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OW-001 Whaleship · Pacific Ocean 1820

The Whaleship Essex — Rammed by a whale, doomed by fear of the wrong shore

Lost
12 of 20
Voyage
Nantucket whaling, South Pacific
Ended
Rescue off Chile, Feb 1821
Status
Partial loss

Summary

On 20 November 1820 the Nantucket whaleship Essex, under first-time captain George Pollard Jr., was rammed twice and sunk by a large sperm whale in the remote equatorial Pacific, roughly 2,000 nautical miles west of South America. The crew of twenty escaped into three small whaleboats with a meager salvage of bread and fresh water. Twelve of them would not survive. After about three months adrift, only eight men lived to be rescued; some endured by eating the bodies of shipmates who had died, and in one boat by killing a chosen man after the survivors drew lots.

The disaster turned on a single navigational decision. The Marquesas and Society Islands lay downwind, within reach. Pollard wished to run for them, but his officers, Owen Chase chief among them, feared the islanders were cannibals and argued instead for the far longer beat toward the coast of Chile and Peru, against wind and current. Pollard yielded. The choice condemned the men to a voyage of more than 2,500 nautical miles in open boats, and to the very starvation and cannibalism they had sailed to avoid. The islands they feared were, in fact, safe; traders had been calling at them without harm.

The Essex is remembered less for the whale than for what followed it: a clinical demonstration of how fear of the unknown can be deadlier than the unknown itself, and how command under starvation collapses into the drawing of lots. First mate Owen Chase published his Narrative in 1821; cabin boy Thomas Nickerson wrote his own account decades later. Together they reached a young Herman Melville, who built the ending of Moby-Dick upon a whale that turns on the ship that hunts it.

Timeline

12 Aug 1819
Departure from Nantucket
The 238-ton Essex, launched 1799, sailed for the Pacific whaling grounds with 21 men under Captain George Pollard Jr.
Jan 1820
Atlantic and the Horn
The ship rounded Cape Horn after a hard passage and worked the offshore Pacific grounds; one man deserted at Atacames, leaving 20 aboard.
20 Nov 1820
The whale strikes
An estimated 85-foot sperm whale rammed the Essex twice off the bow; the ship filled and capsized some 2,000 nautical miles west of South America.
22 Nov 1820
Into the boats
The crew abandoned the wreck in three whaleboats with salvaged bread, water and tackle, and set a course south and east toward South America.
20 Dec 1820
Henderson Island
The boats reached an uninhabited island; the crew nearly stripped it of food and water in a week.
27 Dec 1820
Three men stay
William Wright, Seth Weeks and Thomas Chappel chose to remain on Henderson rather than face the open sea again; the boats sailed on.
10 Jan 1821
First death
Second mate Matthew Joy died of illness and exhaustion and was buried at sea.
20 Jan 1821
The boats begin to feed on the dead
As men died in the trailing boats, the starving survivors began consuming the bodies to live.
6 Feb 1821
The lots are drawn
In Pollard's boat the survivors cast lots; the lot fell to Owen Coffin, who was shot by Charles Ramsdell after Pollard's offer to take his place.
18 Feb 1821
Chase's boat rescued
The British ship Indian sighted Chase's boat after roughly 89 days; three men aboard were saved.
23 Feb 1821
Pollard's boat rescued
The Nantucket whaler Dauphin found Pollard and Ramsdell near the Chilean coast, the last two alive in their boat.
9 Apr 1821
Henderson Island survivors
The Australian trading vessel Surry took off the three men left months earlier, bringing the count of survivors to eight.

The grounds and the great whale

The Essex was a small, aging vessel by 1819, but Nantucket was the capital of the American whale fishery and her two-and-a-half-year voyage was routine in its ambition: round Cape Horn, fill the hold with sperm oil, return. Command had passed to George Pollard Jr., promoted from first mate; his own first mate was the 22-year-old Owen Chase, and among the green hands was the teenaged cabin boy Thomas Nickerson, later a chronicler of what he saw. By November 1820 the ship was working the newly opened offshore grounds near the equator, far from any coast.

On the morning of 20 November the boats were down and chasing whales when a large bull sperm whale surfaced near the Essex herself. Chase, back aboard repairing a stove boat, watched it turn toward the ship and gather speed. It struck the hull squarely, swam off, then turned and struck a second time at the bow. The blows stove in the timbers; the ship took on water and rolled onto her side. The crew had minutes to cut free the boats and snatch what they could. A directed assault by a whale upon the ship that hunted it was, to the men of Nantucket, almost beyond belief, and it left them adrift in three twenty-five-foot boats in one of the emptiest stretches of ocean on earth.

The decision that doubled the sea

With the wreck behind them, the officers weighed their options. To the west, downwind and within perhaps a few weeks' sail, lay the Marquesas and the Society Islands. To the east and far to the south lay the coast of South America, more than 2,000 nautical miles distant, to be reached only by beating against the prevailing trade winds and the equatorial current. Pollard favored the nearer islands. Chase and second mate Matthew Joy argued that those islands were peopled by cannibals who would kill them, and pressed for the long passage to the known ports of Chile and Peru. Pollard, a new captain overruled by his officers, gave way.

