As the sun rose over the spruce-covered Newfoundland hills one morning last week, the tiny (34-ton) whaler Arctic Skipper put out from the weathered jetty at Dildo and chuffed at a steady six knots down Trinity Bay. Deck hands were just finishing their breakfast of fried eggs, sausage and coffee in the tiny galley when a lookout cried: "Pothead!"† Captain Iver Iversen rang the engine signal. As the Skipper picked up speed, the whales sounded. When they came up again, they were heading out to sea, and a deck hand fired a rifle shot to turn them. A red signal flag...
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