Part 8

The most fearful mutiny happened on the “Globe” of Nantucket, in 1822. A boat-steerer called Comstock laid a plot which resulted in the death of all the officers of the ship, and those who were not killed outright were thrown overboard. Comstock then took charge of the ship, and stated that if any man disobeyed him, he would be put to death by being boiled in the “try-pots.” The ringleader was finally killed by some of the crew, and the ship brought into port.

Captain Warrens, of the whaler “Greenland,” in 1775, told a most thrilling narrative, which shows the perils of Arctic whaling, and is the most weird and grewsome of all whaling yarns. While becalmed one day he sighted a vessel with rigging dismantled, and he immediately lowered and rowed over to her. Upon boarding the ship he found seated at the cabin table the corpse of a man. He held a pen in his hand, and the log book was on the table in front of him. The last entry was “Nov. 14, 1762. We have now been enclosed in the ice seventeen days. The fire went out yesterday and our master has been trying ever since to kindle it again without success. His wife died this morning. There is no relief.” Other corpses were found in the cabin and a number of sailors in the forward part of the ship. The vessel had been frozen in the ice for thirteen years!

There are many exciting accounts of accidents to whaleboats, and a few are worth mentioning. Captain Sparks, of the “Edward Lee” of Provincetown, in 1881, chased a whale and finally lost him. He and his crew endeavored to find his ship, but for some reason were unable to do so. The nearest land was one thousand miles away, and with no food or water the prospect was not very encouraging. For six days they sailed on, when by good fortune they killed a whale, and finally were picked up and brought to land.

Another incident shows how a whale will sometimes fight. Captain Morse, of the “Hector” of New Bedford, had his boat attacked by a whale, which grabbed the bow in its mouth, shaking the crew and implements in all directions. The mate came to the rescue, and the whale at once started to chase his boat, snapping its jaws less than a foot behind the stern. The crew rowed desperately and succeeded in dodging its attacks, until finally the animal turned over to get more air, and a well-driven lance luckily killed it. The harpoons of the “Barclay” were found in it, and it was learned that this same whale had killed the “Barclay’s” captain only three days before. Another incident shows the fierceness of the attack of a fighting whale. The “Osceola 3rd,” of New Bedford, shot thirty-one bombs into a whale before it was killed.

A whale is often fond of eating whaleboats and men.]

Captain Davis, in “Nimrod of the Sea,” mentions an occurrence in which a whale attacked one of the men who had been hauled from the whaleboat. Then ensued a fight, and every time the monster swam for him he was obliged to dive. The mate rushed into the encounter with his boat and finally succeeded in killing the whale. Another captain described how the crew of his whaleboat was obliged to cling all night on the body of a dead whale until help came at daybreak. It happened to be Christmas evening, and the famished men obtained their Christmas dinner by digging from the back of the dead animal enough meat to satisfy their hunger. If a whaleboat were upset, and it was seen that the crew had something to hold on to in order to prevent going under, it was often a long time before the other boats rendered assistance, it being a truism among whalemen that whales were of much higher commercial value than men.

Captain Hosmer, of the bark “Janet” of Westport (near New Bedford), met with a horrible experience off the coast of Peru in 1849. He had just secured a whale, and in towing it back to his ship his boat was capsized. He immediately displayed distress signals, and the “Janet” sailed towards the men who clung to the small boat, when suddenly, to his amazement and horror, the ship swung off and headed in another direction. They could see her sailing about searching for them, but were unable to attract her attention, and finally, as the distance between them increased, they set sail towards the nearest land, after bailing out their boat with difficulty, and having lost one man by drowning. The nearest coast was over one thousand miles away, and they had not a drop of water or a morsel of food. At the end of seven days lots were cast to decide who should be killed in order that the rest might live. Four more of the crew died, and after twenty days the two survivors landed on an island and were later picked up by the “Leonidas” of New Bedford.

There are three cases known to history of a whale sinking a ship. The “Essex,” of Nantucket, was attacked by a huge whale in 1819, and twice did the animal make a rush at the ship, which became submerged in a few minutes. Owen Chase, the first mate, wrote an account of the accident and subsequent sufferings of the crew. Three whaleboats set sail for the Marquesas Islands. One boat was never heard from; another was picked up by an English brig with only three of the crew alive; and the third with only two survivors, having sailed over twenty-five hundred miles, was picked up by a Nantucket vessel, three months after the accident. Captain Pollard, who was in command of the “Essex” at this time, had previously been one of the crew on Fulton’s “Claremont” on his first trip up the Hudson. He survived the frightful experience, but nothing could induce him ever to refer to it. He finally abandoned the sea and became a police officer in Nantucket.

