“Thar She Blows!” – A Whale Hunt off Long Island Sparks Excitement
It had been nearly a decade since the old cry of “Thar she blows!” echoed along the shores of Southampton, Long Island. But on December 21, 1921, that legendary call broke the quiet of the South Shore, jolting the sleepy towns out of their winter routines and sending seasoned whalers back to the sea with harpoons, bombs, and dreams of the chase.
Just a quarter-mile offshore, a massive bull whale—estimated at no less than 75 feet long—was spotted spouting and rolling between the outer and inner sandbars. Though somewhat trapped, he had more than enough deep water to show off his strength and confound any would-be hunters.
The Call Goes Out
It was the local Coast Guards stationed at Southampton who first spotted the giant. Word traveled swiftly along the beach. Soon, the dunes were dotted with veteran whalers waving their coats and shouting “Whale off!”—a tradition known as “wafting,” passed down through generations.
Despite the bitter cold, people from Southampton and nearby villages flocked to the shoreline, young and old alike, eager to glimpse the spectacle. Through binoculars and spyglasses, they watched the enormous creature, many convinced it was at least 75 feet long, even if everyone agreed that might “shrink a bit once he’s larded.”
Enter the Old Hands of Amagansett
Though Southampton was abuzz, the town didn’t actually have a proper whaleboat anymore. For that, everyone turned to Amagansett, about fifteen miles away—a community of retired whalers and their descendants who still held fast to the old traditions and skills.
Less than two hours later, they were off Southampton, scanning for signs of the elusive whale. Around 3:30 PM, they finally spotted him—a quarter mile away, spouting as if to mock their efforts.
The Whale Plays Its Tricks
The pursuit was on. A power boat towed the whaleboat loaded with the captains and their bomb lance gun—a modern tool that fires a three-inch explosive projectile to replace the old hand-thrown harpoons.
But this whale was clever. Normally, whales surface and spout four times before diving deep. This one mixed things up, sometimes blowing only three times, making it impossible for the hunters to predict where he’d appear next.
Time and again, the boats sped toward a fresh spout, only for the whale to vanish, reappearing half a mile away. At one point, the creature even surfaced within 500 yards—almost close enough to strike—just as the boats happened to be facing the wrong direction. By the time they circled around, he was gone again.
Captain Everett Edwards, shaking his head, grumbled that it was downright indecent for a whale to come up and not give them the customary four blows. Still, he was undeterred. “We’ll keep after him and get him yet,” he vowed.
The Hunt Paused by Weather
Eventually, with a dangerous squall rolling in, the hunters were forced to give up the chase and head back to Amagansett for the night.
Meanwhile, along the beaches, the only sour faces belonged to the owners of local hotels and boarding houses. One lamented that he’d have gladly paid a million dollars if only that whale had shown up in August instead—knowing full well that a whale offshore in the summer is a tourist goldmine.
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If you love tales of Long Island’s colorful past, stay tuned—there are plenty more to come. Share your thoughts or your own family’s whaling stories in the comments below!
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