Gamming or Gammoning was a form of socializing at sea often particular to whaling vessels. Whalers tended to find society mostly among other whalers rather than with merchant or naval vessels. It wasn’t uncommon for those employed in the merchant trades or Navy to look down upon whalers with an air of snobbery, often considering them subpar seamen with subpar ships. The distaste was sometimes mutual, as expressed by William Stetson of the Arab, talking about a government ship’s dull affected company while at port in Tumbes, Peru, December of 1854. His crew got on well enough with two San Francisco schooners also in the harbor, but that was still nothing compared to a fellow whaler.
“We manage to pass the time away very pleasantly, having got somewhat acquainted with our port companions, and gamming has been carried on as extensively as can reasonably be supposed with such a small amount of shipping. The Page has got on board nearly all her cargo and she will probably leave for San Francisco before long; we shall then have to do our gamming with the Santiago, unless perchance, a whaler should arrive here, such an event would indeed be a blessing to us. The government cutter, called the ‘Vigilante’, still lays here with us but from this circumstance we derive no benefit; as gamming with her would not be very interesting even if such a thing should happen.”
Shortly after the whaler Rosseau arrived with much celebration:
“The cutter Vigilante we ascertained had sailed on Monday, but what far overbalanced the loss of her society, the whale ship Rosseau of New Bedford, Capt Pope, had arrived on Tuesday and since this time we have enjoyed ourselves with additional zest, having someone to associate with in our amusements […]The times lately, since the arrival of the Rosseau have been far more lively and interesting than before that event. The crew are a very sociable set of boys, and with them we can have a first rate gam, on board or ashore.”
The structure of other maritime trades also played a role in this unique social function of whalers. Those in the merchant service had tight schedules and travel routes and thus exchanged words with other vessels only briefly, unlike whalers, described by merchantmen as ‘spouters jogging lazily along. With no set place to be outside of the oft-lonely whaling grounds, whaling crews were often eager to heave to for an evening of extended entertainments when they came across a sister ship.
Greenhand William Buel aboard the Wave defined the phenomenon in his journal for the benefit of his friends ashore.
“Gamming is what would be called on shore visiting—the same number of men which come on board one vessel to visit or gam are immediately returned by the same boat in order that in case of a gale separating the ships neither shall be short of men. Having these gams are occasions of great fun + frolic.”
In addition to an equal number of men being exchanged between the ships, when captains went aboard one ship to visit captains, their mates would go aboard the other. One reason was, as Buel mentioned, so neither ship would be short handed in an emergency. However, this was also a calculated decision to always have officers aboard each ship with the hope that their presence would discourage the threat of mutiny during such a lull. Notions of mutiny often simmered below the surface on whalers after many long months of hard work, terrible conditions, loneliness, and boredom, and little reprieve from any of it. On some level, a gam was that reprieve.
On the Sunbeam in 1870, veteran whaler Silliman Ives wrote,
“These little breaks in our monotonous existence are very pleasant, and furnish us with materials for thought, as well as serving to stir us up a bit, so that we may not stagnate.”
The nature of the whaling industry created a fundamental need for gams. In addition to having no destination beyond the increasingly isolated whaling grounds, there was also no set span of time one had to anticipate for how long they’d go before they saw another face outside their crew, or felt solid land under their feet. There was no structure beyond ‘you go out there, and you don’t come back until you have enough oil to make the endeavor worth it.’ Ports were rarely visited except when absolutely necessary for repairs or supplies, or for captains to update agents on the voyage’s progress. Crews being granted liberty ashore was not always a guarantee while at anchor, and was at times specifically avoided by captains (out of concerns of desertion, general disorder ashore, not wanting to pay harbor fees, not wanting to delay the voyage, and the potential for crews to stage work stoppages)
A boatsteerer dances on the Sunbeam, photographed by Clifford Ashley in 1906. Via the New Bedford Whaling Museum
As such, gams provided not only levity and social outlets but were also a crucial way to exchange information. Captains would report their current catch to each other and whether the whaling was good or poor in certain areas. They’d discuss hardships such as damage to the ship or loss of life, as well as news they received from other vessels. That would in turn be reported in letters those captains wrote back to their agents, and that information would be published in newspapers for those ashore waiting months for any news of those at sea. Similar information exchange also happened in the focsle, as whalers passed on newspapers to each other or letters picked up from other ships or ports that might carry some word of home. There were also a variety of (sometimes unusual) gifts passed between crews, such as those reported by John Martin aboard the Lucy Ann, 1840s:
“The Captain of the Florida came on board of us with his boats crew. The Florida has an excellent crew of stout good looking fellows. We made them a present of some Cockroaches for breeders. The Florida is troubled with bed bugs, which the roaches will destroy. We also exchanged books & newspapers, & they made us a present of a handsome fife.”
