NANTUCKET.
"God bless the sea-beat island!
And grant for evermore
That charity and freedom dwell,
As now, upon her shore."--WHITTIER.
The sea-port of Nantucket, every body knows, rose, flourished, and fell
with the whale-fishery. It lies snugly ensconced in the bottom of a bay
on the north side of the island of the name, with a broad sound of water
between it and the nearest main-land of Cape Cod. The first Englishman
to leave a distinct record of it was Captain Dermer, who was here in
1620, though Weymouth probably became entangled among Nantucket Shoals
in May, 1605. The relations of Archer and Brereton render it at least
doubtful whether this island was not the first on which Gosnold landed,
and to which he gave the name of Martha's Vineyard. The two accounts are
too much at variance to enable the student to bring them into reciprocal
agreement, yet that of Archer, being in the form of a diary, in which
each day's transactions are noted, will be preferred to the narrative of
Brereton, who wrote from recollection. To these the curious reader is
referred.[229]
[Illustration: MAP OF CAPE COD, NANTUCKET, AND MARTHA'S VINEYARD.]
The name of "Nautican" is the first I have found applied to Nantucket
Island.[230] Whether the derivation is from the Latin _nauticus_, or a
corruption of the Indian, is disputed, though the word has an
unmistakably Indian sound and construction.[231] In the patents and
other documents it is called Nantukes, Mantukes, or Nantucquet Isle,
indifferently, showing, as may be suggested, as many efforts to construe
good Indian into bad English. Previous to Gosnold's voyage the English
had no knowledge of it, nor were the names he gave the isles discovered
by him in general use until long afterward. One other derivation is too
far-fetched for serious consideration, a mere _jeu de mot_, to which all
readers of Gosnold's voyage are insensible. Historians and antiquaries
having alike failed to solve these knotty questions, it is proposed to
refer them to a council of Spiritualists, with power to send for persons
and papers.
Those who wish to enjoy a foretaste of crossing the British Channel may
have it by going to Nantucket. The passage affords in a marked degree
the peculiarities of a sea-voyage, and, in rough weather, is not exempt
from its drawbacks. The land is nearly, if not quite, lost to view. You
are on the real ocean, and the remainder of the voyage to Europe is
merely a few more revolutions of the paddles. You have enjoyed the
emotions incident to getting under way, of steering boldly out into the
open sea, and of tossing for a few hours upon its billows: the rest is
but a question of time and endurance.
Every one is prepossessed with Nantucket. Its isolation from the world
surrounds it with a mysterious haze, that is the more fascinating
because it exacts a certain faith in the invisible. Inviting the
imagination to depict it for us, is far more interesting than if we
could, by going down to the shore, see it any day. In order to get to it
we must steer by the compass, and in thick weather look it up with the
plummet. In brief, it answers many of the conditions of an undiscovered
country. Although laid down on every good map of New England, and
certified by the relations of many trustworthy writers, it is not
enough; we do not know Nantucket.
[Illustration: APPROACH TO MARTHA'S VINEYARD.]
No brighter or sunnier day could be wished for than the one on which the
_Island Home_ steamed out from Wood's Hole into the Vineyard Sound for
the sea-girt isle. Besides the usual complement of health and pleasure
seekers was a company of strolling players, from Boston, as they
announced themselves--a very long way indeed, I venture to affirm. These
"abstracts and brief chronicles of the time" were soon "well bestowed"
on the cabin sofas, the rising sea making it at least doubtful whether
they would be able to perform before a Nantucket audience so soon as
that night. From the old salt who rang the bell and urged immediate
attendance at the captain's office, to the captain himself, with golden
rings in his ears, and the Indian girl who officiated as stewardess, the
belongings of the _Island Home_ afloat were spiced with a novel yet
agreeable foretaste of the island home fast anchored in the Atlantic.
The sail across the Vineyard Sound is more than beautiful; it is a poem.
Trending away to the west, the Elizabeth Islands, like a gate ajar, half
close the entrance into Buzzard's Bay. Among them nestles Cuttyhunk,
where the very first English spade was driven into New England
soil.[232] Straight over in front of the pathway the steamer is cleaving
the Vineyard is looking its best and greenest, with oak-skirted
highlands inclosing the sheltered harbor of Vineyard Haven,[233] famous
on all this coast. Edgartown is seen at the bottom of a deep
indentation, its roofs gleaming like scales on some huge reptile that
has crawled out of the sea, and is basking on the warm yellow sands.
Chappaquiddick Island, with its sandy tentacles, terminates in Cape
Poge, on which is a light-house.
Between the shores, and as far as eye can discern, the fleet that passes
almost without intermission is hurrying up and down the Sound. One
column stretches away under bellying sails, like a fleet advancing in
line of battle, but the van-guard is sinking beneath the distant waves.
Still they come and go, speeding on to the appointed mart, threading
their way securely among islands, capes, and shoals. Much they enliven
the scene. A sea without a sail is a more impressive solitude than a
deserted city.
