Chasing the Bowhead [Reprint 2013 ed.] 9780674733114, 9780674729988

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CHASING THE BOWHEAD

LONDON : HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITT PRESS

From a painting by Arthur CAPTAIN HAKTSON H. BODFISH

Freedlander

THE B O W H E A D As told hy

C A P T A I N H A R T S O N H. B O D F I S H AND

Recorded for him hy

J O S E P H C. A L L E N

CAMBRIDGE H A R V A R D U N I V E R S I T Y PRESS

1936

C O P Y R I G H T , 1936 BY T H E P R E S I D E N T A N D F E L L O W S O F H A R V A R D C O L L E G E

P E I N T E D AT T H E HARVARD UNIVERSITY P R E S S CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U . S . A .

FOREWORD industry is indissolubly linked with the history of America. The great fleet of ships from New England ports sailed every sea of the world in the momentous days of the fifties. The sons of the best famihes shipped for a whaling cruise as a part of their education. I t was a hard school, where privation and danger were the daily portion, but it bred a race of men of whom any country might well be proud. THE

WHALING

Those men were real explorers who wrote a glorious chapter in the history of the United States. Records of the voyages of whaling ships remain in the log books, but their laconical statements give only hints of the romance and tragedy behind the pages. One must be able to read between the lines and to Interpret the record to obtain a picture of what happened on those adventurous cruises. In Chasing the Bowhead we have a story of Aretic whaling told by a man who spent the best years of his life in the pursuit of whales. I t is the autobiography of one of the last of those fine men who lived a chapter of history. Simply told, the narrative is of absorbing interest. Captain Bodfish has rendered a real service in giving us this splendid personal account of a life spent in one of the most adventurous and romantic occupations known to man. ROY

CHAPMAN

ANDREWS

INTRODUCTION Hartson H. Bodfish of Vineyard Häven is one of the few remaining master mariners who brought fame to Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket, New Bedford, and San Francisco during the whaling epoch. Sought out in recent years by old and young, who have enjoyed his tales of adventure, Captain Bodfish has at last consented to have the complete story of his sensational career pubhshed in füll, and posterity will benefit thereby. CAPTAIN

The authentic tales of whaling voyages, especially those related by master whalemen, are few, and tales of Arctic whaling even fewer, for there is but a handful of living men who know the Arctic of whaling days, or who recall the aspect of the 'Forbidden Sea' when whalemen first ventured north of the Aleutian Islands. Disregarding the warnings of explorers, unmindful of the prayers and entreaties of friends, they followed the courses discovered by accident, found the Arctic sea to be navigable, and risked their own lives in the experiment to discover whether or not a white man could endure the terrible Arctic winter. Captain Bodfish is one of the men who experienced all of this and more. Following in the footsteps of other Vineyarders, he overcame the serious handicap imposed by lack of academic education and became a master mariner. Forced by circumstances to take extreme risks in order to save life, he added a wide ränge of surgical lore to the great knowledge he already possessed in other things pertaining to his hazardous profession, and through this concentra-

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INTRODUCTION

tion upon the various subjects necessary to the success of an Arctic whaleman, he not only achieved the reputation of being the greatest whaleman of the Arctic, but 'Surgeon of the North' as well. THIRTY-ONE YEARS OF ARCTIC WHALING

For thirty-one years Captain Bodfish followed Arctic whaling, with no more activities outside of the Arctic Ocean than were necessary in making the passages to and from the whale grounds. In summer and winter he lived among the frozen floes and upon the tundra and beaches of Alaska and Siberia. There are few secrets of the North or its mysterious people, animals, and bird life that are unknown to him. Indeed, many scientific facts, duly catalogued in reference books today, were first pointed out by him, and he has been regarded as an authority by such citadels of learning as the Smithsonian Institution, where his opinion on northern relics has often been sought. Such relics and curios of various kinds, brought out of the Arctic by Captain Bodfish, are displayed today in the most prominent museums of the country, and the process of obtaining some of the rarest of these curios forms various interesting chapters in the story which is to follow. Forced into retirement through the decline of the industry, man after man who followed the bowhead whale has been obliterated by time, even as the famous old ships have disappeared from the earthly scene. But a few remain, such as Captain Bodfish. His last employments afioat were in naval and Government Shipping Board service, during the World War and for some time after: a decline in Station for a man who had been absolute monarch of all he surveyed

INTRODUCTION

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for half a normal lifetime. Today, in his seventy-second year, but with erect form and unfailing faculties, Captain Bodfish looks back upon those thrilling years with gladness in his heart that he was permitted to lead a life of redblooded adventure and to associate with men of his own stripe in the great battle against nature's odds. And the sagas of all the centuries of seafaring echo in his voice as he relates the story of a life's voyages in the frozen North. J. C. A.

CHASING THE B O W H E A D

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CHASING THE B O W H E A D THE lay of the land and general aspect of the village of West Tisbury on Martha's Vineyard have not greatly changed in three-quarters of a Century. A very few new houses have been built, a few have gone, and the sandy road through the village has been replaced by a modern surfaced highway. That's about all, and yet the place is hardly recognizable as the village I recall as a small boy. For West Tisbury was the town of my birth, and my boyhood was spent chiefly within the township, located farthest inshore of any Island settlement, but producing a race of seafaring men second to none. I suppose it is the absence of this atmosphere of the sea that makes the village appear so different today and explains why I always seem to be expecting to see something that is not present, whenever I pass through the place. Old folks used to say that "the wake of a sailor ashore is a long time smoothing Over," and I guess that's about right. M y father was the village blacksmith, which put us in touch with business, and we were a large family, which introduces the economic side of the picture, as you might say. But there were numerous large families in West Tisbury and no one gave any particular thought to the matter. Prosperity and West Tisbury were synonymous, as any man of the Vineyard would teil you in those days, although I will admit that we did not have the luxuries that

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are common today. You notice I said we didn't have them. I didn't say enjoy. Personally, I doubt if we should have enjoyed many of them if we had known about them. The automobile, radio, moving pictures, even the telephone, and forty other things, had never been heard of, and nobody missed them or suffered from the lack of such things. Such a thing as a family being aided by the town was unheard of. There might have been a scarcity of money in some families at times, but there was no lack of food and fuel or clothing. For, you see, the principal needs of mankind were to be had right there for the asking. They wouldn't drop into your lap, but a man who was willing to work for his living could easily secure it, and more. There was the pond, West Tisbury Great Pond, where fish, shellfish, and wildfowl were obtained in abundance. Every man and boy dug clams, speared eels, seined fish, and shot ducks. The farms produced vegetables, grains, and meats, and the factory, down under Brandy Brow on Mill Brook, turned out the finest sort of cloth made from island wool. I think most everybody envied West Tisbury people a little, and well they might. My earliest recollections are naturally somewhat confused and intermingled. I had older brothers who worked more or less in father's shop, and I had my work to do as well. But we were all allowed ample time for play and recreation, so that while I remember blowing the bellows at the forge, and drilling bolt holes in cart tires, 1 also recall the fishing and other recreations of the time. I used to go down across the road from the factory and stow wool in sacks. The sacks were so large that they were suspended through a hole in the second fioor, and we small boys were

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dropped right inside, where we took the bundled fleeces and stowed them, Walking around on the growing pile and jamming them down as hard as possible. WTiat a mess we were when we got out of the sacks! And then we used to go O v e r into the woods and build wigwams, where we cooked blackbirds'eggs andwhatever elsewe couldfind. Andswimming! We often swam a mile in the pond to reach the beach and then went out through the opening into the surf. FISHING TO TALK ABOUT

The fishing of those days was something to talk about. I don't suppose there was any man or boy who didn't know exaetly how the tides were running and when the proper time might be for beach fishing. That's where we went for bluefish, heaving and hauUng with beach lines. This sort of fishing was one of the greatest of sports among the bigger boys, and I have seen some of my older brothers and others of the village heaving their jigs at a mark in the meadow to see who could gain the greatest distance. Sixtyfive fathoms was the longest heave, if my recollection serves me right, but there were several of the boys who could heave right around that distance. And when we went to the beach, every one fished, big and small. The big boys and men hauled fish as fast as they could just for fun, but when a little fellow got fast, the fish would almost take him overboard. Boys of today haven't any idea of what fun is. The gunning alone, such as we enjoyed, was more fun than most boys ever know today. I t involved much more skill than shooting at the present time. AU guns were muzzleloaders and many of them single shot. If you missed your

