IN THE DAVIS STRAITS
The Government bounty to encourage British whaling ceased in 1824;
the wealth which was coming in exceeded that of the Dutch even in the
latter’s most prosperous year, and there seemed every likelihood of
the pursuit becoming most satisfactory. The produce in 1814 obtained
from Greenland and Davis Straits had amounted to over £700,000, but
this was an exceptionally good year. In 1829 the figure had dropped to
about half that, but the price of oil had also fallen. In addition,
about £50,000 must be added for the revenue from that newer South Seas
fishing.
It was in that year there occurred an incident in the Davis Straits
which well illustrates the keenness and even the jealousies among the
whalemen. The date was August 23, 1829, and five or six boats of the
Peterhead whaling ship _Traveller_ were at work in the straits when
one of the boats harpooned a whale. Away darted the monster, so that
the _Traveller’s_ boat was quickly coming to the end of her line. The
“foregoer” or “foreganger” had been hove over by the harpooner, a turn
had been taken round the “billet head” or bollard, and the usual signal
indicating to the rest of the fleet that a whale had been struck was
made, and the jack hoisted. That line was revolving round the bollard
at such a rate that smoke was issuing with the friction.
Of the boats in the vicinity, that of the whaler _Princess of Wales_
from Aberdeen came alongside the _Traveller’s_ boat in friendly
fashion, as was the custom among whalers, and bent her line to the line
of the _Traveller’s_ boat. Eventually the whale diminished his fury
and was approached, but now a boat from the barque _Thomas_, owned by
the Dundee Union Whale Fishing Company, came up and also harpooned
the animal, which at once made off with such rapidity that one of the
men in the _Traveller’s_ boat was thrown under the thwart. The going
was terrific, for this boat encountered in its course an ice floe and
several of the men had to leap out and guide the craft past lest it
should be smashed to pieces: in fact, the pace was so fast that some
of the hands were left behind on the ice. A third turn had to be taken
round the bollard, but still the whale rushed on.
It was about this time that a second harpoon from the _Traveller’s_
boat got home, making three in all, and finally the whale was
killed. But then came a squabble, for the men in the _Traveller’s_
boat naturally claimed the catch as theirs, but the _Thomas’s_ boat
violently opposed this and demanded the prize for themselves. In fact
they were so determined and threatening that the _Traveller’s_ men had
to withdraw and watch the other people tow it away. But the matter did
not end there, and the case came on for trial in Edinburgh during the
following March, when Joseph Hutchinson and other Peterhead merchants,
owners of the _Traveller_, brought an action against the Dundee Union
Whale Fishing Company. There was never much doubt as to the result, and
the _Traveller’s_ owners were awarded the sum of £600, which was the
agreed value of the whale.
The year 1830 stands out as one of the most disastrous years which ever
happened to British whaling. After the Greenland Sea had been mostly
fished clean, the grounds used by the whalers had been shifted chiefly
to the entrance of Davis Straits. This was known as the South-West
fishery. But in course of time this, too, had become fished out and
the whales had departed for more distant corners of the Arctic. The
information brought home by Ross and Parry that whales had been seen
in large numbers further up Baffin’s Bay, and on the north-west side,
naturally soon attracted the ships to those remote latitudes. At the
same time a much greater degree of risk was undertaken by reason of the
ice, for at the beginning of the season the ice comes floating down
from the north.
The whalemen’s custom was to take their ships up the eastern side of
Baffin’s Bay past the rocky promontory marked as the Devil’s Thumb,
and across that mighty Melville Bay where the snow and ice perpetually
cover the lofty shore. It was into this bay that the south-west wind
blew the loosened fragments of the barrier ice, which, unable to find
an outlet from this lee shore, created a tremendous danger to shipping.
In this year 1830, then, the whalers had left their British ports by
the end of March, but owing to head winds did not reach the entrance to
Davis Straits till the end of April. The sea this year was beautifully
open as they made their way up the eastern side of Baffin’s Bay,
sighting very few whales.
Above Disko Island the ice delayed them a week, but at last the fleet
of fifty sail reached the opening of Melville Bay on June 10th, about
a month earlier than usual. From now on there follows a series of
incidents so thrilling and amazing that imagination could hardly invent
happenings more astounding: the record is more like a chapter out of
a boy’s adventure story. For the south-west wind had crowded Melville
Bay with ice floes so that whichever way those whalers looked it was an
alarming sight. What was to be done? The hope was to find an opening
to the westward and thus gain the intended fishing ground; and, as a
fact, an opening was discovered. Whaler captains, like all fishermen,
were in keen competition the one against the other, and every ship knew
that the first to get through this ice to the open water stood the
best chance of reaching the whales first. Thus it was that the _St.
