Whalemen not only had to undergo the perils of the sea, but in addition
ran the danger of being killed by the whale and of being attacked by
savages at the ports where it was often necessary to land for food and
water. Also in cases of accident the whaleship was usually off the
regular cruise followed by the merchantmen and therefore less likely to
be assisted by other vessels. Furthermore, the long voyages, poor food,
and the many dangers of whaling induced many mutinies.
[Illustration: A whale playing battledore and shuttlecock with a
1200-pound whaleboat and six men.]
The worst massacre occurred on the “Awashonks,” of Falmouth, in 1835,
near the Marshall Islands. The natives came on board in large numbers
and seemed most friendly, when, on a given signal, they killed the
captain and many of the crew. Finally the seamen laid a charge of
dynamite under a hatchway where the savages were sitting, and blew most
of them to pieces, the crew being then enabled to recapture the vessel.
A few years later, when the “Sharon” of Fairhaven was cruising not far
from Ascension Island, the crew lowered for a whale, and upon returning
to the ship it was discovered that three of the “Kanaka” crew, recently
engaged, had taken charge of the ship and had killed the captain. The
first mate in the whaleboat did not dare attack, but the third mate,
Benjamin Clough, who was only nineteen years old, swam to the ship in
the darkness, climbed up the rudder, shot two of the mutineers, and had
a hand-to-hand encounter with the third, who died soon afterwards. The
first mate then returned on board. Clough was made captain of a ship
immediately upon his return to Fairhaven. Still another mutiny took
place on the ship “Junior” which sailed from New Bedford in 1857, most
of the officers being killed. Plummer, the ringleader, wrote a story
of the mutiny in the log book, which is now in the possession of the
New Bedford Library, and the account was signed by the five mutineers
in order to clear the rest of the men on board. The five murderers on
sighting land lowered two whaleboats with all the plunder they could
find and rowed ashore. The mutineers were subsequently captured and
were brought in cages to Boston, where they were defended by Benjamin
F. Butler. Davis, the author of “Nimrod of the Sea,” mentions a quarrel
on board the “Chelsea,” which ended by the men all signing a “round
robin” to return to duty, and in order that no name should head the
list the signatures were set down in a circle, like the spokes of a
wheel, from which possibly comes the word “ringleader.”
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.
[Illustration: THE WHALE FISHERY “IN A FLURRY.”