In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, whales and “porpoises” (actually bottle-nose dolphins)* were hunted commercially by Outer Banks fishermen. Evidence of this industry on Ocracoke Island survives in the name of Try Yard Creek, located 6.1 miles northeast of the village of Ocracoke.

A “try yard” was a place where whales or porpoises were processed in order to “try out” or render the oil from blubber or fat.

Today, whales and dolphins are not only protected, but have become iconic symbols of ocean conservation. A number of organizations are dedicated specifically to the protection of marine mammals. Tour boats around the world take tourists and photographers on “Whale Watching Cruises” and “Dolphin Watching Cruises.” Some coastal communities offer opportunities to swim with captive dolphins, and the Internet contains thousands of images and videos of whales and dolphins taken by amateur and professional photographers.

A Whale Sighted off Ocracoke’s Beach:

It is easy to forget that life on the Outer Banks, even one hundred years ago, was much different than it is today. The residents of these wind-swept sandy banks were isolated, poor, and unsophisticated. They were also resourceful, creative, and self-sufficient. They did what they could to survive and feed their families, and that sometimes meant hunting whales and “porpoises.”

By the early 1700s the American whaling industry was centered in New England.

Engraving from Account of the Arctic Regions (1820), by W. Scoresby:

In 1666 Peter Cartaret, assistant governor of Albemarle (which later became North Carolina), granted a commercial whaling license to three New England mariners, granting them permission to take whales in the colony’s waters. There is no evidence that they took advantage of the license.

For almost two centuries, beginning in the mid-1600s, residents of coastal North Carolina engaged in shore-based whaling activities, while New England whalers eventually operated far out to sea in square-rigged ships specially outfitted for the task.

North Carolina whalers never pursued their prey in the open ocean. Initially, they relied exclusively on “drift whales,” cetaceans that became stranded in shallow water, or that died at sea and washed ashore. Later, pursuit of whales became more active as crews ventured just off-shore in small boats rowed by four men. In 1725 the governor of North Carolina issued a license to Samuel Chadwick of Carteret Precinct “to fish for Whale or Other Royall fish on ye Seay Coast of the Government and whatsoever you shall catch to convert to your own use paying to ye Hon. ye Governor one tenth parte of ye Oyls and bone Made by Vertue of this License.”

License Granted to Samuel Chadwick:

Most North Carolina whaling was based at Cape Lookout and Shackleford Banks, although it extended throughout the region from Hatteras, southward. The season began in December, and continued into June. The peak months were February, March, and April.

Sperm whales, humpback whales, blackfish (short-finned pilot whales) and others were sometimes pursued, but the right whale (so named because it was the “right” whale to hunt) was the primary target. Right whales typically swam closer to shore, were more docile, and floated after being killed.

The typical Outer Banks whaleboat was 20-25 feet long, double-ended, high in the bow and stern, and constructed of lapped planks. It was designed to be rowed by four men. Another acted as steersman, while a sixth, often the captain, remained in the bow, ready to throw the harpoon.

The earliest harpoons employed in North Carolina were of the simple single-flue or two-flue variety. Later, “toggle-irons” (harpoons with a pivoting barbed head secured with a wooden shear pin) were used. After penetrating the whale’s muscle, tension on the harpoon line broke the shear pin, turning the barbed point at a right angle making it difficult to dislodge.

Outer Banks shore-whalers employed a drudge (also called a “drag,” a “drug,” or a “drogue”), a block of wood that was tied to the end of the 40- to 240-foot long harpoon line. Although the drudge acted somewhat as a sea anchor, slowing and tiring the whale, it was primarily intended as a buoy to help identify the harpooned whale’s position.

Unlike pelagic whalers, North Carolina whalers seldom maintained continuous contact with the harpooned whale. This may account for the fact that no Outer Banks whaler is known to have been killed in pursuit of a whale.

After the Civil War, shoulder guns were sometimes used to fire explosive “bomb lances” that penetrated and exploded deep within the whale’s body.

Dead whales were towed to shore, often requiring hours of hard rowing. A block-and-tackle was used to pull the carcass above the high tide line where it was butchered and tryed.

