In Maritime Logbooks, a Trove of ‘Extraordinary’ Imagery
During
the 19th century, travelers on whaling ships used art to record
dramatic and sometimes gory events. In official logbooks and personal
journals, sailors and passengers listed sea routes, weather conditions,
whale-oil harvests, ship repairs and stops for provisions. In pen,
pencil and watercolor, they added drawings of heaving whales in their
death throes dragging boats, bleeding whale carcasses being torn apart
and seamen’s coffins lowered into the ocean.
Michael P. Dyer, the senior maritime historian at the New Bedford Whaling Museum
in Massachusetts, is tracking down these illustrations for a book, “The
Art of the Yankee Whale Hunt: Manuscript Illustration in the Age of
Sail.” Some journals contain just one meticulously detailed image
because, Mr. Dyer said, “in the middle of the voyage, something
extraordinary happened.”
The
last major study of the subject appeared in the 1980s. Illustrated
whaling journals are now on display in the New Bedford Whaling Museum’s
exhibition “Mapping Ahab’s ‘Storied Waves’ — Whaling and the Geography
of ‘Moby-Dick,’” about cartographic resources that Herman Melville’s
vengeful main character would have used to find the white behemoth that
bit off his lower leg.
The New Bedford Whaling Museum owns 2,300 logbooks. About 100 are digitized and online,
and more digitizing is in progress. The museum has been acquiring them,
as gifts and purchases, for more than a century. (Heavily illustrated
volumes can sell for
tens of thousands of dollars each.) One-third of the collection’s
logbooks contain some kind of drawing, including simple outlines of
whales in the margins or tableaus detailed with ship rigging; portraits
of particular American Indian and African-American crewmen; marine
creatures’ fin and fluke silhouettes; and the animals’ wounds from
gunshots, lances and harpoons.
The
drawings at times reveal mishaps: broken tools and ropes, escaped
whales and the untethered bodies of whales that sank. Each logbook could
cover several trips around the world and contain writings and images
from numerous shipmates. Sailors would share drawings onboard, they
critiqued one another’s art, and they sometimes worked on commission for
officers. A number of the identifiable artists, including Joseph Bogart
Hersey and Joseph Washington Tuck, were based in Provincetown, Mass.,
where a culture of maritime sketching seems to have arisen. “To this
day, Provincetown is an artists’ colony,” Mr. Dyer observed.
He
can sometimes pinpoint not only the dates of the incidents but also the
ships’ geographic coordinates at the relevant moment. “You can, in
many, many cases, identify the event,” he said.
In
1864, a young Massachusetts man, Amos C. Baker Jr., sketched his own
accident off the Patagonian coast; a whale smashed his boat, and his leg
was broken in two places. “Getting cracked” was Mr. Baker’s caption for
the logbook picture. After healing for a few months in his cabin, he
returned to work as a third mate, hobbling on crutches and leaning on
oars.
“He
was in misery for the rest of the voyage, and he was lame for the rest
of his life,” Mr. Dyer said. Mr. Baker, who later worked as a lighthouse
keeper, probably took some comfort in knowing that in an act of
vengeance that Captain Ahab would have admired, his shipmates
slaughtered the whale that had slammed into him.
A
handful of women, traveling with husbands who were ship officers,
contributed drawings to sea journals. The New Bedford Whaling Museum
owns Lydia Tuck’s watercolors of hunts off the West African coast, which
she produced in the 1850s while accompanying her husband, Francis Tuck,
the ship’s master and a brother of the artist Joseph Tuck. She was
pleased at their large oil harvest from “a noble whale,” she wrote,
although “it seems cruel to kill them.”
Other institutions, including the Martha’s Vineyard Museum, have begun digitizing illustrated logbooks. Yale University has posted pages from a journal
that the Yale-educated writer Francis Allyn Olmsted produced around
1840, during a sailing voyage from the Northeastern United States to the
Pacific Islands and back. Mr. Olmsted recorded whale carcasses amid
choppy waves; weapons used in hunting expeditions; costumes worn by
islanders; and encounters with icebergs, snow, hail and gales. He
apologized for the quality of his workmanship on the page: “My friends
must remember the great disadvantages I labor under in drawing, as for
instance the constant motion of the ship.”
Unsigned
sketches, untraceable so far to any identifiable voyage, have turned up
tucked inside logbooks, and some illustrations have apparently been
removed from logbooks and turned into framed art, disconnected from
their original narratives. Mr. Dyer has also found journals that
illustrate seamen’s hunting triumphs on specific whaleboats, although
other archival records of the voyages show the slaughters never actually
happened.
“It’s wishful thinking, a whaleman imagining that he’d captured whales on that particular day,” Mr. Dyer said.
Logbook artists worked in other media as well. The New Bedford museum owns whalebone and whale ivory carvings by Mr. Hersey and Mr. Baker. Mr. Hersey, in his 1843 journal, described himself as “slightly skilled in the art of flowering; that is drawing and painting upon bone; steam boats, flower pots, monuments, balloons, landscapes &c.” He considered himself something of a naturalist too, documenting “much diversity in the form and habits of the inhabitants of the ocean.”
One combination, however, remains elusive. Mr. Dyer said that he had “not yet been able to connect a whaling scene drawn in a journal with a whaling scene engraved on a whale’s tooth.”
1 comment:
Should be a fascinating book, I look forward to the release. The script and illustration in the photo from the Tuck journal is beautiful. My handwriting is barely legible.
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