Mocha Dick or The White Whale of the Pacific
Mocha lies upon the coast of Chili, in lat. 380 28' south, twenty leagues north of Mono del Bonifacio, and opposite the Imperial river, from which it bears w. s. w.Mocha Isle is 34 miles west of sea town Tirua Mocha Dick, this renowned monster, who had come off victorious in a hundred fights with his pursuers, was an old bull whale, of prodigious size and strength. From the effect of age, or more probably from a freak of nature, as exhibited in the case of the Ethiopian Albino, a singular consequence had resulted -- he was white as wool! Instead of projecting his spout obliquely forward, and puffing with a short, convulsive effort, accompanied by a snorting noise, as usual with his species, he flung the water from his nose in a lofty, perpendicular, expanded volume, at regular and somewhat distant intervals; its expulsion producing a continuous roar, like that of vapor struggling from the safety-valve of a powerful steam engine.
Viewed from a distance, the practised eye of the sailor only could decide, that the moving mass, which constituted this enormous animal, was not a white cloud sailing along the horizon. On the spermaceti whale, barnacles are rarely discovered; but upon the head of this lusus naturae, they had clustered, until it became absolutely rugged with the shells. In short, regard him as you would, he was a most extraordinary fish; or, in the vernacular of Nantucket, "a genuine old sog", of the first water.
Opinions differ as to the time of his discovery. It is settled, however, that previous to the year 1810, he had been seen and attacked near the island of Mocha. Numerous boats are known to have been shattered by his immense flukes, or ground to pieces in the crush of his powerful jaws; and, on one occasion, it is said that he came off victorious from a conflict with the crews of three English whalers, striking fiercely at the last of the retreating boats, at the moment it was rising from the water, in its hoist up to the ship's davits. It must not be supposed, howbeit, that through all this desperate warfare, our leviathan passed scathless. A back serried with irons, and from fifty to a hundred yards of line trailing in his wake, sufficiently attested, that though unconquered, he had not proved invulnerable.
From the period of Dick's first appearance, his celebrity continued to increase, until his name seemed naturally to mingle with the salutations which whalemen were in the habit of exchanging, in their encounters upon the broad Pacific; the customary interrogatories almost always closing with, "Any news from Mocha Dick?" Indeed, nearly every whaling captain who rounded Cape Horn, if he possessed any professional ambition, or valued himself on his skill in subduing the monarch of the seas, would lay his vessel along the coast, in the hope of having an opportunity to try the muscle of this doughty champion, who was never known to shun his assailants. It was remarked, nevertheless, that the old fellow seemed particularly careful as to the portion of his body which he exposed to the approach of the boat-steerer; generally presenting, by some well-timed manoeuvre, his back to the harpooneer; and dexterously evading every attempt to plant an iron under his fin, or a spade on his "small".
Though naturally fierce, it was not customary with Dick, while unmolested, to betray a malicious disposition. On the contrary, he would sometimes pass quietly round a vessel, and occasionally swim lazily and harmlessly among the boats, when armed with full craft, for the destruction of his race. But this forbearance gained him little credit, for if no other cause of accusation remained to them, his foes would swear they saw a lurking deviltry in the long, careless sweep of his flukes. Be this as it may, nothing is more certain, than that all indifference vanished with the first prick of the harpoon; while cutting the line, and a hasty retreat to their vessel, were frequently the only means of escape from destruction, left to his discomfited assaulters.
Don't bother my head about catching of seals!
To me there's more glory in catching of eels;
Give me a tight ship, and under snug sail,
And I ask for no more, 'long side the sperm whale,
In the Indian Ocean,
Or Pacific Ocean,
No matter what ocean;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"When our anchor's a-peak, sweethearts and wives
Yield a warm drop at parting, breathe a prayer for our lives;
With hearts full of promise, they kiss off the tear
From the eye that grows rarely dim -- never with fear!