The trying process, which remained essentially unchanged for more than one hundred years, was graphically described by H. H. Brimley in his 1894 article, Whale Fishing in North Carolina: “The head is cut off and the whalebone cut out of the upper jaws in blocks and piled up like a shock of corn. The tongue is next cut out in pieces, being too large to handle whole…. The tools used in cutting up are known as spades. They are long and broad-bladed chisels, ground very sharp and fitted with a long wooden handle. The whole tool is some six or eight feet long, and the blade six or eight inches across. The blubber is cut in long strips with a pushing, jabbing motion of the spade and then crosswise so as to get it off in square blocks small enough for two men to handle. A hole is cut near one edge, a pole run through it and it is then carried across to the try kettles….”

Cutting up Whale Blubber on Shore:

Brimley continues, “The try kettles are large iron pots of about fifty gallons capacity…set in brick-work over one fire. The blubber, as it is cut from the carcass, is piled up near the try kettles. It is then ‘minced,’ either with a spade in a tub or on a bench with an old scythe blade, and is then thrown into the kettles. As the boiling is finished the oil is dipped out with a long-handled copper ladle and poured into the strainer, which consists of a wide-flaring trough with holes in the bottom, the holes being plugged loosely with bulrushes. The strained oil runs into a long dug-out trough with a partition across the center, the partition also having auger holes plugged with bulrushes. The secondary straining renders the oil perfectly clear, and from the lower end of the big trough it runs through a hole in the side into a small movable trough which connects with the bung-hole of the barrel. The barrel lies on its side in a hole in the ground and as soon as filled is lifted out and replaced by another. The crackling is dumped from the strainer in a pile and used as required, in conjunction with red cedar wood (the common growth on the banks), in keeping up the fire under the pot. On the leeward side of the kettles the steam from the boiling oil, combined with the thick smoke of the burning crackling, makes the smell one to be remembered.”

Trying Out the Oil:

In 1737 John Brickell, in The Natural History of North-Carolina, described an incident involving whaling and the Outer Banks:  “These Monsters [whales] are very numerous on the Coasts of North-Carolina, and the Bone and Oil would be a great Advantage to the Inhabitants that live on the Sand-Banks along the Ocean, if they were as dexterous and industrious in Fishing for them as they are Northwards; but as I observed before the People in these parts are not very much given to Industry, but wait upon Providence to throw those dead Monsters on Shoar, which frequently happens to their great advantage and Profit. For which reason abundance of Inhabitants dwell upon the Banks near the Sea for that Intent, and the benefit of Wrecks of Vessels which are sometimes driven in upon these Coasts. Not  many Years ago there were two Boats that came from the Northward to Ocacock Island, to fish, and carried away that Season Three Hundred and Forty Barrels of Oil, beside the Bone, but these Fishermen going away without paying the Tenths to the Governor, they never appeared to fish on these Coasts afterwards, or any other that I ever could hear of.”

Although shore-based whaling was always seasonal, and never amounted to more than a minor industry on the Outer Banks, whale oil was quite valuable as a lubricant and lamp fuel. Whale oil was especially prized for fuel in Outer Banks lighthouses. During the Proprietary period (prior to 1729), whale oil even became an official medium of currency.

With the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, whaling in North Carolina was significantly curtailed. According to Marcus Simpson and Sallie Simpson in Whaling on the North Carolina Coast, “[t]he ensuing years of embargoes, seizures, war, destruction of ships, and port blockades decimated the American whaling enterprise. Just before the Revolution, the industry employed some 4,700 men and 360 vessels, with an annual production of 45,000 barrels of sperm oil, 8,500 barrels of whale oil, and 75,000 pounds of whalebone. By 1789 the fleet had been reduced to 130 vessels and the annual production of sperm oil to 10,000 barrels.”

In 1789, two North Carolina entrepreneurs and merchants, John Gray Blount and John Wallace, established a commercial entrepôt on a small oyster “rock” in Pamlico Sound between Ocracoke and Portsmouth. Dubbed Shell Castle, the island was home to more than forty people, including twenty-two slaves. Shell Castle had wharves and warehouses, a ship’s chandlery, and a tavern, as well as a wooden lighthouse and several dwellings for the owners, servants, and slaves.

Although Shell Castle was primarily used for “lightering” (transferring cargo from larger, sea-going ships to smaller, lighter vessels capable of negotiating shallower channels in Pamlico Sound), Blount and Wallace also engaged in mullet fishing, ship building, salvage operations, and storage services.

By 1793 the owners of Shell Castle had initiated a porpoise fishery, perhaps the earliest such operation, although others were established on the Outer Banks after the Civil War. Porpoises were prized for their oil, and for their skins, which produced a supple, waterproof leather suitable for boots. Porpoise meat was sometimes consumed locally, although its strong, oily flavor prevented it from being marketed commercially.

