The northern whale-fishery

by William Scoresby

The following instance illustrates the danger from overhanging masses of ice falling on the boats. The crew of one of the Hull whalers, having killed a fish by the side of an iceberg in Davis’s Strait, the fins were lashed together, and the tail secured to a boat in the usual way, but by the efforts only of one boat’s crew, all the other boats belonging to the same ship being engaged in the capture of two more whales, neither of which were yet subdued. This circumstance occasioned some altercation among the crew of the boat, as to the propriety of their remaining by the dead whale, or of quitting it, and proceeding in an empty boat which was at hand to the assistance of their companions. The latter measure was carried, but as it was deemed expedient that one man should remain in the boat, to which none of them would consent, they were under the necessity of either remaining in idleness by the fish, or leaving the fish and the boat by themselves. But every one being anxious to participate in the more active exercises of the fishery, they at length agreed unanimously to quit the boat connected with the dead fish, and to proceed to the aid of their comrades. The arrangements were just accomplished in time, for they had not rowed many fathoms from the place before a tremendous crash of the berg ensued, an immense mass of ice fell upon the boat they had just quitted, and neither it nor the fish was ever seen afterwards.

Another danger arises from ice when boats are inclosed and beset, and their crews prevented from joining their ships. On June 17th, 1813, several Greenland fishing-ships penetrated the ice into an enticing opening, in which a number of whales were sporting in fancied security. The John, of Greenock, Neptune, of Aberdeen, Earl Percy, of Kirkcaldy, were immediately, to appearance, successful. The crew of the John in a short time killed several fish; the people of the Neptune killed one, and struck a second; and the crew of the Earl Percy struck one also. Things were in this state when I arrived in the same situation with the Esk. My harpooners, happily as it proved, did not succeed in any measure. The sea was as smooth as the surface of a pond, but the ice I observed was in a strange state of disturbance. Some floes, and some large pieces, moved with a velocity of three to four miles per hour, while other similar masses were at rest. The John, which, on her first arrival in this situation, had navigated an open lake some leagues in circumference, was in the space of a few hours closely beset. The captain of the Neptune, alarmed by the danger to which his men and boats were exposed, left his ship to the care of his second-mate, with eleven or twelve men, and proceeded himself in a boat, making the fifth, to their assistance. In a few minutes, these five boats, together with two belonging to the Earl Percy, were closely fixed in the ice. The ships were forced to a distance; the ice in the course of the following morning spread to the width of seven or eight miles, and shortly afterwards the people in the boats and those in the corresponding ships lost sight of each other.

My father, who at this time commanded the John, had anticipated the consequences of the ice closing, and found refuge in a cove in an adjoining field filled with bay-ice, into which he thrust his ship, and obtained shelter for himself and his comrades who were thus beset. After three days, the ice slackened, and the Neptune boats, together with those belonging to the Earl Percy, left the John, although neither the sea nor their ships were visible. In this adventure they proved successful. When they had rowed many hours to the south-eastward, they discovered a ship, on their approach to which they were invited on board, and received some refreshment. After this, having received information of the relative situation of their ships, they put off, and soon after had the happiness of regaining their respective vessels. This circumstance, which was the occasion of so much anxiety, danger, and loss of time to the crews of the Neptune and Earl Percy, proved the contrary to the people of the John, as they added to her cargo seventeen whales, within the space of five days, and on the sixth, the ice having again slackened, they made their escape into a place of safety.

The climate of the Polar regions becomes a source of danger to the whale-fishers when boats are separated from the ship to which they belong, in foggy weather when they are overtaken by a storm and prevented from joining their ship, and when the people in the boats are long exposed to inclement winds.

On the commencement of a heavy gale of wind, May 11th, 1813, fourteen men put off in a boat from the Volunteer, of Whitby, with the view of setting an anchor in a large piece of ice, to which it was their intention to moor the ship. The ship approached; on a signal being made the sails were clewed up, and a rope fixed to the anchor, but the ice shivering with the violence of the strain, when the ship fell astern the anchor flew out, and the ship went adrift. The sails being again set, the ship was reached to the eastward, (wind at north,) the distance of about two miles, but in attempting to wear and return, the ship, instead of performing the evolution, scudded a considerable distance to leeward, and was then reached out to sea, thus leaving fourteen of her crew to a fate most dreadful, the fulfilment of which seemed inevitable. The temperature of the air was 15° or 16° of Fahrenheit, when these poor men were left upon a detached piece of ice, without food, without shelter from the inclement storm, and deprived of every means of refuge, except in a single boat, which, on account of the number of men, and violence of the storm, was incapable of conveying them to their ship. Death stared them in the face whichever way they turned, and a division in opinion ensued.

