CHAPTER IV.

BOATS—HAND HARPOON—BLUBBER LANCE—GUN HARPOON—MANNER OF TAKING THE WHALE, &c.

“As when enclosing harpooneers assail, In wintry seas, the slumbering Whale; Soon as the harpoons pierce the scaly side, He groans, he darts impetuous down the tide; And rack’d all o’er with lacerating pain, He flies remote beneath the flood in vain.”

The first and principal thing, my son, in the whaling ships, are the boats, which are made to float lightly upon the water; their bow and stern are made sharp, and they are capable of being rowed with great speed, and readily turned round,—and are of such size as to carry six or seven men and seven or eight hundred weight of whale-lines. The instruments used in the capture are the harpoon and lance; besides these they have used occasionally the harpoon-gun, which is a kind of swivel. This gun was invented in the year 1731: being however difficult and somewhat dangerous in its application, it is now seldom used. One of the most essential particulars in the Dutch whale ships is the “Crow’s Nest,” a sort of sentry box made of canvass or light wood, pitched on the main-top-mast head. This is the post of honor, where the master or officer of the watch often sits for hours provided with a spy glass, a speaking trumpet, and a rifle gun. As soon as they have arrived in those seas which are the haunt of the whale, the crew are keeping watch day and night;—seven boats are kept hanging by the sides of the ship ready to be launched in a few minutes. The captain or some principal officer, seated in the crow’s nest, surveys the waters, and the instant he sees the back of the huge animal, gives notice to the watch who are stationed upon the deck, part of whom leap into the boat, and are followed by a second boat, a harpooner being in each. Owing to those mighty fields and mountains of ice, the dangers of the Northern or Greenland whale fishery is ten times greater than are those of this country, as our whale ships take these fish upon the coast of Japan, in the Pacific Ocean, and upon the Brazil Banks, and always in the open sea. There are several rules among whalers which are observed in approaching this fish, to prevent as far as possible the animal from taking the alarm. As the whale is dull of hearing, but quick in sight, the boat steerer always endeavors to get behind it. Smooth, careful rowing is always requisite, and sometimes sculling is practised. Whenever a whale lies on the surface of the water, unconscious of the approach of its enemies, the hardy fisher rows directly upon it; and an instant before the boat touches it, buries his harpoon in its back: the wounded whale, in the surprise and agony of the moment, makes a convulsive effort to escape; then, my dear son, is the moment of danger. The boat is subjected to the most violent blows from its head or its fins, but particularly from its ponderous tail, which sometimes sweeps the air with such tremendous fury, that both boat and men are exposed to one common destruction. The head of the whale is avoided, because it cannot be penetrated with the harpoon; but any part of the body between the head and tail, will admit of the full length of the instrument. The utmost care is necessary in every person in the boat, while the lines are running out—fatal consequences having sometimes arisen from the entanglement of the line while the whale is going with amazing swiftness. A sailor from Greenock, in 1818, happening to step into the centre of a coil of running rope, had his foot entirely carried off; another belonging to the ship Henrietta had carelessly cast some part of the line under his feet, when a sudden dart of the fish made it twist round his body, and he had but just time to cry out, “Clear away the line! O dear!” when he was cut almost asunder, dragged overboard and never more seen. The immense distances to which whales will run is very surprising; a harpoon was thrown from the boat of the ship Resolution, in 1812, into one, which run out 10,440 yards, or about six miles of line.

Every boat fast to a living whale carries a flag, and the ships to which such boats belong, also wear a flag, until the whale is either killed or makes its escape. These signals serve to indicate to surrounding ships the exclusive title of the “fast ship” to the entangled whale, and to prevent their interference, excepting in the way of assistance in the capture. A full grown whale generally occupies the whole of the boats belonging to one ship in its capture, which sometimes takes the whole day; they have been taken in half an hour from the throwing of the harpoon. The ease with which some whales are killed, is truly surprising; but with others it is equally astonishing that neither line nor harpoon can effect their capture. Some escape with four or five harpoons, while others equally large have been killed with a single harpoon; indeed, my son, whales have been taken by the entanglement of a line, without any harpoon at all. One was taken by the crew of the ship Nautilus, in 1814, by its accidentally having taken the line into its mouth, and by the compression of its lips, they having cut the end of the line from a whale which they had just killed; and as it was sinking in the water, another one engaged in feeding was advancing with its mouth wide open, accidentally caught this line between its extended jaws, which induced it to shut its mouth and grasp the line so firmly as to effect its capture.

A whale sometimes causes danger by proving to be alive after having exhibited every symptom of death. Capt. Scoresby mentions the instance of one which appeared so decidedly dead, that he himself had leaped on the tail, and was putting a rope through it, when he suddenly felt him sinking from beneath him. He made a spring towards a boat that was some yards distant, and grasping its side was drawn on board. The fish then moved forwards, reared his tail aloft, and shook it with such prodigious violence, that it could have been heard for several miles off. After a few minutes of this violent struggle he rolled on his side and expired.

