Call me Ishmael

Herman Melville was born on August 1, 1819, in New York City. He was the third of eight children in a family that was prosperous until his father's unexpected death in 1832. After the death of his father, Melville's family fell into financial difficulties, and he was forced to leave school and find work to support them.

In 1839, he embarked on a ship to Liverpool, England, marking the start of his seafaring experiences, which heavily influenced his writing. He spent the next few years at sea, including a stint in the whaling industry.

He spent time working as a teacher, a poet, and a writer. Financial difficulties, and a lack of public interest in his work, led him to take a job as a customs inspector in New York City, a position he held for 19 years.

Melville died on September 28, 1891, largely forgotten.

30 years later, he began to be regarded as one of the greatest figures in American literature. All thanks to his 1851 novel Moby Dick.

If you are one of the few people who actually read the book, and one of the even fewer people who read it and liked it, I am sorry. Moby dick is awful. The “plot” of the novel is about 100 pages out of 400. The rest of the text is whale ‘facts’ — and long descriptions of whaling techniques and equipment. Is this bad? No, but it is boring. Melville draws from his experience on whaling ships give his account of every detail of life at sea. While he had first hand experience at chasing whales living at sea, “gaming” (rendezvousing) with other ships, and encountering indigenous people, the books climax is something he had not experienced. The novel ends with Moby Dick ramming the ship, causing it to sink, and drowning all but the narrator Ishmael. While this drama is nothing that Melville had lived through, it is exactly what the crew of the Essex lived through in 1820.

On August 12, 1819, the 87-foot, 238-ton whaling ship Essex departed from Nantucket, Massachusetts, under the command of 28-year-old Captain George Pollard. She was headed for the South Pacific, a region renowned for its plentiful whales. Aboard were a crew of twenty men, their hearts filled with dreams of bountiful hauls and the prospect of securing financial futures for themselves and their families.

Pollard was an inexperienced captain, a fact that soon became evident as Essex, barely two days out, was hit by a sudden squall. The ship was knocked on her side, her topgallants met the water, and the crew scrambled to cut away the masts to save the ship from sinking. Though the ship survived, much of their freshwater supply was lost.

With this early warning, one might think Pollard would return to Nantucket to restock and repair. Instead, he pushed on, heading to Cape Horn—a decision that would prove calamitous.

Months of exhausting work and modest returns passed before the crew decided to venture further into the uncharted waters of the Pacific, hoping to find the bountiful whaling grounds rumored to exist there. In these distant waters, thousands of miles from civilization, the unimaginable occurred.

On November 20, 1820, an enormous sperm whale, estimated to be 85 feet in length, charged the ship with an astounding force. The whale’s aggressive and unprecedented attack reduced the sturdily built Essex to a sinking mass of timber. In less than ten minutes, the ship was reduced to ruins, leaving the crew stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with little more than three small whaleboats, navigational instruments, and a pitifully insufficient amount of provisions.

Over the following weeks and months, the desperate crew faced indescribable horrors. Dehydration, starvation, and exposure sapped their strength and resolve, forcing them to resort to unspeakable acts of survival as, one by one, the crew perished.

The ordeal of the Essex's crew was not just a test of their survival but a brutal reminder of the perils of ill-preparation. In the face of adversity, their lack of sufficient resources amplified their predicament tenfold. Captain Pollard's early decision not to restock, coupled with the crew's general unpreparedness for such a disaster, cast a long, dark shadow over their survival prospects.

Their story highlights a fundamental principle that applies as much to personal finance as it does to 19th-century whaling voyages: the critical importance of preparation and planning. Like the ill-fated crew of the Essex, we too embark on financial journeys. And while we may not face rampaging sperm whales, we will undoubtedly encounter our own challenges, whether they be unexpected expenses, job loss, or market downturns.

Planning for these financial challenges and establishing an emergency fund—much like the Essex's lost freshwater supply—can mean the difference between weathering a financial storm or being left adrift. Furthermore, taking stock of our resources, setting realistic financial goals, and charting a course to achieve them will help ensure our financial journeys don't end in disaster.

In the tale of the Essex, we find a vivid, albeit extreme, example of the dire consequences of poor planning and the importance of preparation. May their harrowing ordeal serve as a guidepost, reminding us to prepare for our financial journey with foresight and prudence.