The “Ann Alexander” of New Bedford, which is shown in the next cut, met a similar fate in 1850, and the ship sank so quickly that only one day’s supplies were saved. With the horror of the “Essex” staring them in the face the crew set sail in the small boats, and with great good fortune in two days sighted the “Nantucket” and were taken on board. Five months after this incident the “Rebecca Sims,” of New Bedford, killed a whale, and to the great surprise of the crew, the irons of the “Ann Alexander” were discovered in its body, and there were also several pieces of the ship’s timber imbedded in its head.

The latest of the three accidents happened to the bark “Kathleen” in the Atlantic Ocean in 1902, and the picture shows her about to sink after having been rammed by a whale. The three flags at the mastheads are signals to the three boats to return at once, but as each one was fast to a whale, they were loath to obey the signals. The whale showing its “flukes” at the right of the picture is the one that stove the hole in the vessel. The “Kathleen” also had a whale alongside, making four just captured. The accident meant a loss, not counting the vessel and oil on board, of ten to twelve thousand dollars. Captain Jenkins, who was in command, lowered with Mrs. Jenkins, a parrot, and nineteen of the crew, and with difficulty rowed to the other boats, which took in their share of the men from the captain’s over-crowded one. Captain Jenkins declares that the parrot, when removed from its home on the “Kathleen,” swore that “he would be damned if he’d ever go to sea again!” Three boat loads were discovered by a Glasgow ship, but the fourth had to sail over one thousand miles to the Barbadoes. Captain Jenkins is to-day living in South Dartmouth. He has written a small volume on the loss of his ship and is such a well-known whaleman that he was one of those who occupied the platform at the time of the unveiling of “The Whaleman” statue.

THE “CATALPA” EXPEDITION

While not primarily a whaling voyage, the “Catalpa” Expedition should be outlined in any account of whaling adventures.

A number of Irish subjects who had joined the Fenian conspiracy of 1866 had been banished to Australia for life and were serving in the English penal colony at Freemantle. John Boyle O’Reilly had escaped with the aid of a whaleship and immediately began to form a plot to release his fellow prisoners. O’Reilly suggested a whaleship for the rescue, chiefly because it would create little suspicion, as whaleships were frequently seen off the coast of Australia. Captain H. C. Hathaway, who was the head of the night police force at New Bedford, was then consulted, and he recommended their approaching a certain George S. Anthony, a most successful whaler. Accordingly a meeting was held in a dark room, and Captain Anthony finally accepted the leadership of the expedition, probably not realizing fully the danger involved. The “Catalpa” was selected, and she sailed from New Bedford on April 29, 1875, not even an officer sharing the secret with the brave commander. The ship actually captured whales and finally arrived off Bunbury on the coast of Australia. In the mean time a man called John J. Breslin, who used to be a freight agent in Boston, had gone to Australia with a fellow conspirator to arrange the land end of the scheme. On the day appointed Captain Anthony rowed ashore with his crew, and with great difficulty Breslin and his six prisoners, who had escaped from their work in the woods, were placed on board the rowboat, which set out to sea to join the “Catalpa,” some miles off shore. A storm came up, but by good fortune and skilful seamanship, after a whole day and night, the “Catalpa” was sighted. At the same time the English cruiser “Georgette” was seen coming out of Freemantle in search of the refugees. By great luck for some reason she never noticed the small whaleboat and after questioning the “Catalpa” put back towards the shore. The rescued and rescuers rowed on and finally were observed by the men on the “Catalpa.” At the same time Captain Anthony noticed with horror that there was an armed guard boat almost as near the “Catalpa” as was his boat. It was a terrific race, but the whaleboat arrived a few seconds ahead and the occupants climbed on board; the officers had lost, and the prisoners were free. The rescued men knew their pursuers and, leaning over the rail of the “Catalpa,” wished them “Good morning,” and there was nothing for the officers to do but to answer them in the same tone. When the captain reached home he weighed one hundred and twenty-three pounds, having lost thirty-seven pounds on the voyage, through worry and excitement. The police of Western Australia endeavored to get these prisoners returned, but as their letter was addressed to the same Captain Hathaway who assisted the plotters of the expedition, there was not much help in this direction!

