Entirely for personal interest — I’m writing my masters thesis on 19th-century Nantucket and this caught my eye while I was looking for something tangentially related.

My questions: What’s the name of this song? Is there any way that I could figure out what it would have sounded like, sung? Are there any similar songs that might have preceded this one? (in the same away that “Blow the Man Down” has variations)

The letter-writer, Sampson Dyer Pompey, writes that he learned the song in 1847, sailing on the James Loper under William Whippey. The sailing log for that ship in the 1850s is digitized on archive.org, but not this particular voyage.

I realize this is incredibly specific, so any pointers in the right direction or someone else to talk to would be greatly appreciated.

The column (from the Nantucket Inquirer & Mirror, 2/18/1893)

Mr. Editor:

I learned this song, illustrating the manner of killing a whale, on board ship James Loper, Capt. William Whippey, my first voyage in 1847. — Sampson D. Pompey

Lo! as the sun from his ocean bed rises

Broad o’er the water his glittering light throws,

Hark! From our mast-head, the joyous sound ringing

Hard on our lee-beam, a whale, “There she blows!”

Call up your sleepers then, larboard and starboard men,

Main yard aback, and your boats lower away;

Hard on our lee-beam, see the white water gleam,

Gleaming and foaming in garlands of spray.

See the Leviathan in vastness is lying

Making the sea his luxurious bed,

While high in the air the sea-birds are flying

And combing billows that break o’er his head

High, wide and sinewy, goes his dark flukes in air,

Stately and slowly he sinks in the main.

Peak all your oars awhile,—rest from your weary toil

Waiting and watching his rising again.

Pull hearties, pull! For the pride of your nation

Spring to your oars, till the reeking sweat flows;

Now, for your blood let it have circulation ;

Forward, on your thwarts, and give way all you know!

See, how the boats advance, gaily as a dance,

Fleeting like shadows across the blue sea.

Stand up and give her some; send both your irons home,

Safely — stern all, trim the boat, see all clear.

Wounded and sore, fins and flukes in commotion

Black skin and oars contend with the spray;

So loud and so shrill, rings the horn of the ocean

Fettered and lost, she brings too, in dismay.

Haul line, every man, gather in all you can.

Lapces and spades from your thwarts clear away

Now — take your oars again, fasten each boat remain

Safely, but sure while she holds us in play.

Surrounded by foes, yet with strength undiminished,

See how she thrashes her flukes in the air;

A lance in her life, then the struggle is finished,

She sinks — oh she sinks with her chimney on fire.

Loud ring the joyous shout, free from each seaman out,

Mocking the whale with its terrible roar.

And from her spout holes high, see the red signal fly,

There she goes fin out— and the conquest is o’er.