The many accidents which have taken place in the Greenland and Spitzbergen whale fishery, even under the direction of the most experienced mariners are lamentable and manifold; and I will now, William, relate to you some of the many which have occurred to the English and Dutch whalers. The most common is that of a ship being beset and sometimes dashed to pieces by the collision of those mighty masses or mountains of ice with which northern seas are continually filled. The Blecker, Capt. Pitt, was driven against the ice with such violence that in an instant all her rigging was dashed in pieces; the crew, however, escaped upon the ice, and after a few days were taken off by a Dutch ship. Capt. Bile, some years afterwards, lost a ship richly laden, which went down suddenly; after which the crew wandered in boats over the sea for fourteen days before they were taken up. Thirteen other vessels perished the same year in those seas. Three years afterwards, Capt. Bile lost a second ship, the crew having just time to save themselves on the ice.

William here asked his father if whale ships were not sometimes lost at sea? Yes, my son, many fishing-ships as well as merchantmen have foundered at sea, and have never been heard from since their departure. I remember, father, says William, a piece of poetry which aunt Mary learnt me a long time since on the loss of a vessel.

Deep in the silent waters, A thousand fathoms low, A stately ship lies perishing, She foundered long ago.

There were blessings poured upon her, When from her port she sailed, And prayers and anxious weeping, Went with her o’er the sea.

But how that fine ship perished, None knew, save him on high; No island heard her signal, No other bark was nigh.

We only know from Boston She sailed, far o’er the main; We only know to Boston She never came again.

You will find, my son, by referring to Irving’s Sketch Book, a most thrilling description of a wreck at sea.

The whale-fishery is not more distinguished for examples of sudden peril and besetment than for unexpected deliverance from the most alarming situations.

“Three Dutch ships, after having completed a rich cargo on the northern coast of Spitzbergen, were at once so completely beset, that the crews in general urged the necessity of proceeding over the ice, and endeavoring to reach some other vessel. The captain of one of the three, however, strongly urged the obligation of doing all in their power to preserve such valuable property, and they agreed to make a further trial; when, in twenty days, the ice opened, and they had a happy voyage homeward.

The Dame Maria Elizabeth, had set out early for the fishery, and was so fortunate as, by the 30th of May, to have taken fourteen whales. Then, however, a violent gale from the south blew in the ice with such violence, that the captain found himself completely beset, and saw two Dutch vessels and one English go to pieces at a little distance. At length a brisk gale from the north gave him the hope of being extricated; when presently he was involved in a dense fog, which froze so thick upon the sails and rigging, that the ship appeared a mere floating iceberg. As the atmosphere cleared, the faint light, and the birds winging their way to the southward, announced the closing in of winter. Unable to make any progress, the seamen looked forward in despair to the prospect of spending the season in that frozen latitude. They had nearly come to the end of their provisions, and famine was already staring them in the face, when they thought of broiling the whales’ tails, which proved very eatable, and even salutary against the scurvy. Thus they hoped to exist till the middle of February, beyond which the prospect was very dismal; but on the 12th November there arose a violent north wind, which dispersed the ice. Their hopes being now awakened, every effort was strained; and on the 18th a north-wester brought on so heavy a rain, that next day they were entirely clear of the ice, and had a prosperous voyage homeward.

Capt. Broerties, in the Guillamine, arrived on the 22d June at the great bank of northern ice, where he found fifty vessels moored and busied in the fishery. He began it prosperously: the very next day indeed he killed a large whale. The day after, a tempest drove in the ice with such violence that twenty-seven of the ships were beset, of which ten were lost. Broerties, on the 25th July, seeing some appearance of an opening, caused his ship to be warped through by the boats; but, after four days’ labor, she found herself, with four other ships in a narrow basin, enclosed by icy barriers on every side.

On the 1st August the ice began to gather thick, and a violent storm driving it against the vessels, placed them in the greatest peril for a number of days. On the 20th a dreadful gale arose from the north-east, in which the Guillamine suffered very considerable damage. In this awful tempest, out of the five ships two went down, while a third had sprung a number of leaks. The crews were taken on board of the two remaining barks, which they greatly incommoded. On the 25th all the three were completely frozen in, when it was resolved to send a party of twelve men to seek aid from four vessels which a few days before had been driven into a station at a little distance; but by the time of their arrival two of these had been dashed to pieces, and the other two were in the most deplorable condition. Two Hamburgh ships, somewhat farther removed, had perished in a similar manner. Meantime the former came in sight of Gale Hamkes’ Land, in Greenland, and the tempest still pushing them gradually to the southward, Iceland at length appeared on their left. The two more distant ships found a little opening, through which they contrived to escape. The crews of the three others were beginning to hope that they might at last be equally fortunate, when, on the 13th September, a whole mountain of ice fell upon the Guillamine. The men, half naked, leaped out upon the frozen surface, saving with difficulty a small portion of their provisions. The broken remnants of the vessel were soon buried under enormous piles of ice. Of the two other ships, one commanded by Jeldert Janz had just met a similar fate, and there remained only that of one other, to which all now looked for refuge. By leaping from one fragment of ice to another, the men, not without danger, contrived to reach this vessel, which, though in extreme distress, received them on board. Shattered and overcrowded, she was obliged immediately after to accommodate fifty other seamen, the crew of a Hamburg ship which had just gone down, the chief harpooner and twelve of the mariners having perished. These numerous companies, squeezed into one vessel, suffered every kind of distress. Famine, in its most direful forms, began to stare them in the face. All remoter fears, however, gave way, when on the 11th October, the vessel went to pieces in the same sudden manner as the others, leaving to the unfortunate sailors scarcely time enough to leap upon the ice with their remaining stores. With great difficulty they reached a field of some extent, and contrived with their torn sails to rear a sort of covering; but, sensible that, by remaining on this desolate spot, they must certainly perish, they saw no safety except in scrambling over the frozen surface to the coast of Greenland, which was in view. With infinite toil they effected their object, and happily met some inhabitants, who received them hospitably, and regaled them with dried fish and seals’ flesh. Thence they pushed across that dreary region till they succeeded at length, on the 13th March, in reaching the Danish settlement of Frederickshaab. Here they were received with the utmost kindness, and, being recruited from their fatigues, took the first opportunity of embarking for Denmark, whence they afterward sailed to their native country.

