My mother made no reply, but there were tears in her eyes.
It was July and vacation. I was restless and impatient. Hitherto I had worked during vacations for a cooper, doing odd jobs, but now the cooper sent me home with the statement that I was of no use to him. Years afterward my mother told me that she and my father conferred and decided that it was the best course to let me ship, provided my age was not against me.
In the fifties of the last century, whaling was at its height. In the warm weather ships were constantly coming and going. There was no lack of vessels, but would they ship a boy of fifteen who was as large and strong as a man of eighteen? Of course my father’s consent was necessary. I went to my old friend, the shipkeeper. One of his employer’s vessels named the Seabird was to sail in a few weeks, and I was anxious to go in her.
The shipkeeper said, “You are big for your years and as strong as a man, but a sailor’s life is a hard one. But, if your folks are willing you should go, I’ll see the old gentleman and find out what he says about your going in the Seabird. Sailors are shipped through the outfitters, sometimes called ‘sharks.’ The outfitters provide the men with their clothes and various articles, and the owners pay the outfitters and, at the end of the voyage, the owners take the amount out of the sailor’s shares. If the old gentleman is willing to take you, don’t have anything to do with an outfitter, but have your mother provide the outfit, and I’ll give her a list of the things you’ll have to take with you.”
In a few days the shipkeeper said that his employer would see me with my father, and in the late afternoon we appeared at his office. The merchant was a Quaker, and he appeared at first a little stern. He declared that it was unusual for one so young to be taken on a whaler as a foremast hand, but my size seemed to justify an exception; that I could ship only with my father’s consent; that my parents must see to it that I had a good outfit; and that my share or lay would be 1/180. On whalers captain, officers and crew shipped on shares or lays, and my share or lay was to be one barrel of oil for every one hundred and eighty barrels stowed down, and one pound of whalebone for every one hundred and eighty pounds taken.
And now my parents were busy fitting me out. The whaleman, who was to be away for several years, required clothing suited to about every climate, and an abundance of it. I was provided with needles, linen thread, spools of sewing cotton, a shaving outfit, several knives and forks with wooden handles, several combs, two pairs of scissors, lots of buttons, plenty of soap, a couple of tin plates and a large dipper, a sheath knife and belt, three thick blankets, a bedtick and pillow filled with feathers, a dozen shirts and undershirts, three suits for light weather and a heavy suit with a large overcoat for the Arctic, two pairs of thick mittens, four pairs of brogans, one light and one heavy cap, two so’westers, two large straw hats and two oilcloth suits. My father added a roll of cotton cloth which he said might come handy for trade with the natives. Did ever a whaleman have so good an outfit?
The shipkeeper told me that he would give me some points before sailing, so, on the last Saturday afternoon, he pointed to the bow of the Seabird and said:
“You see that heavy oak on the bow, and the iron shoe on the fore foot? When you see them things you may be sure a ship’s bound to the Arctic, for you have to put her in good shape to battle with the ice. Now you stand off a few feet and look at the Seabird. She ain’t as sharp and slick as a merchantman, but she ain’t bad looking. Ain’t she nice and clean? She’s been well painted, the boats are hanging at the davits, the rigging’s been tarred and slushed, topmast spar and yard put in place and sails bent on. But, say, she’ll look different from this in a few years when she comes home with the paint scratched off, the sails black and patched and the old hull greasy from stem to stern. Now you come on board.”
He showed me the spare spars lashed to the deck and told me of the extra cables stowed away. Then he took me to the hatchway, and told me to look down into the hold. I could see that it was packed with a lot of things. The shipkeeper said:
“On a whaler you live together for a long time and you have to carry loads of things with you—stores, trade, slop chest, sails and duck, sundries, hardware, copper ware, crockery, provisions, casks, staves, lumber, wood, etc. Some of the casks are filled with water, and others are packed with provisions, clothing, and so forth. As the provisions are used up and the clothing and other articles are called for, the casks are ready for the oil. The greatest things on the ship are the whaleboats. There are no such boats anywhere in the world. You’ll find that’s so before you come back. Now I’ll show you the little house you are to live in for many long months.”