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Originally published in the Historic Nantucket, Vol 39, no. 1 (Spring 1991), p. 4-11

Wartime Whaling in East Indian Seas
by Helen Winslow Chase

War, or threat of war, raises the worldwide price of oil. Today it is petroleum and during our Civil War it was whale oil. In 1865 John Allen Beebe of Nantucket was among the diminishing number of whaling masters to find his "greasy luck."

The experiences of John and Lydia Beebe aboard the bark Brewster of New Bedford make an exceptionally well-documented record of a profitable, Indian Ocean whaling venture during the artificial prosperity produced by the Civil War. Before they returned home to Nantucket, the Beebes had taken walks in the Moluccas, the famous Spice Islands where nutmegs, mace, and cloves had first attracted the Portuguese, English, and Dutch in the sixteenth century. Together they had observed unfamiliar cultures there and in New Guinea. They had also survived a chase by an enemy vessel, a hurricane, a near-shipwreck, a cholera epidemic, and insubordination bordering on mutiny.

John, twenty-seven, son of John and Patience (Allen) Beebe and a rising young whaleman with a promising career, had married Lydia, nineteen, in Nantucket on July 23,1857. Seven weeks later, on his first command, he sailed to the Indian Ocean in the bark Governor Carver of Westport in the New Bedford Customs District. At the time Nantucket's failing industry prompted ambitious island whaling masters to sail from mainland ports. His next voyage, in 1860, was in the bark Brewster of Mattapoisett. Each time he returned to home port with a full ship and rejoined his bride on Nantucket.

Lydia, the daughter of Lemuel and Mehitabel (Conant) Jones, was prim, brown-haired, and blue-eyed, with a trim figure. She was not quite as tall as the sturdy, light-haired, black-eyed John, who was just under five feet six inches. Having grown up on Nantucket, Lydia already knew that their marriage would consist of long separations punctuated by the brief reunions that were the pattern of whaling family life.

In such critical times she realized that rising sperm oil prices would motivate John to set sail again in short order. In prewar 1860 his Governor Carver accounts averaged $1.31-1/2 per gallon; in midwar 1863 Brewster's accounts averaged $1.78 per gallon. The increase reflected the premium of gold, the advanced rate of exchange, and Civil War inflation fueled by a heightened demand for whale oil then in shrinking supply as the United States whaling fleet diminished. As a result, J. & W. R Wing & Company of New Bedford, Brewster's new owners, lost no time in re-outfitting the bark and hiring the capable Captain Beebe to return to the Indian Ocean.

This time Lydia did not want to stay at home. In the six years of their marriage she had spent only six months with her husband. They had both grown lonely for their marital companionship and hoped to start a family. Like other Nantucket couples who had gone to the whaling grounds together, John and Lydia weighed the hazards of such a voyage, including the latest jeopardy from marauding Confederate raiders, and decided that Lydia could go.

Her copybook journal of conscience does not provide much detail about her new life. There are equally terse notations among Brewster's papers, official logbook, and account book. A journal kept by Third Mate Marshall Keith, Captain Beebe's journal log, and his reminiscences written in retirement also bring the voyage into sharper focus and give insight into the demands that the whaling industry made upon those who pursued profits in the waters of the world.

Saturday, October 17, 1863, began with rain showers, but the weather in New Bedford improved as the day continued. Lydia waited on shore while John and owner Joseph Wing went to the customshouse to sign the necessary clearance papers. Then they accompanied her to the vessel. By noon all hands had arrived. The "wind being ahead," the steamer Union towed Brewster out of the harbor. The bark then beat down the bay under full sail. At eight in the evening Mr. Wing and other visitors left with the pilot, taking the letters that Lydia and others had written during the day.

Brewster, built at Cohasset, Massachusetts, in 1843, had made the transition from merchant ship to whaleship in 1857. Its heavy construction would withstand the strain of the huge carcasses that would be lashed alongside. At 225 tons, the vessel, small by contemporary whaling standards, measured 97 feet 5 inches in length, 23 feet 2 inches in breadth, and 10 feet 7 inches in depth. Having more than once evaded the Confederate "pirates" preying on the whale fleet, John Beebe was already familiar with the bark's idiosyncrasies.

