Course Change

Course Change - The Whaleship Stonington in the Mexican-American War © Peter J. Emanuel Jr.

The Stonington, a whaleship from New London, Connecticut, is sailing a course for home after being at sea for more than three years. When it pulls into San Diego, California in September 1846 for food and supplies, the crew learns that war has broken out between the United States and Mexico. The town is under siege by Mexican forces, leaving the US inhabitants no escape route but the sea. In response to their desperate situation, the Stonington’s captain allows them to take refuge aboard his ship. Thus begins the first step in what would become the Stonington’s months-long tour of duty as a member of the US Navy’s Pacific Squadron.

Using the logbook of the whaleship Stonington together with other primary and secondary sources, historian Peter J. Emanuel, Jr. tells the story of a whaleship unlike any other in the annals of whaling. Readers with an interest in maritime/naval/military history, as well as those who just enjoy an exciting adventure story, will sail along with the Stonington as it assists in the retaking of San Diego, then serves as a supply ship, a troop ship, and even a gun ship for the US Navy. The captain and his crew interact with central figures in the US war effort in California, including Commodore Robert F. Stockton, John C. Frémont, Ezekiel Merritt, and General Stephen W. Kearny.

A series of harrowing events unfolds when the US Navy releases the Stonington and the ship resumes its homeward course. Mexicans capture the captain, and the first mate must decide whether to attempt a rescue that could jeopardize the entire ship. The ship must sail around Cape Horn through one of the most dangerous waterways on the planet. Lightning strikes a crewman high in the rigging and, after managing to pass him down safely to the deck, his crewmates keep vigil as he struggles to survive, all the while hoping that they will get back home.

Course Change - The Whaleship Stonington in the Mexican-American War - photo © Peter J. Emanuel Jr.

Excerpt - Chapter 5 - The Greenhand

On Tuesday, September 22, two days after the whale hunt, Captain Hamley called Alanson Fournier into his cabin.

“Mr. Fournier, we’ve made damn little progress toward Monterey on account of that blasted rudder head. Our next best chance of a place that would have what we need for repairs is San Diego, so I’ve decided to take us there. Set your course for San Diego and give the order to the helmsman.” Fournier hesitated to respond as quickly as he usually did. Once again, the captain seemed to be putting the crew at risk by staying longer in the open waters of the Pacific in a ship with a damaged steering system. Was it worth the gamble?

“I gave you an order,” said Hamley impatiently, breaking the uncustomary silence.

Fournier swallowed his objections and managed to squeeze out an “Aye, sir, I’ll see to that” from his throat before making his way out of Hamley’s cabin and toward his own.

The Stonington continued sailing toward the southeast through fair weather and, at times, strong winds.

On September 24, Santa Cruz came into view. It was one of the Channel Islands, an archipelago stretching one hundred fifty miles along the coast from Santa Barbara to San Diego. The next day, as the ship neared Santa Catalina Island, about one hundred miles northwest of San Diego, Fournier, who was standing amidships near the main hatch, heard a commotion of voices at the fo’c’sle companionway.

Making his way forward, he could see a group of five men with their backs toward him, facing one man standing at the top of the stairway. Fournier was close enough now that he could catch some of what the men were saying, even though they were all talking at once. “Who, you say?” “Whereabouts, exactly?” “Since when?” “What in hell for?” “Why this ship?”

The man at the top of the stairs had little chance to respond to the flurry of questions until Fournier called out, “Hey-oh, hey-oh! What goes on here?”

As the group turned to him, he saw the face of the man they were peppering with questions and understood immediately why there were so many. This was a man that none of them had seen before. “He says he’s been—”

Fournier cut the crewman off mid-sentence. “Quiet down, now, quiet down! I’ll be asking the questions.” Turning to face the stranger, he said, “I’m Alanson Fournier, second officer aboard this ship, and I expect some clear answers from you. What’s your name?” “J-J-James Rice, sir,” the young man responded nervously. “Where’ve you come from, James Rice?” “I was down in the hold by the—” “No, man, where’d you come from to get on this ship?” “I was in San Francisco, aboard another whaleship, sir, the Trescott.” “Why the jump from one whaleship to another?”

