v- ._ __ .» '*-: VOL. XIV, NO. 1, MARCH 1968 ON THE COVER- Bad Winter I T has been such a severe winter in our area that we decided to use a tropical view on the cover to provide a ray of hope to readers in cold climes. The view is the downwind beach of Aruba in the Nether- lands Antilles. Barely visible is the R.V. 'Crawford' setting out to sea. Those of our readers living in warm surroundings may take pleasure in the condition of our "front yard" shown on this page. Jan Hahn, Editor Priscilla Moniz, Circu/ation Published quarterly and distributed to the Associates, to Marine libraries and universities around the world, to other educational institutions, to major city public libraries and to other organizations and publications. Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 59-34518 COVER PHOTO BY I Noel B. McLean Chairman, Board of Trustees Paul M. Fye President and Director Columbus O'D. Iselin H. 8. Bige/ow Oceanographer Bostwick H. Ketchum Associate Director Arthur E. Maxwell Associofe Director Vol. XIV, No. 1, March 1968 Henry Bryant Bigelow 1879-1967 To our great grief, we lost our Founder Chairman in the 88th year of his life. A special issue of "Oceanus", dedicated to Dr. Bigelow, is in preparation. Man t$ . "Breathing is accomplished in a second as a blowhole momentarily breaks the surface." Note the closed blowholes in the porpoises swimming just below the sea surface. seagoing animal M I . AN'S increasing desire to move about in the sea has aroused interest in the question how porpoises and whales (ce- taceans) perform so well under conditions which seem hostile to man. The whales as mammals must meet the same condi- tions of breathing air and maintaining a high constant body temperature. Yet, they are at home in both polar and tropical seas, while some can dive nearly a mile down and stay down for one to two hours without a new breath of air. A human diver, even with a lot of fancy engineer- ing strapped to his back, cannot begin to approximate this feat. Human contact with these animals in nature usually is brief and dramatic. Much of oceanography consists of un- eventful periods of waiting while the ship steams along between stations. But the somnolent spell can be quickly broken by a call from the bridge: "Porpoises!" Despite their previous exposure, most scientists will rush on deck with cameras and binoculars. The sightings of por- poises and whales are a welcome relief from the tedium that makes up much of seagoing life. Thus, anyone who spends time on oceanographic vessels has many chances to lean over the bow and look down on porpoises, who appear to get a free ride on the wave pushed up by the advancing ship. Breathing is accomplished in a split second as the blowhole momentarily breaks the surface. Any given individual may swim off ahead of the ship to have his place taken by another. In this man- ner it is not uncommon to have hundreds of animals attached to the ship much like the neighborhood dogs around the post- man. At an instant they may scatter as they respond to some urge or whim about which we know so little. It is easy to understand the mystic attachment sailors, from the Greeks onward, have given these animals. Envy and wonder are natural reactions. by J. KANWISHER The author, assisted by G. Sundries of the Ber- gen Fisheries Labora- tory, measuring the heartbeat of a porpoise submerged in the "emer- gency aquarium." The underwater telemetry gear attached to the waist of a diver is so small that he usually is not conscious of it being there. The diver cannot hear the signals. Measuring the total metabolism of a diver by way of respiratory gas exchange. The diver has to swim to keep up with the visual target at left. He receives no push from the breath collector which is attached to a turntable running along the tank. The sight is even more impressive to the physiologist. Mixed with his esthetic envy of such grace and speed is the curi- osity of how internal function has been altered to allow such performance. In my case at least, even after a decade of studying the physiology of these ani- mals, I still run on deck when a sighting is called down from the bridge. But the bow of a ship traveling at 12 knots is no place to study the respiratory or tempera- ture physiology of these animals. How- ever, with strategy and patience it has been possible to study a captive animal in a laboratory situation. From such work it has been possible to observe some of the physiological adap- tations which make cetaceans better fitted to the trying conditions of life in the sea. For example, the heart always slows down when a porpoise holds its breath, as it must do during a dive. This is believed to be crucial to understanding how the animal stretches out its limited oxygen supply while swimming below the sea surface. But the conditions of a laboratory experiment, with the animal held on a stretcher in a tank of water, are far removed from those in nature. We had to know if a porpoise behaved in a similar fashion in the ocean. Telemetry The usual way to follow action at a distance is via a radio-link between the subject and the experimenter. But sea