repairs. So I had an opportunity to go ashore and explore one of the surrounding hills. As they say, there would be a blessing in disguise: thanks to these two accidents, I visited two magnificent bays - in Nakhodka and Petropavlovsk. The rest of the way passed without incidents. At this time the fleet was anchored next to the “Medny” Island (the smaller of the Commander Islands) and the captain arranged a day off on the beach, as the parcels were mostly alcohol. Whalers drank well, but without any excesses.

On the "Aleut" I was enrolled sailor, and I had to take part in all the usual work of a deck crew: mooring, anchoring, handling, cleaning. But there were also features. In one of my first days there a large sperm whale was dragged (tail first) onto the deck through the aft slip, and a crew of butchers started to do flensing, i.e. removing the whale’s outer integument (which is skin and fat). I asked a mate to take a picture of me next to the whale.

Using their flensing knives, in the form of an ax on a long stick, the butchers initially made ​​two parallel incisions from head to tail and two short ones at their ends, the depth, as it turned out, the thickness of the layer of fat. Then closer to the head between the incisions they cut out a square hole, put through the tip of a hoist hook, commanded "raise", carefully separating the first strip of fat, like a banana peel. So strip by strip the butchers stripped the whale, cut strips into pieces and tossed them into the deck hatches of the steam boilers. During this time the deck was relatively clean.

But then the cutting of the carcass has followed, revealing meat and bones, so the deck got covered with blood and mucus, which in itself is nothing special. But the deck became slippery. Now imagine that the deck was not horizontal, i.e. there was almost always a certain list during the periods of hard work, when whales arrived one after another. Some boilers and tanks were filled, others emptied, and the mechanics did not have the time to pump the liquids over from one tank to another in order to quickly compensate for the list. And if one had to walk on deck downhill, it was easy, just slide carefully. But going back was possible only by holding on to something, and so often around. Falling down was not recommended, because washing and cleaning clothes would then take a lot of time.

One day together with another sailor I was taken to the shore to get some clean sand for the fire boxes. It was in the bay of “Severnaya Glubokaya” (Northern Deep), on the east coast of Kamchatka, where "Aleut" was replenishing the fresh water supply. That bay is really deep, you take a look: floating base stern is just next to the shore.

You probably noticed the large stack, belching out that black smoke? This is because "Aleut" was a steamer, as well as all of its whalers. They were built in the early twentieth century, overseas, and initially had coal-fired boilers, then replaced with masut-fired ones. These things were familiar to me, but what I have not seen before, is the deck steam-driven machinery. It turned out, the winches, capstans, mechanical saws for cutting carcasses were very compact and they worked - well, just great, like a clock, with a characteristic tapping.

Having loaded the right amount of sand, my friend and I looked around. A small river coming out of a gorge peaked by rocky mountains was emptying into the bay just next to us. Although it was in the late summer, in August, the mountains at lower elevations were still covered with patches of snow. A dense continuous school of salmon (I don’t remember which kind of) was rushing upstream to its faraway spawning destination. The river was blocked bank to bank by a large hammock-like net, in which a few fish were stuck. And all around was quiet. From somewhere came the Chukchi, he silently took out and gave us a big fish. Our boat has not come yet, and since we had a spare bucket and matches, we decided to cook the fish on fire. But we had no salt, so the fish we cooked finally was not edible. It would be better to take it to the kitchen.

Whalers came every day with a catch of whales, or without it, just for supply. So I was able to examine them well from the outside, while still onboard base. Distinctive exterior architectural features of those whalers are the following: the deck side line rises steeply to the bow; the forecastle deck at the bow is a horizontal striker’s platform with a whaling gun installed on it; there is an alternative steering station at the open terrace in front of the wheelhouse and a catwalk from there to the striker’s platform; there is a crow’s nest (a barrel for the observer at the top of the mast).

Why all this is necessary? During the hunt for whales all the command passes to the striker. Once the observer has detected a fountain, the striker crosses to the gun, and gives voice orders to the steersman at the open station. Incidentally, a sperm whale (namely this kind of whales were mainly found in the area), issues a very small fountain. Look straight along the catwalk and onto the water: it’s like a small cloud, and to the left of it is the guessed whale’s back. Striker is already on the lookout. 

The fact is that the sperm whale belongs to the category of toothed whales, i.e. predators, and does not take water while breathing. Another thing is the baleen whales: they have no teeth, the mouth is always wide open,  and blocked by a palisade of thin horny plates of baleen with a fluffy fringe on one edge. With every breath the whale takes large amounts of water while the plankton - small crustaceans and algae, which are whale’s food, gets stuck on the fringe. Accordingly, the fountain accompanying the exhalation is powerful and high.

Finally the day came when I passed over to the whaler. This very moment I remember well. The whaler was moored to the side of the base just next to the exhaust steam outlets of the fat melting boilers, and when I descended on the deck of the whaler, it was all wrapped in a thick yellow-green cloud with a very specific odor. Later on I got used to it, but that first time I was encouraged with a facetious remark: - Perfume "Red Moscow" (a famous brand at that time). The name and home port of the whaler on the lifebuoy ring which reads Trudfront, Vladivostok, along with myself you can see in the next picture. 

In the beginning the crew played a joke on me a little bit by offering me to steer (not on the hunt, of course, but on passage). The fact is that a heavy boat, especially an old one, did not immediately respond to the rotation of the wheel, as in case of a car or a motor boat. You turn the wheel and nothing happens, and if you have experience, you know that you have to wait. I didn’t have such an experience. So I turned the steering wheel – there was no reaction, I turned it even more until the whaler began turning. I thought that’s enough and returned the wheel to the initial position, but the whaler didn’t obey continuing to turn. I turned the wheel in the opposite direction ... in short, the vessel yawed the right and left, and I wasn’t able to chase the compass. The seamen were laughing, so did I, as you can see in the next picture. Incidentally, the picture clearly shows the alternative steering station, engine telegraph, and speaking tube. The compass missed the shot.

