From the July 1, 1856 issue of the Provincetown Banner, selected and edited by Kaimi Rose Lum
Wharves
Opposite to almost every man’s estate, in town, and extending more or less into the harbor, or rather from the high water mark, on shore, is a wharf. In fact, the whole shore is studded with them from one end of the town to the other; and the amount of capital invested in this kind of property here must be very great. And yet, we have not one wharf to which even small vessels can come at low water, or ships at high water. This is one of the grand mistakes of Provincetown. Had our monied men erected a wharf anywhere in the centre of the town, such as is needed and might be easily built, say, twenty years ago, or even less, we should now have had a good steamboat running daily between this place and Boston; the number of inhabitants would have been double the present population, and real estate worth twice as much as now….
Give us a good substantial wharf far out into deep water, with stone piers or iron piles, well bridged over, and then we shall have a steamboat, then a first class hotel, then strangers would flock to our shores in pursuit of pleasure; business would thrive, manufactories spring up in our midst, our young men find employment at home instead of emigrating to the West, and Provincetown would become a large and flourishing manufacturing city, instead of a small and insignificant town.
Whales in Provincetown Harbor
On Sunday last, two large whales were seen sporting in the waves of our harbor for several hours, apparently in a high state of enjoyment, feeling, no doubt, perfectly secure from “harpoon” or “lance,” it being the Lord’s day. Our whalemen are religious men, and have long since abandoned the practice of killing whales on the Sabbath, both at home and on the sea. When the cry is raised on a week day, “There she blows,” the most intense excitement prevails, as it is known immediately from one end of the town to the other, that a “monster of the deep” is in the harbor. In less time than it takes to write these lines, more than fifty whale-boats, fully manned and equipped, are in hot pursuit of the tempting treasure. Then woe unto the hapless fish! A thousand to one that he falls by the unerring aim of harpoon and lance, and is towed upon the flats, and during the first ebb tide stripped of his blubber, and his huge carcass buried in the sand. We have seen several whales disposed of this way, since our residence here, and assure our readers in the interior that if they will take the trouble to visit us this summer, and the whales will only come too, we will show them how the Provincetown boys kill a whale.
