Part 2

Early history tells us that Thomas Macy purchased the island for thirty pounds and two beaver hats, “One for myself and one for my wife,” and to him therefore belongs the honor of the settlement of Nantucket; he had been driven away from Massachusetts for sheltering Quakers, which was at that time against the law, and with his friend Edward Starbuck fled to the island and established a colony composed of such well-known families as the Coffins, Husseys, Swaynes, Gardners, Chases, Folgers, and Starbucks. These men were not whalers, but they watched the Indians and learned much from them, and later on employed Ichabod Paddock to come over from Cape Cod and instruct them further.

The character of the island and its situation far out in the ocean, its poor soil, and the number of whales along its shores, all proved an inducement to the Nantucketers to follow the sea as a calling. At first, there were so many whales that they did not find it necessary to go beyond the coast; so, under the guidance of Paddock, lookouts were erected along the South shore, and each man patrolled a certain amount of territory. Each one took his share of whales killed, and business flourished. This method of whaling continued until 1712, when Christopher Hussey, while cruising along the coast, was blown out to sea. He ran across a sperm whale, which he finally killed and brought home. This year was epoch making, as this was the first sperm whale known to have been taken by Americans. The oil from this species of whale being superior to that of all others, the Nantucketers now (1715) decided to change their methods and to whale in the “deep.” As the vessels steadily increased in size with greater and greater cargo-carrying capacity, voyages necessarily became longer, extending even to periods of four or five years. In fact, a voyage lasting but two years was considered unusually short. The point of view of most whalers regarding a two-year voyage is shown by the captain who, when boarding his ship, was reminded by a friend that he had not said “Good-by” to his wife,—

“Why should I?” said he; “I am only to be gone two years.”

About 1730 “try-works” were built on the vessels instead of on the shore, and the oil was boiled and stowed away at sea, thus allowing the ships to make much longer voyages. At this time Nantucket owned as many whaleships as all the other ports of America combined. Whaling continued to increase, and the sterile island was turned into a prosperous community, when the Revolution came on, and for the time being practically put an end to the industry. Nantucket was the only port that carried on whaling during the war: the island simply had to whale or starve, as the inhabitants knew no other occupation. Most of their vessels were eventually captured or lost by shipwreck, and over twelve hundred of their men were either killed or made prisoners. The end of the war found the island’s business hopelessly wrecked; but, with their usual pluck and determination, the Nantucketers once more built up a profitable fleet. So impoverished were they that the government for one year levied no taxes.

At the close of the war a Quaker, called William Rotch, was Nantucket’s greatest whaler, and even he became so discouraged with the prospects at home that in 1785 he left the island in his ship, the “Maria,” for London. He endeavored to make some arrangement with the English government to import some whaling families from Nantucket, but, failing to do so, repaired to France, where he succeeded in making an agreement with Louis XVI. A great many families moved to France, and carried on the pursuit from Dunkirk in Normandy. Rotch soon returned to Nantucket, and later moved to New Bedford, where he died. The old Rotch counting-house was later used as a club-room for Nantucket whaling captains, and is even now being used as such. In the old prosperous days this was jocosely called the House of Commons, while another club, which was used by the ship owners, was named the House of Lords.

Immediately after the war, the ship “Bedford,” one of the Rotch vessels, was loaded with oil, and sent to England under command of Captain Mooers. This was the first vessel to display the American flag in a British port. It is related that one of the crew of the ship was hunchbacked, and when on shore one day a British sailor clapped his hand on his shoulder, and said, “Hello, Jack, what have you got here?” “Bunker Hill, and be d—d to you,” replied the Yankee.

The redoubtable Nantucketers resumed their whaling at the close of the Revolution, and their energy and skill were again yielding rich profits when the War of 1812 almost annihilated the island’s fleet. But as it was another case of whale or starve, Nantucket continued to send out a few whalers, and was the only American port during the war that dared to brave the risks of British capture.

About this time, in one of the Pacific ports, an incident occurred which showed in an amusing light the ready wit and intrepid courage of an American whaleman. He had in some way displeased an English naval officer, who, feeling himself highly insulted, promptly challenged the Yankee, who accepted and, being the challenged party, had the choice of weapons. He selected, of course, the weapon with which he was most skilful and took his stand with a poised harpoon. It had altogether too dangerous an appearance for the irate Englishman, particularly as the whaleman was evidently an expert in the manual of thrust and parry, and so with as good grace as he could command, the Englishman withdrew from the fight.