The hunt for whales, in principle is like catching a big fish: hook it, soften yanks, gently pull up, take it on board. To catch a whale at a distance, a steel harpoon is fired from a whale gun. Look at the following picture: harpoons are attached to the wall of the cabin; a woman standing by (the whaler’s cook) allows you to visually estimate the harpoon length - about 1.7 meters. The top end of the harpoon is cylindrical, threaded for screwing on before firing a conical grenade, which explodes in the whale’s body a few seconds after the hit. The threads remain undamaged that makes the harpoon reusable. Right below you can see pivotally mounted arrow-headed flukes (four of them in a circle), which are now strapped with strings in order not to diverge. But at the moment of explosion they spread out and firmly anchor the harpoon in the whale’s body.

The lower part of the harpoon down to the end looks like an elongated eye of a needle. Many of us keep childhood memories of throwing darts, very simple ones, made ​​of a darning needle and a ravel of thread through its eye. The thread tail provided in-flight orientation of the needle precisely along its trajectory, the sharp end forward. The harpoon has to fly in the same way and therefore the whaling line - a thin but strong rope, performing the function of a fishing line should be attached to the end of the harpoon. However, there is a problem: the harpoon is inserted with its rear into the front end of the whale gun barrel and goes all the way through down to the breech. But the whale line should not go along with the harpoon into the barrel (see next photo). 

The problem is solved with the help of that prolonged eye - the slot along the harpoon, the front part of which projects outside of the barrel edge. So there is the point where the whale line is initially attached to the harpoon be means of a shackle (see the next picture - striker is ready to fire). As soon as the harpoon flies, the shackle slides to its end and stays there for the duration of the flight. Propellant powder is charged behind the harpoon through the breech. 

Two neat coils of whaling line, right and left, are placed next to the gun - one coil for one shot. This ensures line’s freedom and inertialess unwinding at a shot. How far should the harpoon fly? I had no chance to see hunting the baleen whales. It is known they won’t allow getting closer than at 40-60 meters; they are cautious, having such predatory enemies as an orca (killer whale). Contrary the sperm whales behaved quite carelessly: sometimes we approached them at a distance of just a few meters.

An injured whale makes a strong jerk, diving to the depth. A fish does the same, and if an angler does not amortize the punch, he’ll end up having a broken fishing line, or the fish will come off the hook, injuring itself. In this case shock absorption is done by an elastic rod as well as skillful angler’s actions, at times letting the reel go. Now imagine what must be a shock absorber for a multi-ton whale carcass. It is clear it should be a strong steel spring. But it must be very yieldable too, and therefore very long. In practice, this problem is solved as follows: a set of short springs with the total length equal to the length of an imaginary long spring is installed on a special frame. The springs are integrated into a system of blocks with a rope combining them all in such a way that the springs are equally loaded and their extensions are summarized. As required. There are two such cushioning devices in the forward compartment of the whaler, just under the deck, to which the root ends of the two whaling line coils are attached.

Thus, the wounded whale went under the water. The vessel is motionless. People on the deck are distributed along the sides in order to locate the emerging whale as soon as possible. This moment triggers not an easy maneuvering with a goal to have the whale in front of the bow, as only in such a position it can be pulled closer by turning on the deck winch. Sometimes it happened that the whale did not give up for a long time; he continued to dive and had to be finished off with additional shots. By the way some harpoons after the hunt were distorted. But they did not brake, because their tails were made ​​of mild steel. Later on they were straightened in the forge at the base and returned to the whalers.

Finally, the resistance of the whale is broken. Here's a look: a sperm whale, already lifeless, lying on his side and pulled up to the board. In order to continue the hunt, it will be temporarily, until the evening, left at sea. For this purpose the whale is slightly inflated with compressed air (two sailors on the left) and stabbed with pole bearing an aluminum screen for easy location with a radar (a sailor on the right is preparing to do that). A line with a floating buoy will be tied up to the whale’s tail for future handling.

 Sometimes, a flag was used instead of a screen. 

The coordinates of the whales left at sea were recorded and radio transmitted to the base, where the management then decided - which ones to be picked up by the base, and which by the whaler. Here's a picture taken from the crow’s nest: our "Trudfront" tows to the base a part of its catch: two whales, tails forward; a chain noose around of each tail passes through the bulwark hawse and fastens to the deck. The speed, of course, is pretty slow, but as they say, an own burden is not pulling. By the way, here you can see the compass in front of the wheel, which was not seen in other picture. 

Well, what else ... You may have noticed that sperm whale’s head is large, rectangular, like a suitcase? Inside of it is spermaceti, a soft jelly-like substance, which was a very valuable raw material for the perfume industry. Meat and fat of that whale is not edible and was used for other purposes. Contrary, inside the head of a baleen whale there is nothing special, but the flesh is quite tasty, like beef, just the texture and the smell are a bit different. One of my days on "Aleut" when a baleen whale was scored, the kitchen prepared a big amount of pans – enough for all fleet people-whalers – with a Russian style dish: a thick layer of chopped meat at the bottom, covered with a thicker layer of jelly, so light, almost transparent and delicious. If one blew on it gently the jelly would sway...

Iosif Benenson

November 18, 2012 (this version)

April 3, 2011 – original version (in Russian)