We ran between the two sandy points, long and low, that inclose the
harbor into smoother water. The captain went on the guard. "Heave your
bow-line." "Ay, ay, sir." "Back her, sir" (to the pilot). "Hold on your
spring." "Stop her." "Slack away the bow-line there." "Haul in." It is
handsomely done, and this is Nantucket.
The wharf, I should infer, would be the best place in which to take the
census of Nantucket. No small proportion of the inhabitants were
assembled at the pier's head, waiting the arrival of the boat. You had
first to make your way through a skirmishing line of hack-drivers and of
boys eager to carry your luggage; then came the solid battalion of
citizen idlers, and behind these was a reserve of carriages and carts.
On the pier you gain the idea that Nantucket is populous; that what you
see is merely the overflow; whereas it is the wharf that is populous,
while the town is for the moment well-nigh deserted. There could be no
better expression of the feeling of isolation than the agitation
produced by so simple an event as the arrival of the daily packet. Doors
are slammed, shutters pulled to in a hurry, while a tide of curious
humanity pours itself upon the landing-place. The coming steamer is
heralded by the town-crier's fish-horn, as soon as descried from the
church-tower that is his observatory. In winter, when communication with
the main-land is sometimes interrupted for several days together, the
sense of separation from the world must be intensified.[234]
[Illustration: A BIT OF NANTUCKET--THE HOUSE-TOPS.]
After running the gantlet of the crowd on the wharf, the stranger is at
liberty to look about him.
The fire of 1846 having destroyed the business portion of the town, that
part is not more interesting than the average New England towns of
modern growth. Generally speaking, the houses are of wood, the idea of
spaciousness seeming prominent with the builders. Plenty of house-room
was no doubt synonymous with plenty of sea-room in the minds of retired
ship-masters, whose battered hulks I saw safe moored in snug and quiet
harbors. The streets are cleanly, and, having trees and flower-gardens,
are often pretty and cheerful.
The roofs of many houses are surmounted by a railed platform, a reminder
of the old whaling times. Here the dwellers might sit in the cool of the
evening, and take note of the passing ships, or of some deep-laden
whaleman with rusty sides and grimy spars wallowing toward the harbor.
Here the merchant anxiously scanned the horizon for tidings of some
loitering bark; and here superannuated skippers paced up and down, as
they had done the quarter-deck. I question if the custom was not first
brought here from the tropics, for in Spanish-talking America the best
room is not unfrequently the roof, to which the family resort on
sweltering hot nights. Sometimes a storm arises, when the precipitancy
with which the sleepers gather up their pallets and seek a shelter is
the more amusing if witnessed near day-break. Formerly every other house
in Nantucket had one of these lookouts, or a vane at the gable-end, to
show if the wind was fair for vessels homeward-bound.
While other towns have increased, Nantucket for a length of time has
stood still. I saw no evidences of squalid poverty or of actual want,
though there was a striking absence of activity. The fire, of which they
still talk, though it happened thirty years ago, can not be traced by
such visible reminders as a mass of new buildings fitted into the burned
space, or by a cordon of old houses drawn around its charred edges. The
disaster caused the loss of many handsome buildings, among them Trinity
Church, a beautiful little edifice, having latticed windows.
If there was no squalor obtruding itself upon the stranger, neither was
there any display of ostentatious wealth. There were a few large square
mansions of brick or wood, and even an aristocratic quarter, once known
as India Row; but, on the whole, a remarkable equality existed in the
houses of Nantucket. The old New England Greek temple greets you
familiarly here and there. I read on the sign-boards the well-remembered
names of Coffin, Folger, Bunker, Macy, Starbuck, etc., that could belong
nowhere else than here. Whenever I have seen one of them in some distant
corner of the continent, I have felt like raising the island slogan of
other times, "There she blows!"
The Nantucket of colonial times was not more like the present than
sailors in pigtails and high-crowned hats are like the close-cropped,
wide-trowsered tars of to-day. Houses were scattered about without the
semblance of order. The streets had never any names until the assessment
of the direct tax in the administration of President Adams. Common
convenience divided the town into neighborhoods, familiarly known as
"Up-in-Town," "West Cove," or "North Shore." An old traveler says the
stranger formerly received direction to Elisha Bunker's Street, or David
Mitchell's Street, or Tristram Hussey's Street.
The average conversation is still interlarded with such sea phrases as
"cruising about," "short allowance," "rigged out," etc. I heard one
woman ask for the "bight" of a clothes-line. I had it from credible
authority that a Cape Cod girl, when kissed, always presented the other
cheek, saying, "You darsent do that again." A Nantucket lass would say,
"Sheer off, or I'll split your mainsail with a typhoon."
There is a story of a "cute" Nantucket skipper, who boasted he could
tell where his schooner might be in the thickest weather, simply by
tasting what the sounding-lead brought up. His mates resolved to put him
to the test. The lead was well greased, and thrust into a box of earth,
"a parsnip bed," that had been brought on board before sailing. It was
then taken down to the skipper, and he was requested to tell the
schooner's position. At the first taste
"The skipper stormed, and tore his hair,
Thrust on his boots, and roared to Marden,
'Nantucket's sunk, and here we are
Right over old Marm Hackett's garden!'"