At a very early day in the fishery, whaling vessels, which were at first long rowboats and later small sloops, began to increase in size, and about 1820 ships of three hundred tons were found profitable. The increase in profit producing capacity, strange as it may appear, actually sounded the death-knell of the Nantucket whaling, for across the mouth of the harbour ran a bar, over which it soon became impossible for whaling vessels of large size to pass. The difficulty was for a time overcome by the true Yankee ingenuity of some inventive Nantucketer, who devised the “camel,” a veritable dry-dock barge in which the larger whaleships, lightened often of oil and bone, were floated over the bar into the forest of masts which in those days characterized a harbour now frequented only by a few schooners and sloops, the small pleasure crafts of the summer residents, and an occasional steamer.

As whaleships still continued to increase in size, the “camel” expedient was only a temporary success; for the time came when vessels were of too great tonnage to be thus floated over the bar, and the daring and skilful Nantucketer, who had taught the civilized world not only how, but where, to whale, had to admit defeat and gradually give up the industry to more fortunately situated ports. At this time, about 1830, Nantucket was commercially the third largest city in Massachusetts, Boston being first and Salem second.

In 1843 Nantucket owned its record number of ships, eighty-eight. In 1846, which is referred to as the “boom” year in American whaling, sixteen vessels cleared from Nantucket and sixty-nine from her near-by rival—New Bedford. In 1869 Nantucket sent her last ship and disappeared from the list of whaling ports. The great fire of 1846 also contributed to the downfall of the industry.

A new era in whaling was to be born, with New Bedford as the centre, and Nantucket was to become only a health resort and mecca for sight-seers, more than ten thousand persons visiting the island in 1914.

NEW BEDFORD

New Bedford undoubtedly owed its whaling success to its proximity to Nantucket, to its wonderful harbour, and to the honesty, thrift, and good business ability of its citizens, most of whom were Quakers.

As in Nantucket, the whole city lived to go whaling, and as each inhabitant made more money, he moved his residence higher up on the Hill. It is said that there was an inn called the “Crossed Harpoons,” and another called “Spouter Inn,” and there is a Whaleman’s Chapel on Johnny Cake Hill where regular Sunday services were held, at which the following hymn was always sung by the congregation:—

“The ribs and terrors of the whale Arched over me in dismal gloom, While all God’s sun-lit waves rolled by And left me deepening down to doom.

“I saw the opening maw of hell, With endless pains and sorrows there; Which none but they that feel can tell— Oh, I was plunging to despair—

“In black distress I called to God, When I could scarce believe him mine, He bowed his ear to my complaints— No more the whale did me confine.”

The pulpit of this chapel was made to represent the prow of a whaleship, and was ascended by means of a rope ladder, which the minister, who had been a harpooner in his youth, hauled up after him. Around the walls of this little church can still be seen tablets erected in memory of many whalemen who lost their lives at sea. There also was a daily paper called _The Whaleman_, which gave the reports of the whaleships and the whaling news. It has been said that New Bedford fathers gave whales for dowers to their daughters, and that they had reservoirs of oil in their attics to burn on gala occasions.

It is a curious fact that three Morgans not long ago married three Rotchs, three Rotchs married three Rodmans, and three Rodmans married three Motleys. Among other well-known New Bedford whaling families are the Hathaways, Swifts, Howlands, Morgans, Stones, Delanos, Rodmans, Seaburys, Giffords, Tabers, Grinnells, and Wings.

Whaling was a tremendous financial gamble, and until a vessel came home “clean” or “greasy,” meaning empty or full, the success of the voyage was not known. They tell a story of a New Bedford captain who had been out for nearly four years, and as he came up to the wharf the owners asked him what luck he had had. His reply was, “I didn’t get any whales, but I had a damn good sail.” There is another tale of a seaman whose vessel left New Bedford on the day of his mother’s funeral. Naturally he set sail with a heavy heart, and during his three years’ cruise he thought many times of his sorrowful father at home. As the ship neared the docks he was met by his father with “Hurry up, Jim, I want to introduce you to your new mother.” There were many changes at home during a long cruise, and sometimes even the fashions had entirely changed. One whaleship captain described his surprise at seeing for the first time the crinoline or hoop skirt.

The real founder of New Bedford, and the pioneer of the whale fishery at this port, was Joseph Russell, who sent his ships out in 1765. Several years later the first ship was launched and was called the “Dartmouth,” and this vessel is well known to history owing to the fact that she was one of the ships that carried into Boston Harbour the tea that was thrown overboard. The whaling industry increased steadily, except during the wars, until 1857, when the New Bedford fleet numbered three hundred and twenty-nine vessels, was valued at over twelve million dollars, and employed over twelve thousand seamen. If these vessels had been strung out in line, they would have stretched over ten miles. In addition to these sailors, thousands of others were employed at home making casks, irons, ropes, and many other articles used in whaling. In fact, it was often stated that the population was divided into three parts,—those away on a voyage, those returning, and those getting ready for the next trip.

