Athneal The Whalerman

Athneal Ollivierre is without a doubt a local legend of heroic proportions.  There is not a single Bequian who doesn’t know the name Athneal Ollivierre  and understand what he represents. This special man will go down in history as the bravest and mightiest of the Bequia whalers, and I was privileged to have known him.

My father, the Reverend Ronald Armstrong, loved Athneal like a brother.  He once told me that Athneal was the kindest, most honest person he had ever met and my father knew a lot of people!  That love was returned, and Athneal never launched the whale boats at the start of the season until my father had blessed them.  If memory serves, the names of the boats were Dart and Trio and the newly-built Why Ask?  The annual blessing of the whaleboats was something my father looked forward to every season, and the gathering of people around the vessels at Friendship Beach was a special event.

Athneal was a quiet, unassuming man and a pleasure to visit and chat with.  He was soft-spoken and exuded a calmness that seemed at odds with his profession.

Athneal was not just a whaler, he was the harpooner and a very good one.  For such a slim man Athneal was incredibly strong, he could throw the heavy 40 pound harpoon attached to a long rope with ease, then clamber onto the back of the struck whale to kill it with a lance.  The mouth of the whale then had to be secured to prevent it from sounding,  an extremely dangerous occupation.  All this was done from a wooden sailboat, and it was a very big deal in those early days on Bequia.  The whalers were men of great courage.

I loved visiting Athneal, and with some encouragement he would regale me with tales of his whaling adventures.  He had been badly injured once but kept on whaling, it was something he would never give up.  Asking if he was ever frightened he replied, “only a fool has no fear, fear is something I has.”  He also felt sad each time he killed a whale, he said that the love a cow has for her calf is a beautiful thing, and each time he killed a cow it made water come to his eyes.

Athneal had his frustrations.  Bequia was changing quickly and the younger generation weren’t as keen to take up whaling, it was a hard way to make a living and no longer as important to the Island. Athneal and his late wife Hilda had not been blessed with children, and although he had a lot of close relatives the interest in whaling was fading.  Whale meat was not as sought after once refrigerators were common, and the oil was no longer needed, electricity had made the use of lanterns a thing of the past.  At times Athneal was criticized by tourists and environmentalists who often interfered during the chase of a whale. Some wanted pictures and got in the way, while others tried to stop the chase altogether.

When Athneal was diagnosed with cancer he was not given long to live, and with his eyesight failing along with his health it was assumed that the brave harpooner would retire.   He surprised us all by continuing, and for two more years he went to sea, training his nephew Bentley so that the tradition could be passed on to future Ollivierres.

Athneal passed away in 2000 in his 80^th year, and the Island grieved.  My daughter Rachel (then almost 18) and I went to his funeral in Paget Farm, and after the service at my father’s old church we watched as he was laid to rest with his ancestors.  He was a lovely, well-respected man and I will never forget him.