The Boy Whaleman

by George Fox Tucker

Lakeum called out sharply, “Fall in line—old hands at one end, greenies at the other.”

The order was obeyed, but the vessel rolled so that the greenies wobbled about considerably. The mates examined our ribs and arms in order to size up our probable strength and endurance, while the boat-steerers or harpooners stood by and offered suggestions. Then came the selection for the places in the boats, and to my great joy I learned that I was to be stroke oar in the first mate’s boat. I felt grateful to Lakeum and the shipkeeper as well. The few who were not chosen were to remain on the ship when the boats were down for whales. Long afterwards Lakeum told me that selecting a greenie as stroke oar was something of an experiment, but my size, the recommendation of the shipkeeper and the fact that I was brought up in a seaport town and knew something of salt water determined him.

Now came what they called “the picking of the watches.” This was the duty of the first and second mates. There were three watches on our vessel. While those who made up a watch were on deck, the others were at rest or off duty. Between four and eight p.m. there were two short periods called dogwatches. That very day the crows’ nests were built at the mastheads. In each case a pair of crosstrees was fitted to the masthead, upon each side of which was constructed a small platform. This provided a foothold. A couple of padded hoops were secured above at a point a little higher than a man’s waist. With his feet on the platform, his body through the hoops and his arms resting thereon, one could look over the entire ocean, as far as the horizon, in search of whales.

In the late afternoon word came to shorten sail, and several of us greenies were ordered aloft together with the old hands. This was my first taste of the real work of a sailor. When my feet touched the foot-ropes, young and agile as I was, I had considerable doubt about keeping my place. “Tip forward, as the ship goes down and hold on as she comes back, and be quick in knottin’ your reef points,” said an old tar beside me. I managed to hold on, but I was slow and clumsy in reefing. “Green at it, ain’t you? Watch me,” he declared. I was glad when I found myself descending the ratlines and was on deck once more.

That night I slept in my bunk in the forecastle. I recall how close and stuffy it was, how the waves pounded against the ship, how some of the men, presumably the greenies, groaned as if in agony, how I longed for a kiss from my mother and for the little bedroom at home, and how glad I was when at four in the morning our watch was called and I went on deck.

Of all things on the ship the whaleboat was the most important, and few mechanics were more skilful than its builder. This craft was sharp at both ends and was something like the model of an Indian birch-bark canoe. The bow and stern were high out of water. The bow rose above the rail in a Y-shape, and in this was a brass roller for the whale line to pass over. The boat was about thirty feet long, six feet in beam and a little over two feet deep. It was so solidly built that it could ride on a sea which would smash the ordinary boat of a merchantman to bits.

The whale line was about twelve hundred feet in length and was coiled in a large tub. One end of it was taken aft to a post in the stern of the boat called a loggerhead, around which two or three turns were taken in order to bring a strain on the line when a struck whale was going down or, to use the common expression, was “sounding.” The friction caused by the line flying round the loggerhead often set it on fire, and it was necessary to throw water over it. The line was carried forward to the bow, and to it was attached a harpoon. To this line, at some distance from the harpoon, another short warp was attached, with a harpoon secured to the end. The purpose was for the boat-steerer or harpooner to throw the second iron after he had thrown the first or, if this were impossible, to toss the second iron overboard, as otherwise it might catch in a man’s clothing or endanger the other occupants of the boat.

The third day the work on the whaleboats was pushed vigorously. The oars were examined to see if there were flaws, and were then laid in the boats; the whale line was coiled down into tubs, new harpoons were fitted to poles, and these and the lances were placed in the boats. The whaleboat carried a sail, which was set when the wind was favorable, and was then steered by a rudder. At other times it was propelled by five great oars.

The boat also carried a hatchet, a water keg, a keg containing a few biscuits, candles, lanterns, glasses, matches, a compass, two knives, two small axes, a boat hook, waif flags, fluke spades, canvas buckets, a “piggin” for bailing, and paddles. A rudder hung outside by the stern.

The ordinary whaler carried four boats on the davits—three on the port side and one aft on the starboard side. Some whalers carried a fifth boat forward on the starboard side.