The Last Whale-Chase Off Nantucket

T h e L a st W h a le -C ha se O f f N a n t u c k et

by Edouard A. Stackpole

THE APPEARANCE OF a number of pilot whales, beached on the south shore of the Island in December, brought about a number of questions, among which was that of when the last whale was actually taken by Nantucketers off these shores. While it is known that a dead right whale was found out in the sound and towed into Nantucket harbor, where it was "cut in" alongside a schooner at Straight Wharf in April, 1871, and that schools of blackfish came up on the north shore and the bathing beach in 1878 and 1918, the last whale to be chased and taken by a whaleboat and crew was in April of 1887 — ninety-five years ago this year.

It was on a Monday morning, April 12, 1887, that the brick store of Joseph B. Macy, on Straight Wharf, was the scene of considerable activity. A whaleboat, rowed by five experienced men at the oars, came around Brant Point from the west'ard, with Captain Timothy Clisby at the steering oar. They pulled up in the dock between Old South and Straight Wharf and began loading from the Macy Store the gear necessary to cut-in and boil out the blubber of the whale they had killed off Tuckernuck some twenty-four hours before. While his crew got the whale line and spades together, and others rolled six 7-barrel casks down the wharf, Captain Clisby gave the answers to the usual questions being asked. "We first sighted the whale last Tuesday morning," he said, "when I was visiting my mate, George Coffin, on Tuckernuck. A year ago we had been together on the topsail schooner Era, whaling in Hudson Bay. Coffin had sighted a school of whales just off the Island and we got a boat's crew together in a hurry. We had to put to sea without a compass and with no grub, but we had to work fast." As he continued his story, his crew kept busy collecting the gear now needed from Macy's. The catboat Vesta, Captain Jernegan, with Horace Cash (both ex-whalemen), was used to hold a 600-lb. try-pot and several cutting-in spades. The group was anxious for Captain Clisby to resume his story, and he soon complied. "After leaving the beach at Tuckernuck we came up to where the school was slowly moving, and we singled out a big fellow. Coffin got into his usual position in the bow, with a harpoon in hand, while I was at the steering oar. As we drew up to him we saw he was a 60-barrel fellow — a good-sized whale. Approaching him carefully, the time came for Coffin to sink his harpoon well into his body, and we pulled 'starn-all' as the whale reacted as expected. Soon we were off on a Nantucket sleigh-ride, as the critter shot forward like a rocket. He tired, and then shot forward again, as strongly as before."

One of the boat's crew, who recalled the incident, was Captain Everett Coffin, for many years a steamboat skipper between Seattle and Tacoma,

The Right Whale of the North Atlantic.

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HISTORIC NANTUCKET Washington. During a visit to Nantucket in 1932 (fifty years ago), he described the experience, with his retentive memory serving him well. He was seventeen years old at the time he became a whaleman. "When the whale spurted off, dragging the boat, the whaleboat would settle, so that the water rose on either side, like a wall. When he eased up, we would take up the oars, pulling closer to him. George Coffin had now exchanged places with Captain Clisby, to become the boat-steerer, while Clisby stood up in the bow with the lance, ready to kill the tiring animal."

Everett Coffin, being a strong young man, handled his oar so well that he caught the eye of both Clisby and Mate Coffin, who, later, were to sign him on for a voyage in the Era, a New London whaling schooner. (This was another story, better reserved for another account.) "This whale was still active and wary," went on Captain Clisby, resuming his story. "It takes both skill and caution to approach him closely enough to use the lance. If you get directly in his wake, he instinctively knows it, and he will invariably sound, or dive. You must come up on his quarter. We did so — and I plunged the lance in as deeply as I could. We had a crew of good oarsmen but they were not — with the exception of George (Coffin) — experienced. They obeyed the order 'starn all' so promptly that the lance was left in the whale, but with the line attached."

Although Captain Clisby did not show his resentment for this development, at this critical juncture, he probably held his tongue. He continued: "The lance stayed there until he quieted down, and I was able to get up to him again. This time the men put me right onto him and I was able to churn the lance until it struck the vital spot, and he spouted blood. He went into the usual flurry, then started off once more, towing us behind him steadily. Night was coming on, and the fog dropped like a blanket around us. Our position was the more precarious because we hadn't eaten all that day, we were tired, and we didn't have a compass. We had to cut the line and let him go."

At 7:30 that night, the weary boat's crew landed on Muskeget, close by the Life Saving Station, where they spent the night. Both Mate Coffin and Captain Clisby were well aware of the habits of right whales, and decided to wait a few hours on Muskeget. The next day at noon they rowed back to Tuckernuck where some replacements in the boat crew were "signed on," and they awaited the lookouts' word. Three days later, their patience was rewarded. Another school of whales was sighted, and the boat pulled off to intercept the half dozen whales which were rolling and blowing a few miles from shore. "We came up to them about mid-morning," stated Captain Clisby. "This time we slipped up to a big fellow and made fast. A more experienced crew put me onto him, and I lanced him. Within 15 minutes he was dead. A short time later he sank, lying in eleven fathoms of water."

Marking the spot with a buoy attached to the whale-line, Captain Clisby and Mate Coffin waited, then took bearings and rowed ashore. They knew the whale would come to the surface after about 48 hours, and they kept watch. Mate Coffin busied himself by going aboard the catboat Vesta, and helped pilot her to a landing place on Tuckernuck. It was while he was engaged in this task, Mate Coffin noticed a sailing dory coming out to them. It proved to

Cutting in a whale alongside the schooner "Abby Bradford" in Nantucket Harbor, at the wharf.