Life On a Whaling Ship

Never did I feel more cast down this a dark Period in my Live: why did I come Whaling but for my own distruction: I think my damnation is fixed now
—Captain Clothier Pierce, “Minnesota” Logbook, 1868

Introduction

This section describes life on a whaling ship, with notes on the crew, the watches, expected duties, and various leisure activities. “Hunting Whales” and “Trying-Out a Whale” are discussed in their own sections. 

All Hands on Deck!

Most whaling ships feature 20-30 souls, divided into four groups of increasing “rank.”

Foremasthands (Crew)
The seamen “before the mast” dwell in the forecastle, and do most of the daily work operating and maintaining the ship. Divided into two crews, or “watches,” each watch works and rests in alternating four-hour periods. The crew is expected to scrub the decks, set the sails and adjust rigging, keep the equipment in order, row the whaleboats, and “try-out” dead whales. They also steer the ship and man the lookouts, both of these tasks performed in two-hour shifts. The crew eats poorly, and are not permitted in the cabin.

Shipkeepers (Idlers)
The next group are the shipkeepers, or the ship’s technical specialists. In general order of increasing pay grade, these men include the steward, cook, blacksmith, carpenter, and cooper. They live and dine in the steerage section, and are not assigned to any watches—they work during the day and sleep at night. For this reason, they’re commonly referred to as “idlers.” When a whale is sighted, the shipkeepers remain onboard the ship. Along with the boatsteerers, they’re often called “the steerage gang” by the foremasthands. On some ships the steerage gang includes the cabin boy; on others he’s placed in the forecastle. The shipkeepers also include crewmen not selected for whaleboats. Their job is to maintain the ship and lookouts, and to communicate with the whaleboats using signal flags.

Boatsteerers (Harpooneers)
The third group are the boatsteerers, or harpooneers. Usually numbering between three to four men, they sleep in the steerage area but dine at the captain’s table—after the officers have finished. Although they must stand lookout, and hold many responsibilities during the hunting and trying-out of whales, they’re not expected to labor on petty chores with the rest of the crew. Each boatsteerer is assigned to a mate, who’s the head of his boat and his immediate supervisor.

Officers (Captain & Mates)
The four men in charge of a whaling ship are the officers: the captain, or “master”; the first mate, sometimes called the chief mate or just the mate; the second mate; and the third mate. The captain and first mate have separate staterooms, but the second and third mates share a room. They dine together at the captain’s table, entering in order of rank and leaving in reverse order. Each mate is assigned a boat, a boatsteerer, and four additional men for his boat crew. The first and second mates also are in charge of the two watches; although on the Quiddity, this responsibility falls to the second and third mates. Smaller ships may not need a third mate, while larger ships may require a fourth mate and additional harpooneer.

Shipboard Time: Watches and Bells

The ship’s crew is divided into “starboard” and “larboard” watches, each headed by an officer. The term “watch” also denotes a period of time, usually a four-hour block in which one watch works while the other rests. A ship’s day includes two “dogwatches,” each lasting two hours. A more relaxed time, the dogwatches allow all sailors to socialize on deck. The splitting of the dogwatch ensures that the crews rotate through the watches rather than become entrenched in one particular time slot. Often confusing to lubbers, the watch system means that sailors never get a full night’s sleep! Each watch has its own name:

Beginning thirty minutes into each watch, the ship’s bell is rung every half-hour, with eight bells concluding the current watch and starting the next one. (Time is usually measured by an hourglass.) For the sake of clarity, the bell is rung in a 2, 2, 2, 2 pattern. If a whale is sighted, all hands report to deck for the lowering.

