William H. Macy  Source  Whalesite

Leaves from the Arethusa's Log.
No. 24

W. H. Macy

Flag of our Union.
Vol. 23, No. 48 (Nov 28, 1868)
p. 766.

Leaves from the Arethusa's Log.

No. 24.

HOMEWARD.

The whale recognized as an old acquaintance. — Incidents of the run home. — Nantucket again.

      The last whale! How many pleasant recollections are associated with this landmark in the voyage! How many congratulations were exchanged among us, and how many smart things said! Sweethearts and wives are especially remembered, for both married and single are in high feather, and this is emphatically a red-letter day in the Arethusa's calendar. The work of cutting goes bravely on, amid a running fire of good-natured remarks and spicy jokes, which, of course, between the regular "natives" bear something of a personal character; for every true knight of the island chivalry in those days had his "ladie-love," whose image, held in fond remembrance, fired his heart and nerved his arm in his perilous encounters with leviathan. Each of our Nantucketers, on occasions like this, called to mind some fair face and form, his life-partner, either in esse or in posse; all had either wives to maintain or wives to obtain. The captain himself is not slow to take part in this badinage, for we are cutting the last whale now, and it is a time to waive the little restraints of rank.

      "This is a noble whale, and, being the last one, of course, the blubber is uncommonly fat," said he, as he drove his sharp spade into it, and slashed it into convenient pieces with true professional pride; "this is the one that pays for the bridal outfits and town clerk's fees. Let's see, Mr. Grafton, we shall get invitations to three weddings, certain. I don't know but more, but we may count on three."

      "Mr. Bunker thinks we needn't count on him," said the mate.

      "Nonsense!" returned the old man. "He thinks we Newtowners don't know his cruising-grounds, because the first landfall he means to make is away up North Shore Hill. But he can't throw any dust in my eyes."

      "You didn't mean to count me, sir," said Fisher, "for I never have anything to do with the women."

      "No, of course not," said the captain. "I'll bet that within forty-eight hours after we all get our new sails bent, I shall meet you, head and head, coming down the fashionable side of Orange Street, with studdingsails out both sides — sweeping common folks like me right off into the gutter."

      "Well, I've got sisters, you know, sir," said Fisher with a half-blush. "I must show them round."

      "Yes, I know it; but, if the Fortitude gets home ahead of us, one of your sisters wont want your services."

      "That's so," put in the second mate. "You can set a new studdingsail on that boom, Fisher."

      "There, you haven't a word to say, Mr. Dunham," replied the captain. "If you were landed there to-day, there would be an invasion of 'Egypt,' and a 'rush to arms' in that quarter of the world that would equal anything in the days of Bonaparte. A-a-ah! my spade!" said he, suddenly changing his tone. "I've struck a ringbolt — no, it isn't — it's something in the blubber — head of an iron — somebody has had a crack at this whale before."

      He pulled it out, and wiped it off with a piece of canvas, scraped it lightly with his jackknife, and examined it with an incredulous look.

      "Eureka!" he shouted at last, holding up the fragment of the harpoon. "Here's my iron! Who says he isn't my own whale, when he has carried my mark these twelve years!"

      It was even as he said. There was little more than the barbed head left, for it must have been long before the wound cicatrized, and the small part of the shank had been reduced to a mere shred of iron from the effects of long attrition and corrosion; but fairly legible on the thick centre-piece of the head were the marks boldly cut with a chisel, S. COL'S. L. B.

      "Ship Colossus's Larboard Boat," said the old man, triumphantly. "Shouldn't want any more evidence in case of life and death. It's twelve years since I struck that fish — the first time, I mean."

      The last round of blubber has been "piked off;" the last pot of oil "baled down;" the last pipe stowed that "chocks off betwixt decks," and Old Jeff's immense "plantations" displayed in a triumphant double-shuffle on the main hatches. Now comes the expected and welcome order. "Overboard tryworks!" Crowbars, hammers, or whatever else will serve the purpose, are seized, and rapidly the cumbrous pile of greasy bricks and mortar disappears under our vigorous blows, the pots alone being saved for the next voyage; the deck is washed and planed off where it had stood; and the old strainer, shattered by hard service, and half-charred by the fire, travels the same road, overboard. We are all astonished that our ship has such a spacious maindeck; and she herself, by her more buoyant and elastic movement, seems to share in the general joy, at being relieved of this unsightly burden.

