Moby Dick is easily the most recognized work of American nautical fiction. However, Herman Melville’s whale of a tale is hardly the product of pure imagination. Several real-life events contributed to the author’s inspiration for his novel.
These include an 1839 magazine story titled “Mocha Dick, or the White Whale of the Pacific” by American explorer, journalist, and author J.N. Reynolds. Mocha Dick was a legendary albino sperm whale that supposedly survived more than 100 encounters with whalers before succumbing to the harpooner’s hand in 1838. Reynolds’ account of the leviathan first ran in New York’s The Knickerbocker magazine and was an acknowledged source for Melville’s novel.
But the most harrowing inspiration for Moby Dick lay in the dark fate of the Nantucket whaleship Essex. In 1819, under the command of Captain George Pollard Jr., the Essex sailed from Nantucket Island on a planned two-and-a-half-year whaling voyage to the South Seas.
Pollard sailed first around Cape Horn and then north toward the whaling grounds off the west coast of Chile. Finding his prospects there lacking, Pollard then sailed deeper into the Pacific for whaling grounds rumored to lie much farther offshore.
A “most remarkable” disaster at sea
Pollard and his crew were literally in the middle of the Pacific when a large sperm whale rammed the Essex head-on. Irreparably damaged, the Essex sank. Her crew abandoned ship for smaller vessels and subsequently spent more than three months surviving at sea.
Blinded by starvation, dehydration, and exposure, the crew endured unimaginable trauma. Their plight led to episodes of cannibalism that shocked people worldwide.
The three best-known accounts of the Essex ordeal are the writings of the ship’s first mate, Owen Chase; along with a much later version as recalled by the ship’s then 14-year-old cabin boy, Thomas Nickerson; and the following summary by Captain Pollard himself.
Owen Chase published his book, Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex, only one year after the Essex disaster. Melville received a copy from Chase’s son when, in 1841, they sailed together on the whaler Acushnet. He used the book to help plot his now-immortal tale. The former cabin-boy, Thomas Nickerson, did not write down his account until a half-century after the ordeal.
Pollard’s recollection of the disaster appeared in the 1835 book The Mariners’ Chronicle, a book-length compendium of the “most remarkable disasters at sea”. It is a brief but brutal reminder of an unforgiving profession.
Originally, the Essex had sailed with a captain and crew of 21. Only eight men survived. Seven were eaten in an age-old custom of the sea, a survival code that permitted taboos outside the realm of normal maritime law. In one particularly gruesome episode, the crew in Pollard’s lifeboat drew lots to determine who would be next to die, by gunshot, and thereby sustain his shipmates.
The situation was so desperate that when Pollard and his crewmate were finally rescued by a passing ship, they lay adrift in the bottom of their whaleboat, emaciated, delirious, and “sucking the bones of their dead mess mates, which they were loath to part with.”
Melville met Captain Pollard only one time, on his home island of Nantucket, and only after the publication of Moby Dick. Of the ill-fated captain, he recalled, “To the islanders he was a nobody—to me, the most impressive man, tho’ wholly unassuming, even humble—that I ever encountered.”
Here is Captain Pollard’s account from The Mariners’ Chronicle, accompanied by selected works of art from the whaling era.—editor
DESTRUCTION OF THE ESSEX BY A WHALE
As related by her commander, Captain George Pollard
My first shipwreck was in open sea, on the 20th of November, 1820, near the equator, about 118 deg. W. longitude. The vessel, a South Sea whaler, was called the Essex. On that day, as we were on the look out for sperm whales, and had actually struck two, which the boats’ crews were following to secure, I perceived a very large one—it might be eighty or ninety feet long—rushing with great swiftness through the water right toward the ship. We hoped that she would turn aside and dive under, when she perceived such a balk in her way. But no! the animal came full force against our stern port: had any quarter less firm been struck, the vessel must have been burst; as it was, every plank and timber trembled throughout her whole bulk.