General Duties
Sailors work hard, and there are numerous tasks to be accomplished every day. Sails must be continually set, trimmed, and reefed (taken in to reduce surface area), or tweaked in numerous small ways. Rigging is in constant need of adjustment, repair, and mending. Ropes are tarred with pine resin to keep them firm and water-resistant. The hold must be flooded and the bilges pumped. All equipment is kept in constant repair and readiness; sails are mended and nets stitched; lines coiled and re-coiled; spades, harpoons and lances sharpened. Old rope is picked for “oakum”—tiny strings wound into a tarred ball, then pounded in between planks as caulking. Perhaps most importantly, sailors are responsible for keeping the ship on course by taking two-hour “tricks” at the helm. The only time they’re generally allowed aft, seamen approach on the lee side and ask permission to gain the quarterdeck.

Swabbing the Deck
Perhaps the shipboard duty best known to lubbers is “swabbing the deck.” Indeed, unless a whale is currently being butchered, there’s nothing an officer likes more than a clean deck! Occasionally the deck must be “holystoned.” In this process, the men use sandstone slabs to scrub the encrusted salt from the wooden planks. The deck is then rinsed thoroughly with seawater. Frequent holystoning gives the decks a smooth, blanched appearance. The name holystoning is derived from the book-like shape of the slabs: small holystones are called “prayer books,” larger stones are called “Bibles.”

Leisure

Whaling becomes tedious if no whales are spotted, and boredom is a serious problem for unlucky whalemen. Unless actively pursuing a whale, or making a transition between whaling grounds, many whaleships furl their sails and heave-to overnight: it’s pointless to hunt for whales in the dark. (An unthinkable practice in the Navy or commercial trade!)

Sailors spend their leisure time sewing and patching clothing, carving scrimshaw, swapping stories, and reading books and magazines. Some sailors liked to “fly fish” for albacore and bonito using white rags tied to hooks, which are skipped across the water like flying fish. Seamen also play cards, which are usually ragged and spotted with tar. A common game is High-low-Jack-and-the-Game, with plugs of tobacco as betting tokens. Whist and cribbage are too sophisticated for the average seaman, but are often played by officers during a gam. Younger sailors may indulge in the daytime sport of “whang o’ doodle,” a game of tag played around the windlass that involves the spanking of buttocks with strips of dampened cloth. Another popular game among younger tars is “King Arthur,” a frolic that combines “Monkey In the Middle” with a “ducking” game. After being declared King Arthur, a sailor issues taunts, jests, and insults to his “knights,” who douse him repetitively with buckets of water. If King Arthur can make one of his knights laugh, they trade places.

The Sea-Chest
A sailor’s most intimate “space” onboard the ship, his sea-chest contains clothing, a tin cup and bowl, a spoon, a bag of horse salt (Glauber salts), reading material, personal mementoes, and two brown jugs of rum. Toiletries (mirror, comb, razor) are stored in a round box called a ditty box, and sewing tools (needles, thread, buttons) are held in a ditty bag. A good sea-chest has a pair of ropework handles called beckets, and doubles as a forecastle seat. Sea-chests are often decorated with carvings and knotwork. During Sundays, men are allowed an hour of forecastle reverie known as “Sailor’s Pleasure.” During this period they’re expected to “overhaul” their sea-chests and “trim” their ditty-boxes. In reality, it provides men with an opportunity to go through their personal belongings and reminisce about home.

Food & Dining

Standard fare in the forecastle is salt beef or salt pork—usually called “junk” or “horse,” hard sea-biscuit (“hardtack”), and boiled coffee. Sometimes the coffee is sweetened with molasses. This repast is lowered into the forecastle each morning by the cook, colloquially known as the “doctor,” and dished into a wooden tub called a “kid.” During good weather, the sailors may eat on deck—this is greatly preferred. Hardtack decays as the voyage progresses, with the number of maggots, weevils, and roaches increasing in the flour, and usually baked right into the bread by the cook. Indeed, some sailors swear that old biscuit can crawl on its own! (Worth a 0/1 Sanity roll to a greenhorn?) Hardtack is usually softened by immersion in coffee. This also scalds the vermin, which are skimmed off with a knife. Hardtack is frequently dipped in the try-pots and fried. When available, beans, potatoes, yams, and rice may supplement this fare. Occasionally the doctor treats sailors to a boiled oatmeal-and-water mush called burgoo; and if they’re really lucky they’re given duff, a Sunday pudding made with raisins, similar to fruit cake. Another Sunday treat is lobscouse, a greasy stew made from chopped meat, hardtack, and miscellaneous vegetables. One welcome tradition on some whalers are “1000-barrel doughnuts.” In order to celebrate the first thousand barrels of oil tried-out and stowed below, the cook fries doughnuts in clear spermaceti oil for the entire crew.

