A Whaling Community.—Interest felt for absent Ones.—The first Intelligence from the Whaling Fleet.—California Mail.—Further News from the Islands.—"Missing Ships."—No Report of the Citizen.—No Letters.—Fears as to her Safety.—When last spoken with.—Either lost or frozen up in the Arctic.—Supposed Fate of Officers and Crew.—Distressing Suspense.—Hoping against Hope.—Prayer answered.—The first Intelligence from the Citizen.—Joy in Families.—Captain Norton's Arrival at Home, and subsequently the Arrival of his Officers, belonging to this Place.

In a community like ours, in which the chief and principal occupation of the male portion of it is in the whale fishery, there is scarcely a family, and perhaps not one, but has some near or more remote relative absent at sea. It is, therefore, by no means surprising that more than ordinary interest should be felt and manifested in behalf of those who "do business upon the great waters."

In some towns upon the seaboard, the inhabitants are engaged in other kinds of fishery, such as the cod and mackerel fishery; but from the port of Edgartown not a solitary vessel of this description sails. It is wholly whaling, with but few exceptions in case of those who are engaged in the merchant or freighting service, and they sail from other ports.

As a general thing, the boys and young men contemplate whaling as chiefly worthy of their emulation and pursuit. It is identified with their first impressions; and subsequent years only tend to deepen those impressions, and ripen them into irrepressible desire and relish for the whaling business.

A very large proportion of captains and officers belonging to this place and other parts of the island sail in ships owned principally both in New Bedford and Fairhaven. Indeed, they have contributed in no small degree to the commercial prosperity of those places. It is worthy of remark, however, in passing, just to state that the number of vessels connected with the business of whaling, belonging to this place, has doubled within four years. This shows an active spirit of enterprise which we trust will be largely increased in coming years.

The first partial intelligence from the northern whaling fleet usually arrives at home ports some time in the month of October. The early arrival of a ship at the islands, or at some port on the Pacific, from the whale ground, furnishes this report as to the general success of whalemen about the middle of the season—whether the "catch" has been good or moderate, very good or deficient. A few scattering letters are also brought by this early means of conveyance, which, being deposited in the mail, soon find their way across the isthmus, into the hands of relatives and friends at home.

About this time, solicitude begins to be apparent in the inquiries made respecting absent husbands, sons, relatives, and townsmen, as to the probable results of the "whale season," how the ships have done, and the health and lives of those who are abroad.

Every California mail will, therefore, for months to come, be looked for with increasing interest, because it may be the bearer either of joy or sorrow to many hearts and family circles.

In the month of November, still further intelligence is received from the whaling fleet; previous reports are corrected, and additional ones are given. The first section of the fleet has already arrived at the islands.

In the months of December and January, the mail brings still additional news, and more correct than hitherto. The great majority of the ships that intended to touch at the islands on their return from the north are reported at this time. The ordinary vehicles of public intelligence—newspapers and letters, both from the islands and from the Pacific coast—unite in announcing the grand rendezvous or arrival of northern whalemen.

If, now, there should be ships not included in the late report, and from which no recent letters have been received either by owners or relatives, and those ships not having been spoken with by others, they are specially marked as "missing ships," and serious apprehensions begin to be entertained lest some disaster may have befallen them.

The mail in February or March is supposed to bring from the islands and intermediate ports all the reliable information respecting those ships that have arrived during the last four months. Therefore a ship not reported now must have either gone to some other port, or never left the northern seas, or been wrecked and lost.

This was the case with the ship Citizen. There was no account of her arrival at the islands, agreeably to the intention of Captain Norton on his return from the Arctic; his friends at home, therefore, looked for the report of his arrival, if not among the first, certainly among the last.

Besides, there were neither letters from him or his officers, none to relatives, none to the owners of the ship. Other families had heard from absent ones, and were made to rejoice; those interested in the fate of the Citizen, however, were filled with sadness and sorrow.

The absence of letters was ominous of something fearful and distressing. Captain Clough spoke with Captain Norton on the 23d of September, in the Arctic Ocean, lat. 68° or 69° N.; and this was the last and only intelligence from the missing ship. This occurred, as it appeared, only two days before the wreck of the Citizen. Not having arrived at the islands, nor reported from any other place, the conclusion to which all came was at once reasonable and just—either that the ship was frozen up in the Arctic, or cast away on the coast, and her officers and crew, if living, among the natives.

Reflections of this sort gave confirmation to the worst of fears, and wrought in the minds of relatives and friends, and the community at large, an alternation of some slight hope, on the one hand, that they might after all be safe, and, on the other, the distressing fear that they had completed their last voyage on earth, or perhaps were lingering out a miserable existence amid the rigors of an arctic winter.

How little there was upon which to build a favorable hope! How weak and superficial the foundation which engrossing and prevailing apprehensions would not instantly sweep away and scatter to the winds! Indeed, whatever conclusions might have been drawn respecting the fate of the Citizen, her officers, and crew, how small encouragement there was in the whole field of imaginary probabilities in their favor, to relieve the minds of those at home from the constantly pressing weight of corroding anxiety and distressing solicitude respecting them!

Uncertainty and suspense with regard to an important event is one of the most trying states of mind in which an individual can be placed. How true this is when the life of some friend appears to be suspended upon the slightest possible contingency! Now indications seem auspicious and hopeful; then, again, adverse and threatening symptoms dissipate every cherished anticipation.