The whale, as though hurt by a severe and unexpected concussion, shook its enormous head and sheered off to so considerable a distance that for some time we had lost sight of her from the starboard quarter; of which we were very glad, hoping that the worst was over. Nearly an hour afterward we saw the same fish—we had no doubt of this, from her size and the direction in which she came—making again toward us. We were at once aware of our danger, but escape was impossible. She dashed her head this time against the ship’s side, and so broke it in, that the vessel filled rapidly, and soon became water-logged. At the second shock, expecting her to go down, we lowered our three boats with the utmost expedition, and all hands, twenty in the whole, got into them; seven, and seven, and six. In a little while, as she did not sink, we ventured on board again, and, by scuttling the deck, were enabled to get out some biscuit, beef, water, rum, two sextants, a quadrant, and three compasses. These, together with some rigging, a few muskets, powder, &c. we brought away; and, dividing the stores among our three small crews, rigged the boats as well as we could; there being a compass for each, and a sextant for two, and a quadrant for one, but neither sextant nor quadrant for the third. Then, instead of pushing away for some port, so amazed and bewildered were we, that we continued sitting in our places, gazing upon the ship as though she had been an object of the tenderest affection. Our eyes could not leave her, till, at the end of many hours, she gave a slight reel, then down she sank. No words can tell our feelings. We looked at each other—we looked at the place where she had so lately been afloat—and we did not cease to look till the terrible conviction of our abandoned and perilous situation roused us to exertion, if deliverance were yet possible.
More that 2,000 miles to land
We now consulted about the course which it might be best to take-westward to India, eastward to South America, or south-westward to the Society Isles. We knew that we were at no great distance from Tahiti, but were so ignorant of the state and temper of the inhabitants that we feared we should be devoured by cannibals if we cast ourselves on their mercy. It was determined therefore to make for South America, which we computed to be more than two thousand miles distant. Accordingly we steered eastward, and though for several days harassed with squalls, we contrived to keep together. It was not long before we found that one of the boats had started a plank, which was no wonder, for whale boats are all clinker built, and very slight, being made of half-inch plank only, before planing. To remedy this alarming defect we all turned to, and having emptied the damaged boat into the two others, we raised her side as well as we could, and succeeded in restoring the plank at the bottom. Through this accident. Some of our biscuit had become injured by the salt water. This was equally divided among the several boats’ crews. Food and water, meanwhile, with our utmost economy, rapidly failed. Our strength was exhausted, not by abstinence only, but by the labors which we were obliged to employ to keep our little vessels afloat amidst the storms which repeatedly assailed us. One night we were parted in rough weather; but though the next day we fell in with one of our companion-boats, we never saw or heard any more of the other, which probably perished at sea, being without either sextant or quadrant.
When we were reduced to the last pinch, and out of everything, having been more than three weeks abroad, we were cheered with the sight of a low uninhabited island, which we reached in hope, but were bitterly disappointed. There were some barren bushes and many rocks on this forlorn spot. The only provisions that we could procure were a few birds and their eggs: this supply was soon reduced; the sea-fowls appeared to have been frightened away, and their nests were left empty after we had once or twice plundered them. What distressed us most was the utter want of fresh water; we could not find a drop any where, till, at the extreme verge of ebb tide, a small spring was discovered in the sand; but even that was too scanty to afford us sufficient to quench our thirst before it was covered by the waves at their turn.
“He was soon despatched, and nothing of him left. I think, then another man died of himself, and him too we ate.”
