# Saturday Evening Gazette/June 7, 1856/Notes of a Whaling Voyage

Notes of a Whaling Voyage.
By One
Who Has Been, Got Back, and Don’t Want to Go Again.
Written for the Evening Gazette.
No. V.
We enjoyed a pleasant ride after our ocean steed for some considerable time, but having no rein to check him with, we had to wait till exhausted nature compelled him to hold up. He at length came up only to find his enemies ready with the deadly lance to crimson his native element with his heart’s blood. As if stupified, he lay motionless on the surface, giving us a chance to haul up to him; the mate, lance in hand, touched his vitals, and started him off, with the blood bursting in torrents from his spout-holes. But the fountains of life were too nearly exhausted to allow of much more travelling; it was evident from his motions that he was in his “flurry” (a term which whalemen apply to the last moments of the whale) and laying on our oars, at a safe distance we watched the dissolution of the monarch of the ocean. In mortal agony he rolled over and over, lashing the ocean into foam, and bringing his jaws together in such a peculiar manner that I rather felt as though I would not like to run the same risk that Jonah did.
The reservoir of life emptied of its last drop, he turned his head towards the sun, and with one convulsive tremor his huge body slowly rolled on its side, and he was ours. The birds of prey whose home is on the ocean, attracted by the scent of blood, gathered in myriads, awaiting the moment when stripped of its valuable covering, the carcass floats astern. The sharks, less polite than their feathered neighbors, and probably more voracious, (who ever saw a shark that wasn’t hungry?) go right in and bite large pieces out of the body as it lays along side. Occasionally one is brought to a sense of propriety by a blow from a spade, which severs his body in two.
Whilst we had thus successfully pursued our game, the second mate had been equally well engaged with another member of the school, so that when we began our triumphal march towards the ship, we had two leviathans in tow. Like most triumphal celebrations, the leaders got all the praise and profit, whilst Jack received more kicks than coppers.
The next process after making the whales fast to the ship, is to strip the blubber from the body; this is called “cutting in:” it is then cut in small pieces, and tried out. The process of taking care of a whale is so well known that I shall not here describe it, but pass on to other scenes. Whilst engaged one fine morning in the pleasant occupation of scrubbing decks, the mast-head sang out “Land Ho!” Just discernible, far ahead, lay New Zealand, a welcome sight to our sea-sick souls, and many were the telegraphic signals to the man at the wheel to steer straight. Our captain intended to touch here for fresh provisions, and being a little in doubt as to the exact location of Monganui, he signalled a small schooner which was coasting along to run down to us.
He bore away for us and had approached to within a quarter of a mile, when, as if seized with a sudden fear of the stars and stripes, he luffed up, and made off with all possible speed; our old man determined to have his information, and lowering a boat, soon gained his sides, and induced a seedy looking chap to pilot us in. This individual called himself the Police Magistrate, which I thought was quite an onerous station, there being only five families in the settlement, all English. We had just fairly got pointed to the bay when a second arrival took place; no less a personage that the head man of the place, whose situation under government was Captain of the Port. Stranger number No. 1, resigned his charge to this latter, and contented himself with a close scrutiny of the crew, for the purpose of identifying any diserter who might prefer the mountain air of New Zealand to the balmy breezes of the sea. The native crew who pulled the pilot aboard were just the ugliest looking devils I saw in the course of my travels; tatooed from “clew to earing,” and with perfectly diabolical features, they looked and acted the cannibal to perfection. They pretend to be civilized, but almost any body would hate to meet them in the woods at night, for even now they are fond of a tender leg or steak from the human body. In consideration of a head of tobacco, the old chief favored us with a war dance and song, which was decidedly wolfish; if Lucifer does not appoint this old heathen director of his orchestra when he leaves this vale of tears, it will be because he has no ear for music.
We had got within a convenient distance from the shore, when the order was given to get up the cable, preparatory to letting go the anchor; the men sprang with such unusual alacrity to execute this order that the suspicions of the captain were awakened, and he countermanded it. Fearful of losing his crew by desertion, he stood out to sea, and thus we lost our fresh provisions. At ten in the evening we were 50 miles from New Zealand. I was enjoying my watch fast in the embrace of Morpheus, when I was suddenly roused by the hoarse cry of “Larboard watch, ahoy!” It was not the usual time for calling the watch, and somewhat alarmed I rushed on deck, half dressed, expecting to find the ship ashore or in some other perilous situation. But a different occasion had called us out; three of the crew, disappointed in their hopes of obtaining liberty at Monganeri, had lowered a boat whilst the officers of the deck were aft, and disappeared in the darkness. The boat had been stove by a sperm whale a few days previous, and the hole, a foot in diameter, was stuffed with clothes. We lay back all night, and at daylight manned the masthead, and stood in towards the land. The mate with the glass soon discovered the boat, a mere speck on the horizon: all sail, even to studding sails, being made, we rapidly gained on them; the sympathies of the crew, almost to a man, were with the runaways. The helmsman evinced his by steering very wild, but the captain noticing him, sent a more pliant man to the wheel. We soon came up with them, and the captain valiantly took his stand on the bows, and threatened to shoot them if they did not heave too: with a boat full of water, and tired as they were, he was fearful they might yet escape him. But the poor devils were glad enough to get aboard again, their united exertions being barely sufficient to keep the boat from sinking.
We all suspected the punishment that awaited them; therefore it was with no feelings of surprise, but with hears boiling with indignation, that we saw the obedient thing who acted as our mate seize these three men up in the mizen rigging. All hands were called aft to witness punishment, whilst the captain, with a double piece of ratline stuff in his hand, walked up and down the deck, endeavoring to impress us with the idea that he was doing this with reluctance. His remarks being finished he, in the presence of thirty men, deliberately violated the law of the United States by flogging like dogs three men whose principal offence was attempting to escape from worse than African slavery. Many eyes were moist with tears, and many lips quivered with indignatin to think that such scenes could be enacted under the American flag. After hanging in the rigging some little time, they were cut down, and sent forward with the consoling assurance that if this flogging made them sick they should have another one to cure them. Two of these men deserted at the Sandwich Islands, and the third came home in the ship remarkably well used for fear of his seeking redress at law.