      Still onward, homeward, she bounds along! down into the south-east trades, where the duty of dressing her up for home begins; where the operations of fitting, rattling down and tarring down furnish ample employment for us all; where outward-bound merchantmen are met, and passed every day, and longitudes compared by chalking them in gigantic figures on boards, like showmen's posters; where the south-east trades haul to north-east, and knock us off into the "bight of Brazil," compelling us to beat off and on for several days; where catamarans, or triangular rafts, fully officered and manned by one Portuguese, come off several miles to sea, to catch fish, and to sell them, too, if a passing ship comes conveniently near; where a big, black steamer, evidently of Yankee build, but wearing the gorgeous Brazilian flag, and showing the name "Bahiana," passes almost within hail of us. We are favored with a slant of wind at last; Cape St. Augustin is doubled and left astern, the towers of Pernambuco are seen, with ships in the roadstead, and now the coast again trends to the westward, and is soon lost to our view.

      "Sail ho!" a whaler, too, right from home! Now for a gam, for newspapers, perhaps letters, too, for some of us, for books, for tobacco! She hails us, and gives her name as the "Delta, of Greenport." No letters for us there; but we get bundles of New York papers, and peruse them, all four pages, from "clew to earring," advertisements and all. They are filled with politics, for this is campaign year (1844), and of course, we are highly competent, after nearly three years' absence, to understand the issues of the hour! Not a word is said about the National Bank, or the Sub-Treasury, or any of the old bones of contention which are familiar to us, but everything is Texas or no Texas. Henry Clay's name is prominent, and excites no wonder, for his fame has long been national; but "who is James K. Polk?"

      The equator is crossed, and now how we check off the degrees of latitude, day by day, as we run them up in the north-east trades, for we are on the home side of the line! Our rigging is all fitted and tarred down, and a coat of paint from the mastheads down to the water-line, inside and out, works a wonderful change in the appearance of our noble ship. How eagerly we hail the first patches of gulf-weed! and as we plough through immense quantities of it, day after day, and haul great snarls of it in on deck, wonder what is the use of it, and what becomes of it all, finally?

      We pass Bermuda without the usual heavy squalls characteristic of that locality, but off Hatteras we lie to a couple of days, and ride out a "clear nor'wester," which seems to blow out of the sun and stars, rather than the clouds. Block Island is our first landfall; and, leaving this on our port bow, we shape our course for the Vineyard Sound. It is nearly night when we see a pilot-boat coming for us, and every heart leaps with joy at the thought of soon being at anchor in a home port. Merrily we rouse up the chain cables from their rusty lockers, and tumble the anchors off the bow; our maintopsail is thrown aback, and the pilot-boat shoots up within hail."What ship is this?" he asks.

      "The Arethusa, of Nantucket."

      "O yes! how d'ye do, Captain Upton? You look deep," says the pilot.

      "Full ship," replies the old man, rather proudly. "What's sperm oil worth?"

      "'Bout eighty-five cents. Haint you got a piece of salt pork to spare, captain?"

      "Yes, half a dozen," answers the captain, who, knowing the ropes, has it all prepared beforehand. "Here, pass this meat into the boat."

      "Now, haint you got a few fathoms of second-hand towline that you can spare as well as not? You see my peak-halyards, they're about worn out."

      "Here it is, waiting for you," says the old man, with a laugh. "It's the most remarkable thing, that a Sound pilot-boat's peak-halyards always are about worn out! Here, pass this coil of line into the boat. I suppose you can get us into Oldtown to-night, can't you pilot?"

      "Well, I guess you don't want to go in there, captain. I can get you in to-night as far as Holmes' Hole, anyhow, and if it's fair weather in the morning I'll take you right down to the Bar, and the camels will take you in."

      "Ah, yes, the camels; they're a new institution that we've never seen yet. They've been built since we were away. Do they work well?"

      "O, yes, indeed," says the pilot, "pick the ship right up, cargo and all, and back her into the harbor and drop her alongside of the wharf."

      "Good," says Captain Upton; "those are the very animals that I want to see."

      "I reckon the folks down to Nantucket are getting worried a little about you, captain. They heard from you on Japan, somewhere in the middle of the season, but they didn't hear of your being at the islands in the fall, when we got the reports from the fleet. 'Spose you made a port in some out-of-the-way place?"

      "Yes, I made a running cruise of it, and didn't anchor till I made my last port in Sydney; so I've brought my own report from there."

