In Pursuit of Leviathan: Technology, Institutions, Productivity, and Profits in American Whaling, 1816-1906 (National Bureau of Economic Research Series on Long-Term Factors in Economic Dev)

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In Pursuit of Leviathan

NBER Series on Long-term Factors in Economic Development A National Bureau of Economic Research Series Edited by Claudia Goldin Also in the series Claudia Goldin Understanding the Gender Gap: An Economic History of American Women (Oxford University Press, 1990) Roderick Floud, Kenneth Wachter, and Annabel Gregory Height, Health and History: Nutritional Status in the United Kingdom, 1750-1 980 (Cambridge University Press, 1990) Robert A. Margo Race and Schooling in the South, 1880-1950: An Economic History (University of Chicago Press, 1990) Samuel H. Preston and Michael R. Haines Fatal Years: Child Mortality in Late Nineteenth-Century America (Princeton University Press, 1991)

Barry Eichengreen Golden Fetters: The Gold Standard and the Great Depression, 1919-1939 (Oxford University Press, 1992) Ronald N. Johnson and Gary D. Libecap The Federal Civil Service System and the Problem of Bureaucracy: The Economics and Politics of Institutional Change (University of Chicago Press, 1994) Naomi R. Lamoreaux Insider Lending: Banks, Personal Connections, and Economic Development in Industrial New England, 1784-1912 (Cambridge University Press, 1994)

In Pursuit of Leviathan Technology, Institutions, Productivity, and Profits in American Whaling, 1816-1906

Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Karin Gleiter

The University of Chicago Press

Chicago and London

LANCEE. DAVISis the Mary Stillman Harkness Professor of Social Science at the California Institute of Technology and a research associate of E. GALLMAN is the the National Bureau of Economic Research. ROBERT Kenan Professor of Economics and History at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, and a research associate of the National Bureau of Economic Research. KARINGLEITERis a research associate of the Carolina Population Center at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London 0 1997 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 1997 Printed in the United States of America 060504030201 00999897 1 2 3 4 5 ISBN: 0-226-13789-9 (cloth)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Davis, Lance Edwin. In pursuit of Leviathan : technology, institutions, productivity, and profits in American whaling, 1816-1906 / Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Karin Gleiter. cm.-(NBER series on long-term factors in economic p. development) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-226-13789-9 (alk. paper) 1, Whaling-United States-History-1 9th century. 2. WhalingEconomic aspects-United States. I. Gallman, Robert E. 11. Gleiter, Karin. 111.Title. IV. Series. SH383.2.D38 1997 338.3'7295 '097309034-dc20 96-21263 CIP

8The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences-Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI 239.48-1984.

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Contents

Preface

ix 1

1.

In Prospect

2.

Whales and Whaling

20

3.

Data Sets and Sources

57

4.

Natural Resources

131

5.

Labor

150

6.

Capital

214

7.

Technology

260

8.

Productivity

297

9.

Product Markets

342

10.

Agents, Captains, and Owners

38 1

11.

Profits

423

12.

The Americans Replace the British

459

13.

Modern Whaling

498

14.

In Retrospect

513

References

523

Name Index

539

Subject Index

543

vii

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Preface

This book originated in a visit Davis and Gallman made to the Manuscript Room of Baker Library at the Harvard Graduate School of Business. Both were then, as they are now, research associates of the National Bureau of Economic Research and members of the NBER Development of the American Economy group. They had an idea for a line of research to be conducted under the aegis of DAE, a line of research on technical change and productivity improvement in the nineteenth-century United States. They planned to take it up in a year or two, once they had met other commitments, and they went to Baker Library on a scouting expedition, to see what the available data were like on two or three industries in which they had an interest-since to carry out their plan would take many data of a wide variety on each subject industry. Neither of them had any idea of doing a study of whaling. They pursued a general search and Davis took abundant notes on one of the industries they were considering. Some time late in the first day, or early in the second, they laid hands on Joseph Dias’s manuscript on whaling (see chapter 3), which contained many of the data they thought they would need for a good productivity study. Could the gaps be filled in? Probably, they thought, so they decided to do a brief study of whaling-a kind of pilot project, something to be finished in a relatively short time, before they began their major work. Something roughly on the lines of chapter 8 in this book is what they had in mind. The whales, however, turned out to be a group of tar babies. It was impossible to let them go. The plan of a paper exclusively devoted to technology and productivity expanded into a short monograph, and then into a very long book on the economic history of American whaling. Along the way the group of investigators grew. First Teresa Hutchins, then a graduate student at the University of North Carolina, joined the group, participated in turning the Dias data into an automated data set, wrote a dissertation on whaling, and took part with Davis and Gallman in writing a number of ix

x

Preface

papers. Eventually, however, she was drawn away to other projects and opportunities. By then a fourth participant, Karin Gleiter, research associate at the Carolina Population Center, had joined the group. Among other responsibilities, she took over the data set, located many new sources, and produced a much more extensive and richer empirical basis for the project than it had formerly had. Her odyssey among the data is described in chapter 3. During the research for and writing of this book we have accumulated many debts. The NBER provided seed money, on the basis of which we prepared a grant request to the National Science Foundation. The request was successful, and the NSF became the principal source of funding. We are deeply grateful. Assistance also came from the Division of Humanities and Social Sciences of the California Institute of Technology and from the Kenan Foundation. Among individuals who came to our aid we thank, in particular, Marty Feldstein, president of NBER, and David Grether, then chair of Humanities and Social Sciences at Caltech. The Carolina Population Center at the University of North Carolina shared computer facilities with us. Our thanks go to Dick Udry, then CPC director, and to Judith Kovenock, director of CPC Computing Services. Kathleen Gallagher and Billie Nonvood, CPC staff members at the time, helped Teresa Hutchins build the original data set, and Mike Butler and Emil Friberg subsequently managed the project, until Dr. Gleiter came aboard. Mathias Moersch and Rob Stahle performed a variety of tasks, from data coding to computer programming. Craig Richardson, Kim Inbae, Gene Dyer, Gerald Granderson, Inseong Hwang, and Curtis Florence provided helpful research assistance of shorter duration. Our thanks go to all of them. Librarians and archivists at the Baker Library Manuscript Room, the New Bedford Whaling Museum, the Melville Room of the New Bedford Free Public Library, the Houghton Library at Harvard University, the G. W. Blunt White Library at Mystic Seaport Museum, the Kendall Whaling Museum, the Davis Library at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and the California Institute of Technology Library were unfailingly helpful and pleasant. Florence Lathrop, of the Baker, put up with us for an especially long time yet retained her kind and cheerful manner throughout. Judith Downey, of the New Bedford Whaling Museum, not only found us apposite illustrations, but also set us straight on the matter of condemnation proceedings for whalers. Stuart Frank of the Kendall Whaling Museum was generous with both advice and manuscript material. Various materials in this book have appeared, in preliminary form, in other publications. Some of our ideas were first laid out in Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “The Structure of the Capital Stock in Economic Growth and Decline: The New Bedford Whaling Fleet in the Nineteenth Century,” in Quantity and Quiddity: Essays in US.Economic History, ed. Peter Kilby (Middletown, C T Wesleyan University Press, 1987), 336-98;

xi

Preface

Wesleyan University holds the copyright for Quantity and Quiddity, and we use our material by permission of the University Press of New England. We summarized our approach to the present analysis also in Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “Call Me Ishmael-not Doming0 Floresta: The Rise and Fall of the American Whaling Industry,” in The Vital One: Essays in Honor of Jonathan R. T. Hughes, ed. Joel Mokyr, 191-233, Research in Economic History, supplement 6 (Greenwich, C T JAI Press, 1991); we use this material with the permission of JAI Press. A first version of chapter 4 was published as Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “The Decline of U.S. Whaling: Was the Stock of Whales Running Out?” Business History Review 62, no. 4 (winter 1988): 569-95; we use material from that paper with the permission of Business History Review. A first version of chapter 5 was published as Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “Risk Sharing, Crew Quality, Labor Shares, and Wages in the Nineteenth-Century American Whaling Industry,” in American Economic Development in Historical Perspective, ed. Thomas Weiss and Donald Schaefer (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1994), 127-67; the Board of Tmstees of the Leland Stanford Junior University holds the copyright for this material, which is used here with the permission of the Stanford University Press. A first version of chapter 7 was published as Lance E. Davis and Robert E. Gallman, “The Last 1,945 Sailing Ships,” in The Economics of Znformational Decentralization: Complexi@ EfJiciency, and Stability: Essays in Honor of Stanley Reitel; ed. John 0.Ledyard (Boston: Kluwer Academic, 1995), 159217; we use the material with the permission of Kluwer Academic Publishers. A first version of chapter 8 was published as Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “Productivity in American Whaling: The New Bedford Fleet in the Nineteenth Century,” in Markets in History: Economic Studies ofthe Past, ed. David W. Galenson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 97-147; Cambridge University Press holds the copyright for this material, which is used here with the permission of the press. A first version of chapter 12 was published as Lance E. Davis, Robert E. Gallman, and Teresa D. Hutchins, “Technology, Productivity, and Profits: British-American Whaling Competition in the North Atlantic, 1816-1842,” Oxford Economic Papers 39, no. 4 (December 1987): 738-59; we use this material by permission of Oxford University Press. Versions of several chapters were given at meetings at Washington University of St. Louis, the University of Illinois, the University of Chicago, the University of Michigan, Brown University, Yale University, the University of Rochester, the Triangle Workshop in Economic History, the International Economic History Pre-conference at Bellagio and the Conference at Beme, the International Cliometrics Meeting at Santander, and the International Whaling Symposium at Sandefjord. At each meeting we received helpful suggestions, for which we are grateful. David Galenson read chapter 8 with his usual care;

xii

Preface

Stan Engerman and Claudia Goldin read the whole manuscript and offered insightful comments; the manuscript reviewers for the University of Chicago Press provided us with most helpful suggestions. Many friends and acquaintances gave us useful bits of information. At the head of the list are those omnivorous readers Stan Engerman and Peter Coclanis, who sent us a steady stream of references. Robert Evenson suggested a statistical test that proved helpful. Daniel Vickers, Haven Wiley, and Lee Craig offered us valuable advice, based on their own research; David Robinson drew our attention to an essay that filled an important gap in our knowledge; Kathleen Gallagher sent us a very rare book on whaling; Bates Bucker brought us back whaling materials from Hawaii; and Margo Shaw of the Looking Glass Cafe kept two of the authors in good spirits through many a working lunch and dinner. From Deborah Coclanis we obtained our one piece of physical evidence: a whale’s vertebra. Finally, we thank the NBER, which funded the project in its early phases and managed the NSF grant, and whose members provide us always with encouragement and stimulation.

1

In Prospect

Beginning a book about whales and whaling with a survey of literary references has canonical authority. Melville himself ([ 185 11 1983, ix) begins MobyDick not with “Call me Ishmael” but with “Etymology” (our version is in chapter 2) and “Extracts,” an anthology of eighty-one quotations “affording a glancing bird’s eye view of what has been promiscuously said, thought, fancied, and sung of Leviathan.’” Naturally enough, the first extract is Genesis 1:21, “And God created great whales”; Melville includes also three biblical passages that refer to Leviathan, and Jonah 1:17-“Now the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow up Jonah.”* He moves on to Plutarch (“what thing soever. . . cometh within the chaos of this monster’s mouth . . . down it goes all incontinently that foul great swallow of his”) and Lucian (“a great many Whales and other monsters of the sea appeared”), among the ancients; Wharton the Whale Killer (“he saw the distended jaws of a large Sperm Whale close to the head of the boat, threatening it with instant destruction”), among the moderns. More than one-half of Melville’s selections make the point that whales are very large, many others, that they are evil or monstrous. Melville disingenuously credits a librarian with having compiled his extracts, but acknowledges in the phrase “a glancing bird’s eye view” that they are a far from exhaustive survey. The bulk of references to whales in English I . Much of Moby-Dick is about the process of writing the novel; in that context scholars have seen “Extracts” as Melville’s bid to make himself a part of the community of authors (i.e., of the literary tradition) who wrote about whales. That is, he wanted his individual labors-labors that were directed toward whaling-to be included in the much greater body of labor about whales in general (Cindy Weinstein, private communication, 26 October 1994). 2. We have adopted the literary use of Leviathan as an equivalent for whale, but this may not be what the Hebrew writers intended. The biblical Leviathan is not a large mammal; in Melville’s version of Isaiah 27:1, it is the “crooked serpent. . . the dragon that is in the sea.” See Ellis 1991, 34. The “great fish” that made a meal of Jonah, however, is understood to have been a whale: “For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly” (Matthew 12:40).

2

Chapter 1

literature are less flamboyant than those he has selected. Compare, for example, Milton’s description, which was chosen by Melville, with Christopher Smart’s, which was not. Milton is expansive and audacious (and factually mistaken): There Leviathan Hugest of living creatures, on the deep Stretch’d like a promontory sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land,3 and at his gills Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea.4 Smart is subdued, modest, and affecting: Strong, the gier-eagle on his sail, Strong against tide, the enormous whale Emerges as he goes5 When a literary whale is not large and evil, what is it? According to Chaucer, it is fat; in “The Summoner’s Tale,” monks are said to be “fat as a whale.” According to Shakespeare, it is hungry: And there they fly or die, like scaled schools Before the belching whale. I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity and devours up all the fry it finds.

I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; ’a plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful.6 This characteristic gave rise to the proverb “Throw out a sprat to catch a whale,” and, if the whale is hungry enough, to the proverb ‘‘Throw out a tub to the whale,” meaning offer the voracious one something other than you or your boat to swallow. 3. “Stories are found in the folklore of many languages about sailors mistaking a sleeping whale for an island they moor their ship to it and go ashore to prepare a meal, whereupon the whale awakes and dives, drowning the men and dragging their ship to the bottom. This story is incorporated in the legend of St. Brendon . . . , the Irish Benedictine abbot who, in A.D. 565, is said to have sailed west into the Atlantic to search for the Promised Land of the Saints. In the course of this voyage he and his men landed on the back of an immense whale, mistaking it for an island. The saint set up an altar and celebrated the Mass; he did not suffer the usual result of making this mistake” (Harrison Matthews et al. 1968.25). 4. John Milton, Paradise Lost, book 7 , lines 412-16. This is Milton’s gloss on Genesis. (A whale has neither gills nor a trunk, and breathes not water but air.) 5 . Christopher Smart, A Song to David. A gier-eagle is a vulture. 6. William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, act 5 , scene 5; All’s Well That Ends Well, act 4 , scene 3; Pericles, Prince of Tyre, act 2, scene 1.

3

In Prospect

In 1940 Walt Disney made an animated film of the late-nineteenth-century children’s book Pinocchio. In the original Italian, the marine creature that swallows Pinocchio is a Pesce-cane (dogfish), a large shark, “who, for his slaughter and for his insatiable voracity, had been named the ‘Attila of fish and fishermen.’ Only think of poor Pinocchio’s terror at the sight of the m ~ n s t e r . ”In~ the film the shark has become a whale named Monstro, and Pinocchio is every bit as frightened-although considering that Geppetto, whom Pinocchio is out to rescue, has been living for weeks in Monstro’s belly along with his cat and his goldfish, and they are all eating and breathing just fine, one may wonder what the fuss is about. Did Disney make the change in order to allude to the story of Jonah and reassure American children that it is possible to emerge from a whale alive? If so, the reassurance must be subliminal, for Monstro is decidedly bad-tempered and indefatigable. In recent years, as the whale fishery has receded and natural history has turned from finding prey to publicizing marvels, whales have changed completely.* They are no longer dangerous, or disgusting. When Michelle Gilders writes in Rejections of a Whale-Watcher (1995, 3), “This was the year I touched a whale,” she is not saying, “This was the year I experienced terror and revulsion,” but, “This was the year I experienced awe.” In motion pictures, boys no longer risk their lives to save humans from monstrous whales; now they risk their lives to save whales from monstrous humans. In 1956 Gregory Peck, as Captain Ahab, killed a ship’s crew by trying to kill a sperm whale. In 1986 William Shatner, as James T. Kirk, saved everyone on Earth by saving two humpback whales from Norwegian hunter^.^ In the present climate, in which the whale shares with the panda the status of environmentalist emblem, and northern Californians stand alongside the Sacramento River anxiously urging a lost baby gray back to the ocean, and we are asked not simply to save whales but even perhaps to adopt one, it is an imaginative exercise to study a world industry that depended on slaughtering these fascinating and often beautiful creatures. 7. The Pinocchio stories were written by Carlo Lorenzini and published under his pseudonym, Carlo Collodi, beginning in 1880. The quotation is from Collodi n.d., 235-36. 8. At an extreme of the marvellous might be Mind in the Waters (1974). in which, for example, John Lilly is quoted as saying, “I suspect that whales and dolphins quite naturally go in the directions we call spiritual, in that they get into meditative states quite simply and easily” (83). Of another order entirely, and wonderfully written, is Roger Payne’s Among Whales (1995)-for example, “In the past twenty years there has been repeated speculation about whether we or whales possess the greater intelligence. I have stayed out of this discussion because it is obvious that we have no clear idea as to the nature of the intelligence abiding in the brains of whales (or our own, really). It all depends on what we mean by intelligence. If we mean an enduring intelligence, then whales are the winners hands down, simply because they have been around for tens of millions of years longer than we have. Besides, they do not use their extraordinary brains to do things that can destroy the world (346). 9. Pinocchio (1940). Free Willy (1993), Moby Dick (1956). Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986).

4

Chapter 1

1.1 American Whaling Whaling, today, is pursued by small fleets of Norwegian and Japanese vessels, and by Inuit living beside the Arctic Ocean. In the context of the world economy, the industry is minute. Its supporters defend it, not on economic grounds, but for its cultural value or its putative contributions to scientific research.’O Most nations have agreed not to hunt whales at all; the United States not only prohibits hunting but also excludes whale products from American foreign trade. One hundred and fifty years ago, the world was different. Whaling was a major economic activity, and it was centered in the United States. In value of output, whaling was fifth among U.S. industries; it provided raw materials for the chief lighting and lubricating products of the day. New Bedford, Massachusetts, the leading whaling port, was said to be the richest town in the country,“ and Hetty Green, later called the Witch of Wall Street, would shortly inherit two New Bedford whaling fortunes and become the wealthiest woman in America. There was no need to justify whaling in terms other than the economic. How the U.S. industry achieved this distinction and why it declined so rapidly, disappearing before the end of the 1920s, are questions of substance, not grist for antiquarian mills. There are lessons to be learned from the history of American whaling that are germane to modem interests-indeed, modem preoccupations. This book is concerned with these lessons.

1.2 Economic Growth: Lessons from Whaling Economists since Adam Smith have been interested in economic growth and change, but, despite the lapse of more than two hundred years since he wrote, we have grasped only the principal outlines of the subject. As Nobel laureate Simon Kuznets demonstrated in 1930 (1967), the process is certainly related to the rise and decline of industries. Additionally, as he suggested in his presi10. The cultural importance of whaling is asserted by Norwegians and Inuit. Japanese apologists claim scientific gains from hunting but, as Matthiessen (1995, 71) says, “‘scientific whaling’ . . . is generally considered a great fraud.” See also Cousteau and Paccalet 1988.47, for a harsh critique of what is called “aborigine whaling.” 1I. Or the world: “New Bedford, in the mid-nineteenth century, was perhaps the richest city per capita in the world” (Allen 1973, 82). “Probably no city in the Union, perhaps no city in the world can show such an amount of property in proportion to the number of inhabitants. Taking the last United States census as the basis of population, a division of the wealth of the city would give to every man, woman and child in New Bedford, a fraction over $1615 each” (WSL 15 August 1854). The Whalemen’s Shipping List (WSL) may have been right. According to the 1860 census, the total value of tax assessments per head in the United States was $385. (The census gives three different wealth estimates: tax assessments, census marshalls’ estimates of true value, and individual census wealth returns. The WSL seems to have been refemng to New Bedford tax assessments. [US. Census Office 1864b. 599; 1866, 2941). For more on New Bedford wealth, see chapter 10 below.

5

In Prospect

dential address to the Third International Conference of Economic History, technical change has been the “major permissive source of modern economic growth” (1968,20). Douglass North, co-Nobel laureate in 1993, was awarded the prize in part for his work on the role of institutional invention and innovation in the process of growth (Davis and North 1971; North and Thomas 1973; Wallis and North 1986). What else do we know? Technical changes may be central to the rise and fall of industries, but economic agents (entrepreneurs, workers, investors, consumers) play major roles. Moreover, the drama is enacted against a backdrop of institutions (property rights, labor contracts, government regulations, commodity and factor markets). History can provide a laboratory-less than ideal, but better than none at all. Evidence drawn from that laboratory can be used to check theories and suggest modifications. The quality of the laboratory depends, of course, on the relevance of the historical incidents to the problems under study. The American whaling industry is a nearly ideal laboratory for the study of economic change. First, the industry was dynamic, not static; because it was dynamic one can examine the effects of changes in technology, in institutions, and in the preferences of economic agents under a variety of conditions. American whaling rose to world dominance, and then collapsed, within a single century. In terms of capital stock, it employed an annual average of only eighteen thousand vessel-tons in the years 1816-20. Over the next three decades, tonnage increased more than elevenfold. In 1896-1900, however, after a decline of many years, the capital stock was smaller than it had been in 1816-20. (See table 1.1.) In terms of the value of output, the story is much the same. In 1880 dollars, the industry’s average annual receipts grew from three-quarters of a million in 1816-20 to almost ten million in 1851-55, but by 1901-5 had fallen to less than one million dollars. (See table 1.2.) Second, although a typical vessel made several whaling voyages (the mean number from New Bedford was six), the owners and agents, who organized and directed the enterprise, treated each voyage as a separate venture. Thus, the voyage is an ideal unit of analysis, virtually the same as thefirm of economic theory. Also useful is the fact that the industry was competitive; given competition, one can use economic models based on optimization and profit maximization with little distortion of reality. Third, in some industries-agriculture and mining, for example-firms draw on a stock of locationally specific and privately owned resources, making it almost impossible to disentangle differences in natural endowment from differences in productivity. In whaling the natural resource (the stock of whales) was owned by no one, and all firms were normally free to exploit it. Finally, the production process was relatively simple: each of its stages-finding, killing, and rendering whales-is easy to describe. Whaling was a nexus for almost all the forces that economists have suggested are important to the processes of growth and change. Accompanying

Tonnages and Numbers of Vessels, U.S. and New Bedford Whaling Fleets, Annual Averages, 1816-1905

Table 1.1

Tonnage

Number of Vessels New Bedford

I8 16-20 1821-25 1826-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60 1861-65 1866-70 1871-75 1876-80 1881-85 1886-90 1891-95 1896-1900 1901-5

New Bedford

US.'

New Bedfordb

US.

US.'

New Bedfordd

us.

18,395 37,161 47,953 92,750 133,897 185,678 208,347 195,938 195,692 111,167 73,224 58,5148 46,5171 40,8388 3 1,3648 24,1438 15,588g 10,4628

7,568 14,701 23,105 44,912 54,685 72,881 82,035 105,482 108,551 73,026 58,331 39,888 39,217 29,815 18,492 10,700 6,809 6,810

.411 ,396 ,482 ,484 ,408 ,393 ,394 ,538 ,555 ,657 .797 .682 .843 .730 ,590 ,443 .437 .65 1

-

31 56

-

672 656 628 628 374 312 209 178 152 113 92 62 40

8W 142' 173 228 252 314= 320' 220 180' 124' 129' 96 59 38 26' 23

.339 ,384 ,500 ,510 ,588 ,577 ,593 .725 .632 ,522 ,413 ,419 .575

T h e U.S. annual average tonnage figures have been computed from annual data given in Tower

1907, 121, appendix table 1. Tower uses the tonnages recorded when vessels were registered (i.e., contemporary tonnages). Since the system for computing tonnage changed in 1865, his figures for the years after 1864 are not perfectly comparable to those for earlier years. In the aggregate, post1864 tonnages appear to have been from 10 to 25 percent smaller than pre-1865 tonnages (see chapter 3). We therefore adjusted Tower's U.S. tonnages by raising them 17.5 percent. We began the adjustment with the 1871-75 figure, since new tonnage evaluations were not all made in 1865, but in the years in which vessels were reregistered. Reregistrations tended to take place when vessels sailed; given typical voyage lengths, the complete change must have taken three to six years. T h e annual figures of which the table reports five-year averages were computed by summing the tonnages of the New Bedford vessels that were involved in whaling voyages during a year. These annual figures underreport tonnages for two reasons. (1) Occasionally only the sailing date or only the arrival date of a voyage is known; when one date is missing, we assumed the voyage was completed within the calendar year of the other date-but voyages generally lasted longer than that. (2) We do not know the tonnages of seventeen New Bedford vessels active between 1816 and 1905; their twenty-two voyages in this period do not figure in the annual sums. The figures for New Bedford annual average tonnage were computed from the Voyages Data Set (see chapter 3). We calculated the tonnage of each New Bedford vessel registered after 1864 according to the law in effect before 1865 in order to arrive at an old-rule tonnage figure, and used those old-rule tonnages in calculating the New Bedford averages. (All New Bedford tonnages reported in this book are old-rule tonnages.) cThe US. annual average numbers of vessels come from Tower 1907, 121. Tower's counts of numbers of vessels in the U.S. fleet begin with 1843. The 1841-45 number here is therefore the average of only the three years 1843-45. dTheNew Bedford annual average numbers of vessels were computed from the Voyages Data Set. 'This number is one greater than the average number of vessels for which tonnage is known, during these five years. See note b. This number is two greater than the average number of vessels for which tonnage is known, during these five years. See note b. &Adjustedtonnage; see note a.

7

In Prospect

Table 1.2

18 16-20 1 82 1-25

1826-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60 1861-65 1866-70 187 1-75 1876-80 1881-85 1886-90 1891-95 1896-1900 1901-5

Real Value of Output, U.S. and New Bedford Whaling Fleets, Annual Averages, 1816-1905 (1880 dollars) U.S.

New Bedford

New BedfordlLTS

764,922 1,652,013 2,349,900 4,489,210 6,245,711 8,750,263 8,484,838 9,630,201 8,752,811 4,623,194 3,760,800 2,440,180 2,409,458 2,2 17,906 2,178,452 2,111,910 1,341,443 877,771

222,428 485,804 9 14,966 1,550,053 2,043,798 2,997,698 3,517,398 4,507,450 4,806,959 3,163,453 2,177,034 1,795,010 1,893,965 1,507,756 1,154,786 67 1,362 402,447 419,263

,291 ,294 ,389 ,345 ,327 ,343 ,415 ,468 ,549 ,684 ,579 ,736 ,786 ,680 ,530 ,318 ,300 ,478

Sources: Output prices come from a variety of sources, summarized in appendix 9A. The same prices were used to value both U.S. and New Bedford outputs. Output amounts for the United States come from Tower 1907, 126, appendix table 3. Output amounts for New Bedford were computed from the Voyages Data Set. Tower’s output series is not perfectly comparable to ours. In the first place, as his table note says, he used data from two sources: Starbuck 1878, and WSL 17 March 1843-29 December 1914. We used a wider variety of sources (see chapter 3). In the second place his series associates output with the year in which the output itself, not the vessel producing it, returned to port. Our series associates all the output of a voyage with the year in which the vessel returned to port, even though some of it may have been shipped home in advance of the vessel’s return. (This difference should roughly wash out in the five-year averages reported in this table.) Notes: The term real value means current price value, deflated by the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

the rise and decline of the industry, and presumably producing them, were (1) changes in the level and structure of demand; (2) changes in the competitive vigor of West Coast whaling ports and foreign fleets; (3) supply-side shocks, both positive (the discovery of new hunting grounds) and negative (perhaps the depletion of whale stocks); (4) changes in systems of business organization (the rise of such ports as Honolulu and Panama as transshipment and refitting points, for example); ( 5 ) the innovation of appropriate vessel sizes, rigging types, whalecraft, and hunting techniques; and (6) changes in the cost and quality of capital and labor, and in the supply of entrepreneurial ability. Such changes are of great interest. An industry rises rapidly and then declines; the rise and decline carry important consequences for the institutional environment and for the level and structure of the capital stock; those factors, in turn, affect best-practice techniques, productivity, output, and employment.

8

Chapter 1

This book centers on such developments, not as ends in themselves, but as ways to investigate both the forces encouraging expansion and collapse and the responsiveness of economic agents to opportunities and problems. The goal is to investigate forces underlying economic growth and change and to understand how they function. To economists, usually faced with scrappy data, often indirect, the history of the American whaling industry is extraordinarily rich. Take only three examples. In whaling, Kuznetsian technical change took the form not only of new vessel and whalecraft designs, but also of institutional innovations in both the industry and the general economic environment. Given the large number of firms (voyages), separated in space and time, the impact of these aspects of technical change can be studied in detail.I2 Second, questions of managerial control-an agent’s control over a captain working thousands of miles away, and a captain’s control of his crew-raise issues at the heart of all principal/ agent problems. Here again, the laboratory yields many observations. Third, in a world marked by great risk (vessels sometimes sank and captains sometimes found few whales), and a world that required close cooperation between officers and crewmen, the labor contract was extremely important. What was the nature of the contract, and how efficient was it? These are but three of many topics that make the history of whaling relevant to modem analytical and interpretive concerns.

1.3 The Plan of the Study If this book were solely an economic history, it might best be organized chronologically. Given the nature of our interests, however, an organization based on the microeconomic model-the production function, input and output markets, firm behavior, and industrial response-is more appropriate. The first section, chapters 1-3, gives the raison d’&tre and plan of the study. Later in this chapter we introduce four aspects of whaling (the trends in productivity, the idiosyncratic labor contract, the entrepreneurs who made business decisions, and the products of the industry) that make it of particular interest to economists, and describe the central role played by New Bedford. In chapter 2 the whales (sperms, rights, humpbacks, grays, and bowheads) that Americans regularly caught, as well as the whales (seis, blues, minkes, and finners) that they seldom managed to catch, are described. The chapter also gives a brief account of the development of hunting methods from the seventeenth century to the early twentieth. Chapter 3 describes the contents and construction of the data sets on which our analyses are based. The second section, chapters 4-8, focuses on the whaling production function-the process of converting physical inputs (land, capital, and labor) into 12. The New Bedford fleet, for example, the largest component of the American fleet, made more than forty-three hundred whaling voyages between 1816 and 1906.

9

In Prospect

physical outputs (sperm oil, whale oil, and whalebone). Chapter 4 describes the demography of whales, estimates their numbers in the oceans at the beginning and at the end of American whaling, and evaluates the impacts of American hunting on whale populations. Chapter 5 describes the labor contract, discusses both the lays-the shares of output received by crewmen-and the wages they represented, compares those earnings with wages in other industries, and explores the relationship between manning decisions and productivity. Chapter 6 describes nineteenth-century vessels and whalecraft (equipment used to catch whales). Chapter 7 describes the changes in vessels and whalecraft, as well as in the institutions that governed cooperation and competition, that took place during the American industry’s century-long life. Chapter 8 models the production process, examines changes over time in the average productivity of New Bedford whaling voyages, and attempts to explain, for example, why the 1857 voyage of the George Howland was more productive than its 1842 voyage, and why the New Bedford fleet was more productive in both 1825 and 1885 than it was in 1855. The third section, chapters 9-1 1, moves from questions of productivity narrowly defined to a more general evaluation of whaling firms as business enterprises. Chapter 9 examines the evolution of the markets for the industry’s three major products. Its focus is on demand, with an emphasis on the development of substitutes and the role of foreign markets. Chapter 10 examines the roles of agents (the men who organized enterprises and exercised general control), captains (the men on the spot who made day-to-day decisions), and owners. It gives a quantitative assessment of the quality of entrepreneurial responses to changing economic conditions. Chapter 11 computes the profits earned on individual voyages, giving an alternative measure of the success of particular captains and agents. The fourth section, chapters 12 and 13, is largely historical. It traces the long-run fortunes of the industry, the result of the interplay of technology, markets, and entrepreneurial creativity. Chapter 12 describes the competition between the whaling fleets of the United States and Great Britain in the early decades of the nineteenth century and analyzes the reasons for initial British dominance and final American triumph. Chapter 13 describes the increasingly effective competition offered by the Norwegian industry after 1880 and explains the failure of the Americans to counter it. In the final chapter the major threads of the argument are drawn together and related to the question of technical progress. In addition, we draw from the whaling experience some general ideas about technology and economic growth and decline.

1.4 What the Reader Needs to Know No matter where one begins the story of American whaling, four subjects crop up: productivity, the labor contract, the entrepreneurs, and the markets for

10

Chapter 1

whaling products. The reader should be introduced to them before embarking on this study of the economics of whaling. Managerial Decisions. Leaving aside luck (perhaps the most important factor), the productivity of a whaling venture was strongly influenced by the choices of its agent as he planned the voyage. The first was the ground to be hunted. Registrations of New Bedford vessels list fifty, including such exotic places as Patagonia, Delagoa Bay, the Sea of Okhotsk, and Tristan da Cunha. We have generally grouped the fifty into four: the Atlantic, the Indian, the Pacific, and the Western Arctic. (For a list of the fifty grounds and their distribution among these four, see appendix 3A.j Parts of the first three grounds had been systematically hunted before the War of 1812. The last, the Western Arctic, was first hunted in 1848, when Captain Thomas Welcome Roys sailed the bark Superior of Sag Harbor through the Bering Strait and found “whales innumerable, some of which yielded two hundred and eighty barrels of oil” (Scammon [1874] 1968, 58). A second choice was the class of vessel and its size: a ship (three masts, square-rigged on all), a bark (three masts, square-rigged on the foremast and mainmast, fore-and-aft-rigged on the mizzen), a brig (two masts, square-rigged on both), a schooner (two masts, fore-and-aft-rigged on both), or a sloop (one mast, fore-and-aft-rigged). On average, ships were larger than barks, barks larger than brigs, brigs larger than schooners, and schooners larger than sloops, but within a rigging class there was a range of sizes, making some barks, for example, larger than some ships. (Size was expressed in tons-for merchantmen and whalers a measure of capacity, not, as for warships, of displacementj.l3 The average size of the sixty-two whaling ships that sailed from New Bedford in 1850 was 368 tons, but they included the Leonidas at 231 tons and the Gladiator at 650. Manning decisions, too, affected productivity. Most whaling vessels were ships or barks. Such a vessel had a captain, at least two mates, some number of boatsteerers (the men who harpooned the whales and steered the whaleboats when the whales ran), a cooper, a cook, a steward, and a number of seamensome skilled (able seamen), some semiskilled (ordinary seamen), some unskilled (greenhands), and perhaps a boy or two. Choices remained. Should the vessel carry four, five, or six whaleboats? Depending on the decision, the agent would need to hire four, five, or six boatsteerers and three, four, or five mates. If the voyage was to be lengthy, the vessel would need a carpenter and a blacksmith, and the agent might choose to add a boatbuilder, a sailmaker, perhaps a painter, As technology improved, it became possible to substitute greenhands for able and ordinary seamen, but this required not only more greenhands but also more supervisory personnel. Those sixty-two ships that left in 1850 carried an average crew of twenty-nine, but the number ranged from twenty-three 13. See chapter 6 for a description of the legal formulas for computing tonnage.

11

In Prospect

The Lagoda was built in Scituate, Massachusetts, in 1826 and originally rigged as a ship. She was 107.75feet long and 26.5 feet wide (an “old measure” tonnage of 340.7), with two decks, a square stem, and a billethead. The vessel came to New Bedford in 1841 from Boston, where she had been employed as a merchant vessel. The Lagoda made six whaling voyages from New Bedford as a ship. In 1860 she was rerigged as a bark, in which guise she made another nine New Bedford voyages. During the last in 1890, she was condemned and sold at Yokohama, Japan. Note the ensign of her New Bedford agent, Jonathan Bourne Jr. This is a reproduction of a watercolor by Arthur Moniz (l991), used with the permission of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

on the Ann Alexandel; the Barclay, the Iris, and the Leonidas, to thirty-six on the Globe. Finally, changes in technology forced agents to choose between new techniques and familiar ones. Early whaling vessels were drawn from the merchant fleet; if whaling proved unprofitable, they could easily be returned. In the 1850s new modified clippers-barks designed specifically for whaling-began to appear, offering a choice between specialization and versatility. In rigging, some midcentury builders believed that a greater number of small, flat sails was more efficient than a few large, baggy ones, and that wire rope or chain, although more costly, was better than the traditional hemp. In equipment, some preferred mechanized ventilators, capstans, and winches. In whalecraft, suppliers offered double-flued, single-flued, and toggle irons (harpoons), iron and steel hand-lances, guns that shot explosive lances, and, after

12

Chapter 1

the mid-l860s, darting guns, which could both harpoon and kill. Technical choices might affect a vessel’s catch; they certainly affected the cost of its voyage. The Measurement of Productivify. In the past two decades econometricians have made important contributions, both theoretical and empirical, to our ability to measure total factor productivity. For this study, the most valuable has been the discovery that a class of multilateral index numbers can be used to measure intertemporal and interfirm productivity differences, making it unnecessary to fit econometric functions. The implicit aggregator underlying the index numbers is a translog f u n c t i ~ n . ’ ~ The multilateral index used here to measure productivity comes from the work of Douglas W. Caves, Laurits R. Christensen, and W. Erwin Diewert (1982b) and is particularly well suited to the whaling industry. It is designed to handle multiproduct firms; nineteenth-century whalers sought three products. The economic model that underlies the index assumes optimizing behavior; firms in competitive industries such as whaling are forced by the market to minimize costs and maximize profits. Computation is simple and demands few data (see chapter 8). The index is, in essence, a ratio of physical outputs to physical inputs; higher values mean higher productivity, lower values, lower productivity. Trends in Productivify. An index of the average productivity of the vessels returning to New Bedford in each year from 1816 to 1898 is shown in table 1.3 and figure 1.1. It declines from 1826, when the New Bedford fleet was still quite small, to the mid-l830s, when it was quite large. Over the rest of the century, there are significant, but less marked, changes. From the mid-1830s to the mid-l860s, the curve declines less sharply; from the mid-1860s to the end of the century, productivity increases again; by 1875 the index has returned to the level of the mid-1850s. There are at least three possible explanations of this pattern of movement. It has been said that the stocks of whales were hunted down as the industry grew. Fewer whales would mean greater costs, and a consequent decline in productivity. This account is favored by some historians and many environmentalists. It is consistent with the movements of the index from the 1820s to the 1860s; it is not consistent with the movements in the years after the Civil War or with the pattern of hunting and the demography of whale populations (see chapters 4 and 8). A less widely held view relates to changes in the industry’s size-the entry of vessels into and exit of vessels from the fleet. As the industry expanded, competition for whales would have grown more intense. More vessels search14. See chapter 8 for citations. We thank Douglas Caves, V. Kerry Smith, Richard Hydell, Jeffrey Dubin, and David Guilkey, who discussed these indexes with us.

13

In Prospect

Table 1.3 Voyage Arrival Years

1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 I827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 I834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843

Index of Total Factor Productivity, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1816-98 (mean 1816-98 = 100) Index of Productivity

205.187 130.220 168.956 162.123 141.365 153.469 154.630 146.732 138.809 240.176 224.315 151.401 186.284 172.617 179.601 144.790 173.576 161.495 114.068 84.011 105.258 136.261 114.497 109.128 100.920 93.377 97.725 99.727

Voyage Arrival Years

1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871

Index of Productivity

147.665 127.016 121.042 110.834 117.996 97.705 99.563 136.501 61.490 80.207 98.752 69.655 83.868 92.317 69.787 72.399 84.021 57.606 54.111 44.773 37.047 58.703 75.973 89.403 73.165 110.157 44.993 88.436

Voyage Arrival Years

1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898

Index of Productivity

55.910 66.000 55.531 7 1.037 8 1.374 88.315 66.319 58.654 55.268 80.483 67.929 79.300 68.286 49.683 58.310 50.770 33.240 99.503 82.690 124.665 79.382 -0.952 111.169 47.549 96.430 94.164 -1 6.9 14

Notes: The productivity index is explained in the text of this chapter, and its derivation is described in chapter 8. Annual productivity index means were calculated (a productivity index number is applied to an individual voyage upon its return), and the mean of these annual means formed the comparison base for this table.

ing for a fixed stock should have had, ceteris paribus, an adverse effect on productivity. Later, as the industry contracted, hunting pressures would have eased and productivity should have risen. According to the third explanation, the rapid expansion of the 1820s and 1830s must have affected the supply of vessels. During those decades most new whalers were transfers from the merchant fleet. Since carrying goods and hunting whales are quite different activities, vessels built for one were not well designed for the other. As the whaling fleet expanded, this problem would have become more acute. The best-suited vessels would have been chosen first; with expansion, progressively less suited vessels would have been used. In the years

14

Chapter 1

Fig. 1.1 Index of total factor productivity, New Bedford whaling fleet, 1816-98 (mean 1816-98 = 100) Source: Data are from table 1.3.

of contraction the process would have been reversed. In fact, the reversal should have been accelerated by the innovation of vessels specifically designed for whaling. Also, vessels had to be manned; greater competition would have exerted pressure on the supply of experienced labor. The postwar contraction should have relieved the problem. (These issues are treated further in chapters 5 and 8.) The Labor Contract. Other labor contracts reward workers on the basis of time worked (wages or salaries) or individual output (piece rates); the whaling contract called for a worker to receive a share (a lay) of the net value of the voyage.15There was a standard station-to-station structure of lays from captain to boy (a station was a position-cooper, carpenter, cook, etc.), but there were vessel-to-vessel differences, and even on the same vessel not all men assigned to the same station received the same lay. The lays of New Bedford captains ranged from 1/8 to 1/20, and it was not atypical for four boatsteerers on a vessel to receive lays varying between 1/70 and 1/100, depending on their ex15. The term luy is sometimes mistakenly used for the cash value of the share, that is, the lay multiplied by the net value of the catch. A lay was expressed as a fraction (perhaps 1/16 for a captain or 1/200 for a greenhand), but was often referred to as the reciprocal of the fraction-a sixteen or a mo hundred.

15

In Prospect

perience and skill. The lay system was in use in whaling as early as the seventeenth century. Although it superficially resembles the payment schemes of some agricultural and fishing activities, it was very nearly unique.I6 A whaleman typically took an advance, but was not entitled to any more of his income until the voyage ended. This sometimes made for stormy relations between officers and crew. (Sixty percent of New Bedford voyages lasted more than two years.) Despite that weakness, the system had two characteristics that contributed to productivity and to profits, if not necessarily to the welfare of crews. First, from the point of view of the owner, it addressed the riskiness of the business, Of the 787 vessels in the New Bedford fleet, 272 were lost on whaling voyages. Since most made several voyages, the risk of loss was much lower than the 35 percent those figures suggest; nevertheless, more than 6 percent of New Bedford voyages ended in the loss of the vessel. The lay system, like a share-cropping contract, transferred part of this risk from owner to worker. Given the lengths of voyages, there was also a substantial risk that the catch would not be sold profitably. (It is difficult to predict commodity prices years in advance.) Part of this risk too was shifted to the worker. On the other side of the bargain, the contract offered a risk taker a chance for a big win. In 1880 dollars, New Bedford captains averaged an income of $98.31 a month (plus room and board) between 1840 and 1858, but their incomes ranged from a low of $0.66 to a high of $345.34. Second, profits aside, the form of the contract had a direct effect on productivity. Successful whaling depended on a crew’s close and continued cooperation. Observe the crew of a small boat attack a whale and the need is obvious. Less obviously, cooperation was needed when a carcass was cut in and rendered or when a vessel faced heavy winds, weather, or surf. Monitoring cooperation is difficult. Wages provide no incentive to work, let alone to cooperate; the incentive is provided by the threat of dismissal. Place rates reward individual effort, and often penalize cooperation. Under the lay system, each man’s pay depended on the performance of the entire group.” Entrepreneurs: Agents and Captains. Team effort characterized the crew of a whaler; a similar, if sometimes strained, interdependence existed between its 16. For a complete analysis of the labor contract and the lay, see Hohman 1928. See also chapter 5 below. 17. Writing about the whalemen of Martha’s Vineyard in the late eighteenth century, Crkvecoeur ([I7821 1912, 121) says, “They have no wages; each draws a certain established share in partnership with the proprietor of the vessel; by which economy they are all proportionately concerned in the success of the enterprise, and all equally alert and vigilant.” Jefferson (1 990, 54)makes the same point about the whalemen of Nantucket before the Revolution: “Their seamen, instead of wages, had a share in what was taken. This induced them to fish with fewer hands, so that each had a greater dividend in the profit. It made them more vigilant in seeking game, bolder in pursuing it, and parcimonious in all their expences.”

16

Chapter I

agent and its captain. When a vessel returned to New Bedford from a whaling voyage, or entered the fleet from the merchant marine or a builder’s yard, the agent prepared it for sea. He oversaw the renewal of masts, spars, and rigging and, if needed, the repair of the hull. He replaced lost or broken whalecraft, arranged for provisions, and hired the officers and men of the crew. (Some of these functions, particularly provisioning and hiring, could be subcontracted to others, but the agent kept close track. His profits from the voyage were a share of the proceeds-a strong inducement for him to plan carefully.) The agent’s work was not over when the vessel sailed. The captain made day-to-day sailing and hunting decisions and, in an emergency, might be charged with more fundamental ones, such as deciding whether a stormdamaged vessel was worth repairing. At the same time, in spite of distance and the difficulties of communication, the agent exercised general authority. He saw that cash or access to credit was available for supplies or repairs in distant ports. He cajoled and berated his captains, urging vigorous hunting and niggardly expenditures. On the basis of information received from the captain and whatever other sources he had, an agent might direct a vessel to what he believed would be more productive hunting grounds, or order the captain to sell the catch at a foreign port where prices exceeded those at home, or warn him to avoid resupplying at San Francisco in 1849, lest the crew desert to the gold fields. The captain ran the vessel while it was at sea. Since the hunt often took him to unexplored waters, which could contain hidden shoals and uncharted islands, he had to be a better navigator and seaman than his peers in the merchant service, who followed charted trade routes. He was charged with refitting, reprovisioning, and recruiting, and, because whaling voyages were long, these demands on his management skills were great. He was also charged with locating whales and with killing them. He had to understand their migration patterns; he had to command a whaleboat during the actual hunt; he had to be as skilled as any whaling mate with a lance or darting gun. It’s little wonder his pay averaged more than three times that of a merchant captain.’*

The Zndustryk Output. Sperm whales were hunted for sperm oil. In the early nineteenth century, it was valued primarily as an illuminant. Later, as the factory system spread, it was used to lubricate high-speed machinery. Baleen whales were hunted for whale oil and whalebone. Inferior to sperm oil, whale oil was the illuminant of the average consumer, and was used to lubricate heavy machinery. Whalebone, or baleen, is not true bone but fringed plates of cartilage making up a sieve through which the animal screens seawater in order to 18. “[Captain] Spicer needed some new rudder gudgeons made and summoned the blacksmith

. . . to do the job. The man confessed that he was actually not a blacksmith, but had called himself a mechanic to escape the [Civil War] draft. , . . Spicer turned to and made the gudgeons himself, thereby demonstrating the versatility of some experienced shipmasters of this era” (Stackpole

1969, 19).

17

In Prospect

remove food. It was used by humans when a strong but flexible material was needed: in corset stays, whips, and umbrellas, for e~amp1e.l~ Sperm oil production increased rapidly from 1815-19 to 1840-44. Then, until the end of the century, it followed a gentle downward trend. The real price of sperm oil tracked production fairly closely: it more than doubled between 1816-20 and the 185Os, but by 1896-1900 had fallen back to its 1816 level. The early history of whale oil production was similar, but the peak of output was not reached until 1845-49, after which time output declined. In the early decades the whale oil real-price profile also paralleled that of sperm oil (its price almost doubled between 1816-20 and 1861-65). Thereafter, although prices declined, the rate of decline was slower; as late as 1896-1900, the real price of whale oil was still one-third above that of 1816-20. (See tables 9.8 and 9.11.> Given the technical complementarity between whale oil and baleen, it is surprising that their output trends are not congruent. Although the pattern for baleen is also one of rise, stability, and decline (see table 9.8), the increase was less steady, and the decline that began in the late 1850s was less rapid. The change in the ratio of the output of oil to that of baleen was no doubt influenced by a shift in their relative prices (see table 9.1 1).*OThe real price of baleen rose from $0.08 a pound in 1816-20 to $5.15 in 1891-95, and the ratio of the price of a gallon of whale oil to the price of a pound of baleen fell from 4.5 to 0.1.*I As its relative price rose, some whalemen took only baleen and abandoned the rest of the whale, causing oil output to fall sharply relative to baleen output. The buoyant market for baleen did not last, however. The invention of specialty steels and changes in consumer tastes at the turn of the century combined to drive the price of baleen back to its pre- 1820 level.

19.

To fifty chosen Sylphs, of special note, We trust th’ important charge, the Petticoat: Oft have we known that sevenfold fence to fail, Though stiff with hoops, and armed with ribs of whale.

(Alexander Pope, The Rape of the Lock, canto 2, lines 117-20). A late-nineteenth-century advertisement for a bone dealer in Boston lists fifty-three “articles made of whalebone” available from him, including probangs (according to Websteri New Collegiate Dictionary a probang is “a slender flexible rod with a sponge on one end used esp. for removing obstructions from the esophagus”), tongue scrapers, divining rods, plait raisers, shoehorns, billiard cushion springs, policeman’s clubs, and painters’ graining combs. 20. That whaling captains were sensitive to relative prices is suggested by a note in the WSL 22 December 1874: “A letter from Capt. Babcock, of brig Myra, of Sagharbor, reports her at St. Helena October 12th, having taken 250 bbls. sperm and 400 do. whale oil since May. After filling all his casks he fell in with sperm whales, and threw overboard 100 bbls. whale oil to make room for the same quantity of sperm.” 21. These issues are discussed further in chapter 9. The increase in the price of baleen seems to have been a consequence of an increase in demand and a more pronounced decrease in supply. The decrease in supply was driven by developments in the market for oil. Oil prices were weak enough to discourage whaling; those who persisted earned high prices for their baleen, but not much for their oil.

18

Chapter 1

Principal American whaling ports. Courtesy of the Printing Services department at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

1.5 Why New Bedford? Chapters 12 and 13 are concerned with the interrelations between the whaling fleet of the United States and the fleets of other nations, and references are made to both the American and foreign fleets elsewhere as well. Many towns served as home ports for the American fleet (see table 3D.1); in 1850, for example, whalers sailed from twenty-two American ports. The focus of most of this book is on those that sailed from New Bedford. New Bedford is located about fifty miles south of Boston on the west bank of the Acushnet River, just above the entry of the river into Buzzards Bay-

19

In Prospect

highway to the Atlantic. Cape Cod is about twenty miles to the east, across the neck of the bay. The two islands, Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, lie about twenty miles to the south-southeast and fifty miles to the east-southeast, respectively. Within a radius of fifty miles of New Bedford are virtually all of the important East Coast whaling ports, Mattapoisett, Fairhaven, and Dartmouth being the closest. Between the 1820s and the 1880s the Americans dominated world whaling. It is generally agreed that the nation’s proportion of the world’s total activity had reached about 60 percent by the mid- 1830s, and averaged about 70 percent throughout the 1840s and 1 8 5 0 New ~ ~ Bedford ~ stood, in relation to American whaling, much as America did in relation to world whaling (see tables 1.1 and 1.2). In the eighteenth century Nantucket had been the center of American whaling. Its fleet was destroyed in the Revolutionary War, recovered, and was destroyed again in the War of 1812. Once again it recovered, but was soon surpassed in size by the New Bedford fleet, and not long after went into absolute decline, due to a constellation of economic and ecological misfortune^.^^ By 1823 New Bedford had become the nation’s leading whaling port. Over the years 1816 to 1906,it accounted for more than 45 percent of total U.S. whaling output (see table 1.2). From the mid-1850s to the mid-1880s its share was much higher, ranging between 55 and almost 80 percent. At the turn of the century, New Bedford had relinquished its premier standing to San Francisco, but by then the tonnage of the U.S. fleet had fallen by almost 95 percent. Not only did New Bedford contribute a large fraction of the total American whaling effort, but also the voyages of its vessels represent a composite of all American ventures. Specialization, in whales sought or grounds hunted, characterized the fleets of many ports. Nantucket was noted for its sperm whalers, Provincetown for its plum’pu’dn’rs employed on short voyages in the Atlantic, New London for the right-whale fishery and for a willingness to contend with the icy seas of Davis Strait and Hudson Bay in the search for bowheads, Sag Harbor and Stonington for the northern and southern right-whale fisheries. New Bedford vessels went everywhere. Given the relative size and the ubiquity of the New Bedford fleet, it is a reasonable proxy for the American industry as a whole.

22. In 1859 Hunrk Merchants’ Mugnzine, quoting an 1834 article in the NorthAmerican Review and the “Annual Report of the Secretary of State on Foreign Commerce for 1858:’ estimated that 400 of the 700 ships engaged in whaling worldwide in 1834 were American registered and that the figures for 1858 were 661 of 900 (Growth of the Whale Trade 1859, 475-76). Scammon ([1874] 1968,212) estimates that the figures for 1842 were 652American registered of 882 worldwide. Clark (1887a, 2:192) says that in 1846 the United States accounted for 729 vessels of a world whaling fleet of nearly 1,000, in 1880, 171 out of “not more than” 250. 23. One problem was the sandbar at the mouth of Nantucket harbor, which kept larger vessels out and became more troublesome as time went by. Another was the expense both of gathering supplies to outfit vessels and of dispersing oil, Nantucket being an island. See Mitchell 1949, 7; Hohman 1928, 305-6. Morison (1961, 315) quotes Emerson on New Bedford’s success: “New Bedford is not nearer to the whales than New London or Portland, yet they have all the equipments for a whaler ready, and they hug an oil-cask like a brother.”

2

Whales and Whaling

Whales, dolphins, and porpoises make up the biological order Cetacea. The taxonomy of cetaceans, although it encompasses about seventy-seven species, is probably not complete. The ginkgo-toothed beaked whale was discovered, and the Hubbs’ beaked whale classified, only in 1963. Also, there is evidence that some marine mammals grouped in a single category might better be presented in more than one-for example, the twelve species of beaked whales, some never observed alive, that are classified in the genus Mesoplodon. And there is still disagreement about the appropriate classification of some cetaceans. The Longman’s beaked whale, for example, is sometimes placed in the genus Mesoplodon and sometimes in the Indopacetus. Current classifications, which place some mammals still widely viewed as whales into families of dolphins, wouldn’t make a perfect basis for a study of whaling.’ The subfamily Globicephalinae of ocean dolphins, for example, contains the long- and short-finned pilot whales and killer whales that are almost always included in a popular or a nineteenth-century whaleman’s enumeration of whales.2 (The common distinction between whales and dolphins is based more on size than on biology.) Nevertheless, taxonomy is a point of departure for a study of whaling, and an outline is presented in appendix 2A. I . “[Tlhe popular terms ‘dolphin, porpoise and whale’ are not very precise taxonomically. For example, if ‘dolphin’ is used to refer to members of the Superfamily Delphinoidea, this includes the Family Phocoenidae or ‘porpoises,’ and the Subfamily Globicephalinae which all have common names ending in ‘whale.’ Members of the Superfamily Platanistoidea are also known as dolphins. To make matters even more confusing, in the USA . . . any small cetacean is known as a ‘porpoise”’ (Dolphins, Porpoises, and Whales 1991, 5-6). 2. Or perhaps it’s the family Delphinidae: “Scholars differ in their opinions concerning which genera and species should be included within the Family Delphinidae. Some zoologists believe [it] . . . should be large and include all 20 genera and their 39+ species. . . . Other scholars believe that some genera and their species . . . are sufficiently different in their anatomical structure to warrant the creation of additional families for them” (Tinker 1988, 119).The family Globicephalinae is one of these “additional families,”

20

21

Whales and Whaling

Cetaceans are divided into two suborders: the Mysticeti (from Greek mystax, moustache, and ketos, whale), which includes only whales, and the Odontoceti (from Greek odontos, tooth, and ketos, whale), which includes dolphins and porpoises as well as whales. The Mysticeti, or baleen whales, eat by straining seawater containing krill and other small creatures through a curtain of flattened rods of whalebone (baleen) that hang from the roof of the mouth. The Odontoceti have teeth, although few have sets that would please a dentist. The two teeth of the adult male strap-toothed whale, for example, curl around the upper jaw, and prevent the animal from fully opening its mouth.3 The male narwhal has, in addition to two teeth in its upper jaw, a long, twisted tusk that extends through its upper lip.4 Odontoceti feed mainly on squid and octopi. Whales range in weight from the 340-pound dwarf sperm-about the size of a large National Football League offensive tackle-to the 300,000-pound blue-about the size of the entire NFL (see table 2.1).5 The species of whales that Americans primarily sought are forty to sixty feet long (see table 2.2), roughly twice the length of the slender boats from which they were hunted. Both the cost of hunting and the value of the catch have influenced whalemen’s choices of prey, but cost seems to have dominated. On the one hand, if technology had not improved, it would have been impossible for the type of animal harvested to have progressed from what was initially the least costly to what was initially the most costly-that is, from dead whales to slow whales to fast whales. On the other hand, no matter what the market may have dictated, at the end of a voyage a captain with space in his hold attempted to harpoon any cetacean that crossed his path. Table 2.3 summarizes the speeds of the whales that have been most frequently hunted.

3. “From the examination of the stomach contents of stranded specimens, it is known that straptoothed whales eat squid, but how the males feed if they cannot open their mouths remains a mystery” (Ellis 1985, 155-56). 4. “One of the earliest written records of the unicorn would seem to predate the discovery of the narwhal by almost a thousand years . . . [blut once the [narwhal’s] tusks began to appear, it was easy enough to fit the tusk to the fable. . . . [In] ‘The Unicorn Tapestries,’ in the collection of the Cloisters in New York . . . [elverywhere the unicorn appears. . . his horn is a perfect illustration of a namhal tusk. It is long, white, tapered, and spirally twisted’ (Ellis 1985, 72-75). 5. In 1994 the NFL had twenty-eight teams of forty-five players each. Players averaged about 240 pounds: 28 x 45 x 240 = 302,400 pounds. With this comparison we join the poetic company of those who describe the sizes of whales: “[The blue] is the whale species about which all those comparisons are made: it weighs more than 40 elephants, 200 cows, 1,600 men [apparently not football players], etc. . . . [Tlhe blue whale . . . is approximately the same length as the 128passenger Boeing 737, which, fully fueled, weighs one-fourth as much as an adult blue whale. . . , [Its tongue] is about the size of a small automobile” (Ellis 1991, 18-19). “How does one weigh an animal [the blue whale] whose heart weighs half a ton, whose tongue is bigger than a taxicab” (Small 1971 , 32). “The heart of a blue whale weighs several tons. . . . The aorta leading from its heart is large enough for a child to crawl through, and the major blood vessels appear to be about the size of a sewer pipe” (Ackerman 1992, 118). “[The sperm whale] is the largest carnivore on earth.. . . Imagine a four-hundred-pound heart the size of a chest of drawers” (Lopez 1988, 121-22).

Table 2.1

Weights of Whales (pounds) Species

Heintzelman

Gray

Eschrichtius robustus

40,000

Minke

Baluenoptera ucutorostruta

20,000

Bryde’s

Baluenoptera edeni

36,000

Sei

Baluenoptera borealis

46,000

Fin

Baluenoptera physalus

128,000

Blue

Buluenopteru musculus

300,000

Humpback

Megapteru novueangliue

90,000

Right

Eubalaenu glaciulis/austrulis

144.000

Bowhead

Balaena mysticetus

244,000

Pygmy right Beluga

Caperea marginata Delphinapterus leucus

10,000 2,400

Narwhal

Monodon monoceros

2,000

Sperm

Physeter macrocephalus

Pygmy sperm

Kogia breviceps

1,500

Dwarf sperm

Kogia simius

-

Arnoux’s

Berurdius arnuxii

17,000

Baird’s

Berardius buirdii

24,000

Cuvier’s

Ziphius cavirostris

11,000

Shepherd’s Northern bottlenose

Tusmacetus shepherdi Hyperoodon ampullatus

18.000

Southern bottlenose

Hyperoodon planifrons

7,000

Hector’s True’s Gervais’ Ginkgo-toothed Gray’s Hubbs’ Longman’s Stejneger’s

Mesoplodon hectori Mesoplodon mirus Mesoplodon europaeus Mesoplodon ginkgodens Mesoplodon grayi Mesoplodon carlhubbsi Mesoplodon pac$cus Mesoplodon stejnegeri

3,000 6,000 3,200 1,700

Watsona

56,000M, A 68,000F, A I2,OOO-16,000 A 20,000L 26,000A 44,000L 28,000-34.000 A 64,000L 80,000-100,000 A 152,000L 180,000-288,000 A 392,000L 68,000-90,000 A 106,000L 120,000A 212,000L 220,000A 244,000L 10,000 A

1,400M, A 890 F, A

120,000

5,400

-

2,800

3,600M, A 2,000F, A 80,000M, A 44,000F, A 1,600A 1,800L 340A 600L 14,000A 17,000L 20,000A 25,000L 7,000A 10,000L 5,000-6,000E 8,000M, A 7,000F, A 6,000A 9,000L 3,000A 6,000? 3,400E 2,000A 3,400E -

2,600E

23

Whales and Whaling

Table 2.1

(continued) Species

Heintzelman -

Andrews’ Sowerby’s Strap-toothed Blainville’s Pygmy killer

Mesoplodon bowdoini Mesoplodon bidens Mesoplodon layardi Mesoplodon densirostris Feresa attenuata

3,000 2,800 2,400 350

Short-finned pilot

Globicephala macrorhyncha

7,350

Long-finned pilot

Globicephala melas

8,400

Killer Melon-headed False killer

Orcinus orca Peponocephala electra Pseudorca crassidens

16,000 400 4,800

Watson‘ 2,400 A 3,000 ? 2,750 E 2,000 A 375 M, A 330 F, A 6,600 M, L 3,200 F, L 8,500 M, L 4,000 F, L 16,000 L 350 A 5,000 M, L 2,500 F, L

Sources: Heintzelman 1981: Watson 1985. Notes: How do you weigh a whale? “Accurate weights are . . . difficult to obtain, but a 29.5 m female Blue Whale, shot at South Georgia in 1930, was calculated to weigh 177 tomes, on the basis of the number of cookers filled with its blubber, meat and bone, and making some allowance for losses in the form of blood and guts” (Bonner 1980, 5). sA = average; E = estimated: F = female: L = largest; M = male; ? = perhaps.

2.1 Where the Whales Were Before 1868 only five species of whales were systematically hunted: principally the sperm, the bowhead, and the right, secondarily the humpback and the gray. Humpbacks and grays are smaller than the others, their oil and baleen are of relatively poor quality, and they pose special problems for hunters. The humpback usually sinks when killed; the gray can be a ferocious fighter. Whalemen would have liked to hunt the faster-swimming rorquals-the blues, seis, minkes, and finners-but with the technology of the time were seldom able to capture them.6 When in Moby-Dick Melville writes about the habits of the five whales that were hunted in the mid-nineteenth century, he is informative and accurate; when his subject is any rorqual except the humpback, he is often wrong. In the nineteenth century, sperm whales were hunted in the tropical and subtropical oceans. Both males and females were killed, although-males being two to three times as large as females-whalemen chose males when they could. In the twentieth century, sperm whales were hunted from shore stations in Australia and Antarctica. Because the migratory patterns of male and female 6. The rorquals are the members of the family Balaenopteridae. Rorqual comes from “the old Norwegian rorhval [furrow whale], referring to the grooves that run from just behind the lower lip to the chest” (Burton 1983, 22).

Table 2.2

Lengths of Whales (feet) Baker

Burton

40-45 M 43-50 F 26-30

46 L

45-50

32 L

30 L

42.5 M 49.2 F, L 26.2-3 1. I

49 L

48 L

39.4-46.0

59 L

60 M, L 65 F, L 88 L 64.5 A 75-80

49.2-59.0

Blue”

40-46 M 43 F, A 48 M 51-68 F 65-70 A 582 F 75-82 A

Humpbackb

40-62

49 L

62 L

Right

50

59 L

Bowhead Pygmy tight Beluga

50-58 21 16

59 L 20 L

58 L 50 A 50 20 16

Narwhal

11-16

-

Sperm

61

59 L

Pygmy sperm Dwarf sperm Amoux’s Baird’s

11 7-9 29.5 539 M 542 F 18-20 M 20-26 F 22

12 L 10 L

Gray Minke Bryde’s Sei Fin

Cuvier’s Shepherd’s Northern bottlenose Southern bottlenose Hector’s True’s Gervais’ Ginkgo-toothed Gray’s Hubbs’ Longman’s‘ Stejneger’s Andrews’ Sowerby’s Strap-toothed Blainville’s

32 M 25 F 32 M 24 F 14.5 16-17 22 18 120 17

85 L 109 L

-

43 L

30 L

-

-

17 15 16

-

16-20 17

-

Minasian

15.5 M 13-15 F 60 M 40 F 11 L 6.75-8.75 30 L 39 M, L 42 F, L 23 L 23 M, L 22 F, L 32 M <32 F 32 M 24.5 F

17 16.5 18 18-20 17 23 17.3 15 16.5 M 16 F 20 17

Tinker

62.3-87.9 98.4 L 82.0-85.3 A 49.2-62.3 49.2-59.0 49.2-65.6 21 16.5-19.6 M 14.5-17.6 F 13-18 M 13 F 49-65 M 36.0-55.5 F 10-13 6.5-8.9 32 L 539 M 542 F 19-23 19.7-23.0

Evans 36.4-46.9 M 38.4-49.9 F 23.0-32.2 M 24.6-36.1 F 41 .O-45.9 39.4-57.4 M 41.7-68.9 F 59.1-82.0 78.7-91.9 36.1-49.2 M 37.4-49.2 F 49.2-5 9 .O 49.2-60.7 16.4-2 I .O 9.8-16.4 13.1-16.4 51.8-61.0M 35.8-39.4 F 8.9-1 1.2 6.9-8.9 29.5 35.1-38.7 M 36.1-42.0 F 22.0 M 23.0 F 19.7-23.0

23.0-29.5 M 19.7-23.0 F 14.5 L 17 22 17 11.5-16.4 17 23 16.5-19.7 14-17 18.3

29.5-31.2 M 23.0-27.9 F 19.7-21.3 M 23.0-24.6 F 12.1-14.8 16.1-18.0 14.8-16.4 17.1 18.0-19.7 16.4-17.4 23.0 16.4-19.7 14.4-14.8 16.4

16.4-1 9.7 13-17

16.4-19.7 15.4-17.1

32 L

Table 2.2

(continued) ~

Pygmy killer Short-finned pilot Long-finned pilot Killer Melon-headed False killer

Baker

Burton

8M 7F 19 M I5 F 520 M 18 F 27 M, A 23 F, A 9M 18-20 M 16 F

20L 23 L 33 L -

-

Minasian

7-8

Tinker

7.2-8.8

19.5 M 13 F 20M 18 F 31.5 M 27 F 8 20 M 16 F

~

Evans

7.2-8.2

20 L

14.8-16.4 10.8-11.8 18.0-20.3 12.5-17.7 22.0-23.0 18.0-21.3 7.5-8.9 13.1-18.0

19.7-26.0 M 16.4-19.7 F 31 M, L 20-27 F 6.6-8.2 19.7 M, L 16.4 F, L

M F M F M F

Sources: Baker 1987; Burton 1983, 20; Minasian, Balcomb, and Foster 1984; Tinker 1988; Evans 1987. Notes: The length of a whale is measured from the tip of the upper jaw to the deepest notch of the tail. A = average; F = female; L = largest; M = male. ““ho centuries ago, blue whales in the Antarctic reached an awesome length of 100 feet . . . . Today, they are smaller, averaging 75 to 82 feet” (Baker 1987, 192). “The largest blue captured reportedly measured 33.5 m (110 ft), although the average prewhaling, full-grown adult more likely measured 26 to 27.5 m (85 to 90 ft) long. Large blue whales have been so severely reduced in numbers by commercial whaling that the average size today is between 23 to 24.5 m (75 to 80 ft)” (Minasian, Balcomb, and Foster 1984, 40). b“Reports of much greater lengths [than 65 feet] in the last century are probably exaggerated by measurement along the curve of the body” (Watson 1985.71). ?Since Longman’s (Indopacetuspacifcus) is known only by the existence of two skulls (a complete living or, for that matter, dead specimen has never been seen), these lengths are clearly estimates. “[Slkull size suggests a relatively large animal of c. 7m length (Evans 1987,64).

Table 2.3

Top Swimming Speeds of Whales (miles per hour) Cousteau and Paccalet Feeding

Gray Minke Bryde’s Sei Fin Blue Humpback Right Bowhead Pygmy right Sperm

2.5 6.0 4.0 4.0 4.0 4.0 2.5 2.5 2.5 2.5‘ 3.5

Morzer Bruyns

Alaska

Cruising

Fleeing

Cruising

Cruising

Fleeing

6.0

10.0-11.0 18.0-21.0 25.5 36.0-40.0 25.0-33.0 24.0-30.0 15.0-16.5 7.0-11.0 10.0-12.0 21.0-27.0

2.4-4.6 2.4-4.6 5.8-6.9 5.8-6.9 11.5-13.8 11.5-16.1 3.5-4.6 3.5-4.6 2.4-3.5 3.5-4.6

5.2 5.8-9.2 5.8-6.9 16.0-1 7.3 2.0-5.0 4.6 3.5-4.6

12.7 16.0-21.0

15.5

18.0 22.0 22.0 20.0 9.0 6.5 6.5 6.0’ 9.0

-

39.0 23.0 23.0 9.0-10.0 -

30.0

1988, 126; Morzer Bruyns 1971; “Alaska Whales and Whaling” 1978. ”The source has marked these figures with question marks. Sources: Cousteau and Paccalet

Map of the world showing nineteenth-century whaling grounds, by A . Howard Clark. The map illustrated a report, The Fisheries and Fishery Industries ofthe United States, compiled by George Brown Goode and published by the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries in 1887. The more heavily shaded areas represent “present grounds,” the less heavily shaded, “abandoned grounds.” Grounds are marked S for sperm whale, R for right whale, B for “bowhead or polar whale,” C for California gray whale, H for humpback whale, and F for finback whale. Reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

28

Chapter 2

sperm whales are different (females remain in warmer waters while males roam into colder waters), it was males that were killed in the Antarctic.’ Among baleens, the whereabouts of bowheads are the most predictable. They prefer frigid water and are seldom found as far south as the winter boundary of the Arctic ice pack, approximately the fifty-fifth parallel (Scammon [1874] 1968,58). The bowhead was hunted during the summer, to the west in the North Pacific, the Arctic, the Bering Sea, and the Sea of Okhotsk, to the east in the Greenland Sea, Davis Strait, and Hudson Bay. The eastern regions were exploited by the Dutch and English in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, by the English and, to some extent, the Americans in the early nineteenth. Later in the nineteenth century, Americans hunted the eastern regions more regularly. Whaling for bowheads in the Western Arctic began in 1848 and continued until early in the present century. The habitat of right whales is extensive. They can be found in the temperate waters of the Northern Hemisphere-in the Atlantic from Bermuda to Greenland, in the Pacific from Japan to the northwest coast of the United States and as far north as the Arctic Ocean. To the south, rights were hunted from Brazil in the east and Chile in the west to the Antarctic Ocean (Scammon [1874] 1968,66). Humpbacks, like sperms and rights, prefer temperate waters but are sometimes found along the edges of the polar ice packs. They tend to swim closer to shore, however, particularly when breeding. There appear to be three geographically isolated populations-North Pacific, North Atlantic, and Southern Hemisphere-each composed of several discrete stocks. In the eighteenth century, gray whales were found along the coasts of both the North Pacific and the North Atlantic Oceans; now they are found only in the North Pacific, and only on the American side. Grays are inshore animals. Their passage from summer feeding grounds in the Bering and Chukchi Seas to calving grounds in the bays of Baja California is the longest known annual migration of any mammal.

2.2 Economic Products of the Fishery The products of premodern whaling were different from those of modern whaling. In the nineteenth century, oil was used for lighting and lubrication. In the twentieth, it has been used for margarine and in the production of chemicals. Whale meat, bones, and entrails were seldom exploited in the nineteenth century; in the twentieth, they have been used in fertilizers and animal feed.* 7. Frost 1979, 17. “[Tlhere was no danger of killing too many sperm whales in the Antarctic. . . . [OJnlymale sperm whales were found there. The animal is polygamous, and old bulls ousted from their harems and young ones who never acquired one apparently used the Antarctic as a bachelors’ retreat” (Small 1971, 96). See also chapter 4 below. 8. The Whale Manual lists more than seventy “past and present commercial uses of the whale,” ranging from baleen in hooped skirts to “cetyl alcohol converted to cetyl pyridinium bromide for

29

Whales and Whaling

The whales hunted in the nineteenth century yielded five commercial products: ambergris, spermaceti, and sperm oil from sperm whales, whale oil and whalebone from baleens. In both quantity and total value, sperm oil was much more important than ambergris. Sperm oil is a very high quality lubricant; it is noncorrosive and does not film over. Unlike most of its competitors, it retains its consistency at extreme temperatures, and became increasingly valuable as the manufacturing sector serviced more and more machines operating at faster and faster speeds. As a lubricant it continued in demand into the twentieth century. As an illuminant sperm oil produces a bright, clean light. Its cost tended to price it out of the household market, but it was widely used in public buildings. Almost all lighthouses, for example, used sperm oil. The purest was found in a cavity in the head (the case).Once the animal had been decapitated, the oil was easily removed from this reservoir and, because of its purity, could be barrelled without processing. For the rest the blubber had first to be stripped from the carcass, orjensed-a long and dangerous procedure-and then the oil extracted and processed so that it would not spoil before it was brought home. Extraction, called trying out, was both laborintensive and risky. The blubber was cut up and boiled, which meant keeping a fire going on deck twenty-four hours a day. When the liquid oil had cooled, it was poured into hogsheads and stored. At the end of the voyage, both types of oil (that drawn from the head and that extracted from the blubber) were sold to refineries for further processing. The processing resulted in several grades of sperm oil and the solid product spermaceti, from which candles were made.9 Although it was of only marginal economic importance because of its scarcity, on a price-per-ounce basis the most valuable product of the sperm whale was ambergris.’OThe origin of this fatty substance, found in the intestines of cationic surface-active agents and germicides.” The most surprising may be “sperm oil . . . contained in the lubricant used by some bakeries on the blades which cut dough into loaf sizes” (Friends of the Earth 1978, 116-19). 9. See chapter 9. See also Hohman 1928, 334-35. “John Adams, in his ‘Diary,’ records the substance of a conversation with William Pitt, in which he remarked to the English statesman that ‘the fat of the spermaceti-whale gives the clearest and most beautiful flame of any substance that is known in nature, and we are surprised that you prefer darkness, and consequent robberies, burglaries, and murders in your streets, to the receiving, as a remittance, our spermaceti oil’” (Dow [1925] 1985, 35, quoting from The Works of John Adums 8:308-9). 10. “[Almbergris was so rare that from 1836 to 1880 the entire American whaling fleet found less than a ton of the stuff” (Whipple 1979, 38). “[Ambergris] sold [for] from $200 to $600 a pound” (Decker 1973,27). “Ambergris once fetched a price of $400 per ounce” (Sanderson 1956, 212). “[Ambergris] fetched an extremely high price, once as high as f5 per ounce, and in 1912 a whaling company was saved from liquidation by the discovery of a 450 kilogram lump of ambergris which was sold for f23.000’ (Burton 1983, 121). “In 1878 the Adeline Gibbs, of New Bedford, secured a fabulous catch of 136 pounds [of ambergris], worth $23,000” (Hohman 1928, 148). In 1912 the U.S. Department of Commerce and Labor (table 59) reported the amount of ambergris “taken by American vessels and fishermen” over the previous twelve years as a total of sixty pounds, valued at $12,700 (the price per ounce varying from $18.75 in 1900 to $6.25 in 1907 and averaging $13.23).

30

Chapter 2

only a few sperm whales, is unclear. Ambergris can unite, permanently and thoroughly, the various ingredients used in the manufacture of perfume.” The oil of baleen whales could be obtained only by the trying-out process. In the nineteenth century, whale oil was used as a heavy-duty lubricant and as a fuel for “the old-fashioned vile-smelling, ‘whale oil’ lamp” (Tower 1907, 94). Until the middle of the century, despite its aesthetic drawbacks, its low price made whale oil the standard illuminant for many Americans. It was used also in leather tanning, in soap manufacture, and in paints and varnishes. Whalebone was the plastic of its day. Little-used before 1830, it had become, by century’s end, the most important source of revenue of the American whaling industry. Despite the claim that whalemen never killed a whale for bone alone, there is plentiful evidence that, after 1870 at least, the high prices of baleen induced some to cut out the whale’s plates without trying out its blubber.12 Whalebone prices continued to rise long after the demand for the industry’s other products had declined. By the early twentieth century, however, spring steel proved a superior and cheaper substitute. The major twentieth-century demand was for oil, but not for illumination. Techniques for hydrogenating whale oil were developed about the turn of the century, when margarine was being introduced into Europe (see chapter 13). Given the large and efficient dairy industry and competition from traditional vegetable oils such as cottonseed, soybean, sesame, sunflower, and peanut, margarine based on whale oil was rejected in America. Not so in Europe. By the 1930s 40 percent of the margarine and 30 percent of the lard produced in the United Kingdom were made from whale oil; in Germany, the combined figure for margarine and lard was 54 percent (Small 1971, 97). In this century the whaling industry discovered an important secondary 11. “Ambergris is not so much an actual perfume substance as, like musk and civet, [used] to fix and improve other perfumes which are delicate and fugitive” (Durvelle 1923, 34). Ambergris is variously described as the result either of persistent indigestion or of unrelieved constipation. In addition to being manually removed from dead sperm whales, ambergris is found floating in the ocean or cast up on shore-presumably voided by living whales. The word means gray amber: “The English word amber was taken over from the French and the French got it from the late Latin umbrum, which derived from an Arabic word anbur But that word also means ‘whale.’ The result was confusion between two products of the sea, which the French solved to some extent by speaking about ambre jaune (yellow amber) and ambre gris, the latter getting into English with only a slight change of spelling” (Ley 195 1, 18). 12. Brandt 1940, 29. “The bark ‘Andrew Hicks’ of this port is reported at Montevideo from a successful cruise of four months on the Coast of Patagonia, having secured 7,000 Ibs. of whalebone. The blubber of the whales secured was not rendered into oil” (WSL 28 December 1909). Changes in the ratio of whale oil to whalebone returned by American whalers indicate that this practice was not uncommon. “By 1908, petroleum had taken over from whale oil and whalers depended on the sale of whale bone. They would kill the whale, remove the head and discard the rest of the huge mammal” (Fulton 1988, 153-54). But see A Year with a Whale6 describing a voyage by the brig Alexander to the Western Arctic in 1890-9 1. Four whales were taken and three were tryed out (Bums 1919,247). The observed rise in the boneloil ratio was also partly accounted for by a decline in gray whaling (baleen from gray whales was rarely taken) and a marked increase in the fraction of baleen whales taken that were bowheads, the premier bone whales.

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source of income: the sale of meat, bones, and offal. Whale meat never figured prominently in the diets of most countries, but it was a source of protein for the Japanese-so important that at the end of World War I1 General Douglas MacArthur, in order to save U.S. taxpayers the cost of supplementing the Japanese diet, allowed the rebuilding of Japan’s whaling fleet (Small 1971, 32). Until the Japanese economy recovered sufficiently to support a major flow of foreign imports, European hunters sold meat as well as bones and offal to the fertilizer and animal-feed industries. Thereafter, they too profited from the Japanese taste for whale meat.13

2.3 Hunting Whales: The Early Years The history of whaling can be divided into three somewhat overlapping technological periods: (1) sail-powered whaling (both land-based and pelagic) from the twelfth through the nineteenth century; (2) modern land-based whaling from the late 1860s to the mid-1920s; and (3) modern pelagic whaling from 1926 to the present. Whaling’s history can also be written in terms of the nations holding dominant positions: in the seventeenth century the Dutch, in the eighteenth century the British, in the nineteenth century the Americans, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the Norwegians, subsequently the Russians, and then the Japanese. The Basques were whaling as early as the eighth century and “had by the fifteenth century developed something approaching a modem ‘industry,’ as local fishermen went out to attack whales breeding in the Bay of Biscay.”14Major European efforts date from 1607 when Henry Hudson, searching for a northern route to China on behalf of the Muscovy Company, chanced upon the rich whaling grounds off the Spitsbergen Islands.15His report of vast numbers of whales (probably bowheads) in the bays of a region that is now called the Greenland $fishery touched a responsive economic chord and brought British and Dutch whaling vessels north. In 1577 Queen Elizabeth had granted the Muscovy Company a charter that gave it a monopoly on the whale fishery worldwide, but, not surprisingly, many refused to recognize the charter. “[Tlhe 13. “By 1960 total Japanese production of whale meat exceeded 155,000 tons and was greater than her domestic production of beef. . . . Most of this production was frozen and sold as a competitor and substitute for beef, but at one-third the price. Tail flukes, for example, were considered a delicacy and eaten raw . . . . Thin belly blubber was sold as ‘whale bacon’ since it so closely resembled pork bacon. Even jaw cartilage was pickled and found a ready market. To anyone with culinary courage all this is not surprising because whale meat closely resembles beef both in color and texture” (Small 1971, 101). See also Cousteau and Paccalet 1988.46. 14. Jackson 1978,3. See also Scoresby [1820] 1969, 3-6. Spitsbergen had been visited in 1596 by two Dutch vessels, which explored the islands for almost two weeks. Hudson did little exploring, but his account of the whales led to the development of the whaling grounds (Conway 1904, 1, 2). 15. Ellis 1991, 98. Gordon Jackson (1978,6), relying on Hudson’s account of the voyage, says crewmen “also saw a ‘mermaid‘-long-haired, white and human-breasted at one end, and mackerel-speckled at the other-but it was the whales that excited most interest.”

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Whaling at Spitsbergen in 1611, from engravings in Hans Egede’s Beschryving van Oud-Groenland, reengraved for Churchill S Voyages (London, 1745). Note that in these drawings Dutch crewmen are shown flensing a carcass on the water; in contrast, British crewmen towed the carcass to shore, and flensed it on dry land. The whale pictured here, “ordinarly about 60 foote longe,” is Baluena mysricetus, the bowhead or Greenland right, although this representation isn’t very accurate. Reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

British strove harder to exclude the Dutch . . . than they did to catch whales. Whalers sailed in battle-fleets until their extraordinary profits were swallowed up in extraordinary costs. A tacit agreement [in 16191 then gave the Dutch the north of Spitsbergen, while the British, by right of discovery, kept their original ‘best’ bays in the south-which soon proved to be the worst” (Jackson 1976,47). Spitsbergen whaling was shore-based. Ships established land bases there or on nearby Bear Island. When whales were seen or heard, small boats were rowed to the area. If an animal surfaced, a harpoon was thrown, and the animal was secured by a rope line. In order to add weight, other boats were hooked to the original boat, and thus to the whale. When the whale finally tired, it was killed with a lance. The carcass was towed to shore, where the blubber was

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reduced to oil. When impurities had been removed, the oil was poured into casks and carried to a transport vessel (Jackson 1978,9-11). For 130 years, until the mid-eighteenth century, the Dutch dominated world whaling. Between 1699 and 1708, for example, the British dispatched only a handful of vessels, while the Dutch made 1,652 voyages to the whaling grounds (and caught 8,537 whales) (Scoresby [1820] 1969, 105). The Dutch advantage began with the favorable 1619 division, and was maintained because Dutch costs were low. Over decades of fishing for hemng, the Dutch had developed skills needed to sail and hunt in northern waters, and their vessels were more suited to whaling than were those of the British. Despite the added transport costs, the Dutch could supply the British market with oil at prices below the domestic break-even point. Also, they were more aggressive in seeking out new hunting grounds. At a time when it should have been clear that the “Spitsbergen bay fishing phase of European whaling must give way to the Greenland pelagic phase,” the British stuck resolutely to Spitsbergen (Jackson 1978,26). The Dutch had already begun to exploit the resources of Greenland and Davis Strait. In pelagic whaling, vessels provided homes for the men and bases for the whaleboats. The assault on the whale was similar to that of shore-based whaleboats, but the carcass was towed to the whaler. Given the size of a whale and the existing technology, it was impossible to lift the whale aboard; instead it was made fast to the vessel and flensed alongside. Once the blubber had been stripped, it was possible simply to cut it up and store it, rather than having to try it out (Jackson 1978, 32-33). Spoilage was not a crucial problem in far northern waters. The British sent out only a few voyages in the early 1700s, but at midcentury the prospects of the industry brightened. Domestic demand for whale oil rose, as the textile industry grew and as urbanization pushed up the demand for street 1ighting.l6 Complementing the increase in demand, the government adopted policies to encourage the trade. Although the government had been paying a bounty to vessels that went to the Greenland fishery, the payment was small and had little effect. In 1750 the bounty was doubled; this step was at least partly responsible for a more than tenfold increase in the size of Britain’s whaling fleet. As the century wore on, political troubles between England and the Continental countries reduced Dutch access to British markets. The Dutch shifted away from whaling into other maritime pursuits, and the British industry benefitted. During the American Revolution, the Royal Navy crippled the colonial whaling fleet; at war’s end, a protective tariff proved as effective as the navy at keeping American imports out of British markets. Protection, the final demise of Dutch efforts, and the British fleet’s entry into pelagic whaling in Davis 16. The increased textile demand reflected both a substitution for rapeseed oil in cleaning the wool used in the manufacture of coarse fabrics, and a general increase in textile production.

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Strait all nurtured the British industry. Continued prosperity, supported by increasing catches, marked British efforts until the first years of the nineteenth century’s second decade.

2.4 Hunting Whales: The Early American Experience Commercial whaling in North America dates from the first colonial settlements in the Northeast. Early American whalemen almost certainly inherited knowledge of Dutch and British methods. They may also have benefitted from the whaling techniques of Native Americans.” Their first commercial ventures, however, did not require a working knowledge of either European or Indian practices. Settlers were introduced to the commerce of whaling by discovering dead whales that were washed ashore. A valuable property without a defined property right is an open invitation to a dispute-and disputes there were. They became so intense that legislators found it necessary to govern the disposal of so-called drijit whales. Early in the seventeenth century, both the Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay colonies directed that proceeds from the sale of drift whales be divided into thirds: onethird to the colonial government, one-third to the town within whose jurisdiction the whale had come ashore, and one-third to the finder (Starbuck 1878, 6-7). In 1644 the Long Island town of Southampton adopted a more egalitarian plan. By law the men of the town were divided into four eleven-man teams. When a whale was found within town boundaries, two men were sent from each team to cut it up. The pieces were then divided equally among the residents of the town (the cutters getting double shares).ls In the last quarter of the century, colonists adopted a more active approach to the northern right-whale fishery. Instead of waiting for whales to wash ashore, residents of both Nantucket and Long Island began to search them out. At first they employed a technique that came to be called inshore whaling, involving cooperative effort by two sets of whalemen. Some were stationed on spars erected along the coast; their task was to spot whales. Others stood ready to man small boats and to pursue and kill whales. If the hunters were successful, they towed their catch to shore, where both groups worked together to process the carcass. It appears that inshore whaling remained profitable even after off17. “Although the Indian probably taught the white settlers the art of harassing a stranded whale, it does not follow that his primitive methods were always used thereafter. . . . Scammon’s belief that the colonists followed the Indian method up to the early 1700’s cannot be sustained as Purchas gives an account of English lines being used on ‘harping irons’ as early as 1613. It is possible, however, that the use of drags or ‘droges’-thick boards or blocks of wood bent on the whale lines and tossed into the sea to serve as a check to the whale’s progress-were adapted from the Indians” (Stackpole 1953, 16). 18. Tower 1907, 22. Church (1938, 14) says that “profits were shared by ‘Every inhabitant with his child or servant that is above sixteen years of age,’ those performing the labor receiving an extra share.” The Church book contains an excellent collection of photographs of whaling vessels-at sea, in port, being refitted, and being broken up. There are pictures of various details of these vessels, and of the processes by which whales were converted to oil and bone.

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shore whaling began, since the men of Nantucket and Sag Harbor employed the technique until at least 1760.19 The late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries also saw the widespread innovation of boat whaling. Whalemen dispensed with shore-based lookouts and remained at sea for what were, by the standards of the day, extended periods. They outfitted their small boats with provisions to last a few weeks and with hogsheads to hold the blubber of one whale. When a whale was taken, it was towed to the nearest land and cut up, and the blubber was packed in barrels. The men then returned to port, unloaded, restocked the boat, and resumed the hunt. Gradually larger vessels (some as large as thirty tons) replaced the small whaleboats, and the length of unsuccessful voyages increased from two weeks to six weeks. The vessels still returned to port after each successful kill, and trying out remained an onshore activity. “In 17 15 Nantucket had six sloops engaged in this fishery, producing oil to the value of &1,100sterling” (Starbuck 1878, 20). Boat whaling continued throughout the eighteenth century. Ultimately, however, both inshore and boat whaling gave way to offshore whaling. It began by accident. In 1712 Nantucketer Christopher Hussey “was cruising near the shore for Right whales, and was blown off some distance from the land by a strong northerly wind, where he fell in with a school of that species of whales [i.e., sperm], and killed one and brought it home. . . . This event gave new life to the business, for they immediately began with vessels of about thirty tons to whale out in the ‘deep.”’20 Hussey’s vessel had been blown farther to sea than the routes sailed by most boat whalers, and his was the first American vessel to take a sperm whale.*I In offshore whaling the small boats were replaced by much larger vessels: sloops, schooners, and brigs. Whales continued to be hunted from the decks of sloops. Schooners and brigs, manned by crews of upwards of thirteen men, carried two whaleboats for the actual attack.22By the 1770s the hunting area had been extended from the North Atlantic to the Cape Verde Islands, the Ca19. Macy [I8351 1970, 31. On eastern Long Island inshore whaling continued into the present century: “Pop got his last whale in 1907, on George Washington’s birthday, when he was seventyseven years of age. He whaled after that, but he never fastened again. Uncle Gabe was his boat steerer that day, and there were four boats went off-three from ’Gansett and one from East Hampton” (Everett Joshua Edwards, quoted in Rouecht [1953], 177). North Carolina whaling, which continued throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, was exclusively a shore operation. It was also very small scale. See Simpson and Simpson 1990. 20. Macy [I8351 1970, 36. But see also Nelson 1959, 6. Nelson suggests that either it wasn’t Christopher Hussey who made the first sperm-whale kill or the first kill took place before 1686, when the only local Christopher Hussey who would have been over the age of eight in 1712 died. 21. “Nantucketers were not entirely unfamiliar with the sperm whale. One had washed up on the island’s southwest shore some years earlier, and the islanders had been agreeably surprised at the richness of its blubber. It produced an oil far superior to that of the right whale . . . . They had assumed, however, that this odd type of whale was extremely rare, if not some type of mutation. Hussey’s discovery proved that the sperm whale was not rare; it was simply pelagic” (Whipple 1979.49). 22. Crttvecoeur [I7821 1912, 121. For a distinguished treatment of labor in the colonial Massachusetts whale fishery, see Vickers 1981.

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ribbean, and the Brazil Banks. Soon thereafter, New England vessels reached the South Atlantic, hunting the area between the Falkland Islands and Patagonia. In 1791 the ship Rebecca rounded Cape Horn and hunted the Pacific. “She measured 175 67/95 tons, which . . . was at that time considered so large that people came from Taunton and other surrounding towns to see ‘the big ship.’ . . . The command of so large a ship was deemed a great responsibility at this time” (Pease and Hough 1889, 69). The extension of the hunting area depended on two innovations. The first was not revolutionary. It merely shifted the task of cutting up the whale from shore to the vessel itself. Crewmen removed the blubber at sea and stored it in barrels for the duration of the voyage. Upon the vessel’s return to port, the blubber was taken to a refinery for processing. The revolutionary innovation was the transfer of the tryworks from the shore to the deck of the whaler. As long as the hunt was short and confined to the North Atlantic, there was no compelling reason to transfer trying out from shore to sea; when whalers began to hunt in warmer climates and to stay at sea for several years, spoilage became a problem. By the late eighteenth century, brick tryworks had been installed on most offshore whalers and on all whalers that operated in equatorial regions. The economic considerations dictating the slow diffusion of shipboard trying out in the northern fleet are not well understood. There was always a race to strip the whale’s carcass before it broke loose from the vessel or was devoured by sharks. The bowhead whale is relatively large, and often yielded seventy to ninety barrels of oil. Mounting a tryworks large enough to process a bowhead quickly would make a small vessel structurally unstable. Of course, the carcass could have been stripped, and the blubber temporarily stored and then tryed out in a small works over a longer period. Alternatively, larger vessels could have been introduced. The fact that neither happened suggests that short voyages yielding unprocessed blubber were more profitable than longer voyages employing either intermediate storage or larger vessels. Given the state of shipbuilding technology, cost considerations may well have limited vessel size and thus precluded a large tryworks, but a smaller tryworks with intermediate storage should have been affordable. Nonetheless, onboard tryworks diffused only slowly in the northern fleet. It is possible that, as long as vessel size was constrained, there were few benefits from multiyear hunting, and the extra cost of adding a small tryworks and intermediate storage facilities outweighed the potential benefits. The technique spread rapidly farther south, where spoilage was more of a problem. The smaller sperm whales hunted in the southern grounds could be processed quickly in a tryworks that did not destabilize a thirty-ton vessel (Credland 1982,6). By the time of the American Revolution, the tryworks had moved afloat also in the northern grounds. Vessel size had nearly doubled, and the actual attack had shifted to a whaleboat. Only one further step was necessary to complete the transition to the new technology. In early ocean whaling the harpoon was attached to log floats, designed to tire the whale as it swam away. The whale was large and the floats small; the oarsmen had to row hard and long to keep

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up with the fleeing animal. All too often they tired before the whale did. In the 1760s floats were junked, and the harpoon was fastened to the whaleboat itself. Since a sperm whale can swim at more than twenty-five miles an hour and can dive to a depth of three thousand feet, whalemen-for obvious reasonsresisted the change, but with it the probability of capture rose substantially. There were to be a great many technical and institutional innovations over the ensuing 125 years, but the general outlines of American-style whaling were in place by the Revolutionary War. Blessed with an expanding market in Great Britain, the colonial industry had grown rapidly in the two decades after 1750, but it suffered as a result of the war. In the 1775 Restraining Act, Parliament forbade colonial trade with any ports except those of the British Isles and the British West Indies, and embargoed colonial fishing along the entire Atlantic coast of North America. Neutral Nantucket was the only colonial port that continued to send out whaling vessels during the war; its citizens paid dearly. At the end of hostilities only two of the island’s 151 whaling vessels remained. Fifteen had been lost at sea, and 134 had been destroyed by the British (Tower 1907,40). In an attempt to stimulate recovery, the Massachusetts legislature offered a bounty on whale products returned by vessels owned and operated by state residents. The measure was largely ineffective because the demand for whale products had declined; during the war, the supply of sperm candles had been effectively cut off, and consumers had found tallow candles an adequate substitute (Starbuck 1878, 78-79). Eventually the wealthy returned to sperm candles and the poor found whale oil lamps a better source of light than tallow candles, but readjustment was not instantaneous. Moreover, a prohibitive British tariff closed off the American whalemen’s largest prewar market. Given the decline in both domestic and foreign demand, even the state bounty was insufficient to attract new entrants.

2.5 Nineteenth-CenturyAmerican Whaling Between 1794 and 1799 the entire American whaling fleet averaged about three thousand tons. By 1803 that figure had quadrupled, but the Embargo Act of 1807 and the War of 1812 proved as devastating as had the Revolution. In 1814 the fleet totaled only 562 tons (Tower 1907, 121); it had been reduced to “[sleveral small vessels from Nantucket . . . whaling on the shoals” (Starbuck 1878, 216). The effect of the embargo was indirect. Whaling vessels were not prohibited from leaving port, so long as they did not enter foreign ports, but the act did prohibit the export of American products, including whale produ c t ~The . ~ ~effect of the war was direct. Of the ten whaling vessels that sailed 23. An Act Laying an Embargo on All Ships and Vessels in the Ports and Harbors of the United States, 1807, Sruts. at Large of USA 2:451-53. “[Tlhe Embargo . . . again eclipsed the fortunes of the whalemen. Returning vessels, instead of being discharged, overhauled, provisioned, and sent back to sea within a few weeks, remained restless at anchor or tied up to their wharves for indefinite periods” (Hohman 1928, 38).

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from Nantucket in 1812 and the two that sailed in 1813, the British fleet sank or captured three. Three others returned to port on hearing of the war (Starbuck 1878,214-17). Peace brought a dramatic reversal. Following a brief period of reconstruction, American whaling entered a four-decade period of such growth and prosperity that it is known as the Golden Age. Demand for whale products grew as the populations of Europe and America increased and industrialization quickened. At the same time, supply rose as a new generation of whalemen discovered, opened, explored, and exploited a series of hunting grounds ranging from the South Pacific to the Seychelles and from Japan to the Western Arctic. Between 1815-19 and 1855-59 American output of sperm oil increased almost fivefold, of whale oil more than elevenfold, and of whalebone more than fortyfold. Over a similar period, the real value of the industry’s output rose by more than a factor of eleven.24 Although never as important as, for example, brewing or cotton textiles, the whale fishery had a substantial commercial stature in the decades before the Civil War. In 1860 it was on a par with such endeavors as calico printing, carpet weaving, and hosiery knitting (U.S. Census Office 1865, 734-35, 737; 1866, 550). Ten years later, the fishery had declined in both absolute and relative terms, but it still constituted an important part of the economies of Massachusetts and New York, and it bulked large in the economic life of a number of southern New England ports. In addition to the increased numbers of whalers and whalemen, the industry’s growth during the Golden Age had three other dimensions: the size of whaling vessels increased, more grounds were hunted, and more towns sent out whaling vessels. During the eighteenth century, whalemen had relied primarily on sloops, schooners, and brigs; as captains ventured farther from their New England bases, larger and stauncher vessels were needed. Among whalers based in New Bedford, for example, the last sloop cleared port in 1817. Brigs and schooners continued to operate, and even became significant again toward the end of the nineteenth century, but together they represented only 5.6 percent of the New Bedford vessels sailing between 1820 and 1860. The smaller vessels were initially replaced by ships; after a few decades ships were, in turn, replaced by barks. The whaling ship was introduced to New Bedford in 1791; adoption was immediate and widespread. The first whaling voyage by a bark dates from 1806, but widespread innovation was delayed nearly forty years.25 It wasn’t until the 1850s that the bark became common. While a part of the increase in average vessel size can be traced to the shift to ships and barks, the average size of each class of vessel increased 24. The change in real value of output is measured between 1816-20 and 1856-60. See chapters 1 and 9. 25. The Hero, built as a 162-ton brig in Westport, Massachusetts, in 1801, was rerigged and sailed from New Bedford as a bark in 1806 and 1808. She was broken up in Chile in 1813 (Work Projects Administration 1940, 1: 144).

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as well. The tonnage of New Bedford ships increased by almost exactly onethird, between 1816-25 and 1886-95, and that of barks by almost one-half, between 1826-35 and 1896-05. The new vessels made it possible to undertake longer voyages, and major whaling grounds were explored. In 1818 the abundant sperm-whale grounds in the central Pacific were discovered; whalemen were quick to abandon the onshore grounds near the coast of Chile for the new offshore grounds a thousand miles to the west (Stackpole 1953,266). Productive sperm-whale grounds were also discovered off the coast of Japan in 1820 and in the Indian Ocean between Madagascar and the Persian Gulf in 1823.2h The 1835 discovery of the Kodiak grounds in the Gulf of Alaska opened the right and bowhead grounds of the North Pacific. Both the size and the productivity of the North Pacific grounds increased with the discovery of large groups of whales near Kamchatka in 1843 and the penetration of the Sea of Okhotsk in 1845. Three years later American whalemen sailed through the Aleutian barrier and into the Bering Strait and the Western Arctic Ocean (Ellis 1991, 223-27; Bockstoce 1986,29). Three developments invigorated whaling in the Eastern Arctic at midcentury. The first was the discovery in 1840 of Cumberland Inlet, a bay at the southeastern comer of Baffin Island in which whales congregated. The second was the introduction in 185 1 of wintering. Americans began to remain through the winter, in order to have an early start at whaling in the spring. In this stage connections with the Inuit became intimate; the whites and the Inuit lived together through the winter, with the Inuit providing a substantial fraction of whaling crews and the whalemen augmenting their income by participating in the fur trade with them. Some permanent bases were set up, and there was a return, in part, to inshore whaling. Most important, whalemen eventually found their way into Hudson Bay, where in 1860 they opened Roes Welcome Sound, one of the last great eastern whaling grounds (Eber 1989, 22-23). The Pacific Ocean was the most frequent destination of New Bedford whaling vessels (see table 2.4). Over the ninety-year period 1816-1905, almost onehalf of all voyages set out for the Pacific, and in seven of the period’s eighteen five-year intervals the Pacific drew more than one-half. The Atlantic was second in popularity, with more than one-quarter of all New Bedford voyages and five five-year periods in which more than one-half went there. Notice, however, that the Atlantic was more important early in the period than later. In 1846-55, for instance, the Atlantic drew only 6.3 percent of New Bedford voyages, to the Pacific’s 58.5. Along with the increase in the number of grounds, there was an expansion in the number of ports that whaling vessels called home (see table 2.5). At the turn of the century, only Nantucket and New Bedford regularly sent out whal26. Stackpole 1953, 268. The Indian Ocean was first explored by the American whaler Asia in 1792.

“The Artic Elephant,” from a sketchbook kept on the bark Orruy Tuft of New Bedford, circa 1865. To pass the time during the long nights, whalemen wintering in the Arctic held dances and performed plays of various kinds, to which neighboring Inuit-collaborators in their whaling and sealing ventures-were invited. “Crew members of five vessels wintering at Marble Island, 1864-65, formed the Hudson Bay Minstrels, a troupe that performed a repertoire ranging from tragedy to rollicking skits” (Martin 1983,46). Reproduced courtesy of The Kendall Whaling Museum, Sharon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.

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ers. In 1820 there were sixteen such ports, in 1835 thirty-two, in 1841 thirtyeight, of which the principal were New Bedford, Nantucket, New London, Fairhaven, and Sag Harbor (Starbuck 1878, 196, 230-36, 314-22, 372-86). From the early 1820s until almost the end of American whaling, New Bedford was home to the largest portion of the fleet; about one-half of all American whalers listed it as their home port. The industry began to decline in the mid-1850s; the Civil War drew the final curtain on the Golden Age.Z7Forty-six slow-sailing whalers were captured or destroyed by new, fast Confederate cruisers. Another forty, whose owners were afraid to risk whaling voyages, were sold to the federal government, filled with stones, and sunk in a futile attempt to block southern ports.28During both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812 the industry had been laid waste. The damage wrought by the Alabama and Shenandoah was probably no greater, in relative terms, than that by the British in 1775 and in 1812, but this time there was a major difference in what ensued. In both of the previous periods, the fleet was rebuilt at war’s end; after Appomattox, the contraction continued. The average tonnage of the fleet in the war years 1861-65 was 47 percent below the level of the previous quinquennium. That rate of decline was not again reached until the interval 1891-95 to 1896-1900, but the downward slide was persistent (see table 1.1). By 1901-5 the annual average tonnage of the American whaling fleet-more than 208,000 tons in 1846-50-was only 10,462. The decline proceeded almost twice as quickly as the previous expansion. By 1876-80 average annual tonnage had fallen by 78 percent from its peak in 1846-50, and the industry was no larger than it had been fifty years earlier. Revenue figures also show an industry in decline, but the fiscal regression was less rapid. The average annual real value of the industry’s output reached $9,630,201 in 1851-55, and still stood at $8,752,811 in 1856-60 (see table 1.2). Not surprisingly, the war’s impact on revenues was almost as devastating as its impact on men and vessels. Between 1861 and 1865 proceeds from the sale of oil and bone averaged only $4,623,194 per year-a decline over the previous quinquennium of 47 percent. Thereafter, however, the fall in revenue was, on average, less than the fall in tonnage. In the three succeeding quinquennia the ratios of the percentage decline in revenue to the percentage decline in tonnage were 0.55, 1.10, and 0.06, respectively. That relatively rosy picture reflects an increase in revenue per ton from a low of $44.73 in the last five peacetime years to a high of $87.48 in 1891-95. Two factors were at work. At the more fundamental level, productivity in whaling increased-a reflection of rapid technical and institutional innovation. The fiscal effects of productivity increases were magnified by continued strength in the demand for whalebone, which, given declines in output, led to an escala27. The size of the American fleet reached its peak in the quinquennium 1846-50, but the peak in the real value of the catch was not reached until 185 1-55. See tables 1 . 1 and 1.2. 28. The Eastern Arctic fleet continued to operate. “The vessels that were wintering in Hudson Bay had no need to fear Confederate raiders” (Stackpole 1969, 20).

Table 2.4

Destinations of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1816-1905 (percentages) ~

Atlantic Five-year period 1816-20 62.3 47.7 1821-25 53.2 1826-30 50.2 1831-35 32.4 1836-40 1841-45 7.9 3.0 1846-50 1851-55 8.7 5.5 1856-60 32.3 1861-65 1866-70 30.7 39.1 1871-75 1876-80 58.0 1881-85 34.0 21.0 1886-90 1891-95 33.0 50.0 1896-1900 1901-5 49.2 Ten-year period 1816-25 53.7 1826-35 51.4 1836-45 19.3 1846-55 6.3 1856-65 16.3 1866-75 34.2 1876-85 46.4 1886-95 25.7 1896-1905 49.6 Twenty-year period 1816-35 52.1 1836-55 12.4 1856-75 23.1 1876-95 39.1 'henty-five-year period 1816-40 46.0 10.0 1841-65 1866-90 37.6 Ninety-year period 1816-1905 27.6 The last sixty years 1846-1 905 22.9 The last forty-five years 1861-1905 37.5

-

Eastern Arctic

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctica

1.9 I .3 0.5 0 0 0 0 0

34.9 51.0 43.2 45.2 46.2 53.8 62.8 55.5 57.0 27.4 34.0 31.4 23.7 48.8 71.3 59.6 40.3 41.3

0

5.4 3.8 3.5 6.4 9.7 3.2

0.9 0 3.2 3.4 17.9 22.6 15.8 12.6 15.6 8.3 17.6 17.2 3.6 0 4.2 0 0 4.8

0 0 0 0 0 6.8 19.0 14.6 19.2 11.8 8.3 9.4 12.0 0 1.1 0 1.6

1.5 0.2 0 0 3.5 4.4 4.6 4.6 6.7

0.4 3.3 20.4 13.9 12.7 17.4 1.8 2.5 2.2

44.4 44.4 50.3 58.5 45.2 32.9 35.8 66.7 40.7

0 0 0 13.9 16.4 10.3 10.6 0.4 0.7

0.6 0 3.8 4.6

2.4 17.0 14.5 2.1

44.4 54.6 40.5 46.7

0 7.4 14.1 7 .0

0.4 1.2 4.4

7.2 15.3 8.6

44.9 53.0 39.8

0 11.8 9.0

2.0

10.9

47.6

7.4

2.6

10.7

48.1

11.7

4.7

7.4

39.4

9.5

1.o

7.1 4.6 4.1

Source: Voyages Data Set (see chapter 3). Notes: The grouping of specific destinations into general hunting grounds is reflected in the variable GROUND. For a list of specific and grouped destinations, see appendix 3A. Percentages of voyages to "mixed" grounds (e.g., Atlantic and Indian) are omitted from the table; this is why some rows do not sum to 100 percent. Voyages for which destinations are unknown are omitted from the totals on which percentages are computed. For annual numbers of voyages to the various grounds, see table 3.5. "The Western Arctic was opened to whaling in 1848.

Table 2.5

Whaling Voyages from American Ports in the Nineteenth Century, Sailing Years 1800-1899 1800s 1810s 1820s 1830s 1840s 1850s 1860s 1870s 1880s 1890s

California San Francisco Connecticut Bridgeport East Haddam Groton Mystic New Haven New London Nonvich Stonington Delaware Wilmington Maine Bucksport Portland Wiscasset Massachusetts Barnstable Beverly Boston Chilmark Dartmouth Dorchester Duxbury Edgartown Fairhaven Fall River Falmouth Freetown Gloucester Holmes Hole Lynn Marblehead Mattapoisett Nantucket New Bedford Newburyport Orleans Plymouth Provincetown Quincy Rochester Salem Sandwich Sippican Somerset (continued)

0

0

0

0

0

0 0 0 0 0 11

0 0 0 0 0 1

1

0

0

0

0 0 0 0 3 59 0 5

13 3 0 21 0 175 2 37

0

0

0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0

0

0 1 0 0 0 0

0

5

6

7

18

348

10 0 0 52 0 255 0 82

0 0 0 30 1 182 0 36

0 0 2 2 0 86 0 1

0

0 0

68 0 1

0 0 0 28 0 8

0

3

0

0

0

0

0

13

0 0 0

0 2 2

1 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

0 0 0

1 2 2

0 0

0 0 4 0 15 8 0 25 154 21 26 0 3 8 24

1 1 15 1 4 0 1 34 144 28 16 3 1 12 9 0 48 190 760 3 0 24 111 1 10 13 0 19 8

0 20 6 0 26 0 0 43 118 11 6 0 1 14 2 0 69 114 915 0 26 0 211 0 0 5 12 21 0

0

0

0

10 34

2 27 0 4 0 0 8 10 0 0 0

0 16

0 0

1 33 133 1 67 8 1 182 540 61 54 3 5 36 35 2 126 1,312 4,094 16 29 44 906 1 78 84 13 99 9

1

1

8

0 0 0 0

0 1 0 0 3 11 0 0 0 0 1 0 0

0 6 0 0 24 52 0 6 0 0 0

I

1

0

0

0

0

182 104 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

269 92 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0

280 354 0 0 6 29 0 9 3 0 0 0

251 672 7 0 14 11 0 58 51 0 0 1

0 0 0 0 0

0

4

Total

0 11 0 0 17 51 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 9 26 529 6 3 0 253 0 0 11 1 37 0

0 0 0 0

7

0

0

0

0 0 25 0 0 0

0 0 3 0

0 0 368 0 0 0 144 0 0 0 0 16 0

209 0 0 0 96 0 0 0 0 6 0

0

688 23 3 2 105 4 869 3 171

0

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

0 0 0

269

0

0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0 91 0 0 0 51 0 0 0 0

0 0

44

Chapter 2

Table 2.5

(continued)

1800s 1810s 1820s 1830s 1840s 1850s 1860s 1870s 1880s 1890s Tisbury Truro Wareham Wellfleet Westport Yarmouth New Hampshire Portsmouth New Jersey Newark Perth Amboy New York Cold Spring Greenport Hudson Newburgh New Suffolk New York Poughkeepsie Sag Harbor North Carolina Edenton Pennsylvania Philadelphia Rhode Island Bristol Greenwich Newport Portsmouth Providence Tiverton Warren Total

Total

0 0 0 0 0 0

0 0 1 0 5 0

0 0 0 0 35 0

0 0 5 0 42 0

0 0 19 0 70 2

0 4 3 0 77 0

0

0

0

10

2

0

0

0

0

0

12

0

0

0

0 1

4 0

1 0

0 0

0 0

0 0

0 0

0 0

5

0 0 0 4 0 0 0 0 18

0 0 5 0 0 2 0 21

0 0

0 0 0 25 0 82

3 25 36 10 2 27 14 183

23 43 3 0 6 5 5 186

1 25 0 0 1 0 0 67

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

38 93 48 10 9 70 19 583

0

0

0

1

0

0

1

1

0

0 3 0 0 0 0 0 324

0 1

8 0 15

1

0 0 0 0 422

2 0 0 2 37 0

0 0 0 0 15 0

0 0 0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0 0 0

28 2 281 2

2

0

0

0

1

0 0 0 0 7 0 25

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

0

0

0

0

0

I

0

0

0

0

0

0

2

52 0 31

21 0

0 0

0 0

0 0

1

0

0

2

9

20

1

0

0

0 0 1 0 2 0 38 2,157

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 426

81 4 88 1 33 1 178 11,455

31

6 66 66 1,032 2,139 2,363

0 0 0 0 2 1,173

0 0 0 0 4 0

2 4

0 0 0 0 0 686

0

0 0 0 0 0 736

Sources: The table is compiled from voyage records in Starbuck 1878; Hegarty 1959.

tion in the real price of a pound of whalebone from $0.79 in 1866 to $6.03 in 1903.29 The industry was in sharp decline, but not yet moribund; two important structural changes marked its last decades. In 1869 the transcontinental railroad was completed, with a major impact on the remnants of the industry. With the link-up of the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific, a number of vessels chose San Francisco as their permanent base of operations. In 1881-85 San 29. See table 9A.3. Between 1871-75 and 1901-5 annual whalebone output fell by 72 percent, on average. Whale oil output fell even farther, by 93 percent. Hunters were concentrating on bone. See table 9B. 1.

45

Whales and Whaling

Francisco was home to about 10 percent of total American whaling tonnage; its share almost quadrupled by 1901-5. Also, from the early 1870s San Francisco became an ever more important transshipment and refitting station for the declining number of New England vessels operating in the western grounds (Tower 1907, 121, 129). As the San Francisco fleet expanded, many of the vessels managed from New Bedford concentrated their activities in the Atlantic, in particular in Hudson Bay and Davis Strait. Others were based in San Francisco, making repeated voyages to the Western Arctic without being recalled to New Bedford. Given the improvements in transportation and communications, by the 1880s it was possible for agents to operate from New Bedford with their vessels based three thousand miles away. At the same time that San Francisco was becoming an important whaling port, wind-driven whalers were coming under competitive pressure from steam-powered whalers. The British had been using them since 1857, but the Americans were slow to adopt the new technology (Jenkins 1921,239). When steam was finally introduced to the American fleet in 1880, it produced a technical revolution in the Western Arctic. Steam barks cruised at nine, rather than six, knots and, since they didn’t have to wait for the vagaries of nature, could call on those nine knots at any time. In addition, steam-powered vessels were much more maneuverable (Jenkins 1921, 246). No longer was the sudden freeze a deadly threat. The new vessels could remain in the Arctic for longer periods; if a freeze threatened, it took them less time to run to safety, and they could maneuver between icebergs and ice packs. It is said that it took a sailing vessel “a month to sixty days” to traverse the ice of Davis Strait; a steamer plowed through it “in as many hours” (Jenkins 1921, 259). Although steamers had their advantages, they did not immediately replace sailing vessels. The average steam bark cost three times as much as the average sailing bark. Since coal was expensive and the wages of skilled mechanics high, operating costs were steep as well. Consequently, steamers accounted for only three-tenths of the voyages that were made from San Francisco between 1885 and 1905.30Over time, however, they became more important. In 1890 there were three and one-half times as many voyages by sailing barks as by steam barks; in 1897 steamers accounted for one-half the annual voyages. In a comparison based on tonnage, steamers did even better. They were, on average, two hundred tons larger than sailing barks. In 1890 the total San Francisco tonnage accounted for by sailing barks was equal to that of steam barks; in 1905 the tonnage of steamers was two-thirds again as great. The structure of the voyage changed as well. Unlike New Bedford voyages that, after 1880, lasted an average of three years, those departing from San Francisco lasted initially less than one. In the 1880s San Francisco vessels left 30. The San Francisco returns were compiled from Hegarty 1959. The count includes four gasoline schooners, which had the same advantages over sail as did the steamers.

46

Chapter 2

port in November or December. For three months they cruised the North Pacific waiting for the ice to clear. For eight months they hunted in the Western Arctic, returning in late October to offload and restock. In the early 1890s steamers began to winter in the Arctic. At the end of a season they sent their cargoes back to San Francisco, presumably by tender,31and anchored in the mouth of the Mackenzie River. Since facilities there were very limited, most returned home after just one winter. The San Francisco fleet was directed almost exclusively to the Arctic. Of the 753 whaling voyages that left San Francisco from 1880 through 1910, 650 (more than 86 percent) were recorded as sailing to the North Pacific; this almost surely meant they would hunt the Arctic.32It remained a very productive and profitable hunting area throughout the nineteenth century. These vessels were primarily hunting bowheads in the Western Arctic, and their northern courses seldom intersected sperm whales’ migratory paths. After 1896, however, as more voyages went to the Japanese and Okhotsk grounds, vessels moved closer to sperm-whaling grounds, and the quantity of sperm oil returned to San Francisco increased. As San Francisco grew, New Bedford declined. The Arctic, Pacific, and Indian grounds were all but abandoned by vessels berthed there, which concentrated in the Atlantic and Hudson Bay. A fleet that had traditionally committed roughly the same fraction of its vessels to the right- as to the sperm-whale fishery became an Atlantic sperm-whaling enterprise, although some rights were returned when captains began to hunt the Hudson Bay grounds. Steamers were introduced into the New Bedford fleet in 1880, but were never profitable in the Atlantic; within five years none was left. As the New Bedford fleet shrank, the smaller vessels that had dominated East Coast whaling in the eighteenth century reemerged. In 1900 schooners made five of the six New Bedford voyages. By concentrating in the Atlantic and employing smaller vessels, the New Bedford fleet remained profitable. Of course, total profits are equal to the profit rate times the amount invested, and the city’s fleet at the turn of the century was less than one-fiftieth its former size. Nor would the San Francisco effort last much longer. From 1905 until World War I, on average only seven vessels left that port each year. Both San Francisco and New Bedford continued to send out the occasional whaler until the third decade of the century, but when Down to the Sea in Ships-a motion picture filmed aboard the New Bedford whaler Gaspe-was released in 1922, it was an historical narrative, not a newsreel (Hegarty 1959,46). 3 I . “The first regular use of tenders in the Arctic may well have been made by the New Bedford firms of Ivory H. Bartlett and Son and William Phillips and Son. They sent north the barks Legal Tender and Jenny Pit& in 1877. . . . The experiment was successful. The Legal Tender’s responsibilities increased each year until in 1881 she was carrying cargo south for the entire whaling fleet” (Bockstoce 1986,223). 32. For this period there is one recorded voyage to the Atlantic, two to the South Pacific, twelve to the Pacific, eighty to Japan and the Okhotsk grounds, one to Bristol Bay, and seven with unknown destinations (Hegarty 1959, 11-41).

41

Whales and Whaling

2.6 Life on a Nineteenth-Century American Whaler Life on a nineteenth-century whaler depended on the type and size of the vessel, the hunting grounds visited, the length of the voyage, and the characters of the agent and captain. Still, there were some constants. First was the question of space. Whalers were typically stout and square, but the space aboard was taken up by supplies, spare sails and other elements of outfits, and of course oil and bone. Not much room was left for the men, and it was not shared out equally. Forward in the triangular-shaped forecast!e were the sleeping quarters of the seamen and greenhands. In many whalers the vertical space was so limited that only the smallest crewmen could stand upright. Secured to the bulkheads were wooden bunks, double-decked, and before each pair of bunks lay the sea chests of their occupants. Light came exclusively from a single hatch, which had to be closed during storms, and even when open let in little light. The forecastle was dark and malodorous. The boatsteerers-who were farther astern-were better off, but still had little space. Here is Ellsworth West’s account of his quarters aboard the James Arnold (1965, 10). The quarters were tight, measuring twelve by six with double-tiered bunks built along two sides. What air and light we got came through the booby hatch which was set on top of the after hatch on deck, and was only open in fair weather. The only added conveniences were a table, a cupboard for dishes, and an oil lamp suspended from a beam over the table that smoked and smelled to high heaven. . . . And that was the way six of us, four boatsteerers, the cooper and ship’s boy, lived for nearly four years. The description suggests that there were four bunks for six crewmen. Since two were always on watch, four bunks could handle six. Farther astern were the quarters of the mates, and, under the poop, the stateroom of the captain. These staterooms were often roomy. At least it is true that a captain sometimes brought his wife and children with him, and at least one wife brought a parlor organ.33Whether the presence of the captain’s wife cheered or disgruntled the crew doubtless depended on her personality; some are reported to have darned socks for seamen, others, to have interfered with their husbands’ orders and earned the crews’ contempt. 33. Whiting and Hough (1953, vi-vii) list thirty-six wives who went whaling, and their list is not complete. Whaling Logbooks and Journals (Sherman 1986) cites at least forty-nine voyage diaries kept by wives or daughters of whaling captains. Pages 4-6 of Whiting and Hough give a good description of the captain’s quarters. See also Williams 1964. The book contains, inter alia, the journal of Eliza Azelia Williams. Here is how she describes the birth of her first child: “The 10th of January we had a gale of wind that lasted till the 12th, the heaviest gale we have had since we left home. On the 1Ith the foresail was carried away. . . . We have a fine healthy Boy, born on the 12th, five days before we got into port” (38). This is the first mention in the journal of her pregnancy. The child was probably delivered by her husband. See also Lawrence, The Captain’s Best Mate: The Journal of Mary Chipman Lawrence on the WhalerAddison. 1856-1860 (1966)a delightful book.

48

Chapter 2

“The Devil Carrying Off Old Coon,” from a journal kept by R. G. N. Swift on the ship Contest of New Bedford, circa 1867. James Coon was the captain of the Contest. Reproduced courtesy of The Kendall Whaling Museum, Sharon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.

The crew’s food seems to have been almost uniformly bad and, when the agent or captain was mean, in short supply. Its main elements were hardtack, potatoes (to fight off scurvy), and salt pork or beef. Sometimes soups were served, and often, on Sunday, plum duff, a kind of flour pudding. Molasses also figured in the diet, another element intended to preserve good health. Fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats were brought aboard whenever port was made, and some whalers carried poultry, pigs, or goats for fresh meat. Fish were sometimes caught, porpoises harpooned, whale steaks cut from captured whales; in the Arctic, seals were hunted for their meat and skins. The extent to which these sources of better food supplied the forecastle, as well as the officers’ quarters, varied from vessel to vessel. Few men were needed to work the vessel, but the rest could be kept busy by a captain obsessed with cleanliness: decks could be constantly washed down, brass polished, paint scraped and renewed. Still, the elaborate scrimshaw articles produced by whalemen and the complaints of tedium indicate that there was generally too little to fill the days of the seamen, and boredom was their bitter enemy. When whalers met at sea, they often stopped to visit-to hold a

49

Whales and Whaling

gum, as whalemen put it.34Half of each vessel’s crewmen would row to the other vessels; news was exchanged, stories told, songs sung, and dances danced exuberantly-a change in the daily routine. Boredom made whalemen look forward to the hunt, but then their labor increased to a scarcely bearable pitch. A whaleman’s life is one either of dull monotony, or of thrilling excitement, and of hard labour.. . . I have often felt so desirous of obtaining a whale, that I have pulled at the oar until I could not see: and yet the moment after the whale was dead, I would have rejoiced to see him sink, that I might not be obliged to perform the labour of taking care of him.. . . I have left the ship at ten o’clock in the morning, and rowed hard in the boat until four o’clock in the afternoon; and then have worked at the windlass in cutting in the whale until three o’clock the next morning. (Ely 1971, 48, 59) In the Arctic the monotony characteristic of whaling voyages was enhanced by the “grim knowledge that [the whalemen] were in for six months of the same without relief” (West 1965, 58). “The same,” in this case, was-in addition to boredom-bone-chilling cold, short, gray days, and constant winds. “On board all of these vessels the amusements usually gotten up by Arctic voyagers for maintaining the cheerfulness and health of their crews were at this time in full play, and were generally of a theatrical character, varied by masked balls and by several forms of the dance” (Eber 1989,27). One of the leading complaints of whalemen was that the outfits with which they were provided wore out so quickly that they were obliged to resort to the captain’s slop chest-that is, they were obliged to buy clothing on credit, and at premium prices, so that when they returned home some of them were paid off with what they called the iron dollar: their debts cancelled their earnings. The scale of the slop chest of the ship Florida (table 2.6) suggests the extent to which men had to be reoutfitted on the voyage. Even more extensive reoutfitting was required on Arctic ventures. By Bums’s account (1919, 119-20): As soon as we struck the ice the captain’s slop-chest was broken open and skin clothes were dealt out to the men. Accoutred for cold weather, I wore woolen underwear and yarn socks next my flesh; an outer shirt of squirrel skin with hood or parka; pants and vest of hair seal of the color and sheen of newly minted silver; a coat of dogskin that reached almost to my knees; a dogskin cap; deerskin socks with the hair inside over my yam socks; walrus-hide boots and walrus-hide mittens over yam mittens. The walrusboots were fastened by a gathering string just below the knees and by thongs of tanned skin about the ankle. Some of the men wore heavy reindeer-skin coats. The skin clothes worn by the officers and boat-steerers were of finer quality and more pretentious. Perhaps the handsomest costume was that of 34. Gam also means a gathering of whales

Chapter 2

50

Table 2.6

Contents of the Slop Chest of the Ship FZoridu, 1858 20 heavy Bay State jackets 14 reefing jackets 12 monkey jackets 30 pair woolen trousers 30 pair heavy satinet trousers 12 pair duck trousers 75 pair best denim trousers 18 red flannel shirts 60 St. Kersey shirts 40 cotton shirts 60 fancy calico shirts 74 pair thick boots SO pair hip brogans 100 pair pegged pumps 40 pair slippers 75 St. Kersey undershirts 36 pair blue mixed socks 36 pair Nova Scotia socks 90 pair Falmouth stockings 75 pair St. Kersey drawers 4 pair red flannel drawers 74 pair mittens

20 guernsey frocks 48 denim frocks 24 neck comforters 24 sou’westers 24 round top hats 72 palm-leaf hats 8 tarred hats 36 Russian caps 72 spools of linen thread 500 needles 1 bundle yam 24 sheaths and belts 36 sheath knives (coca handles) 96 knives 15 pair blankets 15 bed comforters 48 pots and pans 48 iron spoons 8 boxes no. 1 tobacco I I boxes no. 2 tobacco 10,OOO Cuba sixes 1,000 Spanish cigars

Source: Adapted from Williams 1964, 212-14.

Little Johnny. It consisted of coat, vest, and trousers of silvery hair-seal, with the edges of the coat trimmed with the snowwhite fur of fur-seal pups. With this he wore a black dogskin cap and walrus-hide boots. Cramped quarters, bad food, tropical heat and Arctic cold, boredom, the slop chest-it is no wonder that desertion was a major problem in the whaling fleet.

2.7

Modern Whaling

The era of modern whaling began in the late 1860s, when Svend Foyn, an experienced Norwegian sealing captain, introduced to the whale fishery steamdriven catcher vessels, armed with guns that launched harpoons with explosive heads. This pair of innovations allowed whalemen to kill the faster rorquals. The catcher’s engine drove a winch powerful enough to raise a whale that sank after it was killed-guaranteeing that, if the whale could be killed, its carcass could be saved. Once recovered, the carcass was towed to a land station for processing. Foyn and his compatriots began hunting fin whales in Norwegian waters. From there they moved on to Iceland, North America, Japan, and Russia. Early in the twentieth century the last great whaling ground, the Antarctic, was opened, and virtually the entire industry shifted south. Whales were hunted by small motor-powered vessels, but the blubber was processed ashore.

51

Whales and Whaling

The reintroduction of the factory ship by the Norwegians in the 1920s severed, once and for all, the cord that had tied the catcher vessel to its shore station. The crucial development was the invention of a stern slipway that permitted the carcass of even a blue whale to be winched aboard.35This made it possible to complete the entire rendering process-the extraction of the oil and the treatment of the flesh, bones, and entrails-on board the ship. The move from shore to ship opened the entire Antarctic to whaling. Within a few years the technology was widely adopted, and almost the entire industry was again afloat. Factory ships were very productive; because whalemen could follow whales to their feeding grounds, the size of the catch increased dramatically. The floating processing plants, at thirteen to twenty thousand tons with crews of up to four hundred men, dwarfed the vessels of the Golden Age. The catcher boats (counterparts of nineteenth-century whaleboats), at three to seven hundred tons, were roughly the size of the largest whalers of the previous century. New Bedford vessels had carried from two to six oar-powered whaleboats; modem factory ships mothered ten to fourteen steam-powered catchers, capable of over twenty knots (Small 1971,79,94; Frost 1979,95). Although the rorquals that have been chiefly hunted inhabit every ocean, during the summer months they can be found in heavy concentrations in the Antarctic. Krill, their primary food, grow best in polar waters and are more abundant near the South Pole than near the North. As the krill multiply during Antarctic summers, rorquals migrate south; in February they migrate north again to breed and give birth in warmer waters. Sperm whales also feed in the Antarctic, and many have been taken in modern times. On average, over the decade of the 1950s, more than nine thousand sperm whales were killed each year, over the next twenty years, more than eleven thousand (Frost 1979, 106-7, table 6.1). Both figures far exceed those of Melville’s day. In 1835, the most productive year in the nineteenth century, fewer than six thousand sperm whales were taken; the annual average over the next decade was fewer than four thousand (see chapter 4 for further discussion of these issues). Similarly, many fewer baleens were caught during the nineteenth century than during the twentieth. Between 1934 and 1966 an average of more than twenty thousand baleens were killed each year, and the number often exceeded thirty thousand (Small 1971,75, fig. 9). During the heyday of American whaling, between 1835 and 1872, it is probable that no more than sixty-six hundred baleen whales were killed in any single year; on average, the figure was thirtyfive As early as the 1920s it was generally recognized that the supply of whales was not inexhaustible and that, without enforceable rules to prevent overhunt35. Efforts to bring whales aboard ship date to the nineteenth century, but the first truly successful slipway invention was patented in 1922 (Tbnnessen and Johnsen 1982,264-66). 36. Scammon [1874] 1968, 243-44. But see chapter 4 below for a discussion and appraisal of Scammonk estimates.

52

Chapter 2

ing, the industry was doomed. As economists have long recognized, voluntary collusive arrangements are impossible to enforce. A first unsuccessful attempt was made by the League of Nations in 1924 (Frost 1979,28). The 1931 Convention for the Regulation of Whaling committed the signatories to protect right whales, immature whales, and female whales with calves (Small 1971, 172). Since both Japan and Germany refused to sign the agreement, the effort was not a success. A similar fate greeted a 1935 attempt to limit the length of the Antarctic hunting season, a 1937 attempt to extend the 1935 hunting limitation and to grant complete protection to the humpback whale, and several further endeavors during World War 11. It was only after the war that, with the creation of the International Whaling Commission, a partially effective international regulatory structure was put in place. Whaling has now come virtually to a halt, by international agreement. The Japanese continue to take a number of sei whales each year, and the Inuit hunt belugas, narwhals, and bowheads. The Norwegians have recently begun hunting again, but will confine themselves to the relatively abundant minke whales. Otherwise, whales are not at present hunted. Some groups-the California grays-have fully recovered from hunting, and others-the sperms-were never endangered. The blue and bowhead populations have apparently begun to increase, but how far their recovery will proceed and whether they will be joined by the endangered rights remains to be seen.

Appendix 2A Kinds of Whales Whales belong to the phylum Chordata, the subphylum Vertebrata, the class Mammalia, and the order Cetacea. Table 2A. 1 contains a widely accepted classification of the whales currently known. Special care has been exercised in seeking out the various common names of whales.

Table 2A.1 Family

Taxonomy of Whales Genus

Species

Common Names

Suborder: Mysticeti (baleen whales) Eschrichtiidae

Eschrichtius

robustusa

Balaenopteridae

Balaenoptera'

acutorostratad

edeni borealis

physalush

musculus'

Balaenidae

Megapterak

novaeangliae

Eubalaena

glacialis

australis

Balaena

mysricetus

Neobalaenidae

Caperea

marginata

Monodontidae

Delphinapterus"

leucas

MonodonQ

monoceros

Physeteridae

Physeter

macrocephalus

Kogiidae

Kogia

breviceps

gray whale, hard head," devilfish, mussel digger, grayback, rip-sack, California gray, California whale, mossback, Pacific gray whale, scrag whale minke whale,' little piked whale, lesser rorqual, little finner, summer whale, bay whale, sharp-headed finner, young finback, piked whale, pikehead, little mink Bryde's whale,' tropical whale sei whale,g sei, Rudolphi's rorqual, sardine whale, coalfish whale, Japan finner, pollack whale fin whale, finner whale, common rorqual, razorback, finback, herring whale, tall-spout, fin, finfish blue whale, great blue whale, sulphurbottom? Sibbald's rorqual, silverbottom humpback whale, hunchback, bunch whale, knucklehead, hump whale right whale,' black right whale, Biscayan right whale, scrag whale, great right whale, nordcaper right whale, black right whale, southern right whale, scrag whale, great right whale bowhead whale," Greenland whale, Greenland right whale, northern right whale, common right whale, Arctic right whale, polar whale, great polar whale, steeple-top, ice whale pygmy right whale, dwarf right whale

Suborder: Odontoceti (toothed whales)

simius'

(continued)

white whale, beluga," belukha, sea canary, whitefish, white porpoise narwhal: unicorn whale, sea-unicorn, tusked whale, horned whale sperm whale,' cachalot,' great sperm whale, pot whale, anvil-headed whale, trumpet whale, physeter whale pygmy sperm whale, lesser sperm whale, short-headed sperm whale, lesser cachalot dwarf sperm whale, rat porpoise, Owen's pygmy whale

Table 2A.1 Family Ziphiidae

(continued) Genus Berardius

Species arnuxiiu

bairdi“

Ziphiusw

cavirostris

Tasmacetus

shepherdi

Hyperoodon

ampullatus”

plantpons

Mesoplodony

hectori mirus“ europaeus

ginkgodens” grayi

carlhubbsi pacifcus stejnegeri

bowdoini

bidens layardi

Common Names Arnoux’s beaked whale, southern giant bottlenose whale, southern four-toothed whale, southern beaked whale, southern porpoise whale, smaller ziphid whale, New Zealand beaked whale Baird’s beaked whale, northern giant bottlenose whale, North Pacific bottlenose whale, giant bottlenose whale, Japanese porpoise whale, northern four-toothed whale Cuvier’s beaked whale, goose-beak whale, two-toothed whale Shepherd’s beaked whale, Tasmanian beaked whale, Tasman whale northern bottlenose whale, northern Atlantic bottlenose whale, Arctic bottlenose whale, bottlenose, bottlehead southern bottlenose whale, flat-headed bottlenose whale, flathead whale, Antarctic bottlenose whale, Flower’s bottlenose whale, flatfront bottlenose Hector’s beaked whale, New Zealand beaked whale, skew-beaked whale True’s beaked whale, wonderful beaked whale Gervais’ beaked whale, Gulf Stream beaked whale, Antillean beaked whale, European beaked whale ginkgo-toothed beaked whale, Japanese beaked whale, ginkgo whale Gray’s beaked whale, scamperdown whale, camperdown whale, southern beaked whale, New Zealand scamperdown whale, von Haast’s scamperdown beaked whale Hubbs’ beaked whale, archbeak whale, arch beaked whale Indo-Pacific beaked whale, Longman’s beaked whale, Pacific beaked whale Stejneger’s beaked whale, saber-toothed beaked whale, Bering Sea beaked whale, North Pacific beaked whale Andrews’ beaked whale, deep-crested whale, Bowdoin’s beaked whale, splaytoothed beaked whale Sowerby’s beaked whale, North Sea beaked whale strap-toothed whale, strap-toothed beaked whale, Layard’s beaked whale

Table 2A.1 Family

(continued) Genus

Species densirostris

Delphinidaebb

Feresa

attenuata

Globicephala

macrorhyncha melas

Orcinus

orca

Peponocephala

electra

Pseudorca

crassidens

Common Names Blainville’s beaked whale, dense-beaked whale, tropical beaked whale, de Blainville’s Atlantic beaked whale pygmy killer whale, slender pilot whale, slender blackfish short-finned pilot whale, Pacific pilot whale, blackfish long-finned pilot whale, pothead, blackfish, bagfin, Atlantic pilot whale, common pilot whale, northern pilot whale, calling whale, caa’ing whale killer whale, great killer whale, orca, swordfish, thrasher melon-headed whale, little killer whale, broad-backed dolphin, many-toothed blackfish, Hawaiian blackfish false killer whale, thicktooth grampus, lesser killer whale, false pilot whale

Sources: Baker 1987; Bonner 1989; Burton 1983; Cousteau and Paccalet 1988; Crisp 1954; Dolphins, Porpoises. and Whales 1991; Ellis 1985; Evans 1987; Gardner 1984; Gilders 1995; Heintzelman 1981; Minasian, Balcomb, and Foster 1984; Scammon [1874] 1968; Small 1971; Tinker 1988; Watson 1985. aRobustus is Latin for strong. bHard head “arose from the fact of the animals having a great propensity to root the boats when coming in contact with them, in the same manner that hogs upset their empty troughs” (Scammon [I8741 1968,24). ‘Balaena is Latin for whale; preron is Greek for wing, referring to the dorsal fin. dAcutus is Latin for sharp, rostrum, for snout. ‘It is said that m i n k derives from Meincke, “a German laborer working for Svend Foyn, [the Norwegian] inventor of the grenade harpoon, [who] ‘one day mistook a school of this whale species for blue whales”’ (Ellis 1985, 32). ‘Brydek is pronounced “hreuder’s.”Johann Bryde was a Norwegian consul in South Africa in the early twentieth century, and built the first whaling factory in Durban in 1909 (Watson 1985, 93). gSei is pronounced “sigh” and derives from the Norwegian seje, the pollack or coalfish; the whale and the fish appear in Norwegian waters at the same season. “hysa is Greek for bellows. ‘“Musculus in Latin is the diminutive form of mouse, meaning therefore ‘little mouse,’ and has nothing to do with muscle. The only plausible explanation for the choice of the term is that Linnaeus must have been in a jocular mood at the time” (Small 1971,21). ’“The blue whale was called the ‘sulphur-bottom’ by whalers because the blue-grey of its belly is sometimes coloured yellow by a film of diatoms [minute planktonic algae]” (Burton 1983, 22). kMegas is Greek for large, preron, for wing, referring to the humpback whale’s long flippers. ‘Right means the right whale to hunt-a slow-swimming animal, with plentiful oil and baleen, that did not sink when killed. ““The origins of common names of some animals are hazy, but one assumes that the name ‘bowhead’ comes from the bow of the huge, arched mouth’ (Ellis 1985,79). (continued)

Table 2A.1

(continued)

“Delphin is Greek for dolphin; apterus comes from a-, “without,” and pteron, “wing.” The name thus means wingless (i.e., finless) dolphin. “Beluga derives from the Russian belii, meaning white; the species name, leucas, means white in Greek. PMonos is Greek for single. The genus name, Monodon, means single tooth. The species name, monoceros, means single horn. qNarwhal comes from the Norwegian narhval and means corpse whale. “It is usually assumed that this name is derived from the mottled coloration, which suggests a bloated corpse, but an alternative interpretation refers to the animals’ habit of swimming belly up” (Ellis 1985, 96). Melville ([1851] 1983, 144) derives narwhal from nostril whale, “so named I suppose from his peculiar horn being originally mistaken for a peaked nose.” ‘Apparently, early whalemen mistook spermaceti (which occurs in a cavity in the sperm whale’s head) for semen and gave it the logical name “seed of the whale.” “Why are they called ‘sperm’ whales? It’s a horribly embarrassing mistake!” (Achenbach 1991,41). ’Cachalot was originally the French name for this whale, from the Gascon word cachau, meaning large tooth (Ellis 1985, 101). ‘Simus in Latin means snub-nosed. ““The name of this species is derived directly from the names of the people involved in its discovery. Captain Berard commanded the French corvette Rhin, on which the type specimen was transported to France . . . and Arnoux was the surgeon on board who provided a brief description of the animal, which had been collected in New Zealand. For reasons long lost to history, the o in Amoux’s name was omitted in the original description” (Ellis 1985, 131). ‘Eairdii honors Spencer F. Baird, secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, who founded the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. wZiphius (xiphias) is Greek for sword. “Ampullatus is Latin for flask-shaped, and describes the beak. Y“The genus Mesoplodon [was] derived from the Greek mesos, middle, ploe, floating, and odous, gen. odontos, tooth (literally ‘a tooth floating somewhere in the middle of the jaw’)’’ (Watson 1985, 126). ‘Mirus is Latin for astonishing. “Ginkgodens means ginkgo-toothed; the shape of the teeth is triangular, like the leaf of the ginkgo tree. bbThe Delphinidae comprise six subfamilies; subfamily Globicephalinae has been hunted by whalers.

3

Data Sets and Sources

The quantitative analyses underlying this study employ several automated data sets, assembled from and verified against a variety of sources. Central is the Voyages Data Set, which began as a transcription of a manuscript prepared by Joseph Dias, perhaps a retired New Bedford whaling captain.’ Dias assembled information on 4,127 New Bedford whaling voyages that took place in the years 1783-1906. His list is organized first in vessel order (more or less alphabetically) and second in voyage order (chronologically). For each vessel Dias gives name, tonnage, and rigging type (ship, bark, brig, schooner, sloop, steam bark). He often notes when and where the vessel was built, the circumstances in which it joined the New Bedford fleet, and the circumstances in which it ended its New Bedford whaling career. Sometimes he notes that a vessel was renamed, or rebuilt in a way that altered its tonnage, or rerigged. For each voyage Dias attempts to give (1) the name of the agent who organized the voyage; (2) the name of the captain; ( 3 ) the date on which the vessel sailed from New Bedford; (4) the date on which it returned to New Bedford, 1. Dias, “Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships.” For a discussion of the manuscript, see “The New Bedford Whaling Fleet” 1931, 9-14. A Joseph Diaz Jr., then twenty-eight years old, was captain of the whaler Pocahontas of Holmes Hole in 1850, when the vessel was rammed and seriously damaged by a sperm whale in the South Atlantic. Diaz managed to get his vessel to Rio de Janeiro-where it was repaired-but only after a hair-raising, two-week voyage. He also made a New Bedford voyage as captain of the Sr. George from 1853 to 1857. We have been unable to settle the question whether this Joseph Diaz was the Joseph Dias of the Baker Library manuscript. See Whipple 1960, 174-85, for an account of the 1850 voyage of the Pocahontas. In 1875 a Joseph Dias had trouble of another kind: “In the United States Commissioners’ Court in Boston, on the 1Ith inst., Joseph Dias, master of bark Addison, was held on a charge of depriving one of the crew of suitable food and nourishment, and was ordered to find sureties in $500 for his appearance before the District Court on the third Tuesday of March inst.” (WSL 16 March 1875). The Addison was wrecked at Fayal, an island in the Azores, on 23 February 1876, and this Joseph Dias was still master. See note 32.

57

58

Chapter3

or ended its voyage at another port, or was set on fire by its crew, or whatever; ( 5 ) amounts of its catch (sperm oil, whale oil, whalebone)-both the catch carried back to New Bedford, and occasionally a note about catch sold in a foreign port or sent back to New Bedford during the voyage; (6) the hunting ground(s) for which the vessel sailed; and (7) notes on various unusual events such as deaths of officers (and, in exceptional circumstances, crewmen), attacks by South Sea islanders or Inuit, mutinies, and so forth. To automate this information, we assigned each vessel a unique identification number (SHIPID) and numbered its voyages consecutively (NOVOYAGE). The sailing and return dates were rendered as month and year (SAILMO, SAILYR, ARRIVEMO, ARRIVEYR); when Dias left a date missing, we used missing values. When a vessel ended her last voyage irregularlymost often by sinking, occasionally by being condemned and sold in a foreign port-the return-date variables were left missing and the date of the loss to the fleet recorded instead (LOSTMO, LOSTYR). Dias’s hunting-ground designations (At., H. Bay, Pacific, S. At., Brazil, N. W. Coast, C. De Verds, Cst. Africa, etc.) were coded in the variable FISHLOC; we also grouped hunting grounds in six categories in the variable GROUND (see appendix 3A). Three variables (SPOIL, WHOIL, BONES) contain catch amounts. Dias often left a catch amount blank; we chose zeros rather than missing values. When Dias indicated both amounts of catch brought home and amounts of catch sent home, we added the amounts together. The variables TONNAGE and RIGGING are perhaps self-explanatory. Captains’ and agents’ names, and places and dates of construction were recorded in separate data sets (see below). As an example of the process, figure 3.1 reproduces the beginning of the Dias manuscript-the entries for the Abigail-in the photocopy from which we worked. Table 3.1 shows the corresponding records in the initial version of the Voyages Data Set. Since twenty-five hundred barrels of sperm oil is the Abigail’s largest catch among her first few voyages, the notation “Full” for voyages 1 and 2 was entered in the data set as SPOIL = 2500. Having turned the Dias list into a data set, we checked it against three other chronicles: (1) Alexander Starbuck’s History of the American Whale Fishery (1878), which contains a list ofAmerican voyages in the years 1784-1876 and was most likely, for that period, to have been Dias’s major source; (2) Reginald B. Hegarty’s Addendum to “Starbuck” (1964), which adds data to some of Starbuck’s incomplete records for the New Bedford Customs District; and (3) Hegarty’s Returns of Whaling Vessels Sailing from American Ports (1959), which extends Starbuck’s list for all U.S. ports through 1928. (We also consulted A. Howard Clark’s list of whaling voyages 1870-80 (2: 175-92), printed in the 1887 report of the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries. With the exception of some comments-for example, Clark says the Astoria was “condemned at Cape Good Hope March, 1880,” whereas Hegarty says merely that she was “Condemned Mar. 1, ‘80”-it adds nothing to the Starbuck-Hegarty data.)

59

Data Sets and Sources

Fig. 3.1 The beginning of the Dias manuscript Source: These are the voyages of the Abigail as they appear in Joseph Dias, “Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships, 1783-1906.” Reproduced courtesy of the Baker Library, Harvard University.

Starbuck’s entries contain the same information as Dias’s, but his list is organized differently: by sailing year, then by port of registry, then by vessel name. The history of one vessel is thus spread out over many pages. It is particularly difficult to disentangle the activities of two or more vessels with the same name operating during the same years,2 or to recognize as linked the voyages of a vessel whose New Bedford registrations are interrupted by registrations at 2. The most popular name for a New Bedford whaling vessel was Franklin. Between 1799 and 1891 there were five Franklins, and three were active simultaneously (1853-57). Four vessel names were used four times at New Bedford (America, Elizabeth, Minerva, Presidenr), eighteen were used three times, and sixty-one were used twice. We weren’t the first to notice how confusing this sort of thing could be: “The readers of the Shipping List will have noticed that there are three vessels, all from New Bedford, all of the same [rigging] class, all engaged in the Atlantic whale fishery, and all with the same romantic name-OscEoLA. It is always a matter of regret when two or more vessels bearing the same name are employed in the whaling business, as it frequently leads to mistakes in the reports, and especially is this the case when they belong to the same port and cruise in the same ocean. . . . Exercise your ingenuity when you name a new ship” (WSL 24 August 1852). The data set distinguishes two or more vessels with the same name somewhat arbitrarily. The five Franklins, for example, are Franklin (Ist), a New Bedford whaler from 1830 to 1859; Franklin (2nd), 1853-61; Franklin (3rd), 1839-61; Franklin (4th). 1876-91; and Franklin (5th), 1799-1800; the Franklin (1st) does not precede the Franklin (5th). The distinctions in the data set do not always match the distinctions employed by contemporary chroniclers, who aren’t consistent with each other anyway.

Voyages Data Set Records for the Abigail from the Dim Manuscript

Table 3.1 SHIPID

NOVOYAGE

SAILMO

SAILYR

1

1

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

7 12 5 10

1821 1824 1829 1834 1839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1862

1

4

11 10 8 8 7

ARRIVEMO ARRIVEYR

9 12 6 10 4 7 5 4 8

LOSTMO

LOSTYR

1823 1828 1831 1838 1843 1847 1852 1856 1860

Nore; The data set contains also the variables TONNAGE and RIGGING, which are not shown here.