Cabin Fare
Officers and boatsteerers eat better than the foremasthands, and dine in the cabin. Fresh vegetables, eggs, occasional chickens, and even freshly-butchered pork may be served, depending on the state of the ship’s livestock. When the captain dines, he summons the mates in order of priority, and dismisses them in reverse order. Because the third mate is the last to dine and the first to leave, he’s often considered the hungriest member of the crew! After the officers are finished, the table is cleared and the boatsteerers are invited to eat. The idlers are then served in the steerage section.

Fresh Meat
An even bigger problem than old hardtack is rotting meat, and even heavily-salted “junk” decays as the voyage wears on. Spoiled food is a common sailor’s complain, and many claim to smell a newly-opened cask of meat the moment it’s opened! Fresh meat may be supplied through fishing, and if a porpoise (or “sea-pig”) is harpooned, sailors feast on oily porpoise steaks and the serviceable liver. One delicacy often shared in the Pacific are tortoises. Erroneously called “terrapins” by sailors, large tortoises are collected from the Galápagos and similar islands. Kept in the dark of the hold where they fall into a dormant state, “stowed” tortoises can live up to a year without food and water. Before being eaten, they’re often left wandering the upper decks. When butchered, their heads are known for their tenacity, and can snap at seamen or simply “glare wildly” up to thirty minutes after being severed. Many tortoises contain a reservoir of water at the base of their neck, this water is considered sweet and delicious, as is their meat, usually salted and roasted over lava-rocks brought from the creature’s native island. The liver and heart are considered nutrient-rich delicacies.

The whales themselves may also provide sustenance. Some sailors enjoy steaks cut from the tapering end of the whale and lightly cooked; but this is a rarity, and considered peculiar to Nantucketers. Also enjoyed are “Whale Balls”—the brains of the sperm whale. After being hacked from the skull with an axe, the two plump, whitish lobes are mixed with flour and cooked, the taste being similar to calf brain. Blubber can be eaten—the Inuit certainly do so—but this practice is disdained. However, fried scraps of blubber are called “fritters.” Brown, crisp, and smelling like doughnuts, they’re especially favored by the Dutch.

Alcohol
On most British and European whalers alcohol is considered part of the daily rations; but many Yankee whalers are “Temperance” ships. Even those that aren’t completely dry limit the amount of alcohol served to the crew. (The Quiddity is definitely not a Temperance ship; Captain Joab believes that a hard-working crew should be rewarded generously with rum.)

The most common forms of alcohol onboard a whaler are beer, rum, and grog. Stored in casks, beer is consumed early in the voyage, as it quickly sours. Although rum is often quaffed “neat” by the officers, common sailors are more likely to get their spirits in the form of grog. This infamous concoction is a mixture of water and rum with other variable elements such as brown sugar, lime, or cinnamon thrown in for flavor. While the usual ratio is three parts water to one part rum, the many recipes for grog are summarized by a system based on the northwest quarter of the compass. North is pure rum and west is pure water; so NW is half-and-half, WNW a 3:1 rum ratio, NNW a 1:3 rum ratio. The usual serving of rum is the “tot,” which is 1/8 pint or 2 ounces. On occasion, officers reward the crew with the cry to “splice the main brace,” which is an invitation for a double-tot of grog.

On some ships, the captain allows the crew to distill their own alcohol. The two most common varieties are switchel and swankey. The comparatively weak switchel is a combination of vinegar or cider, molasses, water, and ginger. Known more as a refresher than an alcoholic beverage, the exact proof of switchel depends on the nature of the cider or vinegar used. More preferable is swankey, which takes a year to distill from a tank filled with potatoes, molasses, and water.

