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Originally published in the Historic Nantucket, Vol. 44, no. 2 (Summer 1994), p. 14-16

Incidents in the Seafaring Career of Henry F. Coffin
by John B. Coffin

Henry F. Coffin

Possibly members of my family may be more or less interested in my relating some of the incidents of the seafaring life of my father, Henry F. Coffin, as he told me. Assuming that they would be, I shall jot down some of them which stand out in my memory, as nearly as I can recall hearing them.

Father was born in Nantucket on August 9, 1813. He inherited — as did most boys of that time — and later developed a love for the sea. At that time Nantucket was at its peak as a whaling port, and the ships that were built there went to the various oceans after whales. Whales were plentiful in the South Atlantic, but the hunt for them soon extended around Cape Horn into the Pacific Ocean, which eventually became the most frequented by the whalers.

Father, at the age of 13 years, much against the wishes of his parents and grandfather Joshua, shipped as a cabin boy aboard the ship Ploughboy for a five-year voyage. I suppose few other boys of his age had a more varied and strenuous time during his first sea experience than did Father.

First, let me note, that being ambitious to get an education, especially being so young when he shipped for the voyage, he used to tell how, when his duties permitted, he would read the books the Captain let him have, and also other books he took with him from school. He studied hard, many times by the dim light from the sperm oil lamp, so that he was able to educate himself from school books and from navigational books loaned by Captain Baxter, who took a kindly interest in him and helped him very much.

On this voyage, somewhere in its early months, an incident occurred which we children never grew tired of hearing. Whales had been sighted by the lookout in the cross-trees, the whaleboats had been lowered, each in charge of an officer, and the chase had begun. The sea was fairly smooth and the boats went after the whales. The ship was in charge of only two or three of the crew, generally the cooper, the cook, and one other as it "lay to." As so often happened, the chase led the boats two or more miles from the ship. Toward late afternoon, the boat Father was in, under command of the first mate, had come up to and harpooned a particularly ugly whale. After the iron had been in the whale some time and the boat had been towed at a furious pace, the line slackened and the whale dove out of sight.

The mate stood at the bow, lance in hand, ready, when the whale was near enough, to plunge it into him. No whale appeared for a few moments when suddenly up it came, spouting or "blowing" water. So close was he to the boat that the mate hardly had time to give orders to back water when, with a rush, the whale came at the boat, with mouth open. He struck the boat, almost crushing it, while the crew jumped overboard for their lives.

Father was hit in the calf of the leg by a splinter of wood as he jumped, and a deep gash was made, although he was unaware of it during the excitement. The mate grabbed an oar and he and Father held on to it as the other members of the crew tried to find some piece of wood to help them. By that time it was almost dark; the other three boats had returned to the ship, which "hove around" and headed in the direction in which it was supposed the mate's boat had gone.

Night came on, dark but with a clear sky, and all the while the mate and Father hung on to the oar and swam slowly. Later in the night they saw the lights of the ship near them and swam toward her. The lookout finally heard their calls and the ship bore down to them. So near did it come that Father and the mate had to dive under the ship to avoid being hit, and as they came up astern they were seen and a boat was lowered and put out to save them. To his death, many years later, Father carried the scar of that adventure on his leg. Finally, if I remember correctly, the ship returned with a full cargo of oil at the end of three years.

After a short stay at home in Nantucket, Father again shipped for another voyage around the Horn into the Pacific Ocean on, I believe, the ship Columbus. It was on this voyage that another rather exciting incident occurred. In those days it was necessary for ships to "touch at" some of the various islands or coast ports to get fresh water and food. The usual ship's supply of food consisted of "hard tack"— crackers baked very hard and packed in barrels — and salt meat, or "horse" as it was called, and in order to prevent an outbreak of scurvy, caused by too much salt provisions, it was necessary to get fresh provisions, particularly fruits.

On this voyage the ship was cruising near the Sandwich Islands. The ship dropped anchor close to one of these islands and two boat crews were sent ashore to see what could be found. Father was on one of the boats which landed, and fresh fruits — bananas, yams, etc. — were found. During the trip ashore a large number of natives, "Kanakas" so-called, had gathered on the shore but had shown no hostility. It was known that they were a cannibal tribe, and close watch was kept by the boat crews as well as from the ship. Just as the crews were about to "shove off," a rush was made towards them. The majority got to the boats, but two or three, including Father, were caught. He and the others were tied with strips of coconut bark, and a "Council of War" was held by the cannibals. Evidently it was decided, from preparations made, that they were to be killed. Stones were brought and pits were dug for the "roasting feast." We can hardly imagine the feelings that Father and the others must have had.

Father finally succeeded in getting one of the "Blacks" to untie him (using his pocket knife as a bribe) and, once free, Father quickly cut the cords of the other two with his sheath knife. They made a quick run to the beach where the boats were nearby, and at the same time the captain of the ship fired into the group of "Kanakas" with a shotgun. The men in the boats pulled close to the shore and Father and his associates swam out and thus were saved. A pretty narrow escape; the present days travelers to Honolulu and Hawaii can hardly realize that such adventures could have happened.