FISHLOC

GROUND

SPOIL

WHOlL

3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

2500 2500 2500 2400 1700 1400 520 296 504 355

0 0 0 0 0 250 31 1309 703 1548

BONES 0

0 0 0 0 2000 1300 5000 2230 6100

61

Data Sets and Sources

other ports. (Dias’s decisions in these cases are reflected in his groupings of voyages. Starbuck addresses the problem in an index in which, by port, he brings together page references to the entire string of a vessel’s voyages from that port, as he sees it.) Hegarty’s Addendum is organized like Starbuck’s list-by year, port, and vessel. It deals only with sailing and return dates and with captains’ names; other data are ignored. Entries are made when Hegarty has something to add to Starbuck’s record. For example, (1) Starbuck has a New Bedford voyage by the Dolphin in 1800, Captain ‘Bennett.” Hegarty includes this voyage in the Addendum because he determined that the captain was Daniel Bennett. (2) Starbuck has an 1816 voyage by the Ospray, Captain ‘Hathaway”; he doesn’t give a sailing date. Hegarty believes that the captain was Ebenezer Hathaway, and that the Ospruy sailed on December 28. (3) Starbuck has an August 1845 voyage by the George and Martha with the comment “sailed June 17; returned August 16, captain sick.” Hegarty lists two voyages: the twomonth voyage of the comment, and the voyage that left in August. He knows both captains’ names, too. Starbuck ends with voyages that sailed in 1876. None of his forty-three New Bedford voyages for that year had returned by the time his manuscript went to the printer, nor had forty-one New Bedford voyages from 1875, eighteen from 1874, three from 1873, three from 1872, and one from 1871. Hegarty’s Returns of Whaling Vessels completes the record for these 109 voyages, as well as listing those that sailed after 1876. His data are organized like Starbuck’s, and his records contain the same kinds of information. He systematically differs from Starbuck in only one respect: whereas Starbuck treats a lengthy voyage to the Western Arctic like any other (leaving New Bedford in 1871, for example, and returning there in 1876), Hegarty acknowledges an evolving resupply and transshipment pattern by listing such a voyage as a series of voyages-the first sailing from New Bedford to the Western Arctic and returning to San Francisco, the next several sailing from and returning to San Francisco, and the last sailing from San Francisco and returning to New B e d f ~ r d . ~ All lengthy whaling voyages involved stops for resupply; after the early 1840s, many vessels also made regular stops to ship home a portion of their catch.4The fact that voyages to the Western Arctic came to use San Francisco 3. Not all vessels that went off to San Francisco eventually returned to New Bedford, of course-and not just because they were struck by icebergs. The Voyages Data Set contains the San Francisco voyages of New Bedford vessels that were destined never to return only during the initial period when they were still managed by New Bedford agents. When a vessel passed over to a San Francisco agency, it passed out of the data set. 4. One report among hundreds in the WSL (8 June 1852): “Ship Copia, at this port [New Bedford] 2d inst., from Honolulu, has on freight 8,352 Ib whalebone from ship Illinois, to Wood & Nye, of New Bedford; 5,893 Ib do. from the Coral, to Gideon Allen, do; 15,650 Ib do. from the Franklin, to William P. Howland, do; 8.126 Ib do. from the Hoogley, to John R. Wheaton, Warren; 6,408 lb do. and 1,110 gallons of Sperm oil from the Levi Starbuck, to Edward W. Howland, New Bedford.” Seven additional shipments are described in this report. The recipients are whaling agents.

62

Chapter 3

regularly for these purposes, as Atlantic voyages used Fayal and Pacific voyages used Honolulu, need not distinguish them, so long as the entire absence from New Bedford was seen by captains, agents, and owners as one entity. Starbuck behaved as though it was, Hegarty took the other position, and there is thus a fundamental inconsistency in their records for the Western Arctic. From our point of view Starbuck’s procedure is the correct one, but we have not devised a suitable technique for converting Hegarty’s records to Starbuck’s form5 Although they are included in the Voyages Data Set, the Hegarty voyages to the Western Arctic out of San Francisco by New Bedford whalers are lost to us for most purposes, since we have no data on the size or composition of their crews. (See the descriptions below of the Crew Counts and Stations and Lays data sets.) The number of voyages so lost is probably about 220, if we define voyages as Hegarty does; by Starbuck’s definition (and ours) the number is about 50. Compared with the size of the entire data set (4,731 voyages), that isn’t many; compared with the number of Westem Arctic voyages in the data set (322), it is not inconsequential. As a result of checking the Dias data set against Starbuck and the two Hegarty volumes, hundreds of corrections were made to the Voyages Data Set, and 438 voyages of which Dias has no record were added (many, of course, postdating his work). For the Abigail only Starbuck is of interest. Hegarty’s Addendum contains no entries for the ship in this context, and his Returns of Whaling Vessels begins a decade after she was lost to a Confederate raider. Among his entries for the Abigail, Starbuck disagrees with or supplements Dias as follows: (1) Starbuck starts voyage 2 in December 1825. (2) He has a voyage to the Pacific beginning in November 183 1 and ending in June 1835, with a catch of 2,250 barrels of sperm oil. (3) He begins voyage 4 (Dias’s number) in October 1835. (4) He has a comment that voyage 5 returned in July 1839 “leaky, having landed 60 sperm at Western Islands,” and sailed again in July. The catch brought home from the July 1839 voyage he gives as 1,640 barrels of sperm oil. (5) He says voyage 7 returned 381 barrels of sperm oil, having sent home 140, and returned 39 barrels of whale oil. (6) He says voyage 8 went to the North Pacific. (7) It’s possible to read in Starbuck that the catch of bone from 5 . Hegarty’s procedure necessitated our creating a variable in which to record where a voyage began and where it ended. We then took advantage of the variable to distinguish a few voyages, not involving San Francisco, that did not both sail from and return to New Bedford but did not end irregularly. An example is the October 1845 voyage of the Inez. Starbuck omits arrival date and comments, “[Slhipped oil to London and went into California trade.” Dennis Wood (1831-73) traces the Inez around Cape Horn to Maui, Lahaina, Honolulu, Kamchatka, the Sea of Okhotsk, Oahu, Manila, the Sea of Japan, and Honolulu again, where “a letter from Capt. Jackson reports her . . . Nov. 16.1848 . . . bound to Sydney to sell her Cargo, and refit for San Francisco.” Wood continues: “At Sydney Jany 7.1849. . . . At ditto Jany 27 loading for California.. . . At San Francisco Augt 9 from San Pedro & was bound to Oregon for a cargo of Lumber.” We ended the voyage in January 1849, and recorded the fact that it ended at Sydney rather than at New Bedford. In all, 391 voyages in our data set started andor ended at a port other than New Bedford (see table 3.2).

63

Data Sets and Sources

Table 3.2

Voyages That Were Not Round ’kip to New Bedford, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1807-1913

Beginning

Ending

Bremen New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford Panama San Francisco San Francisco San Francisco

Bremen Bremen Cuba England Honolulu Mauritius New York Newport Panama San Francisco Sydney Talcahuano (Chile) Valparaiso (Chile) Panama New Bedford San Francisco Seattle

Number 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 58 2 1 1 3 9 304 1

Range of Sailing Years 1839-4 1 1837-38 1860 1807 1857 1851 1848 1817-19 1876 1847-92 1845-47 1847 1849 1878-8 1 1865-1906 1860-191 1 1913

Source: Voyages Data Set (see text).

voyage 8 was twenty-one thousand pounds returned and twenty-nine thousand pounds sent home. (8) Starbuck says voyage 9 went to the North Pacific. (9) He says voyage 10 went to the North Pacific. We accepted all of these changes. In order to fit in the 1831-35 voyage given in Starbuck, his sailing date differences for voyages 2 and 4 must be accepted. His comment that voyage 5 returned in July and then sailed again requires splitting voyage 5 into two voyages. The difference between 520 (Dias) and 521 (Starbuck) barrels of sperm oil for voyage 7 seems to be a matter of precision. The difference between 31 barrels of whale oil for voyage 7 (Dias) and 39 barrels (Starbuck) seems to be a result of a poor photocopy of the Dias manuscript. The more precise whaling-ground notations in Starbuck are valuable. In changing the data set, Starbuck’s amounts of catch “sent home” and catch returned were added together; this seems to be what Dias did (see voyage 8). Table 3.3 shows the Abigail’s voyage records after making these changes. We next turned to the Abstracts of Whaling Voyages compiled by Dennis Wood, a New Bedford whaling agent and merchant, which trace voyages from the Atlantic coast ports over the years 1831-73. (A lengthy excerpt is given in appendix 3B.) For us the greatest value of Wood’s reports was the detail they provide on catch amounts. First, they record catch sent home in advance of a vessel’s return. These returns are a matter to which Dias, Starbuck, and Hegarty all allude, but, in the light of Wood’s reporting, one can see that their treatment is sketchy. Second, Wood generally gives precise figures for catch returned

Table 3.3 SHIPID

1 1 1 I 1 1 1

1 1 1 1

1

Voyages Data Set Records for the Abigail after Corrections Based on Starbuck 1878 NOVOYAGE

SAILMO

SAILYR

ARRIVEMO

ARRIVEYR

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

7 12 5

1821 1825

9 12 6 6 10 7 4 7 5 4 8

1823 1828 1831 I835 1838 I839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1860

10

I1 12

11

10 4 7 11 10 8 8 7

1829 1831 1835

I839 1839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1862

Nore: Italicized data are added to or changed from the data in table 3.1.

-

LOSTMO

LOSTYR

FISHLOC

GROUND

3 3 3

3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

3

3 3 3 3 3 4 4

4

SPOIL WHOIL 2500 2500 2500 2250 2400 60 1640 1400 52 I 296 504 355

BONES

0

0

0 0 0 0

0 0 0 0

0

0

0

0 2000 1300

250 39 1309 703 1548

50000

2230 6100

65

Data Sets and Sources

with the vessel. Many catch amounts in other sources are round figures; they seem to be captains’ initial estimates.6Wood reports these figures, but he also follows up with the amount actually unloaded from the vessel-that is, the amount turned out. An entry that illustrates both of these virtues is that for the 1856 voyage of the Milton; it concludes: “Arrived Mch 22 1860 with 20 Bbls Sperm 1800 Bbls Whale Oil & 12000 Lbs Bone on board [captain’sestimates]. Sent home 91 Bbls Sperm 847 Bbls Whale Oil & 22000 Lbs Bone in 42 Months & 12 Days. Turned out 22 Bbls Sperm 2043 Bbls Whale Oil & 14200 # Bone [measured amounts]” (3:207). In addition to innumerable corrections of catch amounts, the Dennis Wood Abstracts contributed 129 otherwise unknown voyages to the data set. To the record for the Abigail, they added the following information: (1) Voyage 4 returned 2,254 barrels of sperm oil. (2) Voyage 5 returned 2,577 barrels of sperm oil and 9 barrels of blackfish oil. (Blackfish oil, walrus oil, elephant [seal] oil, etc., are included in WHOIL in the data set.) (3) Voyage 8 returned 1,564 barrels of sperm oil, 3 10 barrels of whale oil, and 2,600 pounds of bone. (4) Voyage 9 returned 381 barrels of sperm oil, and sent home 200 barrels. (5) Voyage 10 went to the Indian Ocean. (6) In addition to returning 296 barrels of sperm oil and 1,309 barrels of whale oil, voyage 10 sent home 29 barrels of sperm and 3,900 barrels of whale. (7) The 29,000 pounds of bone that Starbuck says voyage 10 sent home are recorded in Wood as 60,500 pounds. (8) The Abigail was destroyed in June (LOSTMO for voyage 12). All of these changes, except the destination of voyage 10 (Wood also reports that the Abigail was spoke in the Sea of Okhotsk, but that ground is in the North Pacific), were adopted. Table 3.4 shows the result. The collection of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society contains an anonymous manuscript consisting of twenty-nine lists, in one hand, that relate to whaling voyages in the 1820s: “A List of Vessels Sailed for the Brazil Banks in 1826” (thirteen entries), “Account of Ships & Briggs Sailed for the Pacific Ocean in 1828” (twenty-eight entries), “Account of Ships Arrived from the Brazil Banks in 1828” (twenty-one entries), and so on (Ship Arrivals and Departures). Lists relating to departures give vessels’ and captains’ names, ton6. “Ed Robinson, shrewd, domineering, loud-voiced, awaited the approach of the Triton with a mind prepared to estimate a profit so soon as Captain Spencer shouted out the number of barrels of oil and the amount of bone she carried (Sparkes and Moore 1935, 27). The distinction between estimated catch and measured catch seems to have tripped up even some contemporaries. “The Mercury [newspaper] in alluding to the last voyage of the late Capt. Daniel Wood, says: ‘His last voyage was master of the Braganza, when after an absence of 39 months, she brought home and landed in December, 4,000 barrels of sperm oil. This has never been beaten, except perhaps by the William Hamilton, which turned out one or two hundred barrels more.’ All very well, Mr. Mercury, Capt. Wood was no doubt a very successful shipmaster, but. . . it appears that on his arrival he hailed 4,300 barrels sperm oil; but. . . when the voyage was made up there was but 3,869 barrels; while the William Hamilton, commanded by the late Capt. William Swain, a Nantucketer, which arrived in October, 1838, (not July,) it was found that the quantity landed and sent home on that voyage was 4,18 1 barrels of sperm oil, or 3 12 barrels more than the amount turned out by Capt. Wood in the Braganza” (WSL 21 January 1873).

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Two pages from the log of the John F? West of New Bedford in 1885. “New Year Thursday. Bent new Main top sail. January 9th Friday. Gamed Barks Lagoda and Lancer. January 11th Sunday. Gamed Bark John Carver. January 20th Tuesday. Dick {Fore mast hand] raised a school of sperm whales. we lowered the three Larboard boats and the mate struck one and saved him. January 21st Wensday. Blowing a gale. Saw a large Sperm whale. January 25th Sunday. Peter Meyer {Boatsteerer] raised a school of sperm whales going to the windward. Lowered the 1st 2nd & 4th mates and the 4th mate struck one and saved him. January 29th Thursday. Stowed down 105 bbls sperm oil. Land in sight. February 8th Sunday. Gamed Ship Horatio. February 24th Tuesday. Raised a school of Black Fish and we lowered the three Larboard boats and got three which made about 3 bbls. March 1st Sunday. Gamed Bark Lancer. March 2nd Monday. Spoke Bark Legal Tender of San Francisco. March 4th Thursday. Sighted the Island of Juan Fernandez.” The images of whales and vessels were made with stamps. Reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

nages, riggings, and sailing dates; those relating to arrivals give ships’ and captains’ names, tonnages, riggings, arrival dates, and catch amounts. Although home ports are not often identified in these lists, the fact that tonnages, riggings, and captains’ names are included made it possible to match many of the entries to New Bedford voyages of which we already had evidence.

Voyages Data Set Records for the Abigail after CorrectionsBased on Wood 1831-73

Table 3.4 SHIPID

NOVOYAGE

1

1

1

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 I1 12

1

I 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

1

SAILMO

SAILYR

ARRIVEMO

ARRIVEYR

7 12 5

1821 1825 1829 1831 1835 1839 1839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1862

9 12 6 6

1823 1828 1831 1835 1838 1839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1860

11

10 4 7 11 10 8 8 7

10

7 4 7 5 4 8

LOSTMO LOSTYR

FISHLOC

GROUND

SPOIL

3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 4

3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

2500 2500" 2500 2254 2577 60 1640 IS64 581 325 504 355

WHOIL

0 0 0 0 9 0 0 310 39 5209 703 1548

BONES 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2600 1300 81500 2230 6100

Nore: Italicized data are added to or changed from table 3.3. "SPOIL for voyage 2 eventually became 2,350 (Ship Arrivals and Departures) and LOSTMO for voyage 12 became 5 (Work Projects Administration 1940, 2:3). See the text.

68

Chapter 3

Catch amounts for the 1820s are otherwise reported only by Starbuck and Dias, and their data for the period are not good. Take, for example, the Ann Alexander: Starbuck (and Dias, following him) reports the catch of her 1824 voyage to Brazil as 100 barrels of sperm oil and 1,550 barrels of whale oil; he gives no figure for baleen. The Ship Arrivals and Departures manuscript reports the catch of this voyage as 74 barrels of sperm oil, 1,510 barrels of whale oil, and 10,100 pounds of baleen. In Starbuck the catch of the Ann Alexunder’s 1825 voyage is missing. In the manuscript it is present: 75 barrels of sperm oil, 1,525 barrels of whale oil, and 9,000 pounds of baleen. For her I826 and 1827 voyages Starbuck has no baleen; the manuscript has 14,700 and 13,000 pounds. (For the Abigail the manuscript tells us what Starbuck’s and Dias’s notation “Full” means for voyage 2: not the 2,500 barrels of sperm oil we took from voyage 3, but 2,350 barrels.) Another useful source covering a limited period is the collection of abstracts of voyages during the 1830s and 1840s in a manuscript written by the whaling agent Samuel Rodman (“List of Whaling Ships Sailing from New Bedford, 1835-1852”). Rodman’s abstracts are sketchier than Wood’s, but they allowed us to record catch amounts or ending dates for about sixty voyages that had not been adequately reported elsewhere, and thus to use these voyages in analyses. The last source that contributed significantly to date and catch information in the data set was the industry’s trade journal, the Whalemen’s Shipping List and Merchants’ Transcript, a newspaper that appeared from 1843 through 1914. In its first number the WSL announced itself as “a weekly report carefully corrected from the latest advices, of every vessel engaged in the Whaling business from ports of the United States.” For 3,734 issues it printed-in addition to the prices of whaling products and provisions, news of disasters, letters from captains and their wives, reports of ship sales, and some of the worst humor of the entire nineteenth century7-a continually updated listing, by home port, of the whereabouts and activities of the U.S. fleet. The WSL proved more useful in some other contexts, but in terms of data on individual voyages it did supply information for thirty-seven, of which, without it, we would have had no record, and added to our knowledge of catch amounts for others that ended irregularly. The final Voyages Data Set contains 4,731 records, which are summarized in table 3.5.x Assembling voyage-length and catch data is one thing. Making sense of them is another. The difficulties of figuring out which of several whaling vessels with the same name is which, have been mentioned above. Was the Americu that sailed for the North Pacific in June 1851 the America that had returned from the Northwest Coast in April, the America that had returned 7. The following joke is the best in the WSL‘s seventy-two-year history (9 June 1863): “CONUNDRUM.-why are some of the boats in the New Bedford harbor probably like the head of Victoria’s eldest son? Because they contain the prints of whales’ teeth (the Prince of Wales‘ teeth).” 8. Other sources contributed a date here, a hunting ground there to the Voyages Data Setamong them, Whiting and Hough 1953; Sherman 1986;Anthony 1922; Stackpole 1953.

Table 3.5

Numbers of Voyages by Hunting Ground and Sailing Year, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1789-1927 Atlantic"

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

Mixed

Unknown

Total

A. Annual Numbers

1789 1790 1791 1792 1793 1794 1795 1796 1797 1798 1799 1800 1801 1802 I803 I804 1805 1806 1807 1808 1809 1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 (continued)

2 2

1

1

8 4 8 6

1 1

1

7 1

2 5 6 7 5

2 3 3 1 4

1

2 2

3 1

1

6 2 2 3 1 2

4 1 3 1

J 1

3

11

1

12 15 18 2 7 5 13 7 7 3

4

5 8 2

3 2 6 2 5 3

2 2 2 1 1

5 11 8 16 14 19 15 10 20 17 13 17 25 22 23 31 33 43

1

2 5 1

5 2 5 10 5 15 22 21 3 10 22 10 17 28 10 30 37 22

2 3 1 9 9 9 10 0 14 4 2 6

1

1 3 3 3 1 1 1

2 2

1

0 0 10 14 14 26 19 35 40 34 26 28 35 28 43 50 35 66 13 67

Table 3.5

(continued) Atlantic"

1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880

33 20 34 42 28 17 12 19 8 11 3 5 6 4 1 3 3 13 10 8 6 8 4 4 3 2 12 12 22 12 21 36 20 25 16 12 9 8 13 9 16 25 27 28 34 26 26

Indian 5 1 4 5 11 17 13 19 21 29 14 18 13 14 13 8 14 9 10 11 12 17 15 8 13 10 17 14 3 3 6 5 5 5 8 10 8 11 10 3 3 3 10 5 2

1

Pacific 33 23 30 25 24 34 50 35 44 35 41 62 44 39 45 58 40 49 70 47 63 56 51 55 59 32 41 41 6 16 17 12 24 21 14 16 18 14 15 15 3 9 13 7 13 14 8 12

Western Arctic

Mixed

Unknown

1

1 1

3

1

6 4

1

1

2 1

4 21 36 7 21 20 14 17 17 16 7 1 16 11 9 15 8 7 4 5 4 8 2 1 3 6 2 4 5 4

5 19 13 28 14 18 6 4 1 8

I

1

1

2 3 8 11 4 4 5 I 6 1 1

1

4 3 2 1 1

1

1 1

Total 73 45 72 72 69 73 76 75 75 80 77 98 91 71 76 73 66 83 137 76 106 102 96 95 97 65 12 69 27 59 47 51 83 56 55 47 44 38 41 33 15 30 52 45 45 52 39 43

Table 3.5

(continued) Atlantic”

1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 1914 1915 1916 1917 1918 1919 1920 1921 1922 1923 1924 1925 1926 1927

(Continued)

23 16 16 14 10 8 9

Indian

2 4

5 5

8 9 6 10 6 6 7 11 10 9 6 10 5 10 5 3 11 6 9 6 14 8 9 6 6 8 9

Pacific 17 20 19 21 25 23 23 23 17 16 21 11 13 7 4 6 8

Western Arctic 12 7 3 1 2

Mixed 1 1 1

Unknown 1

1

5

5

1

2

5 5 5

7 5 4 4 2 2

Total 54 44 39 36 37 33 36 28 22 24 30 18 23 13 10 13 19 15 14 11

16 10 17 10 10

1

15

12

8 11 6 14 9 9 7 6 8 10 17 12

15

15

1 1

1

17

7 6 7 2

1 1

7 7 8 2

1 1

1 1

1

0 1

72

Chapter 3

Table 3.5

(continued)

Atlantica

Indian

Pacific

Wcstcrn Arctic

Mixed

Unknown

Total

6 6 10 14 4 I 10 3

24 37 46 45 18 64 I54 184 314 33 1 383 409 468 455 274 292 171 224 219 I70 117 70 68 54 45 53 39 3 4,73 I

B. Quinquennial Sums 1789-93 1794-98 1799-1803 1804-8 1809-1 3 18 1 4-1 8 1819-23 1824-28 1829-33 1834-38 1839-43 1844-48 1849-53 1854-58 1859-63 1864-68 1869-73 1874-78 1879-83 1884-88 1889-93 1894-98 1899-1903 1904-8 1909-13 1914-1 8 1919-23 1924-27 Total

16 21 20 8 3 40 78 94 163 141 53 16 37 25 60 118 51 I30 I07 46 38 40 40 34 43 52 31 3 1,514

1 I 8 8 1

1

0 0 13 38 96 66 56 63 43 33 35 20 I 6 0 0 I 2 0 1

I 0 495

1 9 8 15 10 22 66 87 132 136 205 248 269 253 121 87 65 56 76 115 78 30 27 17 2 0 0 0 2,135

0

0

0 0

0 0

0 0 0 0 0

0

0 0 0 0 89 84 35 43 19 16 31 3 1

0 0 1

0 0 0 0 322

0 0 0 0 I 13 28 79 16 30 14 9 1

0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 194

5

3 I 0 1

0 I 2 0 2 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1

0 71

Source: Voyages Data Set. this table, the Atlantic includes Hudson Bay and Davis Strait.

from the Pacific in May, or some third America entirely? The Frances returned from the South Atlantic in April 1832. Close behind her, the Frances returned from the Pacific in June 1832. No one doubts that, refinanced, reoutfitted, and remanned, the Frunces sailed for the Pacific in December, but had she been in port for six months or for eight? And it isn’t only a matter of distinguishing among vessels. The South Carolina returned to New Bedford from the Atlantic in 1834. The next we hear of her, the South Carolina sailed from New Bedford for the Atlantic in 1842. Were they the same South Carolina? There are two reasons to worry with this kind of confusion. One is completely pragmatic. Some of the information we want to use is recorded at the voyage level, but for any particular voyage some of it is just as likely to be

73

Data Sets and Sources

missing. According to Starbuck, the Balaena that sailed in 1828 was three hundred tons, but he doesn’t report the tonnage of the Balaena that sailed in 1825. If these two Balaenas were the same vessel, we know the tonnage of the second. The other reason is that, by associating the voyages of a vessel, we gain access to information beyond the voyage level. For example, we can calculate intervoyage intervals and a vessel’s longevity in the New Bedford fleet. We can describe the changing composition of the fleet both in terms of new vessels and in terms of thriftily rerigged vessels, as barks became desirable in order to hunt the Western Arctic. We can separate the increase in crew size over time due to increased vessel size from the increase due to the changing quality of crewmen. We can answer questions of continuity involving owners, agents, and captains. And so on. The organization of the various sources of voyage records has already been described. Their groupings and indexes were sufficient to trace the histories of many vessels. When questions remained, we consulted the transcriptions of ship registers from the New Bedford Customs District compiled by the Work Projects Administration (1940). A vessel’s certificate of registry, which had to be filed before it could clear for a foreign voyage, includes the vessel’s name, rigging, tonnage and dimensions, home port, and date and place of construction, and the names of its captain and owners. The published transcriptions are organized chronologically by vessel, a process that seems relatively simple given this quantity of data. Among many others, the Ship Registers answer the question about the South Carolina(s): the ship that returned in 1834 and the ship that sailed in 1842 were the same ship; she had spent the intervening years registered in D a r t m ~ u t h . ~ The Ship Registers contain thirteen entries for the Abigail, beginning in July 1821 and ending in July 1862. The only entry that adds information to the Voyages Data Set is the last, which says: “Vessel was burned by Rebel cruiser SHENANDOAH, commanded by Waddell, in Ochotsk Sea, Russia, May 27, 1865. All papers were confiscated and the crew, except seventeen who joined the SHENANDOAH, were landed in different ships at San Francisco, Calif.” The detail of the entry convinced us to change the month of the Abigail’s demise from June to May.’O A reregistration in November 1823 implies the existence 9. The New Bedford Customs District, in existeace from 1789 to 1913, included New Bedford, Dartmouth, Westport, Rochester, and Wareham-all whaling ports. Registrations of vessels from all of them are thus transcribed in the Ship Registers (Work Projects Administration 1940).When a New Bedford whaling vessel was purchased from or sold to a port outside the district, its history in the Ship Regisrers is incomplete; transfers within the district are documented. 10. In July 1866 the flags of twelve whalers captured by the Shenandoah were returned to New Bedford, among them that of the Abigail. In I875 her owners were recompensed for her loss: “In the Court of Commissioners of the Alabama Claims, the following cases have been disposed ofLoum Snow, Jr., et al., executives of the owners of the whale ship Abigail, of New Bedford, destroyed by the Shenandoah in Ochotsk Sea, May 27th, 1865, judgment for plaintiff, $36,240 with interest; Ebenezer E Nye, Captain of the same, $10,093 with interest; James T. Taber, mate of the same, $1,980 with interest; Aaron C. Bryant, cook of the same, $409” (WSL 17 July 1866, 16 March 1875).

74

Chapter3

of a voyage between numbers 1 and 2, but no other mention of such a voyage has been found. (See table 3.17.) Almost every voyage-data source reports vessels’ tonnages, and tonnage (a measure of cubic capacity, more properly called register tonnage because it is computed for the purpose of being reported when a vessel is registered) is important in our thinking about profits and productivity. Unfortunately for consistency, the legal formula for computing tonnage, dating from 1789, was changed in 1864; records of voyages before 1865 give tonnages computed in one way, those of voyages thereafter, for the most part, in another. (It took a few years for all vessels to be remeasured and their new tonnages computed and registered.) The systems were sufficiently different that we could not intermingle the two kinds of tonnage measures. Although pre-1865 tonnages are not particularly good measures of actual capacity (see chapter 6), we chose to use them for two reasons: (1) overall, more old tonnages are reported (more vessels completed their New Bedford whaling careers before 1865 than began them after 1864); ( 2 ) from the measures of length and breadth reported in the Ship Registers, it is possible to calculate the old tonnage of a vessel for which only new tonnage is reported, but the calculation of new tonnage relied on many more measurements than were taken or recorded before 1865.” As a result of this decision, for a voyage after 1864 the value of the variable TONNAGE in the Voyages Data Set is not the new tonnage figure reported in the voyage-data sources, but its equivalent in old tons, which we computed from the formula and the vessel’s dimensions. In the process of dealing with tonnage we also took advantage of the Ship Registers to extend old tonnage measures to one decimal place (other sources give whole numbers). The tonnage of the Abigail in the data set, for example, 11. The description of how to calculate a vessel’s tonnage according to the law of 1789 occupies seventeen lines of text in the General Statutes and relies on measures of length, breadth, and sometimes depth (for two-deck vessels, depth is assumed to be one-half of breadth) (An Act for Registering and Clearing Vessels, Regulating the Coasting Trade, and for Other Purposes, Stars. at Large of USA 19-65). The description according to the law of 1864 occupies 148 lines and requires measures such as the average thickness of the ceiling of the tonnage deck, and the depth at a distance of one-third of the round of the beam below the tonnage deck to the upper side of the floor timber at the inside of the limber strake (An Act to Regulate the Admeasurement of Tonnage of Ships and Vessels of the United States, Srats. at Large of USA 13:69-72). Because there are many cases in which the same vessel was registered both before and after 1865, we could check our calculation of old tonnage from new measurements. For example: (1) In the Ship Registers (Work Projects Administration 1940) the Addison’s pre-1865 tonnage is recorded as 426 30/95, calculated from a length of 108 feet and a breadth of 30 feet; the post-1864 tonnage is recorded as 348.79, using a length of 105.3 feet, a breadth of 30.1 feet, and a depth of 18.4 feet (remember that vessels were remeasured after 1864). If we had been forced to calculate the old tonnage from the new dimensions, we would have come up with 416 tons. This isn’t equal to the 426.3 tons calculated from the actual old dimensions, but it’s a lot closer than the new tonnage of 348.8. (2) The Ship Registers’ first record (Work Projects Administration 1940) for the one-deck bark Xantho is dated 1866; her tonnage (new) is 206.26, length 110.5 feet, and breadth 26 feet. Using the pre-1865 one-deck formula, we calculated the old tonnage as 329.9. Later we came across a report in the WSL (16 October 1866) of the Xanrho’s purchase at New Bedford that gives the “old measurement” as 325 tons.

75

Data Sets and Sources

Table 3.6 SHIPID 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

1 1

Captains and Agents Data Set Records for the Abigail from the Dias Manuscript NOVOYAGE

CAPT 1‘

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Covell Potter Benjamin Clark William H. Reynard James V. Cox D. Barnard Young Francis D. Drew Rufus N. Swift Ebenezer F. Nye

AGENT

Benjamin Rodman C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan W. G . E. Pope W. G. E. Pope Loum Snow

”Captain at the beginning of the voyage.

is 309.8 because the Ship Registers report it as 309 75/95; in Dias, Starbuck, Wood, the Ship Arrivals and Departures manuscript, and the WSL, it is 3 10. The other data sets organized by voyage are separated from the Voyages Data Set only for convenience. One that began by drawing on the same sources is the Captains and Agents Data Set. Every voyage source provides for reporting the name of the captain or the agent or both, although it may not always have the information. First we gathered the names of captains and agents reported by Dias. (Table 3.6 shows the resulting records for the Abigail.) Then, as with the Voyages Data Set, we added information given in Starbuck, Hegarty, et al., and made an attempt to standardize the conglomeration-for example, by spelling Pierce always “Pierce,” not “Peirce,” by choosing “Thomas H. Wilson” over “Thos. H. Wilson” and “Jonathan Bourne, Jr.” over “J. Bourne, Jr.” (tables 3.7 and 3.8). Our preference was for the fuller form of a name. Of these familiar sources, the Wood abstracts and the WSL are particularly chatty about captains who died, took sick, absconded with the ship’s funds, and otherwise did not complete their voyages.12When it became clear that such events 12. “A letter reports her [the Cleoru] at Bahai Nov. 14 [I8581 to land the remains of Cup?Hines who died in a fit Octr 31. White Master (late Mate).” “[The Desdemona] Arrived March 15.1865 Dimmick Mustec ‘Cupf.Bates’ having left his ship and got married at Norfolk Island.” “A letter from Capt. Kelly [of the James Andrews] . . . March 20 [1857] . . . Capt. K. broke his leg in taking a whale the day previous was bound to S. Islands Jas. A. Burtlett Masre,: Sailed from Honolulu May 12 for home. (Capt. Kelly would come home via California)” (Wood 1831-73,3:52,71, 140). “Caught at Last. Capt. Henry P.Butler of Edgartown, who, while in command of Ship Sarah, of New Bedford, belonging to Benjamin B. Howard and others, sold her catchings at Mauritius in 1863, pocketed the proceeds, and has since kept himself scarce, was arrested at Newport a few days since and is now in jail there” (WSL 16 January 1866). “Telegraphic despatches from San Francisco last week, states . . . the death in the Arctic Ocean, of Capt. J. S. Adams, of bark Helen Snow, of this port” (WSL25 October 1864). “A letter from Capt. Campbell, (late first officer, Capt. Adams having died as before reported) of bark Helen Snow . . . Capt. A d a m died August Zlst, of ship fever” (WSL 22 November 1864). “Bark John Wells, at this port, 13th inst., from Honolulu, brought the remains of Capt. Joseph S. Adams, late of bark Helen Snow” (WSL 14 March 1865).

76

Chapter 3 Captains and Agents Data Set Records for the Abigail after Corrections Based on Starbuck 1878

Table 3.7 SHIPID

NOVOYAGE

1 1 1 I 1 1

4 5

6 7 8 9

1 1 1

AGENT

Covell Potter Benjamin Clark Benjamin Clark William H. Reynard James V. Cox James I.: Cox D. Barnard Young Francis D. Drew Rufus N. Smith Ebenezer F. Nye

1

2 3

I 1 1

CAPT 1

10

I1 12

Benjamin Rodman

C. W Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W Morgan C. W. Morgan Pope & Morgan Wm. G. E. Pope William G. E. Pope Loum Snow

Note: Italicized data are added to or changed from table 3.6 Captain at the beginning of the voyage.

Captains and Agents Data Set Records for the Abigail after Corrections Based on Hegarty 1964 and Wood 1831-73

Table 3.8 SHIPID 1 1

NOVOYAGE

CAPTl

1 2 3

Dennis Covell Stephen Potter Benjamin Clark Benjamin Clark William H. Reynard James V. Cox James V. Cox D. Barnard George E. Young Francis D. Drew Rufus N. Smith Ebenezer F. Nye

1 1 1

4

1

6

1

7 8 9 10 11

1 1 1 1 1

5

12

CMla CYlb

CAPTZ’

AGENT

Benjamin Rodman

3

1855

NonameTaber

C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan C. W. Morgan Pope & Morgan William G. E. Pope William G. E. Pope Loum Snow

Note: Italicized data are added to or changed from table 3.7. nMonth of change from C A R 1 to CAPT2. of change from CAPTl to CAPTZ. ‘Second captain, replacement for CAPTl.

were not rare, we added variables for the names of a second and eventually a third captain, as well as the dates at which the command changed. We then turned to other authorities. For captains the first examined was Whaling Musters, a sometimes invaluable, sometimes infuriating directory (Works Progress Administration of Massachusetts 1938). Whaling Musters provides captain’s name, sailing year, vessel name, and home port. It is organized by captain and includes all the American ports-a fact that makes it very

77

Data Sets and Sources

tiresome to discover the captain of a particular voyage without some preliminary clue as to his name. Given a last name, though, Whaling Musters often supplied the first, listing, for example, the Abigail’s captain in 1843 as David, rather than D., Barnard. It also has a good list of replacement captains and the circumstances of their elevation. On the other hand, there are some odd lacunae. The foreword calls it “a list as complete as painstaking search of the local records can make it,” but it doesn’t know, for instance, that the captain of the Abigail’s 1847 voyage was a Mr. Young, although his name is printed in Starbuck’s Histoly-which appears in Whaling Masters ’ list of recommended books. For agents’ names the credit reports of the firm that became R. G. Dun & Co. were particularly he1pf~l.l~ These are transcriptions, made by clerks in R. G. Dun & Co.’s New York office, of information about the financial circumstances of businesses and businessmen supplied twice yearly (from 1842) by local reporters. The reports not only provide the full names of many whaling agents given in other sources only as last names or with initials, but also include enough information about firms of agents and their histories to allow us to associate them over time. For example, in 1844 Gideon Allen was a whaling agent; in 1857 Gideon Allen and Son was an agent firm; in 1879 Gilbert Allen was a whaling agent. The R. G. Dun & Co. reports tell us that the Son in 1857 was Gilbert Allen, and that he took over the business that had been Gideon Allen and Son after his father’s death. The same pattern holds for William Gifford (from 1854), William Gifford and Son (from 1859), and Charles H. Gifford (from 1867). (In 1879 Charles H. Gifford took Benjamin T. Cummings as a partner and soon went bankrupt, although the R. G. Dun & Co. reports say Cummings was “close & econl.”) The Richmond in Richmond and Wood (1 843), Richmond and Pierce (1 858), and Richmond and Richardson (1859) was Joshua B. Richmond, and the three firms formed a chain. (The Swift in Swift and Perry [1872] and the Swift in Swift and Allen [ 18791, however, were not the same man.) To keep track of associations of agents, we created a variable (CHAINID) of which the various firms in a chain share a value. The data set contains 320 agents/firms and 259 chains of agentdfirms; the longest chain comprises five agencies. Since the whaling business in New Bedford was dominated by a few 13. R. G. Dun & Co. Collection, Bristol County, Massachusetts, vol. 17, pp. 36, 49, 114, 149, 304; vol. 18, pp. 388, 471. For a history of the R. G. Dun & Co. agency and its operations, see Norris 1978. The reports make odd reading. The reporters are determined to be businesslike; most of the time they write to a formula, and a dry one at that: “Mar 14.72 No improvemt. Sep 2.72 Of no a/c for Cr. Mar 11.73 Same. Aug 2 I .73 Not favorably regarded cash advised. Mar 17/74 Same. Aug 25.74 Not recommended for any cr.” Then, out of nowhere: “Feby 27.75. Wife is smart. Keeps a boarding house which supports him . . . Sep 4/75 Irrespons & worthless.” Generally, though, New Bedford agents are not irresponsible and worthless. Generally they are “Good & sound . , , Firm & Safe . . . vy good. Rich. . . Relia & conservative. . . Succl & Sound. . . Good as ever. . . Good as Gold . . . Undoubted . . . Gd. for a million , . , A. No. 1 , . , Safe reliable men,”

78

Chapter3

families, and those families frequently intermarried, there were surely more associations of agencies than we have been able to identify. Having a successful agent for a father-in-law was a plus with the R. G. Dun & Co. reportersand probably with the son-in-law as welI.l4 (See chapter 10 for a discussion of this subject.) The New Bedford City Directories ( 1 836-87, intermittently) provided names of both captains and agents. All of these directories give the occupations of residents, but those up through 1852 aren’t content with saying simply that someone is a master mariner; they say, for example, “Bonney Henry M. master bark Richmond.” When we didn’t already know the name of the captain of a vessel that was off on a voyage, we accepted a directory’s evidence. (By no means all captains of New Bedford whaling vessels lived in New Bedford, of course.) As for agents, the directories list both firms and individuals: “Crocker, George 0. (0.& G. 0. Crocker) . . . Crocker, Oliver (0.& G. 0. Crocker) . . . Crocker, 0. (Oliver) & G. 0. (George 0.)merchants,” Such listings don’t identify the agent for a particular voyage, but in some cases they gave us his full name. The other two important sources for this data set, Whaling Logbooks and Journals (Sherman 1986) and the Ship Registers (Work Projects Administration 1940), provided captains’ names. Whaling Logbooks and Journals was particularly useful for the names of replacement captains; Dias knows, for example, as do Starbuck and Hegarty, that Alonzo 0. Herendeen was the original captain of the Falcon’s 1875 voyage, but Whaling Logbooks and Journals knows that he was replaced by James A. Crowell, and Crowell by Pliny B. Handy.I5The Ship Registers were particularly useful for captains in the early years. Dias knows, for example, that the captain of the Window in 1802 was Mr. Paddock; the Ship Registers know that he was Benjamin Paddock. In the interests of tidiness, the Captains and Agents Data Set has a record for each of the 4,73 1 voyages in the Voyages Data Set, although for 19 of them we don’t know anything about the captain’s name, for 446 we don’t know the agent’s name, and for 9 we don’t know either. There are 390 voyages for which we know of a first replacement captain, 39 for which we know of a second.16 (See table 3.9 for the final record for the Abigail.) In order to calculate the productivity and profits of whaling voyages, we needed to know the sizes of whaling crews. This is a more complicated matter than it may appear. In the early days a vessel might return to the New Bedford 14. The big-time agent Edward Mott Robinson was the son-in-law of the big-time agent Gideon Howland. See Sparkes and Moore 1935, chaps. 4,5. 15. Whaling Logbooks and Journals (Sherman 1986) doesn’t actually specify the order of the captains. It says, on page 130: “Falcon (Bark). New Bedford, Mass. October 26, 1875-April 20, 1879. Masrers: Alonzo 0. Herendeen, Pliny B. Handy and James A. Crowell.” We established the order reported in the text; Crowell was not the captain of a subsequent New Bedford voyage, but Handy was the captain of three, the next three voyages of the Falcon. 16. The data set has more variables than appear in table 3.9, but none of general interest; they are identification numbers for sorting, segments of names for indexing, and so on.

79

Data Sets and Sources

Table 3.9

SHIPID

I

Captains and Agents Data Set Records for the Abiguil after Corrections Based on Whaling Musters, the R. G. Dun & Co. Field Reports, and Other Sources NOVOYAGE

I

1 2 3 4 5

1 1 1 1

6 7 8 9

1 1 1

10 11 12

1 1 1

CAPTI

CMIa CYlb

Dennis Covell Stephen Nye Potter Benjamin Clark Benjamin Clark William Harhaway Reynard James V. Cox James V. Cox David C. Barnard George E. Young Francis D. Drew Rufus N. Smith Ebenezer F. Nye

CAF’T2’

AGENT Benjamin Rodman Benjamin Rodman Charles W. Morgan Charles W. Morgan

3

1855

Charles W. Morgan Charles W. Morgan Charles W. Morgan William G. E. Pope & S. Grtjjitts Morgan Noname Taber William G. E. Pope William G. E. Pope Loum Snow

Sources: Main sources for corrections are Works Progress Administration of Massachusetts 1938; R. G. Dun & Co. Collection, Massachusetts volumes. Note; Italicized data are added to or changed from table 3.8. “Month of change from CAPTl to CAPT2. byearof change from CAPTl to CAPT2. ‘Second captain, replacement for CAF’TI.

with the crew with which it sailed, but, as soon as voyages became routinely more than a few months long, the size of the crew could vary considerably. Over the course of a voyage, crewmen died, got sick, mutinied, or desertedand were, or were not, replaced. These fluctuations are now impossible to trace. There are thousands of existing individual references to crew changes (notices in the WSL, consular certificates, inbound shipping papers that account for crew members on the outbound lists who are not returning, and so on), but we have seldom found records that purport to trace the complete picture of the changing crew structure even of a single ~ 0 y a g e . l ~ We have, of necessity, settled for something less-the sizes of the crews that sailed when voyages left New Bedford. These are recorded in the Crew Counts 17. An example, albeit extreme, of a complicated personnel history is the 1879-84 voyage of the Sea Ranger: “The log, usually kept by the first mate, contains four different handwritings which is understandable when we learn that of four original mates two were discharged and two deserted. Fourteen others of the crew were discharged, ten deserted, one died at sea and another drowned. Of the original complement of thirty-six, only six finished the voyage. . . . Officers and boatsteerers were signed on, discharged, promoted and demoted at a dizzying rate” (Purrington 1972, 35). During the 1858-61 voyage of the Florida, there were three fourth mates, a boatsteerer was killed, and nine men deserted-the carpenter, the blacksmith, the steward, an ordinary seaman, and five greenhands. “Six men were shipped at Brava, Cape Verde Islands, Oct. 13, 1858. Some Kanakas were shipped at South Pacific Islands and from Hilo. Four men were shipped at Guam, March 6, 1860” (Williams 1964, 205-6).

80

Chapter 3 From a journal kept by Warren W. Baker on the brig Leonidas of Westport, Massachusetts, in 1850. “Sept the 24.1850 Brig Leonidas on the stground Captain P Come1 of West Port Tuesday September 25 First part fine weather ship heading E S E a t 5 P M Saw Sperm Whales lowered the Boats and struck a large Whale and tuck him to the ship Tuesday October 1 First part strong winds from E ship heading W N W all hands Employed in stowing down at 5 P M finished stowing 80 bbls of sperm oil.” The two whales that Baker depicts as harpooned are labelled “No 5” and “No 6.” Reproduced courtesy of The Kendall Whaling Museum, Sharon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.

Data Set (table 3.10). We used three sources: the collection of crew lists deposited in the National Archives (resulting in the column headed ARCHIVES), the collection of Whalemen’s Shipping Papers held by the New Bedford Free Public Library, (the column headed FPL), and the lists of the crews of departing vessels routinely printed in the WSL in the years 1852-89 (the column headed WSHPLIST). The National Archives lists are documents that were required by law. As well as directing ships’ masters to pay three months’ wages for the care of seamen discharged in foreign ports, and directing consuls “to provide for the mariners and seamen of the United States, who may be found destitute within

81

Data Sets and Sources Crew Counts Data Set Records for the Abigail

Table 3.10 SHIPID 1

1 1

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

NOVOYAGE

SAlLMO

SAILYR

ARCHIVES

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

7 12 5 11 10 4 7 11 10 8 8 7

1821 1825 I829 1831 1835 1839 1839 1843 1847 1852 1856 1862

FPL

CREW

22 21 21 24 25

-

23 27 23

28 25 31 30

23 22 22 25 26 24 28 25 31 30 30

29

WSHPLIST

30 30 29

-

Sources: U.S. Customs Service 1820-1915; Whalemen’s Shipping Papers (limited in the main to voyages that sailed in the years 1840-58 and 1866); WSL 1852-89.

their districts respectively, sufficient subsistence and passages to some port in the United States,” the law (An Act Supplementary to the “Act concerning . . . the Further Protection of Seamen,” 1803, Stats. at Large of USA 2:203) required [tlhat before a clearance be granted to any vessel bound on a foreign voyage, the master thereof shall deliver to the collector of the customs, a list, containing the names, places of birth and residence, and a description of the persons who compose his ship’s company, to which list the oath or affirmation of the captain shall be annexed . . . and the said collector shall deliver him a certified copy thereof . . . [which] he shall exhibit . . . to the first boarding officer, at the first port in the United States, at which he shall arrive on his return thereto, and then and there also produce the persons named therein, to the said boarding officer, whose duty it shall be to examine the men with such list, and to report the same to the collector. If a crewman was discharged in a foreign country, the action had to be taken “with the consent of the consul, vice-consul, commercial, or vice-commercial agent there residing, signified in writing, under his hand and official seal.” If a crewman died or absconded, or was “forcibly impressed into other service,” the captain was to produce “satisfactory proof” of the occurrence to the collector of customs when his crew list was examined at the end of the voyage. Figure 3.2 reproduces the crew list for the 1820-21 voyage of the Commodore Decatur and examples of other crew-related documents. From 1817 to 1864American vessels were required by law to ship crews at least two-thirds of whom were American citizens (see chapter 5). The crew lists mandated by the 1803 law were useful in documenting compliance with this requirement, but they were not instituted in an effort to control the compo-

Fig. 3.2 The crew list (A) for the 1820 voyage of the Commodore Decatur, with examples of various other official crew-related documents. B, certificate of clearance. C and D, consular certificates. E, statement of returning captain. Source: U.S.Customs Service 1820-1915.

Fig. 3.2 (continued) Certificate of clearance

Fig. 3.2 (continued) Consular certificate

Fig. 3.2 (continued) Consular certificate

Fig. 3.2 (continued) Statement of returning captain

87

Data Sets and Sources

sition of crews. Rather, the fact that captains had to account for the whereabouts of their crews gave some measure of protection to American seamen who were otherwise subject to the whims and disciplines of their masters.ls Shipping papers (articles) were also legal documents, instituted in 1790 and filed with the collector of the customs at the start of a foreign ~ 0 y a g e . They l~ constituted the contract between the owners and the crew, and listed “conditions . . . as to their service, pay, voyage, and all other things.”20The legal requirement was that the shipping articles be available to American consuls who might be asked to rule on disputes between masters and men during voyages, and to judges and justices of the peace who might have to hear lawsuits regarding wages at the ends of voyages. As was the case with the crew list, the shipping articles had to be kept up to date. Any consul of the United States . . . may, upon the application of both the master and any mariner of the vessel . . . discharge such mariner, if he thinks it expedient. . . . When a mariner is so discharged, the officer discharging him shall make an official entry thereof upon the list of the crew and the shipping articles. Whenever any master shall ship a mariner in a foreign port, he shall forthwith take the list of his crew and the duplicate of the shipping articles to the consul . . . who shall make the proper entries thereon, setting forth the contract, and describing the person of the mariner. (Srats. at Large of USA 5:395)21 Figure 3.3 reproduces the shipping papers of the 1847 voyage of the Abigail. In 1852 the WSL began printing crew lists of whaling voyages. (Those for the three subsequent voyages of the Abigail are transcribed in appendix 3C.) Since the WSL lists were intended to be transcripts from the legal documents,

18. “[Tlhe master of a vessel at sea wielded such untrammeled authority that he became inevitably a small-scale despot; and in controlling ships, as in governing nations, the men who could exercise supreme authority without abusing it were in the minority” (Hohman 1928, 118). Or, as “The Whaleman’s Lament” puts it: They will rob you they will use you Worse than any slaves Before you go a-whaling boys You had best be in your graves They’ll flog you for the least offense And that is frequent too And the best that you will get from them Is plenty more work to do So do it now or damn your eyes I will flog you till you’re (blue) (Log book of the Catalpa’s 1856 voyage, in Huntington 1964, 16-17). 19. An act for the Government and Regulation of Seamen in the Merchants Service, 1790, Stafs. at Large of USA 1:131-35. 20. An Act in Addition to the Several Acts Regulating the Shipment and Discharge of Seamen, and the Duties of Consuls, 1840, Stafs. a f Large of USA 5:394-97. 21. The consul’s notations to the shipping articles were, unfortunately, often made on separate official forms, and thus are not always available today even when the shipping articles themselves have survived.

Fig. 3.3 The shipping papers of the Abigail, October 1847 Source: Whalemen's Shipping Papers, used with permission of the Trustees of the New Bedford Free Public Library. Note: See appendix 3H for a transcription.

89

Data Sets and Sources

it would make sense for counts made from them to equal counts made from the manuscript crew lists themselves-but human frailty ensures that the two counts are sometimes different. For 576 voyages the Crew Counts Data Set contains a count from each of these three sources, for an additional 1,881 voyages counts from two of the three, for 1,312 a count from only one. When counts are available from more than one source and the counts are not equal, we generally preferred first a count of the shipping papers list, second a count of the manuscript crew list, third a count of the WSL‘s transcribed crew list (see table 3.11). The resulting variable, CREW, ranges in value from 6 to 41.22Its mean and median lie between 26 and 27; its mode is 30. For those voyages whose shipping papers have survived, it is possible to know not only how many men were in the crew when the vessel sailed from New Bedford, hut also the occupational structure of that initial crew. We came up with 1,251 such voyages. They make up the Stations and Lays Data Set, which contains 36,453 records-one per crew member. Table 3.12 shows abbreviated stations and lays records for the four voyages of the Abigail for which shipping papers are available. In addition to the variables displayed in the table, the data set contains a variable that differentiates between members of the initial crew and later additions. Sometimes the distinction is obvious: a line is drawn across the page of the shipping papers, or following a blank section the recorder’s handwriting changes dramatically, or the “time of entry” becomes definitely a postsailing date. When it is not obvious, it can sometimes be deduced from the second appearance on the list of an occupation for which no vessel had need of twoa second cook or a second first mate, for example. In the few cases in which there is no such evidence, we arbitrarily chose the crewmen listed on the front of the page as those who sailed with the vessel. Another variable flags each crewman who signed the shipping paper with an X rather than by writing his name. We assumed these men were illiterate.23 The occupations recorded on the shipping papers are not as tidy as those analyzed below (chapter 5). We coded the occupational descriptions that were actually recorded, but also grouped equivalent occupations into categories. The table 5.2 notes give lists of occupations that we took to be equivalent (“greenhand” and “green oarsman,” for example). In addition to the official shipping papers and crew lists, the New Bedford Port Society kept lists of crew members for its own purposes. These lists in22. The value of CREW includes the captain. The crews of six sailed with the Elizabeth, an 83.2-ton brig, in the 1820s. The crews of forty-one sailed with the Mary and Helen, a 634.3-ton steam bark, in 1882 and with the South America, a 605.6-ton bark, in 1855. The mean number of tons-per-crewman over the entire data set is 11.58. 23. In 195 instances (0.54 percent), the shipping paper adds detail to the bald statement of the lay fraction: “plus bonus,” “+ 1/2 slush,’’ “guarantee $75.” We stored these texts in the Stations and Lays Data Set, but seldom found a use for them (except when a boy signed on not for a lay but for “clothing,” for example, in which case his lay was figured as 1/1,000).

90

Chapter 3

Table 3.11

Sources of Values for the Variable CREW in the Crew Counts Data Set Number of Occurrences ~

~~~~

CREW equals FPL. CREW also equals ARC and WSL. CREW also equals ARC; WSL is missing. CREW also equals ARC; WSL is not missing. CREW also equals WSL; ARC is missing. CREW also equals WSL; ARC is not missing. CREW equals neither ARC nor WSL. Neither ARC nor WSL is missing. ARC is missing; WSL is not missing. WSL is missing; ARC is not missing. Both ARC and WSL are missing. CREW equals ARC. CREW also equals WSL. FPL is missing. FPL is not missing. CREW does not equal WSL. WSL is missing; FPL is not missing. WSL is missing; FPL is missing. WSL is not missing; FPL is not missing. WSL is not missing; FPL is missing. CREW equals WSL. FPL is missing; ARC is not missing. ARC is missing; FPL is not missing. Both FPL and ARC are missing. CREW is missing.

1,567 296 660 155 50 39 367 81 28 169 89 2,023 536 534 2 1,487 5 1,114 3 365 179 69 1

109 962

Notes: FPL = Whalemen's Shipping Papers; ARC = U S . Customs Service manuscript crew lists in the National Archives; WSL = Whalemen's Shipping List transcriptions of crew lists.

clude crewmen's ages, and enabled us to compile the Sailors ' Ages Data Set, which contains one record for each of 275 voyages that sailed between 1842 and 1858. The ages of crewmen ranged from nine to sixty-two. Table 3.13 shows the distribution of ages among voyages. Clearly, whaling crews were largely composed of youngsters; in fact, on 50 percent of the voyages for which we have Port Society lists, the oldest man aboard was thirty-five or younger (see table 3.14). Where was a vessel before its first New Bedford whaling voyage? Where was it after its last? These facts, when we know them, are recorded in the Entrances Data Set and the Exits Data Set-each of which has one record per vessel. Entrances are coded either M (merchant), W (whaler), or U (unknown). Fifty-eight percent of New Bedford whaling vessels came directly from the merchant service; 31 percent had been whalers or were newly built (presum-

Table 3.12 ROSTER'

Stations and Lays Data Set Records for theAbigail OCCl

First Occupation

occ2

Second Occupation

LAY

A. Voyage 8, November 1843

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

I 2 3 4 9 9 9 9 21 30 32 32 30 32 32 31 31 10 11 33 31 32 32 32 20 32 30 32

captain first mate second mate third mate boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer steward seaman greenhand greenhand seaman greenhand greenhand ordinary seaman ordinary seaman cooper blacksmith boy ordinary seaman greenhand greenhand greenhand cook greenhand seaman greenhand

carpenter

shipkeeper

16 29 50 72 95 95 95 95 130 140 185 185 140 190 185 170 150 55 185 200 170 190 190 185 140 190 140 190

B. Voyage 9, October 1847 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (continued)

1 2 3 4 9 9 10 21 20 31 11 31 31

captain first mate second mate third mate boatsteerer boatsteerer cooper steward cook ordinary seaman blacksmith ordinary seaman ordinary seaman

boatsteerer

shipkeeper

ordinary seaman

17 23 43 58 90 90 60 125 140 140 150 140 135

Table 3.12 ROSTER” 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

(continued) OCCl

First Occupation

32 32 32 32 32 31 32 32 32 33 32 32 32

greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand ordinary seaman greenhand greenhand greenhand boy greenhand greenhand greenhand

occ2

Second Occupation

LAY’ 175 175 175 175 175 155 175 180 185 225 170 190 175

C. Voyage 10, August 1852 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

1 2 3 9 9 9 9 10 21 20 12 20 32 32 9 32 32 32 32 32 32 32 32 11 32 32 32 32 32 32 32

captain first mate second mate boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer cooper steward cook carpenter cook green hand greenhand boatsteerer greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand blacksmith greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

16 23 38 65 90 90 90 50 140 150 180 150 190 190 90 190 190 190 190 190 200 190 190 185 190 190 190 190 190 185 190

Table 3.12

(continued)

~~

ROSTER"

~

OCCl

First Occupation

occ2

Second Occupation

~~

LAYb

D. Voyage 11, August 1856 1

1

2 3 4

2 3 4 9 9 9 9 10 21 20 12 11 32 32 31 32 31 31 32 32 32 31 20 32 32 32 32 32 32 32

5

6 7 8

9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

captain first mate second mate third mate boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer boatsteerer cooper steward cook carpenter blacksmith greenhand greenhand ordinary seaman greenhand ordinary seaman ordinary seaman greenhand greenhand greenhand ordinary seaman cook greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand greenhand

-

20 26 55 85

90 85

90 shipkeeper

50

125 150 195 190 225 200 175 200 180 155

200 200 200 165 150 200 200 200 200 200 200 200

Source: The data set was constructed from the Whalemen's Shipping Papers. "ROSTER is simply a count; we added it to the data. bThe lay fraction is ULAY-1/16. 1/29, and so forth. cOccasionally the captain's lay is not recorded on the shipping papers, presumably because he negotiated a contract involving a more complicated arrangement than a fraction of the net value of the catch. In these cases, believing that the captain was thought to be unusually skilled, we attributed to him, for analysis purposes, a lay 10 percent better than the otherwise best for that sailing year and whaling ground. In this case, the result is 13.4 (a lay of 1113.4).

Table 3.13

Numbers of New Bedford Whaling Voyages Sailing with Various Numbers of Crewmen of Various Ages, 1842-58 Number of Crewmen at Age

Age

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

2

1

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

1

0

1

1

1 1

4 5 17 28 47 70 85 89 82 74 40 72 95 111 103 100

89 96 72 57 48 49 45 38 41 28 14 22 16 18 10 12 11 5 11 2 6 5 2 2 4 1 1

2 14 24 33 51 57 59 48 72 71 59 60 39 26 22 18 11 5 13 3 3 4 4 1 2 2

1

1 1

1

8 6 32 40 34 51 53 30 15 18 8 8 4 1

1

1 3 10 17 19 32 35 14 6 5 1

1

4 13 4 31 8 5 3 3 1

4 2 28 6 2

1

11 1

1 9 1

6

2

4

95

Data Sets and Sources

Table 3.13

(continued) Number of Crewman at Age

Age

I

2

55 56

I

57

1

58 59 60 61 62

1

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

I1

I

Source: New Bedford Port Society.

ably “for whaling”); the earlier histories of 1 I percent are unknown. We drew on several sources of entrance information. Here are some examples. Abigail. According to the Ship Registers, the Abigail was “[rlegistered [at New Bedford] . . . July 18, 1821-permanent. Built at Amesbury in 1810. . . . Previously registered at Newburyport Mar. 2 1, 1821” (Work Projects Administration 1: 1). The only whaling port other than New Bedford from which an Abigail sailed was Sag Harbor, from which she made voyages in 1802-3 (captain Barnard, destination Brazil), 1803-4, 1809 (captain Bunker, destination Brazil), 1810-1 1 (captain Bunker, destination Brazil), 1817 (captain Post, destination Brazil), 1819 (destination Brazil), 1820, and 182 1-22 (captain Green, destination Brazil) (Starbuck 1878, 200, 202, 210, 224, 230, 234, 240). Were the Sag Harbor Abigail and the New Bedford Abigail the same vessel? There couldn’t have been only one Abigail, if it is true: (1) both that the New Bedford vessel was built in 1810 and that the Sag Harbor vessel sailed for Brazil in 1802; (2) both that an Abigail came to New Bedford fresh from a registration in Newburyport in 182 1 and that the Sag Harbor vessel was off on a voyage to Brazil in 1821 and 1822. The voyage records for the Sag Harbor Abigail do not give her tonnage, and both vessels were ships, so we can’t prove beyond a doubt that, for example, the 1817, 1819, and 1820 Sag Harbor voyages weren’t made by the vessel that was registered at New Bedford in 182 1but it seems unlikely that they were. In the Entrances Data Set, then, the New Bedford Abigail is coded M. She wasn’t built for whaling; she was built in 1810 and made her first whaling voyage in 1821. The ship didn’t transfer to New Bedford from another whaling fleet. The only other thing she could have been doing between 1810 and 1821 was acting as a merchant vessel. Anaconda. The Anaconda was “[rlegistered Nov. 23, 1852-permanent. Built at Baltimore, Md. in 1852” (Work Projects Administration 1940, 2:15). Her

Table 3.14

Numbers of New Bedford Whaling Voyages with Oldest Crewmen of Various Ages, Sailing Years 1842-58 Age of Oldest Crewman

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

Number of Voyages 1 1

3 3 4 13 10 7 11 24 15 21 24 11 11 19 13 15

8

8 11 4 10 1

6

6 2 2 4 1 0 2 1 0 1

60

0 0 0

61 62

1 1

Source; Sailors’ Ages Data Set (see text).

%

0.4 0.4 1.1 1.1 1.5 4.7 3.6 2.5 4.0 8.7 5.5 7.6 8.7 4.0 4.0 6.9 4.1 5.5 2.9 2.9 4.0 1.5 3.6 0.4 2.2 2.2 0.7 0.7 1.5

0.4 0 0.7 0.4 0 0.4 0 0 0 0.4 0.4

97

Data Sets and Sources

first New Bedford whaling voyage began also in November 1852. Starbuck lists no voyages for an Anaconda other than those from New Bedford. We have coded the Anaconda U: in the sense that she was “built for whaling,” in the Entrances Data Set. Arabella. “Registered Oct. 16, 1849-permanent. Built at New York in 1827. . . . Previously registered at Sag Harbor, N. Y. Sept. 22, 1841” (Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:lS). Before her first New Bedford voyage (1849), the Arabellu made whaling voyages as a ship of Sag Harbor: in 1827, 1831, and 1833 to the Pacific, in 1837 to the South Atlantic, in 1839 to the South Seas, in 1841 to “Crozette Island,” in 1844 to “N. W. Coast,” and in 1847 to the Pacific again. At the conclusion of the 1847 voyage, in 1849, the Arubella was sold to New Bedford (Starbuck 1878, 264, 286, 304, 340, 360, 382, 418, 450). She appears in the Entrances Data Set with the code U: both in the sense that she entered the New Bedford whaling fleet directly from another whaling fleet, and in the sense that she entered whaling directly after being built. In addition to recording how vessels entered the fleet, the Entrances Data Set contains information on where and when they were built. For a list of shipbuilding towns, see appendix 3D. Table 3.15 shows when vessels were built. The Exits Data Set provides codes for six ways in which a vessel could leave the New Bedford whaling fleet. A vessel was (1) lost at sea (27 1 vessels); (2) sunk in the Stone Fleet (16 vessels); (3) lost to a Confederate raider in the Civil War (26 vessels); (4) condemned (83); (5) captured by the Portuguese in 1829 (1); or (6) sold to another port and/or left whaling (366). For twenty-four vessels, mode of exit is unknown. The following are examples of vessels that left by each of these routes. A. Houghton. All the sources agree that the A. Houghton was lost at sea. “Wrecked in 1877,” says the Ship Registers (Work Projects Administration 1940, 3:l). “Lost June 12, ’77; crew and 5000 lbs. bone saved,” says Hegarty (1959, 3). “Lost in Hudson Bay June 12, 1877; value, $24,000,” says A. Howard Clark (188721, 184). Cossack. The Cossack was one of the twenty-four vessels (not all from New Bedford) that the U.S. government purchased for the first wave of the Stone Fleet, an effort of the Union Navy. She now lies at the bottom of the Savannah River. “They were all loaded with stone and filled with valves in their bottoms for sinking. The whole fleet . . . sailed [from New Bedford] on Wednesday last [Thanksgiving Day, 18611 under sealed orders. They are to be used for blockading purposes on the Southern Coast” (WSL26 November 1861). It took seventy-five hundred tons of stone to fill them, “and many a New Bedford stone wall now lies at the bottom of southern harbors” (Forbes 1955, 27). The twenty-one vessels in the second wave of the Stone Fleet, which also contained some New Bedford whalers, sailed confidently off to Charleston,

98

Chapter 3

Table 3.15

When New Bedford Whaling Vessels Were Built Number Built

1780-84 1785-89 1790-94 1795-99 1800-1 804 1805-9 I8 10-1 4 1815-19 1820-24 1825-29 1830-34 1835-39 1840-44 1845-49 1850-54 1855-59 1860-64 1865-69 1870-74 1875-79 1880-84 1885-89 1890-94 1895-99 1900-1904 1905-9

3 4 6 10 25 34 35 74 83 74 75 39 42 53 74 38

8 10 4 19 8 10 1

0 4 2

Source: Entrances Data Set (see text)

South Carolina, the next month: “By this time the first fleet of stone ships is quietly deposited in the Savannah river, and the history of the city of Savannah as a commercial emporium is terminated. Charleston harbor, by a similar process will have terminated its career as a Southern port before two weeks elapse” (WSL 10 December 1861). The average age of the New Bedford whalers that sailed on whaling voyages in 1861 was a little less than twenty-five years. The average age of the former New Bedford whalers that sailed in the Stone Fleet in 1861 was a little more than thirty-six years. “[I. H.] Bartlett [as agent for the government] purchased some of the old whalers for as small a price as thirty-one hundred and fifty dollars,” but even so the unsuccessful effort cost about $250,000 (Forbes 1955,27).

Benjamin Tuckel: In September 1862 the Benjamin Tucker was burned by a Confederate raider, perhaps in retaliation for the dispatch of the Stone Fleet.

99

Data Sets and Sources About half-past eleven [P. M.] a large sailing ship passed to windward. . . . Both ships were close-hauled on the starboard tack. . . the stranger set both her royals and flying jib. This suited the Confederate perfectly, as her best sailing was when she was on a wind. . . . When the range came down to a mile, Semmes had a blank fired to cause the fleer to heave-to. But the latter now bore away a little . . . . The Alabama therefore eased sheets also, and . . . before the pursued could get her foretopmast stuns’l set, she was at point-blank range. . . . Semmes sent his boarding officer to her with instructions that if she were the latter [a prize] he was to hoist a light as soon as he got aboard her. . . . up went a light to the stranger’s peak, and so the two vessels remained near to each other till morning. She was found to be yet another whaler, the Benjamin Tuckel; eight months out of New Bedford, with 340 barrels of oil. After her crew had been taken off and some of her stores salved such as tobacco. she was set on fire.24

Bogota. The Bogota was condemned: “At Zanzibar April 29.1843 150 Bbls Sperm Oil put in in distress having been on Shore on a Coral Reef and sustaining considerable damage. Was Condemned & Sold at Zanzibar in July 1843.”2s

Condemnation was the result of a legal proceeding, initiated by “the first officer, or any officer, and a majority of the crew,” in which the seaworthiness of a vessel was officially determined by a committee of “two disinterested, competent practical men, acquainted with maritime affairs.” If the complaint (that the vessel was “leaky, or insufficiently supplied with sails, rigging, anchors, or any other equipment, or that the crew is insufficient to man her, or that her provisions, stores, and supplies are not, or have not been, during the voyage, sufficient and wholesome”) was made in a foreign port, the proceeding took place under the authority of the U.S. consul or commercial agent, if in the United States, under the authority of the judge of the nearest district court or “some justice of the peace.” 26 If the vessel was not certified as seaworthy, it could not obtain clearance to 24. Chatterton 1926, 165-66. “The captain of the Alabama swore vengeance on New Bedford [for the Stone Fleet] and destroyed or captured every whaler he could f i n d (Forbes 1955.28). 25. Wood 1831-73, 1:7 I . The WSL describes the Bogota’s last voyage as “a series of misfortunes and hardships seldom paralleled in a single voyage.” Among other things, in the third month of the voyage the first mate was left at the Western Islands on account of ill health, in the fifth month the second mate was left at St. Catharine’s on account of ill health and the crew mutinied and were put on shore there, in the tenth month the vessel struck a coral reef, and in the eleventh month twelve of the crew died of “the African fever.” After all that, the condemnation of the vessel and necessary abandonment of the voyage may have come as a relief to Captain Nathaniel L. Fuller, whose “continued anxiety and suffering . . . under this complication of disasters of the most painful and harrassing nature, may be better imagined than described’ (WSL 28 November 1843). 26. An Act for the Government and Regulation of Seamen in the Merchants Service (1790, Stats. at Large ofUSA 1: 131-35) sets forth the condemnation procedure for vessels in U.S. waters, An Act in Addition to the Several Acts Regulating the Shipment and Discharge of Seamen, and the Duties of Consuls (1840, Stars. at Lorge of USA 5:394-97) that for U.S. vessels abroad. The quotations in the text are taken from the latter.

100

Chapter3

leave port until specified repairs had been made. Whether to make them was up to the vessel’s agent or, if the vessel was far from home, perhaps the captain. If the agent or captain decided it would be too expensive to make repairs, the vessel was sold, either to be broken up or to be repaired by the new owner.27 Galatea. According to the Ship Registers (Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:116), the Galatea was “[claptured by Portuguese in 1832.” Actually, she was captured by Portuguese in 1829. See appendix 3E. Addison. It is a contention of this study that the easy transfer of vessels from the merchant fleet to the whaling fleet and back again contributed to the success of the American industry. The Addison is an example of such transfers. She was built at Philadelphia in 1816 and served as a merchant ship for seventeen years.28 In 1833 she was sold to Fairhaven, Massachusetts, from which port she made two whaling voyages, April 1833-March 1834 and June 1834-December 1837 (Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:3; Starbuck 1878, 298, 299, 308, 309). In 1838 she was sold to New Bedford, where she continued as a whaler, making seven voyages between 1838 and 1867 (this seems to have been a continuous career; her longest intervoyage interval during this period was four On 1 I May 1867 “Bark Addison, of this port, as discharged from her last voyage, with all her whaling appurtenances, was sold at auction . . . by George A. Bourne [auctioneer, not owner], to Rodolphus Beetle, for $7,000” (WSL 14 May 1867). Beetle turned right around and sold her off in pieces, before July 3-the largest share ( 13/32) going to Lorenzo Peirce of New York, who, as a

27. The O r e s (2nd) ran into trouble on her fourth voyage, and the choice was made not to repair her: “At Isle of France April 6.1839 250 Bbls. Oil from Coast of New Holland with loss of Fore & Main Masts Sails Rigging & 2 Boats in a Hurricane. Has been condemned since in consequence of the exorbitant price asked for repairs $17.500 or more” (Wood 1831-73, 1 :85). The Hydaspe stopped at the Cocos Islands in 1862 “leaking 8000 Strokes per hour & leak increasing” (Wood 1831-73,3:131). The vessel made it as far as Talcahuano, where agents James B. Wood and Company chose not to repair her, but she wasn’t broken up: “Condemned at Talcahuano 1863 Name changed to Narcissa and went whaling from there” (Dias, “Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships,” 85). “Advices from Talcahuano . . . state that bark Hydaspe, of this port, has been condemned and sold, the ship for $2,000 and inventory for $3,500, to Mr. Marks, late of the firm of Crosby & Co. She was to be refitted for the whaling business and Capt. [Charles S.] Pope, her late master, would continue in her” (WSL 22 September 1863). Nor were the Srephania’s days over when her repair became too expensive for her agent, Jonathan Bourne Jr.: “[Plut into Sydney in distress and was condemned April, 1868; refitted, renamed Onward, and sailed under English flag” (Starbuck 1878,599). 28. The place and date of construction are given in Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:3. That the Addison spent her first seventeen years as a merchant ship is deduced from the fact that Starbuck first mentions her when she sailed on a whaling voyage from Fairhaven in 1833 (Starbuck 1878, 298). 29. Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:4. The history of the Addison’s whaling voyages from New Bedford comes from the Voyages Data Set.

101

Data Sets and Sources

resident of New Bedford, had owned 11/32 of the bark during her 1860-67 voyage.30 Peirce registered the Addison at New York for two more whaling voyages, July 1867-October 1868 and April 1869-April 1870, for which he acted as her agent (Starbuck 1878,624,625,634,635).At the end of the latter, he returned to New Bedford, where, still as agent but now as three-quarters owner, he sent the Addison out on her last whaling voyage (May 1870-April 1874).31 Within a month of her return the Addison was sold, eventually to owners in Boston who turned her back into a freighter.32This proved to be unfortunate: the bark was “lost on Fayal, freighting, 1875” (Work Projects Administration 1940, 3:7; Starbuck 1878, 635). In the Exits Data Set, however, the Addison is coded not as “lost at sea” but as “sold to another port and/or left whaling,” since when she left the New Bedford fleet she left both New Bedford and the whaling business. In describing sources of the Voyages and Captains and Agents data sets, we mentioned the transcribed New Bedford ship registers. The registers are the fundamental source for the Owners Data Set, which consists of 6,387 records-one for each owner during each registration period of each New Bedford vessel whose name begins with an A, B, C,or D. Appendix 3F transcribes the Ship Registers records for the Abigail, and table 3.16 reproduces the Abigail’s records in the Owners Data Set. The variables BMONTH and BYR record the beginning date of the registration period, EMONTH and EYR, the ending date (i.e., the beginning date of the succeeding period). By comparing registration records to voyage records ( e g , table 3.4), one can see that registration dates usually correspond to voyage beginning dates or to voyage ending dates. Table 3.17 compares such dates for the AbigaiZ. When a registration period corresponds to a voyage period, the variable WHO flags the voyage’s captain and agent(s), given that they were also owners. 30. Work Projects Administration 1940, 3:7,2:4. In the New Bedford City Directories of 185974, Rudolphus Beetle is listed as a sparmarker, in business through 1868 with William Beetle, who seems to have been his father. William retired ca. 1869 and died ca. 1872. 31. Work Projects Administration 1940, 3:7; Voyages Data Set. Although Lorenzo Peirce is identified in the Ship Regisrers as living in New Bedford in 1860, living in New York in 1867, and living in New Bedford again in 1870, he is listed in the New Bedford City Directories continuously during this period: “Peirce Lorenzo, cooper, City Wharf, h. 66 Third’’ (1859); “Peirce, Lorenzo oil merchant, h. 54 Fifth” (1865); “Peirce Lorenzo (Hadley & Peirce), oil manufacturer, Willis’ Point, house 54 Fifth” (1867-68); “Peirce Lorenzo, merchant, house 54 Fifth” (1 869-70); “Peirce Lorenzo, merchant, house 54 Fifth’ (1871-72). In the directory of 1873-74 there is no listing for Lorenzo Peirce. 32. “Bark Addison. . . has been purchased, exclusive of her whaling inventory, by Capt. William Lewis, of this city, for $8,000. She is to be employed in the merchant service” (WSLS May 1874). “ADDISON . . . Bark, of Boston. Re-registered May 8, 1874-temporary. Master: Joseph A. Dias. Owners: John Medina 112, Boston; Antonio Medina 1/2, Worcester” (Work Projects Administration 1940, 3:7). “Bark Addison, (formerly whaler of this port,) is to be run as a regular packet to Fayal and the rest of the Azores, by Medina Brothers, of Boston. She has been fitted up in handsome style for cabin passengers, and will sail from Boston August 1st” (WSL28 July 1874).

Owners Data Set Records for the Abigail

Table 3.16

~

BMONTH

BYR

EMONTH

EYR

1 1 7 1 7

1821 1821 1821 1821 1821

I1 I1

I1

1823 1823 1823 1823 1823

David Dennis Elisha Andrew Benjamin

Coffin Covell Dunbar Robeson Rodman

11 11 11 11

1823 1823 1823 1823

12 12 12 12

1825 1825 1825 I825

David Elisha Andrew Benjamin

Coffin Dunbar Robeson Rodman

12 12 12 12

1825 1825 1825 1825

11

I1 I1 I1

1831 1831 1831 1831

David Elisha Charles W. Benjamin

Coffin Dunbar Morgan Rodman

11 11 11 11 11

1831 1831 1831 1831 1831

6 6 6 6 6

1835 1835 1835 1835 1835

Benjamin David Elisha Charles W. Benjamin

Clark Coffin Dunbar Morgan Rodman

6 6

1835 1835 1835 1835 1835

10 10 10 10 10

1835 1835 1835 1835 1835

Benjamin David Elisha Charles W. William R.

1835 1835 1835 1835

4 4

1839 1839 I839 1839

David Benjamin David Charles W.

6

6 6 10 10 10

10

11 11

4

4

OWNERF

OWNEFX

WHO

OCClb

RESC

RESS

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

10 12

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

21 82 10 10 10

New New New New New

Bedford Bedford Bedford Bedford Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA

Clark Coffin Dunbar Morgan Rodman

21 82 10

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA

Brayton Clark Coffin Morgan

43 21 82

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

-

C

21 -

A

12

-

A C

A

10

10

A

10

OCCZb

PCTN

PCTD

10 10 10 10

1835 1835 1835 1835

4 4 4 4

1839 1839 1839 1839

William Hathaway William R. Stephen George B.

Reynard Rodman Taber Worth

C

21 10 51 10

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

11 11 11 11 11 11 11 I1

10 10 10 10 10 10 10

1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847

David C. David Charles W. Samuel Griffitts John E William G. E. William Hathaway Stephen William George B., Heirs of

Bamard Brayton Morgan Morgan Pope Pope Reynard Taber Wister Worth

C

21 10 10 10 13 10 21 51 -

11

1843 1843 1843 1843 1843 1843 1843 1843 1843 1843

Nantucket New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford Germantown New Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA PA MA

10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10 10

1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 1847 I847

5

5 5

1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852

David C. David Thomas Dawes Charles W. Samuel Griffitts John E Thomas Jr. William G. E. William Hathaway Stephen George B., Heirs of

Bamard Brayton Eliot Morgan Morgan Pope Pope Pope Reynard Taber worth

Nantucket New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA

5

1852 1852 1852 1852

8 8 8 8

1852 1852 1852 1852

David, Estate of Thomas Dawes Charles W. Thomas Jr.

Brayton Eliot Morgan Pope

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

11

5 5 5 (continuedJ

10 10

10

5 5 5

5 5 5

5 5

A

10 -

A2

A1

10 7 10 10 13 11 10 21 51 10 10

7 10 84

Table 3.16 BMONTH

(continued) BYR

EMONTH

EYR

~

OWNERF

OWNERL

WHO"

OCClh

OCC2h

PCTN

PCTD

RESC

RESS

10 10 42 922

-

3

-

1

-

1 2 2 1

16 16 16 16 16 16

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford Philadelphia New Bedford

MA MA MA MA PA MA

1 1 2 2 1 6 1 2

16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford Philadelphia

MA MA MA MA MA MA MA PA

1 1 2 4

I I

16 16 16 16 16 16

New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA MA MA

4 4 3 1

12 12 12 12

New Bedford Sandwich New Bedford New Bedford

MA MA MA MA

~

5 5 5 5 5 5

1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852

8 8 8 8 8 8

1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852

William G. E. William Hathaway Alden G. Stephen William George B., Estate of

Pope Reynard Snell Taber Wister Worth

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1852

4 4 4 4 4 4 4 4

1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856

Francis D. Thomas Dawes Jonathan P. Charles W. Thomas Jr. William G. E. Alden G. William

Drew Eliot Lund Morgan Pope Pope Snell Wister

4 4 4 4 4 4

1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856

7

I I I

1862 1862 1862 1862 1862 1862

Francis D. Thomas Dawes Jonathan P. Charles W. Thomas Jr. William G. E.

Drew Eliot Lund Morgan Pope Pope

I I I I

1862 1862 1862 1862

5 5 5 5

1865 1865 1865 1865

Oliver & George 0. Ebenezer F. Loum Pardon

Crocker & Crocker NYe Snow Tillinghast

7

7

C

-

-

10

-

21

1 46 I

A

-

10 84 10 42

-

21

-

1

C A

-

-

-

46 1 10 84 10

-

40 -

10

-

21

-

10 10

-

-

~

Source: Work Projects Administration 1940. The registration records underlying the table are transcribed in appendix 3F. "C = captain; A = agent; A1 = first agent (of two); A2 = second agent (of two). bSee appendix 3G to interpret the occupational codes.

105

Data Sets and Sources

Table 3.17

Registration and Voyage Dates for the Abigail

Registered Registered Registered

Registered Registered Registered

Registered Registered Registered Registered Registered

Registered

Month

Year

7 9 11 12 12 5 6

1821 1823 1823 1825 1828 1829 1831 1831 1835 1835 1838 1839 1839 1843 1843 1847 1847 1852 1852 1856 1856 1860 1862 1865

11

6 10 10 4 I 4 11 7 10 5 8 4 8 8 7 5

sailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed returnedsailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed returned sailed lost

Source: Adapted from table 3.4 and appendix 3F.

Appendix 3G lists our codes for the variables OCCl and OCC2 (the data set also contains OCC3, but no Abigail owner had a third occupation that we’ve discovered). Occupations were derived largely from individual and corporate entries and advertisements in the New Bedford City Dir e~ tor ies.This ~ ~ is why occupation codes are relatively scarce in records before 1836, the year in which the first directory was published. When codes are present in the earlier years, 33. The full title of the directory published in 1841 is The New-Bedford Directory, Conraining the Names of the Inhabitants, Their Occupations, Places of Business and Dwelling Houses, and the Town Registec with Lists of the Streets and Wharves, the Town OfJicers, Public Ofices and Banks, Churches and Ministers, Physicians and Surgeons, and Other Useful Information; to Which Is Added a List of Vessels Employed in the Whale Fishery, Belonging to the United Slates. The “Town Register” begins by informing the reader that “John Qler, of Virginia” is “President U. States” and makes a salary of $25,000.The list of town officers includes four fence-viewers (Jonathan Potter, Isaiah Wilcox, William Howland 11, and Daniel Ripley) and an inspector of coal baskets (George W. Shearman). Fence-viewer William Howland I1 was also the health officer and the superintendent for lighting the streets. George W. Shearman was also a field driver. Charles W. Morgan was a member of the board of directors of the Bedford Commercial Bank (incorporated 9 February 1816, capital $400,000). a trustee of the New-Bedford Institution for Savings, the owner of a candle house (manufacturing), a member of the board of managers of the New-Bedford Temperance Society, and the managing owner of 10 of the 301 whaling vessels listed as registered in New Bedford as of October 1841.

106

Chapter 3

it is either because we extrapolated occupations from later years or because we identified the owner-captain of a voyage as OCCl = 21 (master mariner) or the owner-agent as OCCl = 12 (whaling agent). For example, in the registration record dated December 1825, Charles W. Morgan has an OCCl value of 10 (merchant; trader; auctioneer and commission merchant). His entry in the 1836 city directory reads, “Morgan Charles W. merchant, counting room Rotch’s wharf, house 149 County head of William,” which yields the occupation code 10 in subsequent registration records (1843 et. ~ e q . )But , ~ a~Charles W. Morgan was a part owner of the Abigail also in records dated 1825, 1831, and 1835. We made two assumptions: (1) that the Charles W. Morgan who first invested in the Abigail in 1821 was the same Charles W. Morgan who invested in 1831, 1835, and 1843; (2) that if he wasn’t a merchant, a trader, or an auctioneer and commission merchant in 1821, he was at least a proto-merchant, and his OCCl value might better be coded 10 than left missing. Some owners in the data set (severely truncated, remember, because it refers only to the first 192 vessels in the alphabet) have one or two ownership registration records. Some have hundreds. Charles W. Morgan has forty-two, beginning in December 1823 and ending in September 1856: Abigail nine, Agate three, Alfred three, Benezet two, Charles one, Charles M? Morgan five, Charleston Packet one, Clarice three, and Condor fifteen. Entries in the first volume of the Ship Registers (covering the years 17961850) do not indicate the sizes of owners’ holdings. Thereafter, ownership fractions are reported, and we have recorded them as PCTN and PCTD (percent numerator and percent denominator). The most common denominator is 32, the second most common, 16, the third, 64-that is, it was common to divide the ownership of a vessel up into thirty-seconds, sixteenths, or sixty-fourths. In addition to the Captains and Agents Data Set, described above, which has one record per voyage, information about agents is recorded in the Agents’ Occupations Data Set, which has one record per occupation recorded in a city directory (1836, 1845, 1856, 1867, 1875). Men who agented whaling vessels are never described as whaling agents in the directories (see appendix 3G). Instead they are described as merchants (in 73.7 percent of the records), dealers in iron (Alfred Gibbs and Company in 1836 and the firm of William G. E. Pope and S. Griffitts Morgan in 1845), merchant tailors (in 4.6 percent of the records), accountants (Caleb G. Gilbert in 1836, Thomas Wilcox in 1845, William R. Rotch and Company in 1836, and William T. Smith in 1867), booksellers (Charles Taber in 1856), provision merchants (in 7.7 percent of the records), sailmakers (Charles Hitch in 1845, Charles Hitch and Son in 1856 and 1867, the firm of John H. Chapman and Josiah S. Bonney in 1856, and Joshua 34. In the 1838, 1839, 1845, 1852, 1856, and 1859 directories also, Charles W. Morgan is a “merchant.” The 1865 directory has the entry “Morgan Sarah widow, h. 142 County.” By 1867 the directory’s compilers had figured out Sarah Morgan’s address (“Morgan Sarah, widow of Charles W. house 149 County”). She continues to be listed as Charles’s widow through 1887.

107

Data Sets and Sources

C. Hitch in 1875), and so on. The only agenting firm that appears in all five sampled directories is that of Jonathan Bourne Jr. Six firms appear in four directories. Occupations are coded also in the Tax List Data Set, built from the New Bedford property tax list printed in the Whalemen’sShipping List on 28 August 1855. (The codes are the same as those used for the Owners Data Set [appendix 3G] and were assigned with the aid of the 1856 city directory, entries in which report residents’ occupations.) The Tax List Data Set contains 477 records, one for each taxpayer listed in the newspaper (only those who paid at least $50 in tax-on property of $6,849-were supposed to be listed). The property tax assessments of businesses are included in the newspaper’s list, but businesses have been omitted from the data set. Instead, business property has been attributed in equal shares to business partners (see chapter 10). Among the individuals are forty-three women and fifteen estates. In addition to the variables OCCl and OCC2, the Tax List Data Set contains taxpayers’ names, genders, and property amounts. The largest property, $63 1,700, was held by the estate of prominent whaling agent John Avery Parker.35The next largest were James Arnold (agent), $544,500; Edward Mott Robinson (agent), $464,600; the estate of William Rodman (agent), $462,400; Sylvia Ann Howland (daughter and heir of Gideon Howland, agent), $342,600. The poorest listed taxpayer (even the poorest wasn’t poor) was William Maxfield, a housewright, with property worth $6,200, the second poorest, Benjamin Almy, a cooper, with property worth $6,500. Charles W. Morgan, the merchant and agent (and our specimen shipowner), was the eighth wealthiest New Bedford taxpayer in 1855. Two other data sets made for the present effort are described elsewhere: the Hunting Pressure Data Set in appendix 8A and the Competition Data Set in appendix 8B.

Appendix 3A Destinations of New Bedford Whaling Voyages A voyage’s hunting ground is one of the pieces of information given by every standard source. Joseph Dias (“Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships”) heads a column “Where,” Alexander Starbuck (1878), “Whaling ground,” the 35. Parker had died on 30 December 1853 after a short illness, at the age of eighty-four. He was said to be worth $1,200,000. As the WSL ( 3 January 1854) commented, he “was the last of the richest rich men of New Bedford.” In 1861 his son, Frederick Parker, the Son of the whaling agency John Avery Parker and Son, died at age fifty-five: “[Hle drank at dinner some cider from a bottle, which it was discovered had at one time contained poison, and from which his death resulted’’ (WSL 29 October 1861).

108

Chapter 3

Whalemen’s Shipping List, “Bound,” Reginald Hegarty (1959), “Where Bound”; Dennis Wood’s entries (1831-73) begin “Sailed . . . for the Pacific Ocean . . . for the Indian Ocean . . . for the Ind. & Pacific . . . for the 1.0. & N.W. Coast.” We have generally taken ground from the listing in which we first encountered the voyage; cross-checking among contemporary sources revealed a remarkable consistency. Where did our sources get the information? Dias seems to have taken it directly from Starbuck for the period Starbuck covers (1791-1876). Starbuck doesn’t say where he got it, although he refers moodily to “newspapers, which . . . pass from the possession of the very few who, when living, treasured them, and fall into the hands of those who value them at so many cents per pound,” and to customs records, destroyed by the British during the Revolutionary War and later by fire, mildew, and decay (1878, 1). Philip F. Purrington, who edited Hegarty’s continuation of Starbuck, says in his “Postscript,” “[Tlhe work has relied mainly on files of The New Bedford Whalemen’sShipping List” (Hegarty 1959,52). The WSL (1843-1914) published a weekly report of the disposition of the U.S. fleet and seems to have drawn its information on destinations from the whalemen’s shipping paper filed with the collector of the customs of the district when a vessel left on a whaling voyage. What was a hunting ground, as reported by Dias, Starbuck, et al.? In some cases, for short voyages, it seems to have been the actual, relatively small area in which the vessel intended to hunt for whales-for example, the Crozet Islands, south of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean, or the Bahamas, in the Atlantic. In most cases it was a more general designation: North West Coast, South Atlantic. We have grouped the more specific grounds within the more general, in order to carry out interground analyses, as follows: Atlantic3? Africa, Atlantic, Bahamas, Brazil, Cape Horn, Cape Verde Islands, Cumberland Inlet, Davis Strait, Grand Banks, Guinea, Hudson Bay, North Indies, Patagonia, South Atlantic, South Coast, St. Helena, Tristan, West Indies, Western Islands, Woolwich Bay. Indian: Cape of Good Hope, Crozet Islands, Delagoa Bay, Desolation Island, East Coast of Africa, Indian Ocean, Sooloo Island. Pac$c: Chile, Japan, Japan and Okhotsk, Mexico, New Holland (Australia), New Zealand, North Pacific, North West Coast, North West Coast and Pacific, Okhotsk Sea, Pacific, Peru, South Pacific, South Seas. Western Arctic: Arctic, Bering Strait. Mixed Grounds (voyages to mixed grounds are omitted from ground-related analyses): Atlantic and Indian, Atlantic and Pacific, Indian and New Zealand, Indian and North West Coast, Indian and Pacific, Pacific and Arctic, South Atlantic and Indian. 36. In some of our comparisons among grounds, Cumberland Inlet, Davis Strait, and Hudson Bay are grouped as Eastern Arctic and distinguished from other Atlantic grounds.

109

Data Sets and Sources

Appendix 3B The Voyages of the Abigail as Described in the Dennis Wood Manuscript Each of the four main volumes of the Wood abstracts (1831-73) covers a different span of years. Within a volume, abstracts are organized more or less alphabetically by vessel name. Following are transcriptions of the abstracts for voyages of the Abigail. Ship Abigail of New Bedford Chs. W. Morgan 3 10 Tons Clark Muster Sailed Novm. 24.1831 for the Pacific Ocean. Arrived June 12.1835 & Turned out 2254 Bbls Sperm Oil in 42 mo 19 days. Wm H. Reynard Master Sailed Octr 24.1835 for the Pacific Ocean. Reported on Off Shore Grounds Sept. 10.1836 450 Bbls. Spoke on off shore Ground 12 mo. out 600. At Gallipagos Islands Jany 23.1837 850. Spoke Mar. 4 900. At Mowee May 23 1000. Sailed from Oahu Novmr 5 1900 on a Cruise. Reported by a letter from the Captain dated Panama Banks Feby 8.1838 2300. Heard from no date 2500 Wanting 100 to fill. Arrived October 26.1838 with 2400 Bbls Sperm Oil in 36 mo. & 2 days. Turned out 2577 Bbls Sperm & 9 Blackfish Oil. James V Cox Master Sailed April 2.1839 for the Pacific Ocean. Returned July 6.1839 Leaky having Landed 60 Bbls Sperm Oil at the Western Islands on her passage out. Absent 3 mo. 4 days. Cox Master Sailed July 28.1839 for the Pacific Ocean. At Fayal Augst 19 no Oil. Spoke off Cape Horn 93 days out no Oil. Sailed from Payta Jany 30.1840 180 Bbls Sp. Oil. Spoke on Off Shore Ground Feby 25 200. A letter from the Capt. reports her at Maui May 11 300 for Japan in a few days. Sailed from Oahu Octr 30 600. At Maui April 28.1841 750. Sailed from Honolulu May 11 oil not stated. A letter reports her at Oahu Novmr 20 1200 & Sailed 27th on a cruise. Reported at Kings Mill Group Jany 28.1842 1250 Sp. At Oahu Octr 1 leaking bad would have to heave out & Strip her bottom & Cork. At Oahu Octr 31 1600 had hove out calked & Sheathed was loading for home. At ditto Nov. 3 1600 ready for home in good order. Arrived April 6.1843 with 1500 Bbls Sperm Oil in 44 months 8 days. Turned out 1640 Bbls oil. Barnard Master Sailed November 27.1843 for the Pacific. Spoke March 4 Lat. 57.17 S. Long. 69.56 W. 10 Bbls Sp Oil. Spoke April 6 off Massa [?I clean. Reported at Santa May 24 1844 70 Sp. A letter reports her at Paita Octr 15 450 Sp. Spoke off Shore Decmr 4 400. At Marquesas Islands April 25.1845 750 Sp. Spoke April 26 Long. 128 W. 900 Sp. At Paita Sept 24 850. A letter reports her at Paita Octr 12 850 Sp. Heard from on the Line Long. 80 W. Novmr 21 950 Sp. At Maui April 9.1846 1000 Sp. for N.W. Coast. At San Francisco Augt 10 1100 Sp. 300 Wh. Off Juan Fernandes Feby 19.1847 1400 Wh. 300 Sp.

110

Chapter 3

[sic] At Talcahuana April 8 1400 Sp. 300 Wh. At ditto April 9. At ditto April

19. Spoke May 2 Lat. 40.10 S. Long. 82.10 W. 1500 Sp. 300 Wh. Arrived July 26.1847 with 1400 Bbls Sp. 250 Bbls. Whale Oil 2000 # Bone in 43 months & 29 days. Turned out 1564 Bbls Sp. 3 10 Bbls Whale Oil 2600 # W. Bone. (1: 1) Ship Abigail of New Bedford C. W. Morgan 3 10 Young Master Sailed October 27.1847 for the Pacific. A letter reports her off Cape de Verd Islands Decmr 25 clean. Off Juan Fernandes Feby 24.1848 clean. At Maui April 29 60 Bbls Sp. Oil. At Oahu Nov. 7 from Japan 150 Sp. Spoke on Japan June 15.1849 500 Sp. At Maui Novmr 12 500 Sp. At Guam Mch 12 450 Bbls. At Hilo Sept 17 no oil this season. At Lahaina Sept 30. A letter reports her at Honolulu Nov 1 625 Sp. had Shipped 200 Bbls per Canada for N.B. and would fit for Arctic Seas. Cld Nov. 1 to cruise. At Hong Kong Feby 7.1851 400 Bbls. Sp. Spoke Aug 6 40 Wh. At Honolulu Octr 19 400 Sp. Cld at do Dec. 13 for home. Arrived May 29.1852 with 350 Bbls Sperm 40 Bbls Whale Oil & 1000 # Bone in 55 Months & 2 Days. also 1148 Bbls Wh oil and 57.865 # Bone on freight. Turned out 381 Bbls Sperm 39 Bbls Whale & 1300 Lbs Bone. Drew Muster Sailed Augst 24.1852 for the Indian Ocean. At Fayal Sept 18 Clean. Off Port0 Brava Octr 11 clean. At Swan River N.H. Jany 15.1853 Clean. At Mongamu Mch 6. Ar at Honolulu Octr 9 full 30 sp 2200 wh 35000 # Bone fm Ochotsk Cld at do Dec. 19 to cruise having shipped Oil & Bone. Ar at Hilo Feby 20. Spoke in Ochotsk Sea prev to July 3 8 Whs. Spoke in do July 26 18 Whs. Ar at Honolulu Octr 27 1950 Wh 5800 Lbs Bone. Cleared from ditto Jany 16.1855 to cruise. Tuber Mustel; At Guam Mch 7 60 Sp this cruise. Hrd fm July 1 in Ochotsk Sea 8 whs this season. Another report says 11 whales same date. Ar at Lahaina Octr 25 1200 Bbls. A letter reports her at ditto Octr 27 1300 Wh 18000 Lbs Bone this season. Cld at do Nov. 13 cruise & home. Sld fm Whytootack [?I Dec 11 no oil this cruise for N.Z. Spoke Mar. 30.1856 on the Line Long. 37 W. 260 Sp this cruise. Arrived April 28.1856 with 300 Bbls Sperm & 1250 Bbls Whale Oil 21.000 # Whale Bone on board. Sent home on the Voyage 29 Bbls Sperm 3900 Bbls Whale Oil & 60.500 # Whale Bone in 44 Months & 4 days. Turned Out 296 Bbls Sperm, 1309 Bbls Whale Oil & 21 .OOO Lbs Whale Bone. (2: 1) Ship Abagail [sic]of New Bedford Wm. G. E. Pope 3 10 Rufus F: Smith Master Sailed Augst 25.1856 for the Pacific Ocean. Spoke Augst 28 Lat. 39 N. Long. 69 W. clean. At Fayal Sept. 27 10 Sp. Spoke Nov. 28 Lat. 34 S. Long. 10 E. 10 Sp. Hrd fm off Desolation Feby 5.1857 3 Whs. Spoke Mch 2 no lat &c. 280 Wh. At Tulear [?I Bay Madagascar Apl 13 300 Bbls. Off Port Dauphin May 16 10 Sp. 300 Wh. Spoke July 26 Lat. 30.47 S. Long. 40.03 E. 255 Bbls on brd. At Augustine Bay Sept. 17 100 Sp. 390 Wh. shipped per “Massasoit” 1600 # Bone. Sld fm do Octr 1 to cruise. Spoke Nov. 28 Lat. 37 S. Long. 11.30 E. 300 Wh. Spoke Jany 23.1858 no lat &c. 1 Wh.

111

Data Sets and Sources

Spoke on Desolation no date 320 Wh. Ar at Freemantle [?I prior to Apl 12 400 Bbls & Sld. Reported April 15 nothing this cruise. Spoke Sept. 20 off Rosemary Is. 230 Sp. 670 Wh & cutting. A letter reports her at Anjier Octr 30 230 Sp. 670 Wh. At Freemantle Feby 10.1859 470 Sp. 670 Wh. At do Mch 5. A letter reports her at Anjier Sept. 22 520 Sp. 680 Wh. Sld fm Mauritius Octr 22 520 Sp. 700 Wh. Spoke off Port Dauphin Dec. 14 no oil this cruise. Spoke Feby 25.1860 no oil this season. At St. Helena June 13 500 Sp. 700 Wh. Sld fm do June 23. Arrived Aug. 18 1860 with 500 Bbls Sperm 600 Bbls Whale Oil & 800 # Bone in 47 Months & 23 Days. Turned out 504 Bbls Sperm 703 Bbls Whale Oil & 600 # Bone. Sold to Loum Snow June 28.1862 for $6500. (3:l) Ship Abigail of New Bedford Loum Snow 310 Ebenezer F: Nye Master Sailed July 30.1862 for the North Pacific. At Fayal Sept. 15 45 Bbls Sperm Oil Shipped per Acasa. At Falkland Islands Novmr 23rd. A letter from Capt. Nye reports her at Paita Feby 8.1863 50 Sp. 3 Rt. Whales (about 300 Bbls Wh & B. Fish) bound off shore Kings Mill & Ochotsk. A letter reports her at Bakers Island April 28 275 Sp. 258 Whale all told. At San Francisco Octr 2 230 Sp 1300 Wh Bone. had shipped Bbls sperm & Bbls Whale Oil # Whale Bone [sic].A letter from Capt. Nye reports her off Cape St. Lucas Novm 19 104 Sp. since leaving San Francisco. A letter from Capt. Nye reports her at Sea Jany 24.1864 Lat. 11S O S. Long. 116 W. 120 Sp. this cruise. A letter from Capt. Nye reports her at Ascencion [sic] Island April 2 550 Sp. 1350 Whale all told. At Yokohama Japan May 3rd. Sailed from ditto May 8 for Arctic. At San Francisco Octr 19 from Arctic 300 Wh. Oil & Bone [sic] the Season. Sailed from ditto Novmr 19 to cruise. At Kanagawa April 26.1865. 20 Sp. since leaving San Francisco. A letter from Capt. Nye reports her at Yokohama April 24. 18 Sp. last cruise. Burnt by the English Rebel Pirate Shenandoah in the Ochotsk Sea in June 1865. (4: 1)

Appendix 3C Crew Lists for the Abigail @om the Whalemen’s Shipping List The crew lists printed in the WSL (beginning in 1852) were supposed to be transcriptions of official documents, but modest differences sometimes appeared. The following lists for voyages of the Abigail were printed in 1852, 1856, and 1862. Notice that, while most crewmen were drawn from New England and the Middle Atlantic states, a few came from as far away as Ohio, Wisconsin, and Texas.

112

Chapter 3

Ship Abigail, Capt. Francis D. Drew, of New Bedford, sailed from this port Aug 24th, 1852, for the Indian and N Pacific Oceans. The following persons compose her crew: Milton Fish, of Galveston, Texas, mate; John C. Gifford, of Falmouth, Mass., 2d mate; John R. Smith, of Hempstead, N.Y., 3d mate; Arthur Patterson, of Hollis, Me., Michael Murray, of Dorset, Vt. and John B. Sherman, of Falmouth, Mass., boatsteerers; Albion P. Sutherland, Topsham, Me., cooper; Carlton Blagden, Emden, Me.; James H. Hervey, Canaan, Me.; Amos Delong, Westford, N.Y.; Charles Keyser, Philadelphia, Pa.; Mahlon Erdman, Doylestown, Pa.; John Hacker, Honesdale, Pa.; Kepler Keith, Augusta, Me.; George Palmer, Billerica, Mass.; Elisha B. Bradley, Binghampton, N.Y.; George P. Morgan, Penysburgh, Ohio; Joseph Ball, Canton, Md.; Richard Contant, Eisopus, N.Y.; Francis Harrington, Boston, Mass.; Thomas Brown, Farmington, N.Y.; D. 0. Foster, Monson, Mass.; Shaik Jaffir; John H. DeGrace; Merimac Antone; James Hyatt; John Race, James Short and Lawrence Brady, residences unknown, seamen. Ship Abigail, of New Bedford, Capt. Rufus N. Smith, sailed from this port August 25th, 1856, for the North Pacific Ocean. The following persons compose her crew: Jessie A. Warner, of Chester, Mass., mate; James Stowes, 2nd mate; Robert Bailey, of Albany, N.Y., 3d mate; Manuel Lewis; Saml. F. Care, of Franklin, N.Y.; Frederick Syckle, of Schuylkill Haven; T. W. Dorubrash, boatsteerers; Rufus I. Archer, of Salem, Mass., cooper and ship keeper; Hubert Rock, Brandon, Vt.; Alfred Catee, New York city; Rich’d. C. D. Lacy, Baltimore, Md.; Thomas Dunn, Skaneateles, N.Y.; Job M. Briggs, Wareham; James H. Buck, Fort Edward, N.Y.; Wm. H. Harrington, New York city; James Snuggs, Boston, Mass.; William Albertson, Philadelphia; John Albertson, do; John Gibron, Burlington, Vt.; John Anderson, New York city; William H. Eaton, Springfield, Mass.; William H. Blissard, Danbury, Conn.; Daniel Barton, Abington, Mass.; H. L. Sexton, Cleveland, Ohio; Charles Donly, Madison, N.Y.; Paul Jones, Scruple, N.Y.; John Paty, Sabino Jacinto Matthews and Joseph Thomas, residences unknown, seamen. Ship Abigail, Capt. Ebenezer F. Nye, sailed from this port July 3 lst, 1862, for the North Pacific Ocean. The following persons compose her crew: James T. Taber, of Fairhaven, first mate; Milton Lee, of Southampton, N.Y., second mate; Albert Williams, of New Bedford, third mate; Edward T. Taber, of Fairhaven, James R. Lee, of Southampton, N.Y., James C. Johnson, of Adrian, Wis., and Thomas George, boatsteerers; William Burnet:, of New York, cooper; Joseph Francis, steward; James Saunders, of Boston, cook; Samuel C. Hunt, New York, Alfred Rhines, Bath, N.J., Edward M. Davis, Philadelphia, John Hare, Chilmark, William Bennet, Rochester, Rowland Williams, Al-

113

Data Sets and Sources

bany, George M. Staples, New York, James Baxter, Hudson, Charles Penney, Pittsburgh, Joseph Shoren, Steventen Falls, William H. Laire, Savannah, Ga., John C. Knights, Lincoln, Mass., John A. Keys, Swansey, N.H., Aaron C. Bryant, New Bedford, George Stell, Rochester, N.Y., William Watson, Dick Kanaka, and Jose Gracia, seamen.

Appendix 3D Where New Bedford Whalers Were Built Table 3D. 1 lists the towns and cities where New Bedford whaling vessels were built, whether as whalers or as merchantmen, in conjunction with the towns and cities that were home ports for whalers during the nineteenth century. Table 3D.1

Birthplaces of New Bedford Whaling Vessels, and Home Ports of American Whaling Voyages That Sailed in the Nineteenth Century New Bedford Vessels Number

%

Nineteenth-Century Voyages Number

%

A: By State and City California San Francisco Connecticut Bridgeport Chatham Derby East Haddam East Lyme Glastonbury Groton Guilford Haddam Hartford Killingworth Madison Middleton Middletown Mystic New Haven New London Norwich (continued)

688 23

3

2 1 5 1 1 1 1

2 1

2 1

2

105 4

869 3

6.0

Table 3D.1

(continued)

New Bedford Vessels Number Saybrook Southport Stonington Stratford Wethersfield Unknown Total Delaware Wilmington Florida Gowes Bluff Georgia St. Simons Maine Addison Bath Belfast Blue Hill Boothbay Brunswick Bucksport Calais Camden Castine Columbia Columbia Falls Cumberland Damariscotta East Machias Eastport Falmouth Frankfort Franklin Freeport Georgetown Hallowell Hampden Hancock Kennebunk Lubec Newcastle Nobleboro Orland Orrington Phippsburg Pittston

%

Nineteenth-Century Voyages Number

96

2 1

4 1

171

1 1

31

5.1

1

0.1

1

0.I

1

31 1 1

3 1

1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

3 6 1

2 2 1 1 1

2 4 1 4 3 1

I I 3

1,180

10.3

13

0.1

Table 3D.1

(continued)

New Bedford Vessels Number Portland Richmond Robbinston Sac0 Scarborough Searsport South Berwick Thomaston Waldoboro Wells Westbrook Wiscasset Total Maryland Baltimore Cambridge Worcester County Total Massachusetts Amesbury Barnstable Berkley Beverly Boston Braintree Charlestown Chelsea Chilmark Cohasset Dartmouth Dighton Dixbury Dorchester Duxbury Edgartown Essex Fairhaven Fall River Falmouth Freetown Gloucester Hanover Haverhill Holmes Hole

(continued)

%

4 1 3 1 1 3 1

Nineteenth-Century Voyages Number

%

2

2 1 1

1 3 105

14.2

17 2 1 20

2.7

2 5

4

2 1

19

1

33 133

1 5 2 1

3 28 2 1 1

18

67

8 1

182 17 36 1 8 2 2 4 6

540 61 54

3 5

36

0.0

Table 3D.1

(continued) Nineteenth-Century Voyages

New Bedford Vessels Number Kingston Lynn Marblehead Marshfield Mattapoisett Medford Milton Nantucket New Bedford Newbury Newburyport North River Orleans Pembroke Plymouth Portsmouth Provincetown Quincy Rochester Salem Salisbury Sandwich Scarborough Scituate Sippican Somerset South Scituate Swansea Taunton Tisbury Troy Truro Wareham Well fleet Wellington Westport Weymouth Yarmouth Total New Hampshire Durham Exeter Newmarket Portsmouth Total

96

Number

%

7 35 2

1

1 8 21 3

126

1,312 4,094

70 15 10 1

16 29

3 4 1

44 906 1 78 84

4 75 10 5

1

13

1 13 1

99 9

4 1 6 1

2 2 4 28 2

7 1 1 14 2 457

28 1

62.8

2 8,292

72.4

1.2

12 12

0.1

3 1 2 3

9

Table 3D.1

(continued)

New Bedford Vessels Number New Jersey Newark New Brunswick Perth Amboy Total New York Athens Brookhaven Cold Spring Greenport Hudson Newburgh New Suffolk New York Port Jefferson Poughkeepsie Queens County Sag Harbor Total North Carolina Beaufort Craven County Edenton Wilmington Unknown Total Pennsylvania Kensington Philadelphia Total Rhode Island Bristol Greenwich Newport North Kingston Portsmouth Providence Tiverton Warren Total South Carolina Charleston Virginia Mathews County Grand total (continued)

%

Nineteenth-Century Voyages Number

%

5 1 1 2

0.3

1 6

0.1

I 2 38 93 48 10 9 70

48 2

19 1 1 55

7.5

583 870

7.6

1 1 1

1 1 4

0.5

1

0.0

3 20 23

3.2

2 2

0.0

3

81

2

4 88

1

I 33

2 1

1

3 12

1.6

178 3 86

3.4

2

0.3

11,455

100.0

2

0.3

730

100.0

Table 3D.1

(continued)

New Bedford Vessels Number

%

Nineteenth-Century Voyages Number

%

B. In Descending Order of Numbers of Vessels Built Rochester, MA New Bedford, MA New York, NY Fairhaven, MA Bath, ME Dartmouth, MA Medford, MA Philadelphia, PA Boston, MA Duxbury, MA Essex, MA Baltimore, MD Newbury, MA Westport, MA Scituate, MA Newburyport, MA Salem, MA Total

75 70 48 36 31 28 21 20 19 18 17 17 15 14 13 10 10

10.3 9.6 6.6 4.9 4.2 3.8 2.9 2.7 2.6 2.5 2.3 2.3 2.1 I .9 I .8 I .4 1.4 63.3

78 4,094 70 540

0.7 35.7 0.6 4.7

67

0.6

2 133 1

0.0 1.2 0.0

28 1

2.5

16 84

0.1 0.7 46.8

C. In Descending Order of Numbers of Nineteenth-Century Voyages New Bedford, MA Nantucket, MA hovincetown, MA New London, CT San Francisco, CA Sag Harbor, NY Fairhaven, MA Westport, MA Edgartown, MA Warren, RI Stonington, CT Boston, MA Mattapoisett, MA Mystic, CT Sippican, MA Greenport, NY Newport, RI Total

70

9.6

1

0.1

1

0.1 4.9 1.9

36 14

0.4 0.5 2.6 1.1 0.1 0.1 2

0.3 21.7

4,094 1,312 906 869 688 583 540 28 I 182 178 171 133 126 105 99 93 88

35.7 11.5 7.9 7.6 6.0 5.1 4.7 2.5 1.6 1.6 1.5 1.2 1.1 0.9 0.9 0.8 0.8 91.4

Sources: Birthplace data are from the When and Where Built Data Set. The nineteenth-centuryvoyages data are from Starbuck 1878; Hegarty 1959; the Voyages Data Set.

119

Data Sets and Sources

Appendix 3E The Capture of the Galatea In July 1829 Portugal was engaged in what proved to be a six-year struggle between its king, Dom Miguel-who, depending on one’s point of view, had either seized or accepted the crown in 1828-and his ten-year-old niece, Maria da G16ria-who in 1834 became Queen Maria II.37Dom Miguel was the younger brother of Maria’s father, Dom Pedro. Dom Pedro was the emperor of Brazil and, for a period of six weeks following the death of his father in 1826, had been King Pedro IV of Portugal. Dorn Pedro apparently decided that ruling Brazil was a full-time job. He handed the crown of Portugal over to his young daughter on the condition that she marry Dom Miguel, her uncle. They were betrothed, Dom Miguel became her regent, and Dom Pedro duly abdicated. Four months later (7 July 1828), Dom Miguel abandoned Maria da G16ria and was crowned king of Portugal in his own right. Naturally enough there were those who thought he had behaved badly, and sided with Maria. She and her supporters, eventually victorious, were headquartered on the island of Terceira, in the Azores. Dom Miguel began a blockade of Terceira on 27 February 1829. Three months later, on 1 June, the Galatea set off from New Bedford on a whaling voyage in the Atlantic. Captain Elihu Russell later said he hadn’t heard of the Portuguese blockade. When the Galatea stopped at Terceira for supplies on 4 July, she was captured by Dom Miguel’s forces. The ship had sailed with a crew of twenty-one; eleven of them were imprisoned for several months, part of the time confined in irons. Between June 1829 and June 1830, three other American vessels-a whaler of Edgartown and merchantmen of Portland and Boston-were also captured at or near Terceira. It took two and one-half years from the capture of the Galatea for the U.S. indemnity claims for the four vessels to be negotiated with Dom Miguel’s government. Diplomatic relations between the United States and Portugal were for a time disrupted by the Portuguese change of government, and in any case the Portuguese were in financial difficulties. In February 1831 President Andrew Jackson replied to an inquiry from the U.S. House of Representatives that he had given orders to “fit out a ship of war for the more effectual protection of our commerce” in Portuguese waters (Treaties and Other International Acts 3:662), and-perhaps as a result-an agreement was finally reached at Lisbon on 19 January 1832. A quarterly schedule was set up according to which the claims would be paid in full by 19 January 1833, but, after a late first payment on 15 June 1832, the Portuguese government only accumulated interest 37. The main source for this description of the collision of Portuguese politics and New Bedford whaling is Treaties and Orher Internarional Acts 1933, 3:653-69.

120

Chapter 3

charges until 17 March 1837. Then postdated Treasury notes to settle the claims were given to the U.S. consul at Lisbon, who was acting as agent for the claimants, and duly paid at intervals through 31 June 1839. The Galatea’s owners made an original claim of $38,063.85, broken down as follows: $ 8,000.00 Value of the vessel 8,000.00 Value of her whaling outfits Value of the oil she would have obtained on the voyage 21,735.00 6,000.00 Value of the bone she would have obtained Expenses (presumably the expenses of prosecuting the claim) 328.85 $44,063.85 Less the value of the deterioration of ship and outfits that 6,000.00 would have occurred on the voyage -~ $38,063.85 In addition, the crewmen of the Galarea made a claim for the value of their confiscated clothing and $750.00 for the indignity of their arrest and detention. All these claims were allowed. The Portuguese payment of June 1832 was one-quarter of the claims, or $10,018.51 for the Galatea. Interest on the remaining $30,055.54 accrued at 5 percent per annum until the various payment dates from October 1837 through June 1839. The Galatea, recall, set out in 1829 on an Atlantic whaling voyage. Twentytwo other New Bedford vessels did the same, and all but the Galatea returned in due course, after intervals ranging from seven to twenty-two months. The oil and bone amounts returned by two vessels are unknown. Among the remaining twenty, the mean values of their catches are $ 2,084 Sperm oil Whale oil 16,509 Whalebone 2,195 $20,788 The Galatea’s claim for catch foregone was thus $6,947, or one-third, more than the mean of her peers’ returns.

Appendix 3F Entries in the Ship Registersfor the Abigail By act of Congress, a vessel bound for a foreign port had to be registered with a customs district, and, since whaling vessels typically landed abroad, they had to be registered.

121

Data Sets and Sources

A whaler was normally registered in its home district-the district of residence of at least one owner. A temporary registration could be obtained in another district, if necessary, but had to be replaced with a permanent one when the vessel returned to home port. The registration document contained a physical description of the vessel, its place and year of construction, its registration history, and the names of its master and owners. Whenever any of these characteristics changed, a new registration had to be taken out. For most whalers this meant a new registration with each voyage. Following are transcriptions of the registration certificates of the Abigail, which sailed from New Bedford from 1821 through 1862 (Work Projects Administration 1940).

Volume 1,1796-1850 ABIGAIL, ship, of New Bedford. Registered (23) July 18, 1821-permanent. Built at Amesbury in 1810. 309 75/95 tons; length 97 ft., breadth 27 ft., depth 13 ft. 6 in. Master: Dennis Covell. Owners: Benjamin Rodman, merchant, Andrew Robeson, David Coffin, Dennis Covell, Elisha Dunbar, New Bedford. W o decks, three masts, square stern, no galleries, a billethead. Previously registered at Newburyport Mar. 2 1, 1821. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (38) Nov. 17, 1823-permanent. Master: Hezekiah B. Gardner. Owners: Benjamin Rodman, Andrew Robeson, David Coffin, Elisha Dunbar, merchants, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (47) Dec. 22,1825-permanent. Master: Stephen Potter. Owners: Benjamin Rodman, merchant, Charles W. Morgan, David Coffin, Elisha Dunbar, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (73) Nov. 19, 1831-permanent. Master: Benjamin Clark. Owners: Benjamin Rodman, Charles W. Morgan, David Coffin, Elisha Dunbar, Benjamin Clark, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (43) June 13,1835-permanent. Owners: Charles W. Morgan, William R. Rodman, David Coffin, Benjamin Clark, Elisha Dunbar, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (92) Oct. 20, 1835-permanent. Master: William H. Reynard. Owners: Benjamin Clark, Stephen Taber, William H. Reynard, George B. Worth, David Brayton, Charles W. Morgan, William R. Rodman, David Coffin, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (82) Nov. 25, 1843-permanent. Master: David Barnard. Owners: Charles W. Morgan, David Brayton, William R. Rodman, William G. E. Pope, Samuel Griffitts Morgan, Heirs of George B. Worth, William H. Reynard, Stephen Taber, John F. Pope, New Bedford; David Barnard, Nantucket. Previously enrolled at New Bedford Apr. 1, 1839. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (84) Nov. 25, 1843-permanent. Owners: Charles W. Morgan, David Brayton, William G. E. Pope, Samuel Griffitts Morgan, Heirs of George B. Worth, William H. Reynard, Stephen Taber, John

122

Chapter 3

F. Pope, New Bedford; David Barnard, Nantucket; William Wister, Germantown, Pa. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (77) Oct. 26, 1847-permanent. Master: George E. Young. Owners: William G. E. Pope, Samuel Griffitts Morgan, Charles W. Morgan, Stephen Taber, David Brayton, Heirs of George B. Worth, William H. Reynard, John F. Pope, Thomas Pope Jr., Thomas Dawes Eliot, New Bedford; David Barnard, Nantucket.

Volume 2,1851-65 ABIGAIL, ship, of New Bedford. Registered (24) May 31, 1852-permanent. Built at Amesbury in 1810. 309 75/95 tons; length 97 ft., breadth 27 ft., depth 13 ft. 7 in. Master: George E. Young. Owners: William G. E. Pope 3/16, Charles W. Morgan 2/16, Stephen Taber 2/16, Estate of David Brayton 2/16, Estate of George B. Worth 1/16, William H. Reynard 1/16, Thomas D. Elliot 1/16, Thomas Pope Jr. 1/16, Alden G. Snell 1/16, New Bedford; William Wister 2/16, Philadelphia, Pa. Two decks, three masts, square stem, no galleries, a billethead. Previously registered at New Bedford Oct. 26, 1847. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (66) Aug. 23, 1852-permanent. Master: Francis D. Drew. Owners: William G. E. Pope 6/16, Charles W. Morgan 2/ 16, Thomas D. Elliot 1/16, Thomas Pope Jr. 1/16, Jonathan P. Lund 2/16,Alden G. Snell 1/16, Francis D. Drew 1/16, New Bedford; William Wister 2/16, Philadelphia, Pa. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (32) Apr. 29, 1856-permanent. Master: Jacob Taber. Owners: William G. E. Pope 7/16, Charles W. Morgan 4/16, Jonathan P. Lund 2/16, Thomas D. Elliot 1/16, Francis D. Drew 1/16, Thomas Pope Jr. 1/16, New Bedford. Ship, of New Bedford. Re-registered (9) July 29, 1862-permanent. Master: Ebenezer F. Nye. Owners: Loum Snow 3/12, Oliver Crocker and George 0. Crocker 4/12, Pardon Tillinghast 1/12, New Bedford; Ebenezer F. Nye 41 12, Sandwich. Vessel was burned by Rebel cruiser SHENANDOAH, commanded by Waddell, in Ochotsk Sea, Russia, May 27, 1865.All papers were confiscated and the crew, except seventeen who joined the SHENANDOAH, were landed in different ships at San Francisco, Calif.

Appendix 3G Codesfor the Variables OCCl, OCC2, and OCC3 in the Owners Data Set, AGENTOCC in the Agents’ Occupations Data Set, and OCCl and OCC2 in the Tax List Data Set For the analyses reported in chapter 10, information on the occupations of owners, agents, and taxpayers was gathered, chiefly from the New Bedford

123

Data Sets and Sources

City Directories. The following is a list of all the occupations identified, and the codes assigned to them.

Miscellaneous 1 No occupation listed (but appears in a New Bedford City Directory) 2 Widow (If her deceased husband’s occupation is available, it is given in OCC2.) 3 “Heirs of” or “estate of” (If the occupation of the deceased person is available, it is given in OCC2.) 3 1 Trustees for the person named Services (Including Government, Finance, and Publications) 4 5 6 7 8 9 90 90 1 902 903 91 92 922 923 93 94 940 94 1 95 95 1 96 960 96 1 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 97 97 1

Apothecary; druggist Physician; physician and surgeon; surgeon dentist Undertaker; funeral director Attorney at law; counselor and notary public Jailer and deputy sheriff; deputy sheriff Chairman, board of assessors Livery stable Daguerreotypist; manufacturing photographer Editor and publisher of newspaper Printer and publisher Attorney general, Commonwealth of Massachusetts Inn holder; “house of refreshment”; “temperance restorateur” Eating house Barber and hairdresser Minister Bank cashier; bank treasurer Bank Bank president Magistrate Special justice Town clerk and treasurer Collector (customs), Port of New Bedford Mayor Postmaster Tollkeeper Judge at probate Assessor Constable Major general Selectman Coroner Officer, insurance company Marine and fire insurance agent; insurance agent

124

98 98 1 982 983 99

Chapter 3

Overseer of poorhouse Lighthouse keeper Boarding house Undertaker (entrepreneur); speculator Clerk, register of deeds

Trade, Transportation,and Public Utilities 10 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 11 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 12 120 13 131 14 15 16 17 18 19 70 71 72 720

Merchant; trader; auctioneer and commission merchant Commission merchant and dealer in copper and iron Broker Dealers in brick, lime, etc. Dealer in lumber; lumber merchants and planing mill Stoves Dealers in furniture Salesman; agent, union store Booksellers, stationers, and dealers in charts and nautical instruments; booksellers Coal dealer and steam paint mill Dry goods; dry goods and clothing; merchant tailors; outfitters; hats, caps, and furs President, gas light company Agent, ice business Dealer in iron Junk dealer Junk store Importer of cigars Copper dealer West India goods and groceries Boots and shoes, retail Proprietor, country store Whaling agent Hay and grain merchant; flour and grain Clerk for merchant; clerk; salesman for merchant Bookkeeper; accountant Ship chandlers; grocers; victuallers; provision merchants Baker Warehouse (not whale products) Fish market; fish dealer Truckman Dealer in crockery and glass; paper hangings and house furnishings Hardware Shipping office; shipping merchant; agent, line of packets; express agent President, railroad Ticket agent, railroad

125

72 1 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 73 74

Data Sets and Sources Treasurer, railroad Master of transportation, railroad Teamer; teamster Dealer in horses; dealer in cattle Butcher Fancy goods and millinery Railroad Gas company Officer, steamboat corporation Confectioner

Seafaring Activities, Activities Associated with Whaling 20 Boatbuilder 21 Master mariner; master, ship 211 Tugboat captain 212 Wharfinger 213 Bonded warehouse 214 Wharf 22 Sailmaker 23 Ship carpenter; ship joiner 24 Ropewalk 25 Mate 26 Dealer in oil; sperm oil and candles 27 Sparmaker; mast and sparmaker 28 Rigger 29 Shipsmith 80 Caulker 81 Block and pump maker; block maker 82 At sea 83 Shipwright; shipbuilder 84 Manner; in ship ___ 843 Cooper aboard ship 85 Inspectors and gaugers of oil 85 1 Gauger 852 Inspector and boarding officer 853 Officer, cordage company 86 Live oak contractor 87 Nautical instrument maker Manufacturing, except Whale Products

40 401 402 404

Manufacturer Foreman Looking-glass and picture-frame manufacturer Carriage manufacturer

126 405 406 407 408 409 41 410 41 1 42 42 1 43 43 1 44 45 46 46 1 462 463 47 48 49 49 1 492 493 494 495 496,

Chapter 3 Carriage painter Officer, manufacturing company Officer, glassworks Pictures and picture frames; art publishers Cap maker Saddle, harness, and trunk maker Gristmill; gristmill and sawmill Tanner and currier Blacksmith Machinists and blacksmiths Cooper Apprentice cooper Shoes and leather; shoes; boots and shoes; cordwainer Cabinetmaker; “cabinet furniture wareroom” Brass founders and coppersmiths Tinplate and sheetware; tinplate manufacturer; tinman President, copper company Foundry and rivet company Officer, textile firm Watchmaker and jeweler; jeweler; chronometer and watch maker; silversmith Manufacturers of oil; manufacturer of oils and sperm and adamantine candles (includes oil merchants); soap and candle manufacturer Officer, petroleum and coal oil company Manufacturer of bottled soda Turner; wood turner Planer Chemical manufacturer Textile mill

Construction Painter; sign painter; house painter; ship painter Housewright Mason Wood measurer Carpenter 55 Granite worker 56 Civil engineer; architect

50 51 52 53 54

Agriculture 60 Farmer 61 Yeoman 62 Gardener 63 Horticulturalist and nurseryman

127

Data Sets and Sources

Appendix 3H Whalemen’s Shipping Paper 1st. IT IS AGREED between the Owner, Master, Seamen and Mariners of the Ship Abigail Capt Geo E Young now bound from the port of New Bedford on a whaling voyage in the PaciJc Ocean & Elsewhere Atlantic and Indian Ocean That in consideration of the share against each respective Seaman or Mariner’s name hereunder set, they severally shall and will perform the abovementioned voyage; and the said Owner and Master, do hereby agree with, and hire the said Seamen or Mariners for the said voyage, at such shares of the net proceeds, or of the actual products of the voyage, to be paid pursuant to this agreement, and the custom and usage in the port of New Bedford. 2nd. And they, the said Seamen and Mariners, do severally hereby promise and oblige themselves to do their duty, and obey the lawful commands of the Officers on board said ship or the boats thereunto belonging, as become good and faithful Seamen or Mariners, while cruising for whales, and at all places where the said ship shall put in, or anchor at, during the said voyage; to use their best endeavors to obtain a cargo of oil;-and for the preservation of the said vessel and cargo;-and not to neglect or refuse doing their duty by day or night; and that they shall not go out of said ship on board any other vessel, or be on shore, under any pretence whatsoever, until the aforesaid voyage be ended, and the vessel discharged of her loading, without leave first obtained of the Captain, or Commanding Officer on board; that in default thereof, he or they shall be liable to all the penalties and forefeitures mentioned in the Marine Law, enacted for the Government and Regulation of Seamen in the Merchants Service; it being understood that said forfeiture shall be estimated according to his or their respective shares of the net proceeds of the voyage, and the length of the same conjointly. 3d. ANDIT IS FURTHER AGREED by all the parties to this contract, that such regulations as a just regard to the good order, effectual government, health and moral habits of the Officers and Men shall be established and observed on board the said vessel. And to ensure proper attention to this important object, it shall be the duty of the Officer having the care of the Log Book, to note therein daily all flagrant breaches of the same. It shall especially be his duty to record all instances of drunkenness, all cases of absence from the said ship by any Officer or Seamen with or without permission, after sunset, or beyond the time prescribed for their absence,-every instance of absence, by any Officer or Seaman, through the night, whether on shore or on board of any other vessel-every instance of the introduction of any woman or women into the ship for licentious purposes,-every instance of disability for the performance of ship’s duty, which may occur, with the cause of it,-if occasioned by sickness or infirmity, the nature and origin of the same, if known, to be particularly stated, especially if it be the consequence of their own misconduct. And in

128

Chapter 3

case of the Officer who may usually have charge of the Log Book being implicated in any of the misdemeanors or disabilities herein mentioned, it shall be the duty of the Master to make, or cause to be made by another hand an entry of the same on the Log Book. And it shall be the duty of the Master to see that a proper record is kept therein of all the matters mentioned in this article according to its true intent and meaning. 4th. The Officer having charge of the Watch on Deck for the time being, shall be responsible for the maintenance of the regulation in regard to the admission of women-and in case of any getting on board unperceived, they shall forthwith be expelled by him, or if not able to do so the case shall be immediately reported to the Captain or Commanding Officer on board, whose duty it shall be to enforce their immediate expulsion. On the failure of any Officer in this part of his duty, either wilfully or through negligence, each and every Officer so failing, shall forfeit twenty days’ pay for every such offence, and any other Officer or Seaman who shall abet any breach of said regulation-or refuse when lawfully called upon to aid in sustaining it, or shall be proved to have had a criminal intercourse with any such woman or women on board, shall forfeit for each such offence, five days’ pay-for every instance of drunkenness two days’ pay shall be forfeited, and a similar forfeiture shall take place for each day that any Seaman or Officer shall be off duty from sickness or disability caused by intemperance or licentiousness-the forfeitures in all these cases to be estimated as in the second article, and to go to the use of the Owners of said ship. 5th. All expenses which may be necessarily incurred during the voyage with direct reference to any of the misdemeanors or disabilities enumerated in the third article-or to any attempt at desertion or other disobedient or mutinous conduct, shall be charged to the individual or individuals by reason of whom they may have been incurred. 6th. It is further agreed that if any Officer or Seaman, after a fair trial, if his abilities and disposition shall be judged by the Master incompetent or indisposed to the proper discharge of the duties of his station, the Master shall have a right to displace him and substitute another in his stead,-a corresponding reduction of the lay of such Officer or Seaman with reference to the duty which he may afterwards perform, thenceforth to take effect; and a reasonable increase of the lay of the individual who may thereupon be promoted to a higher station, shall be made on the final adjustment of the voyage. 7th. It is understood and agreed that if any Officer or Seaman shall be prevented by sickness or death from performing the voyage, his legal representatives shall be entitled to such part of the whole amount of his stipulated share, as the time of his services on board shall be of the whole term of the voyage. 8th. It is further agreed that whatever apparel, furniture, or stores belonging to the said vessel, may be given in charge by the Master to any Officer or Seaman, shall be accounted for by him, and in case any thing shall be lost or

129

Data Sets and Sources

damaged through his carelessness or neglect, it shall be made good to the Owners by such Officer or Seaman. And whatever Officer or Seaman the Master shall appoint for the duty, shall take charge of any portion of the cargo or ship’s stores required to be landed or brought on board in any boats or lighter, and faithfully perform the service assigned, and see that the said cargo or stores are safely landed and delivered, or brought on board the said vessel, as the case may be. 9th. Each and every Officer and Seaman, who shall well and truly have performed the above mentioned voyage, complied with the regulations and duties herein specified, and committed no dishonest or unlawful acts, shall be entitled to the payment of his share of the net proceeds of the voyage pursuant to this agreement, as soon after the return of the said ship to New Bedford as the Oil and other products of the voyage can be sold and the settlement adjusted by the Owner or agent of the said ship. 10th. In testimony of our assent, consent and agreement, faithfully to perform the various duties and obligations implied in the preceding articles, and in acknowledgement of their being voluntary, and without any compulsory or clandestine means being used, we have each and every of us, severally, hereunto affixed our names, on the day and year against them respectively written. And it is hereby understood, and mutually agreed, by and between the parties aforesaid, that they, the said Seamen and Mariners, will render themselves on board the said vessel, on or before the day of at o’clock in the noon.

No DISTILLED SPIRITOUS LIQUOR will be put on board this vessel by the Owner, except for strictly medicinal use:-and by their signatures the other parties to this Contract, PLEDGE themselves not to take any of these articles with them as their private stores, or for traffic, either from this port or any other port or place where they may be, during the voyage. And in case of a violation of this Pledge by the Master or any Officer or Seaman, his entire share of the voyage shall be thereupon forfeited to the use of the Owners of the said ship. It i s further agreed that the men are to stand up when aloft looking outfor whales. TIME OF ENTRY.

NAMES.

QUALITY.

SHARES

October 26 1847 October 26 1847 October 26 1847 September 16 1847 September 8 1847

Pope & Morgan George E. Young David G. Barney Edmund E. Jennings Geo. W. Willfong his Tom X Pedro mark his Martin X Andrew mark

Managing Owners Master Mate Second Mate Third Mate & Boatsteerer

One seventeenth One Twenty Third One Forty Third One Fifty Eighth

1/17 1/23 1/43 1/58

Boatsteerer

One Ninetieth

1/90

Do

One Ninetieth

1/90

October 16th 1847

130

Chapter 3

TIME OF ENTRY.

NAMES.

QUALITY.

SHARES

October 19th 1847 September 28 1847

Patrick Commerford Horatio Doney

Cooper Steward & Ship Keeper

One Sixtieth 1/60 One One hundred & twenty fifth 11125

Cook

One One hundred fortieth 11140 One One hundred fortieth 11140 One One hundred fiftieth 11150 One One hundred fortieth 11140 One One hundred thirty fifth 11135

September 23d 1847

his Manuel X Nichols mark Geo. H. X Waters

September 27 1847

John Williams

October 5 1847

Lysander Spooner

Blacksmith Ordy Seaman Ordinary Seaman

October 13 1847

Charles Porter

Ditto

September 22nd 1847

Ordinary Seaman

October 19 1847

his Thomas X Brown mark his John X Sip mark his James X Lewis mark Warner Hill

October 23 1847

John Tompson

Ditto

October 23 1847

Miller Gilmore

Ordinary Seaman

October 23 1847

Thomas S. Holt

Green Hand

October 23 1847

William Jones

Ditto

October 16 1847

October 19 1847

October 19 1847

Green Hand

One One hundred seventy fifth 11175

Ditto

One One hundred seventy 11175 fifth

Ditto

One One hundred seventy fifth 11175 One One hundred seventy fifth 11175 One One hundred seventy 11175 fifth One One hundred fifty fifth 11155 One One hundred seventy fifth 11175 One One hundred eightieth 11180

Ditto

October 25 1847

his David B. X Rogue mark his Welcome X Hays mark James Martin

October 25 1847

Marcus Cox

Ditto

October 26 1847

George Smith

Ditto

October 23 1847

October 23 1847

Ditto

One One hundred eighty fifth 11185

BOY

One Two hundred twenty fifth 11225 One One hundred & seventieth 11170 One One hundred & ninetieth 11190 One One hundred & Seventy fifth 11175

Green Hand

4

Natural Resources

The American whaling industry reached a peak of activity in the early 1850s; hunting waned slightly as the decade wore on and declined precipitately after 1860 (see table 1.2). The story of the rise and fall of the industry is told in detail in chapters 12 and 13, and chapter 9 analyses the role of demand shifts during the period of contraction. Although changes in demand are usually accorded the leading role in the story of the industry's demise, three supply-side factors also appear in standard accounts: (1) the quality of American whaling crews deteriorated, (2) the costs of whaling vessels rose, and ( 3 ) overhunting depleted the stocks of whales. These factors are supposed to have shifted the whaling supply schedule to the left, which, ceteris paribus, should have forced the industry to contract. Chapter 5 considers the first factor, chapter 6, the second, and this chapter, the third.' Many students of the subject have concluded that one reason the American whale fisheries declined was that whales became scarce.*Their evidence, however, has been either incomplete or indirect. There have been careful studies of individual whale groups, as well as attempts to infer changes in whale stocks from shifts in whaling productivity or from the complaints of unsuccessful whaling captains. There has been no comprehensive effort to consider the scale of nineteenth-century hunting in the context of preexisting populations and potential levels of reproduction. This chapter is intended to make good the deficiency. That is, it brings together fairly comprehensive estimates of the numbers of hunted whales toward the beginning of the nineteenth century, call . Crew quality and whale stocks are also treated in chapter 8, and other aspects of supply are discussed in chapters 7, 10, and 11. 2. See Hohman 1928, 290, 297-300; Bockstoce and Botkin 1983, 107-41; Burton 1983, 132-34; Shuster 1972, 345-57; Maran 1974; Spears [I8761 1926, xviii; Dulles 1933, 221; Nordhoff 1895, 161-62.

131

132

Chapter 4

culates potential levels of net reproduction, compares these figures with the rates of nineteenth-century hunting, and reaches conclusions about depletion. The impact of depletion (if there was depletion) on the industry would have been a function not only of the diminution of whale populations, but also of the sensitivity of whaling productivity to diminished numbers. Productivity could have been affected long before populations became endangered. It is also possible that hunting led to shifts in the behavior of whales that reduced their reproductive abilities or made them warier and more difficult to capture. Any of these developments, if it took place, would have acted to reduce whaling productivity. The course of productivity change is considered in chapter 8. The present chapter is concerned exclusively with the issue of depletion. There is one overarching question: were whale populations hunted down far enough by the late 1850s to make it likely that American whaling contracted for lack of whales? Marine biologists have learned a considerable amount about the feeding habits, migration patterns, social organization, mating customs, fertility levels, and mortality rates of the principal groups of hunted whales. Also, since whales have come to be recognized as endangered species, much effort has gone into attempts to estimate the effects of hunting and the capacity of whale stocks to recover from overhunting. In part such work rests on direct observation; in part it is a result of theoretical model building. For example, California gray whales, a group that was protected at an early date and that has successfully recovered from overhunting, have been the subject of intense observatied Again, the demography of particular groups of whales has been modeled.4 These models have made it possible to predict the rate at which whale stocks would increase in the absence of hunting, the forces that would bring growth in a given group to a halt, and the level and structure of the population that would lead to the maximum sustainable yield-the largest number (or weight) of whales of a given type that could be taken each year without reducing the stock. This yield occurs at the population level and structure that produce the maximum positive difference between births and deaths (or, alternatively, between the rate of additions to the ranks of adults and the death rate of adults), and it depends upon the abundance of food, that is, the feedwhale ratio.5 In general the models assume that, since the whale has almost no natural enemies other than human beings, the size of a given population in the absence 3. “Locally, the gray whale became the subject of protection in California a few years later [after the turn of the century] and of total protection under the Washington Convention of 1946’ (T8nnessen and Johnsen 1982, 113). For an example of the observation of the gray whale, see Rice and Wolman 1971. 4. See, for example, the treatment of the sperm-whale model in Frost 1979, 19-21,73-74, and appendix 8. See also Gambell 1976. 5. The maximum sustainable yield models-as planning devices-have been subject to severe criticism. For example, “simulation testing of the NMP [new management procedure] revealed that populations managed under the NMP were quite likely to be exterminated” (Dolphins, Por-

133

Natural Resources

of hunting will depend on the available feed: krill for baleen whales (e.g., right whales, bowheads, grays, and humpbacks), and squid for toothed whales (e.g., sperm whales). Mammalogists believe that the adjustment process-in which the population expands when extra feed is present and ceases to expand when feed is being appropriately exploited-turns on the age of sexual maturity. They think that the age of sexual maturity falls when feed is abundant and rises when it is scarce.6 It should be said that not all of the parameter estimates are firmly based. There is also little or no direct evidence of the characteristics of the stationary population. Life expectancy in the absence of hunting is not well established; the impacts of hunting on fertility are not known with certainty (Frost 1979,65-73). With these reservations the demographic models may be used to estimate, on the basis of supplies of krill and squid, the levels of whale populations that existed before humans hunted on a large scale.7 Presumably supplies of food for whales have varied from time to time, but, as Allen points out, [whales] would be less susceptible to such changes [in food supplies, due to climatic changes] than many animals . . . . whales have a much longer life cycle than nearly all fish, and their reproductive pattern, with an average of less than one young per year, obviously does not provide the flexibility required to produce the major changes in strength of cohorts which can occur with fish. Compared with terrestrial mammals, whales would seem to be living in a much more stable environment, which is not subject to drastic climatic changes such as droughts, that may occur on land. (Allen 1980,20) In any case, population estimates of the whales hunted by Americans have been made for the period preceding the rise of American whaling. They differ a good deal from one to another, but there is enough consensus to permit a series of useful conclusions to be drawn. For four sets of these estimates, see table 4.1.

4.1 Did American Whalemen Damage Sperm-Whale Populations? The data on sperm-whale stocks are particularly complete; they omit only the North Atlantic populations, and those were small. The “original” spermwhale stock (total population, exclusive of the North Atlantic) can be set at between 1,800,000 (Scarff) and 2,400,000 (Frost, Allen). Six hundred thousand is a wide range, but not remarkably wide, given the problems of estimation. poises, and Whales 1991, 13). For our purposes, however, maximum-sustainable-yield models are a useful place to begin. 6. The decline in the age of sexual maturity can be pronounced. It is believed that this age for minke whales fell from fourteen to six years, when the twentieth-century slaughter of Antarctic whales raised the krilYwhale ratio so pronouncedly. See Wiley 1985,42,44,46. 7. The relationships among different types of whales competing for the same food are a complicating factor. For example, the population of sei whales apparently increased when the fin and blue whales were first hunted. See Gaskin 1982, 319.

134

Chapter4

Table 4.1

Estimated Whale Stocks before the Advent of Intensive American Hunting (thousands) Scarff“

Frostb

Allen‘

30-40+ 100-1 50 1,168

100+d 1ood 57gd

(loo+) 130 1,250

10-20? unknown 11-12 unknown 612

25 + unknown 15 unknown 580d

20 (20)

1.150

1O? unknown not present 4+? unknown

7 unknown unknown 1-2d unknown

n.a. n.a. n.a. ma. ma.

20-30 30-40+ 11-12 104-54 1,780

32 100d 15 101-2* 1,158

20 120+ 20 + 143 2,400

Stock Southern Hemisphere Right Humpback Sperm North Pacific and Western Arctic Bowhead Other right Gray Humpback Sperm North Atlantic Bowhead Other right Gray Humpback Sperm Total‘ Bowhead Other right Gray Humpback Sperm

~~

~

~~

Bockstoce/ Botkin

~

Sources: Scarff 1977,332; Frost 1979,266-67; Allen 1980, 19; Bockstoce and Botkin 1983. Nore: According to Scarff (1977, 332) and Allen (1980, 19) the size of the total population is typically about twice the size of the exploitable population. ”Question marks used in the source, presumably to show uncertainty. bThe bowheads listed under “North Pacific” are in fact whales living in the Bering Strait and the Sea of Okhotsk. The grays refer to the eastern Pacific stock only. The bowheads listed under “North Atlantic” are those in Davis Strait and Hudson Bay only. The humpbacks listed under “North Atlantic” are the western Atlantic stock only. Three components of Frost’s estimates refer not to the period before the advent of intensive hunting but to later dates: (1) sperm whales in one of his five divisions of the Southern Hemisphere are estimated as of 1946; (2) sperm whales in the western division of the Pacific are estimated as of 1910; (3) bowheads in the North Pacific are estimated as of 1850. The original stocks in all three cases were almost certainly larger than the figures in the table. ‘Parentheses used in the source presumably show uncertainty, dThese are estimates of exploitable stocks (i.e., mature animals) only. ‘Several of the totals are incomplete.

Even the lower figure- 1,800,000-is very large relative to the number of sperm whales killed in the nineteenth century. According to Charles Scammon, during the period of most intensive American whaling (1835-72), Americans caught about 147,000 sperm whales and killed but lost another 15,000. Scammon bases his estimates on two assumptions, (1) that the average whale taken

135

Natural Resources

yielded twenty-five barrels of oil, and (2) that many whales were harpooned, escaped the hunters, but subsequently died from their wounds. Scammon estimated that the second group (those that escaped but subsequently died) were equal in number to about 10 percent of the first group (those that were captured), and that they were also of the same average size. Given these assumptions and an enumeration of the barrels of sperm oil brought back by whalemen, he can-and does-estimate the total number of sperm whales killed.8 Twenty-five barrels may be too low an appraisal of the average yield from a sperm whale. Estimates ranging upward to forty-five barrels have appeared in the literature. The firmest set of figures-Best’s-covers the period 1816-29 through 1900-1925, and indicates that the sperm whales taken by American ships and barks (a sample comprising 735 voyages) averaged 33.6 barrels of oil. Applying this value to the oil output data (see table 9B.1), and assuming with Scammon that whales killed but lost amounted to about 10 percent of those captured, one obtains an estimate of 177,000 sperm whales destroyed by Americans in the years 1805 through 1900. Americans probably accounted for about three-quarters of the sperm whales taken in this p e r i ~ dThe . ~ total number killed by all whaling fleets would have been about 236,000. Substituting Scammon’s average yield of twenty-five barrels would raise the number to 33 1,000; adopting Stevenson’s equally well founded average-yield estimate of forty-five barrels (1904, 187, 192) would lower it to 184,000. That is, whalemen appear to have killed, in total, between 8 and 18 percent of the initial stock, in a harvest distributed across ninety-six years. Even the largest singleyear American catch, that of 1837 (between 3,760 whales at forty-five barrels per whale and 6,770 at twenty-five barrels) was considerably less than 0.5 percent of the initial stock, and only a small fraction of the maximum sustainable yield that lay within the procreative capacity of sperm whales.IOModem levels of sperm-whale populations also suggest that damage by nineteenth-century whaling was not disastrous. For example, estimates in Frost’s monograph 8. Scammon [1874] 1968, 244. Scammon’s estimate and those we have substituted for it (see below) ignore certain elements of the catch. Since Scarnmon and we base our estimates on oil landed, we leave out of account the whales represented by oil lost during the voyage due to leakage, oil sold during the voyage or shipped home in advance (to the extent such oil was not counted as oil landed), and oil that went down with vessels that were sunk. (See Best 1983, 42-43.) The loss rate for New Bedford vessels (sperm whalers, baleen whalers, and nonspecialists) was 6.3 percent, but presumably the average vessel lost had less than an average catch, since it sank before completing its voyage. Oil sold overseas amounted to little (Best 1983.42). Advance shipments of oil were not uncommon, but these shipments were recorded in the catch data. How much leakage accounted for, we do not know. At a guess the catch estimate in the text may be as much as 10 percent short, for the above reasons. 9. Best 1983,45, 46. According to Best the United States accounted for 77 percent of the total output of the United States, Great Britain, and the British colonies. The production of all other whaling nations was negligible. The figures for Britain and its colonies are likely to be too low. 10. This level of procreation was probably never achieved, since the sperm-whale population never fell far enough below the carrying capacity of the food supply to set off those forces that would have raised fertility to its maximum level. See Frost 1979, 256-60.

136

Chapter 4

(1979, 266-67) show that sperm whales numbered more than 850,000 in the late 1970s. They have survived both the American assault of the nineteenth century and the much more formidable assaults of the twentieth. Sperm whales are distributed across the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans. If whalemen concentrated on individual hunting grounds until stocks there were depleted, and only then moved on to other grounds, even the limited catch described above might damage the capacity of certain sperm-whale groups to reproduce. Two sets of data-both fairly small-suggest that this may have happened in the Western Indian Ocean and in the Sea of Japan, but the evidence is ambiguous and may indicate, not that whales became less numerous, but that they became more wary (Wray and Martin 1983, 226; Bannister, Taylor, and Sutherland 1983, 248-52). In any case there is reason to believe that a scarcity of sperm whales-if it existed at all-did not affect the fishery as a whole. Peter Best's study (1983, 46) shows no time trend in the average oil yield per sperm whale captured by American ships and barks, and also none for those captured by schooners and brigs, from 1816-29 through 1900-1925. If the population had been placed under pressure, the average yield would surely have fallen, if only because the density/fertility mechanism would have come into play. That is, the feedwhale ratio would have increased, the age of maturation would have fallen, births would have increased, and, because of the increase in the proportion of young whales, the average age and average size of the population would have declined, and the average age and average size of the sperms captured would have declined also. There are other reasons to believe that individual hunting grounds were not depleted on a large scale. Sperm whales are polygynous. A heterosexual poda group traveling together-typically consists of a bull and ten or fifteen cows and their young, including some full-grown but socially immature bulls (not yet competitive with the patriarch). Two or three mature bulls usually trail the pod at a safe distance, waiting to take over the cows when the patriarch dies or becomes disabled. All other mature bulls have been driven away by the patriarch and travel alone or in male pods. The patriarch-dominated pod is formed during the breeding season. After servicing the cows the patriarch leaves, and the pod is matriarchal until the next season. Between breeding seasons patriarchs travel alone. Pods of socially immature, but physically mature, males travel together, occasionally with socially mature bulls who have yet to win harems." A very large fraction of the whales in the male pods, the trailing bulls, and the males traveling alone could be taken without adversely affecting the reproductive power of the population. Indeed, successful hunting of these males might actually raise the reproductive power of the group, by raising the f e e d

11. Frost 1979, 19-21, and appendix 8. See also Hamson Matthews 1978, chap. 8, especially 165-66; Burton 1983,76.

137

Natural Resources

whale ratio and thus lowering the age of sexual maturity.’* Since mature male sperm whales are three or four times as large as females, they would have been preferred by hunters. Having chanced on a heterosexual pod, the hunters would choose-if they had a choice-to take the males first. As long as they did not leave the pod utterly bereft of socially mature males, its reproductive power would be left undisturbed. In any case, if all the socially mature bulls attached to the pod were killed, the cows would recruit a new patriarch in the next, or perhaps even (less likely) the same, breeding season.13 There is persuasive evidence that nineteenth-century hunters did take disproportionately large numbers of mature bulls. Wray and Martin have gathered the records of nineteen sperm-whaling vessels over the years 1800-1887. The records provide various bits of information about captured whales: for thirteen the size or sex alone, for ninety-eight the yield in oil (Wray and Martin 1983, 236-39). The yield information is particularly useful. Mature cows and bulls are of very different average sizes, cows weighing only 30 percent as much as bulls (Leatherwood and Reeves 1983,82). Since yield was an increasing function of weight, a full-grown cow must have yielded about 25 percent as much oil as a full-grown bull. The largest bulls in the Wray and Martin sample-two or three only-are one-hundred-barrel whales. From those observations one may infer that full-grown cows in this population (Western Indian Ocean) rarely exceeded twenty-five barrels. Now, of the 111 whales for which size, sex, or yield information is available, 42 percent seem clearly to have been bulls; that is, they were designated as “bulls” or as “large,” or they yielded more than twenty-five barrels of oil. Another 10 percent were twenty-fivebarrel animals; some may have been females, but some also must have been males. Moreover, of those below twenty-five barrels, many must also have been bulls. After all, nursery pods-the only groups from which cows could be taken-would have contained roughly equal numbers of immature males and immature females. Be that as it may, the first datum recorded above-that 42 percent of the sperm whales taken were large bulls-is all that is needed to establish that hunters preferred to kill the largest animals available to them. If sperm whales had been taken at random from the total population, roughly one-half of those captured would have been immature, another one-quarter mature females, and 12. That would be the case if the captured bulls were within the normal migration routes of the nursery pods. Bulls often leave these precincts and travel far north or south to squid-rich, but cowpoor, waters. Since those areas are off the nursery migration routes, taking such bulls would not have a direct and immediate effect on the food supplies of the nursery pods. It is also possible that the sexual activity of the patriarch is stimulated by the presence of potentially competitive bulls. If too many of the bulls trailing the pod were killed, its reproduction rate might drop. 13. Harrison Matthews 1978, chap. 8. See Friends of the Earth 1978, 153. Two contradictory positions need to be recognized: (1) cows were easier to kill than bulls, which might have induced hunters to concentrate on them; (2) whalemen might have simply taken the first whales they reached, so that their catches might approximate random samples of the groups of whales they attacked. But see the text below, and Gambell 1983, 15.

138

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only about one-quarter mature males. Since at least 42 percent of the whales killed were large bulls, it is reasonable to conclude that whalemen sought out the largest whales they could find, and it is equally reasonable to suppose that they did not interfere with reproduction in an important way.I4 Thus, given the total number killed, it seems highly unlikely that even concentrated hunting would have depleted the stocks of sperm whales or greatly eroded their reproductive power. In any case the evidence indicates that hunting did not follow a pattern of local concentration. As American whaling expanded, hunters very quickly moved into the South Atlantic, and around Cape Horn and the Cape of Good Hope into the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and then into the Sea of Japan and the far North Pacific. The fact that whalemen continued to hunt in all grounds supports the argument that one ground was not hunted out before whalemen moved on to another.

4.2 Did American Whalemen Damage Baleen-Whale Populations? Quantitative evidence on the baleens hunted in the nineteenth century is less complete and reliable than that on sperm whales. Frost has data by sex and narrow geographic region for sperm whales; comparable information is not available for baleens. There are estimates of the total stock of baleens (exclusive of those in certain grounds). As to the various types of baleens, there is good information on the numbers of bowheads in each of the following grounds: Davis Strait, Hudson Bay, Bering Strait, and the Sea of Okhotsk. The same is true of the gray whales off the coast of California. There is only incomplete information on the geographic distribution of rights and humpbacks. By all accounts baleens were much less numerous than sperms. Taking Frost’s evidence, adding Allen’s data for North Pacific humpbacks and rights, substituting Bockstoce and Botkin’s figure for bowheads of the Western Arctic, and using Scarff’s and Allen’s procedures to adjust the exploitable stock estimates to total population levels, it is possible to form a reasonable estimate of the size of the original population of the hunted baleens. The figure produced by this procedure is something in excess of 367,000 (compared with between 1,800,000and 2,400,000sperms).15 14. The data cited in the text are from Wray and Martin 1983,236-39. Best’s work more or less confirms the reasoning of the text. He identifies a few cows that yielded more than twenty-five barrels, but his research was not confined to the hunting ground studied by Wray and Martin, the Western Indian Ocean (Best 1983, 52). According to Wray and Martin, the Indian Ocean spermwhale population consisted of relatively small whales. That yield was an increasing function of weight may be inferred from Best’s table 8. If the fifty-five-foot whales in that table were hundredbarrel whales, and if the thirty-foot whales were of a size equivalent to mature cows, then the table allows one to infer that mature cows averaged twenty-five barrels. In fact, the whales described in the table are mainly bulls; cows are said to be more slender than bulls. Consequently, the twentyfive barrel average is probably an upper bound on the true average value. Dropping the limit to twenty barrels would raise the share of large bulls in the total of all sperm whales to 56 percent. 15. According to Scarff (1977, 332) the ratio of the total population of baleens to the exploitable population is 1.5 to 1.0. Allen (1980, 19) puts the ratio at 1.3 to 1.0 for humpbacks.

These whales that Americans hunted in the nineteenth century are drawn to scale. Their adult lengths range from forty to forty-five feet for a male gray whale (females are a little longer) to sixty feet for a male sperm whale (females are much shorter). The standard American whaleboat was about twenty-eight feet long, two feet deep, and six feet wide.

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Scammon estimates the number of baleens killed in the years 1835-72 at 131,000; once again, his figure needs to be adjusted. According to Scammon, the average baleen whale yielded about sixty barrels of oil. If Stevenson’s average is used instead of Scammon’s, and if one assumes that different groups of whales were taken in proportion to their numbers, an average figure of sixtyfour barrels is obtained. Since humpbacks were less widely hunted than the other baleens, even this figure is probably too low. If it is assumed that they were taken only one-third as often as their numbers would predict, then the average baleen yielded seventy-three barrels. Scammon ([ 18741 1968, 244) also estimates that whalemen killed and lost one-fifth as many baleens as they caught, a proportion that seems too high. According to Bockstoce and Botkin (1983,116) bowheads killed and lost came to fewer than 15 percent of those caught. Since loss rates were particularly high for bowheads, and since a bowhead lost by one whaler was not infrequently recovered by another, a loss rate of 10 percent for all baleens seems more reasonable. If these revised assumptions are correct, it appears that whalemen of all nations killed about 180,000 baleens in the nineteenth century.I6Even this figure is likely to be a little too high, since it rests on output data that combine the oil taken from blackfish and walruses with that taken from baleen whales. On the one hand, given the initial stocks and the numbers caught, it seems that baleen populations were more likely to have been depleted than were sperm-whale populations. There are two other facts that suggest the same conclusion: baleens are monogamous and may even form permanent sexual attachments; the female baleen is larger than the male. The natural factors that helped protect the reproductive capacity of sperm whales from the depredations of hunters-the small relative size of the female, polygyny, and the easy substitution of one male for another in the breeding season-are absent among baleens. On the other hand, the reproductive capacity of baleens is much greater than that of sperm whales. According to Frost (1979, 19, 257) the pregnancy rate of adult sperm cows is about 0.19 per year (that is, about 19 percent are pregnant each year), when the population is stable, and can rise to as much as 0.25. Baleen cows calve about every two years-a pregnancy rate of 0.50.” Except 16. Stevenson 1904, 192. The text statements rest on the assumption that the American fishery was responsible for three-quarters of the catch. 17. Gaskin 1982, 309; Slijper 1979,389-90. Fin whales bear every other year, blues every two to three years, humpbacks four years out of five. Grays bear at least every other year and perhaps annually, according to Slijper. Rice and Wolman (I97 I , 117) find a fertility rate for adult females of 0.46 per year, which roughly confirms Slijper’sjudgment. There is much less information on rights and bowheads, but Frost’s statement (1979, 19) appears to cover them: “All baleen whales give birth and breed in the warmer waters within their range. In larger species this generally occurs every other year.” Slijper says (384-85) that the gestation period for bowheads (Greenland whales) is nine to ten months, and that the lactation period for both bowheads and rights is twelve months. Gaskin (1972, 88), however, puts the gestation period of the right whale at eleven to twelve months and the lactation period at five to six months.

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for gray whales, who are bothered by killer whales, baleens have no more trouble with natural predators than do sperms.18Rice and Wolman (197 1, 118) have shown that the California gray whales, in the period in which they were protected from hunting, maintained a rate of natural increase of about 5 percent per year.I9 Whale populations adjust to the available feed. If populations are reduced by hunting, the age of sexual maturity falls, the birthrate goes up, and hunting losses are replaced, so long as they are not too large. The extent of the rise in the rate of natural increase depends on the disproportion between food supplies and existing whale stocks. In the case of baleens the natural increase-expressed in absolute numbers-is thought to rise, as the population is hunted down, until the population has been reduced to about 60 percent of its maximum size. If the population is driven below that level, the natural increase (again expressed in absolute numbers) is believed to fall, and eventually the whole population will be put in serious jeopardy.2D In the early nineteenth century there were at least 367,000 baleen whales. If they are treated as one population-a procedure that is not legitimate except for illustrative purposes-a population of about 220,200 (367,000 X .60) would have maximized the natural increase. That is, only if the population had been reduced by about 147,000 whales in a relatively short period of time would the maximum natural increase (the maximum sustainable yield) have All of these figures are roughly consistent with the delivery of a calf every other year. Dolphrns, Porpoises, and Whales (1991) suggests longer birth intervals for rights (a pregnancy rate of 0.24 to 0.30 [361]) and bowheads (a pregnancy rate of 0.15 to 0.27 [346-471). Biological information on whales is most complete for species that have been recently hunted, because many specimens were available to researchers and because strong efforts were made to enumerate these groups regularly. Of the populations that have not been hunted recently, scholars have the best information on the California gray whale, because the grays are particularly easy to observe. They calve in few shallow-water areas off the coast of California, and their migration route is within sight of land. Thus their activities are relatively easily monitored, and they are also easily enumerated. Bowheads and rights are more difficult to observe and, since neither group is hunted extensively today, biologists have few specimens with which to work. 18. Henderson 1972, 36. But see Bums 1919, 237-38, which contains an account of orcas attacking a bowhead. Rice and Wolman (1971, 98-99) present evidence that orcas attack gray whales frequently, but rarely with success. 19. A birthrate of 0.13 and a death rate of 0.08-yielding a net rate of increase of 0.05-are given. Elsewhere, however, Rice and Wolman (1971, 131) treat the figure of 0.08 as an estimate of the death rate for adults and indicate that the death rate for immature whales “is more likely to be greater than that of adults” (117). Since they view the rate of 0.08 as an upwardly biased estimate of the adult death rate, it seems improbable that the computed rate of natural increase was much less than 0.05 per year. A second set of population growth rates, based on total population estimates, indicates that the gray-whale population grew at about 11 percent per year from 1952-53 (shortly after the grays were protected) to 1959-60 (112-13). “Trends from 1960 to 1967 are uncertain” (131). 20. Frost 1979, 70. It should be said that Frost hedges his account with the most cautious language. See also Matthiessen 1995, 70, which suggests that right-whale stocks fell much lower than the posited 60 percent, yet have begun to recover; and Rice and Wolman 1971,91.Discussing baleens, Scarff (1977, 337) says, “A whale stock at between 30-70% of its initial population level will exhibit a maximum net recruitment rate . . . of only 5-7% annually.” See also Lien and MerdSOY 1979.46-49.

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been reached. In fact, only 180,000 baleens were killed over the entire century. If Rice and Wolman’s findings concerning the rate of natural increase of gray whales are representative of baleen whales in general, the maximum sustainable yield would have been about 11,010 per year (220,200 X .05). That is, even if the baleen population had been driven as low as 220,200, whalemen could have taken as many as 11,010each year, without jeopardizing the population. In fact, American whalemen never took as many as 7,000 in a year; in most years they took only a small fraction of that number. Can the Rice and Wolman results be regarded as representative of baleens as a whole? Allen (1974,356-57) warns against extrapolating from one species to another, but he makes the point in the context of a discussion of overhunted groups. He points out that the gray whale may have recovered quickly because it employs only a limited number of breeding grounds; even when the grays had dropped to a small fraction of their original number, population density on the breeding ground was always high enough to ensure successful breeding on a large scale. He points out that other groups, such as rights, might not be able to recover so quickly. Scarff (1977, 337) puts the maximum recruitment rate (additions to the stock of adults minus deaths of adults) of baleens at 5 to 7 percent, which roughly squares with Rice and Wolman’s findings, and Rice (1974, 189) estimates that the maximum sustainable yield from bowheads was as high as the 5 percent recorded for grays. This chapter is concerned not with the issue of recovery from severe overhunting, but with the maximum sustainable yield, a level that is reached long before whale populations are put in danger. In this context it seems safe enough to accept a maximum sustainable yield rate of 5 percent for all baleens. The question is not recovery, but breeding habits under normal conditions. The calculations discussed to this point have treated all baleens hunted by the American nineteenth-century fleet as though they were alike, as though they bred indiscriminately across groups, and as though they were hunted in the same indiscriminate way. These conditions were not met, of course; it is necessary to look at individual groups separately. California gray whales represent something of a special case, although their peculiarities were shared, in some measure, with humpbacks.*’ They produced inferior oil and bone and relatively small average amounts of either (about thirty-five barrels of oil per whale). Initially they were not easily taken. Whalemen called them devilfish because they attacked the whaleboats. Until about midcentury they were hunted in the North Pacific by whalemen primarily seeking rights and bowheads but willing to take grays, if the opportunity presented itself. Relatively few were killed. Gray-whale hunting changed when the calving grounds in the bays of the Baja Peninsula were discovered. Whalemen then began hunting grays in the winter, chiefly as an off-season activity, when the pursuit of rights and bow21. Much of what follows is drawn from Henderson 1972.

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heads in the north was impossible. Previously they had shifted out of the northern grounds in winter and sailed to the New Zealand, Chilean, or California grounds to hunt sperm whales and humpbacks. After the mid- 1840s gray whaling became another off-season option-a risky one, at first, but when hunters had learned to enter the bays successfully and had adopted the Greener gun (a weapon that allowed them to remain at a safer distance from their ferocious prey), gray whaling became an important activity. According to Henderson, the number of gray whales killed on both the northern and calving grounds rose from a total of seven to eight hundred over the years 1846-54 to seven times that number over the next decade, but by 1866-74 the figure had fallen to just over two thousand. At that point, whalemen effectively gave up hunting gray whales. The total number killed by Americans in the nineteenth century thus came to about eighty-two hundred (Henderson 1972,256-57). According to the most reliable estimates (see the figures given by Frost and Allen, table 4.1) the California herd originally numbered between fifteen and twenty thousand. (Scammon [I8741 1968, 23, implies that it was nearer fifty thousand-a figure modem students of the subject discount.) Following the line of argument adopted previously, eighty-two hundred whales taken from an original population of fifteen to twenty thousand ought not to have destroyed the gray-whale herds, but gray whaling was a special case. Hunting was extremely concentrated in space and time. The gray-whaling era lasted only about thirty years; once the calving grounds were entered, virtually all of the whales killed and listed in Henderson’s tally were females. The ability of the stock to reproduce was directly attacked. Many of the females were pregnant or left behind calves too young to feed themselves. Almost all of those calves starved to death, and they-as well as those attacked and killed by whalemen to draw the mothers within harpoon range-are missing from Henderson’s totals. The slaughter, then, was much greater than Henderson’s figures describe, and it is a wonder that the California gray-whale population survived at all. It did, however, and today is as large as it ever wasz2Probably the increased cost of capture due to diminished numbers, together with weakening markets for oil-especially the inferior oil yielded by the grays-led whalemen to abandon the California grounds in time to save the remnants of the population. In any case the American whale fleet did not end its days for lack of gray whales. The grays, a species that probably accounted for less than 6 percent of all whale oil in any year, were simply never central to American whaling. The bowheads of the Western Arctic are a second group of baleen whales for which there are good population data. According to Bockstoce and Botkin they originally numbered between twenty and forty thousand, in all likelihood about thirty thousand (see table 4.1). They were first hunted commercially in 22. The California gray was taken off the endangered species list on 15 June 1994 (News and Observer [Raleigh, NC] 16 June 1994).

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1848. Pelagic whalers took about 18,700, or something more than 60 percent of the original population, before World War I. Again, the slaughter was concentrated in a relatively short period of time. It was not, as in the case of the grays, a destruction visited chiefly on females, but by 1915 the population is said to have been reduced to about three thousand. In an attempt to reconcile their estimates of the original stock, the number killed by pelagic whaling, and the number remaining in 1915, Bockstoce and Botkin have simulated the bowhead population under a variety of parametric specifications. They have been able to achieve a reconciliation only on the assumption that mortality from all sources other than whaling exceeded recruitment, an assumption that initially seems implausible. The recruitment and survivorship ratios, however, represent values influenced by hunting. Bockstoce and Botkin argue that one bowhead feeding ground after another was hunted out, and the whales were forced to withdraw into always more limited feeding grounds (1983, 137; but see Tillman, Breiwick, and Chapman 1983, 145; Breiwick and Mitchell 1983, 150-51). In these circumstances hunting would not set off a favorable density/fertility mechanism leading to more births, since the relevant feedwhale ratios would not rise. Even so, it is more than a little puzzling that deaths-apart from whaling deaths-exceeded births. Perhaps hunting interfered in some other way with procreation, although we know of no argument or evidence to that effect. In any case bowheads, with their relatively confined feeding grounds, were probably in greater danger of extermination than were rights, sperms, or humpbacks (Slijper 1979, 395). Whatever the mechanism, the evidence suggests that the bowhead population had been reduced to about three thousand by 1915. Even so, neither the conclusion that the final collapse of the bowhead population occurred while U.S. whaling was still otherwise viable, nor the conclusion that the collapse contributed importantly to the end of U S . whaling, is obvious. The fleet was declining before the Civil War, dramatically so after the mid- 1870s, when bowheads must still have been relatively numerous. The estimates of kill per unit of effort assembled by Bockstoce and Botkin are highly variable but exhibit no clear downward trend before the 1880s. The index of total factor productivity of New Bedford whalers in the Western Arctic (discussed in chapter 8) shows no unequivocal long-term drop before the early 1880s (see figure 4.1). At this point there were practically no New Bedford whalers left in the Western Arctic. These two indexes cannot provide conclusive evidence of changes in the stock of whales, since they are influenced by factors other than the availability of whales.z’ Nevertheless, it is highly unlikely that developments pro23. Bockstoce and Botkin 1983, 130, 131. Among the developments almost certainly having an important effect on productivity were a deterioration in the quality of seamen on whalers and various technical improvements, such as the darting gun and the steam-powered whaler (the latter influencing the Bockstoce and Botkin estimates, but not the Davis, Gallman, and Gleiter figures,

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50

I

01 1851

1856

1861

1866

1871

1876

1881

Fig. 4.1 Index of total factor productivity,New Bedford whaling vessels hunting the Western Arctic, voyages ending 1851-83 (base = average 1851-83

=

100) Nore: See chapter 8 for a description of the productivity index.

moting improved productivity would have been powerful enough to offset the effects of a drastic reduction in the stock of bowheads, had one taken place. In any case, if the American fleet had been forced to contract because of sharply rising costs associated with the depletion of the bowhead population, the killper-unit-of-effort and total-factor-productivity indexes would both have fallen. Given that neither index shows a marked downward trend, at least until 1880, it is doubtful that New Bedford owners, agents, and seamen were driven out of whaling by a shortage of bowheads. Data on the remaining groups of baleens hunted in the nineteenth century are much less complete. It is known that humpbacks were actively sought, if which cover only sailing vessels). The decline in labor quality tended to reduce productivity; improved technology tended to raise it. The Bockstoce and Botkin average weighted kill-per-unitof-effort indexes are 1849-59, ,179; 1860-69, ,147; 1870-79, ,111; 1880-89, ,159; 1890-99, ,083. Dropping 1849 and 1850 reduces the average for the first period (now 1851-59) to ,120. See chapter 8 for an extended analysis of these issues. Conrad (1989.974-87, especially 984-85) disagrees with Bockstoce and Botkin. According to him the original population ran between fourteen and twenty thousand. By 1914 the figure had fallen to about thirty-four hundred but had risen back to about seventy-eight hundred by the end of the 1980s. Our interpretation of the connections between the number of bowheads and the decline in the whaling fleet would be unaffected by our adoption of this account.

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less so than other whales-they had characteristics that made them less desirable than most." Their oil and bone were less valuable than those of rights, and each whale yielded smaller amounts of both. For example, humpbacks averaged only 55 barrels of oil, compared to perhaps 100-120 barrels for rights. Humpbacks were also difficult to catch; they are fast and agile and have long flippers which, in the death throes of the whale, sometimes smashed whaleboats. Unlike right whales they sank when killed. When this happened in shallow water-which is where the humpback was typically hunted-the whale could be raised, or marked and picked up later, when natural causes forced the carcass to the surface. (In this case, of course, the carcass might be eaten by sharks.) In deep water, humpbacks could be neither successfully raised nor marked, but whalemen seem to have been able to keep them afloat by holding them on lines run to the whaleboat^.'^ Since humpbacks have been heavily hunted in the twentieth century, there is no question that they survived the nineteenth in large numbers.26How many were killed in the nineteenth century is by no means certain. The estimate of the average size of baleens, discussed above, rests on the assumption that humpbacks were taken only one-third as often as their relative numbers would lead one to expect, but that assumption is a guess, no more. A guess of some kind is required, however, if we are to get an idea of the extent to which the remaining baleens-chiefly rights-were under assault. Assuming that the guess is correct, it is possible to make the following computation: Total number of baleens killed: Of which: bowheads of the Western Arctic 18,700 California grays 8,200 humpbacks, perhaps 35,000 Total of the three above: Leaving rights, Atlantic bowheads, Japanese and Korean grays, blackfish, and the odd fin or sulphurbottom

180,000

6 1,900 118,100

The original stocks of rights and Atlantic bowheads amounted to about 177,000. About 70,800 could have been taken before these populations were reduced to the level of the maximum sustainable yield. Once the two populations (combined) reached that level, perhaps 5,000 animals could be taken each year without jeopardizing the stocks. In no year did American whalemen take as many as 7,000 baleens, a figure that includes, of course, Western Arctic 24. For accounts of humpbacking, see Dulles 1933, chap. 20; Nordhoff 1895, chap. 10; Ashley 1938, 65. According to Dulles, it was common for New London whalers to spend two summers and a winter at Desolation Island, hunting rights and humpbacks. 25. Ferguson 1936, 130-31, 145-48. The accounts on these pages apparently refer to humpbacking in deep water. 26. According to Mitchell and Reeves (1983, 160-61), 4,053 humpbacks were killed in the western North Atlantic (including Iceland) in the forty-one years 1850 to 1890, and 4,810 from 1891 to 1931.

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bowheads, humpbacks, and grays, as well as rights and Atlantic bowheads. Moreover, the 118,100 figure is a residual, and it is based in part on oil taken from animals other than rights and Atlantic bowheads: Japanese and Korean grays, fins (a few), blues (a few), walruses (many), blackfish (many). By the 1930s right whales had become so scarce that the whaling nations, fearing the rights would be exterminated, agreed to protect them from all hunting.*’ Since data on twentieth-century hunting of rights are fragmentary, it is not clear whether the scarcity was a legacy of the period of American whaling, or a product of late nineteenth- or early twentieth-century Norwegian hunting.28The absence of reported kills implies that twentieth-century hunting was not intense. After all, if right populations had been hunted down in the twentieth century, would there not be abundant data on the number killed? Not necessarily. Hunting records of the twentieth century, particularly those reporting distributions among baleen groups, were not well kept before the 1930s. It is likely that rights were mistakenly counted with the more numerous rorquals. One must also take into account inaccuracies in the records. Peter Matthiessen (1995, 70) reports that Russian whalemen secretly killed thousands of protected whales, including many rights: “A single Soviet ship . . . killed twelve hundred right whales in the single season of 1961-62.” For what it’s worth, the rorquals survived-in the case of the blues, just barely-a much more savage assault in the twentieth century than that to which the baleens hunted by the Americans were subjected in the nineteenth. Between 1904 and 1978, 331,000 blue whales and 692,000 fin whales were taken in the Antarctic grounds alone (Tldnnessen and Johnsen 1982,75 1). The original populations of blues and fins in the entire Southern Hemisphere amounted to 270,000 and 607,000, respectively. That is, over a seventy-fouryear period the numbers of these whales taken substantially exceeded the original populations. Both groups were damaged, but they were not driven to extinction. By 1978 Southern Hemisphere blues probably numbered only 7,0008,000 and fins 130,000. A much smaller fraction of the original population of rights was killed by nineteenth-century hunters, and hunting was spread over almost a century (Frost 1979,266-67). Right whales have characteristics that may have brought them more readily to the brink of extinction. Their numbers were never large. They were scattered over wide reaches of the oceans and were divided into at least three independent population groups; breeding probably did not take place across these groups. Concentrated hunting could have lowered population densities enough to interfere with breeding. The slaughter of the rights may have opened the way for the expansion of populations of whales that were not at that time being 27. Frost 1979, 31; T0nnessen and Johnsen 1982, 399-400. But Matthiessen (1995, 70) dates effective control to 1949. 28. T~nnessenand Johnsen 1982, 736, 751. “The main exploitation [of rights] was ended by the 1920s, although even at the end of this era right whales were more valued by whalers than blue whales” (Dolphins, Porpoises, and Whales 1991, 354).

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heavily hunted-the fin whales, for example. The only way for the right populations to recover from hunting would have been through a rise in fertility, due to a fall in the age of sexual maturity, the fall in turn caused by an improved feedwhale ratio. If the fins expanded into the space left by the rights, the f e e d fertility mechanism of the rights would not operate, at least not with full effect. As a result the calculations of the maximum sustainable yield described above may be too optimistic. Even so, the data do not suggest that the right-whale stocks had declined so far by the 1870s that a scarcity of whales served as a major check to the American whaling industry.29 4.3

Conclusions

Most of the evidence indicates that the stocks of sperm whales and humpbacks were decidedly not running out. The number of sperm whales killed in the nineteenth century is very small in comparison to the previously existing stocks and their procreative abilities. The same can be said of humpbacks. The picture with respect to rights, grays, and bowheads is less clear. Hunting was certainly a heavier burden to these populations, but it was probably not so heavy as to make them generally scarce by the time the American whaling fleet began its steep decline. This is not to say that they were undamaged by the American whaling fleet. The grays and bowheads were certainly hurt, and the rights may have been. It is only to say that the decline of American whaling antedated serious problems of whale numbers. Supply-side pressures that would have led the whaling industry to contract may have emerged even in the absence of ecological disasters. Hunting may have affected the numbers and behavior of whales, even in cases where there is little evidence of overhunting. It may also have reduced population densities of some whales (even if the harvest never exceeded the maximum sustainable yield), making them less accessible and their capture more costly. Such reductions could explain the persistent search for new hunting grounds, even when the old ones had not been hunted out. Perhaps more likely, the whales may have become wary. William Scoresby ([1820] 1969, 172-73, 183) claims, for example, that when, in the seventeenth century, the Spitsbergen grounds were first opened, whales were so curious and unfearful that they “allowed themselves to be . . . closely approached” by the whaleboats, but in time they became timid. The same sequence was observed in the nineteenth century in Davis Strait and the Western As whales learned about men, hunting costs may have risen. 29. If a scarcity of baleens caused the decline of the fleet, the real price of whale oil should have been rising. It did rise, peaking in the period 1851-65, but, during the period of marked decline of the fleet after 1865, the real price fell. See table 9.11. 30. Bockstoce and Botkin 1983, 118-19; Wray and Martin 1983,226; Lien and Merdsoy 1979, 48. Biologist Haven Wiley, of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, writes (letter of 12 December 1986): “Ecologists interested in predation worry a lot about whether prey densities

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Chapters 8 and 10 subject the total-factor-productivity index described in chapter 1 to analysis in an effort to explain differences in productivity over time. The impact of whale stocks on productivity is considered there in detail. The analysis of the present chapter suggests a hypothesis that will be tested: American whaling did not decline because of a shortage of whales. correlate with prey availabiliry and clearly they often do not. With specific reference to whales, it is perhaps important to consider whether increasing wariness by the whales might have had a significant impact on their availability to whalers in sailing vessels,”

5

Labor

In the words of Elmo Hohman, “The method of wage payment in the whaling industry was a singular one.” A whaleman, whether captain or greenhand, [was] not paid by the day, week, or month, nor was he allowed a certain sum for every barrel of oil or for every pound of bone captured. Instead, his earnings consisted of a specified fractional share, known as a lay, of the total net proceeds of a voyage, . . . The earnings of a whaleman thus constituted a reward not only for the performance of labor under peculiarly trying conditions, but also for the assumption of personal, business, and physical risks. For the size of his lay, representing wages, depended directly upon the business risks centering about price fluctuations, as well as upon the physical risks of storm, fire, stranding, and poor luck on the whaling grounds.’ The effect of business and physical risks on earnings is illustrated by the experience of 1,082 captains of whaling vessels that sailed from New Bedford in the years 1840-58. Their monthly earnings averaged $98.31, but ranged from a low of $0.66 to a high of $345.34.2 1. Hohman 1928, 217. 222. See also Hohman 1926, 644-71. Hohman’s description is true of the industry through its middle phase. Later, although still risking the dangers of the voyage, whalemen were protected from the vagaries of the market. “By the closing decades of the nineteenth century, in an attempt to counteract the effect of falling market prices, the lay agreements also specified unit prices for oil and bone upon which the lays were to be computed’ (Butler 1973,62-63). The lay was unusual, but it was not unique. Similar systems have appeared in other industries. For example, some Argentine sheep farms in the nineteenth century paid “the person who cared for the flocks . . . a third of their production in remuneration” (Cortts Conde 1985,328). “He [the shepherd] derived his remuneration either from an interest in the flock (usually a third) or from a monthly salary. The former mode of payment was the more general; the latter may be said to be the only one in use now” (US.Department of State 1900, 1582 [from D. Mayer, Consul, Buenos Aires]). 2. In these years 1,637 voyages began in New Bedford (see table 5A.1). For 423 we do not have a crew contract (the source of lay data). For 115 for which we have a crew contract, the captain’s lay is not recorded. In seventeen additional cases the value of the catch has not been computed.

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A crewman’s life was not easy. He was at personal risk individually while working aboard ship, jointly with his boatmates while chasing whales, and jointly with his shipmates when their vessel faced unknown reefs, or hurricanes, or attacks by angry South Sea islanders or Inuit. Injury and death were common. In a letter to the Whalemen’sShipping List dated December 1857, the captain of the Alexander reported that, in a gale the month before, Patrick Connely had been washed overboard and drowned, Thomas Quinn had broken his collarbone, Albert Braley had broken his leg, Martin Bodmer had broken his back, and “every man on deck was more or less i n j ~ r e d . ”Comments ~ such as “fell from the stem overboard and was drowned” and “taken out of the boat by a foul line, and drowned” are sprinkled through the reports of whaling masters. Only the last clause of the April 1856 statement by the captain of the Alfed Gibbs sets it apart from hundreds of others: “Put in to land John Prior, who fell from the main top-gallant cross trees in a fit, fracturing his jaw bone, and injuring him internally; he providentially fell upon a dog which was lying on deck, which no doubt saved his life.”4 In the boats all crewmen were constantly at risk. The boat and six-man crew of the Harvest’s second mate, for example, disappeared while trying to secure a dead whale. More common are reports such as that of the captain of the Montgomery: his third mate’s boat and crew were “carried out of sight by the whale” to which they were fastened. “The ship cruised two days for the missing boat, but could not find her.”5 The vessel itself did not guarantee safety. Several were attacked by sperm whales; the Essex, the Ann Alexandel; and the Kathleen were sunk.6 The Can(In six of these the vessel was lost at sea, condemned in another port, or sold in another port; in four others the vessel returned to port clean after a voyage of less than a month, usually because of the illness of the captain.) The monthly earnings reported in the text are nominal amounts. In 1880 dollars the range is Defrom $0.88 to $392.43 (Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index [U.S. partment of Commerce 1975, series E-521). 3. Martin Bodmer had died by the time the captain wrote his letter (WSL 2 March 1858). 4. WSL 23 April 1844, 5 January 1858, 7 October 1856 (Captain Nichols doesn’t mention the fate of the dog). 5. WSL 23 July 1850, 10 February 1857. In 1865 the WSL (1 1 April) reported having received a letter from Hezekiah Allen, the first mate of the Josephine, who said that the Waverly “had lost her third mate, Mr. Holt, and a whole boats crew the first of the season. They were fast to a whale just at dark, and had not been heard of since.” 6. The wreck of the Essex is the most famous of these. Her first mate, Owen Chase, wrote (or perhaps provided facts to a ghostwriter for) an account of the disaster and its aftermath, Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-ship Essex, of Nantucket; Which was Attacked and Finally Destroyed by a Large Spermaceti-Whale, in the Pacijic Ocean; with an Account of the Unparalleled Sufferings of the Captain and Crew during a Space of Ninetythree Days at Sea, in Open Boats in the Years 1819 & 1820 (published in 1821), which Melville read with close attention and which furnished a model for the sinking of the Pequod. ‘‘I have seen Owen Chase, who was chief mate of the Essex at the time of the tragedy; I have read his plain and faithful narrative: I have conversed with his son; and all this within a few miles of the scene of the catastrophe” (Melville [ 18511 1983, chap. 45). The whale attacked on 20 November 18 19; the Essex sank on the 22th. The crewmen, in three boats, set out for the coast of Peru, four thousand miles away. On 20 December they landed,

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From the sketchbook of a crew member on the bark Orruy Tuft on her sixth New Bedford voyage, April 1864 to October 1865. When this drawing was reproduced by Kenneth Martin in WhulemenS Puinrings and Drawings, he titled it “Bowheading: Another Unexpected Plunge.” Reproduced courtesy of The Kendall Whaling Museum, Sharon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.

ton’s crew, after abandoning their sinking ship, rowed and sailed sixty-five hundred miles in open whaleboats for forty-nine days before arriving in Guam (during the trip they were misidentified as pirates and almost fired upon by unexpectedly, on uninhabited Henderson Island, where they found water and a few fish. Most set sail again on 27 December. (Three chose to stay on the island and were eventually rescued in the spring.) Chase was in a five-man boat which, on 12 January 1820, became separated from the other two. On 20 January the first of Chase’s boatmates died, and “[tlhe next morning we committed him to the sea.” On 8 February the second died. “We kept his corpse all night, and in the morning my companions began . . . to make preparations to dispose of it in the sea. . . . I addressed them on the painful subject of keeping the body for food . . . , [W]e set to work as fast as we were able to prepare it so as to prevent its spoiling. We separated his limbs from his body, and cut all the flesh from the bones; after which, we opened the body, took out the heart, and then closed it again . . . and committed it to the sea. We now first commenced to satisfy the immediate craving of nature from the heart, which we eagerly devoured, and then eat sparingly of a few pieces of the flesh; after which, we hung up the remainder, cut in thin strips about the boat, to dry in the sun: we made a fire and roasted some of it, to serve us during the next day.” On 18 February they encountered a British vessel, the Indian, and were rescued. The quotations from Chase’s Narrative are from Heffernan 1981.

153

Labor

government troops on Tinian).’ When the Parker sank, the survivors among its crew had an easier trip to land. They rowed for a mere eight days and seven nights of “intense suffering from hunger and thirst” before arriving at Ocean Island-but they were marooned there for six months.* The George Howland was hijacked by convicts from an Ecuadorian penal settlement when she stopped for wood and water at the Galapagos Islands. The hijackers stranded most of the crew ashore and forced the remainder to sail them to f r e e d ~ m . ~ During the Civil War, Confederate raiders destroyed many whalers, beginning with the firing of the Eben Dodge by the Sumpter in December 1861. Despite their misfortunes the crewmen of these vessels fared better than those of the Emigrant: a captain reported finding her capsized, but “nothing is known of the crew” (WSL 4 February 1862, 16 October 1849). And then there were native peoples. The crews escaped the wrecks of the Arabella, the New Bedford, and the America off Kamchatka, but eleven men were killed by Inuit when they came ashore. In 1853 the Znga was seized by natives of Pleasant Island in the Carolines, and the white members of the crew were killed. Two years later, two South Sea islanders stole the John, killing the captain, the first and second mates, and many seamen in the process (WSL 21 October 1851,20April 1853,6 November 1855). Hohman (1926,65 1) examined the records of a number of whaling voyages, but it is not clear which voyages they were or how he analyzed the data he found. He says only, “The detailed figures serving as a warrant for these statements were secured through an analysis of hundreds of individual accounts found in the collection of scores of original manuscript whaling account-books now in the New Bedford Public Library.” This chapter expands Hohman’s work in some new directions, modifies a 7 .The Canron struck a reef “said not to be laid down in any chart” (WSL 24April 1855). 8. During their sojourn on Ocean Island, “it was estimated that they killed rising of 7000 sea fowls, and about 50 seals. From the old wreck of the Parker they obtained some pieces of copper, which were manufactured into cooking utensils. They sent off 120 sea fowls, with tallied pieces of wood attached to them, hoping some one would be caught, which would in hieroglyphic language relate the situation of the crew of the Parker. Thus month after month passed away. Every morning and evening the captain was accustomed in his tent to conduct religious services.” There is no record of anyone’s deciphering their hieroglyphics, but they were eventually rescued by the James Srewarr of New Brunswick and the Nassau of New Bedford (WSL 7 November 1843). 9. The George Howland’s captain seems to have unintentionally connived at his misfortune. The convicts told him they wanted to escape, and he allowed his cooper to help them repair an old whaleboat they’d found for that purpose. Then he employed them to catch four of his crew who had deserted on their island, offering the convicts provisions for their escape in exchange. He entertained several of them on his ship, he went to visit them on land, and he set up a system of signals that allowed the convicts, having seized him, to lure two more boatloads of his crew to shore and capture. The story is told by the cooper, not by the captain (WSL 20 April, 27 April, 4 May, 8 June, 5 July, 10 August, 12 October, 2 November 1852). Thirteen years later, the WSL (18 July 1865) published the following news story: “CLAIM AwARDED.-The claim of the owners of ship George Howland, of this port, upon the government of Ecuador, for the seizure of said ship by convicts at the Gallipagos Islands in 1852, and taken by them to Guyaquil, and the subsequent breaking up of the voyage, has been allowed to the claimants. The amount awarded is $50,000.”

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few of his findings, and directly disputes others, At its core is an examination of 34,753 labor contracts drawn between whaling agents and the crewmen who signed on to 1,250 voyages that left New Bedford between 1 January 1840 and 31 December 1858, and between 1 January and 31 December 1866 (see tables 5A.1 and 5A.3). These are almost three-quarters of the voyages that departed New Bedford during those years.’”The labor data have been linked with information on the voyages, permitting the contracts to be examined in light of the vessels used, the grounds hunted, and the results of the hunt. Twenty-nine men manned a typical ship, twenty-six, a typical bark. Differences between crews seem to have been related to sizes of vessels, dates of sailing, projected lengths of voyages, and vessels’ destinations, rather than to differences in rigging; the crews of a typical ship and a typical bark were organized very similarly. Each vessel had (1) a captain and some number of mates-always at least one, usually three, sometimes as many as five; (2) a set of skilled professional mariners-between two and six boatsteerers, sometimes a shipkeeper; (3) a number of artisans-almost always a cooper and a carpenter, often a blacksmith, occasionally a boatbuilder, a painter, a sailmaker, a caulker, or a coppersmith; (4) some service personnel-almost always a cook and a steward; (5) a number of seamen-some skilled, some semi-skilled, some unskilled (“greenhands”), and often a boy or two. Table 5.1 and figure 5.1 show the occupational structure of a typical whaling crew. (They do not take account of the structural changes that occurred between 1840 and 1866.)

5.1 The Whaleman’s Lay Each member of a whaler’s crew, from the captain to the cabin boy, received a predetermined fraction of his vessel’s net catch. Even in this day of sophisticated businessmen-actors, the experience of the motion picture and television industries shows that there’s many a slip ’twixt the gross and the net. It is easy to cheat on expenses, and thus preferable for the entertainer to draw a contract that depends on a percentage of gross rather than net income. Read Variety or the Los Angeles Times, though, and you will see that actors still sign net contracts. In nineteenth-century New Bedford, whalemen, if not agents and captains, were no more sophisticated: the lay was calculated on the net value of the 10. The voyages seem to be representative, so far as value of output and voyage duration are concerned. See table 5A.2. The 1,250 voyages include all but the nine unreadable lists among the Whalemen’s Shipping Papers in the collection of the Melville Whaling Room at the New Bedford Free Public Library that (1) include information on the whaleman’s station and lay, and (2) pertain to voyages in the Voyages Data Set. The Stations and Lays Data Set contains 36,453 records, but most analyses in this chapter refer only to the records of crew members who sailed with the vessel when it left New Bedford-a total of 34,753. Crewmen added later (many of whom replaced men who deserted, died, or were discharged) are generally left out of account. We believe that the crew lists include only a small fraction of replacement crewmen. See chapter 3 for a description of the Stations and Lays Data Set.

155 Table 5.1

Labor Average Numbers of Crewmen in Occupational Categories, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Occupation Officer Captain Mate Skilled maritime Boatsteerer Miscellaneous Artisan Cooper Blacksmith Carpenter Miscellaneous Service personnel Cook Steward Seaman Skilled seaman Semi-skilled seaman Unskilled seaman BOY Total

Total

Sailed

1.00 3.26

1.00 3.21

3.59 0.23

3.48 0.22

0.91 0.58 0.82 0.14

0.89 0.55 0.78 0.13

1.06 1.04

1.oo 0.99

2.35 2.67 10.85 0.63 29.16

2.19 2.55 10.21 0.57 27.80

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set (see chapter 3) Notes: The “Total” column reports averages, by occupation, of all crewmen listed on the vessel’s roster. The “Sailed” column reports averages only of those crewmen who left New Bedford with the vessel. See chapter 3 for a discussion of this difference. Not all crewmen had only one occupation aboard ship. This table includes those with two (for example, “cooper and ordinary seaman”), counting them as one-half a man for each occupation. Other tables in this chapter exclude dual-occupation crewmen. See appendix 5B for a description of paired occupations and an analysis of the effect of two occupations on crewmen’s lays.

catch.” The difference between gross and net was a standard set of charges incurred during the voyage. The nature (not the amount) of these charges was specified in advance, and the labor contract was written to guarantee that the crewman (along with the agent and owners) bore his share. Charges always included payments for pilotage, wharfing, cooperage, watching, cleaning, 11. In regard to the sophistication of captains, A. B. C. Whipple (1954, 126-29) relates the following story: Captain Thomas Scullun of the Cape Horn Pigeon was stopped by a Russian naval vessel in the Sea of Okhotsk in September 1892. The Russians charged that he had been hunting in Russian territorial waters, and Scullun (and his vessel) were taken to Vladivostok. Scullun insisted that he had been in international waters. After nine days the Russians let him go, but by then it was too late to hunt the Arctic that year. Scullun billed the Russians for the expenses he had incurred while in Vladivostok harbor-a small amount-plus the opportunity cost of missing the hunting season, for a total bill of $49,500. The controversy went on for ten years. The Russians finally gave in and agreed to abide by the decision of an arbitrator, the arbitration to take place in the Netherlands. Scullun amended his charges to include interest for the ten years, and ended up collecting $56,675.63.

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I

I

Unskilled Seamen

I

Semi-skilled Seamen

Skilled Seamen

Fig. 5.1 Proportions of crewmen in various occupational categories, New Bedford whaling voyages, sailing years 1840-58 and 1866 Source: Computed from the Stations and Lays Data Set. See table 5.1.

loading, and unloading.12 Toward midcentury, as the industry’s organizational structure became more complex, charges began to include commissions and insurance on oil and bone shipped home during the voyage. The whaleman’s contract does not appear to have presented the problems 12. See, for example, the crew contract for the Oneida’s 1857 voyage: “In consideration of the said Owners having released the Officers and Seamen from their obligations to load and discharge said Ship at the commencement and termination of her voyage, each of the Officers and Seamen, parties hereto, consent and agree that the Sum of Ten dollars may be deducted from our several shares for the loading of said Ship, and the sum of Eight dollars for the discharging thereof, and that said sums may be respectively charged to, allowed and paid by us. And it is further agreed that the Sum of Three dollars may be charged in our several accounts, and shall be allowed and paid by us at the termination of said voyage for the expence of the Medicine Chest on board said Ship. And it is further agreed that interest and insurance upon all advances to us respectively, during said voyage, together with a commission of 2 1/2 per cent on the proceeds Sales of the cargo for guaranty of the payment for the same may be charged by said Owners, and deducted from our respective shares or lays” (Whalemen’s Shipping Papers).

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that plague the entertainment industry. The expenditures were all made by the captain, the value of whose lay depended on the size of the net. Moreover, the captain’s behavior was monitored-on the spot by the other ship’s officers, whose income also depended inversely on the size of the charges, at a distance by the agent, who had the same incentive. Crew members were usually paid in cash or in a bill of exchange that could be converted to cash, but the agent could, if he chose, give them their shares in kind. A crewman was entitled to a full share if he returned on the vessel on which he sailed, a prorated share (based on the catch to date) if he died or was discharged for illness or other good cause. Until the 1860s he was not legally entitled to any remuneration if he deserted.I3 It is difficult to determine the effect of the agent’s right to pay in kind. Hohman suggests two reasons for the frequent use of such payments when a crewman was discharged during a voyage. First, since there was often a lack of information about the prices of whale products, it was difficult to agree on the level of remuneration. Second, if the payment was substantial, the captain would want to preserve his limited cash reserves. The first point implies that paying men in oil avoided the necessity of agreeing on prices. But since the seaman’s payment was a net value, resort to prices could not be avoided; in ports with U.S. consuls, these officials provided the necessary prices.14 Hohman’s second point, however, seems to be valid. At least seamen often received oil when discharged. For example, over the course of eight midcentury years a number of whalemen of the ship Canton were paid off during voyages with oil, in amounts that ranged from 74 to 393 gallons.15 At the end of a voyage, payment in kind was usually made only if there was a dispute between crewmen and agent over the value of the catch. Inkind payments are rarely mentioned either in contemporary accounts or in the whaling literature, but a letter from the New Bedford agent and shipowner Charles W. Morgan to his Boston lawyer suggests they may have been more common than the standard literature implies. 13. This rule was originally based on British common law, but it was often reconfinned in American courts. In 1851, for example, in a case involving a minor who signed on the whaler Abraham H. Howlund and after some time deserted, the U.S. district court in Boston “held that unjustifiable and continued desertion, occuring during the voyage, worked in all cases an entire forfeiture of wages” (WSL 5 August 1851). 14. “Honolulu . . . CIRCULAR RATES. The price fixed by the Consuls for payment of discharged seamen is 40 cents per gallon for Polar oil, and $1,20 for sperm, and 33 cents for bone” (WSL 22 January 1856). On 13 December 1864 the newspaper reported, in addition to the prices set by the consul at Honolulu, a new rule “established by the Consulate. . . . The usual deduction of 8 per cent. for leakage and shrinkage, from the above prices, will be allowed only, in cases where the masters shall file an affidavit in writing, stating to the best of his knowledge and belief, that the oil and hone, upon which the seamen’s lays are to be calculated, are the full amount taken during their several terms of service.” 15. Hohman 1928, 226. See also Whitecar 1864, 168: “a French cook, who left the Alexander at Stewart’s Island and joined the Eliza. He was discharged from the Alexander, and the oil belonging to him was rolled ashore.”

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The universal custom is for the owner to make up the voyage at a certain price after which it is optional with them to take it, or deliver the crew as they may elect & it is always the right of the crew to demand their oil but they cannot demand money if the owner is unwilling to pay it. The Condor’s cargo has in part remained on the wharf & in store since its arrival & I have never yet settled with all concerned. I have this day been delivering to the Capt and one boatsteerer their parts or share of the oil and coffee as we never could agree upon a price & I have after several weeks delay declined purchasing much of the oil of another crew arrived since the Condor & many of them have taken away their oil & some have yet left it on the wharf. . . . P.S. You will understand that voyages are always made up at a certain price whether the crew intends to purchase their shares or not. They [the agents] often decline purchasing & on the other hand the crew often declines selling.I6 Whatever the importance of the right to pay in kind, the rules governing the earnings of men who failed to complete voyages became steadily more important as the duration of voyages increased-first as the fleet moved to more distant grounds and then as agents found they could keep vessels at sea longer by using Pacific cities as transshipment points. Between 1840-41 and 195758, the average voyage length in the New Bedford fleet as a whole increased from thirty-one to forty-three months: in the Atlantic from sixteen to thirtytwo, in the Indian Ocean from twenty-seven to thirty-eight, and in the Pacific from thirty-eight to forty-four. (Among the 1,250 voyages examined in this chapter, six lasted five years or more.) There was a high and increasing level of labor turnover. The George Howland, for example, a New Bedford ship that normally carried a crew of twentyeight to thirty, sailed six times between 1840 and 1866. Over these voyages the number of whalemen who died, were discharged, or deserted ranged from twelve to twenty-four, averaging 63 percent of the original crews.” As Hohman points out, the form of the labor contract was idiosyncratic: each crewman negotiated his lay. The flavor of such negotiations comes through in a letter from Charles W. Morgan to his captain, Thomas A. Norton (21 November 1834, Morgan Collection), discussing the staffing of the Hectol: After spelling out the range of lays that he was “accustomed to give in a four boat ship” (third mate 1/70 to 1/75, boatsteerers 1/90 to 1/95, seamen 1/125 to 1/130, ordinary seamen 1/135 to 1/150, greenhands 1/150 to 1/180, boys green 1/185 to 1/200, and boys not green 1/150 to 1/175), he continues: “Mr. 16. Charles W. Morgan to S. Bartlett (Boston), 24 May 1837, Morgan Collection. The Condor had arrived thirty-six days before Morgan put pen to paper. 17. George HowlartdAccount Book. Desertion was not an entirely new phenomenon, as a report from 1763 indicates. The sloop D o h put in to Cape Cod to take on water “prior to its departure for the whaling grounds, and four men who had signed for the voyage silently jumped ship and disappeared, ‘Like Roges they are and we must go to the Vineyard [Martha’s] for more hands.’ Although the vessel eventually managed to put to sea, ‘with a fool crew,’ the delay cost them four days” (Vickers 1985, 287).

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Mayhew (a third mate) had 1/65 last voyage but that was higher than I have before given. I think 1/70 a fair lay for Mr. Wimfrenn but would give 1/67 rather than not have him.” The traditional dividing line between good and mediocre wages was a lay of MOO. Hohman says officers, coopers, and boatsteerers received short lays-lays less than 1/100.’8This is generally correct, but there was a boatsteerer on the Sappho in 1866 and a cooper on the Chandler Price in 1854 who received only 1/150. There were also two coopers and 114 boatsteerers whose lays were between 1/105 and 1/140. On the other side, the Stations and Lays Data Set lists four carpenters, thirteen cooks, thirty-three stewards, seventeen shipkeepers, nineteen seamen, ten ordinary seamen, and forty-two greenhands who received lays shorter than 1/100. The outliers fall into two categories. Most seem to result from the perceived ex ante competence of the individual crewman-that is, from the agent’s and the crewman’s recognition that there were substantial differences in potential productivity among applicants for the same job. Each of the seven boatsteerers who sailed with the vessel from New Bedford and received a lay longer than 1/120 were on a voyage whose agent had signed his peers at much shorter lays.19 The three other boatsteerers on the Sappho in 1866, for example, received lays of 1/75, 1/75, and MOO. Well-paid seamen on vessels hunting in the Indian, Pacific, and Western Arctic grounds were often characterized as “able” or “extra skilled”; their shipmates received lays more in line with tradition. Skill differences do not explain all of the outliers. Vessels cruising in the Atlantic were typically smaller and had smaller crews than vessels sailing to more distant grounds. Since the distribution of net income between labor and capital was, on average, about the same in all grounds (one-third to labor and two-thirds to capital), lays were necessarily shorter in the Atlantic than elsewhere.20 Most whalemen filled one station at a time, but a few filled two at once. Those with double occupations are treated in appendix 5B. Hohman (1928,217) says, “The able and ordinary seamen, stewards, cooks, and blacksmiths were entitled to shares which varied from M O O to 1/160; the green hands and boys had to be content with ‘long lays’ which fluctuated from 18. Or greater, depending on how you look at it. A lay of 1/90 is shorter than a lay of 11100. The denominator is smaller; the amount is bigger. Hohman (1926,645) says short lays were 11100 or less, and long lays, 11100 or more-that is, 11100 is both short and long. 19. Although the lay was a fraction, it was often referred to as the reciprocal, that is, a lay of I/ 175 was often called “a 175.” 20. This does not mean that seamen in the Atlantic made higher monthly earnings. For example, imagine two vessels, one of three hundred tons and a crew of thirty, the other of one hundred tons and a crew of ten. Suppose further that the net values of the monthly catches of the two vessels are proportionate to their tonnages: $1,250 and $416.67, respectively. If the share of the crew in the net proceeds is 30 percent in each case, the seamen on each vessel would average $12.50 per month. The average lay of the large vessel would be 11100, that of the small, U33.3.

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1/160 to 1/200; and instances of fractions as small as 1/250, or even 1/350, were not unknown.” This is generally, if not exactly, correct. Well-paid stewards, cooks, and seamen have been noted, but they were the exceptions: most fell into Hohman’s long-lay range. There are contracts for boys that called for lays as low as 1/4,500, several that worked out to be less than 1/10,000 (e.g., ten cents per month), twenty-four boys who signed on for “clothes,” and one boy in the Stations and Lays Data Set who received no payment whatever (he signed on for “board”). Hohman (1928, 230) says that, with the exception of those of captains and mates, lays became longer as time passed. “His wage bargain entitled him [the whaleman], as time went on, to a smaller fractional share of the voyages for which he shipped.” This degradation he attributes to three factors: ( 1 ) “the gradually deteriorating character and efficiency of the crews,” (2) an increasing “temptation to exploit . . . inferior crews,” and (3) the substitution of capital for labor (233). For the period covered by this study, Hohman’s generalization concerning trends in lays is only partly correct. In addition, his estimates capture both the time trend and the effect of shifts in the grounds hunted; he fails to recognize, let alone disentangle, the two. Table 5.2 gives average lays by year and ground for the twelve most common occupations. Table 5.3 gives all-ground averages for an additional five occupations that appear too infrequently to permit ground-by-ground breakdowns. Between 1840 and 1866 lays rose for some occupations and fell for others. As a result, although the all-year averages in table 5.4, computed on the basis of the data underlying tables 5.2 and 5.3, give an accurate picture of the shares earned by occupational groups across the entire period, they do not describe the earnings hierarchy at any particular time. Note that the range in lays is very wide. If the unskilled seaman is the comparison base, a captain on average received twelve times as large a share, a cooper more than three times as large, and a boy less than six-tenths. Much of Hohman’s discussion is focused not on relative lays but on their redistribution, and particularly on the lengthening of all but those of captains and mates.21Starting at the top of the income hierarchy, the data show a shortening of officers’ lays (i.e., an increase in their potential earnings) from 1840-43 to 1855-58: captains’ lays by 18 percent, first mates’ by 24, second mates’ by 21, third mates’ by 20, and fourth mates’ by 10. For skilled workers the picture is less clear. On the one hand, between 1840-43 and 1855-58 coopers’ lays shortened by 9 percent, shipkeepers’ by 12 percent, and stewards’ and boatsteerers’ by less than 1 percent.22On the 21. The terms lengthening and shortening are somewhat confusing. Since the lay was often referred to by its reciprocal, a change from a 150 to a 170 was called a lengthening, despite the fact that it involved a reduction of the worker’s share from 0.67 to 0.59 percent. Similarly, a change from a 19 to a 16.5 was called a shortening, despite the increase from 5.3 to 6.1 percent. 22. According to Brown (1887, 239). “From the time the vessel arrives at her wharf until she sails, unless she is laid up for a considerable length of time, she is in charge of a ship-keeper, who has absolute control.” If the captain headed a boat, the shipkeeper was in control of the vessel while the captain was engaged in the hunt.

Average Lays by Occupation and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866

Table 5.2

Year

All Grounds”

N

Atlantic

Indian

N

N

Pacific

N

Western Arctic

N

A. Captainb ( N = 1,125)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

16.5 16.5 16.5 16.6 16.0 16.6 16.0 16.0

16.2 15.8 15.0 14.8 14.6 14.6 14.1 13.6 13.2 13.8 14.0 14.0 15.2

15 55 58 47 70 52 58 52 55 53 67 106 54 75 74 63 57 51 37 26

16.5 15.8 15.3 13.0 15.2 14.0

2 4 8 3 5 4

-

15.0 12.0 15.5 14.2 14.9 13.5 12.8 13.3 12.7 12.0 14.0 12.9 14.0

1

1

2 10 7 6 5 6 3 1 2 12 82

17.0 16.5 16.4 16.2

1

15.5

17 24 5 15

16.4 15.3 15.4 16.0 15.8 14.3 13.3 14.4 15.3 13.9 12.7 12.5 14.4 14.6 15.0 15.2

11 9 4 13 7 8 7 7 11 9 4 7 6 2 172

5

16.5 16.6 17.0 16.9 16.3 16.7 16.3 16.3 16.2 15.9 15.1 15.3 14.6 14.7 14.0 13.9 13.4 13.7 14.0 15.0 15.3

11 34 22 27 40 26 32 29 45 35 41 56 34 48 40 36 34 29 21 9 649

-

-

17.0 15.3 14.8 14.5 14.6 15.0 13.9 13.1 14.0 14.0 16.0 14.6

2 16 27 6 14 15 7 8 10 7 2 114

B. First Mate ( N = 1,224) 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 I849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means (continued)

27.7 25.7 25.5 26.6 26.2 25.7 24.9 25.8 25.4 24.4 22.2 21.5 21 .o 21.0 20.3 20.1 19.5 19.4 20.7 21.8 22.9

15 56 59 50 72 52 62 55 54 53 68 110 60 84 83 72 70 65 49 35

24.0 20.5 22.1

-

25.0 23.4 20.3

2 4 8 3 5 4

-

22.0 20.0 18.5 20.1 19.3 19.2 15.8 18.5 16.0 17.0 20.0 21.2 20.2

1

1

2 9 9 6 5 6 3 2 2 15 87

29.0 25.1 25.5 25.7 24.1 25.4 24.7 24.3 23.7 23.8 21.3 20.2 20.1 19.9 20.5 20.2 19.5 19.2 19.8 21.3 22.8

1

17 24 7 15 5 11 10 3 13 7 10 7 7 11 12 6 10 8 2 186

28.4 26.5 26.5 26.9 26.8 26.0 25.9 26.4 25.7 24.9 22.2 21.9 21.7 21.3 20.4 20.2 19.6 19.8 21.0 22.5 23.3

11 35 23 27 42 26 34 31 45 35 41 58 37 54 47 40 41 36 26 13 702

-

-

-

23.0 22.9 21.9 21.2 20.7 21.3 20.3 19.6 19.2 21.4 22.4 21.2

2 17 28 6 16 17 9 11 13 11 4 134

Table 5.2

(continued) ~~~

Year

All Groundsa

~

N

~

Atlantic