Some were wishful to remain by the ice, but the ice could afford them no shelter from the piercing wind, and would probably be soon broken to pieces by the increasing swell; others were anxious to attempt to join their ship, while she was yet in sight, but the force of the wind, the violence of the sea, and the smallness of the boat in comparison of the number of men to be conveyed, were objections which would have appeared utterly insurmountable to any persons but men in a state of despair. Judging that by remaining on the ice death was but retarded for a few hours, as the extreme cold must eventually benumb their faculties, and invite a sleep which would overcome the remains of animation, they determined on making the attempt to row to their ship. Poor creatures! what must have been their sensations at this moment, when the spark of hope yet remaining was so feeble that a premature death even to themselves seemed inevitable. They made the daring experiment, when a few minutes’ trial convinced them that the attempt was utterly impracticable. They then, with longing eyes, turned their efforts towards recovering the ice they had left, but their utmost exertions were unavailing. Every one now viewed his situation as desperate, and anticipated as certain the fatal event that was to put a period to his life. How great must have been their delight, and how overpowering their sensations, when, at this most critical juncture, a ship appeared in sight! She was advancing directly towards them; their voices were extended, and their flag displayed. But although it was impossible they should be heard, it was not impossible they should be seen. Their flag was descried by the people on board the ship, their courses were so directed as to form the speediest union, and in a few minutes they found themselves on the deck of the Lively, of Whitby, under circumstances of safety. They received from their townsmen the warmest congratulations, and while each individual was forward in contributing his assistance towards the restoration of their benumbed bodies, each of the rescued appeared sensible that their narrow escape from death was highly providential.

The forbearance of God is wonderful. Perhaps these very men a few hours before were impiously invoking their own destruction, or venting imprecations upon their fellow-beings. True it is, the goodness of the Almighty extendeth over all his works, and that while “he delighteth in mercy” he is “slow to anger.” It is no exaggeration to affirm, that every guilty soul of man unpardoned and uncleansed through the blood of the Mediator, is exposed to a peril equally portentous with that which threatened these fishermen. God has, however, provided an ark of mercy, floating on the billows of life’s tempestuous, dangerous ocean, within which every soul may find perfect and permanent peace. That ark is even now present, and entrance to it may be instantly secured. To delay is to increase the peril, perhaps beyond the possibility of future relief. “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” Reader, enter into this ark of mercy by faith in the Lord Jesus!

One of the most calamitous events which in modern times has occurred in the fishery, was that which happened to the crew of the Ipswich, captain Gordon, about fifteen years ago. A whale was struck and killed by the Ipswich’s people early in the spring of the year, a season in which the weather is most uncertain. A storm commenced, accompanied with snow, before the capture was completed, but nevertheless the fish was taken to the ship, and having shelter from the ice it was flensed. Meanwhile, four boats’ crews were employed on a piece of ice, in hauling in the lines of the fast-boats, etc., during the performance of which duties the ship drifted out of sight of them. Every effort was then made by the captain for discovering these unhappy men, who, being above twenty in number, constituted nearly half of his crew. But the weather continuing thick and stormy, and the frost most intense, it is probable that they all perished before the conclusion of the gale; at least none of them were saved, nor can I learn that any of their bodies were ever found.

The remarkable property of oil in smoothing the surface of the sea when considerably agitated, and of preventing breakers in the main ocean, was sometimes resorted to by the ancient whale-fishers for their preservation, when overtaken by storms at sea. It was not unusual, I believe, a century ago, for every whale-boat to carry along with it a keg of oil for this very purpose; which oil, being slowly poured overboard in a storm, afforded a sort of defence to the boat as it drifted to leeward. The height of the waves, it is true, is not affected by the action of the oil, but as it intercepts the attraction which dry air possesses for water, it prevents the immediate action of the wind, quells the ruffled surface of the waves, and in a great degree prevents the tendency to breakers, which constitutes the principal danger in a storm.

The most extensive source of danger to the whale-fisher, when actively engaged in his occupation, arises from the object of his pursuit. The fisher is liable to receive contusions from oars forcibly struck by the fish, or from direct blows from its fins or tail; he is liable to accidents from getting entangled by the lines, or from the boat being drawn under water by the fish through the medium of the lines; and he is in danger of being thrown overboard by the heeling or jerking of the boat, or more particularly from the boat being stove, upset, sunk, or projected into the air, by the force of a blow from the whale.