On the Atlantic passage southward, lookouts had the double responsibility of watching for enemy vessels as well as for whales. Paradoxically, Captain Beebe was using charts and sailing directions prepared by Matthew Fontaine Maury, who had since joined the Confederate Navy with the rank of Commander. Not until Brewster had crossed the Equator in early December was there any sense of relief among her crew, but continued vigilance was necessary.

If Brewster were attacked, John planned to run her ashore and escape into the jungle with Lydia and his crew. Once he had passed the Brazil coast, the next most dangerous area would be Agulhas Bank off the southern tip of Africa where Confederate vessels harassed homeward-bound ships under United States registry.

Little whaling took place in the Atlantic in spite of the hopes of all onboard. The tryworks were first lighted on November 21 to boil two blackfish (pilot whales). The first sperm whale, a large one resulting in eighty-three barrels of oil, was taken by the larboard boat on December 16 in the vicinity of 28 10'S and 22 14'W. The Cape of Good Hope was less than two weeks away. Attempts to capture right whales were unsuccessful. Captain Beebe assigned lookouts at all three mastheads, but no whales were taken until Brewster reached the East Indian cruising grounds.

Brewster's cabin, stateroom, and quarterdeck became Lydia's sea-girt world. At all times a passenger, she had no role in the business of the voyage. Required to establish her own routine, Lydia's daily ritual was made up of household tasks, taking tea, and reading her Bible. Sewing and crocheting, walking on the quarterdeck, writing letters, and reading were frequent pastimes. She and John were both extremely literate. They enjoyed many conversations about the books they brought aboard ship.

A skillful needlewoman, Lydia constructed a seemingly endless succession of sacks, wash dresses, shirts, and undershirts. Washing clothes with salt water was seldom satisfactory. John often helped her with the heavier items or took over when she became seasick. To assist him, she soon learned to work the ship's longitude. John taught her how to steer a course and how to keep close to the wind. Early on their next voyage, she would make friends with a new ship's boy and teach him to steer.

Lydia, a woman of deep Christian conviction, faithfully observed the Sabbath, the apex of her week. Shaded by the quarterdeck awning, she watched the endless repetition of shipboard duty — scrubbing, painting, mending sail, repairing gear—and scanned the horizon for sails, landfalls, and whales. If whales were sighted on a Sunday, its religious significance was quickly ignored by John and the men. His determination to whale on the Sabbath troubled the pious Lydia and caused her to confide to her diary her fears that their happy Earthly union would not continue in Heaven.

By January 4, 1864, Brewster had safely doubled the Cape of Good Hope and headed south in the Indian Ocean along commercial shipping lanes. Captain Beebe was confident that the Confederate menace was miles behind. Owned by Quaker merchants, Brewster was not fitted for fighting.

However, by the time the sun had risen "a hand-spike high" and the wind had increased to gale proportions, the lookout sighted a large ship in the lifting fog. The intruder immediately set canvas in defiance of the weather and shifted studding sails from side to side as Brewster changed course several times in quick succession. In retirement John Beebe mistakenly remembered the enemy as the Confederate raider Shenandoah, which did not operate in the area until the following December.

He recalled the encounter vividly: "We... were now carrying a fearful strain that threatened at times to take the whole top hamper out of the ship...[while] the stars and stripes shook our defiance from the mizzen peak...." Losing ground, the enemy employed auxiliary steam power to come within two miles of the fleeing bark before it was obscured by dense fog. In the morning the enemy had disappeared. Brewster headed south and west toward the East Indies.

On January 21 the first sight of land since leaving New Bedford was towering, volcanic Amsterdam Island, its black rocks capped in clouds. Here and at neighboring St. Paul Island one could provision the bark with glittering "rock cod" and cook a fish on the line in one of numerous thermal springs. Menu planner and cook in her own home, Lydia was interested in this latest method. She had already sampled with approval cowfish, skipjack, and porpoise liver, delicacies unfamiliar to her New England palate.

Welcome in the galley only by invitation, Lydia might occasionally be permitted to use the galley stove to produce a special treat after she and the "doctor" (ship's cook Manuel Gulot) became better acquainted. Near the end of the voyage she fried "wonders" (bread dough) to use up extra flour. Once she expressed disappointment when her coconut pudding was lost "pan and all out of the stem." Perhaps she even made the "Beebe Gingerbread" which had been a popular item in Grandfather Nathan Beebe's bakeshop.

