One would think from the name “Coast of Japan” that whalers cruised off the land. In truth they cruised generally some distance from it, for, as has been said, sperm whales do not like soundings and are found in deep water. Fortunately we did not experience a typhoon or any violent storm. We saw a few vessels that looked like junks, but they did not come near enough for us to hail them. Of whalers we saw not a few, and we gammed with several of them. During the months we were there we took three hundred and fifty barrels of sperm oil and were about to start for the Caroline Islands, as Kreelman had predicted, when I had the most eventful experience of my life. As I recall it after all these years, I shudder and renew my gratitude for deliverance.

The day before we were to sail for the Carolines, whales were announced in the afternoon, and Silva’s and Lakeum’s boats were lowered. The wind was right; so the masts were stepped and the sails set. For heavy whaleboats, built for service and not for speed, we made very good time. Every one was happy, and I fancy that the men in both boats contemplated a good day’s work with a couple of whales, at least, fast to the ship.

Silva’s boat had the advantage, and within an hour from the time of leaving the ship was fast to a whale. The other whales vanished, so we took in sail and awaited developments. In the meantime the wind had shifted, but we could see the ship in the distance, and she was of course beating towards us. It is difficult to tell what a whale will do under water, and he doesn’t propose to let anybody know. When he disappears you may think that he will reappear at some point in the distance and then, of a sudden, he will emerge not far from the place where he sounded. Not a whale was now to be seen; but we were sure that one at least would soon be in evidence, and that was the one that had been struck by the harpooner of Silva’s boat. But we lost interest in that leviathan, for suddenly a great sperm whale rose not more than a hundred feet from our craft. We were ordered to take the paddles, and in less than a minute the bow just touched the big fellow’s body. With his left leg in the clumsy cleat and his stalwart figure strongly outlined against the western sky, where the sun was now hardly visible, our boat-steerer threw both harpoons with splendid effect. We were quick to respond to Lakeum’s order, but the flukes were very inactive and there were hardly any suds to get out of; and the whale showed no inclination to sound.

“I’ve been in a boat for thirty years,” said one of our men, “and I never see a whale like that before. I believe he’s sick, and I shouldn’t be surprised if he had five hundred pounds of ambergris in him worth a good deal more than a hundred thousand dollars.”

We had pretty quick proof of the fact that the whale was not sick, and we never had the opportunity to learn whether or not he was rich in ambergris. The monster deliberately turned belly up and came for us.

Lakeum yelled, “Up with your oar, Bleechly.” That meant, of course, a signal to the other boat for help. The whale took our boat in his teeth, and all of us, with one exception, jumped into the water. The exception was a quiet, inoffensive man, and an excellent sailor whom we all liked, and who had been friends with every one during the voyage. The whale seized him so that the head and arms alone were to be seen. The poor man uttered a fearful shriek, and there came to his face an expression of anguish and despair. Then he disappeared and the whale proceeded to chew our boat into bits. Five men struggling in the water, and an angry whale likely to devour them at any moment!

The whale was indifferent to the others. He directed his attention to me. I was a good swimmer and my salvation depended on my successfully eluding him, and on my keeping afloat until help arrived. The monster turned over, closed his jaws and came feeling around slowly and carefully. He passed close to me, and, afraid of his flukes, I grasped the warp attached to the harpoons in his body and was towed a short distance. The moment he slacked speed, I dove under, so as to clear the flukes and come up astern of them. Now I felt rather secure; but strange to say he turned and half breached as he came for me. If he had struck me a full blow, I should have been crushed to pieces. I think the end of his jaw may have just touched my body. At any rate, down I went, and, when I came up, he had turned so that I was able to get hold of the warp again. Now he seemed to be puzzled.

My four companions, all of whom appeared to be good swimmers, were struggling in the water, but he paid no attention to them. He pounded the sea with his flukes and then turned over again. I had to release my grasp and as his great body rolled against me, I was half stunned and half drowned, and consciousness left me. When I came to, it was dark. I felt very sore on the side where the whale had rolled against me, and I was extremely weak.