~~~

N

Indian

Pacific

N

N

Western Arctic

N

C. Second Mate ( N = 1,234)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 I866 Means

46.3 42.2 42.1 43.4 41.0 42.9 41.2 42.0 40.3 39.2 36.9 37.2 35.7 36.3 35.1 34.6 33.6 32.8 34.4 34.5 38.0

15 53 58 50 72 51

59 57 56 53 68 113 62 84 82 72 74 70 50 35

42.5 35.0 37.1 33.7 36.5 37.0 35.0 30.0 26.0 35.2 31.0 31.8 28.0 30.5 30.0 30.0 29.0 33.4 33.0

2 1

7 3 4 3 1 1

2 9 9 5 5

6 3 2 2 15 80

43.0 41.0 40.8 42.7 37.5 37.8 38.0 39.9 38.8 38.3 37.1 37.7 37.3 33.1 35.2 33.2 35.7 32.3 30.8 32.0 37.4

1

17 24 7 15 5 11

10 4 13 7 10 7 7 11 12 6 10 8 2 187

46.5 42.9 44.7 43.6 43.0 43.4 43.1 42.6 40.3 39.6 37.3 37.9 36.1 36.5 35.8 35.6 33.8 33.6 35.3 35.6 38.8

11 35 23 27 42 26 33 32 46 35 41 58 39 54 46 40 43 39 26 13 709

-

-

-

42.8 37.1 36.9 40.0 37.9 35.5 33.9 34.3 32.7 35.1 37.3 36.1

2 17 31 6 17 17 9 13 15 12 4 143

D. Third Mate (N = 1,024) 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

65.3 64.2 61.1 66.1 60.9 62.9 63.3 61.6 61.9 59.4 58.6 54.8 54.5 52.5 52.3 51.2 50.9 49.3 54.2 54.1 56.7

12 36 35 36 57 43 41 45 50 42 60 102 51 73 71 61 68 68 47 26

55.0

-

55.0 53.0 65.0 -

1 3 1 1

-

48.7 53.3 45.7 48.3 50.0 40.0 50.0 53.3 51.3

6 4 3 3 2 1 1

10 36

57.5 67.3 60.2 65.0 56.5 57.2 62.5 60.2 62.5 59.0 56.0 52.2 52.2 52.6 50.7 52.3 56.6 44.6 52.6 55.0 56.4

1

10 13 4 10 6 4 6 2 8 3 6 6 5

7 9 5 9 7 1

122

65.6 63.0 61.8 65.7 63.6 64.7 62.9 63.8 61.7 59.6 57.8 55.7 54.8 52.4 53.0 50.8 51.3 50.3 53.9 56.0 57.4

10 26 17 20 37 23 27 26 45 31 39 56 35 47 40 36 43 40 25 10 633

-

57.5 60.6 55.1

56.2 53.4 52.4 51.5 47.9 51.4 56.3 52.0 54.0

2 17 31 6 17 19 10 13 16 12 4 147

Table 5.2

(continued) ~~

Year

All Grounds”

N

Atlantic

Indian

N

N

Pacific

N

Western Arctic

N

E. Boatsteerer ( N = 4,101) 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

91.0 85.0 84.4 90.7 86.8 90. I 88.3 88.6 91.2 86.4 87.5 89.4 86.1 83.5 83.6 86.0 84.9 87.1 88.4 89.1 87.1

45 167 172 164 225 166 187 182 192 164 219 404 204 284 268 245 250 264 175 124

85.8 52.8 65.4 69.6 67.1 72.7 62.5 67.0 45.0 69.6 65.1 65.0 59.6 65.3 65.0 65.0 80.8 81.3 69.7

6 9 20 5 10 11 2 1

3 25 21 15 II 15 6 6 6 49 221

88.3 84.9 84.2 82.6 76.6 87.1 80.0 77.8 82.5 82.9 71.3 80.3 85.0 75.3 74.5 87.1 79.9 81.8 83.3 88.6 81.6

3 55 66 19 41 18 29 30 10 37 16 35 22 20 30 39 21 35 27 7 5 60

91.4 87.9 88.0 91.5 91.6 92.1 92.7 92.7 92.5 87.4 88.7 91.6 88.6 84.0 85.3 87.4 86.9 88.5 89.2 94.9 89.3

145 153 151 89 47 2,42 1

60.6 56.6 63.4 61.7 58.9 54.4 58.7 56.7 57.5 58.3 52.0 53.5 53.9 55.4 57.3 54.4 52.1 54.2 56.0 70.3 56.4

9 26 17 23 38 25 26 23 37 26 32 47 34 45 39 30 28 34 20 9 568

33 103 72 93 141 87 108 108 164 112 135 215 138 183 144

-

-

-

-

92.0 91.4 93.5 92.9 88.6 89.1 86.6 86.8 89.9 90.2 95.6 90.5

7 62 114 21 60 73 31 45

60 46 18 537

F. Cooper ( N = 983)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means (continued)

59.0 56.7 61.6 61.3 59.4 54.3 58.8 57.0 56.7 58.1 52.9 54.2 55.9 56.8 58.6 54.7 52.5 55.4 55.2 66.7 56.8

12 40 42 44 60 46 50 42 41 36 50 95 53 73 77 54 54 61 35 18

54.0 75.0 62.5 55.0 62.1 55.0

2 1 4 1

3 2

-

53.8 58.7 70.8 70.0 48.3 45.0 60.0 52.5 65.0 60.9

4 6 6 4 3 1

1 2 6 46

55.0 55.6 60.3 60.8 59.6 51.0 61.1 54.9 55.0 59.6 51.0 61.1 62.5 54.4 58.5 58.1 53.0 57.5 49.0 61.0 57.9

I 13 18 6 12 5 9 7 2 7 5 9 6 5 10 9 6 8 2 2 142

-

-

-

60.0 55.7 53.3 60.0 56.8 60.5 57.4 55.0 55.5 54.2 56.2

1

12 31 6 15 21 7 11 15 9 128

Table 5.2

(continued) ~

Year

All Grounds*

N

Atlantic

Indian

N

Pacific

N

N

Western Arctic

N

G . Carpenter ( N = 81 1)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

150.8 149.7 150.4 153.8 155.0 162.6 161.0 162.4 164.8 158.2 165.8 169.2 167.4 168.2 168.4 172.4 170.7 171.3 172.1 185.8 165.1

6 36 32 29 43 34 40 27 40 35 46 85 41 53 65 45 47 58 29 20

90.0 128.3

150.0 152.2 153.0 152.0 146.7 166.7 154.2 156.0

I 3

137.5 100.0 127.5

2 1

2

~

150.0

-

I

157.9 145.0 163.8 166.0 165.0 157.5 180.0 162.5 171.7 175.8 185.0 160.0

-

145.7 148.8 140.0 150.0 149.4

7 4 2 1

5

-

100.0 160.0 173.1 145.9

1

1 8 39

H. Cook' ( N 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 I846 1847 I848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

141.9 134.8 132.9 140.9 139.4 143.1 137.9 139.3 145.1 135.2 139.2 142.7 138.2 139.4 140.9 143.9 142.9 141.7 146.8 148.9 140.7

13 53 58 50 70 53 64 55 58 51 68 I15 64 81 82 70 74 74 51 36

140.0 103.3 111.6

1 3 8

106.7 113.0 115.0

3 5 4

130.0

1

-

82.5 128.5 120.0 131.4 128.0 125.8 127.5 125.0 132.5 148.0 125.3

1 9 13 5 9 3 6 5

2 10 9 7 5 6 2 2 2 15

85

150.0 138.9 134.0 131.7 135.4 142.0 135.0 134.4 140.0 137.1 122.9 141.7 144.6 130.0 131.0 143.0 138.6 131.5 148.1 145.0 136.6

8 3 8 5 3 12 6 4 9 6 2 117 =

151.3 151.2 151.1 150.0 158.6 162.2 165.5 162.9 163.8 161.9 166.7 172.1 171.0 167.4 171.5 171.5 177.6 175.0 168.5 198.8 166.6

4 26 14 16 25 16 22 14 38 21 29 43 24 35 33 23 27 32 13 8 463

-

-

-

157.5 170.4 174.4 167.5 175.4 175.0 176.9 161.4 170.0 177.9 185.0 172.6

2 13 25 6 12 16 8 7 13 7 1 110

1,240)

I 16 24 7 14 5 12 9 4 14 7 12 7 6 10 10 5 10 8 2 183

141.0 135.7 138.0 141.1 144.5 147.5 141.9 140.7 147.2 133.9 142.6 143.4 139.5 141.1 144.8 142.6 143.9 145.4 146.2 150.0 142.6

10 34 22 27 42 26 34 31 48 33 42 58 40 48 46 40 45 41 25 13 705

-

-

-

140.0 145.3 147.7 146.4 140.5 143.9 156.7 146.9 142.6 148.8 149.0 146.0

2 16 31 7 19 18 9 13 17 13 5 150

Table 5.2

(continued) ~

Year

All Groundsa

N

Atlantic

Indian

N

Pacific

N

N

Western Arctic

N

I. Steward ( N = 1,192) I840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 I847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

137.0 133.2 132.8 137.9 137.0 136.8 136.5 138.2 140.5 137.3 138.3 136.9 130.6 134.3 133.7 131.0 134.4 131.7 139.3 133.9 135.4

16 50 56 50 68 47 54 52 56 49 61 110 60 85 78 65 77 72 48 38

130.0 90.0 126.9 147.5 114.0 117.5 160.0 -

1

2 8 2 5

4 1

-

115.6 105.0 128.0 126.0 111.0 131.7 117.5 125.0 125.3 120.9

8 7 5 5 5 3 2 2 16 76

115.0 137.7 126.8 140.0 134.0 142.0 135.0 130.0 136.4 142.3 120.0 135.6 134.7 130.0 130.0 129.0 138.0 123.0 144.3 132.5 133.0

1 15

22 7 15 5

9 8 3 I1 6 9 6 6 8 10 5 10 7 2 165

141.7 133.8 139.1 135.6 138.8 139.0 137.0 142.2 140.5 135.6 139.2 140.1 132.6 134.8 135.1 131.1 135.6 131.5 136.4 139.3 136.6

13 33 22 27 41 21 28 29 46 34 40 58 40 55 45 37 44 39 25 14 691

-

-

-

-

-

145.0 145.0 137.8 140.0 137.6 133.1 143.3 136.4 138.8 142.3 146.0 139.0

2 14 30 6 17 18 9 16 17 11 5 145

J. Skilled Seamand( N = 2,643)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means (continued)

143.8 137.8 136.3 145.1 147.1 153.9 146.0 147.7 150.7 149.0 151.8 156.3 154.0 151.3 150.9 156.4 156.9 160.9 166.9 163.7 151.0

44 133 164 154 188 104 155 128 127 118 151 212 98 131 120 114 134 172 81 115

134.6 98.3 117.2

8 6 26

-

121.5 117.5 125.6 135.0 125.0 97.1 143.1 129.0 133.2 125.0 138.5 143.0 133.3 155.3 133.6

10 8 8 4 3 7 27 10 14 9 10 5 3 46 204

150.0 136.3 134.8 145.9 137.1 145.0 137.2 141.9 142.0 147.7 142.2 143.8 151.3 145.0 134.6 163.3 151.8 153.6 146.7 163.0 142.1

4 47 71 16 39 9 35 27 11 26 16 16 16 9 12 12 14 25 6 5

416

145.2 141.6 145.0 142.7 153.2 158.3 154.7 152.5 153.4 149.3 154.2 158.5 157.4 151.0 153.3 156.7 158.7 163.9 168.8 172.4 154.5

31 80 50 71 111 60 79 63 98 74 91 98 53 73 71 77 70 92 49 51 1.442

-

167.0 160.3 165.0 160.6 161.0 161.0 153.1 158.0 160.0 169.3 174.0 162.1

5

37 63 17 30 24 8 32 37 22 5 280

Table 5.2 Year

(continued) All Groundsa

N

Atlantic

N

Indian

N

Pacific

N

Western Arctic

N

K. Semi-skilled Seaman' (N = 3,118)

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

160.1 155.5 155.5

163.5 162.6 162.8 162.6 166.3 170.2 159.5 168.9 170.7 171.5 167.5 166.9 167.5 166.7 171.2 177.2 184.5 166.9

56 202 147 168 161 134 134 155 151 119 120 299 162 191 169 142 117 199 156 136

144.2 130.0 120.0

6 19 11

-

135.0 131.7 146.5 150.0 135.0

5 18 10 1

3

-

149.1 140.7 132.7 129.4 164.6 156.4 140.0 142.2 169.3 145.8

23 14 11 9 8 I1 3 9 42 203

151.1 148.5 149.8 142.7 166.9 148.4 147.7 161.7 155.0 152.1 170.6 157.3 159.5 156.2 166.6 174.6 163.0 181.0 190.0 157.8

58 64 21 22 8 18 13 6 17 16 33 12 10 17 32 12 25 30 4 418

161.9 161.4 167.7 165.5 170.8 165.8 169.5 170.7 170.5 160.4 173.4 172.9 177.2 167.7 168.2 165.5 170.2 171.4 174.9 195.1 169.7

49 125 66 109 111 81 90 111

141 92 75 156 121 122 90 66 63 111 66 52 1,897

-

-

168.3 168.0 173.7 168.2 176.5 176.8 175.0 168.9 177.0 185.5 186.7 176.8

6 25 78 11 48 46 20 9 56 43 36 378

L. Unskilled Searnan'(N = 12,646) 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

178.0 175.6 177.8 178.4 178.6 186.8 179.5 184.5 187.4 182.9 184.8 189.4 185.3 185.8 185.0 188.0 190.6 193.4 192.5 201.5 186.0

122 441 490 388 658 526 565 530 513 496 715 1,287 664 929 930 866 907 746 551 322

153.9 112.3 140.1 148.6 142.4 147.1 160.0 158.8 104.2 165.8 151.6 159.5 148.3 157.8 150.2 159.7 170.5 189.6 158.5

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set.

9 22 47 25 26 33 11

8 18 82 85 43 43 60 27 15

20 139 713

180.4 176.2 184.6 165.7 169.1 186.2 169.8 171.0 172.7 174.6 164.2 178.7 180.5 175.1 174.8 190.4 183.0 186.6 184.4 202.9 178.2

12 138 190 47 133 57 86 87 39 133 53 71 64 80 96 131 61 95 75 14 1,662

178.1 180.3 179.8 179.8 185.5 188.5 186.1 187.9 191.1 186.2 186.6 191.4 191.6 187.1 187.3 189.3 194.8 194.4 193.7 214.2 188.9

85 281 210 204 392 250 314 317 411 322 443 714 437 615 541 484 545 432 303 109 7,409

-

-

-

-

197.9 194.2 196.1 191.5 192.0 192.2 193.1 192.8 199.9 197.5 205.4 194.9

21 194 367 74 187 218 129 184 164 137 51 1,726

167 Table 5.2

Labor (continued)

Nores: These figures are reciprocals. A lay reported here as 16.5, for example, is actually 1/16.5, or 6.06 percent. The table excludes crewmen who signed on in more than one capacity-for example, shipkeeper and blacksmith. It also excludes crewmen who signed on after the beginning of the voyage. ”“All Grounds” figures are averages over all the available voyages, including those sixty-one that went to more than one ground. They are not averages over the voyages reported in the ground-specific columns of this table. bThe lays almost certainly understate the actual incomes of captains. In 125 cases (10 percent of the crew lists we analyzed), the captain signed a special contract that was not reported with the normal contracts. (Special contracts were also signed by a few mates and one boatsteerer.) When these special contracts could be found, they usually involved some bonus payment over and above the lay. This table reports the average lays among those for whom lays were reported in the crew lists; it excludes those who signed special contracts. cThe value of the cook’s lay was almost always less than his total income from the voyage. In addition to the lay he was typically entitled to between one-third and one-half of the slush fund, as the money received from the sale of slush (refuse grease and fat from cooking) and other ship’s refuse was called. On the voyage of the George Howland that began on 25 June 1846, for example, Andrew Lewis, the cook, earned $357.73 from his 1/140 lay and an additional $124.00 from his one-half of the slush. His effective lay was thus 1/104. See George Howland Acount Book. Captains also frequently shared in the slush. “Seamen, able seamen, whaling seamen, extra prepared seamen, bow hands, leads, and lookouts. ‘Ordinary seamen, oarsmen, mariners, “one voyage,” “has been coasting,” “past green hand,” “used to boat,” “5 years crawling,” “has been to sea,” “extra green hand,” boatmen, and “in the boats.” ‘Greenhands, landsmen, green oarsmen, green Portuguese, green Canakas, green Malays, “Spanish Islands,” green blacks, and green colored.

other hand, the lays of cooks, carpenters, blacksmiths, and miscellaneous artisans lengthened by 5, 13, 15, and 11 percent, respectively. For seamen, Hohman is unambiguously correct. The lays of skilled seamen lengthened by 14 percent and those of semi-skilled and unskilled seamen by 8. Hohman did not distinguish ground-to-ground differences in lays, but there were systematic differentials that did not erode over time and were responsible for a significant fraction of the lengthening he observed. Table 5.5 shows their general outline. Lays were shortest in the Atlantic, 7 to 9 percent longer in the Indian Ocean, and 11 to 14 percent longer in the Pacific and Western Arctic. The differentials persisted throughout the period, despite the longer voyages to the western grounds and the greater loss rates experienced by barks in the Pacific and by all vessels in the Western Arctic. The explanation of these persistent interground differences is far from obvious, but an attempt is made to provide one below. Here we are interested in their effects on the trends in lays noted in Hohman’s analysis. Part of the lengthening in the average seaman’s lay resulted from the redistribution of the fleet from the short-lay Atlantic and Indian grounds to the long-lay Pacific and Western Arctic. Between 1840 and 1843, 6 percent of the labor contracts were for voyages to the Atlantic and 27 percent for voyages to the Indian Ocean. By 1855-58 the Atlantic’s share had declined to 4 and the Indian’s to 13 percent. Between 1840 and 1858 about 15 percent of the observed lengthening in the average lay of a skilled seaman can be attributed to geographic redistribution.

Chapter 5

168

Average Lays by Occupation,All Grounds, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866

Table 5.3 ~~

Year 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

~

~~

~~

Fourth Mate

N

Shipkeeper

N

Blacksmith

N

82.5 75.9 73.1 74.0 73.1 78.1 76.4 73.2 75.4 68.0 70.6 72.3 69.8 12.9 70.5 67.7 63.9 67.7 70.2 68.8

2 8 8 12 17 17 20 12 20 7 21 33 17 17 19 22 21 24 12 14

117.5 90.0 120.6 128.3 125.0 97.5 115.0 135.0 112.5 111.7 133.3 100.0 126.3 146.7 116.4 92.5 108.8 110.0 80.0 96.7 115.3

2 4 5 9 7 4 4 3 4 3 3 6 4 3 11 2 4 5 1 3

146.3 156.4 157.5 163.3 158.6 175.9 165.6 164.8 171.7 166.9 175.3 176.2 177.2 177.7 171.4 182.1 181.6 179.0 184.5 189.1 172.5

4 20 27 23 33 16 26 30 29 26 35

71.5

64 29 37 43 38 30 39 19 17

Misc. Artisan8 151.7 155.0 152.9 159.2 166.3 163.3 181.0 171.4 175.7 160.0 155.8 176.9 168.8 180.0 177.1 155.0 180.6 177.5 190.0 224.0 170.2

N

Boy

N

3 4 12 6 4 3 7 7 7 7 10 21

223.8 235.2 228.4 400.8 338.7 219.7 562.4 463.5 391.3 225.6 307.5 396.8 226.7 254.7 254.5 237.3 248.9 254.7 247.6 280.7 308.7

12 29 32 33 55 34 37 33 45 24 42 34 18 32 28 42 46 37 34 21

4 5

7 7 8 2 1 5

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set.

Notes: The table excludes crewmen who signed on in more than one capacity, and those who signed on after the beginning of the voyage. The averages in this table are comparable to those in the “All Grounds” column of table 5.2. ”Miscellaneous artisan includes second coopers, second carpenters, sailmakers, boatbuilders, second blacksmiths, painters, caulkers, and coppersmiths.

The shortening in officers’ lays is remarkable and probably reflects the increased supervisory responsibilities of officers associated with the new technological configuration.

5.2 The Wages of Whalemen The lay was only a means to an end: the real wage. A crewman’s interest centered on the money his lay commanded. An attempt to estimate the wage raises two sets of problems-neither trivial. First, although the main component of a whaleman’s compensation package came from the sale of his share of the catch, the value of the lay was not identical to his total income. There were both charges and supplements. Also, significant issues are raised by questions of the timing of the payment and of income in kind. Second, even if adjustments can be made to compensate for these aspects of the bargain, there remain questions about the appropriate definition of the wage.

169

Labor

Table 5.4

Average Lays by Occupation, All Grounds, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866

Occupation Officer Captain First mate Second mate Third mate Fourth mate Skilled maritime Boatsteerer Shipkeeper Artisan Cooper Carpenter Blacksmith Miscellaneous Service personnel Cook Steward Seaman Skilled seaman Semi-skilled seaman Unskilled seaman BOY

Average Lay

% of Value

of Catch

Relative Sharea

% Change in Lay, 1840-43 to 1855-5gb

15.2 22.9 38.0 56.7 71.5

6.58 4.37 2.63 1.76 I .40

1,219 809 487 326 259

- 17.6

87.1 115.3

1.15 .87

213 161

-0.6 -11.5

56.8 165.1 172.5 170.2

1.76 .61 .58 .59

326 113 107 109

-9.2 13.4 14.5 10.5

140.7 135.4

.7 1 .74

131 137

5.2 -0.7

151.0 166.9 186.0 308.7

.66 .60 .54 .32

122 111

14.I 8.0 7.7 - 12.9

100

59

-23.5 -21.0 -20.0 - 10.3

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set. Note: The table excludes crewmen who signed on in more than one capacity, and those who did not sail with the vessel. Wnskilled seaman equals 100. bA shortening lay is indicated here by a negative sign. A shorter lay means a smaller denominator in the lay fraction, and thus a larger portion of the catch.

In terms of charges, aside from the repayment of cash and the value of clothing advanced before and during the voyage and a small charge for the “doctor’s box,” a crewman’s wages, as previously noted, were routinely docked for his share of certain expenses incurred by the vessel. Before midcentury these charges were small; Hohman to the contrary notwithstanding, they did not significantly affect the final settlement. For example, on nine voyages made by four vessels between 1827 and 1850, standard charges reduced the average crewman’s final payment by less than 0.6 percent.*’ By the 1850s the industry’s structure had become more complex. Destina23. The average encompasses two voyages of the Stephania (1828-29 and 1829-30), two voyages of the Midas (1827-29 and 1829-30), one voyage of the William Rotch (1830-31). and four voyages of the George Howland (1834-38, 1838-41,1842-45, and 1846-50). See Account Book of the Stephania, 1828-30, Account Book of the Midas, and Account Book of the William Rorch, 1830-31, in the Coggeshall Collection; George Huwland Account Book.

170

Chapter 5

The outfits of whaling vessels included barrel staves, heads, and hoops, from which the cooper built barrels and casks as needed to hold the oil tryed out by the crew. These drawings come from the sketchbook of a crew member on the Orruy Tuff. Reproduced courtesy of The Kendall Whaling Museum, Sharon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.

tions were farther from New Bedford, and the time spent reaching and returning from them was costly. In order to overcome their vessels’ capacity constraints and to use their capital more efficiently, agents began to order their captains to transship a part of the catch through ports such as Lahaina and, if the vessel was not full when it began the homeward trek, to purchase or arrange to transport additional cargo. Transshipments involved commissions and freight charges, and crewmen were required to bear their share. On the other hand, they were credited with the interest earned on the income generated by the sale of transshipped products from the date of their sale to the date of the vessel’s return. Similarly, oil and bone purchased to top off a cargo were not costless, but they were expected to produce a net gain for both owner and crew. As a result of these institutional changes, by the 1850s the charges against gross revenues had increased. On four voyages returning after 1850, for example, such charges were about 3 percent of the average crewman’s gross During the Civil War, the threat of Confederate raiders drove insurance and freight charges to new heights. On a voyage of the George Howland that departed New Bedford in 1862 and returned in 1866, the charges totaled $28,316 (including $13,263 for freight, $9,143 for insurance, and $5,032 in commis24.The average encompasses one voyage of the Benjamin Tucker (1 849-5 1 j and three voyages of the George Howland (ISSO-52, 1852-57, and 1857-61). See Benjamin Tucker, 1849-51; George Howland Account Book.

171

Labor

Table 5.5

Relative Lays by Occupation and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 (Atlantic = 100) 1849-58and1866 1840-58 and 1866

Occupation Officer Captain First mate Second mate Third mate Skilled maritime Boatsteerer Artisan Cooper Carpenter Service personnel Cook Steward Seaman Skilled seaman Semi-skilled seaman Unskilled seaman Meansb

Indian

Pacific

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic"

109 113 113 110

109 11s 118 112

105 107 111 104

107 110 114 107

107 110 114 107

117

128

11s

124

128

95 110

93 114

94 108

90 112

92 113

109 110

114 113

10s 110

109 113

112 116

106 108 112 109

116 116 119 114

106 109 110 107

112 113 116 111

115 116 119 112

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set. Notes: The table excludes crewmen who signed on in more than one capacity, and those who did not sail with the vessel. Higher index numbers mean longer relative lays (and therefore smaller percentages of the value of the catch). "The Western Arctic was opened for whaling in 1848. bThese are unweighted averages.

sions), or more than 15 percent of gross revenues-but the voyage was still a financial success. Despite the record charges, the monthly net revenues (in constant dollars) were more than one-half again as high as the average earned on the ship's previous seven voyages and almost 10 percent greater than on the most successful of the seven (George Howlund Account Book). Not all vessels that put to sea during the war incurred such heavy charges, On the bark Calluo's 1,093-day voyage from September 1862 to August 1865, after adjustments for the interest accrued on transshipped products, the net charges amounted to only about 1.6 percent of revenues. After the war, charges settled back into the range of the 1850s. On one voyage of the bark Cullao and four of the ship Milton, such offsets against wages averaged 4.4 percent. They rose significantly above that level only when a misadventure near the end of a voyage forced the owners to pay freight charges on cargo that would otherwise have been brought back by the vessel itself. On the last voyage of the Culluo-condemned in Mauritius in 1877-the charges totaled 28.6 percent; on the last voyage of the Milton-"arrived Panama in

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distress” in 1889-they amounted to 12.9 percent. In the latter case, if the Panama freight charges had not been incurred, the total would have been only 5.1 percent (Milton and Calla0 Account Books). In partial offset to these charges, some whalemen earned supplements to their contracted lays. A captain usually received a fraction of the profits from the sales of clothing and tobacco from the slop chest, and sometimes a share of the slush fund; he also often carried on subsidiary commercial enterprises on his own The cook was normally entitled to some fraction of the slush.26From time to time seamen received not insubstantial bonuses for particularly good performances in sighting and catching whales. On the 1834 voyage of the George Howland, for example, four seamen received cash bonuses ranging from $30 to $50-sums equal to between 7.5 and 12.5 percent of their lay incomes.*’ Also, a crew member might be the recipient of some of the traditional charges that provided the wedge between gross and net value. He might add to his earnings by helping load the vessel before it set out to sea, helping unload or clean it when it returned to port, or forgoing shore leave on an exotic South Sea island to remain aboard ship as a watchman. Finally, although it is impossible to assess the extent of the practice, lays were sometimes renegotiated during a voyage. In 1860 the agent Matthew Howland wrote to Captain Valentine Lewis (18 July, Howland Collection), who had reported that his crew were asking to have their lays increased. Howland told Lewis to resist if he could, but to accede if necessary, “because we are satisfied that a good crew is cheaper at high lays than a miserable crew is for nothing.” On the George Howland‘s eighth voyage (1862-66), seven crewmen (the third mate, the cooper, the steward, three boatsteerers, and a seaman) received increases in lays whose value ranged from $140.39 to $1,936.90 and totaled $5,557.98 (George Howland Account Book). Two other characteristics of the wage bargain tempered the amount of risk transferred from owner to seaman. First, the seaman received room (or at least a bunk or a place to hang his hammock) and board (such as it was). In 1880 dollars the value of a crewman’s food probably ranged between $3.90 and $6.70 a month.28 25. On seven of the eight voyages made by the George Howland between 1834 and 1866voyages for which we have information (the relevant page on the 1857-61 voyage is missing)the captain’s extra income was, in order, $600.62, $168.45, $1,222.65, $0.00, $621.75, $2,686.10, and $775.02. These amounts average $867.80 per voyage, or $20.91 per month. See George Howland Account Book. 26. Hohman 1928, 231. In sixty-three cook’s contracts out of the 1,250 voyages represented in the Stations and Lays Data Set, the cook’s entitlement to some portion of the slush fund (usually one-half) was spelled out. 27. George Howland Account Book. Hohman (1928, 219) mentions bonuses “for sighting whales which were subsequently captured” but characterizes all payments other than the value of the lay as “scanty.” 28. See appendix 5C. The subsistence estimates described therein have been converted to 1880 dollars using the Warren and Pearson food price index (US.Department of Commerce 1975, series E-54).

173

Labor

Second, with the exception of the captain and sometimes a mate or two, crewmen normally received advances before their vessels left port. Usually the advance was between one-quarter and one-third of projected earnings. The funds were used, and were usually sufficient, to support wives, children, or parents during the voyage; they occasionally were supplemented by further advances if the voyage proved unusually long or an emergency arose. Crewmen were charged interest on advances (usually 6 percent), but advances were almost never repaid if the ship sank or returned clean (that is, without oil or bone). Moreover, if at the end of a successful voyage a seaman’s account was still in deficit, the agent had little recourse but to try to convince him to sign on for another of the agent’s voyages. Since the seaman could sign elsewhere and have a clean slate, such attempts were seldom successful. Over eight voyages of the George Howland (1834-66), five of the Milton (1 869-85), and two of the Callao ( 1 87 1-77), advances were taken by 4 13 of the 459 newly signed crewmen. They ranged (in 1880 dollars) from $1,003.25 ($1,043.38 nominal) for the second mate of the George Howland in 1862 to $1.32 ($1.45 nominal) for Joseph Howland-a Howland family member sailing as an able seaman-of the same ship in 1838. The average advance was $121.66. Over these fifteen voyages, the advances amounted to just less than 10 percent of net revenues (gross returns less charges) or about 30 percent of the crew’s share. On the three voyages that yielded their owners less than $700 per month, advances averaged 25 percent of total revenue. Finally, the sketchy evidence suggests that in the postbellum period individual advances were somewhat smaller ($115 as opposed to $127), but, as a fraction of net revenues, the proportion was probably higher (George Howland Account Book; Milton and Callao Account Books). Advances were a cause of concern among agents and seamen. Agents were prepared to accept the losses associated with truly disastrous voyages, but less willing to accept those resulting from desertion. In September 1834 Charles Morgan warned one of his captains, Cornelius Howland Jr. (24 September, Morgan Collection), “The crew are generally indebted to the Owners about $1 10 to $120 each you will therefore be especially careful of them till you get Oil enough to secure that and over it.” Five weeks later in a letter to another captain (Reuben Russell, 1 November), he was even more explicit: “I think you have a good crew, but they mostly all are in debt to the Ship from $70 to $100-So please take care they dont run away before you get some Sperm Oil.” On the outbound voyage crewmen had a strong incentive to desert; some managed to run even before their vessels left New Bedford. On the return voyage the incentive shifted. It was then that the captain, and perhaps the agent, found it in his interest to convince a crewman to make an early departure. In November 1836, eleven months after the Condor left New Bedford and three months before she was scheduled to return, Morgan wrote Captain George H. Dexter (21 November, Morgan Collection), “The carpenter too has come and

174

Chapter 5

tells a queer story of his being left purposely of the whole crew being without bread nine days and some other things equally probable. I did not pay much attention to him.” That captains and agents tended to ease the path to desertion when a crewman’s account stood in surplus was the view of U.S. Navy lieutenant Charles Wilkes, who commanded an expedition to the Pacific in the late 1830s and early 1840s. “Many Americans are found on the different islands, who have been turned ashore from whale-ships, or left because they have broken their liberty a single time, near the end of a voyage. Such treatment leaves too much ground [not] to believe that they are purposely left, in order to increase the profits of the ship-master or owners” (Wilkes 1845, 5:498). For example, during the Montreal’s third voyage (1857-62), the vessel left five crewmen, and “the evidence seems to imply clearly that . . . the ship deserted the men, rather than vice versa!” (Hohman 1928,67). The historian A. B. C. Whipple charges that obstreperous men were often marooned on uninhabited islands and left to die. He describes in some detail the problems U.S. consuls faced in adjudicating between captain and mendid the men desert or were they marooned? In one case the consul found an obvious answer. In the early 1830s Captain Brown of the Warren, Rhode Island, brig Magnet wrote to the consul at Callao, Peru, concerning crewmen whom he wanted the consul to return to the vessel: “I should be happy if you will have the goodness to git the men down as soon as convenient. . . . I have no one I can trust out of my ship or I would send someone up” (Whipple 1954, 132). It is interesting that Brown remained captain on the next voyage of the Magnet. Clearly the agent, Joseph Smith Jr. (his father had been the agent for the previous voyage), was not displeased with the captain’s contribution to his crew’s desertion. In the same vein, on the 1855-59 voyage of the Alice Fraziel; Captain C. M. Newel1 twice (in January 1857 and November 1857) reported that his crew had mutinied. The first time he had the entire crew imprisoned in Paita and shipped a new crew; the second time, one mutineer was killed and his accomplices were put ashore (WSL 17 February 1857, 19 January 1858). It is impossible to be sure who won this game, but it was probably the crewmen. Support for this view can be found in the eight voyages of the George Howland between December 1834 and April 1886. In 1880 dollars the average advances ranged from $77 to $157 per crewman over these voyages (the mean was $1 12). Over the same voyages the average total income that accrued to the agents and owners from crewmen who deserted or were discharged for cause (i.e., the income represented by these crewmen’s lay shares less their advances) ranged from a loss of $3,732 to a gain of $7,966 and averaged a gain of $747just less than one-fourth of the average total amount advanced. That the average is a gain depends, however, entirely on the seventh voyage (October 1857 to July 1861). Over the other seven the average loss to the agents and owners was $284, or about 8 percent of the average amount advanced. The seventh voyage began during the depression of 1857 and was marked by an average

175

Labor

advance of only $77-well below the overall mean of $1 12, and $21 less than the average for the most parsimonious of the seven other voyages. Since there is no systematic evidence on supplements, charges, advances, or renegotiations, the unadjusted lay payment (the initial lay times the value of the catch) has been taken as an approximation to, and an index of, the earnings of the mid-nineteenth-century whaleman. For certain wage comparisons an estimate of the value of board has been added to that figure. Questions remain, nonetheless, about an appropriate definition of the wage. Voyages in the Stations and Lays Data Set were not short. They ranged in length from a threemonth venture into the Atlantic by the Petrel in 1866 to the sixty-nine-month voyages to the Pacific by the George in 1847 and the Courier in 1850. Contracts were signed before voyages began, and payment was not due until vessels returned to New Bedford. Often a substantial fraction of the original crew did not return with the vessel. Table 5.6 provides one wage schedule, reporting the earnings that whalemen would have received from lays had they returned on the vessels on which they departed. This is probably the best available ex post measure. It omits charges against and supplements to lay income, but lay income was the bulk of earnings in any case.2y

5.3 The Relative Wages of Whalemen The absolute level of wages was certainly a concern of whalemen, and remains of interest to social historians looking into questions of welfare, but relative wages dictated career choices and governed the flow of men into the industry. It is the latter measure that is of greater interest to economic historians analyzing the efficiency of nineteenth-century labor markets. Wages ashore are one standard against which to measure whalemen’s earnings; the merchant marine, at least at first glance, would seem to provide more relevant compari29. Wage estimates based on the earnings that the crewman would have received from his lay share, had he returned on the vessel on which he departed, can be called an Own Vessel measure. An alternate measure, Own Ground, is based on the average eventual value of the catch of all vessels sailing to a particular ground in the year that the crewman put to sea. Although orders were sometimes changed, most agents had chosen the general area to be hunted before the crew was signed. To the extent that agents possessed good intelligence, the Own Ground figure would be the agent’s estimate of the potential labor cost of a voyage. There is good reason to believe that New Bedford residents knew something about the current productivity of each of the various grounds, but, if these wage estimates are to be viewed as relevant to ex ante decisions, one must assume that agents and crewmen believed they could assess grounds’ future productivity. For agents, who appear to have been continually in contact with their captains and with merchants throughout the world, this assumption may not overly distort reality. For crewmen the assumption is much less obviously plausible. In an attempt to capture the information that would have been available to a seaman or agent before a contract was signed, a third estimate, Own Year, was calculated. It is based on the average catch of vessels returning to New Bedford from a ground in the year the crewman sailed to it. It seems reasonable to assume that the expectations of crewmen and agents were largely based on this evidence, and, therefore, a wage estimate based on it is the best ex ante estimate available. The interground wage regressions reported in table 5.11 are based on the Own Year estimates.

Average Monthly Earnings by Occupation, All Grounds, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 (current dollars)

Table 5.6

Year

Captain

First Mate

Second Mate

Third Mate

Boatsteerer

Cooper

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means"

88.75 70.05 78.18 83.19 70.43 66.63 85.77 83.38 106.09 112.60 114.12 119.93 113.11 121.31 116.07 97.72 108.68 90.48 104.48 133.01 98.20

53.10 44.47 51.23 52.70 43.12 43.17 55.13 49.94 66.75 74.41 76.67 83.81 77.05 86.35 85.36 68.95 73.53 65.84 70.92 88.66 65.56

32.40 28.61 30.78 32.14 27.85 26.13 33.75 31.81 43.19 45.32 45.97 49.73 46.02 49.65 49.18 39.76 43.23 38.86 42.52 57.59 39.72

24.19 20.30 24.28 22.36 18.97 19.72 25.67 23.56 28.60 31.10 30.56 35.46 33.85 36.29 35.21 27.99 30.15 26.66 27.32 37.47 27.98

17.24 13.92 16.32 15.74 13.38 12.59 16.27 15.78 19.30 2 I .03 19.63 21.02 20.50 22.29 21.54 16.21 17.32 14.58 16.87 22.54 17.70

25.96 21.54 23.55 23.25 19.69 20.45 24.18 24.27 30.88 31.17 34.42 35.94 32.23 34.30 32.35 25.89 29.64 22.60 27.29 30.05 27.48

Cook

Steward

Skilled Seaman

10.59 8.71 9.67 9.79 8.13 7.67 9.80 9.43 12.03 13.27 11.88 12.92 12.39 12.73 12.21 9.34 10.23 9.02 10.18 12.16 10.61

11.13 9.00 9.73 10.05 8.31 7.88 10.02 10.01 11.88 12.82 11.96 13.69 14.91 13.88 13.17 10.95 10.98 9.80 10.31 15.85 11.31

Year ~~

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Meansa

Carpenter

Semi-skilled Seaman

Unskilled Seaman

~~

10.35 8.03 8.43 9.05 6.79 7.03 8.39 7.98 11.16 12.16 10.57 11.16 10.32 12.30 10.98 8.67 8.64 7.52 8.77 11.20 9.47

10.44 8.38 9.65 9.93 8.00 7.18 9.92 8.76 11.74 12.50 11.87 11.67 11.51

11.38 14.24 9.40 10.23 7.42 9.42 11.22 10.24

9.14 7.40 8.50 8.74 7.32 6.06 8.50 8.11 9.09 10.99 9.55 10.42 8.96 11.19 9.92 8.12 8.07 7.67 9.24 10.69 8.88

8.66 6.83 7.75 7.92 6.32 6.20 7.76 7.49 9.43 9.92 9.19 9.85 9.29 9.83 9.36 7.33 7.62 6.74 7.49 9.43 8.22

177 Table 5.6

Labor (continued)

Sources: Catch data and the durations of voyages came from the Voyages Data Set, prices from the Prices Data Set, lays from the Stations and Lays Data Set. Notes: Lays were set when a vessel sailed, but the value of its catch (and the length of its voyage) couldn’t be determined until it returned. The voyages whose crews’ earnings are reported in this table began in the years 1840-58 and 1866; they ended in the years 1840-63 and 1866-7 1. The average monthly value of the catch of a voyage was computed by dividing the value of its catch by the number of months it was at sea. Monthly earnings were computed by multiplying this value by the lay fraction. These wages assume crewmen returned on the vessels on which they sailed. A crewman who left a voyage before its end often received his lay fraction of the catch to that date (not its value). The number of observations averaged to produce each figure in this table is equal to or less than the number of lays averaged to produce the figures in table 5.2. When the value of the catch of a voyage could not be determined, the wages of its crewmen could not be calculated. ”These are unweighted averages.

sons. Maritime data are spotty, but the work of Stanley Lebergott (1964,53 138, tables A-22A, A-22B) provides bases for comparison for six of the twelve major whaling o c c ~ p a t i o n s . ~ ~ During the 1840s and 1850s officers in the whaling fleet were well rewarded, if their alternative was service in the merchant marine. Over comparable years, whaling captains received, on average, $90.33 per month, captains in the merchant service, only $29.54 (see table 5.7). First and second mates on whalers earned roughly twice as much as those on merchantmen. A part of the whaling premium almost certainly reflected the uncertainty of rewards. For merchant captains the range of salaries was from $20 to $35 per month; the lucky whaling captains who returned with some catch earned monthly salaries that ranged from $0.66 to $345.34. For first mates the mercantile range was $45 ($15 to $60) in contrast to $234 for whalemen, and for second mates the ranges were $36 and $121, re~pectively.~’ In whaling, officers were required not only to assume larger risks, but also to bear heavier responsibilities. Since they often hunted in uncharted waters, it was necessary that they possess maritime skills greater than those of officers in the merchant fleet. The extent of the navigational hazards is acknowledged by the WSL. Of the loss of twelve whalers in the North Pacific in 1851, it reported, “The losses are attributed to the incorrectness of the charts of the Northern Seas, unknown currents, ice, and an unusual prevalence of severe gales and foggy weather through the summer of 1851” (13 January 1852).The 30. Lebergott’s data are drawn from the manuscript collections of Baker Library, Graduate School of Business Administration, Harvard University, and of the Essex Institute in Salem, Massachusetts. His evidence does not include complete enumerations of the wages of all crewmen. Thus, for the years 1840-58 and 1866, there are records of eighty-three voyages, wage data for able seamen for eighty-two, captains’ wages for only thirty-four, first mates’ wages for fifty-nine, and cooks’ wages for sixty-three. 31. The fact that the highest first mate’s wage in the merchant marine was $60 while the bestpaid merchant captain received only $35 does not mean that on a given voyage the first mate earned more than the captain. The ostensible anomaly comes from the spotty nature of the data. The voyage data that yielded the highly paid mate does not include the wage of his captain.

178

Chapter 5

Table 5.7

Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Meansa

Ratio of Average Monthly Wages on New Bedford Whalers to Wages on U.S. Merchantmen, by Occupation, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 (current dollars) Captain

2.96 2.34 2.6 1 2.77 2.56 2.50 3.06 3.34 3.54 4.18 3.47 3.32 -

-

First Mate

Second Mate

2.04 2.08 2.44 2.82 2.31 2.24 2.88 1.63 3.03 2.48 4.38 2.62 2.75 3.36 1.85 1.32

1.68 -

-

-

-

1.61 2.46

3.05

-

-

1.78 1.51 2.16 2.49 2.30 2.48 1.48 1.06 1.11 1.60 1.79

Cook

Skilled Seaman

Semi-skilled Seaman

0.77 0.89 0.97 1.18 0.96 0.69 0.79 0.47 0.99 0.88 0.91 0.78 0.72 0.85 0.45 0.36 0.36

0.73 0.60 0.67 0.76 0.60 0.53 0.69 0.56 0.77 1.04 0.77 0.82 0.79 0.76 0.79 0.63 0.5 1 0.49

-

0.85 0.9 1 -

1.04 0.90 1.12 0.75 0.68 -

-

-

-

0.41

0.42 0.68

0.53 0.85

0.75

Sources: For the wages of whaling crewmen, see table 5.2 and table 5.6 notes. For the wages of merchant seamen, see Lebergott 1964, 531-38, tables A-22A, A-22B. Notes: Blank cells are missing data for wages of merchant seamen. The wage rates on merchantmen are unweighted averages of all of the observations available in Lebergott 1964, tables A-22A, A-22B. There are very few observations, so that small differences in the ratios in this table should not be regarded as meaningful. “Skilled” merchant seamen are those described by Lebergott as “able seamen”; “semi-skilled” merchant seamen are those described as “ordinary seamen.” “These are unweighted averages.

same point is made by Captain Dunn of the Dragon, commenting on the loss of the ship Logan together with one of its boatsteerers and three men: “Sandy Island Reef is laid down about 40 miles too far to the Eastward in all the charts previous to 1850.”32 In addition, a whaling captain had to understand the whale’s habits and migration patterns and to be prepared to command a Nantucket sleigh-as the whaleboats were sometimes called. The other officers were also required to possess skills beyond those asked of a mate in the merchant marine. On 27 32. WSL 6 November 1855. See also Sanger 1991a. 85: “It is obvious . . . that, while certain elements either promoted or hindered the whaling operation, a whaling-master’s detailed knowledge of both long-term and short-term effects of currents, temperatures and winds on the Greenland Sea pack ice greatly enhanced his chances of procuring a paying cargo of oil and bone.”

179

Labor

August 1834 (Morgan Collection) Charles W. Morgan wrote one of his captains, “I have also been thinking about Officers, who are however plentyThere is Mr. Plaskitt who was 3@ Mate on the Russell-if you went a sperm whale voyage I don’t think you could get a better man. I don’t know how he would answer for right whaling.” It is clear from their letters that agents believed the choice of the captain (and probably of the first and second mates, as well) was immensely important to the success of a voyage. Evidence that they were not mistaken can be found in a quantitative analysis of the returns of voyages. A comprehensive multiple regression model-the dependent variable is a Caves-Christensen-Diewert superlative productivity index, and the independent variables are designed to capture decision, technological, and environmental factors that theory or contemporary accounts suggest may have been determinants of productivity-fit to the data on individual voyages shows that productivity was positively associated (large coefficient, high significance level) with the captain’s share of output (see chapters 8 and 10). In addition, the large lays awarded captains and other officers certainly support the imputation of high productivity to them. If greater risk and increased knowledge and skill requirements led to the relatively high wages earned by officers, what explains the wages of cooks and seamen? Wages in whaling were not higher than those in the merchant service; they were lower. Over comparable periods the ratio of earnings in whaling to earnings in the merchant marine ranged from 0.68 for skilled seamen to 0.75 for cooks to 0.85 for semi-skilled seamen. In only four of the forty-five occupation years for which there are comparable data was the ratio equal to or greater than 1.0. These relatively low wages were coupled with great variation. The ranges in the merchant marine fell between 1 to 3 and 1 to 4 ($10 to $30 for skilled seamen, and $7 to $30 for cooks); the ranges for the comparable whalemen were many times as wide. For cooks, monthly wages ranged from $0.55 to $35.14 (1 to 53), for semi-skilled seamen from $0.48 to $29.95 (1 to 62), and for skilled seamen from $0.16 to $49.24 (1 to 308). Merchant seamen “professed great contempt for ‘spouters’ and ‘blubberhunters’; and a real whaleman never thought of shifting his allegiance.” Each industry drew from its own pool of labor, and only when both were working to capacity was there “competition for those hands who were willing to ship in either service” (Hohman 1928,239 n. 12). Also, both whaling and merchant marine agents were able to draw from an international labor pool. According to Stanley Lebergott (1964, 26), “in the mid-1840s many believed that twothirds of our sailors were not native.” In November 1864 the Honolulu Friend reported: “In our visits among the [whale] shipping, we see there has been a great change in the character of the crews. Formerly there was a majority of American and European seamen, while now the crews are largely made up of Hawaiians, and other Polynesians. Not a few are from Guam. Portuguese seamen still abound. It is rare, indeed, to meet with a full crew of Americans. It

180

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is not always that the officers are all Americans. The war, and the demand for labor, have drawn away a large proportion of American seamen” (WSL 17 January 1865). The makeup of the typical whaling crew (and the difficulty of determining a yardstick against which to measure their wages) is neatly captured in Charles Nordhoff‘s account (1895, 46-47) of the crew of the whaler on which he shipped: The captain, two mates, and three of the boatsteerers were Americans. The third mate, and one of the boatsteerers were Portuguese, natives of Fayal, as were also four of our crew. . . . The rest of the crew I find enumerated in my log, as follows: two lawyer’s clerks, one professional gambler, one runaway from his father’s counting house in New York, (this was also an amateur gambler), one New York “butcher-boy”-his name was Mose-six factory hands, from some small New England towns, one Boston school boy, one canal-boat man, six farm boys-from various parts of New England, and western New York,-the four Portuguese before mentioned, who were whalemen, and the writer hereof, who wrote himself seaman. Nordhoff describes a time when the whaling industry had shrunk substantially. In the 1840s and 1850s, when the industry was at its peak, the fraction of foreigners in a typical crew would have been larger. The comparison of the wages of whalemen (excluding officers) with those of merchant seamen produces results that, if they do not confirm the view that there were two separate labor markets, imply behavior outside the normal bounds of economists’ assumptions. If the positions in whaling and in the merchant service were really comparable, and if both industries had access to the same workers, the whalemen’s willingness to accept both lower average and much more variable returns would suggest either that whalemen were drawn from an unusual group-people who believed that a small probability of a big win was a goal worth sacrificing for-or that they were paying apprenticeship dues on the way to more remunerative positions as boatsteerers or officers. It is more likely that the two groups were being hired for different jobs: merchant seamen as seamen, whalemen as oarsmen. It is also possible that the two groups were doing the same job, but that the whalemen were not very good at it. The evidence indicates that there is an element of truth in each of the four explanations; it is not possible to assign them relative weights. The merchant marine may have been the closest maritime alternative for a whaleman, but it was shore-based opportunities that forced captains and agents to look to foreign ports for crews. Table 5.8 shows the trend in relative whalingto-onshore wage rates for nine professional and skilled classes of whalemen and for the three classes of seamen. The relative positions of all officers vis-8vis shore-based artisans improved by 19 percent or more between 1840-43 and 1853-56. For the other skilled whalemen the story is less favorable. Their relative positions did not deteriorate (in fact, they may have improved somewhat), but carpenters, cooks, and stewards all earned less than one-half, boat-

Table 5.8

Relative Average Monthly Wages, Ashore and on New Bedford Whalers, by Occupation, Sailing Years 1840-56 (current dollars) A. Ratio to Northeastern Artisans (= 100)

Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 Means Ratios of relative wages, 1853-56 to 1840-43 (continued)

Captain

First Mate

248 197 238 236 226 181 239 230 307 323 324 345 316 328 295 238 235 265

153 128 159 153 142 120 157 142 197 217 22 1 244 219 236 220 171 162 179

1.19

1.33

Second Mate

97 86 99 97 95 76

Third Mate

Boatsteerer

Cooper

57 47 57 52 50 41 53 52 64 68

80 67 78 72 70 62 74 74 96 96

64

104

68 66 69

110 98

99 112

76 64 80 70 67 60 78 72 90 96 94 109 102 105 97 77 72 83

49 46 57

90 72 71 83

1.25

I .20

1.08

1.12

100

94 131 136 136 149 135 140 I32 104

64

100

Carpenter

Cook

Steward

39 31 34 33 30 27 32 31 41 44 39 41 38 43 38 32 28 35

39 33 38 35 34 29 35 35 43 47 42 46 44 44 41 33 31 38

41 34 38 36 35 29 36 37 43 46 42 48 51 47 44 37 33 40

1.03

1.03

1.08

Table 5.8

(continued)

B. Ratio of Skilled Seamen to Year 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 I846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 Means Ratios of relative wages, 1853-56 to 1840-43

Unskilled Northeast (= 100)

New England Textile

81 54 51 52 44 42 52 60 66 63 59 61 56 51 67 50 49 57 .92

102 85 89 96 17 13 89 82 96 104 95 96 99 97 121 92 94 93 1.09

( = 100)

Unskilled Factory (= 100)

Common Laborers

91 76 75

67 59 62 68 48 47 62 61 12 71 66 65 65 65 17 59 60 63 I .02

80 68 68 80 75 87 86 16 80 81 80 97 73 70 79 .99

(= 100)

C. Ratio of Semi-skilled Seamen to Unskilled Northeast Yea 1840 1841

(=

loo)

14 50

New England Textile (= 100)

93 78

Unskilled Factory ( = 100) 83 70

Common Laborers (= 100) 61 55

1842 1843 1844 I845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 Means Ratios of relative wages, 1853-56 to 1840-43

81 87 72 65 80 78 79 95 81 88 82 96 93 84 80 83 1.04

52 47 41 38 47 56 54 57 50 56 47 56 52 45 42 51 .88

57 62 45 42 55 58 59 64 56 59 55 64 60 54 52 56 .98

68 73 64 61 71 71 72 78 65 74 68 79 75 67 60 71 .95

D. Ratio of Unskilled Seamen to ~

~

Unskilled Northeast Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 (continued)

(=

loo)

71 47 48 44 37 38 44

-~

~

New England Textile (=

loo) 89 74 76 81 65 66 75

Unskilled Factory (=

loo)

80 67 64 68 58 62 67

Common Laborers (=

loo)

58 52 53 57 41 43 52

Table 5.8

(continued)

Year

1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 Means Ratios of relative wages, 1853-56 to 1840-43

Unskilled Northeast (= 100)

54 56 53 48 54 48 51 50 42 40 49 .87

New England Textile (= 100)

74 81 88 79 85 85 87 90 79 77 79 1.05

Unskilled Factory (= 100)

67 74 72 63 71 70 72 72 63 58 68 .95

Common Laborers (= loo)

55 61 60 55 57 56 58 58 51 50 54 .99

Sources: Panel A “Northeastern Artisans”: Margo and Villaflor 1987, 893, table 5. Panels B, C, and D “Unskilled Northeast”: Margo and Villaflor 1987, 894, table 6; “New England Textile”: Layer 1955, 24-26, table 6, col. a; “Unskilled Factory”: Abbott 1905,363, table 8; “Common Laborers”: Abbott 1905, 364, table 11. Notes: The average monthly value of the catch of a voyage was computed by dividing the value of its catch by the number of months it was at sea. Monthly earnings were computed by multiplying this value by the lay fraction. The estimates assume the crewman returned on the vessel on whch he sailed. Catch data and the durations of voyages came from the Voyages Data Set, prices from the Prices Data Set, lays from the Stations and Lays Data Set. In this table the wages of crewmen incorporate estimates of subsistence. We used the lower-bound estimate described in appendix 5C. All of the other wage series underlying this table are given, in their sources, in the form of daily wage rates. We converted them to estimates of monthly wages by multiplying them by 25, a rough estimate of the average number of work days in a month, across the year. Whether this conversion results in figures fully comparable to the crewmen’s incomes is an open question. While afloat, whaling crewmen were always on call, but, since the whalers contained many more men than were needed to sail them, seamen often had nothing to do; boredom was apparently a big problem. In the presence of whales, however, crews worked long hours filled with intense labor.

185 Table 5.9

Labor Percentage Changes in Average Monthly Wages of New Bedford Whaling Crewmen, by Occupation, 1840-43 to 1855-58 (current and real dollars) Real Dollars Occupation Captain First mate Second mate Third mate Boatsteerer Cooper Carpenter Cook Steward Skilled seaman Semi-skilled seaman Unskilled seaman

Current Dollars“

Variant l b

Variant 2’

28.7 40.4 33.8 25.0 4.4 13.1 -3.3 1.8 8.1 -5.6 0.1 -3.8

4.2 15.9 9.3 0.5 -20.1 -11.4 -27.8 -22.7 - 16.4 -30.1 -24.4 -28.3

25.2 36.9 30.3 21.5 0.9 9.6 -6.8 -1.7 4.6 -9.1 -3.4 -7.3

Note: The periods 1840-43 and 1855-58 are spans of sailing years ’See table 5.6 notes. bThe price index used to derive variant I is drawn from Williamson and Lindert 1980, 319. Very similar results are obtained with the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (US. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52). ‘The index used to derive variant 2 comes from David and Solar 1977, 19.

steerers only three-fifths, and even coopers less than nine-tenths as much as Margo and Villaflor’s artisans. The situation of seamen was no better. The wages of skilled, semi-skilled, and unskilled seamen were less than 60 percent of the wages of workers ashore. If the basis of comparison is shifted either to Edith Abbott’s estimates for skilled factory workers or to her estimates for common laborers, the relative position of whalemen improves; but even skilled seamen received less than shore-based workers. All three classes of seamen earned about as much as Massachusetts textile workers.33It is unfortunate that the estimates of whaling earnings cannot be extended back to the 1820s and 1830s. The secondary literature indicates that, in those early decades, whaling’s workforce was largely American (i.e., men whose fathers had been born on this side of the Atlanticincluding not insubstantial numbers of blacks and Native Americans), and the majority were trained seamen.34The relative circumstances of these workers may have been better. Table 5.9 compares changes in nominal and real wages for whalemen between the beginning of the 1840s and the end of the 1850s. Between 1840-43 and 1855-58 the real wages of unskilled workers in the United States may have 33. Most textile workers were women, but it appears that women did not receive substantially lower wages than men in this industry (Layer 1955,51). 34. Hohman 1928, 51-52. See also the discussion of relative wages in chapter 8 below.

186

Chapter 5

risen by as much as 29 percent or fallen by as much as 7 percent; a precise answer depends on the wage series and price deflator chosen. No matter what price index is chosen, the real wages of enlisted whalemen declined by more than any of the onshore estimates.35Officers, on the other hand, clearly gained. It is difficult to see how, given these wage differentials, the whaling industry could have continued to recruit trained Americans for enlisted jobs over the two antebellum decades. The probable explanation is that it did not. Instead, agents turned more and more to unskilled Americans and to both skilled and unskilled foreigners. Even black sailors-whose onshore opportunities must have been severely constrained-seem to have deserted the whaling fleet. At least it appears that the proportion of native blacks in the typical crew de~lined.’~ Other interpretations are possible. The industry might have been such an unusual opportunity for risk lovers that wages shrank as gamblers competed for a limited number of jobs. The presence of both professional and amateur gamblers among Nordhoff‘s shipmates (1895,46-47) may indicate something about the degree of risk aversion shared by at least the American component of that crew. As Hohman (1928,239 n. 12) argues, “The device of the lay, with its tantalizing possibility of a lucky voyage, served to obscure the average earnings.” The data on wages indicate that within the industry the labor market worked as well as could be expected (see table 5.10): higher wages were paid in expanding hunting grounds. Its efficiency may be judged from an analysis of the contracts of 12,646 greenhands who departed New Bedford over the twenty years 1840-58 and 1866 (greenhands because perceived quality differences were probably smaller among them than among seamen with more experience). For the neophytes the real monthly wage averaged $8.34 in 1880 dollars, but there were interground differentials. Lays in the Atlantic averaged 1/159 (.00633), those in the Indian 1/178 (.00562), those in the Pacific 1/189 (.00529), and those in the Western Arctic 1/195 (.00513). Differences in productivity reversed this ranking. Greenhands who signed on for the Atlantic earned, on average, only $6.17 a month-less than the $7.31 average for the Indian Ocean, the $8.59 for the Pacific, and the $9.87 for the Western 35. The change in real unskilled wages using the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index as a deflator was 6.8 percent for Margo and Villaflor’s unskilled workers (1987, 894) and -5.3 percent for Abbott’s “All Unskilled“ (1905, 363). The changes for the same two series using the Williamson and Lindert consumer price deflator (1980) were 3.3 percent and -7.3 percent, respectively. Using the implied David and Solar deflator (1977) the changes were 29.2 percent and 11.2 percent. 36. Hobman 1928, 50-51. Martha Putney’s survey (1987, 125) of crew lists indicates that there were, on average, 2.8 blacks on each New Bedford vessel sailing between 1803 and 1840, but only 1.9 in the years 1841-43 and 1.1 in 1846-60. Unfortunately, it is impossible to tell from her account whether the vessels involved are only whalers, or both whalers and merchant vessels. Putney’s definitions of her numerator and denominator may also have differed from period to period. 37. These averages are the estimated earnings of a greenhand who returned on the vessel on which he sailed (Own Vessel). They are not comparable to the dependent means in the regressions

187

Labor

Table 5.10

Relative Average Monthly Wages of New Bedford Whaling Crewmen, by Occupation and Ground, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 (Atlantic = 100) Occupation Captain First mate Second mate Third mate Boatsteerer Cooper Carpenter Cook Steward Skilled seaman Semi-skdled seaman Unskilled seaman Means4

Indian

Pacific

124 114 106 95 107 139 103 132 91 109 I25 118 114

149 139 127 111 120 165 125 152 106 126 137 139 133

Western Arctic 196 188 171 143 145

210 149 189 130 161 173 160 168

Sources: Stations and Lays, Voyages, and Prices data sets. For the computation of wages, see table 5.6 notes. The calculations omit crew members with second occupations and those who signed on after the start of the voyage. “These are unweighted averages.

To aid in understanding the workings of the whaling labor market, we modeled the wage bargain. Each agent and potential crewman was assumed to be aware of (1) the ground to which the voyage was primarily directed (external evidence indicates that the choice of ground was one of the agent’s first decisions, and he recruited labor in light of that choice;38also, the labor contract usually spelled out the projected ground); (2) the average catch and length of voyage of vessels returning to New Bedford from the chosen ground during the previous year, as well as the variability of each of these measures (information readily available in the WSL);and (3) the average probability of a vessel’s returning safely from the ground over the previous five years (again, information documented in the local press). The model rests on the assumption that, although the lay was the focus of the negotiation between agent and prospective crewman, the expected real wage (or real cost) was at the heart of the bargain. reported in table 5.1 1. Those figures are based on the year of sailing (Own Year). See note 29 for a discussion of these measures. 38. Morgan’s letter book (Morgan Collection) contains a broad sample of such instructions to his captains. For example, he wrote to George H. Dexter (26 August 1834), “The ship Condor being now ready for Sea, the owners wish you to proceed at once for Sea and as the Season is late, make the best of your way to the False Bank off the coast of Brazil, where we dispatch the Ship for a cargo of Right Whale oil.” The following month (24 September) he wrote to Cornelius Howland Jr.: “The Ship Magnolia under your Command being now ready for Sea-I proceed to give such general instructions for the voyage as are required. The Ship is bound for the Pacific Ocean for a Cargo of Sperm Oil, and is amply fitted for a Cruise of four years.”

188

Chapter 5

Table 5.11

Labor Market Efficiency, New Bedford Whaling Vessels, Sailing Years 184&58 Dependent Variables

Expected Monthly Wage, Unskilled Seaman Statistical properties F Adjusted RZ Dependent mean ($) Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Financial risk Voyage length (months squared) “Time at sea” risk Ground (compared to Pacijc) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic

964.3 ,381 8.69 9,387

Expected Monthly Wage, Unskilled Seaman, Risk Adjusted

868.0 ,357 7.99 9,387

8.294* 0.00070* -0.136* 0.417*

8.556* 0.00003 -0.141* 0.392*

-3.008* -0.526* 6.378*

-3.134* -0.595* 5.427*

Sources: Voyages, Productivity, and Stations and Lays data sets. Nore: Although greenhand lays are available for 1866, we omitted the year from the calculations in order to eliminate from the regressions the persisting effects of the extraordinary events of the Civil War. *Significant at the 1 percent level.

Table 5.11 reports the results of two alternative specifications of the model. The dependent variable in model 1 is the average monthly real value of the catch of vessels that had returned from the designated ground in the previous year, multiplied by the average lay negotiated by greenhands in the present year-it is, in short, a proxy for the expected real monthly wage.39The dependent variable in model 2 is the expected real wage variable of model 1 multiplied by the average probability (calculated over the previous five years) that a vessel setting out for the designated ground would return safely to New Bedford. There are six independent variables. Three relate to the factors that, theoretically, influenced the relative real wage rates in the four grounds: financial risk, time at sea, and the risk of spending more time at sea than expected.40The second set are the three ground dummies-the Pacific was chosen as the base, 39. The deflator employed was the David and Solar index of consumer prices (David and Solar 1977, 16-17). The wage is Own Year. 40. The financial risk variable is the standard deviation of the value of the catch of vessels returning from the designated ground in year (t - 1). The measure of voyage length is the average interval for vessels returning from the designated ground in (t - 1). The measure of “time at sea” risk is the standard deviation of the voyage length.

189

Labor

and is the implicit fourth ground. If the model captures the essence of the wage bargain, the coefficients on the ground dummies should be close to zero. The results are decidedly mixed. The adjusted R2 are good, given the element of luck in the industry, and the F values are both very high and significant. If attention is focused on the first set of variables, the model seems to have captured the principal elements of the wage negotiation that both theory and the qualitative literature suggest dominated the bargain. The ground coefficients indicate, however, that, after the effects of the first set of variables have been factored out, there remain even larger differences among the expected earnings in the four grounds. Theory suggests that workers usually prefer lesser to greater financial risk; this conjecture is borne out by the analysis. The coefficient on “financial risk”-measured by the standard deviation of the returns-is positive in both models and highly significant in one, but the coefficients on this variable are very small. The variable “time at sea” is intended to be an index of the expected duration of the voyage. It is the average duration of the voyages-by hunting groundof vessels returning to New Bedford in the previous year. The industry’s historians point out that the desertion rate rose as the length of the voyage increased, and infer that whalemen preferred short voyages. It is likely that the association reflects, not a preference for short voyages, but a perfectly reasonable preference for successful ones. Exceptionally long voyages tended to be unsuccessful. Strong-minded captains who were unwilling to return with empty cargo space would remain at sea, despite the grumblings of the crew. Leaving these cases aside, many men must have preferred the security of employment offered by planned longer voyages. On the one hand, if men with these preferences dominated the market, one could expect the sign on the coefficient of the variable “time at sea” to be negative, as it is: men required a premium for a short voyage. On the other hand, the sign on the variable “time at sea” risk, that is, the risk of spending more time at sea than anticipated-a measure of the standard deviation of the “time at sea” variable-might well be positive, since the variable is intended to pick up anticipations of chances of success. It is positive, and the coefficients are quite large and highly significant. The first set of variables seems to capture the essence of the negotiation, and indicates that the market was ~ o r k i n g . The ~ ’ ground dummies are much less successful. If the model were correct and complete, one would expect the coefficients on the dummies to be insignificantly different from zero, but this is not the case. After adjusting for “physical,” “financial,” and “at sea” risk and for the length of the voyage, a prospective hand appears to have been willing to sacri41. The relationships however, are unstable. For example, if the variance is substituted for the standard deviation (“financial risk” and “risk of spending more time at sea than anticipated’), the signs on the financial risk and voyage duration variables shift. But the results with respect to the dummies change little.

190

Chapter 5

fice $0.59 a month to serve in the Indian Ocean and $3.13 a month to serve in the Atlantic, rather than the Pacific; he required a premium of $5.43 to sail to the Western Arctic. The differences probably reflect, in part, very strong tastes and biases; the Arctic was an unpleasant place to be. It is also true that the model is incomplete. The dummies may be picking up the effects of missing variables. For example, the model leaves out of account the behavior of people and institutions on the other side of the labor market. Despite its shortcomings, the model provides helpful hints about the nature of the market.

5.4 Deterioration in Productivity and Crew Quality The years 1840-58 were characterized by a decline in vessel productivity, on the one hand, and gradually increasing proportions of unskilled and illiterate workers among crews, on the other (see table 5.12). Between 1840-43 and 1856-58, for example, the average productivity index declined by more than one-third, illiteracy rose by nearly 30 percent, and the proportion of unskilled seamen in the crew rose by more than one-quarter. In the early 1840s just over one-fifth of the crew were illiterate and fewer than three-tenths had no maritime experience. On the eve of the Civil War, more than one-quarter of the crew were illiterate, and more than six-tenths had never before been to sea. The declines in crew quality and average voyage productivity need not bespeak causal connections. In order to pursue that topic further, a model designed to explain productivity change in general is required. The effects of changes in crew quality and the movements of other relevant independent variables can then be systematically assessed. To complete the explanation it is, of course, also necessary to consider how and why crew quality declined and how the managers of whaling voyages dealt with the decline. The place to begin is with the model. The same model used to examine the contributions of the captain to a voyage’s productivity can be employed in the effort to understand the changing quality of labor (see chapter 8 for a fuller discussion). It has been argued in the whaling literature that, as time passed, the quality of labor available to the industry declined because of improving opportunities ashore. To capture this development, indexes of real wage rates ashore are introduced as independent variables. Increases in wages ashore would bid the best whalemen away from the fleet, we assumed, and lead to a deterioration in the quality of the whaling labor force, thus reducing productivity.42The model and data appear strongly to support the conclusion that rising wages bid the best labor away from whal42. It may appear that the wage rates of other seagoing occupations would be preferable; in fact, they are not. As the evidence has indicated, merchant seamen and whalemen were different breeds of cat, and the markets for the two were quite different. In any case it is opportunities ashore, not opportunities elsewhere afloat, that figure in the hypothesis in the literature. It may also appear that the proper variable should he, not the real wage rate ashore, hut the ratio of the wage rate ashore to the wage rate in whaling. We could not use this ratio because we do not have the necessary data on the wage rate in whaling for all years.

Table 5.12

Crew and Voyage Characteristics,All Grounds, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 A. Crew Characteristics

Year

% of Crew Who Are Illiterate

% of Crew Who Are Unskilled

% of Seamen Who Are Unskilled

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866

21.6 19.9 20.6 20.9 23.0 25.6 24.0 25.5 27.0 25.4 24.2 25.1 23.4 27.1 28.6 26.5 27.9 29.1 24.1 28.3

30.0 28.2 31.1 28.5 34.8 34.6 35.1 34.7 33.5 35.7 38.7 38.8 39.3 39.9 40.4 42.0 42.5 35.5 38.4 30.4

55.8 52.6 59.4 54.3 64.7 65.1 66.3 64.1 64.6 67.2 72.2 70.5 72.1 73.8 74.9 76.6 77.1 66.3 69.5 54.8

24.9 20.8 26.9

35.6 29.5 39.6

66.1 55.5 72.4

29.3

34.2

30.5

Means All years 1840-43 1855-58 % changes, 1840-43 to 1855-58

B. Index Numbers on the Base 1840 (= 100)

Year 1840 1841 1842 1843 I844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 (continued)

Productivity" 1.000 1.060 1.228 1.138 0.862 0.914 0.977 0.744 0.971 0.889

% of Crew

% of Crew

% of Seamen

Who Are

Who Are Unski11ed

Who Are Unskilled

Illiterate 1.000 0.921 0.953 0.969 1.067 1.186 1.113 1.179 1.251 1.175

1

.ooo

0.940 1.038 0.953 1.163 1.157 1.171 1.160 1.120 1.192

1.Ooo 0.943 1.066 0.973 1.160 1.167 1.190 1.150 1.158 1.204

192

Chapter5

Table 5.12

Year 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means All years 1840-43 1855-58 % changes, 1840-43 to 1855-58

(continued)

Productivity"

% of Crew

% of Crew

% of Seamen

Who Are Illiterate

Who Are Unskilled

Who Are Unski11ed

0.919 0.865 0.462 0.751 0.820 0.557 0.690 0.693 0.479 0.558

1.120 1.162 1.085 1.255 1.323 1.226 1.292 1.349 1.117 1.311

1.293 1.295 1.312 1.333 1.349 1.401 1.420 1.185 1.282 1.016

1.294 1.263 1.292 1.323 1.343 1.374 1.383 1.189 1.246 0.983

0.829 1.107 0.605

1.153 0.961 1.246

1.189 0.983 1.322

1.185 0.996 1.298

-45.3

29.7

34.5

30.3

Source: Stations and Lays and Productivity data sets. Nore: This table excludes crewmen who did not sail with the voyage. It includes those who signed on with more than one occupation, using the first occupation mentioned. 'The productivity estimates underlying this column were computed from data for the voyages represented in the remaining columns of the table.

ing. If direct measures of labor quality (fraction illiterate; fraction greenhands) are substituted for the indexes of real wage rates ashore, however, the results do not support the conclusion that labor-quality changes were directly related to productivity (see chapter 8). It is probable that the contradiction is only apparent. First, the pull of onshore wages-taken together with agents' attempts to lessen labor turnover by substituting unskilled for skilled crewmen-tended to reduce the quality of workers and, therefore, productivity. Second, new techniques were introduced that permitted seamen of lower quality to function acceptably. Agents who made these technical changes could employ such seamen with significant success. Across time, then, one might expect to find that the quality factor forced productivity down; but, in the cross section (once allowance is made for crosstime deterioration), the vessels that adopted the new technology could employ lower-quality crews and were, therefore, more productive than the vessels that did not. The evidence suggests that the argument is correct; whether it is persuasive depends on the nature of the decline in labor quality and the kinds of adjustments to it that were made by agents and captains. (See chapters 7 and 8 for further treatment of this topic.)

193

Labor

The rise in the proportions of illiterate and unskilled crewmen on a typical vessel may also have been a product of agents’ attempts to recruit crew members who would be less likely to desert. Contemporary sources suggest that agents, concerned with the very high rates of labor turnover, sought to employ workers who, because of their lack of information and skills, would find it difficult to leave their vessels and sign on others. Nordhoff (1895, 12), for example, reports that, despite the almost constant demand for whaling crews, “To a sailor this avenue to a whaleship is hermetically sealed. Neither here [New York] nor in New Bedford is he at all likely to be shipped-for experience has taught the captains and owners of whaling vessels that your real tar is too uneasy a creature to be kept in good order for so long a cruise as whalemen now-a-days generally make.” The policy was also noted by Hohman (1928, 62): “The shipping-agent preferred to deal with men ignorant of the actual conditions of the industry because they were more easily imposed upon, and also because they were more dependable in observing their As voyage length increased, so did desertions-Herman Melville managed to desert twice during his brief whaling career-and, if agents’ letters and the surviving account books are to be believed, labor turnover emerged as an increasingly important problem. The difficult life aside, there are a number of explanations for the problem of desertion. The role of the advance as an inducement to desert has been discussed; the inducement was certainly reinforced when the crewman found himself on a vessel that was performing poorly. Thus, the fact that the Gratitude arrived at Talcahuano “clean” may explain the loss of seven or eight men and a whaleboat; that the captain of the James Allen, because of a poor catch, attempted to extend the voyage by thirty months could account for the furtive departure of seven crewmen; that the Newport vessel Helen Augusta had taken “no oil” may have convinced seven men to desert in Java and another six to take a whaleboat and depart in the middle of the North Atlantic (WSL 6 April 1852, 28 March 1854, 9 October 1855). An increase in opportunity cost also appears to have played role in the decision to break the labor contract; gold fever turned crewmen’s minds to alluring alternatives. In 1850 a traveler noted: “The harbor of Honolulu was full of whalemen, and officers and crews were deserting every opportunity [in order to go to California]. The mountains are said to be full of runaway sailors” (WSL 12 February 1850). Even so, the captain of the Brumin must have been surprised to discover upon his return from a trip ashore on Maui that his ship had disappeared; “it is supposed that the crew rose, took the vessel from the officers, and started for California.” Similarly, Captain Hamblin of the New Bedford probably did not 43. “The question was even injected into the original shipping of a crew in the home port; for

one of the reasons for preferring green hands lay in the fact that they were less resourceful in matters relating to desertion” (Hohman 1928, 66).

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Chapter 5

expect that his entire crew would desert when he docked in Paita in April of 1850 (WSL 12 March, 21 May 1850). The previous month, at Hilo, the second mate, a boatsteerer, the carpenter, the blacksmith, and a seaman from the Caroline stole a boat and navigation equipment and set out for California, while in Guam the fourth mate, two boatsteerers, two seamen, and the carpenter stole a boat from the Mount Vernon and headed for California by way of Manila (WSL 2 July, 16 July 1850). Nor was it only California gold that lured whalemen away from their ships. When in 1853 the Montezuma dropped anchor in Auckland, New Zealand, the entire crew deserted and went to the mines (WSL 14 June, 4 July 1853). So great was the problem that the Board of Underwriters of Marine Insurance in New York adopted a resolution “upon receiving reliable information of the voluntary desertion of a ship by a shipmaster for more lucrative employment, to place the name of such master on the list of suspended shipmasters . . . until his conduct is satisfactorily explained,” and to refuse insurance to any vessel employing such a captain (WSL 28 August 1849). The inducements must have been strong or the life very unpleasant, since desertion was not without cost. The five seamen who deserted the Eleanor and the Liverpool off Patagonia in 1848 suffered from hunger and cold for ten months, and two died, before a New London vessel discovered the survivors. When gold fever swept the Minerva, the crew deserted en masse; three drowned attempting to swim ashore. Of the six men who left the Gratitude, four drowned while attempting to land their boat (WSL 10 October 1848, 20 February 1849,6 April 1852, 1 June 1852). Desertion could reduce profits not only directly, by the loss of unrepaid advances, but also indirectly, by its effects on productivity. A vessel’s complement usually consisted of only a few more men (the shipkeepers) than the number required to provide six for each whaleboat; an unreplaced crewman could mean the loss of an entire boat. Probably more important was the effect on productivity of the replacement of a member of one of the “closely-linked whaleboat crews, where the loss of a single cool and expert oarsman often cut down materially the captures made by a certain boat” (Hohman 1928,65). Because of the costs incurred in these desertions, captains spent considerable time and money attempting to recapture their wayward charges and, if that effort failed, to see that they were severely punished under local or Massachusetts law. In 1852 the industry was shocked by the punishment handed the fourteen seamen of the Champion who, while sailing off the coast of Chile, “after confining the officers and remainder of the crew below . . . took two boats and made for the land.” Upon their return to New Bedford three of the deserters were arrested and transferred to Boston for trial, where, in the U.S. district court, they were convicted of larceny of the whaleboats. Their sentence: six days’ imprisonment. “Judges must have very confused notions of the depth of guilt involved in the offense which these men committed,” commented the WSL (3 June, 1 July 1851).

195

Labor

By relaxing certain production constraints, technological change permitted captains and agents to adjust their workforce in a way that they thought would reduce turnover. Before 1850 improvements aloft-in rigging, winches, sail plan, and sails-and after 1850 improvements in vessel design made it possible to alter dramatically the skill profile of the crew (see chapter 7). The changes aloft, by greatly easing and simplifying the tasks of setting, changing, and furling the sails, made it possible for unskilled crewmen to handle most of the above-deck work that had previously required trained hands. The new designs also made it easier to steer and maneuver a vessel. Thus, both sets of technical innovations made it possible to substitute greenhands for able and ordinary seamen. The evidence, both quantitative and qualitative, conclusively demonstrates that, by a traditional definition, the quality of whaling crews deteriorated over at least two decades preceding the Civil War. Qualitative sources suggest that the decline was the result of a conscious decision by agents, aimed at reducing labor turnover and thus increasing profits. It is impossible to prove that this was so; it may have been instead (or in addition) a reaction to the increasing difficulty of recruiting native Yankee whalemen-a difficulty rooted in the rising competition for onshore labor. It may be only coincidental, but the developing manufacturing sector underwent a similar substitution of unskilled for skilled labor at about the same time. Although it is unlikely that labor turnover played a significant role in that case, labor historians have recognized that the development of new technologies made it possible for managers to substitute less-skilled for more-skilled labor. Goldin and Sokoloff (1982, 755), for example, note, “The relationship between firm size and the employment of women and children within industries indicates that the diffusion of new, large-scale technologies was associated with the substitution of women and children for men.”“ In whaling the policy was not costless to either agent or crewman. It greatly increased the twin problems of supervision and discipline, and the direct cost of the necessary discipline was borne in the first instance by the crew. As one chronicler reports, “Examination of the crews’ account books gives an insight into the changes taking place in the kind of men who shipped aboard whalers and the measures taken by the agents and captains to compensate for the increasingly poor quality of the crews. Whether the decrease in quality of personnel led to the harsh measures, or whether the methods of the captains, agents, and landsharks led to the poor quality was a question probably debated endlessly by the owners and agents” (Moment 1957, 274). There is general agreement that “the owners were content to ship such [untrained] hands . , . because capable and brutally aggressive mates could train them during the long months at sea” (Hohman 1928,62). 44. For a complete discussion of the evidence, see Goldin and Sokoloff 1982, 741-44; 1984, 461-68.

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As the composition of the crew changed, and perhaps in response to the increased levels of brutality (although causality may have gone the other way), sailors’ behavior began to exceed the normal bounds of conduct. Murder, at least of officers, remained uncommon, but mutinies increased; there were five in 1857 alone. Sometimes, as in the case of the Marcella (upon the death of the captain the crew refused to sail anywhere but home), the mutiny was peaceful. Sometimes it wasn’t. After a crewman on the Morning Star stabbed the mate, “the rest of the crew who sympathized with their comrade, drew pistols, knives, and other weapons.” The mutiny was put down only with the assistance of the British frigate Monarch. A bloodier fate befell the officers of the Junior cruising off New Zealand. Five mutineers beheaded the captain, shot the first and second mates, stabbed the third mate to death, and took over the vessel (WSL 12 October 1852, 15 September 1857,6April 1858). Usually mutineers were captured and hanged or imprisoned, but occasionally they were successful. The Marcella, for example, did return to New Bedford. In 1857 the officers and crew of the James and Edward, then cruising near Mauritius, mutinied against the captain. The American consul placed the mutineers in irons, but after hearing the case against the captain he refused to prosecute and chose to “discharge the whole, officers and crew, claiming three months extra pay for each man” (WSL 28 April 1857). Desertions and mutinies were both aimed at breaking the labor contract; at times crewmen took even more direct-and probably more risky-action. There are numerous instances of attempts by crewmen to end a voyage by sinking the vessel, often while at sea. The preferred method was arson, but boring holes in the bottom of the vessel was a clear second choice. The captain of the Hectol; for example, suddenly discovered eleven feet of water in the hold. Arson was sometimes discovered before serious damage had been done, but frequently the saboteurs were at least partially successful. The Emma, the George Washington, and the Pantheon were burned to the waterline and declared total losses. The captains of the Canton Packet, the Tobacco Plant, and the Addison scuttled their vessels, put out the fires, and salvaged something. For the Pantheon, the arson attempt was the second on the voyage; for the William Thompson (damage $6,000), the attempt was the third.45 The officers, of course, responded that the men had to be trained, and behavior that flew in the face of good order and discipline had to be modified. The stories of brutality on whaling vessels are legion. In 1848 a judge held that the captain of the James Murray had slightly exceeded his authority when he ordered a crewman tied to the rigging and “gave him seventeen blows on the back with a piece of tow-line, about three feet long and from two to two and a quarter inches in circumference.” The problem wasn’t the flogging itself, according to the judge; it was the rope, which “in the hands of an athletic man 45. WSL 7 February 1854, 15 November 1853, 20 May, 17 June, 24 June 1856, 16 February 1847, 12 February 1850,5 December 1854,2 November 1847.

197

Labor

. . . might inflict permanent injury to one not of a robust frame.” Since the seaman had been able to perform his duties after the incident and was thus clearly not permanently injured, the judge awarded him “a very small amount only in damages” (WSL 1 August 1848). The United States outlawed whipping seamen for punishment in 1850, but the law was not always obeyed. In 1854 the captain of the Gratitude was arrested for flogging a crewman in an “unjustifiable” manner. Nine years later, awarding a crewman who had been flogged $60 and costs, the judge of the U.S. district court in Boston “remarked, that the masters of whaleships manifested a disposition to defy the law and the court, and distinctly announced that. . . this law against flogging, while it remained on the statute book, should be enforced, and that the penalty of its violation would be increased in form and severity until obedience is yielded.”46 Flogging was not the only form of physical abuse. The captain of the Globe was indicted for assaulting a sailor with a handspike, the captain of the Emma was arraigned for assaulting two crewmen with “a dangerous weapon” (a gunstock), and the captain of the Callao was tried for assaulting a seaman with a bung-knocker. The charge against the Emma’s captain was dismissed in one case because the crewman had disobeyed an order. The Callao’s captain was acquitted because “the bung-knocker was discreetly used” (WSL 17 September 1850, 30 September 1851, 28 September 1858). The essence of these stories is contained in the report of the U.S. revenue cutter Thetes on its return from a trip to the Arctic whaling fleet in September 1906. On board were fourteen sick whalemen, thirty victims of shipwreck, and two whaling captains, H. E. Bodfish of the William Bayless and E. W. Newth of the Jeannette, in irons. Both captains were charged with manslaughter in the deaths of seamen-Bodfish, with kicking a seaman to death (Williams 1988, 32,46-48). The need for increased supervision and discipline meant that a vessel required more “capable and brutally aggressive mates,” and additional mates were not costless. The new labor policy rid the industry of some of those skilled seamen who knew when and how to desert, but it forced the agents to hire more supervisory personnel. The result was a change in the size and composition of the crew that led directly to a significant increase in total direct labor costs. Tables 5.13 and 5.14 compare average crews in the two four-year periods 1840-43 and 1855-58. Between those dates, despite the substitution of smaller barks for larger ships-a substitution that should have reduced crew size by 3 percent-the size of a typical crew actually increased by 2.4 men or about 9 percent (from just over 26.6 to just over 29 men). Of equal interest are the 46. WSL 1 August 1854.27 January 1863. In the last case the judge commented, however, “that it was not for the Court to decide whether the legislation was wise or unwise; that in his opinion, the law was passed by men who knew nothing of the practical management of seamen, and were influenced entirely by sentiment.”