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bird, there was no second chance. And if you didn't get more than one with a shot, it might be a long wait for the second. And yet there was always plenty of game to eat, and even when breech-loading guns appeared, I recall that some of the older men preferred their muzzle-loaders. That might seem pecuHar too, for several men sent to England for their guns and paid four to five hundred dollars for them. I went to school first in the little building by the mill pond. They call it a camp today. We had men and women from the town for teachers, and 1 guess the school was as good as any of its kind. But West Tisbury had its boys' boarding school, Mitchell's Academy, and I wasn't very old when I entered there. This didn't mean any ending to the fun I enjoyed, or the work that I had to do, for my field of activity widened as I grew. We used to travel in groups to one place and another, and that's how it happened that we had a cider party once at one of the farms. The owner was making the cider and we drank more or less as it was made. But he didn't have any particular fondness for Mitchell's boys and dropped a lot of com in the cider. Two of us got home without help, but the rest had to be hauled in a cart. Com adds considerable authority to cider. Everybody rode horses in those days and every boy tried it as soon as he was big enough to mount alone. I recall a horse we had that was as gentle as a kitten until he was headed for home, when he would take the bit in his teeth and run away. He did this with me one day, and I hung to his neck until we got opposite Agricultural Hall, when I pitched off. One of his shoes grazed my head, and

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just as I was sort of collecting my wits a neighbor drove along and asked: " D i d he hurt you, sonny?" I never forgot it. ARMY DRILL AT MITCHELL'S

We had military drill at Mitchell's and the older boys also drilled in the hall. Benjamin Hillman, an ex-army man, was our drillmaster, and I still remember the uniform he wore when he came to instruct us, and his commands: "Heels together, toes turned out at an angle of forty-five degrees, knees straight, little finger along the seams of the pantaloons" — and so on. And then I began to go to parties. There were quilting parties, husking-bees, and dances. Hay rides, too, and they all occurred often. People will say that the automobile eliminated distanee. Perhaps so, but nobody paid any attention to distanee in those days if there was a party to go to. I've been half the length of the island to attend such a party, riding a horse, or in a cart filled with hay. Even in those days it took a little money to attend parties and indulge in such other activities as there were, and 1 followed the common custom in earning what I could. I used to receive ten cents an hour for stowing wool as I have described, but the most money I had as a boy was received from the sale of muskrat pelts and trout. It was legal to seil trout in those days, and I have sometimes received as high as a dollar and a half a pound for these fish in New York. I remember sending three lots on one occasion, and for some reason I was only paid for one. I t nearly broke my heart, too, to lose those fish. But 1 set traps for muskrats for miles around. I would

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turn out in the morning at two and three o'clock, partly because the rats would fight harder to get away after daylight, and hawks and crows would tackle them when it was light enough to see, but especially because I had miles to Cover and I had to be back in time for school. We used to seil these hides at the stores in the village and they brought ten or fifteen cents apiece. If we got a quarter for a skin, that was an event and every one knew about it. Speaking about these stores, there were two, both carrying everything under the sun that man or beast required. I t was here that the men folks of the village would gather, especially in winter. Grouped around the stove, they would talk about whaling, fishing, and all manner of things pertaining to their work and sports. As I have said, the town was pretty well filled up with whalemen and most of them were masters. The Vineyard never did produce many men who stayed in the fo'castle anyway, and when they congregated in Nathan Mayhew's, or Rotch's störe, the atmosphere became pretty salty in a short time. I remember one time when several of these captains had come home and had gathered in Mayhew's. A new box of oranges had just been opened and oranges were a luxury in those days, let me teil you. One of the captains tackled another noted for being a trifle dose, and proposed that old, old chestnut, the first time I had ever heard it. CAÜGHT BY OLD JEST

"Come on," he said, "I'll match you to see who treats the crowd on oranges. Heads I win, tails you lose." The other fellow took him up, and as I recall it had to buy two oranges for every man in the störe. He feit pretty well cut

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up, especially when the gang began to torment him about the way he had been stung. I mentioned that this fruit was a luxury. It was so with many such things in those days. Many of the captains of whalers would send home oranges, limes, and mangoes, and saeks of English walnuts from Brazil. Vineyard folks always used to call them 'Cape Horn walnuts.' Whenever any of the boys reeeived such a gift at his home, you can bet that that boy was populär as long as the fruit or nuts lasted. In general, however, we gathered the native nuts, hickory nuts and hazel nuts, Walking miles to find and gather them, and storing them away for winter. Life in West Tisbury village, as might be surmised, was a pretty quiet and peaceful existence, with plenty of simple fun thrown in to make it interesting. There was little excitement or disturbance of any kind. But I recall one incident when the eyes of the Island and nearby mainland were focussed on West Tisbury for a short time and people were a trifle uneasy. Three burglars, two men and a woman, came to the Island and arrived in West Tisbury. No one knew that they were fugitives from justice, but their presence attracted some little attention. They didn't stay in the village, but made some sort of a camp in the Fiat Point woods near the pond. In due time they came out and robbed the stores in the village and one or two elsewhere. Then they stole a catboat that was in the pond and attempted to escape to sea through the opening. But the surf was so high that it drove them back, and some of the men around there saw them and sent for the sheriff.

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I can remember a deputy sheriff arriving and riding down on Fiat Point on his horse to look for the burglars. I was up on the roof of a house and saw the chase and capture. When the officer brought them up to the störe, I guess the whole population of the town was there to look them Over. That was the first time I ever saw a man with irons on, and I remember one of the men asking for a chew of tobacco and how he held it with his two hands to bite it off. I believe that all three got life imprisonment.

BEGAN SEAFARING IN POND

I went to sea in West Tisbury Pond first of all. There were several quite large boats in use there, owned by the captains and fishermen, and we boys used to go out with them hauling nets or eel pots, and learning an oceasional knot or spliee. We learned to shin the masts of these boats, and one such master mariner capsized a load of us onee and we wouldn't sail with him any more. But Cap'n Cyrus Manter used to take some of us out the most often, and he always used to teil us what was going to happen when we went around Cape Horn with him. Well, I did go round the Horn with him eventually, but several other things happened first. My father had given up his blaeksmith shop and had gone into the livery stable business in Vineyard Häven. And when I was fifteen years old I left Mitchell's Academy and went to work in the stable. I took care of the horses, washed carriages, and drove. As a matter of fact, my work in summer was chiefly driving, and the principal route was between Oak Bluffs, then Cottage City, and

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Squibnocket, where the old Bass Club was at the height of its fame. Twelve members, all men of wealth, had established this club and equipped the place for catching striped bass with rod and reel. Long walks of plank ran out over the rocks, secured by means of irons set in drill holes in the boulders. And from the ends of these walks or stands the fishermen would cast into the surf for the bass. The members, their families, and guests were arriving and departing daily throughout the bass season and the local end of the transportation was no small item. With the roads all Sandy and hilly, it was a day's trip from the steamboat dock to Squibnocket and back, and often I arrived there so late that I stayed all night and returned to Vineyard Häven on the following day. There were some national celebrities among the men who came to catch bass. Elihu Root, for example, exPresident ehester Arthur, Dr. Louis Agassiz, and many others. Most of them were fine people, but there were some that I grew to dislike, particularly the children, who wanted to stop and pick all the wild flowers, thus delaying US on the way. Besides taking these people to the club house, I carted tons and tons of bass to the boat, for these sportsmen wanted to take their trophies home with them or ship them to friends. All this is by way of prelude, and perhaps not too interesting, but I mention it for various reasons. I have always maintained that the environment of youth shapes character and career, and I think that this summary of my boyhood activities shows that I was obliged to practice resourcefulness and a certain amount of hardihood, not to mention versatility, for it was a fact that Vineyard boys

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of my time were more or less obliged to turn their hand to anything and everything. I never had a thought of going whaling. Captain Manier had often talked to me about it, just as he had talked to many other boys. But my ambition had always been to become a surgeon. The thought of performing deUcate surgical Operations fascinated me and I had talked about it more or less. But education for such a profession was expensive and opportunities were rare, so that by the time of which I am speaking I had definitely given up all hope of achieving this ambition. In the meantime, through my varied boyhood experiences, I had been laying a foundation for various things, I suppose, and I imagine that I was as well prepared as the average boy of the locality when the tide finally set in the direction that I was to travel. It was my second summer in the stable. I was waiting at the steamboat dock with my carriage when the incident occurred which was to influence, yes, actually determine my entire life and career. This same Captain Manter that I have mentioned had left the Island for Bath, Maine, where a new whaleship was being built for him. He was to bring her home to New Bedford. And as I stood there on the dock that day I saw her heave in sight and pass along a mile away. Bright with fresh paint and varnish, her sails snow-white and covered with flags, the Belvedere was a beautiful and impressive sight. For the first time I feit a longing to go to sea, and on that ship, the second steam whaler ever built in this country. Captain Manter arrived on the late boat that same night and I drove him home. " H a r t y , " said he, "we're sailing in two weeks, you'd better come along." And I agreed to go.