Tobacco
Tobacco is a precious commodity onboard any sailing ship. Tobacco is chewed in plugs called “chaws” or “quids,” which are later baked and dried for smoking in pipes. An average whaleman may go through 75 pounds of tobacco during a three-year voyage! When the supply of tobacco is exhausted, old salt-cured ropes are taken apart, and the pith or “heart” may be chewed as a substitute.

Superstitions

Sailors are notoriously superstitious. Ships are considered unlucky if they are painted green, if their name ends in the letter “a,” or if their name has been changed. To ensure good luck, a silver coin may be placed under the ship’s masthead, or a piece of stolen wood worked into its keel. Voyages are not to begin on Fridays—the day Christ was crucified. The following days are also ill-fated: the first Monday in April, when Cain slew Abel; the second Monday in August, the destruction of Sodom; or December 31, the day Judas Iscariot hanged himself. When setting off on a voyage, it is best to avoid people who are red-headed, flat-footed, or cross-eyed. If a person with any of these traits is encountered, bad luck may be averted by speaking to them first. When stepping upon the ship, leading with the left foot invites personal disaster. When leaving port, it’s best not to look homeward.

Various things that bring bad luck on a ship include black traveling bags and flowers, which signify funeral wreaths. Bananas are unlucky. Women on board are acceptable when a ship is in port, but when sailing, they bring bad luck. Priests are always bad luck to have aboard, and to a lesser extent, lawyers and tailors. Spilling wine on deck is considered good luck, and after saying something hopeful or positive, “touching wood” wards off bad luck. Sailors are quick to right anything that has fallen on its side, and objects which are upside-down invite bad luck, as does tossing stones into the sea, or losing a bucket or swab overboard. During a sea voyage, dolphins, swallows, and black cats are good omens; whereas cormorants and curlews are bad. A shark following a ship means a sailor will die, as does a ship’s bell ringing by itself or an unseen church bell heard from land. Gulls should not be killed, especially not albatrosses, which were once believed to contain the souls of dead mariners. Pigs and rabbits are considered unlucky—even their names are rarely mentioned. Cats are considered good luck, especially those with extra toes. The careful observation of a cat’s behavior may predict the weather. Having said that, losing a cat overboard invites catastrophe.

If the wind dies down, two common ways to summon it back are to whistle quietly, or to scratch a backstay, one of the rear lines keeping the mast in place. However, whistling too loudly—or when not in need of wind—invites a storm, and is looked upon as bad luck. In desperate situations, wind may be summoned by trapping a cat in a bucket or undoing a series of three knots.

Sailors avoid using the word “drowned” at sea, and protections against drowning include golden earrings, carrying the caul of a newborn, or wearing the feather of a wren slain on New Year’s Day. A ship is more prone to sink if a ringing glass is not quickly stopped, and sailors dislike being toasted—better to “raise a glass.” A ship is believed to travel slower if a corpse is on board. Finally, upon death, a long-time mariner goes to Davy Jones’ Locker if his death was violent or unfortunate; or to Fiddler’s Green if his death was peaceful.

For a game mechanic reflecting the ebb and flow of shipboard luck, see “The Curse of Jonah.”

Miscellania

Laundry
Sailors’ clothing is apt to get dirty, especially during the trying-out of a whale. One rather unappealing way that whalers clean their filthy togs is by soaking them in a barrel of urine, kept on deck for just such a purpose. The urine softens the clothing, which is then thoroughly cleansed with water and lye.

Medicine Chest
Unlike a British whaler, which is required to have a surgeon on board, a Yankee whaler must make do with her captain as physician. Every whaler is equipped with a medicine chest. Aside from the usual tinctures and bandages, the chest contains numbered vials of pharmaceuticals with instructions on which numbers or combination of vials treat various symptoms. While castor oil and laudanum work wonders in a pinch, there’s also calomel for venereal disease—calomel being pills of toxic mercurous chloride! And to add insult to injury, every sailor is expected to pay for using the medicine chest, which is deducted from their lay at the end of the voyage. Many captains also have their own “home remedies,” usually some variation of horse salts and sunfish oil.