water heavily absorbs radio energy. For any practical range it is necessary to use sound, to which water is most tranparent. Therefore, it was necessary to develop a skill in acoustical telemetry which made it possible to monitor an animal swimming free at a range of several miles while con- tinuously sending back information on his temperature, heart rate, swimming speed, and depth. A year of equipment development produced a pillbox-sized package of transistors and batteries. This was fastened to the side of a porpoise. The original question of the porpoise heart rate was answered in a few minutes. The heart did beat more slowly whenever the free-swimming animal dived voluntarily. Getting the porpoise proved to be more difficult than building the telemetry Not seagoing — gear. For physiological reasons, I wanted a small species in cold water. This was finally obtained from a Norwegian fisher- man who answered an ad in a newspaper. The difficulties of keeping and working with these animals were overcome only by liberal help from the Norwegian Navy, the Fisheries people, and even the Bergen police who loaned us a casket as an emergency aquarium. Since that time the transmitters have been attached to a variety of porpoises, seals, and small whales and all have shown this same lowering of heart rate while diving. Use for man After the telemetering method had been in use for several years we realized that no comparable measurements were being made on human divers. This was pain- fully brougt to my attention by two fatal accidents involving scuba gear. In both cases the cause was never determined and the bodies were found only after pro- longed search. It seemed that a relatively cheap sound transmitter, such as used on animals, might have told what went wrong. Impending trouble might have been avoided. And, if the diver's heart beat and breathing had stopped, one could at least find the body by following the sound signals. With this as a spur, the telemetry work has been extended to man. Part of the aim of the animal work had been to determine why man, in comparison, is such a poor performer. Both intellectual and practical drives are satisfied by the extension of the work to man. Signals It was a simple task to convert the telemetry gear to human use. Body temperature, important in the animal stud- ies, was not as necessary for our studies of man. This was traded off for breath- ing. A thermistor in the mouthpiece alternately is cooled and heated as air from the scuba tanks and expired breath pass over the thermistor. This produces a tone in the receiver which rises and falls in pitch reminescent of the sound of an air raid alarm. With this signal one can readily tell any irregularities in breathing. If the mouthpiece is lost accidentally by the diver, the constant temperature of the water on the thermistor sends a steady Nof seagoing — signal which promptly indicates to the surface observer that the diver is in trouble. Superimposed on the breathing tones are little bleeps indicating the heart beat which is detected by suction cup electrodes on the diver's chest. Depth is indicated by the long term average of the signal frequency, and speed is included by a process that is not directly audible and so does not confuse the observer on the surface. This involves a small pro- peller which turns while the swimmer moves ahead. A magnet attached to the propeller shifts the signal frequency a small amount. The received signal only has to be listened to. This makes it possible for one man to monitor a diver while giving most of his attention to other things, such as running a boat. Esthetics have been sacrificed in an effort to leave the ob- server's eyes free. The resulting signals, although easy to interpret as to the well being of the diver, sound like someone learning to play the violin. The sounds, of course, can be recorded on a magnetic tape for future use. The telemetry transmitter in no way interferes with the diver as it is only 3 by 20 cm, weighing 200 grams, usually at- tached to the air tanks or hung from the weight belt. Usually the diver is not even conscious of its being there. The diver cannot hear the underwater signals as the sound frequencies used are 30 to 40 kilo- cycles, well above human hearing. The records from one swimming season pro- vided in reliable detail some of the respir- atory features of a free diver in under- water action. Gas exchange For some work it was necessary to have the diver take occasional gas samples from the mouthpiece with a syringe. The samples were brought to the surface for analysis. Such data provide some of the details of respiratory gas exchange in the lungs at depth, under the unnatural high pressure conditions which are unique to a man venturing into the water. For instance, it appears that the greater amount of oxygen in the air entering the lungs, relieves somewhat the urge to breath again, so that the respiratory rate DR. KANWISHER is a senior scientist on our staff. He is primarily interested in the physiology of animals, including man. is slowed. This results in a build up of COz in the lungs to what may become a critical