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Three of us boys from the Vineyard shipped to sail on that voyage and five Dartmouth boys. We eight were the only Yankees in the fo'castle. We sailed from New Bedford on the 17th of August, 1880, for a voyage "not to exceed two years," according to the articles. Our destination was the Arctic Ocean; but since we had to go by way of Cape Horn, it was planned to go sperm whaling on the way to Honolulu. There we were to stop for such refitting as might be necessary and to ship another captain, for Captain Manter was to take the ehief officer's berth when the ship sailed for the Arctic. Sailing for a whaling voyage was far too common an occurrence in those days to attract more than passing attention. There was the usual bustle around the wharf, the last minute details to be attended to, relatives to say goodbye, and that's about all. We were clear, under way, and out of sight of land in a few hours, and I had been assigned to the mate's boat, pulling stroke. We had a bucko mate of the type you read about, who would strike first and explain afterward. We green hands were allowed two weeks to learn the rigging and box the compass, and after that we were supposed to be able to find our way around and to take our regulär trick at the wheel. But the mate never laid a finger on one of us Yankee boys. His attitude put the fear of God into us without question, but Captain Manter was a first class master, and I have always supposed that he warned the mate against abusing us. We raised our first whales on the 12-40 Ground, which is nearly due east from the Vineyard, but well across the ocean — a good sized school of them, and we lowered.

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There were several merchant ships in sight at the time. When we were almost upon the whales, one of those ships sailed right through the school. Every whale disappeared and we lost our chance. The things that the mate had to say about the incident must have made that merchant skipper's ears burn. +

+

But if we didn't have much whaUng, we had plenty of work to do. All of the standing rigging except the backstays was of hemp and we had to set it all up three times between New Bedford and Honolulu. Then we decorated everything in sight, after which we had the decorations to keep clean and bright. We cut out stars for the catheads, Caps for the bitts, all of brass. Plates for the pin-rails and the canvas caps for the rigging-ends were taken off and brass caps made. And every day men went over these with brick dust and brine, scouring them bright. My special job was scraping and oiling the royal-masts and gilding the trucks which ornamented the extreme tip of each mast. Some of the men were too short to reach, and some that were tall enough couldn't stand the height. To do this job, I went aloft on the ratlines to the royalcrosstrees, then shinned to the eyes of the royal-shrouds. They had no ratlines at first. With a short warp, which is simply a stout piece of rope, around my body and the mast, I could stand on the eyes or loops of the stays that passed around the royal-masthead and work clear around the mast, scraping, oiling, and finally brightening up the ball or truck at the top. My main difficulty was to avoid dropping any grease or paint. Such things always caused a disturbance. Another job that I frequently had to do was

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to paint the fore-and-aft wire stays. I sat in a bosun's chair, slung to a hank on the stay, and lowered myself down with the haUiards. This wasn't so bad, but there was still the danger of dropping paint, and in doing this job I was swung about considerably when the ship rolled. I found out very soon what the consequences were when a man spilled anything on the deck, and never lingered in the vicinity when anything of that kind oceurred. I recall that one day, when we were setting up the headgear, the mate sat on the cathead and told me to go to the boatswain's locker for something. I started, and had to pass a tar bücket that sat on a piece of canvas on the fo'castlehead. The lanyard stuck out on the deck for a distance and I stepped on it. The rope, covered with tar, stuck to my bare foot and the next step I took pulled the bücket over. I never stopped, but went faster, and ignoring the four steps down to the main deck, I jumped the seven or eight feet and ran. By the time the mate began to yell, I was at the boatswain's locker, and when I got back he had another fellow cleaning up the tar. We ran across to the Cape Verde Islands, then down off the South American coast where we Struck blackfish. We lowered for them, and one was Struck, but started to spin and rolled the irons out, so we lost him. That wound up our whaling in the Atlantic and we squared away for the Horn. We rounded Cape Horn during the first month of summer, December, and Struck just one gale. There was a big Italian bark in Company with us and when either of us went down in the trough of the sea, we couldn't see any part of her. It was pretty rugged. After the gale blew it-

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seif out, we got steam up and steamed out of there. We went fishing, and ran into Juan Fernandez for water and beef. This was the first time we had made port since sailing, four months before.

There wasn't any shore liberty though. There was a war on between Chile and Peru, and the Chileans wanted men. So the captain hired guards to prevent us from landing when we went inshore with the water casks. We towed the rafts in dose to the beach and there they were taken and filled by some of the men who brought them out to us. The governor there invited us all up to his house for lunch, but we weren't allowed to go, so after a while some women brought down all sorts of things to eat and we had our lunch in the boats. They were building some sort of a floating car to take live crawfish to market. I t was to be towed by a bark that lay there. Her captain, his wife, seven children, and two men constituted the crew. After sailing from Juan Fernandez, we spoke the bark Napoleon of New Bedford and sailed in Company with her for a week. Captain Manter visited her and gammed frequently, and her mate was aboard of us, more or less, so that I had an opportunity to go back and forth between the ships. The Napoleon had been cruising on the Line, and had a lot of sweet potatoes and coconuts aboard, so we traded tobacco and clothes for them and I got about a bushel of sweet potatoes. Funny, too, for I never would eat one at home. When we parted Company the captain of the Napoleon

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gave Captain Manter three barreis of sweet potatoes, which were stowed in the booby-hatch. I t wasn't long before some of the men who didn't have any were stealing the captain's potatoes. One day when I carried some of my potatoes to the galley to be cooked the cook refused to touch them, saying, " N o more potatoes cooked in this galley. Somebody has been stealing the old man's." And so I had to eat almost half a bushel of them raw. I told Captain Manter about it long afterward and he ehuckled considerably over it. We got our first oil on the Off-Shore Grounds, near the Galapagos Islands. No, I didn't do any striking, and neither did any one eise in our boat. The first time we went on to a sperm whale our boat steerer missed him purposely. The consequences were that, although we were in a steam-whaler, we had to help tow all the whales the others got to the ship because we failed to kill any. We made Honolulu in March, all hands enthused over the idea of going ashore and seeing the sights. But when the port authorities came aboard they told us that there were 6500 cases of smallpox there and that no liberty would be allowed. All hands had to be vaccinated except two who had had varioloid. We got provisions and coal, docking for this purpose and working under guard all the time. Then we sailed for Kealakekua Bay on the island of Hawaii. This was the usual procedure when liberty could not be given at Honolulu. Arriving there, we lay for two weeks in quarantine, and then each man was given two days' liberty, that is, from sunrise until sunset on two different occasions. All we did was hire horses and ride them, but every time we got a short distance outside of the town,

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the police would drive us back. After we had had our shore liberty, we returned to Honolulu. There we picked up Captain Leander Owen of Vineyard Häven, who was to take the ship into the North. On his arrival aboard, we made sali, bound for the Arctic Ocean.

I didn't know then that six years would flow by before I saw home again. If I could have foreseen this when we left the Zone that I had always known since childhood, it would have probably lowered my spirits considerably. But as it was, I was filled with an ambition to reach the frozen North, where men made fortunes, and whence they returned to live lives of ease and hold audiences breathless with the tales they told of stränge sights and seenes and fearsome adventures. I don't know whether I thought about telling stories at that time or not, but I did think more or less about making money, and the prospects looked favorable. Here we were, forty-five men all told, in a brand new steamship commanded by officers who were noted for their successful voyages and bound into an ocean that was filled with whales. What more could be asked.'' Arctic whaling was conducted differently at that time than it was later, oil being a valuable product of the whale as well as the bone, so that everything was fish that came to the net, as you might say. And there were other things besides whales that increased the value of a voyage. Of these I will speak later. The passage north was uneventful, except that we took six whales on the way. Arctic whalers carried harpoons,

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darting-guns, and bomb-guns, using the latter to kill the whales after they were Struck. For this reason the ordinary incident of striking and killing a whale in open water was not a particularly thrilling experienee. Accidents did occur and men lost their lives, but this was the exception rather than the rule, so that, once I became familiar with the work, I feit no other emotion in lowering than the hunting instinct which I regard as a prominent part of the make-up of all normal men. The catching and handling of these six whales delayed our passage so much that the sailing ships reached the Arctic ahead of us, but we made up for lost time after arriving on the grounds and during May and June we did considerable whaling. Toward the end of June we ran into Point Hope, where the whaling Station was located, and discharged our oil and bone to be sent home by the tender, a ship that was maintained for such usage and for bringing stores north for the fleet. Whalemen had been venturing into the Arctic Ocean for about thirty years at that time, following the discovery of the Arctic lands and whales by another West Tisbury captain, with whom Captain Manter was sailing. But they did not know much about the place or the people, as the following incident illustrates. We were trying out a whale at Point Hope, lying at anchor, and a number of the natives had come aboard to trade and look around. I was a mincing-man, standing at a wooden horse, as it was called, slicing the blubber with a huge knife resembling an oversized carpenter's drawing-knife, three times its length and seven or eight times the width. Our tobacco came in

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large plugs and I had two of these in my hip pockets as I worked. One of the native men noticed them and when the opportunity came, he stole them both. I didn't notice the loss, but one of my shipmates not only saw the theft take place, but pointed out the man who had taken the tobacco. Naturally I feit somewhat irritated, to employ a polite term, and, Walking up to the native, I demanded my tobacco by word and signs. Gaining no response beyond a grünt, I knocked him down, and in the same minute his wife, who was looking on, hastily hauled the tobacco out from under her skin shirt and gave it to me. That was all I wanted, and I started back to my work when Captain Owen came on deck, and learning what had occurred, gave me the devil. Among other things, he wanted to know if I was trying to get the entire crew butchered by the natives. Probably they were about as bloodthirsty as white rabbits, but no one knew that at the time. Leaving Point Hope, we cruised off Point Barrow and then easterly toward Herschel Island, but we didn't go very far. Every one was afraid to go very far north in those days. They were afraid of currents, ice, and of being caught in the packs. Finding no whales, we started to hunt walrus, a regulär feature of this kind of voyage when whales were scarce. Hundreds of walrus would haul out on a floe, and many smaller groups. I t was the custom to row or paddle up to the floe with a whaleboat, and the officer in charge, or some good shot, would start shooting those nearest the edge of the ice. When several had been killed, the men would land behind the dead animals, and the shooting would continue from there until all were killed or the flock became gallied