Table 5.13

Average Numbers of Crewmen per Voyage, by Occupation, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-43 and 1855-58 A. Professionals

Officersa

Skilled Maritimeb

Artisansc

Serviced

Total

1840 1841 I842 1843 Means 1855 1856 1857 1858 Means

4.00 3.85 3.85 4.08 3.95 4.27 4.34 4.42 4.37 4.35

3.47 3.38 3.44 3.66 3.49 3.82 3.78 4.01 4.03 3.91

1.97 2.12 2.29 2.40 2.20 2.44 2.27 2.50 2.15 2.34

1.97 1.89 1.98 2.01 1.96 1.92 2.07 2.03 2.01 2.01

11.40 11.24 11.56 12.15 11.59 12.45 12.47 12.97 12.56 12.61

Change % change

0.40 10.1

0.42 12.0

0.14 6.4

0.05 2.6

1.02 8.8

Year

B. Nonprofessionals

Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 Means 1855 1856 1857 1858 Means Change % change

Skilled Seamen‘

Semiskilled Seamen‘

3.07 2.40 2.87 3.17 2.88 1.63 1.89 2.45 1.72 1.92

3.77 3.70 2.57 3.42 3.37 1.99 1.61 2.82 3.15 2.39

-0.96 -33.3

-0.98 -29.1

Unskilled Seameng

8.17 7.98 8.35 7.84 8.09 12.03 12.33 10.34 11.13 11.46 3.37 41.7

Boysh

Unknown

Total

0.80 0.59 0.55 0.68 0.66 0.58 0.68 0.55 0.68 0.62

0.07 0.02 0.08 0.00 0.04 0.00 0.00 0.01 0.00 0.00

27.27 25.93 25.98 27.26 26.61 28.67 28.99 29.14 29.24 29.01

-0.04 - 100.0

2.40 9.0

-0.04 -6.1

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set.

Nores: The table excludes crewmen who signed on after the voyage sailed. It includes crewmen

who reported more than one occupation, counting them as one-half of a man for each. Captains and first through fourth mates bBoatsteerers, fifth mates, second boatsteerers, preventive boatsteerers, head-a-boats, extra prepared boatsteerers, shipkeepers, and assistant boatsteerers. ‘Coopers, blacksmiths, carpenters, sailmakers, second coopers, second carpenters, boatbuilders, second blacksmiths, painters, mechanicshachinists, caulkers, and coppersmiths. dCooks, stewards, and second stewards ‘Seamen, able seamen, and lookouts ‘Ordinary seamen, oarsmen, mariners, and “one-voyage” men. gGreenhands, landsmen, green oarsmen, and other crewmen designated as green. ”oys, cabin boys, and greenhand boys.

199

Labor

Table 5.14

Skill Composition of a Typical Crew, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-43 and 1855-58 (percentage of crew) A. Professionals

Officers

Skilled Maritime

1840 1841 1842 1843 Means 1855 1856 1857 1858 Means

14.8 14.8 14.9 15.0 14.9 15.0 15.1 15.3 15.0 15.1

12.7 13.1 13.2 13.3 13.1 13.4 13.1 13.9 13.8 13.6

Change % change

0.2 1.3

0.5 3.8

Year

Artisans

Service

7.2 8.1 8.8 8.7 8.2 8.4 7.8 8.6 7.3 8.0 -0.2 -2.4

7.3 7.4 7.8 7.5 7.5 6.8 7.2 7.1 6.9 7.0 -0.5 -6.7

Total

41.9 43.5 44.6 44.6 43.7 43.7 43.2 44.8 43.1 43.7

0.0 0.0

B. Nonprofessionals

Year 1840 1841 1842 1843 Means 1855 1856 1857 1858 Means Change % change

Skilled Seamen 11.5

9.2 11.3 11.5 10.9 5.7 6.7 8.6 5.9 6.7 -4.2 -38.5

Semiskilled Seamen 14.2 14.4 10.0 12.8 12.9 7.0 5.7 9.7 10.7 8.3 -4.6 -35.1

Unskilled Seamen

Boys

Unknown

29.3 30.7 31.7 28.6 30.1 41.7 42.3 35.1 38.0 39.3

2.8 2.1 2.1 2.5 2.4 2.0 2.2 1.8 2.2 2.1

0.3 0.1 0.3 0.0 0.2 0.0 0.0 0.1 0.0 0.0

9.2 30.6

-0.3 - 12.5

-0.2 - 100.0

Source. Stations and Lays Data Set. Nore: See table 5.13 notes.

changes that occurred within the crew. The increase of 2.4 was the result of an increase of 3.4 in the number of unskilled seamen, a decrease of about 2.0 in the number of skilled and semi-skilled seamen, and an increase of 1.0 in the number of “professionals.” Not surprisingly, the number of artisans and service personnel changed little. By the end of the period a typical vessel carried an extra 0.4 of an officer and 0.4 of a skilled maritime professional. Those additions constitute 10 percent and 12 percent increases in the number of crewmen in the two job categories.

200

Chapter 5

Assuming that the extra officers were most likely third mates and that skilled maritime workers were paid as much as boatsteerers, the substitution of greenhands, officers, and skilled maritime professionals for skilled and semiskilled seamen meant that labor costs would have risen on average by about $24.50 a month or about $1,054 for a typical forty-three-month voyage. That estimate does not reflect the increases in the wages of officers, at least some of which can be attributed to their greater supervisory duties. An anonymous shipowner in a letter published in the WSL on 16 June 1857 objected to rising lays for captains: “The high rates that are paid to whaling masters, appears to me to be a subject demanding something more than a passing notice. I am glad the matter has been introduced to the attention of ship owners . . . like every other business, a reasonable lay should only be demanded and given.” The effects of the change can be seen in table 5.15. It displays, by year, the fraction of the catch that accrued to labor through lay shares (i.e., excluding charges, supplements, and the value of room and board). The view of Hohman and others before him was that on every voyage the sum of all lays was very close to 30 percent of the value of the catch, and that the total was invariant over time. These figures tell a different Between 1840-43 and 1855-58 the average lay share rose from about 31 to about 36 percent, an increase of about one-seventh, but it fell back to about 34 percent in 1866. Changes in labor policies, whether initially innovative or merely reactive, did apparently result in higher total factor productivity. Two questions remain: Did the increase in productivity offset the transfer of 4.5 percent of output from owners to workers? What was the effect of the agents’ “labor market innovation” on profits?

5.5 Conclusions The lay system of labor payments has some near relatives, such as the agricultural sharecrop system, and has been at least as damned as they. Both Samuel Morison (1961,320-21) and Elmo Hohman (1928,224), for example, complain about the negative impact that the institution had on the wages of seamen. Labor historian Gerald Williams (1988, 39-40) argues that, toward the end of the nineteenth century, agents and owners reaped another boon from the 47. According to Hohman (1926, 669), “These figures were first given in an article by J. R. Williams . . . in the North American Review for January, 1834, vol. xxxviii, p. 105. They were corroborated by Joseph Grinnell, Speech on the Tariff, with Statistical Tables of the Whale Fishery, p. 9, published in 1844.” Hohman himself found a similar figure (30.3 percent) in his compilation of “a chance sampling of seven voyages for which suitable and accurate figures were available. . . . These voyages were scattered over the period 1805-50,” It should be noted that neither Hohman nor others who have argued for the 30 percent figure have included the value of room and board in their determination of the labor share. The estimates we have made suggest that an adjustment for board alone would have increased individual earnings by between $3.50 and $6.00 a month in 1840-43 and between $4.70 and $8.00 a month in 185558. These figures represent substantial values, compared with the average monthly earnings of whalemen (see table 5.6).

201

Labor

Table 5.15

Labor’s Share of the Net Value of the Catch, All Grounds, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Relative (1840 = 100)

%

Year

Average

Maximum

Minimum

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866

30.8 31.0 31.3 31.0 31.6 31.3 31.8 31.5 31.5 31.6 33.2 34.2 34.3 34.4 34.6 35.8 36.0 36.4 34.9 33.8

34.0 38.0 37.5 34.3 36.1 36.0 37.1 35.6 35.2 36.3 38.3 39.2 38.6 41.9 42.7 41.8 43.3 41.1 38.3 45.5

28.1 26.9 26.1 28.1 26.5 28.3 28.2 27.0 26.3 26.6 29.0 28.7 29.5 28.6 29.6 30.1 30.9 30.6 29.5 28.2

1.Ooo 1.006 1.016 1.006 1.026 1.016 1.032 1.023 1.023 1.026 1.078 1.110 1.114 1.117 1.123 1.162 1.169 1.182 1.133 1.097

1.118 1.103 1.009 1.062 1.059 1.091 1.047 1.035 1.068 1.126 1.153 1.135 1.232 1.256 1.229 1.274 1.209 1.126 1.338

1.Ooo 0.957 0.929 1.000 0.943 1.007 1.004 0.961 0.936 0.947 1.032 1.021 1.050 1.018 I .053 I .07 1 1.100 1.089 1.050 1.004

Means Maximum Minimum Means: 1840-43 1855-58 Change % change

33.1 36.4 30.8

38.5 45.5 34.0

28.3 30.9 26.1

1.075 1.182 1.Ooo

1.132 1.338 1.Ooo

1.007 1.100 0.929

31.0 35.8 4.8 15.5

36.0 41.1 5.1 14.2

27.3 30.3 3.O 11.0

1.006 1.162 0.156 15.5

1.059 1.209 0.150 14.2

0.972 1.078 0.106 11.0

Average

Maximum 1.Ooo

Minimum

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set. Note: This table omits crew members who did not sail with the vessel.

system-a boon that could not have been anticipated at the industry’s peak. Because of the judicial interpretation of the lay contract, owners found themselves almost entirely exempt from the federal laws designed to improve the life of American seamen. These laws included the Shipping Commissioners’ Act (1 872) that, together with its amendments, made it more difficult to shanghai sailors and guaranteed mariners a minimum level of rations, space, and medical treatment; the White Act (1898) that abolished both criminal penalties for desertion and corporal punishment; and the Seamen’s Act of 1915 that provided for minimum safety standards (e.g., lifeboat^).^^ 48. An Act to Authorize the Appointment of Shipping-Commissioners . . . , 1872, Sfats.at Large of USA 17:262-80; An Act to Amend the Laws relating to American Seamen, for the Protection of Such Seamen, and to Promote Commerce, 1898, U.S.Srafures ar Lorge 30755-64; An Act to Promote the Welfare of American Seamen. . . , 1915, US.Sratutes afLarge 38:1164-85. Whaling

202

Chapter 5

Despite its shortcomings, the system had many interesting, and some undoubtedly useful, attributes. Most importantly it should be noted that these were voluntary contracts, and knowledge about the hardships that were likely to be encountered was seldom lacking.49 Crewmen signed on because they wanted to. Certainly owners benefitted from transfemng a portion of the risk of the voyage to the crew, although, given the regularized system of advances, the payment of room and board, and the occasional renegotiations of lays, the transfer was not complete. Even critics of the lay contract (Hohman, for example) admit that at least some crew members revelled in a chance to participate in the “big lottery.” Without question, the lay contract provided an incentive system that rewarded cooperation-an important matter whose virtues were as evident to the seamen as to the agents and owners. Every contemporary account of the hunt and the subsequent rendering of oil underscores the level of cooperation required among ~rewmen.’~ Finally, the system appears to have been flexible enough to permit agents to adjust rapidly to emerging interground differences in productivity and to the reduced skill demands of the new sailing technologies.

Appendix 5A Numbers of Voyages, Numbers of Crew Contracts, Value of Catch, and Voyage Duration Data Tables 5A.1and 5A.2 compare the subset of New Bedford whaling voyages for which crew contracts have been obtained to the Voyages Data Set as a whole. Table 5A.3 outlines the coverage of the Stations and Lays Data Set, which underlies most of the calculations in this chapter. seamen would still be excluded from many protections. See U.S.Code Annorated, vol. 46, sec. 544: “None of the provisions of [the Shipping Commissioners’ Act] . . . shall apply . . . in any case where the seamen are by custom or agreement entitled to participate in the profits or result of a cruise, or voyage” (interpreted in Johnson v. Standard Oil Co. ofNew Jersey [D.C. Md. 19401, Federal Supplement 331982434). 49. Some of those signing were so young that one may doubt they truly knew what they were getting into, but their numbers were probably not large. For example, in a sample of 285 crew lists in the years 1842-58 (chiefly 1843-49). 145 crewmen were 15 years old or younger (the youngest was 9), but this group accounted for only 2.5 percent of all the crewmen on these voyages. The median age of all crewmen was just over 22 years; the voyage mean ages ranged between 18.8 and 29.4. 50. “I noticed throughout this arduous day’s work, the general alacrity of the crew in striving to do their utmost, and . . . the advantages of giving each man a proportion of the vessel’s earnings, instead of monthly wages; in our case all felt themselves personally interested, and conducted themselves accordingly” (Whitecar 1864,96).

Table 5A.1

Numbers of New Bedford Whaling Voyages in the Stations and Lays Data Set and the Voyages Data Set, by Ground, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 All Grounds

Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Total Means

With Contracts

Total

15 56 59 50 72 52 61 56 56 53 68 I15 62 85 84 73 74 73 50 36 1,250 62.5

75 74 80 77 98 91 71 76 73 65 83 137 76 106 102 96 95 97 65 56 1,693 84.7

Pacific

With Contracts

Indian

Total

2 4 8 0 3

19 8 11 3 5 6 4 0

5

4 0 1 1 2 10 9 6

5 6 3 2 2 15 88

4.4

1

3 3 13 10 8 6 8 4 4 3 20 139 7.0

With Contracts

Total

1 17 24 7 15 5 11 10 4 13 7 10 7 7 11 12 6 10 8 2 187 9.4

19 21 29 14 18 13 14 13 8 14 9 10 11 12 17 15 8 13 10 5 273 13.7

Western Arctic

Year

With Contracts

Total

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854

I1 35 23 27 42 26 33 31 46 35 41 59 39 54 46

35 44 35 41 62 44 39 45 58 40 49 70 47 63 56

(continued)

Atlantic

With Contracts

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 17 31 6 17 19

Total

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

4 21 36 7 21 20

Mixed With Contracts

1 0 4 16 12 16 13 15 5 2 1 5 1 1 3

Total

2 1

5 19 13 28 14 18 6 4 1 8 1 2 3

Table 5A.1

(continued) Pacific

Year 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Total Means

Western Arctic

Mixed

With Contracts

Total

With Contracts

Total

With Contracts

41 43 41 26 13 712 35.6

51 55 59 32 21 946 47.3

9 13 16 12 5 147 13.4"

14 17 17 16 8 181 16.5"

5 9 4 2 1 116 5.8

Total

8 11

4 4 2 154 7.7

Note: Although there are no voyages in the Stations and Lays Data Set for which ground is missing, there are two voyages in the Voyages Data Set in these years for which ground is missing. They are omitted from this table. "These are means across the eleven years in which there were Western Arctic voyages.

Table 5A.2

Two Comparisons of the Stations and Lays Data Set to the Voyages Data Set, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Ratios, Stations and Lays Data Set to Voyages Data Set

Year 1840 1841 1842 1843 I844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Means

Average Value of Catch (current prices)

Average Length of Voyage (months)

1.36 1.06 0.97 1.04 0.99 0.94 1.oo 1.04

1.09 1.02 1.02 1.01 1.01 0.96 1.02 1.04 1.03 1.06 1.oo 1.01 1.02 1.03

.oo

1

1.07 1.01 1.01 1.03 1.04 1.05 1.02 1.02 1.05 1.02 1.01 1.04

Sources: Stations and Lays, Productivity, and Voyages data sets.

1.oo

1.04 1.02 1.04 1.03 1.01 1.02

205

Labor

Table 5A.3

Year

1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1866 Total Means

Numbers of Contracts in the Stations and Lays Data Set, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 All Grounds

Atlantic

409 1,452 1,533 1,363 1,940 1,439 1,646 1,539 1,551 1,414 1,881 3,323 1,721 2,361 2,305 2,093 2,145 2,127 1,462 1,049 34,753 1,738

44 76 168 0 67 104 90 0 24 24 38 237 196 132 111 147 69 43 54 40 1 2,025 101

Indian

Pacific

29 449 623

305 927 622 737 1,196 730 948 910 1,296 94 I 1,171 1,765 1,135 1,523 1,290 1,188 1,270 1,222 765 398 20,339 1,017

171

368 142 264 242 100

339 159 254 187 177 263 33 1 167 274 210 54 4,803 240

Western Arctic

0 0

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

60 490 943 180 499 561 279 404 476 373 164 4,429 403"

Mixed

31 0 120 455 309 463 344 387 131 50 23 124 23 30 80 148 235 112 60 32 3,157 158

Note: This table reports only contracts for crewmen who sailed with their vessels from New Bedford. 'This is the mean over the eleven years in which there were Western Arctic voyages.

Appendix 5B Crewmen with Two Occupations A little more than 8 percent (2,706) of the crewmen for whom we have found contracts and who sailed with their vessels from New Bedford were recorded in the ships' papers as having two occupations. The largest numbers (summing to 2,320, or about 86 percent of the total of 2,706) appeared in the groups listed in table 5B.1.Further details are given in table 5B.2. Reasons for the double occupations are readily imagined. For example, on a four-boat vessel (three-boat vessel) on which the captain headed a boat, the fourth mate (third mate) would probably not have his own boat and might, instead, serve as boatsteerer for the captain or one of the other mates. (In fact, most of the mates with second occupations served as boatsteerers.) Artisans (coopers, blacksmiths, and carpenters) typically practiced their trades only when whales were not being killed. When the whaleboats were on the water,

206

Chapter 5

Table 5B.1

Principal Groups of Crewmen with Two Occupations, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866

Occupation

Total Number

Number with One Occupation

Number with Two Occupations

7~with Two Occupations

Third mate Fourth mate Boatsteerer Cooper Blacksmith Carpenter Shipkeeper Seaman Greenhand

1,167 522 4,590 1,242 779 1,148 391 2,815 12,658

1,024 323 4,108 989 586 811 87 2,630 12,434

143 199 482 253 193 337 304 185 224

12.3 38. I 10.5 20.4 24.8 29.4 77.1 6.6 1.8

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set. Note: Crewmen with two occupations appear twice herein, once for each occupation (assuming that both occupations are among those selected for this table).

some artisans pulled oars, and some served as shipkeepers or in the crew run by the shipkeeper. Indeed, the surprising aspect of the table is not that some artisans were recorded with second occupations, but that some were not. Mates with second occupations typically drew roughly the same lays as all other mates (see table 5B.3). Since the second occupation of a mate was bound to be inferior to his first occupation, it may seem puzzling that singleoccupation mates did not receive a premium. The explanation that comes to mind is that the second occupation of a mate was usually boatsteerer. It may be that boatsteerers and mates were regarded as equally important in the boats, and that mates received shorter lays than boatsteerers because of the greater importance of their work aboard ship. If that were the case, one would expect to find mates and mate-boatsteerers receiving the same lays. In all other instances, crewmen with two occupations drew shorter lays. In the case of boatsteerers, this is easy enough to understand: those with two occupations were often mates, and, as demonstrated immediately above, boatsteerer-mates received roughly the same lays as mates, which means that they received shorter lays than boatsteerers. The cases of seamen and greenhands are also easy enough to understand. If these crewmen held second occupations, they were very likely to be occupations superior to seaman or greenhand. (Only a boy is inferior to a greenhand.) If the lay of a crewman with two occupations was something approximating an average of the lays usually paid to each of the two occupations (which seems plausible), then seamen or greenhands with second occupations would almost necessarily have shorter lays than single-occupation seamen or greenhands. Why double-occupation artisans could successfully bargain for shorter lays than those of single-occupation artisans is not clear, but it is possible that there is a computational explanation. Suppose the lays of double-occupation artisans

Table 5B.2

Crew Members with Second Occupations, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 First Occupation Listed 5 second mate 140 third mate

191 fourth mate

2 fifth mate 120 boatsteerer

208 cooper

52 blacksmith

110 carpenter

(continued)

Second Occupation Listed 5 boatsteerer 2 head-a-boat 118 boatsteerer 14 cooper 2 blacksmith 4 carpenter 1 head-a-boat 170 boatsteerer 13 cooper 2 carpenter 1 steward 4 shipkeeper 2 boatsteerer 3 third mate 14 fourth mate 1 fifth mate 15 head-a-boat 13 cooper 2 1 blacksmith 43 carpenter 1 second cooper 1 cook 1 steward 6 shipkeeper 1 seaman 1 third mate 2 fourth mate 34 boatsteerer 1 blacksmith 25 carpenter 141 shipkeeper 1 ordinary seaman 2 greenhand 1 assistant boatsteerer 5 carpenter 8 shipkeeper 19 seaman 6 ordinary seaman 14 greenhand 4 boatsteerer 6 blacksmith 1 second cooper 28 shipkeeper 41 seaman 13 ordinary seaman 14 greenhand

Table 5B.2

(continued) First Occupation Listed

12 second cooper

1 second carpenter 21 cook

66 steward

3 1 shipkeeper

1 second cook 112 seaman

41 ordinary seaman

Second Occupation Listed 2 mariner 1 green something I blacksmith 6 seaman 1 ordinary seaman 4 greenhand 1 past greenhand 1 second boatsteerer 1 boatsteerer 3 blacksmith 2 carpenter 2 steward 10 shipkeeper 1 mariner 1 assistant boatsteerer 2 boatsteerer 1 second carpenter 58 shipkeeper 2 seaman 1 greenhand 1 assistant boatsteerer 1 navigator 7 boatsteerer 2 cooper 4 blacksmith 7 carpenter 1 painter 5 steward 5 seaman 1 steerage master 1 head-a-boat 3 1 boatsteerer 18 blacksmith 16 carpenter 5 second cooper 2 steward 15 shipkeeper 3 lookout 2 green something 19 assistant boatsteerer 2 boatsteerer 1 cooper 6 blacksmith 16 carpenter 1 sailmaker 6 second cooper 2 second carpenter 2 painter 1 shipkeeper

Table 5B.2

(continued) First Occupation Listed

Second Occupation Listed 1 greenhand 3 boy 3 cooper 57 blacksmith 89 carpenter 1 sailmaker 22 second cooper 5 second carpenter 5 painter 2 steward 1 shipkeeper 1 second cook 6 ordinary seaman 1 boy 1 has been coasting 1 mechanic 1 steward 4 ordinary seaman 2 greenhand 24 blacksmith 28 carpenter 1 cook 5 shipkeeper 1 painter I assistant boatsteerer 10 seaman 3 ordinary seaman

195 greenhand

7 boy

58 manner

1 landsman 1 bow hand 13 green something

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set.

Table 5B.3

Average Lays of Whaling Crewmen with One and Two Occupations, Sailing from New Bedford, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Occupation

One Occupation

' h o Occupations

Third mate Fourth mate Boatsteerer Cooper Blacksmith Carpenter Shipkeeper Seaman Greenhand

56.7 71.5 87.1 56.8 172.5 165.1 115.3 151.1 185.8

55.9 72.6 73.4 51.7 149.1 136.5 84.4 141.0 173.9

Source: Stations and Lays Data Set. Notes: Crewmen with two occupations appear twice, once for each occupation. The occupations included in this table are those that occur most often for double-occupation crewmen.

210

Chapter 5

Table 5B.4

Average Lays of One- and Two-OccupationCrewmen, by Vessel Size, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Large Vessels

One-occupation crewmen no-occupation crewmen

Small Vessels

Lay

N

Lay

N

153.8 117.3

9,366 301

114.8 81.7

2,127 109

Sources: Stations and Lays and Voyages data sets. Nora: Large vessels have values for the variable CREW greater than 30, small have values less than or equal to 22. See chapter 3 for a description of the construction of the variable CREW.

were typically some average of the lays obtainable for each of the two occupations. Then artisan-greenhands would earn longer lays than plain artisans, and artisan-boatsteerers (or mates) would earn shorter lays than plain artisans. The relationship between the lays of one- and two-occupation artisans of a particular type-say, carpenters-would depend upon the relative lays of the two types of two-occupation carpenters, and the weights attached to each of them. If, for example, the lays of carpenters were closer to the lays of greenhands than to the lays of boatsteerers (which they were), or if carpenter-boatsteerers were more common than carpenter-greenhands, then the average lays of twooccupation carpenters would be shorter than the average lays of oneoccupation carpenters. (Greenhand and boatsteerer are used above to refer to inferior and superior occupations.) These explanations are plausible, but they are not the only explanations possible. We know that lays were shorter on small vessels than on big ones. It seems reasonable to suppose that there might be more two-occupation crewmen on small than on large vessels, for reasons of scale. Before the fact it seemed possible to us that the two-occupation crewmen got short lays because they were concentrated on small vessels. We tested this proposition and found that it did not hold up. If the seeming advantages of two-occupation crewmen were due simply to the concentration of two-occupation crewmen on small vessels, one would expect to find few two-occupation crewmen on large vessels, and one would also expect to find that, once vessel size had been factored in, there was no longer any advantage for two-occupation crewmen. In fact, neither of these statements proved true, as table 5B.4 shows. Two-occupation crewmen were a little more common on small than on large vessels, but the difference was not great; shorter lays went to two-occupation crewmen on both large and small vessels. Finally, it is possible that two-occupation crewmen did not get simply the average lay of their two occupations. Perhaps they also received a premium for their versatility. That would be a difficult matter to detect in the data, but it could be another explanation for the short lays obtained by two-occupation crewmen.

211

Labor

In the text and the tables of this chapter, we used all crewmen when we computed aggregates, such as crew size. The analysis of lays, however, depends exclusively on data for one-occupation crewmen. In view of the ambiguities attached to the two-occupation data, that seemed to be the safest thing to do. The number of two-occupation crewmen, bear in mind, was small, compared with the total number of crewmen, so that little was lost by excluding them from the analysis of lays.

Appendix 5C Subsistence on Whalers Estimates of subsistence costs were required to make the productivity estimates reported in chapter 8 and to draw comparisons between the earnings of whalemen and the earnings of workers ashore. We made use of data from Hohman,which he says he took from a pamphlet compiled by Joseph Grinnell, “Speech on the Tariff, with Statistical Tables of the Whale Fishery,” published in 1844 (Hohman 1928,325). (The speech mentioned in the title was given by Grinnell [member from New Bedford] to Congress on 1 May 1844.) The data consist of detailed outfitting lists (including quantities and prices) for a sperm whaler and for a right whaler. There is a question about Grinnell’s intentions in preparing these lists. Was he compiling only the items in the original outfitting of the vessels, or did he intend to indicate the requirements of their entire voyages? Consider how adequate the supplies Grinnell listed were, given the probable durations of the voyages and the numbers of men in the crews. According to his data, sperm whalers carried an average of twenty-seven men and right whalers, twenty-eight men. Voyage durations of twenty-nine months for sperm whalers, and twenty-three months for right whalers, can be derived from Hohman’s report of ship-arrival data for 1843 (1928, 323, 327). All of these figures (provisions, prices, crew numbers, voyage lengths) imply that it took about $60 a year (approximately $57 for a right whaler and $63 for a sperm whaler) to feed a crewman (prices of 1844), given that Grinnell meant to estimate subsistence for the full voyage. But did he? First we need some standards. The typical basic allowance for an adult male slave in the American South at this time was one-half pound of meat and a quart or more of cornmeal a day, with other items thrown in as they were available-sometimes as supplements, and sometimes as substitutes (Gallman 1970, 9). Adult slaves appear to have been pretty well fed, in the sense that they got plenty of calories and protein. Washington’s army received a somewhat more abundant basic allowance of a pound of meat and a pound of bread a day during the Revolutionary War (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series Z203, 204,205). What kind of a basic diet does Grinnell’s table allow?

212

Chapter5

Grinnell outfits a sperm whaler with 240 barrels of beef and pork, a right whaler with 163 barrels. This is the entire meat allowance. Arthur Harrison Cole (1938, x) says that barrels of beef and pork after 1789 contained 200 pounds of meat. Therefore, Sperm whaler: 240 bbl. X 200 lb. = 48,000 lb., or 1,655.17 lb. per month, if the voyage took 29 months. This gives 61.30 lb. per man per month, with a crew of 27, or 2.04 lb. per man per day. Even with substantial losses to rats and mold, the meat allowance seems more than adequate. Right whaler: 163 bbl. X 200 lb. = 32,600 lb., or 1,417.39 lb. per month (voyage of 23 months), 50.62 lb. per man-month, and 1.69 lb. per man-day; again, more than adequate. (Remember that whalemen spent a substantial fraction of their time in idleness.) Grinnell lists 240 barrels of flour for a sperm whaler and 155 barrels for a right whaler. A barrel of flour contained 196 pounds of flour, from which 284.2 pounds of hard bread could be made (Cole 1938, x; U.S. Department of Agriculture 1952, 38). Sperm whaler: 240 bbl. X 284.2 lb. = 68,208 lb. of bread, or 2,352.00 lb. per month, 87.11 lb. per man-month, and 2.90 lb. per man-day. No doubt some was lost or wasted, and no doubt some of the bread was duff, rather than hard bread (flour probably produced less duff, per pound, than it did bread). Nonetheless, nobody wanted for bread on Mr. Grinnell’s whalers. Right whaler: 155 bbl. X 284.2 lb. = 44,051 lb., or 1,915.26 lb. per month, 68.40 lb. per man-month, and 2.28 lb. per man-day: still plenty. That is not the end of the list. Grinnell identifies a long array of additional provisions. On a sperm whaler, for example, he lists 75 bu. of corn X 56 lb. per bushel (U.S.D.A., 50) = 4,200 lb., or 144.83 lb. per month, and 5.36 lb. per man-month 5 bbl. of corn meal X 200 lb. = 1000 lb., or 34.48 Ib. per month, and 1.28 lb. per man-month 1,200 lb. of rice, or 41.38 lb. per month, and 1.53 lb. per man-month 150 bu. of potatoes X 60 Ib. = 9,000 lb., or 310.34 lb. per month, and 11.49 lb. per man-month 14 bu. of peas and beans X 60 lb. = 840 lb., or 28.97 lb. per month, and 1.07 lb. per man-month Add all that together and you get almost 21 pounds per man-month of corn, rice, potatoes, and peas and beans, or almost 0.70 pounds per man per day. In addition, he lists 800 pounds of cheese, 900 pounds of butter, 600 pounds of dried apples, 10 barrels of vinegar, 800 pounds of cod, 1,600 gallons of molasses, 200 pounds of raisins, 1,000 pounds of sugar, plus coffee and tea (and crewmen caught dolphins, etc.). Given these computations, there is a strong suggestion that Grinnell intended his tables of allowances to show the total subsistence for a voyage. True, he left out oranges, limes, lemons, and so forth, but they would have added

213

Labor

only minutely to the bill. Since Grinnell’s figures are almost certainly an unrealistically high appraisal of the true costs of providing whalers with bread, meat, and drink, we did not add anything to the $60 allowance in order to provide for fresh produce. The $60 seems truly an upper-bound estimate. A lower-bound estimate was derived from a table printed in Hohman (1928, 315) showing, among other things, the annual expenses of the U.S. whaling fleet. This table was originally appended to a report dated 1858 from the U.S. Consulate in Paita to an assistant secretary of state. According to the table, masters each spent about $1,200 per year for “fresh supplies.” Since the consular report implies that in 1858 the typical crew was 24.77 men (it reports the U.S. whaling fleet as employing 16,370 crewmen on 661 vessels), the total comes to $48.45 per man per year, in prices of 1858. Deflating by the Warren and Pearson food price index (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E54) yields an 1844 value of $35.96. We rounded this downward to $35. The $60 upper-bound estimate and the $35 lower-bound estimate are in 1844 dollars. We assumed that subsistence requirements in real terms did not change over time. We estimated current-price subsistence requirements by multiplying real values by the Warren and Pearson food price index shifted to the base 1844 without reweighting, and expressed in decimal form.

6

Capita1

Although the distinction is sometimes blurred, tradition divides the capital needed on a whaling voyage into two parts: the vessel and the outfit. The vessel included the hull and the original masts, rigging, and sails. The outfit was a heterogeneous collection: spare sails, extra line and fittings, and lumber to replace the masts or patch the hull; food and provisions; whalecraft, that is, whaleboats and weapons; bricks for repairing the tryworks, spades and rigging for flensing, and staves and hoops for assembling oil-storage barrels. The investment in vessels and outfits at the industry’s peak was considerable. In 1859 the WSLreported that sixty-five whalers had sailed from New Bedford the previous year “at an average expense with outfits of $30,500,” or $1,017 per crewman using the WSL’s estimate (8 February 1859) of thirty crewmen per vessel.’ If that figure was typical of all 316 vessels that the WSL said were in the city’s fleet at the time, the capital investment-had they all set sail at once-would have totaled $9,638,000. Twenty years later the industry had shrunk both in the number of vessels and in the capital investment per vessel, but the 123 New Bedford whalers were still valued with their outfits at $2,414,000 (Clark 1887b, 272).

6.1 Vessels An agent’s decisions about a prospective voyage were not necessarily made in a particular order, but each decision limited his choices about other matters. Here a fairly typical order is described, though a given agent may have made his choices differently. 1. Using the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index as the deflator, the total capital investment in 1880 dollars would be $10,363,440, the per-crewman figure, $1,094 (US.Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

214

215

Capital

First the agent chose a type of whale to hunt and an ocean in which to hunt it. These choices narrowed his options for the next decision, the type of vessel. If he were going after bowheads in the Western Arctic, where maneuverability was of paramount importance, he would likely choose a bark. For a short rightwhale voyage in the Atlantic, he might choose a smaller vessel-a brig, a schooner, or a sloop. For a sperm-whale voyage in the North Pacific, the odds were that he would choose a wooden sailing ship.2 Having chosen a rig, the agent decided the appropriate size of the vessel. Size was recorded in tons, a measure of capacity. Until 1865, however, there was only a loose relationship between measured tonnage and the number of cubic feet within the vessel’s hull. In that year a new system of measurement was adopted, and, thenceforth, a vessel’s tonnage was a close approximation of its capacity. The formula for calculating tonnage under the old rule3-old tons-was [(length) - (% breadth)]

X

[(breadth) X

(Y2 breadth)] /

95.

For new tons, the calculation was much more complicated and has never been reduced to a simple f ~ r m u l aIn . ~ general, the rule involved multiplying the length by the average cross-sectional area and dividing the result by one hundred. Because there is no convenient way of converting old tons to new ones, tonnage figures used in this chapter are old tons. When measurements are cited to illustrate the actual sizes of vessels of different tonnages, for most vessels measured before 1865 only length and breadth are given, since registered dimensions ignored reality and logged depth as equal to one-half breadth.5 The choices of rig and size carried implications for manning. Although total 2. The seven New Bedford steel-hulled, steam-powered whaling barks entered the fleet after 1878: the Belvedere (1880), the Lucretia (1881). the Navarch (1892), the North Star (1888), the William Lewis (1888). the first Mary and Helen (1879), and the second Mary and Helen (1882). 3. An Act to Regulate the Collection of Duties on Imports and Tonnage, 1799, Stars. at Large of USA 1:675-76. The rule refers to all double-decked vessels. Virtually all whalers were doubledecked. The British measurement rule was similar except that the divisor was 94, not 95. See Scoresby [I8201 1969,512. See also chapter 12 below. 4. So complicated were the new admeasurement rules that Congress saw fit to place limits on the amount a ship surveyor could charge to remeasure a vessel (An Act to Regulate the Admeasurement of Tonnage of Ships and Vessels of the United States, 1864, Stars. at Large of USA 13:69-72). 5. According to Historical Statistics (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975,2:743) the combination of changes in the definition of a ton and in the method of measuring cubic footage probably reduced the official capacities of brigs, schooners, and sloops, but raised the official capacities of ships and barks. Research on whalers, however, suggests that these generalizations cannot be extended to that class. For them the new system of admeasurement apparently reduced the official capacities of whaling ships by about 5 percent, on average, lowered the capacities of barks by about one-sixth, and reduced the capacities of the three smaller classes even more. For those vessels for which both old and new tonnages are available (vessels that were first registered before 1865 but continued to sail after that date), regression analysis indicates that the relationship between old and new tons was approximately, for ships, old tons = -85.018 + 2.11 (new tons) ,00217 (new tons)’; for barks, old tons = 13.370 + 1.44 (new tons) - .00113 (new tons)*; for others, old tons = 1.4 (new tons).

216

Chapter 6

crew size was usually less for a bark than for a ship, for any given size a bark required proportionately more labor. Moreover, labor requirements differed among grounds. Lastly, the agent had to make decisions about age and provenance. Should he build a new vessel incorporating the latest technical improvements, or use a vessel that had proved itself well constructed by surviving five or ten years of service, or select a vessel that, well over retirement age, could be purchased cheaply? If his choice did not involve new construction, he had to decide whether to use a vessel that had proved itself in whaling, acquire and convert a merchant vessel, or perhaps rerig a ship as a bark. As economic conditions changed and as the number of vessels hunting in a particular ground expanded or contracted, the desire to maximize profits and to stay economically afloat in the highly competitive industry continuously forced agents to make new decisions about rig, tonnage, manning, age, and provenance.

6.2 Rigging The rig composition of the American whaling fleet was never stable (see table 6.1). In the early years ships were the most numerous, and they remained so through the period of expansion, although the number of barks rose in both absolute and relative terms-slowly in the 1820s and 1830s, rapidly in the 1840s and 1850s. In 1841-45 the ratio of the number of ships to the number of barks was 3.7 to 1. By 1871-75 it had fallen to 0.16 to 1, as the expansion of the Arctic fishery, coupled with technical improvements that made it economical to operate large bark-rigged vessels in other grounds as well, made the bark dominant. (Technical improvements are discussed in chapter 7.) Before the Civil War, the number of barks increased more rapidly than the number of ships. Thereafter, as the fleet contracted, the number of barks declined more slowly. Between 1851-55 and 1871-75, for example, the number of ships fell by over 90 percent, but the number of barks actually rose by about 2 percent. Tonnage tells the same story. Before 1846 barks accounted for 5.9 percent of total New Bedford tonnage; their relative share increased eight times over the next thirty years, and they accounted for 72.4 percent of the total over the last quarter of the century. Brigs, sloops, and schooners were not numerically important in the years 1816-1905. Together, they accounted for just under three-tenths of the 1,280 voyages to the Atlantic and Hudson Bay and for only twenty-eight of the 2,873 voyages to the Indian, Pacific, and Western Arctic grounds in these years. During the industry’s rapid expansion a few entered the fleet and remained for a time. More important, the end of the century saw the substitution of these vessels for barks and ships in the Atlantic and its northern extension, Hudson Bay. The 184 voyages they made to these grounds in the years after 1875 were almost one-half of all the voyages they made between 1816 and 1905. Ships were usually larger than barks, but they were less maneuverable.

Table 6.1

Numbers of Vessels and Tonnages, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, by Rigging Class, Annual Averages, 1816-1905 A. Numbers of Vessels

Ships

Barks

31.4 56.4 79.6 141.8 173.4 228.2 252.0 314.4 320.2 219.8 180.2 124.2 128.6 96.2 59.4 37.8 25.6 23.4

21.2 43.4 67.6 124.6 139.2 174.6 193.0 211.8 178.6 92.6 46.2 16.6 9.8 7.6 5.4 0.8 0.0 0.0

0.0

0.0 1.8 13.4 26.2 46.6 56.2 100.4 141.6 125.4 129.2 102.8 100.8 70.6 40.6 22.0 13.8 14.0

10.2 13.0 10.2 3.8 8.0 7.0 2.8 2.2 0.0 1.8 4.8 4.8 18.0 18.0 13.4 15.0 11.8 9.4

138.5 118.5 235.1 61.8

74.0 95.1 123.1 3.9

55.9 14.7 109.3 43.6

8.6 8.7 2.7 14.3

Total

I8 16-20 1821-25 1826-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60 1861-65 1866-70 1871-75 1876-80 1881-85 1886-90 1891-95 1896-1900 1901-5 Means All years 1816-45 1846-75 1876-1905

Other and Unknown”

B. Tonnagesb % of Total ~

1816-20 182 1-25 1826-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60 1861-65 1866-70 1871-75 1876-80 1881-85 1886-90 (continued)

Total

ships

Barks

7,568 14,701 23,105 44,912 54,685 72,881 82,035 105,482 108,551 73,026 58,331 39,888 39,217 29,815 18,492

79.1 87.5 92.4 92.2 86.6 83.1 82.4 73.8 61.1 47.7 31.0 16.4 9.9 10.3 11.8

0.0 0.0 1.8 6.7 11.5 15.6 17.1 25.9 38.9 52.0 68.0 82.1 83.0 80.0 72.6

Other and Unknown’

20.9 12.5 5.8 1.1 1.9 1.3 0.5 0.3 0.0 0.3 1.o

1.5 7.1

11.7 15.6

218

Chapter 6

Table 6.1

(continued) % of Total

Total

1891-95 1896-1 900 1901-5 Means All years 1816-45 1846-75 1876-1 905

Ships

Barks

Other and Unknown’

10,700 6,809 6,810

2.9 0.0 0.0

67.8 64.9 66.6

29.3 35.1 33.4

44,278 36,309 77,886 18.64 1

48.1 86.8 52.1 5.7

41.9 5.9 41.3 72.4

10.0 7.3 0.6 21.9

Source: Voyages Data Set. Notes: We counted a vessel as in the New Bedford fleet when it was on a voyage. For example, a vessel that sailed in 1829, returned in 1829, sailed in 1829, returned in 1830, sailed in 1832, and returned in 1833 is counted once in 1829, once in 1830, once in 1832, and once in 1833, but not in 1831 when it was not on a voyage. When only the sailing or arrival date of a voyage is known, we counted the vessel in the fleet only in that year. Consequently, some of the figures in this table are slightly too low. ”he rigging class “Other” is composed of brigs, sloops, schooners, and steam barks. bPanel B underreports total tonnage in a few five-year periods because there are a few voyages in the data set by vessels whose tonnages we do not know.

“Where economy of handling was of special importance, the bark rig was used.”6 Thus, as opportunities increased in the Western Arctic, the bark was in its element. It took time to build new vessels, but technical improvement was hastened by rerigging ships in the now more productive configuration. Other differences between rigging classes could have affected productivity as well. The length of a typical voyage by a ship was less than that of a typical voyage by a bark in four of the five grounds, but only in the Atlantic was the difference great (see table 6.2). In general, both ships and barks remained at sea longer than brigs, sloops, and schooners. The choice of hunting ground carried with it implications for the expected length of the voyage as well as for the choice of rig type and vessel size. In the latter two cases, however, over time, changes also occurred within grounds. The technological shifts were not, therefore, solely responses to changes in the geographic distribution of economic activity.

6.3 Vessel Size Not only were there changes in the rigging of a typical whaler, but the average size of each class changed as well (see table 6.3). For ships, average size increased from just over 300 tons in the decade 1816-25 to just over 400 in 6. Hutchins 1941, 218-19. Hutchins is referring here to merchant vessels in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, but the point has more general relevance.

Table 6.2

Average Voyage Lengths, by Rigging Class and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, Sailing Years 181G1905 (months) Atlantic

Eastern Arctic

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

A. Ships

1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades

11.6 13.2 18.4 20.2 16.5 18.0 42.9 -

-

18.5 25.8 37.0 40.5 43.9 -

30.3 33.1

-

14.5 17.8

26.2 35.8 37.5 38.7 45.9 43.0 43.6 37.7 38.7

-

36.8 45.5 47.8 -

40.4 43.4

B. Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades

-

15.6 20.4 24.7 23.5 29.2 35.0 34.3 25.8 27.6 26.1

17.3 17.2 15.0 16.6 16.5

-

-

-

26.3 35.8 39.8 40.8 37.3 35.7 35.9 36.0

33.1 37.5 40.2 46.0 46.5 44.3 -

38.3 49.5 50.4 46.1 46.1

-

42.9 41.3

C. Brigs, Sloops, and Schooners 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades

12.0 11.9 12.0 10.6 14.0 16.1 25.3 17.9 15.4 15.0

-

14.6 22.8 17.3 18.7

-

-

-

20.3 20.3 20.3

-

Source; Voyages Data Set. Notes: We have included only voyages that sailed from and returned to New Bedford. We have omitted voyages to the Atlantic or the Eastern Arctic that lasted less than two months, believing that they were cut short by misfortune, and those to the Indian, Pacific, or Western Arctic that lasted less than seven months, believing that they did not in fact hunt in those grounds. (The hunting ground was reported when a voyage sailed.) Each cell of the table reports the average of at least five voyages; averages of four or fewer have been omitted. Voyages are placed in decades on the basis of their sailing years.

Table 6.3

Average Tonnages and Ages, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, by Rigging Class, 18161905

A. Tonnages: Overall Averages for the Decade"

Unweighted

Ships 18 16-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Other' 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905

Weighted

Average

N

Average

N h

301.8 330.2 348.0 365.7 373.6 389.6 399.1 402.6

55 157 219 273 216 56 14 7 0 360

294.1 321.3 340.8 358.9 376.1 389.2 397.7 398.4 345.8

195 503 69 1 778 466 111 34 14 0 2,188

224.9 246.4 270.8 288.8 299.3 324.6 335.6 329.4 302.6

0 12 54 136 169 146 123 52 19 26 1

226.4 240.3 263.7 290.4 307.4 335.5 348.8 346. I 301.0

0 40 176 336 500 412 388 208 93 1,727

145.6 143.0 136.5 133.1 123.4 141.6 199.6 214.2 245.8 173.9

30 21 18 8 6 12 30 26 18 113

152.1 140.2 130.0 133.7 123.4 119.9 183.3 252.4 239.5 179.6

79 48 58 12 6 30 117 76 64 448

357.1

-

-

-

B. Tonnages: Averages for Vessels Joining the Fleetd Modes of Entrance

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55

Total

N'

Birth'

N

Transfer8

307.5 341.5 359.0 395.7

50 113 90 83

308.2 368.4 362.6 408.3

11 16 17 31

313.4 340.1 361.8 404.6

N 33 89 66 42

Rerigging

241.0

279.1 275.9

N 2 0 4 7

Table 6.3

(continued) Modes of Entrance

1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Otherc 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905

Total

Nc

Birth'

N

391.7 424.2 357.1

23 0 1 0 0 360

424.3 424.2 377.9

4 0

229.0h 256.1 290.3 322.4 329.5 349.5 414.0 302.6

0 21 47 109 89 67 25 3 0 361

340.0 380.3 476.1 375.7 419.6 370.2

143.5 138.4 130.5 123.5 123.4 140.1 223.2 224.5 397.2 173.9

29 10 13 4 6 9 25 14 3 113

189.3 139.5 184.1 262.3 529.7' 384.5 356.0

Transfer8

N

Rerigging

383.9 -

15 0 0 0 0 245

334.7 -

1

0 0 80

-

356.1

227.2 255.4 266.4 262.0 271.7 316.2 -

0 0 0 16 15

2 13 1 0 47

1 0 1

0 5 4 0 15

280.0 228.0 258.1 325.5 340.1 373.8 349.5 411.1

264.2

0 10 35 67 28 30 7 0 0 177

139.3 140.0 128.2 123.5 95.6 131.3 131.6 160.5 397.2 143.8

22 8 11 4 5 8 17 10 3 88

121.0 102.1 -

-

3 1

-

-

331.2

-

389.8 -

171.0

N

2 0 0 0 0 15

0 10 12 23 45 33 4 2 0 129 3 0 1 0

0 0 1 0 0 5

C. Tonnages: Averages for Vessels Leaving the Fleet'

Modes of Exit Total

N

Ships 1816-25 293.4 14 284.8 23 1826-35 321.8 29 1836-45 348.7 83 1846-55 367.6 162 1856-65 387.3 43 1866-75 395.5 7 1876-85 402.6 7 1886-95 0 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 355.2 368 (continued)

Loss

N

1 334.3 287.4 5 339.8 12 348.3 40 386.0 40 416.0 7 428.3 3 376.0 1 0 365.1 109

Transfer 296.0 297.5 468.1 382.2 378.9 383.5 391.0 404.9 368.0

N

10 10 2 15

66 6 2 4 0 115

Rerigging

266.0 275.4 336.0 339.4 381.4 350.9 411.1 341.6

N

0 7 9 21 49 30 2 2

0 120

Condemnation N 234.9 275.9 306.6 317.3 352.9 320.1

1 1 6 7 7 0 0 0 0 22

Table 6.3

(continued) Modes of Exit

Transfer

N

Rerigging

0 0 235.9 4 171.6 1 237.0 14 246.5 4 264.3 34 239.9 14 296.2 104 291.5 37 305.2 77 319.4 43 317.8 73 334.9 30 344.8 36 359.1 12 296.9 5 296.9 5 301.6 347 307.4 146

277.5 185.0 298.8 316.8 289.0 321.4 338.3 311.8

0 2 3 11 50 22 30 21 0 139

268.0 286.3 334.7

141.4 22 142.7 15 132.6 15 133.1 8 100.7 3 150.0 6 208.1 19 212.3 11 198.8 11 163.5 110

130.7 137.8 122.3 122.8 95.1 164.4 285.1 147.2 166.8 153.0

13 8 5 6 2 2 6 6 6 54

166.7 184.2 158.9 158.4 262.3 175.6

Total Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905 Other' 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905

N

Loss

213.5 88.4 123.1 169.2 102.9 191.2 383.4 262.6 195.8

N

1 2 4 1

0 3 8 3 4 26

-

389.8 292.8

D. Ages: Overall Averagesk

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95

Average

N

12.1 16.0 19.9 23.5 25.3 28.7 37.2 44.9 21.1

192 497 685 770 462 111 34 14 0 2,166

14.0 20.7 19.7 23.6 30.9 32.4 35.6

0 40 176 335 500 414 386 208

-

N 0

0 6 5 2 0 1 0 0 14 6 4 3 1 0 1 0

0 0 15

Condemnation N

217.1 169.4 226.9 234.3 284.2 259.6 332.6 -

256.9 98.8 136.0 111.8 -

142.7 151.0 135.1 136.1

0 1 1

4 15 12 12 3 0 48 I 0 3 0 1 0 5 2 1 13

Table 6.3

(continued)

1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Otherc 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905

Average

N

41.2 27.5

93 1,725

6.7 12.3 15.8 14.5 15.7 21.5 21.9 19.8 29.0 18.2

74 44 57 12 6 30 113 73

64 432

E. Ages: Averages for Vessels Joining the Fleetd

Modes of Entrance

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905 Other' 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 (continued)

Total

N

Transfer

8.0 11.8 12.4 11.9 16.3

48 111 89 83 23 0

0.0 11.7

1

0 0 355

10.5 13.7 14.7 18.0 20.2 -

14.0 18.5 14. I 24.8 26.0 13.2 20.7 19.6

0 21 47 108 89 69 24 3 0 361

11.6 15.4 11.7 22.2 22.7 24.3 -

5.5 10.0 12.0 15.5 15.7

28 10 13 4 6

6.1 11.0 11.9 15.5 18.8

-

14.7

-

16.5

N

Rerigging

33 89 66 42 15

0 0 0 0 245 0 10 35 66 28 31 7

0 0 177 22 8 11

4 5

8.0 -

25.0 27.3 20.0 23.1

17.1 27.3 29.2 34.6 30.6 36.3 31.0

N

2 0 4 7 2 0 0 0 0 15

30.6

0 10 12 23 45 33 4 2 0 129

5.7 25.0 -

3 0 1 0 0

-

Table 6.3

(continued) Modes of Entrance

1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905

Total

N

Transfer

18.3 16.2 17.8 26.0 13.0

9 24 14 3 111

20.4 21.2 24.9 26.0 15.5

Rerigging

N

-

8 17 10 3 88

N

0 1 0

4.0

-

0 5

9.2

F. Ages: Averages for Vessels Leaving the Fleet’

Modes of Exit Total Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means 1816-1905 Otherc 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means 1816-1905

N

Loss

N

11.8 13 9.0 1 5 18.9 21 14.4 24.1 29 20.1 12 28.3 83 27.9 40 31.4 160 30.8 39 34.9 43 36.0 7 3 30.9 7 31.0 48.4 7 66.0 1 0 0 29.4 363 28.3 108 0 0 14.0 4 11.0 1 23.0 14 21.8 4 14 27.3 33 24.6 26.3 104 30.2 37 34.3 78 32.9 43 39.9 73 39.9 31 40.9 36 39.2 12 5 5 50.2 50.2 32.6 347 33.5 147

7.0 21 11.3 15 18.5 14 16.9 8 3 19.0 15.3 6 24.2 19 10 21.3 26.5 11 17.0 107

7.0 8.5 16.5 15.0 -

20.7 29.5 8.7 19.3 19.5

1 2 4 1 0 3 8 3 4 26

Transfer

N

11.6 21.0 12.5 27.1 30.1 47.5 30.5 53.5

10 9 2 15 65 6 2 4 0 113

-

28.8 -

18.5 20.7 29.0 22.1 32.3 39.7 41.1

30.9 6.8 11.0 20.8 17.5 16.5 13.5 19.2 23.6 28.8 16.3

0 2 3 10

50 24 30 21 0 140 12 8

5 6 2 2 6 5 6 52

Rerigging

N

-

0 7 9 21 49 30 2 2 0 120

19.3 30.1 29.1 33.0 32.1 31.0 29.5

31.0

-

Condemnation N 15.0

1

-

0 6

26.7 30.9 36.0 -

30.6

-

-

0 0 6 5 2 0

4.0

1

-

0

8.o 21.0 32.0 31.5 44.0 43.9 46.3

-

0 14

37.7

-

25.3 27.4 20.0

23.8

5.5 13.3 19.0 15.0

3.0 -

-

10.7

6 4 3 I 0 1 0 0 0 15

-

I 7 0 0 0 0 21 0 1 I 4 15

I1 11 3

0 46

17.0

1

-

0 2 0

16.0

24.0

1

-

0 5 2

21.6 34.5 42.0 24.3

1

12

Sources: Voyages, When and Where Built, and Entrances data sets Note: A vessel was counted in the New Bedford fleet for each decade during which it spent any time on a whaling voyage. For example, a ship that sailed in 1845 and returned in 1848 was counted in the fleet

225 Table 6.3

Capital (continued)

in both 1836-45 and 1846-55 as a result of that voyage. ”The unweighted figures are the average tonnages among vessels; no matter how many voyages a vessel may have made during a decade, it was counted only once within a rigging class (a rerigged vessel that made voyages under each rigging within the same decade would enter the computation twice). The weighted figures are the average tonnages among voyages; for example, a vessel that made three voyages within a decade was counted three times, whereas a vessel that made one voyage was counted only once. bThe N here do not match those in panel D when either tonnage or age (year built) is missing. cSloops, schooners, brigs, and steam barks dA vessel is considered to have joined the fleet in the decade in which it began its first whaling voyage from New Bedford (or managed by a New Bedford agency). A vessel that was rerigged is treated as a different vessel after rerigging-that is, a rerigged vessel enters the fleet twice. Panel E omits the birth category because all newborn vessels are one year old or less; age is at the beginning of the voyage. When the total number of vessels entering the fleet in a decade is greater than the sum of those entering by particular modes, it is because some entered whose pre-entrance histories we don’t know. “‘Birth means built for the New Bedford whaling fleet (specifically, that it made its first New Bedford voyage within the year of its construction or during the next year). *Transferred vessels either moved to New Bedford from another port, or moved to whaling from the merchant fleet, or both. hThe bark that entered the fleet in 1826-35 whose mode of entrance is unknown had a tonnage of 257.4. ‘This figure is distended by the presence of four of the six steam barks in the New Bedford fleet, with tonnages ranging from 579.9 to 634.3. JA vessel is considered to have left the fleet in the decade in which it ended its last voyage from New Bedford (or managed from New Bedford). A vessel that was rerigged is considered to have left the fleet twice. Transferred vessels include those sold to the U.S. government for the Stone Fleet. The averages are for age at the end of the last voyage. kPanel D contains only weighted figures, since age (unlike tonnage, reported in panel A) changes with time and must therefore be dealt with at the voyage, not the vessel, level. The age is at the beginning of r h n ..“,“6.,. ~~.qne

the late 1880s and early 1890s. Overall, the typical ship was almost 350 tons. The magnitude of the trend comes into focus in the following comparison. In 1816 the ship Richmond was launched and began a whaling career. She was 92 feet 6 inches long, 26 feet 11 inches wide, and was registered at 291 tons. Forty years later the Contest left the boatyard to join the fleet. She was 118 feet 10 inches long, 28 feet 8.75 inches wide, and was registered at 441 tons (Work Projects Administration 1940). The new vessel was 28 percent longer and 7 percent wider, and her register tonnage had increased by more than 50 percent. The trend in the size of ships was definitely upward, but the pattern was not uniform. Increases amounted to more than 5 percent per decade until 1856-65; subsequently, tonnage edged up only slowly. Until 1856-65 dispersion remained roughly the same (coefficient of variation of about 18); thereafter, it narrowed. The coefficient of variation fell from 1856-65 until the last ship left the fleet (it was only 5 in the decade 1886-95). Two surmises are warranted. First, larger ships were more productive than smaller, but the industry’s adjustment to this dimension of technology was not instantaneous. This is supported by a comparison of ships entering with those leaving the fleet. Over the first seventy years (no ship joined the fleet after

226

Chapter 6

1885), in every decade but two a typical new entry was more than 5 percent larger than the average ship that left (see table 6.3). Second, the relatively slow adjustment can most likely be traced to the time path of the industry’s development. Between 1816-20 and 1851-55, the number of ships in the fleet increased tenfold (from an average of 3 1 to an average of 3 14). The rate of entry strongly suggests that there were greater than normal profits to be earned, but it also suggests that those opportunities may not have been long-lived. During the years of rapid growth, the desire to exploit short-term profit opportunities seems to have outweighed the marginal gain from choosing a vessel of optimal size, if that choice meant delaying the voyage. Barks, with an average size of 287 tons, were just over 80 percent as large as ships. While the time-tonnage profile for barks was similar to that for ships, the movements were slightly more accentuated. For ships the increase between the first decade and 1856-65 was about 24 percent, between 1856-65 and 1886-95, 8 percent. For barks the comparable increases were 28 and 16 percent. There were no barks in the first decade, and few in the next two; the apparent increase down to 1856-65 may be no more than a small-numbers illusion. Still, the Falcon built in 1817 (and entering the New Bedford whaling fleet in 1830) was 101.08 feet long, 24.5 feet wide, and registered at 273 tons, while the Alasku built in 1867 was 122.2 feet long, 28.9 feet wide, 16.9 feet deep, and registered at 340 new (460.9 old) tons. To the extent that these examples are typical, new barks of the late 1860s were about 21 percent longer, 18 percent broader, and, in old tons, almost 70 percent larger. As with ships, it appears the efficient size of barks increased down to the early 1890s. In every decade but two through 1895, barks entering the fleet were between 3 percent and 21 percent larger than those they replaced. Unlike the size distribution of ships, however, that of barks widened until 1856-65. Thereafter, with the exception of a slight reversal in the decade 1896-1905, the dispersion narrowed, as it did for ships. For both classes there is evidence that the larger vessels hunted the more distant grounds and the smaller concentrated in the Atlantic and Hudson Bay (see table 6.4). The Western Arctic drew the largest. Vessels hunting there were 5 to 30 percent larger than those in the Pacific; the margin between vessels in the Western Arctic and those in the Indian was even greater. Although the hunting grounds that attracted the largest vessels were those that were becoming more important, interground shifts do not explain the major portion of the observed increase in vessel size. Instead, tonnage drifted upward for both ships and barks in every ground except the Western Arctic and Hudson Bay. The 32 percent increase in average ship tonnage between the first and seventh decades reflects increases of 3 percent in the Atlantic, 16 percent in the Indian (second to seventh decades), and 35 percent in the Pacific, with a 5 percent decline in the Western Arctic (reflecting only experience after 1848). In Hudson Bay average tonnage rose and then fell. Among barks the 44 percent increase in size from the second to the seventh decade is composed of

Table 6.4

Indexes of Mean Vessel Tonnages, by Rigging Class and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 18161905 A. Atlantic = 100 Eastern Arctic

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

94 -

113 105 95

95 112 113 105 104 108 I25 94

127 111 105 131 -

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905

123 90

100

96 I26

87 103 118 130 118 95

174 115 108 78 96

81 111 150 163 140 123 132 143

-

202 186 148 127 132 -

B. 1856-65 = 100

Atlantic Ships 18 16-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905

Eastern Arctic

87 86 89 98 100 105 90 118

125 120 108 100 125 156 146 144

100

82 97 65 79

Indian

Pacific

98 93 93 100 100 114

80 93 97 99 100 109 108 107

84 96 98 100 113 115

62 82 99 100 107 117 118 126

Western Arctic

112 100

99 106

118 100 99 106 104

Source: Voyages Data Set. Notes: A vessel was counted in the New Bedford fleet for each decade during which it spent any time on a whaling voyage. No matter how many voyages a vessel may have made during a decade, it entered these computations only once. When only the arrival date of a voyage is known, we counted the vessel in the fleet only in that year.

228

Chapter 6

a 2.5 percent increase in the Atlantic, a 37 percent increase in the Indian, and an 89 percent increase in the Pacific, with 10 percent and 29 percent declines for those braving the Western Arctic and Hudson Bay, respectively. Average vessel size was increasing; barks were also becoming larger relative to ships. In the decade 1846-55 the barks that joined the fleet were only about three-quarters as large as the ships they joined. In the two decades 1856-7.5 seventy-seven New Bedford ships were rerigged as barks; they were, on average, 93 percent as large as the ships that remained ships.’ In the decade 187685, the barks that entered the fleet were almost nine-tenths as large as the ships they joined. The increasing relative size of barks reduced their relative disadvantage in labor costs, while retaining their advantage in maneuverability (Maran 1974). The examination of the average size of vessels in the fleet indicates that carrying capacity was increasing overall; however, disaggregation by ground suggests that, for both ships and barks, there was little further increase in the size of vessels hunting in any individual ground after the early 1880s (see table 6.4). These comparisons strongly support the conclusion that the increase in size resulted from two distinct phenomena-an adjustment to new economic environments, and a response to new technical alternatives. On the one hand, larger size proved relatively more productive in the distant grounds; a part of the increase reflects only an adjustment to the changing geographic character of whaling. On the other hand, within each ground there is evidence of increasing average vessel capacity. That change was not induced by the environment; it indicates that the entire fleet was moving toward a more efficient technical configuration.

6.4 Vessel-Related Manning Decisions An agent’s decisions about rig, size, and ground had implications for the number of men he would need to hire. For barks there were substantial interground differences in the relative proportions of the two factors of production. (See table 6.5.) The laborkapital ratio was highest in the Atlantic and successively smaller in the Indian, Pacific, and Western Arctic. At the height of Western Arctic whaling, for example, the laborkapital ratio there was only about eight-tenths of that in the Atlantic. The smaller figure in part reflects the use of larger vessels in the more distant ground.* Between 18.56 and 1885 a bark hunting in the Arctic was, on average, about one-half again as large as a 7. The tonnage comparison is between the average tonnage of the 77 vessels that were rerigged from ship to bark during the years 1856-75 (354.6 tons) and the average tonnage of the 142 vessels that made New Bedford whaling voyages as ships during the years 1856-75 and were not rerigged as barks in that period (382.3 tons). 8. It is possible that there is some measurement bias: vessels hunting in the Atlantic may have been less likely to take on additional crew members after leaving New Bedford than vessels hunting in the Pacific and Western Arctic. If this surmise is correct, however, one would expect to find the same interground variation in the labodton ratio for ships as for barks. In fact, there is none.

Table 6.5

Mean Numbers of Crewmen per Ton, by Rigging Class and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, Sailing Years 1816-1905 Atlantic

Ships 18 16-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means of voyages Means of decades Barks 18 16-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades Otherb 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades

,0745 ,0806 ,0813 ,0876 ,0794 ,0859 .08 14 ,0798 .0815 -

,0909 .0974 ,1154 ,1146 ,1100 ,1034 .I111 ,1142” .lo80 ,1071 ,1008 ,1180

,1420 ,1587 ,1499 .I710 ,1499 ,1317 .I372 ,1403

Eastern Arctic

,0836 ,0756“ ,0817 ,0852 -

,0824 ,0815

-

,1016 ,1141 .1252 ,1078 ,1192” ,1103 .I136 -

,1067’ .I191 ,1267 ,1236

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

,0786 .083 1 ,0833 .0846 ,0816 ,0830 ,0822

,0735 ,0733 ,0797 ,0817 ,0801 ,0809 ,0828 ,0856 ,0790 ,0797

,0791

.0984 .I016 .I019 ,0962 .0931

.0954 ,0887 .0917

,0872 ,0865 ,0895 ,0936 -

,1015

,1050

,0985 .0997 ,0885’ .0960 . I303 ,1241“ -

-

-

,1242 .I190

.1109 ,1097

.0900 .0879 .0876 ,0957 ,0899 ,0637 ,1018

.0958 ,0815” ,0629” ,0971 ,0960 ,0878

.0817 ,0785 ,0931‘

,0801 ,0831

,0885 .0892

-

-

,0597 ,0597 ,0597

Sources: Voyages and Crew Counts data sets. Nofes: Voyages are placed in decades based on their sailing years. Each voyage’s number of crewmen per ton was figured separately, and those numbers were averaged by rigging class, decade, and hunting ground. aOne observation. bSloops, schooners,brigs, and steam barks.

230

Chapter 6

bark hunting in the Atlantic. For ships, in contrast, the laborkapital ratio differed little among grounds, although those that hunted in the Indian Ocean used slightly more labor than others. Relative to their size, brigs, sloops, and schooners employed much more labor than either ships or barks, and displayed much higher laborkapital ratios. By the end of the period, however, the differential between barks and the smaller vessels had narrowed from close to 30 to less than 20 percent. Combined with the demonstrated maneuverability of brigs, sloops, and schooners, that narrowing partially explains their increasing popularity in the years after 1885. Overall, barks used more labor per ton than ships, but that conclusion does not hold equally strongly in all grounds, and the differential decreased as the distance from New Bedford increased. In the Atlantic, barks employed 35 percent more labor per ton, in the Indian and Pacific, about 17 percent more, in the Arctic, about 10 percent. In part this reflects nothing more than the relationship between vessel size and ground hunted, but a simple regression using the ratio of the tonnage of barks to the tonnage of ships and the square of that ratio explains only a little more than one-half of the variance in the ratio of men per ton in the two vessel classes.’ The remaining variance is not so easily explained. It is not related to the passage of time. It is related in part to an interaction between the vessel type (ship, bark) and the species hunted. Including cross terms between the proportion of baleens and the two tonnage variables improves the explanatory power of the model.’”There is still a substantial unexplained residual, but it appears that there was some relationship among the 9. The regression equation is RELMEN = 0.6297 (1.561)

+ 2.3941 RELTON (2.105)

- 2.1816 RELTON’, (-2.733)

with adjusted RZ = 0.5396, F-ratio = 35.577, and Durbin-Watson = 1.713. The ratio of men per ton was computed for each voyage for which a crew count was available, and attributed to the voyage’s sailing year. Means of these ratios were computed, by year, separately for barks and for ships. Means of tonnage for barks and ships were also computed, by sailing year, for the same voyages. R E M E N is the ratio of the mean ratio of men per ton in barks to the mean ratio of men per ton in ships. RELTON is the ratio of the mean tonnage of barks to the mean tonnage of ships. The argument is that the New Bedford fleet represented a sample of all whaling vessels. It is in that spirit that the t- and F-statistics are offered. To the extent that we are talking only about New Bedford vessels, they have no meaning. 10. The regression equation is

RELMEN = 1.5587 - 0.4975 RELTON - 0.0304 RELTON? (+3.408) (-0.358) (-0.029) + 0.5691 (RELTONB) - 0.6961 (RELTON’B), (+2.688) (-2.545) with adjusted R2 = 0.6236, F-ratio = 25.018, and Durbin-Watson = 1.922. See footnote 9 for a description of RELMEN and RELTON. The proportion of oil from baleen whales was computed by dividing the number of barrels of whale oil by the total number of barrels of oil (whale and sperm) returned by the voyage. The mean proportion of oil from baleen whales was computed separately for barks and for ships, by year, and then the ratio of the mean bark proportion to the mean ship proportion. RELTONB is the product of RELTON and this ratio; RELTON2B is the product of RELTON’ and this ratio.

231

Capital

nature of the capital stock, the species of whales hunted, and the labor requirement.

6.5 Questions of Vessel Age Over time, vessels tended to remain in the fleet longer. Moreover, despite the spate of construction of vessels built especially for whaling in the 1850s and 1870s, the average age of both ships and barks gradually increased (see table 6.3). If the first decade is excluded from the analysis for barks (there were none) and the last for ships (all had left the fleet), barks aged at a rate of just under five years per decade, ships, just under four. Thus, between 1816 and 1905 the average age of the fleet more than tripled. Average age reached fortyfive years for ships in the decade 1886-95 and more than forty-one for barks in the decade that spanned the turn of the century.” On average, older ships left the fleet and younger ones transferred in (see table 6.3). There was considerable decade-to-decade variation, and the trend in the ratio of the age of entry to that of exit was toward lower ratios. For barks the story is similar, although not identical. Overall, the average age of ships in the New Bedford whaling fleet was 21.1 years, of barks, 27.5 years. For comparable periods, the average whaling life of ships was 16.0 years, of barks, 20.9 years. There was a greater difference in their physical life. Ignoring vessels that sank while whaling, the average age of condemned ships was 30.6 years, that of barks, 37.7.

6.6 Questions of Vessel Provenance Vessels could be added to the New Bedford fleet by construction to order, by transfer from the merchant marine or from some other port, or by rerigging. Over the years 1816-1905, 80 ships and 47 barks entered the fleet after being built as New Bedford whalers; 245 ships and 178 barks transferred from other ports or other activities; rerigging added 12 ships and 118 barks. (See table 6.6.) Most vessels entered the fleet as transfers, but from the point of view of the industry’s development, the other modes of entry are more interesting.’* 11. The reader may wonder how it is possible that the average ages can be thirty-eight and fortyseven years, when the average age of a vessel when it was condemned was only thirty-seven. The latter is an average for the entire period 1816-1905 and is comparable to overall average ages for ships and barks of twenty-five and twenty-six years. 12. The history of the bark Pacijc, out of New Bedford, is perhaps typical. “[The Pucijc] is an old fashioned barque, built to ply as a packet between New York and Liverpool, which duty she performed with faithfulness and satisfaction to her owners; and in her palmiest days bore the reputation of being the fastest ship out of New York; but the improvements in shipbuilding necessitated her owners to dispose [of her] . . . . She was bought by a New Bedford merchant, who, after altering her for the purpose, put her into the whaling trade, where for years she maintained her reputation as a swift sailer, until clippers were introduced. . . . [She increased] her good name until 1855, at which time she was fifty-three years old, and with the exception of being new topped and coppered, the latter at the completion of each voyage, she had undergone no repairs” (Whitecar 1864, 24-25).

Table 6.6

Modes of Entrance into the New Bedford Whaling Fleet, by Rigging Class, Sailing Years 1816-1905 (numbers of vessels)

Total Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Total

52 114 89 84 22 0 I 0 0 362

%

Barks 18 16-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Total %

0 21 47 110 86 69 25 3

0 361

New Transferred Whalers” Whalersb

II 16 17 31 4 0

Rerigged Whalers‘

0 8 14 13 7 0 0 0 0 42 12

I 0 0 0

0 0 0 16

0

0 5 1 8

15

15

15

2 13 I 0 47 13

10 5 0 0 35

21 3 2 0 55

10

15

1

0 0 80 22

1

2 2

1

0

0 0 0 2 I

Transferred Kerigged Merchantmend Merchantmen‘

33 81 52 29 8 0

0 0 0 203 55

0 9 33 65 13 21 2 0 0 143 40

Unknown

1 0 3 6 0 0 0 0 0 10 3

6 9 3 5 2 0 0

0 0 25 7

0

0

5

1

8 13 27 9 1 0

3 6

0 63 17

1

6 1

0 0 18 5

Sources: Voyages, When and Where Built, and Entrances data sets. Notes; Vessels are placed in decades on the basis of the sailing dates of their first New Bedford voyages. We determined that a vessel was built as a whaler if it entered the whaling fleet (either in New Bedford or elsewhere) within one year of being built. If the rerigging of a rerigged vessel-either whaler or merchantman-was ship to bark, or bark to ship, the vessel was counted in this table twice, once for the beginning of its service in each of the two rigging classes. “Vessels, built as whalers, that began their careers in New Bedford. bVessels, built as whalers, that began their careers in other ports but were eventually transferred to New Bedford. ‘Vessels, built as whalers. that sailed from New Bedford for a while in one rigging class and later in another. Their history prior to their rerigging might include service from another port, but need not. ‘Vessels, built as merchantmen, that eventually became New Bedford whalers. If they sailed as merchantmen from other ports, their reassignment as whalers might have coincided with their transfer to New Bedford, but need not. ‘Vessels, built as merchantment, that sailed from New Bedford as merchantmen, later became New Bedford whalers, and still later were rerigged. Their history prior to their rerigging might include service from another port, but need not.

233

Capital

Rerigging, a change in masts and sails that converted a vessel of one class into a vessel of another, was important only in the middle years of the period (1846-75), when it accounted for more than one-third of the entering barks. Almost all of the new barks had started life as ships. Rerigging represented an efficient market response to the rapid expansion of the Western Arctic ground, where large vessels were required but where barks had proved themselves more efficient than ships. In the second half of the century, because of the declining markets for whaling products and the influence of design changes, vessels (particularly barks) that were specifically designed for whaling began to replace the transfers of the earlier era (Chapelle [1935] 1982, 288; see chapter 7 below on design changes). In the 1850s and early 1860s new designs included modified clippers-vessels such as the 411-ton Young Hector (116.67 feet long, 27.96 feet wide, and 16.33 feet deep) designed to carry 2,100 barrels of oil, the 424-ton Othello (118.67 feet, 28.08 feet, and 15.5 feet) capable of carrying 2,200 barrels of oil, and the 460-ton Onward (124 feet, 28.67 feet, and 17 feet)-and, in the late 1860s and the 1870s, modified down-easters such as the 405-ton (old tonnage) Alice Knowles (1 15 feet, 27.95 feet, and 16.7 feet).13 Before the mid-l840s, when almost any ship or bark (and a few brigs, sloops, and schooners, as well) could earn above-normal profits, many merchant vessels were redirected to whaling. Profits fell in the 1850s, but as early as 1863 the WSL (13 January) reported that the recent improvement in the industry’s outlook could be partly attributed to “the greater number of suitable vessels that have this last year been fitted for the fishery, compared with those that have been fitted during the last few years; the growing determination in the minds of merchants not to introduce into service any more such expensive vessels as new clippers, and bulky ships that were never meant for whalers, but introduce vessels of proper size, and only such as may be built expressly for the business, and that can sail at a comparatively low figure.” Slightly more than a decade later, the WSL (11 January 1876), emphasizing the change in relative costs, reported, “Some vessels may possibly be added to the fleet from the merchant service; but as such ventures are attended with so heavy an outlay for repairs, alterations and whaling inventories, it is not probable that many such additions will be made.” Previously, in a less competitive era, merchant vessels did not need extensive alterations before they could hunt profitably. In 1878 (15 January) the editor made the point again: “Ship-building has revived, and twelve whalers were built during the year, it being now apparent that at the present prices new vessels can be built cheaper than merchantmen can be altered into whaleships.” “The building of ships for the whaling service marks a new era in the business, and is an encouraging feature” (16 January 1877).14 13. WSL6 September 1853 (Young Hector), 14 June 1853 (Othello), 15 August 1854 (Onward); Work Projects Administration 1940 (Alice Knowles). The old tonnage of the Alice Knowles was computed from her length and width. 14. The word ship is used in its nontechnical sense, that is, to mean vessel.

This cross-section view of the bark Alice Knowles of New Bedford and the following deck plan and deck view of a whaleboat were drawn by C. S. Raleigh for The Fisheries and Fishery Industries of the United States, compiled by George Brown Goode and published by the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries in 1887. The Alice Knowles was built at Weymouth, Massachusetts, in 1878 and first registered in New Bedford in June 1879. The bark foundered at sea in 1917 on her twenty-fifth whaling voyage. At the bow of the vessel is the forecastle, the quarters of the seamen and greenhands (see ladder). At the stem are the captain’s quarters (see ladder), and forward of them the steerage, quarters for the boatsteerers, cooper, and steward or ship’s boy. The hold is entirely used for storage of supplies and oil.

235

Capital

The deck plan of the Alice Knowles. The large I-shaped apparatus toward the bow is the windlass and bitts. Immediately behind it is the forecastle’s companion, leading to the crew’s quarters. Then comes the foremast, the fore hatch, the tryworks, the main hatch, the mainmast, the pumps, two spare whaleboats stored atop the deckhouse, the mizzenmast, the cabin skylight (for the captain’s quarters), the afterdeck house (containing the galley), and the wheel and screw box. The four whaleboats hung from davits over the side are ready for use. The WSL proved prophetic. In the decade preceding its first comments (1866-75), thirty vessels had left the merchant marine to join the New Bedford whaling fleet. Six other vessels whose provenance cannot be ascertained with certainty (they may have been merchant vessels, or whalers transferring from other ports) were also added. Over the same period, additions from all sources totaled sixty-nine. Thus, transfers from the merchant marine accounted for at least 43 percent of new entrants (and perhaps as many as 52 percent). In the next decade the only transfers were three merchantmen that joined the fleet in 1876. Between 1876 and 1885 shifts from the maritime service accounted for a little more than 10 percent of the entrants. Ships in the New Bedford fleet that were built for whaling were about 5 percent larger than ships built as merchantmen and then converted to whalers. The differences were substantially greater for barks: barks built for whaling were almost 23 percent larger, and ships converted to bark rig, 29 percent larger, than barks that were converted merchantmen. It appears that agents responded to short-run profit opportunities by employing almost any “ship, barge, or rowboat” that would float; but, if the decision involved substantial long-term investment-for either construction or alteration-they were careful to select vessels close to optimum size. Both ships and barks joining the New Bedford fleet were substantially younger than the ships and barks in the fleet as a whole (see table 6.3). Contemporaries believed, and it remains a part of whaling lore, that the fleet was a dumping ground for vessels too old to be employed profitably elsewhere. The experience at New Bedford indicates a different story. The WSL‘s annual review for 1876 (16 January 1877) laments that “the character of the fleet . . . has suffered of late by the adding of worn out merchant vessels, which obtain

236

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insurance at the same rates as new ships just from the stocks.” It is not clear how that conclusion was reached. Between 1867 and January 1877, when the review was written, at least twenty-five (and perhaps as many as thirty-three) merchant vessels were added to the New Bedford fleet. They were old, if the standard was the merchant fleet or even the average age of vessels that had transferred into whaling in the years before 1860. The twenty-five averaged 23.8 (or, if the four vessels with a clouded provenance whose ages are known are added, 23.4) years. Old, yes, but they were nine years younger than the fleet as a whole, which averaged 32.8 years.15 Perhaps the answer lies in the aging of merchantmen relative to whalers. It is certainly possible, given the ravages of wood rot, that a twenty-five-year-old merchant ship was really old, while a thirty-year-old whaler-its hull and deck protected by ablutions of whale oil-was no more than mature. It is also possible that in 1879, when the editor wrote, “[Ilt is to be regretted that so many vessels in an unseaworthy condition are sent out upon whaling voyages,” he was pointing a finger at all New Bedford whaling agents, not just the few that had bought merchant vessels (WSL 14 January 1879). However, even if the transfer of twenty-year-old merchantmen degraded the fleet (a fleet that was, on average, always more than twenty years old), it was a phenomenon that affected ships only in the decade 1856-65 and barks only between 1865 and 1885. No ship moved from the merchant to the whaling fleet after 1865 and no bark after 1885. In the earlier years the average age of transfers was always less than twenty years and, it goes without saying, always less than that of the existing fleet. Whatever their provenance, whaling vessels were used intensively, in the sense that the interval between voyages was typically very short. Well over one-half the vessels returning to port from whaling voyages were refitted and ready for sea again within three months; another 30 percent were ready within six months (see table 6.7). The refitting interval varied from one period to another, and there is no clear time trend, but, early and late, the interval in port was short.

6.7 Questions Involving Mode of Exit How a vessel exited the fleet had no direct relation to the agent’s initial decisions about a voyage, but it was important to the industry’s profitability and, therefore, to the probability that the vessel would make another voyage. Some transferred out of the New Bedford whaling fleet to join the whaling fleets of other ports. Some transferred out of whaling in order to engage in other maritime activities-either at New Bedford or elsewhere. Some were rerigged and thereby, in the terms of this study, reborn as new vessels. Some 15. The average age of the fleet as a whole for the decade 1867-76-that is, of all vessels that spent time on whaling voyages during the decade-was calculated as of 1872.

237

Capital

Table 6.7

1816-35 1836-60 1861-65 1866-85 1886-1905 Total

Intervoyage Intervals, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1816-1905 (numbers of intervals) 0-1 Months

2-3 Months

4-6 Months

N

%

N

%

N

%

N

%

132 165 32 207 161 697

24.0 9.8 13.3 29.7 46.9 19.8

249 719 63 225 56 1,312

45.3 42.5 26.1 32.3 16.3 37.3

116 622 60 116 56 970

21.1 36.8 24.9 16.6 16.3 27.5

36 157 55 115 57 420

6.5 9.3 22.8 16.5 16.6 11.9

13-24 Months

7-12 Months N

%

17 29 31 34 13 124

3.1 1.7 12.9 4.9 3.8 3.5

Source: Intervals are calculated from sailing and arrival dates in the Voyages Data Set. An interval is associated with the arrival year of the preceding voyage, and it is on the basis of that arrival year that an interval is categorized into a time period. Nores: Because dates are recorded only as month and year, the lengths of intervals may be misleading. An interval of one month may, for example, be shorter than an interval of zero months: April 1 to April 29 is a longer period of time than April 30 to May 2. Intervals of more than twenty-four months have been omitted (there were eighty-five during this period). We assume they reflect transfers out of and back into the New Bedford whaling fleet. More than eight hundred voyages that took place during this period are not represented herein, either because they are the last New Bedford voyages of their vessels (and thus have no succeeding voyages to define intervals), because they are the first such voyages (with no preceding voyages), or because some portion of the necessary dates is missing.

were condemned. Some were lost at sea. In all, 107 ships and 137 barks transferred, 120 ships and 14 barks were rerigged, 98 ships and 133 barks sank, and 22 ships and 48 barks were condemned. (See table 6.8.) To the owners the existence of a ready market for vessels in other maritime activities meant that they were not exposed to large capital losses in periods of falling whaling profits. From the point of view of technical change, that malleability meant it might well be profitable to build vessels designed for whaling and to continue to modify existing vessels to make them more productive-even when the fleet was contracting as less productive vessels shifted to the merchant marine. It should be noted, however, that the larger the proportion of vessels designed for whaling, the less malleable the capital stock. Between 1856, when the number of vessels in the New Bedford fleet stood at 337, and 1885, when it had fallen to 76 (the number of barks had declined from 138 to 58), 5 new ships and 30 new barks-designed and built specifically for whaling-were registered and entered the fleet. An additional 39 ships were rerigged as barks. Transfer was less important as a means of exit than as a source of entrants, but it still accounted for almost four-tenths of the total. In response to changes in relative profit rates, owners could quickly shift capital from whaling to the merchant marine or vice versa. For the whaling industry, the long run was by no means long.

Table 6.8

Modes of Exit from the New Bedford Whaling Fleet, by Rigging Class, for Vessels Completing Their Last New Bedford Voyages in 1816-1905 Total

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Total

15 24 29 84 160 44 9 7 0 372

2 5 12 40 28 7 3

0 4 13 35 I05 80 75 36 5 353

%

Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Total %

Lost Civil at Seaa Reriggedb War‘

Condemnedd

0

0

1

0 0 0 12 0 0 0 0 12 3

1

1 0 98 26

6 9 22 46 31 4 2 0 120 32

0

0

1

0 5 6 2 0

0 0 0 0 14 0 0 0 0

4 14 23 43 32 12 5 133 38

1 0 0 14 4

14

4

6 7 7 0 0 0 0 22 6 0 1 1 4 15 12 12 3 0 48 14

Sold Withdrawnc

Stone Fleetf

Unknown

10 11 2 15 57 6 2 4 0 107 29

0

2

0 0 0 10 0 0 0 0 10 3

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 1

0 2 3 11 45 25 30 21

0 137 38

0 0

0 0 6 0 0 0 0 6 2

1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Sources: Voyages Data Set (for date of last voyage and rigging class) and Exits Data Set (for mode of exit). Notes; Vessels are placed in decades on the basis of the completion dates of their last New Bedford voyages. The completion date is the date of shipwreck, condemnation, or destruction for a vessel that did not arrive home safely. In a few cases in which the completion date is missing, the sailing year is substituted. The numbers of vessels exiting the fleet are not comparable to the numbers reported in table 6.6 as entering the fleet because of the tables’ time limits: some vessels (more ships than barks) entered the fleet before 1816 and exited after 1816; some vessels (more barks than ships) entered the fleet before 1905 and exited after 1905. A vessel may be counted more than once in this table, as in table 6.6, if it was rerigged during its New Bedford whaling career. With that exception, vessels are counted only once, although this simplifies the careers of some vessels. For example, the bark Alto entered the fleet as a transferred merchantman in 1844 (she was built at Tiverton, RI, in 1826 and purchased from Fairhaven). After five New Bedford voyages, she was sold to Fairhaven in 1862; in 1867 she was again purchased in New Bedford. On a sixth New Bedford voyage (1867-70) the Alto was shipwrecked at the Falkland Islands. Only the 1844 entrance is counted in table 6.6; only the 1870 exit is counted in this table. ’Vessels lost at sea include those sunk by their crews in mutinies. bRerigged vessels didn’t actually exit the fleet; they exited one rigging class and entered another “‘Civil War” means destroyed by a Confederate raider. d“Condemned” means declared unseaworthy by a government official. ‘Some vessels soldwithdrawn were transferred to other ports, either as whalers or as merchantmen; others remained in New Bedford but left the whaling fleet; a few were broken up soon after being sold. (A total of twelve ships and ten barks are included in this category only because they returned safely to New Bedford from their last New Bedford whaling voyages. For the others, we have found evidence of sale or of subsequent activity from another port.) ‘Vessels in the Stone Fleet were purchased by the U.S. government in 1861 and sunk at the entrances to the Charleston and Savannah harbors in an effort to block those ports.

239

Capital

One hundred and eighteen ships entered the repair yards and reemerged as barks. They were appreciably smaller than the ships that were not rerigged (table 6.3, panel B), and twice as old. This observation provides additional support for the conclusions that the expansion into the Western Arctic employed a number of ships that had begun to appear unprofitable and that, at least after the mid-l870s, barks had emerged as the technology of choice, not only in the Arctic, but also in the other three grounds. Information on condemnations and losses at sea was also important to agents. The profits of the agents and owners of the vessels in question were, obviously, directly affected. Information about losses at sea aided them in estimating the potential profits from a voyage directed to one ground as opposed to another, and, because losses today affect insurance rates tomorrow, helped them assess future profit levels. Vessels were frequently lost. Of the 763 in the New Bedford fleet whose fate is known, 271 were lost to the hazards of the sea and another 26 fell to Confederate raiders during the Civil War. Those 297 do not include 70 vessels so worn out or badly damaged that they were condemned abroad during the course of a voyage. There were the very unlucky vessels such as the bark Atlantic (“[wlrecked on sailing day with 29 men lost”) and the Sarah (2nd) (“capsized in a hurricane seven hours out, three men saved”) (Hegarty 1959,20,7). There was the Canada, “lost on coast of Brazil on account of intemperance of Brazilian officials” (Starbuck 1878,535). There were vessels whose charts were faulty-the Ceres ( l s t ) , for example, (lost “on a Reef. . . not laid down on any chart”) and the Logan (“Lost on Sandy Island Reef Jan 26, 1855; owing to Chart being wrong”) (Wood 1831-73,2:143). There were those such as the George Washington (2nd), the Pantheon, the Smyrna, and the Tobacco Plant that never returned because they were burned by their crewman in such diverse places as Talcahuano, Nukahiva, St. Helena, and Honolulu (Starbuck 1878, 437, 505, 595; Wood 1831-73, 3:107). There were those such as the Inga and the Superior that were destroyed, usually with substantial fractions of their crews, by unfriendly natives (Starbuck 1878, 453, 551). There were the Ann Alexander and the Kathleen, which, like the Pequod, were sunk by the very whales they were trying to catch. The Courser was “[rlun down by steamship Ytata” (Starbuck 1878,466,641; Hegarty 1959, 35). Finally, there were those whose destinies are not known-the bark Exchange (“A missing vessel; her fate was never known”), the Monongahela (“supposed to have been lost on Fox Island . . . all hands lost”), and the Montezuma (“Missing-Probably lost in a gale”) (Starbuck 1878, 469; Dias, “Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships,” 154; Wood 1831-73,2:467). The problems of agents attempting to direct the whaling fleet from hundreds of miles away are encapsulated in the experiences of three poorly named New Bedford vessels: the Hope (Ist), wrecked in the Bay of Islands; the Hope (2nd), “lost on Brampton Shoals”; and the Hope (3rd), “[llost at Island of Coetiva” (Starbuck 1878, 399, 549, 569). There were clusters of losses-Confederate raiders sank many vessels, and almost the entire Arctic fleet was caught in the ice pack in 1871-and consid-

240

Chapter 6

erable year-to-year variation, but the upward trend in the loss rates for ships and barks is slight. For brigs, sloops, and schooners there is some evidence of improvement over the last few decades (see table 6.9).16 There were, without question, marked differences among the loss rates for different classes of vessels and, for a given class, among hunting grounds. The crude loss rate per voyage for all vessels was 6.3 percent; but the figure for ships was 7.4, for barks 5.2, and for others 5.2.’’ Brigs, sloops, steam barks, and schooners were at sea for relatively shorter periods of time, and adjustment of the measure to reflect the period of exposure alters the inter-rig contrasts. The loss rate per year at sea for all classes averaged 2.7 percent. It was 2.9 for ships, 2.2 for barks, and 4.2 percent for other vessels.’8 Thus, other vessels go from having the lowest loss rate to having the highest. The few brigs and schooners that ventured to the Indian Ocean did not fare well, but it was the second safest ground for barks (after the Atlantic) and was reasonably safe for ships also. The Pacific was slightly less kind to ships than the Indian, but was the second most dangerous ground for barks. For both ships and barks the Western Arctic was most treacherous. For ships the loss rate was three times as high there as in the Atlantic (the safest ground). For barks it was twice as high as for the Pacific. On average, ships sank less frequently than barks, but the difference was not independent of the ground hunted. Nowhere was the loss experience of barks better than that of ships. In the Pacific and Western Arctic, however, the rate was more than 100 percent higher. These were profitable grounds, and barks were widely innovated in both. Surprisingly, the vessels lost at sea were somewhat larger than the average in their class, but they were about the same age. The correlation between size and loss rate is partly explained by the experience in the Western Arctic. That ground drew the largest vessels, and it was also the most dangerous. In the nineteenth century, vessel longevity was relatively short. Between the ocean below and the storm above, dampness was endemic, and vessels were particularly subject to the ravages of decay caused by fungi and bacteria. So severe was the problem that the average age of a sailing vessel in the maritime service has been estimated at only a dozen years. Such was not the case for whalers. Oil bubbling on the tryworks and barrels filled with oil stored below deck made a whaler unpleasant for the crew, but oil permeated the wooden hull of the ship and made it almost impervious to rot. Thus, if they could escape unhappy crewmen, restive natives, hurricanes, gales, and uncharted reefs, whaling vessels were particularly long lived. When, after her eleventh voyage in 1852, the 1807-built Phocion was broken up, contemporaries noted that she was of a “remarkably bad model” (Starbuck 1878, 16. The average loss rate for other vessels between 1816 and 1846 was 10.6 percent. Between 1846 and 1875 it rose to 14.4; between 1875 and 1905 it fell to 5.6. 17. The crude loss rate per voyage is (the number of vessels lost divided by the number of voyages) multiplied by one hundred. 18. The rate is the number of vessels lost per number of vessels at sea multiplied by one hundred.

Table 6.9

Annual Loss Rate, by Rigging Class and Ground, New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1816-1905 (vessels lost per one hundred vessel years afloat)

Ships 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1 905 Means of voyages Means of decades Barks 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades Other and unknownb 1816-25 1826-35 1836-45 1846-55 1856-65 1866-75 1876-85 1886-95 1896-1905 Means of voyages Means of decades

All"

Atlantic and Eastern Arctic

0.82 0.65 1.21 2.66 4.46 3.15 3.98 7.81

0.00 0.90 0.99 0.00 10.68 8.76 0.00 0.00

Indian

Pacific

-

1.16 0.56 1.30 2.44 4.01 2.21 2.46 8.45

0.00 0.94 1.59 4.99 0.00 0.00

-

-

-

2.37 3.10

1.65 2.67

0.00 3.32 1.74 2.74 4.95 5.69 6.21 5.42 4.47 4.76 3.84

0.00 12.56 1.37 2.38 3.37 4.64 3.73 2.40 4.38 3.65 3.87

0.00 2.59 4.09 5.70 2.12 8.73 0.00 0.00 4.03 2.90

3.00 4.90 11.27 11.01 25.51 9.65 8.29 2.67 6.39 6.48 9.19

3.71 6.32 9.85 13.48 25.51 9.65 9.07 1.17 5.99 6.59 9.42

Western Arctic -

4.66 4.69 4.53 46.19

-

-

-

2.07 1.25

2.13 2.82

4.94 15.02

-

0.00 0.00 1.46 2.27 5.02 5.47 6.72 7.69 4.70 4.78 3.70

-

0.00 0.00 46.08 22.22

0.00

-

-

-

0.00 16.67 13.66

0.00 0.00 0.00 -

0.00 7.72 10.26 4.48 2.57

0.00 5.42 12.17 17.71 0.00 0.00 9.19 5.88

-

0.00 0.00

0.00 0.00

Source; Voyages Data Set. An elaborate system was devised for giving lengths to voyages for which some date information is missing, in order to include all voyages in the calculation of vessel years of voyaging. Nora: Voyage beginning and ending dates are recorded as month and year. The loss rate was thus calculated by (1) summing the number of months spent in the ground by vessels of a rigging type during a decade; (2) dividing that sum by twelve; (3) counting the vessels of a rigging type lost in a ground during the decade: (4) dividing the number of vessels lost in the ground by the number of vessel years spent in the ground; ( 5 ) multiplying the result by one hundred. T h e voyages used in calculating this column are only those used in calculatingthe ground-specific rates reported here. Voyages to mixed grounds and to unknown grounds are completely omitted. b"Other" comprises sloops, schooners, brigs, and steam barks.

242

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463). The Maria was apparently better designed. In the record of her thirteenth whaling voyage, Starbuck notes, “This is the ‘old’ Maria which has already performed [ 18281 four voyages to London, three to Brazil Banks, one to Indian Ocean, one to Falkland Islands, and fifteen to the Pacific since 1783” (257). Nor was this the old Maria’s last voyage. She went on to complete twelve more (including an 1849 voyage during which the ship and its captain were seized by natives in the Johanna Islands) before she was finally condemned at Talcahuano, Chile, on her twenty-sixth outing in 1863.19The 345-ton James Arnold (new tons), built in 1852, completed twelve voyages before 1894 when, having already brought back oil and bone valued at $876,425, she was sold to new owners for f1,OOO. The ship continued whaling (with a crew still using handheld harpoons and lances) under the Chilean flag until at least 1925, and during this period brought her new owners an additional $340,900 (Chatterton 1926, 126-27; Hegarty 1959,29). A final example of the longevity of the American whaler can be found in the 1889 report of the New Bedford Board of Trade: The oldest vessels in the world today are the Rousseau and True Love; the former now lies at the wharf at the foot of North street. . . . She was built for Stephen Girard, of Philadelphia, by Nicholas Vandusen, and was launched from the yard of the Vandusens, near Shakamaxon street, on the Delaware, in 1801. She is 95 feet long, 28 feet broad, and 18 feet deep, and registers 305 tons. Her rig was that of a full rigged ship and at the time of her building she was considered a fair sized vessel . . . . After doing service for Mr. Girard for several years, her rig was changed and she was regarded as one of the fastest barks sailing from Philadelphia. . . . [Iln the latter part of 1831, she was purchased by the late George Howland . . . who was extensively engaged in the whale-fishery in the early part of this century. (Pease and Hough 1889,70) From the time the Rousseau was purchased by Howland until she was retired in April 1886, she made thirteen whaling voyages, to the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian grounds, and even from the last-a forty-six-month venture in the Atlantic-the bark returned with 1,360 barrels of sperm oil, 180 barrels of whale oil, and 1,400 pounds of bone. Not all vessels were as long-lived as the Maria, the James Arnold, and the Rousseau; but the average ages of the twenty-one ships and forty-six barks that were condemned were 30.6 and 37.7 years, respectively. The average age of the twelve condemned brigs, sloops, and schooners was only 24.3 years, but that figure is still substantially above the average for the merchant service. Seventy-five of the eighty-three vessels that were condemned or broken up experienced that fate in the course of a whaling voyage. Officers and men were left in such places as Sydney, Rio, he de France (Mauritius), the Cape Verde 19. Starbuck 1878,461,569. Starbuck says that after the Maria was condemned she was “used as a coaler till 1866, then fitted again for a whaler.”

243

Capital

Islands, the Bering Strait, and the Beaufort Sea. At times the vessels were too badly damaged to be salvaged; at times their owners determined that salvage would cost too much; at times, it appears, owners were victims of international embezzlement schemes. Given agents’ and owners’ ability to search out profits, however, there can be little doubt that the eight that were condemned upon their return to home port were truly worn-out. Vessels that were condemned were older than those that remained. They were substantially smaller than the average, but standardization for age would remove at least part of that difference. 6.8 Trends in Vessel Costs The British blockade during the War of 1812 all but destroyed the American whaling fleet, which in 1814 consisted of only a few vessels, one from New Bedford. The next year, sixty-eight vessels (ten from New Bedford) left American ports for the whaling grounds. In the case of the New Bedford fleet, the numbers rose from 10 in 1815, to an average of 3 1.4 over the quinquennium 1816-20, to a peak of 320.2 during the five years 1856-60, before declining to 23.4 in the first years of this century. (See table 6.1.) The fleet represented a substantial capital investment, but estimating its magnitude depends, among other things, on estimating building costs. Unfortunately, there is no adequate series on the cost of building whaling vessels nor, in fact, a totally reliable-or even a generally accepted-series on the cost of building wooden sailing vessels in general. Table 6.10 and figure 6.1 present two sets of estimates of the real cost per ton of the latter. The first series, “All Data,” is derived from estimates in a wide range of literary and quantitative sources. It represents arithmetic averages of the costs of building “a vessel” or “an average vessel” as reported in these sources. The second series, “ U S . Commissioner,” is taken from the Report of the Commissioner of Navigation for 1887 and 1888 (U.S. Department of the Treasury 1888). Unfortunately, the sources of the commissioner’s estimates are not given. Although there are year-to-year differences, on average the two series track quite closely.20The major differences occur in the years between 1847 and 1855. It appears that the commissioner’s data do not reflect the higher costs of building clipper ships, a design that became very important in those years. Conversely, because of the novelty of the design, the “All Data” series may be too heavily weighted by the clippers. Since the whaling fleet did draw some modified clippers (the Lapwing, Onward, Othello, and Young Hector; for example), the actual cost of whaling vessels probably fell between the two estimates. Over the entire period there is little evidence of a trend in real prices (see figure 6.1). Given the rapid improvements in design and equipment in the middle of the nineteenth century, however, a quality-adjusted index would un20. The simple correlation coefficient is .79 (RZ= .62).

Table 6.10

Real Cost per Ton of New Wooden Sailing Vessels, United States, 1814-87 (1880 dollars)

US.Commissioner

All Data

1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859

Adjusted and Interpolated

Five-Year Moving Average

Adjusted and Interpolated

Five-Year Moving Average

42.44 42.12 41.80 41.48 41.16 40.84 40.52 40.20 42.83 45.47 48.10 50.73 42.93 43.72 44.52 45.31 43.00 44.40 45.79 47.37 47.06 46.75 47.19 47.63 48.07 48.51 48.95 48.54 48.13 53.84 59.55 65.26 55.66 65.56 75.47 85.37 73.87 63.21 71.23 56.72 47.99 52.73 49.54 46.35 60.22 74.08

41.80 4 1.48 41.16 40.84 41.11 41.97 43.42 45.47 46.01 46.19 46.00 45.44 43.90 44.19 44.60 45.17 45.52 46.27 46.83 47.20 47.34 47.63 48.07 48.34 48.44 49.59 5 1.80 55.06 56.49 59.97 64.30 69.46 71.19 72.70 73.83 70.08 62.60 58.38 55.64 50.67 5 I .37 56.58 57.96 6 I .42

40.20 40.22 40.25 40.27 40.29 42.93 43.72 44.52 45.31 47.80 46.78 45.76 44.74 44.12 43.50 44.59 45.68 46.77 47.86 48.95 50.61 52.26 53.92 55.74 57.23 56.86 56.48 56.11 55.73 55.36 52.92 50.49 48.05 45.63 43.18 44.97 46.77 48.56 50.37

-

40.25 40.79 41.49 42.35 43.35 44.86 45.63 46.03 46.08 45.84 44.98 44.54 44.53 44.93 45.68 46.77 47.97 49.29 50.72 52.30 53.95 55.20 56.05 56.48 56.48 56.11 55.32 54.12 52.51 50.49 48.05 46.46 45.72 45.82 46.77 48.56 50.58

245

Capital

Table 6.10

(continued) All Data

1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887

U.S. Commissioner

Adjusted and Interpolated

Five-Year Moving Average

Adjusted and Interpolated

Five-Year Moving Average

59.61 66.86 47.60 37.59 43.02 33.62 28.46 29.98 3 1.04 42.89 45.36 37.73 36.06 34.62 38.55 41.16 44.59 51.16 62.60 55.70 48.33 48.54 46.08 48.09 53.76 57.70 58.07 49.98

61.67 57.15 50.94 45.74 38.06 34.53 33.22 33.20 35.55 37.40 38.62 39.33 38.46 37.62 39.00 42.02 47.61 51.04 52.48 53.27 52.25 49.35 48.96 50.83 52.74 53.52 -

52.15 55.06 47.60 37.59 25.91 27.84 28.46 29.98 31.04 32.48 35.98 37.73 36.06 36.52 38.55 41.16 44.59 46.72 54.42 56.08 50.48 48.54 45.86 48.09 53.76 57.70 58.07 53.22

50.75 48.55 43.66 38.80 33.48 29.96 28.65 29.96 3 1.59 33.44 34.66 35.15 36.97 38.00 39.38 41.51 45.09 48.59 50.46 51.25 5 1.08 49.81 49.35 50.79 52.70 54.17 -

-

Sources: For the “All Data” columns: Chapelle [1935] 1982, 1967; Chatterton 1926; Cutler 1930; Fairburn 1945-55; Goldenberg 1976; Hall 1884; Hutchins 1941; La Grange 1936; Lubbock 1929; Macy [1835] 1970; McKay 1928; Rogers 1950. For the “US.Commissioner” columns: U.S. Department of the Treasury 1888. Notes: The commissioner’s prices after 1865 presumably refer to prices per new ton. We adjusted these figures downward by a little less than 5 percent (on the assumption that the prices refer to ships-see note 5). in order to convert them to prices per old ton. Similar adjustments were made to the “All Data” series. Prices were deflated by means of the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (US.Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

doubtedly display a negative trend. (See chapter 7 on these improvements.) One final caveat: it is generally agreed that smaller vessels cost more per ton than larger ones. Thus, the cost of the 350- to 400-ton barks and ships that made up the bulk of the whaling fleet may have been somewhat higher than the estimates reported in table 6.10; the costs of brigs, sloops, and schooners were certainly higher.

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75 70 65 60 55 50 45 40 35 30 1816

1824 1832 1840

1848 1856

1864 1872

1880

Fig. 6.1 Real cost per ton of new wooden sailing vessels, United States, 1847-87 ( I 880 dollars) Source: The five-year moving average data from table 6.10. Series 1 is the “All Data” prices, series 2, the “U.S. Commissioner” prices.

6.9 Outfits Although whaling vessels lasted far longer than vessels in the merchant service, their outfits were largely expended over the course of a voyage. The WSL noted with considerable pride that the ship Cortez on a voyage to the Arctic Ocean and the Sea of Okhotsk-during which it circumnavigated the globe“came back with the same suit of sails which she sailed with.” It went on to comment that the master of the Cortez, Peter Cromwell, would have managed the same feat on his last voyage (also a globe-girdling trip to the Arctic and Okhotsk), had it not been for a hurricane.2’ A vessel usually carried two suits of sails. A suit for a 425-ton bark took 21. “[The Cortez] has made three successive and successful voyages in the Arctic Ocean and Ochotsk sea, during a period of seventy-six months, circumnavigating the globe upon each of them. During this period she has laid ten months in this port, and has brought in an aggregate of 8,200 bbls of whale oil, 350 bbls of sperm oil, and 123.000 Ibs of whalebone. During her last two voyages she has been commanded by Capt Peter Cromwell, of Holmes Hole. His energy, tact, and prudence are fully proved by the successful and profitable character of his cruises. Among other details we may mention that from the second voyage the Cortes came back with the same suit of

247

Capital

2,900 yards of canvas, and that suit would have cost about $1,555.22Not all the outfit survived a voyage, even when the vessel was well officered and enjoyed nothing but pleasant weather. For example, when the Golconda was captured and burned by the Confederate cruiser Florida, “she was just ending her cruise, and had even thrown overboard the previous day her ‘try-works’ used for boiling the last whale down” (Chatterton 1926, 171). Although outfits varied over time and with the size of the vessel, the WSL‘s report (8 February 1859) of the outfitting of the New Bedford fleet in 1858 indicates the mountain of supplies needed to equip the whalers. In that year the agents who managed the sixty-five New Bedford vessels bought 1. Materials: 1,200 cords of oak, 260 cords of pine, 260,000 feet of heading, 33,000 pounds of rivets, 530,000 pounds of copper sheathing, 15,000 pounds of sheathing nails, 52,000 pounds of copping nails, 400 barrels of tar, 739,000 pounds of cordage, 32,500 feet of boat boards, 65,000 feet of pine boards, 205,000 yards of canvas, 13,000 pounds of cotton twine, 234,000 yards of assorted cloth, 39,000 pounds of white lead, 5,200 gallons of linseed oil, 400 gallons of turpentine, 13,000 pounds of other paint, and 120 casks of powder. 2. Food and provisions: 13,650 barrels of flour, 260 barrels of meal, 10,400 barrels of beef, 7,150 barrels of pork, 19,500 bushels of salt, 97,500 gallons of molasses, 39,000 pounds of rice, 1,300 bushels of beans, 39,000 pounds of dried apples, 78,000 pounds of sugar, 78,000 pounds of butter, 19,500 pounds of cheese, 16,300 pounds of ham, 32,500 pounds of codfish, 78,000 pounds of coffee, 14,300 pounds of tea, 13,300 pounds of raisins, 1,950 bushels of corn, 2,600 bushels of potatoes, 1,300 bushels of onions, 400 barrels of vinegar, 2,000 pounds of sperm candles, 32,500 barrels of fresh water, 130,000 pounds of tobacco, 2,800 gallons of new rum, and 1,000 gallons of other liquors. There were also bakers’ bills for $16,250, $9,750 for preserved meat, $6,500 for tinware, and $3,900 for medicine. 3. Whalecraft and whale-rendering equipment: 1,000,000 barrel staves, 1,000 tons of iron hoops, 450 whaleboats, 36,000 feet of oars, 8,500 iron poles, 22,500 pounds of flags, 23,000 bricks, and 200 casks of lime. In addition, the agents paid $2,600 for hoses and bellows and $9,750 for whaling guns, bombs, and lances. 4. Refitting and miscellaneous expenses: $65,000 to ships’ carpenters, $32,500 to ships’ chandlers, $19,500 to riggers, $13,000 to blockmakers, $52,000 to blacksmiths, $13,000 to caulkers, $22,750 to sailmakers, $16,250 to painters, $26,000 to sparmakers, $4,875 for nautical instruments, $19,500 for stevedores, $4,875 for trucking, and $5,200 for towing and pilotage. These sails which she sailed with, and the same thing would have occurred upon her return from her last voyage if she had not experienced a hurricane. This is exceedingly creditable to the good old ship, and good evidence of her many good qualities. Another fact is equally creditable to her commander. On her last voyage, with three exceptions she brought back her entire original crew; and on her previous voyage all her men except two” (WSL26 April 1853). 22. Hall 1884, 28. The $1,555 is in 1880 dollars. The nominal cost was $1,400.

The whaleboat was typically packed with gear. Across the starboard side of the boat in this picture, and extending over the bow, are two toggle harpoons, both attached to a line. The line comes from the large tub amidships on the port side (holding 275 fathoms [ 1,640feet]), runs to the stem, around the loggerhead, then forward to the box in the bow,and from the box to the harpoons. When one or both harpoons struck a whale, the line would run through the gap in the very tip of the bow (the gap is called the bow-chocks). A second, smaller tub of line (75 fathoms [450feet]) is situated forward and to the starboard of the large tub. Two spare harpoons lie at the side of the boat to port, and three lances lie to starboard. Paddles are placed under the thwarts at the rowing positions. On the starboard side toward the stem, two boat spades are stored, ready to the hand of the boatheader. The unseated mast extends over the stem on the starboard side, while the steering oar is parallel to it on the port side. The tiller would have been used only when the boat was under sail. When the sail was in use, the mast was seated forward, in the horseshoe-shaped mast-hinge block. The indentation on the port side of the forward thwart is called the clumsy-cleat. The harpooner placed his left thigh in the cleat to steady himself while preparing to dart his harpoons. (For a left-handed harpooner, the clumsycleat would be on the starboard side.) Three oars are arrayed on the starboard side, and two on the port. The forward starboard oar is the harpooner’s oar. Although it is difficult to see in this drawing, the five oars are of different lengths. “The boats were dry and rode ‘as gracefully as an albatross . . . for lightness and form, for carrying capacity compared with its weight and sea-going qualities, for speed and facility of movement at the word of command, for the placing of men at the best advantage in the exercise of their power, by the nicest adaptation of the varying length of the oar to its position in the boat, and lastly, for a simplicity of construction which renders repairs practicable on board ships, the whaleboat is simply as perfect as the combined skill’ of generations of boatbuilders could make it” (Ansel 1978,2, quoting William h4. Davis’s Nimrod ofthe Sea).

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figures do not include the $13,000 advanced the captains for expenditures at sea, the $130,000 advanced to crews, and the $39,000 used to fill the slop chests. This last involved the purchase, among other things, of 3,150 monkey jackets, 4,550 pairs of thick trousers, 1,200 pairs of thin trousers, 5,200 woolen shirts, 3,250 cotton shirts, 3,900 undershirts, 3,900 pairs of drawers, 7,800 pairs of socks and stockings, 1,800 pairs of blankets, 1,300 bed comforters, 6,500 pairs of shoes, 1,500 pairs of boots, 1,200 smocks, 1,350 tarpaulin hats, 1,600 palm-leaf hats, 1,600 guernsey frocks, 3,900 tin pots and pans, and 4,700 jackknives. Heavy expenditures on materials for refitting at sea were necessitated by the punishment vessels absorbed. The reports of those all but destroyed by hurricanes, typhoons, or uncharted reefs are many. Here are three examples. In mid-December 1856 the Benjamin Tucker limped into Honolulu with jury masts. On 3 November she had lost her bowsprit, fore- and mainmasts, and mizzen topmast in a hurricane. Over fourteen days, while “the sea was so rough and the vessel rolled so that it was impossible to stand up without holding on to the rail,” the crew, using “broken spars, spliced rope, and torn sails,” managed to jury-rig the fore- and mainmasts so that the vessel could maneuver into smoother waters and eventually sail into Honolulu. The damage was so extensive that it took the repair yard more than two months and $14,000 to prepare the Benjamin Tucker for sea again (WSL 10 March, 5 May 1857). In 1858 Captain Benjamin Kelley and the crew of the Henry Kneeland, lying at anchor off the coast of Patagonia, found themselves in a hurricane that lasted thirty hours. The ship lost her anchor and chains, and the crew were obliged to “cut away all three masts and jib boom to save the ship from going ashore.” When the storm was over, Captain Kelley and his men “rigged up juryniasts, took the foreyard for a foremast, slung the three topsail yards for lower yards, and bent the topsails for courses.” It took them two days to get the ship ready for sea.23 Not only hurricanes made repairs at sea vital. While cruising off Guam in March 1860, the captain of the Rapid discovered that someone had set the vessel afire. In order to control the fire, the crew bored holes in the hull below the waterline and flooded the hold with nine feet of water. “The ship was pumped and baled out in thirteen hours. The lower deck beams, carline and ceiling were badly charred, and the foremast burnt some” (WSL 11 and 18 December 1860). Once the fire damage was repaired, they continued the voyage. On 26 June, while the vessel was dodging ice on the Sea of Okhotsk, a heavy current pushed her onto a rock where she stuck fast. When the ship finally floated off, there were forty-two inches of water in the hold. After five hours the crew were able to pump it out, but they discovered that the Rapid was taking additional 23. WSL 25 January 1859. The course is the lowest sail on a square-rigged mast. The crew of the Henry Kneeland were assisted by the crew of the Harrison, which had also ridden out the hurricane. “The Harrison sustained no damage beyond the parting of her best chain.”

251

Capital

water at a rate of fifteen inches an hour, They built a box pump that allowed them to control the flow, fought free of the ice, and sailed for Ayan, a small Russian town on the coast. Since there were no facilities to heave down the ship (which was leaking at the rate of thirty-six to thirty-eight thousand strokes per twenty-four hours), they “discharged the cargo and hauled the ship up on the beach at low water.” There they “found the false keel was gone, about 20 feet [of the] stem and keel badly split and chafed to pieces, [the] copper and sheathing gone from the keel, say from 10 to 12 feet, [and the] garboard streaks [sic]open on both sides as far as the keel was split.”24Using what tools they had, they were able by 21 July to build a box of tarred blankets and pine plank that covered the scar. Finding that the vessel was “comparatively tight,” they reloaded, and sailed on 31 July. After losing the anchor and forty-eight fathoms of chain on 7 August, they sailed eastward; but, while working her way through a dense fog, the Rapid collided with the bark Jeannette Winslow. The accident cost the Jeannette Winslow a fly, jib boom, and starboard boat; the Rapid lost a fly jib and tore the foresail. It was too much for Captain Francis D. Drew’s vessel; she gave up the voyage at Honolulu in October (WSL 11 and 18 December 1860). Drew managed to send home 1,512 barrels of whale oil and 15,660 pounds of bone (Starbuck 1878,537). The crew’s ability to effect repairs at sea was important also because captains and agents were convinced that repair facilities in foreign ports exploited whalers. There were frequent charges that unscrupulous officials condemned damaged whaling vessels and forced their captains to sell them to local interests at far less than their true value. In 1858, for example, the WSL (17 August) complained loudly about the treatment of the bark George Washington. “This vessel-recently a whaler of this port, and which was condemned at Sydney, N.S.W., in November 1857 as unseaworthy and subsequently sold to parties there, has been repaired at an expense not exceeding E25, loaded, and sent out to Callao. Her name has been changed to the ‘Statesman.”’ The WSL (22 January 1867) reported, “The vessels engaged in the Greenland whaling . . . are at far less expense than those in the North Pacific,” in part because, aside from repairs at sea, “[tlhere is no re-fitting ships at any but home ports.” Expenditures on food, provisions, and whalecraft need little explanation. Crewmen had to be fed, and, given the unstructured nature of the voyage, there was never a guarantee that the vessel would be near a port when food ran out. The food shipped was supplemented by fish caught and fresh fruit purchased along the way. Paita, Peru, for example, had “long been a famous resort for the sperm whaling fleet in the Pacific, and fruits and vegetables brought from the fertile valleys of Puna, can be obtained in great abundance, and until the immense emigration to California at reasonable prices” (WSL 3 August 1852). At 24. Garboard srrakes are the planks next to the keel of a wooden ship.

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Honolulu food was expensive; once the Gold Rush had run its course, San Francisco became an attractive substitute. Quoting approvingly from the San Francisco Price Current of 9 November 1860, the WSL (25 December 1860) reports, “Provisions can be obtained here at much less cost than at the Sandwich Islands, with the trivial exception against us in Sugar and Molasses. Recent quotations in the Honolulu papers note Beef worth $18; here it can be had for $16, and a good article of California packed at $10 @ $12. Pork can be had here at $15 @ $16; there it costs $20 @ $22. Bread costs at Honolulu 6% @ 7 cents; here it is worth 3% @ 4 cents.” Overall the cost of food and provisions ran about $5.00 per crewman per month.2s The description of the dangers of the hunt given in chapter 5 suggests the loss rate of whaleboats; the estimates in chapter 4 of the numbers of whales wounded but not captured suggest the speed at which harpoons and lances were expended. Even success was not without cost. Each whale that was killed and towed back to the vessel required enough staves and iron hoops to make from 10 to 250 barrels. It should be clear that the capital investment in outfits was not trivial, but for the early years there is a paucity of direct observations on the level of that investment. Obed Macy ([1835] 1970, 221) puts the cost of a three-hundredton whaleship in 1835 at $22,000 and the cost of outfits at an additional $1 8,000.26Elmo Hohman estimates the outfitting cost for a sperm-whaling voyage in 1844 at $19,774.75, for a right-whaling voyage in the same year at $17,129.45. He puts the value of a vessel employed in either at $31,224.72.27 There is more direct information for later years. The outfitting costs of thirty-six voyages operated by Joseph and William R. Wing between 1860 and 1870 are reported in Martin Joseph Butler’s study (1973, 87) of the Wing agency. Unfortunately, it is not clear whether the costs include advances to the crew, nor can one disentangle the expenditures on food and other items. For the period of the 1870s and early 1880s the outfitting records of the Milton for four voyages to the Pacific and one to the Atlantic (1869, 1871, 1876, 1880, and 1884-85) have been preserved (Milton and Callao Account Books). Table 6.11 brings together these direct observations for the period 1860-85. An analysis of the Milton and Wing outfitting costs (assuming that the latter do not include advances to the crew) is suggestive. A simple regression (table 6.12, panel A) of the total cost of an outfit on new tonnage, new tonnage squared, a measure of expected voyage length (the average voyage length of vessels returning from the designated ground over the previous three years), and the year of sailing, for the forty-one voyages reported in table 6.11, gives 25. Hohman 1928, 267-71,325; appendix 5C. Hohman believes that the real content of subsistence per man changed virtually not at all, at least during the period 1844-65. 26. The real cost in 1880 dollars was also $18.000. 27. Hohman 1928,325. These figures are all in nominal dollars. The costs in 1880 dollars would be $13,235 for Macy’s Nantucket vessel and $25,681 and $22,246 for Hohrnan’s sperm-whaling and right-whaling outfits. Hohman puts the value of the vessel at $31,225 ($40,552 in 1880 dollars).

Table 6.11

Sailing Year

1860 1860 I860 1861 1862 1862 1863 1863 1863 1863 1864 1864 1864 1864 I864 1865 1865 I865 1865 1865 1866 1866 (continued)

Cost of Outfits, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1860-85

Rigging

Old Tons

New Tons

Ground

Voyage Length (months)

Nominal Cost

Name of Vessel

6)

Real Cost' ( 1880 $)

Kathleen Sunbeam Awashonks A. R. Tucker John Dawson Awashonks Charles W. Morgan Osceola Brewster Emily Morgan John Dawson A. R. Tucker Kathleen Sunbeam Laetitia A. R. Tucker Atlantic Stafford Triton Awashonks 0sceo1a Abraham Barker

bark bark bark bark bark bark ship bark ship ship bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark

306.1 359.5 342.1 218.1 237.4 342.1 35 I .3 195.0 215.5 367.8 237.4 218.1 306.1 359.5 275.0 218.1 366.6 205.8 299.8 342.1 195.0 401.0

205.5 255.5 376.3 130.0 173.5 376.3 313.8 158.5 170.0 365.0 173.5 130.0 205.5 255.5 208.2 130.0 292.0 155.2 264.8 376.3 158.5 380.3

Indian Pacific Indian Atlantic Atlantic Atlantic Western Arctic Indian Indian Western Arctic Atlantic Atlantic Indian Pacific Pacific Atlantic Indian Atlantic Atlantic Western Arctic Pacific Pacific

46 44 19 36 25 39 42 36 25 59 28 17 35 41 46 34 30 23 35 56 43 47

17,979 19,463 24,2 13 13,261 13,769 8,458 28,948 18,786 22,368 29,001 19,180 17,794 29,953 33,552 29,456 20,139 40,453 22,589 34,160 34,621 28,444 48,918

19,332 20,928 26,035 14,900 13,239 8,133 2 1,765 14,125 16,818 2 1,805 9,938 9,220 15,520 17,384 15,262 10,886 21,866 12,210 18,465 18,714 16,347 28,114

Table 6.11

(continued)

Name of Vessel

Rigging

Old Tons

New Tons

Ground

Voyage Length (months)

Nominal Cost

Sailing Year

($)

Real CostA ( 1880 $)

Brewster Xantho John Dawson Charles W. Morgan Kathleen Stafford A. R. Tucker Atlantic Sunbeam Triton Laetitia Emily Morgan Milton John Dawson Awashonks Milton Milton Milton Milton

bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark ship bark bark ship ship ship ship

215.5 325.0 237.4 351.3 306.1 205.8 218.1 366.6 359.5 299.8 275.0 367.8 388.0 237.4 342. I 388.0 388.0 388.0 388.0 302.6

170.0 206.3 173.5 313.8 205.5 155.2 130.0 292.0 255.5 264.8 208.2 365.0 373.0 173.5 376.3 373.0 373.0 373.0 373.0 253.9

Atlantic Atlantic Atlantic Western Arctic Indian Atlantic Atlantic Indian Pacific Atlantic Pacific Western Arctic Pacific Indian Western Arctic Pacific Pacific Atlantic Pacific

lost 36 36 49 48 34 22 48 38 40 44 lost 44 27 lost 36 42 44 lost

25,522 37,461 34,068 35,182 32,255 24,672 19,456 37,722 35,442 35,095 34,644 48,215 40,162 27,277 39,545 36,932 25,126 17,618 25,197 28,464

14,668 2 1,529 2 1,030 21,717 19,910 15,230 12,314 23,875 22,432 22,212 2 1,927 30,516 26,597 20,205 29,293 27,768 22,842 17,618 29,644 19,323

1866 1866 I867 1867 1867 1867 1868 1868 1868 1868 1868 1868 I869 1870 1870 1873 1876 1880 1885 Means

Sources: Most of the nominal outfitting costs are from Butler 1973, 87. Those for the Milton are taken from Milton and Calla0 Account Books. Values for rigging type, old tons, ground, and voyage length are from the Voyages Data Set. Values for new tons come from Work Projects Administration 1940. ”Nominal costs are converted to real costs using the Warren and Pearson “AH Commodities” wholesale price index ( U S . Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

Factors Influencing Outfitting Costs, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Sailing Years 1860-85

Table 6.12

A. Total Cost, All Observations Dependent Variable: Total Outfitting Cost Statistical properties

F Adjusted R 2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Vessel tons (new) Vessel tons (new) squared Expected voyage length (months) Sailing year

14.8 .58 19,325.2 41 -26.02 1.O** 109.5*** -0.2 154.8** 354.0**

B. Cost per New Ton, All Observations Dependent Variable: Outfitting Cost per New Ton Statistical properties

F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Vessel tons (new) squared Expected voyage length (months) Sailing year

13.3 .48 1 80.4 41 4.7008 -O.O004* 0.5321** 1.2488**

C. Cost per New Ton, Omitting One Outlier Dependent Variable: Outfitting Cost per New Ton Statistical properties

F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Vessel tons (new) squared Expected voyage length (months) Sailing year (continued)

13.4 ,489 80.4 40 19.7674 -0.0004* 0.5769** 0.9984

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Table 6.12

(continued) ~~

D. Cost per Old Ton, All Observations Dependent Variable: Outfitting Cost per Old Ton Statistical properties F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Vessel tons (old) squared Expected voyage length (months) Sailing year

4.1 ,218 64.2 41 - 19.5952

-0.0002* 0.6074* 1.192*

*Significant at the 1 percent level. **Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level.

an initial framework for such an analysis. Although subject to substantial variation, more than one-half of the total real cost of an outfit can be explained by the four variables. The coefficients all have the expected sign, and all but new tons squared are significant at the 10 percent level or better. It obviously cost more to outfit a larger vessel than a smaller one, but the increase in cost was probably not proportional to size. The average cost of the forty-one outfits was $19,183. Thus, the difference in outfitting costs between the smallest vessel in the enumeration (the 130-ton A. R. Tucker) and the largest (the 376-ton Awashonks and 380-ton Abraham Barker), when expected voyage length and year are set at their average values, was $6,311.9. By the same measure (with tons, tons squared, and year set at their average levels), the difference in outfitting costs between a vessel scheduled for the shortest expected voyage length (18.3 months to the Atlantic in 1868) and the longest (48.4 months to the Pacific in 1864) was $4,660. Vessels at sea longer than average, however, certainly reprovisioned more than once, and those reprovisionings are not captured in the outfitting costs. A different, and perhaps more interesting, specification, designed to take account of the increase in average vessel size over time, attempts to explain the per-ton cost of outfitting (table 6.12, panel B). Almost one-half of the variance is explained by the three independent variables (tons squared, expected voyage length, and year). Given an average cost of outfits of $75.55 per ton, the im-

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plied difference between the smallest and the largest vessel is $45.48, between the shortest and the longest expected voyage, $15.98. Both of these exercises raise questions. There is a problem about the role of time. The regressions indicate that costs rose over time, although, in the perton case, its impact is somewhat dampened. In neither case, however, has time been assigned an important role in the analysis, even though at first glance it appears to have been a more powerful determinant of costs than expected voyage length. This apparent lapse was deliberate-YEAR outliers have a disproportionate effect on the regression analysis. The removal of a single voyage (the 1885 voyage of the Milton) dramatically reduces both the size and the significance of the coefficient on YEAR (see table 6.12, panel C ) .The removal of no single voyage affects the coefficients on the other variables significantly. Moreover, incorporation of the estimates for 1835 and 1844 supports the belief that there was not a significant long-term increase in the real costs of outfits. A second question is raised by the use of “new” rather than “old’ tons. The old calculation, based on the assumption that depth was equal to one-half breadth, often mismeasured the carrying capacity of a vessel (see chapter 7), but the agent knew its actual capacity. Luckily, for both the Wing vessels and the Milton, data on new tons-measurements that do reflect actual capacityare also available. Using old tons (table 6.12, panel D), although leaving the coefficients largely unchanged, reduces the explanatory power of the second model from 48 to 22 percent.**Thus, it seemed appropriate to substitute the new measure for the old in this analysis, since, to the extent that agents’ decisions were tempered by their estimates of the capacities of vessels, those estimates were probably based on figures similar to the revised tonnages. It is unfortunate that new tonnages could not be computed for the vessels that had passed out of the whaling fleet by 1865.

6.10 Conclusions Even if there had been no technical change, the years from 1816 to 1906 would have seen a substantial shift in the profile of the stock of whaling vessels, but much less change in outfits. The smaller classes of vessels-brigs, sloops, and schooners-were important only during the early years of rapid expansion and at the end of the period, when voyages to Hudson Bay and Davis Strait became relatively important. Ships constituted the bulk of the fleet over the first quarter century; after the 1840s the number of barks grew and eventually exceeded the number of ships. The ratio of ships to barks fell from almost ten to one in the early 1830s to one to thirty in the early 1890s. Part of the substitution can be attributed to technical changes that reduced the manning requirements for barks; 28. In the variant with old tons, however, the significance levels improve across the board.

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part reflects the benefits realized in the Western Arctic from their greater maneuverability, outweighing their continued higher manning ratios. In general, ships were between one-fifth and one-sixth larger than barks; more important, both classes increased in size over time, particularly during the first five decades. Between 1816-25 and 1886-95 the size of ships increased by about one-third, the size of barks, by one-half. Larger vessels were more productive than smaller ones, but adjustment to the more efficient size was slow. In part the sluggish response reflects the time it took to shift the fleet to the Pacific and Arctic, where there were special advantages to size. Interground shifts, however, do not come close to explaining all of the increase in average size. Larger vessels were more productive in every ground, but the slow pace of substitution need not have been the product of either custom or irrationality. Given the malleability of the capital stock-there was an almost unlimited supply of merchantmen that could be drawn into the fleet-and the large potential profits during the period of rapid expansion, ownership of any vessel capable of hunting was more rewarding than investment in the best vessel still in the shipyard. The majority (three-fifths) of New Bedford vessels transferred into the fleet from other ports or maritime activities; almost one-fifth were built as New Bedford whalers; another one-fifth were whalers that were rerigged. The relative importance of the new and rerigged vessels increased rapidly as the industry began to stagnate, and then to decline. As market pressures increased, ships were rerigged as barks to hunt bowheads in the Western Arctic; newly built vessels were often barks of the modified clipper design-a combination that brought with it excellent handling qualities. Finally, whaling was a risky business. Of the 763 vessels that can be traced, almost 40 percent were lost at sea or, during the Civil War, to the assaults of Confederate raiders. While most vessels made more than a single voyage, the loss rate per voyage was still a healthy 6 percent, and that figure does not include the seventy vessels that were so badly damaged at sea that they were condemned-most often in a foreign port-during the course of a voyage. Technological change aside, there is less evidence of change in outfitting costs over time, although costs for a long voyage in the Arctic or North Pacific were expected to be higher than for a short cruise to the South Atlantic. No matter what the destination or length of voyage, outfitting costs were not trivial; on average they accounted for almost two-fifths of the total capital cost of a whaling voyage. Outfits included food (although fresh produce was purchased along the way), the harpoons, lances, and whaleboats used in the hunt itself (to say nothing of the barrel staves needed to transport the oil home), and a mountain of supplies that would enable the crew to repair the vessel should it fall prey to weather, ice, uncharted rocks and shoals, or the machinations of an angry crewman. Sabotage, particularly arson, was not uncommon. Supplies included not only extra suits of sails, spare masts, and iron or hemp for rigging, but also

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enough lumber and copper to permit the crew to replace and resheath large sections of the hull. Taken together, the capital invested in a typical whaling voyage amounted to something in the neighborhood of $50,000 (1880 prices)-a substantial sum in the middle of the nineteenth century. An agent’s decisions about the composition of that investment were crucial to the profitability of the enterprise.

7

Technology

In any industry, output depends not only on the quantity (and quality) of land, labor, and capital, but also on the techniques used to arrange and integrate factors in the production process-that is, the technology available to and chosen by the entrepreneur. A whaling agent had little control over stocks of whales, but he could choose the number and skills of the men who hunted them and the types of capital they would use, and he could choose technical alternatives from a large and evolving menu. Section 7.1 is a brief comparison of sailing and steam vessels. Section 7.2 describes sailing vessels at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Section 7.3 treats subsequent changes in sailing vessels-both improvements that affected ships in general and those specific to whalers-including innovations in hull design, sails, rigging, and machinery and other equipment. Sections 7.4 and 7.5 describe improvements in construction techniques and in ocean cartography and hydrography. Section 7.6 describes improvements in the boats and weapons used to hunt and kill whales. Section 7.7 describes the nature and consequences of institutional change.

7.1 Sail versus Steam It is a popular belief, and one supported by casual empiricism, that the innovation of a technique leads quickly to the replacement of an old technology by a new one.’ That may be true of the replacement of the mechanical calculator 1. Economists who study technical change note that quickLy doesn’t mean insrunruneously. Schumpeter ([1934] 1961) hypothesizes that it takes some time for the herd of businessmen to recognize the profit potential of the entrepreneur’s innovation and copy it; this delay is at the heart of his analysis of business cycles. Conversely, Knick Harley (1973) has shown that, in the case of the North American shipbuilding industry, a competitive model characterized by some short-term barriers to exit can be used to explain the slow displacement of traditional shipbuilding techniques.

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by the electronic calculator or the fountain pen by the ballpoint pen; it is not always true. Often the pressure introduced by firms that adopt a new way of doing things leads to improvements in the traditional technology that keep the old way competitive for a substantial period of time. Such was the case for sailing vessels. Far from being driven from the seas by the advent of steam, the sailing vessel reached its apogee-in technological development, numbers, and importance-more than fifty years after oceangoing steamships began to arrive regularly at Continental ports. Robert Fulton’s Clemzont, a river steamboat, was launched in 1807. By the 1820s steam-powered vessels were crossing the English Channel and the Irish Sea. A decade later regular service was established between England and Egypt, in 1835 between England and India, and within another decade between England and the United States. In the middle of the 1840s a steamship (the British naval sloop Driver), after a five-year passage, succeeded in circumnavigating the globe (Taylor 1951, 58; Greenhill 1980, 17). In these early years steamships posed no commercial threat to sailing ships. The variance in their time of passage was less, but steamers were slower and much more expensive to operate. For passengers and mail the new technology was superior; but it was not until the screw had replaced the paddle wheel, the price of iron had fallen enough to make iron vessels competitive in price with wooden ones, and, most important, the prime mover had evolved to a point where the space needed to store coal did not preempt most of the cargo capacity, that the steamship became the most effective technology among merchant vessels. The last development was particularly long-delayed. It depended both on the gradual improvement of the engine-from the one-cylinder model of the paddle wheelers, through the two-cylinder compound engines of the mid1850s, to the three-cylinder designs of the 1880s-and on the development of relatively cheap iron or steel boilers that could withstand pressures up to sixty pounds per square inch (Greenhill 1980, 30-32). Even then the sailing ship did not surrender easily. One chronicler asserts that “[by] 1865 the steamship was at last developed to a point at which it could successfully compete with sailing vessels . . . [and] the demise of the sailing vessel was certain,” but he recognizes that “[wlhat was uncertain was how long it would take her to die” (Greenhill 1980, 30). The 1890s and 1900s saw the introduction of four- and five-masted full-rigged ships that were more than competitive on long hauls of bulk cargo-wheat from Australia, nitrate from Chile-until the opening of the Panama Canal in 1914 gave steamships an insurmountable advantage on interocean voyages.2 The most technologically advanced sailing ship of all time-the German-built Preussen-was a product 2. “[A] huge, Finnish-built, four-masted barque called the Moshuh that-I was astonished to learn-was still hauling grain under sail from Australia to Great Britain aq the Second World War approached. Apparently the invention of machines to raise and lower sails meant that vast sailing ships could be operated by a tiny crew, and that a proprietor who had . . . an ‘obsessional interest in reducing running costs’ could operate commercial transport vessels under sail long after the

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of the twentieth century. Launched in 1902, she was steel-hulled, five-masted, more than 430 feet long, over eleven thousand tons, powered by the wind pushing sixty thousand square feet of canvas shaped into forty-seven sails, and capable of sustained speeds of nine to eleven knots. There are people who believe that vessels such as the Preussen would have “founded a new sailing dynasty” and sail would have remained a technology of choice for at least another half century, if shipbuilders had been willing to take some risks (Villiers 1953, 2-21; Landstrom 1961, 200-201). Steam power became important to American whalemen late in the nineteenth century. Through most of its history, however, the whaling fleet consisted chiefly of sailing vessels.

7.2 The Sailing Vessel in 1800 Douglas North, noting that the last major advance in shipping technology had been the invention about 1600 of the Dutch$uyf (also called the flyboat), argues that the shipping productivity gains he observes in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries must have derived from shifts in institutional technology. That is, more efficient navies meant that merchant ships did not have to be armed to ward off pirate attacks, and shipowners were at last free to innovate the more productive Dutch technology (North 1958, 537-55; 1968, 953-70). C. Knick Harley (1988, 85 1-76) says there were no significant productivity gains until the widespread innovation of the iron steamship in the fourth and fifth decades of the nineteenth century. The traditional technological literature casts doubt on both arguments. The fact that the British continued to build merchantmen in the warship tradition until the middle of the eighteenth century, despite their reduced carrying capacity, supports North’s hypothesis (Goldenberg 1976, 4, 80). The body of traditional evidence leads to a quite different conclusion. In his seminal study of the British shipbuilding industry, Ralph Davis (1962, 71) finds a more than 50 percent increase in average tonnage per crewman on merchant ships entering London between 1686 and 1766. He concludes that this increase in efficiency occurred because of a major, but unknown, development in merchant ship design. For Alan McGowan ( 1 980,24,30-3 l), “[Ilt is inconceivable that any such development could have occurred without its having left a single trace” in the historical record-apart, that is, from its effect on productivity. McGowan ( 1 980, 24) offers an alternative set of explanations. With North he recognizes that for bulk cargoes the amount of accessible hold storage is crucial, concluding, “[Tlhe fine lines which gave warships the necessary handiness and weatherly qualities, produced awkward spaces which not only made stowage difficult but also reduced the volume of space available.” He does sort of activities popularly associated with sailing were afternoon outings in the harbor or charters in the Caribbean” (Trillin 1994, 71-72).

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not believe that the improvements in productivity observed by Davis were due importantly to better hull design. Either naval architects continued to use warship hulls during this period, or the impact of the shift to more effective hulls was less significant than North had supposed. Hull size was a factor in productivity improvement, however, according to McGowan. The average size of merchantmen increased between 1685 and 1766, and labor productivity rose markedly with hull size. Finally, McGowan (1980, 31, 33-34) believes there were two major technical advances in the eighteenth century that significantly improved per-man productivity: the replacement of the relieving tackles and the whipstaff by the steering wheel, and the substitution of fore-and-aft jib sails for the square spritsail and the spritsail topsail. Square sails produced immense power and imparted considerable leverage on the bow, but they could not be fine tuned, and they required more manpower than did the jibs. In the case of the wheel, not only were fewer men required to steer, but also the helmsman could steer within much narrower limits. Both innovations reduced the total labor requirement and, taken together, permitted the vessel to sail much closer to the wind. One result was more speed; perhaps more important was a reduction in the size of the crew, or an increase in the size of the vessel that could be handled by a crew of a given size. Sail plans dominated by fore-and-aft rigging had been known since at least the seventeenth century, and builders recognized that they had three significant advantages over square sails: (1) they could propel the vessel even when the wind was a few degrees forward of the beam; (2) they could be set without sending men aloft, which meant that, as long as it was small, the fore-and-aft vessel required fewer and less skilled hands; and (3) they were “much more effective . . . in light winds unless the wind was right astern. The chief advantage gained by the increasing of fore-and-aft sails in combination with square sails therefore, was the ability to sail closer to the wind” (McGowan 1980,36). There may have been some minor savings in labor as well. In 1800 there were still at least two disadvantages to the new rigging style: (1) in heavy wind and sea the vessel could be overturned by the weight of the boom and sails; (2) raising the large lateen sail called for extra labor. For a vessel of more than one hundred tons, the potential gains from not having to go aloft and from the labor savings of increased hull size were more than negated by the additional number of men needed to raise and furl the heavy sail. The widespread innovation of fore-and-aft rigs in large oceangoing vessels had to await improvements in hand-operated winches and, for very large vessels, the development of the donkey engine to provide mechanical power (McGowan 1980, 36). Yet another factor contributed to the level of “standard” as opposed to “best practice” technology at the beginning of the nineteenth century: the definition of a register ton. In 1773 the British government adopted a uniform measure of cargo capacity on which to base all tonnage taxes, pilotage fees, light duties,

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port tariffs, and other vessel-related charges (13 Geo. I11 c. 74). A similar rule was adopted in U.S. legislation of 1789, 1790, and 1799 (see chapter 3). If the measure had actually reflected the carrying capacity of a vessel, it is unlikely that it would have had an effect on ship design or performance; but it did not. For some reason, perhaps simplicity-the measurements could be taken and the calculations made by people with little education-the index chosen by Parliament assumed that the depth of a vessel could be proxied by one-half its breadth. The law encouraged builders to ignore established principles of design and to construct ships that were “deep, sluggish, flat-bottomed, flat-sided . . . [and] ‘built by the mile and served out by the yard’” (Graham 1956, 78). In the words of the shipbuilder Lauchlan McKay, the author of the first American textbook on naval architecture, “according to our present law, like that of the English, you can build a double-decked vessel a mile high, and she will not measure one ton more than though she were but 20 feet.”3 Not surprisingly, the law produced generations of “rule-cheaters” (Goldenberg 1976, 4). That a technical bias was incorporated in the capital stock is clear from the designs of warships. Not subject to taxes and pilotage fees, they were free of the design faults that plagued merchant vessel^.^ “[C]ommercial competition forced owners to order unwholesome [but, in one sense, costeffective] designs” (Hutchins 1941, 217). Sailing vessels that entered the American whaling fleet at the end of the War of 1812 were products both of existing technical conditions and of legal constraints. They required constant attention. Because they leaked, they had to be pumped regularly. To slow the leakage, the oakum caulking had to be continuously renewed. Decks had to be regularly soaked in seawater, to prevent the planks from drying out; otherwise, fresh water could leak into the vessel during rains and promote rot. “All the ropes in the running rigging had to be tended, their ends had to be kept from fraying out. . , splices . . . had to be renewed, whole ropes had to be replaced. Blocks had to be oiled . . . . Spars had to be watched for shakes and for rot. . . . The ironwork itself had to be chipped and painted, and in particular the bolts which held it to the spars had to be watched for corrosion and for rot in the adjoining wood” (Greenhill 1980, 8-9). Since even a small vessel could have three to four hundred blocks, several miles of rope, and more than a mile of caulking, the work was not trivial. Maintenance routines dictated that masts and spars be unshipped and lowered to the deck, and that entire sections of masts be unrigged. Given the demands on them in open seas and calm weather, to say nothing of those in foul weather and heavy seas, it was necessary that the crew be well trained. Some crewman had to be able to repair and forge new ironwork, make 3. As quoted in Hutchins 1941,217. Lauchlan McKay was the brother of Donald McKay, a wellknown ship designer; his textbook was The Practical Ship-builder (1839). See Chapelle 1967, 7. 4. That is, warships were well designed for their purposes, but warship designs did not make good merchant vessels. See North 1968; Goldenberg 1976, 80.

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sails, manufacture new masts and spars from the timber carried on board. Even the lowliest seamen had to be able to work aloft in weather both fair and foulhandling the sails in normal conditions, and clearing away and replacing damaged spars and rigging during storms (Greenhill 1980, 8-9).

7.3 Nineteenth-Century Changes in Vessels Maritime historians long believed that there was little improvement in the design of sailing vessels over the nineteenth century in general, and in the years before 1850 in particular. More recent work has shown that there were significant improvements before that date and major ones thereafter (Chapelle 1967, 279). American sailing ships benefitted from advances in the theory of vessel design, from the contributions of a number of extraordinary shipbuilders-such as Donald McKay, William Webb, John W. Griffiths, and Samuel Hartt Pook-and from the removal of legal constraints that had perverted vessel designs. The legal change came first in England. In 1836 the government, in an attempt to reduce tax evasion and increase revenues, directed that a new formula be employed to calculate register tonnage (5 and 6 Wm. IV c. 56; Graham 1956, 78). The law did not require that existing ships be remeasured, and as a result, although vessel lengths increased somewhat, major changes were delayed. Until a much more stringent admeasurement law came into effect in 1855, it paid to buy an old vessel rather than to build a new Even then it took time before newly constructed, rather than newly remeasured, vessels made up the bulk of the merchant fleet. In the United States the legal change came even later. The fiscal stringency engendered by the Civil War led to the passage of a law, similar to the British law of 1855, which came into effect in 1865 (see chapter 3). Greenhill (1980, 12, 19, 22) argues that Americans were willing to build well-designed, fast vessels even before the U.S. admeasurement law was modernized. Their willingness may have been a consequence of experience. The Americans had a tradition of fast sailing hulls, a tradition formed during the disputes with England of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Merchantmen were built to elude British men-of-war. In contrast, during the Napoleonic wars, the British had become accustomed to the slow speed of navy convoys. The difference in behavior also reflected the different types of trade in which the two fleets were engaged. In Great Britain the most important component of ocean commerce was the transport of bulk commodities over short hauls, an activity in which there was no premium on speed. In America a small but profitable proportion of ocean commerce was directed toward long-distance trade with the West Coast and 5 . The 1855 law (17 and 18 Vict. c. 104) required that registered tonnage be based “on the actual and rigorously investigated cubic capacity of the hull” (Graham 1956, 79).

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the Orient (Greenhill 1980, 22). “In long-distant [sic]trades like tea, where speed was the prime consideration, inept tonnage laws did not necessarily destroy the profit-making capacities of the streamlined vessel with her fine entrance, shallower hull and long, clean run. In the California and China trades time meant money, and in the 1850s the great new American clippers made astonishing records for speed” (Graham 1956, 79). In fact, during that decade “the great urge for speed caused builders to ignore completely consideration of the admeasurement rule,” at least on some occasions (Hutchins 1941,295). Both the fastest twenty-four-hour run (465 miles on 12 December 1854) and the highest speed ever recorded by a sailing ship (twenty-one knots on 18 June 1856) occurred during the 1850s (Cutler 195 1, 12, 17). Still, the typical American merchant ship of the 1830s and 1840s was long, narrow, and deep. The midships section was rectangular, the ends were short and full, and the ship did not sail well. The last remaining example of this “congressionally” designed model is the whaler Charles W Morgan, resting in the whaling museum in Mystic, Connecticut.6 In the late seventeenth century, British and American shipbuilders began to use models in designing and constructing vessels. These models represented one-half of the hull (as though a complete model were split from the center of the bow to the center of the stern). Initially they were carved from solid blocks of wood. At the end of the eighteenth century the l f t model came into use; the hull was carved from layers of wood, which were then held together by dowels. Such a model could be disassembled in order to measure the crucial relationships among the various parts of the hull in con~truction.~ The technique was still atheoretical, but it was a substantial improvement over earlier methods, and the lift model remained a design tool through the 1840s. In the next decade, following the lead of John W. Griffiths, designers began to work with plans based on mathematical analysis of the important features of the vessel. As early as 1844 Griffiths stressed the mathematical underpinnings of design, and by 1852 he recognized the value of sets of plans. His magazine became the industry’s single most important technical reference manual.* The development of the design of sailing ships involved three principal elements: cargo capacity, a function of both shape and size; speed, “a function of . . . length on the waterline”; and operating costs, a function of crew sizeagain in part a function of vessel size (Greenhill 1980, 20; McGowan 1980, 6. Greenhill 1980, 19. Bad design or not, the Charles W Morgan-which was built expressly for whaling, not for mercantile activities-served eighty exceptionally successful years in the whale fleet and retired (in 1921) only when American whaling had effectively come to a close. 7. La Grange 1936, 332. “Plane up as many pieces as you have water lines as long and wide as the draft requires. These should be of different colored wood, as they will show the lines more distinctly” (Book 1858, 12). 8. Griffiths 1844, 6; Chapelle 1967,364. Griffiths’s magazine was first called the U.S. Nautical Magazine and Naval Journal (1853-55) and then the Monthly Nautical Magazine and Quarterly Review (1855-57).

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24). Designers of vessels for specific trades often sacrificed one or two of these characteristics in order to achieve outstanding performance on the remaining (as in the case of the China clipper-speedy, but with poor cargo capacity and high operating costs), but they took account of all three, equally, when they designed unspecialized vessels. Square riggers met these requirements in the 1850s and 1860s (Greenhill 1980, 22). By the late 1840s American shipbuilders were regarded as world leaders in the design and construction of general-duty wooden sailing vessels (Hutchins 1941, 302). It may not be true that the object of American designers “was to build a ship that should sail every other craft off the seas and so obtain the maximum of trade-carrying,’’but their innovations placed British builders under severe competitive pressure; “between the years 1841 and 1847, no fewer than forty shipbuilders went bankrupt in Sunderland alone (Chatterton 1909, 266). Vessels became longer relative to their breadth and depth. The design of the stem was modified so that, instead of “squatting and holding the dead water, the ship slid through it cleanly with a minimum of resistance” (Chatterton 1909, 266). Cargo ships were built with “flat floors and hard bilges . . . . They also had fairly sharp, though convex, bowlines instead of the bulging, rounded sections which were formerly common. Considerable length was given to the full-bodied portion of the vessel amidships.” The new vessel not only had a streamlined rather than a dumpy appearance but was a better sailer.’ Of all the nineteenth-century innovations the clipper ship has received by far the most publicity, even though its importance in the evolution of vessel design is debatable. Some maritime historians, such as Chatterton (1909,266), believe that “the part played by the American clippers . . . is one of vast importance to the development of the sailing ship of any size.” Others, including Howard Chapelle ([1935] 1982, 286), think that “[tlhe importance of the clipper-ship model was small, as far as later ship-design was concerned.” The number of clippers was always small relative to the total merchant fleet. An assessment of its long-run importance rests on its contributions to the design of the medium (or California or Australian) clipper-a vessel that was important in both the merchant marine and the whaling fleet. Few historians question the conclusion that the most significant innovation in sailing-ship design during the first seventy years of the nineteenth century was the medium clipper.’O

9. Hutchins 1941,292-93, The bilge is the part of the underwater body of a vessel lying between the flat of the bottom and the straight vertical topsides. Specifically it is the point of greatest curvature. The term hard refers to the angle of that point: the sharper the angle the harder the bilge. Thus a hard-bilged vessel has a relatively flat bottom. 10. Donald McKay’s maritime biographer goes so far as to call McKay “the originator of the ‘Medium’ clipper model, afterwards universally used by American shipbuilders” (McKay 1928, 293). Even Chapelle ([1935] 1982, 286-87), although arguing that the medium clippers were merely larger and better built “revivals of the last and sharpest of the packet-ship models,” recognizes that many of their fittings both “on deck and aloft had been developed in the clippers.”