In a typical operation, fifteen to eighteen slaves in four small boats surrounded the marine mammals and contained them within heavy, large-mesh nets. Once trapped, thirty to forty porpoises at a time were surrounded by a smaller seine and hauled closer to shore. As David Cecelski writes in The Waterman’s Song, Slavery and Freedom in Maritime North Carolina, “The rest was a grisly business. Once they had trapped them in the surf, the slave boatmen waded into the water and knifed the dolphins that had not already drowned. Then they gaffed the animals and dragged them ashore. Cutting off the flippers and dorsal fins, the men stripped off the skin and blubber and rendered their oil by fire.”

Whereas a single right whale could yield more than 1,000 gallons of high quality oil for lamp fuel or lubricant, one dolphin might yield six to eight gallons of oil. However, a single large haul of one hundred or more dolphins could provide 750 gallons of oil, a more reliable source of income, obtained at less risk (especially for the slave owner).

In the early nineteenth century, porpoise fishing and whaling were an important commercial activity in Beaufort and Cape Lookout on the Carolina coast. In 1806 about 200 gallons of oil were processed there. The enterprises continued to expand until the outbreak of the Civil War when, as noted, the cost of boats, nets and other equipment stifled the industry until the mid-1880s, when three porpoise fisheries were again active in Cartaret County.

Fishermen set up tents and temporary huts (constructed of saplings, bull-rushes, and reeds) on Bogue Banks (west of Cape Lookout) and elsewhere along the Outer Banks, as base camps from which to pursue porpoises, whales, mullet and other fish.

Whaling on the North Carolina coast came to an end in March, 1916, when the last whale, a 57-foot right whale, was killed near Cape Lookout.

Porpoise fishing continued for another ten years. At least two porpoise factories were established at Hatteras in the late nineteenth century. In 1885, former Union officer Colonel Jonathan P. Wainwright commenced operation of his enterprise (Porpoise Oil and Leather Manufactury, Wainright and Co.) which continued until December, 1892. Hatteras native, John W. Rollinson, was captain and superintendant of one of two crews.

When porpoises were sighted, fishermen on the shore launched lapstrake dories (15-foot long lightweight double-ended rowing boats with high bows and sterns, constructed with overlapping hull planks). They set thousand-foot-long nets of extra heavy twine, and hauled the mammals onto the beach. In a procedure almost identical to the operation at Shell Castle one hundred years earlier, the porpoises were killed by stabbing them under the left fin.

The processing facility was located not on the beach, but on the sound side of Hatteras village, adjacent to a dock that extended into deep water. The facility consisted of large tanks positioned over furnaces where the jaw fat was “tryed” or rendered to produce high quality oil used for lubricants in watches, clocks, and other delicate instruments. Body blubber was tryed to produce a lesser grade oil for lamp fuel and other purposes. The hides were sold for manufacturing machinery belts.

A freight boat arrived periodically to transport the finished products to market.

Fishing for porpoises usually began in October or November, and lasted until the end of May. In the first season 1,295 porpoises were caught. By 1892, the porpoise fishery was moribund. Only 57 porpoises were harvested, all of them in December.

In 1887 a smaller porpoise fishery was begun by a man named Zimmerman. But already the industry was in decline. Cheaper kerosene was rapidly replacing whale and porpoise oil for lamp fuel. By 1890 low prices for porpoise hides added to the problem. It was simply too expensive to catch the animals, prepare the hides, and try out the oil.

There was a resurgence of porpoise fishing in the 1920s when Joseph K. Nye of New Bedford, Massachusetts, located a factory at Durant’s Island, on the sound side of Hatteras village. Nye’s operation ended in 1926. A local couple attempted to continue the enterprise, but that was short-lived, and porpoise fishing never recovered.

No sustained whale or porpoise fishery ever gained traction on Ocracoke Island. The name Try Yard Creek is the only surviving relic of a fascinating experiment that captured the attention of other Outer Bankers, but seems only to have been a very sporadic enterprise on Ocracoke.

*Dolphins and porpoises, though similar in appearance, are two distinct species of marine mammals. Dolphins, which migrate off-shore of the Outer Banks in pods, were typically called porpoises by local fishermen. For that reason, I frequently adopt the term “porpoise” to refer to the dolphins that frequent North Carolina waters.