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and went overboard. A Sharps 45-70, the regulär buffalo gun, was the weapon used. Each boat carried two when walrus hunting. When one got too hot to handle it was dropped overboard on a lanyard to cool. I believe that Captain Owen killed 250 walrus on the first cake of ice. Then they had to be skinned. A boat steerer went over all of them with an Instrument consisting of a razor blade set in a wooden handle. With this he cut the back skin into squares and the men followed, skinning off these squares, skin and blubber together. Then the carcasses were rolled over and the same process was repeated on the under sides and around the shoulders. The tusks were then taken out and the squares and ivory taken to the ship. Once aboard the ship the skins had to be flensed, the blubber saved, and the skin thrown away. Then the blubber had to be pitched below, pitched back on deck to be tried out, and then sent below once more when the oil was stowed away. We worked for thirty-six hours without any sleep on that occasion and without much profit at that, since an average walrus only made about three-quarters of a barrel of oil. We took 600 of them that season. They had never seen a man before and were neither timid nor ugly at first. But later they became vicious, attacking boats and men. One boat, from another ship, was capsized and the captain, while struggling in the water was Struck by the tusk of a big walrus which caught him at the back of his collar. He wasn't injured, but his clothes were ripped completely from his body. After the walrus hunt we returned to Point Barrow. There we took fourteen whales in four weeks. I t was there

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t h a t I Struck my first whale while Captain Manter was disabled through an accident. His Eskimo boat steerer took Charge of the boat, steering me on, and I think I may say without boasting t h a t I did a creditable job. This was about the wind-up of one of the greatest voyages ever made in the Arctic up to t h a t time. The figures on our cargo when we arrived in Frisco were 1800 barreis of whale oil, 280 barrels of sperm oil, 34,000 pounds of whalebone, 2500 pounds of ivory, besides the walrus oil which we had saved. M y share was $250, of which I sent $150 to my father to pay for the outfit he had purchased for me before I started. We remained in San Francisco for six weeks, the longest period t h a t I was to remain ashore for five years to come, if I had but known it. And it wasn't spent in recreation either, for I had very little money and went right to work on the ship, helping in making certain changes and with the refitting. About the first of December we sailed again, this time under a new captain and for new grounds, the South Seas. I got my first sight on t h a t voyage of this famous section of the globe, where nature made the most perfectly-formed people and gave them everything to make them happy without having to work for it. We cruised among the Marshall Islands, the King Solomon Group, and among the various groups of the Ladrones. At many islands the natives came out to trade fruit and fowl or other things with us, but the King Solomon natives were still cannibals and weren't allowed to come alongside at all. They were splendidly built men, tattooed in fearfully disfiguring patterns and wearing bone and shell Ornaments in their ears and noses. None of them came dose enough

C A P T A I N B O D F I S H I N E S K I M O COSTU.ME W I T H M A M M O T H

TUSK

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for US to observe their teeth filed to points, but I discovered that in later years. I t was among one of these groups of Islands that we raised a school of whales one day, feeding or playing in a sort of bay. As we lowered to go after them, seven or eight native canoes put out from shore and made for the whales. The natives reached them first and speared them until they drove them away from the place. We returned to the ship and steamed after them, finally passed them, and lowered a couple of boats which we towed until a chance should arrive to tackle the whales. When they stopped running, we went down in the boats and just about that time a school of porpoises appeared. They tackled the whales, jumping over them, on to their backs and sliding off, churning the water white all around there. I t wasn't any fight. The porpoises were just having the finest kind of a time and the whales were so gallied that they lay perfectly still and we got two of them. It was the only time I ever saw anything like it, but I have seen killers and swordfish attack whales on various occasions. These were vicious, deadly battles, with the whales losing out in most instances, I imagine. My second voyage north was much the same as the first. We made a paying voyage, but there was very little money Coming to me. I knew I should have been shipped as boat steerer, but I was merely promoted to able seaman. The voyage being poorer than the first, I didn't get so large a share as I had when a green hand. Only four weeks ashore that time, but I sailed south as boat steerer on my third voyage, bound into the South Seas once more. This time we had a real scare among the

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cannibals. The captain, new to the ship, was very proud of his command and anxious to exhibit her to all who came near. Two war canoes had come out to us, canoes with great ornamented figureheads that stood higher than our rails. There were 134 natives in the two canoes, all entirely naked. They had no weapons, having come to trade, but they were not a sight that constituted a guarantee of peace. Being so proud of his ship, the captain motioned for three or four of these natives to come aboard, but to his surprise, all but four sprang to the deck, these four being left in Charge of the canoes. The decks of the Belvedere were just crowded with men and all hands were pretty uneasy I can teil you. We were out-numbered four to one. None of us had any weapons, and the belaying-pins and such articles were as handy to the natives as to us. The captain was as uneasy as any of us and motioned the natives to go. But either they didn't understand or preferred not to; anyhow they just stood where they were, looking around. The captain and mate jumped below and came on deck with their revolvers, firing a few shots in the air with the idea that it might frighten the natives. But all they did was shiver a little and look around. About that time the chief engineer stuck his head out of the companion way and took in the Situation. " W h a t ' s the matter, Cap'n?" he asked, " w a n t to get rid of 'em.!"' "Lord, yes!" responded the old man. The chief went below and lifted the safety valve and the steam rushed out of the stack with a roar. Those natives moved like one man and every one went over the side. The men they had left in the canoes were as scared as the rest and let the canoes go adrift so that nearly all those

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aboard the ship landed in the water. They swam around, climbed into the canoes, and went away, and the incident ended happily, but it was a risky piece of business. We Struck two typhoons on the way north t h a t voyage. One was shortly after we left Guam. There were two ships ahead of us and two astern, about a day or so distant. Those ships lost sails, spars, and boats, b u t we were in the storm centre and suffered no damage, although it was uncomfortable. But the other, in the Japan Sea, was pretty tough. We lay with the lee rail just above the water for three days. The ship was carrying not one stitch of canvas and the water was as smooth as a floor b u t the wind was something awful. When the wind dropped, the sea rose and we labored pretty hard for a while but came through all right. This voyage and the next didn't amount to much as far as voyages go. I t seemed as if each yielded rather less profit t h a n the last. When I came ashore after my fourth voyage in the Belvedere, they paid me just one dollar for eleven months' work. One of my mates was in an ambulance bound for the hospital, and I gave him half of the money. I never saw him again. H O P E D - F O R W E A L T H D I D N ' T SHOW

UP

Naturally in four years of whaling I had seen considerable of the business. I had formed my own opinions as to how things should be done and when. I t was rare t h a t a man stayed as long in one ship as I had, b u t then, the ship was a good one and well found, so t h a t it seemed to me t h a t my chances had been better in the Belvedere. But the wealth I had hoped for had failed to

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materialize. My mind was made up. I was all through with whaling! Accordingly I went looking for something eise. I obtained a berth as quartermaster on one of the coastal steamers running out of San Francisco. I figured that I could get plenty of seafaring on such a vessel without going through some of the experiences that had fallen to my lot in the North. Only the voyage before we had rammed an ice floe while I was aloft with the second mate, and I had been slatted against the mast with such force that I thought it had broken every bone in my body. The stem had been knocked off and we had been foreed to make a mat of two coiled hawsers and serve it with a fluke chain, and to rig this tremendously ponderous thing on the bow with four tackles in order to give us something to buck ice with. And we had broken the sleeve of the condenser discharge also, while working through the ice, and it took both steam and hand-pumps to keep us afloat until we got in to Unalaska and built a coffer dam around the place and repaired it. Oh, whaling taught a man to be self-reliant and resourceful, no doubt about that! If a man wasn't all of this, he did not remain a whaler long. He either went into some other business or overboard in a canvas shroud, but I was through! I t was shortly before I was to join my new ship that I met Captain Adams, Commander during my second voyage. He gave me some good advice and told me in piain words that I was a fool to quit whaling just when opportunity was due to strike, as you might say. The result of this conversation was that I decided to stick and to hold on until I reached the top. So I made preparations for my

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fifth voyage, which was my fifth year away from home, shipping as fourth mate in the bark Mars, the only sailing ship I ever went to sea in. I had only been ashore in Frisco ten days when we sailed, but I didn't have any use for the place when I was broke. We sailed for the Galapagos Islands, and five days out, before the crew really knew anything, we raised three whales and got one t h a t made 106 barreis of oil. This was a good start, and when we arrived at the Islands we increased this to 280 barrels. T h e Galapagos Islands are the home of the big tortoise and we had eight or ten on deck all the time. \Ye used them for food, b u t while keeping them, we raced them along the deck, betting plugs of tobacco on the results. BOAT S T E E R E R ALMOST HAD C O X V U L S I O N S

T h e afterguard aboard the Mars were all old-time whalemen, t h a t is, they had sailed the Seven Seas, principally for sperm whales. T h e first time we raised a school of whales they lay dead to windward. T h e captain and mates, as they lowered, gave the order to stow the mast and sail and get out the oars. Now this was not the way I had been trained in bowheading, and when I lowered I told the crew to step the mast, a proceeding t h a t almost gave m y old boat steerer convulsions. B u t I set everything, and as I passed the old man, he yelled at me not to dare galley the school if by chance I arrived there first. But I know he didn't expect anything of the kind. However, the breeze holding fresh, we ran up and Struck our whale before the rest were halfway to the school and then we just lay there waiting until the other boats arrived.

