Destruction of the schooner PET by a sperm whale

Maker Illustrated London News (Established 1842)

Date6 May 1882

Object number00006993

NameEngraving

MediumInk on paper

DimensionsOverall: 220 x 284 mm

ClassificationsEphemera

Credit LineANMM Collection

Collections

Whaling

Terms

DescriptionEngraving from the Illustrated London News 6 May 1882 titled 'The destruction of the schooner PET by a sperm whale'. The PET sank off Cape Leuwin on 4 March 1882 after being struck by a sperm whale.HistoryThe PET was a schooner built in Fremantle and launched in 1877. On 1 March 1882, the PET departed Bunbury under the command of Peter Littlejohn, a crew of six and laden with a heavy cargo of timber. Of the events that occured three days later the mate, William Henrietta, recalled that: "I ran on deck and saw the wake of the whale about ten fathoms on our starboard bow. I intended to go forward and before I reached the end of the poop, he struck us. I knew by the crash of the timber some serious damage had occurred to the vessel. I gave orders to sound the pumps, all the men were on deck with the exception of the captain. I saw the whale lying alongside the vessel apparently stunned, also pieces of planking belonging to the vessel floating about. I gave orders to cut the lashings of the boat. We had two boats on the main hatch. I went forward to inspect the damage and found the whole of the starboard bow from the cat-head to the starboard fore rigging was stove in and the water rushing in. I immediately ran aft and said ‘never mind the pumps, we must get the boat over the side’. I assisted to get them over, while doing so the captain came out of his cabin, which was a house on deck and asked what all the noise was about. I replied, ‘we have been struck by a whale and are foundering.’ He disbelieved it so I requested him to look for himself. The bowsprit and windlass being under water at this time. We had been going at the rate of 6 knots. The captain appeared stupefied. We launched the boat, all the crew were present helping, we put oars into the boat. I instructed the four men who were in her to get clear of the vessel. I threw several more oars overboard. About this time the water was a foot over the main hatch. One of the men called out I have got the rowlocks. I then jumped onto the poop. The captain had hold of a lifeline and was looking forward at the vessel going down. I called to him. ‘You had better jump into the boat,’ but he made no answer whereupon I again asked him to jump. But he turned slowly round, and staring aft, said vaguely, ‘Bring the boat here.’ I then called to the cook to bring the boat alongside to enable the captain to get in, but the men in the boat said, ‘No, we shall be drawn down by the sinking vessel.’ I walked aft and got out on the stern. Her rudder and about 8 or 10 feet of the keel was out of the water at this time, looking forward her fore topsail had taken aback as she was going down and broke off at the fore topmast—short of the cap. I dived right astern as far as I could from the vessel—Green also did the same. When I got to the surface the vessel had disappeared. I did not see the Captain after speaking to him. We were out of sight of land and according to my reckoning about 50 miles SW of Cape Leeuwin. The vessel foundered about 4.30 p.m.. We remained at the spot for some time amongst the wreckage which continually came up, looking for the Captain. We took two sheep into the boat. I was aware that the course to be steered was NE and I steered that course by the moon as nearly as I could. We sighted land at daylight, Cape Leeuwin and I think we were quite 20 miles away. I told the men I would make for Port Hamelin where we arrived about 2.30 p.m. on Sunday. There was a very nasty sea running all night and rain squalls from the SW, the wind favourable for us. I should say the whale was 60 or 70 feet long, the largest whale I have seen of the sort, and we had seen no sign of whales before this one."