The Sea Lions | Page 4

from England, if its towns, which are of
recent origin, be taken from the account, Queens is more of a mixture,
having been early invaded and occupied by adventurers from the other
side of the Sound; but Suffolk, which contains nearly, if not quite,
two-thirds of the surface of the whole island, is and ever has been in
possession of a people derived originally from the puritans of New
England. Of these three counties, Kings is much the smallest, though
next to New York itself, the most populous county in the state; a
circumstance that is owing to the fact that two suburban offsets of the
great emporium, Brooklyn and Williamsburg, happen to stand, within
its limits, on the waters of what is improperly called the East River; an
arm of the sea that has obtained this appellation, in contradistinction to
the Hudson, which, as all Manhattanese well know, is as often called
the North River, as by its proper name. In consequence of these two
towns, or suburbs of New York, one of which contains nearly a
hundred thousand souls, while the other must be drawing on towards
twenty thousand, Kings county has lost all it ever had of peculiar, or
local character. The same is true of Queens, though in a diminished
degree; but Suffolk remains Suffolk still, and it is with Suffolk alone
that our present legend requires us to deal. Of Suffolk, then, we purpose
to say a few words by way of preparatory explanation.
Although it has actually more sea-coast than all the rest of New York
united, Suffolk has but one sea-port that is ever mentioned beyond the
limits of the county itself. Nor is this port one of general commerce, its
shipping being principally employed in the hardy and manly

occupation of whaling. As a whaling town, Sag Harbour is the third or
fourth port in the country, and maintains something like that rank in
importance. A whaling haven is nothing without a whaling community.
Without the last, it is almost hopeless to look for success. New York
can, and has often fitted whalers for sea, having sought officers in the
regular whaling ports; but it has been seldom that the enterprises have
been rewarded with such returns as to induce a second voyage by the
same parties.
It is as indispensable that a whaler should possess a certain esprit de
corps, as that a regiment, or a ship of war, should be animated by its
proper spirit. In the whaling communities, this spirit exists to an extent,
and in a degree that is wonderful, when one remembers the great
expansion of this particular branch of trade within the last
five-and-twenty years. It may be a little lessened of late, but at the time
of which we are writing, or about the year 1820, there was scarcely an
individual who followed this particular calling out of the port of Sag
Harbour, whose general standing on board ship was not as well known
to all the women and girls of the place, as it was to his shipmates.
Success in taking the whale was a thing that made itself felt in every
fibre of the prosperity of the town; and it was just as natural that the
single-minded population of that part of Suffolk should regard the bold
and skilful harpooner, or lancer, with favour, as it is for the belle at a
watering-place to bestow her smiles on one of the young heroes of
Contreras or Churubusco. His peculiar merit, whether with the oar,
lance, or harpoon, is bruited about, as well as the number of whales he
may have succeeded in "making fast to," or those which he caused to
"spout blood." It is true, that the great extension of the trade within the
last twenty years, by drawing so many from a distance into its pursuits,
has in a degree lessened this local interest and local knowledge of
character; but at the time of which we are about to write, both were at
their height, and Nantucket itself had not more of this "intelligence
office" propensity, or more of the true whaling esprit de corps, than
were to be found in the district of country that surrounded Sag Harbour.
Long Island forks at its eastern end, and may be said to have two
extremities. One of these, which is much the shortest of the two legs

thus formed, goes by the name of Oyster Pond Point; while the other,
that stretches much farther in the direction of Blok Island, is the
well-known cape called Montauk. Within the fork lies Shelter Island,
so named from the snug berth it occupies. Between Shelter Island and
the longest or southern prong of the fork, are the waters which compose
the haven of Sag Harbour, an estuary