There were many nationalities represented in the crews of the whalers, and the New Bedford streets presented a very foreign appearance, with Spaniards, Portuguese, Dutch, Norwegians, Germans, French, English, Scotch, Irish, Sandwich Islanders, and New Englanders at every turn. A large number of Portuguese served on whaleships, and a part of the city near the south end of Water Street became known as Fayal.

The “Golden Age,” as it is called, of whaling was between 1825 and 1860, and during the whole of this period New Bedford assumed the lead, even long after other ports had given up the pursuit. It is estimated that about the year 1848 there were over seventy millions invested in the industry and seventy thousand persons derived from it their subsistence.

It is an interesting fact that the insurance on American whalemen was about one-half the rate that was charged the Englishman, which certainly showed the superiority of our Yankee seamen. There were several whaling insurance companies in New Bedford. There is a story told of a New Bedford ship owner who had just heard that his vessel had gone down and he hadn’t yet received the insurance policy from the company. He sent a letter down to the office which read as follows: “I have heard from my ship and thee need not place the insurance.” Of course, the policy was sent up immediately.

The New Bedford whalers explored new grounds, and to this fact chiefly is due the continued prosperity of its whale fishery, but it was to die slowly; in 1875 the fleet from this port had declined to 116 vessels, in 1886 to 77 ships, and in 1906 to 24.

One of the chief historical events of New Bedford happened in 1861, when the famous Stone Fleet sailed from that port. The United States government decided to purchase some old ships and sink them in the channels of the harbours of Charleston and Savannah, to prevent blockade running during the war. H. Bartlett & Sons supervised their purchase and Captain Rodolphus N. Swift was the general agent. Bartlett purchased some of the old whalers for as small a price as thirty-one hundred and fifty dollars, some of them having more cement than wood in their hulls. To James Duddy, a teamster, fell the task of supplying the seventy-five hundred tons of stones with which to fill the vessels, and many a New Bedford stone wall now lies at the bottom of some of our Southern harbours. Captain Rodney French, an old “slaver,” who afterwards became Mayor of New Bedford, was selected as commander of the fleet, and on Thanksgiving Day most of New Bedford assembled on the wharves and saw fifteen of her once famous fleet, which had for years been the homes of its seamen, sail forth never to return. It must have been a very sad day for the city, and it may be said that this event marked the beginning of the decline of the industry at New Bedford.

One captain insisted upon washing the decks of his ship every morning, using pulverized stones instead of sand, and another, to give the fleet a warlike appearance, mounted a formidable “Quaker” gun, made from a section of a spar.

A second fleet sailed later in the year, making forty-five vessels in all. Although the expedition cost the government about a quarter of a million dollars, its success was only temporary. The captain of the “Alabama” swore vengeance on New Bedford and destroyed or captured every whaler he could find, and in the “Alabama” awards that were made after the war New Bedford received a large share.

Ten years later occurred the worst disaster that ever befell a whaling fleet. Thirty-four whalers were caught in the ice in the Arctic regions and sunk, and it is a curious fact that, while the loss reached one million five hundred thousand dollars, not a single human life was sacrificed. These three pictures of a series of five on the following page show the sinking of the ships, the abandonment of their vessels, which had their flags union down, and the eighty-mile sail through the ice-floes to the open sea, where twelve hundred and nineteen men, women, and children were taken home in the seven whalers that had not been lost in the ice. It must have been very crowded, as each ship had to stow away several hundred persons in addition to her own crew. There were many sad hearts as they left their vessels and almost all of their belongings, and started off in the small boats. The trip to sea and the trans-shipment in the heavy swell must have been made with the utmost care, otherwise many lives would have been sacrificed. The loss to the New Bedford owners was so tremendous that they never really recovered from the catastrophe, and many families had to economize for years after. The Swifts, Howlands, and Rotchs were among those who lost ships.

On one of the vessels in the first picture of this series was a large quantity of the finest Manila cigars and also some rare Madeira wine, that had been picked up in the Philippines the year before on instructions from the ship’s owner. When the captain of this vessel reached New Bedford and reported the loss of his command, the owner’s first question, after listening to the dismal tale, was whether his cigars and wine had been saved. “All of it,” came the reply. “Where is it?” said the owner, looking more cheerful. “Well, you see, I drank the wine and Mr. Jones, the mate, he smoked the cigars, and they certainly done us both good,” replied the captain.

The ship “Progress,” shown in the last picture, forms an interesting connecting link between the Stone Fleet and this 1871 disaster.

Captain Fish was an excellent story teller, and another yarn has been handed down in connection with one of his trips. The voyage had been very unsuccessful, and as he was looking over his chart he tossed his dividers down in a disgruntled manner, and by accident they chanced to stick in the chart. He then conceived the novel idea of sailing to the very place where his instrument happened to land, and curiously enough he was rewarded by a very large catch.