I muttered, “Where am I? Where am I? Am I dead or alive?”

Assurance came with the voice of Lakeum. “You are all right, Bleechly. Let me tell you the whole story. When the whale turned over, as you were clinging to the warp, he proceeded to bite up what little pieces of the boat there were left. When you put the oar on end as a signal, Silva ordered his warp cut and gave up his whale in order to save us, and he arrived just in the knick of time. You were taken aboard first, of course, and made as comfortable as possible; then the rest of us were rescued.”

“What became of the whale?” I broke in.

“Oh, he made off. It was then growing dark and the ship was not to be seen, but she’ll pick us up in the morning.”

I was in considerable pain, and the wet clothes increased my discomfort. It was pretty difficult to do much for a sick man in a whaleboat with eleven men in it, but they did for me all they could, and it is remarkable how kind and tender, at such times, rough and unskilled men can be. The long, dreary night at last ended and the sun rose beautifully, but in my condition it made no impression upon me. Not far away was a curious-looking vessel which Lakeum said was a junk, and it seemed to be bearing down on us. I heard them say that our vessel’s top-hamper could just be seen. The wind was now favorable, water was thrown on the sail, and the men took to the oars as well. With this double method of propelling the boat it made pretty good time. I was propped up in a little space at the stern, just where I was clear of the oarsmen, and where I was afforded unrestricted vision.

The junk seemed to be gaining on us. Then it suddenly occurred to me why the men were at the oars and why water was thrown on the sail. Strange to say this apprehended peril didn’t disturb me. The interest inspired largely relieved me of suffering. The stranger kept gaining on us and soon I could see men on her deck. Now I turned a little, although the effort was somewhat painful, and noticed that the Seabird was not so very far off, as her upper rigging was visible. Lakeum encouraged the men in a low tone, and the situation had the aspect of a race. The junk was a strange-looking object with its lugsails, the first I had ever seen, and its low prow. But while she was gaining on us we were making good time, and, of course, our own ship was approaching, though she was beating to windward. There is much mystery at sea about currents, but there is more mystery about wind. Sometimes three vessels may be seen, each sailing with a different wind. Suddenly the junk changed her course; the wind was no longer friendly. In less than a quarter of an hour we were alongside the Seabird, and, while I was able to walk, I was not fit for duty; so I was allowed to go to my bunk in the dismal forecastle.

For three days I could not respond to duty and, while I did not receive the modern treatment which one receives from a trained nurse, the carpenter drew supplies from the medicine chest, applied lotions and wound bandages, if not always with a trained hand, yet with good intent, fortified by words of sympathy and cheer. My associates, rough seafaring men, were kind and moved quietly about in our little enclosure, as if to relieve my suffering and contribute to my comfort. Ohoo was particularly thoughtful, asking, in his broken English, “What me do you? Me willin’ help all time.” And the cook, my old friend, provided from his meager material little dishes that were out of the usual. But constantly there was presented the picture of our old companion in the whale’s jaw—he of whom we all had thought so well, and with whom we had never had a difference—and my heart was filled with gratitude for my preservation and deliverance.

It was a pleasure to get back to work and to feel that we were on our way to the Carolines. It was now March, 1861, and we were due at our destination in May. Nothing eventful occurred during the passage; a few whales were seen and boats were lowered, but in each case the chase was abandoned. We were very happy when we caught the first glimpse of land, for we knew that the stay was to be a pretty long one. While there was much work to be done in overhauling the ship and taking aboard supplies, we were told that there would be a good deal of liberty, as the spot we were to visit was remote from any settlement, and the people with whom we were to deal were natives.

We dropped anchor in a small bay and there, right before us, was the ship Sunrise of New Bedford, stripped of boats, sails and so forth, and hove down upon her side, so that the keel was exposed. We soon learned that the ship had sprung a leak, and, as the nearest civilized port was many miles away, the ship had been beached and, under the direction of the carpenter, the necessary repairs had been made.