The streets avoid the fatal straight-line, though they are not
remarkably crooked. In the business quarter they are paved with
cobble-stones, showing ruts deeply worn by the commerce of other days.
Grass was growing out of the interstices of the pavement, where once
merchants most did congregate. One of the principal avenues is built
along the brow of the sea-bluff, so that almost every house commands a
broad sweep of ocean view. The sides of a great many houses were
shingled, being warmer, as many will tell you, than if covered with
clapboards. As in all maritime towns, the weather-vane is usually a
fish, and that, of course, a whale. It is the first thing looked at in
the morning by every male inhabitant of the island. Some of the lanes go
reeling and twisting about in a remarkable manner.
Nantucket was larger than I had expected. The best view of it is
obtained from the side of Coatue. A single old windmill on the summit of
a hill behind the town adds to its picturesqueness, and somewhat
relieves the too-familiar outlines of roof and steeple. But what, in a
place of its size, is most remarkable, is the almost total absence of
movement. It impressed me, the time I was there, as uninhabited. There
were no troops of joyous children by day, nor throngs of promenaders by
night; all was listless and still. Here, indeed, was the town, but where
were the people? I was not at all surprised when accosted by one who,
like me, wandered and wondered, with the question, "Does any body live
in Nantucket?" In midwinter, said an old resident to me, you might have
a hospital in the town market-place without danger of disturbing any
body. The noise of wheels rattling over the stony street is not often
heard.
Owing to the total loss of its great industry, the population of
Nantucket is not greater than it was a hundred years ago, and not half
what it was early in the century.[235] A large proportion of the houses,
it would appear, were unoccupied; yet many that had long remained vacant
were being thrown open to admit new guests, that are seeking
"The breath of a new life--the healing of the seas!"
Old brasses were being furbished up, and cobwebs swept away by new and
ruthless brooms. The town is being colonized from the main-land, and
though the inhabitants welcome the change, the crust and flavor of
originality can not survive it. Already the drift has set in: we may,
perhaps, live to see a full-fledged lackey in Nantucket streets.
The wharves show the same decay as in Salem and Plymouth, except that
here all are about equally dilapidated and grass-grown. Not a whaling
vessel of any tonnage to be seen in Nantucket! The assertion seems
incredible. In 1834 there were seventy-three ships and a fleet of
smaller craft owned on the island. At this moment a brace of fishing
schooners, called smacks, were the largest craft in the harbor. The
dispersion of the shipping has been like to that of the inhabitants. I
have seen those old whale-ships, with their bluff bows and flush decks,
moored in a long line inside the Golden Gate. There they lay, rotting at
their anchors, with topmasts struck, and great holes cut in their sides,
big enough to drive a wagon right into their holds. To a lands-man they
looked not unlike a fleet in array of battle.
[Illustration: LAST OF THE WHALE-SHIPS.]
Others of these old hulks drifted into such ports as Acapulco and
Panama, where they were used for coaling the steamships of that coast;
and at Sacramento I saw they had converted one into a prison-ship. The
last of them remaining in New England harbors were purchased by the
Government, and sunk in rebel harbors, as unfit longer to swim the seas.
It is not pleasant to think how the last vestiges of a commerce that
carried the fame of the island to the remotest corners of the earth have
been swept from the face of the ocean.
The whale-ship I was last on board of was the old _Peri_, of New London,
that looked able to sail equally well bow or stern foremost. The brick
try-house, thick with soot, remained on deck, the water-butt was still
lashed to the mizzen-mast. How she smelled of oil! Her timbers were
soaked with it, and, on looking down the hatchway, I could see it
floating, in prismatic colors, on the surface of the bilge-water in her
hold. Many a whale had been cut up alongside. Her decks were greasy as a
butcher's block. Though her spars were aloft, she had a slipshod look
that would have vexed a sailor beyond measure. The very manner in which
the yards were crossed told as plainly of abandonment as unreeved blocks
and slackened rigging betokened a careless indifference of her future.
In the days of whaling, a different scene presented itself from that now
seen on Nantucket wharves. Ships were then constantly going and coming,
discharging their cargoes, or getting ready for sea. The quays were
encumbered with butts of oil and heaps of bone. The smith was busy at
his forge, the cooper beside himself with work. Let us step into the
warehouse. Oil is everywhere. The counting-house ceiling is smeared with
it. The walls are hung with pictures of famous whalemen--in oil, of
course--coming into port with flags aloft, and I know not how many
barrels under their hatches. See the private signal at the mizzen, the
foam falling from the bows, and bubbling astern! A brave sight; but
become unfrequent of late.