Then for the ocean, boys,
The billow's commotion, boys,
That's our devotion, boys,
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"Soon we hear the glad cry of 'Town O! -- there she blows!'
Slow as night, my brave fellows, to leeward she goes:
Hard up! square the yards! then steady, lads, so!
Cries the captain, 'My maiden lance soon shall she know!'
Now we get near, boys,
In with the gear, boys,
Swing the cranes clear, boys;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"Our boat's in the water, each man at his oar
Bends strong to the sea, while his bark bounds before,
As the fish of all sizes, still flouncing and blowing,
With fluke and broad fin, scorn the best of hard rowing:
Hang to the oar, boys,
Another stroke more, boys;
Now line the oar, boys;
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"Then rises long Tom, who never knew fear;
Cries the captain, 'Now nail her, my bold harpooner!'
He speeds home his lance, then exclaims, 'I am fast!'
While blood, in a torrent, leaps high as the mast:
Starn! starn! hurry, hurry, boys!
She's gone in her flurry, boys,
She'll soon be in 'gurry', boys!
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"Then give me a whaleman, wherever he be,
Who fears not a fish that can swim the salt sea;
Then give me a tight ship, and under snug sail,
And last lay me 'side of the noble sperm whale;
In the Indian ocean,
Or Pacific ocean,
Not matter what ocean
Pull ahead, yo heave O!"
![](https://i.imgur.com/rt1IqBl.jpg")
The Mocha Dick Project by Randall Enos
The Whale Ship Essex
On the 20th of November 1820, the Nantucket whaling ship ship Essex (87 feet long with a 21 man crew) found a group of sperm whales in the South Pacific, the whaling boats were launched and the hunt began. A man named Owen Chase the first mate harpooned a large bull which trashed about with its hugely powerful flukes and smashed a hole in the boat. The men on the boat managed to stuff some cloth into the hole, reluctantly cut the whale loose and made it back to the Essex safely.This in itself was not an unusual occurrence, whale boats not uncommonly sustained damage from whales and a certain amount was expected. What Owen Chase and the other whalers saw next however was most definitely unusual. The stricken whale had come close to the ship and was swimming headlong towards it, Chase recalled "He came down on us with full speed, and struck the ship with his head ... and he gave us such an appalling and tremendous jar as nearly threw us all on our faces."
The whale had made a hole in the stout timbers of the ship and the crew began to pump out the water and attend to the hole. A few minutes later however and one of the crew shouted out:
"Here he is - he is making for us again".
Chase said:
"I turned around, and saw him coming down apparently with twice his ordinary speed, and to me at that moment, it appeared with ten-fold fury and vengeance. The surf flew in all directions about him, and his course towards us was marked by a white foam, which he made with the continual thrashing of his tail; his head was about half out of the water, and in that way, he came upon, and again struck the ship."
The ship had been so badly damaged by the enraged whale that the crew had to abandon her. There were two other whaling boats out hunting at the time and by the time they returned to the Essex, she was nearly all below the water. Few supplies were able to be recovered from the Essex and the crew set them selves to for a row of over 1000 miles.
They were about 2000km (1250 miles) from the nearest land (sperm whales are creatures of the deep sea and are not usually found near to land) in three small open boats with very few supplies.
The voyage to rescue was terrible with little food or water. Their bread was soaked and too salty to eat once dried out, when it eventually rained and the rain caught in the sails, the sails were so salty from earlier wettings with sea water that the rain was too salty to drink. For ninety days they drifted slowly dying of thirst and hunger, the survivors eventually eating the dead. Of twenty-one men shipwrecked, only eight survived.
Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex by Owen Chase (First Mate)
The Loss of the Ship Essex, Sunk by a Whale and the Ordeal of the Crew in Open Boats by Thomas Nickerson (Cabin Boy)
Sketch of the Whaleship Essex being struck by a whale. Sketched by Thomas Nickerson 20 November 1819