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After that there was no more pulling to windward aboard the Mars. At Honolulu we spoke the Fleetwing. Sailing a day ahead of her and reaehing the Arctic after a quiet passage, we Struck terribly thiek weather. Cruising, we found open water, and raised two whales very dose to the ship. We lowered, and I located the whales almost at once, following along but never getting quite dose enough to strike. For a while I could hear the other boats, but after a short time we lost all track of them. Unable to approach the whales near enough to strike, we turned back, steering for the ship, on which I had taken compass bearings when we started. But, to my surprise, we couldn't find her. We cruised one way and another, but could see nothing but a blank wall of fog which made the Situation look pretty serious. But the fog lifted suddenly and we sighted the ship, two or three miles off. The captain lit into me for chasing the whales and wanted to know what I would have done if I had taken one. A foolish question, it seemed to me, and I told him I would have brought it back. But it rather griped me when I found that shortly after the other boats came aboard, he had got under way and started beating up to windward. No wonder I couldn't find him! We picked up one dead whale, a few days after, that was fresh and worth saving, and, as we drifted into the Arctic, the fog lifted and we took another. Shortly after, the fog cleared and we met the fieet. The Fleetwing had eleven whales, and our captain, speaking to the master of that ship, observed that it didn't seem right that we should have but two whales when we sailed from Honolulu a day ahead. I never thought he had much sand, to teil you the

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t r u t h , for we were cruising right in t h e midst of whales all the time while the fog lay thick. Düring thirty-six hours of drifting, during which we picked up the dead whale, the other ships on the Siberian coast had taken 136 and the natives had taken 19 more. T h e dead one we saved was one t h a t they had killed and lost. T h a t indicates the sort of captain I was sailing with. We Struck a heavy blow off Point Belcher t h a t season and seventeen ships anchored there to ride it out. After the blow was over, one vessel was ashore high and dry with three men lost, and the others had slipped their cables and run to sea. Several had lost their anchors, and it took the Cutter several days to locate the ships and tow them back to pick up their anchors. We lost one and slipped the cable on the other and I almost wished we had gone ashore too, for the voyage would have ended sooner. RODE OUT A 24-HOUR BLOW

W'e got a couple more whales to the westward, and rode out a blow of twenty-four hours with one of them lying to a hawser with his whole jaw hanging. We saved it, but I don't know how. Then we got ashore on Seahorse Island, but, getting clear, we started for home. Now the Mars was one of the old-time ships, built by the mile and sawed off in sections of whatever length the buyers could pay for. She was " n i n e t y feet long and seventy feet deep," to quote a populär description, and was "hell for holding on, especially before the wind." Nevertheless, we made a record passage from Herald Island to Frisco, consuming but seventeen days, and when the ship was drydocked it was found t h a t seventeen feet of her false

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keel had been torn loose and lay athwartship. What she would have done without this impediment, I can't imagine. Again I was paid off with a dollar, but I got $250 advance, so it wasn't so bad. But I never sailed in the Mars again, nor in any other sailing ship. One voyage was enough and I graduated right there. I had never seen so many whales before on any voyage, and only once in my life after, yet our ship got the least, every other one bringing home from twelve to eighteen. That captain never went north again. This time I shipped in the steam bark Lucretia, stepping up another notch to third mate. Düring the 'tween-season eruise south we only got one whale and I killed that. The mate was stove and eapsized and lost his line and gear, the second mate lost his whale, all three being Struck at the same time, and my whale put up the worst fight of any I ever saw before or after. He went down at the bow of the boat and came up at the stern faster than we could move. He tried to bite the boat and I would put my hand against his head and shove the boat elear. I used up all the bombs for my gun without any effect and finally killed him with the darting-gun. He made just seventeen barreis of oil and the old man said he would much rather have saved his lost gear and lost the whale. I didn't blame him. When we got that whale alongside, he was so small that they cut his head right off and hoisted it on deck whole. As third mate, my job was in the waist and I had to take Charge of cutting up the head. This job, the easiest thing in the world when the head is overboard, and you have the weight to hoist against, becomes a nightmare when performed on a ship's deck. I had tackles rigged in all direc-

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tions as I cut off the junk and bailed the case. I never worked so hard or got so mad in all my life and all the time I could see the captain and mate on the poop, dressed in good clothes, clean and dry, and laughing as they watehed me. I always supposed that they hoisted the head in purposely. X A T I V E S AVERE F I N E A N D F R I E N D L Y

^Ye cruised around Guam, and tried to harpoon a turtle that must have been eight by six feet aeross the back shell, but the irons glanced off, it was so tough. Then we had liberty and the natives were fine and friendly. All pretty well civilized by the missionaries, and eagerly greeting newcomers to the island. At that time there was a flourishing business in progress there, that of catching and shipping the big turtles. They are amphibious to a certain degree, and the natives would catch female turtles which they tethered out on the beaches. Scores of the male turtles would thus be attracted and they were shipped to China and Japan by the schooner load. I don't recall ever seeing any account of this in print, but it always seemed most interesting to me. North once more, a hand-me-down third mate, and we captured nine whales, not a big season by any means. Nevertheless I had four or five hundred dollars when payday came. I went home by way of Panama. It seemed pretty good to be back once more. I was twenty-three years old and had been at sea for six years, had money in my pocket, prospects ahead, and stories to teil. But don't ever think that I or any one eise could come

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back from the Arctic in those days, or from anywhere in the Pacific for that matter, and relate any thrillers that weren't pretty near truth. West Tisbury folks knew as much about the goings on in Honolulu as they did about Gay Head, and probably more, and a very dose track was kept of all activities in the Arctic. Store-keepers, farmers, and women and children, conversed as familiarly of San Francisco, Alaska, and Hawaii in those days as they did of their neighbors' chickens. After about two months at home I returned to Frisco and shipped on the steam bark Grampus. I was mate on the articles, but actually third mate. I t happened, as was frequently true, that the mate had been shipped for his whaling ability and not for his qualifications as a mariner. We sailed directly north that year, as the start was late, and for the first time in my life I began to experience the bürden of responsibility that goes along with the berth of an executive. Life had been unsatisfactory perhaps, but very smooth and untroubled as a foremast hand, but now. . . . Well, there was very little doing in Bering Sea that season, and the voyage went along quietly enough until we left the tender at Port Clarence. Then, thinking that we didn't have coal enough, we went ashore at the coal mine to dig more. The mate went ashore with us. He was one of the type known as a 'still drunk.' He was suffering from this complaint that day and leaned carelessly against a big boulder in the bank. The boulder slid out and broke his leg and the mate was of no account to us for the balance of the voyage. That shifted more responsibility to me, which was all right, but it brought me in con-

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tact with several other things which were not entirely agreeable. My boat steerer was the captain's pet, and he had already missed a whale or two for me, but had escaped being 'broken' because of the captain's fondness for him. One bright sunny day we were cruising in the boats and ran along the edge of a long ridge of ground ice. We could hear whales but we couldn't see them, but finally loeated them across on the other side of the floe. There was a sort of bay in the ice, filled with soft, mush ice, and the whales were in there. With paddles and boat-hooks we worked our way around and into this bay, and finding a crevice in the ice that would just hold our boat, we shoved her in there and waited. No one dared to speak or breathe loudly as we watched those whales rise and spout and sound again. Sooner or later we knew one would come near enough to strike and that was what we waited for. It would have been impossible to pull up to one in that mush ice without frightening him. S H O V E D BOAT CLEAR OF CREVICE

Again and again they rose and spouted, and once one of them came so dose that I could see his eye under water. I cautioned the men not to move, and soon our chance came. One of the whales came up and headed for the boat. Closer and closer he came until he was just where we wanted him. Shoving the boat clear of the crevice, I told the boat steerer to strike. That man picked up his dartinggun and chucked it right up into the air. It came down with a slap on the whale's back and the whale kicked and sounded.

