THE WAY 
Captain Joseph Edwards is quite proud of the fact 
that he commanded the schooner John R. Manta on her 
final whaling voyage. Well he may be proud, for that 
voyage was the swan-song of New Bedford's big maritime 
industry, and it is the safest thing in the world to 
prophesy that there will never be another ship-master 
who will deprive Captain Edwards of his distinction. And 
naturally, holding this position, he is pleased to have it 
recognized, though not strictly in the manner in which 
a tribute was paid to his services the other day. Cap¬ 
tain Edwards tells the story of the incident himself. 
It happened that a stranger approached him with 
a ship’s bell. “I have a very famous bell fqr sale,” he 
said, not having the least suspicion as to who the captain 
was. “It came from the John R. Manta, the last whaler 
ever to go out from this port. It’s a historic relic—that’s 
what it is. And there isn’t another like it for sale any¬ 
where.” 
“How do you know it’s the Manta’s bell?” asked the 
captain, marking time. 
“Because I have Captain Edwards’s word for it,” said 
I 
the stranger. “You must know Captain Edwards; he was 
the last whaling master.” 
“Of course I know him,” was the reply, “for I’m the 
fellow himself. And I guess I know what the bell on 
the Manta looked like.” The rest of the captain’s speech 
is not in the records; presumably it assumed the manner 
of a quarterdeck tirade and sent the stranger scurrying 
to some imaginary forecastle. 
The real bell of the Manta, the one with which Cap¬ 
tain Edwards was once accustomed to regulate the sun, 
had long since been delivered to William H. Tripp and 
had thus passed out cf public gaze. That another 
“genuine article” should turn up is not so surprising, 
i • • • » y» " t ) * 
when we consider that e ven so important a personage as 
V 
Napoleon left behind him three beds on each one of 
which he was supposed to have breathed his last. 