I remember what Kreelman said, “Fancy Chest, there’s nothin’ like whalemen. Merchantmen couldn’t do that. Whalemen are jacks at all trades. A whaleship’s a little world, and there’s nothin’ that whalemen can’t do.” And now, after many long years of rather varied experience, I recall Kreelman’s words, and give them my hearty approval.

The first thing to do was to get temporary supplies. So a boat was sent ashore with a little trade, and when it returned it brought vegetables, fruit, fowl and pigs enough to last us for a fortnight or more.

The next day the ship was hauled in near shore and secured with chain cables. By orders of the captain, Lakeum began the overhauling and putting in order. The yards were sent down and the entire rigging was examined and necessary renewals were made. All the blocks were put in order. The masts were stayed, standing rigging was set up, yards were crossed, running rigging was rove, sails were bent and furled snug, and all the yards squared. All this took, of course, a number of days. After that, general shore leave was announced. The Sunrise was now repaired, and about to be hauled out to an anchorage, where she could be refitted with spars, rigging, sails and so forth and refurnished with casks, provisions, movables and the like. Here was work done in these two cases which would have cost the owners a great deal of money had the vessels put into port.

All of us went ashore, and all hands of the Sunrise were given liberty at the same time. If the expression may be used, it was a case of gamming on shore. The captains and officers got together, and the crews went off by themselves. The island was one of the smallest of the group. The natives were hospitable and invited us into their little huts, where they set before us fruit, of which there was a great variety and abundance, and their curiously cooked food. The day was faultless and the whole experience most delightful. The men of the two vessels affiliated beautifully. There was no friction. In the late afternoon we all went in swimming, and a luxury it was to men whose brief opportunity of obtaining a bath on shipboard was afforded by a rainfall, and generally a very poor opportunity, too. Just before separating, all gathered together, and then for the first time the conversation turned to our respective catches. The amount of our oil compared very favorably with that of the Sunrise, but our new-made friends were inclined to be boastful and assertive. One of our men said very quietly:

“Oil is a good thing, but, when you have something on board worth more than a thousand barrels of sperm, that’s a little better thing.”

“You ain’t discovered no diamond mine in the ocean, have ye?” asked a Sunrise man. His companions roared.

“No,” replied our spokesman; “we didn’t discover no diamond mine. We opened up a gold mine.”

“What d’ye open it up with—a pickaxe?” Another loud laugh.

“No, with a cutting spade; and the man on our ship who has the largest lay is goin’ to see more money than he ever see before, when his voyage is settled. A one-hundred-and-eightieth lay in seventy thousand dollars worth of ambergris ain’t to be sneezed at.”

As I recall the experience of that day I now regret that any allusion was made to the ambergris. Its introduction into the conversation seemed to disturb the pleasant relations, and the leave-takings were cold and formal.

Trade negotiations were renewed, and abundant supplies were taken on board. We now learned that we were to proceed to the Okhotsk Sea. Some bowheads remained in these waters during the summer, while many passed out to seek the Arctic Ocean. It was rumored that the captain had had such good luck the first season in the Arctic that he believed it policy to change to another whaling ground. There may have been a bit of superstition in this, but the change proved a good one. Word was passed round that we were going to stand well to the westward and go to the right of the Hawaiian Islands, and this because the captain hoped to sight some whaler bound home, and intrust a letter to her. Day followed day and only one small whale was taken. Finally a speck was seen at the horizon in line of the course we were taking. As we drew nearer the boats could be seen at the davits, so we knew she was a whaler. Both vessels hove to, one of our boats was lowered, and the captain went in her to visit the stranger. On his return I was near the gangway and heard him say, “The Hepworth of New Bedford, bound home.”

“Did you tell them about the ambergris?” asked Lakeum.

“No, that’s such a tender subject that I thought I’d spare them. But I learned something that was a great surprise. The captain said that they told him, not long ago, in Honolulu, that last November a man named Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United States.”

“Did you ask the captain who Lincoln was?”

“Yes, but he said he didn’t know.”