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From the point of view of this survey, the origins of the vessel are irrelevant. Nor does it matter whether the medium clipper was the product of a gradual evolution or of a sudden revolution in naval architecture. Only the design is important. McKay’s Commodore Perry and Japan, buoyant, steady, and with shallow draft, epitomized the small clippers of the mid- 1850s. They were elongated, pointed in the bow, narrow in the stern, very fast, and capable in heavy seas (McKay 1928, 293; Hutchins 1941, 295). The virtues of the design were not immediately understood on all hands:

You are aware that she [the Lightning] was so sharp and concave forward that one of her stupid captains who did not comprehend the principle upon which she was built, persuaded the owners to fill in the hollows of her bows. They did so, and according to their British bluff notions, she was not only better for the addition, but would sail faster, and wrote me to that effect. Well, the next passage to Melbourne, Australia, she washed the encumbrance away on one side, and when she returned to Liverpool, the other side was also cleared away. Since then she has been running as I modelled her. (Donald McKay, quoted in McKay 1928,266-67) Designers of general merchant vessels did not copy the clipper in every detail, but they did move in McKay’s general direction (Greenhill 1980, 26). By the late 1860s the grain trade between Pacific coast ports and Europe by way of Cape Horn had become important, and by the 1870s the center of American shipbuilding had shifted from Connecticut and Massachusetts to Maine. The product of the resulting interaction between the demand for an efficient carrier of bulk commodities over long distances and a new set of ship designers was the down-eastel; a vessel that represented “the highest development of the sailing-ship; combining speed, handiness, cargo-capacity and low operating costs to a degree never obtained in any earlier square-rigger.” Down-easters had medium sharp lines. They had fewer spars, and carried less canvas, than clippers, but they still “had enough sail area to drive them at great speed” (Chapelle [1935] 1982,287; Hutchins 1941, 373-83; and see Lubbock 1929). The whaling fleet was initially affected by these design changes indirectly. Many whalers were simply refitted merchantmen, so changes in the merchant fleet eventually led to changes in the whaling fleet (Morison 1961, 318). Of the 680 ships and barks in the New Bedford fleet whose origins are known, 419-more than 60 percent-transferred from the merchant service (see table 6.6), leaving about 40 percent built for whaling. Improvements in the design of these vessels-most built late in the period of American whaling-influenced the fleet directly. In an earlier era, when the industry was expanding rapidly, almost any vessel could be shifted from the merchant marine to the whaling fleet, and its owners could expect handsome (if highly variable) profits. By the early 1860s, circumstances had changed. As the writer of the annual review of the whale fishery noted in his survey of the year 1862 (WSL 13 January 1863),

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Other grounds for congratulation are these; viz: the greater number of suitable vessels that have this last year been fitted for the fishery, compared with those that have been fitted during the last few years; the growing determination in the minds of merchants not to introduce into service any more such expensive vessels as new clippers, and bulky ships that were never meant for whalers, but introduce vessels of proper size, and only such as may be built expressly for the business, and that can sail at a comparatively low figure. The new additions were concentrated in the 1850s and 1870s. In the 1850s almost one-half the vessels that entered the New Bedford whaling fleet were built to order, in the 1870s exactly one-half. In the 1880s, with New Bedford whaling contracting, only sixteen vessels joined the fleet; twelve were built for whaling. New whalers were designed along the lines of the medium clipper, “with somewhat less beam and finer underwater lines than vessels intended for the merchant service generally . . . . [They] were built with raking stems and even sharper lines than the usual whalers” (Bathe 1967, 205). Unlike the clippers a significant proportion-and after 1855 the majority-of these new vessels were bark rigged. They were “sharp-floored and easy-bilged to make them roll down when ‘cutting-out’ a whale” (Chapelle [1935] 1982, 288). In 1851 the New Bedford trade paper, The WhaZemenS Shipping List and Merchants ’ Transcript (9 December), first reported the launching of a clipper ship, the Jireh Perry, that was specifically designed (by Currier and Townsend) for the sperm-whale fishery. By the next fall, “clipper” or “medium clipper” had become common in the paper’s descriptions of new entrants (5 October 1852). In August alone the WSL (3, 24, 31 August) noted the addition of the Gay Head (389 tons, designed by Wilson Barstow with “fine proportions, and general adaptation for the whaling business”), the Polar Star (a medium clipper of 465 tons, with “ends . . . finely formed, being neither a clipper nor a full ship, but midway between the two”), the Rainbow (475 tons, designed by Reuben Fish; “[hler ends are long and very sharp,” and “[she is] modelled with particular reference to speed’), and J. and Z. Hillman’s 400-ton James Arnold (“designed, modeled, and built. . . to combine the qualities of an easy sea-boat with those of a good carrier and fast sailer”). These vessels all were speedier than traditional whalers; equally important, all were designed to carry between three thousand and thirty-five hundred barrels of oil. In the 1870s again there was an increase in the number of newly built vessels joining the whaling fleet. Echoing its comments of more than a decade earlier, the WSL reported in 1876 (11 January), “Some vessels may possibly be added to the fleet from the merchant service; but as such ventures are attended with so heavy an outlay for repairs, alterations and whaling inventories, it is not probable that many such additions will be made.” The next year (16 January 1877), it again noted the economic attractiveness of the new designs: “The building of ships for the whaling service marks a new era in the business, and is an encouraging feature.” In 1878 (15 January) the effects can be seen even

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more clearly: “Ship-building has revived, and twelve whalers were built during the year, it being now apparent that at the present prices new vessels can be built cheaper than merchantmen can be altered into whaleships.” It should be noted that the new vessels were added at a time when, because of increased competition from iron and steam, the price of used wooden sailing vessels was falling, and when the size of the whaling fleet was rapidly contracting, as many of its vessels were converted into merchantmen. One change (it is not clear whether it should be called a design or a rigging change) affected the whaling fleet far more than it did the merchant marine. That technical breakthrough was the innovation of the bark-square rigged on the fore- and mainmasts and fore-and-aft rigged on the mizzenmast. Improved winches and lighter canvas had made it possible to handle the lateen sail on vessels of more than one hundred tons, but it still could not be handled easily. In the merchant marine, where vessels in the twelve-hundred- to two-thousandton range were common, economy absolutely dictated that the widespread introduction of the massive sails await the innovation of the steam-driven donkey engine to provide power to raise and lower them. Whalers were not exempt from this manpower constraint; barks continued to require more men than ships of similar capacity. In the decade 1866-75, for example, the average burden of a New Bedford whaling ship was 11.9 tons per man and that of a bark 10.4-a difference of 14 percent. For whalers, however, the constraint was not a noose. They were in the three- to four-hundred-ton range, and the demands of whaling always required that they carry more men than merchantmen of similar size, regardless of rig. The extra costs associated with the mixed-rig plan, although not trivial, were not so high that the configuration could not be employed when the design had compensating advantages. The bark did. First, it could move nimbly among the ice floes of the Arctic, and escape when the ocean froze at the end of the hunting season. (Twice the Arctic fleet was caught and crushed because the ocean froze so rapidly.) Second, the bark was more easily handled by the few men left aboard when the whaleboats were manned and most of the crew had joined the hunt. Since the mizzen was normally already raised, the shipkeepers did not have to raise it while the hunt was on. Third, and least important, the rig structure gave more clearance for the operation of the two boats near the stern. Thus, while barks joining the fleet in the 1840s were less than one-fifth as numerous as ships, technical changes in winches and canvas combined with the opening of the Arctic ground to make them dominant by the 1860s. At the end of the century, the shift to the new technology was complete; no whaling ship entered the New Bedford fleet after 1877. (See table 6.6.) Between the 1820s and the early 1870s there was a nearly total technical transformation aloft. Screw- and lever-operated rod rigging and turnbuckles, iron-strapped blocks, and ironwork for masts and spars were introduced in the 1820s and 1830s (Chapelle 1967, 279). During the 1840s the sails themselves

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changed both in material and in design. Largely because New England had become its most efficient producer, Americans began to substitute light, purecotton canvas for flax and hemp in sails (Chatterton 1909, 266). The canvas was durable, but sails made from it had to be very well cut and set to operate efficiently. It was gradually recognized that sails “set like large white bags, big-bellied, flapping tent-like things . . . were altogether crude and inefficient.” In order to allow the vessel to work close to the wind, sails were kept as flat as possible (Villiers 1953, 14). As McKay showed in the Daniel Webstel; a diamond packet built in 1850, vessels with flat-set cotton canvas and new bracing on their yards could “head a point higher than other ships” (McKay 1928, 93). In the 1820s the typical ship had four sails on each of its three masts-from bottom to top, first, a foresail, mainsail, or mizzen (depending on the mast), then a topsail, then a topgallant, and finally a royal. A bark had a similar configuration on its fore- and mainmasts. Dealing with single topsails and topgallants had always required substantial amounts of skilled labor. As vessels grew larger, so did these sails; as they became larger, they became more difficult to set and take in, and work aloft became more dangerous. Double sails, each smaller than an unwieldy single sail, were introduced to solve this problem (Greenhill 1980,28). “A ship rigged with this rig was more seaworthy, because she was always considered as under close-reefed topsails, and could be worked by fewer men than a vessel of the same size, having the old rig.” Since split sails did not require buntlines, reef tackles, or clew lines, the canvas was not chafed, and lasted much longer (McKay 1928,250-51,284-85). The innovation proved cost-effective and spread quickly. Donald McKay, for example, first used the double topsail rigging within months of its invention, and from then on employed it on every vessel he designed. Because of the adverse effects of the tariff-particularly after the rate increases of 1861 and 1864-American builders lagged behind the British in replacing hemp with iron. Still, as the price of iron fell, chain cables and iron (later steel) wire came into more general use for standing rigging and for some running rigging. Iron rods were used to connect the topmast rigging to the lower mast, iron trusses, to attach the yardarms to the masts. The new fittings required much less maintenance; taken together with the quality of the shorebased riggers’ craftsmanship, this meant there was less work (and much less skilled work) to be done aloft. Moreover, the vessel handled more easily, particularly in sailing to windward.” In an attempt to eke out the last fraction of a knot in light winds, designers of clippers added studding sails and kites.Iz The former, rigged from temporary 11. Hutchins 1941,298,382-83; McKay 1928,214-15; Chapelle [1935] 1982, 290. The duties on the ironwork for a one-thousand-ton vessel rose from 2 percent of its total cost in the 1850s to 10 to 12 percent in the next decade. Running rigging is used primarily in setting, furling, and otherwise handling sails, and it usually runs through blocks and pulleys. Standing rigging is permanent (stays and shrouds, for example) and is used to secure masts and fixed spars. 12. Kites were the lightest and usually the loftiest sails (skysails and spinnakers, for example) and were ordinarily set only in very light breezes. They were sometimes called flying kites.

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booms attached to the yards, were lateral extensions of the topsails and topgallants. They provided some additional speed, but the benefits were not worth the maintenance costs, except where speed was of overwhelming importance. Kites were the skysails and moonrakers set above the royal. They may have been “a delight to the more bombastic masters and a source of wonder to the passengers”; they were a “curse to the crews.” Their contribution to speed in light winds was marginal at best, and there were substantial extra costs even in furling and setting them, not to mention those of maintenance. Both studding sails and kites disappeared in the 1860s (Hutchins 1941, 381-82; Villiers 1953, 110-13). Technical changes in the machinery and equipment used on sailing vessels were also substantial. Between 1820 and the mid-1840s a number of new deck machines were developed. They included “geared windlasses, crabs and capstans, steering gear, improved pumps, cargo and rigging winches, ventilators, patented rigs, improved blocks, cranes, jeers, and other mast and spar ironwork, such as turnbuckles, or ‘rigging screws.’”” Below deck, life was improved by new marine stoves and water closets. McKay’s 1850-built Stughound had a cylindrical cast-iron tank that could hold forty-five hundred gallons of fresh water (Chapelle 1967, 419; McKay 1928, 124-25). Iron chain replaced hemp in the ground tackle that linked the vessel with its anchor. No invention was more important than the modernized windlass. Before the 1850s the windlass was turned by the main force of men, pushing on handspikes. The handspikes afforded little leverage, and raising the anchor was extremely difficult. In the 1850s a new windlass, much more powerful and easily managed, was introduced. Men were still the source of power, but now they had efficient leverage. “It was no child’s play, in old times, to handle a ship’s ground tackling. To ‘overhaul a range of cable’ in cold weather, was a forenoon’s job; now it is done in a few minutes. To heave it in of a cold day; and stow it away in the cable tier, was positively the very worst work a crew could do. Now, a few minutes at the new-fashioned windlass and the anchor is apeak, and the cable let run into the chain boxes without delay” (McKay 1928, 213). The new windlass was used on small vessels until the ultimate demise of winddriven ocean transport; on large vessels it was replaced in the 1880s by the steam-driven donkey engine (McKay 1928, 214; Greenhill 1980, 28). The same technology could be, and was, used to raise, set, and furl the sails, which made the bark rig economically feasible. The more complicated and effective gearing mechanisms also were applied to the steering apparatus; patents were issued to cover a variety of new designs. For example, in reporting the addition of new clippers to the whaling fleet in 1852, the WSL ( 5 October 1852) noted, “All of them, except the James Arnold, are supplied with Reed’s patent Ship Steerer, which is considered by our mer13. Chapelle 1967, 364-65. See also Greenhill 1980,28. Jeers are combinations of tackles used for hoisting or lowering the lower yards.

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chants and builders the best of the various substitutes for the wheel and tiller.”

One man could steer a vessel and keep it within a point or two of its course (McKay 1928,215). In the 1850s new pumps also reduced the number of men needed to handle a sailing ship. Almost every vessel more than a year or two old had to be pumped several times a day, at a cost of many man-hours. The new copper pumps were still hand-powered but, utilizing both winches and flywheels, they were faster, operated with fewer men, and could serve other purposes as well. In 1852 the WSL (16 November) reported on the advantages of one of the more recent inventions, the Flanders’ Patent Suction and Forcing Pump: “[Flor whale ships the Forcing Pump must be invaluable. The wetting of the hold for the purpose of preventing the leakage of oil will be accomplished by this pump with the utmost facility. Its introduction into our whalers would certainly promote this practice of wetting hold. With slight power Flander’s [sic] pump may be used to throw water to a great height, thereby acting as an efficient fire engine.” The introduction of the steam engine was the last of the major nineteenthcentury advances in machinery and equipment, but it had little impact on the whaling fleet. McKay’s Great RepubEic (1853) employed a fifteen-horsepower steam engine in a multiple capacity. It was used to hoist the anchor, raise the sails, and pump the ship; but the “Steam Tar” could also be offloaded into a small boat and used as an engine to drive the boat and to tow the clipper in periods of calm (McKay 1928, 233-34). It was not until the late 1870s that donkey engines were employed more than occasionally, and then it was the four-masters that were the major beneficiaries (Greenhill 1980, 39). Techniques for removing and processing blubber and bone changed little. When a whale was killed, it was either marked by a waif buoy for later recovery or towed straightaway to the vessel. There it was brought to the starboard side and secured, tail forward.I4A cutting stage was rigged at the level of the deck. Initially this was simply a narrow board, swung out on ropes on the seaward side of the whale. A mate stood on this pitching platform and, using various slicing implements (spades) attached to twenty-foot handles, dismembered the whale. The process varied from one type of whale to another, but in each case either the head was taken off-to obtain the head oil (from sperm whales)or the upper jaw was detached for the whalebone (in the case of baleens), and the blubber was then removed. The mate needed excellent sea legs if he was not to be pitched into the sea and the teeth of the sharks that normally swarmed around the ~ h a 1 e .The l ~ job also took great skill. The cutter-in wanted to detach 14. Hohman 1928, 167. Except where otherwise indicated, the following material is drawn from Lytle 1984, 136-65. 15. In Moby-Dick Tashtego falls into the decapitated head of a sperm whale: “Whether it was that Tashtego, that wild Indian, was so heedless and reckless as to let go for a moment his onehanded hold on the great cabled tackles suspending the head; or whether the place where he stood was so treacherous and oozy: or whether the Evil One himself would have it to fall out so, without

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all of the blubber, so that no oil would be lost, but he also wanted to minimize the amount of flesh taken. Flesh in the trypot meant a lower quality of oil. The only change in technique was that the cutting stage was eventually made more secure. It became “an eighteen inch wide plank about twenty feet long braced out from the side of the vessel by boards about ten feet long, either tied or bolted to the ends of the stage” (Lytle 1984, 136-37). The mate began by cutting a strip in the skin and blubber of the whale. He then opened a hole at the beginning of the strip and inserted a hook on a chain attached to the winch. The winch was turned, the vessel heeled over, the strip (called a blanket strip) disengaged from the whale, and the carcass turned slowly in the sea. Periodically the winch was stopped and a new hole was cut in the blanket and secured by a hook. Another mate, wielding a double-edged sword called a boarding knife, then cut across the strip above the new hole, and the severed blanket was brought aboard and lowered into the blubber room. There the blanket strip was divided into horse pieces, roughly eighteen inches long and six inches wide (Scammon [1874] 1968,238). Whatever flesh remained was removed by seamen using long leaning knives. The horse pieces were minced-that is, many parallel cuts were made in the blubber, but not in the skin-to facilitate trying out. Mincing called for a long, two-handled knife. Efforts to mechanize the process began in the 1820s; despite a number of inventions, no cost-effective machine was produced. Hand mincing continued to the end of American whaling. The minced horse pieces were thrown onto the deck and thence, by seamen using long-handled forks called blubber hooks, into the try-pot. The try-pot, a large, cast-iron pot set in a brick tryworks, was fueled by whaleskin and other scraps left over from the trying-out process. The boiling oil was periodically skimmed for scraps, which were thrown into the fire. The oil itself was taken from the pot by means of a long-handled iron or copper bailer and placed in a copper cooling tank, from which it was removed to a holding tank. Oil casks were filled from this tank and stored in the hold. The head oil from sperm whales could be bailed directly into casks. No processing was required. The heads of baleens were brought to the deck, where men with spades cut off the blubber and men with spades and axes removed the baleen. It will be obvious that the tasks of cutting in a whale and trying out the blubber were arduous, dangerous, and time-consuming. Efforts were made to shorten the process, lessen the required labor, and improve safety; but no important innovations resulted. Lytle (1984, 149) devotes more than a page to Hunter’s slicing machine, ending with the sentence: “There is no record of stating his particular reasons: how it was exactly, there is no telling now; but, on a sudden, as the eightieth or ninetieth bucket came suckingly up-my God! poor Tashtego-like the twin reciprocating bucket in a veritable well, dropped head-foremost down into this great Tun of Heidelburgh, and with a horrible oily gurgling, went clean out of sight!” Queequeg delivers him by cesarean section, conducted with a boarding-sword. (Melville [ 185 I ] 1983, 35 1-52).

Bailing the case. This drawing and the next four come from the journal of an anonymous crewman aboard the whaling bark Clara Bell of Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, in the 1850s. They were first reproduced to illustrate Haley 1948. The case is the upper part of the head of the sperm whale; case oil is very pure and could be stored without processing. It’s also very slippery, as one of these crewmen is discovering: “[Tlhe clear, snow-white spermaceti [is] bailed or scooped out; the men plunging waist-deep in the pulpy, cellular ooze” (Church 1938,36). Oil was bailed from the case without bringing the head on deck when the whale was very large; the crewman stood on the head as it was suspended over the sea from the side of the vessel.

Cutting up the junk. The junk is the central section of the head of the sperm whale. The oil it contains had to be extracted by trying out. These men are cutting the junk into pieces small enough to fit in the try-pots, using spades.

Stripping ivory. The ivory is the sperm whale’s teeth, which will be used by these fellows and their shipmates for scrimshaw, “perhaps the only indigenous Yankee handicraft.’’ Scrimshaw includes a variety of carved articles, ranging from pictures engraved on the teeth to implements for use in the kitchen, such as pie wheels (Murphy 1967, 16).

Hoisting the blanket strip. Note the men balanced somewhat precariously on the cutting stage, and the sharks swimming around the carcass.

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Trying out the horse pieces. The man at the far side of the tryworks is using a blubber hook to add a minced horse piece to the try-pot (minced horse pieces were also called bible leaves). His companion is stoking the fire.

Hunter’s blubber-cutting machine ever having been used.” Another page and a half on Ricketson’s mincing machine end, “Ricketson’s machine was not practical and it is doubtful that it was ever used” (152). Finally, there is Hunter’s tryworks; two pages describing its advantages end, “There is no record of a whaleship using Hunter’s mechanical tryworks” (165). Innovations in vessel design made whalers more productive, but the processes of cutting in and trying out did not change significantly from the beginning to the end of New Bedford whaling. The only major innovation in bone production was the introduction of improved winches to move the baleen. (This account is taken from Bockstoce 1986, 79-85.) The baleen operation began when a boatsteerer-usually the one who had first harpooned the whale-dropped down onto the carcass, lashed to the side of the vessel, and began removing the whale’s lip. Holes were cut in the lip to accommodate hooks attached to lines carried inboard, cuts were made at the base of the lip, and the lip was hauled aboard. The boatsteerer-in this capacity known as the monkey-now began to cut the whalebone free of the upper jaw, using a spade. The position of the whale was periodically shifted, by putting pressure on the blanket piece, to permit the monkey to cut away the baleen across the entire upper jaw. When the baleen, an enormous structure weighing as much as two thousand pounds, had been cut free, it was winched aboard. Then the baleen was split into sections, the first step in a series that divided the clumps of baleen. The remaining steps-cleaning and drying-were carried out over an extended period following the removal and trying out of the blubber. The principal activity involved removing a white, gumlike substance

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by scraping the bone with coconut shells or knives. This job and the drying out had to be done with great care, since improper handling could mean a loss of value.

7.4 Improvements in Shipbuilding Methods Throughout the first two-thirds of the nineteenth century, Americans could buy vessels from the world’s most efficient shipbuilding industry. In 1776 fully one-third of all British-owned vessels were American-built (McGowan 1980, 27), and the economic advantage that underlay that degree of market penetration increased for the next seventy-five years. Some of the advantage was, of course, due to the low price of timber, but it also rested on a more efficient production technology. “Working in a small, almost barren yard with a constantly changing labor force . . . the energetic colonial builder could produce two ships a year, in comparison with the one launched by the English counterpart” (Goldenberg 1976, 71). Despite the increasing size and complexity of vessels, American builders held to that schedule throughout most of the nineteenth century. Even after 1870 when the American advantage in wooden shipbuilding was beginning to be undercut, it usually took only four or five months to complete the hull of a typical ship or bark, and six months for the hull of even the largest. The keel of the 3,401-ton schooner Eleanor A. Percy, for example, was laid in March 1900 and the vessel launched in October (Hutchins 1941, 396). Between the 1820s and midcentury, American builders gradually introduced new construction techniques. Steam-driven saws meant frames could be cut and beveled-the most difficult single task-with one-sixth less labor, but diffusion was slow outside the most progressive yards. While most Maine shipbuilders were using steam saws by the early 1870s, the first such plant to open in Bath (the state’s shipbuilding center) used equipment imported from McKay’s Boston yard after his 1869 bankruptcy. McKay had been using a steam-driven tilting saw for twenty years (Bathe 1967,207). Planking was also cut, tapered, and beveled in steam-driven mills. Power-driven lathes were developed to cut the treenails (wooden pins) that fastened the timbers of the hull together; the yards’ blacksmith shops developed metalworking techniques and by the 1840s were importing machine tools from Europe. At that time, steam winches had generally replaced horses as the source of stationary power (Hutchins 1941, 330-31). “In most yards . . . large sheds, open on one side, were provided for hewing and fashioning in bad weather” (Hutchins 1941, 395). The most prosperous firms constructed ship houses for building vessels indoors. Before 1850 only two navy yards were so endowed (Chapelle 1967,279). By the Civil War, large, progressive builders had adopted most of these improvements, but there were still small establishments that built in the open and used hand techniques.

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Progress was also made in providing better-quality vessels. For example, before the 1840s the life of a vessel was often cut short by rot in the keelsonsthe beams (usually three) that run lengthwise above the keel to provide a ship’s structural foundation. Captain R. B. Forbes solved this problem by hollowing tunnels in the keelson timbers and filling them with salt pickle. Connecting pipes permitted the pickle to be replaced when the timbers had absorbed the current supply (McKay 1928,45-46). Not all problems were solved. As the virgin forests were cut, builders of wooden ships faced a shortage of curved timbers to use for frames. What was needed was a machine that could bend timbers to shape. Despite numerous experiments with clamps and steam boxes, and some partial success (the Ocean Bird [1853], the Pawnee [1858], and the 1,147-ton New Era [1870]), the process remained too costly to be profitable (Hutchins 1941, 395). The existence of small yards attests to the fact that, as late as midcentury, there were few economies of scale to be captured. Despite the emergence of Maine as the major shipbuilding center and concentrations of activity in Massachusetts, Connecticut, the Hudson River valley, and the Chesapeake, ships were built in small yards up and down the Atlantic coast (Moms 1979, 164). By the 187Os, however, the new technology began to show evidence of increasing returns. The number of American yards declined. Donald McKay was among those who failed, but the decline was concentrated among the smaller yards. Remaining firms grew larger. They expanded their facilities to incorporate the latest technology, and managed to capture the available scale economies (1989, but in wooden-ship construction these were never comparable to the economies available to builders of iron or steel hulls.

7.5 Improvements in Oceanography and Cartography A summary of the developments that increased productivity in ocean shipping in general, and in whaling in particular, must include innovations in oceanography and cartography, as well as the explorations on which more precise maps and charts were based. There was nothing new about exploring virgin waters and mapping their navigational hazards; sailors had always made charts. What was different was the extent of the area that was sailed for the first time between the late eighteenth century and 1900, and the degree to which governments professionalized what had been a largely amateur enterprise. Moreover, “[iln the life of sail, storms were less to be feared than calms, and unlike the steamship which could . . . travel the shortest distance between two points, the sailing ship route varied greatly according to seasonal winds and currents. Until the middle of the nineteenth century, there was no systematic research on ocean currents, winds and weather (Graham 1956, 81). The British navy had been involved in both cartographic and hydrographic endeavors since at least the time of James Cook’s voyages to the Pacific in the

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1770s. The history of American government efforts is intimately associated with the evolution of the U.S. Navy’s Depot of Charts and Instruments (later the U S . Hydrographic Office) and two of its early directors, Charles Wilkes and Matthew Fontaine Maury.I6 Beginning in the early 1830s Congress enacted a series of laws calling for naval surveys of areas of particular maritime concern. In 1836 an act was passed calling for the exploration and survey of the Pacific coast and the South Seas, in order “to determine the existence of doubtful dangers reported in the track of the United States trade, to make astronomical observations for locating shoals, islands, reefs, etc.; observations of terrestrial magnetism, variation of the compass, etc.” Two years later the government sent out the U.S. Exploring Expedition, with Wilkes in command.lXIn 1837 the depot published four charts resulting from surveys made by American naval officers; over the next five years it published eighty-seven more, nearly all products of Wilkes’s expedition. Upon his return in 1842, Congress approved the publication of an account of his discoveries; between 1844 and 1874 eleven atlases and twenty-four volumes, including Wilkes’s famous volume 23, Hydrography, were produced. Both the charts and the Wilkes volumes were made available to shipowners and sea captain^.'^ Although Wilkes’s expedition was by far the most famous, it was not the last of those government-funded scientific enterprises. On 3 August 1852, for example, the WSL reported that the Senate was considering “a bill ‘to authorize an exploration and reconnoisance [sic] of the courses of navigation used by whalers’ in the regions of Behring’s Straits; also such parts of the China Seas, Straits of Gaspar, and Java sea as lie directly in the route of vessels proceeding to and from China.” The editor applauded the measure because “the number of whale ships now cruising in those seas is about 250, and it is generally admitted that nearly all the charts of that remote portion of the globe are very imperfect.” Late in August Congress approved, and within a year the North Pacific Exploring and Surveying Expedition, which was to last six years, was launched (Stats. at Large of USA 10:104).It was first commanded by Cadwalader Ringgold, who had been a member of Wilkes’s expedition fifteen years before, 16. Wilkes is one of four candidates for discoverer of Antarctica. The others are a French naval lieutenant and two American sealers. The story of one of the sealers-Nathaniel B. Palmer of the sloop Hero-is told in Colby 1990,57-61. 17. In 1832, for example, Congress appropriated $20,000 to carry out the coastal survey authorized in 1807 (An Act to Carry into Effect the Act to Provide for a Survey of the Coast of the United States, 1832, Stats. at Large of USA 4570-71). The 1836 act was An Act Making Appropriations for the Naval Service, for the Year 1836 (Stats. at Large of USA 5:27-29). The quotation is from the 1924 Annuul Report of the Hydrographic Ofice as quoted by Weber 1926, 12. See also U S . Navy 1952.204. 18. For a thorough and beautifully illustrated account of the expedition, see Viola and Margolis 1985. 19. Weber 1926, 13. The act of Congress was An Act to Provide for Publishing an Account of the Discoveries Made by the Exploring Expedition, under the Command of Lieutenant Wilkes, of the United States Navy, 1842, Sratx at Large of USA 5534. Although it directed the publication of only one hundred copies, subsequent acts provided for reprints and their distribution.

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and then by John Rodgers.*O Between 1853 and 1859 the expedition produced enough information to enable the government “to publish detailed coasting charts of the entire coast of Japan, the coasts and islands of the Bering Sea, and of a portion of the Arctic Ocean (Weber 1926, 19). Wilkes became famous for his expeditions; Matthew Fontaine Maury seldom left Washington between l October 1844, when he took over the command of the depot, and 1861, when he joined the Confederate Navy. Wilkes’s contributions lay in the accuracy of the notes and measurements that he made personally, Maury’s, in his ability to collect and synthesize the notes and measurements of others. Wilkes provided the basis for a generation of maps and charts, Maury, for the scientific study of hydrography and for most sailing directions for the rest of the century. Maury was not the first hydrographer, but his work stands out because of its breadth and attention to detail (Villiers 1953, 78-79). He made no attempt to do all of the work himself. Instead, he tried to recruit the help of all the nation’s sea captains, and managed to recruit a substantial number. Each cooperating captain was furnished with a set of forms on which he was asked to reporton a day-by-day basis-his ship’s destination and location, the mileage sailed, the ocean currents encountered, wind speed, air pressure and temperature, water temperature, and any other marine and meteorological phenomena he thought pertinent (McKay 1928, 115-16; Weber 1926, 17). Maury collected, synthesized, and analyzed these reports. He plotted on a single chart the tracks of several hundred ships traveling from one specific port to another but traveling in different years and in different seasons-noting along each track the winds and currents encountered each day. The statistics gathered in these working charts-charts based on the combined experience of a sizable fraction of the nation’s navy and merchant captains-gave Maury the evidence he needed to generalize about ocean conditions (Graham 1956, 82). He established the best routes for sailing ships at various times of year on all the standard voyages. He did not claim that “there was one sailing route, and only one: but at each season of the year, there was very definitely a best way” from one port to another. Certainly there were variations in the weather, but Maury’s routes were best for average conditions in any given month, or even week (Villiers 1953,79). His charts included information on winds and currents, ocean temperatures, and even magnetic influences on a 20. John Rodgers came of a distinguished naval family. His father, John, “fired . . . the first shot in the war” of 1812 and at the conclusion of the war was offered the position of secretary of the navy, which he turned down. The son surveyed the coast of Florida in 1840-43 and 1849-52 and took part in the expedition to chart the North Pacific in 1852-55. In 1855, in command of the Kncennes, he explored the Arctic Ocean. From then until 1861, when he began his service in the Civil War, he participated in writing the report of the explorations in which he had taken part. After the war Rodgers was the commandant of the Boston Navy Yard, commanded the Asiatic fleet, and ended his career as superintendent of the U S . Naval Observatory in Washington, DC, where “under his administration Prof. Asaph Hall discovered the moons of Mars’’ (Appletons’ Cyclopaedia ofAmerican Biography 1888,5:297).

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vessel’s compass (Graham 1956, 82). As Maury said, “[Tlhus the young mariner . . . would here find at once that he had already the experience of a thousand navigators to guide him on his voyage.”** The results of Maury’s work were published in a series that came to be known as Wind and Current Charts and in his ten-volume Sailing Directions. There were six series of Wind and Current Charts: Track Charts, Trade-Wind Charts, Pilot Charts, Whale Charts, Thermal Charts, and Storm and Rain Charts. Together they covered such diverse topics as the “prevailing winds and currents, their limits and general characteristics, and, in general, all the physical features of the ocean, including its meteorology, the limits of icebergs, the feeding ground of whales, and all the facts of interest and value to the maritime community.”22Maury oversaw eight editions of Sailing Directions. The first three track charts were issued in 1848. The rest, as well as the “other series of Wind and Current Charts were issued from time to time, as they were succesively completed, and their coverage was gradually extended to include every navigatable sea” (Weber 1926, 18). The impact of Maury’s work on the lengths of voyages was dramatic. By the early 1850s, for example, the average passage from an East Coast port to the Equator had been reduced from forty-one to thirty-one days. One Baltimore captain even made the run in twenty-four. The average passage from England to Australia via the Cape of Good Hope-eleven thousand miles-had taken 125 days. With the new charts it was reduced to 92 (Graham 1956,82). It is not surprising that Maury’s work was rapidly diffused. During his tenure the depot issued and distributed free, “to merchant vessels alone, twenty thousand copies of Sailing Directions, and two hundred thousand copies of Wind and Current Charts.” During the same time, the depot engraved, published, and oversaw the distribution of an additional forty-four general sailing charts that depended both on Maury’s work and on the explorations of Rodgers and Commodore Perry (Weber 1926, 18). In the fifteen years after 1850, whaling and merchant captains benefitted also from a worldwide expansion of the network of lighthouses and from the introduction of other aids to navigation, such as channel buoys, in restricted waters. In 1861 the east and west coasts of the United States were joined by the electric telegraph, and New Bedford agents could communicate with whalers reprovisioning in San Francisco. The Civil War hastened the expansion of the domestic telegraph net; news of markets and prices now diffused quickly, and 21. Quoted in Graham 1956, 82. Maury’s work was beneficial chiefly to merchant ships sailing from port to port on predetermined schedules, but whalers gained as well. Not only were captains able to choose the best routes on their outbound voyages to the Indian, Pacific, and Western Arctic Oceans and on the return trip to New Bedford, but they were able to choose the best tracks to take as they shifted operations from the Arctic to the New Zealand grounds or from the Sea of Okhotsk to the northwest coast of the United States. And, of course, whalers alone reaped the benefits of Maury’s whaling charts. 22. Commander Bartlett to the National Academy of Sciences, letter about Maury’s activities, quoted in Report of the Joint Commission 1886, 26-27.

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the performance of markets improved. The Atlantic cable-linking the United States, through Great Britain and the Channel cable, with the now very fully articulated Continental system-was opened in 1866; it proved a great boon for oil merchants in need of market information. In the 1870s the European systems spread to take in Scandinavia, Russia, the Middle East, India, Australia, and New Zealand. For whaling agents this meant contact with more reprovisioning and shipping points, and easier control of ventures. The rapid expansion of the Latin American systems in the 1870s and their connection with the U.S. system further augmented the information network. Whalemen lost a potential extension of the communications net when the Western Union Telegraph Company gave up plans to run a line through Canada and Alaska, across the Bering Strait, and through Russia to China and Japan. The company had not believed that the Atlantic cable was possible; once the impossible was accomplished, the Orient was accessible via Europe. The company wound things up: “[Tlhe iron wires were sold to the Indians to be used for suspension bridges and fishing tackle, while the green-glass insulators supplied the Indians with drinking glasses for years” (Ahvenainen 1981, 30; see also Bright 1911; Tribolet [1929] 1972). The telegraph system was not extended to Honolulu in time to do whalemen much good. To do so was feasible at a fairly early date, but for some reasonperhaps the limited returns expected-the line was not built until much later.

7.6 Whalecraft Innovations In 1874 Charles M. Scammon (1968, 216) published the statement, “There has been as great a revolution in the mode of killing whales during the past twenty years, as there has been in the art of naval warfare; were it not for this, but few whalers would now be afloat.” This section describes whalecraft innovations of the nineteenth century, investigates the speed with which they were adopted, and tests Scammon’s belief that the important innovations were produced and diffused within a short time.23 In American-style whaling the attack was made from small, light but strong, double-ended, open boats-twenty-eight to thirty feet long, six feet wide, and shallow. The craft had to be light because the whaling routine called for them to be lowered and then brought back aboard the vessel many times on a voyage. Lightness, shallow draft, and the design of hulls and oars made them relatively easy to row, an important characteristic, since the pursuit of the whale often meant rowing for hours at a time. They had to be strong, to resist the “racking strains of being towed by the whale or being lowered and raised in the davits.” To achieve this end, they were “clinker built. . . i.e. the thin boards that cover 23. Much of the information on inventions comes from Lytle 1984. This excellent book is concerned chiefly with invention, per se, rathcr than innovation and diffusion. See also Scammon [I8741 1968.

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the ribs overlap one another, thus giving strength to the boat and enabling it to be made much lighter.” Finally, they had to be seaworthy, since whalemen worked in all weathers, and over considerable distances: two boats of the Essex, after that vessel was sunk by a whale, sailed more than two thousand miles before they were picked up.” The equipment in the boat and the method of attack depended somewhat on the type of whale and the location of the chase. Gray whales and humpbacks were typically taken in bays, where the water was shallow enough for equipment that would be useless in the rougher and deeper waters outside. For example, since a humpback sinks when it dies, hunters carried buoys to mark the location of the carcass until it rose again to the surface, but the technique worked only in shallow water. Anchors had uses in bay hunting, but none in the open sea. The Greener swivel harpoon gun was effective in bays, and it kept hunters a safer distance from the ferocious gray whale than did the standard harpoon, but the Greener was rarely used by American open-sea whalemen because it was ineffective unless the seas were perfectly calm-an unusual event on the ocean Whalemen were reluctant to employ explosive devices against sperm whales. These animals travel in pods of fifteen to twenty, which would scatter at the sound of an explosion. Explosives were used in hunting right whales, since they travel alone or in very small groups. Bowheads posed peculiar problems. They could-and did-seek escape from hunters under the Arctic ice. In the bowhead fishery there was a premium on implements that could stop the whale in its tracks; there, explosive devices were quickly adopted. Despite these variations the American system had some characteristics observable in all the fisheries. We will take, first, the case of a vessel hunting sperm whales in the Pacific, and then examine the differences in other fisheries and other grounds. Slung from davits above the deck were four or five whaleboats; two or three spares were stored on skids above the poop. Men were in the crosstrees on watch. When whales were sighted and the vessel had been maneuvered to within about a mile of the pod, the boats were lowered to give chase. Each boat carried six men-five oarsmen (three starboard, two port) and a steersman (boatheader).The latter was normally a mate, although it was not uncommon for the captain, and occasionally for an extra-skilled seaman, to serve as 24. Ansel 1978, 2, 3; Olmsted [I8411 1969, 19. The description of “clinker built” is from Olmsted. In the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, boats were typically smaller than those described here and carried five men. See Macy [I8351 1970, 142. 25. Lytle 1984, chaps. 4,6. The Florida was outfitted with a Greener and twenty irons in 1858. See Williams 1964,209. Part of this book is the diary of Eliza Azelia Williams, who went whaling with her husband and raised a family at sea. She describes the first mate’s shooting at fin whales from the deck of the vessel, probably with the Greener (47, 51). She does not report that he hit any finners with it, but once he shot (but lost) a humpback, while the gun was mounted in his whaleboat (139).

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boatheader. With all the boats on the sea, two to five men were left aboard the ship to sail it, keep lookout, and signal the movements of the whales. A whaleboat was sailed when there was a wind and a good distance to go, but the sail was taken down and the oars unshipped as the boat neared the whales. If there was danger that the sounds of rowing would frighten them, paddles were used instead. A whaleboat was crowded with gear: a mast and a spritsail or lag sail, a long steering oar, five rowing oars, and paddles. In the center, between the rows of oarsmen, were two tubs filled with line. The line in one tub was run to the stem, around the loggerhead (an upright post), and then forward, where it passed through a metal groove in the bow and was attached to the harpoons. The second tub contained spare line, spliced to the primary line and ready for use should the whale dive deep enough to require it. The boat also carried, among other things, harpoons, lances, perhaps whale guns (more likely in right whaling), and cutting implements called spades. All told, Scammon says, something like eighty-two items of gear were stored aboard the typical whaleboat.26 When a whale had been approached and the boat virtually driven onto its back, the boatheader told the forward starboard oarsman-called the harpooner or boatsteerer-to rise and cast his harpoons. The harpooner tried to place two harpoons; if there wasn’t time to cast the second, it was stored in the bottom of the boat, or, if already attached to the line, it was thrown over the side to prevent injury to men and craft. With the whale securely held by the harpoons and the oars removed from the water, boatheader and harpooner changed places, harpooner now becoming boat~teerer.~’ Consider the character of this maneuver. Once the whale felt the harpoons, it usually swam off at a rapid clip; sperm whales have been known to move at a rate of twenty-five miles per hour. The line attached to the harpoons-it ran down the center of the boat, from stern to stem-paid out so 26. “The equipment belonging to a modem whale-boat consists of one mast and yard, or sprit, one to three sails (but usually a jib and mainsail), five pulling-oars, one steering-oar, five paddles, five rowlocks, five harpoons, one or two line-tubs (into which the line is coiled), three hand-lances, three short-warps, one boat-spade, three lance-warps, one boat-warp, one boat-hatchet, two boatknives, one boat-waif, one boat-compass, one boat-hook, one drag, one grapnel, one boat-anchor, one sweeping-line, lead, buoy, etc., one boat-keg, one boat-bucket, one piggin, one lantern-keg (containing flint, steel, box of tinder, lantern, candles, bread, tobacco, and pipes), one boat-crotch, one tub-oar crotch, half a dozen chock-pins, a roll of canvas, a paper of tacks, two nippers, to which may be added a bomb-gun and four bomb-lances; in all, forty-eight articles, and at least eighty-two pieces” (Scammon [ 18741 1968,224-25). Scammon notes that “[tlhe full equipment as here enumerated, is modified to suit the particular branch of whaling pursued, as for instance, in deep-sea whaling there is no use for the anchor, and in sperm whaling the sweeping-line, buoy, etc., are not required; while in California Gray whaling in the bays or lagoons, the anchor is indispensable, and the grapnel, sweeping-line, lead, and buoy, are of much service. But many other articles are left out or supplied to a limited extent, so that the boat may be as light as possible, and work easily and quickly in shallow water.” 27. The oar handles were set in cleats, to keep the blades out of the water.

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fast that it could remove the arm or leg of a man unlucky enough to be caught in one of its loops. The boat was small and narrow, and it was packed with gear. These were the circumstances in which the boatheader ran from stem to bow, passing the harpooner, who was moving back from bow to stern. If all went well, the maneuver ended with the harpooner (now the boatsteerer) taking over the steering oar, and the boatheader standing in the bow with a spade or lance in his hand. If he had moved forward quickly enough, before the whale sounded, he slashed at it with his spade in an attempt to sever the tendons in its flukes (tail) and cripple it. Unless they were perfectly executed, the exchange of positions and the second physical assault on the whale could produce disaster for boat and men. In fact, the attempt to cut the tendons was so dangerous that it was eventually abandoned by most whalemen. The purpose of most harpoons was to hook the whale and attach it to the whaleboat. The injury rendered by the harpoon coupled with the weight of the line and boat were intended to tire the whale and permit it to be approached again. Frequently the second approach took place only after many miles had been covered and many hours had passed. The actual killing was left to the boatheader, who stabbed the whale with a lance-a long, handheld, spearlike implement. The hunting technique remained essentially unchanged, but over time the implements were improved significantly. The principal innovations were introduced between the late 1840s and the mid- 1860s, and they were widely diffused during the period of the American fleet’s decline. From the American point of view the most important innovations in harpoons (called irons by whalemen) involved their design and the means by which they were propelled from boat to whale. Both sets of improvements were intended to increase the probability that, once launched, the harpoon would fasten securely to the whale rather than missing completely or pulling loose. Innovations in design were numerous, and some were widely and quickly adopted. Although the variations on each style were great, there were three basic types: the two-flued, the one-flued, and the toggle. The names are descriptive. The two-flued harpoon was shaped like an arrowhead, with sharp leading edges designed to enter the whale smoothly and dull following edges intended to lodge in the flesh and secure the whale. Nonetheless, all too often the two-flued harpoon pulled out. The one-flued harpoon-with only one following edge-was designed to minimize the chance that the whale would escape; it was widely thought to be superior to its predecessor, the two-flued. The point of the harpoon that entered the whale was narrow. When the whale pulled against it, the single barb-or flue-caught in its flesh, the soft neck of the iron bent, and the harpoon turned parallel to the body of the whale, thus firmly attaching the animal to the line and, in turn, to the boat. The toggle iron achieved the same result more effectively. It turned on a pivot. When the harpoon was thrown, it was held in a fixed position-sharp edges forward-by a

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This advertisement in the Whalemenk Shipping List and Merchants' Transcript for a manufacturer of whalecraft shows a variety of implements available to the trade i n the mid-nineteenth century. Reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

small, light piece of wood; when the harpoon entered the whale the wood broke, the head turned, and the whale was securely hooked.28 The toggle iron was first employed in 1848, and its effect on the industry 28. See, for example, the favorable reports of the toggle in the WSL 31 May, 19 July 1853. The first report (from the ship Ohio) asserts that twenty-two bowheads were hit and twenty-one cap-

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was immediate (Lytle 1984, 33). Between May 1830 and November 1844 James and Thomas Durfee, leading New Bedford manufacturers of whalecraft, produced 22,133 two-flued harpoons and none of any other design. Between November 1844 and May 1850 (only two years after the innovation of the toggle) they produced 7,791 harpoons-7,526 two-flued and 265 toggle irons. Between May 1850 and November 1862 the numbers were almost equal: 20,462 two-flued and 20,191 toggle.29The outfitting books of the bark Ospray list 190 “common” irons and 50 toggle in 1854; 40 two-flued, 10 one-flued, and 60 toggle in 1866; and 10 two-flued, 11 one-flued, and 90 toggle in 1880.3” The bark Louisa camed all common irons in 1850; 130 common and 50 toggle in 1853; 42 each of the one- and two-flued and 100 of the toggle in 1856; 36 two-flued, 20 one-flued, and 100 toggle in 1865; and 10 two-flued, 3 one-flued, and 120 toggle in 1874 (Lytle 1984, 16). In 1869 the bark Globe listed 36 toggle and none of any other kind. Scammon ([1874] 1968, 316) recommended that a first-class whale ship on a Cape Horn voyage carry 15 two-flued harpoons and 150 toggle harpoons. The lessons are clear. The two-flued and toggle irons were the important designs; the one-flued had only a limited transitional significance. Moreover, while the toggle iron was adopted quickly and achieved an importance equal to the two-flued iron by the 185Os, it did not displace the older designs until the early 1870s. Even then, outfitting books typically called for a few common irons in addition to toggles. Most American harpoons were thrust or thrown-darted, the whalemen said-by hand. The harpoon was attached to the trunk of a sapling, its bark left on to improve the grip. The harpooner darted his pole and, if he was successful, the harpoon hooked the whale. The pole eventually fell out of the harpoon socket-it was not attached to the socket by any fastener-and floated away, leaving the whale effectively linked with the boat through the harpoon and its attached line. Even when the boatsteerer was extraordinarily powerful, the range of hand-thrown harpoons was very limited. Innovative efforts, therefore, centered on new modes of propulsion-guns and, to deliver the newly invented rocket harpoons, rocket launchers. The latter resembled the bazooka of World War 11. The swivel gun was invented in the early eighteenth century and figured in the Scotch and English fisheries, but never played a prominent role even there. It could not be accurately aimed in rough seas, and its kick often damaged the whaleboat. The latter consideration was of particular impor-

tured, with only eight toggle irons. The second tells of the capture of forty-one whales with thirtyfive toggles, none of which failed. 29. Durfee Papers. Lytle (1984, 11, 172-74) traces the careers of the Durfees as blacksmiths, shipsmiths, and machinists. 30. Ospray 1854, 1866, 1880. We believe we have looked at every outfitting list and every record of a manufacturer of whalecraft housed in the Old Dartmouth Historical Society Whaling Museum, the Melville Room of the New Bedford Free Public Library, the libraries of Harvard University, and the G. W. Blunt White library at Mystic, Connecticut.

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tance to the Americans, whose whaleboats were lightly made. Thus the early swivel gun made no impact at all on the American fishery. In 1837 an English gunsmith, William Greener, produced an improved version of the swivel gun. At that time it was not well suited to the American fishery, and few were employed. Within two decades the discovery of new grounds made the Americans more receptive to its innovation. The Pacific gray whale migrates each autumn from the North Pacific to the Baja Peninsula, where its young are born and nurtured. Once these Lower California grounds were discovered, Arctic whalemen, driven out by advancing ice each fall, found gray whales to be ideal off-season prey. They were trapped while tending their young in the confined spaces of the shallow Baja bays. The waters were calm enough to permit the effective use of the Greener, and the ferocity of the mothers protecting their young (whalemen called the gray whale the devilfish) made hunters grateful for the distance the swivel gun allowed them to keep. By 1850 the Greener was advertised in the WSL, and it soon made its mark in California bay whaling (Lytle 1984, 80-81). It was not extensively employed in any other part of the American fishery.

A whaleboat under sail-probably off Baja California-approaches a gray whale. The man in the bow is prepared to fire his Greener gun as soon as the whale surfaces. This drawing was published in Charles M. Scammon’sMarine Mammals in 1874. It is reproduced here courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

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The rocket launcher would seem to have represented a more promising line of development. It was light and did not have the kick of a gun. Both American and British inventions were patented as early as the 1820s, and the British version was said to have killed a large number of whales during its initial trials. Neither invention was widely adopted, and therefore neither had any significant impact on the whaling industry. Contemporaries viewed both as inventions that might provide a foundation for their attempts to hunt the fast-swimming rorquals, which nineteenth-century whalers seldom managed to bring home. The blues, fins, seis, and minkes could not normally be approached and taken by conventional methods. Rocket launchers, advertised as capable of hitting a whale at a distance of forty yards or more, seemed to have solved this problem. There was also initially a hope that the rocket-driven harpoon would overcome a second obstacle: rorquals tend to sink when they are killed. If they were to be successfully hunted, a method had to be developed to keep them afloat or to raise them from the deep. Among the rorquals, humpbacks frequented shallow coves. There they could be killed by conventional methods and their bodies marked by buoys, to picked up days later when the accumulating gases eventually forced carcasses to the surface. The blues and the finsthe largest and most numerous of the rorquals-could not be taken in this way. William Congreve, the inventor of the British rocket harpoon, believed his device would solve the problem. It included an explosive charge in the harpoon that could, he argued, both kill and physically alter the whale in a way that would keep the carcass afloat. In fact it did not. His harpoon killed a number of rorquals, but most sank and were lost (Tonnesen and Johnsen 1982,18). It is not clear why the rocket harpoon was not employed in the sperm- and right-whale fisheries, where losses from sinking were negligible. In the case of sperm whales, the explanation may lie in the hunters’ recognition that they could, if they were careful, take three or four whales from a pod by conventional methods. One shot from a rocket launcher would scatter the pod, and the hunter would have to settle for at most a single whale (if, of course, he was lucky enough to hit one). It may also be true that the rocket represented only a modest gain for right and bowhead whalemen. With it they might kill an occasional whale that the boats were unable to approach, but the gains with respect to the rest may not have been seen to be very great. Neither explanation is entirely satisfactory. After all, four to six spermwhaling boats, each armed with a rocket launcher, could surely get off four to six shots, rather than one, before the pod scattered. Furthermore, given the fighting abilities of sperm whales, harpooning from a distance ought to have reduced the loss of boats, equipment, and men. In the case of the bowhead, the rocket launcher would also appear to have had real virtues: a dead whale cannot escape under the Arctic ice. Nonetheless, the rocket launcher was nearly confined to the rorqual fisheries, and Americans hunted few rorquals. The two Americans who employed the rocket launcher most extensively were Thomas Welcome Roys, a whaling captain from Southampton, New

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York, who opened the Western Arctic hunting grounds, and Gustavus A. Liliendahl, of New York City, an explosives expert. Roys patented rockets and their launchers in 1861, 1862, 1866 (with Liliendahl), and 1879 (the last patent was granted two years after his death). He joined with Liliendahl in an effort to use the rocket to hunt fins and blues off the coast of Iceland, a venture that was continued by Liliendahl after he and Roys parted company. The partners employed steamboats to tow whaleboats to the hunting ground. When whales were sighted, the whaleboats were released to launch the attack. The rocket was intended not only to kill the whale but also, like a conventional harpoon, to fasten it securely to the whaleboat. If the whale sank, the steamboat was standing by and could winch it up. Once secured, the whale was towed by the larger vessel to a shore station for processing. There was, however, a grave danger that the whale would be attached to the whaleboat while still alive. In that case the whaleboat and crew were likely to be taken on a ride at speeds much greater than were encountered on the sleigh rides of the conventional whale fishery. The Roys-Liliendahl firm managed to kill some whales, but captured only about one-half of those destroyed-a much poorer record than that of the conventional industry. The firm also experienced severe financial difficulties, and in 1867, a year after the partnership broke up, it failed. The Roys technique continued to be used until the early 187Os, but only a few whales were captured. Altogether, in all years, Roys’s innovation killed fewer than 150 rorquals. There is a strong suggestion that the method was not widely imitated because it was technically flawed, but it is possible that the problem lay at least in part with Roys’s and Liliendahl’s inadequate business sense and managerial skill^.^' Conventional harpoons did not kill whales, but only hooked them. Whales were actually killed by a lance-a spearlike implement. Harpoons were made of iron, the shank of soft iron that allowed it to bend under pressure, reducing the likelihood that the head would pull out of the whale. Hand lances were stabbing instruments, not hooks. To permit the boatheader to strike again and again, they were designed to be easily thrust into the whale and easily withdrawn. The body of the lance was usually made of tough wrought iron mounted on a pole, but the head was frequently made of steel. Steel was preferred; it completely displaced wrought iron “after steel was produced in quantity in this country” (Lytle 1984, 133). The substitution was presumably associated with a decline in the relative price of steel, which fell particularly sharply after 1867. If the ratio of steel to wrought-iron prices in 1867 is taken as a base of one hundred, the relative price of steel fell to seventy-two in 1875 and to fiftythree in 1882 (Swank 1892, 514). Agent response was swift; outfitting lists immediately reflected the change: the lists for the Emily Morgan (1 842) and 31. Tamessen and Johnsen 1982, 18-20; Lytle 1984, chap. 6. Tflnnessen and Johnsen cite business problems. Lytle (128) records the following words from the posthumous patent: “These last improvements made by Roys are intended to remedy the defects in the implement as formerly constructed, and which actually rendered it to a great extent impracticable.”

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the ships Julius Caesar ( I 837), Magnolia (1 842), and Francis Henrietta (1 843) mention no steel-headed lances, while those for the barks Globe (1869) and Mary Frazier ( 1876) mention no iron-headed lances. Scammon’s best-practice list ([ 18741 1968, 3 16) for the early 1870s also contains no hand lances with iron heads. The Ospray (1854, 1868) carried half common and half steelheaded lances in 1854, but its outfit changed to all steel-headed by 1868. The substitution of steel for iron was not the only potential improvement in the lance that inventors offered. At one time or another, they suggested heating, electrifying, and poisoning the lance.32None of these plans came to much. Not surprisingly, crewmen concluded that, if the poison killed the whale, it might also kill them when they handled the blubber. The problems of making the lance explosive were more tractable. The devices developed-some intended to kill by driving a lance head deep into the whale, others, by the force of the explosion-were usually part of an innovation that also included a mechanism for delivering the lance. The first of these was handheld and was similar to a shotgun. Unfortunately, it had a kick so strong that the boatheader was often thrown to the bottom of the boat. Sometimes his collarbone was broken; sometimes the craft was capsized. Considerable inventive effort was directed toward dealing with these problems, and eventually the Allen gun-more frequently called the Brand gun because it was developed and promoted by C. C. Brand-achieved wide a~ceptance.~’ The progress of the shoulder gun is exhibited nicely in the outfitting lists of the bark Ospray: those for 1851 and 1854 show no whale guns; those for 1866 and 1868 show three (fewer than one per boat); the number rose to six at the beginning of the 1870s; it was still six (one per boat plus two spares) a decade later. The bark Globe carried four in 1869, and Scammon in the early 1870s (1968,3 16) called for four on his Cape Horn whaler. The Lottie Beard, a resupply vessel, carried eight boxes of guns and lances in 1886 (Lottie Beurd Ac32. Similar means were attempted to make harpoons deadly. Lytle’s comment (1984, 134) on the prussic-acid lance probably can be applied to the rest as well: “It is doubtful that this type of lance was ever used in the American whale fishery.” It was used in the English fishery at least once, with great success-that is, it killed the whale. However, the WSL (14 August 1860) reported that “the men were so appalled by the terrific effect of the poisoned harpoon that they declined to use any more of them.” The electric harpoon was a German innovation that was reported to have been used in the Pacific by vessels sailing from Bremen, as well as by French vessels. The apparatus consisted of a 350-pound battery and a hand-cranked generator. The inventor claimed great success for it, but it seems not to have had much impact on the industry, certainly not on the American industry. See the stories in the WSL of 8 June, 5 July, 3 August 1852, and 12 April 1853. 33. The first report of a bomb lance in the WSL was on 17 August 1847: “The whole apparatus is certainly ingenious; whether or not it is really an improvement on the present mode of killing whales, is more than we are able to say.” By 13 November 1855 the newspaper was able to assert, “Guns for driving the harpoon have, we believe, been pretty generally abandoned,” but the bomb lance was being used “quite extensively.” See also stories and advertisements on 14 December 1852 (reporting an accident with an exploding whale gun), 16 November 1852, 7 June 1853, 11 July 1854 (reporting that the problem of the kick had been solved in the new Brown gun), 25 December 1855.26 May 1857, 8 June 1858, 14 September 1858, 5 October 1858, 13 December 1859, and 27 September 1864.

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count Book). The order books of Frank E. Brown, a New Bedford seller of whaling implements, show the sale of 1,906 feathered lances (for shoulder guns) and 921 long or unspecified lances (presumably all handheld) in 1877 and 1878. In the fall of 1899 and the spring of 1900, Brown listed only feathered lances and lances for darting Reports from the fleet indicate the effectiveness of the bomb lance. In 1850 the Parker Cook of Providence confronted a very large, angry sperm whale that had already “eaten up” two of her boats. The beast “made for the vessel, striking her in the bows, and knocking the cutwater aside, but without doing much more damage. The ferocious monster was then attacked from the bark, with the Patent Whaling Gun and Bomb Lance, and after receiving three lances was dispatched.” The WSL (11 November 1851) commented: “In the case of the Ann Alexandel; if Capt. Deblois had used the Bomb Lance it would no doubt have prevented the loss of his ship. . . . Most of the ships fitted this year, are supplied with this apparatus.” In 1855 ( 13 November) the newspaper reported: [Tlhe extent to which gunpowder is now being employed in the manufacture or rather in the capture of oil, is perhaps little suspected by the mass of our readers. Guns for driving the harpoon have, we believe, been pretty generally abandoned, but we are assured by a manufacturer of fuse, who has lately contracted for making a quality especially adapted to this sub-marine and blubbery location, that the bomb-lance is now being quite extensively employed by many vessels, and that some have sent home from the Sandwich Islands for further supplies. The manufacturer’s story was confirmed by the report from Honolulu of Captain Cleaveland of the ship Julien, who noted that he had on board eleven hundred barrels of oil and that he “had taken most of his whales with the bomb lance” (WSL 25 December 1855). Three years later the paper (8 June 1858) sang the further praises of the new technology, and acknowledged its widespread innovation. The most ugly species of whale to take is said to be the “California greys.” They are extremely shy, and when after a long chase, or by surprise, an iron is fastened in them they can run as fast as a locomotive, dive to the bottom of the ocean, or more frequently turn upon the boat and crush it to atoms with their flukes. . . . The Bomb Lance has, consequently, become an indispensable article in the outfit of these whalers-Some ships carry one gun for each boat, while others take only one or two. The guns cost from $40 to $50 each, and the bombs $3.50 a piece. 34. Order Book, Whaling Implements, 1877-1922, Brown Collection. Butler (1973,42) points out that the bomb lances were particularly useful in the Arctic, to keep whales from escaping under the ice. “Since this was not a problem when hunting the sperm whale, and because the noise of the guns scattered the other whales in the school, sperm whalemen made less use of these weapons.”

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The last significant innovation in whalecraft combined characteristics of the harpoon and the whaling gun. The darting, or Pierce, gun was mounted on the staff of a harpoon. When the harpoon was darted into the whale, a lever was depressed, the gun fired, and an explosive lance was driven deep into the whale. The Pierce gun delivered the explosive lance much more accurately than a shoulder gun. The location of the gun-close to the whale when it went off-meant that the lance was sent into the whale with great power, but did not convey a recoil to the boat. Finally, the weapon usually stopped the whale, preventing the long struggles that were common when a standard harpoon was thrown. In the Arctic, with the danger that a harpooned whale would dive under the ice, this feature was particularly important. The darting gun was probably the most effective single piece of whalecraft introduced into the American fishery in the nineteenth century; its development and diffusion, however, came late. It was invented in 1865 but not widely adopted until the 1870s. The outfitting books of the Ospray, for example, make no mention of darting guns in the late 1860s and early 187Os, but two of them plus thirty-one lances appear in 1880. In 1874 Scammon (1968, 316) called for four-one per boat-and fifty darting-gun bomb lances. Clearly Scammon saw important uses for the darting gun, but even he did not believe it would replace all its predecessors-his list also includes 35 steel-headed lances, 4 whaling guns other than the darting guns, and 150 shoulder gun bomb lances. The Frank E. Brown order books show a steady increase in the relative importance of the darting gun: the fraction of lances that fit it rose from 7 percent in 1877, to 9 percent in 1878, to 14 percent in 1879, to 41 percent in the fall of 1899. That Brown sold only eight Brand shoulder guns between the beginning of 1877 and the end of 1879, while disposing of eighty-one Pierce guns, is an even clearer indication of the change then under way. In summary, the most significant innovations in whalecraft were made between 1848 and 1865, and they were widely diffused from the 1850s through the early 1880s. The order of invention and adoption ran about as follows: toggle iron (1848-70), steel-head lance (1855-70), shoulder gun (1855-70), darting gun (186540). From the date of the widespread diffusion of the toggle iron (mid-1850s) to the period of general adoption of the darting gun is an interval of about twenty-five years. During that quarter century, the markets for sperm and whale oil were contracting, and the industry was contracting along with them. Whalecraft innovations, like the improvements in rig and vessel design, enhanced productivity and slowed the industry’s decline.

7.7 Institutional Innovation As long as whaling voyages were restricted to the North Atlantic, they were relatively short. The vessel returned periodically to its home port, off-loaded oil and bone, reprovisioned, acquired new outfits, filled vacancies in the crew, and set off on its next voyage. As new hunting grounds were developed, voyage

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length increased. Just to reach the Indian Ocean, the Pacific Ocean, or the Western Arctic took months of sailing. A vessel that returned to New Bedford after a year or so at sea did not make a very efficient use of its capital. Vessels began to remain away for three and four years. Supplies ran out. Crews were depleted by injury, death, and desertion. Accidents called for repairs; hulls had to be scraped, and worn-out gear had to be replaced. Oil and bone had to be shipped home. The facilities of ports on the west coast of Panama, in California, in Hawaii, and on the west coast of Australia developed to meet these requirements. Vessels could put in to such towns, send injured crewmen ashore, and recruit replacements. Provisions were taken aboard, including fresh fruits and vegetables to fend off scurvy. Supply ships from New Bedford brought whalecraft to replace the harpoons, lances, bombs, and guns used up in the hunt; they also brought mail. By prearrangement, instructions from agents were picked up by whaling captains, and news of the hunt was sent back to New Bedford. Agents formed business connections in resupply ports that made it possible for captains to be supplied with cash. U.S. consuls provided help in dealing with local laws and customs. By permitting longer voyages and by making vessels less dependent on their home ports, the rise of these towns changed the nature of the industry. The reprovisioning towns, indeed, took on the character of alternative home ports. Once the Western Arctic became a premier hunting ground and the transcontinental railroads were in place, the connections with New England were attenuated for many vessels, and San Francisco played a more important role in their activities than did New Bedford. This institutional innovation affected not only the whaling fleets but also the resupply ports themselves. Perth became a whaling boom town, as did many other resupply ports, but the economic gains were not without costs. The costs were often due to the behavior of the rough seamen loosed on the port by visiting whalers-crewmen anxious to erase the memory of tedious days and nights afloat, many with diseases to be passed on to the residents of the town. Hawaiian culture suffered from the intrusion of western sailors; all the resupply towns were unusually violent places.3s Compared with the important changes in vessel design, rigging, and whalecraft, the innovation of transshipment points appeared relatively early in the nineteenth century. Demand developed as soon as vessels began to sail to the South Atlantic, and it became more pronounced once whalers had begun seriously to hunt the Indian and Pacific Oceans. The use of resupply and transshipment ports must be dated to the 1820s; they became important elements in the story by the 1830s. 35. The first American whaler to make port in the Hawaiian Islands was the Balena, registered in New Bedford, Edmund Gardner, master. She arrived in the fall of 1819 (Judd 1974, 17). See Morgan 1948.82-85. for an account of the impact of the whaling industry on Hawaiian economy and culture.

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Improvements in the design of the capital stock also date from the 1820s, but the most pronounced developments did not occur until the second half of the century. During the 185Os, 186Os, and 1870s the speed with which innovations in the design of hulls, rigging, and whalecraft took place accelerated. These developments were important because there were forces at work during these decades tending to drive productivity down. For example, the quality of crews was declining. The innovations were a countervailing force, pushing productivity upward. Which set of forces was the more powerful? The question is treated in the next chapter.

8

Productivity

During the nineteenth century the New Bedford whaling industry changed dramatically: in size, in the composition of its capital stock, in the structure of output, in the distribution of effort among various whaling grounds, in the sources of labor supply, in the organization and techniques of production, and, no doubt, in other ways as well. Changes were made by whalemen in response to such developments as the discovery of new hunting grounds and shifts in the supplies of inputs and demands for outputs. Managers acted to cope with new problems and to exploit the new opportunities thereby created. How great were the challenges posed to the industry? In what ways did it respond? What degrees of success were achieved? The importance of the problems facing whalemen and of the managerial responses can be established only if it is possible to measure their effects on some index of performance. The significance of the opening of the Western Arctic, for example, could be judged in terms of the impact of Arctic hunting on the productivity of the industry and on its profits. Chapter 11 focuses on profits. Here we measure differences in productivity among whaling voyages and compute the effects of the principal factors believed to have influenced productivity. If information were available with respect to the amounts and the qualities of all inputs, there would be no productivity differences among voyages at all, except for those due to disembodied technical change-that is, technical change not embodied in capital, including human capital. There would be only output differences, which would be fully explicable in terms of the various inputs and their qualities-once again, with the exception of productivity differences resulting from disembodied technical change. In fact, however, the information needed to make a full and entirely satisfactory accounting of the causes of output differences among firms is never available, and evidence with respect to whaling is no exception. The productivity measurements carried out 297

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here refer to the productivity of undifferentiated labor and undifferentiated capital, combined, and to no other inputs. The measurements are analyzed by means of multiple regression analysis; variables reflecting the volumes of other inputs (natural resources-the whales), the qualities of inputs, and technological differences among voyages are entered on the right-hand side of the regression, with the object of explaining differences in productivity among voyages in these terms. Recent work on the theory of index numbers has shown that outputs, inputs, and productivity can be measured as effectively by using index numbers as by fitting econometric functions. Such index numbers have been used in the analysis of time-series, cross-section, and panel data; they have been applied to firm, industry, and country data; and, of course, they have been used in multiproduct and multifactor circumstances. They can be assembled from evidence on prices, outputs, and inputs, and they are relatively simple to compute. The index used in this chapter-representing a translog production function-has a clear intuitive meaning. It consists of the difference between translog multilateral output and input indexes. The output and input indexes, in turn, are also simple. The aggregated outputs (inputs) of a given whaling voyage are compared with the aggregated outputs (inputs) of the representative voyage, where the representative voyage is the average voyage. The exact form of the productivity index is

In the equation, lnh,,, is the productivity index (voyage specific); the R are the shares of total revenue attributable to the three individual outputs; the Y are quantities of the individual outputs; and Ware factor shares in income; the X are quantities of factor inputs; the R, lnY, W , and are average values across all voyages. Three outputs (sperm oil; whale oil, including blackfish and walrus oil; and baleen) and two inputs (labor and capital-man-months and vessel ton-months) are distinguished. Although the index is very nearly ideal for our purposes, it is not entirely without problems. First, in principle the method can be applied only in cases in which there are no scale economies, and New Bedford whaling may not meet this requirement. As the results of the regression will show, large vessels were slightly more productive than small ones. The advantage to large vessels was not great, however, and it held over only a very limited size range. It is highly unlikely that the limited scale economies in whaling (if they existed) seriously compromise our use of the index. Second, since the index is cast in log form, it cannot accept zero values. For

InX

1. The index was taken from Caves, Christensen, and Diewert 1982b. See also Heien 1983; Caves, Christensen, and Diewert 1982a; Diewert 1976; Nishimizu and Robinson 1984; Barnett, Offenbacher, and Spindt 1984; Denny and Fuss 1983.

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inputs that requirement poses no problem: no voyage took place without both a crew and a vessel. That is not the case for outputs. Some voyages returned with sperm oil only, some with whale oil and baleen, and some with all three products.2 The problem might have been dealt with by treating the industry as three separate industries, consisting of specialists in sperm whaling, specialists in baleen whaling, and generalists, hunting all kinds of whales. That did not seem to be the proper method. While it is true that some voyages began as sperm-whaling or baleen-whaling voyages-and some ended as they beganmost whalemen would take whatever whales they found, especially on the way home with stowage space aboard. Furthermore, as prices changed, vessels would shift from an emphasis on one type of whale to an emphasis on another. The reality seems to have been a single fleet, rather than three separate fleets; and it called for a single analysis, rather than three separate analyses. The analysis did recognize that specialization took place, by including on the right side of the regression equation variables taking account of it. We treated the industry as one industry, and we handled the problem of missing outputs in a practical, if inelegant, way commonly adopted in such circumstances. We assumed that the vessels, in fact, had small amounts of the nonexistent outputs, and replaced the zeros in the data set with these amounts. Values smaller than the base of natural logs produced absurd results, but a value as small as ten-a very small amount, compared with average voyage outputs-yielded reasonable results (Davis, Gallman, and Hutchins 1989, 114-15). We therefore substituted ten barrels or pounds for any smaller reported value. Finally, the analysis deals only with voyages from which vessels returned safely to port. Voyages that ended with the sinking of the vessel or its abandonment or sale or condemnation in a foreign port were ignored. It is not clear how, in such circumstances, productivity should be conceptualized and measured, nor is it clear what could be learned about whaling productivity by considering these cases. There are about 380 such voyages, of a total of 4,73 1 in the data set. We made no adjustments to productivity for the loss of men or whaleboats and other gear, or for damage to the vessel short of complete loss. These events were regarded as normal incidents of a whaling voyage, part of the flow of capital and labor expended in the process of production. Were comprehensive records of unusual losses available, they could be integrated into the analysis. Unfortunately, while there is much information of this type (see chapters 10 and 1l ) , it is not comprehensive and it does not lend itself to simple quantitative expression. We are now in a position to consider the developments that history and the2. In eighty-nine instances voyages ended with no output of any kind-the vessels came home clean, as the whalemen said. Every one of these voyages, however, was aborted, typically because the captain became sick or died. The median length of clean voyages was one month. These were not true whaling voyages, and we ignored them for present purposes.

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ory suggest influenced whaling productivity, and the decisions made by agents in their attempts to exploit or to offset the effects of these developments.

8.1 Developments beyond the Control of Managers 8.1.1

Supplies of Whales

The drift of the industry productivity index across time-falling as the industry expanded and rising very slightly as it contracted (see figure 1.1)-the persistent search for new hunting grounds, contemporary complaints, and even the structure of output, all suggest that as the industry expanded there may have been pressures on the stocks of whales. Whale numbers may have been so hunted down that the search became ever more costly and less rewarding. The evidence assembled in chapter 4 is not consistent with this view, but neither is it quite powerful enough to settle the issue. There is enough uncertainty to warrant running additional tests. To do so, we assembled annual indexes of hunting pressures on the whale populations of the four major grounds-the Atlantic (including Hudson Bay and Davis Strait), the Pacific, the Indian, and the Western Arctic. Pressure index numbers germane to the relevant date and destination were attached to each voyage. For example, a vessel that hunted in the Pacific was assigned sperm and baleen pressure index numbers relevant to the Pacific and to the date of the voyage. If excessive hunting reduced productivity, the regression coefficients of these indexes should have negative signs. Another huntingpressure index, combining sperm and baleen whales, was used in a second set of regressions. Details of the construction of the indexes are in appendix 8A. The indexes are clearly imperfect. For example, vessels destined for the Pacific often hunted in other oceans as well. Moreover, problems of whale scarcity, if they arose at all, probably affected specific grounds within an ocean, rather than the entire ocean. Unfortunately, there is no way to remove these imperfections. The indexes represent the best approach to the issue of whale scarcity that we were able to develop. Despite their crudity it is almost certainly the case that, if shortages of whales occasioned by overhunting lowered the productivity of the New Bedford fleet, the signs on the regression coefficients of these indexes would record the fact.

8.1.2 Competition among Whaling Vessels There is a second possible effect of hunting on measured productivity. Even if whale stocks were not being depleted, increased hunting might have led to lower productivity simply because of greater competition among vessels. One vessel coming on a pod of sperm whales might be able to take all the largest whales by itself; approaching the pod in company with other vessels, it would be less likely to come away with as many barrels of oil. The one case slides

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over into the other, of course. One vessel alone would be unable completely to destroy a pod, but three or four might do so. Still, it seems useful to distinguish analytically between the two cases: hunting pressures on the whale populations, on the one hand, and competition among whaling vessels, on the other. To that end a second index, reflecting whaling competition in each month and in each hunting ground, was constructed. The index number for any given ground and month is a ratio. The numerator is the number of vessel tons hunting in that ground in that month. The denominator is the number of whales (all species combined) living there before intensive hunting began, per one hundred square miles. Thus the index measures the number of vessel tons per whale per one hundred square miles of hunting ground. We assumed that each vessel hunted the ground its agent had specified, and that the competition index for the median month of a voyage adequately represents the competition faced by the vessel on that voyage. Appendix 8B gives more details of the construction of the index. The limitations of the hunting-pressure indexes (described above) are shared by the competition index. Competition could not have been all bad. Not infrequently, two whalers

The boats of four whaling vessels attack a pod of sperm whales off the coast of Hawaii in 1833. The artist shows the stroke and harpooner’s oars of each boat on the port side, which was contrary to norrqal (invariable?) practice. Colored aquatint, 1838, reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

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chose to hunt in concert, implying that, within limits, increased competition actually promoted greater productivity. Beyond these limits, however, it is reasonable to suppose that competition would lead to a lessening of measured productivity. We therefore entered the index in quadratic form. We expected that the coefficient on the index would carry a positive sign, the coefficient on the index squared, a negative. We expected that the effects of the negative element would overbalance the effects of the positive element at a relatively low level of competition. For example, although it was not uncommon for two vessels to hunt together, we know of no instances in which more than two did so. This strongly suggests that the benefits of cooperative behavior did not extend beyond two vessels. From the point of view of the individual captain or agent, the effects of these two factors (hunting pressures and hunting competition), if they had any effects at all, were not consequences of managerial decisions. They were exogenous factors. so far as individual firms were concerned. 8.1.3

Competition for Labor

As chapter 5 shows, the structure of the whaling labor force changed in the period 1840-66. The fraction of unskilled greenhands in a typical crew rose, as did the fraction of illiterate seamen. The quality of the crew could be said to have declined. At the same time the wage rates ashore for common and skilled workers rose, compared with the returns to whaling crewmen. It is reasonable to conclude from this evidence that opportunities ashore were improving relative to opportunities afloat and that the best men were being bid out of the whaling labor pool. The results of such developments would surely tend to lower the productivity of whaling. In fact, the standard literature assigns an important role in the decline of the American fleet to the declining quality of crewmen.' The evidence presented in chapters 5 and 7 has suggested that, coincident with shifts in the quality of crews, technical innovations were adopted that seem to have reduced the need for skilled crews. How should one interpret these changes? Did the competition of opportunities ashore lead to less skilled crews, which in turn led to the adoption of new 3. Charles Nordhoff's account can be interpreted to mean that the share of greenhands in whaling crews rose with the duration of voyages. It became difficult to recruit for long voyages and more difficult to retain the crew; desertion became a serious problem. According to Nordhoff (1895, chaps. 1,2, and pp. 234-36,245) experienced seamen were more likely to desert than were greenhands, since they had options not open to greenhands (e.g., the merchant marine). See also chapter 5 above. A study o f the records of whaling vessels suggests that deserting greenhands did have other opportunities. They could always sign on with a whaler heading home, since whalers seem persistently to have been filling berths emptied by desertion or death. This is the way Herman Melville came home, after two desertions from whalers. Note also that greenhands did not remain greenhands. Deserting after a year on a whaler, the former greenhand now had experience. Melville started as a greenhand and ended in the exalted position of boatsteerer. Nonetheless, Nordhoff's story is not his alone. See Hohman 1928, 66. It may be that the variable voyage length, discussed below, picks up some of the productivity effects of problems in recruiting and holding crew members, when the length of the typical voyage increased.

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vessel and rigging designs? Or did shifts in technique directly produce changes in the structure of the typical crew, without the intermediation of changes in wage rates ashore? The importance of opportunities ashore can be tested by introducing wagerate series for shore occupations on the right-hand side of the regression equation. If the best men were being bid away from whaling, with deleterious effects on productivity, the coefficients on these variables should be negative. The direct relationships among wage rates ashore, the skill mix of the typical crew, and productivity can be tested for the brief period 1840-58 and 1866, the only period for which relevant data are available. If opportunities ashore were indeed of primary importance, while technical changes represented an attempt to cope with the problem created by changes in relative wages, one would still expect to find negative coefficients on wage rates ashore-evidence that the best crewmen were drawn to jobs ashore and that the productivity of the fleet dropped accordingly. The coefficients on the indexes of deterioration in crew quality, on the other hand, might be positive, reflecting the relative success in any given year of vessels that had adopted the new techniques. The two sets of variables might pick up two different aspects of important developments-the wage-rate series measuring the influences of competition in the labor market on trends in whaling productivity, and the quality indexes measuring the differences in the cross-section between vessels that did and did not adopt the new techniques.

8.2 Managerial Decisions Managers made five kinds of choices that could influence productivity: they chose the crew, the grounds in which to hunt, the types of whales to be hunted, the duration of the voyage, and the technical characteristics of the vessel. Decisions about the crew have been briefly discussed; the choice of captain will be taken up in chapter 10. The other decisions are discussed next.

8.2.1 Hunting Grounds The vessel registrations of New Bedford list fifty separate hunting grounds as destinations. It would be possible to study the effects of managerial choices among hunting grounds by entering fifty dummy variables-one for each ground-in the productivity regression. That is not a sensible procedure. A vessel sailing for the northwest coast of the United States was unlikely to confine its attentions to this ground alone, even if the hunting there were good, certainly not if the hunting proved poor. ,It is safer to treat such a reported destination as an indication that the vessel was set to hunt the Pacific. The captain might not follow the agent’s instructions precisely. He might, for example, slip over to the Indian Ocean, or even up into the Western Arctic; and surely he would take any opportunity to capture whales as he passed through the Atlantic on his way to the Pacific. Nonetheless,

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the agent’s order to hunt some part of the Pacific is a fair indicator that the vessel would spend most of its time in that ocean. There is a second reason for ignoring the detail and distinguishing as destinations only major bodies of water-the Pacific, the Atlantic (including Hudson Bay and Davis Strait), the Indian, the Western Arctic. Some agents reported, for example, that their vessels would hunt the Sea of Japan or the Northwest Coast; most did not. They noted simply that a vessel would hunt the Pacific. Since most destination information is of this type, it is better to define the hunting-ground dummies at this level. In the regression the Pacific-the most common destination-is used as the basis of comparison. Dummies are entered for the Atlantic, Indian, and Western Arctic. Vessels reporting that they were headed, for example, for the Indian Ocean, the Pacific, and the Western Arctic-that is, some combination of grounds-are necessarily excluded. The numbers so excluded are not large, and the effects of their exclusion are unlikely to be i m p ~ r t a n t . ~ Before the fact it seemed reasonable to suppose that the regression would yield a positive sign on the Western Arctic dummy, a negative sign on the Atlantic, and a very small coefficient of either sign on the Indian. Productivity might be expected initially to vary from ground to ground, the differences disappearing as the fleet adjusted its activities to exploit effectively newly discovered grounds. The Pacific, Indian, and Western Arctic were the newer grounds; on that basis alone they might be expected to yield, on average, higher levels of productivity throughout the period. This is particularly true of the Western Arctic, which was discovered very late (1848).

8.2.2 Specialization Specialization in a particular type of whale varied from vessel to vessel and voyage to voyage. In an effort to see how far it mattered, a set of dummy variables indicating the degree and type of specialization is included on the right side of the regression. Voyages are divided into three groups (of roughly equal size): those in which sperm oil contributed at least 90 percent of the value of output, those in which whale oil and baleen contributed at least 90 percent, and all others. (The all-other group is the comparison base.)

8.2.3 Voyage Duration As the nineteenth century wore on, whaling voyages from New Bedford grew longer. One explanation for this development is that they were hunting more distant grounds. Within each ocean the duration of voyages increased also, and the reason may be the invention and diffusion of new institutional arrangements. As the whaling fleet expanded, ports in the Azores, Western Australia, Panama, Hawaii, and California began to specialize in servicing it. They 4.There are 194 of these mixed-ground voyages out of a total of 4,731 voyages in the data set. In another 71 cases we do not know the hunting ground.

305

Productivity

provided repair facilities, provisions, a convenient system for shipping oil and bone back home, a place to fill out a cargo, and replacement crewmen. By the early 1830s a vessel could sail to the Pacific and plan to stay there several years. Once the Western Arctic was opened and transcontinental railroads were in place, many vessels owned and registered in New Bedford made San Francisco a second home port. Did these new arrangements contribute importantly to productivity improvement? Unfortunately, there is no perfect quantitative index to stand for the opening and expansion of refitting and reprovisioning ports. The best available measure of the extent to which a vessel used these facilities might be the duration of the voyage, since the development of port facilities made it possible for whalers to stay longer at sea.5 Of course, the length of the voyage might pick up other characteristics of the venture, as well: unsuccessful captains may have stayed out longer, in hopes of recouping; longer voyages probably led to higher desertion rates, and desertion may have reduced productivity (see chapter 5 ) . The interpretation of the sign and coefficient of this variable is therefore not straightforward. Since the length of the voyage figures in the computation of productivity (labor input is man-months; vessel input is ton-months), the variable entered on the right-hand side of the equation is the square of the length of the voyage. 8.2.4

Technical Characteristics of the Vessel and Whalecraft

The whaling agent made many choices that had to do with the technical characteristics of his vessel: the rig, the size, and the age of the vessel, whether it was constructed for whaling or was a refitted merchantman, and the types of whalecraft to be put aboard.

Rig. The rig choices have been described in chapter 6. In numbers the ship was the principal whaling vessel, although the bark became more important as time passed. The brig, schooner, and sloop were unimportant, particularly during the high tide of New Bedford whaling. For purposes of the regression analysis, vessels are divided into two classes, ships and all others: we created a dummy variable with a value of one if the vessel was a ship and a value of zero if it was not. Since ships were the most common whalers, it would be reasonable to suppose that they were also the most productive, and so a positive coefficient on the ship dummy could be expected. 5 . Some of the sources on which the data set is based distinguish product shipped home from product carried home by the vessel. Were this information complete in the years in which it is available, which it is apparently not, and were it available for all years covered by the data set, which it is not, it would serve to signal one use made of the facilities of these ports and could be entered into the regression analysis. Although the data are not adequate for that purpose, they are good enough to show that the vessels that shipped product home stayed at sea longer than vessels that did not ship product home. See chapter 7.

306

Chapter 8

Size. Over time the sizes of ships and barks increased. This was associated in part with the growing importance of the more distant hunting grounds, but probably also with increasing voyage length within each ground. The variable measuring size is entered in squared form (tonnage squared), because size also figures in the calculation of the productivity index. Mode of Entry into the Fleet. Some whalers were built expressly for whaling; more were transferred into the fleet from the merchant marine. The regressions distinguish the mode of entry. We expected to find that vessels built for whaling were more productive than those that transferred in, ceteris paribus. Technical Characteristics. Since there were important changes in vessel design and rigging, some after 1849 and more after 1869, we distinguish vessels by period of construction. We expected vessels built in the second half of the century to have been more productive than those built in the first half (ceteris paribus, of course), and we expected whalers built after 1869 to have been more productive than those built before 1870. Rerigging. In the second half of the century, a number of vessels were rerigged; generally, ships were rerigged as barks. Barks were easier to sail with few hands and were deemed to be more maneuverable than ships. These advantages were particularly important in the Western Arctic, a ground that was opened to whaling in the middle of the century. It seems reasonable to suppose that rerigged vessels were more productive. This proposition is tested by entering a dummy for rerigged vessels. The test is imperfect, of course, since it compares rerigged vessels with all others, rather than with the prior experience of the vessels that were rerigged. Age. The age of the vessel (entered as age and age squared) captures the effects of more than a single set of forces. Elements of wear and tear that influenced productivity-a technical characteristic that one might hope to pick up in the age variable-are confounded with the consequences of qualitative differences among vessels. Effective vessels were presumably survivors; ineffective vessels were transferred by their owners to other activities, were condemned at an early age, or were destroyed in service. The regression coefficients should record this influence as well as the influence of capital consumption. One should expect to find a positive sign on the coefficient for age, as poor vessels were screened out, and a negative sign on the coefficient for age squared, as wear and tear reduced even an efficient vessel’s effectiveness. In a further attempt to understand the influence of the deterioration of a vessel’s productive capacity on an agent’s choices, the last voyage of each vessel is identified. If poor performance led to condemnation or transfer to another activity, the variable should have a negative sign.

307

Productivity

Whalecraft. Whalecraft consists of the implements used in capturing whales. The chief inventions were introduced in the brief period from 1848 to 1865, and were widely diffused by 1870. In an attempt to provide a measure of their importance, outfitting books were searched for data on whalecraft. Unfortunately, few are still extant. More important, the outfits do not exhibit enough voyage-to-voyage variation-particularly when time is held constant-to produce good statistical results.6 The outfitting books do show that the diffusion of new techniques took place quickly. Consequently, the adoption of the new body of techniques can be reasonably proxied by a time dummy. The date 1 January 1870 is selected for this purpose-observations of voyages sailing in the years 1870 and later take the value one, while those of voyages sailing in earlier years take the value zero. Time. Time (represented as the voyage’s year of departure minus 1820) is entered simply as a detrender. The regression model is sufficiently complete that we did not expect the time variable to have a large or significant coefficient.

8.3 Multivariate Analysis The Voyages Data Set contains evidence on 4,73 1 whaling voyages in 17891927, but this chapter is not concerned with all of them. Before 1821 the industry was unduly influenced by political and military events; after 1897 it consisted of only a handful of firms. Observations before 182 1 and after 1897 are therefore excluded from the statistical analysis of this chapter. Voyages that ended in the loss of the vessel (about 380) and voyages that yielded no output (89) are also excluded, as are voyages for which the evidence is incomplete. As a result of these restrictions the largest data set figuring in the regressions contains 2,935 observations. This is a very large data set, by any standards. Is it also representative? If so, of what? New Bedford? All the East Coast ports? All the American ports? Unlike many other American whaling ports, New Bedford engaged in diversified whaling (see chapter 1). It sent vessels to every hunting ground and was regarded at the time as representative of American ports, taken together. The sample, however, was not drawn randomly from all American voyages. Indeed, it was not even drawn randomly from New Bedford voyages. To test the extent to which the sample resembles the universe of New Bedford voyages, 1821-97, we compared average sample and universe values for each of the outputs, vessel tonnage, and length of voyage. The data appear in table 8.1, panel A. The mean tonnage of vessels making sample voyages is about the same as the mean tonnage of vessels making universe voyages. Sample voyages were one month longer than universe voyages, but also 6. See Davis, Gallman, and Hutchins 1989, 131-33, 142-47, where the outfitting data are considered at length.

308 Table 8.1

Chapter 8 Characteristics of the Voyages in the Productivity Sample and of the Voyages Composing the Universe of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1821-97 A. Outputs and Inputs

Average output of Sperm oil (barrels) Whale oil (barrels) Baleen (pounds) Average inputs Vessel size (tons) Interval at sea (months) Average real value of catch ($) Average value of catch per ton-month ($)

Universe'

N

Sample ( N = 2,935)

764.6 978.3 8,400.8

3,373 3,373 3,373

769.8 995.2 8,798.2

306.3 31.7 47.800.9 4.923

3,428 3,435 3,373

310.1 32.7 49,667.1 4.898

-h

B. Distribution of Voyages among Hunting Grounds' (%) Universe Atlantic Indian Pacific Western Arctic Total

32.4 13.0 47.8 6.8 100.0

Sample 30.4 13.8 48.6 7.2 100.0

Sources: Voyages and Productivity data sets. dThe universe consists of voyages beginning in 1821 through 1897 and ending with the return of the vessels to New Bedford, voyages for which there is information concerning at least one of the variables listed in this table. hThe average vessel size, interval at sea, and real value of the catch were computed from universes of different sizes. voyages to one of these four grounds are reported (Hudson Bay and Davis Strait are included with the Atlantic).

brought back somewhat more product. The value of real output per ton-month was almost identical for sample and universe voyages. This is an important point, since it suggests that productivity levels of sample voyages, on average, are representative of the universe. Panel B contains a second comparison: universe and sample are distributed among the four major hunting grounds. The sample contains, proportionately, somewhat fewer voyages to the Atlantic and somewhat more to the other grounds than does the universe, but the differences are not great. These are not sophisticated tests, but perhaps no sophisticated tests are called for. The sample is very large, compared with the universe, and its known relevant characteristics appear to mirror those of the universe. In what follows, the sample is treated as representative of New Bedford whaling, 1821-97; it is probable that the sample also represents all East Coast whaling.

Table 8.2

Productivity in New Bedford Whaling, Sailing Years 1821-97 ~

Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity

Statistical properties F Adjusted R' Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure" On baleens On sperms On all whales Competition index" Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilledkommon wage rate ashore Ships (compared to other rigs) Vessel tons squared Ground (compared to Pacific) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic Mode of entry to fleet (compared to built before 1850) Built as whaler 1850-69 Built as whaler 1870-96 Built as merchantman 1850-96 Technological dummy Vessel rerigged Vessel age Vessel age squared Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820)

96.5 .428 .699 1.781 2.935

100.2 .426 ,699 1.786 2,935

99.7 ,430 .699 1.774 2,935

2.5016*

2.7227*

0.0013** -0.0008** -

0.0021* -0.0003 -0.0oO008 -0.0055*

0.0001 0.0003* -1.128 X lo-'* -0.0050*

- 1.4320* 0.1559* 8.854 X

-0.9093* 0.1489* 8.723 X lo-'*

-0.1339* 0.0870*** 0.3523*

-0.0949* * 0.0962*** 0.3780*

-0.0723** 0.1397* 0.3491*

-0.0155 -0.1079 0.1414** 0.3642* 0.0826** -0.00005 -0.00003 0.0244

-0.0142 -0.1080 0.1450** 0.3658* 0.0856** -0.0001 0 -0.00003 0.0299

0.0083 -0.0753 0.1435** 0.3459* 0.0891* 0.00009 -0.00003 0.0205

0.0958*

0.1119* -0.6280* -0.0002* -0.0024

0.0003* -1.125 X -0.0048*

*

- 1.3001

0.1524* 8.846 x lo-'*

0.0937* -0.6165* -0.0002* -0.0011

*

-0.6175

-0.0002* -0.0008

2.1248*

Sources; Most of the data were taken from the Voyages and Productivity data sets, which are described in chapter 3 and in this chapter. The appendices to this chapter describe the hunting-pressure and competition indexes and the sources of these data series. The common wage-rate series was computed from David and Solar 1977, data on page 59 divided by data on page 16. The skilled wage-rate index was derived by multiplying the series on page 59 of David and Solar by the skill ratios on page 307 of Williamson and Lindert (1980) and then dividing by the price index on page 16 of David and Solar. Notes: The wage rates ashore associated with each voyage are the wage rates in effect in the year the voyage began. (continued)

310 Table 8.2

Chapter 8 (continued)

The residuals were examined for evidence of heteroscedasticity. None was found. Nevertheless, we ran a second test, regressing the residuals against the squares of the independent variables. The resulting Fstatistic was ,398, and the adjusted R’ was -0.0047. One coefficient variable was significantly different from zero at the 10 percent level; none of the others achieved significance at even this level. We therefore assumed that the regressions are not heteroscedastic. Thc issue is not very important in any case; heteroscedasticity affects only the t values. Our sample is so large that, even if the regression is treated as no more than descriptive of the sample. the description holds for more than 60 percent of the New Bedford whaling industry (sample = 2,935 voyages; universe = 4,73 1 voyages). There is a modest amount of collinearity, as one would expect from the long array of variables, several of which relate to time, or appear in quadratic form. Of the 253 paired relationships among the intercept and the independent varibles of the second regression, 37 exhibit correlations of 2 0 or greater. Notice, however, that both the F- and r-statistics of this regression are excellent, and that the signs and values of the coefficients are quite stable, from one formulation of the model to the next (this table), and from one period to the next (compare this table with tables 8.5 and 8.6). These results would be unlikely to occur if multicollinearity were an important problem. The r-statistics were adjusted to allow for the large size of the sample. Adjusted f = CoefficienUadjusted standard error. Adjusted standard error = standard error multiplied by (population size minus sample size) divided by (population size minus one). (See, for example, Freund and Walpole 1987, 278-80, “finite sample correction factor for standard deviation when sample size is greater than 5 percent of the population size.”) We thank David Guilkcy, James Murphy, and Michael Salemi for econometric advice. “For a description of the ways in which the hunting-pressure and competition indexes are entered into the regression, scc appendixes 8A and 8B. *Significant at the I percent level. **Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level

The results of the first set of regressions appear in table 8.2. Each of the equations explains over four-tenths of the productivity variance, a level of explanatory power that is excellent for a pooled cross-section time-series data set, particularly in view of the role of luck in this industry. The F values are very high, and most of the coefficient signs and values yield sensible interpretations. There is considerable stability in the coefficients from one regression formulation to the next. Levels of significance are exceptionally high. There is not much to choose among the three regressions. Before discussing the coefficients, it may be useful to consider another test of the power of the equations. Average productivity in the New Bedford whaling industry dropped sharply from the 1820s to the 1860s and then rose mildly to the 1890s (see figure 1.1 and table 1.3). How far do the equations shown in table 8.2 explain this pattern of falling and rising productivity? A test of the following form was run: First a regression was estimated with productivity as the dependent variable and dummies standing for the decades of the 1820s (the comparison base), 1830s, 1840s, and so forth as independent variables. The equation was then reestimated, including the decadal dummies and all of the independent variables of the regression equations (except time, whose place was taken by the decadal dummies).’ The changes in the coefficients of the dummies between the first and second runs measure the extent to which the comprehensive equation ex7. The test was suggested by Robert Evenson, to whom we give our thanks

Productivity

311

plains the pattern of productivity change across time. The results obtained from the first equation in table 8.2 (the other two equations yield similar values) are shown in table 8.3. The comprehensive equation explains between 12 and 100 percent of the deviations in productivity among the decades. In fact, however, the performance is better than these figures suggest. Only 12 percent of the drop between the 1820s and the 1830s is explained; but notice that the productivity curve described in the second column of figures is much flatter, between the 1830s and the 188Os, than is the curve described by the first column. This characteristic of the second column can be exhibited most clearly in the decrements (or increments) in the coefficients between the 1830s and each of the subsequent decades (table 8.4). Notice that the equation explains between 65 and 100 percent of the changes between the 1830s and subsequent decades. It appears, then, that the equations in table 8.2 account for only a small part of the drop in productivity between the 1820s and the 1830s, the early years of the industry, but are much more successful in explaining the movements of productivity in the mature industry. Table 8.3

Coefficients of Dummies Coefficients Simple Equation

Complex Equation (C)

Decade

is)

1830s 1840s 1850s 1860s 1870s 1880s 1890s

- ,284

-.249

-.390 -.574 -.738 -.728 -.736 -.652

- ,245

Table 8.4

-.351 -.342 -.274 -.317 +.134

% Explained by Complex Equation ((s c)/s) x 100 ~

12 37 39 54 62 57 100

Changes in Coefficients of Dummies Changes in Coefficients from 1830s

Decade

1840s 1850s 1860s 1870s 1880s 1890s

Simple Equation

Complex Equation

% Explained by Complex Equation

-.I06

+ .004

100

- ,290

-. 102

- .454 - .444 - ,452 -.368

- ,092 - .025 - ,068 +.383

65 80 94 85 100

312

Chapter 8

What do the equations tell us about productivity in New Bedford whaling? The specifications of the three regressions differ only slightly. In the first and third the competition index appears in quadratic form; in the second, the squared term is dropped. The first and second regressions include separate hunting-pressure indexes for baleen and sperm whales; the third employs an index that is intended to measure hunting pressures on all whale populations taken together. To begin with the stocks of whales, the signs on the index of hunting pressure on baleens are positive. There is no indication that hunting baleens led to lower productivity, a finding that confirms the impression conveyed by the evidence of chapter 4 that American whaling did not collapse for lack of baleen whales. The story with respect to sperm whales is less clear. In the first model the sign on the sperm hunting-pressure index is negative, and the significance level is high: the equation indicates that hunting pressures on sperm whales did lead to lower productivity levels. The effect was apparently not large. In the period between the opening of each ground (after 1819) and the highest level of hunting pressure, the effect of hunting was to lower the productivity index by .041 in the Atlantic, .010 in the Indian, and .130 in the Pacific.* Compared with the dependent mean, .699, only the effect in the Pacific is substantial enough to warrant special attention. Even in this case, the implicit decline in productivity was about 0.5 percent per year (that is, one two-hundredth of the productivity level) across the period of expansion in the Pacific. Furthermore, the results with respect to the pressures on sperms are not stable. For example, in the second equation displayed in table 8.2, which differs in only one respect from the first, the coefficient on the sperm-whale hunting-pressure index drops to only four-tenths of that in the first; and the t value shows that the secondequation coefficient is not significantly different from zero. In view of the enormous size of the sample, 1 values should perhaps receive little attention. If the regression is regarded as no more than descriptive, it is descriptive of more than 60 percent of the industry. The instability of the coefficient on the variable, however, does raise questions about the impact of the hunting of sperm whales on productivity. It does not seem probable that hunting pressures contributed in an important way to the decline of productivity and the eventual demise of the whaling fleet. This conclusion is supported by the third equation, where the sign on the combined hunting-pressure index is positive. There is no support to be drawn from this regression for the assertion that whaling productivity fell as a consequence of overhunting. The competition indexes provide little support for the argument that crowding on the hunting grounds seriously affected productivity. The quadratic form of the index was entered in the first and third equations, the index alone, in the 8. These numbers were calculated by applying the coefficients in the table to the relevant hunting-pressure index values. For the hunting-pressure indexes see appendix 8A.

313

Productivity

second. The significance levels on the variables in the first and third regressions are good, but the coefficients are very small. These results suggest that negative consequences must have appeared only at very high levels of crowding, and that even in these instances they must have been minute. The squared form of the index was dropped from the second equation. The sign on the index alone is indeed negative, but the coefficient is so small that the effects of crowding could not have been important. For example, if this coefficient is applied to conditions in the Western Arctic, it appears that the increase in crowding in that ground between January 1850 and March 1853-the month when the competition index hits its apogee-caused productivity to fall by O L 9 There is no other instance in which the degree of crowding changed so much. If competition ever affected productivity unfavorably, it must have done so in this period.I0 The findings are clear: the negative consequences of competition were negligible." Unlike hunting pressures and competition, the series of wage rates ashore yield the expected results; the coefficients are large, given the range within which the wage series moved (86 points, for the common wage, between 1820 and 1896; .52, for the ratio of the skilled to the common wage); they have the expected sign; and they are significantly different from zero at an appropriate level.Iz It appears that competition for labor from activities ashore did indeed bid away the best whalemen, with unfavorable consequences for productivity. That argument is admittedly indirect, and more evidence must be assembled before its conclusions can be enthusiastically embraced. As to the choices made by whaling agents, it seems that their preference for ships and their tendency to adopt larger vessels as time passed were sensible. Ships were substantially more productive than other vessels; within limits, larger vessels were more productive than smaller ones. (Given the tonnage range within which most whalers lay-the interquartile range of vessels was 151 tons and of voyages only 121 tons-size was not of overwhelming importance.) Their decision to shift-during the heyday of New Bedford whalingfrom the Atlantic, to the Indian, to the Pacific, and finally to the Western Arctic also is shown to be well motivated, if the pursuit of high productivity was sensible. (The profit consequences of these changes are considered in chapter 11.) 9. The competition index in January 1850 in the Western Arctic was 4.1; in March 1853 it was 213.1. See appendix 8B. 10. The possibility that the variable voyage length was capturing overhunting and competition led us to drop the variable in one run, to see if the signs, coefficients, or significance levels of the pressure and competition indexes changed dramatically. They did not. 11. This conclusion does not rule out the possibility that competition or overhunting affected productivity on more narrowly defined hunting grounds (for example, the Baja calving grounds). If such developments had been important to the whaling fleet, however, their impact would surely also be observable in the statistical results for the larger hunting grounds identified by the regression equations in table 8.2. 12. The skilled wage rate is expressed as a ratio to the common wage rate in order to avoid problems of multicollinearity.

314

Chapter 8

Several of the variables bear on the impacts of technology. The effects of changes in vessel design are presumably captured chiefly by the variables listed under the heading “mode of entry into the fleet.” The statistical results based on these variables show that vessels built as merchantmen after 1849 and then transferred into the whaling fleet were substantially more productive (the advantage is about 20 percent of the dependent mean) than vessels built before 1850 and then transferred into the whaling fleet; this is the expected result, given that the designs of merchantmen improved dramatically after 1850 (see chapter 7). What is surprising is that the two variables representing vessels built as whalers after 1849 have coefficients of the wrong sign in two of the regressions and the wrong value in all three. Vessels built after 1870 are shown to be less productive than those built between 1850 and 1870. In two of the three regressions, both groups-those built after 1870 and those built between 1850 and 1870-are less productive than vessels built before 1850. The significance levels are very poor, but even if we accept the implication that these coefficients are not different from zero, they indicate that vessels built after 1849 were no less productive than the ones built before 1850-small comfort, given that the literature says they were much better designed. Vessels built before 1850 were hunting, on the whole, during a more favorable period than vessels built after 1849, since average productivity was higher before than after 1849. Is it possible that the unexpected results described above reflect this phenomenon? That is, could the results reflect the circumstances of the years after 1849, rather than the quality of the vessels built then? The regression is comprehensive enough that the average productivity levels peculiar to the periods before 1850 and after 1849 should not influence the results obtained on variables recording the years vessels were built. For example, the regression clearly shows that merchantmen built after 1849 were much more productive than those built before 1850. Nonetheless, on the chance that the results are affected by the periods of time during which these various groups of whalers were hunting, the regression was rerun for the period from 1870 onward. That specification yields, in effect, a cross-section regression. The results (not shown) improved a little, but not much. The signs on the two dummies representing vessels built as whalers in the periods 1850-69 and 1870-96 are now positive, a good result; the coefficient on the dummy representing the later period is larger, by a wide margin, than the one on the dummy representing the earlier period, an even better result: the vessels with the more advanced technology, per chapter 7, were more productive than those with the less advanced technology. Unfortunately, the t values are very Further13. Notice that in this regression, as distinct from the previous one, the vessels built as whalers are being compared with older vessels (converted merchantmen) operating contemporaneously with them. Presumably the age variables in the regression pick up the unfavorable effects of age, so that the comparison remains legitimate. The comparison vessels are not only older, however; they are also survivors. The regression does not adjust for this characteristic, so that in this respect the comparison is biased against a finding of high productivity for vessels built as whalers.

315

Productivity

more, the dummies representing vessels built expressly for whaling have smaller coefficients than the one representing vessels built as merchantmen and subsequently converted. These results, obviously, are counterintuitive, and we have no explanation for them. The technological dummy is designed to measure the effect of improvements in whalecraft, although it may also pick up some part of the improvement properly attributed to vessel design. The variable works very well. The coefficient is large, of the right sign, and stable from one regression formulation to the next; the significance level is high. A final technological variable relates to rerigging, chiefly the rerigging of ships as barks. Rerigged vessels are shown to have a productivity advantage. Their superiority might have been due to the relative speed (as compared with construction) with which they could be produced. When the Western Arctic opened, rerigged vessels could be thrown quickly into that ground and could scoop off the first-arrival gains. This factor may be the source of the positive coefficient on the rerigged variable, although one would think that the Arcticground dummy would capture this effect. The earlier discussion of the very limited consequences of crowding in the Western Arctic also suggests that firstarrival gains were not quickly dissipated. If first arrival is not the correct explanation, then rerigging represents the introduction of improved technology, and the results of the new technology were clearly favorable. The findings with respect to the remaining choice variables are mixed. The coefficients on the age variables are very small and are not significantly different from zero. Apparently, old vessels performed as well, or nearly as well, as new ones. How far these results reflect selection bias is anybody's guess, but presumably the survivors were the vessels that had been most successful. The coefficient on the last-voyage dummy suggests that vessels were withdrawn from whaling for reasons other than poor productivity on the last voyage. The last-voyage variable has the wrong sign, the coefficient is very small, and according to the t value the coefficient is not significantly different from zero. Specialists in baleen hunting appear to have done better, ceteris paribus, than both the specialists in sperm whaling and the nonspecialists. Why were baleen specialists more productive? Most of the factors that differentiate baleen from sperm specialists figure in variables that have already been considered; the sources of the remaining differences are unknown. The sign on voyage length is wrong, if voyage length is taken to be only an index of the impact of the innovation of the reprovisioning port. The variable also seems to pick up the bad luck or lack of skill that kept some vessels long at sea. Given the sign of the coefficient, the lack of luck or skill seems to have had the greater effect (see note 3), but the effect was not large. For example, given the sizes of the coefficients, a twenty-four-month difference in voyage length was associated with a difference in productivity of only 12 or 13 percent of the dependent mean.

316

Chapter 8

Finally, the coefficients on the detrending variable, time, are small. According to the t values, they are not significantly different from zero. Ignoring the t values, the equations indicate that, ceteris paribus, productivity declined by between 0.1 and 0.3 percent per year, between 1821 and 1896. Since there is little left to be explained by the portmanteau variable time, it appears that the equation is reasonably complete.

8.4 Tests of the Multivariate Analysis The regression analysis unfolds reasonably and seems to reveal important aspects of forces at work on U.S. whaling productivity. Still, some of the variables are less than perfect and pose interpretive problems. Two sets-those bearing on labor quality and on techniques of production-deserve further attention. The productivity index for the fleet as a whole declined from 1821 to the 1860s, while the wage rate ashore rose. The strong negative association between the wage series and the productivity series may describe only the numerical relations between two trends that have no true theoretical connection. This proposition can be tested by differencing or detrending the data. The procedure has already been carried out in the regressions in table 8.2, where time serves as detrender. A second and stronger effort is described in the equation in table 8.5. Notice that the data set is restricted to the period 1834-96, a period during which productivity dropped and then rose, reaching again in the mid- 1890s the level of the mid-1830s. Time appears once again as a detrender, but now in the form of time and time squared. If in the first equation the relations between the trends in the wage rate and the productivity series down to the mid-1850s alone produced the sign and coefficient on the wage-rate series, one would think that, in the new formulation, the wage-rate series would no longer exhibit the same characteristics. In fact, however, it does. The ratio of the skilled to the common wage rate is not significant at as high a level as before, but it is very close to being significant at the 10 percent level. The common wagerate series retains a large negative value-slightly larger than before-and is significantly different from zero at better than the 1 percent level. The correlations between the coefficients of the two time variables and the common wage coefficient are also very small (-0.082 and -0.035). The wage series appears to be capturing something other than time. The conclusions that (1j the quality of whalemen deteriorated as opportunities ashore improved and (2) the decline in the quality of crews tended to lower productivity, ceteris paribus, are strengthened. Two other features of this regression are worthy of notice. First, the signs, coefficient values, and significance levels of most of the variables are very similar to those in table 8.2-which is reassuring, since it suggests that the identified relationships are stable. Moreover, the significance levels are high across the board. Second, since productivity began to increase late in the pe-

Table 8.5

Productivity in New Bedford Whaling, Sailing Years 1834-96 Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity Statistical properties

F

Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilled/common wage rate ashore Ships (compared to other rigs) Vessel tons squared Ground (compared to Pacific) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic Mode of entry to fleet (compared to built before 1850) Built as whaler 1850-69 Built as whaler 1870-96 Built as merchantman 1850-96 Technological dummy Vessel rerigged Vessel age Vessel age squared Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820) Time squared Note: See table 8.2. *Significant at the 1 percent level.

**Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level.

70.3 ,388 .634 1.789 2,628 1.888*

0.0011*** O.ooOo3 0.0003** -9.704 x lo-*** -0.0052* -0.5174 0.1202* 0.m1* -0.1147** 0.1932* 0.3766*

-0.0204 -0.1109 -0.1091*** 0.1725* 0.0796** 0.0025 -0.oooO7*** 0.0299 0.1206* -0.615* -0.0002* -0.0192* 0.0003*

318

Chapter 8

riod (see figure l.l), one might have supposed before the fact that the introduction of time squared would displace the technological dummy-a dummy that divides the observations at 1 January 1870. In fact, it does not. The technological dummy retains a large coefficient, although not as large as before. It is significantly different from zero at the 1 percent level. The wage variables were introduced to test a hypothesis drawn from the whaling literature: as wage rates ashore went up, the best men were bid out of whaling, the quality of the crews deteriorated, and productivity fell. The modeling of this hypothesis in table 8.2 is straightforward enough, linking, as it does, the underlying cause (higher wage rates ashore) with the ultimate consequence (lower productivity in whaling). There are also indications that wage rates ashore rose relative to the earnings of whalemen (see chapter 5). The middle step in the traditional argument-the deterioration in the quality of crews-is, however, bypassed in this analysis. Did crews really decline in quality? Yes, they did. For a limited stretch of years-1840-58 and 1866-there are quality indexes at the voyage level. With these data it is possible to look directly at the links between crew quality and productivity. Table 8.6 reports the results of three regressions that do so. The first is virtually identical to the first equation in table 8.2. It omits (necessarily) the technological variable, but-except that it is fit to only 1,112 voyages beginning in the years 1840-58 and 1866-it is otherwise unchanged. Notice that, with a few notable exceptions, the results of the two equations are very similar. The relationships are stable. The second equation in table 8.6 is almost the same as the first, except that direct indexes of labor quality-the percentage of the crew that is illiterate, the percentage of the crew consisting of greenhands-are substituted for the wage rates ashore. The results are not what might have been expected. The coefficients on these variables are very small, and the larger carries the wrong sign; neither is significantly different from zero at a conventionally acceptable level. The suggestion is that the decline in labor quality had no effect on productivity. The third equation incorporates both the wage rates ashore and the two indexes of crew quality. The wage-rate variables again carry reasonably large coefficients, they have the correct signs, and they are significant at a demanding level.I4 The two quality indexes have larger coefficients than before, but they are of the wrong sign if these variables are to be interpreted as indexes of the quality of labor. If instead they are regarded as indicators of the adoption of new technology, the signs are correct. Perhaps the wage series capture the effects of the tendency for opportunities ashore to advance faster than those afloat and, therefore, for the best men to be bid away from whaling. That leaves 14. For example, the real common wage rate ashore rose from a level of sixty-eight in 1842 to ninety-one in 1857, a twenty-three-point gain. Multiplying the coefficient of the real wage-rate index by thirty-eight yields a very large value, compared with the dependent mean, .695.

Table 8.6

Productivity in New Bedford Whaling, Sailing Years 1840-58 and 1866 Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity

Statistical properties

F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilledcommon wage rate ashore % of crew illiterate % of crew greenhands Ships (compared to other rigs) Vessel tons squared Ground (compared to Pacific) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic Mode of entry to fleet (compared to built before 1850) Built as whaler after 1849 Built as merchantman after 1849 Vessel rerigged Vessel age Vessel age squared Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820)

67.9 ,558 .719 1.936 1,112 2.5123*

62.0 ,557 ,695 1.908 1.02 1 1.2129*

59.4 ,569 ,695 1.941 1,021 2.5263*

-0.oooO9 -0.00070 0.0003 -9.266 X lo-' -0.0128*

-0.00140** o.oooO1 0.0003 -1.161 X lo-'

-9.05 x 10-7 -0.00060 0.0003 -9.774 x lo-*** -0.0135*

-0.3618 -

0.1478 -0.0138 0.1337* 0.000001*

-0.3990 0.2106 0.1128 0. I325*

-0.6143* -0.0600 0.1066

-0.5549* -0.0618 0.1045

-0.5443* -0.0455 0.1369

-0.0553 -0.295 1** 0.0951*** -0.0050 0.00007 -0.0400

-0.0378 -0.2062 0.1043** -0.0032 O.ooOo3 -0.0617

-0.0687 -0.2976** 0.1006*** -0.0068 0.00010 -0.0170

0.0056 -0.6606* -0.0003* 0.0051

0.0111 -0.6889* -0.0003* -0.0021

0.0060 -0.6882* -0.0003* 0.0040

0.1275* 0.000001*

-

0.000001*

Sources: Most of the data come from the works cited in the notes to table 8.2. The information on illiteracy and greenhands comes from the Stations and Lays Data Set. *Significant at the 1 percent level. **Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level.

320

Chapter 8

the quality indexes to pick up the favorable effects of adopting new methods. That is, the wage series bear on the changes across time in the ability of whaling to compete for men, while the quality indexes refer mainly to the differences in the cross-section between vessels that had adopted the new methods (and could therefore ship crews composed mainly of unskilled greenhands) and those that had not. At least this explanation makes the most sense of the strong statistical results reported in table 8.6. The other measures of new technology, the two dummies representing vessels built after 1849, do not perform well in these regressions. That may be simply because few new vessels of the designated types had yet appeared on the scene in these years. The labor-quality indexes perform better, probably because they capture cases in which the new technology was introduced by reworking old vessels. The two vessel-construction dummies do not reflect such changes, of course. The rerigging variable probably does, and that variable performs very well. In summary, after 1820 shifts in the economic environment pressured whaling agents to change their ways. The rapid growth of the demand for lubricants and illuminants led agents to send their captains farther and farther from home. Whalemen opened rich grounds in the South Atlantic, the Indian Ocean, and the Pacific. The subsequent shift in the structure of demand-favoring whalebone over sperm and whale oil-sent captains to the North Pacific in search of right whales. One was venturesome enough to push through the Bering Strait into the Bering Sea, where he found a profusion of the greatest of the whalebone whales, the bowhead. He was quickly followed by many others. These changes in demand and in hunting grounds, coupled with emerging labor problems, led agents to reorganize the industry In place of the fourteenmonth voyage to Davis Strait and the Atlantic, typical of the early nineteenth century, voyages of two, three, and even four or more years to the Indian Ocean, the Pacific, and the Western Arctic became common. Different vessel types (ships in the Pacific and the Indian Ocean, barks in the Western Arctic) and new designs of each type (clipper style, with heavy use of power winches) were adopted. The new designs came in part from unspecialized builders for the merchant marine, in part from architects who specialized in whalers. The designs made it possible to save on experienced labor, an increasingly scarce input. Longer voyages led agents to adopt larger vessels and to utilize the developing resupply and transshipment points in the Azores, Hawaii, Panama, and the West Coast of the United States. In the whaleboats the whaling gun replaced the handheld lance; toward the end the darting gun, the most effective American whalecraft innovation, was widely adopted. These changes in environment and agents’ reactions to them are given quantitative expression in the regressions exhibited in this chapter. The findings call for no extended summary. The most interesting results show that productivity was not adversely affected by overhunting or crowding on the hunting grounds.

321

Productivity

Of particular interest is the finding-well recognized in the whaling literature-that, as time passed, labor problems emerged and that they were, in all likelihood, a result of relatively favorable alternative opportunities ashore. Perhaps in response to this development, new vessel designs that saved on experienced labor were introduced, and seem to have had favorable effects on productivity. Innovations in whalecraft, concentrated in a relatively short period, were also effective. The account rendered in this chapter considers the decisions of agents that bore on productivity. It does not take up the agents themselves, nor does it treat the captains. These subjects-including their relationship with productivityare discussed in chapter 10.

Appendix 8A Derivation of the Hunting-Pressure Indexes The hunting-pressure indexes were constructed to allow us to test the propositions that (1) whales were hunted so intensively in the nineteenth century that they became scarce-or wary-and (2) as a result of hunting, the capture of the typical whale called for the expenditure of more labor and capital than had previously been necessary (i.e., productivity in whaling declined). We began with Tower’s estimates (1907, 126) of the volume of whale oil, sperm oil, and whalebone brought into the United States by American whalers in the years 1805-1905. From 1805 through 1837 the oil figures are expressed in gallons, thereafter in barrels. We converted the earlier figures into values expressed in barrels by dividing Tower’s gallon estimates by 31.5. (A typical barrel of oil contained 31.5 gallons.) Our plan was to estimate, on the basis of the oil imports, the numbers of whales killed. Toward the end of the period, however, baleen whalers frequently took only the bone from captured whales, and the aggregate whale oil imports after about 1886 are therefore not good indicators of the numbers of whales killed. Consequently, we derived a second whale oil series, based on bone imports, and intended to measure the oil that could have been extracted from the baleens killed, had they all been tried out. The second series rested on the assumption that one barrel of oil could have been extracted from a baleen whale for each fourteen pounds of bone taken. The figure was based on a study of oil and bone imports in the 1860s, 1870s, and early 1880s, before the ratio began to move up dramatically. In these years the ratio varied widely from year to year but showed no trend. We took the largest value for these years, that for 1868, and assumed that any larger figure in a later year indicated that blubber was being discarded. After 1886 all of the ratios are larger, and therefore we replaced the oil imports of those years by new estimates. The estimates

322

Chapter 8

unfortunately do not exhibit the degree of variation from year to year that the true figures before 1886 do. It is also possible that the level of the estimates is too low, but we do not think it is. In the years after 1886, bowheads probably came to dominate the baleens being taken, and the ratio of bone to oil in bowheads was larger than for other baleens. Consequently, employing the peak figure of 1868 as the basis for our estimates is reasonable enough. The two final oil series-sperm and whale-were then used to estimate the numbers of whales killed by Americans to obtain this oil. The estimating coefficients were taken from chapter 4. Specifically, we assumed that, on average, 33.6 barrels of oil could be recovered from a sperm whale, and that, in addition to the whales taken, another 10 percent were killed but lost. The number of sperm whales killed to obtain the oil imported each year was computed as the product of the number of barrels imported and the fraction .032738 (1.1/33.6), rounded to a whole number. Notice that the procedure makes no allowance for variations from year to year in the average sizes of whales taken, or for long-term trends in size. There is no way in which the former variations can be taken into account, and chapter 4 suggests that long-term changes in size were not pronounced. The same procedures were used in the case of baleen whales, except that the average baleen was estimated to contain seventythree barrels of oil and the estimating coefficient is .0150684. The number of whales was then distributed among hunting grounds in proportion to the New Bedford catch (Voyages Data Set). Next we added in the British catch for the years up to the mid-1840s. The British were important hunters in this period, but the British fleet fell away to virtually nothing in the 1840s and did not recover until the end of the century. It is essential that estimates of British hunting be included in the early years, but some of the figures we were able to put together are quite weak, and that point must be borne in mind. The data for the British northern fleet (the Atlantic, Hudson Bay, Davis Strait) are from Jackson (1978, 270), they refer to numbers of whales taken, and they are excellent. We assumed that all of these whales were baleens. For the Pacific and Indian Oceans combined, we estimated the catch on the basis of the tonnage of the British southern fleet (Jackson [ 1361 interpolated to fill gaps) and the productivity of the northern fleet (whales/tonnage). The catchwhich we assumed consisted exclusively of sperm whales-was divided between the Indian and Pacific Oceans on the basis of the New Bedford catch. The estimates in the various grounds were then scaled, by dividing each by the number of whales originally in the ground. The estimates in table 8A.1, based on chapter 4, were used for this purpose. Virtually no sperm whales were taken in the Western Arctic. There are two ways to handle the statistical problem thus posed, and we used both. First, we assumed that the ratio of sperms killed to sperms originally in the Western Arctic ground was equal to the average for the remaining three grounds. This assumption permits calculations to be made, although the results with respect

323

Productivity

Table 8A.1

Estimated Whale Populations before Intensive Hunting Began

Atlantic Pacific Indian Western Arctic

Sperm

Baleen

Total

280,000 1,574,000 502,000

66,000 255,000 42,000 30,000

346,000 1,829,000

-

544,000 30,000

to sperms in the Western Arctic are meaningless. The second technique was to combine baleens and sperms and produce only one hunting-pressure index per ground, instead of two. Next, four-year moving averages were run for each index, and then all the indexes were converted to relatives of the figure for the Pacific in 1855 (average of 1851-54). See table 8A.2. Index numbers were associated with voyages in the following way. A vessel leaving for the Pacific in 1821, for example, was associated with three index numbers (sperm, baleen, combined), each of which is the average for the years 1817, 1818, 1819, and 1820. The assumption is that if previous hunting affected the productivity of a voyage unfavorably, it would be hunting over a period of years that counted, not just hunting in the year before the voyage began. How many years should be included is moot; four seems better than three; many more than four would become cumbersome.

Appendix 8B Derivation of the Competition Indexes The competition indexes were constructed for use in the regression analysis of productivity. The underlying assumption is that productivity was likely to be unfavorably affected by competition on the hunting ground, not because the stock of whales was being hunted down (a hypothesis tested using the huntingpressure indexes), but because on a crowded hunting ground the prospective whale victim of vessel A might be taken instead by vessel B, thus diminishing A's productivity. The form of the index for any year is, then, easily imagined. The index is computed by dividing the number of vessel tons on a given hunting ground by the ratio of the number of whales on the hunting ground to the square miles composing the hunting ground. The smaller the ratio in the denominator, ceteris paribus, the greater the competition for whales and the higher the index. Similarly, the larger the number of tons on the hunting ground, ceteris paribus, the greater the competition and the higher the index. Index numbers are attached to voyages, to measure the competition the vessels faced.

Indexes of Hunting Pressure on Stocks of Whales, by Ocean, 1820-1905 (Pacific 1855 = 100)

Table 8A.2

A. Atlantic Ocean Index Year

1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847' 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865

Baleen

23.241 29.453 38.413 36.413 40.460 36.692 33.597 32.890 29.555 31.779 35.309 37.382 38.596 50.365 60.325 66.487 65.722 53.545 45.770 49.152 46.948 39.653 28.773 13.233 6.062 3.988 2.250 -

1.105 0.464 0.577 0.536 0.179 0.119 0.062 0.529 0.596 0.788 0.881 0.793 0.831 0.638 0.905 0.679 0.987 2.188

Sperm 6.253 5.181 8.163 7.738 14.067 14.221 20.790 29.488 26.296 39.931 33.845 25.472 25.293 15.383 16.923 17.664 26.126 35.048 41.438 5 1.050 51.919 57.365 54.470 49.657 40.810 25.097 16.697 8.024 7.920 8.571 5.961 8.154 6.176 7.624 16.403 15.080 17.591 16.382 11.839 10.205 7.108 9.921 8.063 11.014 19.250

All Whales

35.774 44.334 58.334 55.298 63.443 58.068 56.011 58.171 52.199 60.387 63.249 63.175 64.859 78.196 93.111 102.260 104.25 1 89.966 8 1.098 89.485 86.625 78. I06 61.370 37.218 23.651 14.920 9.344 4.525 3.564 3.964 2.951 3.239 2.429 2.876 6.758 6.370 7.566 7.257 5.470 4.928 3.517 4.93 1 3.926 5.448 10.189

Table 8A.2

(continued) A. Atlantic Ocean

Index Year 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1981 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905

Baleen 3.331 3.990 4.546 3.604 2.459 1.844 1.305 1.446 1.570 1.630 1.575 1.454 1.693 2.254 2.221 2.315 2.474 2.178 2.862 3.291 3.311 3.175 2.455 2.046 1.095 0.858 0.762 0.726 1.393 1.635 1.582 1.524 1.193 1.003 1.262 1.782 1.442 1.285 0.937 0.330

Sperm 22.633 25.803 34.129 40.416 40.563 43.564 34.394 24.893 25.142 20.314 28.782 35.522 42.070 53.849 53.034 57.597 52.503 46.087 50.884 46.410 44.147 43.048 35.275 27.699 24.003 19.354 17.405 19.591 25.297 29.809 33.135 34.715 30.380 24.582 20.823 20.694 24.276 33.631 36.599 36.179

All Whales 13.072 15.180 19.025 19.966 18.370 18.580 14.451 11.182 11.451 9.774 12.790 15.078 17.816 22.930 22.584 24.387 22.755 19.983 22.723 21.706 20.906 20.309 16.431 13.072 10.351 8.310 7.459 8.206 11.254 13.251 14.391 14.884 12.823 10.429 9.430 10.132 10.951 14.144 14.728 13.698

B . Indian Ocean

Index Year 1820-28' 1829 1830 (continued)

Baleen

O.OO0 0.000

Sperm

O.OO0

0.000

All Whales

0.000 0.000

Table 8A.2

(continued) B. Indian Ocean Index Year

1831 1832" 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 I849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877

Baleen

Sperm

0.108

0.112

0.294 0.294 0.313 0.522 0.421 1.080 1.683 3.170 4.816 5.201 6.608 6.830 8.021 9.209 7.853 7.192 5.214 3.429 2.804 1.999 1.389 1.397 1.454 1.079 0.794 0.536 0.633 1.042 1.123 1.141 1.026 0.603 0.624 0.445 0.354 0.337 0.361 0.462 0.389 0.487 0.418 0.330 0.625 0.560 0.480

0.385 0.385 0.417 0.912 0.793 1.595 1.840 2.560 5.373 6.740 9.208 10.127 11.133 12.042 11.229 10.670 8.628 8.891 9.248 10.024 9.802 9.377 9.202 8.146 7.957 6.559 7.013 7.652 7.406 7.221 6.069 5.866 6.025 5.260 5.134 4.379 3.863 4.106 4.249 4.404 5.685 6.147 6.205 6.101 4.452

-

-

All Whales 0.157 0.459 0.459 0.491 0.904 0.751 1.757 2.488 4.334 7.161 8.097 10.538 11.130 12.775 14.379 12.635 11.722 8.845 7.067 6.547 6.002 5.273 5.117 5.108 4.303 3.929 3.114 3.393 4.072 4.061 4.008 3.439 2.915 2.999 2.513 2.369 2.057 1.882 2.082 2.061 2.224 2.650 2.737 3.070 2.962 2.235

Table 8A.2

(continued) B. Indian Ocean Index Year 1878-79" I880 1881-85" 1886 1887 1888-19W 1901 1902-& 1905

Baleen

0.174 0.000 0.000

-

0.000 0.118

Sperm

3.270 0.132 O.OO0 0.000 O.OO0

All Whales

1.455 0.05 1 0.000 0.000 0.124

C. Pacific Ocean

Index Year

Baleen

Sperm

All Whales

1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 I828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853

0.939 0.892 1.166 3.518 7.804 8.420 7.497 5.556 1.269 0.466 0.410 0.477 2,614 2.614 5.547 7.019 5.935 7.485 7.450 7.092 14.312 24.416 39.154 43.268 49.300 52.003 55.378 71.170 88.342 103.7 14 11 1.298 114.830 120.588 99.086

45.266 52.443 58.746 68.25 1 90.102 112.067 114.345 103.999 105.814 90.443 98.804 134.224 142.043 145.090 155.210 159.144 171.511 188.757 207.202 204.036 192.269 189.342 182.399 188.995 199.862 197.587 197347 176.686 160.694 154.425 131.021 130.464 118.651 109.236

19.414 22.378 25.165 30.498 42.105 51.619 52.030 46.586 44.842 37.967 41.419 56.221 60.726 61.997 67.924 70.423 74.945 83.037 90.704 89.176 88.483 93.155 98.857 104.006 112.053 112.681 114.758 115.148 118.498 124.851 119.519 121.347 119.781 103.317

(continued)

Table SA.2

(continued)

C. Pacific Ocean Index Year

Baleen

Sperm

All Whales

1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 I889 1890 1891 1892 I893 1894 1895 I896 1897 1898 I899 1900

103.180 100.000 76.580 84.936 72.654 59.172 57.841 53.056 42.044 38.735 29.660 22.944 20.544 17.924 17.954 16.332 15.184 16.345 16.574 14.315 12.400 11.215 8.787 9.061 6.492 6.377 6.876 7.707 8.068 7.416 6.617 6.526 8.177 9.244 13.114 13.309 11.891 11.556 9.101 9.477 10.188 9.716 8.151 6.779 5.189 5.194 6.644

110.584 100.000 93.670 93.665 89.226 92.360 98.504 98.215 93.566 88.082 76.920 68.227 54.606 45.913 35.305 26.791 3 1.984 37.004 40.904 41.435 37.588 3 1.238 27.253 26.582 24.997 26.193 24.001 21.106 21.012 20.548 16.796 14.533 13.771 12.267 14.402 16.380 14.393 11.514 10.341 7.85 1 5.269 5.542 5.064 5.018 5.436 7.199 7.495

106.267 100.001 83.703 88.575 79.561 73.005 74.789 71.878 63.518 59.302 49.357 41.817 34.741 29.589 25.186 20.691 22.186 24.956 26.715 25.618 22.898 19.561 16.483 16.364 14.205 14.636 14.014 13.292 13.463 12.889 10.860 9.863 10.509 10.504 13.651 14.589 12.934 11.539 9.618 8.799 8.138 7.977 6.864 6.045 5.292 6.030 6.999

Table 8A.2

(continued) C. Pacific Ocean

Index Year 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905

Baleen 5.819 5.639 3.934 2.260 2.458

Sperm

8.873 8.746 7.164 7.897 7.567

All Whales 7.092 6.934 5.280 4.609 4.587

D. Western Arctic Ocean Index Year 1820-48" 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861" 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873" 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 (continued)

Baleen

0.000 0.000

0.000 2.282 3.878 25.753 49.077 60.936 70.376 58.906 52.740 50.517 -

44.114 35.721 28.740 23.23 1 15.401 13.752 17.296 20.314 25.138 25.192 22.720 -

15.207 8.034 4.911 5.823 6.273 6.995 4.819 3.996 4.678 4.646 4.639 3.073

Sperm -

0.000 0.000 0.000 45.610 41.738 42.529 41.868 38.966 39.738 37.389 37.071 38.787

36.903 34.071 3 1.266 31.167 27.500 25.617 24.604 23.690 25.551 28.272 26.567 22.959 19.252 20.712 22.185 23.581 27.543 26.769 27.272 25.424 23.003 22.781 20.406

All Whales

0.000

0.000 0.000 17.238 29.294 194.535 370.730 460.314 53 1.627 444.979 398.404 381.605 333.238 269.840 217.102 175.489 116.337 103.885 130.657 153.451 189,890 190.300 171.627 114.871 60.692 37.098 43.987 47.383 52.837 36.406 30.186 35.338 35.096 35.042 23.212

330

Chapter 8

Table 8A.2

(continued)

D. Western Arctic Ocean Index Year 1886-9 l a 1892 1893-1904“ 1905

Baleen

0.000

0.OOO

Sperm

O.Oo0 O.OO0

All Whales -

O.OO0

O.OO0

“No New Bedford voyages set out for this hunting ground.

To compute the denominators it was necessary to make three assumptions, none of which is perfectly realistic: the size of each hunting ground and the number of whales in each hunting ground remained constant over time; whales of different species were sufficiently close in value that numbers of whales could be summed up without regard to species. The lack of perfect realism is unlikely to be important for present purposes. The object of the denominators is to distinguish hunting grounds, not periods of time. For this purpose the denominators appear to be adequate. The data from which the denominators were constructed and the denominators themselves are shown in table 8B. 1. The estimates of the numbers of whales are taken from chapter 4; the square miles in the hunting grounds were estimated using an atlas and information about the parts of each ocean or sea in which whales were typically hunted. The numerators were constructed by estimating the number of tons of New Bedford whaling vessels in each ground in each month from January 1816 to December 1906, then blowing up these estimates to account for whaling vessels from other American ports. The Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian estimates were next increased to take into account British whaling in the years before 1846, and the Pacific and Western Arctic estimates to take into account Hawaiian whaling (1851-80). When a New Bedford vessel’s tonnage was missing, we estimated it on the basis of rigging: ship, 300 tons; bark, 250; brig, 150; schooner, 100; sloop, 100; rigging unknown, 200. When a date necessary to determine months at sea was missing-for example, the arrival date-we assumed the vessel was at sea for twenty months. If the sailing or arrival year was present but the month was missing, we assumed it was June. We also assumed that New Bedford whalers destined for the Atlantic arrived there in the month they sailed, and left there in the month they returned to port; vessels destined for the Pacific or Indian Ocean arrived on the ground three months after they left port, and vacated the ground two months before they arrived home; vessels destined for the Western Arctic reached the ground six months after sailing from New Bedford, and got back seven months after leaving the Arctic. These estimates were made on the basis of the diaries of people

331

Productivity

Table 8B.1

Data Used to Construct Ratio of Whales to Area of Hunting Ground Whales (millions)

Atlantic Pacific Indian Western Arctic

0.346 1.829 0.544 0.030

Square Miles (millions) 10.00 22.00 7.00 2.17 .

Whales/ Square Mile 0.0346 0.0831 0.0777 0.0138

who sailed on whalers. The available reports are quite consistent. The time trend appears to be zero. Some vessels started for the Pacific or Indian or Western Arctic, but obviously never got there: they were too short a time at sea. Competition indexes were not calculated for these vessels, and they were thus dropped from the productivity analysis. (For example, we assume that a ship going to the Pacific that spent less than five months at sea never got to the Pacific.) The domestic blowup ratios were computed from data in Tower 1907, 121-25 (numbers of vessels, not tons). The form of the data prohibit the construction of separate ratios for individual hunting grounds; one ratio had to be applied to all grounds in each year. Tower cites Starbuck (1878), 1784-1839 (clearances); Clark (1887a), 1840-80 (probably also clearances); and the WSL (1843-1914), 1880-1906 (vessels in the fleet). The figures refer only to the U.S. fleet. The clearances data should ideally be averaged over some period of time, to approximate the situation of the fleet at sea, while the data from the WSL need not, in principle, be averaged. Something can be said for averaging, however, on the ground that sharp movements from one year to the next are unlikely properly to reflect shifts in competitive pressures from one year to the next. Table 8B.2 gives the raw figures, five-year moving averages, and rounded versions of both. The rounded average figures were used as blowup ratios. The adjustments to take into account British whaling before 1845 were computed from data in Jackson 1978, 136, 270. We treated Jackson’s “Northern Fleet” as an Atlantic fleet, and his “Southern Fleet” as a Pacific and Indian fleet, although some of these vessels were probably hunting the South Atlantic. British tons were roughly equivalent to American tons. (See chapter 12.) For the southern fleet Jackson has data only for the first three years of the decades of the 1820s and 1830s, and for 1841, 1842, and 1843. We interpolated (straight line) to obtain the missing values. Jackson has tons for the northern fleet (very much the larger of the two) for the years 1815 through 1834. We rounded to hundreds of tons and extrapolated down to 1842 on the number of vessels in the ground. For the northern fleet we extrapolated a disappearance rate from 1842 to 1845, for the southern fleet from 1843 to 1845. The British tonnage in the northern fleet was then added to the American Atlantic tonnage. The British tonnage in the southern fleet was divided between the Indian and

Table 8B.2

Ratios of the Tonnage of the U.S. Whaling Fleet to the Tonnage of the New Bedford Whaling Fleet, 1816-1906

1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 I848 I849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 I860 1861 1862 1863

Raw

Average

4.615 4.462 3.200 3.850 3.389 3.385 3.788 2.846 2.28 1 2.576 2.815 2.500 2.592 3.143 2.197 2.446 3.167 3.162 4.262 2.952 3.742 3.588 3.371 3.378 3.119 3.075 3.095 3.100 2.817 2.862 2.820 2.811 2.609 2.432 2.260 2.193 2.167 2.080 2.050 2.010 2.010 1.951 1.963 1.927 1.860 1.732 1.596 1.600

-

3.903 3.657 3.522 3.452 3.138 2.975 2.862 2.603 2.552 2.725 2.649 2.576 2.709 2.823 3.047 3.198 3.457 3.540 3.582 3.405 3.441 3.306 3.208 3.152 3.040 2.990 2.939 2.882 2.784 2.707 2.586 2.461 2.332 2.226 2.150 2.100 2.063 2.027 1.997 1.972 1.942 1.887 1.816 1.743

Table 8B.2

(continued)

1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906

Raw

Average

1.492 1.526 1.573 1.696 1.785 1.860 1.795 1.591 1.476 1.477 1.434 1.421 1.371 1.381 1.392 1.364 1.375 1.439 1.450 1.387 1.548 1.565 1.610 1.564 1.568 1.683 1.796 1.902 1.917 1.959 2.020 2.179 2.026 2.094 2.250 2.240 1.920 1.818 1.625 1.696 1.680 1.750 1.750

1.660 1.589 1.557 1.577 1.614 1.688 1.742 1.745 1.701 1.640 1.554 1.480 1.436 1.417 1.400 1.386 1.376 1.390 1.404 1.402 1.439 1.477 1.512 1.535 1.570 1.597 1.644 1.702 1.773 1.851 1.929 2.005 2.032 2.067 2.125 2.159 2.108 2.066 1.972 1.861 1.749 1.715 1.701

Note: The text describes the construction of these ratios.

-

334

Chapter 8

the Pacific in the same proportions as the American tonnage. We reduced the British tonnage in these two grounds by 25 percent, to allow for travel time. We made no allowances for the British fleet after 1845. The resulting estimates of British tonnage are given in table 8B.3. We added data on vessels sailing from Honolulu, 185 1-80, drawn from Hegarty 1959, 48-50. In those instances when only a sailing or an arrival date is given, we assumed the voyage took six months. If only the year is given, we assumed the voyage ran from April through September. For voyages to the Western Arctic, one month was deducted from the beginning and one from the end of the voyage, to account for travel time. In those few instances in which the prospective hunting ground is not given, all voyages leaving in the summer, fall, and winter were assumed to be Pacific voyages; spring voyages were assigned alternately to the Western Arctic and the Pacific. Our estimates of Honolulu tonnage are given in table 8B.4. The results of these calculations are represented in table 8B.5. The competition index itself is monthly; the table shows figures for July of each year. Table 8B.3

Tonnage of the British Whaling Fleet, 1820-45 (thousands of tons)

1820 1821 1822 I823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 Source: Jackson 1978, 136,270.

Northern Fleet

Southern Fleet

50.5 50.7 38.1 36.8 35.0 34.8 30.4 28.3 28.7 28.8 29.4 28.6 26.4 25.3 25.0 23.1 19.8 16.9 12.7 13.3 10.1 6.2 5.9 4.2 2.0

19.8 14.4 11.4 11.2 11.0 10.8 10.6 10.4 10.2 9.9 9.7 8.3 12.1 8.3 7.9 7.4 7.0 6.5 6.1 5.6 5.2 4.8 1.8 3.1 2.0 1 .o

.o

1

Table 8B.4

Tonnage of the Honolulu Whaling Fleet, 18.51-80 Months May-August 1851 September 1851-February 1852 March-May 1852 June-September 1852 October 1852-October 1853 November 1853-April 1854 May-September I854 October 1854-April 1855 May-June 1855 July 1855 August 1855 September-October 1855 November 1855 December 1855 January-March 1856 April 1856 May 1856 June 1856 July-August 1856 September 1856 October 1856 November 1856-January 1857 February-March 1857 April 1857 May 1857 June-August 1857 September 1857 October 1857 November 1857 December 1857-January 1858 February 1858 March 1858 April 1858 May 1858 June 1858 July-August 1858 September 1858 October 1858 November 1858 December 1858-March 1859 April 1859 May 1859 June-August 1859 September 1859 October 1859 November 1859 December 1859-April 1860 May 1860

(continued)

Western Arctic 325 0 0 274 0 0 156 0 139 139 604 465 465 0 0 229 545 545 745 429 429 0 489 489 974 1,174 689 229 0

0 317 898 898 1,377 2,007 2,237 1,661 710 163 163 0 550 980 700 0 0 0 1,229

Pacific 0

0 150 150 0 550 0 0 0 398 398 398 490 490 92 322 230 322 322 322 92 92 92 167 75 75 75 0 0 163 163 163 673 673 759 759 759 1,342 1,342 1,772 1,296 1,590 1,686 1,686 1,580 2,127 2,291 827

Table 8B.4

(continued)

Months June 1860 July-August 1860 September 1860 October 1860 November 1860 December 1860 January-February 1861 March 1861 April 1861 May 1861 June-August 1861 September 1861 October 1861 November 1861 December 1861-March 1862 April 1862 May 1862 June 1862 July-August 1862 September 1862 October 1862 November 1862 December 1862 January-April 1863 May 1863 June-August 1863 September-November 1863 December 1863 January-March 1864 April-May 1864 June-September 1864 October 1864 November-December 1864 January-March 1865 April 1865 May 1865 June-September 1865 October 1865 November 1865 December 1865 January-April 1866 May 1866 June 1866 July-August 1866 September 1866 October 1866 November 1866 December 1866

Western Arctic 1,779 2,039 1,784 294 0 0 270 596 596 596 596 596 326 0

0 0 536 736 1,006 470 200 0 0 360 1,267 1,267 326 326 686 360 1,386 0 0 694 694 894 1,164 694 368 0 326 526 894 1,164 964 596 0 0

Pacific 502 887 887 887 1,095 1,522 1,417 1,617 1,953 1,799 1,858 1,603 2,011 2,461 1,446 1,246 280 280 280 280 0 200 300 770 750 470 470 658 65 8 725 125 940 658 1,018 548 360 255 255 255

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 326

Table 8B.4

(continued)

Months January-April 1867 May 1867 June-August 1867 September 1867 October 1867 November 1867 December 1867-February 1868 March 1868 April 1868 May-July 1868 August 1868 September 1868 October 1868 November 1868 December 1868 January 1869 February-March 1869 April 1869 May 1869 June 1869 July 1869 August 1869 September 1869 October 1869 November 1869 December 1869 January 1870 February 1870 March 1870 April 1870 May 1870 June 1870 July 1870 August-September 1870 October 1870 November 1870 December 1870 January 1871 February-March 1871 April 1871 May 1871 June-August 1871 September 1871 October-November 1871 December 1871-May 1872 June 1872 July-September 1872 October 1872 (continued)

Western Arctic

Pacific

368 1,367 1,367 1,020 750 0 0 453 1,191 1,538 1,070 815 0 0 0 1,298 1,654 1,654 1,924 1,924 1,924 1,924 1,924 1,191 0 0 916 916 916 1,617 1,797 1,797 2,434 2,865 2,327 356 787 787 1,173 817 1,452 1,066 43 1 0 43 1 43 1 718 287

326 326 0 0 0 393 918 918 550 157 157 157 0 157 412 412 412 592 592 978 798 978 1,409 1,155 1,195 1,151 1,151 1,406 975 926 926 544 544 544 544 386 0 255 255 525 270 270 270 0 188 0 0 0

Table 8B.4

(continued)

Months November-December 1872 January 1873 February 1873 March 1873 April 1873 May-August 1873 September 1873 October 1873 November 1873 December 1873-February 1874 March 1874 April 1874 May-August 1874 September 1874-April 1875 May-August 1875 September 1875-April 1876 May-August 1876 September 1876-April 1877 May-August 1877 September 1877-April 1878 May-August 1878 September 1878-April 1879 May-August 1879 September 1879-April 1880 May 1880 June-August 1880 September 1880 October-December 1880 Source: Hegarty 1959,48-50.