Scurvy
Although fruit and vegetables were known to prevent scurvy by the time of the late Renaissance, the disease still remains a problem on long voyages short on fresh food. In the late eighteenth century, the British proved that citrus was an effective preventative, and most supplies of grog contain copious amounts of lemon or lime juice. (The pejoratives “limey” and “lime juicer” wouldn’t be applied to the English until the 1860s, when all British ships were required to issue daily lime rations.) As long as a whaleship occasionally acquires fresh fruit and and serves juiced grog, the crew remains free from scurvy. Which is good news, as most “folk remedies” for scurvy are atrocious, such as covering a man in hot whale meat, or burying him to his neck in sand!

The Slop Chest
A ship’s officers maintain a supply of common items such as tobacco, knives, razors, needles, shoes, clothing, coats, and hats. A sailor may purchase an item from this “slop chest” at a greatly marked-up rate, which is deducted from his lay at the end of the voyage. Many greenhands who ship out unprepared have been known to forfeit a goodly portion of their wages by frequenting the slop chest; yet another way that owners rake in profits at the expense of the common sailor.

Discipline
Like most nineteenth-century ships, the captain’s word is law onboard a whaler. However, there are limits to his legal authority, and unlike the Navy, a commercial ship does not have recourse to capital punishment. When a whaling captain decides a crewman requires some form of discipline, the usual punishment is to limit his food or assign him unpleasant duties. These include cleaning the captain’s head, standing extra watches at the lookouts, and chipping and oiling the anchor chains. When more serious correction is required, a sailor may be clapped in irons, exposed to the hot sun for prolonged periods of time, or “seized in the rigging.” In this unpleasant practice, the offender is forced to stand on deck with his arms stretched as high as possible while lashed to the rigging. Widely considered torture by the crew, being seized in the rigging may also involve privation and exposure to the sun. If more extreme measures are warranted, a wayward sailor may be beaten or flogged, but this is rare, and the U.S. government outlawed flogging on merchant vessels in 1850. (Not that every captain honored this prohibition, of course!)

While corporeal punishments are certainly unpleasant, the whale fishery is not the Navy, and there are cases where whalers have successfully sued their captains for maltreatment. Whaling is a commercial enterprise, after all. Agents like their captains to be “fishy,” but excessively cruel masters are not profitable. As the old saying goes, “A bad captain makes a bad crew,” and a bad crew is not productive. Nevertheless, the annals of whaling are filled with stories of heartless captains and brutish mates who strike, beat, and whip sailors for the slightest complaint.

Sources & Notes

While this piece drew on many helpful resources, there are three works of nonfiction that stand out. Clifford W. Ashley’s The Yankee Whaler is still the best overall book about the ins-and-outs of whaling, and is essential reading on the subject. Eric Jay Dolin’s Leviathan: The History of Whaling In America demonstrates great empathy for the common whaleman, framing his experience in the context of industrial-era exploitation. And Warren Tobey’s The Cabin Boy’s Log; Scenes and Incidents on a New Bedford Whaler offers a contemporary account of a typical whaling voyage. Also, Tobey’s portrait of his mean-spirited captain is a profile in petty tyranny—no captain Ahab here, just an asshole boss with the power to seize you in the rigging! Henry Dana’s classic Two Years Before the Mast is also recommended, although it’s not specifically about whaling. Turning to fiction, Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick remains the most romantic novel about whaling, and obviously the best; but the nineteenth century is full of sensationalized whaling novels, including William Comstock’s aptly-titled A Voyage to the Pacific: Descriptive of the Customs, Usages, and Sufferings on Board of Nantucket Whale-ships.

Images
The illustration in the header is from the Gustav Doré illustrations of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

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Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 14 October 2021
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
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