The fear was a phantom. Traders had been visiting the Marquesas and Society Islands without incident; the rumored cannibals were a horror of the imagination, not the charts. By choosing the longer route the men committed themselves to weeks of additional sailing, on rations already too thin, into a region of light and contrary winds. They stopped on 20 December at uninhabited Henderson Island and nearly exhausted its scant birds, fish and fresh water within a week. Three men, William Wright, Seth Weeks and Thomas Chappel, judged their chances better ashore and stayed; Pollard promised to send help. Then the three boats put back to sea, still hundreds of miles from any port, and the long dying began.

Starvation, the dead, and the lot

Hunger and thirst killed the men by degrees. Matthew Joy was the first to die, on 10 January 1821, of sickness and depletion. As more men failed in the weeks that followed, the survivors, beyond the reach of any other food, began to eat the bodies of those who had died, parceling out the remains to stretch life a few more days. This was not savagery but the last resort of starving men, and the survivors recorded it plainly and with horror. Several of the first to die and be eaten were Black sailors, who may have weakened sooner on the inferior provisions long allotted them aboard whaleships, a detail the modern record sets down soberly rather than passing over.

By early February, Pollard's boat held four living men with no body left to share. On 6 February they agreed to draw lots: one would die so the others might live. The lot fell to Owen Coffin, the captain's young cousin, eighteen years old. Pollard, by surviving accounts, offered to take his place, but Coffin refused, saying the lot was his and he would abide by it. A second draw chose the executioner; it fell to Charles Ramsdell, Coffin's friend, who shot him. Coffin's body sustained the others. The boats separated in the dark soon after. On 18 February the British ship Indian found Chase's boat and its three survivors; on 23 February the Nantucket whaler Dauphin found Pollard and Ramsdell, so reduced that they were reportedly gnawing the bones of their dead and at first did not grasp that they were saved.

The Five Factors

01
The fatal route
The single decision that shaped the entire ordeal was the choice to beat 2,000-plus miles to South America rather than run downwind to islands within reach. A longer line on the chart, chosen under a false premise, converted a survivable wreck into a months-long death march at sea. The lesson generalizes: when a shorter, safer path is rejected for a fearsome assumption, the assumption must be tested, not obeyed.
02
Fear of the unknown over the known hazard
The men weighed a vivid, unverified danger (cannibal islanders) against a concrete, certain one (starvation on a vast open passage) and chose to face the certain hazard. The phantom risk loomed larger than the real one. Decision-makers routinely overweight dramatic, unfamiliar threats and underweight the slow, quantifiable killer in front of them.
03
A new captain overruled
Pollard's instinct, to make for the nearer islands, was correct, but as a first-time captain he deferred to officers who were wrong. Command authority that yields to confident error at the decisive moment is no authority at all. The episode shows how the dynamics of a crew can override a leader's better judgment precisely when judgment matters most.
04
Provisioning for the wrong voyage
The salvaged bread and water were rationed for a passage that the route decision had made far too long; the supply was mismatched to the plan from the outset, and no replenishment was possible after Henderson Island was stripped. When the logistics cannot support the chosen course, the course, not the men, must change.
05
The rescue gap
The Essex sank in one of the least-trafficked regions of the Pacific, beyond shipping lanes and any prospect of timely search. With no one looking and no land within safe reach, survival depended entirely on the boats' own endurance. Operating beyond the margin of any possible rescue removes the second chance that saves most maritime disasters.

Aftermath

Of the twenty men in the boats, eight survived: Pollard, Chase, Nickerson, Benjamin Lawrence, Charles Ramsdell, and the three from Henderson Island, Wright, Weeks and Chappel. Twelve died, several of them consumed so that others might live, and one, Owen Coffin, killed by the lot. Pollard kept his promise and the three islanders were taken off by the Surry in April 1821. The survivors carried the weight of it for the rest of their lives; Pollard, who lost a second ship soon after and never commanded again, became a Nantucket night watchman, and reportedly fasted each November in memory of the men who had died.

Nantucket, a tight whaling community, absorbed the catastrophe without sensational scandal, and the practice of cannibalism of necessity at sea was, in that era, grimly understood by seafarers rather than prosecuted. The lasting consequence was literary and documentary rather than legal. Owen Chase's Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex appeared in 1821; Thomas Nickerson wrote his fuller account in old age, a manuscript lost until 1960 and published by the Nantucket Historical Association in 1984. A young Herman Melville read Chase's Narrative, later met the aged Pollard, and drew on the Essex for the climax of Moby-Dick, fixing the disaster permanently in memory through fiction.

Lessons

  1. Test the frightening assumption before you organize your survival around it; the danger you imagine can kill you more surely than the one you face.
  2. Prefer the shorter, certain path to safety over the longer one chosen to avoid a phantom hazard.
  3. A leader's correct instinct must hold against confident error from subordinates at the decisive moment, not after it.
  4. Match your supplies to the plan you actually adopt; if the logistics cannot carry the route, change the route, not the ration.
  5. Never depend on rescue where no one is looking; beyond the reach of help, only your own margin keeps you alive.

References