Western Arctic

0 43 1 718 718 718 804 718 0 86 517 43 1 0 280 0 998 0 818 0 423 0 423 0 172 0 188 274 86 0

Pacific 0 0 0 86 80 80 80 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Table 8B.5

Indexes of Competition (crowding) on the Whaling Grounds, 1820-1905 (Pacific, July 1855 = 100)

Year

Atlantic

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866

158.34 153.26 109.38 117.28 116.19 100.74 95.72 96.85 104.63 114.00 111.17 121.87 131.96 124.04 129.50 135.75 160.96 155.29 98.92 59.66 59.04 49.71 37.5 1 22.59 10.56 14.46 12.96 4.96 3.62 5.82 4.3 1 13.48 23.99 24.95 17.36 14.56 12.27 10.06 5.61 4.19 19.32 22.73 33.99 34.31 38.22 40.27 42.34

7.43 5.42 4.29 4.22 4.14 4.07 3.99 3.91 3.84 3.73 3.65 6.67 5.22 5.67 6.18 3.72 8.23 12.61 13.77 17.82 17.06 27.48 32.86 42.28 21.15 19.44 18.85 21.60 22.69 17.92 21.33 15.19 17.38 13.85 12.11 18.79 21.19 19.20 18.66 15.45 19.80 22.68 15.78 11.28 7.69 5.62 5.27

17.53 22.70 33.06 31.78 13.38 16.40 27.00 20.40 27.96 36.42 34.82 40.34 59.68 65.40 68.34 72.64 81.05 76.63 79.42 8 1.52 101.92 106.15 108.41 99.68 99.35 113.15 109.70 102.28 97.97 109.14 95.94 78.16 105.80 98.29 99.23 100.00 98.73 83.54 98.27 89.91 79.10 76.15 56.41 41.39 29.65 15.59 24.25

0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 20.94 117.18 257.77 217.04 191.09 186.43 192.57 177.34 192.05 193.42 170.66 106.47 39.45 72.18 105.41 94.45 127.77

(continued)

Table 8B.5 Year

1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 I890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905

(continued)

Atlantic

Indian

Pacific

44.94 34.06 31.18 29.82 19.58 23.03 18.30 22.97 37.98 42.5 1 48.87 54.14 49.99 5 1.98 50.04 50.08 36.53 33.32 25.31 18.07 14.04 11.18 11.60 10.55 15.72 17.07 16.50 20.20 20.33 16.01 13.22 17.91 16.95 16.53 14.50 12.19 13.82 12.72 16.35

7.09 8.39 12.71 13.03 12.71 13.69 10.22 8.09 3.97 6.69 6.81 6.42 2.58 0.32 0.43 0.46 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.91 2.77 1.97 0.5 1 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.86 0.00 0.00 0.00

29.60 31.81 32.62 3 1.53 24.39 24.25 22.29 16.79 16.62 15.06 14.52 14.79 16.53 14.40 12.22 13.78 15.71 15.85 17.47 17.60 17.16 20.05 17.17 12.32 12.69 11.49 10.46 8.29 9.33 7.92 7.95 5.67 4.55 3.93 3.72 3.31 4.15 4.73 3.63

Western Arctic

112.47 107.23 100.15 87.98 56.74 36.86 38.65 32.68 25.31 20.97 22.63 19.80 15.09 23.76 16.76 20.3 1 22.23 8.99 6.65 3.32 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00

0.00 0.00 4.27

Notes; An index number of 0.00 means that there were no whaling vessels in the ground. Only the month of July is represented in the table, but the indexes are computed for each month, and the index numbers vary within a year. For example, in 1855 the monthly numbers are: Western Pacific Arctic Indian Month Atlantic

January February

11.61 11.61

16.19 15.86

120.98 121.73

109.90 115.04

Table 8B.5 Month March April May June July August September October November December

(continued)

Atlantic

Indian

Pacific

Western Arctic

12.88 12.88 12.98 14.02 14.56 16.16 15.20 13.42 13.42 13.42

17.73 18.79 18.79 18.79 18.79 17.37 20.56 20.93 22.74 23.63

111.10 106.96 102.84 99.63 100.00 97.77 98.61 100.19 108.27 113.44

131.97 154.10 177.52 186.43 186.43 189.06 188.27 174.06 161.30 143.77

9

Product Markets

Of the various factors commonly implicated in the decline of the American whaling industry, a failure of demand is widely regarded as most important. The evidence favoring this interpretation is strong, but detailed information on the markets for whale products is not nearly so abundant as are data on whaling vessels and whaling voyages. The voluminous literature on the industry treats the whaling venture from the recruitment of vessel and crew, through the vicissitudes of the voyage, to the return to home port (for those vessels and crews that did return) and the distribution of the proceeds of the voyage among crewmen, agents, and owners. At that stage the river of books, essays, and archival records shrinks to a rivulet. Very little has been written about what happened once the oil, bone, and ambergris were unloaded on the docks. The bits and pieces that have come to hand are assembled in this chapter, which describes the changing market for whale products in the nineteenth century.’ “Whale oil enters, as a raw material, into several branches of manufacture, as of wool, leather, soap: it is used also in painting, architecture and navigation. But its great consumption is in lighting houses and cities.” So said Thomas Jefferson in 1788 (1990, 53). His account was correct for that day, but times change: the process of industrialization, which Jefferson abhorred, altered the market demands on the whaling fleet. Whale oils were used in a widening array of industries, as softening and cleansing agents, and as constituents of cosmetics, of medicines, and of various other chemicals. The most important new use was the lubrication of industrial machinery. In the years down to 1850, this component of demand grew faster than any other. Thereafter, the markets for all whale products probably shrank, but the demand for baleen, unmentioned by Jefferson because it was of so little importance in 1788, held up 1. “It is much more difficult to trace the development of trade in whale products than it is to trace any other phase in the history of whaling activities” (Tower 1907, 98).

342

343

Product Markets

better than the rest. In Jefferson’s day baleen was rarely saved; at the end of the nineteenth century, it was the leading product of the fishery.2 Whalemen took five materials from the sperm whale: case oil, the junk, white horse, blubber, and, if they were lucky, ambergris (for ambergris, see chapter 2). Three came from the head, which accounted for about one-third of the length of the whale. West describes it well: “A sperm whale’s head is divided into three sections, horizontally. The uppermost is the case which holds twenty or thirty barrels of purest oil. Beneath this is the junk, a somewhat fibrous, oily matter, below which are ligaments about a foot thick called ‘white horse.’”3 The case oil could be bailed directly from the head into barrels. It was virtually pure spermaceti, and, for that reason, once it was in the open air, it began to congeal. Case, or head, oil supplied about one-third of the oil taken from a typical sperm whale, and sometimes as much as one-half. Oil was extracted in try-pots from the junk, the white horse, and the blubber. This oil also contained spermaceti. The degree of concentration varied, depending upon the part of the body from which the oil was taken, but nowhere was it as high as in the head oil. The head and blubber oils were kept separate aboard ship, but combined ashore before refining began. Virtually all sperm oil was refined. There were several steps to the process, and they produced five forms of output. First, the blubber oil and the head oil were combined in large tanks. Pipes lined the tanks, and steam was introduced to heat the oil to a temperature of about 212 degrees Fahrenheit-a temperature maintained for six to ten hours. The heat boiled off any remaining water and melted any as yet unmelted blubber; it probably also changed the character of the product. In any case the oil that went into the tank was typically light yellow, with a mild odor and taste; the oil that came out was perfectly colorless, odorless, and flavorless. When the steam was turned off, the tank was allowed to cool, and the oil was pumped out into fifty-gallon containers. Soap was made from the trash at the bottom of the tank. The oil containers were next taken outside and allowed to cool to about 32 degree^.^ If the outdoor temperature was not low enough, the containers were placed in a pit, covered with ice and salt, and left for ten or twelve days. Regardless of how the temperature was brought down, the frozen oil was now in granulated form. It was placed in large sacks and entered into a press 2. “The average price . . . for the year 1887 . . . was . . . $3.12 [per pound]. . . . It is within the remembrance of many an old whaleman when this bone, now so precious, was dumped over the ship’s side as waste or only saved by the sailors for “scrimshaw work.’ . . . When first saved, the hone had a market value of only a few cents a pound. In 1823 it was worth about 12 cents’’ (Pease and Hough 1889,32). 3. Stevenson 1904, 189, 190. The material in the next several paragraphs dealing with types of output and oil refining was taken chiefly from this source, 183, 184, 189-91, 199-203,204, 245. See also Pease and Hough 1889, 181-93; they give a slightly different account and include details of the development of oil refining in New Bedford. The quotation in the text is from West 1965, 13. 4. According to Stevenson the original standard was 32 degrees, but by the turn of the century it had been raised to 38 degrees.

344

Chapter 9

that exerted two thousand pounds of pressure per square inch. The press squeezed out a pure oil-called winter oil-that would remain liquid at 32 degrees, a desirable trait. About two-thirds of the volume of the oil and spermaceti taken from the whale was converted to winter oil. (Later in the century, when the test standard changed from 32 to 38 degrees, winter oil extracted by the cooling and pressing process came to about three-quarters of this volume.) Winter oil was either sold as is (about one-half), or bleached to precipitate out the solids before sale. Bleaching precipitated out more solids that could be used in soap making. After the first pressing the material left in the bags-a brownish solid-was heated to 50-60 degrees and pressed again. The resulting oil, called spring oil, amounted to about 9 percent of the total output. Spring oil congealed at temperatures lower than 50-60 degrees and was therefore less desirable than winter oil. After the second pressing the residual was chopped up and stored for a week at a temperature of about 80 degrees. It was then pressed a third time, at one hundred thousand pounds per square inch. The oil obtained was called taut pressed oil, and came to about 5 percent of the total product. The remainder was pure spermaceti. Under the pressing standards for oil adhered to in the middle of the century, spermaceti and soap together represented about 19 percent of the total product by volume. The pressing standards adopted later in the century yielded more oil, and therefore left less spermaceti-about 11 percent (including soap) of the whole product. The shift seems to have reflected changes in the structure of demand for sperm-whale products. The demands for all declined, but spermaceti candles were particularly heavy losers. The lubricant market for sperm oil remained somewhat more robust. The refiners therefore shifted the composition of their output, producing more oil and less spermaceti. The spermaceti that resulted from the series of pressings was not a final product. Before being sent to market it was normally heated and combined with caustic soda. The procedure released the remaining oil and whitened the product. The transformed spermaceti was then cut into bricks and sold. Early in the century a certain amount was used in treating a variety of illnesses. As time passed, medical uses of spermaceti became much more restricted, and virtually all of the output was sold to candlemakers. Until the 1830s the products of the sperm whale were used chiefly as illuminants. Although the rich could afford spermaceti candles and sperm oil lamps, the largest lighting demand came from the public sector. Sperm oil was used in lighthouses and city streetlights because of the brightness with which it burned. As the American economy industrialized, the oil came to be used mainly as a lubricant. By 1835, according to Timothy Pitkin ([ 18351 1967,45), between one-quarter and one-third of the annual output was consumed in cotton and woolen man~facturing.~ The superintendent of the census of 1860 re5 . The data in table 9. I suggest that Pitkin’s estimates are in the right neighborhood, if the demand for lubricants in the woolen textiles industry was about as high as in the cotton textiles industry.

345

Product Markets

ported (U.S. Census Office 1866,546), “Cotton and woolen factories consume large quantities of sperm oil, each spindle using about half a gallon.” If that estimate is correct, in 1860 the New England cotton textile industry alone consumed more than the nation’s total output of winter, spring, and taut sperm oil combined (see table 9.1). In fact, the superintendent’s estimate was probably of the demand for high-quality lubricants. Sperm oil was certainly the best of the lot, but it was not the only option. Cotton factories may have purchased other oils in addition to sperm oil-indeed, they must have, if the superintendent was right about the annual quantity of lubricant the industry required. The point is that domestic demand for lubricants expanded rapidly in the nineteenth century. After 1845 the amount of sperm oil flowing into the domestic economy declined, partly because output fell, but also because exports rose sharply (see tables 9.8, 9.9, and 9.10, and the discussion below). From that date onward, very little sperm oil was available domestically for purposes of illumination.6 Writing at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, Stevenson (1904, 202) said of whale oil, “In a crude state it is used to some extent by screw-cutters, steel temperers, cordage manufacturers, and as an illuminant for miners’ lamps, but more than half is refined in a manner similar to the treatment of sperm oil.” At the high tide of the whale fishery, the fraction of the oil refined was probably about as Stevenson supposed.’ The refining process called for whale oil to be boiled and cooled before pressing, but it was typically cooled to temperatures of 36-40 degrees, instead of the 32 degrees usual for sperm oil. It was bagged and thrown on a wooden straining table to take off some of the oil, and it was then pressed. The straining 6. See WSL 20 January 1863, which makes the point very clearly. The editor describes the impact of the Civil War on the sperm-whale fishery: “To those who are in any way interested in this Oil it is almost needless to remark that the past year has been very unfavorable to its consumption in consequence of being deprived of our usual supplies of American cotton, and it is useless to offer any opinion as to the period when the free importation of that most useful and necessary material from the Southern states of America will be resumed, but until it is we fear nothing like animation in our Sperm Oil market can be looked for.” 7. For example, assuming that the year saw no major changes in inventories, that the refining of oil called for the consumption of very little-other than oil-in the way of raw materials, and that the costs of transporting oil from the dock to the refineries were negligible, in 1860 about 68 percent of the value of output of the whale fishery was refined. (See table 9.6. Compare the value of output of the whale fishery with the value of materials consumed in the refining of oil.) At the same date about 84 percent of the value of output of the fishery consisted of oil; about 50 percent of the value of output consisted of sperm oil (Tower 1907, 126, 128). All of the sperm oil was refined, leaving 34 percent of the value of output of the fishery consisting of whale oil. The unrefined part of the whale oil amounted to 16 percent of the value of output of the fishery (84 percent minus 68 percent), which leaves 18 percent (34 percent minus 16 percent) refined. Thus about one-half (18 percent divided by 34 percent) of the value of whale oil was refined. None of the assumptions on which the estimates rest is strictly correct. Part-a small part-of the value of output of the fishery consisted of ambergris, and the calculation takes no account of that fact; refineries no doubt used materials other than oil; refiners had to pay for transportation of the oil from the docks to the refineries; inventories certainly did change from year to year. The deviations of the assumptions from fact are probably not large. All of them, except for the one involving inventories, bias the calculations in the direction of slightly exaggerating the fraction of the output of whale oil refined. Inventory changes can work either way.

346 Table 9.1

1827-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60

Chapter 9 Lubricant Requirements for New England’s Cotton Spindles, and Domestic Supplies of Sperm Oil, 1827-60 Spindles, Fully Employed Equivalents ( 1,000s)”

Lubricant Required (1,000 gallons)b

Sperm Oil Entering U.S. Markets (1,000 gallons)‘

Lubricant Required Sperm Oil Available

501 913 1,231 1,587 1,934 2,616 2,874

25 1 457 616 793 967 1,308 1,437

2,138 2,904 3,555 3,505 2,035 1,296 1,087

0.117 0. I57 0.173 0.226 0.475 1.009 1.322

Notes: The figures in the first three columns are averages of annual values. “Thesefigures were computed from data in Davis and Stettler 1966. The figures in the last column of Davis and Stettler’s table 4, “Output by Region,” were divided by the corresponding figures in the column headed “Yards per Spindle-Year-Raw’’ in their table 8, “Output . . . per SpindleYear.” bThesefigures are the first column multiplied by 0.5 gallons, an estimate of the amount of lubricant required per spindle per year, from U.S. Census Office 1866, 546. These figures were derived from data in Tower 1907, 126, 127, adjusted in the manner (and for the reasons) described in the notes to table 9.8. Tower’s annual sperm oil production figures (summarized in the first column of table 9.8, panel A) were multiplied by 0.81, and from these products his annual sperm oil export figures (summarized in the second column of table 9.8, panel A) were subtracted. The coefficient 0.81 represents the fraction of the refined products of sperm oil that consisted of oil (the rest consisted chiefly of spermaceti). See the text for a description of the refining process.

and pressing yielded winter whale oil, which amounted to about 90 percent of the total refined oil product taken from the whale. The residual-called foots-could be heated, cooled, and pressed again, to obtain spring whale oil. Often the residual was sold as is for sizing textiles. A small fraction of the whale oil was bleached before sale. The bleaching precipitated a solid that was made into a soap for cleaning furs; a part was also used to produce a protective wash for fruit trees-it drove off the insects. Like sperm oil, whale oil was employed as an illuminant and lubricant. There were differences, however. On the one hand, the best sperm oil remained liquid at temperatures at which whale oil congealed. Sperm oil of all types gave brighter illumination, and did not have the offensive odor of whale oiL8 On the other hand, whale oil was cheaper and therefore was for a time a staple in many households. In the United States it was not usually employed in public lighting-it did not bum brightly enough-nor was it found below the ser8. Stevenson 1904, 202. Bullen’s views ([1898] 1980, 51) are stronger: “But the awful putrid mass discharged from a Greenlander’s hold is of very different quality and value, apart from the nature of the substance, to the clear and sweet [sperm] oil, which after three years in a cask is landed from a south-seaman as inoffensive in smell and flavor as the day it was shipped.”

347

Product Markets

The oil and candle factory of George Delano, South Street, New Bedford. In 1884 Stephen and James Delano succeeded their father at the head of this business, and in 1888 their factory (George Delano’s Sons) was “the largest grease refinery in the world. The buildings cover nearly two acres of land and in the busy season forty-five men are employed . , . The company manufactures sperm, whale, sea elephant, fish, and cotton seed oils, patent and paraffine wax candles, spermaceti, whale and fish oil pressings, and sperm and whale oil soap. All crude oils are worked out to definite results at the factory and the product is shipped to every part of the world” (Pease and Hough 1889, 181). Reproduced from the New Bedford atlas of 1881, by courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

vants’ attics in the homes of the rich. Sperm oil lubricated light, fast-moving machinery, whale oil, heavy machinery such as locomotive engines. The refining processes for both types of oil were simple and called for the consumption of few other resources. The value added by processing came to only 15-20 percent of the value of the raw materials; for manufacturing as a whole, value added was typically about 80 percent (see table 9.2). Furthermore, processing did not significantly reduce the bulk or weight of the product, with the result that refining could be conducted anywhere. Two groups of sites had particular advantages: the whale ports were the first recipients of the oil and had human capital invested in handling it; and large cities and manufacturing centers were the major markets for whale products. In fact, except for New York City, large urban centers did not refine much oil, and it may well be that New York owed its substantial refining facilities as much to the existence of nearby whaling ports as to local demands for lighting and lubricants. New York aside, whaling towns were the principal manufacturers of whale products, although New Bedford accounted for a smaller fraction of the refining industry than of the whaling industry. In 1860, for example, vessels sailing from Bristol

348 Table 9.2

Chapter 9 Ratios of Value Added to Value of Raw Materials, Sperm and Whale Oil Refining, and AIL Manufacturing, United States, 1850-90

Sperm and whale oil refining All manufacturing

1850“

1860b

188 1-88‘

,207 336

.165 ,828

,167

1890d

,816

Note: It would be desirable to include data from the I880 census in this table, but the value added raw materials ratio in 1880 is not comparable to the ratio in the years represented. See Gallman 1960. “Computed from figures in U S . Department of the Interior 1858, 87. The ratio for sperm and whale oil refining rests on figures reported for “oil, whale.” Since sperm oil is nowhere dealt with in the census report, we assume it is included in “oil, whale.” bComputed from figures in U.S. Census Office 1865,739, 742. The ratio for sperm and whale oil refining rests on figures reported for “Oil-Fish, whale and other.” Since sperm oil is nowhere dealt with in the volume, we assume it is included in “Oil-Fish, whale and other.” ‘Computed from prices in Bezanson 1954, 224-25, as follows: the price of winter-grade (that is, refined) whale oil (specifically baleen oil) minus the price of crude whale (baleen) oil divided by the price of crude whale (baleen) oil. Since the calculation ignores raw materials other than whale oil, the ratio obtained should be a little larger than the true value addedraw materials ratio; but, since materials other than whale oil did not figure in an important way in the production of wintergrade oil, the bias should be slight. dComputed from figures in U.S. Department of the Interior 1895,95.

County-in which New Bedford was the largest town-produced eight-tenths (by value) of the output of the U.S. whale fishery, while the county manufactured only a little more than one-half (by value) of the refined oil produced in the United States (see table 9.3). The domestic oil market expanded extraordinarily rapidly in the nineteenth century. Real GNP increased at a rate of almost 4 percent per year across the entire century, and in the three decades before the Civil War, when whaling grew to its peak, the rate was 4.5 percent. In 1860 the American economy was ten times as large as it had been in 1800 (see table 9.4). The expansion of the economy alone would have led to increased demand for illuminants, even if the standard of living had not changed. After all, on the eve of the Civil War the American population was almost six times as large as it had been in 1800. Even if consumption per head or per family (the number of families increased faster than the number of people) had held steady, demand for lighting materials would have gone up strongly. In fact, the standard of living did not remain static. Real per capita national product rose by over 70 percent between 1800 and 1860, and the rate of increase was especially high-almost 1.5 percent per year-between 1830 and 1860. The demand for illuminants was almost certainly income elastic. Elasticity must have been particularly high for products of good quality, such as spermaceti candles and sperm oil. Until late in the antebellum period, even whale oil was a better lamp fluid than were most of its competitors. The demand for lubricants grew even faster. The volume of sperm oil needed to ease the movements of the cotton spindles of New England increased six-

Table 9.3

Production and Refining of Sperm Oil and Whale Oil in the United States, in Massachusetts, and in Bristol County (Massachusetts), 1860 A. Whale Fishery, Absolute Numbers

Value of product ($) Cost of materials ($) Number of establishments Capital invested ($) Hands employed Annual cost of labor ($)

U.S.

MA

Bristol County

7,749,305 2,789,195 422 13,292,060 12,301 3,509,080

6,734,955 2,282,000 384 12,468,660 11,296 3,188,848

6,225,285 2,075,000 358 11,534,500 10,458 3,064,944

B. Whale Fishery, Relative Numbers

Value of product Cost of materials Number of establishments Capital invested Hands employed Annual cost of labor

Bristol/MA

BristoWS.

MA/U.S.

,924 .909 ,932 .925 ,926 .961

,803 ,744 ,848 ,868 350 ,873

,869 ,818 ,910

,938 .9 18 ,909

C. Refining of Sperm Oil and Whale Oil, Absolute Numbers

Value of product ($) Cost of materials ($) Number of establishments Capital invested ($) Hands employed Annual cost of labor ($1

us.

MA

Bristol County

6,099,377 5,236,495 48 1,968,201 337 138,276

4,087,650 3,639,121 23 1.1 13,401 166 65,040

3,062,484 2,720,600 12” 723,000 117 45,660

D. Refining of Sperm Oil and Whale Oil, Relative Numbers

Value of product Cost of materials Number of establishments Capital invested Hands employed Annual cost of labor

Bristol/MA

Bristol/U.S.

MANS.

,749 ,748 ,522 ,650 ,705 ,702

.502 ,520 .250 ,367 ,347 ,330

.670 ,695 ,479 .566 ,493 ,470

E. Ratios of the Cost of Materials in Panel C to the Value of Output in Panel A

(continued)

U.S.

MA

Bristol County

,676

,540

,431

Table 9.3

(continued)

Sources: For panels A and B, U.S. Census Office 1866, 550. For panels C and D, U.S. Census Office 1865, 233 (Bristol County), 255 (Massachusetts), 739 (United States). Census figures for Massachusetts and Bristol County appear under the heading “oil, whale,” those for the United States under the heading “Oil-Fish, whale and other.” In both sets of figures we have assumed that sperm oil and spermaceti are included (see table 9.2 notes). Since the U.S. total is more comprehensive than the totals for Massachusetts and for Bristol County, the ratios in the last two columns of panel D are too low. Note: Panels A and B include all products of the whale fishery: panels C and D include only oil. ”he New Bedford City Directories list twenty-one candle houses and oil factories in 1841 and 1856, nine more firms than the census of 1860 records. Since the census enumerated only firms with at least $500 of gross output, there may be no true discrepancy between the two sources.

Table 9.4

The Growth of American Real GNP and Real GNP per Capita, 1800 to 1899-1908 (1860 dollars) Real GNP

Indexes (1800 = 100) 1800 1810 1820 1830 1840 1850 1860 1869-78 1874-83 1884-93 1894-1903 1899-1 908

Average annual rates of growth (a) 1800-1830 1830-60 1860 to 1884-93 1869-78 to 1899-1908 1800 to 1899-1 908

100

I40 191 275 402 603 1,017 1,588 2,084 3,151 4,293 5,409 3.4 4.5 3.8 4.2 3.9

Real GNP per Capita

100 103 105 113 125 137 171 191 225 27 1 304 349 0.4 1.4

1.5 2.0 1.2

Sources: Population figures come from U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series A-7. GNP figures for 1800-1830 are obtained by extrapolating the per capita figures for 1840 on Thomas Weiss’s real GDP per capita series (1992,27), variant A (1840 prices). (The quantitative difference between per capita GNP and per capita GDP is slight.) The per capita estimates thus obtained are multiplied by population to get estimates of real GNP. GNP figures for the period 1840 to 18991908 are taken from Gallman 1966,26. Notes: From 1800 to I860 GNP dates refer to census years: for example, 1860 refers to the twelvemonth period 1 June 1859 through 31 May 1860. In the same period, population dates refer to 1 July: for example, 1860 refers to 1 July 1860. In the periods 1869-78 to 1899-1908, the reported GNP is the annual average for the specified decade. The years refer to calendar years. Population is as of 1 July and refers to a date six months following the midpoint of the decade. Thus, the midpoint of the decade 1869-78 falls at 3 1 December 1873 and I January 1874. The population figure used to compute the per capita GNP for 1869-78 refers to 1 July 1874.

351

Product Markets

and-one-half-fold between 1827 and the Civil War (see table 9.1). In 1859 there was eighteen times as much railroad equipment in the United States as there had been two decades earlier; rolling stock was a heavy user of whale oil lubricants, and locomotive headlights were whale oil lamps (see table 9.5). More generally, the structure of the American capital stock was changing. Animals and inventories represented ever smaller fractions of the capital stock, while equipment and machinery became ever more important, especially after 1840. In the first four decades of the century this component of the capital stock increased more than fourfold, and did so again in the next twenty years; in 1860 the real value of equipment and machinery was sixteen times what it had been in 1800. Clearly, the domestic market for lubricants was extraordinarily buoyant. So was the foreign market (see below). If the whale fishery had had the domestic illuminant and lubricant markets to itself, it would have done very well indeed. In all likelihood the rest of the economy would not have done so well; it is highly improbable that the whale fishery alone could have met the lighting and lubricating requirements of an economy expanding at the rate of the American. In the absence of other lubricants, growth would simply have been slower. As it happened, however, there were competitors from the beginning, and as time passed their number and their advantages grew. This wa5 fortunate for the American economy at large, and initially not harmful to whaling, although by the 1850s there were clear indications that whaling’s competitors would eventually drive the fleet to extinction, even if the economy continued to expand. Prior to 1830 candles and oil lamps dominated the American illuminants market. The chief competitors of the whale fishery were the slaughterhouses, turning out lard (which was made into lamp oil) and tallow (which was made into candles and lubricants). Supplies of lard and tallow were abundant; American per capita meat consumption was extraordinarily high, by virtually any standard one can think of. The lard oil production process was similar to that of sperm and whale oil. The basic material-pork lard in this case-was chilled and pressed. The resulting oil was of a poorer quality than its rivals. It burned only at a higher temperature, and, since it congealed easily, it did not flow well in the lamp. Tallow candles, made from the fat of cattle and sheep, did not emit as bright a light as sperm candles, burned unevenly, and collapsed in hot weather. Quality differences can be offset by differences in price, however, a point not lost on Thomas Jefferson (1990, 53). Writing about the competition between whale oil and vegetable oils toward the end of the 1780s, he said: For this last purpose [illumination] however it [whale oil] has a powerful competitor in the vegetable oils. These do well in warm, still weather, but they fix with cold, they extinguish easily with the wind, their crop is precarious, depending on the seasons, and to yield the same light, a larger wick must be used, and greater quantity of oil consumed. Estimating all of these articles of difference together, those employed in lighting cities find their

352 Table 9.5

Chapter 9 Stocks of American Machinery and Equipment, Index Numbers on the Base 1840,1799-1900 Railroad Equipmenta 1799 1815 1840 1850 1860 1870 1880 1890 1900

100

350 1,800 3,350 8,650 18,300 22,600

All Machinery and Equipment 23 32 100 176 436 620 1,140 3,608 6,300

Sources: For railroad figures Fishlow 1966,626. For all machinery and equipment Gallman 1986, 204; worksheets underlying Gallman 1992. "The dates for the first three years in the railroad series are 1839, 1849, and 1859.

account in giving about 25 per cent. more for whale than for vegetable oils. But higher than this the whale oil, in its present form, cannot rise; because it then becomes more advantageous to the city-lighters to use others. The price gap was even greater between tallow and sperm candles: between 1784 and 1800 a pound of the latter cost three times a pound of the former (Cole 1938, 23, 29). Nonetheless, since the quality advantage was great, there were plenty of sperm-candle takers. The whale fishery and the slaughterhouses were the principal suppliers of the illuminating and lubricating markets in the early nineteenth century. Given the booming long-term advance in demand-especially after the War of 1812-the prospects of firms in both industries were good. As late as 1850, however, the whale fishery had a much larger share of these markets than did the slaughterhouses (see tables 9.6 and 9.9). If home production of tallow candles and other illuminants and lubricants were factored in, the relative importance of whaling would be somewhat diminished, but the fleet would continue to be the chief supplier of lighting and lubrication. The first important change in the illumination market was the introduction of manufactured gas. The gas was hydrogen, and efforts were made to extract it from a variety of substances. In the late eighteenth century the English succeeded with coal and began to distribute coal gas. The Americans borrowed the process, but it was not until 1802 that the first burner was produced. Given the small sizes of American cities-there were substantial economies of scale in gas distribution-and the initial abundance of whale products, tallow, and lard, it is not surprising that the innovation and diffusion of the extraction process in the United States took a long time, Only in 1816-thirty-four years after the formation of the first English firm-did the first American firm, the Gas Light Company of Baltimore, receive a charter. Even then progress was

Table 9.6

Value of Output, Whale Oils and Their Chief Economic Competitors, 1850-1900 (thousands of dollars) 1850

1860

1,145 1. Candles, adamantine 2 2. Candles, wax 3. Candles, not specified 10,200" 18,465 4. Soap and candles 5 . Total, soap and 10,200 19,612 candles 16 6. Oil, neatsfoot 1,618 2,553 7. Oil, lard 8. Oil, animal 1,618 2,569 9. Total, animal oilsd 4,255 10. Oil, coal 2,143 11. Oil, kerosene' 12. Oil, petroleum, refined 0 6,398 13. Total, mineral oils 124 14. Oil, essential 320 15. Oil, castor 5,982 16. Oil, linseed 1,949 741 17. Oil, cottonseed 18. Camphene and 2,611 burning fluid 19. Oil, rosin 6,4239 20. Turpentine 2,856 21. Oil, vegetable, not specified 22. Total, vegetable 16,201 oils 4,805 23. Oil, illuminating, not petroleum 24. Oil, lubricating 200 25. Oil, chemical 26. Total, oils not 200 0 specified 12,016 27. Gas, illuminating 1,922 7,749 10,056' 28. Whale fishery' 29. Refined oil, fish, 6,099 whale, and other 7,840 Whale oils and their competitors, broadly defined 30. Total of lines 5 , 9, 13,22, 26, 27.28 28,601 64,745 31. Total of lines 5 , 9, 13, 22, 26, 27,29 26,385 63,095 Whale oils and their competitors, narrowly defined 32. Total of lines 9, 13,26, 27, 28 13,596 28,931 33. Total of lines 9, 13, 26, 27, 29 11,380 27,281 (continued)

1870

1880

1890

1900

-

-

-

-

89 22,535

26,553

43,600

53,231

22,624 9,729 9,729 26,942 -

26,553 259 4,72 I 4,721 -

43,600

53,231 1,222 1,222 -

19,304 46,246 63 1 758 8,882 2,206

43,705 43,705 249 654 15,394 7,69lF

85,OO 1 85,001 255 573 23,534 19,336'

123,929 123,929 850 395 27,184 58,727'

-

238 5,877h

739 8,077h

-b 20,345'

3,5Uh

-b

1,182 1,182

-

-

-

-

16,835

30,103

52.5 14

107,501

-

510 2,926

600 8,657

773

88

-

-

88 32,049 -

3,436 2,324

3,993

-

-

-

I 3 1,564

-

-

-

92,105

-

}

17,1841

9,257 56,987 1.673"

17,184 75,717 -

250.214

-

154,100

-

354

Chapter 9

Table 9.6

34. Line 28Aine 30 35. Line 28fline 32 36. Line 29fline 31 37. Line 29fline 33

(continued) 1850

1860

1870

1880

1890

1900

,352 ,740 ,297 ,689

,120 ,268 ,097 ,224

-

-

,006

-

-

-

,030 ,043

,011 -

Sources: For 1850 U.S. Department of the Interior 1858; for 1860 US. Census Office 1865; for 1870 U.S. Department of the Interior 1872; for 1880 U.S. Department of the Interior 1883; for 1890 U.S. Department of the Interior 1895: for 1900 U.S. Census Office 1902. Nolest The census returned the value of output of natural gas only in 1890: returns for electrical power were made in 1880 and 1890, but they appear to have been fragmentary. Natural gas and electrical power are therefore not represented in this table. "he census term is chandlers. bIncluded elsewhere, according to the census. cProbably includes refined sperm and whale oils. "Except for sperm and whale oils, which are excluded from all entries except probably 1870. 'Almost certainly coal oil kerosene. Tncludes oil cake. gDistilled turpentine. hIncludes rosin and tar. 'Includes rosin. 'Includes neatsfoot oil. kIncludes baleen and ambergris. 'All fisheries. The total is presumably dominated by the whale fishery. "Ambergris, $23,200: sperm oil, $472,667; whale oil, $181,953; whalebone, $994,896.

snail-like: after twenty years of operation, the company had laid two miles of pipe (Brown 1936, 11). Four cities chartered gas companies in the 1820s and 1830s-New York (1823), Boston (1828), New Orleans (1832), Philadelphia (1836)-and seven had some gas lighting by 1840. In the next two decades the list increased by thirty-four. Included in this group was New Bedford, where a plant was opened in 1853.9 By 1850 the value of output of manufactured gas was about onequarter of the value of output of refined whale, sperm, and fish oils. The relative situation then changed dramatically. By 1860 the value of gas production was twice the value of refined oils from the fisheries (see table 9.6). The whale industry had encountered its first serious new competitor. The rapid expansion of the gas industry after 1830 took place in the context of growing urban demand and a series of technical, organizational, and

9. Pease and Hough 1889, 287. A group of Philadelphia entrepreneurs joined with two New Bedford citizens-James B. Congdon and Abraham Howland-in 1850 and got a state charter. Locals bought them out quickly. The first president was William C. Taber, from a distinguished whaling family; the second was Gilbert Allen, from an even more distinguished whaling family: one of the two original local organizers-Abraham Howland-came from a still more distinguished whaling family. Whaling agents knew a good thing when they saw it.

355

Product Markets

political-economic changes. At the technical level, despite the success of the English with the gasification of coal, the Americans experimented with a series of other fuels. The New York Gas Company tried whale oil for a year, but gave it up because operating expenses equalled “the entire cost of the plant, including the land on which it stood and all their equipment.” The firm quickly converted to rosin oil (Stotz and Jamison 1938, 16). Rosin oil had its shortcomings, too: when the gas was pumped any distance, the flammable elements were lost (Scientijic American 10 November 1860, 3 13). Coal was cheaper than whale oil, and coal gas-unlike rosin gas-could be pumped through the distribution system without serious loss of flammable constituents. There were other problems, however. Coal gas had impurities. They could be filtered out, but the equipment was expensive. Engineers set to work and produced an improved process of gasification that automatically removed impurities. The expensive purification equipment was no longer necessary. But there was a catch: the procedure worked only on cannel coal (a type of bituminous coal), and, although cannel coal could be imported from England, it carried a substantial duty. Political changes eventually solved that problem. In 1846 the schedule of tariffs was reduced. For British cannel coal the duty fell from $1.75 to $0.40 a ton. The change was enough to bring mass conversions from whale and rosin oil to coal in the production of gas, and the price of gas fell. After converting from rosin oil to cannel coal in 1849, the New York Gas Company dropped its rate from $0.70 to $0.60 and eventually to $0.40 per hundred cubic feet. The discovery of domestic supplies of cannel coal settled matters (Collins 1934, 81; Stotz and Jamison 1938, 45; Williamson and Daum 1959, 39). Coal was now the fuel of choice. These changes meant twofold losses for whalemen. First, gas companies had been buying whale oil to use in their gasification processes. That market was now gone. Second, with cheap coal, gas rates fell sharply. The decline induced urban consumers to shift from whale oil lamps to gas lighting. The gas companies also developed an important marketing innovation. Before 1830 gas consumers contracted for a certain number of hours of service after sunset. The system had two serious flaws: customers paid for a full evening’s service every day, even when they spent the evening away from home; and the gas company had to make sure that customers turned off the gas at the agreed-upon hour. It dispatched monitors to walk the city streets to see that customers adhered to their contracts. The solution to the problem was demonstrated in 1833, when metering was introduced by the New York Gas Company. Improvements were also made in the quality of animal and vegetable oils in the three decades before the Civil War. Redistilled turpentine-given the name camphene or burning j u i d , and sometimes mixed with alcohol-entered the illuminant market in the 1830s. It was lighter than whale or lard oil, flowed easily in the lamp, gave a bright light, and produced no odor while burning. It also had a serious disadvantage: it was highly volatile and was known to explode. Nonetheless, camphene became an important lamp fuel. By 1860 it ac-

356

Chapter 9

counted for almost 10 percent of the value of output produced by the main illuminant and lubricant industries (see table 9.6). Arnold Daum (1957,8) attributes the success of camphene to the “growing demands of lubrication on animal oil[s],” which raised their relative prices.I0 In this judgment he may be correct. A price series for camphene is not available, but price data exist for spirits of turpentine, from which camphene was made. Before 1850 spirits of turpentine cost more than whale oil; in the 1850s spirits of turpentine cost less than whale oil. It is presumably no coincidence that in 1860 camphene is mentioned for the first time in the industrial volume of the census (see table 9.6). Late in the 1830s Cincinnati soap makers discovered that by heating lard with soda alkali they could create a product with a lower melting point. The new oil flowed more easily than the old, and it was far superior as a lamp fluid. In 1843 the Solar lamp, designed expressly for lard oil, was invented. Lard oil was now competitive-in quality-at least with whale oil; Daum (1957, 11) claims that it was on a par with sperm oil: “Stripped of stearic acid and glycerine, lard oil for the first time became a lubricant and illuminant capable of challenging sperm oil.” The census is somewhat less exuberant. In 1860 the value of output of lard oil was less than 10 percent of the value of output of the chief lubricants and illuminants (see table 9.6). It is also true, however, that according to the census the value of lard oil produced in that year had almost caught up with the value of sperm oil. Furthermore, in 1862 lard oil replaced sperm oil in U.S. lighthouses (it was soon replaced by petroleum oil), a clear indication of the high quality of the improved product.” The stearic acid removed from lard oil was a new material for candlemakers, who used it to make stearin or adamantine candles. The new candles were both harder and more easily lit than sperm or tallow candles. By the 1850s they cost one-third less than sperm candles, and their price advantage continued to increase; in the 1890s they were only one-fourth as expensive (see table 9.7). In 1860 the adamantine candle industry was for the first time important enough to appear in the reports of the census of manufactures. The sum of the value of output of lard oil and adamantine candles in 1860 was substantially greater than the value of output of refined sperm oil and spermaceti. In I85 1 the WSL (7 January) analyzed developments in the illuminant and lubricant markets in the following way: “This discrepancy as regards Whale Oil [unsold barrels of oil sitting on the New Bedford docks], is undoubtedly owing to diminished consumption, arising from the very high figure at which 10. Daum (1957, 8) calls camphene “the dominant lamp illuminant during the forties.” The product is not listed in the census of 1850, however, and although it is listed in 1860 it seems not to have been dominant at that time. It is possible that some camphene was made by turpentine producers and that the census did not distinguish the redistilled product from turpentine, in which case Daum could he right. 1 I . Stevenson 1904, 184. Lard oil still cost more than whale oil (see table 9.7), but presumably it was now also of a higher quality than whale oil. For example, it did not have whale oil’s unpleasant odor.

357

Product Markets

Table 9.7

Candles ($ per pound) Adamantine Tallow Sperm Spendadamantine Spermhallow Oil ($ per gallon) Lard, winter Petroleum, refined Sperm, winter Whale, winter Spendlard Whale/lard Spendpetroleum Whale/petroleum

Wholesale Prices of Lighting and Lubricating Materials, Philadelphia, January Averages, Nominal Prices, 1852-96 1850s

1860s

1870s

1880s

1890s

0.229 0.133 0.364 1.59 2.74

0.226

0.169

0.114

0.086

0.397 1.76

0.343 2.03

0.281 2.46

0.345 4.01

0.937

1.263 0.554 2.646 1.061 2.10 0.84 4.78 1.92

0.882 0.190 1.628 0.750 1.85 0.85 8.57 3.95

0.675 0.081 1.016 0.581 1.51 0.86 12.54 7.17

0.438 0.065 0.515 0.505 1.18 1.15 7.92 7.77

1.626 0.795 1.74 0.85

Sources: The figure for tallow candles is the mean of January prices in 1850 through 1859 for the commodity “Candles, Tallow mould, Phila.” from Cole 1938, 317, 321, 325, 329, 333, 337, 340, 344,348,352. All other prices are computed from Bezanson 1954,42,43,218,223,225,237. Note; The data for each decade are unweighted averages of average January prices

oil has been held; which has forced many substitutes into the market and seriously impaired sales.” Although the WSL does not develop the argument fully, it is suggesting that, in the first instance, the rapidly growing demand for illuminants and, particularly, lubricants drove up prices for these products. Innovative activity was encouraged, and it succeeded. New products were brought into the market, and old products were markedly improved. When account is taken of quality improvements, the long-run costs of both were probably brought down relative to the long-run costs of whaling. The supply of the goods competing with the products of the whale fishery sharply rose.I2 The evidence does not suggest quite so bleak a prospect. During the 1850s the prices of whale products held up (table 9.7), the number of New Bedford whaling voyages actually increased (table 3.4), and the average profit rate of these voyages was higher than rates in the 1840s (see chapter 11). It is true, however, that, for the New Bedford fleet at least, productivity fell (see chapter 12. Although it was not a major competitor, linseed oil did cater to some needs also supplied by whale oils, and in the 1850s domestic supplies of linseed oil were augmented through international trade. In fiscal year 1849/50 about 30 percent of the value of linseed oil entering the American market was imported. In 1860 the figure had dropped to about 6 percent, still not a negligible figure. See table 9.6. See also U.S. Department of the Treasury 1850-51, 223; 1860-61, 37. Irnports did not otherwise figure importantly in the domestic markets for illuminants and lubricants. Since all of these products were subject to tariffs-very high tariffs during and after the Civil War-economic policy helped to retain American markets for American products.

358

Chapter9

This drawing of whaling vessels at New Bedford wharves was made from a photograph by T. W. Smillie for The Fisheries and Fishery Industries of the United States, compiled by George Brown Goode and published by the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries in 1887.

8), that total American output also declined (see table 9.8), and that the fraction of the domestic market held by whale products contained to shrink (table 9.9). Invention and innovation involving competitive products continued well after the 185Os, and the importance of whaling grew ever smaller. The most important innovations involved coal. According to Daum (1957, 22) the U.S. Chemical Manufacturing Company attempted to extract a lubricating oil from coal, “to exploit the growing shortage of animal and vegetable lubricants,” and “fate seemed to smile on the project at its very beginning when simultaneous failures in the hog crop and the whaling catch created abnormal shortages in lard and sperm oils in 1852.” That a single year’s shortage spurred inventors on to success is doubtful, but that inventors were concentrating on producing new lubricants is entirely reasonable, in view of the condition of the market. The result of their efforts was cod oil, also known as kerosene. It is listed under both names in the 1860 census, and already at that early date the combined value of output of the two industries exceeded the value of refined whale and sperm oil and of spermaceti (see table 9.6). Developed as a lubricant, it became the leading lamp oil-cheaper than whale oil, and much safer than camphene. The WSL (2 July 1861) again had an explanation: “It is known

Table 9.8

Sperm Oil, Whale Oil, and Whalebone Produced by American Firms, Exported, and Entering American Markets, 1805-9 through 1900-1904 Produced

Exported

Entering American Marketsa

% Exportedb

A. Sperm Oil (1,OOO gallons)

1805-9 1810-14 1815-19 1820-24 1825-29 1830-34 1835-39 1840-44 1845-49 1850-54 1855-59 1860-64 1865-69 1870-74 1875-79 1880-84 1885-89 1890-94 1895-99 1900-1904

391 413 5 15 1,966 2,126 3,320 4,673 4,973 3,672 2,843 2,553 2,065 1,307 1,362 1,312 912 639 454 417 57 1

42 53 60 13 116 59 122 400 672 857 811 1,209 587 657 687 378 144 62 27 10

349 360 455 1,953 2,010 3,261 4,551 4,573 3,000 1,986 1,742 856 720 705 625 534 495 392 390 561

10.7 12.8 11.7 0.1 5.5 1.8 2.6 8.0 18.3 30.1 31.8 58.5 45.0 48.2 52.4 41.4 22.5 13.7 6.5 1.8

B. Whale Oil (1,000 gallons) 1805-9 1810-14 1815-19 1820-24 1825-29 1830-34 1835-39 1840-44 1845-49 1850-54 1855-59 1860-64 1865-69 1870-74 1875-79 1880-84 1885-89 1890-94 1895-99 1900-1904 (continued)

689 233 539 1,555 1,548 4,289 5,804 6,583 8,332 7,517 6,208 3,207 2,460 1,618 957 878 847 394 136 115

477 169 497 1,205 787 2,598 2,908 3,822 2,948 1,082 72 1 1,699 216 22 1 277 139 258 42 15 6

212 64 42 350 76 1 1,691 2,896 2,761 5,384 6,435 5,487 1,508 2,244 1,397 680 739 5 89 352 121 109

69.2 72.5 92.2 77.5 50.8 60.6 50.1 58.1 35.4 14.4 11.6 53.0 8.8 23.1 28.9 15.8 30.5 10.7 11.0 5.2

360

Chapter 9

Table 9.8

(continued)

Produced

Exported

Entering American Marketsa

% Exportedb

C. Whalebone (1,000 pounds) 1805-9 1810-14 1815-19 1820-24 1825-29 1830-34 1835-39 1840-44 1845-49 1850-54 1855-59 1860-64 1865-69 1870-74 1875-79 1880-84 1885-89 1890-94 1895-99 1900-1904

48 20 17 86 95 369 1,589 2,027 2,614 3,427 2,165 878 809 41 1 235 357 398 334 213 123

39 16 4 38 245 818 1,042 1,226 1,613 2,482 1,691 796 492 240 114 148 185 119 175 132

9 4 13 48 -

15W

-449’ 547 80 1 1,001 945 474 82 317 171 121 209 213 215 38 -9’

81.3 80.0 23.5 44.2 257.9 22 1.6 65.6 60.5 61.7 72.4 78.1 90.7 60.8 58.4 48.5 41.5 46.5 36.1 82.2 107.3

Source: The figures in the first and second columns are the averages of annual amounts reported by Tower 1907, 126, 127. Notes: Tower’s table on production (which he calls “imports”) expresses oil output in gallons from 1805 through 1837, and in barrels thereafter. We converted the data expressed in barrels to gallon equivalents, by multiplying them by 31.5. Although Tower does not mention the fact, it is clear that his oil export data for 1864 through 1902 (the last year in his table for which exports are reported) are also expressed in barrels. We converted them to gallons, in the same way that we adjusted the production data. (Tower reports no exports of any kind for 1903 or 1904. We have assumed that his dotted line indicates a zero rather than a missing value.) ’Column 1 minus column 2 bC~lumn 2 divided by column 1 multiplied by one hundred. ‘According to Tower (1907, 127) negative values represent a drawing down of inventories. While that could easily be the case for 1900-1904 and could conceivably be the case for 1825-29, it couldn’t be the case for 1830-34. One of the two series is incorrect.

that the discovery and extensive manufacture of coal oil has had a most ruinous effect upon the whaling interest. At New Bedford the business has declined about one-third during the past three years, and it is believed will decline fully a third more within the present year [1861] . . . . Oil, which costs 60 cents to produce, will now bring but 40 cents.” The midcentury lubricant market can be divided into four sectors; derivatives of coal oil were marketed in each. The first such derivative, kerosene binnacle oil, like its competitors whale oil and lard oil, served both the illuminant and lubricant markets. It was used in ordinary lamps, such as those on the

Table 9.9

Values of Illurninants and Lubricants Entering the American Domestic Market, 185CL90 (thousands of dollars)

Whale fishery 1. Value of output 2. Value of exports 3. Line 1 minus line 2 Refined whale and fish oil 4. Value of output 5. Value of exports 6. Line 4 minus line 5 Other animal oils 7. Value of output 8. Value of exports 9. Line 7 minus line 8 Mineral oils 10. Value of output 11. Value of exports 12. Line 10 minus line 11 Illuminating gas 13. Value of output 14. Value of exports 15. Line 13 minus line 14 Grand totals 16. Lines 1, 7, 10, 13 17. Lines 2, 8, 11, 14 18. Lines 3,9, 12, 15 19. Lines 4.7, 10, 13 20. Lines 5 , 8, 11, 14 21. Lines 6,9, 12, 15 90' shares in line 18 22. Whale fishery 23. All other % shares in line 21 24. Refined whale and fish oils 25. All other

1850

1860

1870

1880

1890

10,056 2, I09 7,947

7,749 3,223 4,526

-

2,324 1,092 1,232

1,673 1,272 40 1

-

7,840 673 7,167

6,099 538 5,561

3,993 228 3,765

-

-

-

-

-

-

1,618 0 1,618

2,569 56 2,513

9,729 126 9,603

4,721 840 3,881

1,182 1,121 61

0 0 0

6,398 0 6,398

46,246 32,955 13,291

43,705 36,162 7,543

85,001 5 1,609 33,392

1,922 0 1,922

12,016 0 12,016

32,049 0 32,049

-

56,987 0 56,987

13,596 2,109 11,487 11,380 673 10,707

28,732 3,279 25,453 27,082 594 26,488

-

50,750' 38,094 12,656

144,843 54,002 90.84 1 -

69.2 30.8

17.8 82.2

66.9 33.1

21.0 79.0

-

92,017 33,309 58,708 6.4 93.6

-

9.7 90.3

-

0.4 99.6

-

Sources: Tables 9.6 and 9.10 Notes: Estimates of flows of goods into the domestic economy can be approximated by adding imports to domestic production and subtracting exports and reexports. Since imports and reexports of the products listed in the table were negligible in all years, they have been ignored; the desired estimates have been approximated by subtracting exports from production. "The grand totals for 1880 differ from those for other years in that they do not include the value of output of illuminating gas. Therefore, the 1880 percentage in line 22 is not comparable with the values in line 22 for the other years; it is biased in an upward direction.

362

Chapter 9

binnacles of ships, and as a heavy-bodied lubricating oil. Spindle oil, the second derivative, was marketed in competition with sperm oil for use on spindles and fine machinery. The third and fourth products were made from the heavier fractions of coal oil and were different grades of kerosene machinery oil, used to lubricate steam engines and railroad cars (Daum 1957, 305). Coal oil, however, did not displace whale and sperm oil from the lubricant markets. It was soon discovered that kerosene alone was an inadequate lubricant. Combined with whale or sperm oil, it produced a mix that was superior to either of its constituents-more fluid than the sperm and whale oils, but with more body than coal oil. On the eve of the discovery of petroleum at Drake’s well, then, the whaling industry was already in a kind of retreat. At the beginning of the 185Os, refined oil products of the whale fishery dominated the domestic illuminant and lubricant markets. At the end of the decade the whaling industry’s share (by value) of American production of illuminants and lubricants had fallen by two-thirds (see table 9.6).13 Furthermore, since a substantial part of whale and sperm oil output was exported, while the production of their competitors was chiefly sold domestically, the presence of the whale fishery in the American market was even more tenuous than these figures suggest (see table 9.9). Tower (1907,77) says, “The date of opening the first oil well in Pennsylvania may be regarded as the day when the fate of the whale fishery was decided.” In view of the developments of the 185Os, it seems reasonable to conclude that the fate of American whaling was settled earlier than that. Tower argues that, even if the illuminant market had been completely absorbed by competitors, the whale oil industries might have persisted for many decades on sales to the lubricant market-had petroleum not appeared on the scene. This may or may not be true; innovation surely would eventually have solved the problems of producing good lubricants from coal oil alone, or from combinations of coal and vegetable oils. It certainly is true, however, that the birth of a large-scale 13. Lines 34 through 37 of table 9.6 give four versions of the share of the whaling industry in the illuminant and lubricant markets. Lines 34 and 36 compare the value of whaling output with the value of output of competitive products, broadly defined. Several of these so-called competitive products, however, sold chiefly in markets that were not entered by whaling products. Therefore, the ratios in these lines understate the importance of the whaling industry. In lines 35 and 37 the comparison is with a narrower group of products, which were more completely in competition with whale products. The ratios in these lines may overstate the importance of whaling, but they are closer to the desired values than are the ratios in lines 34 and 36. In any case, lines 34 and 36, on the one hand, and 35 and 37, on the other, establish ranges within which the correct ratios must lie. As between the figures in lines 35 and 37, those in line 37 are more nearly what is required, since they relate refined oil products to the market for illuminants and lubricants. The data underlying line 35 cover products other than oil (e.g., whalebone) and they relate to unrefined products, so that they are less useful bases for comparison. But beggars can’t be choosers: the condition of the data obliged us to use each of these variants, in order to obtain some notion of the range within which the correct ratios lie and in order to draw comparisons across the full period, 1850-90. Notice that each line in the table tells a similar story. The relative importance of whaling dropped very sharply between 1850 and 1860, and continued to fall until by 1890 the industry was of negligible significance.

363

Product Markets

petroleum industry signalled the eventual death of the American whaling industry. The WSL quickly recognized the importance of the new competitor, and the awesome productive capacity of the petroleum industry. For example, during the heyday of whaling at most four thousand barrels of oil were returned by any one voyage, even after three or four years. In one day three thousand barrels of oil were pumped from just one Pennsylvania well (Folger 1895,207). In its most productive year the whale fishery produced something over thirteen million gallons of whale and sperm oil. The petroleum industry surpassed that figure in its second year; in its first six years the production of crude exceeded all of the output of sperm and whale oil in the ninety years from 1816 through 1905 (211). The market for oil was flooded, prices plummeted (see table 9.7), and petroleum producers sought ways of restricting output in order to maintain prices. So far as the illuminant market is concerned, petroleum administered the coup de grace to whale oil in the early 1860s. By 1890 even the output of the by-product of the oil fields-natural gas-was almost five times as valuable as the output of the whale fishery (U.S. Department of the Interior 1895). The lubricant market was another matter. Like coal oil, petroleum had serious disadvantages as a lubricant and was usable initially only when mixed with other oils. The best mixtures were combinations of petroleum products and sperm or whale oil. For a time the fisheries could limp along supplying products for these mixes, which probably explains the relative success of the spermwhale industry: putput of sperm oil contracted somewhat more slowly than output of whale oil, presumably because sperm oil was a superior lubricant. The relief was short-lived, however. Petroleum oils could also be improved by being mixed with vegetable oils. Vegetable-oil production expanded, and improvements were made to enhance the performance of these oils in combination with petroleum. Although the great burst of petroleum production in the United States awaited the Pennsylvania discoveries, the product was already well known both in the United States and abroad. Like sperm oil, petroleum was used in medicines, but its potential uses as illuminant and lubricant were also obvious. Work on refining processes was going forward well before the Drake well came in; and knowledge gained from the production of coal oil was in some measure transferable to the petroleum industry. Consequently, within six years of the date of Drake’s well the cracking process-known also as destructive distillation-had been applied to petroleum and widely diffused. The initial purpose of cracking was to maximize the yield of kerosene from a gallon of crude, but it was not long before other possibilities of the process became clear. With controlled cracking a wide range of products could be produced, ranging from gasoline, to naphtha, to kerosene, to paraffin, to a variety of lubricating oils. By the mid- 1880s both high-quality petroleum lubricants and lubricants combining petroleum products and other mineral oils could be produced (Wil-

364

Chapter 9

liamson and Daum 1959, 480-82, 489). Among the array of these products listed in the census of 1880, only one is a mixture of petroleum and whale oil, and this one-containing sperm oil-is 95 percent petroleum. The preceding pages deal almost exclusively with the domestic market.I4 As far as sperm oil is concerned, until the 1840s the domestic market is virtually the whole story. Then, suddenly, sperm oil exports began to rise-in absolute terms and relative to total sperm oil output (see table 9.8). The share of output exported increased from a few percent in the 1830s, to almost one-fifth in the late 184Os, to almost one-third in the 185Os, to almost six-tenths in the early 1860s. It remained high until the very end of the nineteenth century, although the absolute amounts fell rapidly after the 1870s. The explanations for both the rise and the fall of exports are very simple. For a number of reasons the British whaling trade began to decline after the 1820s, and it virtually disappeared after the 1 8 4 0 ~ .The ' ~ British demand for sperm oil was now met almost exclusively by American and Australian whalemen (Jackson 1978, chap. 7). This was the source of the redirection of American output. Sperm whalemen, however, could not long escape petroleum's competition in the lubricant markets. A large fraction of the output of American petroleum was exported (tables 9.9 and 9.10), and England was among the leading buyers (table 9.10, panel B). The opportunities for the sperm-whaling industry were gradually restricted, and the fleet declined, until by the turn of the century it was virtually nonexistent. The export histories of the products of baleen and sperm whales are quite different. From the beginning other countries took substantial fractions of the American output of whale oil and of whalebone (see table 9.8). The international market continued to be a dominant influence until the mid-1840s for whale oil and until the mid-1870s for whalebone, and it was an important influence thereafter. In contrast to the history of sperm oil, after the mid- 1840s the importance of exports relative to total whale oil output actually fell. In one important respect, however, the impacts of foreign markets on the two products were similar. In both cases English demand, which had not figured importantly in the history of American sales of either oil, suddenly exerted a significant influence in the 1840s. The Scotch also made their presence known (see table 9.10, panel B). At the same time the Continent, the chief destination of American exports of whale oil for many decades, gradually reduced its dependence on American oil. Toward the end of the century, England and Scotland were the chief American whale oil markets. This situation was bound to end soon. Petroleum displaced whale oil as well as sperm oil. Furthermore, as 14. But not exclusively. American petroleum products, for example, entered international markets at an early date. See table 9.8. 15. See chapter 12. British whaling reappeared late in the century, but in quite a new form. English financiers and entrepreneurs organized and financed ventures that were staffed almost exclusively by Norwegian whalemen, and employed Norwegian technology-early examples of multinational firms. See chapter 13.

Table 9.10

Values and Destinations of Exports of American Whale Products and Other Illuminating and Lubricating Products, 1820-90 A. Values ($1.000)

1820

1835

1850

1860

7 107

53 284

789 260

1,789 52

794 0'

487

125 0"

0 114

0 337

0 1,049

0 1,841

27 82 1

45 532

117 242

63 1 5 636 191 0 0

774 0 774

673 647 1,320

538 896 1,434 Ob 709 0 56 0 0

228 344 572 375 126 32,955

349 256 605 238 840 36,162

441

706 1,147 143 1,121 5 1,609

750

1,111

2,369

3,275

1,393

1,137

1,389

191

0

0

765

33,456

37,240

52,873

94 1

0

0

4,040

34,849

38,377

54,262

80

0

0

81

4

3

3

20

0

0

19

96

97

97

1. Sperm oil 2. Spermaceti candles 3. Spermaceti and spermaceti wax 4. Total 5. Whale and other fish oils 6. Whalebone 7. Total 8. Candles 9. Animal oils 10. Mineral oils

11. Total, whale products (lines 4,7) 12. Total, other oils and candles (lines 6-9) 13. Grand total (lines 11, 12) 14. % whale products (line ll/line 13 X 100) 15. % other oils and candles (line 12/line 13 X 100)

Ob

0

0

1870

1880

w

1890

B. Destinations' Sperm Oil

Spermaceti Candles

Whale and Other Fish Oils Hanse Towns, rest of Western Europe, Western Hemisphere Holland, Belgium, Hanse Towns Holland, England, Hanse Towns, Cuba (together 314) England, Scotland, Bremen, Cuba, France France, Russia, Western Hemisphere England, Scotland, France (together 9/10) Scotland, England

1820

Western Hemisphere, England

Western Hemisphere

1835 1850

Western Hemisphere (especially Cuba) England (9/10)

Western Hemisphere (especially Cuba) Western Hemisphere

1860

England (9/10)

England

1870

England (8110)

-

1880

England, Scotland (virtually all) England, Scotland

-

1890

Whalebone

1820 France, Hanse Towns, Belgium 1835 (continued)

-

Tallow Candles Western Hemisphere (virtually all)

-

366

Chapter 9

Table 9.10

(continued) B. Destinations'

I850 1860 1870 I880 1890

Whalebone

Tallow Candles

Hanse Towns, France, England (together 9/10) England, France, Bremen, Hamburg (together virtually all) France, Bremen, Hamburg, England Germany, France, England (together virtually all) Germany, France, Netherlands (together virtually all)

-

Animal Oils

1820 1835

1850 1860

1870 1880

I890

Western Hemisphere Western Hemisphere Western Hemisphere Western Hemisphere

Mineral Oils

~

Mainly Western Hemisphere, some to England -

England, Scotland (together over U2); France -

All over, but especially Europe France, England, Germany, Belgium, Netherlands, Japan, Scandinavia England, Scotland, Gemany, Netherlands, France

Source: Various volumes of the annual Report on Commerce and Nuvigurion, U.S. Department of the Treasury. *Included with candles, unspecified. bIncluded with soap. 'Listed in order of importance. The parenthetical statements refer to the part of the total value of exports of the specified products that went to the listed destinations.

the Norwegian pursuit of the rorquals met with success, the Scotch jute industry had a good substitute for the whale oil it had been buying from the Americans. The real prices of both whale oil and sperm oil declined, as the markets for the products of the whalers shrank. (See table 9.11 and appendix 9A.) The market for whale oil seems to have been crucial to the baleen whalemen and to have settled their fate. As the fishery contracted, prices of whalebone rose sharply and earnings from whalebone kept the industry going a little longer. It seems clear, however, that the chief cause of the increase in whalebone prices was the contraction of the whaling fleet, and the contraction of the fleet resulted from shrinking markets for oil. Whalebone was sold almost exclusively in northwestern Europe: France, Germany, the Low Countries, and sometimes England. The structure of the market seems not to have changed importantly (see table 9.10, panel B). These

367

Product Markets

Table 9.11

Real Prices of Sperm Oil, Whale Oil, and Whalebone in the New Bedford Market, Five-Year Averages, 1816-20 through 1896-1900

1816-20 1821-25 1826-30 1831-35 1836-40 1841-45 1846-50 1851-55 1856-60 1861-65 1866-70 1871-75 1876-80 1881-85 1886-90 1891-95 1896-1900

Sperm Oil

Whale Oil

Whalebone

($ per barrel)

($ per barrel)

($ per pound)

21.30 17.90 22.06 26.40 26.62 3 1.42 38.81 45.45 43.82 39.04 39.33 36.79 33.25 29.45 25.25 26.13 20.71

11.20 9.78 9.93 9.68 10.11 13.15 14.37 19.66 19.16 20.35 17.88 15.39 15.57 16.55 13.65 15.98 15.39

0.08 0.13 0.22 0.18 0.19 0.38 0.37 0.43 0.84 0.91 0.72 0.86 2.32 2.59 3.94 5.15 4.38

Source: The figures are derived from annual data in tables 9A. 1, 9A.2, and 9A.3.

were all countries that had active industrial sectors, and baleen was a useful raw material, possessing properties of strength and flexibility that were valuable in a wide array of uses. The fashions of the late nineteenth century used whalebone, and that may explain why France was typically among the leading importers of the product. Changes in fashion may actually have increased the demand for whalebone in the last decades of the century, but the chief explanation for the dramatic increases in price no doubt lies in the contraction of baleen whaling, which in turn was due to changes in the whale oil market. The demand side of the story of American nineteenth-century whaling can be readily assembled from the elements set out above. Once the Napoleonic wars were over and the process of modern growth diffused and accelerated, the nineteenth-century markets for illuminants and lubricants in North America and northwestern Europe were buoyant. The growth of population and aggregate product was rapid, the fraction of the population living in cities increased, the share of economic activity accounted for by industry and transportation rose, machinery and equipment formed growing fractions of the capital stock, and per capita incomes increased. All of these factors led to a dramatic expansion in demand for illuminants and for lubricants. The American whaling industries responded: from 1820, when recovery from the War of 1812 was complete, until the years of peak output, whale oil production increased 7.3-fold, and sperm oil production, 4.9-fold (appendix 9B). The real prices of whale products rose, with pronounced increases during

368

Chapter 9

the 1850s.I6 Opportunities for firms supplying the illuminant and lubricant markets were excellent. Innovative activity increased, old products were improved, and new products were invented. An eighteenth-century invention, the manufacture of gas, was widely innovated in Europe in the early nineteenth century and in the United States after 1820. In the two decades before the Civil War, innovative activity was particularly intense, and major competitors to the products of the whale fishery were introduced. By 1860 the whale fishery, which had been far and away the most important supplier of illuminants and lubricants in 1850, retained only tiny fractions of those markets, both at home and abroad. The fishery was almost as large as it had ever been, but the overall market was very much larger than it had ever been. Furthermore, the use of coal to produce gas and oil presaged the extinction of the whale fishery, given the American reserves of cheap coal. Whether these products would indeed have driven the whaling fleets off the seas cannot be known with certainty, because before this could occur the discovery of enormous reserves of petroleum in Pennsylvania settled the future of both coal and whale oils. Real oil prices fell. Petroleum replaced both coal and whale oils in the field of illumination within a decade of the drilling of the first petroleum well. Whale and sperm oils continued to sell as lubricants, alone or mixed with petroleum oils, but their future was limited. Once the techniques for producing good lubricants from mineral oils developed, the markets for whale oil lubricants shrank even further-sperm oil, for example, continued to be used to lubricate watches and other delicate mechanisms, but not much else. Whale oil was used in the textiles and jute industries, but the growth of the Norwegian rorqual fishery meant that cheap substitutes for the oil of right and bowhead whales were now available. The market for whalebone kept a few right whalers afloat into the twentieth century, but not for long. New materials had replaced the products of the old whale fishery. Opportunities continued to exist in the rorqual fishery but not, as it turned out, for American whalers.

Appendix 9A Prices of Sperm Oil, Whale Oil, and Whalebone in the New Bedford Market We consulted three sources for the prices of sperm oil, whale oil, and whalebone: table V (“Average Annual Prices of Oil [per gallon] and Bone [per 16. The whale fishery was a competitive industry (see chapter 11). The long-term movements of the prices of whale and sperm oil-first an extended rise, followed by an extended fall-therefore reflect changes in average cost. Costs rose as the industry expanded chiefly because of constraints in the labor market, and they fell as the industry contracted partly because the pressure of

369

Product Markets

pound], 1804-1905”) in Tower 1907, 128; table J (“Recorded summary of importation of oil and bone . . .”) in Starbuck 1878, 660-61; the review of the whale fishery published in January of each year (1843-1914, but retrospective to 1838) by the WhaZernenk Shipping List. Tables 9A.1, 9A.2, and 9A.3 report the prices we found; the prices we chose to use are in the columns headed “CATCHVAL.” The WSL reports “average prices” for each year. In addition it reports varying kinds of prices on a monthly basis. In some years (e.g., 1838) these are “prices . . . on the first of each month”; in some years (e.g., 1848) they are “prices . . . on the first and fifteenth of each month’; in some years (e.g., 1873) they are “average prices”; in some years (e.g., 1858) they are “average prices . . . on the first, eighth, fifteenth, and twenty-fifth of each month.” How the WSL transformed its first-of-the-month prices, or monthly average prices, or whatever, into its yearly averages is not always clear. Often the yearly prices are the unweighted means of whatever monthly prices are given. In some years they are not, but lie within a few cents of the unweighted means. In a few years the differences between the WSL’s “average prices” and the unweighted means are very small and seem to arise out of the WSL‘s rounding rules, which call for the use of certain fractions (e.g., 1/4, 1/3, 1/2, 2/3, 3/4, 91 10) but not all possible fractions. In regard to whalebone the WSL often reports prices (both monthly and annual) for bone in general, but in some years it reports different monthly prices for different kinds of bone. When different kinds of bone are distinguished, the annual prices are sometimes the unweighted means of the monthly prices of the different types. For example, in 1858 the annual price is the mean of the monthly prices of bone from the Arctic and the Northwest Coast; in 1862 and 1863 the annual price is the mean of the monthly prices of northern and southern bone. On the other hand, the annual price reported for 1860 is in fact the annual average price of northern bone; monthly prices of South Sea bone are also given but were not used in striking the annual average. In 1871 and 1875 Tower and the WSL report gold prices for whalebone. Starbuck’s prices in these years are 10 percent and 6.95 percent higher, respectively. They may represent Starbuck’s attempts to translate gold prices into currency prices. Nonetheless, we chose to convert the gold prices in these two years to currency prices by means of the ratios reported by James Kindahl (1971, 472): 1871, 1.127; 1875, 1.127. (The WSL [4 February 18731 reports that during June 1872 the currency price ran 20 percent above the gold price.) In order to compute the value of a vessel’s catch (CATCHVAL), we used the Tower-Starbuck prices, 1804-37, and the WSL‘s prices thereafter. There are two exceptions. For 1871 and 1875 we converted the WSL‘s gold prices of bone the industry against these constraints was eased, and partly because of the effects of the introduction of new techniques of production (see chapter 8). The innovation of these new techniques was concentrated in-virtually confined to-the second half of the nineteenth century.

Table 9A.1

Nominal and Real Prices of Unrefined Sperm Oil, New Bedford Market, 1804-1914 (dollars per gallon) Tower

1804 1805 1806 1807 1808 1809 1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 I829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 I849 1850 1851

1.40 0.96 0.80

Starbuck

WSL

CATCHVAL

1.40* 0.9@ 0.80

1.40 0.96 0.80

0.60 0.75 1.25

0.80 0.60 0.75 I .25

1

1.oo

I .25 1.25 1.oo 1.125 0.72 0.90 0.83 0.935 0.675 0.65 0.43 0.455 0.705 0.75 0.725 0.625 0.615 0.655 0.71 0.85 0.85 0.725 0.84 0.89 0.825 0.86 1.05

1.25" 1.25"

0.80 0.60 0.75 I .25 I .oo 1.25 1.25 1.oo 1.125 0.72 0.90 0.83 0.935 0.675 0.65 0.43 0.455 0.705 0.75 0.725 0.625 0.615 0.655 0.7 I 0.85 0.85 0.725 0.84 0.89 0.825 0.83 I .03 I .oo 0.94 0.73 0.63 0.905 0.88 0.87875 1.002548 1.0033 1.089 1.207 1.2725

1 .oo 0.80

.oo

1.oo

1.oo

1.125 0.72 0.90 0.83 0.935 0.675 0.65 0.43 0.455 0.705 0.75 0.725 0.625 0.615 0.655 0.7 I 0.85 0.85 0.725 0.84 0.89 0.825 0.86 1.05

1.oo

1.oo

0.94 0.73 0.63 0.90625 0.88 0.87875 1.0075 I .oo 1.08875 1.207 1.2725

0.94 0.73 0.63 0.90625 0.88 0.87875 1.0075 1.00 1.08875 1.207 1.2725

1.oo

Real 1.11 0.68 0.58 0.77 0.70 0.46 0.57 0.99 0.76 0.77 0.69 0.59 0.75 0.48 0.61 0.66 0.88 0.66 0.61 0.42 0.46 0.68 0.76 0.74 0.64 0.64 0.72 0.76 0.89 0.89 0.8 1 0.84 0.78 0.72 0.75 0.92 1.05 1.02 0.89 0.84 1.18 I .06 1.06 1.11 1.22 1.33 1.44 I .53

Table 9A.1

1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 I868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 I898 1899 1900 (continued)

(continued) Tower

Starbuck

1.2375 1.2475 1.4875 1.772 1.62 1.2833 1.21 1.3625 1.415 1.315 1.425 1.61 1.78 2.25 2.55 2.235 1.92 1.78 1.355 1.35 1.4525 1.48 1.59 1.6033 I .405 1.13 0.915 0.845 0.99 0.88 1.06 0.97 0.85 0.82 0.745 0.66 0.62 0.656 0.65 0.69 0.675 0.735 0.56 0.48 0.40 0.46 0.53 0.49 0.525

1.2375 1.2475 1.4875 I .772 1.62 1.2833 1.21 1.3625 1.415 1.315 1.425 1.61 1.895 2.255 2.55 2.27 1.92 1.8133 1.3667 1.31 1.4525 1.435 1.59 1.605 1.405 -

-

-

-

-

WSL

1.2375 1.2475 1.4875 1.772 1.62 1.2833 1.21 1.3625 1.415 1.315 1.425 1.61 1.78 2.25 2.55 2.235 1.92 1.78 1.355 1.35 1.4525 1.48 1.59 1.6033 1.405 1.13 0.915 0.845 0.99 0.88 1.06 0.97 0.85 0.82 0.745 0.66 0.62 0.656 0.65 0.69 0.675 0.735 0.56 0.48 0.40 0.46 0.53 0.49 0.525

CATCHVAL 1.2375 1.2475 1.4875 1.772 1.62 1.2833 1.21 1.3625 1.415 1.315 I .425 1.61 1.78 2.25 2.55 2.235 1.92 1.78 1.355 1.35 1.4525 1.48 1.59 1.6033 1.405 1.13 0.915 0.845 0.99 0.88 1.06 0.97 0.85 0.82 0.745 0.66 0.62 0.656 0.65 0.69 0.675 0.735 0.56 0.48 0.40 0.46 0.53 0.49 0.525

Real 1.41 1.29 1.38 1.61 1.54 1.16 1.30 1.43 1.52 1.48 1.37 1.21 0.92 1.22 1.47 1.38 1.22 1.18 1.oo

1.04 1.07 1.11 1.26 1.36 1.28 I .07 1.01 0.94 0.99 0.85 0.98 0.96 0.91 0.96 0.91 0.78 0.72 0.81 0.79 0.84 0.89 0.94 0.80 0.68 0.59 0.68 0.75 0.64 0.64

372

Chapter 9

Table 9A.1

(continued)

Tower 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 I906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 1914

0.56 0.66 0.56 0.52 0.46

Starbuck

WSL 0.56 0.66 0.56 0.52 0.46 0.5 I 0.59 0.57 0.59 0.63 0.5 1 0.53 0.48 0.47

CATCHVAL

0.56 0.66 0.56 0.52 0.46 0.5 I 0.59 0.57 0.59 0.63 0.5 1 0.53 0.48 0.47

Real 0.69 0.77 0.64 0.60 0.52 0.57 0.62 0.62 0.60 0.61 0.54 0.52 0.47 0.47

Sources: See text. ”Labelled“assumed” by Starbuck

to currency prices, in the manner described above. For 1859 we used the Tower-Starbuck price of bone, since the WSL provided no price. We were unable to produce CATCHVAL figures for 1814, 1815, or 1910-14, since we have no bone prices for these years. Ideally the output of each voyage would be valued with the prices in force when the output was sold. We do not have the information necessary to do this, and we therefore settled for the prices relevant to the year in which the vessel returned to New Bedford. As indicated above, these prices are probably mainly unweighted averages of monthly average prices. Given our ignorance of the precise dates on which output was sold, it did not seem reasonable to develop more sophisticated measures. Monthly prices and monthly imports are available, however, for part of the period in which we are interested, and we used these data to run a check to determine how nearly alike weighted and unweighted average prices were. The necessary data begin to appear in the WSL in the late 1850s and run to the early twentieth century for sperm oil, the early 1890s for whalebone, and the late 1880s for whale oil. We ran checks for 1857 and 1858, and at five-year intervals to 1888 for whale oil, to 1893 for whalebone, and to 1903 for sperm oil. In the case of sperm oil the weighted average ran from 10.1 percent below the unweighted average to 2.7 percent above; on average, the weighted averages were 97.8 percent of the unweighted. For whale oil the range ran from -3.5 percent to 3.3 percent, and the average was 99.8 percent. For whalebone the relevant figures were - 15.8 percent and 14.7 percent, with an average of 96.9 percent. Clearly, the two sets of averages (weighted and unweighted) differ, but on the whole the differences are not large. Given the roughness of the

Table 9A.2

1804 1805 1806 1807 1808 1809 1810 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 I822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 I849 1850 1851 (continued)

Nominal and Real Prices of Unrefined Whale Oil, New Bedford Market, 1804-1914 (dollars per gallon) Tower

Starbuck

0.50 0.50 0.50 0.50 0.44 0.44 0.40 0.40 0.50 0.50 1.40 0.83 0.65 0.60 0.50 0.35 0.35 0.33 0.32 0.32 0.30 0.32 0.30 0.30 0.26 0.26 0.39 0.30 0.235 0.26 0.275 0.39 0.44 0.35 0.32 0.36 0.30 0.32 0.34 0.34 0.36583 0.33 0.3375 0.36 0.33 0.39083 0.491 0.453125

0.50" 0.50" 0.50 0.50 0.44 0.44 0.40 0.40 0.50 0.50 I .40 0.83 0.65 0.60" 0.50 0.35 0.35" 0.33" 0.32 0.32 0.30" 0.32' 0.30" 0.30" 0.26 0.26 0.39 0.30 0.235 0.26 0.275 0.39 0.44 0.35 0.32 0.36 0.30 0.32 0.34 0.34 0.36 0.33 0.33 0.36 0.33 0.39 0.49 0.45

WSL

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

0.32 0.345 0.30 0.3 175 0.3375 0.345 0.365 0.32875 0.3375 0.36 0.33 0.399 0.491 0.453125

CATCHVAL

Real

0.50 0.50 0.50 0.50 0.44 0.44 0.40 0.40 0.50 0.50 1.40 0.83 0.65 0.60 0.50 0.35 0.35 0.33 0.32 0.32 0.30 0.32 0.30 0.30 0.26 0.26 0.39 0.30 0.235 0.26 0.275 0.39 0.44 0.35 0.32 0.345 0.30 0.3 175 0.3375 0.345 0.365 0.32875 0.3375 0.36 0.33 0.399 0.491 0.453125

0.40 0.35 0.37 0.38 0.38 0.34 0.3 1 0.32 0.38 0.3 1 0.77 0.49 0.43 0.40 0.34 0.28 0.33 0.32 0.30 0.3 1 0.31 0.31 0.30 0.31 0.27 0.27 0.43 0.32 0.25 0.27 0.31 0.39 0.39 0.30 0.29 0.31 0.32 0.35 0.41 0.46 0.47 0.40 0.41 0.40 0.40 0.49 0.58 0.55

Table 9A.2

(continued) Tower

1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899

0.6825 0.58167 0.59625 0.713 0.795 0.7325 0.54 0.485 0.495 0.44125 0.5933 0.9525 1.28 1.45 1.21 0.7325 0.82 1.0175 0.6725 0.60 0.655 0.62 0.605 0.6525 0.61 0.52 0.44 0.39 0.51 0.48 0.535 0.54 0.56 0.45 0.33 0.32 0.35 0.38 0.42 0.47 0.425 0.425 0.335 0.28 0.35 0.37 0.34 0.35

Starbuck

0.68 0.58 0.59 0.71 0.79 0.73 0.54 0.48 0.49 0.44 0.59 0.95 1.28 1.45 1.21 0.73 0.82 1.01 0.67 0.64 0.65 0.62 0.60 0.65 0.56 -

-

-

-

WSL

0.68167 0.58125 0.59625 0.713 0.795 0.7325 0.54 0.485 0.495 0.4425 0.5933 0.9525 1.28 1.45 1.21 0.7325 0.82 1.0175 0.6725 0.60 0.655 0.62 0.605 0.6525 0.61 0.52 0.44 0.39 0.5 1 0.48 0.535 0.54 0.56 0.45 0.33 0.32 0.35 0.38 0.42 0.47 0.425 0.425 0.325 0.28 0.35 0.37 0.34 0.35

CATCHVAL 0.68167 0.58125 0.59625 0.713 0.795 0.7325 0.54 0.485 0.495 0.4425 0.5933 0.9525 1.28 1.45 1.21 0.7325 0.82 1.0175 0.6725 0.60 0.655 0.62 0.605 0.6525 0.61 0.52 0.44 0.39 0.5 1 0.48 0.535 0.54 0.56 0.45 0.33 0.32 0.35 0.38 0.42 0.47 0.425 0.425 0.325 0.28 0.35 0.37 0.34 0.35

Real

0.77 0.60 0.55 0.65 0.76 0.66 0.58 0.51 0.53 0.50 0.57 0.72 0.66 0.78 0.70 0.45 0.52 0.67 0.50 0.46 0.48 0.47 0.48 0.55 0.55 0.49 0.48 0.43 0.5 1 0.47 0.50 0.53 0.60 0.53 0.40 0.38 0.41 0.47 0.51 0.57 0.56 0.54 0.46 0.39 0.5 1 0.54 0.48 0.45

375

Product Markets

Table 9A.2

(continued) Tower

1900 1901 1902 I903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 1914

Starbuck

0.37 0.38 0.37 0.38 0.36 0.3 1

WSL

CATCHVAL

0.37 0.38 0.37 0.38 0.36 0.3 1 0.335 0.37 0.32 0.31 0.38 0.38 0.36 0.35 no imports

0.37 0.38 0.37 0.38 0.36 0.31 0.335 0.37 0.32 0.3 1 0.38 0.38 0.36 0.35 -

Real

0.45 0.47 0.43 0.44 0.41 0.35 0.37 0.39 0.35 0.31 0.37 0.40 0.36 0.34

Sources: See text. aLabelled“assumed” by Starbuck.

data in general, the use of weighted mean prices would represent excessive scrupulousness. In any case, prices are applied to individual voyages and there is no reason to suppose that weighted average prices would represent any better the prices at which the outputs of any given voyage were sold than do the unweighted average prices. From 1838 onward the CATCHVAL series describes New Bedford prices. In the years before 1838 the place with which prices are associated is unclear. In all likelihood prices are some average of those obtained in the whaling ports distributed around Buzzard’s Bay-perhaps only Nantucket and New Bedford, the chief whaling ports of that period. Differences among the average annual prices in these ports are unlikely to have been large, since the ports were physically close.

Nominal and Real Prices of Unprocessed Whalebone, New Bedford Market, 1804-1914 (dollars per pound)

Table 9A.3

1804 1805 I806 1807 1808 1809 inlo 1811 1812 1813 1814 1815 1816 1817 1818 1819 I820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 I826 I827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 I837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 I845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850

Tower

Starbuck’

0.08 0.10 0.07 0.07 0.07 0.08 0.08 0.09 0.10 0.10

0.08 0.10 0.07 0.07 0.07 0.08 0.08 0.09 0.10 0.10

WSL

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

0.12 0.12 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.12 0.12 0.13 0.13 0.15 0.16 0.18 0.25 0.25 0.20 0.17 0.13 0.13 0.21 0.21 0.25 0.20 0.20 0.18 0.19 0.20 0.23 0.36 0.40 0.34 0.34 0.31 0.25 0.21875 0.324

0.12 0.12 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.12 0.12 0.13 0.13 0.15 0.16 0.18 0.25 0.25 0.20 0.17 0.13 0.13 0.21 0.21 0.25 0.20 0.20 0.18 0.19 0.20 0.23 0.36 0.40 0.34 0.34 0.3 1 0.25 0.21875 0.324

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

0.195 0.1825 0.19 0.1967 0.24909b 0.3575 0.40 0.33625 0.34 0.30875 0.254 0.318 0.344

CATCHVAL

0.08 0.10 0.07 0.07 0.07 0.08 0.08 0.09 0.10 0.10

Real

0.06 0.07 0.05 0.05 0.06 0.06 0.06 0.07 0.08 0.06

-

-

0.12 0.12 0.10 0.10 0.10 0.12 0.12 0.13 0.13 0.15 0.16 0.18 0.25 0.25 0.20 0.17 0.13 0.13 0.21 0.21 0.25 0.20 0.195 0.1825 0.19 0.1967 0.24909 0.3575 0.40 0.33625 0.34 0.30875 0.254 0.318 0.344

0.08 0.08 0.07 0.08 0.09 0.12 0.11 0.13 0.13 0.15 0.16 0.18 0.26 0.26 0.22 0.18 0.14 0.14 0.23 0.2 1 0.22 0.17 0.18 0.16 0.20 0.2 1 0.30 0.48 0.52 0.41 0.41 0.34 0.3 I 0.39 0.41

Table 9A.3

1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 I866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 1894 1895 1896 1897 1898 (continued)

(continued) Tower

Starbuck

WSL

CATCHVAL

Real

0.345 0.50833 0.345 0.392 0.4525 0.58 0.9675 0.9225 0.88 0.802 0.66 0.82 1.53 1.80 1.71 1.37 1.175 1.025 1.24 0.85 0.70' 1.285 1.08 1.10 I . 1275' 2.14 2.50 2.46 2.34 2.00 I .63 1.71 2.87 3.55 2.68 2.73 3.12 2.78 3.50 4.22 5.38 5.35 3.08 2.95 2.83 3.95 3.50 3.10

0.345 0.50833 0.345 0.392 0.4525 0.58 0.9675 0.9225 0.88 0.802 0.66 0.88 1.53 1.8067 1.7167 1.37 1.1775 1.025 1.23 0.85 0.77 1.285 1.0833 1.10 1.206 1.96 -

0.345 0.5075 0.345 0.392 0.4525 0.58 0.9675 0.9225 0.802 0.66 0.82 1.53 1.80 1.71 1.37 1.175 1.025 1.24 0.85 0.70' 1.285 1.08 1.10 1.1275' 2.14 2.50 2.46 2.34 2.00 1.63 1.71 2.87 3.55 2.68 2.73 3.12 2.78 3.50 4.22 5.38 5.35 3.08 2.95 2.83 3.95 3.50 3.10

0.345 0.5075 0.345 0.392 0.4525 0.58 0.9675 0.9225 0.88 0.802 0.66 0.82 1.53 1.80 1.71 1.37 1.175 1.025 1.24 0.85 0.7889 1.285 1.08 1.10 1.2707 2.14 2.50 2.46 2.34 2.00 1.63 1.71 2.87 3.55 2.68 2.73 3.12 2.78 3.50 4.22 5.38 5.35 3.08 2.95 2.83 3.95 3.50 3.10

0.42 0.58 0.36 0.36 0.4 1 0.55 0.87 0.99 0.93 0.86 0.74 0.79 1.15 0.93 0.92 0.79 0.73 0.65 0.82 0.63 0.61 0.94 0.81 0.87 1.08 1.95 2.36 2.70 2.60 2.00 1.58 1.58 2.84 3.82 3.15 3.33 3.67 3.23 4.32 5.15 6.56 7.04 3.95 4.21 3.99 5.81 5.15 4.37

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

378

Chapter 9

Table 9A.3

(continued) Tower

1899 1900 1901 1902 1903 1904 1905 1906 1907 1908 1909 1910 1911 1912 1913 1914

2.70 2.50 2.65 4.20 5.25 5.80 4.90 -

-

Starbuck

WSL

2.70 2.50 2.65 4.20 5.25 5.80 4.90 4.50 5 .00 3.75 3.75

CATCHVAL

Real

2.70 2.50 2.65 4.20 5.25 5.80 4.90 4.50 5.00 3.75 3.75

3.51 3.05 3.27 4.88 6.03 5.52 5.57 5 .OO 5.26 4.08 3.79

-

-

’Prices for 1804-27 are “assumed.” The term is Starbuck’s. T h e WSL prints 0.23 as the average of eleven monthly prices (no price is given for September). As it happens, 0.24909 is the correct average; 0.23 results from dividing the sum by twelve. ‘Gold.

Appendix 9B Whaling Outputs Table 9B.1 shows whaling outputs. Those for the U.S. fleet are from Tower 1907, 126, adjusted so that oil amounts are expressed in all years in barrels. The New Bedford data are from our Voyages Data Set. The Tower output series and ours are not fully comparable. The Voyages Data Set associates all output of a voyage with the year the vessel returned to port. Tower’s series associates output with the year the output, not the vessel, amved in port. That is, the difference between our series and Tower’s lies in the dating of output shipped home in advance of the return of the vessel that produced it. The difference tends to wash out in quinquennial and decennial averages. (See the notes to table 1.2.)

Table 9B.1

Outputs of Sperm Oil, Whale Oil, and Whalebone, U.S. and New Bedford Whaling Fleets, 181&1905 U.S. Fleet

1816 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861

New Bedford Fleet

Sperm Oil (barrels)

Whale Oil (barrels)

Whalebone (pounds)

Sperm Oil (barrels)

7,539 32,650 18,625 21,323 34,708 43,099 42,900 93,281 98,129 61,089 29,200 93,920 78,577 74,608 110,541 115,452 73,002 104,437 123,542 164,493 133,334 169,179 132,356 142,336 157,791 159,304 165,637 166,985 139,594 157,917 95,217 120,753 107,976 100,944 92,892 99,591 78,872 103,077 76,696 72,649 80,941 78,440 81,941 9 1,408 73,708 68,932

9,350 18,471 19,303 38,232 44,757 38,524 5 1,427 53,887 58,198 52,902 35,182 35,525 50,533 71,635 89,883 114,596 181,076 163,592 131,582 125,406 136,568 202,857 226,552 229,783 207,908 207,348 161.04 1 206,727 262,047 272,730 207,493 3 13,150 280,656 248,492 200,608 328,483 84,211 260.1 14 3 19,837 184,015 197,890 230,941 182,223 190,411 140,005 133,717

796 19,440 65,446 83,843 78,879 62,893 50,799 103,404 133,427 152,534 79,368 106,225 137,323 563,654 514,991 279,279 442,881 266,432 343,324 965,192 1,028,773 1,753,104 2,200,000 2,000,000 2,000,000 2,000,000 1,600,000 2,000,000 2,532,445 3,167,142 2,276,939 3,341,680 2,003,000 2.28 1.100 2,869,200 3,906,500 1,259,900 5,652,300 3,445,200 2,707,500 2,592,700 2,058,900 1,540,600 1,923,850 1,337,650 1,038,450

1,150 6,007 2,850 1,297 12.330 14,201 4,080 28,038 24,980 16,547 5,839 40,613 24,494 32,767 37,258 42,2 10 27,536 35,448 55,123 66,422 46,134 58,625 62,655 52,450 51,258 54,066 72,895 62,098 58,002 52,130 40,138 57,682 52,254 49,205 43,645 47,613 4 1,248 45,48 1 40,47 1 33,502 50,572 53,865 42,013 54.9 13 39,101 44,845

(continued)

Whale Oil (barrels)

Whalebone (pounds)

0 8,300 9,950 15,580 21,130 7,724 15,105 21,787 28,872 22,873 18,172 19,192 29,058 22,957 34,261 36,959 46,629 45,590 23,950 32,453 37.7 17 69,001 68,001 6 1,506 61,883 58,063 53,375 42,434 109,263 87,548 89,146 101,338 116,876 79,292 90,370 153,025 30,177 89,900 155,760 119,131 91,666 123,639 73,195 80,288 101,499 76,450

0

0 14,000 0 17,045 10.409 3,23 1 16,568 9,314 141,665 131,889" 147,636' 230.65 1" 196,081 294,628 43,200 67,200 65,000 37,000 109,000 32,000 269,702 57,500 156,094 31,586 8,400 143,314 393,683 887,243 782,3 18 580,862 749,845 975,686 583,610 911,508 1,940,827 397,575 1,228,238 2,116,773 1,617,010 1,161,090 1,406,865 789,666 863,461 1,159,464 827,285

Table 9B.1

(continued) ~~

U.S. Fleet

1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 I870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 I878 1879 1880 1881 1882 I883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892 1893 I894 1895 1896 1897 1898 1899 1900 1901 I902 1903 1904 1905

New Bedford Fleet

Sperm Oil (barrels)

Whale Oil (barrels)

Whalebone (pounds)

Sperm Oil (barrels)

55,641 65,055 64,372 32,242 36,663 43,433 47,174 47,936 55,183 41,534 45,201 42,053 32,203 42,6 17 39,811 41,119 43,508 41,308 37,614 30,598 29,884 24,595 22,099 24,203 23.3 12 18,873 16,265 18,727 14,480 13,015 12,944 15,253 16,333 16,585 15,124 10,050 12,520 11,903 18,525 14,910 21,970 18,109 17,050 12,985

100,487 62,974 7 1,863 76,238 74,302 89,289 65,575 85,011 72,691 75,152 3 1,075 40,O 14 37,782 34,594 33,010 27,191 33,778 23,334 34,776 3 1,677 23.37 1 24,170 24,670 41,586 27,249 34,171 17,185 14,247 17,565 14,837 13,382 8,110 8,720 4,009 4,800 3,600 5,295 3,827 5,510 2,930 4,725 1,260 3,750 1,755

763,500 488,750 760,450 619,350 920,375 1,OO 1,397 900,850 603,606 708,365 600,655 193,793 206,396 345,560 372,303 150,628 160,220 207,259 286,280 464,028 368,322 27 1,999 254,037 426,968 463,990 352,490 585,011 334,572 253,113 309,700 297,768 369,885 41 1,315 278,800 114,960 207,850 178,010 246,120 320,100 207,650 99,050 109,980 74,850 123,300 79,900

37,361 42,567 56,877 24,363 17,249 2 1,297 29,872 29,244 40,2 15 38,769 25,450 28,299 27,415 30,044 28,509 22,347 42,7 17 28,297 35,068 36,265" 23,615 14,089 19,585 18,735 25,330" 15,159 8,534 12,720 20,339' 9,915 7,275 5,245 10,285 10,135 11,285 19,195" 5,755 7,515 11,395 17,32Y 18,860 10,815 14,820 6,140

Whale Oil (barrels)

Whalebone (pounds)

7 1,464 55,767 35,594 33,939 24,196 47,991 44,374 56,093 38,577 8 1,907a 15,671 16,175 21,355 25,412 18,417 13,960 21,223 18,989 42,726" 37,094" 27,328" 11,941 20,610 17,343 15,360 20,113 10,815 6,529 9,049 6,365 6,150 3,405 2,310 1,585 2,290 1,690 840 1,995 4,055 1,420 4,020 265 1,420 1,340

729,55 1 573,131" 427,743 368,442 304,896 6 10,450 531,461 803,240" 381,760 887,82Ia 83,226 93,015 14 1,254 218,341 157,334" 65,129 176,887 183,586 488,034' 332,801 29 1,610" 102,696 133,765 199,900 152,400 254.4 68 135,900 83,550 115,805 86,100 112,510 69,250 37,000 34,700 54,850 24,780 11,820 45,400 18,500 11,600 17,000 0 15,000 62,400

"Note that the New Bedford amount is greater than Tower's report of the amount for the entire U.S. fleet. This may be due in part to the difference in dates of record, described in the text.

10

Agents, Captains, and Owners

In a few instances, when a small vessel set out on a short trip, one person served as owner, agent, and captain. Normally, however, the benefits of specialization called for the agent to devote his attention to organizing and financing the voyage, paying the bills, disposing of the product, and distributing the earnings, while the captain saw to the day-to-day running of the vessel. Indeed, as vessels grew larger and voyages longer and more complex, agents gave up some of their duties and delegated them to specialists in the raising of a crew.' They also spread their financial risks by selling off pieces of the venture, frequently to the captain, less frequently to other members of the crew, more frequently to friends, relatives, business associates, and even complete outsiders.* In the chapters on productivity and profits, each voyage is treated as a firm. That is a reasonable procedure, if not precisely correct, since each voyage involved new planning, refitting the vessel, new provisioning, raising a new crew, and, frequently, a turnover of owners, or captain, or agent, or all three. There were, however, elements of continuity. Ownership groups sometimes held together over a number of voyages. When they did, the same person or partnership often (not always) continued to act in the capacity of agent. Some captains sailed more than once for a given agent or ownership group, as did some mates and boatsteerers. Other members of the crew were less likely to repeat. Tables 10.1 and 10.2 give a suggestion of the longevity of ownership groups. They probably understate the true length of life of the typical group. For purposes of constructing the tables, we redefinedfirm to mean a set of owners and 1. Firms that raised crews were known as shipping offices, and their managers, as shipping agents. They existed in New Bedford, but offices in large cities such as Boston and New York also supplied men to the New Bedford whalers. For a good, if cynical, description of recruitment, see Nordhoff 1895, chaps. 1-3. 2. Captains were probably sometimes given shares, to encourage them to attend to the interests of the owners. See Craig and Knoeber 1992.

381

382

Chapter 10 Longevity of New Bedford Whaling Firms, circa 1793-1924

Table 10.1

Finns Number of Voyages 1 2

3 4 5 6 7 8

Total

Number

%

Cumulative %

546 99 34 17 4 2 1

17.4 14.0 4.8 2.4 0.6 0.3

2

0.3 99.9'

71.4 91.4 96.2 98.6 99.2 99.5 99.6 99.9'

705

0.1

Source: Owners Data Set, derived from Work Projects Administration 1940. The data set is a sample comprising all the available records of vessels whose names begin with A, B, C, or D (see chapter 3 ) . Notes: A firm is defined as a set of owners and their vessel. Some firms owned more than one vessel, but this was uncommon within the sample from which this table was constructed. For example, of the almost two hundred firms with one, two, three, or four owners, only two-each a one-person firm-owned more than one vessel. "he percentages fail to total one hundred because of rounding.

their vessel. If the vessel constraint were removed-that is, if account were taken of ownership groups that owned more than one vessel-measured longevity would increase, but only very slightly (see table 10.1).Furthermore, the data are a sample, not the entire universe of ownership records. The sample consists of the available records for vessels with names beginning with the first four letters of the alphabet-192 out of a total of 787 New Bedford whalers. The tables miss instances of continuity in which, say, an ownership group holds first the brig Cortez, then sells it in order to buy the bark Keuts. This source of bias is more serious, but it is still unimportant. Ownership groups that endured almost always had a continuing interest in a given vessel. Therefore, the picture given by the tables-one of rather short-lived firms, and the more numerous the partners, the shorter the life-is almost certainly a c c ~ r a t e . ~ There were some persistent firm characteristics that the tables necessarily ignore. Consider the vessel Amethyst. It entered the New Bedford whaling fleet as the property of Joseph Dunbar, Frederick Parker, and John Avery Parker (an important whaling agent). On its second voyage the master, Warren Howland, became an owner. He left the vessel and the ownership group on the third voyage, and the owners were again Dunbar, Parker, and Parker. On the fourth voyage a new master, Joseph Black, came aboard, and he also acquired a share. On the fifth voyage Dunbar left the group, which was now augmented by Pierce 3. Occasionally ownership turned over when a vessel was at sea, but not often. For most intents and purposes the voyage was the shortest unit of time an ownership group could hold together. It is in this sense that we say ownership groups were short-lived.

383

Agents, Captains, and Owners Longevity of New Bedford Whaling Firms, by Size of Firm, circa 1793-1924

Table 10.2

Number of Voyages Number of Members 1

2 3 4 5 6 7

n

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 30 Total

2

1

19 1 34 37 50 48 56 67 43 36 42 24 20 20 20 6

3

4

5 5

n

4 4 6 3 3 1

6

7

8

T

o

t

1 I 546

34

1 1 705

4 4 5 2 6 2 2 1

2 2 4 I 3 1 1

1

1 1

1

1 1 1

1 1

1

I 1

1

2 1 1

1 1

1

99

l

1

2

5 1 1

a

28 28 55 56 69 62 74 78 50 42 49 29 24 22 20 I 5 2 2 0 1

7 11 13 11 10 10

5

17

4

2

1

2

%

4.0 4.0 7.8 7.9 9.8 8.8 10.5 11.1 7.1 6.0 7.0 4.1 3.4 3.1 2.8 1.o 0.7 0.3 0.3

0.1 0.1 0.1 100.0

Source: Owners Data Set.

Noret A j m is defined as a set of owners and their vessel.

Tomphns and Silas Tompkins. These two dropped out after one voyage, and their places were taken by Tillinghast Tompkins. The partnership remained unchanged for two voyages, after which Black ended his association with it. The two Parkers and Tompkins were the sole owners for the next voyage, the eighth; Benjamin Lincoln joined them for the ninth. Frederick Parker, Lincoln, and Tompkins remained with the vessel for its tenth voyage; for the eleventh the group was suddenly augmented by seven new members. On the vessel’s last voyage from New Bedford as a whaler, however, the number of partners fell back to five: Tompkins, Mary Howland, and Ann A. Dow, all of the previous ownership group, and two new members, William Wilcox and Preserved S. Wilcox (Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:12-13, 2:15). By the reckoning of the tables, nine separate ownership groups held the Amethyst in this period of almost twenty-five years, but the nine were by no means completely independent. It would not be surprising if the New Bedford community regarded these ventures-at least up to the tenth-as activities of

384

Chapter 10

John Avery Parker’s agency. In a sense the first nine voyages were conducted by a single firm. Nonetheless, given the turnover of owners, the firm had to be liquidated after virtually every voyage. In fact, it was probably liquidated after every voyage, and refinanced before the next. Thus, treating the voyage as the firm is proper enough. A complex ownership pattern such as that of the Amethyst was fairly common, but, although there was a good deal of turnover among owners, a complete change of ownership from one voyage to the next was rare. Table 10.2 shows the distribution of firms by firm sizes and numbers of voyages. The range is wide: there were firms with one owner, and one firm with thirty. The data are clustered, however, in the range of three through eleven members; three-quarters of the whaling ventures recorded in the sample fall within these fairly wide limits. When firms are measured in this way, it is clear that by the standard of modem experience, and even by the standard of the textile corporations and railroads of that day, whaling firms were small. On the other hand, if we judge size in terms of the capital stock of the firm, rather than the number of partners, they were not small. For example, the typical New Bedford whaling venture of the 1850s called for an investment of $20,000 to $30,000. The average American farm was worth $2,258 in 1850 and $3,251 in 1860; the capital stock of the average manufacturing firm was valued at $4,335 in 1850 and $7,191 in 1860.4 Firms of whaling agents were substantially more long-lived than were whaling firms. Nonetheless, there was considerable turnover among them as well (see table 10.3). Fully one-quarter of New Bedford agents managed only one whaling voyage; another one-quarter managed between two and four. These firms, comprising half of the New Bedford agents, were involved in sixty voyages-fewer than 1.5 percent of the total-while the handful of agents who each managed more than eighty voyages accounted for a total of 1,619, almost 38 percent of all the New Bedford voyages for which we have been able to establish the identity of the agent. Agents who managed few voyages seem to have been people with other business interests, who may have been closely associated with whaling as, say, provisioning merchants, and who had previously invested in whaling ventures. They managed one or two cruises and then returned to their primary business interests. They were probably not typically firms that were driven out of the business by f a i l ~ r e . ~

4. The whaling figures come from the Profits Data Set. They are expressed in 1880 dollars. The price level in that year was a little higher than the levels of 1850 and 1860, but not enough to affect the comparison seriously (Warren and Pearson ‘XI1 Commodities” wholesale price index, U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52). The census data are from U.S. Census Office 1864a, 184, 188,222; 1865,729,730.The census data have their shortcomings, but they are adequate for present purposes. See Gallman 1986; Sokoloff 1986. 5. This statement is based on field reports in the R. G . Dun & Co. Collection, Massachusetts volumes. The topic is developed further below.

385

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Table 10.3 Number of Voyages Managed

I 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11-20 2 1-30 3 1-40 4 1-50 5 1-60 6 1-70 7 1-80 8 1-90 91-100 101-40 Over 140 Total

New Bedford Whaling Agents and Agent Chains, by Number of Voyages Managed, 1796-1914 Agents

Agent Chains

Number

Cumulative %

78 40 22 15 15 6 21 7 13 5 44 14 14 10 2 2 3 4 1 2 2 320

25 37 44 49 53 55 62 64 68 70 84 88 92 95 96 96 91 98 99 99 100

Number

64 30 21 7 12 4 18 5 8 3 34 13 11 11 3 1 1 2 4 3 5 260

Cumulative % 25 35 44

41 52 53 60 62 65 66 19 84 88 93 94 94 95 95 97 98 100

Source: Captains and Agents Data Set. Notes: The principal members of agent firms sometimes changed. Such a change was frequently accompanied by a name change for the firm. We produced two sets of firm identifications: in one, every change of this sort was treated as the termination of one firm and the creation of a new one; in the other, the old firm and the new were treated as one. The term we used for such a group of firms was agenr chain. For example, Gideon Allen and Gideon Allen and Son are treated as separate agents, but as one agent chain (with two links). A firm that never changed constitutes an agent chain with one link (for example, Charles W. Morgan). See chapter 3 for a fuller treatment of this matter.

10.1 Captains The question of firm durability can also be approached from other directions. For example, did captains and agents make enduring connections? The data suggest that some did, but many did not. Table 10.4 shows that there were 68 agendcaptain pairs that were each involved in between four and twelve voyages. Given that voyages frequently ran three or four years, these are very longterm connections. Another 675 combinations stayed together for two or three voyages. These numbers are dwarfed, however, by the 2,103 occasions on which a captain and an agent came together for a single voyage, neither pre-

386

Chapter 10

Table 10.4

Durations of the Associations between Specific New Bedford Whaling Agents and Specific Captains, circa 1793-1924

Voyages per AgenVCaptain Pair 12 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Number of AgendCaptain Pairs 1

3 3 4 10 47 170 505 2,103

Total Voyages

Cumulative Total

12 24 21 24 50 188 510 1,010 2,103

12 36 57 81 131 319 829 1,839 3,942

Source: Captains and Agents Data Set.

ceded nor followed by any other like association between them. That figure is more than one-half of the voyages for which the calculation can be made (2,103 out of 3,942). Of the 1,872 whaling captains whom we have identified, 754 directed only a single New Bedford whaling voyage (see table 10.5).At least 50 died on the first voyage. Of the rest, some served as masters of vessels hailing from other ports, but many appear to have made only one cruise as captain, the one recorded for New Bedford.6 Bear in mind that these people rose from the ranks, so that a man sailing as captain for the first time had probably already been to sea for twelve to twentyfive years-perhaps one voyage as a cabin boy, another as a seaman, a third as a boatsteerer, and one, two, or more as a mate. That comes to at least four voyages, running typically a dozen years.' A man might make captain by his 6. The issue is not easy to settle. We pursued the records (in Whaling Musters [Works Progress Administration of Massachusetts 19381 and other sources) of 100 men who sailed from New Bedford as captain only once (the first 100 of the total of 754, ordered alphabetically). In 41 instances, this was the only voyage the sources record the man's having made as captain; in 16 others he commanded a vessel on at least one voyage from a port other than New Bedford; in the remaining 43 cases the records are inadequate to settle the issue. 7. See Whitecar 1864, 22,23. Whitecar sailed on the New Bedford bark Pacific, John W. Sherman, master. See also Haley 1948. 9-18. Haley ran away to sea on a whaler at the age of twelve, in 1844. The voyage ended in 1848, and he stayed ashore for a year, when he shipped as a boatsteerer aboard the Charles W Morgan. He returned in 1853, tried his luck in the West (Minnesota), but decided that the sea was for him. He shipped again, this time in 1854, as mate of an Arctic whaler, his first venture in the northwest. In 1857 he again sailed as mate to the North Pacific. He left the vessel in Honolulu and next went to sea as captain of a whaler, probably early in the 1860s. when he was about thirty. This was his fifth voyage; except for two or three years, he had been on whalers almost continuously for eighteen years. He had hunted the Indian Ocean, the South Pacific, the North Pacific, and the Western Arctic. After his voyage as captain, he left the sea and engaged in a variety of business ventures. The last-supplying food to Alaskan gold miners-proved fatal. He caught pneumonia and died in Alaska in 1900.

387

Agents, Captains, and Owners

late twenties, but he was more likely to achieve this rank in his thirties. The life was hard and risky. (See appendix 10A.) Death rates for captains were high, compared with those for men employed ashore.* A successful first voyage might convince a captain to get out while there was still time. If he were the scion of an agent family-many captains were-a place might be made for him in the firm a ~ h o r e . ~ At the other extreme there are some captains with remarkable careers. Antone J. Mandley was in command of twenty New Bedford whaling voyages (forty years), George A. Smith, sixteen, and David F. Duvoll, James F. Avery, and Thomas Scullun, fifteen each. There were few men in such positions, however. Almost two-thirds of New Bedford captains sailed as master on no more than two voyages; more than nine-tenths sailed on five or fewer (table 10.5). Captains who sailed on New Bedford whalers more than once were very likely to serve on more than one vessel. For example, almost two-thirds of the men who went to sea twice as New Bedford masters sailed on two different vessels (table 10.7). There were more repeaters among men who went to sea often, which is not surprising. The men who each served as captain on ten New Bedford voyages repeated once on thirteen occasions, twice on seven occasions, three times on three occasions, and four times on one occasion. But notice that this record nonetheless has these captains frequently shifting from one vessel to another. Indeed, it was more usual for them to shift than not. See also the passage in Brown (1887, 291) that describes, in his own words, the occupational ladder mounted by “a veteran whaling captain of New Bedford.” 8. Mortality data for whaling voyages are incomplete, but for the years 1843 (the date of first publication of the WSL) through 1867 the records of the deaths of captains seem reasonably full. The data suggest that the death rate during this period ran in excess of thirteen per one thousand, which should be taken as a lower-bound estimate. Table 10.6 gives the death rates (per one thousand) of all white males in the United States in the relevant age ranges in the years 1850-1870. Even allowing for the understatement of whaling captains’ death rates, the whaling captains seem to have had death rates no worse than all white males in the United States in 1850 and 1860, and possibly better. Why should this be, if whaling was so dangerous? There are two likely explanations. First, the weights employed to compute mean death rates reflect survival rates among all white men. Whaling captains, however, left the fleet both by death and by retirement. The death rate computed for whaling captains, therefore, represents a younger group, on average, than does the death rate for all men. Ceteris paribus-in the absence of risks associated with whaling-the captains should have had lower death rates. Second, the death rates of all men and of whaling captains represent the experience of both sickly men and healthy ones. The fraction of whaling captains who were sickly at the outset of the voyage was probably considerably lower than the fraction of all men who were sickly. Again, ceteris paribus-in the absence of risks associated with whaling-whaling captains should have had lower death rates. Since, with proper allowance for the underestimation of the captains’ death rates, the measured rates for all men and all whaling captains are reasonably close, it seems likely that the risks of whaling did noticeably raise the death rates of whaling captains. 9. Tracing the relations between captains and agents is not an easy matter. However, of the 177 surnames of agents in the data set, 126 are shared by captains who sailed on New Bedford vessels. (The total number of surnames borne by New Bedford captains is 674.) A shared surname does not necessarily mean a close relationship, but in New Bedford there was an excellent chance that a Howland, a Hathaway, a Parker, or a Rotch had a connection with an agent family. The number of shared surnames strongly suggests that agent families supplied a large number of New Bedford whaling captains.

388

Chapter 10 Numbers of Whaling Voyages Made by Individual Captains on New Bedford Vessels, circa 179S1924

Table 10.5

Number of Voyages

Number of Captains

% of Total

Cumulative

754 45 1 273 144 96 62 29 15 17

40.3 24.1 14.6 7.7 5.1 3.3 1.6 0.8 0.9 0.6 0.4 0.1 0.0 0.3 0.2 0.0” 0.0”

40.3 64.4 79.0 86.7 91.8 95. I 96.7 97.5 98.4 99.0 99.4 99.5 99.5 99.8 100.0 100.0 100.0

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 20

11

7 2 0 5 3 I 1

%

Source: Captains and Agents Data Set. ‘Less than 0.1 percent.

Death Rates for White Males in the United States (per thousand)

Table 10.6 Ages

1850

1860

1870

30-34 35-39 40-44 45-49 Weighted means

11.6 13.1 14.7 17.4 14.0

9.8 11.1 12.5 15.0 12.0

9.3 10.5 11.9 14.2 11.4

Source: Haines 1995, appendix A, m(x) (“central death rates”), converted to deaths per thousand. Nore: The weights are the relevant I(x) values, the number of a given cohort surviving to the first year of the specified age range.

How can the frequent changes be explained? Presumably there were advantages to knowing a vessel and its agent well that would encourage a captain to sign on again. Perhaps returning captains wanted to spend more time ashore than the two or three months typically required to refit; agents would then have had to send vessels back to sea without them. Captains would have had to find other vessels-perhaps managed by different agents-when they were ready to go whaling again. A captain who went to sea often was more likely to be able to return eventually to a favorite vessel or to an agent with whom he had had good relations.

389

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Table 10.7

Captains Who Sailed More than Once on a Given New Bedford Whaling Vessel, circa 1793-1924 Repetitions on a Given Vessel

Number of Voyages 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 20

Number of Captains

4.5 1 273 144

95 62 29 15 17 I1 7 2 0 5 3 1

1

1

153 116 86 66 54 27 14 19 13 5 1 0 2 4 2 2

2

3

36 25 23 11 1 4 4 4 7 8 1 0 3 2 0 0

7 3 8 3 6 6 3 0 0 0 3 3 1 1

4

2 7 1 0 1 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0

5

6

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0

7

0 0 3 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0

8

2 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0

+

0 1 0 1 0 1 0 0 1

Source: Captains and Agents Data Set. Notes: Four hundred and fifty-one captains made two New Bedford voyages. One hundred and fifty-three of them made both of these voyages on a single vessel; 298 made one voyage on each of two vessels. One captain made twenty voyages on New Bedford vessels. He made two voyages on one vessel, two voyages on another, four voyages on a third, and at least eight voyages on a fourth. A captain who sailed on one vessel twice and on another vessel three times appears in this table twice.

A captain had several sources of income from the voyage, in addition to the lay. Frequently there were bonus payments that depended upon the amount of oil or bone (or both) taken. Like the performance bonuses written into the contracts of major-league baseball players, these bonuses were designed to spur employees on to high levels of performance. A captain sometimes shared with the cook in the slush fund-the proceeds from the sale of used cooking oils and fats. He also typically brought goods along to trade with South Sea islanders, Africans, or Inuit. Most of the crew followed his example.'O There is no clear basis for judging how much captains made from their mercantile activities. Although they probably supplemented 10. Nordhoff 1895,42. Sometimes goods acquired in trade were brought back to the account of the vessel. A letter from Charles W. Morgan to S. Bartlett, 24 May 1837 (Morgan Collection), mentions a cargo of coffee. A vessel also usually stocked trade goods for sale to crewmen during the voyage for their trading ventures ashore, and for trading on the vessel's account for supplies. Some of the vessel's equipment was also sometimes traded for supplies. See account books of Captain Robert Foley and of the Midus in the Coggeshall Collection.

390

Chapter 10

Table 10.8

Captains as Investors in New Bedford Whaling Voyages A. Captains Who Invested in the Voyages on Which They Sailed

Voyages Captain-owners %

Before 1820

1820-35

1836-45

1846-60

1861-70

1871-80

After 1880

29 6 20.7

138 46 33.3

166 82 49.4

299 97 32.4

121 51 42.1

85 31 36.5

146 62 42.5

B. Captains Holding Various Ownership Shares

Shares

.03 I25 ,0625 ,09375 ,125 ,1875-.33 .375-SO Above S O Unknown Mean share

1846-60

1861-70

1

4 17 10

1

-

After 1880

3 16

12 20 2 12 2

11 40 1 30 13 2 44 ,1036

1871-80

2

-

-

,1223

,1405

I1 __ ,2924

Sources: Owners and Captains and Agents data sets.

their incomes nicely in this way, it is unlikely that trade represented a major part of their total earnings.” A more important income flow was the captain’s ownership of a share of the voyage. From 1820 onward, 39 percent of captains had shares in the voyages in which they participated (table 10.8). These shares were not negligible: in the period after 1845 they averaged from about 10 to almost 30 percent. Bear in mind, the typical captain’s lay ran between 5 and 10 percent. Granted, his lay earnings were computed against the value of output gross of the crew’s lay, while his ownership share was based on a figure net of that lay. Nonetheless, captains who were owners must, at times, have received more as owners than as masters. 11. Captains’ activities were sometimes enough to influence the market drastically, however. Writing of the settlement of Natal by Zulus and Europeans and the activities of the Fynns, a family of traders, Donald R. Morris (1965, 121-22) says: “Settlers continued to trickle in during 1834. Hunters predominated, but the trade was growing difficult. The traders purchased their ivory, hides, cattle and grain with beads, and they were now being undercut both by the Portuguese and by hordes of American whalers, who had recently appeared in the Indian Ocean. These ships landed parties along hundreds of miles of the coast to replenish water and purchase meat and corn. They had no objections to purchasing ivory as well, since it took up remarkably little space, and they paid for their purchases with an inexhaustible supply of trade beads which knocked the bottom out of the market. Before the year was out the Fynns gave up the struggle and left to take up civil posts in the Cape Colony.”

391

Agents, Captains, and Owners

The lays of captains varied widely. Presumably, ceteris paribus, the shorter lays went to the better captains.12Were they worth their hire? The data in table 10.9 give one answer. The comprehensive productivity model developed in chapter 8 was extended by introducing captains’ lays-expressed as percentages of the value of 0 u t p ~ t . If l ~agents gave short lays to good captains, and if agents were successful in identifying good captains, then the coefficient on the independent variable, captain’s lay, should be positive, large, and significantly different from zero. All three conditions are met. The range within which most captains’ lays fell was about 9 percentage points or, eliminating outliers, about 5 percentage points (see table 10.14).Given the coefficient of 5.095 on the lay variable, the equation implies that the difference in productivity between voyages captained by the best and the worst captains (excluding outliers) was about 0.255. When compared with the dependent mean of 0.689, this value suggests that the captain was very important, indeed. The captain had a major impact on productivity, but he also cost the owners a short lay. The question remains: was he able to negotiate a lay that preempted the full value of his contribution to the voyage? One way to answer this question is to regress profit rates on captains’ lays. If captains obtained their full incremental value, the coefficient on the lay should be zero. The results in table 10.10, for both definitions of profitability, show that the coefficient on the lay is insignificantly different from zero, suggesting that competition for captains was so intense that they were able to absorb all the rents deriving from their special skills.14 On a different but related issue, it would be interesting to know if crewmen recognized the quality differences among captains. If they did, one would expect a crewman to be willing to accept a longer lay to be on a vessel commanded by a first-rate whaling master. There is, however, another possible relationship between the lays of crew and captain. The captain helped select the 12. The relative qualities of captains were well known. This was a small universe; captains rose from the ranks, serving at one time or another as harpooners and mates. Each therefore had a track record. Agents had been appraising them and recruiting them for years. 13. Notice that the results from the equation in table 10.9 are very similar to those in the third column of table 8.7. The suggestion is that the relationships being explored in the productivity equations are fundamentally stable. 14. Why didn’t agents collude to keep captains’ lays long? After all, agent families were linked by marriage and religious ties, which would have facilitated collusion. There are probably five reasons why collusive agreements would have been fragile. While most agents were Friends, the New Bedford Meeting suffered a major division in the early 1820s. Agents on different sides of this schism would be unlikely to cooperate. Second, the larger the number involved in any effort at collusion, the more likely it is to fail. The number of agents was typically large enough (see table 10.12) to make collusion so unlikely to last that no sensible group of agents would attempt it, Third, although New Bedford was the largest U.S. whaling port, there were at least half a dozen others within a half day’s travel from New Bedford. Even if New Bedford agents had succeeded in colluding, it is unlikely that they could have brought in the agents from the other ports. Fourth, since it would pay the captains to keep their counsel, a collusive agreement would be very difficult to police. Finally, New Bedford agents were an unusually tough, competitive lot, not good material for successful collusive schemes calling for cooperation, loyalty, and trust.

Table 10.9

Captains and the Productivity of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1840-58 and 1866 Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity

Statistical properties F Adjusted RZ Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilledcommon wage rate ashore % of crew illiterate % of crew greenhands Ships (compared to other rigs) Vessel tons squared Ground (compared to Pacific) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic Mode of entry to fleet (compared to built before 1850) Built as whaler after 1849 Built as merchantman after 1849 Vessel rerigged Vessel age Vessel age squared Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820) Captain's lay

52.2 ,575 ,689 1.907 908 2.3542* 0.0008 0.0002 o.oO01 -4.854X lo-' -0.0149* -0.5643 0.2728*** 0.1781 0.1471* 0.000001*

-0.5086* 0.0534 0.2542*** -0.0556 -0.1753 0.1414** -0.0047 O.ooOo6 -0.0909 0.0030 -0.6914* -0.0003* 0.0029 5.0954*

Sources: See the notes to tables 8.2 and 8.6, chapter 2, and the text of this chapter. *Significant at the 1 percent level.

**Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level.

393

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Table 10.10

Captains and Profit Rates in New Bedford Whaling, 1840-58

and 1866 A. Captain’s Lay and the Profit Rate Dependent Variables

Statistical properties F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Captain’s lay ~~

Profit Rate, Variant A

Profit Rate, Variant B

2.486 .0015 ,150 984

1.156 .0002 .07 1 984 0.1092* -0.5690

0.2538*

- 1.5417

~~

B. Captain’s Lay and Crew’s Lay Dependent Variable: Crew’s Lay (excluding captain’s lay) Statistical properties F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Captain’s lay

144.5 ,1181 ,265 1,072 0.2073* 0.8584*

Sources: Profits and Stations and Lays data sets. Notes: Profit rates exclude capital gains and losses. Variant A rates assume investment in the vessel amounted to the depreciated new price of the vessel, variant B, undepreciated new price. See chapter 11 for an explanation and justification of these assumptions. *Significant at the 1 percent level

crew, and he was more likely to be able to recognize quality in them than they in him. Perhaps good captains insisted on good crews. If they did, the productivity and profits results described above might reflect the crew’s quality, as well as the captain’s. The regression exhibited in panel B of table 10.10 suggests that the second interpretation is the correct one. Captains with short lays tended to be associated with crews with short lays; good captains insisted upon good crews. These high-quality captaidcrew combinations were unusually productive, and they were able to exploit their productivity to obtain something approximating their incremental value.I5 15. Craig and Fern (1993, 130-31) also found that better crews shipped with better captains.

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10.2 Agents as Organizers of Voyages The agent was the moving spirit of the industry. Typically, he bought the vessel and then sold parts of the voyage to obtain whatever additional finance he needed.I6 Together with the captain he chose the types of equipment to be carried, depending somewhat upon the ground the vessel was to hunt and the types of whales to be hunted-other decisions made by the agent. Some equipment carried over from one voyage to the next, but most did not. Harpoons and explosive lances were used up as a matter of course. Whaleboats were smashed by whales or simply wore out. Sails tore, rigging broke, and the canvas and rope that survived were unlikely to be perfectly sound. Much of the gear and rigging was sold off after a voyage, and the vessel was entirely refitted. (Refitting sometimes included recoppering the bottom and replacing the spars and masts.) Food and drink for the crew had to be replaced, of course, as did the staves and hoops used to make barrels for storing oil. Provisioning a whaling vessel for a three-, four-, or five-year venture was a major task. If the agent was himself a grocer, a shipsmith, a dry goods merchant, a cooper, or a manufacturer of whalecraft or rope-as he often washe could conduct part of the provisioning with confidence and make a dollar, too. He was unlikely to be able to depend only on himself. The provisioning requirements of a whaling vessel were numerous and disparate, and the agent had to seek advice and supplies from others. He also had to keep his eye on everything, since the men in the industry were reputed to be a rapacious lot.” An agent who was not a careful overseer would not be long in business. The agent chose the captain and the two selected officers, boatsteerers, often the cooper, and perhaps the cook and steward. Early in the history of New Bedford whaling they also typically chose the rest of the crew: neighbors’ 16. For example, in August 1846 the bark Clarice was sold for $6,900 to Edward C. Jones of New Bedford; in September of the same year the vessel was registered to the owners: Jones, Henry Gifford and Andrew White of Westport, and Captain Peleg W. Gifford (master of the Clarice) of Fairhaven. The bark Dominga was sold to Weston Howland of New Bedford for $12.000 in July 1854, and in September of the same year it was registered to Howland and nine other owners. The owners were drawn from New Bedford, Westport, Dartmouth, and Falmouth, and included the master of the Dominga, Rowland C. Phinney, who took a 1/16 share. Jonathan Bourne Jr. bought the ship Ansel Gibbs in December 1861 for $11,100; the vessel was registered to four owners (including Bourne, who took a 10/16 share) in April 1862. The ship Europa was sold in November 1871 to Charles Tucker of Dartmouth, and in December it was registered to Tucker (a 2/16 share) and ten other owners. Seven of the owners came from New Bedford, one from Gosnold, one from Acushnet, and one (the master, James H. McKensie, in for 1/16). from Dartmouth. All of the original purchasers listed above were whaling agents (WSL 4 August 1846, 12 July 1854, 10 December 1861, 14 November 1871; Work Projects Administration 1940, 1:55, 2:18,2:64,3:56). 17. “They were as tight-fisted, cruel and ruthless a set of exploiters as you can find in American history, these oil kings of New Bedford” (Morison 1961, 315; Nordhoff 1895, chaps. 1, 2). See also the first chapters of Moby-Dick. Individual whaling agents had their defenders. See, for example, the treatment accorded the Howlands in Allen 1973. Matthew Howland’s letters suggest a kindly man but, as will appear, one who never lost sight of the economic interests of the firm. It is also true that, of the fifteen whaling ships that he, his father, and his brother managed, two were burned at sea by their crews. See Moment 1957, 279.

The residence of whaling agent George 0. Crocker, circa 1881. Reproduced from the New Bedford atlas of 1881, by courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

The residence of whaling agent William J. Rotch, circa 1889. William J. Rotch was the great-great-grandson of Joseph Rotch, who came to New Bedford from Nantucket in 1765 and founded the New Bedford whaling industry. From Pease and Hough 1889.

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sons, perhaps their own sons, and those Vineyard boatheaders par excellence, Gay Head Indians. As the fleet expanded and the capacity of the local labor market was exhausted, potential crewmen had to be bid in from a distance. They did not have to be sailors; they could be whipped into shape in the first months at sea en route to the intended hunting ground. It was then that the greenhands learned to cope with seasickness, to climb the rigging and change sails, and, most important, to cooperate in the operation of the whaleboats. Farm boys or city clerks would do. They would be toughened up quickly enough under the tutelage of a fire-breathing mate. New Bedford agents began to contract out the search for crewmen to firms located in New York and other port cities, where restless young men seeking adventure, older men one jump ahead of their creditors, gamblers down on their luck, and runaway slaves seeking a place to hide were to be found.I8 The agent paid the recruiter a price per head-larger if the agent accepted the recruit and signed him on, smaller if he rejected him.I9 Agent and captain planned the voyage together; the contribution of each depended on experience, prior success, and personal force. The chief decisions rested with the agent, but he might well be guided by an able and experienced captain, especially if the latter had an ownership stake in the voyage. The plan included the length of time the vessel was to be at sea, the grounds to be hunted (sometimes the periods during which the vessel was to be on each ground), and the places and dates at which the vessel would put in to resupply, take on new crew members, and ship oil or bone homeward. A formal statement of the main outlines of the plan was usually given to the captain, vide the following passage from a letter of 1 November 1834 from Charles W. Morgan to Captain Reuben Russell, 2d (Morgan Collection): The Bark being now ready for sea as agent I have to advise you that she is bound on a whaling voyage to the Pacific Ocean-That she is fitted for thirty months-and that we wish you to cruise for sperm whales for 20 to 24 months and if not then full, fill up with whale Oil-we leave to your judgment the cruising ground on the Pacific though we would recommend the neighborhood of New Zealand, where both right & sperm whales are to be taken, and it would be well especially towards the end of the voyage to be where right whales could be taken. Special information on hunting grounds was also sometimes communicated. For example, the Aiken and Swift agency kept a set of notes on hunting grounds that eventually ran to four volumes. The notes typically describe whale catches, by type of whale, vessel, longitude and latitude, and date. On 18. “G. W. TICE& Co., SHIPPING AGENTS, 110 WESTSTREET,New York. Crews shipped and paid off at short notice. Particular attention paid to furnishing Whalemen’s crews. Orders promptly attended to” (advertisement in WSL 19 March 1867). 19. Nordhoff 1895, chaps. 1-3. According to Nordhoff, the fee was paid by the seaman. These chapters give a good account of the recruitment of a crew, the character of a typical crew late in the period of New Bedford whaling, and the training of greenhands.

397

Agents, Captains, and Owners

the inside of the cover of the fourth volume of one copy is the following message: Dear Captain Gifford, This book is given into your charge with the full understanding that all its contents will be kept by you in the strictest confidence and that you will make it a point of honor not to communicate any of its contents to any one whatever directly or indirectly or let any one get them in any way-except the Captains of our shipsYour friends, Aiken & Swift New Bedford 15 December 1879 The agent’s activities did not stop when the vessel left port.2oHe was responsible for assuring that credit and access to cash were available to the captain when he put in to an overseas port. The agent and the owners had to decide whether to insure the voyage and, if so, for how much. Insurance was expensive; it ran from as little as 2 to as much as 8 percent per year, probably averaging 2.5 percent in peacetime. For a voyage of four years, the average cost ran to about one-tenth of the value of the vessel and outfits, plus whatever premiums were required to cover the catch. Since a good catch exceeded the value of the vessel, if anything was to be insured, the catch would be. Of course, since the premium was part of the cost of the voyage and the crew’s lay was calculated on the net value of output, the crew bore the insurance burden.*’ If the vessel went down, however, the owners alone collected. The plan of the voyage was made before the vessel sailed, but plans were always subject to change. Unusual success might require a vessel to put in at a transshipment point earlier than expected; ill success might keep a vessel at sea longer than the original plan called for; desertions, illness, and death might oblige the captain to put in to a port to recruit crew members or put a sick man ashore; accidents might require berthing at a place where repairs could be carried out; shifts in prices might call for a change in hunting or marketing strategy. The captain could not wait for word from the agent before reacting to opportunities or disasters. Nonetheless, he maintained contact with the agent, 20. Most of the material of the next seven paragraphs is taken-frequently word for wordfrom Davis, Gallman, and Hutchins 1991, 217-19. 21. See the Howland Collection, letters of 13, 17, 22, 24, and 25 September 1877, 12 October 1877, and 4.8, and 27 February 1878, in which the Howlands dickered with an insurance company first over the coverage of two vessels-the insurance company wanted to restrict the cruising range of one of them-and then over the payment of claim. In one instance it appears that a vessel was insured for one-half of its value plus one-half of the provisions. The 8 percent rate is implied in the correspondence of 1877. In that year insurance companies would not longer insure voyages to the Western Arctic or the Sea of Okhotsk. See also 16 January 1860, Howland Collection; Emily Morgan 1842; the accounts of the Calla0 in Moment 1957,271-73; Hohman 1928,312. Hohman quotes an 1858 consular report by Fayette M. Ringgold, who says that insurance was deducted before lays were computed.

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as best he could, and the agent kept as close a supervision of the voyage as he could manage from a distance of as many as several thousand miles. Before the voyage began, captain and agent agreed on dates and stations where letters could be picked up and dispatched, and letters were also exchanged at rendezvous between whaling vessels or between supply ships and whaling vessels. Whalers returning to New Bedford always carried news of the fleet.22 A sense of the nature of the exchanges between captain and agent can be obtained from the letter books of whaling agents. On 21 November 1836 Charles W. Morgan wrote to George H. Dexter, a Morgan captain, at Montevideo (Morgan Collection): “I wrote to you 15 Inst advising you that if you could get a price for your oil equal to 40 cts clear of every charge remitted home you might sell it but in consequence of news received of the failure of the Greenland Fishery we think oil will be very high the next season & therefore we now advise that unless the oil will nett 45 cts clear we would wish you to bring it home.” In February 1858 Matthew Howland wrote to one of his captains, Philip Howland, admonishing him over his recent performance: “25 months out with 600 bbl sperm & 130 whale is rather low but I am in hopes that you will come up now, and be equal to any of them according to time out-I shall expect to hear of you into Talcuahana in March with from 800 to 1000 bbls of sperm oil on board” (Howland Collection). In December he composed a similar letter to Paul Green, captain of the ship Rousseau: he did not wish to second-guess Green, but it was nonetheless true that, having decided to go to the Arctic, Green should have stuck it out through the whole season instead of shifting from ground to ground. Howland also pointed out that the longer it took to fill the vessel, the longer Green and the crew would be away from home and friends, a reminder that appears frequently in these letters. There followed an account of arrangements for the delivery of provisions to the Sandwich Islands for Green’s vessel, news of home and of the success of other Howland vessels (Howland tried to keep vessels in competition with each other: “You must not let the Reindeer beat you”), orders to Green to ship home any bone he collected but to keep the oil aboard, and personal regards to the mates. On the same day (15 December 1858) Howland wrote to Captain G. P. Pomeroy of the ship George Howland, telling the captain that he had made a mistake in choosing to hunt in the Kodiak area. He should have gone to the Sea of Okhotsk. He told Pomeroy to keep expenses down (a recumng theme), quoted the price of oil, passed along personal news, sent regards to the first and second mates, asked who was now third mate, and inquired if all the boatsteerers were good. Two days later he wrote Captain Valentine Lewis of the ship Corinthian, telling him to go to Kodiak and to move on to the Arctic if hunting off the 22. See Anthony 1922. Anthony was a young merchant who worked for the Rotches, a prominent whaling family. The diary describes the flow of information on the state of the whaling fleet. See also Whitecar 1864, 127, 146.

George Howland and two of his sons (George Jr. and Robert), oil on canvas, by William Allen Wall. George Howland Sr. was the son of a farmer. When he died in 1852 (at seventy-one), he left “a net estate of $615,000, a fleet of nine whaling vessels, a countinghouse, wharf and candle factory in New Bedford; acreage in Maine, western New York State, Michigan and Illinois; a wholly nominal title to Howland Island in the mid-Pacific, and charitable bequests in the amount of $70,000” (Allen 1973, 82). George Howland Jr. was born in 1806 and was the only surviving child of his father’s first marriage. Robert, born in 1826, was a child of the second marriage. George Jr. and another half-brother, Matthew Howland, carried on the whaling agency their father had founded. In thirty-three years during the life of George Sr., the agency sent out seventysix whaling voyages from New Bedford; in twenty-five years after his death, the agency sent out forty-three. George Howland Jr. was mayor of New Bedford in 1855-56 and again in 1863-65. Matthew Howland devoted his life to the business. Reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

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southern coast of Alaska proved poor. He gave Lewis the latitude and longitude of the good catches made by other captains that year. In a letter dated 3 1 December, Howland acknowledged two letters from Captain Robert Jones of the George and Susan, which had arrived by steamer from the Sandwich Islands, said he had handled the matter of Jones’s insurance, and passed along news of Jones’s wife. In July of the next year the unfortunate Captain Pomeroy was sent a letter expressing concern over the amount of cash he had been drawing. In the same month a letter to Jones commiserated over the death of a mate (killed by a whale’s flukes), expressed a hope that the replacement was proving effective, and said, “I am pleased to learn of thy judging it proper to lower for whales [illegible] after the death of Mr. Tripp.” Captains in the Howland fleet were to attend always to business. In letters written to Jones and Lewis in 1860 (18 January, 18 July), he complained that the former was not writing frequently enough and that he, Howland, had been forced to follow the voyage through the newspapers, but he complimented Lewis on the amount and quality of the oil and bone sent home, all of which, he added, had been sold on good terms. In the same year (8 August) Howland also wrote to Grafton Hellman, a friend of Captain Green, whose wife had died. The letter is worth quoting at length. Now, as thee has kindly offered to do anything for us in regard to this sad affair, we would recommend, if it should appear necessary, to encourage Capt Green as much as possible to look on the bright side of things and endeavor to carry out his wishes in regard to the remains of his wife, advising him to pursue his voyage as far as his feelings will allow him, as though nothing had happened, believing that this severe bereavement which has come upon him, is in the ordering of Divine Providence and might have occurred if he had been at home . . . we hope he will have no idea, and we can hardly imagine he will, of abandoning the voyage or delaying the ship in Port longer than is really necessary . . . as considerable time & money have already been expended (perhaps necessarily) on account of his wife’s illness. He went on to ask Hellman to remind Green that Green had a duty to the owners. Green decided to complete the cruise, per Howland’s request. Once the voyage was over, the agent was responsible for paying off the crew and disposing of the product. The former task has been described in chapter 5 and need not be discussed further. As to the sale of the product, some agents invested in oil and candle manufactories and took part of the product themselves, others sold locally, and still others were in the international market and sold overseas.23 23. Charles W. Morgan to Jollie Clibborn and Company,Antwerp, 2 November 1833; to Wilkins Blokhuyzen and Company, Rotterdam, 14 August 1834; to Maxwell Wright and Company, Rio de Janeiro, 23 November 1836; all in Morgan Collection.

401

Agents, Captains, and Owners

It will be evident that agents had many opportunities to gain from their agencies: most owned a share of the voyage; many were provision merchants or outfitters or were in some other line of business from which they could profit from the provisioning of the voyage; many were in the business of processing Finally, they also received fees for outfitting the vessel and for guaranteeing the sale of the products of the voyage. For example, for the 1871-75 voyage of the Culluo, the firm of Taber, Gordon, and Company drew a commission of 2.5 percent for outfitting the vessel and 15 percent of the value of oil and bone brought back for guaranteeing the sale of the product. This was a venture on which the owners lost between $7,000 and $8,000. Taber, Gordon, however, nearly broke even, the commissions coming within $700 of offsetting its ownership losses. If the firm also provisioned the vessel-which it may have done-it may actually have made some money on the voyage (Moment 1957, 271-73; see also Decker 1973, 31).

10.3 Who Were the Agents? The agent was typically-although not always-an owner of the vessel he managed. (Usually he was the principal owner; sometimes he was the only one.) Ownership could be divorced from management, but that was risky. Generally, the agent initiated the project, and it was he who sought out other owners, not the other way around. He wanted to bring others into the venture to help him finance it and to share the risks. The agents of a majority of voyages after 1819 participated as owners; as time passed, the proportion rose until it was close to 100 percent (table 10.11). The share typically owned by the agent increased from almost one-third, in the years 1846-60, to about 46 percent thereafter. Agents were important members of ownership groups. Few agents used the title “whaling agent” in their listings in the New Bedford City Directory; a few more-but not many-were given this name by the R. G. Dun & Co. field representatives in their credit reports to the home office. (See appendix 10B.) Many firms went by the name “merchant”; others chose “grocer,” “provision merchant,” “tailor,” “dry goods merchant,” or “cooper” (see table 10.12). There were many other designations, as well, but the bulk of the agents fell into the groups just named. Note that a substantial part of the business of New Bedford grocers, tailors, and so forth involved provisioning whalers and their crews. No doubt many agents came to the business of whaling through one of these supplying activities or from an interest in buying and selling oil and bone. Others may have started in whaling and then gradually integrated backward into one of the supplying industries or forward into candle making or oil processing. Certain it is, however, that agents typically partici24. In 1841 twenty-one candle houses and oil manufactories were listed in the New Bedford City Directory. Seventeen were owned by members of important whaling families.

Table 10.11

Whaling Agents as Investors in New Bedford Whaling Voyages A. Agents Who Invested in the Voyages They Managed

Voyages Agent-owners %

Before 1820

1820-35

1836-45

1846-60

1861-80

After 1880

29 5 17.2

138 77 55.8

166 140 84.3

299 264 88.3

206 197 95.6

146 127 87.0

B. Agents Holding Various Ownership Shares 184660

Shares

1/16-< 114 114-112 > 112-314 >314 Unknown Mean share

1861-70

63

26 49 21 17

104

13 10 74 .328

-

,457

1871-80

After 1880

18 37 12 17 .45 1

15 65 33 14 ,467

Source: Owners Data Set. Nore: The increase across the early periods in the number of voyages in which agents participated as owners, shown in this table, may reflect in part improvements in the quality of the data, rather than changes in the behavior of agents.

Table 10.12

Occupational Designations of New Bedford Whaling Agents, 183675

N

%

1845 _ _ N %

42

76

51

68

65

72

34

69

18

62

5

9

7

9

5

6

2

4

3

10

0 0 0 0 8

0 0 0 0 15

3 0 1 1 12

4 0 1 1 16

5 1 1 2

6 1 1 2 12

4 0 0 1 8

8 0 0 2 16

1 0 0 1 6

3 0 0 3 21

1836

Merchant Provision merchant or grocer Dry goods merchant or tailor Cooper Boathuilder or shipwright Sailmaker All othep

1856 _ _ N %

_ N

I867 _ %

~ N

11

1875 %

Sources: Captains and Agents Data Set; New Bedford City Directories, 1836, 1845, 1856, 1867, 1875. ”“All other” includes the president of the New Bedford Gas Light Company; manufacturers of paint, iron, patent medicines, oil, and candles: dealers in real estate, cement, bricks, whale oil, petroleum, coal oil, and coal; a speculator; and a watchmakerljewellerlinventor (of an exploding harpoon and a harpoon gun) named Zeno Kelley, who was convicted in November 1863 of having in July 1860, as her agent, fit the ship Tahmaroo for the slave trade. Kelley was sentenced to a fine of $1,OOO and four years’ imprisonment, but seems not to have served the full sentence. In November 1866 he was in New Bedford demonstrating “a double padlock, of his invention and manufacture, which. . . will be invaluable to the government, for use in the post office, customs and internal revenue service. It is called a self-sealing lock, and though simple in its construction, allows remarkable ingenuity in the contriver, and will put at fault the most expert rogue” (WSL 21 January 1862, 17 November 1863,4 December 1866).

403

Agents, Captains, and Owners

pated in several related activities. Those who were heavily involved in whaling even acquired wharves of their own. The degree of commitment varied widely. On the one hand, some agentsRotches, Howlands, Aikens, Penys, Swifts, Wings-pursued the trade over many years, in some instances over several generations. They were linked with many ownership groups and often had several vessels at sea simultaneously. On the other hand, there were a good many individuals who managed one or two or three voyages, and then left the trade (see table 10.3).25 In almost all of these cases the agent was primarily and regularly engaged in an ancillary activity. He managed a voyage or two, but never became a fully committed agent. Typically he had been an owner before he became an agent and continued as an owner after he gave up management. Naomi Lamoreaux (1986) has shown that, in the first half of the nineteenth century, New England banks were often organized to finance insiders’ business activities. The largest borrowers were usually officers or members of the board of directors. In New Bedford the banks, and the insurance companies as well, catered to whaling. For example, in 1841 the presidents of three of the four commercial banks and of the one savings bank were whaling agents: William Rodman, George Howland, John Avery Parker, and William Rotch Jr. Almost all of the members of the boards of directors were members of whaling families. Similar statements could be made about the six insurance companies. The presidents of four were whaling agents; a fifth was owned by a prominent whaling family. Thirty-six years later, the banking situation was essentially unchanged. The presidents of three of the six banks were agents, and two of the remaining three presidents were members of agent families. The insurance picture in 1877 was altered to the extent that insurance was now dominated by Boston firms. The one New Bedford agency listed in the directory, Tillinghast and Alden, was run by the scions of whaling families. Many of the agents made large fortunes, and in the 1840s and 1850s New Bedford was one of the richest towns in the United States. Agents did not, however, sit tight in whaling; they were alert to new opportunities. The Rotches invested in railroads, toll roads, banks, insurance companies, and real estate. In 1841 the New Bedford and Taunton Railroad had whaling officers and a whaling board of directors: James H. Crocker, William W. Swain, Alfred Gibbs, David R. Greene, Thomas Mandell, Pardon G. Seabury, and George Howland. Charles W. Morgan went as far afield as Clark’s Ferry, Pennsylvania, to invest in the Duncannon Iron Works. The Howlands diversified into railway investments, including the Old Colony. They were also a part of the entrepreneurial force behind the establishment of the Wamsutta Mill, the first cotton textile mill in New Bedford. (The town eventually became the state’s third leading cotton textile manufacturer.) It was a Howland, Weston, who came close to committing industrial treason when he opened the first New Bedford petroleum-refining plant (Pease and Hough 1889, 145, 146, 177). 25. Some of these people left New Bedford but continued whaling from another port.

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The leading whaling families made alliances with other whaling familiesalliances that were frequently nurtured by religious practices and by mamage. The most important agents were Quakers; and, although the meeting suffered a wrenching schism in the 1820s that divided the whaling families into two camps, within the two divisions connections were maintained.*'j Marriage solemnized alliances and often led to the formation of business partnerships. The Rotches and the Rodmans, the first great New Bedford whaling families, intermarried and additionally coopted James Arnold, a promising merchant from Providence, and Charles W. Morgan. The Howlands married Allens, a Bartlett, Bournes, a Durfee, a Delano, a Kempton, a Peirce, a Parker, a Robinson, Russells, Shearmans, a Sherman (probably the same family), Tabers, a Wing, Woods, and various Howlands (the Howlands were a numerous family), but notice that they married no Rotches or Rodmans: the two sets of families were on opposite sides in the Quaker division. The Allens, in addition to matching with Howlands, also took up with six of the families on the Howlands' list, as well as with the Ricketsons, Giffords, Nyes, Luces, Popes, and Ashleys. The Perrys joined with the Almys, Swifts, and Hathaways, as well as with four families linked to the Howlands and the Allens. The Lewises wedded members of seven families already mentioned, plus Kemptons, Bonneys, and Coggeshalls. And so it went. New Bedford was a small place; it is not surprising to find substantial intermamage among whaling agent families. In addition, given the nature of the business organizations of the day, it is hardly surprising that the basis for partnership would often be marriage (or vice versa?). What is interesting here is that the mamage networks suggest certain discrete family groupings. There seem to be no links between certain groups (the Rotches and the Howlands); in other cases the links, while few and chiefly indirect (the Howlands and the Parkers), do exist (McDevitt 1978,551-58; Vital Records of New Bedford).

10.4 Agents and Productivity Productivity varied among agents. The range of performance even across specialist firms-those that participated in at least thirty voyages-was wide. The average index of productivity for these firms (agent chains) ranged from 1.486 to 0.082 (see table 10.13). Nonspecialists, on average, operated at a 26. The Joseph Anthony diary (1922) provides insights into the Quaker schism. (Anthony's sister and sister-in-law were involved in the controversy and were to be disciplined, but chose rather to resign from the meeting.) The central place of the meeting houses and churches in the life of the mercantile community in the 1820s comes through clearly. Anthony frequently attended two or three services on a Sunday, apparently chiefly to hear the speeches of visiting preachers. His interests seem to have been stirred as much by intellectual and aesthetic, as by spiritual, considerations. He gives a lively account of the conflicts that led to the division of the Friendsincluding many whaling families-into two camps. Conflicts centered chiefly on the question of whether the Friends should be actively evangelical, but extended to matters of appropriate dress and behavior.