Instances have been recorded in which those who were shipwrecked and threatened with instant death on every side, while the prospect of deliverance was exceedingly small or absolutely cut off, have even desired the approaching crisis, however decisive it might be, whether of life or death, as far less distressing than the dreadful suspense which for hours, and even days, hung over them. For years, until all hope has at length been abandoned, the civilized world, and especially the commercial part of it, was in a state of profound suspense respecting the fate of Sir John Franklin and his companions, entombed in the Arctic. How much sympathy there was felt and expressed for the distinguished lady of the explorer, who was unwilling to withhold any reasonable and even extraordinary efforts for his deliverance while the faintest color of encouragement existed in his favor! Wealth was poured out like water; and strong, self-denying, adventurous men started up and volunteered their services to traverse again the inhospitable regions of the north; peradventure they might find some traces of the explorers, whether living or dead. Through scores of months of hope and fear, distracting anxiety and painful apprehensions, she suffered for her husband a thousand times more than the certainty which his death would have caused.

It was precisely this state of mind which excited and agitated many families in Edgartown in relation to the uncertainty which surrounded the fate of the Citizen and those who sailed in her.

There was a remote, and yet very slender clinging to a bare possibility that they might be among the living; but at the same time, as if to extinguish every spark of hope, the imagination could hardly picture or conceive a condition in which they could live in the arctic regions. While "hoping against hope," and even beyond it, because hope is the only preservative against despair, yet it seemed as if forlornness stood ready to mock the fugitive idea that it could be well with them.

Thus more than twelve months rolled their rounds, and no ray of light was shed upon this dark event of Providence.

How many times the relatives met to talk over this common affliction and calamity! to mingle together their sympathies, for adversity binds kindred hearts! to send up united desires to God that deliverance in some way which they knew not, but which Infinite Wisdom only knew, might be wrought out for the husband, and sons, and brothers, if still in being!

If meetings and partings, however, brought no outward, substantial relief, nor removed in the least degree the same appalling uncertainty which enshrouded the future, this great truth they learned in many sleepless nights, and tedious days, weeks, and months—that they should "trust in God," and stay themselves upon his mighty hand. Not only was private prayer offered to Him whose ear is ever attentive, who knows and records the pleadings of every humble worshipper, who marks the beatings of every burdened heart, but the spirit of supplication was manifested in the house of God, and one general desire pervaded the community that He who can "bring light out of darkness," and sustain when all human helpers fail, would grant a great deliverance, and return the absent ones once more to their families and friends.

Prayer was heard; and tidings of good, of hope, and safety were already being borne over the ocean wave, and hastening homewards upon the wings of the wind.

In October, by an early arrival at San Francisco from the Arctic, it was reported that the ship Citizen had been wrecked the year before, in September; that a number of her crew were lost at the time of the wreck; that the captain, officers, and remaining part of the men had wintered among the natives; that they were now on board of several ships in that ocean, and, at the close of the whaling season, they would be at the islands.

This was the first intelligence from the ship, for more than twelve months, which imparted the least reasonable hope to the friends at home. It was indeed hailed with joyous emotions, and profound gratitude to God. It at once lifted off a ponderous load of anxiety, solicitude, and sorrow from many hearts.

Spring and summer, with their singing birds, radiant suns, balmy air, refreshing showers, verdant landscapes, and placid waters, had come and gone; Nature had put off the freshness and beauty of a renewed creation, and once more dressed in her autumnal robes, yet this single item of news, brought from a distant ocean, was the dawn of a brighter day, and the precursor of higher happiness than all the outward world could furnish! It chased away the sorrows of the mind; it breathed new life into the spirits; it taught the hitherto disconsolate ones that the hand of a delivering God should now be recognized and adored. Public sympathy flowed in the same channel with those who could now rejoice, as it was heretofore expressed with those who wept.

November news from the islands confirmed the report of the preceding month, cleared away every doubt which distrust might venture to create, and reassured the wife that her husband was safe, and parents and members of the respective families that their sons and brothers had survived the untold severities of an arctic winter. About one year from this time,—November 5, 1854,—Captain Norton had arrived at Lahaina, from a cruise in the Ochotsk, in the ship Northern Light, of Fairhaven. He left that port in December for home; and, after a passage of one hundred and ten days, the ship was anchored in the harbor of New Bedford, on the 10th of April, 1855. A day or two after, he reached his native place, to greet relatives, friends, and townsmen, whose apprehensions for a long time had been that they should see his face no more.

The results of his three and a half years' absence from home are briefly these: the first season in the Arctic, in the Citizen, he obtained twenty-six hundred barrels of oil, which were wholly lost when the ship was cast away; seventy barrels of sperm were left at the islands, which he took on his outward-bound passage—this was saved; nine months and eight days among the natives, and taken off in July; the second season on board of other ships, in the capacity of guest and passenger; the third season in the Northern Light, in the Ochotsk Sea, where he obtained twenty-four hundred barrels of oil.

Thus, in misfortune, there was still a good share of prosperity. Not only was one cargo lost, but it was nearly replaced again by another in the ordinary time for which ships are fitted out. But the greatest and crowning mercy of all was, in returning once more, with such good health, from so many dangers, exposures, and perils which have attended the present voyage.

Mr. John W. Norton arrived home in October, 1855; Mr. John P. Fisher, and Mr. Abram Osborn, Jr., arrived home in April, 1856;—making the time since they sailed from New Bedford, October, 1851, four years for the first, and four and a half years for the last two.