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I was mad, but the crew was crazy, and ready to kill the boat steerer. We returned to the ship and I told the captain my story. "There's my boat on the cranes," said I, " a n d I'm all through using her until I get a new boat steerer!" The mate's boat steerer was assigned to my boat. He Struck four whales for me that season, while the captain's pet was landed at Cape Smith, where he went whaling with the natives and lost 'em then. We sailed for home with fifteen whales, and the voyage had started on a Friday too. But the only threat of bad luck occurred on the way out when we lay in Plover Bay on the Siberian coast. I was out in my boat codfishing and I saw a Russian eutter steaming along. I didn't hurry to get to the ship and I still think she would have passed right on her way if they hadn't begun to crowd the fire aboard the Grampus, and of course the smoke began to pile out of the staek. Smoke began to pile out of the Russian's Stack as well and in she came. We were under way and she let go with a couple of guns before we hove-to. A boat was lowered and came alongside. The first man aboard was a seaman who stood at the gangway. When the officer came up, the seaman stuck out his arm and the officer took off his overcoat and threw it across the sailor's arm. The sailor stood in that position, holding the coat until the officer got ready to leave the ship. " I have come to seize your ship," began the officer when he met the captain. "Seize my ship! W^hat for?" demanded the old man. "You don't understand, I said 'sees,' I mean to look, to search," explained the officer, which relieved the feeling of all hands. The mate, who had been seized once by the

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Russians, slipped below and stayed out of sight, but the officer went around, looked into everything, and pronounced things all right. Then he and his men went aboard the Lucretia, which was dose by, and as it was near dark, the Russians remained aboard her all night. They were looking chiefly for liquor, it being a violation of Russian law even in those times to seil or trade liquor to the natives. That time I had $1500 coming to me when I arrived in Frisco, enough to cut quite a splurge when I arrived home, for I made a straight wake for the Vineyard as soon as the voyage was settled. I hadn't climbed very high on the ladder to success, but I feit that I was firmly established on it. B E G I N N I N G OF STRICT ARCTIC W H A L I X G

It was in 1888 that I left San Francisco once more, sailing as second mate of the Grampus, the ship aboard which I had made my last previous voyage. This was the real beginning of my term of strict Arctic whaling, for by Coming east to visit my people during the winter, I was obliged to miss the 'tween-season cruises among the South Sea Islands. This voyage was eventful for several things which fail to bulk very large in the recounting and will probably constitute as dull a chapter as any in the narrative of my voyaging. But the significance of the various items that are featured at this point will reveal themselves later, even as they were revealed to me, for this voyage, and several others as a matter of fact, were what you might term a session in training school for a master whaleman.

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I never have allowed myself to entertain the idea that I am a whale of a lot wiser than anybody eise, but when I have had the ehance to stand by and see another man fall head-foremost into a bad error, my common sense has warned me against doing that particular thing, and in many cases I have remembered the warning. So that while I was able in later life to make quite a reputation for myself, I feel obliged in all honesty to give due credit to those associates and Commanders of mine for demonstrating the various things that a shipmaster should not do. Some of these things occurred on this particular voyage, and a tedious lesson was given me during those months, but although I certainly lost by it at the time, it gave me the true bearings on a course that led to much more welcome results. For example, we got just three whales and no more for an entire season's work. In spite of the*fact that a second officer received a liberal 'advance' on a voyage and suffered no real lack of money, this was discouraging, especially to a young, ambitious fellow like myself. As to the reason for this, it appeared piain enough to me even then. Here we were, a fleet of vessels cruising about in a relatively small ocean area. On one side were the Islands and straits where we came in from the Bering Sea. That was to the south. To the east and west were the coasts of Alaska and Siberia, and to the north, unknown and forbidden territory. Now the custom was to cruise back and forth from east to west, coast to coast, so to speak, fighting ice, whaling, and doing whatever there was to be done, or could be done, and always turning back from a point not far distant from

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Point Barrow, which a glance at any geography map today will show is hundreds of miles away from the last cruising grounds of the whalers. But no one knew that northern sea or the land that adjoined it. No one knew the natives there, nor anything eise about it, and it may have been because there was such a mystery so dose aboard that the fleet kept dose together for the greater part of the time, one ship following another and the whole fleet trailing after. I have heard of captains going below to turn in, and leaving Orders to be called if the fleet moved. This sort of practiee didn't impress me very favorably, and I resolved right then that if ever I became master, I would never give such an order, for I could see at that early stage of the game that it was the leaders who made the big voyages and they made them because they found the whales a day or two, or even a few hours, before the rest of the ships arrived. I kept this resolution, too, as I will explain later. MUCH E X P E R I E N C E I N ICE PILOTING

On this voyage I had a great deal of experience in ice piloting. Also it was the start of my keeping a log. A second officer was not required to keep a log, but I had the time and opportunity to do it, and now, in running over the sea-chestful of logs that I have fllled, my memory of that voyage is refreshed and the experiences come back to me clearly. (The tone of the entries in these early logs of Captain Bodfish indicates the interest he was developing in the variety of Arctic phenomena, which increased with the passing of years until he was accepted as an authority on many things pertaining to Arctic Hfe and eonditions. Some of the earliest entries made by the captain in his first log book, and his explanation of them are as follows:)

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" L a t . 37.48. Rainbow at night, sailing right into it. This rainbow was caused by the moon, and both ends hit the water so that the ship sailed right under the bow. "Anchored and caught fifty codfish and four halibut. "April 8th. Salt water froze on deck for the first time since leaving Frisco. "Captain offers box of tobacco for every head and tail. "April 19th. Coldest night yet, fifteen degrees above. Four planets in a perfect arc across the sky." This entry is accompanied by a sketch of the planets and their positions. Notes on killing seal follow. Certainly, we ate seal. The liver of young seals is fine. None of the flesh tastes like any other meat that I know of. Plenty of whales appeared about this time, but the ice interfered with our activities. We lowered on the first of May for the first time, and the boats of the Jessie H. Freeman lowered with us. The mate of the Freeman was capsized too. It's no fun to be capsized in ice water, let me teil you. I t makes a man wish that he were somewhere eise. Bröken ice of this sort makes whales act peculiarly. They have to come up to blow or breathe, and they will rise in a crack or fissure anywhere where they can get their spout holes above the water. I once saw a whale come up right alongside the ship with his head looming way above the rail. My boat steerer, who was at work in my boat, passed me the bomb-gun and I shot him, thinking I might injure him and we should be able to get fast. But he settled and we never saw him again.

CHASING THE BOWHEAD A

TRIAL OF ARCTIC

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W H A L I N G

Working through this ice which we Struck in the Bering Sea was one of the trials of Arctic whaling. The experience on this particular voyage was another significant thing, for the first two officers of a ship are the men picked to do most of the ice-piloting. We would go aloft to the crow's nest and pick out the open places where the ship could pass, haihng the deck as often as a change of course was necessary. The officer of the deck would give the necessary Orders to the man at the wheel. I've heard of whistles being used on some ships, but they never proved to be as satisfactory as a good, husky yell from aloft. In this manner we zigzagged back and forth through the ice, following the cracks and open places. A great deal of it was heavy, especially on the Siberian coast, and you can't force a ship through solid ice. Estimating the thickness of this ice by the amount showing above water, it might have run from fifteen to thirty feet in thickness. But the tides cause the floes to open and dose, and when they opened we would follow these cracks. \Yhen they closed on us we stopped and waited. Occasionally we would steam at füll speed for a cake to break it, but that is all the ice breaking we ever attempted. On many days there was no motion to the ice, aside from the drift, but on others the swell would heave it around. On such occasions we had to watch our rudder very carefully to avoid its being damaged. We would keep it Square amidship if possible, using extra tackles secured to the pennants that we always carried on the rudder for the purpose, and setting them up to the quarters. I recall

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once that the ice closed on us just as we were approaching open water, almost in it, in fact. The ice caught the ship right amidship, and jammed, with both bow and stern in elear water. We chopped and steamed, did everything we could think of to elear her but we couldn't move her at all. That ice was twenty-five feet thick and it was hours before it slackened up and let us go elear. On another occasion, not on this particular voyage, we drifted into the Arctic in the pack and almost out again. On the outward passage, we were caught between the shore pack and the offshore floe, which, coming together, jammed us solidly. As the two packs came together, a big cake of ice split in two and one piece turned up on edge right against the ship's side. I t was almost as long as the ship and stood higher. When the packs jammed, this cake took the strain, but the ship was hove down so flat that a man couldn't walk along the deck. For four days we couldn't do any cooking aboard. We lived on hardtack and canned goods and hoped for the best, which didn't promise to be too good. ALL HANDS A LITTLE BIT CRAZY

Just how much strain all hands were enduring, no one man could say, but when, after four days in that Situation, the ice suddenly broke very near us and whales began to appear, all hands went just a little bit crazy. We grabbed whale spades and boat-hooks and going to the outer edge of the ice began to break it off. Finally, we Struck into one cake and moved it, and the whole mass spread out and began to scatter, taking men and tools in all directions. We had to lower a boat and pull around to pick them up. We

