United States Merchant Marine Academy - Midships Yearbook (Kings Point, NY)

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Just before the mate went forward to weigh anchor, Skip heard the captain tell him to have the crew muster on the poop deck promptly on the first even bell after they cleared the estuary of the river. Just what the captain had to tell the crew was of great importance to Skip and he knew that he must make that meeting. Little did he know that it was customary for the captain of a whaler to address the crew and inform them of how things were to be run aboard his vessel at the start of each voyage. Little did he know about how his stern but impressive idol would conduct himself on this voyage. Up until this point, Skip thought him to be a pretty democratic person and definitely not the type that would be a tyrant as soon as the land ceased to be in view. Except for a little matter called wages, Skip thought him to be pretty fair and level headed. As he signed articles, the captain told him that his lay was 1 250 and if he didn ' t like it, he could look for a berth on another ship-he was too green to be worth anymore than that. A lay. Skip found out, was the share a man received of the net profits of the voyage after he signed off articles at the end of the voyage. Well, these few seemingly stern words could be forgotten and with youth. Skip didn ' t even consider the money end of the voyage. He was young and through his eyes, the most important thing was success-that would definitely include wealth and was definitely the most important of the two. A view of the forecastle of a typical whaler Take note of the seachests located in the low i r right Seanu n stowed all of their gear in these chests. What are you here for? the captain shouted at the crew. What are you here for? Maybe some of you don ' t know, so I ' ll tell you. You come to go awhaling-to get oil-to work. Work! That ' s what you ' re here for. We don ' t ship you to play. If you ' ve got any other idea, you ' ll find out you ' re mistaken. I ' ll see to that I will! And I warn you-Fll have no fighting aboard my ship. Any quarrels you have, bring ' em to me. I ' ll settle ' em for you, I will. And I don ' t want to hear no cussin ' . It ' s an infernal bad habit, and I won ' t have it. If I catch anybody swearing, I ' ll see to it that he ' s flogged-dammed if I don ' t! As for grub, you ' ll get plenty of vittles-if you work. If you don ' t work, there ' s a good chance you ' ll starve. No need to grumble about the grub, neither. If you don ' t get enough, tell me ' bout it. Obey the officers ' orders at all times. Do your duty, and I ' ll treat you well. But if you make trouble, look out! I ' m no man to stand for it, I ain ' t! No, not me— and don ' t you forget it. Well, the sooner we get a cargo of oil, the sooner we ' ll get home. I guess that ' s all. Now go forward, where you belong. As Skip set out to work his way forward, he began to consider the meaning of the captain ' s words. What are you here for? The words seemed to hang in the breeze about him. Whales . . . oil . . . work. Even a landlubber could see the difference between a whaler and a merchant man and between a whaleman and a merchant sailor, even Skip was beginning to understand. Well, the ne.xt thing on the agenda for a green cabin boy was to learn his ship from stem to stern. So it was that Skip started forward to explore this island that was to be his home for the next few years-a home as strange to him as a virgin jungle to the young explorer on his initial expedition.

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sound body and set mind-already he sees him- self as the one he now serves; singing out orders to set the sails for some far and distant sea. Already he feels the deep inner urge to command and master a whaler on an open voyage. Yes the captain sees Skip and knows his thoughts only too well. It was only those few short voyages ago that he was shanghied on board a whaler. He didn ' t like the idea when it happened, but he learned to love the sea and its ordeals after four years of the most intimate relations with it. The coastline was beginning to take on a nondescript appearance and already it was dif- ficult to locate the estuary of the Acushnet River from where they had taken their departure only a while ago. Within the next few hours, towards sunset, the coastline would fade and with dawn the Anne B. would be alone in the kingdom of the whale. The crew was made up of men, both ex- perienced and green, from New Bedford, foreign lands, and small inland towns such as the one from which Skip had come. Within this crew, the cross section of young America could be seen. There were immigrants, decendents of the original settlers, and representatives of various Indian tribes that had populated the vast North American continent long before the European white man. Every ethnic group imaginable was represented and all were of the same hardy, sincere, and dependable stock. These men were whalemen and in no other industry on earth could their likes be found. To Skip, this was all new— but as the coastline faded, he was still overcome by a strange feeling of loneliness that accompanied each fleeting glimpse of the fading coastline that he caught as he hurried about doing his duties. Fortunate- The wives of wlialemon. These were the women who stayed home waiting for the return of their husbands for many years at a time or went whahnR with them aboard the vessels they commanded. ly, he was young and had never really set down to survey his emotions. His mind was burdened with what lie thought were more important things— he had to get to know this strange kind of a boat, or rather ship that he had come to call his home. His duties, or chores as they were called back on the farm in Vermont, were easy enough. It was the things that were not of im- mediate importance to him that he was con- cerned about— the things that his success would someday be contingent upon. A cutaway view of a bark industry in the nineteenth cei nployed in the whahng ■■• ■ ' • ■ ' ' '

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while crossing the main deck from port to starboard near the midships section, Skip came across the sailmaker, old Jimmy Mitchal. Jim had shipped for many years aboard Yankee whalers, sailing in both the forecastle and the steerage. Now, with age, he preferred to ship as a sailmaker rather than a harpooner or boat- steerer. Needless, to say, he was probably one of the most respected men on board, and for Skip, he was a blessing from Heaven. While fighting to traverse what first seemed to be an uphill climb and the next moment, a downhill tumble, Skip heard old Jimmy sing out Come here boy. And with that. Skip spun around to see who it was that was beckoning him. ' Ter green ain ' t ya? said Jim. Looking puz- zled and at a loss for words, Skip didn ' t reply and only managed to stare at Jim with a look of half amazement and half amusement at this bearded man with such stern and authorative voice. Perhaps there was friendship to ' be had in this world of apparent strangers who were all so busy with their duties that they only ever rarely passed the time of day between each other when meeting or passing during the course of their work. Maybe within the heart of this Nimrod of the Sea Skip could find a warm spot to harbor all that was in his mind— maybe this man would console him when he was troubled and cajole him when his accomplishments be- gan to go to his head. Maybe here Skip could find recognition and friendship. Yer green, ain ' t ya? the old salt bellowed again and Skip, still in a daze, continued to stare on as if he had lost his tongue. Well, answer up lad— it ' s only a question. Not meant to be an insult. Everything has to have a start. Nothin, not even a whaleman, just is! The saloon on the CHARLES W. MORGAN. The cap- tain sat at the head of the table and his wife and officers sat around him. mmiummmi