It is a very curious fact that at the precise moment that Disraeli was telling the House of Lords that he would not release these prisoners they were free on the Yankee ship. Receptions were held in New Bedford and Boston in honor of Captain Anthony and the other rescuers, and the daring captain will always be a hero with the Irish people.

DECLINE OF WHALING AND THE CAUSES

The first whaler to sail from San Francisco was the “Popmunnett” in the year 1850, and for thirty years after there were a few whaleships registered in this port. Steam whalers were introduced into the American fleet in 1880, when New Bedford sent out one, but it was the adoption of steam and the proximity to the Arctic that made San Francisco a whaling port at the time other places were giving up the pursuit. In 1893 there were thirty-three vessels enrolled there, many of which had been transferred from the Eastern cities. Since 1895 Boston, New Bedford, Provincetown, and San Francisco have been the only places from which whalers have been regularly registered, and in 1903 Boston recorded her last whaleship.

There are a number of reasons for the decline of the whale fishery, but the chief factor was undoubtedly the introduction of kerosene. The opening of the first oil well in Pennsylvania sealed the fate of whaling. Henceforth sperm candles were used for ornament, and whale oil lamps soon became interesting relics. Other causes doubtless contributed to this rapid decline; for instance, the financial crisis of 1857; the uncertainty of the business, especially since Arctic whaling was begun in 1848; the increased cost of fitting out the ships for longer voyages; and the California gold craze in 1849, when many crews and officers deserted. Also the rise of the cotton industry from about 1850 to 1875 in New Bedford drew a great deal of capital from the uncertain whale fishery to the more conservative investments in cotton mills, which were successful from the very start. As whaling died out the mills were built up, and it is owing to these same mills that the city was saved from becoming a deserted fishing village. Then later even the lubricating oils began to be made from the residuum of kerosene, and about the same time wax was invented for candles, which again robbed the whaling industry of another market for oil. Soon came the Civil War, in which many vessels were captured or destroyed, then followed the sinking of forty or more vessels of the Charleston Stone Fleet described elsewhere, and finally came the Arctic disasters of 1871 and 1876, all of which hastened the end of the industry.

WHALING OF TO-DAY

Whaling will doubtless be carried on from San Francisco in a small way as long as there is any demand for whalebone, and from New Bedford and Provincetown while there is any market for sperm and whale oil. Most of the Pacific steam whalers are now provided with a harpoon gun invented by Svend Foyn, a Norwegian. This gun is placed in the bow, and to the harpoon is attached a rope with which to play the whale, as one does a fish with a rod and reel, but there is little romance in this method of whaling.

In modern whaling the flesh is made into guano and the bones and blood into fertilizer, and even the water in which the blubber has been “tried out” is used in making glue. The meat is to-day sold to Japan, and, if the weather is very cold and the supply of fish is limited, a whale might bring there as much as four thousand dollars by utilizing all the by-products as well as the meat, which is sometimes canned. In America a whale is now valued at about two hundred dollars, but, if the entire carcass is utilized, it might bring one thousand dollars.

From the Whalemen’s Shipping List, still published in New Bedford, it can be figured that the total whaling fleet in America last year (1913) consisted of thirty-four vessels, twenty hailing from New Bedford, eleven from San Francisco, two from Provincetown, and one from Stamford, Conn. The Atlantic fleet, however, reported a total catch of over twenty thousand barrels of sperm oil and one thousand pounds of whalebone during the year 1913, which is a considerably larger amount than for the year previous.

Whaling in stout wooden ships on the far seas of the East and the West is no longer carried on, for the glory and the profit of the industry have gone never to return. Substitute products have come in, and to-day the little whaling that is still done is along the coasts of the Antarctic and Arctic Oceans, off the shores of Western Africa, Northern Japan, New Zealand, California, and South America, and in the main it is carried on in stout iron steamers. Ere long the last whaleship will disappear from the sea and only the romance of a great industry will remain.

Sic varijs telis, varijs feriuntur aristis

A very old picture of whale-killing in the 17th century.]