“Talk about a ‘sewing society’ or a ‘tea party’ why it can’t begin with a whaleman’s ‘gam’,” wrote Ives, with his usual sense of humor.
“Everyone gets up their jaw tackles and then they go at it, and the way small talk suffers is a caution. All the news that has lately been heard and considerable more that is manufactured on the spur of the moment is exchanged. The whales that have been caught on the voyage, all have to be caught, and killed over again and some that were captured on previous voyages have to suffer a further slaughter, it may be for the twentieth time. The yields from such fares doesn’t amount to much however. Officers are talked of and about, and their various merits or demerits discussed. And in many instances the ‘dis’ is dispensed with. And so the many tongues wag merrily for the space of three or four hours, when the command of ‘man the boat’ puts an end to the visit.”
William Allen, greenhand on the Samuel Robertson, shared the focsle amusements of “singing songs none of the most moral and speaking about those of their acquaintances who had been killed or maimed by whales”, and telling tales of the “different islands and ports they had visited &c of women & wine whoring & hard drinking”. Meanwhile, the Captains entertained each other “spinning the greatest lies about their personal engagements with whales—how far they can throw a lance and kill a whale.”
Wives who came along with their husbands (captains) were particularly excited about gams, especially if she knew another woman was aboard. In some instances, friends from shore were met again at sea, thus the gam also created a tangible reminder of ‘home’ for many that went beyond letters and newspapers. Azubah Cash, who joined her husband on his ship Columbia, shared her delight at this,
“Capt Fisher and his wife, and son came on board and stoped ‘till near dark, which is quite late in this country and as old acquaintances we were glad to see each other; she was the first woman I have seen since the 12th of February when we left the Bay of Islands, so it was quite a rarity to see one, and baby was frightened, he stared well, I suppose he could have no recolection of one except his mother, we did not get much news from our family at home but heard from others: we had a good gam as they call them: and Alexander and George had a fine time, being schoolmates at home.”
“Captains are delighted to go on board a ship when there is a lady; it reminds them so forcibly of home,” wrote whaling wife Mary Lawrence on board the Addison. For this reason captains often preferred to visit her husband’s ship, rather than that he come to theirs.
A ‘gamming chair’ used to move a lady from one ship to the other. From the collection of the NBWM.
Sometimes, the gams could be too much of a good thing for some men. Throughout 1870, Mr. Ives grew weary of the constant company of one particular whaleship.
“In regards to our relating to our old friend and consort the Kathleen, we seem to be pretty much in the condition of the individual we read about in the good old mythological times who could not get rid of his shirt. Wherever we go she is sure to put in her appearance. She follows us like our very shadow. It has been reported for some time that she was to go to Singapore I own that I have my doubts about the matter. It may be that such is the honest intention of her Captain, but I should not be at all surprised if he found that upon trying to execute such a plan, that the old Kathleen had formed such an affection for the Sunbeam that she utterly refused to be separated. Now it’s all very pleasant to see a sail and exchange visits now and then, but this continually sailing in company and endless visiting is too much of a good thing. We have seen the Kathleen so often that I am fairly sick of the sight of her, and out of conceit with her very name, and I do believe if I had a friend of that name I’d cut her acquaintance. She has started to go to Kema for her letters but I expect before she gets halfway there she will turn back to see if we still remain where she left us.”
J.E. Haviland too, of the Baltic in the 1850s, felt similarly when the socializing went on too long, too late, and the focus on whales seemed to drift.