Propelled by the prevailing westerlies, Brewster sailed onward making at least 250 miles daily to the "south east trade limit" off Australia. The bark pressed north along a course familiar to British East Indiamen toward Sandalwood Island (Sumba) and through the Straits of Timor in damaging winds of hurricane force. It reached cruising grounds among the Molucca Islands.

The Moluccas consisted of three large islands: Gillolo (Halmahera), Ceram, and Bouru; several groups of islands, including Xulfa, Batchian, Oby, Banda, Latta, Ceramlaut, Goram, and Mattabella; and the key isles of Amboina, Ternate, and Tidore. These names appeared with great frequency as landfalls in journals of the voyage.

The archipelago extended nearly 35,000 square miles between Celebes and New Guinea. The islands were covered with luxuriant vegetation, their world-famous spices, tropical fruits, rare woods, sago, and other crops. Most of the Moluccas were mountainous, and many were volcanic. John Beebe thought that the Goonong Api, or Burning Mountain, was a memorable sight, "vomiting forth a fiery flame" toward a star-studded sky of stereopticon clarity.

For nearly a year and a half Brewster cruised the Banda Sea, the Molucca Passage, and the Ceram Sea to scour the shoal-infested straits of the islands. It was considered a good omen when, on February 16, 1864, the tryworks were relighted for the first time since mid-December to process two ten-barrel whales. By mid-May twelve were captured in the Banda Sea. Whales Nos. 14 through 46 were taken in the Molucca Passage during the southeast monsoon season, which ended in November. Then luck changed.

The northwest monsoon season in the Banda Sea was unprofitable. In February 1865 in the Ceram Sea, it was discouraging to Brewster's crew to watch Mary of Edgartown taking whales. Returning to the Molucca Passage, Brewster spent another unsuccessful month of intricate navigation. On April 3 the vessel headed for the Gillolo Passage into the Pacific Ocean toward the northwest coast of New Guinea for better prospects.

Brewster remained in the vicinity of New Guinea until June 19, 1865, with continuing success. Whales Nos. 62-70 were taken. The crew celebrated the 1,000th barrel of sperm oil with fresh doughnuts. As more casks were needed for oil, flour was even stored under the Beebes' bed in bags sewn by Lydia. On May 29 the contents of ten barrels of beef, two casks of molasses, and four casks of ship's bread were jettisoned. With mixed feelings John watched the hardtack float in a wide area of several "acres" around the bark. Although proud of his greasy luck, he deplored waste.

On June 21 Brewster entered Dampier Straits to return to the Molucca Passage. On June 29 the last whale, No. 71, was taken by the starboard boat. By July 8 the bark's company was homeward bound with at least 1,150 barrels of sperm oil (a full ship) and a treasury of memories of native peoples and distant lands.

Periodically, whaleships put into port for wood, water, "recruits" (provisions), and repairs. Such necessary interruptions to whaling routine were welcome. Shore leave for the crew alternated between starboard and larboard watches. The captain usually went ashore to meet with local authorities, bargain for fresh produce, and do perhaps a little trading on his own. Whether representing the owners or himself, John Beebe was known to drive a hard bargain. If the vessel required added days for repairs, he and Lydia stayed on shore, leaving First Mate Albert Brown on board to supervise the work. Lydia preferred the more civilized communities.

At Victoria, a town of 6,000 inhabitants on Amboina, she enjoyed her Dutch hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Mands. Lydia adopted native dress for daytime wear and tried to communicate in Dutch and Malay. She and John were impressed when Governor and Lady Andrie Wiltens ordered their coach and span to take the Beebes and Mandses home after a visit.

Ternate, famous for its cloves, was a favorite stopping place for whalemen and merchantmen. There Lydia admired the substantial brick homes of the affluent Dutch. The native bamboo dwellings seemed less able to withstand the persistent tremors of the triple-crested volcano that dominated the island.

John, however, was more satisfied with Kema on Celebes where he obtained sweet and Irish potatoes, yams, fowl, hogs, coconuts, bananas, oranges, lemons, and peanuts in trade. The bark's bottom received copper sheathing against ternado-worm damage. Lydia approved that the school day began with a Bible selection. Both were disappointed that their mail had been sent to the dead-letter office in Singapore.