Table 10.13

Average Voyage Total Factor Productivity Achieved by New Bedford Whaling Agent Chains, 1802-1908 A. Average Productivity of Individual Agent Chains Number of Voyages

Agent Chain Seth Russell Jr.; Seth Russell & Sons; Seth Russell; Coggeshall & Russell Abraham Barker Abraham H. Howland Edward W. Howland David R. Greene & Co. William Gifford; Gifford & Cummings; Charles H. Gifford Charles W. Morgan Edward C. Jones Isaac Howland Jr. & Co. Alexander Gibbs Benjamin B. Howard George Howland; George & Matthew Howland Henry Taber & Co. Lemuel Kollock; Lemuel Kollock & Son Henry Clay; Henry Clay & Co. James B. Wood & Co. Jireh Swift Jr. & Frederick S . Allen Jonathan Bourne Jr.; Jonathan Bourne William C. N. Swift & Eben Perry; William H. Aiken & Frederick Swift; Frederick Swift Jireh Peny Samuel Rodman; Sylvanus Thomas & William F. Dow; Sylvanus Thomas & c o . John & James Howland John Avery Parker; John Avery Parker & Son Gideon Allen; Gideon Allen & Son; Gilbert Allen Thomas Cook & Loum Snow; Loum Snow; Loum Snow & Son Charles R. Tucker; Charles R. Tucker & Co. Thomas & Asa R. Nye; Thomas Nye Jr. Matthew Luce; William Hathaway Jr. & Matthew Luce; William Hathaway Jr. John R. Thomton (continued)

Agented

In Sample

Productivity Index Number

1 808-3 1 1827-57 1833-58 1843-70 1831-66

39 43 40 50 46

33 36 32 43 41

1.486 1.106 1.055 1.039 1.024

1836-78 1826-53 1839-70 1817-62 1830-56 1833-62

50 60 81 171 49 46

39 54 73 152 40 37

1.009 0.992 0.981 0.961 0.941 0.813

1818-77 1834-65

119 47

100

40

0.809 0.805

1833-59 1875-1901 1841-72 1844-85 1833-86

39 44 61 88 147

35 27 52 64 115

0.798 0.795 0.794 0.788 0.782

1851-93 1829-50

131 43

69 34

0.766 0.7 13

1802-66 I8 18-53

59 37

44 32

0.693 0.690

1818-53

97

70

0.669

1830-87

94

72

0.656

1850-87

59

44

0.645

1835-76

112

96

0.633

1832-64

80

71

0.613

1838-66 1837-65

45 30

43 28

0.600 0.598

Dates of Operation

406

Chapter 10

Table 10.13

(continued) A. Average Productivity of Individual Agent Chains Number of Voyages

Agent Chain Barton Ricketson Thomas Luce; Thomas Luce & Co. William G . Taber, William Gordon Jr. & Co. Ivory H. Bartlett; Ivory H. Bartlett & Son; Ivory H. Bartlett & Sons Joseph & William R. Wing William R. Rodman Thomas Knowles & Co.; Thomas Knowles Edmund Maxfield John P. Knowles I1 Charles Hitch: Charles Hitch & Son; Joshua C. Hitch William Penn Howland William Lewis: William Lewis & Son

Dates of Operation

Agented

In Sample

Productivity Index Number

1840-5 1 1886-1903

33 36

28 I1

0.594 0.585

1866-93

39

28

0.565

95 236 35

32 90 27

0.465 0.460 0.449

95 30 47

84 23 39

0.438 0.370 0.35 1

39 39 153

29 33 30

0.349 0.117 0.082

1833-93 1852-19 14 1830-55 1844-83 185 1-72 1859-87 1843-83 1843-70 1872-1908

B. Comparison of More and Less Active Chains Agent Chains with

Total number of voyages agented Number of voyages in productivity sample Average productivity

230 Voyages

<30 Voyages

2,922 2,070 0.73 1

1,363 974 0.594

Sources: Productivity and Captains and Agents data sets. Note: For a discussion of agent chains, see table 10.3 notes.

lower level of productivity-0.594, as compared with 0.73 1 for the specialists. That finding is plausible: presumably the firms that succeeded stayed in the business, and those that did not got out. Beyond this commonsensical statement, is there anything that can be said about agents and productivity? Is there any characteristic of agents that is a good predictor of success? Is there an indicator, similar in nature to the captain’s lay, to distinguish, before the fact, good agents from poor ones? Two possibilities spring to mind. First, the R. G. Dun & Co. field agents rated business firms. Presumably, however, the Dun & Co. agents judged quality in terms of the kinds of criteria that figure in the productivity measurements. To the extent they did, entering the Dun & Co. indexes into an equation designed to

407

Agents, Captains, and Owners

explain productivity differences among agents would involve circular reasoning. A second approach would be to add an index of agenting experience to the productivity regression. Presumably agents differed in their productivity partly because of differences in skill unrelated to experience. The experience indicator, therefore, cannot be expected to distinguish agent quality perfectly, but it is worth some attention. The results of the experience regressions appear in table 10.14. Two were run. The first (see panel A) simply adds the experience variable (a count of the voyages managed by the agent before the voyage in question) to the variables appearing in table 10.9. The results from the two equations-that reported in table 10.9 and that reported in panel A of table 10.14-are virtually identical. The experience variable has the right sign, but the coefficient is very small and the significance level very low. Adding the experience variable adds nothing to the explanatory power of the equation (that is, to the adjusted R2). These results may be explained by the specification of the original productivity equation; it includes a number of variables that capture many of the agents’ managerial decisions. To the extent that this argument is correct, it should not be surprising that the experience variable adds little to the explanation of productivity differences among voyages. The other variables have already captured the effects of the main activities of the agents. To test this possibility, a second regression was run (see table 10.14, panel B). The variables that encompass the agents’ decisions are omitted. The coefficient on the experience variable in the new regression is larger than beforelarge enough to be important, given the range across which the index varies (1-94)-and it is significantly different from zero. The coefficient on the captain’s lay drops, as does its significance level (it is now significant only at the 16 percent level); and the signs, coefficients, and significance levels of a number of the other variables also change. On the one hand, the shorter regression better captures the impact of agents’ experience on productivity. On the other hand, the longer regression gives a more comprehensive account of the factors influencing productivity, and makes it possible to distinguish the relative importance of the various decisions made in the process of guiding a whaling venture. Of course, it also takes into account the effects of differences in quality among agents that are unrelated to experience. Each of the two regressions is useful. The experience variable may introduce an element of selection bias. The regression in panel B compares agents who were successful enough to stay in the business for a long period, with those who were unsuccessful and therefore got out quickly. Since the regression also draws comparisons within the experience of individual agents (the productivity recorded during the first voyage of agent X is compared with the productivity of his vessels on subsequent voyages), the selection bias is mitigated. A firm that lasted many years contributes

Table 10.14

Agents and the Productivity and Profitability of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1840-58 and 1866 A. Comprehensive Equation, Productivity Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity Statistical properties

F Adjusted R 2 Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations

50.0 ,575 .689 I .907 908 Parameter Estimate

Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilledkommon wage rate ashore % of crew illiterate % of crew greenhands Ships (compared to other rigs) Vessel tons squared Ground (compared to Pacific) Atlantic Indian Western Arctic Mode of entry to fleet (compared to built before 1850) Built as whaler after 1849 Built as merchantman after 1849 Vessel rerigged Vessel age Vessel age squared Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820) Captain’s lay Agent’s experience (voyages)’

Variable Range

2.3441* O.Ooo8 0.0002 0.0001 -5.041 X -0.0148* -0.5593 0.2731*** 0.1902 0.1448* 0.000001*

0-1 2 1 0-200 40-3.1 14 68-94 0.9-1.1 0.0-0.75 0.0-0.68 6,593-422,240

-0.5068* 0.0541 0.2416***

-0.0565 -0.1722 0.1429** -0.0048 0.00006 -0.0916 0.0029 -0.6912* -0.0003 * 0.0026 5.1384* 0.0003

0-65

1-4,761 20-46 0.05-0.14 1-94

Table 10.14

(continued)

B. Summary Equation, Productivity Dependent Variable: Total Factor Productivity Statistical properties F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilled/common wage rate ashore Last voyage Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820) Captain’s lay Agent’s experience (voyages)’

79.6 ,505 ,716 1.854 1,003 1.9779* -0.0002 -0.0014* 0.0009* -2.451 X lo-’* -0.01 19* 0.0063 -0.0848 0.0542 -0.7507* -0.0003* -0.01 lo** 2.7605 0.0017**

C. Summary Equation, Profit Rateb Dependent Variable: Profit Rate, Variant B Statistical properties F Adjusted R2 Dependent mean Durbin-Watson D Observations Parameter estimates Intercept Hunting pressure On baleens On sperms Competition index Competition index squared Real common wage rate ashore Ratio, skilledcommon wage rate ashore Last voyage (continued)

25.4 ,244 .071 1.972 983 -0,1452 O.ooOo8 -0.00040* 0.0002* -5.744 x lo-** -0.0008 0.4857* -0.0331

410

Chapter 10

Table 10.14

(continued)

C. Summary Equation, Profit Rateb Dependent Variable: Profit Rate, Variant B Specialization In baleens In sperms Voyage length (months) squared Time (years since 1820) Captain’s lay Agent’s experience (voyages)” ~~

~

~~~~~

~~

0.0255** 0.0098 -0.0001

*

-0.0058* 0.3576 0.0004***

~

Sources; See the notes to tables 8.2 and 8.6, the text of this chapter, and chapter 11. Nores: What we call agents here are actually firms of agents, or agent chains. It seems likely that experience resides in the firm rather than solely in an individual. The ranges through which the independent variables move are virtually identical for the three equations. aExperience is measured as the number of voyages the agent managed before the subject voyage, with the exception that we did not count any voyages that sailed in the same month and year as the subject voyage. bProfit rates exclude capital gains and losses. Variant B evaluates the investment in the vessel at the undepreciated new price (see chapter 11). *Significant at the 1 percent level. **Significant at the 5 percent level. ***Significant at the 10 percent level.

many observations to the regression, while a firm that had a short whaling life contributes few. Furthermore, since most voyages were managed by specialist agent firms-firms that managed many voyages-most of the comparisons among agents that are treated in the regression are comparisons among successful firms. Selectivity bias, therefore, is probably not a serious problem, making it safe to interpret the results of these runs as describing the effects of the experience of the agent, per se, on productivity. Finally, panel C of table 10.14 shows the results of rerunning the regression reported in panel B, using an index of profits (see chapter 11) as the dependent variable. The results are very similar thro~ghout.~’ The experience variable is significant at just above the 5 percent level. The coefficient at first seems small, but in fact it is not. For example, it implies that an agent with fifty-one voyages-not an extraordinarily large number (see table 10.3)-would achieve a profit rate almost 2 percentage points above that of an agent who had organized only one voyage. Since the dependent mean rate is only 7.1 percent, the impact of agents’ experience on profits seems substantial. 27. The R2 is substantially lower, probably because the numerator of the profit rate is a small residual, whereas the numerator of the productivity rate is not. The relative influence of unexplainable luck should have been greater on the profit rate than on productivity.

411

Agents, Captains, and Owners

10.5 Income and Wealth of Agents Agents had many sources of income, within the whaling industry and outside it. Consider the gains from whaling alone. The typical pure profit rate on a voyage from which the vessel returned to port ranged between 6.5 and 14 percent, exclusive of capital gains or losses. (Such gains or losses were usually small.) An agent with a piece of the voyage could expect to receive pure profits at these rates on his investment. In addition, he would receive interest of 6 percent, making a total return of between 12.5 and 20 percent per annum (see chapter 11). As previously indicated, the agent could expect a fee for provisioning the vessel and another for guaranteeing the sale of the oil and bone. Assuming that the agency fees were at the level of those earned by Taber, Gordon, and Company on the 1871-75 voyage of the Calla0 (see above), and that the agent owned 46 percent of the voyage (see table lO.ll), he would add between 15 and 24 percent per year to his investment returns in this way. His total return from whaling would run from 28 to 44 percent per year. This return was not completely net, however, nor was it exclusively a return to his investment in the voyage. The agent had to maintain his place of business and pay his clerks. He had to be reimbursed for the opportunity cost of his managerial time. If he owned a wharf-many did-he had to maintain that, as well. The wharf, however, since it could accommodate more vessels than the agent was managing, represented another source of income. Furthermore, the 2.5 percent or so that he received for provisioning the vessel was not all the money he made on provisioning. For example, seamen’s outfits were charged to the seamen at retail, but the agent actually paid a discounted price for them. Similar markups may have been charged on stores paid for by the owners. The agent also received interest on advances to seamen, and, as an owner, shared in the profits of the slop chest-profits made from the onboard sale of clothing and trade goods to the crewmen. On the whole, then, an agent could expect to make a substantial income from a successful voyage-that is, a voyage from which the vessel returned to New Bedford. If the vessel did not return, all was not necessarily lost. If it sank, it was probably insured-vessel, outfits, supplies, and catch-so that, at a minimum, the agent did not lose his investment. If the vessel had shipped output home in advance, there was money to be made from its sale, including the agent’s fee for guaranteeing sales, perhaps 15 percent. Even a vessel sold or condemned in a foreign port brought a price, if not the full investment price.** Overall, then, how well were agents rewarded? A typical voyage in the 1850s 28. Apparently insurance could be collected on condemned vessels. See WSL 10 August 1858, which describes the events leading up to the condemnation of the ship Menkur at Hobart Town, Van Diemen’s Land, and then adds, “The amount of insurance on the ship and cargo in this city is $31,000.” There would be no point in the last sentence unless the owners of the Menkur could collect.

412

Chapter 10

called for an investment of $20,000 to $30,000. If the agent contributed, on average, 46 percent, with just one vessel afloat (which returned regularly to port and made typical earnings) and the earnings rates computed above, he would receive income of between $2,600 and $6,100 per year. If he were agent for more than one vessel-the important agents typically had several at sea at once-his income would be higher, of course. An agent with four vessels might be making as much as $24,000 per year.29This was a large sum. In the mid-1850s federal district judges in the east made between $2,000 and $3,700 per year, chief justices in the territories, $2,500, the governor of New Mexico, $3,000, the secretary of state, the assistant secretary, their clerks and their messengers, all together, $38,700, and the president of the United States,

$25,000.30 One reason agents’ incomes were high is that they were rich enough to make substantial investments in whaling. Just how rich were they? Table 10.15 gives one answer. In 1855 whaling agents were assessed for tax purposes on an average wealth of almost $65,000; if the wealth they held in partnerships were separated out and added to the average, the latter would probably have been about $70,000.According to Lee Soltow (1975, lOl), in 1860 the richest seven thousand American males (the richest 0.1 percent of free adult males) each owned property valued at $11 1,000 or more. If the census figures used by Soltow are congruent with the New Bedford tax data, then, by the standards of the day, New Bedford whaling agents were very rich indeed. The two sets of figures are unlikely to be exactly similar, in concept or in precision of measurement, but the biases, if they exist, probably lead to tax figures that are lower than census figures. If so, the relative affluence of New Bedford whaling agents is understated by the table, and it is possible to conclude with some confidence that these people were among the richest in the United state^.^' Panel B of table 10.15 represents an effort to distinguish among various types of agents. Those who had engaged in many voyages before 1856 were considerably richer than those who had engaged in few. The range in average wealth is wide, running from $112,642 for very active agents down to only $23,858 for those who had not yet begun to manage voyages. Whaling appears to have been a lucrative business. The extent to which this was true, however, 29. Four is not an extraordinarily large number. For example, Gideon Allen, Jireh Perry, Jonathan Bourne Jr., and John Avery Parker and Son had as many as six vessels afloat at once, and rarely had as few as three. 30. An Act to Increase the Salaries of Executive and Judiciary Officers in Oregon, New Mexico, Washington, Utah, and Minnesota, 1854, Stars. at Large of USA 10:3 11-12; An Act Making Appropriations for the Civil and Diplomatic Expenses of Government for the Year Ending the Thirtieth of June, 1855, and for Other Purposes, 1854, Stats. at Large of USA 10548; An Act to Regulate the Salaries of the District Judges of the United States, 1855, Srars. at Large of USA 10:608-9. Agent firms, however, often had more than one partner, in which case income flowed to more than one person. 31. The term whaling agent is gender neutral. Among the richest of the whaling agents was Sylvia Ann Howland, partner in Isaac Howland Jr. and Company. For an account of the struggle over Howland’s estate, see Sparkes and Moore 1935.

413

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Table 10.15

Wealth in New Bedford, 1855 A. New Bedford in General Population Families Males Females Taxable population” Males Females Estates, trusts, partnerships, etc Wealth per capita ($) All taxable males, variant Ib All taxable males, variant IF All taxable females

3,940 9,659 10,655 42 1 44 124 33,441 37,692 33,757

B. Whaling Agents

Description

N

Per Capita Wealth ($)

Agent only after 1855 Agent only before 1850, fewer than 10 voyages Agent only before 1850, 10 or more voyages Agent in 1850-55, fewer than 10 voyages before 1856 Agent in 1850-55, 10-19 voyages before 1856 Agent in 1850-55.20 or more voyages before 1856 All whaling agents

12 10 9 45 14 26 116

23,858 48,770 90,422 41,969 70,500 112,642 63,725

Sources: Panel A: population, Massachusetts, Secretary of the Commonwealth, 1856, 138; taxable population and wealth per capita, Tax List Data Set (see chapter 3). Panel B: Tax List Data Set, matched to the Captains and Agents Data Set. ’The wealth tax applied only to individuals, businesses, estates, trusts, and so forth with at least $100 of taxable property. bThe variant I estimate of the wealth of males attributes to each only the property he holds alone. T h e variant I1 estimate is the result of an effort to distribute partnership property among partners. We assumed that all partners shared equally in the property of the business. The assumption was surely not typically true, but it does not have to be true to produce an accurate estimate of the average value per taxable male of business property. The data on agents exclude partnership property and therefore understate the true average wealth of agents.

is exaggerated by the table. Life-cycle regressions (not shown here) indicate a common pattern among adult males of New Bedford: wealth rose with age, but at a diminishing rate; ultimately it declined. No doubt the pattern exhibited in table 10.15 is influenced by life-cycle effects. The agents who had not managed voyages before 1856 include a number of young men just starting out in business, while those who had managed many voyages were both experienced and older. Life-cycle effects, however, do not explain all of the differences in wealth among adult males; there is room for the influence of career choice. The very large average wealth of agents who had managed twenty or more voyages suggests strongly that whaling brought large rewards. There is also a

414

Chapter 10

marked contrast between agents who completed their careers before 1850, with few voyages managed, and those who managed many voyages before 1850; the latter group were very much richer than the former. Finally, the data show that New Bedford whaling agents, on average, had substantially higher wealth than did all New Bedford males and all New Bedford females.

10.6 Owners The agent and the captain often had shares in the voyage they were overseeing. Not infrequently one or two members of the agent firm would also participate independently; sometimes agents invested in voyages managed by other agents. But most of the owners were neither agents nor captains. They were people engaged in other business activities who chose to invest in whaling. Merchants of all types, including those who provisioned whalers, were the most numerous group; they accounted for roughly one-half of investors in New Bedford ventures (see table 10.16).After merchants, seagoing men, ship’s carpenters, shipwrights, sailmakers, sparmakers, riggers, shipsmiths, ropewalk owners, caulkers, gaugers, wharfingers, coopers, and other figures associated with marine activities appear prominently on lists of owners, as do manufacturers and other artisans of various kinds. The itch to participate in whaling affected everyone, not just those whose business interests brought them in contact with the fleet. Consider the variety of people who invested: apothecaries, physicians, funeral directors, attorneys at law, deputy sheriffs, bakers, fish dealers, a truckman, trunk makers, blacksmiths, cabinetmakers, brass founders and coppersmiths, officers of textile mills, watchmakers and jewelers, painters, housewrights, masons, a granite worker, a confectioner, livery-stable owners, the attorney general of the commonwealth, innkeepers, ministers, bank cashiers, magistrates, the mayor (who was generally a whaling agent, however), the postmaster, the assessor, four major generals, officers and agents of insurance companies, a lighthouse keeper, two clerks in the office of the register of deeds, the president of the gas company, the clerk of an ice dealer, junk dealers, daguerreotypists, editors, cordwainers, tinmen, several widows, and many more. It would be fair to say that the fleet captured the imagination of the people of New Bedford. While the residents of New Bedford constituted almost eight in ten of the owners, the towns around Buzzard’s Bay also contributed their share, as did other coastal towns from New York to Maine. Taken together, about one-fifth of the owners of New Bedford voyages came from these places. New Bedford and the northeast coast accounted for most of the investors, but there were owners who lived as far away as New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Baltimore, Richmond, San Francisco, and Alaska. How did these diverse owners fare? Did they make money or did they lose it? These are questions for chapter 11.

415

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Table 10.16

Owners of New Bedford Whaling Voyages A. Occupations of Owners, All Years (%) Whaling agents Captains Others Total

13

6 81 100

B. Occupations of Owners, by Time Periods (%) Before 1835

Merchants of all kinds Marine professionals (including whaling agents) Manufacturers and artisans Construction contractors and workers Farmers and gardeners Financiers. service workers, officers of public utilities (including railroads), government workers Total

After 183545 1846-60 1861-70

1871-80

1880

41

60

50

54

53

38

43 5 3 1

25

30 13

21

8 3

1

27 15 1

38 17 4 0

4 100

3 100

1 100

1

13 1 2

5 100

3 100

-a

4 loo

-a

C. Residences of Owners (%) New Bedford Dartmouth, Fairhaven, Nantucket, and Westport Rest of Massachusetts Rest of New England Middle Atlantic, plus Maryland and Virginia Rest of the U.S. (Alaska and California) Total

17 10

9 2 2

100

Sources; Owners Data Set, matched with the Captains and Agents Data Set and with various volumes of the New Bedford City Directories. "Less than 0.5 percent

Appendix 1OA Deaths of Whaling Captains The following data (table 10A.l) on the deaths of captains were gathered from a variety of sources. We restricted ourselves to captains because the data indicate clearly that the reports were more complete with respect to them than to crewmen. In all likelihood even the data on captains are incomplete. Nonetheless, they suggest the high rates of mortality experienced by the captains and the wide range of causes of death among them.

Table 10A.l Year“

1820 1821 1824 I825 1825 1829 1832 1833 1834 1835 1835 1836 1836 1837 1837 1837 1838 1838 1838 1839 1840 1841 1841 1842 1842 1842 1843 1844 1844 I844 1844 1844 1845 1845 1845 1846 I848 1848 1848 1849 1849 1850 I850 1850 1851 1852 1852 1852

Causes of Death of Captains who Died on New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1820-1919 Caotain

Peter G. Chase Zephaniah Wood John Pinkham Charles Starbuck Asaph P. Taber Abner P. Norton James C. Swain Edward Swain Jonathan Fisher Thomas Brock Jr. Abraham Tucker Eddy Caleb Howland Edward W. Howland William Cuffe Seth S. Gibbs Jared Worth Benjamin Durfee Sparrow H. Nickerbon James Townsend Barzillai Morselander Levi Kendrick Ray Green Sanford Prince Shearman Abraham Lake Isaac Stockman William L. Taber Elihu Wood John Cunningham Frederick A. Mason Caleb Miller David N. Ripley John Sawyer Charles Church Gilbert H. Jenney Isaac John Sanford Luke Baker Joseph Black Jethro S . Cornell George B. Long Seth D. Fisher Jr. Batholomew West John E. Brayton Oliver J. Hazard Silas Tinkham George W. Stewart Joseph Bailey Ansel Churchill David Evans Hathaway

Vessel Phebe Ann Triton swijt Timoleon Maria Theresa victory Phocion Averick Amethyst Dartmouth George and Martha Cherokee Lalla Rookh Rising States Moss Courier Parachute Rajah Generul Pike Charles Messenger Sarah Louisa Parker George John Adams Bramin Emeline Florida John Adams Smvrna Canton Newton Junius Governor Troup Champion Fenelon Alexander Lancasrer Mobile Washington Emigrant Isabella Exchange Junior Exchange Champion Cicero Fortune

Cause of Death not given not given killed by a whale not given not given killed by a whale not given not given not given not given killed by a whale boat lost killed by a whale fever fever consumption smallpox not given not given amputation of broken leg sickness injury killed by a whale scurvy not given sickness killed by a whale drowned not given fell overboard not given not given not given dropsy on the chest broken leg; “died with mortification” not given fever struck by a man falling from aloft vessel wrecked in a gale not given vessel wrecked “died of excitement” (vessel wrecked) sickness general debility vessel lost ruptured blood vessel of the intestine sickness not given

Table 10A.l

(continued)

~~

YeaP

Captain

William Lamb James L. Nye Frederick Slocum Abner F. Tripp Pardon C. Winslow Thomas D. Barnes Jabez B. Howland Henry Jemegan Thomas Howes Norton George C. Rule Edward T. Sheannan Humphrey Hathaway Thomas B. Peabody Jason Seabury William 0. Harps Benjamin B. Lamphier William Merry Otis Tilton Silas Cottle John Cum Aaron C. Cushman John Fisher Augustus Lawrence John Munkley Freeman H. Smith Henry Tew William E. Tower Archibald Mellen Jr. George R. Hines 1858 Job Macomber 1858 Shubael S. Spooner 1858 Ansel N. Stewart 1859 William H. AImy 1859 Hiram Baker 1859 James W. Morse 1859 Martin Palmer 1859 Joseph Ricketson Tallman 1859 William B. Waterman 1860 Samuel E. Cook 1860 Richard D. Wood 1861 John C. Marble 1861 Elijah B. Morgan 1861 Eben Nickerson 1861 Warren Woodward 1864 Joseph S . Adams Jr. 1864 Francis J. Allen 1864 Barnard H. Daily 1864 S. W. Fisk (continued)

1852 1852 1852 1852 1852 1853 1853 1853 1853 1853 1853 1854 1854 1854 1855 I855 1855 1855 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 1856 I856 1856 1856 1857 1858

Vessel Franklin Andrews Ontario Montezuma Marcella Inga Sappho Enterprise Citizen Herald Coral Dunbarton Morea Monongahela George Washington Lagoda Undine John Mary Chandler Price Lancer Bartholomew Gosnold Java Emerald James Edward General Pike Byron Junior Cleora Majestic Montezuma Rajah Roscoe Ocean Wave Ionia Kingfisher Midas James D. Thompson Benjamin Tucker Superior Awashonks Contest Hecla Mary Helen Snow Niger Martha Hillman

Cause of Death brain fever killed by a whale vessel wrecked heart complaint inflammation of the bowels killed by South Sea islanders lung infection sickness vessel lost not given Palsy asthma suicide (shot himself) vessel lost not given drowned; boat capsized vessel lost killed by South Sea islanders drowned; boat smashed by a whale liver complaint heart complaint lost while fast to a whale liver complaint apoplexy malignant fever liver complaint African coast fever killed in a mutiny died in a fit died in a fit vessel disappeared vessel lost in ice killed by a whale vessel wrecked not given killed by a whale not given not given killed by a whale killed by South Sea islanders dysentery heart complaint heart complaint inflammation of the bowels ship fever apoplexy not given not given

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Table 10A.l Year“ 1864 1864 1865 1865 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1870 1873 1875 1876 1876 1878 1880 1883 1883 1884 1885 1885 1888

(continued) Captain

Joseph W. Goodrich William J. Taber Sherman L. Gray Francis E. Stranburg Shadrach R. Tilton Philip Howland John A. Lapham Elisha Cannon I1 Elihu Russell Jacob L. Cleaveland James M. Green David R. Gifford James E. Potter Aaron Dean John P. Praro Henry M. Peaks William H. Murphy Joseph G. Allen Robert Jones Edward P. Shiverick Lemuel H. Fisher Daniel Lake Ricketson George E. Allen

Vessel Sunbeam Mary Frazier Jarneb Maury Congress General Pike Mary and Susan Oliver Crocker Wave Thomas Winslow Adeline Gibbs Janus Gazelle Morning Star John Carver Lydia Sarah Abby Bradford Attleboro Amolda John and Winthrop Frances A. Barstow Pedro Varela Ohio

Sea Fox 1888 John H. Holmes A. R. Tucker 1899 Joseph P. Benton 1899 Ma& Van Buren Millard A. R. Tucker Greyhound 1911 Charles H. Sanford Viola 1917 Joseph Lewis Ellen A. Swifr 1919 George L. Dunham Pedro Varela 1919 Frank M. Lopes Total who died while on whaling voyages 126

Cause of Death sickness sickness inflammation of the bowels aneurism of the aorta died in a fit not given not given typhoid vessel lost vessel lost in a gale not given fever not given heart disease fever vessel capsized in a hurricane consumption drowned not given not given injury fever ship ran aground; drowned making his way to shore explosion of powder killed by a whale not given not given vessel lost vessel lost vessel lost

Sources: The table was compiled primarily from WSL 1843-1914; Dias, “Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships”; Starbuck 1878; Hegarty 1959; Wood 1831-73. “Usually the year of death. When the date of death was unknown, the sailing year of the voyage was substituted.

Appendix 10B R. G. Dun & Co. Field Reports Figures 10B.l and 10B.2 are reports made by field agents to R. G . Dun & Co. (See transcripts below.) The letter m, when preceded by a number, means thousand. Thus, $500m is $500,000. The firm of George Howland and his sons and that of Isaac Howland were

419

Agents, Captains, and Owners

Fig. 10B.l R. G. Dun & Co. field reports on the George Howland and Isaac Howland agencies Source: R. G . Dun & Co. Collection, Massachusetts, vol. 17, p. 436 (47). Used with permission of Dun and Bradstreet Company and the Baker Library, Harvard University.

two of the biggest and most successful whaling agent operations. Notice that the field agent says of the latter, “Good as the Bank of England,” The Johnsons’ firm was at the other end of the spectrum-very small. They were black men, grocers and outfitters who at least twice sent a whaling vessel to sea. As the notes indicate, they had excellent reputations. The agent uses a common phrase to indicate their quality: “Perfectly good for all they will buy.”

George Howland Agency Matthew & George Jr. Oil & Candles George Howland & Sons Ship Owner & Agt. &c. Apl. ‘43. age 65. Manufr. of Oils & Candles, has a family- 1st rate in all things-w. abt. $200m.-belongs to the society of “Freinds”-buys outfits in Boston & N.Y. Aug 1/44. Same, w. at least $500m. A. No. 1 in every respect. His son Geo. Jr. is with himage 40-as gd. as his father in proportion to his age. His son Matthew also with him-as gd. as his father for his contracts. E.R. Apl 15/45 Wealthy G.H.B. Aug. 12/45. w. 1 1/2 millions. JHWP May 8/46 Good. Nov. 20/46.

Fig. 10B.2 R. G . Dun & Co. field reports on the R. C. and E. R. Johnson agency Source: R. G. Dun & Co. Collection, Massachusetts, vol. 17, p. 457 (84). Used with permission

of Dun and Bradstreet Company and the Baker Library, Harvard University.

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Agents, Captains, and Owners

Same. old man w. at least $500m sons as gd. as the father for contracts. Feb. 13/47. Same. Mar. 11/48. A. No. 1. Oct. 2/48. All A No. 1. Mar 24/49. Same. July 49 Beyond any doubt P Mar 7/50 A No 1 In every respect. 1614 Aug 281 50. Tip Top. none better. Mar 51. Same July 28/51. Unquestioned. Feb. 4/52. Prbly 2nd. in list of our richest houses sfe. eno Aug 19/52. Howland died in May last leaving a very large est. “Geo. Junr & Matthew” are two of seven children, both wor very handsome ppy purs to the fathers death, perfly safe Ap 21/53. Beyond question gd. Aug 24/53 Good as need be. Feb. 27/54. Undoubted. Sept 4/54 Prosperous. D Sep 26/55. No such firm now. Marl56 Gd. enough. $1896 Sep [sic] G Jr & M Howland For subqt. repts of “M. Howland” see p. 451. July 31/56 Old George Howland is dead & his sons are now in bus for themselves. they are married of the middle age both of them, men of gd char & habts & of bus capac: Each w sevl hundred m $ Ship owners, Dealers, & Oil manufacturers. Perfy good & safe. Feb ’57 Repts “Geo. Howland Jr” progress & standing same. George Howland, Jr. (Sub reps See page 541 4) Aug 57 Progress & standing the same-He prosecutes his bus: with energy, shrewdness, & marked success-accumulating Wealth-sound & safe. #G.HP. Jan: 6/58 Reports “G. JI: & M Howland’ Both rich “Geo” is worth loom$ “M’ worth 110m$ “G’ has ppy in Scipio NY. Gd as wheat “Geo” is taxed here for 106.300$. Feb 58. Char & habs continue as heretofore. Has gone thro the last year without embarrassmt. Ppy not materially increased or diminished. #1896 July 30158. Safe. #1896 Jany 29/59. Sound & firm.GHP April 27/59 Is not an Oil manufacturer & never was, is a Merchant worth about 90m$. 1896 July 30.59. Sound & safe w. 200m$ Owns R.E. in New York state-Paper A No 1 Isaac Howland Agency Gideon Howland Thos. Mandell Edward M. Robinson & Sylvia Ann Howland Isaac Howland Junr. & Co. Ships owners & Agts “Sub 541 10” For “E.M.R.” See alsop. 472 Apl. ’43. Supposed w. $500m. buy for cash & always have the means, buy their whag. [whaling] oufits in N.Y. & Boston Aug. 1/44. As gd. as anybody can be-buy for cash-w. $1.000.000. E.R. Apl. 15/45. Same G.H.B. Aug. 12/45. Gd. for a million. JHWP May 8/46. Same. Nov. 20146. Same. genery buy for cash. Feb. 13/47. Same. Mar 11/48. A. No. 1 P. Oct 2/48. “Strongest.” Mar 24/49. A No 1 P July 49. Good as Gold P Mar 7/50 Tip top concern 1614 Aug 20150. Rich & undoubted. Mar 51. No change. 600. July 28/51. Pfy good. 877. Feb. 4/52. “H.”is dead. Edwd. M. Robinson p. 472 is the leading man & pfctly. sfe Ap 21/53. Safe as can be. Aug 24/53 Good as the Bank of England Feb. 27/54. Undoubted. Sept 4/54 Prosperous 2439 Sep 26/55 Cap 3 millions Undoubted. D same date A No 1

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Mad56 Gd. as can be. July 31/56. Mandell is a wealthy Merchant, ae 60. Sml fam. Char habts & bus capac excellent. w 500m$. Sylvia A. Howland is an old maid w nearly l,OOO,OOO$. This is the wealthiest firm in New Bedford. perfy Gd & safe (for Robinson pa 472) 500 Feb ’57. Same. Augt/57 “E.M. Robinson,” Sylvia Ann Howland” & “Thomas Mandell” now compose the firm perfectly gd. & safe, prosecuting their bus: with energy, shrewdness, & marked success-accumulating Wealth-Sound & safe #G.HP Jan 6/58 Worth 2,000,000$ Gd as wheat Taxed for 1.275.000$ Feb 58. Char and habs. same, gone thro the last year without embarrassment. Ppy not materially increased or diminished #1896 July 30/58. Firm & Safe. #1896 Jany. 29/59. Dg. bus. wholly on their Own capital, sound & safe. 1896 July 18/59 Dg pfy. safe bus. Thr paper A No 1 -1896 Feby. 1/60 Thot they have lost for the last mo. They are firm.

Johnsons’ Agency Richd. Ezra R.C. & E.R. Johnson (Cold.) Grocs. Miscells. & Outfitts. J.H.W.P. Aug 19/46 Ages abt. 30 sons of Richd. who has handsome propy. Smt. & attente. to bus. do considl. bus. Stand well & are beld. [believed] perfy. safe. Nov. 20/46. Same. Feb. 12/47. Same. Mar. 11/48. Considd. gd. Oct 2/48 Good. Mar/49. Stand well. gd. July 49 Same p Mar. 7/50 Respectable cold. men & in gd cr. 1614 Aug 20/50. The -is w. 8 or lorn$. & pfy gd for all they will buy. Mar 5 1 Gd for engagemts. July 28/5 1. Good. pay for all they buy. Feby -Worth consdble. ppty. E.R. came home a few mos. ago from Califa. with money Both w. ppty. vy respctble cold. men & safe. -19/52 In good standg, hon & able to pay for what they buy Ap 20/53. Will pay their debts Aug 24/53 Sons of “Richd. Johnson who lately died, from whom they inherited sevrl Thousand $. Feb. 27/54. Able to pay for all they buy. Sept 4/54 Own R.E. as well as pers. & are consd. safe. 2439 Sep 26/55 Some Cap. dg gd bus. gd for any engagement they inherited prop are colored persons. D Same date Sfe to trust w 20m$ each. Mad56 Pay promptly. July 31/56 Marrd. middle aged men of colour, char habs and bus capac gd, w from 40 to 50m$: prudent Do a snug bus & have ppty in California. “ERJ” was out there sevl times, they inherited a good p thr ppty from their Father Richd Johnson, they did dissolve some time dont exactly know if they are in partnership now or not, they are both gd Ezra is worth the most: Feby 57. Same. Augt. 57 They stand as well as usual, tho not in any particular business now. #G.HP. Jan 6/58 Are worth some little ppy Have been in bus here a long time Good char & attent to bus. Think they are gd for bus wants “ER’is taxed for lorn$. 1896 Jan 29/58 No change. #1896 July 30/58. Same. #1896 Jany 29/59. Same 1896 July 30/59. Out of bus. 1896. July 30/59. Out of bus. long ago. 1896 July 28/60 Out of bus.

11

Profits

The concept of profits is among the most important in economics; it is also among the most difficult to deal with, both theoretically and empirically. The idea seems simple: “Economic proJit is . . . the difference between the revenue a firm receives and the costs that it incurs.”’ But how should revenue and costs be defined and measured? For example, the returns to owner-managers are presumably part profits and part factor payments. Factor payments can be separated out from true profits, if there is evidence of the labor opportunity costs of owner-managers. Entirely apposite evidence of this type is, however, rarely available. Because estimates of management costs are thus subject to error, so are estimates of profits. At another level of analysis, profits may be understood either in terms of their sources or in terms of the functions they are supposed to perform. For example, the profits of monopolists, oligopolists, and firms in imperfect competition come from control over the market. For present purposes, models of market control are not very helpful. Individual New Bedford whaling firms had no significant ability to affect the prices of whale products, nor was it possible for them to differentiate their outputs effectively from the outputs of other firms. There were too many firms in the market, dealing with products that were quite homogeneous. The competitive model is more useful, although it, too, is less than perfectly designed for the analysis of the whaling industry. In competition, profits, if they are expected to continue, can motivate entrepreneurs to enter an industry, and losses can convince firms in the industry to try their luck elsewhere. Thus profits and losses signal future changes in the size of the industry: “[Iln longrun competitive equilibrium of the industry the firm has zero actual profits. . . . The zero actual profits condition is often qualified by adding that this does not 1. Varian 1978, 1 . This is the leading graduate textbook in microeconomic theory.

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rule out ‘normal’ profits.This not only leaves normal profits indeterminate in size but could easily lead to the condition of normal profits being a tautology” (Desai 1987, 1014). There are also questions about what service “normal profits” reward and, if none, why they are not competed away. Nineteenth-century whaling (like all other industries) did not conform precisely to the assumptions of the competitive model. In the standard model there is no risk; this is contrary to the situation faced by whaling firms. Whalemen could insure out from under some risks, as can any firm. The costs of insurable risks-whether a firm bears them itself or buys insurance-should be excluded from profits, and the measures of profits treated in this chapter are net of such costs. Other forms of risk cannot be insured against, and their costs are normally treated as part of profits. Two types of uninsurable risks may be distinguished: those of an unmeasurable form-given the name uncertainty by Frank Knight ([I9211 1971)-and those that are measurable but cannot be insured against for reasons of moral hazard.* Assuming whaling investors were risk-averse, equilibrium profit rates should have settled at a positive levelsufficient to encourage the bearing of uninsurable risks. One might think of these returns as normal. The fact that normal proJits are positive in the real world of uninsurable risks-and that their level is unpredictable in a world of uncertainty-makes the empirical identification of equilibrium difficult, to say the least. There is a second respect in which the historical whaling industry deviated from the standard neoclassical competitive industry. The neoclassical model assumes that all participants in the market have the same information. In fact, there were informational asymmetries in whaling. Agents tried to gain advantages over their competitors by restricting access to knowledge of the routes and timing of whale migrations (see chapter 10). They used voyage journals and other sources to construct notebooks of such data and passed them on to the captains who sailed for them. Each captain was, of course, sworn to secrecy. There is some question as to how long the captain felt bound by his oath, given the relatively transitory nature of the captain-agent relationship. A captain who had sailed for the Howlands and then transferred his services to the Wings was unlikely to regard his promise of secrecy to the Howlands very seriously, particularly since such loyalty could prove personally costly. None2. To Knight, and for the purposes of this chapter, a risky event has an unknown outcome, but the probability distribution of the possible outcomes is known. An uncerkzin event has an unknown outcome, and the probability distribution of the potential outcomes is unknown. In principle, since it would be possible to hold a portfolio of risky events and thus guarantee an “average” return, insurance is possible. With no information about the distribution of possible outcomes, no portfolio of uncertain events can guarantee an “average” return. Moral hazards, moreover, may make insurance of some risks either impossible or prohibitively expensive. It is impossible, for example, to insure out from under business risk, since the risks are not independent of the actions of the insuree. It is difficult to understand how the owners of the professional baseball teams in the major leagues were able to buy “antistrike” insurance in 1981, since the very existence of the insurance increased their willingness to accept a strike. It should be noted that the strike was settled as soon as the insurance expired, and no one has since been willing to provide such insurance.

425

Profits

theless, it may well be that good information, carefully analyzed, made some agents more successful, in the long run, than others. More generally, some agents were simply better at the job than others. It is unlikely that all of the rents due such agents were taken out in the form of agents’ fees; fee rates seem to have been standardized. These rents may have been partly incorporated in profits. All these notions are essentially static. Profits can also be viewed in a dynamic context-as payments to entrepreneurs to compensate them for successfully undertaking innovative activities. In the words of Joseph Schumpeter ([1934] 1961, 128-29), “Entrepreneurial profit is a surplus over costs. From the standpoint of the entrepreneur, it is the difference between receipts and outlay in a business, as we have already been told by a long line of economists.” In a static world in equilibrium, receipts and outlays are equal; in a dynamic economy characterized by technical and institutional innovation, “since the new combinations which are carried out if there is ‘development’ are necessarily more advantageous than the old, total receipts must in this case be greater than total costs.” To Schumpeter, these positive net receipts “will fall to those individuals whose achievement is to introduce the looms, whether they produce and use them, or whether they only produce or only use them. . . . They have ‘carried out new combinations.’ They are entrepreneurs. And their profit, the surplus, to which no liability corresponds, is an entrepreneurial profit” (132). For any single innovation, Schumpeterian profits are relatively short-lived. They will last only until the herdlike movement of copycat innovators competes them away-a process described by the standard neoclassical model. Of course, as Schumpeter quickly notes, given asymmetric information, it may take the herd a long time to catch up. Furthermore, in a dynamic world with changing technical and institutional menus, an innovating entrepreneur may be able continually to stay one step ahead of the competition. The profits earned in nineteenth-century whaling were composed of all four types of profit described above: payments for bearing uninsurable risks, rents on knowledge and managerial skill, disequilibrium profits (for example, profits arising out of a sudden increase in demand), and returns to innovation. Unfortunately, there is no entirely reliable way to separate the four. (The last two are particularly difficult to distinguish.) Nonetheless, the theoretical constructs can help in the analysis of change in the industry. If disequilibrium profits were important, it should be possible to identify that fact from the relationships between profit levels and the expansion or contraction of the industry. If rents on knowledge and skill were large, and if some firms were particularly innovative, then long-term profit rates should have varied among firms, and the innovative firms and those with special knowledge and skills should be identifiable. The chapter proceeds as follows. First, we canvass the opinions of contemporaries and historians of the industry with respect to the general level of profits. Then we turn to the new estimates of profit rates assembled for this

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Chapter 11

book. We discuss the methods of estimation, the average level of the profit rate, changes in the profit rate across time, factors influencing the profit rate, and the profit experiences of the leading whaling firms. Finally, we compare the average profit rate of the whaling industry to profit rates of other leading industries of the day. The preceding paragraphs suggest that the concept of profit is difficult to operationalize. Attempts to assess profits have left both contemporaries and generations of historians divided and puzzled. Given the usual tone of his work, it is not surprising that Samuel Eliot Morison is the most glowing in his reports of the earnings of businessmen whose business was whaling. In The Maritime History of Massachusetts (1961,319) he writes: “It was a golden age for owners. The ship Lagoda, belonging to Jonathan Bourne and others, netted them an average of ninety-eight per cent profit for each of the six voyages she made between 1841 and 1860. Several simple Quaker families of 1815 had become millionaires by 1840.” He adds in a footnote, “On her next voyages, during the Civil War, the Lagoda netted her owners 219 and 363 per cent profit.” Morison’s estimates-as we11 as the rest of the estimates discussed in this section-almost surely fail to take into account some costs (such as the cost of capital and the cost of management), and therefore overstate profits and profit rates. Nonetheless, the voyages he describes were highly profitable ventures. Lewis Holmes (1 857, 145) concluded that whaling was about as tempting to the investor as any other alternative. Alexander Starbuck (1878, 145), summarizing his research on the industry through the mid-1 870s, reported: While some vessels on their voyages have made but poor returns, even bringing, in numerous cases, positive and at times damaging loss to their owners, others have done extraordinarily well, and brought in fortunes to those investing in them. The ups and downs of the business made it alternately profitable and, if not positively losing, at least hazardous. This was the fact when no unusual accident occurred, but in case of a disaster it changed the beam of the balance from the speculative to the unmistakably negative side of the account. Starbuck’s account does not differ significantly from that of J. T. Brown (1887, 293), who, writing for a census volume a decade later, reported, “The profits of the whalemen have for many years been uncertain.” Morison’s figures for the L q o d a were drawn from the reports of Benjamin Baker, who, as a long-time employee of the vessel’s owners, had access to their confidential accounts. The accounts indicate that profits were substantial, but perhaps not as substantial as Morison suggests. Baker’s figures for the nine voyages between 9 October 1841 and 5 June 1873 are 30, 121, 67, 177, 100, 97, 364, 219, and 115 percent; but those are voyage, not annual, profit rates.3 Adjusting for time at sea produces a substantially different, although still quite rosy, picture: annual rates of 15,47,24, 63, 39, 25, 100, 57, and 24 percent, or 3. The full series is reported in Hohman 1928, 282.

427

Profits

a time-weighted average of 45 percent. If the Lagoda was used only for whaling during the period covered by the nine voyages, correcting for time in port reduces the average profit rate to 41 percent for the period between 9 October 1841 and 5 June 1873. Moreover, the next three voyages yielded a loss of $14,460, a gain of only $6,414, and a loss of $10,254. In 1859 DeBowS Review (26 May, 590) reported that the annual profits of the 661 whaling vessels that sailed from the United States averaged 46 perThat calculation is a peculiar one. DeBow S profit rate is the ratio of the value of oil returned to the sum of estimates of initial investment, interest on initial investment, depreciation, insurance, supplies purchased while at sea, and wages. If the figures are reorganized to conform more closely to a definition of accounting profits, the average figure is a still substantial 25.6 p e r ~ e n t . ~ Similarly, Starbuck (1878, 148) reports that 154 vessels, valued with outfits at $4,650,000, hunted in the Arctic in 1849 and that “the value of that season’s catchings was $3,419,622.” If those figures are adjusted to reflect costs, in line with the DeBowS data for a decade later, the implied annual profit rate was 26.2 percent.6 There are also numerous reports of particularly successful voyages. Starbuck (1878, 148), for example, notes that in 1853 the Fairhaven bark Favorite returned from a three-year voyage with a catch worth $116,000; the ship Shef jield, out four years, returned with a catch worth $124,000; and the ship Montreal brought back a catch worth $136,023.19 after a voyage of thirty-two months and fifteen days. About the Montreal’s catch Dias writes, “[Olne of the greatest on record” (“Catalogue of New Bedford Whaling Ships,” 155). If these were the only reports of contemporaries and historians, one might conclude with Morison that whaling owners and agents were well rewarded for their effort, but not all paint such a rosy picture. In 1846, for example, Charles Enderby, a member of Britain’s most famous whaling family and head of Britain’s largest whaling firm, estimated that the average annual rate of return for both the American and the British fleets amounted to about 6.5 percent in right whaling and 1.3 percent in sperm ha ling.^ In the same vein Starbuck (1878, 149) estimates that, of the eighty-one 4. It is not clear to what year these figures refer, but they are annual, not voyage, rates. Since in no year does Starbuck report more than 254 vessels returning to the United States (that year was 1854), the figures most likely refer to the entire number of vessels at sea. 5 . The new measure is the ratio of revenues less costs to initial investment. That is, value of the annual amount of oil taken ($12,013,805), less the sum of interest on the initial investment ($991,500), depreciation ($1,600,000), insurance ($413,125). fresh supplies ($793,000). and wages ($4,013,601). divided by the initial investment ($16,525,000). 6. The price level in 1849 was 0.863 of the level in 1859. The costs of seamen’s advances and fresh supplies have been adjusted to reflect that difference. Total revenue ($3,419,622), less the sum of interest ($284,702), depreciation ($474,503). insurance ($1 18,626), fresh supplies ($159,482), and wages ($1,139,863), was divided by the initial investment (the sum of vessels and outfits, valued at $4,650,000, and seamen’s advances of $95,025) in order to calculate the profit rate. 7. Charles Enderby, Proposal for Re-establishing the British Southern Whale Fishery, cited in Hohman 1926, 667. These are pure profit rates, exclusive of interest. Hohman’s calculations are not quite correct; the rate for the right-whale fishery, as judged by Enderby, is 6.3 percent.

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whalers arriving in 1837, “53 made paying voyages, 8 made saving ones, 11 lost money, and 9 involved their owners in severe losses . . . . Of the 68 whalers expected to arrive in New Bedford and Fairhaven in 1858, 44 were calculated as making losing voyages, and the same proportion would apply to other ports. The estimated loss to owners during this year was at least $1,000,000.” Reporting on business during 1869, the WSL (1 February 1870) noted, “Of the 102 whalers that have arrived during the year, only about one-quarter may be said to have made profitable returns, even those, at present prices, would barely have saved their owners from a loss.” Three years later (4 February 1873j, the paper reported, “The continued purpose to sell whalers after so great a depletion in little more than a year, shows the judgment of those who have long and successfully been engaged in the business, viz: that it has become too hazardous, and its results too uncertain to continue it, when capital is promised a safer employment, and surer rewards in enterprises on the land, and in our own city, where the products of two large Cotton Mills equal very nearly the aggregate value of the imports of the fishery yearly.” Nor did business improve in 1873. The paper (27 January 1874) lamented: A proposition for the sale of a whaler is more tempting than a proposal to fit one. Of the 19 whalers in the port of New Bedford, January lst, 1873,4 were sold, 5 fitted for whaling, and 10 still remain in port; of the 7 at New London, January lst, 1873, 1 has been sold and broken up, and the remaining 6 are still for sale. Of the 11 whalers now in this port that arrived in 1873, 6 are for sale; and of the 21 whalers now wintering here, not over 7 are likely to be fitted. Of 40 whalers to arrive in 1874, probably about 30 will be sent to sea again. Counterbalancing the occasional reports of large catches were the reports of economically disastrous ones. Ignoring vessels that returned clean or not at all, there were still those that can be called catastrophic, at least from the point of view of seamen, agents, and owners. The brig Emeline, of New Bedford, Captain Wood, sailed from port on the 11th of July, 1841. The captain was killed by a whale in July, 1842, and in September, 1843, the brig returned, bringing home only 10 barrels of oil as the result of a 26 months’ cruise. The Benjamin Rush of Warren sailed in October, 1852, for the Pacific Ocean. On the coast of Japan the captain and his boat’s crew were lost by a whale. This, combined with the extremely poor success that had attended the vessel, had so discouraging an effect upon the crew that it was considered useless to prolong the voyage, and she returned to port under charge of the cooper in 1853, having obtained but 50 barrels of sperm-oil and 40 of whale. On her voyage she had circumnavigated the globe. (Starbuck 1878, 149) The best summary of the literature can be found in Elmo Hohman’s classic study of the American whaleman (1928, 284). After noting the disastrous seasons of 1837 and 1858, the Arctic destructions of 1871 and 1876, the assaults

429

Profits

of the Confederate cruisers Shenandoah and Alabama, and “the lists of vessels which were wrecked or reported missing with all hands,” he concludes that “[tlhe financial results of American whaling . . . covered the whole range between ruinous losses and magnificent profits. But, though the available figures do not warrant precise and conclusive assertion, it is evident that the cases at each extreme offset each other so effectually that the long-run, normal rate of profit for the industry as a whole was an essentially modest one.” Hohman’s judgment was made after examining reports of many voyages, but he never systematically computed the average profit rate. The data collected for this book make such a computation possible. The data also permit good estimates to be made of annual profit rates, profit rates earned hunting each of the main grounds, the earnings of individual agents, and, of course, the earnings realized from individual voyages. With these data the propositions appearing in the literature-such as Hohman’s assertions concerning long-run profit-can be tested. The pattern of changes in profit rates emerging as time passed can also be recovered, and the degrees of success and failure of the leading whaling firms can be established. Some notion of the scale of average returns from bearing uninsurable risk, from the exploitation of special information, and from innovative activities can be obtained. Finally, the data permit the comparison of whaling profit rates with those of other activities of the day. Our calculation of profits for a voyage began with an estimate of the real value of its catch (see chapter 8). The real value consists of the outputs of sperm oil, whale oil, and whalebone, multiplied by the average prices of these products in the year the vessel returned to New Bedford, divided by a general price index.*The following costs (expressed in real terms, i.e., divided by the same general price index) were subtracted from these returns: (1) the cost of subsistence of the crew, (2) the share of output earned by the crew, (3) the value of vessel outfits (sails, rigging, whalecraft, etc.) consumed during the voyage, (4) depreciation on the hull and masts, (5) imputed interest on investments in the vessel, in the outfits, in advances to seamen, and in articles of subsistence, (6)the agent’s fees, and (7) the cost of insurable risk-the risk of the loss of the vessel. No adjustments were made for the normal business risks associated with the search for whales and with the changing state of the products markets-uninsurable risks. The profits computed in the manner described above would measure the return to the bearing of Knightian risk, the rents to special knowledge and managerial skills, disequilibrium profits, and the rewards of Schumpeterian innovative behavior, were the lists of returns and costs complete. They are not quite complete. For the fleet as a whole, the procedure ignores incidental income (money earned through the sale of trade goods, for example), and it ig8. All calculations were made in real values, although, since one price index series was used to deflate all series, the ultimate results-profit rates-would have been the same, had all calculations been made in nominal values. The deflator employed is the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

“Whale-ships at New Bedford wharves; ship hove down for repairs; oil-casks,’’ in The Fisheries and Fishery industries of the United States, compiled by George Brown Goode and published by the U.S. Commission of Fish and Fisheries in 1887.

Opposite: Abandoning the barks George, Gay Head, and Concordia in the ice off Point Belcher, 14 September 1871-a wood engraving from a sketch by Captain Kelley of the Gayhead. In the early fall of 1871, virtually the entire Western Arctic whaling fleet-thirty-two vessels, of which twenty-one were from New Bedford-were trapped in the ice. On 14 September the decision was made to abandon them, and the 1,219 officers and men began their trek south. The vessels had aboard 13,665 barrels of whale oil, 965 barrels of sperm oil, and 100,000 pounds of baleen. Vessels and cargoes were worth together about $1.5 million, all of it lost. George and Matthew Howland lost three vessels, about one-third of their fleet, none insured (Allen 1973, 248-49). Engraving reproduced courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum. Map by Philip Page.

432

Chapter 11

nores some minor costs (offloading the vessel, watchmen’s fees, etc.). These are minor omissions, and should not markedly affect either the level of or the trend in the average rate. In some instances, however, the estimate for an individual voyage may be substantially wrong. Some vessels earned freight income by carrying home the output of more successful vessels. The estimates in this chapter take no account of these transactions, tending therefore to understate the income of unsuccessful voyages and to overstate the income of successful voyages9 A lack of voyage-specific information about some other elements further diminishes the reliability of the individual voyage estimates, but not necessarily the average industry figures. (1) The prices of outputs are averages for the year in which the vessel returned to New Bedford, not the prices at which outputs were actually sold. (See appendix 9A; the problem may not be serious.) (2) The estimates rest on the assumptions that the real cost of subsistence per man per month was the same from voyage to voyage and vessel to vessel, that the real outfitting costs per ton per month at sea were unchanging, and that agent fee rates were constant across agents and years. These assumptions also figure in the estimates of imputed interest on investment. (3) For most of the voyages beginning in the years 1840-58 and 1866 (well over one-third of those analyzed in this chapter), the data contain ex ante lays (see chapter 5). These data were used to establish the level and movement over time of the aggregate lay shares, and these values were interpolated and extrapolated to all the years in the data set. We assumed that lay shares were the same for all vessels leaving in the same year.l o It seems improbable that these decisions cause major errors. A separate data set for the years 1840-58 and 1866, incorporating true lays, was assembled to test the basic data set. The results are encouraging.’l Depreciation posed special problems. The best way to begin the treatment 9. Freight costs and freight earnings cancel out in the aggregate, except insofar as merchantmen or whalers from ports other than New Bedford were involved. They were involved, but most of the freight transactions probably took place within the New Bedford whaling fleet. 10. Lays differed substantially from ground to ground, but lay shares did not. Specifically, lays were shorter in the Atlantic, but crews were also smaller. As a result, lay shares differed little. See chapter 5 . 11. The two sets of profit-rate estimates (excluding capital gains) were computed across the same sets of voyages. Investment in Vessel Measured in

Estimated lays True lays

Net Reproduction Cost

Gross Reproduction Cost

14.82% 14.82

7.03% 7.04

As a second test we computed the real value of output per ton-month minus the real value of lays, averaging across the experience of individual agents, and following the two techniques. The rank correlation between the two sets of estimates was ,9935. The “true” lays were negotiated before the voyage took place. Since the crew list usually changed during the voyage, the aggregate ex ante lay surely differed from the aggregate ex post lay on most voyages. The ex post figures are the ones required for profit calculations, of course, but few such records are available. The ex ante data represent the best estimates of ex post results.

433

Profits

of these problems is to consider the investment value of a vessel about to set out on a whaling voyage. The investment in such a vessel should be taken to be its opportunity cost (that is, its market price). If the vessel was newly built when it sailed, then its value could be inferred from prices in the new-vessel market. Specifically, for present purposes the vessel could be valued in terms of the prices in table 6.10. (In fact, the figures in the third column, extrapolated to the earlier years on the data in the first column, were used.) But suppose the vessel was not new? There are some data on old-vessel prices, but not enough to meet our requirements. A second approach would be to approximate the market price of an old vessel by the depreciated new price. This point needs emphasis. Depreciated new price does not mean depreciated original cost or book value-figures unlikely to approximate the true market value of the vessel. Rather, the relevant concept is net (depreciated) reproduction cost, a concept that closely approaches market value. That is, we decided to value old vessels embarking on whaling voyages in the going prices of new vessels, depreciated to take into account the effects of age on value. The abundant data for the New Bedford whaling fleet made computing the life expectancy of whaling vessels-and thus what would appear to be appropriate depreciation rates-an easy task. (Straight-line depreciation was employed.) The figures used to establish life expectancy refer only to vessels that were withdrawn from service by condemnation or because their owners thought they were no longer fit for service. Vessels that sank, for example, did not figure in the calculation of life expectancy. (The costs associated with lost vessels were taken into account in the estimates of insurance costs.) The estimates of net reproduction cost may, however, understate the true average market value of a whaler when it sailed, because whalers were completely refitted at the beginning of each voyage. Although refitting activities concentrated on sails and rigging, rather than hull and masts-the relevant entities in this context-masts were sometimes replaced, and hulls were thoroughly worked over and frequently recoppered. That is, investment expenditures were made to offset some of the effects of age. Consequently, depreciated reproduction costs probably understate the average values of whalers.I2 No satisfactory way to handle this problem was found. Therefore two investment variants were calculated: the first measures the value of the hull and masts at net reproduction cost (depreciated new price value), the second, at gross reproduction cost. That is, the second variant values the hull and masts at new prices, without any allowance for depreciation, assuming that old vessels were 12. Bear in mind that the proper investment value for the vessel is opportunity cost. Leaving the conceptual issue aside and considering only practical matters, ownership groups were not longlived (see chapter 10). Consequently, new money investments in old whaling vessels were common. The depreciated new price figures tend to overstate profit rates because they understate some elements of cost (e.g., imputed interest) and because they also understate the denominator of the profit rate. Under the right circumstances they can also lead to exaggerated rates of loss, since, again, the denominator of the loss ratio is understated.

434

Chapter 11

so thoroughly prepared for voyages that they were equivalent to new vessels when they set out. Clearly, that is an exaggeration. The assumption leads to overstatements of investment values and thus to understatements of the rate of profit and, under the right circumstances, the rate of loss. The second variant, however, may be no farther from the truth than the first. The true values are surely bounded by the two variants. Similarly, in any given instance the true profit rate-or true loss rate-for a voyage is likely to lie between limits set by these two variants. With respect to aggregations of voyages, the first variant will produce the larger profit rates or, if there are losses, the larger loss rates. Depreciation during the voyage was calculated by applying to the investment values of vessels the rates computed from the life-expectancy table. New vessel prices also changed as time passed. Quite apart from depreciation, owners might incur capital losses due to a decline in vessel prices during the course of a voyage. If they were lucky and prices went the other way, they would obtain capital gains. Capital gains and losses certainly affected the success or failure of whaling firms, but they arose out of the operation of the market for vessels, rather than out of the whaling activities of the firm.13We therefore computed two sets of profits, one taking account of capital gains or losses, the other ignoring them. Most of the analysis here is based on the series exclusive of capital gains and losses, that is, the series relating expressly to whaling operations. There are two ways to approach insurable risks: via the scanty information on insurance rates, and via the information on vessel losses in the New Bedford data set. The latter is clearly the better approach. Two sets of risks were estimated: the risk of destruction by a Confederate cruiser-a substantial risk in the early 1860s-and all others. Finally, there is the question of the representativeness of the sample from which the profits calculations were made. The issues are similar to those regarding productivity discussed in chapter 8 (see table 8.1 and surrounding text); they need not be treated at great length here. Profit calculations were made for 2,757 voyages returning to New Bedford in 1817 through 1892. Another 640-odd voyages, for which there is considerable information but not enough to estimate profits, also ended in these years. The sample, then, contains over 80 percent of the observations in the universe (2,75713,398see table 11.l).I4 13. Remember that the market for vessels was affected by circumstances in the merchant marine, as well as by the situation in whaling. 14. The term universe has the meaning implied by the previous sentence. That is, it refers to voyages returning in the years 1817 through 1892 for which there is information on at least one of the variables listed in table 11.I. Table 11.1 is modeled after table 8.1. The data in the two tables differ in a number of respects, however. Chapter 8 is built around a regression analysis involving some lagged data. The relevant series begins in 1816, and the productivity calculations used in the regression therefore had to begin several years later. We chose to begin in 1821. There was no similar constraint for the beginning of the profits calculations. The only requirement was that the calculations not include data from the period of the War of 1812. Consequently, the profits series begins earlier than the productivity series.

435

Profits

Table 11.1

Characteristics of the Voyages in the Profits Sample and of the Voyages Composing the Universe of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1817-92 A. Outputs and Inputs Sample ( N = 2,757)

Average output of Sperm oil (barrels) Whale oil (barrels) Baleen (pounds) Average inputs Vessel size (tons) Interval at sea (months) Average value of catch ($) Average value of catch per ton-month ($)

Universe

N

SamplelLTniverse

802.9 1,070.9 9,333.5

758.9 989.0 8,336.0

3,398 3,398 3,398

1.058 1.083 1.120

323.3 33.8 52,478.4

306.4 31.5 41,738.2

3,467 3,470 3,398

1.055 1.073 1.099

4.802

4.946

-

0.971

B. Distribution of Voyages among Hunting Grounds (%)b

Atlantic Indian Pacific Western Arctic Total

Universe

Sample

32.1 12.9 48.3 6.7 100.0

25.4 14.7 52.2 7.7 100.0

Sources: Voyages and Profits data sets. Note: The years covered by the table are those in which voyages ended. "The average value of the catch per ton per month was computed from the average value of the catch, the average vessel tonnage, and the average interval at sea, which rely on universes of differing sizes. voyages to one of these four grounds are reported (Hudson Bay and Davis Strait are included with the Atlantic).

The sample is large. Is it also representative? In certain important respects it is. For example, the average tonnages of the vessels in the sample and in the Second, the profits calculations require data on the prices of vessels. These data run out in 1887 (see table 6.10). Consequently, we could not compute profits for those few voyages that began after that date. There was no similar constraint with respect to productivity. The productivity series therefore ends later than the profits series. Third, the dates in table 8.1 (in fact, throughout chapter 8) refer to sailing dates, while the dates in table 11.1 (in fact, throughout chapter 11) refer to arrival dates; that is, table 8.1 records voyages that began in the years 1821 through 1897, while table 11.1 records voyages that ended in the years 1817 through 1892. This means that the temporal overlap of the series used to analyze productivity and profits is more limited than the titles of the two tables suggest. If the title of table 11.1 were changed so as to describe the sailing dates of the voyages treated in the table, it would refer to 1815 through 1887. The series described in table 11.1 thus begins six years earlier than the series described in table 8.1, and ends nine years earlier. The timing differences are unimportant, however, because there were relatively few whaling voyages from New Bedford beginning before 1821 or after 1887 (see table 2.5). Consequently, the analyses in chapters 8 and I1 treat essentially the same data.

436

Chapter 11

universe are within 6 percent of each other (see table 11.1).The sample voyages resulted in relatively large catches-6 to 12 percent larger than for the universe-but they were also about 7 percent longer, on average. Consequently, the value of output per ton-month at sea is roughly the same for sample and universe: the sample recorded an average value 2.9 percent below that for the universe. The distribution of voyages among the four hunting grounds is also reasonably similar, although the sample underrepresents the Atlantic ground by quite a bit and overrepresents the three other grounds by small amounts. These observationsdo not demonstratebeyond cavil that the sample is representative of the universe, but they do suggest that findings drawn from the sample can be generalized. Even if the results are taken as only descriptive, they are descriptive of a very substantial fraction of the total number of New Bedford voyages in the period under discussion. The profit-rate estimates have many weaknesses. Nonetheless, they seem adequate to get at the most interesting questions concerning profits. Did rates fluctuate around a stable level, or did the level change over time? How did whaling’s profit rates compare with rates in other industries? Is there evidence that there were important returns to information or to innovation? The profit rate did fluctuate from year to year, as a glance at table 11.2 and figure 11.1 shows.15 The movements are frequently very wide, but they are fairly brief a string of increases or decreases never runs more than five years. There is the suggestion that the industry adjusted to profit rates, but that it repeatedly overshot the adjustment required to achieve equilibrium. Given the typical duration of a whaling voyage, the length of the adjustment period seems reasonable. Of the two profit-rate series, variant B shows substantially lower values than variant A. Remember that the estimates of investments in vessels underlying these two sets of calculations differ. Vessels are valued at net reproduction cost in the computations for the variant A profit-rate estimates, and at gross reproduction cost for the variant B estimates. Naturally, then, investmentsthe denominators of the profit-rate figures-are smaller in the variant A than in the variant B series. Ceteris paribus, one could expect the variant A rates to be larger than variant B. In fact, ceteris are not paribus. The differences in the investment figures for the two series affect not only the denominators of the profit-rate calculations, but also the numerators (i.e., profits). The profit calculations are affected because several of the cost estimates-insurance, depreciation, and implicit interest-depend upon the value of the vessel. Since the variant B series involves larger investments in vessels than the variant A series, the three elements of cost are larger for any voyage. That is, the profit ratios are computed from larger profit estimates and smaller investment figures in the case of variant A 15. The rates for each year refer to the profits earned on voyages ending in that year. The activities that yielded the profits often covered many years.

Table 11.2

Amval Year

Mean Profit Rates of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, Several Variants, 1817-92 (percentages)

N

Including Capital Gains and Losses, Variant A

Excluding Capital Gains and Losses Variant A

Variant B

A. Annual Averages 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 I822 I823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 1843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 (continued)

7 5 7 11

10 8 23 24 15 11

23 25 26 30 32 32 34 35 46 43 53 56 47 41 29 48 48 71 50 49 61 55

47 48 71 39 78 96 72 74 94 62

16.6 23.2 11.8 16.5 15.3 23.3 7.3 6.3 35.5 47.0 30.6 18.1 13.5 42.0 17.4 25.6 46.4 13.7 0.7 16.0 10.6 4.5 11.2 21.3 20.3 11.2 12.1 24.8 1.2 9.8 3.2 0.1 9.2 18.0 35.0 31.9 8.7 3.3 7.7 23.8 5.8 9.8

17.1 23.8 12.5 17.1 15.9 23.3 7.3 6.3 35.4 40.5 28.6 16.3 12.0 38.2 18.0 28.1 49.6 15.0 1.7 15.1 8.8 2.5 9.2 19.3 17.9 8.7 9.6 21.6 - 1.2 8.5 2.8 0.6 9.7 18.6 37.0 35.2 12.4 7.3 11.1

25.3 5.7 8.2

13.4 20.0 6.8 13.2 11.3 17.1 4.4 4.0 25.6 27.2 19.9 10.2 7.2 26.4 12.7 18.3 21.9 7.9 0.2 6.8 3.9 -0.5 3.3 9.7 9.6 3.9 4.4 12.5 4.7 3.8 0.4 2.2 4.5 9.8 19.1 13.2 4.2 6.3 5.7 13.8 6.5 3.4

Table 11.2

Arrival Year

(continued)

N

Including Capital Gains and Losses, Variant A

Excluding Capital Gains and Losses Variant A

Variant B

A. Annual Averages 1859 1860 1861 1862 1863 1864 1865 1866 1867 1868 1869 1870 1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888' 1889" 1890' 189Ia 1892'

68 62 71 60 52 69 46 28 41 39 42 44 47 25 25 24 28 26 19 33 24 23 24 22 11 14 10 14 10 2 5 11 1 1

12.8 11.8 7.2 4.1 6.2 35.1 28.1 16.0 5.3 10.8 9.5 0.2 2.8 -0.7 9.8 17.0 20.5 30.1 59.0 14.5 7.0 1.9 6.3 13.9 2.0 8.9 11.7 7.8 7.5

-

-

9.7 8.3 4.3 5.5 13.8 46.5 32.2 18.9 5.0 9.0 7.2 -3.9 0.3 -2.2 9.1 15.9 18.3 23.4 50.2 6.2 0.3 3.9 8.5 19.8 3.1 6.1 7.4 3.1 8.1 8.1 19.3 19.6 17.2 10.4

6.0 3.5 -1.2 0.5 5.2 11.9 12.2 11.2 2.2 2.1 4.8 -4.6 -2.1 -3.9 1.5 5.3 10.9 12.3 12.7 3.1 -1.4 -0.2 1.o 3.2 2.4 1.3 2.6 0.1 0.2 5.2 6.2 6.0 14.5 3.4

B. Decadal Averagesb 1817-26 1818-27 1819-28 1820-29 1821-30 1822-3 I 1823-32 1824-33

17.8 19.3 23.5 19.7 23.1 22.7 23.2 27.5

17.3 18.6 22.1 18.5 21.4 21.3 22.3 27.0

12.2 13.0 15.0 12.6 14.5 14.5 15.0 16.7

Table 11.2

Amval Year

(continued)

N

Including Capital Gains and Losses, Variant A

Excluding Capital Gains and Losses Variant A

Variant B

B. Decadal Averagesh 1825-34 1826-35 1827-36 1828-37 1829-38 1830-39 1831-40 1832-41 1833-42 1834-43 1835-44 1836-45 1837-46 1838-47 1839-48 1840-49 1841-50 1842-5 1 1843-52 1844-53 1845-54 1846-55 1847-56 1848-57 1849-58 1850-59 185 1-60 1852-61 1853-62 1854-63 1855-64 1856-65 1857-66 1858-67 1859-68 1860-69 1861-70 1862-7 1 1863-72 1864-73 1865-74 1866-75 1867-76 (continued)

27.8 23.1 21.7 19.0 17.4 16.6 15.1 15.2 13.6 12.3 13.3 13.8 11.6 11.7 11.5 11.0 10.9 13.5 15.8 12.5 13.5 12.0 13.2 13.2 14.6 13.9 13.8 10.8 9.4 9.0 12.5 14.3 11.7 12.8 14.3 13.7 12.8 12.7 13.0 13.6 9.8 8.2 9.5

27.5 23.1 21.8 18.9 17.1 16.2 14.8 14.7 12.7 10.8 11.4 11.5 9.5 9.6 9.6 9.5 9.5 12.7 15.4 12.7 15.1 14.1 15.2 15.2 16.5 15.3 14.8 11.4 9.9 9.7 13.7 15.7 12.6 14.1 15.9 15.6 14.8 14.9 15.2 15.0 9.0 6.7 7.1

16.8 13.7 12.6 10.5 9.2 8.5 7.3 7.0 5.6 4.9 5.4 6.0 5.0 5.1 5.5 5.5 5.5 7.1 8.3 6.6 7.7 7.0 7.7 8.4 8.8 8.1 8.0 5.9 5.1 5.2 5.7 6.3 5.0 4.7 5.3 4.9 4.3 4.5 4.5 4.3 2.8 2.2 2.3

440

Chapter 11

Table 11.2

Arrival Year

(continued)

N

Including Capital Gains and Losses, Variant A

Excluding Capital Gains and Losses Variant A

Variant B

B. Decadal Averagesh 1868-77 1869-78 1870-79 1871-80 1872-8 1 1873-82 1874-83 1875-84 1876-85 1877-86 1878-87

12.6 12.5 16.0 13.9 15.7 17.3 17.3 16.2 16.1 13.4 8.9

9.7 9.0 11.5 10.5 12.5 14.6 14.6 13.0 13.1 10.9 7.0

2.8 2.7 3.0 3.2 4.1 4.8 5.0 4.6 3.9 2.4 1.3

C. Overall Averages 1817-92

13.8

13.7

6.6

Source: Profits Data Set. Note: Variant A rates are based on estimates of net reproduction cost investment, variant B on estimates of gross reproduction cost. See the text. "The number of voyages refers only to the last two columns. The profit-rate variant including capital gains and losses cannot be calculated for voyages this year because necessary figures for vessel-construction cost are not available. bAveragesof the rates in panel A, weighted by numbers of voyages.

than in the case of variant B. Thus there are two explanations for the difference between the variants, and it is not surprising that the variant A profit rates are higher. Since several factors influence the levels of the series, one should not expect that the two would necessarily move together, and their patterns of change are indeed somewhat different. For example, variant A is more volatile. Perhaps more interesting, the relative levels of the two series and their year-to-year movements vary from time to time. Compare the two sets of estimates for the years 1817-1 8 and 1852-53. These figures suggest the complexity of the connections between the two series; they are by no means related in a simple, linear way. If one is interested in the details of the profit record, such as the relative profitability of voyages returning in, say, 1849 and 1850, then it is necessary to consult both series. If one is interested in the broad patterns of change, the two series are more nearly interchangeable. For example, the timing of annual fluctuations in profit rates is very similar in the two series, and

441

Profits

'

-10 1817 1827 1837 1847 1857 1867 1877 1887 Fig. 11.1 Mean profit rates of New Bedford whaling voyages, 1817-92, three variants ( 1 = var. A, with capital gains, 2 = var. A, 3 = var. B) Nure: The text explains how the vanants were computed.

the broad movements over longer periods are essentially the same. For treatment of the big picture, the two series seem equally useful.16 Apart from short-term fluctuations, the most interesting feature of table 11.2 and figure 11.1 is that they show, in the early years, high profit rates to be more common than low ones, while the reverse is true of the later years. For example, in fifteen of the first twenty years in the table, variant A profits were above the average for the entire period, 1817-92; in variant B, the proportion is seventeen out of twenty. Of the next fifty-six years, only nineteen were unusually profitable according to the variant A series, only fourteen according to variant B. During the first period the industry expanded very rapidly (see table 1.2); the profit-rate data are consistent with a standard view of profits in competition: high rates induced firms to enter, and the industry expanded. Eventually, something approximating competitive equilibrium emerged. There is a question, however, as to the duration of the period of marked expansion. Merchant vessels could easily be converted into whalers. The capi16. The differences between the levels of variants A and B are important when returns in whaling are compared with returns in other industries. See below.

442

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tal stock could, in principle, be expanded very rapidly. Why then did it take twenty years for the profit rate to fall to levels approximating a long-run equilibrium? The most plausible answer is that demand for the products of the whale fishery was growing so rapidly that, even with dramatic increases in the capacity of the industry, profits remained for a long time above the long-run equilibrium level. The data reviewed in chapters 2 (prices) and 9 (the growth of demand) are consistent with this interpretation. In any case, the process pictured in the table and figure does look very much like a long-term expansion toward equilibrium profit rates. After the first twenty years (18 17-36) profit rates fluctuated around an essentially unchanging level.” During the first part of this period-down to the mid1840s-the industry was still expanding, then it stabilized for a time, then it contracted. A question immediately arises: if it took thirty years of high profits to expand the industry to its peak level, why didn’t it take thirty years of losses to liquidate it? The profit rates after the mid-1840s were not as high as those in the earlier years, but they were not low by any other standard. There is the suggestion that the industry contracted at a pace that kept profits at a reasonable level. Firms got out of the industry at close to an optimal rate. There are probably three explanations for this record. The first major contraction of the industry was forced, not by unfavorable returns (at least not of the usual sort), but by the Civil War-in particular the activities of Confederate cruisers and the assembly of the Stone Fleet. The cruisers demolished all the whalers they could find-which were many-and kept others from plying their trade outside the North Atlantic. Whaling agents sold their idle vessels to the government to be sunk at the entrances to Charleston and Savannah harbors in a largely futile attempt to obstruct entry and exit. Therefore, after the war the fleet was already smaller than it had been before the war. Profit rates were not sufficient to induce many firms that had left the industry to return. The big downward adjustment of the size of the fleet was occasioned by external forces, not by low or negative profits arising out of commercial conditions. Later two events of a similar nature caused the fleet to shrink. In 1871 and in 1876 a substantial part of the Arctic whaling fleet was caught in the ice and destroyed. Once again, the decline took place without the impetus of marketinduced low profit rates. In all three instances a fortuitous drop in supply helped to compensate for the effects on profits of a declining demand. If these developments are not sufficient to explain the decline of the fleet in the absence of substantial market losses, perhaps the explanation lies in the fact that it was easier to liquidate the fleet than it was to create it. Vessels could be quickly converted to other uses. Most whaling agents and owners had a second string to their bow (see chapter lo), so that they could leave whaling to engage in some other pursuit. As for the seamen, their fate was probably not 17. See the decadal averages in table 11.2. The varianr B series appears to drop again slightly toward the end of the century.

443

Profits

the foremost concern of owners and agents. In any case, the corps of seamen had begun to shrink long before the industry was wound up. The Civil War and Arctic losses were the events that left the seamen adrift, if anything did. The hunting grounds were opened at various dates. Economic theory suggests that profit rates must have been higher in the new grounds initially, but that, as time passed and more vessels moved into them, rates in the various grounds must have converged.'8 In the years just after the War of 1812, both the Atlantic and the Pacific were being hunted; the Indian Ocean was reopened somewhat later, and the Western Arctic opened later still.19 One would expect to find the profit rates of vessels returning from the Indian Ocean or Western Arctic to be relatively high at first, but eventually to drift downward toward the rates being earned in the Atlantic and the Pacific. Such a convergence is, indeed, what the record shows (see table 11.4). Before the Civil War, vessels returning from the Indian Ocean had higher profit rates than those returning from the Atlantic in twenty-two of the twenty-eight years for which the comparison can be made. For vessels returning from the Western Arctic, rates were higher than those earned in the Atlantic in nine of ten years before the war. After the war there are clear indications that the advantage of the newer grounds had been eliminated. In the thirty-one instances in which a comparison can be made between the Atlantic and one of the other two grounds, the higher rate was earned in the Atlantic in seventeen, in the other ground in fourteen. Again, there is a strong suggestion of an adjustment process at work. One feature of these data is puzzling. On the whole the Pacific was the least profitable ground of all. For example, in fifty-three of the seventy-two years in which a comparison can be made, vessels returning from the Atlantic had the higher profit rate.*O Since the Pacific was the newer ground, one might expect it to register higher rates, at least in the early years; but it is in the early years that the comparison with the Atlantic is especially unfavorable. Narrowing the focus to the period in which the Pacific was the main hunting ground produces a somewhat different impression. Down to the late 1830s the Atlantic was the ground more often hunted. In the early 1840s the number of voyages to the Atlantic declined and the number to the Pacific expanded. By 18. The convergence would be incomplete if risks varied by hunting ground. A test of the following form was run to check this possibility, as well as the possibility that risk changed over time. The variance of the profit rate divided by the mean was regressed on time and hunting-ground dummies, with the results in table 11.3. The fit is very poor and the significance levels are low. 19. The Indian Ocean was hunted by New Bedford vessels as early as 1793, but relatively few voyages were made, and between 1810 and 1830 only four. 20. The reader may recall that the regression reproduced in table 8.2 shows that productivity was higher in the Pacific than in the Atlantic. How is it, then, that profit rates were lower in the Pacific? The explanation is that the productivity comparisons were made holding many other variables constant, which is not the case for the profit-rate comparisons. Introducing profit rates as dependent variables in regressions of the form of the one in table 8.2 yields results similar to those in table 8.2-that is, profit rates in the Atlantic are shown to be lower than those in the Pacific, ceteris paribus.

444

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Table 11.3

Regression of Profit Rate Divided by the Mean, on Time and Hunting-Ground Dummies

Intercept Ground 1 Ground 2 Ground 4 Time

Coefficient

Prob > I TI

-0.0539 0.9104 0.1473 -0.0257 0.0045

0.939 0.161 0.838 0.978 0.75 1

Notes: Prob > F = 0.658. Adjusted R’ = -0.0077.

1844, for example, the Atlantic returned only four vessels to New Bedford, while forty-two came back from the Pacific.2’ In this later period the profit rates of the two grounds are more nearly comparable. Particularly important is that between 1844 and 1864-the heyday of the Pacific, when the ground returned between twenty-seven and sixty-three vessels to New Bedford annually-the average annual profit rate of Pacific vessels was greater than that of Atlantic vessels in ten of the twenty years that comparisons are possible (table 11.4). The two grounds seem to have been at parity during this period.*’ The relatively new Indian Ocean hunting grounds continued to be more profitable (as did the Western Arctic), recording higher rates than the Pacific in eleven years between 1844 and 1864. The industry experienced in expansion, then brief stability, and finally a contraction that appears to have been negotiated without severe commercial losses. Hunting was redistributed among the various grounds in response to profit-rate differentials. Given this evidence, can an equilibrium profit rate be identified? Consider the possibilities. First, perhaps the profit rates earned in the years during which the industry neither expanded nor contracted should be regarded as equilibrium rates, since there is, in the evidence on the size of the industry, a suggestion of equilibrium. The average rate (variant A) for this period-1846 through 1860-is about 14.9 percent, compared to a 13.7 percent average rate for the full period, 1817-92. Second, perhaps equilibrium profits can be identified with a period of zero trend in the profit rate. From the decade 1837-46 until 1892, the decadal aver21. The data on voyage numbers cited in this paragraph differ slightly from the data in table 11.4. The text data refer to all voyages; the table 11.4 data refer to voyages for which profit rates could be produced. 22. A possible explanation (partial) for the relatively poor performance of the Pacific has to do with measurement error. Although we intended to include in output all the oil and bone shipped home in advance of a vessel’s return to New Bedford, it is likely that the data on shipments are incomplete. Since Pacific voyages were typically longer and therefore led to relatively more product’s being shipped home than did Atlantic voyages, the failure to count all output shipped home in advance would probably have a bigger effect on the profit rates of voyages to the Pacific than of those to the Atlantic. We do not believe that the problem is a serious one, however.

Table 11.4

Mean Annual Profit Rates of New Bedford Whaling Voyages, by Hunting Ground, Variant A (excluding capital gains and capital losses in vessels), 1817-92 (percentages)

Arrival Year

Atlantic"

N

1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 I843 1844 1845 1846 1847 1848 1849 1850 1851 1852 1853 1854 1855 1856 1857 1858 1859 1860 1861 1862 (continued)

42.7 28.7 6.4 20.5 40.8 14.4 16.9 28.1 47.4 48.9 49.4 25.1 13.9 46.2 30.7 32.8 71.5 26.0 15.7 21.7 15.0 1.5 8.9 20.3 27.5 10.7 - 18.6 23.3

2 4 6 8 3 4 4 12 I1 8 9 16 15 17 14 21 21 12 16 22 25 30 12 7 4 9 3 3 0 4 2 3

-2.6 - 10.9 12.6 -7.0 -23.8 61.3 9.6 -24.9 7.1 -8.5 13.8 -9.3 7.1 -1.0 19.7 35.5 29.6

1 1

2 2 7 14 5 7 4 5 2 1 10 7

Indian

N

Pacific

N

0 0

6.9 4.4 49.0 7.9 5.2 32.2 5.2 -15.4 2.5 18.1 15.3 0.5 9.4 22.1 8.1 17.7 14.3 8.5 -5.5 9.0 -1.7 -1.4 3.7 13.5 8.5 - 1.8 5.3 10.4 - 10.6 4.5 1.1 -2.7 8.8 19.7 36.9 29.4 16.8 2.4 12.4 23.9 4.1 2.3 7.7 8.0 -1.4 -0.2

5 1

0 0

95.0 33.8 25.3 -6.7 -8.0 21.3 32.0 19.9 28.2 36.6 21.3 28.3 34.7 20.6 25.0 12.4 12.1 13.6 18.7 27.6 31.4 10.1

14.7 8.9 16.6 -1.8 9.7 13.9 4.6 -2.8 9.9

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1

0 I 4 1 6 4 12 13 7 17 12 31 15 11

11 9 12 10 10 9 13 11 6 9 13 10 10 7 11 9

Western Arctic

N

0 0

1

0

3 7 4 19 12 4 3 14 9 I1 12 18 10 13 22 26 20 22 22 23 21 18 22 33 37 35 34 48 43 34 37 57 27 46 49 45 45 61 32 45 43 38 28

0 0 0 0

62.0 275.1 19.7 14.6 14.5 42.6 21.4 20.0 15.7 10.5 2.9 2.6

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 1

12 22 16 13 16 15 11 11 12 16

446

Chapter 11

Table 11.4 Arrival Year

1863 1864 1865 1866 I867 1868 1869 1870 1871 I872 1873 I874 1875 1876 1877 1878 1879 1880 1881 1882 1883 1884 1885 1886 1887 1888 1889 1890 1891 1892

(continued) Atlantic"

17.6 165.7 47.8 32.3 6.0 12.8 3.4 -9.9 11.0 -4.9 35.5 91.6 40.2 31.8 73.9 5.9 -2.2 6.4 9.7 21.2 -3.9 4.5 8.3 9.4 14.6 11.1 23.9 10.4

N

Indian

14 20 23 10 20 18 11

14 7 7 7 4 10 12 12 20 11 14 14 11 9 11 6 7 6 1 0 4 0 1

5.2 -3.7 12.5 17.4 13.5 6.4 12.9 -3.1 0.2 -1.8 0.8 4.3 -2.8 22.2 -1.5 -5.2 I .2 3.1 0.0 -2.6

N 6 11 3 5

3 4 5

7 9 8 6 9 7 3 2 5

6 2 1 1

0 0

21.5 33.0

0 0 0 0 2 4 0 0

Pacific

N

9.8 -2.9 17.2 -1.8 1.8 9.5 7.1 -0.3 -4.1 -3.7 -2.1 -2.3 4.1 14.5 14.0 5.3 3.4

26 36 20 9 9 10 18 17 21 8 12 11 8 8 5 7 7 7 8 8 1 3 4 7 4 1 3 3

-1.1

-2.8 8.8 66.1 12.3 6.1 -3.3 -1.6 5.2 17.9 -4.0 17.2

1

0

Western Arctic

30.7 21.6 34.1 3.0 0.0 9.0 -0.9 1.9 12.2

32.4 14.3 74.5

90.2 67.0 3.0

N

6 2 0 4 9 7 8 6 10 2 0 0 3 3 0 1 0 0 1 2 1

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

Source: Profits Data Set. Notr: The means are unweighted. "Atlantic voyages include voyages to Hudson Bay and Davis Strait.

age profit rates seem to fluctuate around a stable level, suggesting that the industry might have been in something roughly approximating equilibrium. True, early in the period the industry was expanding, and toward the end it was contracting; but these changes did not greatly affect the general level of the profit rate. During this period the average variant A rate was almost 12 percent, compared to the 14.9 percent rate for the years 1846-60 and the 13.7 percent rate for the entire period. There is yet a third criterion. The equilibrium rate might be thought to be the one earned during the years in which the reallocation of effort to newer hunting grounds was over-that is, in the period in which the new hunting grounds no longer enjoyed a profit advantage. These were the years following

447

Profits

the Civil War, and the variant A rate earned during this period (1866-92) was about 9.7 percent. The three averages range, then, from 9.7 to 14.9 percent; the variant B estimates would be about one-half as large. These figures, however, are very much affected by extreme values. A better estimate of the approximate level of the equilibrium rate might be obtained from the median. As is to be expected, the median rates cluster closer together: 1846-60 = 9.7 percent, 1866-92 = 8.1 percent, and 1846-92 = 8.9 percent. Rounding these numbers gives a range of 8 to 10 percent for the equilibrium rate, which may very well bracket the true rate. The equilibrium rate excludes excess profits, of course, but it includes not simply the costs of Knightian uninsurable risks, but also returns to knowledge and unusual skill. (Schumpeterian returns to innovation should be part of the disequilibrium profits.) How the components of the equilibrium rate should be separately identified in quantitative terms is not clear. The data set, however, does contain evidence on the profits earned on voyages managed by the various whaling agents. Some sense of the range of experience by firm can be obtained from these data. Thus, the scale on which agents were rewarded for knowledge and skill-as well as for persistent, successful innovation-might be judged.23 Profit rates varied widely from voyage to voyage, partly due to luck. Furthermore, many agents stayed in the business only a short time. If one is interested in returns to knowledge, skill, and innovative activity, it is only sensible to explore the records of agent firms that managed many voyages, and to look at their average experience rather than at the results of individual voyages. Presumably self-selection and accumulated experience made these agents the repository of special knowledge and skills. If they stayed in the business for long, they must at least have kept up with innovations. Table 11.5 reports the profits on the voyages managed by those twenty-nine agents who organized at least forty voyages. These agents were an important group: they accounted for over one-half of the voyages in the Voyages Data Set, and well over one-half of the voyages for which profit-rate estimates can be made. The first and third columns contain two sets of calculations: the average profit rate earned on the voyages the firm managed throughout its entire history, and the ratio of that rate to the average rate earned by all the firm’s whaling competitors in the years in which it had vessels returning to New Bedford. All of these firms but two averaged positive profits on all their voyages. That is, each of these firms-except the two-managed to pay competitive rates of 23. The estimates of profits for each individual voyage are only rough approximations to true profits, of course, and therefore the results obtained for individual agents are also only approximations to what is required. Regardless of these considerations, however, the very striking results obtained for the individual agents seem secure. See the earlier sections of this chapter for a treatment of the methods by which profit estimates were made, as well as a discussion of the shortcomings of the estimates.

Table 11.5

Average Profit Rates Earned on Voyages Managed by New Bedford Whaling Agents Who Organized at Least Forty Voyages, Variant A (excluding capital gains and capital losses in vessels), 1817-92

Profit Rate Firm Gideon Allen; Gideon Allen & Son; Gilbert Allen John P. Knowles I1 Edward W. Howland George Howland; George & Matthew Howland Abraham H. Howland Edward C. Jones Frederick Swift; William C. N. Swift & Eben Perry; William H. Aiken & Frederick Swift Henry Taber & Co. Charles H. Gifford; Gifford & Cummings; William Gifford Charles W. Morgan Isaac Howland Jr. & Co. Samuel Rodman; Sylvanus Thomas & Co.; Sylvanus Thomas & William F. Dow Abraham Barker Alexander Gibbs Joseph & William R. Wing Jonathan Bourne; Jonathan Bourne Jr. Benjamin B. Howard Jireh Perry Jireh Swift Jr. & Frederick S. Allen

(%)

Coefficient of Variation

Ratio of Column 1 to Profit Rates of Competitors"

Relative Feesb

Total Number of Voyages'

Number of Voyages in Computationd

64

59.2 35.9 21.5

644 33 1 I42

4.44 2.98 1.93

94 47 50

39 42

20.5 18.5 18.4

208 150 I36

1.48 1.40 1.88

119 40 81

98 26 61

17.9 17.6

233 126

1.87 1.06

131 47

68 36

17.3 15.5 14.7

248 123 184

1.27 1.06 0.97

50 60 171

35 54 145

14.6 12.4 12.0 11.8 11.8 11.5 11.2 10.5

248 157 136 240 240 273 287 200

0.98 1.01 0.93 1.08 0.94 0.74 0.93 0.83

59 43 49 236 147 46 43 88

42 30 30 76 102 32 33 62

John Avery Parker; John Avery Parker & Son Charles R. Tucker; Charles R. Tucker & Co. James B. Wood & Co. Thomas Knowles; Thomas Knowles & Co. Ivory H. Bartlett; Ivory H. Bartlett & Son; Ivory H. Bartlett & Sons Loum Snow; Loum Snow & Son; Thomas Cook & Loum Snow William Lewis; William Lewis & Son Matthew Luce; William Hathaway Jr.; William Hathaway Jr. & Matthew Luce Thomas & Asa R. Nye; Thomas R. Nye Jr. David R. Greene & Co. Mean, all voyages Mean, all voyages managed by agents who organized fewer than forty voyages Total

97 112 61 95

62 89 46 79

95

26

0.54 0.27

59 153

32 16

0.27

45 80 46

41 67 33

2,444

1,566

9.4 8.4 8.4 7.7

283 317 312

0.67 0.66 0.52 0.55

7.4

763

0.54

7.1 4.6

280 693

4.4 -2.3 -2.5 13.7

305 -4,126 -5,371

190

-

+

10.7

Source; Profits Data Set. Notes: Agencies that changed names but exhibited continuity with respect to the principal members of the firm were treated as one firm. For example, the three firms, Charles H.Gifford, Gifford and Cummings, and William Gifford, were treated as one firm. “or each voyage managed by a firm for which a profit rate can be calculated, the mean profit rate for all voyages agented by competing firms that arrived in the same year was computed. The entries in this column are the ratios of the means of the subject firms’ profit rates to the means of the means of the competitors’ rates. For example, say an agency managed three voyages, ending in 1820, 1820, and 1822. Its profit rates on these voyages were 10.2, 18.1, and 5.6. In 1820 the profit rates of its competitors’ voyages averaged 8.1, in 1822,7.5. The subject firm’s mean profit rate would be 11.3. Its competitors’ would be 7.9. The ratio would be 1.43 (11.3U.9). T h e fee-earning ability of the named agency compared to the abilities of all other agencies that had vessels returning to New Bedford in the same years ‘Each entry gives the number of voyages in the Voyages Data Set that the agent managed, during the course of the life of the agency. dNumberof voyages for which profit rates could be (and were) calculated.

450

Chapter 11

Table 11.6

Profit-Rate Distributions for Voyages Managed by the Leading Twenty-Nine Firms and All Other Firms, New Bedford Whaling Voyages, 1817-92 (percentages)

Loss rates 2-25% <-25% Profit rates 0 to
Leading 29 Firms

All Other Firms

Total

2.5 29.6

1.9 35.8

2.2 32.3

22.2 16.3 16.7 7.0 3.3 I .o 1.5

21.7 14.8 13.2 6.6 2.4 1.5 2.0

22.0 15.7 15.2 6.8 2.9 1.2 I .7

Source: Profits Data Set.

interest to investors, competitive fees to agents, and an average rate of profit on capital ranging, among firms, from almost 4.5 percent to almost 60 percent. Unless whaling firms were very risk-averse indeed, these firms must be regarded as successful. The top nine or ten were extraordinarily successful; words fail one, when the record of Gideon Allen and his son is considered. Could that figure be right? Could Allen et fils really have taken home almost 60 percent, on average, for sixty-four voyages, in addition to the fees they earned as agent and the interest return on capital invested? It seems so. The meaning to be given the profit record of Gideon Allen-and for that matter David Greene, the Nyes, Ivory Bartlett, and William Lewis-must be tempered, however, by a recognition of the variability of the voyage rates and the skewedness of the distributions. All of the voyage profit-rate distributions are skewed-usually to the right-and all exhibit considerable variability (see table 11.6). But those recorded by Allen, Greene, the Nyes, Bartlett, and Lewis have extraordinarily large coefficients of variation, as compared with the other firms in this group (see table 1 1 ..5).24 The unusually large coefficients of variation reveal the existence of pronounced outlier voyages, yielding unusually large profit or loss rates. All have two characteristics in common: they were short voyages carried out by elderly vessels. Since they were short, the net investments in subsistence items for the crew and outfitting expenses were small; that is, the value of these items consumed on the voyage was small. Since the vessels were old, their net (depreciated) reproduction costs were low. Total investment in each of these extreme outlier voyages was therefore small. In several instances an outlier voyage was short because some disaster-for 24. The coefficients of variation are also large compared with virtually all of the rest of the firms represented in the Profits Data Set.

451

Profits

example, the death of the captain-brought the vessel quickly back to port. Vessels returning within a few months of setting out were unlikely to bring home much, if anything, in the way of output. The investors suffered losses that, perhaps not large in absolute terms, were large compared with the investment in the voyage. Thus, loss rates of 100 percent or more were recorded. Some short voyages, however, were short not because of disaster, but because of striking success. For example, Gideon Allen's Milwood returned in 1864 after six months at sea with a catch valued at $172,841. Of the 1,566 voyages underlying the data in table 115 , only 24 returned with output valued at more than $172,841. The shortest of them took 30 months; the longest was 103 months; twenty-two took 40 months or more. The Milwood's achievement, then, was very great. She was an old vessel (fifty-eight years); the investment in her outfitting costs was very little; her operating costs for six months were slight; and she brought back an unusually valuable cargo. The profit rate on this voyage-by far the highest profit rate in the data set-was over 3,000 percent. The large loss and profit rates on short voyages are real enough and deserve to be taken into account, but they tend to obscure the day-to-day level of success achieved by the outlier firms. In the cases of these firms-the five with unusually large coefficients of variation-it is helpful to look at other indexes of central tendency. For example, although Gideon Allen's average profit rate far exceeds the rates of the other four, this is not true of his median or trimmed mean rate (table 11.7). His mean weighted rate (weighted by voyage duration) is higher than the averages of the other four agents, but well below his unweighted average rate. David Greene and the Nyes, whose unweighted average rates are negative, both have positive rates according to all of the other meaTable 11.7

Profit Rates Earned on Voyages Managed by Five Leading Nineteenth-Century New Bedford Whaling Agent Firms, Measures of Central Tendency (percentages) Trimmed Mean Median Mean"

Gideon Allen; Gideon Allen & Son; Gilbert Allen Ivory H. Bartlett; Ivory H. Banlett & Son; Ivory H. Bartlett & Sons William Lewis; William Lewis & Son Thomas & Asa R. Nye; Thomas R. Nye Jr. David R. Greene & Co.

Mean, Excluding Mean, Weighted Voyages < 6 by Voyage Months Duration

59.2

4.9

5.7

61.4

16.7

7.4

5.5

5.4

13.3

9.3

4.6

-1.4

4.6

4.2

13.3 19.5

8.6 14.4

-2.3 -2.5

9.1 17.3

-1.0 1.3 15.2

The mean of the set of profit rates lying within the interquartile range.

452

Chapter 11

sures. It is clear that, leaving aside a few outlier voyages, four of the five firms performed in roughly comparable fashion. William Lewis by all accounts was less successful than the rest. The outlier voyages cannot be ignored, but neither should their results be regarded as typical of the performance of these firms. There is a second respect in which comparisons among the average profit rates recorded in the first column of table 11.5 are not entirely legitimate. The firms did not operate over precisely the same periods of time; their profit rates are therefore not fully comparable. The third column of the table contains estimates put together to deal with this problem. It compares the average rate of profit of each agent across the career of the firm with the profit rates earned by the other agents operating in the same period of time. The rankings change little. The differences among firms apparently were not much affected by the time periods during which they operated. Agents were subject to divided loyalties. Owners-and agents as ownersdid best if profits were maximized. But agents as managers did best if the value of output was maximized, since their fees depended importantly on this variable. Agents may well have been biased in their managerial practices in the direction of extending the duration of the voyage in order to maximize the value of output-perhaps at the cost of the profit rate. If that were the case, agents who seem to have been relatively unsuccessful, against the standard of profits, might be shown to be more successful if fees were factored into the account. The fourth column of table 11.5 indicates whether firms did better than (+), worse than (-), or just as well as (0) their competitors in earning fees per voyage. The strong suggestion is that the firms earning the highest profits also did unusually well with fees. Although these data give no indication that agents with relatively weak profit-rate records were able to recoup by manipulating voyages to maximize output and thus fees, there is some evidence that an output-maximizing motive played a role in determining the behavior of agents. The evidence is drawn from a sample of 239 voyages. Enough information concerning these voyages is available to analyze the relationship between voyage length and the agent’s investment share. The most obvious area in which the interests of agents and owners might come into conflict is voyage length. An agent who had invested little might be tempted to keep the vessel at sea longer than the optimal time, since extending the voyage would be the principal way in which output could be augmented. An agent who had invested much would presumably be less tempted to extend the voyage to increase returns from fees. To test this proposition, the following regression was run:

+ b agent’s share in the investment + c ground dummies + d time

voyage duration =a

+ e the tonnage of the vessel.

453

Profits

Table 11.8

Determinants of Voyage Duration

Intercept Agent’s investment Atlantic” Indian“ Western Arctic” Time Tonnage

Coefficient

Prob > IT1

36.635 -4.189 - 16.385 -2.907 -2.109 0.079 0.013

0.0001 0.1597 0.0001 0.2299 0.2926 0.1699 0.2710

Source: Profits Data Set. Notes; Fvalue = 17.714. Prob > F = 0.0001. Adjusted R2 = 0.2964 Tomparison base = Pacific.

The ground dummies and the time and tonnage variables were intended to take into account the chief determinants of voyage duration, apart from luck and the output-maximizing tendency of the agent.2s The results are presented in table 11.8. The sign on the coefficient of the variable agent’s investment is consistent with the idea that the strength of the output-maximizing motive was inversely related to the share of the voyage owned by the agent. The effect is not large, however. On average the voyage of a vessel completely owned by its agent was, ceteris paribus, only about four months shorter than the voyage of a vessel of which the agent owned only one-thirty-second. The significance level is also not high. The regression provides only a modicum of support for the view that the power of the output-maximizing motive was greater, the smaller the investment share of the agent. To return to the main point to be taken from table 11.5, it is clear that the issue treated early in this chapter-the qualification of the competitive situation by the differing knowledge, skills, and innovative activities of agents-is important. The Howlands, the Swifts and Perrys and Aikens, John Knowles, and Edward Jones knew something valuable, and it was knowledge that was not widely shared. As to the rest of these agents who frequently sent vessels to sea, their records do not look so good in comparison with the records of their peers. But remember, their peers included such extraordinary businessmen as John Knowles and the rest of that able lot. Placed against another standard, most of the agents who fail the test of relative performance still did very well. Most of them paid their investors a competitive rate of return, paid themselves substantial fees, and earned for themselves and the other owners attractive profit rates. The very successful members of this group of experienced agent firms were clearly earning returns to knowledge and skill, or Schumpeterian returns to innovation, or both. How important were these returns when compared with 25. Voyages of brigs, schooners, and sloops were eliminated from the sample. There were few of these voyages, and there were special circumstances influencing their duration.

454

Chapter 11

average rates of return in the industry? A lower-bound estimate can easily be computed. The average rate of return (variant A) of all the voyages in the Profits Data Set, except for those managed by agent firms that ran at least forty voyages and that also earned an average rate of return greater than the industry average (13.7 percent), is 10.7 percent.26That is, excluding from the calculation those firms that most obviously earned returns from special knowledge and from innovation, the average rate of return for the industry drops by 3.0 percentage points, or about one-fifth.?’ Compared with the probable equilibrium profit rate of between 8 and 10 percent, the extra returns of the exceptional firms bulk even larger, averaging between 30 and almost 38 percent of the equilibrium rate. Finally, and both most appropriate and most impressive, the average rate of return (weighted by number of voyages) of the leading dozen agents was almost 11 percentage points higher than the returns of the firms against which they directly competed. The figure would be much higher if the calculations included among competitors only firms that were not themselves among the top dozen. It should be clear, then, that returns to special knowledge, exceptional skill, and innovative activity, taken together, were substantial. At the very least they accounted for one-sixth of total returns. Additionally, if equilibrium profits did run between 8 and 10 percent, as previously suggested, excess profits must have averaged between 3.7 and 5.7 percent, across the entire period (overall average rate of profit of 13.7 percent, minus the estimates of equilibrium profits). A reasonable guess would divide profits among sources in roughly the following way: Excess profits: (13.7 minus 10.0 equals) or (13.7 minus 8.0 equals) Returns to knowledge, skill, and innovation: (13.7 minus 10.7 equals) Payments for bearing uninsurable risk and uncertainty: (13.7 minus [3.7 plus 3.01 equals) or (13.7 minus [5.7 plus 3.01 equals)

3.7 percent 5.7 percent

3.0 percent 7.0 percent

5.0 percent.28

26. To compute this figure, average profit rates were weighted by voyages, rather than by years or investment. 27. Excluding the record-setting voyage of the Milwood, the industry average is 12.5 percent, and the margin over the average rate of profit of the body of the industry is 1.8 percent. 28. Omitting the voyage of the Milwood, the figures would be: (12.5 minus 10.0 equals) or (12.5 minus 8.0 equals)

2.5 percent 4.5 percent

455

Profits

Finally, how do the rates of return to whaling investment compare with those in other lines of activity? One would expect rates to vary from one type of business to another, reflecting differences in business risks, in the degree of control over the market exercised by firms, in the information possessed by the various firms in each industry, in the extent to which firms engaged in successful innovative action, and in the relationship between the observed figure and the equilibrium rate of profits in each activity. The simple comparison of rates of return is not likely to take one very far toward conclusions of historical importance. As Gavin Wright (1973, 5) puts it, “[Tlhere is an irreducible inconclusiveness about specifying ‘correct’ or ‘competitive’ rates of return in a world of uncertainty.” Establishing the extent of market imperfections and the effects of innovations is also difficult. The problem is compounded because the rates that are available for comparison refer to a few isolated years, so that the question of the state of the market-the extent to which it deviates from long-run equilibrium-is especially important. Finally, rates available for other industries rest on earnings data that combine all property returns-rents, interest, profits-and frequently some managerial salaries. If the whaling figures are to be juxtaposed to data for other industries, either the former must be augmented by estimates of the returns-other than profits-to all property, or net profit rates must be derived for the other industries. It is easier and safer to augment the whaling data. As is well known, the measured nineteenth-century rates of return were higher in manufacturing and railroading than in agriculture (see table 11.9).29 The usual interpretation of this result is that it represents a true differencethat is, a difference that produced a relative expansion of the two more profitable sectors and a relative contraction of the third. There are at least four other interpretations, all of which are typically mentioned in treatments of this subject. First, farmers were engaged in a very close approximation to perfect competition, whereas most manufacturing firms, large and small, and all railroads participated in markets characterized by substantial control on the part of the sellers. The same situation may have existed with respect to steamboats on Returns to knowledge, skill, and innovation: (12.5 minus 10.7 equals) Payments for bearing uninsurable risk and uncertainty: (12.5 minus [2.5 plus 1.81 equals or (12.5 minus [4.5 plus 1.81 equals)

1.8 percent

8.2 percent 6.2 percent

See also the roughly consistent results in table 10.14, panel C. The profit rate involved in the calculations of table 10.14 is variant B, whereas the one discussed in the text here is variant A. Variant A rates are always higher than variant B rates. 29. Most of the data refer to accounting profits, but, as Atack and Baternan (1990, 3-4) point out, “recent studies show accounting profit to be an acceptable proxy for the internal rate of return.”

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Table 11.9

Rates of Return for New Bedford Whaling and Various Industrial Sectors, Nineteenth Century (percentages)

1850

Manufacturing Agriculture North South, cotton Steamboats

Trunk Tributary Central Pacific Railroad New Bedford whaling

15.4

1860 23.7

1870 32.9

8.0

1880

Nineteenth Century

14.9

21.7"

10.3

9.2

9.7-10.0

8.5 24.1 15.2-24.0

9.0-13.7

1.2-1.7

4.6-8.7

13.4b 11.7-18.9'

Sources; For whaling rates see the text. Rates include profits and imputed interest. Other rates come from Atack and Bateman 1990, tables 2,4,5, 6, 8, 12. 'Averages of figures in the table. bPrivate unaided rate of return, 1863-1908. 'Averages of 1817-92.

tributaries-that is, small markets dominated by a few firms. One would expect to find higher profit rates in these sectors than in agriculture. The same consideration must be borne in mind when whaling returns are compared with those from manufacturing, railroads, and steamboats on tributaries. Second, the rates of return in manufacturing are biased upward, because the returns attributed to property include some managerial salaries and because interest costs were estimated on the basis of eastern market data, and no allowance was made for the higher interest costs prevailing in other parts of the country. Third, it is possible that levels of business risk differed by sector. For example, whaling may have been riskier than agriculture, manufacturing, railroading, and steamboating, although that is by no means certain. Finally, profit rates varied from year to year. For example, in 1880 the profit rate in whaling was substantially lower than that in manufacturing; if the whaling data for 1877 are substituted, whaling becomes very much more profitable than manufacturing. The whaling data refer to only one industry in one town. Thus whaling's profit rates could be expected to be more volatile than those of agriculture or manufacturing-large economic sectors spread over wide areas-if not of steamboating or railroading. The manufacturing rate, however, was also highly volatile, according to the limited information available: it fell by more than one-half between 1870 and 1880 (see table 11.9). Clearly, comparisons should not be drawn among single-year estimates, but among averages computed across many years of experience. Unfortunately, the data are not rich enough to permit such comparisons. The

457

Profits

evidence reported in the last column of table 11.9 is the closest possible approximation to the required information. It appears that the profit rate in whaling was, on average, higher than that in agriculture, perhaps chiefly because whaling was the riskier industry, but perhaps also because it experienced expansion during part of this period.30 The whaling rate was also probably higher than the rate enjoyed by the Central Pacific Railroad, the effects of the greater risk and disequilibrium profits in whaling overbalancing the effects of the monopoly position of the Central Pacific. In contrast, the average measured rate in manufacturing seems to have been somewhat higher than that in whaling. The manufacturing estimate may be biased upward, and manufacturers may have enjoyed some monopoly profits.” Perhaps most important, the estimate for whaling probably represents something closer to the equilibrium rate than does the estimate for manufacturing. The latter sector was expanding rapidly throughout the period-a fact suggesting that substantial excess profits were being made. In summary, the data on profits indicate that the New Bedford whaling industry was in disequilibrium from 1817 through the late 1830s: profit rates were persistently high and new firms were induced to join the industry. As the market moved toward equilibrium, the fleet continued to expand, but at a more sedate pace. At times, additions to the fleet were made too rapidly, the profit rate temporarily fell, and growth came to a brief halt. Tendencies toward a more fundamental downward adjustment appeared in the late 1850s. They were dramatically accentuated by the activities of the Confederate Navy during the Civil War. Contraction continued in the postwar years, but by the end of the 1860s the timing of the decline in the fleet fit market requirements so closely that profit rates held up. Overall, whaling profit rates seem to have been somewhat higher than returns in other comparable industries, presumably because business risks were higher among the whalers. Profit rates varied with productivity and the state of the market. Agents who stayed in the business for extended periods almost always did well, of course, in the sense that they paid all costs, including implicit interest on the investment of the owners and generous fees to themselves, and also turned a profit. There were wide differences in the average rates of return earned by the various agent firms, even if comparisons are drawn exclusively among firms that were

30. Lee Craig (1993, 82) has made estimates of the net profit rates in farming in census year 1860. These rates are probably conceptually comparable to our variant A estimates. He reports average farm profit rates of 10.4 percent in the Northeast and 9.7 percent in the Midwest. These figures are substantially higher than our variant A rate for 1860 (see table 11.2), but lower than our average for the full period. 31. The bias, if there is any, arises from the fact that some managerial wages are probably included in manufacturing profits. Atack and Bateman (1990, 35, 38) believe that they have more than compensated for the presence of managerial wages in profits and that their estimates of profit rates are actually biased downward.

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in the business for many years. Presumably these differences reflect rents to special knowledge and rewards for innovative activity. Knightian normal profits seem to have run no more than 5.0 to 7.0 percent per year, and excess profits, no more than 3.7 to 5.7 percent, while returns to special knowledge, special skills, and innovative activity came to at least 3.0 percent per year.

12

The Americans Replace the British

As the brief survey in chapter 2 indicated, a single nation at a time has typically dominated the world’s whaling activities, but there has been a series of displacements of one leader by another.’ In the seventeenth century the Dutch replaced the British. In the eighteenth century the British regained their former position, but were again replaced three-quarters of a century later-this time by their former colonists, the Americans. Before the end of the nineteenth century the Americans were replaced by the Norwegians, and within five decades Norway’s position had been undercut by the Japanese and the Russians. International rivalry has been characteristic of the industry; one such conflictbetween Great Britain and the United States-ushered in the Golden Age of American whaling. The short period of intense British-American competition (1817-42) provides an ideal laboratory in which to examine the effects on productivity and profits of the managerial choices and national-policy constraints that marked the British and American experiences. Whaling’s natural resource, whales, was not the property of a single country, nor were the stocks available to one country of better or worse quality than those available to any other. Except in time of war, the vessels of every maritime nation enjoyed equal access to the supply of whales. Moreover, for at least a century before 1817, the same store of technical knowledge was open to all competitors. The ship Truelove, for example, one of the most successful British 1. The argument in this chapter follows closely that in Davis, Gallman, and Hutchins 1987b. The current American data set, however, is much larger than the data set underlying the earlier paper; we have restricted the data set used in this chapter to voyages that brought back little or no sperm oil; a number of small errors have been corrected; and productivity has been calculated in a slightly different way. The most important change is the restriction of the data set to voyages that brought back chiefly baleen and whale oil. Also, the current profit estimates are of pure profits; the figures in the earlier paper were gross of various costs, and the profit rates published therein are therefore higher than the rates here. In spite of these differences, the chief conclusions in this chapter remain the same as those in the paper.

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whalers, was neither designed nor built in Great Britain. She was commissioned in the colonies in 1764 and owned and sailed by colonists, from colonial ports, until she was captured by the Royal Navy during the Revolutionary War. In 1780 the ship was sold to private owners in the United Kingdom. Between then and 1868 the Truelove completed seventy-two whaling voyages under British command (Jenkins 1921,194-95). Many of the most successful British whaling entrepreneurs were American CmigrCs who left Nantucket at the beginning or the end of the Revolutionary War.* Similarly, sailors and whaling experts were drawn from a variety of labor markets. The composition of the crew of the Pequod may reflect literary imperatives, but it does not distort the whaling world unduly. Melville sailed in American and Australian whalers in the 184Os, and knew that their crews were recruited from many races and many nations. American law required that whaling officers be American citizens, and, if penalties were to be avoided, twothirds of the crew also had to be American, but there were ways around the ruies.3 These international elements meant that to a large extent the differences between the British and American fleets reflected managerial and political decisions, not natural endowments or asymmetric information. First, although before 1825 or 1830 most US.whaling crewmen were Americans, American agents had access to an international labor market. After 1830, as the industry expanded and exhausted the native labor markets, crew lists frequently contain names such as Joe or Sam Kanaka, and the lists of stations, or positions, are scattered with descriptions such as Green Portuguese, Malay, and Spanish Islands. The present population of New Bedford, heavily weighted by descendants of nineteenth-century Portuguese and Cape Verde whalemen, attests to the international character of the whaling labor market. In Great Britain, where the government viewed the fishery as a training ground for the navy, both officers and crew members were usually British. Second, both American and British entrepreneurs were required by law to acquire their vessels from domestic shipbuilders or owner^.^ The Americans were fortunate to be buying from the cheaper source. Third, with the exceptions noted above, concerning the provenance of the 2. Jackson 1978, 93-94, describes negotiations in 1785 between one of the Rotches, then still at Nantucket, and British authorities. The proposal was made that five hundred Nantucketers, with their vessels, move to Milford Haven, on the west coast, and create a new whaling community. To this plan the London expatriates-Enderby and Champion-objected strenuously, and in their objections they were supported by the Board of Customs. The Londoners would have been pleased to add Nantucketers to their crews, but found the idea of a competitive whaling community at Milford Haven unappealing. Rotch left in a huff for Dunkirk, but plans for a Dunkirk-Nantucket whaling center fell through. 3. For example, the second rule did not hold if crewmen who were lost by desertion, illness, or death had to be replaced in a foreign labor market in which there were no American semen . Also, stateless persons counted as Americans. See An Act concerning the Navigation of the United States, 1817, Sfafs.at Large of USA 3:351-52; Hohman 1928,453-52. 4. There was an exception: foreign vessels captured in war could join the American fleet.

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The Americans Replace the British

vessel and the composition of the crew, the American effort was conducted in an economic environment largely free of government restrictions or subsidies. Heavy British subsidies were not without cost; major restrictions-direct and indirect-were placed on managerial decisions by the government. As a result of American and British restrictions, neither capital nor labor was completely mobile, and entrepreneurs in the two countries faced different relative prices. Because of these differences, or perhaps because of variations in taste or culture, there were international differences in vessel design, in the skill composition of crews, and in the organization of voyages. Thus, international differences in productivity could and did appear. The differences are both worthy of and readily susceptible to analysis. Pure productivity effectsincluding effects embodied in the capital stock, the human resources, and the institutional structure that regulated and constrained economic activity-seem easier to sort out in whaling than in most other industries. This chapter focuses on competition between the British northern fleet and the American Atlantic fleet in the years 1817-42. The American fleet captured some sperm whales, but the prize both primarily sought was the baleen whale. The areas hunted by the British included Davis Strait, Greenland, and the North Atlantic. The American fleet hunted there, and in the Central and South Atlantic when winter drove it from the northern water^.^ At the end of the War of 1812 the British fleet dominated world whaling, and more than two-thirds of the British effort was focused in the North Atlantic.6 In 1816 British owners sent about 130 vessels to the northern fishery. Although the numbers fluctuated substantially from year to year, an annual average of more than 125 British vessels sailed for the North Atlantic between 1814 and 1824 (McCulloch 1842, 163). In contrast, in the first peacetime year (1815) American owners sent no more than 20 vessels there. Twenty-seven years later, in 1843, the entire British fleet, northern and southern, had shrunk to fewer than 34 vessels. In that year the Americans could count almost 675 ships, barks, brigs, sloops, and schooners (Tower 1907, 121). To understand the dynamics of the competition, it is necessary to analyze the activities of the two fleets in the area in which they came into closest contact-the North Atlantic.’ 5 . It would be preferable to study fleets hunting over identical grounds, but this is impossible. Both fleets could have operated in the North and South Atlantic, but the British did not choose to send their vessels south in winter (see below) and the Americans usually did. The sperm whales appearing in the American records were taken chiefly in the Central and South Atlantic. 6 . It is estimated that there were about 150 vessels in the northern fleet (vessels bound for Davis Strait and Greenland) in 1820. In the same year the southern fleet (vessels hunting in the South Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Indian Ocean) is estimated to have had about 66 vessels (Jackson 1978, 117, 136). (The number of vessels in 1830 was extrapolated to 1820 on the tonnage of the southern fleet to obtain the number of vessels in the fleet in 1820.) 7. Data on the British northern fleet have been taken from British Parliamentary Papers and from Jenkins 1921: Jackson 1978: McCulloch 1842, 1854. The American data refer to New Bedford vessels hunting in the Atlantic and its northern reaches. The British northern fleet did not hunt in the Central and South Atlantic; they sought only baleen whales. In order to increase the

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12.1 Styles of Whaling No family is better known in the annals of the British southern whale fishery than the Enderbys. Like the other old, established whaling houses-the Champions, the Mathers, and the Roaches-the Enderbys were American expatriates. In 1787 they owned seven whalers; at the turn of the century they, together with the other three families, owned thirty-eight with an estimated value of &273,800.Samuel senior, Samuel junior, and Charles Enderby were the leading spokesmen for the British industry from the late eighteenth century until the failure of the Southern Whale Fishery Company, which Charles founded in 1849 in a last attempt to “rehabilitate British whaling.” The company survived for only twenty months. When it went bankrupt, Charles Enderby attributed the British loss in the competitive struggle with the Americans to three factors: the failure of British vessel design, the failure of British seamen, and the high costs of British vessels (Jackson 1978,99, 142; Fairburn 1945-55,2:1008). To these should be added a fourth: changes in government policy. For almost a century before 1849 British whalers had received a stream of direct and indirect government subsidies. According to William Fairburn (1945-55, 2: 1007), “The whaling industry was not a success in Britain except during the years that the government supported it with bounties and warships.” From 1795 until 1824, a subsidy of twenty shillings a vessel ton (it had been forty until 1790) inflated the returns from a typical voyage by $1,302, while very high tariffs protected British whalers from foreign competition in the domestic market.8In 1843, for example, when the price of whale oil in the American market was $0.41 a gallon, the British tarifSon whale oil was $0.72 a gallon (tariff figure from Jackson 1978, 121). In this chapter the trends in British and American productivity and profitability are compared, and an attempt is made to assess the relative contribution of each of the four factors-vessel design, vessel cost, the quality of seamen, and government policy-to the measured differences between the two fleets and to the eventual results of their competition. Although whaling agents on both sides of the Atlantic had access to the same technology, there were important differences between the technical concomparability of the two sets of data, we have omitted from consideration American voyages whose catch was at least 25 percent sperm oil by volume. See also appendix 12A. 8. Over time the bounty payments fluctuated: 1734-39, 20 shillings per ton; 1740-49, 30 shillings; 1750-76, 40 shillings; 1777-81, 30 shillings; 1782-86, 40 shillings; 1787-91,30 shillings; 1792-94,25 shillings; 1795-1824.20 shillings per ton (Jenkins 1921,306). To make comparisons easier, all cost and revenue figures in this chapter have been denominated in US.dollars of 1880. Michie (1977-78, 64, 68) says that, in the case of Scottish whaling in 1763-74, the bounty increased average profits from a negative 15.2 percent to a negative 2.2 percent. Over the profitable years 1800-1815 the bounty still accounted for a 3.5 percent return on investment for the Peterhead fleet (or almost one-tenth of its total profits) and a 4.3 percent return on investment for the Aberdeen fleet (more than one-fifth of its total profits).

463

The Americans Replace the British

figurations of the British and American fleets. The British used larger vessels and adopted a configuration that displayed a much higher laborkapital ratio than did that of the Americans. British owners recalled their vessels after each hunting ~ e a s o nmost ; ~ American vessels remained at sea for two or more seasons-an important difference. The institutional choice did not affect the mode of hunting whales; it did produce differences in the way a carcass was handled when it was brought back to the vessel. Finally, the two sets of agents adopted very different methods of paying their seamen. In 1815 the typical British northern whaler measured 323 tons, the typical New Bedford Atlantic whaler, only 168. Over time, the size of the average vessel rose in New Bedford and fell in Britain.Io By the turn of the decade there was little difference between the two: the British average was 302 tons (1841), the New Bedford, 283 tons (1838).” As Averch and Johnson (1962) have demonstrated for public utilities, when, because of the decisions of a regulatory body, profits are in part geared to the size of the capital stock, under a wide variety of conditions a firm has an incentive to “gold plate”-that is, to use more than a market cost-minimizing quantity of capital. In Great Britain the amount of the government subsidy was based on the registered tonnage of the vessel, so there was an incentive to use larger vessels than cost minimization would have called for. When the subsidy was cut off in 1824, the incentive disappeared. The decline in British vessel size can be traced in part to that event. It was costlier to build vessels in Great Britain than in the United States. Historians and contemporaries have generally agreed about the range of the ratio of British to American vessel costs. It appears that, depending on time, place, and source, a British vessel cost between 1.5 and 2.2 times as much per ton as a similar vessel built in the United States (Hutchins 1941, 202). Higher construction costs, however, were partly offset by lower interest charges. Over the period 1816 to 1842 the long-term yield of British 3 percent consols averaged 3.62 percent, and the safest American securities (in the earlier years Massachusetts 5s [5% bonds], in the later, Boston City %), 4.96 percent.’* The typical British northern whaler was rigged as a ship, carried six or seven small boats, and employed forty to fifty men. The Brunswick, for example, signed on twenty-three additional crew at Stromness, Orkney, on 21 March 9. Michie (1977-78, 75) says that by the early 1850s, “[e]specially amongst the ships traveling the longer distance to Davis Strait, ‘wintering-out’ was adopted, though it remained an exception to normal practice.” Eber (1989, 11) says that the Americans introduced the practice in 1851. It may have been associated with the exploitation of Cumberland Sound. 10. The size of British vessels actually increased over the first fifteen years. Chatterton (1926, 47). for example, puts the average size of the Hull fleet at 330 tons per vessel in 1830. 11. After 1838, however, New Bedford ships moved into the Pacific and Indian Ocean fisheries, and the American Atlantic fleet was again dominated by brigs, sloops, and schooners (see below). 12. Homer and Sylla 1991, 195, 196,299,305. The U.S. yields refer to Massachusetts 5 s (181621) and Boston City 5s (1824, 1825, 1827, 1829, 1830, 1832-42).

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1824. “With a total of fifty he would be able to dispatch seven five-oared whaleboats in pursuit of whales, with enough men left over to handle the ship” (Ross 1985,6). The New Bedford fleet was more diverse. Between 1816 and 1825 ships accounted for about one-half of the Atlantic voyages, brigs, sloops, and schooners, the rest. Those proportions changed over time. In the mid-1830s virtually all Atlantic voyages were conducted by ships. Then the proportions shifted again; in the 1840s virtually all Atlantic vessels were of the three small types (brigs, schooners, and sloops) or were barks. An American vessel usually carried only four boats, and the crew averaged fewer than twenty-five (twentyfive on a ship, twenty on a bark, fifteen on a smaller vessel). Over the full period, however, despite the substitution of the smaller barks, brigs, sloops, and schooners for the larger ships, average crew size rose from just fewer than twenty to just more than twenty-three. Differences in vessel and crew sizes gave the two fleets different labor/capital ratios. On average an American vessel employed 0.08 men per ton, a British vessel, 0.14, during the months of active hunting. There is little evidence of a move toward a single laborkapital ratio. In the years 1817-26 the British used 1.9 times as much labor per ton, and the ratio for 1836-42 was still 1.7. The disparity may reflect adjustment to differences in crew quality or in hunting style. Initially, it was probably also a response to the government’s requirement that an owner of a British vessel sign two apprentices for each one hundred tons, if he wished to qualify for the tonnage bonus (Jackson 1978, 72; Crisp 1954, 30). Weather in the North Atlantic and Davis Strait is foul. Between storms and the ice pack it was impossible to hunt for more than a few months in the late spring and summer. Vessels that failed to retreat south in time were caught in the ice-leading, at best, to severe hardship, at worst, to sailors’ deaths and vessels’ destruction. In 1830 nineteen of the ninety-one vessels in the British fleet and one French whaler were destroyed by the ice pack. They included six double-bottomed and reinforced whalers, designed for the Arctic ground, that were smashed in a single accident. Attempting to shelter behind a large ice floe, the Eliza Swan, the St. Andrew, the BafJin, the Rattle< the Achilles, and the French Ville de Dieppe formed a line, bow to stem, and very close together. The floe was driven on the Eliza Swan and the St. Andrew, and “passing along the line dashed against [the other vessels] with such energy that within fifteen minutes these four strongly built, especially fortified whalers . . . were. . . converted into mere fragments of wood.”13 Trapped vessels that escaped being 13. Chatterton 1926, 56-59, 62; Crisp 1954, 60-61. Although the city did not lose its first whaling vessel until 1813, of a total of twenty Aberdeen ships involved in whaling over the years 1800 to 1840, 60 percent were lost while whaling (Michie 1977-78, 69-70). Overall the record was almost certainly not that bleak. Of the 2,561 voyages made to the northern ground over twentyseven of the twenty-eight years between 1815 and 1840 (the losses, if any, for 1839 were not reported), 112 vessels were lost at sea-about 4 percent of the total (McCulloch 1854, 642).

This map shows the principal northern whaling grounds-Spitsbergen, Davis Strait, Baffin Bay, Hudson Bay, the Beaufort Sea, the Chukchi Sea, Bering Strait, the Bering Sea, and the Sea of Okhotsk. Courtesy of the Printing Services Department at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

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crushed fared little better. In 1836, for example, the British whaler Dee was caught in the freeze and remained icebound for five months and eight days (until 16 March 1837). By the time the ship returned to its home port (Aberdeen), forty-six men had died; another died later of illness contracted during the winter (Ross 1985, 89-107). British vessels went north each spring and returned to port when the hunting season was over. Except in an emergency, no major repairs were done at sea. Returning vessels were refitted and repaired in the dockyards of their home ports, and blubber was refined at a shore-based refinery. For the Americans the journey south did not always mean a journey home. Instead of steering for New Bedford or Nantucket each fall, many vessels headed for the Central or South Atlantic and continued the hunt. American agents had concluded that it was more efficient to keep them out for at least two seasons. As a result repairs, even major ones, had to be made at sea. British vessels returning home each season required few skilled artisans; in a forty- to fifty-man crew there would be a cooper and probably a carpenter (Chatterton 1926, 53). American crews, even though they were much smaller, almost always included not only a cooper and a carpenter, but usually a blacksmith and often a sailmaker, boatbuilder, painter, mechanic, machinist, and caulker, or a second cooper, carpenter, or blacksmith. The difference in time at sea also had implications for the method of storing and transporting oil. In the British case, blubber was brought back unrefined. After a whale was killed, its carcass was towed to the ship and attached with blocks and tackle to the mast. The head was usually severed to make it easier to get at the baleen, “but a boat can enter the mouth of a whale, and, if necessary, several men could at the same time stand upright and be at work, removing the whalebone from the upper jaw, the head of the whale being about onethird of the bulk of the creature (Ross 1985, 187). At the same time, under the direction of the specksioneel; or head fat cutter, the expert of experts on the cutting of whales, men working from mollie boats and from the carcass itself flensed the blubber off the skeleton, and gummed (scraped) the bones.I4 The blocks of blubber were then hoisted on deck, trimmed by the krengers, skinned by skinners, sliced into small pieces by choppers, and pushed into the speck trough and down the lull (the process controlled by the lull-boy, equipped with nippers) to the hold where the skeeman and the king stored the pieces in barrels (Chatterton 1926, 132; Ross 1985,61-63). 14. On Dutch whalers by the seventeenth century it was the specksioneer, not the captain, who was the final authority. This command structure was initially adopted by the British, but by the late eighteenth century, at least in the northern fleet, the framework had evolved dramatically. Even while whaling, the vessel was under the direct command of a regular seafaring captain, and “the specksioneer was merely a senior harpooner” (Chatterton 1926, 132). Not only had experience demonstrated conclusively that ship handling and navigation were very important, but captains had become experts on whales and their habits. Chatterton, however, says that, on American whalers as late as the early nineteenth century, the specksioneer still retained some of his earlier authority.

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The Americans Replace the British

The first stages of the American process were similar, but instead of the cutters’ working from mollie boats, a cutting stage was rigged and the men worked from the stage. A winch was used to peel the blubber from the carcass, and the strips were cut into pieces aboard the vessel. For the British the disassembly process was complete when the blubber was barreled; for the Americans there was still much to do. Only after it had been minced and then boiled in the tryworks was the blubber, by now semirefined oil, stored in barrels. An average voyage for a British vessel was five and one-half months, and there is no evidence of a trend over time. For the New Bedford sailors who worked the North Atlantic, the average was almost fourteen months, and the figure rose from just over eleven and one-half months to just over eighteen in the years before 1843. It might appear that the British and the Americans drew from different pools of institutional technology, but this was not the case. Both technologies (one season and then home for repairs and refining, versus several seasons with some repairs and refining effected aboard ship) were known and available in both countries. Like the choice of different production technologies in high-wage low-interest and low-wage high-interest countries, the choice of an appropriate institutional structure was made by the agent-the entrepreneur who managed the voyage. Theory suggests that his choice was dictated by the desire to maximize profits, but the initial conditions were very different in Great Britain than in the United States-leading the British entrepreneur to choose short voyages, the American, longer ones. In the first place, although American vessels did at times shift from whaling to the merchant service and vice versa, while they were in the whaling fleet (with few exceptions) they focused solely on whaling. For the British northern fleet, whaling was often a part-time activity, an enterprise of choice in the off-season for the merchant trade or, a somewhat more permanent transfer, when that trade was in the doldrums. It was not unusual for a vessel to operate as a whaler in the summer and transfer to the coastal or Baltic trade in the winter. In the second place, profits are maximized within a structure of relative prices. To the British entrepreneur, effective relative prices, as opposed to those observed in the market, were until 1824 biased by the mechanism chosen by his government to distribute the bounty payment. A British shipowner was paid a lump-sum subsidy per registered ton for each voyage to the northern fishery, and the Board of Customs counted each round trip from home port to home port as a voyage. In the same way that the institutional mechanism-the subsidy-induced businessmen to choose larger vessels than market prices would have dictated, the government’s policy led British agents to bring their vessels back at the end of each season. Consider what might have happened had the Board of Customs chosen the same mechanism for distributing the subsidy to the northern fleet as to the southern. In that case a premium of E.500 was paid to each of the four vessels returning with the largest catch, rapidly declining

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bonuses to some predetermined number of other ships that performed well, and nothing at all to those who returned relatively empty (Jackson 1978, 96-97). It has often been suggested that relative voyage lengths explain the differences in the structure of labor payments. Whether or not that is correct, the institutions that evolved in the two countries were quite different.I5 In the United States, in addition to subsistence and occasional supplements, each crew member was paid a specified fraction of the net revenue earned on the voyage. The sum of these lay payments rose from about 3 1 percent of net revenues in the early 1840s to about 36 percent in the mid-1850s (see table 5.15). In Britain the payment was a mix of monthly wages, bonuses that were “catch” dependent, and until 1824 some fraction of the government tonnage subsidy. Despite the higher laborkapital ratio on British ships, annual payments to labor were lower than in the United States. The effect of larger crew size was more than offset by the shorter length of the voyage. Thus, labor costs (exclusive of subsistence) on British vessels averaged 24 percent of revenues per voyage of five and one-half months in the profitable years 1817-36. (See appendix 12C.) A seaman of each country generated about the same amount of revenue per year, but the cost of a year’s work by a British seaman was about two-fifths more than the cost of an American’s work. Moreover, there are at least three reasons to think that this 40 percent differential, large as it is, represents a lower bound on the effective ratio of the cost of British seamen to the cost of American seamen. First, because of the differential demand generated by the need to repair and refit at sea, there was a much higher concentration of artisans on American vessels. Second, the British government continued to attempt to entice American whalemen to relocate in England or Scotland and lend their services to the British effort. Finally, in the southern fishery, despite an average total lay of 44 percent, British owners were unable to attract seamen as skilled as the Americans. Thus, on average the quality of American crews was probably higher, and an adjustment for those quality differences would push the ratio above 1.4.

12.2 Productivity Differentials On the one hand, the victory achieved by the American industry might be explained purely in terms of market opportunities. That is, both fleets might have been equally productive, but the Americans might have been favored by locational factors, lower input prices (lower opportunity costs for labor, for example), or more favorable treatment at the hands of their government. On 15. In the southern fishery, where voyages were longer, the British used a system of payment very similar to the American. Both made the lay the major component of the remuneration package. See Jackson 1978, 100; chapter 5 above.

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The Americans Replace the British

the other hand, the victory might have resulted from differences in physical productivity, produced by a better choice of technology (either narrowly technical or broadly institutional), higher qualities of nationality-tied inputs (either capital or labor), or better entrepreneurial skills. The productivity index introduced in chapter 1 and used extensively in the analysis of American productivity change (chapter 8) can, with only minor adjustments, provide the basis for a comparison of the physical productivities of the two fleets. In this formulation only two outputs are distinguished: whale oil and baleen. New Bedford whalers returned from the North Atlantic with some sperm oil, which has been treated in the calculations as whale oil. This procedure biases the estimated relative American productivity downward. Nineteenth-century whalemen recognized that more resources were required to produce a barrel of sperm oil than of whale oil, and the long-run relative price of the two commodities confirms that view. As before, no allowance is made for vessels lost at sea; only those that returned to port are included. The issues involved in incorporating lost vessels (and men) are complex. In any case both fleets displayed virtually identical loss rates; ignoring losses should not affect relative levels of estimated productivity. Labor is measured in man-months, capital, in ton-months-the tons referring to registered vessel capacity. The British and American formulas for measuring tonnage were not identical, but it is likely that the differences cancel out.I6 The tonnage measures were probably similar and are assumed to be identical for the purposes of the calculations. One major problem remains. Records indicate that, upon returning from a voyage, an American crew was paid off. Although there were substantial voyage-to-voyage differences, the typical vessel remained in port for sixty to seventy-five days (see note 20), during which time it was refitted and outfitted. At the end of the refitting and with a new crew aboard, it again put to sea. British vessels returned after only five and one-half months at sea and did not set out again until an additional six and one-half months had passed. For Amer16. The British and American formulas for estimating vessel capacity were similar, but not identical (see chapter 6). If all measurements were made in the same way, the U.S. rule would result in measured tonnages just over 1 percent smaller than those produced by the British rule. Measurements, however, were not made in the same way. In both countries breadth was to be measured at the widest place-in the words of the British law, “from the outside of the outside plank in the broadest part of the ship.” For the British the measurement was “exclusive of all manner of doubling planks that may be wrought upon the sides of the ship”; the American rule makes no mention of deductions. Since northem whalers were often doubled and sheathed, the American system probably produced wider breadths than did the British. Both countries called for measures of length from stem post to stem post; in the American case the measurement was made above the main deck, in the British case, along the keel, with an allowance made for the overhang of the bow but not the stem. Again, the American dimension was probably slightly larger than the British (McCulloch 1842,977; An Act for Registering and Clearing Vessels, Regulating the Coasting Trade, and for Other Purposes, 1789, Srars. ar Large of USA 13-65). The British rule changed in 1836, but vessels built before that date were allowed to retain their original measurements. In our calculations all British whalers were assumed to have been built before 1836.

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Table 12.1

Total Factor Productivity, British Northern Fleet and American (New Bedford) Atlantic Fleet, 1817-42 (percentages) A. American Productivity as % of British Productivity Variant S

Variant L

Variant M

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

74 78 122

107 107 187

139 131 243

1817-42

89

129

164

B. Indexes of American and British Productivity, Base 1817-25, Variant L

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

us.

Great Britain

I00 121 69

100 121 39

Sources; See the text and appendix 12A.

ican vessels the time spent in port was needed to refit and outfit. Refitting certainly did not take three and one-quarter times as long in Britain. The question is, what happened to the British vessel and crew during that six-and-onehalf-month hiatus? In an attempt to work around this problem, three sets of productivity indexes were calculated (see table 12.1). They differ in their measurement of the time dimension of the two inputs: man-months and ton-months. Variant S (time at sea) uses months at sea. Clearly, since the procedure makes no allowance for the time ships were down during refitting or for unemployment among the crew between voyages, variant S understates the true volumes of capital and labor used by the industry. In the American case the understatement of labor is probably slight; the fleet was expanding and vessels sailed regularly, regardless of season, so that a seaman discharged after one voyage could usually sign on for another immediately, if he chose. That was not the case for British seamen, who at the end of a voyage would have to wait more than six months to ship again in the northern fleet. In the meantime British seamen could seek employment in other activities to tide them over, but there was no guarantee of reemployment. The variant S estimates thus understate the volume of inputs used by the two fleets, thereby overstating productivity. The overstatement is greater for the British, and consequently the estimates overvalue the comparative productivity levels of the British fleet. The variant M (maximum inputs) estimates rest on the assumption that both men and vessels were held out of other gainful activity when they were not whaling. Given the relative sea times of the two fleets, variant M maximizes the relative productivity of the American fleet.

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The Americans Replace the British

If some part of the downtime imputed to British vessels in variant M was actually spent in another productive activity (the coasting trade, for example), the estimates would exaggerate the relative productivity of the American fleet-but not badly. The opportunities for off-season employment open to British whalers would have been second-best alternatives (why else would an owner risk his capital in the waters off Greenland or in Davis Strait during the whaling season?), much less productive than whaling.” A similar argument can be made for the biases inherent in variant M’s assumption that there was no alternate employment for workers. No plausible maritime alternative could have employed a majority of the fifty-man British crew, most of whom had little traditional maritime experience. A large part of a British crew would have been either unemployed or forced to take less remunerative, unskilled positions ashore during the long period between voyages. Why would a man risk life and limb in northern waters if he had a close employment substitute available? Nevertheless, the most likely estimate of relative productivities is not the M estimate, but something between variants S and M: that vessels were usually employed in the off-season, and a fraction, no more than one-third, of the crew transferred with their vessel to mercantile pursuits. Finally both of these indexes incorporate three recognized biases, each of which leads to an understatement of American relative productivity. First, the British brought back unprocessed blubber; Americans tryed out the blubber aboard ship and returned with semirefined oil. A correct productivity comparison would require that some additional labor and capital be assigned to British production to adjust for the resources used by the Americans in the first stage of the refining process. Second, the inclusion of skilled craftsmen in the American crews meant that a great deal of refitting and repair was done at sea. Shorebased shipyard workers, of course, were employed when the vessel returned home. The British employed shipyard workers in their home ports for almost all refitting and repair. Variant S picks up none of those workers, and variant M captures only a part of the labor done ashore. Variant M assumes the crew stayed with the vessel while it was in port, and the crewmen could have been used to refit. British crewmen were seamen, however, not artisans; unaided, they could not have carried out many of the repairs needed after a season in the northern seas. Third, the British brought back only whale oil, the Americans, a 17. Michie (1977-78,69) finds evidence of vessels used in the off-season in the Baltic, Atlantic, Mediterranean, and coastal trades. For example, he cites the case of “two Aberdeen whaling ships, the June and the Neptune,” that “returned from a voyage to America in February 1809 in time to sail at the end of the month for the whale-fishing,” He also says that owners needed to keep their vessels regularly at work in profitable undertakings and, in the years 1800 to 1820, “[wlhaling was proving sufficiently attractive. . . because of good catches and high profits, and so shipping moved into the whaling trade.” If this argument is correct, it suggests that the tonnage bonus was sufficient to make whaling more attractive than the merchant marine, but the industry without the subsidy was not as profitable. If it had been, entrepreneurs would have adopted the American institutional technology of longer voyages.

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mix of whale and sperm oil. To the extent that, in the long run, prices reflect real costs, sperm whales must have been more costly (i.e., required more labor and capital) to catch than baleens. Between 1816 and 1845 the price of sperm oil was, on average, 2.3 times that of whale oil. Both index variants assume that a gallon of oil was a gallon of oil, thus tending to understate U.S. relative productivity. The variant L (most likely) estimates were produced to deal at least roughly with some of these biases and to establish productivity levels between the limiting S and M variants that would more closely approach the truth. They make three adjustments to the data underlying variant S. First, American output levels are raised by 10 percent, to take into account both the trying out of oil aboard American whalers and the fact that some of the oil they brought back was the more valuable sperm oil.‘s Second, the time dimension of the capital input for both the British and American fleets is taken to be the time at sea plus two and one-half months for refitting between voyages. The typical (mean) refitting period for American vessels was, in fact, about two and one-half months (table 6.7). British vessels were a shorter time at sea, which might suggest that they required less refitting. They hunted exclusively in the harsh Arctic environment, however; American whalers spent only part of their time in the Arctic. Furthermore, American vessels carried artisans who were able to make some repairs at sea. Finally, British whalers that operated in the coasting or Baltic trade in the off-season would need to be refitted twice, once to clean and prepare them for mercantile service, once to refit them as whalers. It seems unlikely, then, that British whalers required less time to refit than did American whalers, and they may have required more. It is not clear that all British northern vessels found employment in the offseason, or that those that did were as productively engaged then as when hunting whales. The third adjustment is to assume that British whalers and crewmen were only three-quarters as productive in the off-season as during the whaling season. Even with these adjustments, the variant L estimates are likely to be biased against a showing of high American productivity. The estimates were made in the manner described in chapter 8 (for further details see appendix 12A), which yields productivity indexes expressed in natural logs. The antilogs were then taken and used to compute the figures in table 12.1. The indexes are highly volatile from one year to the next. To get a clear sense of the relative performance levels of the two fleets, it is necessary to study multiyear averages, and such averages appear in table 12.1. The three variants give very different results, but the preferred estimates (variant L) suggest that in the period 1817-35 the productivity levels of the two fleets were 18. Michie (1977-78, 71) places the 1846 cost of “boiling and coopering” at E l a ton (tun) or about 2.3 cents a gallon-about 7 percent of the American price. Since the whale-oil market was competitive, that figure must also reflect about 7 percent of the cost of the oil.

473

The Americans Replace the British

close (panel A). The Americans seem to have been a little more productive, and the true margin of difference is almost certainly greater than the figures in the table show. In the period 1835-42, when the American fleet came into its own, the productivity gap became very wide. Even the variant S estimates, seriously biased against a finding of high American productivity, show that the American fleet was more productive. The measured gap, according to variant S, was 22 percent; the true difference was more likely between 87 percent (variant L) and 143 percent (variant M). The dramatic relative American gain shown in panel A was not due to a dramatic improvement in American productivity. As chapter 8 shows, American whaling productivity fell during this period, in the Atlantic fleet as well as the entire industry (table 12.1, panel B). The relative American gain resulted from an even greater drop in British productivity. Why was the experience of the British fleet in this period so unsatisfactory? The fleet had been shrinking and now consisted of very few vessels. Average productivity reflected a relatively small number of unsuccessful voyages. As the fleet shrank, it may have lost its best vessels and men. The few voyages at the end may have been conducted by thoroughly depreciated hulks from which agents were trying to squeeze a last bit of revenue. Finally, the sharp decline in productivity may have reflected a thinning out of whale stocks in the northern grounds, due either to overhunting or to the passage of whale groups under the Arctic ice cap to the Western Arctic, a ground not yet hunted (Jackson 1978, 126-30). One probable reason the American fleet was more successful is that it was less dependent on the northern grounds; its versatility served it well. Also, unlike the British, the American fleet was expanding and drawing to it able agents, captains, officers, and boatsteerers. Eventually, the Americans had trouble maintaining the quality of their corps of seamen (see chapter 8) in the face of the strong labor demands created by the expansion of the fleet. Nonetheless, there was a vitality to the industry at this time that could not be matched in Great Britain.

12.3 Differential Profitability The productivity indexes show that resources devoted to whaling by American firms produced, on average, more oil and bone than the same quantities of labor and capital did when applied to the same task by British firms. It is profit, however, not productivity that induces entrepreneurs to organize economic activity, capitalists to provide vessels and whalecraft, and workers to leave the farm for a life before the mast. Relative profits are not easy to estimate. Not only are the British aggregate data open to questions of interpretation, but there are theoretical problems as well, stemming from the part-time nature of British whaling. On the one hand, if whaling was a secondary activity-pursued only when there were no mer-

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cantile opportunities-then any return over total variable cost represented a net gain to the primary activity. On the other hand, if management chose to engage in the Baltic or coasting trade only to make use of vessels when weather prevented Arctic whaling, then total whaling profits were the profits earned in whaling plus any return above total variable costs earned in the mercantile trade. If the two activities are assumed to have been competitive, however, it should be possible to estimate whaling profits directly. Assume that the coasting and Baltic trades were competitive with whaling and that they could be pursued year round. Then, if firms chose to whale in the summer, not only must the profits in whaling have been higher than those that could have been earned in the merchant service, but also they must represent the actual profits from whaling. In short, it is as if there were two firms-a whaling firm that operated in the summer and a mercantile service that operated the rest of the year.I9We have assumed that this institutional structure best characterizes the British fleet, and that assumption provides the basis for the profitability calculations reported in this section. Table 12.2 gives several alternative estimates of the average profits that were (or might have been) earned by a British entrepreneur, as well as those of his American competitors.2" The two sets of British estimates in panel A and column 1 of panel B reflect two alternative assumptions about the relative cost of British vessels and outfits (see appendix 12B). Panel A shows that before 1836 both fleets were making good profits, but thereafter profits fell, disastrously for the British. These patterns are very similar to those of the productivity data. The contrasts between panel A and panel B, column 1, however, are of greater interest. The panel A estimates are based on the total revenues actually 19. Again, of course, this set of assumptions implies that the merchant service was more proftable than off-season whaling in the Central and South Atlantic. Moreover, each of the three possible assumptions about industrial structure opens the possibility that the decline in British whaling could be attributed, at least in part, to the declining profitability of the Baltic trade, as trade patterns shifted, andor of the coasting trade, as railroads offered increased competition. 20. The U.S. profit figures are voyage figures from the New Bedford fleet averaged by year. Revenues were calculated by multiplying each element of the annual catch (whale oil, sperm oil, and whalebone) by its average price in the year of the vessel's return. Costs included (1) depreciation, (2) value of vessels lost at sea, (3) cost of outfitting the vessel, (4) forgone interest, ( 5 ) wages, and (6) crew maintenance. See appendix 12B. British profits were calculated similarly, except that the sources were not voyage records but aggregate studies and reports on part or all of the whaling fleet. These sources include Jenkins 1921; Scoresby [I8201 1969; Jackson 1978; McCulloch 1842; House of Commons 1845. All other estimates are drawn from the sources cited. See appendix 12B. The American profit calculations are based on the assumption that vessels remained in port between voyages for an average of 2.5 months-a figure that almost certainly represents an upper bound. Both the median and the modal stay in port for all New Bedford voyages returning from the Atlantic ground between 1817 and 1843 was 2.0 months. If, on the assumption that any vessel that did not put to sea on another whaling voyage for more than 10 months after it returned was actually up for sale or engaged in some alternative nonwhaling activity, the distribution of observations on port time is truncated at that figure, the mean for all 1817-43 Atlantic voyages is 2.3 months. Of the 21 1 observations 119 have port times of less than 2 months and another twenty of less than 3.

475

The Americans Replace the British

Table 12.2

Profit Rates, British Northern Fleet and American (New Bedford) Atlantic Fleet, 1817-42 A. Actual Rates us.

Great Britain

16.2 17.6 7.9

7.2 to 22.8 28.5 to 51.8 - 18.6 to - 15.0

~~

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

B. British Counterfactual Rates"

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

Fleet Required to Use British Vessels

Fleet Allowed to Use American Vessels

-9.6 to -0.3 - 14.0 to -6.6 -27.3 to -26.6

4.4 -3.7 -32.5

12B. "Rates the British fleet would have earned, had the fleet received no subsidies or tariff protection.

Sources: See appendix

received by British shipowners. They include earnings from the subsidy as well as from the sale of oil and bone at tariff-inflated domestic prices. The panel B estimates represent the hypothetical revenues that shipowners would have earned had there been no subsidy and had they been forced to market their output at prices that prevailed in the United States (i.e., prices unaffected by the British tariff). Finally, the data in panel B, column 2, describe the profit rates British owners would have earned if there had been no tariffs or subsidies, but they had been able to buy American vessels.21 Two conclusions stand out. First, if the British government had pursued a hands-off policy (that is, no bounties, no tariffs, and no military blockades) but had continued to demand that owners use British-built vessels, it is highly unlikely that there would have been any British whaling industry. By the lower estimate of the cost of British vessels (1.5 times the American cost), profits in all three periods would have been negative. Nor would the substitution of American for British vessels have improved the situation much (panel B, column 2). At the same time, the owners of American whalers were earning pure profits of between 7.9 and 17.6 percent. Second, given the actual levels of government support, profits in Great Britain were easily sufficient to command new investment until the mid-1830s. British whaling profits in the period 1817-25 fell into the 7 to 23 percent range, and these returns were in addition to implicit interest, computed at competitive 21. Oddly enough, loss rates would have been higher if US.hulls had been used in place of British hulls. Losses would have been lower with American hulls, but, since U.S. hulls were so much cheaper than British hulls, investment itself would have been lower and loss rates would have been higher.

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rates. Between 1826 and 1835 earning rates were even higher. They almost certainly approached 30 and may have been over 50 percent. After 1835, despite the continued protection afforded by the tariff, the British industry was in severe straits. Whatever the measure of vessel cost, profits were negative on average, and substantially so. Losses more than wiped out imputed interest. No wonder the industry contracted rapidly. The analysis to this point has laid out the chief differences between the two fleets, but it has not systematically explored the roots of the poor performance of the British. There are data that allow the issues to be sorted out. The relatively high prices of the vessels that the British were forced to employ were partly to blame. In order to protect the domestic shipbuilding industry, Parliament prohibited the importation of foreign-built vessels in the Navigation Acts (repealed in 1849). A potential shipowner who wished to sail under the British flag and to enjoy the protection of both the navy and the tariff had to use a vessel that had been built in Great Britain or one of its colonies. When the American states ceased to be colonies, their vessels were included in the prohibition. Had the battle of the North Atlantic been fought thirty years later, British whalemen could have turned to Canadian shipyards for vessels that were as good as their American counterparts and sold for even lower prices; in the 1830s and 1840s the Canadian shipbuilding industry was still in its infancycapable of exporting fewer than one hundred poor-quality vessels a year. (In 1860, or even in 1850-when they could have turned to American shipyardsthere were few whaling entrepreneurs left in either England or Scotland.22) Even if British owners had been able to use American-built vessels while continuing to sell their oil in the protected domestic market, it is unlikely that the industry would have remained economically viable after the mid-1830s. Using American-built vessels would have yielded positive profits in 1817-25 and 1826-35, but over the last seven years (1836-42) not even that would have made British whaling profitable. A complete substitution of American for British vessels would not have 22. The anti-American prohibition was contained in 26 Geo. 111 c. 60, an extension of the Navigation Acts that dealt with the registration of vessels from the “now American colonies.” The law was finally repealed in 1849. See Hutchins 1941, 175. During the years in question the Canadian industry was not in a position to meet the demands of the whaling industry. Its “vessels, which in model resembled the American cargo ships, were generally constructed at first of relatively poor hardwoods, and later of Canadian spruce, which timbers were often used unseasoned, were frequently of light scantling [the dimensions of timber in breadth and depth], and were commonly poorly fitted and fastened.” The Canadian vessels were, however, inexpensive. In 1840 they sold for about three-fourths as much as those built in the yards south of the border. By 1860 the industry had expanded, quality had improved, and relative prices had fallen. Canadian shipyards had become a force to be reckoned with in world shipbuilding (Hutchins 1941, 300-301). Although there were still nearly forty vessels employed in the northern fishery during the early 1860s (the average for 1861-64 was thirty-eight), most of their activity was directed toward hunting seals rather than whales. Over the decade 1848-57, for example, those vessels brought hack on average 11 1 whales a year. At the same time they were returning 95,927 seals. The seals were valued for both oil and fur (Jackson 1978, 145-46).

477

The Americans Replace the British

saved the industry had there been no bounty and had British whalemen been forced to compete with Americans in the British domestic market. Selling at American output prices, they would rarely have been able even to cover imputed interest on investment. It seems that Fairburn is correct: British whaling was a creature of war and government policy. Before the Boston Tea Party, the New England colonies supplied four-fifths of the whale oil sold in the British market (Jackson 1978, 66). Early in 1783 British owners were faced by Yankee whalers in the Thames, “with full cargoes of oil of excellent quality , . . offered below the prevailing London price” (Fairburn 1945-55,2:996). Given the industry’s history, the Yankees should not have been surprised that their attempt to penetrate the British domestic market was met by the government’s imposing a prohibitive tariff on whale oil and by one more formal attempt to induce Nantucket whalemen to shift their base of operations to Great Britain. In a free market the advantage goes to the low-cost, efficient producer, but how many markets are free? In a market that is not free, the advantage goes to the producer with the most political clout. In the 1780s the political position of British whalemen and whale oil merchants was strong (they had, after all, no domestic competitors), and was reinforced by the international situation. A militarily strong France lay across the Channel, and it was obvious to all that the Royal Navy was the island nation’s first line of defense. For an industry long dependent on the good offices of the government, it is not surprising that the absolute and relative decline in the profitability of British whaling can, in part, be traced to changes in government policy, but this is not the only explanation. The two economies-Great Britain and the United States-developed at different rates and in somewhat different directions, with implications for the relative profitability of the two whaling fleets-at least in the short term. On the one hand, government policy did change, and with it profits. In 1824 the government, bowing to free-trade sentiment and pressure from the manufacturing sector, broke with half a century of tradition and refused to renew the tonnage bounty. One historian has maintained that its value was “[slo slight . . . that its passing was hardly noticed,” but the bounty had accounted for between one-fifth and one-fourth of the industry’s profits over the nine preceding years (Jackson 1978, 119). Similarly, although the tariff on whale oil remained high until 1843, the impost on the importation of some substitutes was cut sharply at an earlier date. Take the case of rapeseed oil. Wool is cleansed with oil before it is spun. Ideally, a manufacturer would use oil made from the seed of the rape plant, but whale oil could be substituted in producing cheaper ~ 1 0 t hThe . ~ ~price of whale 23. Jackson 1978, 55. Jackson’s evidence is from the testimony of Jervis Walker before the Select Committee to Examine into the Policy of Imposing an Increased Duty on the Import of Foreign Seeds in 18 16. Rape is an Old World annual (Brassica nupus) akin to the turnip.

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oil-even after the duty had been paid-was much less than the tariff-inflated price of rapeseed oil, and industrial demand was substantial. Between 1816 and 1820 political efforts by owners of whalers and whale oil merchants were directed to holding the price of rapeseed oil above E50 a ton. Between 1822 and 1827 the duty on rapeseed was gradually cut from E l to 1 shilling (from $4.54 to $0.24) a quarter. Over the same period, imports of seed rose by 650 percent (Jackson 1978, 120-21). On the other hand, government policy is not totally exogenous. In the United States, demand for whale oil declined after camphene, coal oil, kerosene, and manufactured gas became available. These products, however, did not reach the American market in significant quantities until after midcentury. In Great Britain the first coal gas company was chartered in London in 1782, and by 1820 gasworks had been built in many of the larger towns. Despite major explosions in London, Edinburgh, and Manchester, by 1823 “the superiority and convenience of gas was . . . beyond dispute.” In London alone, the forty-seven gasometers had a capacity of 917,000 cubic feet.24The substitution of gas for whale oil had gone so far that in the 1820s whale oil merchants, in an attempt to regain their lost market share, began to manufacture gas from whale oil. This was technically feasible; the enterprise foundered because of the relatively high price of whale oil. The British and American responses to new technologies raise an important, but little understood, issue about the long-run effects of government policy. Why did the Americans lag in the innovation of whale oil substitutes? How much of the lag can be attributed to differences in the structures of the two economies (the degree of urbanization, for example), and how much to differences in the relative prices of whale oil and coal, reflecting the high British tariff on whale oil? Given that it was saddled with a cost structure that made it noncompetitive in the international market, no tariff or bounty within reason could have supported the British industry in the face of an almost complete dearth of domestic demand. It is not surprising that, when in 1843 Her Majesty’s government reduced the tariff on whale oil from $0.72 to $0.16 a gallon, the effect was felt by only twenty-five shipowners and hardly more than one thousand seamen.25 12.4

Conclusions

At the end of the Napoleonic wars, British whalemen enjoyed a near monopoly of the fishery. The Dutch had turned to other maritime pursuits, the Royal 24. Jackson 1978, 123. Jackson’s source is the testimony of Humphrey David before the Select Committee on Gas Light Establishments in 1823. 25. Jackson 1978, 121, 129. In 1843 the duty on whale oil was reduced from €27 18s 7d per tun to €6 6s. In 1843 there were twenty-five ships with 1,146 men engaged in the northern fishery, but in the two previous years the numbers had been nineteen and eighteen vessels, with 897 and 830 men, respectively.

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The Americans Replace the British

Navy had eliminated American competition, and government subsidies had increased revenues. British whaling was profitable. After Yorktown, tariffs had replaced naval squadrons as barriers to foreign competition in the British domestic market, and during the Napoleonic wars the Royal Navy, charged with isolating Europe, provided de facto protection in most of the rest of the markets in the developed world. In 1814 almost two hundred British whalers hunted in the northern and southern fisheries; fewer than five American whaling vessels were active. Twenty-seven years later the American fleet was almost seven hundred vessels, the British, thirty-four. With equal access to the stock of natural resources and to the menu of alternative technologies, the two fleets had met in head-tohead competition in the waters off Greenland and in Davis Strait. In the study of the relationships among productivity, policy, and economic change, the microcosm that was the northern fishery is a nearly ideal historical laboratory. What factors explain the shift in industrial leadership from the Old World to the New? Was it rooted in emerging differences in underlying productivity, to differences in input or output prices, or to changes in the economic environment? The evidence indicates that all three factors contributed. On average, American productivity was higher than British, but it was probably not enough higher to account fully for the observed differences in profitability, even in the years 1836-42, when the productivity gap was very wide. Still, it is comforting to note that the productivity and profit estimates move in parallel. British profit rates did fall drastically, as British relative productivity fell. The British were less productive, and they ultimately became substantially less profitable. In the middle decade (1826-35) the productivity difference narrowed, and the British whalers proved themselves to be more profitable than their American competitors. If in that period the British had been able to operate in the protected domestic market but had been permitted to employ American-built vessels, they would, on average, have earned very much more than their Nantucket and New Bedford peers. Other “it might have been” estimates, however, indicate that, despite the profits that could have been earned if only the world had been different, low British productivity had important implications for the industry’s long-term survival. Even American-built vessels would not have saved the British whaling fleet, had the owners been forced to face American competition in the domestic market for whale oil and baleen. Higher wages and vessel costs depressed British profits, but they do not account for the measured productivity gap. The question remains, why, if larger crews and shorter voyages were both unproductive and unprofitable, didn’t British owners and captains adjust to the superior American technology? That they did not adjust suggests that, in the British economic environment, American technology was not superior. The answer may lie in the quality of British crews. The literature is replete with horror stories about the sailors who manned those vessels. Jackson (1978,

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Chapter 12

72-73), writing about the northern fishery during the period of its most rapid growth, has little good to say about the British decision “to recruit ‘Greenmen’, a term which had nothing to do with Greenland, but indicated that they were new to the job-and therefore cheaper. . . . [Tlhe Robert of Peterhead . . . in 1795 had only two ‘sailors’ among its crew of twenty-three. The final stage . . . came when even the cheapest native crews were swelled by half-starved wretches picked up for a song in the Shetlands.” Nor does the quality of the crews seem to have improved over time. An owner appearing before a parliamentary select committee testified that British seamen, who had been, in his words, “the best sailors in the world” in 1801 were in 1844 “the worst description.”26It should be noted that 1801 was only six years after the crews had been “swelled by half-starved wretches.” Meanwhile, American “crews, bred in the trade and enthusiastic in their pursuit of it, were said to be better whalermen than the British” (Jackson 1978, 141). Although it is difficult to sort out cause and effect, crew quality may have affected productivity not only directly but also indirectly through voyage length. British vessels usually carried a carpenter and perhaps his mate, and a cooper, but few other artisans (Jenkins 1921, 189). American vessels carried a wide range of skilled workmen, including painters, boatmakers, and even machinists. The British had to depend on shore-based workmen for the bulk of their refitting and repair. The Americans were able to effect maintenance and repair during the voyage itself; in fact, these were primary activities on American vessels during the winter when weather and ice pushed vessels southward. Without thoroughly revamping their staffing policies, it would have been impossible for British owners to adopt American cruising schedules. And there was no economic reason for the British to revamp. It was not intransigence that led them to eschew long voyages. With the bounty payment tied to voyages, innovation of the American institutional technology would have been costly. The bounty did disappear in the mid-l820s, but given the lags inherent in any structural innovation (recruiting and training artisans and altering the duties of officers and other crewmen would take time), the industry might well have been out of business before entrepreneurs could exploit the American institution. The same circumstances trapped British whalemen in the northern seas, despite the growing scarcity of whales. The evidence indicates that, by American standards, British whalers after 1835 were neither productive nor profitable. Bounties and warships enabled the British both to replace the Dutch and, supported by a series of protective tariffs, to fend off incipient American competition. British dominance was rooted, not in economic superiority, but in government policy. Such policies are not immutable. To the extent that they work by distorting 26. Jackson 1978, 135. The quoted remarks are from the testimony of Joseph Somes, a Londoner who owned three whalers engaged in the southern fishery. Whitecar (1864, 122, 123) has very critical things to say about British crews and officers in the southern fleet in the 1850s.

481

The Americans Replace the British

relative prices, they induce substitution against the protected commodities. Competition springs up everywhere, and is almost impossible to restrain. In a technical sense coal oil may have been an inferior substitute for whale oil; in an economic sense it was a more than adequate substitute at the tariff-inflated domestic price of whale oil. Again, policy frequently derives from some noneconomic argument in the government’s utility function; the weights assigned to the argument can, and do, change with conditions-social, political, and economic. As long as a Continental war was a serious threat, the British government was prepared to pay (or let its citizens pay) handsomely for a ready supply of ships and seamen. As the threat of war receded, the political revenues of the policy receded as well, but the political costs in taxes, forgone alternatives, and consumer discontent remained high. The policy became politically unprofitable. Finally, the distribution of political influence is not fixed. Whalemen and oil merchants were forces to be reckoned with in the eighteenth century; fifty years later textile manufacturers and merchants commanded the government’s attention. As the British industry contracted, the American expanded. Fewer British vessels meant less crowding in the North Atlantic, and reduced British tariffs meant a larger export market. American entrepreneurs-New Bedford owners and agents in particular-secured a commanding position in all the whaling grounds of the world.

Appendix 12A Computing the Relative Productivities of the British Northern and the American (New Bedford) Atlantic Whaling Fleets Three variants of productivity were calculated: variant S (time at sea), variant M (maximum inputs), and variant L (most likely). For the American fleet the M and L variants are identical. See the text for a full account of these variants.

Productivity Formula The formula for calculating the productivity of an individual voyage is described in chapter 8. Only American voyages can be analyzed in this way; data on individual British voyages are not available. In order to compare the two fleets, computations must be made at a fleet level, treating all of a fleet’s voyages in one year as one grand voyage. The formula for doing so can be broken into four parts. 1. (The share of oil in the value of output of the given fleet [i.e., British or American] in the given year, plus the mean of the shares of oil in the value of

482

Chapter 12

output of both fleets across all years) times (the natural log of the output of oil of the given fleet in the given year, minus the mean of the natural logs of the outputs of oil in both fleets in all years). 2. Part 2 is identical to part 1, except that the word bone is substituted for oil, wherever oil appears, 3. (The share of labor income in the value of output of the given fleet in the given year, plus the mean of the shares of labor income in the values of output of both fleets in all years) times (the natural log of the labor input into production [number of crewmen] in the given fleet in the given year, minus the mean of the natural logs of the labor inputs in both fleets in all years). 4. Part 4 is identical to part 3, except that the word capital is substituted for labor, wherever labor appears. (Capital input into production is represented by tonnage.) Labor is measured in man-months (the number of the vessel’s crewmen times the number of months of the voyage), capital, in vessel ton-months (the number of the vessel’s tons times the number of months). Labor income equals the value of lays (American), or wages (British), plus subsistence. The productivity of a given fleet in a given year equals ((Part I

+ Part 2)/2) - ((Part 3 + Part 4)/2).

The resulting productivity measurements are expressed in natural logs. They may also be given in the form of the antilogs, and that is the form underlying the figures in table 12.1. Comparisons may properly be drawn within each fleet, across time, or between fleets.

Data Sources: United States The American data were taken from the Voyages and Crew Counts data sets (see chapter 3). In order to enter the calculation, a voyage had to sail for the Atlantic Ocean, Hudson Bay, or Davis Strait; sail from and return to New Bedford; return between 1817 and 1842; and carry home a ratio of sperm oil to whale oil of no more than 0.25. In addition we had to know the size of its crew, its tonnage, and the length of its voyage. Two hundred and eighty-one voyages met these conditions. (Since each voyage was allocated to the year in which the vessel returned to New Bedford, the calculation omits voyages that resulted in the condemnation, loss, or sale of the vessel before it could return to New Bedford. See the text for a further treatment of this topic.) Shares of Labor and Capital Income in the Value of Output. The amount of income flowing to labor was computed for each voyage as the sum of the value of the crew’s lay shares and the cost of their subsistence. The value of lays was taken to be 31 percent of the value of the catch (see the text, table 5.15, and appendix 9A). The cost of subsistence depends on the size of the crew. In 1844 it cost $35 a year to feed one whaling crewman (see appendix 5C). The algo-

483

The Americans Replace the British

rithm for subsistence is thus $35 times the food price index2’times the number of men in the crew times the length of the voyage in years. Lay value and subsistence amount were summed at the voyage level. These total labor income amounts, and the per-voyage value of catch amounts, were then summed by amval year. The ratio between them is labor’s share of output, and the remainder is capital’s share (see table 12A.1).

Data Sources: Britain

Oil Outputs. Tuns of oil were taken from Gordon Jackson (1978, 270).28See table 12A.2. A tun was an old British measure approximately equal to 252 British gallons (169 n. 18). The British gallon was equal to 1.20095American gallons. The American barrel-the unit in which our American oil figures were generally reported-was equal to 31.5 American gallons. In order to convert British tuns to American gallons, then, we multiplied Jackson’s oil catch figures by (252 X 1.20095)/31.5, or 9.608. Oil Prices. British oil prices (per tun) were taken from J. R. McCulloch 1842, 162; 1854, 1404. Between his two volumes McCulloch gives a complete series of prices for the southern fishery for the years 1817-42. His prices for the northern fishery, present only in the 1854 edition, are not a complete series. Where the southern and northern prices are both present, they are almost always identical (and we see no reason why they should in fact have differed). In those few cases where the southern and northern prices differ in McCulloch, we have used the price that seems more reasonable: for 1825-26 the southern price, for 1840-42 the northern price. Bone Outputs. Tons of bone for 1817-34 and 1837-41 come from Gordon Jackson 1978, 270. Tons of bone for 1835 and 1836 were estimated on the basis of the output of oil in these years and the ratio (.0533) of tons of bone to tuns of oil, 1831-34 and 1837-39, for the British fleet. The output of bone for 1842 was estimated in the same way as the outputs for 1835-36, except that the estimating ratio (.0340) was computed on the basis of bone output to oil output in 1840 and 1841. American bone output was reported in pounds. In the nineteenth century the British used the short ton of two thousand pounds (McCulloch 1842, 1165). We multiplied British bone figures by two thousand to make them equivalent to American figures. 27. Warren and Pearson “Foods” wholesale price index (US.Department of Commerce 1975, series E-54). divided by seventy-two (the 1844 value), so that 1844 = 1.0. 28. Jackson gives as his source McCulloch 1854, 1542, and notes one change he made to McCulloch’s figures.

Table 12A.1

Shares of Labor Income and Capital Income in the Value of Output, American (New Bedford) Atlantic Fleet, 181742 ~

~~~~

Year

Labor

Capital

Year

Labor

Capital

1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829

,3860 ,3715 ,3828 ,3713 ,3495 ,3742 ,3913 ,3619 ,3552 .3541 ,3568 .3673 ,3785

,6140 ,6285 ,6172 ,6287 ,6505 .6258 ,6087 ,6381 ,6448 ,6459 ,6432 ,6327 ,6215

1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842

,3533 ,3670 ,3753 ,3771 .3890 ,3865 ,3924 ,4001 ,4121 .4174 .3933 ,3599 ,3947

,6467 ,6330 ,6247 ,6229 ,6110 ,6135 ,6076 ,5999 ,5879 ,5826 6067 .6401 ,6053

Sources: For a description of the data sources and computation, see the text.

