"The Payless Pilot"
From "Stranger Than Science (1959)" By Frank Edwards
sleepyvalleynight.blogspot.com
One of the most successful life savers on record is credited with saving thousands of lives and millions of dollars worth of property; yet he could neither read nor write, and he worked for nothing because he had never heard of money. It would be fitting indeed if we called him Pelorus Jack, the Payless Pilot.
Put yourself in his place.
If you were an excellent navigator would you guide ships through dangerous waters for forty years without being paid for it?
Jack did.
If you were one of the world's best swimmers would you go back to a job where your only reward was a pistol shot in the back?
Jack did.
You see, Pelorus Jack was both a navigator and a swimmer. He worked faithfully at his self-appointed job of guiding ships through dangerous waters for exactly forty years in fair weather and foul, without losing a single ship. No one ever offered to pay him and he never expected to be paid.
Unusual fellow, of course. Most unusual! Pelorus Jack was a porpoise.
Off the coast of New Zealand there is a swift water passage through the D'Urville Islands known as French Pass, which extends from Pelorus Sound to Tasman Bay. It is a short cut—and a dangerous one. Treacherous currents and jagged underwater rocks lie in wait for the hapless and unwary. The pass had a bad reputation among seafaring men—until Pelorus Jack came along. Then, for forty years, it was quite safe, thanks to this remarkable porpoise.
First to make his acquaintance was the schooner Brindle, out of Boston bound for Sydney with a load of machinery and shoes, picking her way gingerly through the Pass one stormy morning in 1871. The crew noticed an unusually large blue-gray porpoise playing along in front of the bows, leaping out of the water and acting like a puppy that is overjoyed at finding a friend.
Some of the crew members mistook the porpoise for a young whale calf and wanted to harpoon it, but the Captain's wife prevented them from carrying out their scheme. By merely groping along through the mist and rain, following the playful porpoise, the Brindle had deep water under her keel all the way through the dangerous pass.
As far as the records are concerned, this trip with the Brindle marked the beginning of Jack's incredible career. Since he hung around Pelorus Sound, waiting to convoy any passing vessel through the pass, he soon acquired the name of Pelorus Jack and his fame spread rapidly around the world, as grateful sailors credited him with providing safe passage for them through those dangerous waters.
For forty years Jack met the ships and leaped out of the water in greeting. Sailors and passengers watched for him and gave him rousing cheers when he appeared, for with Pelorus Jack on the job, the threat of French Pass was nullified. The big porpoise played alongside the vessels, leaping gracefully into the air. He had no difficulty keeping up with the ships, since the porpoise is one of the fastest creatures in the water.
Jack would race alongside the vessels for miles, crossing under them to appear from time to time on the other side, like a seagoing collie herding sheep. But once the craft neared the churning waters of French Pass, Jack would spurt ahead of the bow and remain there, in sight of the pilot, marking the channel until the danger zone was past.
In 1903, a drunken passenger on the Penguin nicked Jack with a pistol bullet. The crew of the ship wanted to lynch the drunk, and had to be forcibly prevented from carrying out their threat. For two weeks Jack failed to report for duty and was presumed to be dead; then, one bright morning he showed up again, the Payless Pilot of French Pass.
The council at Wellington passed an ordinance protecting Jack from molestation, and it was one law that the sailors gladly enforced.
After being shot by the passenger on the Penguin, Jack never met that ship again—the only vessel he refused to accompany. Sailors refused to sign on her; the Penguin was jinxed, they said. At last, left to the resources of only a human pilot, the Penguin piled up on the rocks and sank with heavy loss of life.
To settle the argument whether Jack was porpoise or shark, a group of scientists made numerous trips through the pass, and definitely identified him as a very large porpoise.
He was faithful to his self-appointed task but he was getting old. Since he first appeared in 1871, Jack had piloted hundreds of ships through the tortuous waters of French Pass. Not only had he saved thousands of lives, but he had also become world famous.
From his first trip with the Brindle in 1871, Jack was on the job day and night, until April of 1912. Then, as dramatically as he had appeared, Jack vanished. It is probable that he was the victim of age and of his natural enemies. Since he had never trained a successor, his passing left a gap that has gone unfilled.
Pelorus Jack was, as the scientists reported, a remarkable porpoise. He had no predecessor—and no successor. But he does have a record of life saving unequalled in the annals of the sea.
* * * |