“Mon 27th
About noon saw the Gay Head up on the weather beam. She came down and our Captain went on board of the G.H. and their mate came here. Staid until after 9pm. I am getting sick of gamming so much. It is impossible to get any sleep when you have a boats crew gamming in the forcastle.Tues 28th
Still in company with the Gay Head. She ran down to us about 11am and there Captain came on board of us. Mr. Stivers went there I did not want to go. Kept gamming until after 10 pm. I think it would be much better for all hands if they were looking up whalesWed 29th
I do not believe we shall get a whale as long as that Jonah of a Gay Head is in sight. And she seems bound to stick to us like wax. Been just aboard of us all the morning. I have all I want from them + that is a fresh stock of Books + now it would please me much to see them depart.”
As with every social event, gams weren’t always a fun time. Charles B. Nordhoff, on an unnamed whaler, talked about a visit with the Betsy Ann, “a rusty looking old tub as ever floated”,
“Our first reception had seemed to us cool. We were languidly asked down into the forecastle, which smelt abominably of decayed roaches and oil soap, and here seats were given us on the chests. Once seated, all hands preserved a most decorous silence for nearly ten minutes, when one of the strangers at last ventured to ask how long we were from home, and what was the latest news. Being duly posted on this topic, they again relapsed into silence, and I was beginning to think that gamming was an unmitigated bore.”
Similarly, veteran whaler John Martin complained about the lack of hospitality from the crew of the Ajax,
“The crew never offered us anything to eat, altho’ they were eating breakfast while we were there. It is not so with us. When a strange ship’s crew come on board of us, we give them the best we have. It was the first time I went a gammoning since I have been out and I’ll be damned if it won’t be the last if I can help it.”
They didn’t even give them a cockroach breeding pair…
Some whalers attributed this ‘unsociability’ during gams to the vessel having a poor voyage so far. Indeed, some of Mr. Ives sourness towards the Kathleen had to do with her apparent successes.
“How little is necessary to the upsetting of ones serenity, and peace of mind. Now here we were this morning feeling particularly good. Patting each other on the back, and congratulating ourselves on being the possessors of 820 bbls of Oil. When, “presto changes”, the “Kathleen” hove in sight boiling and cutting all at once, and showing every indication of having taken a large amount of oil. As soon as this fact became generally known we wasn’t on the -congratulate- so much as we were. We didn’t feel quite so good as we did. And our 820 Bbls didn’t appear quite so large, in comparison with the “Kathleen”’s probably One Thousand. It’s all very well to try and appear gracious about it, and as though one didn’t care. You may try the magnanimous dodge and say “well I’m sure I’m glad to hear of her good fortune. She needed it after all, for up to within a month she hadn’t seen the spout of a whale for nine months, and she is out 2 ½ years you know.” But it is -only trying- after all; you can’t make a go of it and you must acknowledge to yourself that you really wish the Kathleen had kept out of the way, and if she must see whales you wish she might have seen them somewhere else. You feel as though you had a sort of prior claim to all the benefits to be derived from this cruising ground; a sort of primary right and title to all the advantages accruing therefrom, because you -got here first-. Now this is very like selfishness I’ll admit, but it’s human nature as well, and as my Uncle says, “humane nature’s a queer feller.”
No doubt ill luck and general misery could render a crew poor hosts. But in the long stretches of isolation and hardship, a gam created a much needed space for talk, play, and reminiscing. The mundanity of simply speaking to another person, or handing off a newspaper, or having a laugh at a joke took on a heightened beautiful quality in the face of the surrounding difficult years at sea. To close, I’ll include an excerpt written by greenhand William Abbe on the Atkins Adams, that I think speaks to this quality.
“All hands left the forecastle for the deck where we danced fore and after to the music of the band that was seated on the windlass—we danced away til about 8 when another boat came alongside bringing our 2nd mate and the 2nd mate of the “Sea Queen”…the 3 barks lay nearly in a triangle, on a quiet sea, nearly a dead calm, while the moon held at the full, shed a brilliant light over the ocean + shone with elfish gleam on the white sails of the 3 ships. We could see in the distance other ships gamming + amidst this scene of quiet beauty, beneath the moon, joining with the new boats crew we danced away, sanding the decks + kicking off our shoes as we formed two cotillion parties + kept the decks alive, crowded as they were, with our shouts + laughter + music.”