Some trades thrive best with a kind of controlled chaos, and whaling is absolutely one of them.
The more I study whaling, and dig deep into its origins, the more I realize how ancient and honorable this line of work truly is. When I look back and see so many gods, heroes, and prophets lending glory to this craft, I feel immense pride to be even a small, ordinary part of this prestigious group of whalers.
The very first whaler in history was the brave Perseus, son of Jupiter. And it’s a source of eternal pride for our trade that the first whale any of our kind ever hunted was not killed for greedy, petty gain.
Whaling was once a noble profession. Back then, we took up harpoons only to save the helpless, not just to harvest oil for people’s lamps. Everyone knows the classic tale of Perseus and Andromeda.
Beautiful Andromeda, a king’s daughter, was chained to a rocky shore by the sea. Just as the giant sea monster Leviathan was about to carry her away, Perseus, the greatest of all early whalers, charged forward fearlessly. He drove his harpoon into the beast, saved the princess, and later married her.
This was an incredible feat. Even the best harpooners alive today could barely pull it off, because Perseus killed that massive whale with a single strike.
No one should doubt this old story. In the ancient city of Joppa—modern-day Jaffa on Syria’s coast—a huge whale skeleton stood in a pagan temple for centuries. Locals and city legends all swore it was the exact skeleton of the monster Perseus defeated. When the Romans conquered Joppa, they carried that skeleton back to Italy as a triumphant trophy.
The most fascinating and meaningful detail of this tale? The prophet Jonah set sail from that very same city, Joppa.
The famous story of Saint George and the Dragon is closely related to Perseus’ adventure. Many scholars even believe it’s loosely based on that older legend. And I’m certain the “dragon” in that story was actually a whale.
Ancient records constantly mix up whales and dragons, using the two creatures interchangeably. The prophet Ezekiel wrote, “You are like a lion in the water, like a dragon of the sea.” Everyone knows this line refers to a whale, and some Bible translations even use the word “whale” directly.
Besides, the story would lose all its grandeur if Saint George had only fought a land-crawling reptile. Any common person can kill a snake. It takes the courage of heroes like Perseus, Saint George, or our own Captain Coffin to stand bold and face a giant whale.
Don’t let old paintings fool you. Artists back then had no clear idea what a whale actually looked like, so they drew the beast Saint George fought as a griffin-like creature. They painted the battle on land and showed the saint on horseback, purely out of ignorance.
It’s entirely possible the whale had beached itself on the shore, just as in Perseus’ story. The horse Saint George rode in the art might even be a large seal or sea steed. Once you consider all this, it’s clear the legendary “dragon” was nothing other than the great sea monster Leviathan itself.
This tale holds up to honest scrutiny, unlike the Philistine idol Dagon. When the Israelites set up their holy ark beside Dagon’s statue, the idol’s horse head and hands broke off, leaving only its fish-like body. In the same way, we strip the fanciful parts from the legend and are left with the simple truth: a whaler is England’s holy protector.
By all rights, us Nantucket harpooners deserve a place in the noble Order of Saint George. The knights of that order have never faced a real whale like their patron saint did. So they have no right to look down on Nantucket whalers. Even in our rough wool shirts and tar-stained trousers, we have a far truer claim to Saint George’s honor than they ever will.
I’ve long wondered whether Hercules deserves a spot in our whaler’s circle. Greek myths tell us this mighty hero—an ancient version of a frontier legend—was swallowed whole by a whale and then spit back out.
Still, some might argue this doesn’t truly make him a whaler. After all, he never actually harpooned a whale, unless you count fighting it from inside its belly. Even so, he’s an accidental whaler at the very least. If he didn’t catch the whale, the whale certainly caught him. I choose to claim him as one of our own.
But ancient texts prove the Greek tale of Hercules and the whale was inspired by the older Hebrew story of Jonah and the whale, and the two legends mirror each other perfectly.
If I count the demigod Hercules as a whaler, I have every right to count the prophet Jonah too.
Our honorable fraternity is not only made up of heroes, saints, demigods, and prophets. Our greatest founding figure is even higher than them all. Like the oldest royal dynasties, our trade traces its roots straight back to the gods themselves.
Ancient Hindu scriptures tell a wondrous eastern tale about Vishnu, one of the three supreme divine beings. He is the true patron lord of all whalers.
Vishnu took his first mortal incarnation as a whale, forever blessing and sanctifying our trade. The scriptures explain that after one of the world’s periodic destructions, the supreme god Brahma decided to rebuild creation. He birthed Vishnu to oversee this grand work.
Before starting the new creation, Vishnu needed the sacred Veda scriptures—ancient texts full of wisdom and universal truths. But those holy books had sunk to the bottom of the endless ocean.
So Vishnu transformed himself into a giant whale, dove into the deepest depths of the sea, and retrieved the sacred Vedas. If that doesn’t make him a whaler, nothing does. A man who rides a horse is a horseman, and a god who rides the ocean depths in whale form is most certainly a whaler.
Just look at our legendary roster: Perseus, Saint George, Hercules, Jonah, and Vishnu. No other trade or fellowship in the world can boast such a glorious, divine lineup.