WHALING

WHALING

There was a whale on the news the other day that got lost in the Thames river in England. It reminded me of a story my dad told me many years ago. One of his seven brothers was applying for unemployment back in the 30's, I think. He never wanted them to find him a job so he put down his profession as whaler. Not much call for whalers in Cincinnati. Not much call for whalers anywhere by that time.

There was a day when whaling was a huge business. In the 18th and 19th centuries, whale oil was much in demand. It is heavy in paraffin so you could make candles out of it. In oil lamps, it burned clean and bright with little smoke. It was the standard for trains and lighthouses. Only the richest people could afford it for their homes.

Whaling was actually a miserable job. Whaling ships would sail the seas looking for sperm whales. When a pod was sighted, the ships would sail close and put down their small boats called whalers. Six people were in the boat; a captain, four rowers and a harpoonist. They would row right up to a whale (within a few feet) and the harpoon man would jab the harpoon through the skin of the whale. This irritated the whale but wouldn't kill it. Some 1500 feet of rope was attached to the harpoon whose pronged end would not release from the whale. The whale would run and pull the boat along, usually for hours, until it tired. When the whale tired of pulling the boat it came to the surface to rest and breath fresh air. The whalers would then take a lance and stab the whale until they hit an artery. They could tell this because blood would spurt out of its blow hole. The carcass of the whale would be towed to the ship and processed on board.

So many whales were killed like this in the 19th century that they became harder and harder to find. Whale oil became more and more expensive. For the whales, thank God the Wizard of Menlo Park came along.