Andrew_ of Aberdeen wriggled her way through, and she was followed by
twenty-two more. The rest of the fleet were coming along, too, but now
the ice closed and made an impenetrable bulkhead between the first
twenty-three and the rear, which tried independently but ineffectually
to get through.
With the _St. Andrew_ were the _Baffin_ and _Rattler_ of Leith, the
_Eliza Swan_ of Montrose, the _Achilles_ of Dundee, and the French
whaler _Ville de Dieppe_. On June 19th there sprang up a fresh S.S.W.
gale which piled the masses of ice against them. The sight of these
six vessels with their heavy-built hulls and great yards against the
white ice hemming them in, unable to proceed further, was impressive
as a picture but indicative of future destruction. However, the little
squadron had taken what shelter they could under the lee of a large
floe and in water that barely floated them. They had also hauled
themselves so close in single line ahead, bow to stern, that it was
possible to walk along the six decks continuously.
And then on the night of June 24th the sky became black, the gale
worked up to its full anger, and the ice began pressing against the
ships terribly. In order to relieve this pressure, hands were set
sawing the ice so as to form a wet dock, but soon came a great floe
which nothing could withstand. Lifting up the _Eliza Swan_, the floe
hurled her against the _St. Andrew’s_ bow with such force as almost
to wrench the former’s mizzen mast out in the ship: and then the floe
passed from under, damaging both stem and keel. It next struck the
_St. Andrew_ amidships, snapping about twenty of her timbers, and then
passing along the line dashed against the _Baffin_, _Achilles_, _Ville
de Dieppe_ and _Rattler_ with such energy that within fifteen minutes
these four strongly built, specially fortified whalers designed for
Arctic work were for the most part converted into mere fragments of
wood.
With the grinding of the merciless ice and the crunching of stout
timbers; the shouts of the deep-throated men; the snapping of thick
masts; the crashing of yards; the howling of that bitter gale over the
icy white expanse, there was enough going on to unnerve most people.
Suddenly made homeless, many of these seafarers were but lightly clad
and just able to leap on to the frozen surface. The _Ville de Dieppe_,
partly filled with water, was the least unfortunate, for she touched
bottom, remained upright during the next fortnight, and from her were
salved stores and provisions. Some were also taken from the _Baffin_,
and boats were hauled on the ice to form some sort of shelter.
We mentioned just now the _Princess of Wales_, belonging to Aberdeen.
This whaler, together with the _Resolution_ of Peterhead, the _Laurel_
of Hull, and the _Letitia_, also of Aberdeen, had been able to get
further to the north-west, and cut out for themselves a wet dock in
the ice. They were lying side by side and imagined themselves quite
safe, but this gale drove the floes against them, piercing the hulls of
_Resolution_ and _Letitia_, filling them with the sea. The _Laurel_ was
lying between them and was so compressed as almost to be raised out of
the water: but for a while she remained, and quickly provisions and
stores were placed aboard her from the two wrecked whalers. On the 2nd
of July, however, the gale seemed to be worse than ever, and within ten
minutes the _Laurel_ and also the _Hope_ of Peterhead were destroyed.
But we have not yet completed the list.
Other whalers of the twenty-three had penetrated in their eagerness
further north, even as far as lat. 76°. Among these were two ships,
the _Spencer_ and _Lee_, of which the latter escaped with only
shattered timbers, whilst the former had filled and become a complete
wreck. The Whitby _William and Ann_ was crushed to pieces quickly,
the _Dordon_ of Hull was raised up by the ice into safety, and the
_Old Middleton_ of Aberdeen was wrecked. So also of those which had
remained south of the ice barrier, many encountered disaster, but thus
far not one officer or man out of the whole fleet had been lost. Some
had narrow escapes in reaching the ice, some even found themselves
in the water before they could get time to snatch a few clothes. And
then on that glacial surface a thousand seafarers set to work making
themselves as comfortable as they could with bits of sail as tents.
Anyone who has ever been associated with shipwrecked sailors knows
how adaptable they are to sudden changes of circumstances: how they
will even joke and magnify any element of happiness that remains.
Nor were these whaler-men any different. They had been accustomed to
cold and the rigours of northern fishing, some of them for twenty or
thirty years. Tough, hard-case, plucky, ignorant of most things except
their seamanship and their whaling; rough, chafing against discipline,
easily tempted by a drop of alcohol, they were a strange crowd to be
responsible for, on that ice, beyond the immediate control of their
officers.
