Thar She Used to Blow

SAILS AND WHALES (232 pp.)--Captain H. A. Chippendale--Houghton Miff/in ($3).

Did you ever hear the tale of the

mighty sperm whale That when boldly attacked in his lair With one sweep of his mighty and ponderous tail

Sends the whaleboat so high in the air?

If not, it might be a good idea to get a copy of Captain Harry Allen Chippendale's Sails and Whales. Captain Chippendale, 72, is one of the last men left alive who during the last century pursued the largest of God's creatures over the bounding main in an oversize peapod, and did him in with a spike on the end of a pole. His memoir of those derring days, told with salty gusto, is sure to be one of the last authentic additions to the thrilling literature of old-fashioned whaling.

Fate signed Harry Chippendale aboard his first whaler. He was born in the cabin of his father's ship, two days off St. Helena, a great rendezvous of the whaling trade, where Harry's father later served as U.S. consul.

At 16, he was ready to go to sea in earnest. He knew the "riggin' and runnin' gear" as well as the alphabet, but life on a whaler held odd surprises for him. The oddest: having to douse his clothes in urine, the standard detergent aboard the oily whalers, before washing them in sea water.

The first few kills of Harry's career were easy ones, but one day a wounded whale charged his dory and sent him swimming for his life through a sea full of sharks. Another time, his broken boat was kept afloat like a surfboard as the whale dragged it along at top speed at the end of a harpoon line. On a third occasion, young Harry was bounced overboard into a school of whales, which amused themselves by playing a none-too-gentle form of soccer with Harry as the ball.

On shore, the young tar had a rather quieter time. He once went hard-alee for a pretty little Portuguese, and had to do some tricky navigation to get out of port; but in general, says the prim old sea dog, "I always kept a straight course and gave them a wide berth, as I had no use for painted-faced daisies."

At the turn of the century, the old-style whalers were foundering to their finish, to be replaced by modern floating whale-oil factories. Harry became a landsman, and took up pharmacy. He went back to the sea in two World Wars, served as skipper of troop ships and cargo ships. "But who can find romance," he sneers, "in an engine thump?"--especially while

The rare old whale, mid storm and gale In his ocean home will be, A giant in might, where might is right, And king of the boundless sea.

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