Whalemen not only had to undergo the perils of the sea, but in addition ran the danger of being killed by the whale and of being attacked by savages at the ports where it was often necessary to land for food and water. Also in cases of accident the whaleship was usually off the regular cruise followed by the merchantmen and therefore less likely to be assisted by other vessels. Furthermore, the long voyages, poor food, and the many dangers of whaling induced many mutinies.

The worst massacre occurred on the “Awashonks,” of Falmouth, in 1835, near the Marshall Islands. The natives came on board in large numbers and seemed most friendly, when, on a given signal, they killed the captain and many of the crew. Finally the seamen laid a charge of dynamite under a hatchway where the savages were sitting, and blew most of them to pieces, the crew being then enabled to recapture the vessel. A few years later, when the “Sharon” of Fairhaven was cruising not far from Ascension Island, the crew lowered for a whale, and upon returning to the ship it was discovered that three of the “Kanaka” crew, recently engaged, had taken charge of the ship and had killed the captain. The first mate in the whaleboat did not dare attack, but the third mate, Benjamin Clough, who was only nineteen years old, swam to the ship in the darkness, climbed up the rudder, shot two of the mutineers, and had a hand-to-hand encounter with the third, who died soon afterwards. The first mate then returned on board. Clough was made captain of a ship immediately upon his return to Fairhaven. Still another mutiny took place on the ship “Junior” which sailed from New Bedford in 1857, most of the officers being killed. Plummer, the ringleader, wrote a story of the mutiny in the log book, which is now in the possession of the New Bedford Library, and the account was signed by the five mutineers in order to clear the rest of the men on board. The five murderers on sighting land lowered two whaleboats with all the plunder they could find and rowed ashore. The mutineers were subsequently captured and were brought in cages to Boston, where they were defended by Benjamin F. Butler. Davis, the author of “Nimrod of the Sea,” mentions a quarrel on board the “Chelsea,” which ended by the men all signing a “round robin” to return to duty, and in order that no name should head the list the signatures were set down in a circle, like the spokes of a wheel, from which possibly comes the word “ringleader.”

The most fearful mutiny happened on the “Globe” of Nantucket, in 1822. A boat-steerer called Comstock laid a plot which resulted in the death of all the officers of the ship, and those who were not killed outright were thrown overboard. Comstock then took charge of the ship, and stated that if any man disobeyed him, he would be put to death by being boiled in the “try-pots.” The ringleader was finally killed by some of the crew, and the ship brought into port.

Captain Warrens, of the whaler “Greenland,” in 1775, told a most thrilling narrative, which shows the perils of Arctic whaling, and is the most weird and grewsome of all whaling yarns. While becalmed one day he sighted a vessel with rigging dismantled, and he immediately lowered and rowed over to her. Upon boarding the ship he found seated at the cabin table the corpse of a man. He held a pen in his hand, and the log book was on the table in front of him. The last entry was “Nov. 14, 1762. We have now been enclosed in the ice seventeen days. The fire went out yesterday and our master has been trying ever since to kindle it again without success. His wife died this morning. There is no relief.” Other corpses were found in the cabin and a number of sailors in the forward part of the ship. The vessel had been frozen in the ice for thirteen years!

There are many exciting accounts of accidents to whaleboats, and a few are worth mentioning. Captain Sparks, of the “Edward Lee” of Provincetown, in 1881, chased a whale and finally lost him. He and his crew endeavored to find his ship, but for some reason were unable to do so. The nearest land was one thousand miles away, and with no food or water the prospect was not very encouraging. For six days they sailed on, when by good fortune they killed a whale, and finally were picked up and brought to land.

Another incident shows how a whale will sometimes fight. Captain Morse, of the “Hector” of New Bedford, had his boat attacked by a whale, which grabbed the bow in its mouth, shaking the crew and implements in all directions. The mate came to the rescue, and the whale at once started to chase his boat, snapping its jaws less than a foot behind the stern. The crew rowed desperately and succeeded in dodging its attacks, until finally the animal turned over to get more air, and a well-driven lance luckily killed it. The harpoons of the “Barclay” were found in it, and it was learned that this same whale had killed the “Barclay’s” captain only three days before. Another incident shows the fierceness of the attack of a fighting whale. The “Osceola 3rd,” of New Bedford, shot thirty-one bombs into a whale before it was killed.