level. A recent naval accident in- volved a diver who became unconscious at depth. This could have come about in such a fashion. Both he and his buddy died of the bends, when the latter tried to save his friend by bringing him quickly to the surface without decompression. Ventilation The pressure, and therefore the amount, of air remaining in the tanks can be telemetered separately. This tells the total ventilation, or the amount of air that has passed through the lungs. Since the number of breaths is also known from the mouthpiece sensor, the volume of air per breath (tidal volume) is known. Such measurements on actual divers show that this volume decreases somewhat with depth. The greater viscosity of the air under pressure increases the physical work of breathing. Apparently the body's response is to try and avoid some of this increase. Both the greater amount of oxygen and greater viscosity operate in combination to produce the lower ventila- tion and consequent build-up of It is interesting to try and find in the data some answers to why man is such a poor diver without his scuba gear. The reduction of heart rate with diving has already been mentioned as one aspect of how the cetaceans extend the time be- tween breathing. The limited supply of oxy- gen in the lungs and blood is used princi- pally for the vital functions of the heart and brain. Without oxygen both of these organs cease to operate within seconds. But the rest of the body is remarkably resistant to temporary anoxia. One learns in Boy Scout first-aid for instance, that wound bleeding in an arm or leg can be stopped for 15 minutes by a tourniquet. During most of this time the limb is anoxic and yet little harm results. Thus the marine mammals can cut off the cir- culation to much of their body and temp- orarily save oxygen. Since the circulation is reduced there is no need to keep the heart beating as fast. Some workers have sought for analo- gous human data. When a prone man in the laboratory immerses his face in a dish of cold water he shows a varying amount of heart rate reduction and re- duced blood flow. This has been inter- preted as being a whale-like diving response. But the more important ques- tion is whether a significant oxygen saving is effected and here the numbers do not hold up. My measurements on divers in the water indicate that the body is very little, if at all, starved for oxygen during breath holding. Consequently the human uses his reserves more rapidly and must breath again. It appears that man's circulatory system cannot be as abruptly controlled as that of a porpoise. Avoid trouble The operational features of diving, such as losing direction, malfunction of equipment, etc., in addition to physiologi- cal limitations, make diving a hazardous venture. But it is hoped that a better under- standing of human capacity and function will avoid some potential troubles. A trained person on the surface can quickly detect any irregularities in heart beat or breathing of the diver which may indicate an impending crisis. To help the diver, it will be necessary to have some acoustical link down to him. To help in the other direction, the telemetry transmitter is fitted with a key which can be used for signaling to the surface. Optimistic predictions are made fre- quently of man exploiting the sea for "unlimited riches of food and minerals." Pictures are shown of large bubble habi- tats sprinkled across the sea floor. Men venture forth with scuba gear or midget submarines. Such dreaming is uninhibi- ted by practical considerations of either physiology or engineering, apart from the fact that many oceanographers do not believe the "riches" exist. In body at least, man is a frail beast and much more needs to be known about his weaknesses. For the present, divers are going into the sea with scanty empirical knowledge and without proper safety features. Diving always may have to appeal to the brave. It should not also have to apply to the foolhardy. Hazards to human divers may lead to rapid breathing and increased heart action. D o: D O tE U_ O Z O h u UJ O u UJ I O tr SCRIMSHAW BY MCLAUGHLIN "Throughout the Pacific, and also in Nan- tucket, and New Bedford, and Sag Harbor, you will come across lively sketches of whaling-scenes, graven by the fishermen themselves on Sperm Whale-teeth, or ladies' busks wrought out of the Right Whale-bone, and other like skrimshander articles, as the whalemen call the numerous ingenious con- trivances they elaborately carve out of the rough material, in their hours of ocean leisure. Some of them have little boxes of dentistical-looking implements, specially in- tended for the skrimshandering business. But, in general, they toil with their jack-knives alone; and, with that almost omnipotent tool of the sailor, they will turn you out anything you please, in the way of a mariner's fancy." Moby Dick 8 The old art of scrimshaw has been revived on board our research vessels. by J. HAHN AN the long hours, days and weeks at sea, sailors have busied their idle times in many ways. Fortunately — or unfortu- nately, depending upon one's view — now that all sailors can read and with the advent of paperback books, radio, tape recorded music and other modern diver- sions, fewer sailors "make things". In addition, most ships today make relatively short voyages between ports. On our research vessels, however, we make longer voyages so that many hobbies and crafts continue to be popular. Some people carve wood, others build boats and skiffs, some paint, refinish antique furni- ture, build shipmodels or make fancy knotwork. One outstanding example of craftsmanship is the work by Mr. B. McLauglin, chief engineer of the R.V. 