Some of these sailors rejoiced that for once they were independent
beings, free from having to obey. Others treated the affair as a
holiday: but certain of them got hold of the salved wine and spirits
and became drunk. What with this newly sprung canvas village, the
roisterous alcoholic shouts of the British, the singing and dancing of
the French, no wonder that the wags named it Baffin’s Fair. There were
really two villages, in fact, that of the wrecked ships which had got
north of the barrier, and that of the vessels which had foundered to
the south. Between the two there was such regularity in communication
that the southerners used to call it the “north mail.” Possibly there
was more to drink in that southern section.
But presently the deaths began to happen: some through exposure and
cold and fatigue, but some through too much alcohol, tumbling into the
holes of the ice intoxicated. On the whole, however, the discipline
was not bad. The third week of July passed, the _St. Andrew_ with the
_Eliza Swan_ and other ships at the northern end tried to get away to
the westward, and their crews towed the ships through gaps. But some of
these vessels were so unlucky as to be driven still further north even
above lat. 76° 2′ and the men employed their time catching a few whales
and dragging them through the holes. It was not till September 10th
that they succeeded in making open water: though others had got clear
a week or two sooner. The most depressing sight was when a certain
Greenock ship was thoroughly ice-surrounded and she watched other
vessels one by one move away out of their icy fastness. The captain
died and the mate began to despair of ever getting the ship clear till
the following year. The latter thereupon took one of the boats with a
dozen men and left the ship to look for some of the Danish settlements.
But, after the mate had gone, the ice began to move, and after a
few hours’ sawing, the ship found herself in fairly clear water. The
position now was this. There were on board not merely the ship’s
own crew, but those of the wrecked _Princess of Wales_ and of the
_Letitia_. But the last of the officers had gone away in the boat,
taking with him the charts and log-glasses; yet still the crew decided
to carry on. For about a week this vessel, whose name was _John_, was
navigated cautiously, anchoring every night. But then the crew became
emboldened, and one night the watch on deck sighted a line of breakers,
but he came to the conclusion that it had been caused only by a stream
of ice: so no alteration in course was made. The next thing was that
the _John_ was ashore, and although built of teak she was a total wreck
by the morning. Fortunately there were sighted the _Eliza Swan_ and the
_Duncombe_ of Hull, who picked up the crew and brought them safely home.
The net result of this season’s disaster to the whaling fleet in the
Davis Straits was the loss of twenty fine ships belonging to Hull,
Aberdeen, Leith, Dundee, Peterhead, Whitby, Montrose, Greenock and
Dieppe. The news reached Peterhead and Hull in October by returning
ships lucky enough to have survived. Throughout these fishing towns the
effect was pathetic. Financially the loss of these nineteen British
whalers, and the cost of repairing twelve which were damaged, the
details as to wages, stores and so on, amounted to over £142,600, quite
apart from the failure to bring home that produce which they were
sent to fetch. Thus the total loss this season was close on £300,000.
And having regard to the value of money a hundred years ago, these
figures are extremely significant. Whaling had begun to be a prosperous
concern, the bounties had been discontinued, the Baffin’s Bay area
had seemed to hold out excellent prospects. But such a universal
disaster as this to nine of the principal ports was such that many were
disinclined to risk their savings in such ventures again. The industry
fell on bad times, the shock had been too heavy, and by the year 1849
there were only fourteen British whalers at work. But it was the United
States of America which especially kept the occupation going, for in
this last-mentioned year that country possessed 596 whaling ships of
190,000 tons manned by 18,000 sailors. Having regard to the English
pioneer work in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the vast
sums of money which had been expended, the enormous bounties, and the
years of persistent effort, the condition to which British whaling had
descended was thoroughly disheartening. Gradually the northern grounds
became deserted, and attention was turned more and more to those
southern seas about which Burke in the previous century had spoken with
such eloquence. The last voyage to Arctic seas had by no means been
made, but various efforts were taken to find the whale in areas of the
world less forbidding than those which had brought such disaster and
financial loss.
But even outside the Arctic regions British whaling was to be spasmodic
rather than regular both as to area and continuity. It was Captain Cook
who in 1775 first reported whales in the southern seas, and then the
American and British whalers began their profitable voyages thither.
But in the year 1833 there sailed from London the 300-ton whaler
_Tuscan_ for a three-year whaling voyage round the world, and in her
was allowed to travel as passenger a surgeon named F. D. Bennett, who
was a Fellow both of the Royal College of Surgeons and of the Royal
Geographical Society. This scientist went in order to study the anatomy
and habits of the southern whales and the mode of conducting the
sperm-whale fishery--a subject which up till then had not been touched
in our literature. He has described the South Sea whaling ship and the
life on board so well that we may first look at the vessel through his
eyes.