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Title: Bluewater Bride - The Voyage of the Halcyon
Author: E.C. Norton
ISBN: 1928928102
Description:
Bluewater Bride by E. C. Norton is a whaling story with a twist – focusing on a young woman’s coming of age during a whaling voyage around the world. Set in the last great days of whaling in the 19th century, Emily sails with her father, Hiram Wright, aboard the Halcyon to overcome the grief at the loss of her mother. Aboard she meets Captain Henry Gifford, a dependable Yankee mariner who was the best of his breed. When Emily’s father unexpectedly dies, Emily grows to make a choice about the kind of woman she was destined to be – as independent and courageous as the mariner she chooses to marry in this voyage of discovery.
Author's Note:
For some decades in the mid-19th Century, New Bedford, Massachusetts, a small New England city, was among the wealthiest places in the United States. New Bedford’s prosperity was based on light – light for the lamps of the nation and beyond and such exotic products as base for perfumes, and stays for corsets in that Victorian Age.
The light was provided by whale oil for lamps and candles, the end product of an industry that pitted strong men against huge mammals of the sea. Mariners by the hundreds from New Bedford and neighboring communities of Nantucket and Falmouth went to sea in sturdy four-mast barks – crews of young men seeking adventure and profit.
The voyages lasted an average of four years and whatever profit they made was distributed to the seamen when, and if, they reached home port. These mariners gambled their lives against luck of the sea and in so doing, also became among the first Americans to touch shore in the Pacific and elsewhere in Asia. I moved to one of the whaler ports some years ago, and became interested in the historic whaling industry, the reality beyond Herman Melville’s classic Moby Dick and the glorious present day classic whaler-captain mansions.
Most whaling voyages, I learned, were straightforward business enterprises—catch whales, make oil, make money. And the voyages were dangerous, especially at a time when medicine was primitive and illness and accidents common. And especially dangerous for the whaler captains’ wives who left family and friends ashore to join their spouse as Best Mate.
These men—and women—who went whaling were generally taciturn Yankees, slow to speak when it did not improve on silence, but they kept good logs and diaries, many of which are in the National Historic Park Whaling Museum in New Bedford, and at the Historical Society at Falmouth on Cape Cod. These documents shed light on a different time, on an industry now gone, and on individuals whose bravery became legendary. They saw the real world of their time before film, television and the internet and returned home with the tales of adventure.
Though the master of the Halcyon and his crew are fictional, they are based on actual logs and diaries and I believe these characters could have stepped ashore in Honolulu in 1860 and fit in easily with their salty peers for a ‘gam.’ So, climb aboard the Halcyon as it raises sail and takes you back to another time and many places.
Edward C. Norton
Falmouth, 2003
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Excerpt from Chapter 1:
September 1858 New Bedford
The rain had the smell of the sea. Few were out on Johnnycake Hill as Henry Gifford made his way carefully across the narrow cobbled street toward the brick two-story building on the corner. The rain spattered on his tall beaver hat and the shoulder of his black coat. It was September and the storm that hung over New Bedford contained the chill of fall.
Henry Gifford walked carefully across the slippery cobbles, careful to step around the mounds of horse dropping that littered the roadway. His clothing and shoes were new and he didn’t want to soil them. At the building entrance Henry Gifford stopped and knocked vigorously on the oak door. “Enter,” a muffled voice called from within. Henry Gifford pressed the iron door handle and pushed.
The door swung open silently and he stepped into a large room lighted by four oil lamps. The large windows at side and rear of the room added little light from the dank day. A small, bald man seated at a small table looked at the wall clock, which read almost 3 p.m., then looked at a paper on his desk.
“Gifford?” he asked.
Henry Gifford nodded.
“Upstairs,” the small man said. “They are waiting.” He pointed to a steep staircase to his left.
Henry Gifford shook himself to shed the rain before he climbed the stairs. At its top he stopped and turned left into a large room where three older men sat around a large rectangular table. Henry Gifford could hear the rain against the window behind them. Henry Gifford could also see part of the New Bedford harbor. The trio seated at the table all wore dark coats; all were bearded. Their tall hats were arranged at one end of the table.
“Take the chair,” commanded the white bearded man.
Henry Gifford removed his damp hat and sat it on the table near the others. Then he dropped into the straight-back wood chair before the table. The trio looked at him impassively.
“You must be Gifford, from Falmouth,” the older man said, his comment almost but not quite a question.
“Here to ship on our Halcyon. I am Captain Lowery. These,” he said, pointing to the other two men in order, “are Abraham Meller and Hiram Wright. We are the Halcyon principals.” Captain Lowery picked up two small papers from the table. “You have been recommended by Captain Joyce of Falmouth. And,” he continued, waving the second letter, “your credentials say you captained the schooner Algonquin Trader until last month.”
Henry Gifford leaned toward the men behind the dark wood table. “That is correct. I have shipped since 14 as cabin boy. Ten years awhaling. Last two as master of the Trader. Quit that.”
“Why?” asked red-faced Hiram Wright.
Henry Gifford shifted on his chair. “The storm last month caught us coming down from Portland with a load of lumber.”
“That storm wrecked many ships,” Wright interrupted. “Algonquin Trade too?”