'Chain'. The "Chief" has taken up the old art of scrimshaw. Mr. Webster notwithstanding, "scrim- shaw" denotes only the art and the prod- ucts or items carved from or engraved into whale teeth and bone, including objects such as boxes inlaid with whale ivory. Beautiful examples of the work done by New England whalers are pre- served in musea* and in private collec- tions. Original work has become so scarce that scrimshaw demands high prices at sales. *"Scrimshaw at Mystic Seaport" by Edouard A. Stackpole, The Marine Historical Associa- tion, Inc., Mystic Connecticut. Publication 33, March 1958. Many of the fine pieces in the collection of the New Bedford (Mass.) Whaling Museum are used as illustrations in "Songs the Whalemen Sang" by Gale Huntington, Barre Publishers, Mass. 1964. Although many books and experts call scrimshaw an indigenous American folk art, I agree with the historian Edouard A. Stackpole that "scrimshaw is simply a seafaring development of the ancient art of ivory carving". Examples of scrimshaw made early in the 17th century (before the advent of American whaling) can be seen in the former whaling village de Ryp in North Holland and at Hull in England. Nevertheless, it was the New England whalemen who brought the art to a height unequalled in quality, originality and quantity. Whaling background Mr. McLaughlin's interest in the old art form came about rather naturally. His family came from Edgartown on Martha's Vineyard and his great grandfather was one of the many whalemen hailing from that fortunate island. Though some of us who have visited the Azores* on our ships have dabbled at scrimshaw, Mr. Mc- Laughlin started in earnest in 1964 when the 'Chain', on her way back from the Indian Ocean, was tied up at Beirut. Also in port was a Russian whale factory ship. During a visit to the Russian ship, the "Chief" was invited to dip into a barrelful of spermwhale teeth. True to tradition, Mr. McLaughlin, works the teeth entirely by hand, using a three-cornered scraper for the first scrap- ing of the rough surface and then increas- ingly fine sandpaper. He only smoothes the part of the tooth on which he will engrave. A hard alloy tool bit is used for the deep lines while the traditional sail needle — with the end stoned round — is used for the fine lines. He once looked *Where sperm whaling still is carried out almost exactly as it was done more than 100 years ago. Scrimshaw - around the ship for ink but finally decided on burnt sienna and umber which he used for several years to give the work an "old look". More recently he has used commercially available brown and sepia inks. The workmanship is proper. The work is also done on board ship which makes it genuine scrimshaw as opposed to some work, widely available in shops, which is "manufactured" with power tools in land-based shops. Often, particularly in the case of small articles such as ear- rings, the latter are made of elephant ivory and not whale bone. Mr. McLaughlin does not produce his work commercially but for his own pleas- ure and to the advancement of the Insti- tution's "good will". One of his first works went to the 'Calypso1 in Monaco. Another tooth has been donated to be auctioned for a charity, while Vice- President Humphrey received one tooth made especially to commemorate his visit to Woods Hole last summer. Two other teeth will be presented to the Marine Laboratory at Plymouth and to the Na- tional Institute of Oceanography during the forthcoming visit of the 'Chain' to British ports. Naturally, the "Chiefs" artistic talent did not start with scrimshaw. He has worked with watercolors and charcoal, on eggshell paper and, while on board ship in the Arctic, has built large shipmodels to exact scale. Good will Mr. McLaughlin's work has not been confined to engine rooms and art. While stationed in Labrador, he built a geiger counter and went prospecting in the hills and on Baffin Island. "Once, the counter went wild and I reported the finding but do not know if they ever found anything" he stated. It appears that there are more scrim- shawers on our ships than we expected. By the deadline for this article, scrimshaw was beginning to pile up around us. Un- doubtedly we have missed some but fine work has been made by A. S. Wing, M. Palmieri, B. Bailey and particularly by K. Costa, engineer on the 'Alvin's' tender. At work in his cabin on board the 'Chain', the Chief works on a sperm whale tooth clamped in a vise. His simple tools consist of a 3-cornered scraper, a heavy scriber, a sail needle encased in e/ecfrician's fape and some finely divided rulers. U) o