Another time Father was homeward bound from a whaling voyage as a passenger aboard another whaleship. As it approached the New Jersey coast in a storm, it was wrecked, and all hands were thrown on the shore by the surf and saved.
Between the ages of 21 and 25 Father entered the merchant service. Having qualified as a Master Mariner, he took his first command at the age of about 25 years. I do not recall the name of his first vessel. It may have been the Indiana or the Silas Holmes, in both of which he had an interest as part owner, and commanded for many years. And now, without attempt at chronological order, I shall refer to scattered events which took place in the merchant service.

On one of the voyages in 1856, returning home from a European trip, as the ship approached the South Shoals Lightship, then as now the lightship stationed farthest from land, the signal of distress — the American flag flying upside down in the "after stays" — was sighted. Father bore down to within hailing distance and learned that the lightship was short of provisions. Right here let me say that, in those years 1850 to 1860, and even as late as 1870, there were no regular tenders for lightships or lighthouses, just occasional ones, so supplies would sometimes run low and they would have to depend largely on help from passing vessels, as in this case. Father sent a liberal supply of food to last until he could report the case on his arrival at New York. The captain of the lightship was very grateful, and he made Henry accept a gift of a nest of baskets made by the crew.

The modern lightship baskets are somewhat dissimilar to the originals, and the government no longer allows their making, I am told.

Of the original set, the largest one is in our home in Rochester, the next size smaller at the Nantucket house, a still smaller one is sometimes used by Mother on her trips to the stores on Nantucket. I think some smaller ones were given away. Just how long the baskets had been made before given to Father I do not know, but Father got them in about 1856.

[Editor's Note: The Nantucket crew of the lightship New South Shoal, on station approximately twenty-eight miles south of Nantucket Island from January 1856 to March 1892, made many of the finest archetypical Nantucket lightship baskets. They spent the long, tedious hours tossing at anchor fashioning these intricately woven, sturdy baskets. Those not made as gifts for families and loved ones were sold to island residents who valued the combination of delicacy and durability they embodied.

Tradition has it that a federal inspector who visited the lightship New South Shoal forbade any further "moonlighting" by the crew, making baskets for profit on government time. In fact, the crew of the lightship that replaced New South Shoal consisted of off-islanders, so the art and tradition of making the baskets followed the veterans of the lightship service to their homes at Nantucket.

The NHA's centennial exhibition of lightship baskets at the Fair Street Museum includes many excellent examples of these unique Nantucket artifacts.]

My mother, as did wives of other captains took occasional voyages with my father. She joined him aboard the ship Indiana on a voyage from New York to New Orleans. On the return trip the ship ran into several gales in the Gulf of Mexico and was driven far off her course to the Caribbean Sea. After a time provisions and fresh water ran low. They were off the sea lanes, partially dismasted, and but for good seamanship would no doubt have become a wreck. Finally they were reduced to a half biscuit a day, the fresh water was all gone save for that caught from an occasional shower. Water from the bridge of the ship, boiled and as much as possible freed from objectionable matter, was used to drink. The one remaining mast had gone "by the board" in a gale, but a "jury mast," a small spar with a small piece of sail, was used to keep the ship in steerageway.

By dead reckoning Father concluded that they were nearing the West Indies. One day they saw the smoke of a small tugboat, and they were seen; the tugboat bore down to them, took them in tow, and brought them into the harbor of St. Thomas. From there they sent mail to Nantucket saying they were safe. The ship was refitted at St. Thomas and finally reached New York, nearly three months overdue. This was the last voyage Mother took with Father.

Father's vessels were part of what was called the "Red Ball Line" of packets, built with staterooms and accommodations for about thirty passengers.The old style paneling of the cabins of these old clipper ships was of the same splendid pattern as can be seen in many houses at Nantucket.

On one trip from New York to New Orleans when Mother was along, they nearly had serious trouble off the Florida coast. One night one of the crew came aft and asked to see the Captain. The man told of a conspiracy on the part of one particular member of the crew who sought to stir up trouble. The man who was telling of the plan stated that at a certain hour the next evening those of the crew in on the plot were to rush aft, kill the officers, and take possession of the ship. Then they planned to get as much loot as possible, get close to land, and escape in the small boats.

Father called his two mates; they heard the plan detailed. The next day, after arranging all details, the first mate was to go forward, call all hands not then on duty to go aft. The crew filed aft; then, as previously planned, the mate seized the ringleader, who attempted to draw a knife but was knocked down by the mate. The second mate put the handcuffs on the fellow, and Father drew his revolver. He then, addressing the other men, said for all those who were not in the plot to come to one side. All but one quickly stepped forward. The other was also put in irons.

After a plain talk with the crew, they were sent forward again. The ship's course was altered so as to bring her to Key West, which was seen later in the day. A flag was put upside down in the after shrouds and a boat put out from the wharf.

Father asked for officers to come and take the two mutineers ashore. Later they were sent to prison on a charge of mutiny on the high seas. Otherwise this trip was uneventful.