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got three whales during the next few hours, so you see things turned out pretty lucky for us, but if it hadn't been for that cake o£ ice, the ship would have gone down right there. As it was, the fleet gave us up for lost, no one having Seen us since we were caught in the pack and drifted into the Arctic. The ships were built to stand considerable, of course. From the stem on aft, there were fifteen feet or more of almost sohd oak. The braeing was so thick that nothing whatever could be stowed in this space in the bow. Timbering was very heavy, and the planking was four inehes thick, with a sheathing of ironwood outside of that varying from three inches at the bow to one and one-half inches aft. It stuck out far enough forward to give a man a chance to walk along on the edge if he had a line to hold to. Copper and oak sheathing were tried out in the Arctic at first, but neither one would do. Then they got the ironwood from the South Seas. I t cost ninety dollars a thousand feet, which was a tremendous price to pay for lumber of any kind then, but it would stay on a ship's sides and wear right down to nothing. Dynamite and powder were carried into the North, but neither one was of much account. You couldn't break that ice nor cut it, except where it happened to be light. Arctic ice isn't like any other kind. It is never smooth, for example. When it starts to make, little cakes form, the size of a plate. They mass together and keep getting larger and larger, then it piles into points and ridges. When the ice is new it is slightly darker than the water, but most of it is dirty from the dust blowing from the shore and looks more like mud than anything eise. The Bering Sea ice is

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all dirty and none of it is white. Bergs, covered with dirt and mud, and filled with holes and crevasses, are all colors when the sun strikes them. Blue, green, purple, and gold, according to the angle of the ice where light shines on it. The pack moves in summer and winter. At times there is no ice in sight, and then suddenly it will appear and pile up terribly. I recall one winter when I was lying behind a sandspit, waiting for spring, when the ice all disappeared. I left Orders to be called at four o'cloek, and to have steam up, ready to get under way. At midnight they called me to look things over, and the pack was back again. In fifteen minutes it had piled fifty feet high on the sandspit and the topmost cake was eight feet square and seven feet thick. Ice was very bad on this second voyage of mine in the Grampus, and I had ample opportunity to observe many of these things that I have described. We couldn't do any whaling while we were held in the pack, and many of the other ships were as bad off as we were. Four ships of the fleet each took one whale up to the last of May and that was all that was taken. So that the log is filled with entries of little consequence, though interesting to run over after all these years. " J u n e lOth, got forty-three ducks and four seals." This entry was made while the ship was caught in the ice for the second time. She went clear on the fourteenth of June, and we sailed for Plover Bay. Again the log: "Natives aboard trading, June 29, twenty vessels in sight." This was due to the fact that they followed one another, and because Plover Bay was a place where all ships went to trade for boots and skin clothes for

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the men. We used to get four to five hundred pairs of boots at a time. Later. " A t Port Clarence. Twenty-three vessels at anchor, flags Aying, whistles blowing, men firing guns and gamming." Shortly after leaving Port Clarence, we surveyed our stock of coal, and fearing that we did not have enough, we ran up the coast to the coal mine and took aboard more. This coal mine was nothing but a collection of veins of bituminous coal which showed on the face of the mountain. Some were very small, but there was one that was seventeen feet from the top to the point where we dug. We blasted it out with powder, sacked it up and boated it aboard, a wonderful thing for the steam whalers. On August 16th, according to the log, the ship was trading with the natives at Barter Island. These natives were Kogmullucks and had never before seen a ship. The incident serves to indicate how slightly white men had penetrated into the North and how sharply the line was drawn between the known and unknown areas. AVe didn't have the opportunity to learn much about these natives at the time, and the couple of Eskimos of other tribes who could speak their language were not gifted Interpreters. But we traded for some fish and went on our way. So we crossed and recrossed this area of the Arctic Ocean, and not until the twenty-second of September did we strike and kill our first whale. We had Struck and lost one before this. The temper of the officers was not improved either by this prevailing bad luck or by the report of six vessels frozen in already. The young ice was making fast and the weather getting colder. I t was at this time that I had a row with

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the captain, who threatened to relieve me from duty. Then, on the third of October, we got two more whales, which made us feel slightly better. We started out of the Arctic, and bad or at least threatening luck followed for a time, for we almost ran down one of the other ships in the night, during my watch. I t was a mighty dose shave, as the ships tore out of the darkness only a few fathoms apart, both moving fast, but the same forces that had averted disaster before held on all around, and we eleared each other and plunged out of sight in the night. There was very little Coming to me in the way of settlement when we reached Frisco, but I wasn't discouraged, for I feit certain that I knew exactly why we had made such a poor voyage. Briefly, it was because we had been one of the 'followers' all through the season, and I doubted not for a minute that had we taken the lead and disregarded the fleet entirely we should have made a decent voyage. Therefore I wasted no time in mourning. My determination was strengthened to bide my time and then, when I took command of a ship, to try out my own newlyformed theories. This decision accounted, more than anything eise, for my shipping again in the Grampus. Time and experience were what I was after, if I was to obtain the promotion that I sought, and once more I sailed north without any particular hope of making a season. This was the summer of 1889, and while we were at anchor in Harrison Bay, a trader came out from the Mackenzie River with a canoe and reported plenty of open water up there in the forbidden sea. Luck had been poor, and seven steamers started

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in to the east of Point Barrow to t r y their luck in the unknown waters. SAW FIBST STAR OF SEASOX

I t was daylight for the entire twenty-four hours when we started, b u t before we had made the four hundred and some odd miles to the mouth of the Mackenzie we saw the first star of the season. On the eleventh of August, we anchored on the east side of Berschel Island: the Lucretia, Jessie Freeman, Orca, Narwhal, Thrasher, William Lewis, and Grampus. From this point we cruised about rather timorously, I suppose, not knowing just what we might run afoul of. T h e Freeman ran offshore, and came back reporting a shoal where there was less t h a n four fathoms of water, fifteen miles off the land. This frightened all hands to death and some of the ships left at onee. They wouldn't take any chances of getting ashore in t h a t lonesome place, where perhaps no help could be obtained and where the trip back to civilization was so long. B u t the rest stayed on for a time. Hardly any white men, except a few explorers, had ever visited this country where we were. McClure's expedition had been there m a n y years before, also McClintock's party, and we found two natives at King's Point who were small boys at the time and who recalled having seen the white men. T h e remainder of the tribe had never seen any whites until we arrived. B u t we didn't have much time to talk with these natives. Although our ships had remained, the officers were uneasy, and we only remained there about forty-eight

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hours before sailing to the westward. Two ships, the Orca and Thrasher, hung on for a week or ten days, and each got two whales. The idea of wintering in the North was born right then, but naturally, perhaps, in the minds of the younger men. As for US, we lay at anchor at Return Reef, in Company with another ship, and early in the morning we could hear whales. But the other ship had gone and the old man wouldn't stay there alone, so we got under way and left the whales. The men weren't feeling too cheerful at this particular time. We hadn't taken a whale and one fireman became rather unruly. The chief had some words with him, and finally busted him, as the term was, meaning to reduce in Tating, and ordered him to the fo'castle, while a Seaman was chosen to serve as fireman. For some reason I was usually chosen to discipline any man who seemed to need it, and this fireman was assigned to my watch. He had been in the fire room all the season and suffered from the cold. Besides, he had no outfit for working on deck. So I gave him some boots and für clothing from my own supply. Instead of being grateful, he gained the Impression that he was a particular pet of mine. Right away he started to soldier, and I had to haul him out of his bunk and thump him a couple of times, besides sending him aloft alone to furl a t'gallants'l, before he realized that he was expected to do his share of the work. We never got a whale until the first of October, and only two for the whole voyage. I t was pretty tough all round and I decided that I had seen enough of the Grampus and her master.

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T H E ORCA H A D S E Y E N BOATS

On arriving at Frisco, I shipped in the Orca, a big ship of seven boats, and in due time I went to work helping to fit her out. But I didn't know that the idea of wintering in the North had gained such headway, nor that it was even then being talked over in the offiee of the owners. James Tilton, also of the Vineyard, and Albert Norwood, were both first officers on other ships, and they had broached the matter in the owners' office. I was at work on the Orca when they sent for me to come to the office, and there I learned that Norwood had been given command of the Grampus, and that a steam schooner, the Mary D. Hume, had been purchased for Tilton. Moreover, they wanted to transfer me from the Orca to sail as first mate for Tilton. He and Norwood were great friends, and he was also a good friend of mine and knew that I had mate's papers, which he had not yet obtained. After some discussion, it was all arranged and we started to fit out for the first winter in the Arctic. I t was planned to fill the ships with stores, and to do no whaling on the way north, which would have been impractical with the cargo we should have to carry. We were to take no oil, nothing but whalebone. The Hume was a small vessel, only ninety feet long, smaller than many a pleasure yacht, and carried but three boats. She had to be changed over a great deal and rigged as a brig, which brought us an early share of misfortune, as will appear later. All of this work took time, and the stowing of the cargo of provisions also consumed much time. We couldn't carry all our provisions, anyway, but

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shipped large quantities on various other ships, planning to build a warehouse and störe it when we reached the Arctic. With one delay and another, we didn't sail until the nineteenth of April, more than a month late, but at length we started on a voyage that was comparable, I might say, with that of Columbus, for no one knew where we were going, what we might find, or if we should ever return. We had only been out a week when we ran into heavy weather, strong winds, and a heavy sea. The riggers had failed to do their work properly, and as we were carrying plenty of sail, the fore-top-mast carried away, bringing down the top-gallant-mast and both yards with all the rigging. The strain on the main-top-mast brought away that spar a few minutes later, and we had some mess to clear away, besides being pretty badly crippled as far as carrying sail was concerned. We saw sperm whales in plenty, but we didn't pay any attention to them and made Unalaska Harbor on May 12th. We caught some codfish on the way in, and then went to work trying to repair damages. We replaced our main-top-mast with a boatmast, which served to support a lookout, and to set signals on, but we weren't able to carry a gaff-top-sail for the rest of the season. Then we made a new fore-top-mast, and started to step it, and right there occurred another of those peculiar incidents that had such a bearing on my future. With all the rigging hanging from the head, the topmast was hoisted aloft and the carpenter was just about to place the fid which holds it in its step when the hook on the pennant-block broke and the whole thing feil. Why it didn't go right through the deck is a wonder, but it didn't.