      We ran into Holmes' Hole and anchored at nine o'clock among a large fleet of coasting vessels, who had made a harbor for the night like ourselves. Before daylight in the morning we were heaving up again, and, with a fair wind, we ran down for Nantucket Bar with all our bunting flying. Down goes our anchor again in the old berth which we left three years ago, the sails are rolled up to the yards in a hurry, and a boat is lowered to pull the captain ashore. The owner is seen with his horse and the inevitable green box on wheels, waiting on the cliff shore to receive him, and take him to the arms of his family. The boat pulls square in, and lands him on the north beach, and returns to the ship, for an immense black Noah's-ark-looking craft is already seen moving out of the docks in the harbor, which the pilot tells us is "the camels." Several boats soon arrive, with friends and relatives of the Nantucket men. Here is our worthy mate's son in one of them, a stout, well-grown lad and evidently a "chip of the old block;" and here in another boat is an embryo "Cape Horner," a young brother of Obed B., who is already shipped, and is to sail in a fortnight.

      "Ah, Obed;" he says, as he hops in over the rail, with hands outstretched, and his nut-brown, young face lighted up with pleasure and excitement, "I'm going in the Ranger; and if you hadn't got home just as you did, you wouldn't have seen me for I don't know how many years. Yes, the folks are all well at home, and the camels will have you into the wharf before night. The steamer will be along soon. We've got a new steamboat, too, since you went away. Say, Obed, I got the dollar from Captain Upton's wife this morning. I was the first boy that knew it was the Arethusa. One of the men came down out of the old south tower, and told me what signal the ship had set, and I put for the captain's house. I got the dollar, and then I dug for another, for I knew where the mate's wife lived, too; but some other boys had found it out by that time, and I had a tight race for it with Jack Manter, but I was tired then, I had run so far, and Manter got ahead of me, and sung out first, as he rushed into the front entry, but I tumbled right in after him. Mrs. Grafton was scared half to death at first, till she understood what the matter was, and then she laughed and cried both at once, and handed out a dollar, and said we might divide it, if we liked, but it belonged to Jack, for he was a little ahead of me, and I didn't care much, for I'd got one. Some mates' wives don't give but half a dollar," said he, pausing to get breath.

      I cannot stop to hear any more, for here is Richards, still out-door clerk of Messrs. Brooks & Co., and he is the only man likely to have any news for us "off islanders." He is ready with a hearty greeting and hand-shaking, and is prepared to "infit" us with clothing of any style, price or quality, as soon as we land. He produces a bunch of letters which have been directed to various ships expected to arrive soon, "care of Brooks & Co.," and rapidly shuffles them over. Yes! there is my loved sister's handwriting, and here is another from my parents. I tear them open with a beating heart; all is well with those nearest and dearest to me. That is enough for the present. I will read the details when more at leisure, and in a few days I will be with them. I shall not write in reply, but, like the ship, I will bring home my own report.

      "Here comes the camels round Brant Point!" cries the mate, running with the spyglass to look at the clumsy, floating dock which is creeping slowly at us, without any visible means of propulsion, so far as we can see, for the propellers are under the stern. It looks like nothing in the way of naval architecture that we have ever seen, but might serve as an immense floating battery, to be moored for the defence of a harbor. As it draws nearer, we can see that it is built in two parts, being divided lengthwise. The inside of each section or half is built concave to receive the hull of the ship, and to fit round her sides, and under her bilge and floor, as nearly as possible to its general form. The two parts are connected by several heavy chains, which are secured on the deck of one "camel," passing down through it under the keel of the ship, and up through the other, where they are hove taut with windlasses.

      The camels having taken up their position near the ship, the plugs are drawn, allowing them to fill with water and sink. Being now ready to receive the ship, our anchor is hove up, lines streamed, and she is hauled in between them. The connecting chains are then hove taut by the windlasses, and thus the ship is completely docked, her bottom resting fairly on the concave inner surfaces of the camels, and the chains passing under her keel. She is now ready to be raised, and as soon as the steamboat heaves in sight, returning from her regular trip to New Bedford the steam pumps are set in operation throwing out the water from the camels. The steamer passes within hail, and goes on into the harbor to land her mails and passengers, the captain promising to return at once and hook on to us. Meanwhile the steampumps work steadily on, throwing out the water, and the whole fabric is seen gradually to rise, inch by inch, till the water is all out, and the ship is lifted out of the water, the camels themselves being flat and the draft very light. We are just in time for the returning steamboat, hawsers are run to us, she takes us in tow, and after a short struggle to overcome the vis inertiæ of the immense arklike contrivance, we move along under good headway. We round Brant Point and steam up nearly to the end of the wharf, when the steamer leaves us, the camels are filled and sink down again, the ship is dropped out from between them, lines run to the pier, and, in a few minutes, she is tied up head and stern alongside her wharf, and ready to discharge her oil. "Hurrah for the camels!" is the sentiment of every man on board, and of nearly every one on shore, too, except the lightermen whose "occupation is gone."

