whaler
whaler
Itis a custom among whalemen, that whenever a whale gets loose, even although it may have once been taken by a crew, it is considered a free prize to any one who can seize it.
Several years since, two ships, which were in search of whales, happened at the same time to approach one, which was dead, and which was lying in some broken ice, not far distant from a large field of ice.
No sooner had the respective crews discovered the whale, than each made all possible sail to reach it before the other. On each bow of the two ships was stationed a harpooner with his appropriate instrument, in readiness to discharge it the first moment they should be sufficiently near. But it so happened that the ships came in contact with eachother, when within a few yards of the fish, and being under full sail, the shock was so severe, as to do considerable damage to both.
The harpooners, however, intent on their prey, both discharged their harpoons at the same instant; and both fell short of their mark. Observing this, a hardy seaman belonging to one of the ships leaped overboard, and urging his way through the water, reached the fish, and seizing one of its fins, proclaimed it a lawful prize.
But the fish being greatly swollen, and withal quite slippery, the sailor was unable to climb upon it but was obliged to remain in the water, until assistance could be sent. This was no pleasant sport, for the water was intensely cold, and the poor fellow was seen quite benumbed.
Elated with this good luck, his captain forgot to send a boat, as he should have done, to relieve him; but gave orders to moor the vessel to an adjoining piece of ice.
In the mean time, the other vessel tacked, and the master stepping into a boat pushed off and rowed towards the dead fish. On reaching it, and observing the poor fellow still holding on to the fish, but quite benumbed, he observed, “Well, my lad, you have a fine fish here.”
“Why, yes,” replied the seaman, “something of a fish, to be sure.”
“But an’t you cold here in the water?”
“That I am,” said the shivering sailor—his teeth chattering so that he could scarcely utter the words. “Will you let me come on board your boat until ours arrives?”
This was readily acceded to, and the poor fellow was assisted over the boat’s side. But no sooner was he fairly on, than the captain seized a harpoon, and darting it into the fish, raised a flag and claimed it as his lawful prize.
Though it was a hard case, by the rules of whale-fisheries this was considered altogether right. The disappointed captain, having no redress, withdrew his vessel, leaving to his competitor a valuable prize, which he had lost through a very foolish neglect.
In the year 1813, the ship Volunteer, meeting with a severe gale, near a large piece of ice, in a high latitude, the captain deemed it expedient to set an anchor in the ice, to prevent his ship from being driven out to sea.
For this purpose a boat was manned with fourteen men, who proceeded to the ice with the anchor. At the same time, the ship was brought as near as possible; but no sooner was the anchor fastened to the ice, than a wave, dashing against the vessel, pulled the anchor from its fastenings, and she went adrift.
Before the sails could be properly set, she had reached a considerable distance. In attempting to near and return, the ship fell to leeward, and was driven out to sea.
This, to the poor seamen left behind, was a terrible disaster. The air was intensely cold. They were fourteen in number—with only a small open boat, insufficient to support them in such a gale as was prevailing—without shelter—without food—and on a detached piece of ice, which was liable every hour to float out to sea.
In this distressing situation, what should they do? Some advised to remain on the ice; but this might be broken by the increasing swell. Others were anxious to attempt to join the ship, while she was yet in sight; but the force of the wind, and the violence ofthe sea, rendered such an attempt little short of madness.
At length, however, the majority decided on the latter course; and having embarked, they launched forth on the swelling tide. But soon it was perceived to be all in vain—the boat could not live even a quarter of an hour, and their only safety lay in again returning to the ice. But even this was found to be impracticable. Each one now viewed his situation as desperate; and every moment expected to be engulfed in the rolling waters.
At this critical juncture,—this moment of deep despair,—suddenly and almost miraculously, as it seemed to them, a ship hove in sight. She was indeed bounding over the tumultuous waves—but she was advancing directly towards them.
But would she see them, and if seen, could they be taken on board in such a storm as was sweeping over the main? Fortunately, a small flag was in the boat. This was unfurled, and, streaming as it did in the wind, attracted the notice of the people on board the ship. The humane captain and his crew, from the first moment, determined, if possible, to afford them relief. This was difficult, and even perilous. But it might be done—and it was done. A kind Providence smiled upon the attempt, and the poor seamen, to their inexpressible joy, were rescued from a watery grave.
The ship proved to be the Lively, from the same port as their own vessel; and from their townsmen and acquaintances they had the pleasure to receive every token of kindness and affection which their pitiable condition required.