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The remains of the hook, with block attached, feil toward me, and that piece of hook Struck my foot, breaking one of my toes and smashing another. I had to go below at once, and when I had taken a survey of the damage I knew that I must lose a toe. So I sent the steward for the captain to do the job, but he was busy at the time and asked me to wait. A M P U T A T E D H I S O W N TOE

I thought rather fast. M y foot was numb from the accident. I knew that the longer I waited, the more painful the amputation would be, so, with the steward and cabin boy looking on and groaning, I whetted up my knife and cut it off myself. The way it was injured made it necessary for me to unjoint the bone from my foot, too, but I did it, and there was considerable satisfaction in having performed my first surgical operation. I had my foot all bandaged up before Tilton came below, and he seemed quite surprised when I told him it was all over. I t came along all right, too, but some time later I had to have it opened because of a sliver of bone that I failed to discover. We finished our repairs and on the next day we sent out a boat fishing. Some time in the afternoon a native came and reported that the boat was capsized. We had to get up steam and go after it, and when we got there we found that one man had been drowned and another had died, apparently from fright. The next day we took the bodies ashore for burial. On the 19th of May we sailed for the Arctic Ocean, heaving-to to catch a couple of hundred codfish shortly after we sailed. We rigged our crow's nest and fitted

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the boats so that all was in readiness for whaling when we made the ice. We met other ships at St. Lawrence Island and got eoal, water, and a new topsail yard from the Grampus and Thrasher. We lowered for whales on June 23rd, and the spout proved to be a devil fish, a species of the grampus and of no value. We seeured another spar for a fore-topmast from the Northern Light, the first one being unsatisfactory, and early in July we made Port Clarence, where we took more stores aboard. Flour, bread, tobacco, lumber, eoal, onions, beef, pork, and butter were included in the list, and we were well loaded with these goods. One man was siek, and was diseharged and sent back to Frisco. I t seemed as if all manner of things were occurring to obstruct the voyage, but our troubles were not yet over. Leaving Port Clarence on July lOth, we went aground a few days later near the Sea Horse Islands, but were hauled off a couple of hours later by one of the other ships. A few days after that we lost our starboard anchor and thirty fathoms of chain in the ice. At Cape Smith the Company had a sloop, the Sjpy, which we had planned on using to freight in some of our supplies. We went into the lagoon where she was laid up, floated her and prepared to fit her out, but the ice had drawn all her oakum and she nearly sank with us, so we were obliged to beach her and proceed without her. We were able to secure another anchor and some chain from the Thrasher and arrived safely at Point Barrow. Here we took on more supplies, and all the skippers came aboard to say good-by to the men on the Hume and Grampus. They spoke very discouragingly, saying, with

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one exception, " T h e next time we see you fellows, if we ever do, you'll be Coming out with your boats," meaning that the ships would be lost. But the one exception was Captain Barney Cogan. " T h e next time I see you boys," he Said, "you'll have a ship füll of bone." We did, too, but it was sometime later. PICKED U P DRIFTWOOD FOR F U E L

Some of the ships started in to the eastward with us when we sailed on the second of August. All were supposed to leave any stores that they could spare, and a few of them planned on doing some whaling in around the Mackenzie, as the ships had done the year previous. We cruised along, picking up driftwood for fuel, sailing through fog and ice most of the time. We made Flaxman's Island and Barter Island. Our ships were so small that we could go well inshore and avoid the heavy ice that had grounded in deep water. On August 20th we arrived at Herschel Island, sounded out a channel, and found the deepest water was in dose to the land. Landing, we took a survey of the place and began to land our lumber and stores and to build our warehouse. We couldn't do any whaling at all until the stores were landed, and we had no fear of their being molested. The natives never stole until the white men taught them to, and here's the way they did it. The natives buried their dead on platforms built on high posts, placing the dead man's personal property with him, rifle, knives, and so on. Wandering white men discovered these graves, and, finding that the rifles were in working order, stole them to trade with other natives. It was difficult to do.

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however, for the natives would recognize the rifles and it soon became known that white men despoiled the native graves. After that the natives used to remove the mainspring of each gun left with the dead and break it, then replace the spring, saying that the owner could have it repaired when he reached the Happy Hunting Grounds or wherever he was bound. So we put up a building forty feet Square and stowed our stores in it, then started to cruise. We spoke the Belvedere, which had come in with us, and killed a polar bear. We killed a great many of these animals, using the meat chiefly for dog food. I have eaten it, and it was all right enough, but we never allowed it to be eaten aboard ship because of an incident that oecurred to one of my first captains. We had killed a bear while he was below and had the meat all skinned out and hung when he came on deck. On learning what it was he ordered it all hove overboard and then explained why. I t seems that his crew had killed one on some previous voyage and all hands forward and aft had eaten considerable of the meat. I t made them all fearfully ill, in fact they nearly died, and after that the captain would never allow any one to eat polar bear. But the explanation was simply that the bear had been feeding on old carcasses of dead walrus and other things that were poison. Natives eat bear that has been feeding on freshly caught food, and I have eaten it, as I have explained. But, of course, when a bear is killed it is not always easy to determine what he has been feeding on, and it doesn't pay to take chances. We eontinued to cruise, principally under sail, and

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through heavy fog. \Ye picked up some more driftwood, and twice lowered for whales that we lost in the fog. We also filled our water tanks from the ice, which is all right for drinking purposes above the water, if it has lasted through the summer. We found a walrus, which is very rare in that locality, and which, we believed, had come through from Hudson Bay. Ice hemmed us in and we were unable to cruise far, and the other ships all left on the thirteenth, leaving the two of us alone in the Arctic. HAD TO WINTEK WHERE THEY WERE

The water began to freeze on the 14th of September, and we had taken no whales. On the 18th everything was frozen, and we found ourselves anchored in Pauline Cove, twenty miles from our storehouse and unable to move. There was nothing for us to do but get ready to winter where we were, and we made preparations accordingly. I t was on the 25th that we sent down the square sails and unrigged the boats, after anchoring behind the sandspit that was to shelter us from the pack ice. Then we started to bring lumber from our storehouse to house in the ship. This housing consisted of a roof over all the deck except for the poop, which was raised. We didn't cover that, considering it unnecessary, but covered the deck with sod. We never did it again, however, as we found that it was useless labor. We also gathered a great amount of driftwood and piled it on the beach near by. Early in October we started the stoves in the cabin and fo'castle and began to build sleds. A gale piled ice thirty to sixty feet high on the sandspit and covered up most of the wood we had piled up. At the same time, nearly all the snow on

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the Island melted, which gives an idea of the vagaries of the weather. There was a tremendous amount of work to be done, some of it unnecessary, as we discovered later, but, of course, we were attempting something entirely new and were obliged to experiment. We went to the Island and found a fresh water pond. There we cut a great amount of ice and stacked it on the shore, to provide us with fresh water later in the season. I t had to be cut before it froze too thick. Then we tore down the storehouse that we had built, moved the lumber to a point near the ship, and rebuilt it. About this time a band of Itkillicks came with deer meat and skins to trade and we bought everything they had, giving them rifles, powder, cartridges, and calico. We secured enough venison in this way to provide a meal or two a week until late winter. On November 29th the sun disappeared altogether. For days it had been hanging low on the horizon before it dropped out of sight. No one appeared nervous about it, and all hands were in good spirits. I t was not dark anyway, but a sort of twilight, beeause of the snow and ice, the brilliant planets, and the Northern Lights. We were still working hard, but we had made ourselves very comfortable. The stoves below kept the living quarters warm, and we had covered the housing over the ship with blocks of snow as soon as the ice got heavy. This froze together and formed a solid mass. The heat from the ship thawed out an air space beneath, so that if the masts had been taken out of her we could have sailed the ship right out from beneath it, but it kept out the cold.

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