“Whales has feelin’s as well as anybody. They don’t like to be stuck in the gizzards an’ hauled alongside, an’ cut in, an’ tried out in those here boilers no more’n I do!”

Barzy Macks’s Biology.

When the lookout at the masthead shouts out “Thar she blows,” or “There she whitewaters,” the whaleboats are gotten out and rowed towards the whale, while signals from the ship show from time to time the whereabouts of the whales and directions for their pursuit. The first man to “raise oil”—an expression which means the first to see a whale—usually received a plug of tobacco or some other prize, and this made the lookouts more keen.

In “Moby Dick” Melville says that the crew pulls to the refrain “A Dead Whale or a Stove Boat,” which became such well-known by-words among whalemen that when Mr. W. W. Crapo last year presented to New Bedford “The Whaleman” statue, they were inscribed upon it. When rowing in a rough sea the captain cautioned the men to trim the boat and not to “shift their tobacco.”

As they approach the whale the bow oarsman, who is the harpooner, stands up at a signal from the captain of the boat, who is steering, and yells out to “give it to him.” The next order is probably to “stern all” in order to avoid the whale. The boat is probably now fast, and either the whale will sound and run out the line at a terrific rate or else he may race away dragging the boat after him, which whalemen call “A Nantucket Sleigh-Ride.” This kind of sleigh-ride was often at railroad speed and was perhaps one of the most exhilarating and exciting experiences in the line of sport. An empty boat would certainly capsize, but a whaleboat had six trained, strong, athletic men sitting on her thwarts, whose skill enabled them to sway their bodies to the motions of the boat so that she would keep an even keel, even though her speed might plough small valleys over the huge swells and across the broad troughs of an angry Pacific, and great billows of foam piled up at her bow while the water rushed past the stern like a mad whirlpool. The greatest care must be taken not to allow the line to get snarled up or to let a turn catch an arm or leg, for it would result in almost immediate death to the person thus entangled. Conan Doyle, who once took a trip on a whaler, tells of a man who was caught by the line and hauled overboard so suddenly that he was hardly seen to disappear. One of the men in the boat grabbed a knife to cut the line, whereupon another seaman shouted out, “Hold your hand, the whale’ll be a good present for the widow!”

There is one case known where a man who had been hauled down by the line had the presence of mind to get out his knife and cut the rope, which allowed him to come to the surface more dead than alive; also occasionally the entangled arm or ankle would be torn off, thus freeing the man and allowing him to rise.

Two harpoons were thrown if possible, and then it was customary for the harpooner to exchange places with the boat-steerer, who got ready his lance, which he plunged in and hauled out again until the whale went into his “flurry” and rolled over dead, or “fin out” as it was called. Often the whale would get frightened or “gallied,” or would jump in the air or “breach,” and therefore great care was taken to avoid his attacks. When the whale “breaches” the tail becomes very conspicuous, and one old salt used to say that an additional tail appeared after every glass of grog.

Scoresby speaks of a whale which drew out from the different boats ten thousand four hundred and forty yards, or nearly six miles, of rope. It was necessary when the line of one boat was nearly exhausted to bend on the end to a new rope in another boat and so on, and of course often miles of rope and many harpoons would be lost if the whale escaped. When the line was drawn out rapidly it was necessary to pour water over the snub post to keep the rope from burning.

There have been races almost as exciting as a Harvard-Yale race when the boats of different nations have been dashing for a whale, which is prized at between three thousand and four thousand dollars. Many years ago an English, a French, a Dutch, and an American ship lay becalmed in the Pacific, when suddenly a whale was “raised.” All four ships lowered and raced across the waters, with the American in the rear. In a few minutes the Yankee passed the Dutchman, who yelled “donner und blitzen!” The American captain encouraged his men by shouting “Thar she blows, she’s an eighty-barreler, break the oars, lads!” and soon the French were left astern with curses of “Le diable.” The Englishmen were still ahead; the American boat-steerer now began to help the stroke oarsman by pushing his oar, and their boat crept up slowly upon their only rivals. The English boat-steerer also grabbed his stroke’s oar, but it snapped off at the rowlock, and the Americans overtook them and captured the whale. Another international race took place in Delagoa Bay, which has become a classic among American whalemen. Again an English and a Yankee whaleboat were chasing a whale, and, in some manner, the former was able to cut in between the whale and the Americans, and as the English harpooner was reaching for his iron, the American harpooner “pitch-poled” his harpoon over the English boat, and his iron made fast.

After a capture came the long, hard row back to the ship, then the tedious process of “cutting in” and “trying out.” First of all the head, or “case,” was cut off and tied astern while the strips of blubber were cut from the body and hauled on board, as next shown, by means of huge tackles from the mast. Blubber averages in thickness from twelve to eighteen inches, and if cut four and one-half inches thick would carpet a room sixty-six feet long by twenty-seven wide. Then the head was either bailed out, if it were a sperm whale, or else the whalebone was taken in, if it were a right whale. The strips or “blanket pieces” were then minced, and after boiling, the oil was cooled and stored away in barrels below deck. The “try-works” consisted of iron pots set in brick furnaces, and there were pans of water underneath to prevent the decks from burning. This process of boiling the oil was most irksome and disagreeable as the men were soaked in oil from head to foot, and the smell of the burning fluid was so frightful that it has often been alluded to as Hell on a large scale, and was usually called a “squantum,” which is the Nantucket word for a picnic; nevertheless, old whalers delighted in it.

It is a superstition among some whalemen that a ship which for once has a sperm whale’s head on her starboard quarter, and a right whale’s on her port side, will never afterwards capsize.