On the walls are also models of fortunate ships, neatly lettered with
their names and voyages. I have seen the head and tusks of the walrus
affixed to them, as the head and antlers of the stag might grace the
halls of the huntsmen of the land. A strip of whalebone; maps or charts,
smoke-blackened, and dotted with greasy finger-marks, indicating where
ships had been spoken, or mayhap gone to Davy Jones's Locker; a South
Sea javelin with barbed head, a war club and sheaf of envenomed arrows,
or a paddle curiously carved, were the usual paraphernalia appropriate
in such a place.
In the store-room are all the supplies necessary to a voyage. There are
harpoons, lances, and cutting spades, with a rifle or two for the cabin.
Coils of rigging, and lines for the boats, with a thousand other objects
belonging to the ship's outfitting, are not wanting.
According to Langlet, the whale-fishery was first carried on by the
Norwegians, in the ninth century. Up to the sixteenth century,
Newfoundland and Iceland were the fishing-grounds. The use of bone was
not known until 1578; consequently, says an old writer, "no stays were
worn by the ladies." The English commenced whaling at Spitzbergen in
1598, but they had been preceded in those seas by the Dutch. As many as
two thousand whales a year have been annually killed on the coast of
Greenland.
[Illustration: WHALING IN THE OLDEN TIME.]
Champlain says that in his time it was believed the whale was usually
taken by balls fired from a cannon, and that several impudent liars had
sustained this opinion to his face. The Basques, he continues, were the
most skillful in this fishery. Leaving their vessels in some good
harbor, they manned their shallops with good men, well provided with
lines a hundred and fifty fathoms in length, of the best and strongest
hemp. These were attached to the middle of the harpoons.[236] In each
shallop was a harpooner, the most adroit and "_dispos_" among them, who
had the largest share after the master, inasmuch as his was the most
hazardous office. The boats were provided also with a number of
partisans of the length of a half-pike, shod with an iron six inches
broad and very trenchant.[237]
When at Provincetown, I referred to the beginning of the whale-fishery
of Nantucket. Ichabod Paddock, in 1690, instructed the islanders how to
kill whales from the shore in boats. The Indians of the island joined in
the chase, and were as dexterous as any. Early in the eighteenth century
small sloops and schooners of thirty or forty tons burden were fitted
out, in which the blubber, after being first cut in large square pieces,
was brought home, for trying out. In a few years vessels of sixty to
eighty tons, fitted with try-works, were employed.
Douglass gives some additional particulars. About 1746, he says,
whaling was by sloops or schooners, each carrying two boats and
thirteen men. In every boat were a harpooner, steersman, and four
oarsmen, who used nooses for their oars, so that by letting them go they
would trail alongside when they were fast to a whale. The "fast" was a
rope of about twenty-five fathoms, attached to a drag made of plank,
about two feet square, with a stick through its centre. To the end of
this stick the tow-rope of fifteen fathoms was fastened.[238]
[Illustration: WHALE OF THE ANCIENTS.]
It passes without challenge that the isle's men were the most skillful
whalemen in the world. The boys, as soon as they could talk, made use of
the Indian word "townor," meaning, "I have twice seen the whale;" and as
soon as able they took to the oar, becoming expert oarsmen. Language
would inadequately express the triumph of the youngster who landed in
his native town after having struck his first whale. The Indian who
proudly exhibits his first scalp could not rival him. Thus it happens
that you suppose every man in Nantucket can handle the harpoon, and
every woman the oar. Nor was it in whaling battles alone that the island
prowess made itself famous. Reuben Chase, midshipman of the _Bonne Homme
Richard_ in the battle with the _Serapis_, became, under Mr. Cooper's
hand, Long Tom Coffin of "The Pilot."
The Revolution was near giving the death-blow to Nantucket. In February,
1775, Lord North brought in his famous bill to restrain the trade and
commerce of New England with Great Britain and her dependencies, and to
prohibit their fishery on the Banks of Newfoundland.[239] It was
represented to Parliament that of the population of the islands,
amounting to some thousands, nine-tenths were Quakers; that the land was
barren, but by astonishing industry one hundred and forty vessels were
kept employed, of which all but eight were engaged in the
whale-fishery.[240]
The inhabitants having been exempted from the restraining act of
Parliament, the Continental Congress, in 1775, took steps to prevent the
export of provisions to the island from the main-land, except what might
be necessary for domestic use. The Provincial Congress of Massachusetts
also prohibited the export of provisions until full satisfaction was
given that they were not to be used for foreign consumption.[241] These
precautions were necessary, because the enemy's ships made the island a
rendezvous.
Some stigma has attached to the Nantucket Friends for their want of
patriotism in the Revolution. They were perhaps in too great haste to
apply for the protection of the crown to suit the temper of the day.
Justice to their position requires the impartial historian to state that
they were at the mercy of the enemy's fleets. They were virtually left
to shift for themselves, and ought not to be censured for making the
best terms possible. At the close of hostilities their commerce was, in
fact, nearly destroyed. Starved by their friends, now become their
enemies, and robbed by their enemies, of whom they had sought to make
friends, they were in danger of being ground between the upper and
nether millstones of a hard destiny.