The Outer Banks of North Carolina 1584-1958, by David Stick, UNC Press, 1958, pp. 184-187

The Waterman’s Song, Slavery and Freedom in Maritime North Carolina, by David S. Cecelski, UNC Press,
2001, p. 77

Paradise Lost, An Oral History of Portsmouth Island, by James E. White, III, Mount Truxton Publishing Company,
2012, pp. 185-191

Whaling on the North Carolina Coast, by Marcus B. Simpson, Jr., and Sallie W. Simpson, NC Division of Archives
and History, 1988

Ethnohistorical Description of the Eight Villages adjoining Cape Hatteras National Seashore and Interpretive
Themes of History and Heritage, November 2005

Whale Fishing in North Carolina, by Herbert Hutchinson Brimley, 1894

The Porpoise Fishery of Cape Hatteras, Transactions of the American Fisheries Society, Vol. 14, Issue 1, 1885

“The Porpoise in Captivity,” Zoological Society Bulletin, Vol. XVI, November, 1913

“Porpoise Fishery is Old,” The Day, October 31, 1917

A Historian’s Coast: Adventures Into the Tidewater Past, by David S. Cecelski, John f. Blair Publisher, 2000, Chapter 11, “Small Miracles”

History of Whaling In and Near North Carolina, US Dept. of Commerce, NOAA, National Marine Fisheries Service, by Randall R. Reeves and Edward Mitchell, March, 1988 (

“The Porpoise Factory” by Mary Helen Goodloe-Murphy, The Coastland Times, 2003 (

Seasoned by Salt, A Historical Album of the Outer Banks, by Rodney Barfield, UNC Press, 1995, pp 56-65


by Lou Ann Homan

The sky is brilliant blue with not even a trace of a cloud as I set out on my bike. The ride is easy and within minutes I am pulling into Morty’s driveway. I am sure I have the right house as the yard is littered with fishing line, buoys, old nets, and a truck that has FAT BOYS written all over it. Morty and his Dad, James Barrie, are part of the oldest tradition of the island. They are fisherman. Maybe it would be better to say they are caretakers of the sea. On this day I am going with Morty as he gathers clams from the clam beds. He is only thirteen years old and his parents do not want him out on the beds alone. I am not sure how I got the job as ‘clam bed supervisor.’ I think, possibly, by default. I am definitely more excited than Morty about this morning adventure on Ocracoke Island in North Carolina.
I am barefoot and carry my large bag with camera and note pad so I can take photos and notes as I sit in the boat and wait for Morty to gather his clams. The boat is old and wooden with a bare coating of white paint and I climb down into the boat and wait for Morty to untie the lines and set us off sailing. There are no seats so I ask him where I should sit? He clears off an old cooler and I sit there taking notice of the life jackets…just in case. Morty stands and steers the boat with a wooden tiller. I watch the Ocracoke light house and shoreline shrink to doll house proportion and turn my attention to the marked clam beds ahead of us in the Pamlico Sound. The boat begins to slow and then stops fifty yards or so away. Morty anchors the boat and says, “Let’s go.” At first I raise my eyebrows as I look at him and then realize that I have become one of the crew. I tell him I didn’t know that I would be clamming and that I am probably not very good at it…but he says it is easy and that we will be done in no time. I notice we have not carried any clam rakes and ask him about that. “We crawl on our hands and knees.” I knew that.
As we walk through the warm water he tells me to be careful of broken shells and stingrays although he says he has never been stung.  I ask questions as we walk. I want to know about clamming and fishing and his family. Morty wants to be a fisherman when he grows up to carry on the tradition of the sea. He is good in math and wants a college education so that he can protect the environment for fishermen. He is a thirteen year old kid with a grown up brain, I think. We reach the clam beds and he shows me how to gather the clams with my feet and hands. I am clumsy at first. “We only need 500,” he says.
I sink my hands into the warm sand and come up with fistfuls of clams. He tells me that it takes three years to grow these in the beds his father has taken care of. We are mostly quiet as we work. I am doing my part and the container is almost half full. He thinks we have 450 clams, but I don’t want to leave until we have the 500. Finally it is time to leave. I am satisfied with the job well done as we wade back to the boat. He sprints into the boat as I watch looking for a ladder. There is no ladder. I tell him I’m not thirteen and not great at sprinting into boats. He hands me a bucket and tells me to turn it upside down getting all of the air out. I easily climb in with that help. We rinse off the clams. He tells me they are going directly to the market, fresh clams for the tourists. As he starts the motor I know that on this morning I have been a welcomed guest into another world. As we pull into the dock I tell Morty that he can call me anytime. He gives me a smile and a small bucket of clams to take back to this, my spit of land, Ocracoke Island.