In January 1865 John tried to sell five dozen hoop-skirt frames, before they rusted, to a local trader at Great Banda. Here the Malay women were bare-breasted and wore skirts which they wound closely about them. Doubtful of the hoops' sales appeal, the trader took the merchandise at half its value. The ladies quickly bought out the supply and delightedly displayed them outside their skirts. John disliked being outwitted in a trade, but he was amused by the bizarre fashion he had initiated.

At Goram the Beebes learned the need for caution in dealing with indigenous populations who rarely had contact with white men and never with white women. As Lydia walked along the shore with Second Mate Heman Weeks to gather shells, she attracted a growing crowd of curious natives armed with fierce knives. Her apprehensive husband quietly ordered his crew "to shoot the boat off the beach the moment [all] had stepped into it...," and they escaped in a volley of stones. John and Lydia resolved to take no more "excursions among a people no further advanced in civilization."

In May 1863 Brewster lay in Dore Bay at Mansinam on the New Guinea island of Manasoury for wood, water, and fresh "recruits." Five hundred feet from shore in fifteen feet of water were bamboo houses, thatched with palm leaves that were secured with coconut fiber cord. Sometimes as many as twenty-five Papuans occupied a single dwelling, which was approached by ladder bridges that were removable for protection from coastal marauders or from mountain cannibals.

The dark-skinned inhabitants seemed docile, but on shore Marshall Keith saw several skulls taken when the natives were in a "Savage state." At least six feet tall with well-developed physiques, they towered over Brewster's crew. When two aborigines demanded rum, cautious steward Jose Santos provided sizable draughts of cider vinegar. Next day Captain Beebe assured the malcontents that they had been served "rum" from his private stock and that its failure to affect them was a tribute to their "hard heads."

John and Lydia were fascinated by Papuan mores. A strict division of labor designated males as hunters, fighters, and fishermen. At night the harbor was dotted with the reflections of flickering torches as the men speared fish attracted to the illuminated surface. The men also built the houses and their canoes. All other tasks were considered women's work. Excess population was controlled by drowning imperfect babies and unwanted females at birth. The infirm and aged were pushed out to sea in open canoes by their mourners after a ceremonial farewell.

Trade opportunities on Manasoury were excellent. Limes, breadfruit, bananas, coconuts, and palm oil were safe to buy, but the greedy cabin boy, taken with "colic pains" that required several powerful emetics, learned that the natives were not above selling poisonous nuts for a desired trinket. John knew that the brilliant birds of paradise would be worth ten dollars each at home: the native hunters killed them with arrows projected from blowpipes nearly five feet long and then preserved them with tobacco and a few drops of cajepoota oil. Lydia considered the handsome birds, as well as the beautiful nautilus shells in her collection, to be "God's miracle [s]."

Mansinam was Lydia's favorite port. There Christian conversion required persistent devotion. At church services the natives turned in their idols only to replace them. Parents had to be bribed with penknives or fishhooks to send their children to the mission school. In ten years only one Papuan soul had been saved by the three German missionaries. Lydia and John established a warm friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Geissler, whose son was born the day before Brewster departed.

Bima Bay at Sumbawa was John's least favorite port. Its strict Dutch trade monopoly produced few bargains for the voyage home. In addition, he contracted a fever aggravated by an infected tooth that broke while being extracted. On August 8 he put in at Soerabaya, Java, a decision he later regretted. It was, nevertheless, here the ship's company learned that the Civil War had ended with Lee's surrender.

The ten-day stop for repairs had been necessary, but John thought that the toll in efficiency and the subsequent loss of life from cholera, contracted in that port by an "imprudent" crew, made it a costly delay. Marshall Keith noted that women came from shore "to see if they could find a husband." He thought that "Sourabay" would be a good place to stay "for ever." Lydia was intent on a safe return to her family and friends at her beloved Methodist church, although the sights and sounds aboard the forty-two vessels at anchor in this harbor must have interested her.

Most highly prized was the chance to speak another American whaleship. Whenever possible the visiting officers and crews "gammed," exchanging news from home, whaling information, personal experiences, stories, songs, and entertainment. A confining shipboard environment suddenly expanded into the cosmopolitan totality of the whaling industry—a reality which whalemen took for granted—as they conversed knowledgeably about the world's waters, ports, and peoples.