I well enough remember the first sight I had of whale-ships on their
cruising-grounds; of the watchmen in their tubs at the mast-head, where
they looked like strange birds in strange nests; and of the great whales
that rose to breathe, casting fountains of spray high in the air. They
seemed not more animated than the black hull of a vessel drifting
bottom-up, and rolling lazily from side to side, until, burying their
huge heads deeper, a monster tail was lifted into view, remained an
instant motionless, and then, following the rolling plunge of the
unwieldy body, sunk majestically beneath the wave.
The curious interest with which, from the deck of a matter-of-fact
steamship, I had watched the indolent gambols and puffings of the
school, had caused me to lose sight of the whaleman, until an
extraordinary commotion recalled her to my attention. Blocks were
rattling, commands quick and sharp were ringing out, and I could plainly
see the splash that followed the descent of the boats into the water.
Away they went, the ashen blades bending like withes with the energy and
vim of the stroke. Erect in the stern, his arms bared to the shoulder,
his body inclined forward like a bended bow, was the boat-steerer. I
fancied I could hear his voice and see his gestures as he shook his
clenched fist in the faces of the boat's crew. This was the
boat-steerer's speech:
"Now, boys, give it to her; lay back hard! Spring _hard_, I tell you!
There she blows! Break your backs, you duff-eaters! Put me right on top
of that whale, boys! There she is, boys--a beauty! One more lift, and
hurra for Nantucket bar!"
After a weary and fruitless chase--for the whales had sounded--we were
boarded by the mate's boat, and requested to report their vessel. I
gazed with real curiosity at its crew. Every man had a bandana
handkerchief bound tightly about his head. Faces, chests, and arms were
the color of old mahogany well oiled. They were then two years out, they
said, and inquired anxiously for news from the "States." They neither
knew who was President, nor of the war raging between the great powers
of Europe, and were thankful for the old newspapers that we tossed to
them. At length they rowed off, cutting their way through the water with
a powerful stroke, their boat mounting the seas like an egg-shell.
An ancient salt with whom I talked in Nantucket spoke of the
disappearance of the whales, and of their turning up in new and
unexpected waters. From the beginning of the century until the decline
of the fishery, vessels usually made a straight course for Cape Horn;
but of late years, whales, he said, had re-appeared in the Atlantic,
making their way, it is believed, through the North-west Passage. Whales
with harpoons sticking in them having the names of vessels that had
entered the Arctic by way of Behring's Straits have been taken by other
ships on the Atlantic side of the continent.
"When I first went whaling," quoth he, "you might wake up of a morning
in the Sea of Japan with fifty sail of whalemen in sight. A fish darsent
(durst not) show his head: some ship would take him."
"I have gone on deck off the Cape of Good Hope," he continued, "when we
hadn't a bar'l of ile in the ship, an' the whales nearly blowin' on us
out o' the water. We took in twelve hundred bar'ls afore we put out the
fires."
Now, though they burn coal-oil in Nantucket, I believe they would prefer
sperm. You could not convince an islander that the discovery of oil in
the coal-fields was any thing to his advantage; nor would he waste words
with you about the law of compensations. A few, I was told, still cling
to the idea of a revival in the whale-fishery, but the greater number
regard it as clean gone. I confess to a weakness for oil of sperm
myself. There are the recollections of a shining row of brazen and
pewter lamps on the mantel, the despair of house-maids. In coal-oil
there is no poetry; Shakspeare and Milton did not study, nor Ben Jonson
rhyme, by it. Napoleon did not dictate nor Nelson die by the light of
it. Nowadays there are no lanterns, no torches, worthy the name.
As there is not enough depth of water on Nantucket bar for large ships,
Edgartown Harbor was formerly resorted to by the whalemen of this
island, to obtain fresh water and fit their ships for sea. If they
returned from a voyage in winter, they were obliged to discharge their
cargoes into lighters at Edgartown before they could enter Nantucket
Harbor. One of the Nantucket steeples was constructed with a lookout
commanding the whole island, from which the watchman might, it is said,
with a glass, distinguish vessels belonging here that occasionally came
to anchor at Martha's Vineyard.
In time a huge floating dock that could be submerged, called a camel,
was employed to bring vessels over the bar. After going on its knees and
taking the ship on its back, the camel was pumped free of water, when
both came into port. These machines are not of Yankee invention. They
were originated by the celebrated De Witt, for the purpose of conveying
large vessels from Amsterdam over the Pampus. They were also introduced
into Russia by Peter the Great, who had obtained their model while
working as a common shipwright in Holland. As invented, the camel was
composed of two separate parts, each having a concave side to embrace
the ship's hull, to which it was fastened with strong cables.
The harbors of Edgartown, New London, and New Bedford, not being subject
to the inconvenience of a bar before them, flourished to some extent at
the expense of Nantucket; but all these ports have shared a common fate.
The gold fever of 1849 broke out when whaling was at its ebb, and then
scores of whale-ships for the last time doubled Cape Horn. Officers and
men drifted into other employments, or continued to follow the sea in
some less dangerous service. They were considered the best sailors in
the world. I remember one athletic Islesman, a second-mate, who quelled
a mutiny single-handed with sledge-hammer blows of his fist. When his
captain appeared on deck with a brace of pistols, the affray was over.
