LIFE ON A SOUTH SEA WHALER. 819 



From the crushing blow of the civil war the American sperm- 

 whale fishery has never fully recovered. When the writer was in 

 the trade, some twenty-two years ago, it was credited with a fleet of 

 between three and four hundred sail; now it may be doubted whether 

 the numbers reach an eighth of that amount. A rigid conservatism of 

 method hinders any revival of the industry, which is practically con- 

 ducted to-day as it was fifty or even a hundred years ago; and 

 it is probable that another decade will witness the final extinction 

 of what was once one of the most important maritime industries in 

 the world. 



In the following pages an attempt has been made — it is believed 

 for the first time — to give an account of the cruise of a South Sea 

 whaler from the seaman's standpoint. Its aim is to present to the 

 general reader a simple account of the methods employed and the 

 dangers met with in a calling about which the great mass of the 

 public knows absolutely nothing. 



At the age of eighteen, after a sea experience of six years from the 

 time when I dodged about London streets, a ragged Arab, with wits 

 sharpened by the constant fight for food, I found myself roaming the 

 streets of New Bedford, Massachusetts. 



My money was all gone, I was hungry for a ship ; and so, when a 

 long, keen-looking man with a goatlike beard, and mouth stained with 

 dry tobacco juice, hailed me one afternoon at the street corner, I 

 answered very promptly, scenting a berth. " Lookin' fer a ship, 

 stranger? " said he. " Yes; do you want a hand? " said I anxiously. 

 He made a funny little sound something like a pony's whinny, then 

 answered: " Wall, I should surmise that I want between fifty and sixty 

 hands, ef yew kin lay me onto 'em; but, kem along, every dreep's a 

 drop, an' yew seem likely enough." With that he turned and led 

 the way until we reached a building, around which was gathered one 

 of the most nondescript crowds I had ever seen. There certainly did 

 not appear to be a sailor among them — not so much by their rig, 

 though that is not a great deal to go by, but by their actions and speech. 

 However, I signed and passed on, engaged to go I knew not where, 

 in some ship I did not know even the name of, in which I was to re- 

 ceive I did not know how much or how little for my labor, nor how 

 long I was going to be away. 



From the time we signed the articles, we were never left to our- 

 selves. Truculent-looking men accompanied us to our several board- 

 ing houses, paid our debts for us, finally bringing us by boat to a ship 

 lying out in the bay. As we passed under her stern, I road the name 

 Cachalot, of New Bedford; but as soon as we ranged alongside, I 

 realized that I was booked for the sailor's horror — a cruise in a whaler. 