Henry Gifford shook his head no. “We came close, off Marblehead. We didn’t make safe harbor before it was on us. Then, too late. We rode it out. Day and a night.” Henry Gifford was silent for some moments. “Brought the ship in to Boston. Didn’t lose the load.”
The men were silent for more moments. Abraham Meller cleared his throat. “Why do you want to ship now on Halcyon?”
Henry Gifford turned to Meller. “The owners of the Trader didn’t recognize that their investment had been saved. They paid on a calm voyage.” Gifford shifted his weight on the chair. “I would like to ship as master where I would be paid for what I produced.”
Meller replied, “Fair enough. You know that bad business conditions last year have made investments in whaling this year of 1858 a risk. The price of whale oil has moved greatly.”
Gifford smiled. “I recognize that. Business is off. But, after a decade after the beast, I believe I know how to chase the beast and bring back 300 casks, at least.” Meller changed the subject. “Where is your home?”
“Chappaquoit Harbor,” Gifford said. “My mother lives in the house my late father built for her. I am an only child.”
“How old are you?” Captain Lowery asked.
“Twenty-eight,” Gifford replied. “Shipped as cabin boy to old Captain Higginson, and later, Captain Joyce, whose letter you have before you. I was four years as boat steerer, then third mate, and moved to first mate four years ago.”
“Why coastal shipping?” Lowery continued. Gifford grimaced. “I left Captain Joyce two years ago when he retired to Falmouth home port. My father was ill. He died last year.”
“Did your father ship?” Lowery asked. “No. He raised sheep. Sold sea salt, and some shell fishing. I did not want to follow. I’d rather chance the lays rewarding a successful voyage for the beasts.” Lowery grunted. “Do you think you can find the beasts better and faster than older masters?” Meller asked.
Gifford coughed. “I have made a study of the habits of the different whales and have come to some conclusions about their activities. Anyone who captains Halcyon should be on order to find the beasts and return earliest as possible. These four-year voyages do not put coin in your accounts as principals.”
“Some do,” Lowery said, smiling for the first time. “The captains send oil back with other ships, on account, and that keeps the business fresh.” Gifford did not smile when he replied, “First, they have to find and cut the beasts. I have learned some lessons shipping, mostly about the beasts and some about crews.”
“We can get any number of hands,” Meller interrupted.
“True today,” Gifford said. “But after months in the horse latitudes with no sightings, or a stop for victuals at a Pacific island and some decide they want another occupation. They do not stick.” The three older men leaned forward, interested in Gifford’s explanation. “And how might that be changed?” Meller asked.
“My position is that the crew needs to be carefully selected, and they need to understand from the sailing that they will share only in what they catch, and that the voyage has limits--that they will return to home port within a reasonable time.” Gifford paused. “And I have other thoughts about shipping.”
Meller grumbled. “And what are those?”
Gifford rearranged himself on the chair. “Soon some will ship for the beasts in steam vessels. They are fast and can make distance. They will be more efficient. Also, the lances could be fired from cannon on deck, saving us from taking to the boats.” Meller smiled. “All well and good, sir, but costly.” He looked at his fellow investors. “We don’t have pockets for all that. We are simple Yankees. Do you know Halcyon?”
Gifford shook his head no. “I shipped on barks from Falmouth, and once from Edgartown.”
Captain Lowery cleared his throat. “Halcyon is a bark of 300 tons, about 105 feet length. She carries three whaleboats now and we will add two replacements. She was built in 1849 over in Fairhaven. She is hove in dry-dock down below right now, having her bottom coppered. She is a solid ship and has the means to hunt the beasts. She can ship up to 20 crew, plus mates and master.” Lowery waved the letter of recommendation, and continued, “Captain Joyce is well known by the factors in this town, and his endorsement of you carries a lot of weight. We have, of course, spoken with a few masters now on the beach. We do want someone with energy and experience.” Lowery stopped, uncertain whether to continue. “The voyages take a lot out of masters. They become old, but fortunately, many become rich before they land on the beach.”
Meller asked, “Are you married, Captain Gifford? Or are you betrothed?”
Gifford shook his head no. “Haven’t been on the beach long enough to find a wife. The life does not work that way easily.”
The older men nodded. Meller cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming over today, Captain Gifford.”
Gifford stood and took his hat. He bowed to the trio and left. On the street he found the rain has stopped and a cool wind was blowing tatters along Johnnycake Hill. He walked the three blocks to the boardinghouse where he had stayed overnight. His small carpetbag would be in the parlor, ready for pick-up.
Head down, Gifford mulled whether to take the stage back east over the Cape, or find the ferry slip at New Bedford and wait for the next ship. It would be faster, he decided, on the small, steam vessel. He would be at Woods Hull by 6 p.m., and after finding a carriage to carry him up to West Falmouth, he would be at his mother’s table by 7 p.m. Gifford would take the ferry.
The three older men were silent for some minutes after Gifford left the upper room. Captain Lowery shuffled the papers on the table, and said, “Well, he’s the youngest. Seems fit. I think he has salt in his veins.”
Meller cleared his throat. “I agree. The others are too old, too set in their ways. And, he might have new approaches to finding the beasts. And that would mean added barrels of oil for us.”
Lowery smiled. “Well said. The question, sirs, is whether we tell Captain Gifford now or later.”
Meller’s head bobbed with silent laughter.