The ringleader bore the marks of a terrible punishment. "You've a heavy
hand, Mr. Blank," said Captain G----. "I'm a Nantucket whaleman, and
used to a long dart."
At the Nantucket Athenaeum are exhibited some relics of whales and
whaling, of which all true islanders love so well to talk. The jaw-bone
of a sperm-whale may there be seen. It would have made Samson a better
weapon than the one he used with such effect against the Philistines.
This whale stores the spermaceti in his cheek. You can compress the oil
from it with the hand, as from honey-comb. What is called the "case" is
contained in the reservoir he carries in his head, from which barrels of
it are sometimes dipped. What does he want with it? Or is it, mayhap, a
softening of his great, sluggish brain?
The tremendous power the whale is able to put forth when enraged is
illustrated by the tale of a collision with one that resulted in the
loss of the ship _Essex_, of Nantucket. On the 13th of November, 1820,
the ship was among whales, and three boats were lowered. A young whale
was taken. Shortly after, another of great size, supposed to have been
the dam of the one just killed, came against the ship with such violence
as to tear away part of the false keel. It then remained some time
alongside, endeavoring to grip the ship in its jaws; but, failing to
make any impression, swam off about a quarter of a mile, when, suddenly
turning about, it came with tremendous velocity toward the _Essex_. The
concussion not only stopped the vessel's way, but actually forced her
astern. Every man on deck was knocked down. The bows were completely
stove. In a few minutes the vessel filled and went on her beam-ends.
Near one of the principal wharves is the Custom-house. It is situated at
the bottom of the square already referred to, of which the Pacific Bank,
established in 1805, occupies the upper end, the sides being bordered by
shops. The first-floor of the Custom-house is used by a club of retired
ship-masters, in which they meet to recount the perils and recall the
spoils of whaling battles.
We are told by Macy, the historian of the island, that "the inhabitants
live together like one great family. They not only know their nearest
neighbors, but each one knows the rest. If you wish to see any man, you
need but ask the first inhabitant you meet, and he will be able to
conduct you to his residence, to tell you what occupation he is of,
etc., etc." If one house entertained a stranger, the neighbors would
send in whatever luxuries they might have. After a lapse of nearly forty
years, I found Macy's account still true. All questionings were answered
with civility and directness, and, as if that were not enough, persons
volunteered to go out of their way to conduct me. In a whaling port
there is no cod-fish aristocracy. Thackeray could not have found
materials for his "Book of Snobs" in Nantucket, though, if rumor may be
believed, a few of the genus are dropping in from the main-land.
I observed nothing peculiar about the principal centre of trade, except
the manner of selling meat, vegetables, etc. When the butchers
accumulate an overstock of any article they dispose of it by auction,
the town-crier being dispatched to summon the inhabitants, greeting.
This functionary I met, swelling with importance, but a trifle blown
from the frequent sounding of his clarion, to wit, a japanned fish-horn.
Met him, did I say? I beg the indulgence of the reader. Wherever I
wandered in my rambles, he was sure to turn the corner just ahead of me,
or to spring from the covert of some blind alley. He was one of those
who, Macy says, knew all the other inhabitants of the island; me he knew
for a stranger. He stopped short. First he wound a terrific blast of his
horn. Toot, toot, toot, it echoed down the street, like the discordant
braying of a donkey. This he followed with lusty ringing of a large
dinner-bell, peal on peal, until I was ready to exclaim with the Moor,
"Silence that dreadful bell! it frights the isle
From her propriety."
Then, placing the fish-horn under his arm, and taking the bell by the
tongue, he delivered himself of his formula. I am not likely to forget
it: "Two boats a day! Burgess's meat auction this evening! Corned beef!
Boston Theatre, positively last night this evening!"
He was gone, and I heard bell and horn in the next street. He was the
life of Nantucket while I was there; the only inhabitant I saw moving
faster than a moderate walk. They said he had been a soldier,
discharged, by his own account, for being "_non compos_," or something
of the sort. I doubt there is any thing the matter with his lungs, or
that his wits are, "like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;"
yet of his fish-horn I would say,
"O would I might turn poet for an houre,
To satirize with a vindictive powere
Against the _blower_!"
The history of Nantucket is not involved in obscurity, though Dr.
Morse, in his _Gazetteer_, printed in 1793, says no mention is made of
the discovery and settlement of the island, under its present name, by
any of our historians. Its settlement by English goes no further back
than 1659, when Thomas Macy[242] removed from Salisbury, in
Massachusetts, to the west end of the island, called by the Indians
Maddequet, a name still retained by the harbor and fishing hamlet there.
Edward Starbuck, James Coffin, and another of the name of Daget, or
Daggett, came over from Martha's Vineyard, it is said, for the sake of
the gunning, and lived with Macy. At that time there were nearly three
thousand Indians on the island.
