During this month we gammoned the barque Lexington, of New Bedford. This vessel was in a wretched state, and apprehensions were expressed by her crew that some misfortune would befall her: she leaked immoderately, was strained and very weak, and her rigging was so shattered that they were unable to carry sail, except in moderate weather. Whilst in company with us she could not hold her position, and drifted broadside off to leeward. Subsequently her captain carried her into Mauritius, where she was condemned, and sold, only to be refitted as a colonial whaler.
One day, while most of the crew were listlessly reclining on the decks, the extreme heat rendering exertion fatiguing, we were startled by old Jack singing out from aloft, “The sea-serpent, the sea-serpent!” On leaping into the rigging, we saw close to us a long, slender object, in form resembling a snake. It was of a bright scarlet color, and, although it moved, I think its motion was produced by the undulation of the waves, and although Jack assured us that he had often seen them much larger, and was willing to take his Bible oath that this was the identical sea-serpent about which so many newspaper articles are written, I am still inclined to think that it was some marine vegetable production. It was about twenty feet long, and as thick as a man’s arm; and as the season advanced we saw many of them.
At another time we were startled from inactivity to see a strange monster, which the boatsteerer on the main topgallant cross-trees, on being questioned, could give no explanation of; and it certainly did present an appearance different from anything I had previously seen. I was prepared to log the advent of a hitherto undescribed, and, at present, indescribable inhabitant of the deep, when my romance was knocked in the head by the captain, who, at the height of the excitement, stepped to the rail, saw it, and immediately decided that it was a young fin-back whale scooping up its food, which it did by swimming along with extended jaws.
We had now gradually worked up to the northward, until we had arrived on our cruising ground for the season. This ground is off Shark’s bay, and extends between twenty and twenty-three degrees of South latitude, and from one hundred and seven to one hundred and ten degrees of East longitude. It bears the reputation of a profitable locality for whalers to cruise in. The bay derives its name from the presence of myriads of enormous sharks, and all over the ground, when a whale is alongside, thousands may be seen surrounding the ship, tearing off pieces of blubber from the whale, and revelling in his blood. They will bite at anything. I have seen them pursue our wooden buoy, which is used for attaching the hawser to the whale’s flukes, as it gradually arose to the surface of the water, and attempt to crush it between their hideous jaws; and after finding they could make no impression upon it, following it up, occasionally nipping at it as if they did not understand the consistency of an object that resisted their incisors.
On Sunday, April 27th, we lowered away for, and captured a fine sperm whale. The James Allen’s boats lowered at the same time with ours; they arrived first to the whale, ran on, and darted; but their boatsteerer missed, and our waist boat, seizing the opportunity, ran on and fastened. On the following Sunday we again saw sperm whales, and captured another; on the succeeding day the weather was boisterous, but we proceeded, in the face of numerous difficulties, to cut him in: just as we had got him in a good position for hooking on, the fluke chain parted, and away he went. We lowered away, and a second time secured him. In attempting to veer, the whale got under the ship, and it was only by strenuous tugging and hauling that we raised him. At length we began to cut, and towards noon had the head severed from the body; but, after various attempts, we gave up all hopes of saving it; it was then allowed to tow from the quarter; we then went to work at the body, and at 5 o’clock in the afternoon had it all aboard. The weather having moderated, we renewed our efforts to save the head, and succeeded so far as to get it in tow forward, when the hawser parted; we next attached a studdingsail tack to it; but, although the rope was large and new, it parted like packthread. A tub of line was then bent on, and the head allowed to float astern; but in a short time the strap attached to the head chain parted, and away it went, a total loss, leaving us with nothing to console us, except the reflection that we had done all that men could do, to save it. I noticed throughout this arduous day’s work, the general alacrity of the crew in striving to do their utmost, and could not but comment on the advantages of giving each man a proportion of the vessel’s earnings, instead of monthly wages; in our case all felt themselves personally interested, and conducted themselves accordingly.
It will be noticed that three-fifths of our whaling up to this time, has been on Sunday, and, subsequently, this day of days proved equally fortunate for us. I do not wish to defend the practice of Sunday whaling, and think that if a man makes it an invariable rule to whale only on week days, that Providence would so dispose it that he should not be a loser. We saw several of these Sunday ships, as they are called, and in each instance they had quite as much oil as their neighbors; at the same time, it takes a strong religious bias to induce a man who depends upon the capture of whales for an early return to home and friends, after being separated from all that he holds dear, perhaps for years, to forego attempting their capture on a Sunday. In fact, the temptation is strong; and, strange to say, most whalers see greater numbers of whales on the Sabbath than on any other day.
Soon afterwards we met the James Allen. Since we last saw her she had captured a whale, her first—whose lower jaw was snapped short off—probably in conflict with another of his species. These creatures are often terribly scarred, and their teeth indented and broken, as if another whale had locked jaws with them; in which case something must start.
In the month of May we gammoned the barque Massasoit, of Mattapoisett, and from her got several terrapins which she procured in Madagascar. These creatures had lived in her lower hold for twelve months, we kept them three more; still, when we killed them we found them quite fat, and had a delicious meal off them. From this ship we also received a quantity of Madagascar beans, which were most excellent—surpassing, in richness and flavor, the best of our beans at home. They are about the size of the Lima bean, the skin being covered with black spots.
On the 23d of May we spoke the barque Ann, of Sag Harbor, and from her received papers five and a half months old; they were treasures to us, and were read with intense interest, advertisements and all coming in for a share of attention; these papers were full of anticipated troubles with England, and, of course, this prospect of a war was the favorite topic. Like all Americans, we felt the superiority of the universal Yankee nation, and had no fears as to the result in case of a war with John Bull; and, from the general tenor of the conversation, I should infer that, in case of emergency, the whalemen would be found amongst the most strenuous supporters of both army and navy. Another light also was cast on the subject by some one hoping that we should be ordered home; and as a war would raise the price of oil, and induce an earlier return home, both topics of intense interest to us, it cannot be wondered that we were so much engrossed by them.
As I before said, we shipped two new men in the Vasse; one of these was, according to his own account, a renowned pugilist, and had fought and conquered in a dozen fights in the English ring. He was allowed to vapor for a long time, but one pleasant evening, he went so far as to offer to fight any man in the forecastle for an English sovereign. His offer was instantly accepted, and a mere boy was chosen as his antagonist. In less time than is occupied in the narration, the bully was describing some queer figures on the forecastle deck—tumbling in and out of bunks, over chests and kegs, all the time begging piteously to be let go. After a few minutes of this violent exercise, he was allowed to get up, thoroughly convinced that a Yankee hug was at any time a puzzle for an English pugilist. The following morning he went to the captain to complain of his ill usage, but the “old skipper” had already been informed of the merits and demerits of the case, and received the complainant with an order to clear out and not bother him; but he was too anxious to make himself heard, and, persisting in his cock and bull story until the captain was out of patience, he was rewarded for his pains by an application of the old man’s heavy boot to his posterior, and a box alongside the ear from his powerful hand, that sent him forward lamenting, with more alacrity than he had before displayed aboard the ship. Previous to this occurrence he had quarrelled with almost every man in the ship, had refused to obey the mate and was mastheaded for it, and evidently appeared to think that, because he was an English subject, he was not bound to conform to the rules of our vessel.