The Davis’s Strait fishery has also been marked with very frequent and fatal shipwrecks. In 1814 the Royalist, Capt. Edmonds, perished with all her crew; and in 1817, the London, Capt. Mathews, shared the same fate. The only account of either of these ships ever received was from Capt. Bennet of the Venerable, who, on the 15th April, saw the London in a tremendous storm, lying to windward of an extensive chain of icebergs, among which, it is probable she was dashed to pieces that very evening. Large contributions were raised at Hull for the widows and families of the seamen who had suffered on these melancholy occasions.

Among accidents on a smaller scale, one of the most frequent is, that of boats employed in pursuit of the whale being overtaken by deep fogs or storms of snow, which separate them from the ship, and never allow them to regain it. A fatal instance of this kind occurred to the Ipswich, Capt. Gordon; four of whose boats, after a whale had been caught, and even brought to the ship’s side, were employed on a piece of ice hauling in the line, when a storm suddenly arose, caused the vessel to drift away, and prevented her, notwithstanding the utmost efforts, from ever coming within reach of the unfortunate crews who composed the greater part of her establishment. Mr. Scoresby mentions several casualties of the same nature which occurred to his boats’ companies, all of whom, however, in the end, happily found their way back. One of the most alarming cases was that of fourteen men who were left on a small piece of floating ice, with a boat wholly unable to withstand the surrounding tempest; but amid their utmost despair they fell in with the Lively of Whitby, and were most cordially received on board.

The source, however, of the most constant alarm to the whale-fisher is connected with the movements of that powerful animal, against which, with most unequal strength, he ventures to contend. Generally, indeed, the whale, notwithstanding his immense strength, is gentle, and even passive; seeking, even when he is most hotly pursued, to escape from his assailants, by plunging into the lowest depths of the ocean. Sometimes, however, he exerts his utmost force in violent and convulsive struggles; and every thing with which, when thus enraged, he comes into collision, is dissipated or destroyed in an instant. The Dutch writers mention Capt. Vienkes of the ship Barley Mill, who, after a whale had been struck, was hastening with a second boat to the support of the first. The fish, however, rose, and with its head struck the boat so furiously, that it was shivered to pieces, and Vienkes was thrown with its fragments on the back of the huge animal. Even then this bold mariner darted a second harpoon into the body of his victim; but unfortunately he got entangled in the line and could not extricate himself, while the other party were unable to approach near enough to save him. At last, however, the harpoon was disengaged, and he swam to the boat.

Mr. Scoresby, in one of his earliest voyages, saw a boat thrown several yards into the air, from which it fell on its side, plunging the crew into the sea. They were happily taken up, when only one was found to have received a severe contusion. Capt. Lyons of the Raith of Leith, on the Labrador coast, in 1802, had a boat thrown fifteen feet into the air; it came down into the water with its keel upwards, yet all the men except one were saved.

The crew of Mr. Scoresby the elder, in 1807, had struck a whale, which soon reappeared, but in a state of such violent agitation that no one durst approach it. The captain courageously undertook to encounter it in a boat by himself, and succeeded in striking a second harpoon; but another boat having advanced too close, the animal brandished its tail with so much fury, that the harpooner, who was directly under, judged it most prudent to leap into the sea. The tail then struck the very place that he had left, and cut the boat entirely asunder, with the exception of two planks, which were saved by having a coil of ropes laid over them; so that had he remained, he must have been dashed to pieces. Happily all the others escaped injury. The issues, however, were not always so fortunate. The Aimwell of Whitby in 1810, lost three men out of seven, and, in 1812, the Henrietta of the same port lost four out of six, by the boats being upset, and the crews thrown into the sea.

In 1809, one of the men belonging to the Resolution of Whitby, struck a sucking whale; after which the mother, being seen wheeling rapidly round the spot, was eagerly watched. Mr. Scoresby, being on this occasion in the capacity of harpooner in another boat, was selecting a situation for the probable reappearance of the parent fish, when suddenly an invisible blow stove in fifteen feet of the bottom of his barge, which filled with water and instantly sank. The crew were saved.