Nantucket annals show what kind of sailors may be made of Quakers. The
illustration is not unique. In the same year that Macy came to the
island a ship wholly manned by them went from Newfoundland to Lisbon
with fish. Some of them much affronted the Portuguese whom they met in
the streets by not taking off their hats to salute them. If the gravity
of the matter had not been the subject of a state paper I should not
have known it.[243]
Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard were not included in either of the four
New England governments. All the islands between Cape Cod and Hudson
River were claimed by the Earl of Sterling. In 1641 a deed was passed to
Thomas Mayhew, of Martha's Vineyard, by James Forett, agent of the earl,
and Richard Vines, the steward of Sir F. Gorges. The island, until the
accession of William and Mary, was considered within the jurisdiction of
New York, though we find the deed to Mayhew reciting that the government
to be there established by him and his associates should be such as was
then existing in Massachusetts, with the same privileges granted by the
patent of that colony. In 1659 Mayhew conveyed to the associates
mentioned in his deed, nine in number, equal portions of his grant,
after reserving to himself Masquetuck Neck, or Quaise.[244] The
consideration was thirty pounds of lawful money and two beaver hats, one
for himself, and one for his wife. The first meeting of the proprietors
was held at Salisbury, Massachusetts, in September of the same year
(1659), at which time ten other persons were admitted partners,[245]
enlarging the whole number of proprietors to nineteen. After the removal
to the island, the number was further increased to twenty-seven by the
admission of Richard and Joseph Gardiner, Joseph Coleman, William Worth,
Peter and Eleazer Folger, Samuel Stretor, and Nathaniel Wier.
The English settlers in 1660 obtained a confirmation of their title from
the sachems Wanackmamack and Nickanoose, with certain reservations to
the Indian inhabitants, driving, as usual, a hard, ungenerous bargain,
as the Indians learned when too late. In 1700 their grievances were
communicated by the Earl of Bellomont, then governor, to the crown.
Their greatest complaint was, that the English had by calculation
stripped them of the means of keeping cattle or live stock of any kind,
even on their reserved lands, by means of concessions they did not
comprehend. At that time the Indians had been decimated, numbering fewer
than four hundred, while the whites had increased to eight hundred
souls. The mortality of 1763 wasted the few remaining Indians to a
handful.[246] In 1791 there were but four males and sixteen females.
Abraham Quady, the last survivor, died within a few years.
The choice of the island by Macy is accounted for by the foregoing
facts, doubtless within his knowledge, as many of the original
proprietors were his townsmen.
Thomas Mayhew ought to be considered one of the fathers of English
settlement in New England. He was of Watertown, in Massachusetts, and I
presume the same person mentioned by Drake, in his "Founders," as
desirous of passing, in 1637, into "fforaigne partes." He is styled Mr.
Thomas Mayhew, Gent., a title raising him above the rank of tradesmen,
artificers, and the like, who were not then considered gentlemen; nor is
this distinction much weakened at the present day in England. Mayhew
received his grant of Nantucket and two small islands adjoining in
October, 1641, and on the 23d of the same month, of Martha's Vineyard
and the Elizabeth Islands. The younger Mayhew, who, Mather says, settled
at the Vineyard in 1642, seems to have devoted himself to the conversion
of the Indians with the zeal of a missionary.[247] In 1657 he was
drowned at sea, the ship in which he had sailed for England never having
been heard from. He was taking with him one of the Vineyard Indians,
with the hope of awakening an interest in their progress toward
Christianity. Jonathan Mayhew, the celebrated divine, was of this stock.
The first settlement at Maddequet Harbor was abandoned after a more
thorough knowledge of the island and the accession of white inhabitants.
The south side of the present harbor was first selected; but its
inconvenience being soon felt, the town was located where it now is. By
instruction of Governor Francis Lovelace it received, in 1673, the name
of Sherburne, changed in 1795 to the more familiar one of Nantucket.
The town stands near the centre of the island, the place having formerly
been known by the Indian name of "Wesko," signifying White Stone. This
stone, which lay, like the rock of the Pilgrims, on the harbor shore,
was in time covered by a wharf. The bluff at the west of the town still
retains the name of Sherburne. I found the oldest houses at the
extremities of the town.
[Illustration: E. JOHNSON'S STUDIO, NANTUCKET.]
Another of the original proprietors is remembered with honor by the
islanders. Peter Folger was looked up to as a superior sort of man. He
was so well versed in the Indian tongue that his name is often found on
the deeds from the natives. The mother of Benjamin Franklin was the
daughter of Folger. They do not forget it. The name of Peter Folger is
still continued, and family relics of interest are preserved by the
descendants of the first Peter.