      Our old landlord is on hand to furnish us board and lodging at the old rates; Messrs. Brooks & Co. are in the same place, the same business operations are going on now as three years ago, and the same knots of seafaring men, or, at least, their very counterparts, pervade "the store," and pass their time in much the same manner. No one seems to have changed or grown any older. There is nothing new under the sun but the camels and the steamer "Massachusetts."

      Of course, we could not be paid off until the oil was discharged on the wharf, gauged, and filled up, so that our "lays" could be calculated exactly. This detained me several days; for, although I might have drawn money from the owners, or from Brooks & Co., yet I preferred to settle up the whole matter before going home to my friends, rather than to be under the necessity of returning to Nantucket. I, of course, took my place among the veteran whalemen, now. I had earned the right to wear a fine, blue roundabout, and morocco pumps, with long streamers of ribbon, to roll and swagger as becomes the "ancient mariner," and to patronize the green hands who formed the last cargo of the Lydia Ann, for that gallant craft is still running as good as new.

      The newly-arrived seaman, if he be man enough to keep himself sober, finds the time hang heavily on his hands. A restless activity is observable in all his movements, and some sort of excitement must be found to drive away the blues. It is found, at least so long as the money lasts. We patronized the livery stables extensively; for every day a string of carriages might be seen bound at racing speed to or from Siasconset, or "South Shore," the occupants urging the smoking horses to their greatest efforts, in desperate rivalry to "outsail" each other; and the cruise is a dull one, and wanting in interest, unless there is either a capsize, a breakdown, a runaway, or a collision. Jack is no horseman, though he is prone to think himself an excellent one. His courage and coolness in emergencies, perhaps, stand him in as good stead as would a better acquaintance with the management of the animal, for he never becomes excited after the danger arrives, and never loses his self-possession at the very moment it is needed. It is owing perhaps to this fact, that he never gets hurt in these little equestrian diversions, though he often has heavy bills to pay for repairs, to the livery-stable proprietors.

      The bowling-alley is another of the seaman's favorite resorts, where he can strip to his shirt sleeves, select the heaviest balls, and sling them at the pins with a perfect abandon or "looseness," as he would term it. The game is muscular and boisterous, and these are its recommendations; for, it is notable that the whaleman, or at least, the young whaleman, never affects billiards. Gentle exercise, such as can be taken with the coat buttoned, is not to his taste, until after he arrives at the rank of chief mate, and has more sedateness, and more dignity to maintain.

      But few days are allowed me to participate in the rough sports of my brother Cape Horners, for the stevedore's gang, and the laborers, with the gauger on the wharf have not been idle, and the "figurer," as he is called here (and who, by the way, is not one of the owners of the ship, but a disinterested party), is ready to settle up and pay us off. The next morning sees a goodly number of us on board the steamer, bound for our respective homes. We take our last look at the ship that has borne us in safety over so many thousand miles of ocean, as she now lies at the next wharf, high out of water, and in process of being stripped to a girtline, for she is to be fitted out again as fast as possible under command of Mr. Grafton. He has offered me a good berth in her, but I have not committed myself yet by any decided answer. Kelly and Hoeg are both going with him, as boatsteerers, of course, and perhaps some of the others. But I must visit my home in the country, and look about me a little before I make up my mind for another whaling cruise. In the meantime, I bid them a hearty farewell, as to all others who have accompanied me, either in the good ship herself, or in these sketches, through the pleasures and perils, the lights and shades of my checkered cruise in the Arethusa.

Source:

W. H. Macy.
"Leaves from the Arethusa's Log - No. 24."
      Flag of Our Union.
Vol. 23, No. 48 (Nov 28, 1868)
p. 766.

William H. Macy  Source  Whalesite