“Well, sir, the Trescott’s a Mallory ship, out of Mystic, and Mr. Mallory, he’s got some high expectations for his business, and the captain’s determined to meet the old man’s expectations and fill the hold chock-full before heading ’round the Horn. Me, sir, I’ve got a girl waiting for me back home, and after asking around town in ’Cisco, I learned that your ship has been out a few years more than the Trescott, and that you’re headed back to New London, so I figured I’ve got a better chance of shortening my time by riding with you, sir.” “You’ll not be riding, Rice, you’ll be working, let’s be clear on that! What’s your experience?” “This is my first time at sea, sir.” “Well, well, now. From out of its belly, this ship has birthed a greenhand!”

The men reacted with a mixture of chuckles and groans, knowing how amusing yet difficult it could be to have a sailor on board that was unfamiliar with the ways of a ship. “We could toss you over now, Rice . . . ” “No sir, please!”

“ . . . or we could take you on as a replacement for that good-for-nothing Bedrake. Are you ready to show us you’re not a worthless deserter like him, that you’re up to the work?” “I’m ready, sir, yes I am.”

“That’s good to hear, Rice. I’ll be keeping watch on you, but my duties will keep me from being with you as much as might be needed.”

Fournier looked around the group and stopped at Peter McDonnald. “McDonnald, you look to be almost twice Rice’s age. Do you think you could pack twice as much knowledge into his head as he has now before we get to the Horn, where we’ll need him to be in top form?”

McDonnald was a veteran of the crew, a sandy-haired, solidly built sailor from New York with an easy way about him. He knew the importance of having a tightly knit, well-functioning crew aboard a ship as large and complex as the Stonington, and his even temperament and steady focus, as well as his wry sense of humor, would be just what Rice needed.

“I believe I can handle him, sir. I may have to bounce him off the deck from up in the rigging a few times to get his attention, but I’ll get him shipshape.”

“All right, then,” said Fournier. “I’ll be off to the captain to let him know we’ve just acquired a new hand.” McDonnald and the rest of the crew didn’t have long to wait in order to see what Rice could do. No sooner had the discussion ended than they heard the call from the lookout, “Whales ho!” A great many humpbacks were swimming in the waters between San Nicolas and San Clemente, two more of the Channel Islands.

“Follow me,” McDonnald called to Rice, and they headed for a boat on the larboard side.

After the boat was in the water, McDonnald watched Rice as they clambered down the side of the ship. He’s got his legs, all right, thought McDonnald. Let’s see what he can do in a boat.

The six men, including McDonnald and Rice, set their oars and began heading for the whales along with the other boats.

He’s a good strong back, McDonnald thought as he observed Rice’s movement with the oar. The boats got near enough that it was time to be quiet in order to avoid gallying the whales.

“Soft row, now, men,” the boatheader ordered in a hushed tone. James Rice misunderstood the command, thinking that it meant to slow down rather than row quieter. The change that he made in his stroke caused his oar to hit the oar of the man behind him. The loud thwack was all it took for the whales to sense danger and take off.

“Stern all!” cried some of the boatheaders, their crews rowing their boats backward in order to avoid being hit by the whales’ flukes as they whipped their tails up and down to propel themselves forward and away. Rice looked across the boat to McDonnald, who was looking at him with his mouth set and one eyebrow raised. The first words were from Joseph Frank, the boatheader from the Azores. “That be a mistake you not make again, yes?” he said with a thick Portuguese accent.

“No, sir. Er, I mean, yes, sir.”

“I not be sir, I be Joseph,” he continued in a deliberate manner as the men rowed and he steered them back to the ship along with the other boats. “I need you pay attention to orders in boat, know my words. Soft not mean slow; soft mean quiet. Like in music. You want guitar play quiet, you say soft. You want fast, slow, you say those words. You know my words now?”

“Yes, s—I mean, yes, Joseph.”

“Good. All we need. We go back now.”

About the Author

Peter J. Emanuel, Jr. has been an educator and musician in New London County, Connecticut, since 1978. From that time, he has been a piano teacher, accompanist, and pianist/vocalist. Emanuel earned a Bachelor of Science degree in education from the University of Connecticut in 1977 and a Master of Arts degree in history from American Public University in 2012. He began teaching at The Williams School, a private college preparatory school in New London, in 1991. His initial position at the school was director of music, but his course load always included at least one history class.

In 2009, Emanuel began working on a master’s degree in history with the hope of becoming a full-time member of the Williams history department. That aspiration became a reality in 2014 when his course load shifted completely to history. From 2017 to 2020, it was his distinct honor to serve as history department head. He retired from The Williams School in 2020.