Any account of Nantucket must be incomplete that omits mention of Sir
Isaac Coffin. Sir Isaac was a Bostonian. His family were out-and-out
Tories in the Revolution, with more talent than in general falls to the
share of one household. He was descended from an ancient family in the
northern part of Devonshire, England. In 1773 Isaac Coffin was taken to
sea by Lieutenant Hunter, of the _Gaspee_, at the recommendation of
Admiral John Montague. His commanding officer said he never knew any
young man acquire so much nautical knowledge in so short a time. After
reaching the grade of post-captain, Coffin, for a breach of the
regulations of the service, was deprived of his vessel, and Earl Howe
struck his name from the list of post-captains. This act being illegal,
he was reinstated in 1790. In 1804 he was made a baronet, and in 1814
became a full admiral in the British navy. One of his brothers was a
British general.
On a visit to the United States, in 1826, Sir Isaac came to Nantucket.
Finding that many of the inhabitants claimed descent from his own
genealogical tree, he authorized the purchase of a building, and endowed
it with a fund of twenty-five hundred pounds sterling, for the
establishment of a school to which all descendants of Tristram Coffin,
one of the first settlers, should be admitted. On one of his voyages to
America the admiral suffered shipwreck.
During the war of 1812, it is related that the admiral made a visit to
Dartmoor prison, for the purpose of releasing any American prisoners of
his family name. Among others who presented themselves was a negro.
"Ah," said the admiral, "you a Coffin too?" "Yes, massa." "How old are
you?" "Me thirty years, massa." "Well, then, you are not one of the
Coffins, for they never turn black until forty."
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[229] Purchas, iv.; reprinted in "Massachusetts Historical Collections,"
iii., viii. I can not give space to those points that confirm my view,
but they make a strong presumptive case. It has been alleged that De
Poutrincourt landed here after his conflict with the Indians of Cape
Cod. So far from landing on the island they saw, Champlain says they
named it "_La Soupconneuse_," from the doubts they had of it. Lescarbot
adds that "they saw an island, six or seven leagues in length, which
they were not able to reach, and so called '_Ile Douteuse_.'" The land,
it is probable, was the Vineyard.
[230] By Sir F. Gorges.
[231] Nantasket, Namasket, Naushon, Sawtuckett, are Indian.
[232] In 1602 by the colony of Bartholomew Gosnold, already so often
mentioned in these pages.
[233] Better known as Holmes's Hole.
[234] On the raising of the ice-blockade of the past winter seventeen
mails were due, the greatest number since 1857, when twenty-five regular
and two semi-monthly mails were landed at Quidnet.
[235] In 1837 its population was 9048; it is now a little more than
4000.
[236] The Dutch also whaled with long ropes, as is now our method.
[237] Weymouth also describes the Indian manner of taking whales: "One
especial thing is their manner of killing the whale, which they call
powdawe; and will describe his form; how he bloweth up the water; and
that he is twelve fathoms long; and that they go in company of their
King, with a multitude of their boats, and strike him with a bone made
in the fashion of a harping-iron, fastened to a rope, which they make
great and strong of the bark of trees, which they veer out after him;
that all their boats come about him, and as he riseth above water, with
their arrows they shoot him to death. When they have killed him and
dragged him to shore, they call all their chief lords together, and sing
a song of joy; and these chief lords, whom they call sagamores, divide
the spoil, and give to every man a share, which pieces so distributed
they hang up about their houses for provision; and when they boil them,
they blow off the fat, and put to their pease, maize, and other pulse
which they eat."--"Weymouth's Voyage."
[238] Nantucket in 1744 had forty sloops and schooners in the
whale-fishery. The catch was seven thousand to ten thousand barrels of
oil per annum. There were nine hundred Indians on the island of great
use in the fishery.--Douglass, vol. i., p. 405.
[239] State papers.
[240] Gordon, vol. i., p. 463.
[241] Records of Congress.
[242] Of Macy it is known that he fled from the rigorous persecution of
the Quakers by the government of Massachusetts Bay. The penalties were
ordinarily cropping the ears, branding with an iron, scourging, the
pillory, or banishment. These cruelties, barbarous as they were, were
merely borrowed from the England of that day, where the sect, saving
capital punishment, was persecuted with as great rigor as it ever was in
the colonies. The death-penalty inflicted in the Bay Colony brought the
affairs of the Friends to the notice of the reigning king. Thereafter
they were tolerated; but as persecution ceased the sect dwindled away,
and in New England it is not numerous. The Friends' poet sings of Macy,
the outcast:
"Far round the bleak and stormy Cape The vent'rous Macy passed, And on
Nantucket's naked isle Drew up his boat at last."
[243] Thurloe, vol. v., p. 422.
[244] The nine were Tristram Coffin, Thomas Macy, Christopher Hussey,
Richard Swain, Thomas Barnard, Peter Coffin, Stephen Greenleaf, John
Swain, and William Pile, who afterward sold his tenth to Richard Swain.
[245] John Smith, Nathaniel Starbuck, Edward Starbuck, Thomas Look,
Robert Barnard, James Coffin, Robert Pike, Tristram Coffin, Jun., Thomas
Coleman, and John Bishop.
[246] Of three hundred and fifty-eight Indians alive in 1763, two
hundred and twenty-two died by the distemper.
[247] Hutchinson.
[Illustration: NANTUCKET.--OLD WINDMILL, LOOKING OCEANWARD.]