In October 1864 Lydia spent two days aboard Gazelle of New Bedford to visit Captain Daniel and Jane Worth. No doubt Lydia tried to solace the unhappy Jane who was still grieving the loss of the son born five years before when Daniel was at sea. Did her guest see the children's toys and trinkets or the tiny bed and the dolls with which Jane sometimes played "pretend mother?" It was good to share confidences with another American whaling wife. Perhaps members of Gazette's company entertained John and Lydia with "exciting tunes of old melodies from home" played on the two violins, the flutina, the tambourine, and the "coal" (cold) chisel onboard the vessel. The two couples probably celebrated Lydia's twenty-seventh birthday before they parted.

The small number of whaleships spoken by Brewster resulted from the choice of less-frequented grounds, the dangers of the times, and the decline of the industry. From time to time the bark sailed in the Banda Sea in company with New Bedford whaleship Mary Frazier or Sea Queen of Westport, Brewster's most frequent companion. Mary of Edgartown joined Brewster, first in the Ceram Sea and later off Goram and northwest New Guinea. Brewster spoke the bark Illinois on its way to the Okhotsk Sea on April 6, 1865. After cruising briefly with Osceola 2nd, another Wing bark, on July 8, 1865, Brewster set her course for Kema and the long voyage home.

On July 13 Brewster drove eight feet onto a wall-sided coral reef in the Flores Sea. Employing two tons of improvised gear, anchors, spars, and hawsers in conjunction with the windlass, Captain Beebe successfully applied Archimedes' principle of the fulcrum and the lever to free the endangered vessel. He hoped that the extensive repairs, which were necessitated by this rough emergency treatment and which were made afterwards at Soerabaya, would enable Brewster's timbers and construction to survive the long journey home. The news of his inventive solution and cool judgment in this near wreck further enhanced his reputation as a master mariner.

John had little rest or relief from worry in the Indian Ocean. As the bark passed indolently through the Straits of Sunda, he nursed Lydia and the crew through a serious cholera epidemic contracted at Soerabaya. In spite of her illness Lydia assisted John in burial services for Henry Little, Samuel Osbome, and the young Nantucketer, Edward B. Fisher.

Propulsion by the strong southeast trade winds through long swelling seas opened the wound made by the biting reef. Choked by lumps of coal that escaped in the hold, the pumps had to be cleared innumerable times under the captain's strict supervision, frequently in a gale of wind or rugged sea, to achieve the number of strokes required daily — often as many as 20,000.

They came around the Cape of Good Hope in a heavy southeaster, heralded by a sky so black that it became necessary to "light the binnacle at noon in order that the helmsman might see the points of the compass." The captain gave orders to push on to the island of St. Helena for repairs. The morale of crew members, concerned for their own safety, was now at its lowest ebb.

Esprit de corps was difficult to develop and maintain on a whaleship's company of twenty-eight, ranging in age from thirteen to thirty-six, was mainly from the New Bedford Port District. Names and aliases suggest that several were Cape Verdeans living in the "Fayal" section. Others were from New England and New York State, and one was from Nova Scotia.

The problems of ship government on Brewster duplicated those on most whaleships. Unsavory, hazardous working conditions combined with long hours, hard work, bad food, monotony, illnesses, injuries, inadequate medical attention, crowded quarters, and insensitive associates. Always there was the gigantic sperm whale to destroy, the danger of sharp tools, and the flames of the trypots or their boiling contents. At least five times one of Brewster's boats was stove by a whale. Seasickness and prickly heat were common ailments. Illnesses like diarrhea and colds were treated with aconite, belladonna, or pulsatilla. Lydia, when stricken, was apt to take "a cup of sage tea before retiring."

Although John Beebe had a reputation for fairness and never asked his crew to do anything he would not do himself, he was a strict disciplinarian. This, as well as the discomforts of tropical cruising grounds, could breed discontent among the men. Through thin walls Lydia often heard, but did not repeat, rough complaints by the boatsteerers at second table.

After six months at sea, boatsteerer William Macomber, skillful with the harpoon but unable to accept authority, was sent home on the Mary after the following litany of petty insubordinations: drunkenness on duty; fist fights with the officer on watch; ropes on the running rigging mysteriously cut; missing equipment; missing food from the pantry; violation of the protocol of the chase by striking a whale for which the larboard boat (first mate's) and starboard boat (captain's) were competing; numerous "Growls" (backtalk) to the captain; Mure to return from shore leave at sunset; and pulling a knife on Fourth Mate Manuel Rodgers, who was also the captain's boatsteerer. Lydia prayed that Macomber would "lead a new life" on the Mary. Fortunately, he was no longer aboard Brewster at St. Helena.