Captain Davis, in “Nimrod of the Sea,” mentions an occurrence in which a whale attacked one of the men who had been hauled from the whaleboat. Then ensued a fight, and every time the monster swam for him he was obliged to dive. The mate rushed into the encounter with his boat and finally succeeded in killing the whale. Another captain described how the crew of his whaleboat was obliged to cling all night on the body of a dead whale until help came at daybreak. It happened to be Christmas evening, and the famished men obtained their Christmas dinner by digging from the back of the dead animal enough meat to satisfy their hunger. If a whaleboat were upset, and it was seen that the crew had something to hold on to in order to prevent going under, it was often a long time before the other boats rendered assistance, it being a truism among whalemen that whales were of much higher commercial value than men.

Captain Hosmer, of the bark “Janet” of Westport (near New Bedford), met with a horrible experience off the coast of Peru in 1849. He had just secured a whale, and in towing it back to his ship his boat was capsized. He immediately displayed distress signals, and the “Janet” sailed towards the men who clung to the small boat, when suddenly, to his amazement and horror, the ship swung off and headed in another direction. They could see her sailing about searching for them, but were unable to attract her attention, and finally, as the distance between them increased, they set sail towards the nearest land, after bailing out their boat with difficulty, and having lost one man by drowning. The nearest coast was over one thousand miles away, and they had not a drop of water or a morsel of food. At the end of seven days lots were cast to decide who should be killed in order that the rest might live. Four more of the crew died, and after twenty days the two survivors landed on an island and were later picked up by the “Leonidas” of New Bedford.

There are three cases known to history of a whale sinking a ship. The “Essex,” of Nantucket, was attacked by a huge whale in 1819, and twice did the animal make a rush at the ship, which became submerged in a few minutes. Owen Chase, the first mate, wrote an account of the accident and subsequent sufferings of the crew. Three whaleboats set sail for the Marquesas Islands. One boat was never heard from; another was picked up by an English brig with only three of the crew alive; and the third with only two survivors, having sailed over twenty-five hundred miles, was picked up by a Nantucket vessel, three months after the accident. Captain Pollard, who was in command of the “Essex” at this time, had previously been one of the crew on Fulton’s “Claremont” on his first trip up the Hudson. He survived the frightful experience, but nothing could induce him ever to refer to it. He finally abandoned the sea and became a police officer in Nantucket.

The “Ann Alexander” of New Bedford, which is shown in the next cut, met a similar fate in 1850, and the ship sank so quickly that only one day’s supplies were saved. With the horror of the “Essex” staring them in the face the crew set sail in the small boats, and with great good fortune in two days sighted the “Nantucket” and were taken on board. Five months after this incident the “Rebecca Sims,” of New Bedford, killed a whale, and to the great surprise of the crew, the irons of the “Ann Alexander” were discovered in its body, and there were also several pieces of the ship’s timber imbedded in its head.

The latest of the three accidents happened to the bark “Kathleen” in the Atlantic Ocean in 1902, and the picture shows her about to sink after having been rammed by a whale. The three flags at the mastheads are signals to the three boats to return at once, but as each one was fast to a whale, they were loath to obey the signals. The whale showing its “flukes” at the right of the picture is the one that stove the hole in the vessel. The “Kathleen” also had a whale alongside, making four just captured. The accident meant a loss, not counting the vessel and oil on board, of ten to twelve thousand dollars. Captain Jenkins, who was in command, lowered with Mrs. Jenkins, a parrot, and nineteen of the crew, and with difficulty rowed to the other boats, which took in their share of the men from the captain’s over-crowded one. Captain Jenkins declares that the parrot, when removed from its home on the “Kathleen,” swore that “he would be damned if he’d ever go to sea again!” Three boat loads were discovered by a Glasgow ship, but the fourth had to sail over one thousand miles to the Barbadoes. Captain Jenkins is to-day living in South Dartmouth. He has written a small volume on the loss of his ship and is such a well-known whaleman that he was one of those who occupied the platform at the time of the unveiling of “The Whaleman” statue.