—Captain George Pollard
There being no prospect but that of starvation here, we determined to put to sea again. Three of our comrades, however, chose to remain, and we pledged ourselves to send a vessel to bring them off, if we ourselves should ever escape to a Christian port. With a very small quantity of biscuit for each, and a little water, we again ventured out on the wide ocean. In the course of a few days our provisions were consumed. Two men died; we had no other alternative than to live on their remains. These were roasted to dryness by means of fires kindled on the ballast-sand at the bottom of the boats. When this supply was spent, what could we do? We looked at each other with horrid thoughts in our minds, but we held our tongues. I am sure that we loved one another as brothers all the time; and yet our looks told plainly what must be done. We cast lots, and the fatal one fell on my poor cabin boy. I started forward instantly, and cried out, “My lad, my lad, if you don’t like your lot, I’ll shoot the first man that touches you.” The poor emaciated boy hesitated a moment or two; then, quietly laying his head down upon the gunnel of the boat, he said, “I like it as well as any other.” He was soon despatched, and nothing of him left. I think, then another man died of himself, and him too we ate. But I can tell you no more—my head is on fire at the recollection; I hardly know what I say. I forgot to say that we parted company with the second boat before now. After some more days of horror and despair, when some were lying down at the bottom of the boat, not able to rise, and scarcely one of us could move a limb, a vessel hove in sight. We were taken on board and treated with extreme kindness. The second boat was also picked up at sea, and the survivors saved. A ship afterward sailed in search of our companions on the desolate island, and brought them away.
The following particulars respecting the three men left on the island, are extracted from a tract issued by the London Tract Society, in Paternoster Row.
Almost certain death before them
On the 26th of December the boats left the island: this was, indeed, a trying moment to all; they separated with mutual prayers and good wishes, seventeen venturing to sea with almost certain death before them, while three remained on a rocky isle, destitute of water, and affording hardly any thing to support life. The prospects of these three poor men were gloomy; they again tried to dig a well, but without success, and all hope seemed at an end, when providentially they were relieved by a shower of rain. They were thus delivered from the immediate apprehension of perishing by thirst. Their next care was to procure food, and their difficulties herein were also very great; their principal resource was small birds, about the size of a blackbird, which they caught while at roost. Every night they climbed the trees in search of them, and obtained, by severe exertions, a scanty supply, hardly enough to support life. Some of the trees bore a small berry, which gave them a little relief; but these they found only in small quantities. Shell-fish they searched for in vain; and although from the rocks they saw at times a number of sharks, and also other sorts of fish, they were unable to catch any, as they had no fishing tackle. Once they saw several turtles, and succeeded in taking five, but they were then without water; at those times they had little inclination to eat, and before one of them was quite finished, the others were become unfit for food.
Their sufferings from the want of water were the most severe, their only supply being from what remained in holes among the rocks after the showers which fell at intervals; and sometimes they were five or six days without any; on these occasions they were compelled to suck the blood of the birds they caught, which allayed their thirst in some degree; but they did so very unwillingly, as they found themselves much disordered thereby.
Among the rocks were several caves formed by nature, which afforded a shelter from the wind and rain. In one of these caves they found eight human skeletons, in all probability the remains of some poor mariners who had been shipwrecked on the isle, and perished for want of food and water. They were side by side, as if they had laid down and died together! This sight deeply affected the mate and his companions; their case was similar, and they had every reason to expect, ere long, the same end; for many times they lay down at night, with their tongues swollen and their lips parched with thirst, scarcely hoping to see the morning sun; and it is impossible to form an idea of their feelings when the morning dawned, and they found their prayers had been heard and answered by a providential supply of rain.
In this state they continued till the 5th of April following. On the morning of that day they were in the woods as usual, searching for food and water as well as their weakness permitted, when their attention was aroused by a sound which they thought was distant thunder; but looking toward the sea, they saw a ship in the offing, which had just fired a gun. Their joy at this sight may be more easily imagined than described; they immediately fell on their knees and thanked God for his goodness in thus sending deliverance when least expected; then hastening to the shore, they saw a boat coming toward them. As the boat could not approach the shore without great danger, the mate, being a good swimmer, and stronger than his companions, plunged into the sea, and providentially escaped a watery grave at the moment when deliverance was at hand. His companions crawled out farther on the rocks, and by the great exertions of the crew, were taken into the boat, and soon found themselves on board the Surrey, commanded by Captain Raine, by whom they were treated in the kindest manner, and their health and strength were speedily restored.