At the outbreak of the Civil War, Father had just arrived in New York from a voyage. As soon as he could, he lay up the ship and went over to the Brooklyn Navy Yard and enlisted. Father was commissioned an Acting Master (Executive Officer) and ordered to the small bark Roebuck, attached to the North Atlantic Squadron for blockade duty.

He was anchored beyond the outer bar off Charleston, South Carolina, where that small vessel, with two and sometimes three anchors down, rode out the storms of the winter of 1861. Such a task had been thought impossible before because of the dangerous locality, exposed to the gales and the sea from the Cape Hatteras region. I have often heard him tell of seeing the large man-of-war frigates hurry to the shelter of the breakwater in stormy weather while the little bark, with her volunteer crew of about sixty men all told, had to keep her anchorage. More than once it seemed to all on board that she would founder.

On board were several Nantucket men, one a Mr. Folger, second officer in rank to Father. During the chase of a vessel trying to escape the blockade, Mr. Folger was shot in the leg, and because of an inexperienced young doctor on the Roebuck, who amputated the leg, Mr. Folger died. Father, on leave of absence, brought the remains to Nantucket. Mr. Folger was one of the early victims of the war from Nantucket.

In 1862, Father was transferred, with rank of pilot, to the steamer Neptune, engaged as a transport in carrying troops and supplies to General Butler, then at New Orleans. Before the war, in his frequent trips to New Orleans and South America, Father had made especial study of the various channels in and around the Florida reefs, and found certain places whereby using these channels would shorten the trip. It was because of this knowledge that he was detached from the Roebuck to pilot duty on the Neptune. After making, if I recall correctly, two trips, he was detached from the Neptune and ordered for duty on another steamer. This was the Santee, and he was once again Acting Master.

While on this ship, he contracted the dreaded "ship's fever," thought by some to have been what we now call yellow fever. He was taken to the U.S. Hospital at Key West and after being there for several weeks was invalided home to Nantucket on sick leave. He was finally discharged from the service as "sick" after being on active duty for nearly three years.

After the war was over, Father again took up his merchant voyages. One time when he arrived in New York from a trip, he stopped with his sister in Brooklyn. On a summer Sunday, as he sat reading, an explosion occurred in the basement of the house. The maid had put kerosene on the fire to hurry it along, and she came screaming out into the hallway, enveloped in flames. Father had rushed out by this time and, being in his shirtsleeves, had his clothes ignited by the maid as she dashed by him. He rushed after the girl, kicked open a locked door, grabbed a piece of carpet, and tried to beat out the flames. Meanwhile, neighbors came to the rescue of both and finally put out the fire. But the poor girl died on the way to the hospital. Father was terribly burned about the chest and arms, and had he inhaled the fumes, would undoubtedly have died. For weeks he lay in the hospital before he could be moved. Finally he was brought to Nantucket on a stretcher by members of his Masonic lodge. It was a long time before the burns finally healed.

On his left arm he had the most perfectly executed pictures tattooed in colored ink; one was a mermaid and the other the American flag in beautiful colors. The fire burned out nearly all of the flag and left only the tail of the mermaid showing on the arm. Deep scars were there as well on his chest, and his left hand was badly burned. The burns were not entirely healed when he left to take charge of the brig William, bound for New Orleans and points in Florida.

In going aboard the vessel at New York, his arm still in a sling, he slipped and, in falling, struck the hand and the arm. But he was full of grit and would not give up to it. The voyage was made to New Orleans. While there, after treatment from a good surgeon, it seemed wise to have a part of the hand removed. In a few weeks he brought the brig to Pensacola and there, after a survey of the vessel was made, she was condemned as old and unseaworthy. On orders from the owners at New York, Father came home to Nantucket for a few days. He soon returned to New York and after a while arranged to sell our house at the corner of Centre Street and Academy Lane. He moved the family to Brooklyn in November of 1872. I was then thirteen years old.

Father never again followed the sea. He lived for some years, and, stricken with apoplexy, died on a visit to Rochester. His life was rounded out at 76 years, full of stirring events.

As a father he was stern but kind, a Christian gentleman who lived as his Master would have wanted. The same sterling traits of character marked his life at sea. Whenever the weather permitted, on Sundays the ship was "hove to" and Father had all hands aft where he conducted a religious service, Bible reading and prayer. Do you wonder that, with such a man — a strict yet just disciplinarian — a crew would re-ship voyage after voyage with him? In case of illness he was as tender as a woman with the sick sailors. If a tooth ached, out it came, as he always had his dental instruments. One time a man hurt his leg badly. Father saw the need for a surgeon, and fortunately, a day or two later, they "fell in" with a British man-of-war which answered the signals set for help. The surgeon came aboard and amputation of the poor fellow's leg was made, Father assisting in the operation. Only one of the various experiences that was liable to happen to any captain.

My wish is that I can be as loyal, as true and tried, as my father. He was a member of Union Lodge, F. & A. M., Nantucket. Both he and mother were members of the Congregational Church at Nantucket.