Table 12A.2

Data on the British Northern Whaling Fleet, 1817-42

Oil (tuns)

Oil Price

Oil Value

(f per tun)

(f)

Bone (tons)

Bone Price (f per ton)

Bone Value

Year 1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 I 842

10,871 14,482 11.401 18,745 16,853 8,663 17,074 9,871 6,370 7,200 13,186 13,966 10,672 2,199 5,104 12,610 14,508 8,214 2,623 707 1,356 4,345 1,441 412 647 668

30 36 33 30 19 22 21 22 36 34 27 25 27 43 43 28 25 23 28 32 35 25 25 25 31 30

326,130 52 1,352 376,233 562,350 320,207 190,586 358,554 217,162 229,320 244,800 356,022 349,150 288,144 94,557 219,472 353,080 362,700 188,922 73,444 22,624 47,460 108,625 36,025 10,3GQ 20,057 20,040

539 666 517 946 923 422 92 1 534 350 400 733 802 608 119 273 676 802 442 I40 38 65 236 79 14 22 23

80 80 80 80 80 185 185 185 210 220 243 33 1 325 255 213 159 156 247 242 282 22 1 210 192 196 198 244

43,120 53,280 4 1,360 75,680 73,840 78,070 170,385 98,790 73,500

(f)

88,ooo 178,119 265,462 197,600 30,345 58,149 107,484 125,112 109,174 33,880 10,716 14,365 49,560 15,168 2,744 4,356 5,612

Sources: For a description of the data sources and computation, see the text

Tonnage Setting Out

Tonnage Returning

Crewmen Returning

48,084 50,362 5 I ,082 50,546 50,709 38,144 36,759 35,013 34,751 30,414 28,273 28,665 28,812 29,396 28,608 26,393 25,294 24,955 23,482 20,183 16,789 11,809 12,530 9.966 5,742 5,118

46,481 49,720 47,227 49,592 46,244 35,622 35,816 34,698 33,171 28,813 27,952 27,740 27,517 23,258 27,633 24,764 24,966 23,970 21,498 19,521 16,153 11,506 12,530 9,323 5,742 5,118

6,156 6,516 6,589 6,749 6,261 4,883 4,744 4,798 4,604 3,999 3,880 3,856 3,836 3,143 4,020 3,510 3,553 3,440 3,115 2,858 2,392 1,727 1,907 1,441 897 830

485

The Americans Replace the British

Bone Prices. Bone prices for 1817-21 and 1822-24 are available in Jackson (1978, 118).29We divided the 1824 British price by the 1824 American price, and multiplied each succeeding American price by this ratio in order to extrapolate missing British prices. Tonnages Setting Out. Knowing the size of the fleet that set out in each year is necessary to compute the size of the fleet that returned. The tonnages of vessels setting out in the northern fleet in 1817-34 were taken from Jackson 1978,270, in 1841-42 from British Parliamentary Papers (House of Commons 1845). Tonnages for 1835-40, missing in these sources, were estimated by a regression on numbers of vessels and total tonnages for the years 1816-34 and 184142. The data on numbers of vessels were taken from Jackson 1978, 270. (The number of vessels sailing in a year is the sum of the number sailing for Greenland and the number sailing for Davis Strait.) The estimation equation is Tons = -360.86 (-1.0)

+ 359.64 VG + 276.78 VD - 1.594 YRVG + 1.715 YRVD (+32.5)

(+20.8)

(-2.5)

(+3.4)

where VG is the number of vessels sailing for Greenland, VD is the number of vessels sailing for Davis Strait, YRVG is YEAR X VG, and YRVD is YEAR X VD. (YEAR is the year in question minus 1800.) The figures in parentheses above are t values. The adjusted R2 is .9993 and the F value is 7,561.9. Tonnages Returning. Productivity is figured only for vessels that returned safely to port. The number of vessels sailing and the number lost in each year 1817-42 are given in Jackson 1978, 270. Dividing the initial tonnage by the number of vessels sailing gives tons per vessel. Subtracting the number of vessels lost from the number sailing gives the number returning. Multiplying the tons per vessel by the number returning gives the tonnage returning. (We assumed that, on average, a vessel lost had the same tonnage as a vessel setting out.) Crewmen Returning. Jackson (1978, 129) reprints from British Parliamentary Papers total tonnage and crew figures for the years 1830-32 and 1841-42.30 McCulloch (1842, 1241) prints total tonnage and crew figures for the years 1817-24. We calculated crewmen per ton using Jackson and McCulloch, and estimated ratios for 1825-29 and 1833-40 by interpolation. (There is no clear trend in the ratios for 1817-24 and 1830-32; therefore, we used as the interpolator for the years 1825-29 the mean ratio for 1822-24 and 1830-3 1. There is a clear trend thereafter. We estimated the ratios for 1833-39 on the assumption that the ratio rose at a steady pace between 1832 and 1840.) Multiplying crewmen per ton by returning tonnage gives returning crewmen. 29. Jackson used local prices at Hull. 30. These tonnage figures don’t precisely match those Jackson prints on page 270.

486

Chapter 12

Shares of Labor and Capital Income in the Value of Output. The share of income flowing to labor was 34.1 percent in 1817-25,28.2 percent in 1826-35, and 61.8 percent in 1836-42. (See appendix 12B for a description of the data sources and computations. These shares can be computed from table 12B.3, lines 3, 7, and 8, as [line 3 + line 8]/line 7.) The share flowing to capital in each period was the remainder, or 65.9, 71.8, and 38.2 percent.

Appendix 12B Computing Profit Rates for the British Northern and the American (New Bedford) Atlantic Whaling Fleets

Table 12B.1

Computation of Average Profit Rates, American (New Bedford) Atlantic Fleet, Returning Years 181742 A. Computation of Average Values per Ton as of Sailing Dates, 1880 Prices ($) Total Investment

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

Huli"

Outfitb

Subsistence'

40.66 45.10 44.73

18.89 18.20 24.36

3.74 3.84 6.56

(hull

+ outfit + subsistence) 63.29 67.14 75.65

B. Computation of Average Values per Ton of Hulls on the Return to New Bedford ($)

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

Hull*

Depreciationd

Net Value of Hull (hull - depreciation)

40.66 45.10 44.73

1.41 1.56 2.24

39.25 43.54 42.49

C. Computation of Average Net Revenues per Ton ($) Gross Revenue'

Lays'

Vessels Lost'

Interest Forgoneh

Net Revenue' -

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

59.28 63.49 77.38

18.38 19.68 23.99

0.88 2.08 3.14

3.71 3.87 6.63

~

36.3 1 37.86 43.62

Table 12.B1

(continued) D. Computation of Average Profit Rates ($)

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

Net Value of Hull on Return 39.25 43.54 42.49

Original Investment (from panel A)

Profit Ratel

Net Revenue

Total Net Return (net hull + revenue)

36.31 37.86 43.62

75.56 81.40 86.11

63.29 67.14 75.65

16.17 17.59 7.86

(%)

Note: All monetary values are in 1880 prices. The deflator is the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52). Values were adjusted to the 1880 level by dividing them by these index numbers (divided by one hundred). ’The value of a vessel at the beginning of the voyage was computed by multiplying its TONNAGE by BCOSTCN for SAILYR. These values and tonnages were summed up for 75 voyages arriving in the years 1817-25, 161 voyages amving in 1826-35, and 74 voyages arriving in 1836-42. The sum of values was divided by the sum of tonnages. (For BCOSTCN-building cost per ton according to the Commissioner of Navigation, in 1880 prices-see chapter 6 and table 6.10.) Both the British and the American vessels were valued at new prices for purposes of these calculations, since we have no information on the market values of these vessels. bThe outfitting cost for each voyage was computed from the OPTM1880 value for the year in which the voyage began, times the vessel’s TONNAGE, times the INTERVAL of the voyage. (INTERVAL is the length of the voyage in calendar months.) These costs were summed up within each period and the sum divided by the corresponding sum of vessel tonnages. OPTMl880 represents complete outfitting costs for the whole voyage, exclusive of costs of provisioning and costs of outfitting the men. The outfitting cost per ton month, in prices of 1880, was computed as follows: 1. The costs of outfitting the Calla0 in 1871 and provisioning the bark during the voyage she began in that year were computed from data reported in Moment 1957. (This is an exceptionally clear and detailed accounting of outfitting costs.) Moment (271) reports total debits for outfitting the vessel of $33,472. He (272) reports that the captain spent $1,900 on provisions during the voyage. $33,472 + $1,900 = $35,372. 2. The value of subsistence and the value of advances were subtracted. We figured subsistence as $35 per year per crew member, in 1844 prices (see appendix 5C), times 33 crew members times 50/12 (the voyage lasted fifty months). In order to convert to 1871 prices, we multiplied by 1,80556-the ratio of the Warren and Pearson “Foods” index number for 1871 (130) to the index number for 1844 (72)-yielding $8,689. Of the amount that Moment reports as outfitting costs, $3,788 was charged to the crew (i.e., advances). $35,372 - $8,689 - $3,788 = $22,895. 3. This figure was divided by the tonnage of the Callao times the INTERVAL of her 1871 voyage. $22,895/(323.7 tons X 50 months = 16,185) = $1.41458, or $1.415. 4. This figure, in turn, was carried to other years on the Warren and Pearson “Textile Products” wholesale price index ( US. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-56). (The idea is that outfitting costs fluctuated, roughly, with textiles [sails] prices.) 5 . These numbers were then deflated using the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index. ‘Subsistence was calculated by multiplying the number of men in the vessel’s crew for the voyage by $35 (subsistence per man-year in 1844 prices; see appendix 5C). the result multiplied by the ratio of the Warren and Pearson “Foods” wholesale price index number for the year in which the voyage began to the index number for 1844, the result multiplied by INTERVAL/12, the result divided by the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” index for the beginning year (divided by one hundred). The resulting subsistence amounts and the tonnages of the vessels were summed up for 67 voyages arriving in the years 1817-25, 143 voyages arriving in 1826-35, and 71 voyages arriving in 1836-42. (Fewer voyages enter this calculation than entered the calculation of hull

(continued)

Table 12.B1

(continued)

values because here it is necessary to know also the size of the crew.) The sum of subsistences was divided by the sum of voyage tonnages. dAssuming a life of thirty-four years (the average actual life of those vessels that lived to be condemned), depreciation is ,02924 per year. The period over which depreciation was taken was the period at sea plus the period of outfitting. See table 12B.2. ‘The value of the catch of each voyage was computed by multiplying the amount of sperm oil returned by the price of sperm oil in the year the voyage ended, multiplying the amount of whale oil by the price of whale oil, multiplying the amount of bone by the price of bone, adding up these three elements of value, and dividing the sum by the Warren and Pearson ‘All Commodities” index (divided by one hundred). These per-voyage value-of-catch amounts were summed up within each period and the sum divided by the corresponding sum of voyage tonnages. For catch prices see appendix 9A. T h e lay share was computed as 31 percent of the value of the catch (see chapter 5 and note e). Per-voyage lay shares were summed within each period and the sum divided by the corresponding sum of voyage tonnages. gThe total value of vessels lost within each period was divided among vessels returning to New Bedford, and expressed as a value per ton of vessels that returned safely to port. For example, five vessels that had set out from New Bedford for the Atlantic or Hudson Bay were lost in 1826-35. Assuming that they were equal in value per ton to the 161 vessels that returned to New Bedford from those hunting grounds in those years, the value of the lost vessels would be 5/161 of the value of the vessels that returned. If this value is distributed among returning vessels, the cost per ton of returning vessels is $2.08. One can think of these costs as insurance premiums. Total Investment Cost per Ton ($1 ($) Lost Returned Fraction

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

1 5 3

75 161 74

,013 .03 1 .04 1

63.29 67.14 75.65

0.82 2.08 3.10

The loss rate is overstated. The actual numbers of voyages that had set out for the Atlantic or Hudson Bay and returned safely to New Bedford during each period were 1817-25, I1 1 ; 1826-35, 236; 1835-42, 165. The number on which our rates were based are those that can be used in the computation of profit rates (i.e., we must know the length of the voyage and the amount of the catch to compute the profit rate) and that are comparable to the voyages of the British fleet (i.e., we have omitted voyages for which sperm oil accounted for 25 percent or more of the catch of oil). Because American loss rates are overstated, American profit rates are understated. Total investment figures are from table 12B.1, panel A. hThe interest rates we used are New England municipal bond yields, taken from Homer and Sylla 1991, 286-87: 1817-25 = 4.94 percent, 1826-35 = 4.84 percent, and 1836-42 = 5.02 percent. The period over which interest was forgone was the period of outfitting plus the period at sea. (See note d.) Thus the forgone interest should be computed as

1817-25: 1826-35: 1836-42:

- I ] X $63.29 = .0586754 X $63.29 = $3.71; [(1.0494)11825 - I ] X $67.14 = .0576924 X $67.14 = $3.87; [(1.0484)’1867 - 11 X $75.65 = ,0875775 X $75.65 = $6.63. [(1.0502)17’40

‘Net revenue is gross revenue minus lays, vessels lost, and interest forgone. T h e profit rate was computed as x = y( 1 + r)n,where x = total net return, y = original investment, r = profit rate, and n = fraction of a year (see table 12B.2).This form of the computation is correct since most of the returns-virtually all, for the Atlantic-were realized at the end of the voyage.

Table 12B.2

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42

Depreciation Calculation for Hulls, New Bedford Whaling Voyages to the Atlantic and Hudson Bay, 181742

Interval"

Outfittingb

Total Months

Fraction of a Year

Depreciation per Ton'

11.69 11.76 18.07

2.5 2.5 2.5

14.19 14.26 20.57

1.1825 1.1867 1.7140

1.41 1.56 2.24

"Mean values of INTERVAL (length of voyage in months) of the Atlantic voyages ending in these three periods. bSee table 6.7 and chapter 12, note 36. '.02924 X fraction of a year X hull (from table 12B.1).

Table 12B.3

Computation of Average Profit Rates, British Northern Fleet, Returning Years 181742 A. True Profits ($), Variant A"

1817-25 1. Value of hull at sailing 2. Value of outfits' 3. Cost of subsistenced 4. Total investment (1 + 2 + 3) 5 . Depreciation' 6. Net value of hull on return to port (1 - 5 ) 7. Gross revenue' 8. Labor incomeg 9. Value of vessels losth 10. Interest forgone' 11. Net revenue (7 - 8 - 9 - 10) 12. Total net return (6 + 11) 13. Profit rate (%p

182635

1836-42

81.32 16.81 3.16 101.29 1.53

90.20 18.26 3.42 111.88 1.85

89.46 14.29 3.22 106.97 1.70

19.79 44.89 12.16 4.31 2.33 26.09 105.88 7.2

88.35 70.93 16.58 6.59 2.74 45.02 133.37 28.5

87.76 20.27 9.30 2.87 2.29 5.81 93.57 - 18.6

B. True Profits ($), Variant Bk 14. Value of hull at sailing (US.)] 15. Value of outfits" 16. Total investment (14 + 15 + 3) 17. Depreciation' 18. Net value of hull on return to port (14 - 17) 19. Value of vessels losth 20. Interest forgone' 21. Net revenue (7 - 8 - 19 - 20) 22. Total net return ( 18 + 2 1) 23. Profit rate (%)J (continued)

60.99 12.60 76.75 1.14

67.65 13.70 84.77 1.38

67.10 10.72 81.04 1.28

59.85 3.27 1.77 27.69 87.54 22.8

66.27 4.99 2.07 47.29 113.56 51.8

65.82 2.17 1.72 7.08 72.90 - 15.0

Table 12B.3

(continued) C. Counterfactual Profits ($), Variant A"

1817-25 24. Gross revenueo 25. Net revenue (24 - 8 - 9 26. Total net return (6 + 25) 27. Profit rate (%)I

-

1826-35

32.80 15.16* 94.95 -9.6

10)

38.19 12.28 100.63 -14.0

1836-42 13.67 -0.79 86.97 -27.3

D. Counterfactual Profits ($), Variant Bq 28. Net revenue (24 - 8 - 19 - 20) 29. Total net return (18 + 28) 30. Profit rate (%Oy

16.76 76.61 -0.3

14.55 80.82 -6.6

0.48 66.30 -26.6

E. Counterfactual Profits ($), Variant C' 31. Value of hull at sailing (U.S.) 32. Total investment (3 + 15 + 31) 33. Depreciation' 34. Net value of hull on return to port (31 - 33) 35. Value of vessels losth 36. Interest forgone' 37. Net revenue (24 - 8 - 35 - 36) 38. Total net return (34 + 37) 39. Profit rate (%)I

40.66 56.42 0.76

45.10 62.22 0.92

44.73 58.67 0.85

39.90 2.40 1.30 18.33 58.00 4.4

44.18 3.66 1.52 16.43 60.61 -3.7

43.88 1.56 1.24 1.57 45.45 -32.5

Nore: All monetary values are per vessel ton, expressed in U.S. dollars of 1880 "Variant A estimates rest on upper-bound estimates of the cost of British vessels and outfits bAverage U.S. hull values per ton (table 12B.1) times 2.0. The estimate is intended as an upper bound, or close thereto. It is based on relative construction costs reported by Hutchins 1941, 202. 'British outfitting costs per ton were estimated on the basis of the U.S. estimates (see table 12B.1), on the assumptions that (1) they exceeded American costs, ceteris paribus, in the same proportion as British vessel construction costs per ton exceeded American vessel construction costs; and (2) they fell short of American costs, ceteris paribus, in the same proportion as British voyage lengths fell short of American voyage lengths. Thus

BOCPT = USOCPT

X

BHCPTIUSHCPT

X

BVLIUSVL,

where BOCPT is British outfitting costs per ton, USOCPT is U.S. outfitting costs per ton, BHCPT is British hull costs per ton, USHCPTis U.S. hull costs per ton, BVL is British voyage length, and USVL is U.S. voyage length. Thus

1817-25: BOCPT= 18.89 X 2.00 X 5.2/11.69 = 16.81; 1826-35: B O U T = 18.20 X 2.00 X 5.9/11.76 = 18.26; 1836-42: BOCPT = 24.36 X 2.00 X 5.3/18.07 = 14.29. The values for BVL are derived from Jackson 1978. We infer that Greenland voyages took about four and one-half months, and Davis Strait voyages about six months (78-81). Page 270 contains data on the number of voyages made to the two hunting grounds each year. dTheseestimates are based on the assumption that British subsistence costs per man-year were the same as American costs. (See table 12B.1, note c.) In order to calculate British subsistence rates for this table, it was necessary to estimate the average tonnage and number of crewmen of the British northern fleet in each of the three periods represented, as well as the fraction of the year that British vessels were typically at sea. For the American calculation we used the Voyages and

Table 12B.3

(continued)

Crew Counts data sets. For the calculations of British tonnages and crews see appendix 12A. For the fraction of the year British vessels typically spent at sea, see note c. ‘We assumed that British vessels had the same depreciation rate as American vessels--.02924 per year (see table 12B.2)-and here again figured depreciation on the period at sea plus the period of outfitting. (See table 128.4.) To the extent that British whalers were unemployed when not whaling, these figures understate British depreciation. Depreciation for lines 17 and 33 use the same rate but different hull costs. ‘Total revenues received by British shipowners, including earnings from the subsidy as well as tariff-inflated prices for whale oil and bone. See Davis, Gallman, and Hutchins 1987b, 753, table 2, panel C, “G.B.Rl.” Appendix 12A describes the computation of British output volumes and values. Subsidies are available in McCulloch 1842, 1241. The pound-to-dollar exchange rate we used is derived from McCulloch 1842, 942. The conversion to constant dollars employed the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (US.Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52)-on the base 1880. S e e appendix 12C. hThe value of vessels lost is total investment times the fraction of the fleet lost. The fraction of the fleet lost was calculated from data in Jackson 1978, 270. Loss rates are the same in variants A and B. “‘Interest forgone” is the opportunity cost of the investments recorded in line 4. The interest rates were taken from Homer and Sylla 1991, 195-96, and are the annual yields on 3 percent consols: 1817-25 = 3.61 percent, 1826-35 = 3.51 percent, and 1836-42 = 3.31 percent. The period over which interest was forgone was the period of outfitting plus the period at sea. (See table 12B.5.) Thus the forgone interest should be computed 1817-25: 1826-35: 1836-42:

[(1.0361)Mih67 - 11 X $101.29 = $2.33; [(1.0351)’ - I ] X $111.88 = $2.74; [(1.0331)65- I] X $106.97 = $2.29.

Since the amount of investment per ton drops from variant A to B to C, so does the interest forgone. ’The profit rate was computed using x = y ( I + r)”, where x = total net return, y = original investment, r = profit rate, and n = fraction of a year (see table 12B.4). This form of the computation is correct since most of the returns-virtually all, for the Atlantic-were realized at the end of the voyage. kVariantB estimates rest on lower-bound estimates of the cost of British vessels and outfits. IAverage U.S. hull value per ton (table 12B.1) times 1.5. The estimate is intended as a lower bound. See note b. “‘See note c. The formulas in this case are 1817-25: BOCPT= 18.89 X 1.5 X 5.2/11.69 = 12.60; 1826-35: BOCPT = 18.20 X 1.5 X 5.9/11.76 = 13.70; 1836-42: EOCPT = 24.36 X 1.5 X 5.3/18.07 = 10.72. BOCPTis British outfitting costs per ton. “These estimates rest on high (lines 1 and 2) vessel costs. “Revenue figures exclude bounties and price inflation due to tariffs. PExcluding bounties from labor payments. ‘These estimates rest on low (lines 14 and 15) vessel costs. Revenue figures exclude bounties and price inflation due to tariffs. ‘These estimates rest on U.S. hull costs and low (variant B) outfitting costs. Revenue figures exclude bounties and price inflation due to tariffs.

492

Chapter 12

Table 12B.4

18 17-25 1826-35 1836-42

Depreciation Calculation for British Vessels

Interval"

Outfittingb

Total Months

Fraction of a Year

Depreciation per Ton'

5.2 5.9 5.3

2.5 2.5 2.5

7.7 8.4 7.8

,6417 ,7000 ,6500

1.53 1.85 1.70

"See table 12B.3, note c. bThe period to refit was assumed to be the same for the British as for the Americans. '.02924 X fraction of a year X hull (from table 12B.3).

Appendix 12C Computing Labor Income for the British Northern Whaling Fleet Crewmen on British whalers in the early nineteenth century received five types of payment: bounties (through 1824); bonuses for striking whales (paid to harpooners only), for killing whales, and for returning oil; and wages (Jenkins 1921, 189; see also Chatterton 1926, 53). Jenkins provides data on all of these types of payment, as of the late eighteenth century. We used his data to compute labor costs in British prices of the late eighteenth century, and converted them first to British prices of the nineteenth century and then to U.S. dollars of 1880. In questions of doubt we chose always the estimating decision that minimized labor costs and thus maximized profits and profit rates.

Estimates in Eighteenth-Century Prices Since bounties, bonuses, and wage rates differed among ranks, we had to establish a typical crew roster before we could compute average per-voyage labor payments. The roster was derived from Jenkins and Chatterton, and consists of a captain, four mates, a specksioneer, six harpooners, a carpenter and his mate, two head-a-boats (called boatsteerers by Jenkins), six line managers, a surgeon, a cook, and twenty-four seamen. A crew of forty-four and an average vessel tonnage of 320 gives a ratio of tons per crewman (7.22) that is consistent with the data in table 12A.2.?' All payments were expressed in pence, for ease of computation. Table 12C.1 shows the detailed payment estimates. These rates were used to compute total labor costs per year. 3 I . Jackson 1978, 270. The mean vessel size for I8 15-34, the only years for which Jackson has data, comes to just under 320 tons.

493

The Americans Replace the British

Table 12C.1

Labor Payment Rates, British Northern Whaling Fleet, 1769-85 (pence) Bonuses

Crew Roster Captain First mate Second mate Third mate Fourth mate Specksioneer Harpooners Carpenter Carpenter's mate Head-a-boats Line managers Surgeon Cook Seamen Total

Bounties per Voyage 5,292

-

2,268 12,096

-

19,656

Per Whale Taken

756 126 126 126 126 126

126 60 120 180 252 30 660 2,814

Per Strike

Per Ton of Oil Returned

Wages per Month

-

72

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

72 378

-

126

-

-

-

-

-

-

840 600 960 2,520 840 360 8,782 17,182

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

756"

522

-

840 480 480 480 -

Source: See text. "We assumed there were six strikes for each whale taken (including strikes on whales that escaped).

Bounties. If the typical vessel was 320 tons, bounties per vessel ton came to 19,656d320 = 61.4d. We multiplied tonnage returning in each year (table 12A.2) by this coefficient to obtain total bounty payments per year (see table 12C.2). (Bounties were suspended after 1824.) Whale Bonuses. The number of whales taken each year (Jackson 1978, 270) was multiplied by the bonus rate (2,814 + 756 = 3,570, table 12C.1) to yield the annual total whale bonus payments (table 12C.2). Oil Bonus. The bonus per ton of oil was 522d (table 12C.1). Our annual output data are expressed in tuns, not tons. Since tuns ran about 1,890 pounds, or 0.945 of a ton (2,000 pounds), the rate per tun would have been 522 X 0.945 = 493d (Jackson 1978, 169). (Jenkins's ton may actually be a tun. If so, our method of estimating understates costs and overstates profits.) Wages. Table 12C.1 gives wages per vessel per month of 17,182d. Per voyage, then, wages were

1817-1825 = 17,182d X 5.2 = 89,3464 1826-1835 = 17,182d X 5.9 = 101,374d,

Table 12C.2

British Labor Costs per Vessel Ton per Voyage A. Annual Figures

Late-Eighteenth-Century Pence

Year

Tonnage Returning

Total Bounties

Total Whale Bonus

Total Oil Bonus

Total Wages

Total Labor Costs

Total Labor Costs, Current Pence

Total Labor costs, Current $

Total Labor Costs, I800 $

1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 I826 1827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 I833

46,481 49,720 47,227 49,592 46,244 35,622 35,816 34,698 33,171 28,813 27,952 27,740 27,517 23,258 27,633 24,764 24,966

2,853,933 3,052,808 2,899,738 3,044,949 2,839,382 2,187,191 2,199,102 2,120,048

2,955,960 4,3 12,560 3,527,160 5,694,150 5,015,850 2,249,100 7,204,260 2,7 16,770 1,785,000 1,827,840 4,148,340 4,273,290 3,109,470 574,770 1,610,070 5,579,9 10 6.05 1 , I50

5,359,403 7,139,626 5,620,693 9,241,285 8,308,529 4,270,859 8,417,482 4,866,403 3,140,410 3,549,600 6,500,698 6,885,238 5,261,296 1,084,107 2.5 16,272 6,216,730 7,152,444

12,977,495 13,881,824 13,185,778 13,846,086 12,9 11,324 9,945,662 9,999,827 9,687,682 9,261,343 9,127,958 8,855,194 8,788,032 8,717,386 7,368,134 8,754,134 7,845,235 7,909,229

24,146,791 28,386,818 25,233,369 3 1,826,470 29,075,085 18,652,812 27,820,671 19,390,903 14,186,753 14,505,398 19,504,232 19,946,560 17,088,152 9,027,Ol I 12,880,476 19,641,875 21,112,823

32,839,635 46,554,38 1 37,850,053 43,283,999 25,004,573 18,652.81 2 26,429,637 19,390,903 23,266,274 22,338,312 23,990,205 22,739,078 21,018,426 17,602.67 1 25,116,928 24,945,181 24,068,6 18

643,914 912,831 742,158 848,706 490,286 365,741 5 18,228 380,214 456,201 438,006 470,396 445,864 412,126 345,150 492,489 489.1 21 47 1,934

426,433 620,973 593,726 800,666 480,673 345,039 503,134 387,973 442.9 14 442,430 479,996 459,654 429,298 379,286 523,924 5 14,864 496,773

1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842

3,113,048 596,190 249,900 435,540 1,663,620 410,550 78,540 185,640 192,780

23,970 2 1,498 19,521 16,153 1 1,506 12,530 9,323 5,742 5,118

4,049,502 1,293,139 348,551 668,508 2,142,085 7 10.413 203,116 3 18.97 1 329,324

7,593,696 6,8 10,566 5,555,677 4,597,144 3,274,608 3,566,038 2,653,326 1,634,173 1,456,583

14,756,246 8,699,895 6,154,128 5,701,192 7,080,313 4,687,001 2,934,982 2,138,784 1,978,687

B. Sums

1817-25 1826-35 1836-42 Source: See text.

Tonnage Returning

Labor Costs

Labor Costs per Ton per Voyage (1880 $1

378,571 258,111 79,893

4,601,531 4,280,430 743,141

12.16 16.58 9.30

15,494,058 11,048,866 8,923,486 9,064,895 8,07 1,557 5,343,181 3,345,879 3,015,685 2,69 1,014

303,805 2 16,644 174,970 177,743 158,266 104,768 65,605 59,131 52.765

337,561 2 16,644 153,482 154,559 143,878 93,543 69,058 64,273 64,348

496

Chapter 12

Table 12C.3

U.S. Price Index Numbers, Whale Oil (New Bedford) and All Commodities, 1817-42 Whale Oil (1769-85 = 100)

Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” (1880 = 100)

136 164 150 136 86 100 95 100 164 154 123 114 123 195 195 127 114 105 127 145 159 114 I14 114 141 136

151 147 125 106 102 106 103 98 103 99 98 97 96 91 94 95 95 90 100 114 115 110 112 95 92 82

1817 1818 1819 1820 1821 1822 1823 1824 1825 1826 I827 1828 1829 1830 1831 1832 1833 1834 1835 1836 1837 1838 1839 1840 1841 1842 Source: See text.

and 1836-1842

=

17,182d X 5.3 = 91,065d.

Dividing by 320 (the assumed average vessel size) yields wages per vessel ton per voyage of 1817-25,279.2d; 1826-35,316.8d; and 1836-42,284.6d. Vessel tonnage returning each year (table 12A.2) was multiplied by the relevant wages-per-ton coefficient to yield total wage payments.

Estimates in Nineteenth-Century Prices The total cost estimates in column 6 of table 12C.2 are based on lateeighteenth-century payment rates. We had to convert these figures into rates relevant to the period 1817-42, then to convert these values from sterling into dollars, and finally to deflate by the price index we have used throughout to denominate all values in U.S. dollars of 1880 (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

497

The Americans Replace the British

Payment rates presumably changed in the long run more or less as the price of output changed. We therefore made up (table 12C.3) an index of whale oil prices on the base 1769-85 from data in table 12A.2 and Jackson (1978, 268). This index was used to convert our eighteenth-century estimates into nineteenth-century values. It should be said that annual wage-rate fluctuations are quite unlikely to mimic short-term movements in oil prices. Therefore, the annual data should not be understood to be true annual labor cost estimates. Wage rates and oil prices, however, are more likely to move in concert in the long run. Therefore, the average values for the years 1817-25, 1826-35, and 1836-42 are probably reasonable estimates of average labor costs. We used only these averages in our calculation of labor costs, profits, and profit rates. In converting to dollars we used the exchange rate of $4.7059 to the pound, taken from McCulloch 1854,942. There were 240 pence in a pound and therefore 51 pence in a dollar. Once costs were expressed in current dollars, we converted them to constant dollars on the basis of the Warren and Pearson “All Commodities” wholesale price index (U.S. Department of Commerce 1975, series E-52).

13

Modern Whaling

The last three decades of the nineteenth century were a period of decline for American whaling.' The market for oil was weak because of the advance of petroleum production, and only the demand for bone kept right whalers and bowhead whalers afloat. It was against this background that the Norwegian whaling industry emerged and grew to formidable size. Oddly enough, the Norwegians were not after bone-the whales they hunted, although baleens, yielded bone of very poor quality. They were after oil, and oil of an inferior sort. How was it that the Norwegians could prosper, selling inferior oil in a declining market? The answer is that their costs were exceedingly low. The whales they hunted existed in profusion along the northern (Finnmark) coast of Norway and could be caught with a relatively modest commitment of man and vessel time. The area from which the hunters came was poor. Labor was cheap; it also happened to be experienced in maritime pursuits, particularly in the sealing industry and in hunting small whales-the bottlenose whale and the white whale (narwhal). These activities provided men who could readily transfer into whaling; sealing provided a style of vessel that could be adapted to the needs of the industry.* Once certain technical problems were solved, the Norwegians came to dom1. This chapter is based chiefly on the following books: Bonner 1989; Burton 1983; Crisp 1954; Ellis 1991; Jackson 1978; Sanderson 1956; T~nnessenand Johnsen 1982. 2. Jackson 1978, 158; Bonner 1989, 158. Circa 1868 an average Norwegian worker earned the equivalent of about US $137 a year. American workers earned roughly the following:

Farm laborer Nonfarm employee Common laborer Mining worker Able-bodied seaman Domestic Cotton manufacturing hand

498

$200 (12 months, with board) $499 (when employed) $465 (300 days) $351-501 (annual) $216-300 (12 months, with board) $104 (12 months, probably with board) $298 (full-time equivalent)

499

Modern Whaling

inate whaling. Their fleet became the largest in the world, and they provided much of the human capital and many of the vessels employed by other whaling countries (England, Germany, and, for a time, even Japan). The nationals of these countries participated in the industry by investing in whalers, processing whale products, and developing a marketing apparatus. Their participation grew more important as the twentieth century wore on, but the captains, the seamen, and the vessels of all countries remained typically Norwegian. In these respects the Norwegian industry differed importantly from the earlier American industry. As chapters 5, 8, 9, and 10 show, American whaling fleets were financed by local capital, and their products were processed and marketed principally by Americans. After the 183Os, however, the crewmen before the mast were increasingly drawn from abroad. These circumstances were certainly not characteristic of Norwegian operation^.^ In one respect the two industries were alike-both were situated in small towns, some distance from large, mercantile ports, and whaling dominated the towns’ economies. When the industry went into decline, few towns developed a second, important industrial life. New Bedford’s successful shift into cotton textiles and commercial fishing was unusuaL4 The technical innovations that revolutionized whaling appeared over a period of more than seventy years. They included inventions having to do with the uses of whale products, as well as those bearing expressly on the hunting and processing of whales. The first important innovations changed hunting techniques. The whales thronging the Finnmark coast were rorquals: blues, seis, and fins. These creatures are remarkable for their great size, speed, and power. The small whaleboats of the conventional industry could rarely approach them; to attack them with conventional implements from a whaleboat was a very dangerous, even a foolhardy, business.5 A harpooned blue or sei or fin could drag a boat fast enough to swamp it; a boat that wasn’t swamped could be pulled so far so fast that the mother vessel would be unable to find it. The chance of killing one of these whales with a hand lance or a bomb lance was infinitesimally small (Crisp 1954,99-100). Woolen manufacturing hand Iron and steelworker

$335 (full-time equivalent) $524 (full-time equivalent)

(Tflnnessen and Johnsen 1982, 12; Lebergott 1964,528, 529, 530,539,541-45). 3. Hohman (1935) has a good treatment of the contrasts between the American and Nonvegian fleets. 4. Like American New Bedford, Norwegian Sandefjord is reminded of its whaling days by a striking statue and a whaling museum. Sandefjord was a major center of the modem industry, but the Sandefjord statue commemorates old-style whaling, presumably because a figure wielding a handheld harpoon from the bow of a small boat is more dramatic than a gunner in a steampowered catcher. 5 . “[Olne entry of a journal maintained throughout the 1822 whaling voyage of a London whaler, the Leviathan, noted that several rorquals had been sighted, ‘but they are too formidable to attack with safety, and the chance of killing them when struck is very slight”’ (Sanger 1991b, 129).

500

Chapter 13

There is a report of three boats from a conventional Scottish steam vessel that managed to put three harpoons and many bomb lances into a large blue whale. The whale did not slow down, but the men managed to get the lines to the steamer. The whale then towed all three boats plus the 340-ton steamer for fourteen hours. When the steamer tried to stop the whale by reversing engines, the lines broke and the whale escaped.6 In view of this story, it should come as no surprise that the innovation that launched the modern fishery had to do with the initial assault on the whale. It was a cannon that threw a large, explosive harpoon a considerable distance with substantial power. The new weapon was intended to kill the whale, or at least to wound it very seriously, and to hook it securely. The idea of a harpoon gun was not new. The Greener gun dates to the eighteenth century (see chapter 7), but it was never widely adopted. The whales hunted at that time-rights and bowheads-were easily frightened; they scattered when the Greener was fired. In part because of the way the harpoon was attached to the line, in part because the gunner could not allow for the movements of the ocean, as a harpooner casting a handheld harpoon could, the gun was very inaccurate. Greeners also had a habit of exploding and for that reason, if for no other, were unpopular among whalemen.’ The new cannon had a much longer range than the Greener, and threw a larger harpoon carrying a powerful explosive charge.* With it a gunner could kill a large rorqual with one well-placed shot; even a harpoon that missed the most vulnerable part of a whale might leave it unable to flee. Cannons alone did not solve the problems of the rorqual fishery. An Amencan whaleman, Thomas Welcome Roys-the captain who opened the Western Arctic hunting grounds-perfected a cannon fully capable of killing the big rorquals, and did kill many, but lost most of them. They sank quickly, and Roys was unable to recover them.9 The inventor who completed the first important innovative cycle was a Norwegian, Svend Foyn. Foyn had developed a workable cannon and harpoon by the mid- I860s, and successfully employed them in whaling in 1868. His innovation had several important features. First, the cannon was not mounted in a whaleboat, as the Greener had been, and as Roys’s cannon was. Foyn placed his in the bow of a small steam schooner. The ideal Foyn vessel was fast, powerful, maneuverable, and virtually unsinkable. By the end of the century Norwegian 6. Crisp 1954, 107-8: Burton (1983, 152) tells a slightly different story of the encounter. See Sanderson 1956, 31 I , for an equally striking example. 7. Sanderson 1956, 296. “The gun never found any favour with the whalemen, and in practice it appears to have been little better than a hazardous expense” (Crisp 1954, 103). 8. According to Burton (1983, 156) modern cannon can send an explosive harpoon as much as ninety meters, although they are rarely fired at whales that distant. 9. Roys’s cannon was fired from a whaleboat. On the first voyage in which it was used, “they shot a total of fifty-two whales, none of which was saved” (Bonner 1980,226-27). Roys gave up his left hand to his work: it was blown off in an accident while he was developing a rocket harpoon (Bockstocc 1980, 55).

501

Modern Whaling

whalers exhibited all of these characteristics, and the whaling industry had been revolutionized. Sanderson (1956,299-300, and see 287-92) describes the steamers colorfully. These little vessels looked rather like the early steam trawlers and drifters, but had flared bows, a lot of sheer, a very low freeboard, and rounded bottoms to facilitate rapid turns. They rolled, pitched, and performed other quite inexplicable gyrations in a manner that cannot possibly be described. The only thing they almost never did was sink, though they often technically foundered (which means simply going below the surface) and several of them turned turtle. In both cases, however, they almost always bobbed up again, and right side up to boot! Jackson (1978, 158-59) adds: “[Slhe was ‘all engine’. Everything . . . was sacrificed to strength and speed so that she could stalk whales at seven knots and then tow them back to the shore base.”’O There was still the danger that, if the whale was not killed at the first stroke, it would break the harpoon cable and escape. Foyn dealt with this problem in two ways. He made the cable exceptionally heavy-five inches thick-and he devised a system for carrying the cable to the mast, and then down into the hold to a series of springs.” When the whale swam off, it was played like a fish on a line; the mast and the hold springs (the accumulator) acted in the place of the fishing pole, allowing enough give that the cable would not break. Finally, the vessel was outfitted with a steam winch, powerful enough to keep the whale from sinking, or to bring it up if it did.I2 In the 1880s a system was devised to fill the dead whale with compressed air, so that it could not sink. The body could then be marked with a waif (a floating marker), and the catcher could go on with its catching. Such a whaler required very little manpower. The captain sailed the vessel up to the point of contact with the whale. The engineer then came up from below to handle the wheel, and the captain raced across a catwalk (in the later designs) from the wheelhouse to the gun, which was set on a swivel in the bow. It was the captain who manned the gun and shot the whale. The engineer maneuvered the vessel, backing off after the harpoon was set, and then, if the whale was still alive, accommodating the movements of the vessel to the behavior of the whale. There was no longer a need for the oarsmen who had made up the bulk of a New Bedford crew. Since the vessel was rarely out for long and since the oil was not tried out aboard ship, few technicians were required. The crew could be as small as 10. Foyn’s first vessel was only 86 tons, according to Jackson (1978, 158); Crisp (1954, 105) says the early catchers ran less than 40 tons. By the time the industry had transferred to the Antarctic, catchers were much larger-as large as 280 tons. 11. The rigging was more complicated than this account suggests; a winch figured in it. See the drawing in Burton 1983, 155. 12. Bonner 1980,228. Foyn derived his ideas on the winch and the accumulator at least in part from Roys and Roys’s partner, Gustavus A. Liliendahl.

502

Chapter 13

six-counting the captain, an engineer, a stoker, and a boy to watch from the crow’s nest-and it was never more than a dozen. Crewmen were still needed to secure the dead whale and set the small stabilizing sail on the mizzenmast, but for little else. As the industry developed and as the Antarctic became the principal hunting ground, the catchers became bigger and more powerful. The power source shifted from silent steam to noisy diesel, the hunting style necessarily changed from careful stalking to hard pursuit-to tire the whale-and radios and airplanes enhanced the supply of information at the disposal of the catcher captain, but fundamentally the catcher remained the same. The modem fishery was a throwback to the hunting conducted around Spitsbergen in the seventeenth century, and on the coast of New England in the early eighteenth century. That is, whalers became purely catchers, and the whales were brought back to shore to be processed. The processing initially consisted of the reduction of blubber to oil, but eventually techniques were developed for cooking and pressing the meat and bones to obtain more oil, and then for grinding meat and bones to make fertilizer (guano) and animal feed. In the new industry the labor force did not consist chiefly of seamen, as it had in the old industry. Most of the workers were manufacturing employees; they processed the carcasses, but never went to sea. The lives of the seamen on the catchers also differed from those of the crews of the earlier American whalers. The original Norwegian catchers were typically at sea for a day at a time, rather than the three or four years spent by vessels in the American fishery. Perhaps for that reason, as well as the consistently good catches made in the early years of Norwegian whaling, risks were borne chiefly by the owner. Crewmen were paid a wage (as were shore hands); usually there were also performance bonuses, related to the number of whales taken. Large bonuses went to the gunner (usually the captain), and smaller ones to the rest of the crew.I3 The transfer of the processing operations ashore placed a premium on getting whales back to port quickly, and the premium increased with the innovation, early in the twentieth century, of techniques for using whale oil to produce cooking fats. The oil had to be fresh. Catchers had to reach the station quickly, hauling one or two heavy whale carcasses. They had to be powerful and fast, and they could not operate very far from the shore station.

13.1 Expansion beyond Finnmark Modem Norwegian whaling began in the waters off Norway; it soon spread to other places. Two developments of the early twentieth century hastened its dispersal. First, Norwegian herring fishermen had noticed that herrings and fin 13. As catches declined in the late 1930s due to overhunting, the Norwegian union representing the crewmen bargained (successfully) for a redistribution of the compensation package, so that more came from fixed wages and less from bonuses.

503

Modern Whaling

whales appeared together; they surmised that the slaughter of the whales would lead to the disappearance of the hemng.14 They were mistaken but adamant, and were joined in their opposition to whaling by other fishermen, by conservationists, and by neighbors of whale-processing plants, offended by the pollution of air and water that resulted from their operations. Following a violent period, during which at least one whaling station was destroyed, legislation was passed in 1904 to prohibit whaling off the coasts of Norway.I5The first phase of modern whaling had come to a close. In 1868-1904 the Finnmark whalers had destroyed about eighteen thousand whales (Tonnessen and Johnsen 1982, 61-68). The new equipment had been thoroughly tested and the human capital needed to expand the industry had been formed. New grounds had to be found, and new shore stations established. The second development leading to the dispersal of the industry was the innovation of the hydrogenation process, invented and widely disseminated early in the twentieth century. According to Gordon Jackson (1978, 178) the demand of the soap industry for fats was expanding so rapidly that conventional sources were unable to supply the market at stable prices. In addition, margarine, introduced in the last third of the nineteenth century, was winning large European markets. Hydrogenation converted liquid oils to solid fats that could be used for both soap and margarine, and helped eliminate the fat shortage. In the case of whale oil, hydrogenation produced a white fat with no fishy odor or flavor.IhWhale oil could therefore pass muster for the margarine industry.17The fat melted at low temperatures and for this reason could not be the exclusive constituent of margarine, but the problem was overcome by combining whale-oil fat with other fats. Hydrogenation opened a new market for the products of Norwegian whaling, and in 1929 a further technical development permitted the production of good margarine from whale oil alone. The industry had been selling chiefly to a narrow market, the Scottish jute industry. The opportunities presented by hydrogenation were very much richer than those offered by Scottish industrialists. The output of whalers now expanded rapidly, but the price of whale oil 14. Icelandic and Norwegian legend tells of a type of whale that drives fish toward the shore for man. To Finnmark fishermen the fin whale was the “fish-driver” (Harrison Matthews et al. 1968, 19). 15. The prohibition was rescinded within twenty years, as an element in a Norwegian campaign to win whaling concessions in the Antarctic from Great Britain (T~nnessenand Johnsen 1982, 342). 16. Sperm oil, which is a kind of wax, not a true oil, cannot be hydrogenated. The markets for sperm and whale oil remained entirely separate. This meant that processing plants took only one kind of whale at a time. Sperm whales typically were hunted before the rorqual season, and, after the cleansing of all the equipment, rorquals would be taken. 17. There remained resistance to the use of whale oil in both margarine and soap, because producers feared that consumers would object to it. Consequently, whale oil was generally mixed with other oils. By the end of the 1920s. however, the prejudice had substantially abated. For good accounts of these matters, see Jackson 1978, 178-82; T~nnessenand Johnsen 1982,228-31.

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drifted upward, following the general price indexes of the Western world in the first two decades of the twentieth century. The Norwegians organized whaling stations around the world-in Spitsbergen, Iceland, Ireland, the Shetlands, the Hebrides, the Faeroes, Labrador, Newfoundland, British Columbia, Japan, Korea-wherever rorquals were to be found (Crisp 1954, 109; Dickinson and Sanger 1990). The northern stations proved to be particularly important, because there whalemen learned how to flense and try out under conditions of extreme cold, in the presence of snow and ice. Knowledge was laid up that served them well when the great hunting grounds of the Antarctic were opened. Why, under these improved market conditions, didn’t American whaling revive? Why didn’t Americans join the hunt for rorquals and become again the leading whalemen in the world? There seem to be three answers to these questions. First, by the time the market for oil had revived, the American whaling industry was virtually nonexistent. There was little capital and there were few seamen on which to build a new industry. Second, such physical and human capital as existed was ill suited to the requirements of the new industry. The American fleet did not contain vessels easily converted into steam catchers, and American shipbuilders had a comparative disadvantage in building steel steam-powered vessels. American whalemen knew the old hunting techniques; they understood the right, bowhead, and sperm whales they had once hunted. They did not know the new methods, and they had no experience in finding and killing rorquals. Third, margarine was a European product; it did not capture a significant share of the market in the United States, a nation rich in dairy products, animal fats, and vegetable oils. A new American whaling industry would have had to erter European markets more easily served by the Norwegians, and a whole new marketing apparatus would have had to be built. Proctor and Gamble did make efforts to enter European markets, but the firm that came to occupy the key position as buyer and seller was the British firm Unilever.

13.2 The Antarctic Hunting Grounds The search for new grounds took the whaling nations into the Antarctic. The British, by dint of exploration in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries by Cook, Colnett, Ross, Smith, Powell, Weddell, and Briscoe, had claimed territories that were to be the sites of the first important group of southern shore-whaling stations. These territories, a set of islands and a promontory reaching out from Antarctica, encircled the Scotia Sea lying east and extending south of Cape Horn. They were called the Falkland Islands and Dependencies, and reading clockwise, starting at about ten o’clock, they were the Falkland Islands, South Georgia, South Sandwich Islands, South Orkneys, South Shetlands (at about eight o’clock), and Graham Land, a peninsula stretching north from Antarctica to the South Shetlands.’* 18. Subsequently, the British laid successful claim to the shores and islands of the Ross and Weddell Seas, although they were increasingly unsuccessful at controlling whaling and raising revenues in these seas.

The last great whaling grounds were in the Antarctic. Whalers moved first into the Scotia Sea, then the Weddell Sea, and then the Ross Sea. Before Antarctic hunting ended, whalemen had pursued whales off all the coasts of Antarctica. Courtesy of the Printing Services Department at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill.

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The early explorers reported large numbers of what they took to be right whales in this area and in the Ross and Weddell Seas, but no substantial efforts at hunting were made before the late nineteenth century, although considerable numbers of seals and elephant seals had been taken by the few vessels that passed through. In the early 1890s two parties of vessels, one Scottish and one Norwegian, independently set out for Antarctica to capture the right whales that had been reported by those early explorers. No scientific expedition of any scope had been in the area in almost fifty years; the voyagers of 1892 had little information on Antarctica, and what they did have was very old. The two expeditions found each other, but they found no right whales. Earlier explorers seem to have mistaken finbacks and blues for rights, and the two expeditions of the 1890s wanted nothing to do with rorquals. The Scottish party, in frustration, harpooned a blue, with the results described earlier in this chapter. Both parties gave up on whales and turned to sealing; in that activity they were quite successful (Chatterton 1926, 190-98). The reports of rorquals attracted the attention of Foyn, who proposed an expedition to be financed by British capital and to use Norwegian techniques. Nothing came of this proposal, but the reports of the Scottish and Norwegian parties led to a series of scientific expeditions that further stimulated interest in the area. They did more than that. One of the scientific vessels, the Antarctica, was commanded by C. A. Larsen, an experienced Norwegian whaleman who had commanded one of the Norwegian vessels in the whaling venture of 1892. The Antarctica was caught in the ice of the Erebus and Terror Gulf and crushed.I9 Larsen escaped and eventually fetched up in Argentina, where he was treated as a hero and where he found the financing for the first modern whaling voyage to Antarctica-that is, the first Antarctic voyage in pursuit of rorquals. A license to hunt was obtained from the British government, a shore station was set up on South Georgia, and a Norwegian steam catcher was purchased. The year was 1904 and the Antarctic was about to be opened to modem whaling. The significance of British occupation of the Falklands and Dependencies now became clear. Moved by conservationist motives, the British governor general, Sir William Allardyce, limited the number of licenses awarded to whalers, set rules (1908) encouraging the use of all parts of the whale (obtaining oil from blubber, body, and bones; producing feeds and fertilizer from body and bones), and prohibiting the hunting of young whales and whales accompanied by calves (Burton 1983, 161-62). Allardyce’s successors continued his policies. The whalemen were thus under administrative constraints. Technology established a second constraint. Since carcasses had to be processed quickly lest the quality of the oil deteriorate, the grounds that could be exploited from a given shore station were limited to those relatively nearby. Improvements in 19. The gulf was named after two British vessels in one of the early journeys of exploration.

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the speed and power of catchers expanded this area, but not without limit. The innovation of factory ships eased the technological constraint. Factory ships were, as their name implies, whaling stations located aboard large freighters (eight thousand to thirteen thousand tons). When the factory ship and its catchers moved into a hunting area, the catchers would bring whales to the mother ship, where they would be processed alongside. The use of factory ships did not entirely free whalemen from British control. Since processing could not be conducted at sea, a ship had to find a sheltered bay in which to operate, and so long as the bay lay within British territorywhich was extensive-the ship was, at least in principle, subject to British regulation. As compared with shore stations, factory ships had an important disadvantage. Despite their great size they did not have the space available in a shore station. Consequently, they were obliged to concentrate on obtaining oil; by-products, constituting substantial and growing shares of the value of output of the shore stations, were left largely unexploited. As Bj@mBasberg (1993, 157) puts it: From the beginning of Antarctic whaling both shore stations and floating factory ships were in use. In the first twenty years, up until around 1925, shore station whaling was technologically superior. The ships could certainly move from one catching ground to another, but they were dependent on sheltered waters where the whales could be flensed alongside and where they could find freshwater for the cooking operations. In reality . . . the ships . . . operated in ways similar to the shore stations, but with more disadvantages-with lesser space both for production and storage, more clumsy freshwater supply etc. The factory ships now began to disengage from the land and to ignore British regulations. The first step took place in 1924, when several factory vessels broke into the Ross Sea and found an extraordinary supply of unusually fat whales, chiefly blues. Working conditions were extremely difficult, because temperatures were so low-the blubber of the dead whales froze solid and had to be hacked away with axes; the flensers more than once refused to perform in these execrable conditions and because of the profusion of ice floes, but here for the first time flensing was done on the ice, rather than in some sheltered bay. Whalemen soon found that whales were equally available and working conditions were better outside the Ross Sea, around the Balleny Islands. Very large amounts of oil were produced, despite the failure of the factory ships to convert as great a fraction of the oil contained in the blubber and bodies of these whales as shore stations commonly did. These ventures into the Ross Sea expanded knowledge of the Antarctic and stimulated further scientific interest in the continent. There had been a regular interplay between whaling ventures and scientific expeditions since the early nineteenth century, and scientific activities expanded until in 1912 the Amundsen and Scott expeditions both reached the South Pole. By 1925 whalers had much more accurate information at their disposal than ever before.

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Innovations that date from the 1920s strengthened the move to pelagic whaling. Chief among them was the stem slipway, an inclined plane descending from the main deck of the factory ship to the water. A captured whale could be brought to the slipway by the catcher and hauled by its flukes onto the main deck, where processing would take All the activities of a shore station were conducted on this enormous factory ship (thirteen thousand to sixteen thousand tons). The blubber was removed and tryed out; the flesh and bones were cut up, cooked, and pressed to obtain additional oil; and flesh and bones were ground up for animal feed and fertilizet2I Other innovations were the freshwater evaporator, much improved cookers, and “separators and centrifugal machines which could separate the whale oil even in [a] rough sea” (Basberg 1993, 157). These factory ships were independent of the shore stations and therefore free of British regulation.22The modern shape of the industry was established. Four years after the invention of the stern slipway, the hydrogenation process was improved, so that whale oil, converted to a solid state, could be maintained at higher temperatures than formerly. The market for whale oil was augmented, as margarine could be made from whale oil alone, unmixed with other oils. The slaughter achieved unprecedented levels. “In 1925, when the Lancing [the first stem-slipway factory ship] made her first voyage, the total Antarctic catch was 10,488 whales. In 1931 it rose to 40,201” (Burton 1983, 165-66). Almost three-quarters of this number were blue whales. In that one year the modem industry killed more than 10 percent as many whales as the American industry had destroyed in the entire nineteenth century. Well over 1,000,000 whales were captured between 1904 and 1978, compared with something over 350,000 during the nineteenth century (see chapter 4). The harvest in 1930-31 was so great that the market for oil was swamped, and fears were raised that the whales would be driven to extinction. In the following season the Norwegian government declared a moratorium-well observed by Norwegian whalemen, but not by the English. Only seven factory ships operated in this year, compared with forty-seven the year before (Burton 1983, 166). The number of Antarctic whales taken fell from 40,201 to 9,572. By now the structure of the whaling industry had changed importantly from what it had been in the days when the Finnmark ground was the chief source of whales and the Scottish jute makers were the chief buyers of oil. Further important changes were just over the horizon. In the early 1930s Norwegian firms were still predominant, and Norway 20. A device for hauling the whale aboard-the Gjeldstad claw, a kind of enormous pair of pliers that grasped the flukes-was patented in 193 1. A winch drew the claw and the whale up the slipway to the cutting-in station (Tennessen and Johnsen 1982, 706). 21. The fraction of the total potential output from the whale that factory ships obtained still did not match the record of the shore stations. 22. The British claimed the right to exercise controls in their territorial waters, and whalemen were initially inclined to accept the claim. But, as time passed, “pirate” voyages increased in number and importance, and the British showed no strong disposition to stop them.

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supplied the lion’s share of whaling crews, but other nations were becoming more important players. Of the total number of floating factories produced between 1928 and 1940, fifteen were registered in Norway, ten in Britain, six in Japan, three in Germany, two in the United States, and one each in the USSR, South Africa, and Panama. Furthermore, many Norwegian firms got at least part of their finance from other countries, notably Great Britain and Argentina. In 1930-31 all Antarctic whaling crewmen were Norwegian, while by 1939-40 the figure had fallen to 59 percent; the Japanese alone accounted for 28 percent of crewmen. The decline in the role of Norway was accelerated by disputes between the union representing Norwegian crewmen and their foreign employers, especially the British. Issues of nationality-always of some importance-were becoming much more significant. As to markets, soap makers now took a substantial fraction of output, and one firm, British Unilever, was the chief buyer, both for itself and in its role as an international distributor. It was faced, across the market, by a selling pool of Norwegian firms. Production of margarine expanded on the Continent, especially in the Low Countries and in Germany. These were new and important markets that led to a reorientation of the whaling industry. The relations among the participants in these activities would provide materials for an interesting set of studies in industrial organization and labor economics-also in diplomatic history, since whaling firms were not reluctant to call for assistance from their governments, and governments heard these calls and acted on them.23For example, the Norwegian government attempted to mediate between Norwegian whalemen and the British officials of the Falklands and Dependencies; the Norwegian government also called for the moratorium of 1931-32. Late in the 1930s negotiations on quotas and hunting seasons-developed for conservationist reasons-were carried out exclusively by governments. Industrial organization, labor economics, and diplomatic history are not of central concern to this narrative. Three major developments of the 1930s that border on these areas are important. First, the great international economic collapse had particularly devastating impacts on the prices of raw materials, and public policies were adopted to protect European producers of raw goods, particularly agricultural goods. One such policy, widely adopted in Europe, promoted the interests of butter producers by discouraging the production and consumption of margarine. In Germany, actions against margarine were intended not only to protect farmers, but also to save scarce foreign exchange and to enhance German self-sufficiency in preparation for the coming war. The problem of foreign exchange could be dealt with in another way, however: Germany could acquire a whaling fleet of its own. This it did, and very cheaply, 23. The requisite support was not always forthcoming, however. In 1931 a Norwegian firm instituted suit in English courts against Unilever over an oil contract. The Norwegians lost in King’s Bench and in the Court of Appeal, but won in the House of Lords, to the tune of f447,160 (plus costs) (Tonnessen and Johnsen 1982, 391).

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by using economic pressure to force Unilever to finance the required vessels. German policy thereafter did not deter the hunting of whales. The German fleet-along with the fleets of Japan and the USSR-began to shoulder aside the fleets of the old whaling nations, Norway and Great Britain. Second, the decade saw some serious efforts at conservation. Motives were mixed. Norwegian and English whalemen at the beginning of the decadewhen they dominated whaling-attempted to restrict hunting by adopting a quota system and by limiting the duration and timing of the hunting season. Their immediate purpose was to deal with the glut in the market, but concerns were also expressed over the future of whale stocks and thus the future of whaling. Norwegian whaling was already constrained by domestic legislation with a conservationist bent, and the Norwegian whaling companies were attempting to internationalize the rules that bound them.24 In the fall of 1931 a committee of the League of Nations reported a set of proposals for the regulation of whaling. Among them was a call to prohibit the hunting of right whales, as well as of lactating females and calves of any species. The proposals-which in important respects paralleled Governor Allardyce’s rules-were widely praised and assented to, although it is not clear that they altered whaling practices substantially. Third, the entry of the Germans, Japanese, and Russians into the whaling industry made control more difficult than it had been when virtually all the hunters had been under Norwegian and English direction. Even in these earlier circumstances it was not easy to reach agreements and to police them. With the introduction of new hunters, each with somewhat different goals and perceptions, regulation became much more difficult to achieve. The English and Norwegians-particularly the latter-accepted quotas and short hunting seasons, while the new hunting nations-particularly the Japanese-did not. It is no surprise to find that the British and Norwegian shares of the world catch declined through the 1930s, and the shares of the Japanese and Germans rose. As the 1930s wore on, the world economy began to recover, and recovery, by raising demand and encouraging an expansion of hunting, promoted a breakdown of regulatory agreements. A major break came between the hunting seasons of 1936-37 and 1937-38. In the latter, 46,039 Antarctic whales were killed, the largest seasonal total in the history of whaling. In the following year the catch dropped precipitately, even though the number of catchers on the ground was greater than the year before. The structure of the catch also shifted in ominous ways. In 1938-39 the share of blues-the favored prey-fell sharply; the next year the share of fins-the next most favored-also fell. 24. The issues were more complex than this simple statement suggests. In the Antarctic the English tended to be conservationist in the rules they laid down for hunters, and the Norwegianshunting firms and government-argued for a relaxation of rules. The reverse tended to be true in the north. Each nation favored conservationist regulations in its own territories, but not in the territories of others. There were also differences within groups. For example, Unilever took the position that market forces would prevent the destruction of whale stocks, a view widely at variance with that of the governors of the Falklands and Dependencies.

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Clearly, whale stocks were being seriously damaged (Tonnessen and Johnsen 1982,390-413,457).

13.3 World War 11, Postwar Controls, and the International Whaling Commission World War I1 temporarily reduced the slaughter. The effect was not immediate. Until Norway was occupied by Germany, the Norwegian fleet continued to operate, and the Japanese hunted extensively until Pearl Harbor. Even thereafter they continued to hunt in their own territorial waters. To obtain high quality, noncorrosive lubricating oil, sperm whales were taken throughout the war. Eventually, however, the whaling fleets were virtually eliminated. Factory ships were converted to freighters, catchers, to convoy patrol vessels. Losses were heavy. Most of the factory ships and many of the catchers were sunk by German raiders and submarines, or they were worn out in service. The war gave all of the whale populations time to recover from the heavy prewar hunting, but the recovery was by no means complete. Whales are long-lived animals that take years to come to sexual maturity (see chapter 4). For complete recovery, a moratorium of one or two decades would have been needed; for some species even those intervals would not have been sufficient. With the war over, the whaling nations went back to hunting on a large scale. There were limited efforts at conservation. The International Whaling Commission (IWC) was formed in 1946, and the chief whaling nations agreed to adhere to the rules it laid down, but its techniques proved to be inadequate. The IWC was created to “preserve the stocks of undepleted species and permit the increase in numbers of those already depleted” (Small 1971, 175). The commission, although at first concerned only with Antarctic whaling, established minimum length requirements for the various species of whales, set opening and closing dates for the hunting season, and imposed national quotas and a limit on the size of the total catch. Originally seventeen nations signed the treaty, but most of them did not engage in whaling on a large scale. In 1978, for example, the Japanese and Russians between them took 80 percent of the catch of the member countries (Frost 1979, 38,39). Although a significant improvement over previous attempts, the IWC agreement had two serious flaws. First, since any member nation could exempt itself from an IWC regulation merely by raising an objection, each country had an effective veto over any new regulation. For example, in 1954 the commission voted to prohibit hunting of the blue whale in a limited area in the Antarctic. A single objection from the Dutch doomed the regulation. Second, quotas were not defined for each species, but were set in numbers of “blue whale equivalent^."^^ This definition led to the progressive exploitation of one species after another as whalers concentrated “their efforts on the most valuable spe25. One blue-whale unit (Burton 1983, 167-68).

=

1 blue whale

= 2 fin

whales = 2.5 humpback whales = 6 sei whales

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cies while leaving less valuable ones untouched. They hunted and killed the blue whale as long as possible and then shifted to the fin whale. When the fin whale became scarce they concentrated their harpoons on the sei whale” (Small 1971, 182). Species quotas would have been a more sensible conservation measure, but the member nations would not agree to such a change. By the early 1960s it became apparent to almost everyone that Antarctic whales were seriously overhunted. The IWC commissioned a major independent study of the current stock of whales. The findings of the so-called Committee of Three were so persuasive that over the next decade a series of more effective conservation measures were actually adopted. The blue whale was granted complete protection in 1965, species quotas were adopted in 1970, and a system to monitor each nation’s whaling activity was put in place.

13.4 The End of Whaling? Whaling activity gradually declined, partly because stocks were so depleted as to discourage whaling, and partly due to conservationist activities. The intensity of opposition to whaling increased in the 1970s and the 1980s. One nation after another abandoned whaling, and the United States also banned the importation of whale products. In 1982 the IWC, now “comprising 36 governments representing 85% of the world’s population,” suspended commercial whaling beginning in 1986 (Dolphins, Porpoises, and Whales 1991, lo). The IWC decision was followed, and at the beginning of 1992 Japan and Iceland were the only whaling nations. The Japanese claim that their hunting is motivated by scientific, not commercial, considerations; this claim is not widely accepted outside of Japan. In July 1992 the Norwegians reversed themselves and reentered the ranks of the whaling nations. How far the actions of the Norwegians will influence other nations is not yet clear, nor is it certain how the stocks of whales will be affected (for a pessimistic view see Matthiessen 1995). As things stand presently, there is no whale species-except perhaps the right-that is in danger of extinction. The hunting of grays has been suspended since 1946, and the eastern Pacific population has fully recovered. The blues, humpbacks, and bowheads-three groups about which there was deep concern in conservationist circles only a few years ago-now seem to be recovering, slowly but well. The bowheads are still hunted by Inuits, who do them little damage; the blues and humpbacks are currently hunted by no one. The hunting nations now restrict themselves to fins, seis, minkes, and some of the smaller whales. None of these groups is currently endangered.26 26. Various small riverine cetaceans are endangered. Their chief sources of difficulty are pollution, loss of habitat, and accidental death in fishing nets. The authority of the IWC over them is in question. Other small cetaceans-not endangered-are hunted by the Japanese and the Faeroe Islanders (Dolphins, Porpoises, and Whales 1991, 6,9, 13,28, 35,41, 117, 249).

14

In Retrospect

This work began as a study of the relationships among technological innovation, productivity change, and profits, in the context of a competitive industry experiencing rapid shifts in the markets for its inputs and outputs. The focus is the nineteenth-century New Bedford whaling industry. Whaling was chosen because the natural resource (whales) was equally available to all competitors-both domestic and foreign. Since there were no property rights carrying with them implicit rents, the analytical task of sorting out the relationships among technology, productivity, and profits was simplified. The nineteenth century encompassed most of the last stage of the industry-the pelagic stage-before the advent of modern whaling. During this period the American fleet rose to world leadership and then collapsed-posing important historical and analytical issues. New Bedford was chosen because it sent out about onehalf of American whaling voyages. The study has shown that, although the choice of industry simplified the problem of identifying technical change and assessing its impact, it certainly did not solve it. It has been necessary to consider changes in the markets for labor and capital and for oil and bone, to say nothing of the quality of the entrepreneurial input that directed and combined capital and labor. There was a substantial American whaling industry in the years before the Revolution. By 1814 two wars and a prohibitive British tariff had virtually destroyed it. In 1815 the industry began to rebuild itself, and over the years 1816-20 its agents directed each year more than half a hundred whalers aggregating almost twenty thousand tons, with an average annual catch valued at about $750,000 (in 1880 dollars). Twenty-five years later, American agents directed 672 vessels valued at $21 million (1880 prices), and the industry employed 16,600 seamen. In 1860 the annual value of the industry’s output reached almost $8 million, which made it larger than 583 of the nation’s 631 manufacturing industries. That value, ac513

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cording to the census, resulted from the sale of 2,695,000 gallons of sperm oil, 7,413,000 gallons of whale oil, and 3,196,000 pounds of bone-with New Bedford contributing more than one-half (U.S. Census Office 1866, 550; 1865,733-42). The expansion was not limited to vessels, men, and product; it was geographic as well. At the time of the Revolution, American whalers operated over most of the Atlantic-as far north as Baffin Bay, east to the coast of Africa, and as far south as Patagonia. In 1791 the Rebecca followed the British Emilia around Cape Horn and into the Pacific. By the mid-1830s American whalemen had pushed the industry’s Pacific boundaries first into the center of that ocean and then to the coast of Japan; in the Indian Ocean they had hunted as far north as the Red Sea. During the next fifteen years Pacific operations expanded into the Gulf of Alaska and the Sea of Okhotsk, and in 1848 the first American whalers entered the Western Arctic. By that time captains and crewmen were well acquainted with sperm, right, gray, and humpback whales, and they had begun to speak rhapsodically about the western bowheads encountered in the North Pacific and Western Arctic. The Americans, for all their whaling prowess, however, had not managed to capture a significant number of the fast-swimming rorquals-blues, seis, minkes, and finners-that were to be the foundation of modem whaling. Midcentury marked the zenith of the American effort. Although the industry recovered slightly from the depredations of the Confederate raiders Alabama and Shenundoah, the contraction that began in the mid-I 850s continued almost unabated until the industry was wound up in the 1920s.’ By the beginning of the twentieth century, the value of whaling output was less than 10 percent of its earlier peak. Between 1901 and 1905 the forty-odd remaining vesselsaggregating about ten thousand tons-returned an annual average of about 600,000 gallons of sperm oil, 95,000 gallons of whale oil, and 100,000 pounds of bone. What, then, was the relationship between technology and productivity change in this evolving industry? What caused its rapid increase in output, and what caused its equally rapid contraction? The standard account points to increasing demand for oil and bone as the engine of expansion and to decreasing demand coupled with an exhaustion of whale stocks-the result of overhunting-as the causes of contraction. Since it was the American, not the world, industry that declined, it has also been suggested that the failure of this nation’s whaling entrepreneurs to capitalize on the new techniques and markets exploited by the Norwegians was a factor. It does not take a study of technology or productivity to show that changes in demand were important. Despite the increase in the American output of sperm oil from an annual average of 723,000 gallons in 1816-20 to an annual 1. The voyage of the John R. Manta in 1925 was the “last successful whaling voyage from New Bedford” (Hegarty 1959,47).

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average of 4,627,000 gallons in 1836-40, the real price of sperm oil increased over the period from $0.61 to $0.93 per gallon. For whale oil the increase from an annual average of 820,000 gallons in 1816-20 to 7,875,000 gallons in 1846-50 was accompanied by a price increase from $0.33 to $0.45. For whalebone, too, increased prices accompanied increased outputs: the annual average output of 50,000 pounds in 1816-20 sold for $0.08 a pound, that of 3,394,400 in 1851-55 for $0.42. Similarly, the 79 percent fall in the American average annual output of sperm oil, from 2,560,000 to 536,000 gallons, between 1856-60 and 1901-5 coincided with a 54 percent decline in its real price-from $1.39 to $0.64and the collapse of the whale oil market, a 97 percent fall in output between 1861-65 and 1901-5, was accompanied by a 3 1 percent decline in price. These movements are consistent with developments in the market for the industry’s final products. During the Golden Age the tripling of the nation’s population raised domestic-lighting demand, foreign demand increased, and the rapid growth of the manufacturing sector caused a large increase in the demand for lubricants. As knowledge of its strength and flexibility spread, whalebone demand increased as well. The industry’s decline coincided, first, with the development of new illuminants and lubricants such as manufactured gas and lard oil, second, with the discovery of petroleum, and finally, with the innovation of fractional distillation. Petroleum provided a substitute for sperm and whale oil as illurninants; distillation reduced the price of the substitute (kerosene) and produced a steady flow of inexpensive substitutes for whale-based lubricants as by-products of the refining process. The skyrocketing demand for whalebone-real prices increased almost fifteenfold between 1854 and 1904-was due to women’s fashions (which called for wasp-waisted corsets) and to manufacturers’ desire for a material that was both strong and flexible.z Whalebone alone prolonged the life of the American industry for at least fifteen years, despite the near total collapse of the markets for oil. Demand forces, however, do not tell the entire story. Output of sperm oil fell by 44 percent between 1836-40 and 1856-60, despite a price increase of 64 percent. In the case of whale oil, output fell by almost two-thirds in the fifteen years after 1846-50, in the face of a near 170 percent increase in real prices. For a complete explanation of the industry’s response to changes in its economic environment, it is necessary to explore supply responses in addition to shifts in demand. In particular the relationships among changes in the stocks of whales, the evolution of factor (particularly labor) priqes, and the invention and innovation of new technologies must be examined. ’he productivity regressions provide an analytical vehicle that can be used to begin such an examination. (See table 8.2.) Although measured productivity was subject to violent year-to-year fluctua2. The whalebone price increase was also importantly due to the decline in supply.

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tions, over time a moving average of the productivity index for the New Bedford fleet makes a pattern similar to that of a jump rope held at one end by a ten-year-old girl and at the other by her six-year-old brother. The index averaged about 1.2 in the decade 1820-30, fell sharply (to about 0.9) over the next five years, levelled off over the next fifteen, and then gradually declined (to about 0.4) between 1850 and the end of the Civil War. Thereafter, as the industry continued to contract, the trend in productivity was reversed. Between the mid- 1860s and the end of the century, it more than doubled-reaching, by the mid- 1 8 9 0 the ~ level of 1835-50. The regression analysis provides insights into the sources of the movements in the index. Four results stand out. First, while there may have been overhunting of some whales in some grounds (of right whales in the North Pacific, for example), there is no evidence that American whaling contracted because of a serious shortage of whales. An increase in the hunting-pressure index appears to have no large, unfavorable impact on productivity. Collateral evidence indicates that Americans did hunt the Pacific gray whale almost to the point of extinction, but the massacres in the Baja calving grounds occurred after whaling had begun its long-term decline, and grays were never an important part of the American effort. Furthermore, Americans made no serious inroads into sperm-whale or humpback stocks, and the industry had been long in decline before the hunting of bowheads had a substantial impact on bowhead numbers. Second, whaling productivity was adversely affected by the competition for labor from shore-based industry. The negative relationships between productivity and both the common wage ashore and the ratio of skilled to common wages are strong. As the internal economy developed, the increased demand for workers pushed wages up, and many of the best crewmen were bid away from the sea. Throughout the nineteenth century, cheap labor was a key to profitable whaling. The British had been successful as long as they could draw on the Shetland Islanders, whose opportunity cost was almost nil; the Norwegians became successful not only because of their willingness to innovate new technologies and open new markets, but also because of the supply of cheap domestic labor-the product of Norway’s rapid rate of population growth and slow rate of industrialization. Third, it is clear that the industry’s entrepreneurs and managers made significant contributions to productivity (see chapter 10). In the case of agents, the choice of vessels (the early substitution of ships for brigs, barks, and schooners, and later the substitution of barks for ships), the substitution of larger for smaller vessels, and the decision to shift operations from the Atlantic to the Pacific, Indian, and Western Arctic, all contributed to increased productivity. A good captain also made an important difference in a voyage’s success. The agents’ and captains’ efforts would not have been sufficient to sustain productivity in the face of the siren call of the manufacturing sector had it not been for the potential productivity of new technologies, both process and institutional. Process technology is captured in several variables. The improvement in

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general vessel design is picked up in the “mode of entry to the fleet.” By the early 1850s hulls had been largely redesigned, there had been a “revolution aloft” with greater numbers of smaller, flat, canvas sails replacing the very large and heavy hemp sails, and the first steps had been taken in the science of naval architecture. The impact of these changes can be seen in the near 20 percent productivity differential between merchant ships built before 1850 and those built after. Rerigged vessels-almost always ships rerigged as barks-proved more productive than the vessels that remained rigged as they were built. The development of an efficient winch reduced the labor required to raise the lateen sail on the mizzen and made it feasible to operate barks of upwards of four hundred tons. Given equal size, barks had always tended to be more productive than ships. They had more clearance for the aft boats, and they were easier for shipkeepers to handle when the majority of the crew were in the boats. With the opening of the Western Arctic (and later with the reopening of the grounds in Hudson Bay and Davis Strait), the greater maneuverability of barks made them substantially more productive than ships. The regressions do not indicate, however, that vessels built especially for whaling were more productive than others. The finding is surprising, and there is no obvious explanation for it. The crew-quality variables also appear to pick up some of the effects of technical progress, particularly the innovations aloft in sails and rigging and in the design of the steering mechanism. In the regressions, productivity is positively associated with the fraction of the crew that was illiterate and with the fraction that was unskilled. It appears that the new sail plans and steering mechanisms allowed the substitution of mates and illiterate greenhands for skilled and semi-skilled seamen, whose wages were relatively high. The statistical results should not be interpreted to mean that less-qualified seamen caused higher productivity. Rather, the skill mix of whaling crews reflected the technical characteristics of the vessels. Vessels with advanced technical configurations-thus more productive vessels-could be managed by crews with relatively large numbers of unskilled seamen. The high productivity of those vessels reflected their technical characteristics, not the low quality of their seamen. The positive sign on the technological dummy probably reflects chiefly the effects of improvements in whalecraft. Better charts and better vessel design may also figure in this result, although the latter should be captured in the vessel-design variables. By 1870 the toggle iron had effectively replaced the two-flued iron; virtually all vessels carried steel lances and whale guns that delivered explosive lances. Many vessels, especially those in the Western Arctic, carried darting guns. These innovations greatly increased the probability that a whale, once harpooned, would be killed and recovered. Fewer lost whales meant increased productivity, the same number of attacks yielding oil and bone from more whales.

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One institutional innovation, although not affecting the trend, did affect the level of productivity of the American fleet. The Americans early adopted the lay system of payment. Every member of the ship’s company from captain to cabin boy signed on, not for a wage or piece rate, but for a predetermined percentage of the value of the product returned. The system had a positive impact not only on profitability, transferring a part of the risk from entrepreneur to crewman, but also on productivity. Nineteenth-century whaling was a cooperative enterprise. A boat’s crew had to work closely together, if a whale was to be successfully taken, and a vessel’s crew had to work together, if a carcass was to be efficiently reduced to oil. The lay system rewarded cooperative, not individual, effort. If the lay system affected only the level of the index, two other institutional innovations affected its time path. As whalers ranged farther and farther from New Bedford, the time lost travelling to and from the whaling grounds increased. In order to overcome the transport capacity constraint imposed by the size of the whaling vessel, agents began to use distant ports-Honolulu, Lahaina, Sydney, San Francisco, Port Louis-as transshipment points. A whaler could leave New Bedford, travel to the North Pacific or Western Arctic, hunt for a season, offload at Lahaina, and return to the hunt for a second season. Sometimes the process was repeated three or four times. In the decade 181625, before agents had begun to transship the catch, a typical Pacific voyage lasted slightly more than twenty-four months; fifty years later the figure had almost doubled. Finally, the American whaleman benefitted from the government’s decision to socialize exploration, hydrography, and ocean cartography. In the late 1830s Congress financed a five-year effort to explore and survey the Pacific coast and the South Seas and, fifteen years later, a similar venture designed to explore “and reconnaisance-the courses of navigation used by whalers in the regions of Behring’s Straits; also such parts of the China Seas, Straits of Gaspar, and Java Sea as lie directly in the route of vessels proceeding to and from China” (WSL 3 August 1852). Both expeditions ended with the publication and widespread dissemination of accounts of their findings and maps of the regions. Also at midcentury the navy’s Hydrographic Office, under the direction of Matthew Fontaine Maury, began systematically to collect information on winds, ocean currents, magnetic deflections, and weather. Drawing on the reports filed by a substantial fraction of the nation’s sea and whaling captains, Maury constructed a series of maps that spelled out the best routes for sailing ships to follow at various times of the year on all standard voyages. The work resulted in major reductions in average voyage lengths for American sailing vessels and greater productivity for American whalers. Clearly, one major explanation of the demise of the American industry was the decline of the markets for sperm and whale oil beginning in the 1850s, and, three decades later, of the market for bone as well. New technologies were developed and innovated, and they appear to have reversed the downward slide

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She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides Like the horns of an angry bull. The Wreck of the Hesperus, Longfellow Wrecks ended the careers of many New Bedford vessels. The Citizen, a Sag Harbor whaler, was transferred into the California trade and then brought back east to join the New Bedford whaling fleet. On her next voyage-her first out of New Bedford-the whaler was lost with six of her crew. A seventh died later from injuries sustained in the wreck. Drawing reproduced from The Arctic Whaleman, by Lewis Holmes, 1857, courtesy of the Old Dartmouth Historical Society-New Bedford Whaling Museum.

in measured productivity and somewhat prolonged the life of the industry. They were not, however, sufficient to save it. Within a decade of the time that the American industry began to decline in the 1850s, in and off Finnmark-Norway’s most northern province-Svend Foyn began an enterprise that launched modem whaling. The new enterprise differed in the products it produced, in the technology it employed, and in the species of whales it caught. With the demise of the lighting market, whalemen were left with a much smaller number of consumers-those who continued to need oil for lubrication; for the manufacture of soft soaps, jute, and textiles; for tanning; for tempering steel; and for tinning. Given the much reduced demand, it was difficult for a firm to survive if it gained no more than the 40 to 50 percent of the whale’s oil that was found in the blubber. Foyn’s factories retrieved more of the oil. In addition, the bones were ground for “guano”; when the oil had been

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boiled out, the remaining carcass-high in protein-was sold as cattle feed; the meat was canned and sold as canned beef or meat cakes; and even the glue water, the liquid left over from the boiling and bone-cleaning processes, was turned into a salable product-glue. The technology innovated by Foyn was new. His was no longer a pelagic industry. Whales were hunted at sea, but processing was done at shore stations. In fact, it would have been impossible to render an entire whale on a nineteenth-century whaling vessel. Moreover, the hunt was no longer conducted from a sail- and oar-powered whaleboat, but from a much larger, ironhulled, steam-powered killer boat armed with whaling cannon. Contrast Foyn’s first killer boat, the Spes er Fides-almost ninety-five feet long, powered by a twenty-horsepower engine, capable of seven knots, and armed with seven whale guns-with the twenty-five- to twenty-eight-foot wooden boats that Americans used to attack whales. To complete the transition, in 1872 Foyn received a patent on a shell harpoon-a combination harpoon and grenadethat killed the whale instantly and could be fired from a gun mounted on the bow of the killer boat. Although Foyn probably never saw a whale he didn’t like, the new technology permitted him to hunt the fast-swimming rorquals that had theretofore escaped the whalemen’s harpoons. He was thus able to benefit from a sudden increase in the economic supply of whales, a supply initially located within a day’s sail of his factory. The Norwegians did their best to keep their techniques secret, but the technology was certainly known to the Germans and the Scots, and it is unlikely that the same information was not also available to potential American entrepreneurs. Over the decade 1863-72, when Foyn perfected his hunting techniques, an American, Thomas Welcome Roys, was also working on a new technology that would allow him to hunt rorquals successfully. During those ten years his record for catching them was almost identical to Foyn’s, but Roys lost most of his catch: the whales sank. Why didn’t New Bedford whaling entrepreneurs innovate the Norwegian techniques and move into the new industry? Distance may have precluded operations in Finnmark or Spitsbergen, but Iceland was not much farther from New Bedford than it was from Sandefjord, the principal Norwegian whaling port, and Newfoundland was certainly closer. Is whaling an example of American entrepreneurial failure? Several factors appear to explain the American decision not to pursue the new opportunities, and none involves the quality of New Bedford entrepreneurship. In the first place the new system of whaling made the entire American capital stock-both physical and human-completely obsolete. Wooden vessels could play no role, and not only was there no use for the stockpiles of whaleboats, harpoons, and lances, but not even the recently acquired darting guns had a place on the modern whaler. Since the whales hunted were not the sperms, rights, grays, and bowheads of Melville’s time, all the specialized

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knowledge about hunting grounds, migration patterns, and whale behavior that captains and agents had gained over the previous decades was no longer of any value. The same was true of the skills that had been developed to attack and kill those animals. Successful entry into modem whaling would have required an entire new capital stock. In the second place the Americans had benefitted from the nation’s comparative advantage in the design and manufacture of wooden sailing vessels. They had no such advantage in the case of iron-hulled steamships; in fact, the nation’s comparative disadvantage would almost certainly have forced whalemen to turn to Britain for killer ships. Clearly they had no edge over actual Norwegian, or potential British, competitors. In the final analysis, however, it was the matter of opportunity costs that doomed the American enterprise. The whales belonged to anyone who could successfully hunt them, but capital, labor, and entrepreneurial ability all had some national ties. American agents had employed men from distant placesfor example, from the Cape Verde Islands and the islands of the South Seasbut untrained Americans still made up part of the crews, and almost all of the officers came from New England. Labor had always been relatively expensive in this country; after 1840 it became increasingly so. Between the 1860s and the 1880s the wages of common laborers increased by about one-third and stood in the 1880s at about $1.30 a day. Common labor in Norway could be hired for $0.30, and a seaman on a whaler earned only $0.48. Over the same two decades the wages of skilled American workers grew even faster, with the ratio of wages of skilled to those of unskilled workers increasing from about 1.6 to about 1.9.3 In a similar vein the owners of both capital and entrepreneurial talent found the rewards in activities closer to home continually more attractive. The burgeoning manufacturing and transport sectors were drawing capital; for those of a somewhat more risk-taking proclivity, opportunities in the West were expanding rapidly. Even the great whaling families were not slow to take advantage of these new opportunities. The Rotches invested in railroads, toll roads, banks, insurance companies, and real estate. Charles W. Morgan invested in an ironworks. The Howlands also saw potential profits in the railroads, and their investments helped make New Bedford the third leading center of cotton textile manufacture in Massachusetts. Nor were whaling agents loath to turn their entrepreneurial skills to these alternative pursuits. The Howlands provided a part of the entrepreneurial force behind New Bedford’s first cotton mill; Weston Howland opened the city’s first petroleum-refining plant. Thus, while the free availability of the ocean’s whales made it possible for the United States to achieve its midcentury leadership in whaling, in the long 3. Norwegian wages, expressed in @re,are from T~nnessenand Johnsen 1982, 12, 13. American unskilled wages are from Abbott 1905, 361. The skilled to unskilled (artisans to laborers) ratio is from Williamson and Lindert 1980, 306.

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run that availability made it possible for the Norwegians to dislodge the Americans from that position. Lower wages, lower opportunity costs of capital, and a lack of entrepreneurial alternatives pushed the Norwegians into exploiting the whale stocks. Higher wages, higher opportunity costs of capital, and a plethora of entrepreneurial alternatives turned Americans-even those from New Bedford-toward the domestic economy.

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Name Index

Abbott, Edith, 181-84t, 186n35, 521113 Achenback, Joel, 53-56t Ackerman, Diane, 21115 Ahvenainen, Jorma, 283 Allen, Everett S., 4 n l l Allen, K. Radway, 133, 134t, 142 Ansel, Willits D., 248-49 (ill.), 2841124 Anthony, Joseph R., 68118, 3981122 Ashley, Clifford W., 146n24 Atack, Jeremy, 4551129,4561,457113 1 Averch, Harvey, 463 Baker, Benjamin, 426 Baker, Mary L., 24-23.53-53 Balcomb, Kenneth C. 111, 24-25t, 53-55t Bannister, John L., 136 Barnett, William A., 298111 Barstow, Wilson, 269 Basberg, Bjorn, 507,508 Bateman, Fred, 455n29,456t, 457n31 Bathe, B. W., 269, 278 Best, Peter B., 135, 136, 138n14 Bockstoce, John R., 39,46n31, 131112, 134t, 140, 143-44, 148n30,277 Bonner, W. Nigel, 23t, 53-55t, 498nn1,2, 500119 Book, L. H., 26n7 Botkin, Daniel B., 131112, 134t, 140, 143-44, 1481130 Brandt, Karl, 301112 Breiwick, Jeffrey M., 144 Bright, Charles, 283 Brown, George T., 354

539

Brown, James Templeman, 160n22, 38687n7,426 Bullen, Frank T., 346118 Bums, Walter Noble, 301112, 49-50, 1411118 Burton, Robert, 23n6,24-25t, 29n10,53-55t, 131112, 136nll,498nl, 500nn6,8,506, 508,5 1In25 Butler, Martin Joseph, 150nl,252, 253-54t, 2931134 Caves, Douglas W., 12,298nl Chapelle, Howard I., 233, 2451, 264n3, 265, 266n8,267,268,269,270,271nll,272, 278 Chapman, Douglas G., 144 Chatterton, E. Keble, 99n24, 242, 2451, 247, 267,271,463n10,464n13,466,492,506 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 2 Christensen, Laurits R., 12, 298n1 Church, Albert Cook, 341118.275 Clark, A. Howard, 19n22, 26-27 (ill.), 58, 97, 214,331 Colby, Barnard L., 2801116 Cole, Arthur Harrison, 212, 352 Collins, Frederick L., 355 Collodi, Carlo, 3 Congreve, William, 290 Conrad, Jon M., 144-45n23 Conway, W. Martin, 311114 Cortis Conde, Roberto, 150111 Cousteau, Jacques-Yves, 4n10, 2%. 311113, 53-55t Craig, Lee A., 381n2,393nl5,457n30

540

Name Index

Credland, Arthur G., 36 Crkvecoeur, J. Hector St. John de, 151117, 351122 Crisp, Frank, 53-55t,464n13,498nl, 499, 500nn6,7,501n10,504 Cutler, Carl C., 245t, 266 Daum, Arnold R., 355,356, 358,362,363-64 David, Paul A,, 185t. 1861135, 188x139, 309t Davis, Lance E.. 5,299, 307116, 3971120, 459nl.491t Davis, Ralph, 262 Decker, Robert Owen, 291110,401 Denny, Michael, 298111 Desai, Meghnad, 424 Dias, Joseph, 57-58, 107-8, 239, 427 Dickinson, Anthony, 504 Diewert, W. Erwin, 12,298111 Dow, George Francis, 29119 Dulles, Foster Rhea, 131112, 146n24 Durvelle, J.-P., 301111 Eber, Dorothy Harley, 39, 49, 463119 Ellis, Richard, 1112, 21nn3,4,5, 31n15, 39, 53-55t,498nl Ely, Ben-Ezra Stiles, 49 Evans, Peter G. H., 24-2X53-53 Fairburn, William Armstrong, 245t, 462, 477 Fearn, Robert M., 393n15 Ferguson, Robert, 1461125 Fish, Reuben, 269 Fishlow, Albert, 352t Folger, Henry C., Jr., 363 Forbes, Allan, 98, 991124 Foster, Larry, 24-25t, 53-53 Foyn, Svend, 50,500-501,506,519-20 Frost, Sydney, 28n7,51,52, 133, 134t, 13536, 140, 1411120, 147,511 Fulton, James M., 301112 Fuss, Melvyn, 298x11 Gallman, Robert E., 21 1, 299, 307n6, 350t, 352t, 384n4,397n20,459nI, 491t Gambell, Ray, 132114, 1371113 Gardner, Robert, 53-55t Gaskin, David E., 133117, 1401117 Gilders, Michelle, 3 , 53-53 Goldenberg, Joseph A., 245t, 262,264,278 Goldin, Claudia, 195 Graham, Gerald S., 264, 265, 266, 279, 281, 282

Green, Hetty, 4 Greenhill, Basil, 261, 264,265, 266,267, 268, 271,272,273 Griffiths, John W., 266118 Grinnell, Joseph, 211-13 Haines, Michael, 388t Haley, Nelson Cole, 275 (ill.), 386117 Hall, Henry, 245t, 2471122 Harley, C. Knick, 260111, 262 Harrison Matthews, Leonard, 2113, 136111 1, 137n13.503n14 Heffernan, Thomas Farel, 15 1-52116 Hegarty, Reginald B., 44t, 45n30,46,58, 6162.97, 108, 239, 242,335-38t, 416-18t, 514nl Heien, Dale M., 298111 Heintzelman, Donald S . , 23t, 53-53 Henderson, David A,, 141n18, 1421121, 143 Hillman, J. and Z . , 269 Hohman, Elmo Paul, 151116, 19n23,29nn9,10, 371123.871118, 131n2, 150, 153, 1571115, 158-60, 167, 172111126.27, 174, 179, 185134, 186, 193-95,200,211,213, 252nn25,27,273,302n3,397n21,426n3, 427n7,428-29,460n3,499n3 Holmes, Lewis, 426 Homer, Sidney, 463n12 Hough, George A,, 36,242,343nn2.3, 354119, 395,403 Hough, Henry Beetle, 471133,68118 Huntington, Gale, 871118 Hussey, Christopher, 35 Hutchins, John G. B., 218116, 243, 264, 266, 267,268,2711111,272,278,279,463, 476n22.490t Hutchins, Teresa, 299, 307116, 3971120,459111. 491t Jackson, Gordon, 31nn14,15,32-33,322, 331, 334t, 364, 460112, 461nn6,7, 462, 468,473,474n20,4761122,477-80,483, 485, 491t, 4921131.493, 497,498nn1,2, 501,503 Jamison, Alexander, 355 Jefferson, Thomas, 151117, 342, 35 1-52 Jenkins, J. T., 45,460,461n7,474n20,480, 492 J0hnsen.A. 0.. 51n35, 132113, 147,290, 291n31,498n1,498-99n2,503,508n20, 5091123 Johnson, Leland L., 463 Judd, Bernice, 295n35

541

Name Index

Knight, Frank H., 424 Knoeber, Charles R., 381112 Kuznets, Simon, 4-5

Moms, James M., 279 Morzer Bruyns, W. F. J., 25t Murphy, Robert Cushman, 276

La Grange, Helen, 245t, 266n7 Lamoreaux, Naomi, 40 Landstrom, Bjom, 262 Larsen, C. A,, 506 Lawrence, Mary Chipman, 47n33 Layer, Robert G., 181-84t, 185n33 Leatherwood, Stephen, 137 Lebergott, Stanley, 177, 178t, 179,498-99112 Ley, Willy, 30111 1 Lien, Jon, 1411120, 1481130 Liliendahl, Gustavus A,, 291 Lilly, John, 3118 Lindert, Peter H., 185t, 186n35,309t, 521113 Lopez, Barry, 2 I n5 Lubbock, Basil, 245t, 268 Lytle, Thomas G., 274,283n23,284n25,288, 291,292n32

Nelson, W. Ripley, 351120 Nishimizu, Mieko, 298111 Nordhoff, Charles, 131n2, 146n24, 180, 186, I93,302n3,381nl,389nlO, 3941117, 396n19 Norris, James D., 771113 North, Douglass, 5, 262, 264n4

McCulloch, J. R., 46 1,464n 13, 4691116, 474n20,483,485,497 McDevitt, Joseph Lawrence, Jr., 404 McGowan, Alan, 262-63.266.278 McKay, Lauchlan, 264 McKay, Richard C., 245t, 267nl0,268,27 I , 272,273,279,281 Macy, Obed, 35nn19,20,245t, 252,2841124 Maran, Michael J., 131n2, 228 Margo, Robert A., 181-84t, 1861135 Margolis, Carolyn, 280n I8 Martin, Kenneth R., 40 (ill.), 136, 137, 1381114, 148n30 Matthiessen, Peter, 41110, 1411120, 147, 512 Maury, Matthew Fontaine, 280-82 Melville, Herman, 1, 53-56t, 151116, 273741115 Merdsoy, Bora, 1411120, 1481130 Michie, Ronald C., 462n8, 463n9, 4641113, 4711117,4721118 Milton, John, 2 Minasian, Stanley M., 24-25t, 53-5% Mitchell, Broadus, 191123 Mitchell, E. D., 144, 146n26 Moment, David, 195,401 Moniz, Arthur, 11 (ill.) Moore, Samuel Taylor, 65116, 78n14, 4121131 Morgan, Theodore, 2951135 Morison, Samuel Eliot, 191123,200, 268, 39411 17,426 Moms, Donald R., 3901111

Offenbacher, Edward K., 298111 Olmsted, Francis Allyn, 284n24 Paccalet, Yves, 41110, 25t, 311113, 53-53 Payne, Roger, 3118 Pease, Zephaniah W., 36,242, 343nn2,3, 354n9, 395 (ill.), 403 Pitkin, Thomas, 344 Pope, Alexander, 171119 Purrington, Philip F., 79n17, 108 Putney, Martha, 1861136 Reeves, Randall R., 137, 146n26 Rice, Dale W., 132n3, 140n17, 141-42 Ringgold, Cadwalader, 280 Robinson, Sherman, 298111 Rodgers, John, 281 Rodman, Samuel, 68 Rogers, Stanley, 24% Ross, W. Gillies, 464, 466 Rouecht, Berton, 35n19 Roys, Thomas Welcome, 10,290-91, 500, 520 Sanderson, Ivan T., 29n10,498n1,500n7,501 Sanger, Chesley W., 178n32,499n5,504 Scammon, Charles M., 10, 191122, 28, 341117, 51n35,53-55t, 134-35, 140, 143,274, 283,2851126,288,292,294 Scarff, James E., 133, 134t, 138n15, 142 Schumpeter, Joseph, 260111,425 Scoresby, William, 33, 148, 215n3, 4741120 Shakespeare, William, 2 Sherman, Stuart C., 47n33,68n8,78 Shuster, George W., 131112 Simpson, Marcus B., Jr., 35n19 Simpson, Sallie, 351119 Slijper, E. J., 140n17, 144 Small, George, 21n5, 28117, 30, 31.51, 52, 53-55t. 511,512 Smart, Christopher, 2

542

Name Index

Smillie, T. W., 358 (ill.) Sokoloff, Kenneth, 195, 384n4 Solar, Peter, 185t, 1861135, 1881139, 309t Soltow, Lee, 412 Sparkes, Boyden, 65n6,78n14,412n31 Spears, John R., 131112 Spindt, Paul A,, 298nl Stackpole, Renny A,, 16n18,34n17,39, 411128.68118 Starbuck, Alexander, 7t, 34, 35, 37-38.41, 44t, 58, 61-63,97, 100, 101, 107-8, 239, 240,242,251,331,369-78,416-18t, 426,427 Stevenson, Charles H., 135, 140n16, 343113, 345,346n8.356nlI Stotz, Louis, 355 Sutherland, Helen, 136 Swank, James M., 291 Sylla, Richard, 4631112 Taylor, George Rogers, 261 Taylor, Sandra. 136 Thomas, Robert Paul, 5 Tillman, Michael F., 144 Tinker, Spencer Wilkie, 20112, 24-25t, 53-55t T~nnessen,J. N., 511135, 132113, 147, 290, 291n31,498nI, 498-99n2.503.508n20, 509n23 Tower, Walter S., 6t, 7t, 30, 341118, 37.45, 321,331,342n1,345n7,360t, 362,36978,461 Tribolet, Leslie Burnett, 283 Trillin, Calvin, 261-62112 U.S. Census Office, 41111, 38,345, 346t U S . Customs Service, 8 1t, 82f U.S. Department of Commerce, 243, 253-54t

U.S. Department of State, 150111 U.S. Department of the Treasury, 243, 245t, 357n12 Varian, Hal, 423111 Vickers, Daniel F., 351122 Villaflor, Georgia C., 181-84t, 1861135 Villiers, Alan, 262, 271, 272, 281 Viola, Herman J., 2801118 Wallis, John Joseph, 5 Watson, Lyall, 23t, 24-25t, 53-56t Weber, Gustavus A., 280nn17.19, 281, 282 Weiss, Thomas, 350t West, Ellsworth Luce, 47, 49, 343n3 Whipple, A. B. C., 291110, 351121, 57111, 174 Whitecar, William B., Jr., 1571115,202n50, 231n12,386n7,398n22,480n26 Whiting, Emma Mayhew, 471133,68118 Wiley, John P., Jr., 133116 Wilkes, Charles, 174, 280-81 Williams, Gerald 0.. 197, 200-201 Williams, Harold, 47n33,50t, 791117 Williamson, Harold F., 355, 363-64 Williamson, Jeffrey G., 185t. 1861135, 309t, 521113 Wolman, Allen N., 132n3, 1401117, 141-42 Wood, Dennis, 62115, 63.65.751112, 991125, 1001127, 108-11,239,416-18t Work Projects Administration (WPA), 38n25, 73,74nll, 78,95,97, 100, 101,225, 253-54t, 383 Works Progress Administration of Massachusetts, 76, 79t, 386n6 Wray, Phoebe, 136, 137, 1381114, 1481130 Wright, Gavin, 455

Subject Index

Abigail (ship): crew lists (Whalemen’s Shipping List), 111-13; entries in Ship Registers for, 120-22; registration and voyage dates, 101, 103; voyages of (Wood MS), 109-1 1 Advances on lay, 15, 173-75 Agent firms: longevity of and turnover within, 384-85; productivity of specialist and nonspecialist, 404-10 Agents: business activities of, 401-3; choices and decisions about a voyage, 187,21416, 394, 396; connections in resupply ports, 295; decisions influencing productivity, 303-7; fortunes of, 403; gain from agencies, 401; interdependence with captains in whaling ventures, 15-16, 385-88; methods of American and British, 463; as organizers and managers of whaling ventures, 384,394-401; outputmaximization role, 452-54; as owners of whaling vessels, 394,401; profits of voyages with experienced, 447-52; relation of experience to productivity and profitability, 407-10; role with improved transportation and communication, 45; shares in voyage, 414; sources of income, 411; wage payments to crewmen, 157; wealth of New Bedford, 412-14 Agents’ Occupations Data Set, 106-7, 122-26 Allen gun. See Brand gun Ambergris, 29-30 Antarctic hunting grounds, 50-51, 502; factory ships in, 507; map, 505; whaling stations, 504

543

Arctic hunting grounds: Eastern Arctic, 39; opening of Western Arctic, 295, 297; use of barks in, 270 Atlantic hunting grounds: American and British productivity and profits (1817-42), 470-92; British and Americans in (181742), 461-66; crewmen (1817-42), 466, 492-97 Attack: boats used for, 283-84; methods of and devices for, 284. See also Whaleboats; Whalecraft; Whale guns and lances Baleen. See Whalebone, or baleen Barks: design and rigging innovation, 270; introduction of, 38-39; manning requirements for, 257; as modified clippers, 258; size compared to ships, 258; size increase, 258; steam-powered, 45; tonnage of, 38-39 Basques, 31 Blubber: extraction of oil from, 29, 36, 274, 343; techniques for removing and processing, 273-76 Bonuses: for captains, 389; for seamen, 172 Brand gun, 292 Britain: dominance in world whaling (eighteenth century), 31-34 Brutality, 196-97 Candles: from spermaceti, 29; substitution of tallow for sperm, 37 Cannons, 500

544

Subject Index

Captains: causes of death, 416-18t; as entrepreneurs, 172; expenditures made by, 157; experience and length of service, 178-79,386-89; incomes and income sources from a voyage, 177-90, 389-90; interdependence with agents in whaling ventures, IS-16,385-88,397-98,400, 424; as investors, 390; lay earnings of, 14, 390-92; mortality rates, 387n8, 415; planning of voyage, 396; required skills and responsibilities of, 16; shares in voyage, 414; supplement to earnings, 172 Captains and Agents Data Set, 75-79. See also Agents’ Occupations Data Set Cargo capacity standard, 263-64 Cartography improvements, 279-83 Catcher boats: attached to modem factory ship, 5 1 Channel buoys, 282 Civil War, American: expansion of telegraph system, 282-83; freight charges during, 170-71; impact on sperm-whale fishery, 345116; impact on whaling industry, 41, 442; Stone Fleet, 97-98; threat to whalers of Confederate raiders, 170 Clipper ships: bark-rigged whalers, 269; costs to build, 243: design of, 266-67; innovative sail design, 271-72; medium clipper design, 267-69; in whaling fleet, 243, 258 Coal oil, or kerosene: derivatives in lubricant market, 360, 362; as lubricant and illuminant, 358. 360 Competition; among whaling vessels, 300302; British and American whaling industries (1817-42), 461; for captains, 391, 393t; in lubricant and illumination markets, 35 1-68: from onshore wage rates, 190-200, 302-3; shipbuilding, 267; in whaling industry, 5 Competition Data Set, 107, 323-41 Competition indexes, 323-41 Condemnations: legal proceeding to determine, 99; vessel losses through, 236-43 Convention for the Regulation of Whaling (1931), 52 Costs: influencing crewman’s wage bargain, 168-75: of outfitting, 247-58; related to desertions, 193-94: of sails for whaling vessel, 247: of subsistence aboard ship, 21 1-13; trends in vessel cost, 243-46 Crew Contracts Data Set, 159 Crew Counts Data Set, 79-81, 90; departing

crews in Whalemen’s Shipping Lisr, 87, 89; National Archives data, 80-86; whalemen’s shipping papers data, 87-89 Crewmen: average monthly earnings by occupation at all hunting grounds, 175-77; occupations, 10-1 I , 154-56, 205-11; supplements to lay system wages, 172; wage payments, 157: wages relative to other occupations, 175, 177-90 Crewmen, skilled: on Atlantic whaling vessels (1817-42), 466; boatheaders or steersmen, 284-85; Gay Head Indians as boatheaders, 396: lay earnings of boatsteerers, 14; lays of, 167; mate who dismembers whale, 273-74; specksioneer. 466: tasks of boatsteerers, 277; wages of, 180-87 Crewmen aboard ship: cooperation among, 15; countries of origin, 179-80; decline in quality of (1840-58), 190, 302-3, 318, 320: desertions, 50, 173-74, 194; division of labor in dismembering whales, 273-76, 466-67; division of labor in whaleboat attacks, 283-94: factors reducing number of, 263,273; factory ship tasks, 502: maintenance of whaling vessels (1800s). 264-65: mutiny, 174; number in barks, 270; numbers and skills of, 10-1 I; obstreperous men marooned, 174; occupations of, 154; training of greenhands, 396 Cumberland Inlet discovery ( 1 840), 39 Data sources: for computing productivity of British and American Atlantic fleets (1817-42). 482-86; on spern-whale stocks, 133-38. See also Agents’ Occupations Data Set; Captains and Agents Data Set; Competition Data Set; Crew Contracts Data Set; Crew Counts Data Set: Entrances Data Set; Exits Data Set; Hunting Pressure Data Set; Owners Data Set; Sailors’ Ages Data Set; Stations and Lays Data Set; Tax List Data Set; Voyages Data Set Desertion: crewmen’s incentives for, 173-74; effect on profits, 194; factors influencing, 193-94; from nineteenth-century whaling ships, 50 Design: change in sail, 263, 270-72; changes in nineteenth-century vessel, 262-78; of clipper ships, 266-69: four- and fivemasted sailing ships, 261-62; harpoon in-

545

Subject Index

novations, 50, 143, 284,286, 289-91; innovation in bark, 270; of whaleboats, 283-86 Dolphins, 20-21 Earnings. See Wages Embargo Act (1807), 37 Entrances Data Set, 90,95, 97 Entrepreneurs: agents as, 15-16; Americans as British whaling entrepreneurs, 460; captains as, 16, 172. See also Agents; Captains Exits Data Set, 90, 97 Explosives: explosive and bomb lances, 292-94; in heads of harpoons, 50,500; in rocket harpoons, 290-9 I Factory ships: in Antarctic waters, 5 1; country registrations (1928-40), 509; reintroduction, 5 1, 507; tasks of crew aboard, 502 Finn: as set of owners, 38 1-82; voyage as, 381-83. See also Agent firms; Whaling finnS Flanders’ Patent Suction and Forcing Pump, 273 Galarea: capture by Portugese, 119-20 Gas industry: development of, 352, 354; extraction of gas from various products, 352,354-55 Gas Light Company of Baltimore, 352 Greener swivel harpoon gun, 143,284,289, 500

Harpoons: in attack on whale, 285-86; cannon throwing, 500; in early ocean whaling, 36-37; with explosive heads, 50,500; fastened to whaleboat, 37; Greener swivel harpoon gun, 143,284,289,500; harpoon cable, 501; innovation in design, 286; rocket launcher, 290-91 Holland: dominance in world whaling (seventeenth century), 31-33 Hunting grounds: Antarctica as, 50-51, 502; average lay by occupation and specific, 160-67; decisions related to New Bedford fleet, 107-8, 303-4; early American, 34-37; Eastern and Western Arctic, 39; identified in Voyages Data Set, 69-72; knowledge of in wage bargain, 187; lack of evidence of depletion, 136-38; map showing nineteenth-century, 26-27; offshore, 35-36; relative average monthly

wages of whalemen by occupation and, 186-87; relative lays by occupation and specific, 167, 171; shift to Western Arctic, 258; for sperm whales, 39 Hunting Pressure Data Set, 107, 321-23 Hunting-pressure indexes, 300, 32 1-30 Hydrogenation process, 503, 508 Illurninant market: changes in, 352-60; coal oil derivatives, 360,362; factors in expansion of, 367; with introduction of petroleum, 363; uses of sperm oil, 16-17,29, 343-49,363-64; uses of whale oil, 1617, 30, 346-49; vegetable oils, 351-52, 355-56 Incentives: of crew to remain with voyage, 157; to desert, 173-74; in lay system, 186,202 Income. See Profits; Wages Information: agents’ handling and use of, 16, 396-97,424-25; in agents’ organization of voyages, 394,396-97; on condernnations and losses at sea, 239; innovations augmenting, 282-83 Ingenuity: of crewmen, 264-65; of repairs at sea, 250-51; required of captains, 16 Innovations: of American shipbuilders, 267; cutting stage, 273-74, 467; design of medium clipper, 267-69; in early American whaling, 36-37; extension of hunting area with, 36-37; harpoon cable, 501; harpoons, or irons, 50,286-89; increased productivity with, 41.44; influence on skill levels of crew, 195-200; institutional, 294-95; in lances and whale guns, 29 1-93; machinery and equipment, 272-73; of modem whale hunting, 508; in oceanography and cartography, 279-83; in products competing with whale products, 358, 360, 362-64; sails and rigging, 263, 270-72; steam schooners, 500-501; steering mechanism, 263; in techniques of whale hunting, 283-94; use of steam engine in vessels, 273; whaling guns, 292-94; winches and donkey engine, 263, 277, 501; wintering, 39, 46 Inshore whaling, 34-35 Insurance: rates in Civil War period, 170-71; for whaling voyage, 397 International Whaling Commission, 52 Inuit people, 39,52 Inventions: cannons, 500; Greener gun, 143; harpoon with explosive head, 50; patents

546

Subject Index

Inventions (continued) for new designs, 272-73; Pierce, or darting, gun, 294; in products competing with whale products, 358,499; stem slipway, 5 1 508 Investment: capital invested in typical voyage, 259, 384; rates of return to whaling compared to other businesses, 455; size of whaling venture investment, 384,412; in vessels and outfits, 214,252. See also Productivity; Profit rates; Profits Investors: agents as, 401-2; captains as, 390; ownership groups, 381-83,403,414-15; in a voyage, 414-15. See also Whaling ventures Iron dollar. 49 I

Johnson v. Standard Oil Co. of New Jersey (1940), 201-2n48

Labor contracts: components of whaling voyage, 14-15; each crewman negotiated the lay, 158-59; example of whalemen’s shipping paper, 88, 127-30; lay guarantee written into, 154-56; methods to break, 193-96; voyages with and without data on (1840-58, 1866). 202-5. See also Lay system Labor force: quality of, 190-200; structural changes (1840-66). 302; substitution of unskilled for skilled crewmen, 195; tumover, 158, 192-95; on typical whaling vessel, 154; vessel-related decisions, 228-3 1 Labor market: agent and potential crewman in, 187; agents’ access to international, 460; agents’ recruitment of crew from, 394, 396; competition in, 302-3; efficiency, 188-90; opportunities other than whaling, 302-3; wage bargain model, 187-89. See also Occupations Lard oil: as illuminant, 351, 356; production, 35 1; stearic or adamantine candles from, 356 Lay system: advances to crewmen, 15, 173-75; attributes, 202; averages by occupation and specific hunting ground, 160-67; calculation of lay, 154-56; crewman’s negotiation of his own, 158-59; for crewmen with two occupations, 205-6, 209-11; criticism of, 200-201; defined, 14-15; earned supplements to, 172; earnings of captain, 390-91; judicial interpre-

tation of contract, 201; lays of crew and captain, 150, 158-60, 186-87, 391,393; risks in, 15, 150, 186-90, 202 Lighthouses: lard oil replaces sperm oil (1862), 356; use of sperm oil, 29, 344; worldwide expansion of (mid-l900s), 282 Lubricants market: factors in expansion of, 367; with introduction of petroleum, 363-64; oil products sold in, 358-60; uses of whale and sperm oil, 16-17.2930,343-49,35 1-52 Maintenance: with design and material changes, 271; of whaling vessels (1800s). 264-65 Management decisions. See Agents Merchant service: comparison of wages of whaling and merchant officers, 177-79; wages compared to whalemen, 177-80 Models, shipbuilding, 266 Moral hazard: of uninsurable risks, 424 Mutiny, 174, 196 Nantucket, Mass., 19, 34, 35, 37, 38, 39, 41 Nantucket sleigh, 178 Negotiations: renegotiations of lay, 172; of whaleman’s lay, 158-59 New Bedford, Mass.: decline as whaling port, 46; as leading whaling port ( 1900s). 19; location, 18-19 New Bedford fleet: destinations of (18161905). 39,42t, 107-8, 303-4; index of total factor productivity (185 1-83), Western Arctic, 144-45; size and ubiquity of, 19; steam-driven ships of, 46; transfers of new and rerigged vessels into, 258; voyages of (1816-l906), 8n12 Norway: expansion of modem whaling, 502-4, 508-9; modem hunting, 52; reintroduction of factory ship, 5 1; replacement of American whaling, 459 Occupations: average lays by specific hunting ground and, 160-67; average lays for all hunting grounds by, 160, 168t. 169t; average monthly earnings at all hunting grounds by, 175-77; crewmen with two, 205-1 I ; crew of whaling ships, 154-56; lays according to, 158-69; relative lays by specific hunting ground and, 167, 171 ; relative wage rates for whaling and onshore (1840-56), 180-84. See also

547

Subject Index

Captains and Agents Data Set; Stations and Lays Data Set; Tax List Data Set Oceanography improvements, 279-83 Oil. See Coal oil, or kerosene; Lard oil; Rosin oil; Sperm oil; Vegetable oils; Whale oil Outfits: components and costs of whaling vessel, 246-58; of crewmen, 49-50. See also Sails Output: post-War of 1812 whale products, 38; value of post-Civil War, 41: of whaling industry, 16 Owners Data Set: Abigail records in, 101-4; Abigail registration and voyage dates, 101, 105t; codes for variables, 122-26; Ship Registers data, 106 Ownership groups: agents linked to, 401-3; owners of a voyage, 414-15; turnover of members in, 381-83. See also Whaling ventures Panama Canal, 26 1 Perth, Australia, 295 Petroleum: cracking process, 363; discovery of, 362-63; export of, 364; as illurninant and lubricant, 363-64 Pierce, or darting, gun, 294 Ports: alternative home, 295; development of resupply, 295; home ports of American whaling vessels, 113-18; transshipment, 295; whaling voyages from American (1800-1899), 39,41,43-44t Prices: baleen, 17; in estimating wage payments, 157-58; lighting and lubricating products, 356-57; whale and sperm oil (1816-1900), 17,366-67; whalebone and sperm and whale oil (1816-20 through 1896-1900), 366-78 Productivity: of agent firms, 404-10; captain’s influence on, 391; comparison of British and American Atlantic fleets’ ( 1817-42), 469-73; computing British and American Atlantic fleets’ (1817-42), 481-86; effect of desertion on, 194; managerial decisions influencing, 10-12, 303-7; multilateral index used to measure, 12, 179; multivariate analysis of New Bedford whaling (1821-97), 309-21; relation of crew quality to, 199-200; with technological change in sailing vessels, 262-63; of voyages (1840-58), 190 Productivity indexes: in comparison of British and American Atlantic fleets (1817-42), 470-7 1; form of, 298; New Bedford whal-

ing (1821-97). 316; problems of, 298-99; of total factor productivity, 1214, 179, 300; total-factor-productivity index, 144-45. See also Competition indexes; Hunting-pressure indexes Productivity measurements: inputs to and analysis of, 297-98 Profit rates: calculation for a voyage, 436, 44-42; computing for British and American Atlantic fleets (1817-42). 486-92; distributions for voyages managed by all agent firms, 450t; factors influencing varying, 457; by hunting ground (1817-92), 444-46; mean (1817-92). 437-42; from new hunting grounds, 443; of voyages organized by experienced agents, 447-52 Profits: calculation for a voyage, 429, 432-36; comparison of British and American Atlantic fleets’ (1817-42). 473-78; in dynamic context, 425; relation of agent’s experience to, 407-10; Schumpeterian, 425; from slop chest, 411; in static context, 423-25 Protection of whales, 52; right whales (1930s). 147 Provincetown, Mass., 19 Provisioning: business of, 401; for long-term whaling venture, 247, 394; reprovisioning during voyage, 251-52.256, 295 Railroads: impact on whaling industry, 44-45 Reed’s Ship Steerer, 272-73 Refitting: at end of voyage, 394; materials to refit at sea, 250 Register ton, 263-65 Repairs at sea, 250-5 1 Revolutionary War, 37 Rigging: innovations in sails and equipment aloft, 263, 270-72; rerigging, 233; ships rerigged as barks, 258 Risks: to crewmen of whaling ships, 151-53; insurable and uninsurable, 424,434; in lay system, 15, 150, 186-90, 202; related to voyage, 397; sharing of whaling venture, 401; tempering of lay system, 172-73; as uncertainty, 424 Roes Welcome Sound, 39 Rosin oil, 355 Sailing vessels: after advent of steam-driven vessels, 261; costs to build wooden (1814-87), 243-46; design changes in nineteenth century, 265-78; design of

548

Subject Index

Sailing vessels (continued) down-easter, 268; development of design, 266-67; four- and five-masted (1 890s1900s), 261-62; machinery and equipment innovations, 272-73; merchantmen redirected to whaling (1840s), 233; post1812 design of whaling, 264; square riggers, 267; whaling fleet after advent of steam, 262. See also Whaling vessels Sailors’ Ages Data Set, 90,94-96tt Sails: change in material and design, 270-72; technical advances, 263; in whaling vessel outfit, 246-47 San Francisco: as alternative home port, 295; decline as whaling port, 46; as whaling port (1 870-1905), 45 San Francisco fleet: destinations. 46; expansion of, 45 Scrimshaw, 48, 276 Seamen. See Crewmen Seamen’s Act (1915), 201 Shipbuilding: American shipbuilders (1840s). 267, 278-79; design and technical change in nineteenth-century, 265-78; improved methods, 278-79; solid and lift models, 266; where whaling vessels were built, 1 13-1 8 Shipping Commissioners’ Act ( I 872), 20 I Ship Registers, 73-75, 78 Ships. See Whaling vessels Slop chest, captain’s: agent’s share of profits from, 41 I ; captain’s share of profits from, 172; contents, 49-50; cost of items to fill, 250 Slush fund: defined, 389; entitlements to, 172; sharing of, 38 Solar lamp, 356 Southampton, Long Island, 34 Spermaceti: for candles, 29, 344, 352; from sperm whale, 343-44 Sperm oil: exports and imports, 358-59, 361-66; from head of sperm whale, 274, 343; as illuminant and lubricant, 16-17, 29,343-49,363; production, 17; refining process, 343-44; winter, spring, and taut pressed oil, 344-45. See also Whale oil Sperm whales: hunting of, 23; nineteenth- and twentieth-century catches, 5 1 Station, 14 Stations and Lays Data Set, 89,91-93t, 175; comparison with Voyages Data Set, 204 Steam vessels, advent of, 261 Steering mechanism, 263 Stem slipway, 51, 508

Stone Fleet, 97-98,238t, 442 Supplies: to equip whaling vessels, 247, 258-59; of whales, 300. See also Outfits; Provisioning; Slop chest, captain’s Supply ship: role of, 295 Tax List Data Set, 107, 122-26 Technological change: advent of steampowered vessels, 261-62; in design of sailing vessels, 262-63; extension of hunting areas related to, 36-37; in nineteenth-century shipbuilding, 265-78; steering mechanism, 263; in whaling, 8; windlass, 272; workforce adjustment with, 195. See also Innovations; Inventions Technological periods, whaling, 3 I Telegraph system, 282-83 Tonnage: before and after 1865 computing change, 74; computing old tonnage, 7475, 215; introduction of register ton measure, 263-65; pre- and post-1865 in Voyages Data Set, 74; register tonnage, 74; using new instead of old calculation, 257 Trying out (extraction): transfer from shore to ship, 36; try-pots in processing of whale oil, 274, 343; of whale oil, 29 Tryworks, shipboard, 36, 274 Vegetable oils, 351-52, 355-56 Voyage data: separate from Voyages Data Set, 75-77 Voyages: of the Abigail (Wood MS), 109-1 1; characteristics of New Bedford, 307-8; as firms, 381-83; impact of steampowered bark on, 45-46; lengths of, 175, 193, 304-5,453; of New Bedford ships by birthplace, 113-1 8; price in calculating cost of, 157-58; productivity of agent firms’ average total, 404-10. See also Investment; Ownership groups Voyages Data Set: comparison with Stations and Lays Data Set, 204; Dias’s data, 5758, 60, 62-63, 68, 75; Hegarty’s data, 58, 61-62; Old Dartmouth Historical Society data, 65-66; Rodman’s data, 68; Ship Registers data, 73-75; Starbuck’s data, 5859, 61-64, 68, 73, 75; summary table, 68-72; WhalemenS Shipping List data, 68,75; whaling voyages (1789-1927). 307; Wood’s data, 63, 65, 67, 75 Wage bargain model: components known to agent and potential crewman in, 187-89;

549

Subject Index

expected monthly wage and risk-adjusted expected wage, 188-89 Wage payments: in cash, bill of exchange, or shares in kind, 157-58; to crew for other than lays, 168-75; to seamen discharged during voyage, 157-58. See also Advances on lay; Lay system; Slush fund Wages: of British crewmen in Atlantic fleet (1817-42), 492-97; comparison of whaling to onshore (1840-56), 180-84; competing onshore, 190-200, 302-3; relative wages of whalemen, 175, 177-90; whalemen’s average monthly (1840-58), 185-86; whalemen’s relative average monthly by occupation and hunting ground (1840-58), 186-87 War of 1812,37-38,243 Whaleboats: for attack, 36-37; design requirements, 283-86; division and interchangeability of labor on, 283-94; risks to crew in, 151; sails, oars, paddles, and gear, 284-86; storage locations on vessels, 284 Whalebone, or baleen: exports of, 364, 366-67; market for, 342-43; production of, 16-17; revenue from, 30; techniques for removing and processing, 273-78 Whalecraft: agents’ choice of, 305-7; agents’ decisions related to, 11-1 2; components of, 214,247; innovations, 283-94. See also Harpoons Whale guns and lances, 292-94.500 Whale hunting: bowhead whales, 143-44; gray and humpback whales, 28; gray whales, 142-43; indexes of pressures on whale populations, 300; right whales, 28, 147-48; species systematically hunted, 23, 28. See also Antarctic hunting grounds; Arctic hunting grounds; Atlantic hunting grounds; Hunting grounds Whalemen. See Agents; Captains; Crewmen Whalemen’s shipping paper, 88, 127-30 Whale oil: from baleen whales, 30; demand in twentieth century, 30-31; exports and imports, 358-59, 361-66; extraction of, 29; in gasification processes, 355; hydrogenation, 503, 508; as illuminant, lubricant, and for other uses, 16-17, 30,346-48, 351; payments to crewmen in, 157; production of, 17; refining process, 345-47; techniques for removing and processing, 273-75; winter, spring, and foots, 346. See also Sperm oil Whale products: competitors in oil uses, 352-57; major markets, 347-48; materi-

als from sperm whale, 343; post-War of 1812 demand, 38; from sperm whale, 29, 343; techniques for removing and processing, 273-76; uses in nineteenth century, 28-30; uses in twentieth century, 28-3 1. See also Illuminant market; Lubricants market; Sperm oil; Whalebone, or baleen; Whale oil Whalers. See Whaling vessels Whales: beaked, 20; catches of baleens in nineteenth and twentieth centuries, 5 1; classification of currently known, 20-21, 52-56; dismembering process, 273-78; disputes over and laws to divide drift whales, 34; as endangered species, 132; hunting of bowheads, 28; literary references to, 1-3; swimming speeds of, 21, 25t, 37; taxonomy of, 52-56; weights and lengths of, 21-23, 24-23 Whale stocks: estimates of nineteenth-century, 133-48; harvest (1930-3 I), 508; indexes of hunting pressures on, 300; before intensive American hunting, 133-34; limits on hunting and killing, 51-52, 147, 508; ownership of, 5 ; question of nineteenthcentury overhunting, 131-32 Whaling: in early America, 34-37; sailpowered, 3 1 Whaling families: Enderby family, 427, 462; Howland family, 398-400,403, 419, 421-22; New Bedford, 403-4 Whaling firms: liquidation and reorganization, 381-84; as ownership groups, 381-82; profits of, 423-24; sizes, voyages, and number of members, 383-84. See also Agent firms; Ownership groups Whaling fleet, American: differences from British, 462-64; impact of nineteenthcentury design changes on, 268-70; modes of entrance and exit, 23 1-43, 268-70; post-Civil War tonnage, 41; potential for liquidation, 442; rigging class (1816-1905), 216-28; vessel size (18161905), 218 Whaling industry: American dominance in nineteenth-century, 19, 3 1; commercial North American, 34; competition index, 301, 323, 330-31, 334, 339-41; contraction, 442; current, 4; decline (mid1850s), 41, 131; effect of Embargo Act (1807), 37; expansion of Norwegian, 502-4; Golden Age growth of, 38; impact of Revolutionary War, 37; increased productivity (1891-95), 41; influence of

550

Subject Index

Whaling industry (continued) structural changes (1869-1905). 44-45; investment in, 252, 384, 390, 412-15, 455; modem, 50-52; nineteenth-century, 4; outputs (1816-1905). 367-68,378-80; profits of, 423-25; rates of return compared to other businesses, 455-57; in study of economic change, 5; supply-side factors in decline, 131; technological periods in history of, 31-34; vessels and tonnages (1816-1905). 5-6 Whaling industry, British: competition with Americans ( 1817-42), 461 ; decline of (post-I820s), 364; subsidies to, 462-63, 461 Whaling Logbooks and Journals (Sherman), 78 Whaling Masters, 76-77 Whaling ventures: captainlagent collaboration, 385-88; captains as investors in, 390; sale of parts of, 394; size of typical investment, 384,412 Whaling vessels: agents as owners of, 394, 401; agents’ choice of, 305-7; ages, 220-

2%. 231, 236-43; built to medium clipper specifications, 269; condemnation, 99-100; decisions related to crew composition, 228-31; early American, 34-38; increased size of, 38, 258; introduction of steam-powered, 45; introduction of whaling ship, 38-39; life on nineteenthcentury, 47-50; losses, 236-43.258; modem, 50; offshore, 35-37; outfitting, 246-57; provenance, 23 1-36; refitting after voyage, 394; risks to crewmen on, 151-53; schooners in New Bedford fleet, 46; ships rerigged as barks, 258; size of ships versus barks, 258; in Stone Fleet, 97-98,442; where New Bedford vessels were built, 113-18. See also Barks; Tonnage; Whaleboats Whaling voyages: of New Bedford fleet, 81112; as units of analysis, 5 White Act (1898), 201 Windlass, modernized, 272 Wintering: introduction of (1851), 39; with steam-powered vessels, 46

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