There, while John and Lydia relaxed by visiting Longwood and the site of Napoleon's grave, eighteen of the Brewster's company filed a formal complaint with the U. S. consul. He refused to interfere, convinced by John Beebe's assurances that adequate repairs had been made. When the insurgents, then back at the ship, responded impudently to the captain's assessment of the bark's condition, he ordered three of the "weakest element" to be locked below. Then he drew a hidden revolver from his breast and threatened to blow out the ringleader's brains. All involved were placed in irons. When each had finally come forward to shake hands with the captain in renewal of their mutual agreement, a near mutiny had been averted and discipline was restored.

On October 11, 1865, Brewster began to trace the wind belts of the Atlantic Ocean northward to enter the Gulf Stream a month later. By this time Brewster's pumps were going constantly. John considered her to be a "commercial coffin." On November 21 the tryworks were taken down. On November 28 the bark, its cargo intact, entered New Bedford harbor to the satisfaction of the owners and to the delight of those who had endured this eventful whaling cruise. The aging vessel would not survive its next trip.

Brewster's 1863-65 voyage was American capitalism at its best and its worst. The 1,130-barrel cargo, which sold primarily at $2.42 per gallon, was valued at $89,131.10. In spite of the inequities of a highly involved system of debits and credits, Brewster's officers managed to earn a good percentage of the profits. Based on his 1/12 (8.5%) "lay," Captain Beebe averaged $9.61 a day. This voyage was his most lucrative. He had enhanced his reputation as a superior example of the tough "Old Man," the professional whaleman and the successful master mariner.

Unfortunately, the seamen and green hands with lays from 1/140 to 1/22 5 earned less than a dollar a day. These wages were lower than those of unskilled workers engaged in far less dangerous jobs on shore. By contrast, the owners, most of whom had private businesses that depended on the whale fleet, nearly doubled their investment in the voyage. Wing's profits during the Civil War years were about three hundred thousand dollars. Obviously, capital risk took precedence over hard work and personal jeopardy.

While such whaling ventures were made profitable by full cargoes, high prices caused by oil shortages at home and abroad, and the inflationary thrust of a wartime economy, they nevertheless fostered a false impression of continuing prosperity in the industry. When John and Lydia sailed from New Bedford in the bark Xantho in postwar 1866, sperm oil prices peaked at $2.55 per gallon. When the Beebes returned from the Indian Ocean in 1869, prices were down to $1.81-1/2 and would drop to $1.36-2/3 per gallon the next year. In 1869 John retired from the sea and became active in town affairs. Like him, Nantucket was no longer engaged in whaling.

In conclusion, the 1863-65 East Indian cruise of Captain John Allen Beebe in the whaling bark Brewster was a dangerous enterprise in perilous times. The voyage not only has individual character and identity but is also a digest of many aspects of the industry. The unusually complete record of this venture is a reservoir of data for such disciplines as anthropology, sociology, psychology, geography, meteorology, navigation, engineering, economics, and history.

The voyage is a record of the professional whaleman pursuing his highly dangerous occupation and dealing with a variety of crises and routine hazards. It is the story of the affection and Christian piety of Lydia, the whaleman's wife, who accepted the terms of a difficult and uncompromising existence to be with her husband. It is a testimonial to the good faith in the future of the industry by merchants who protected their community of interests in whaling through such investments. And it is the record of wartime profit in a declining industry that had held an important place in the American economy for more than a century.

The forces that would destroy the whaling industry had already been in operation throughout the decade. Petroleum products were replacing whale products in homes and factories. The decrease in whaleships, the increase in the costs and lengths of voyages, the attraction of mineral wealth and homestead lands in the West, the competition for investment capital against such rising industries as the New England cotton mills, a century of unregulated exploitation of the whaling grounds, and the Civil War itself would all affect adversely the recuperative powers of the industry. In the twentieth century fortunes are still being made from inflationary wartime oil prices, but the individuals who benefit are now "captains of industry," not whaling captains in the tradition of John Allen Beebe.