Boxes of Clams:

Morty Cleaning Fish:
(Photo Needed)


Last month I shared with you a short story about Julius Bryant and one of his floundering adventures in the mid-50’s.  Below is a more recent photo of Julius and a 21 pound flounder he caught several years ago. 

Julius Bryant & Flounder, photo courtesy of Ann Ehringhaus:
Julius and Flounder
This photo was taken by Ann Ehringhaus, and is included in her book Ocracoke Portrait.  When you have a chance to look at Ann’s book be sure to read the accompanying story.  It is a hilarious account of Kenny Ballance and Julius’ sister Babe taking the frozen flounder on a plane to New York City.

All of us at Village Craftsmen hope you had an enjoyable summer.  In spite of several rainy spells, especially in early August, the weather on the island has been generally warm but pleasant.  We are looking forward to a very nice Fall as it begins to cool off a little.

We were informed recently that “Bon Appetite” magazine will be publishing an article in their November issue that features two craft galleries in each of several regions of the U.S.   We were pleased to hear that their staff had discovered our web site and intend to use the Village Craftsmen as one of the two shops for the Southeast region.

We have sent them a Hatteras Peppermill for them to photograph.  Look for the article–and the picture.  It should be on the newsstands by mid-October.

Bon Appetite also requested some of our Wild Cherry and Stainless Steel Kitchen Utensils.  We understand these will be included in their December issue.

Many readers of this newsletter will remember when Jack Willis ran a small grocery store on his dock on Cockle Creek (now sometimes called Silver Lake).  O’Neal’s Dockside tackle shop operated in the building for a while and Rudy and Donald Austin continue to tie their boats to this dock for their excursion tours to Portsmouth Island.

Jack’s Dock
Jack's Dock

More than forty years ago this dock was the scene of a funny encounter between my father’s youngest brother and an unnamed island visitor.  I hope you enjoy the following story I wrote several years ago:

“Uncle Homer, my father’s youngest brother, was known by all as a wild and crazy character.  Even as a youth, among his own kin, he had a reputation for unpredictability and foolishness.  The youngest of the fourteen children, he was spoiled and pampered by his aging father.  Unfortunately, at an early age he flirted with and was seduced by alcohol.

The island was legally dry when he was growing up so store-bought beer, wine and hard liquor could be difficult to come by even after Prohibition was repealed in 1933.  As his addiction progressed,  “Little Homer” as he came to be called, sought out unconventional, and often dangerous sources of alcohol.  After-shave lotion, cough syrup and vanilla extract were perennial favorites in those days.  At first, the booze only heightened his playful nature, providing hours of stories and good-natured tales for the old men who sat on the porch of the general store or on benches out on the docks, whittling small birds. These birds were carved out of cedar with wings cut from the appropriately curved wooden ice cream spoons provided with every small container of the now-available Mayola ice cream.  (Lemon was my favorite!)

On one occasion before tourism had become a major industry on the island Homer was standing on Jack’s dock .  Jack Willis ran a small grocery and general store that was supported by creosoted pilings out over the harbor.  The dock ran past the store and wrapped around beyond the back door,  providing copious space for embarking or disembarking from the fishing boats that tied up there, as well as room for cleaning fish, swapping stories or just hanging about to visit.  It was a warm summer day. Homer was leaning with his back against the store, his left leg bent at the knee, the sole of his left foot resting lightly against the building.  He was wearing a white tee-shirt, the tattoos on his muscular arms advertising his status as a seasoned mariner. His dungarees were rolled up to mid-calf so he wouldn’t step on them as he walked barefoot through the deep soft sand lanes that connected the homes and stores in the village.  Of course he wore his traditional white sailor’s cap. He had served in the navy and he often wore his distinctive hat.  Beside him stood his friend and companion, “Little Edward.”

Presently, a stranger wandered by.

At that time the mail boat made the trip from the mainland only once a day.  In addition to mail, ice, pepsi-colas, and a limited number of groceries, the “Aleta” carried a few passengers.  Mostly these were islanders or relatives who had moved away and were returning to visit family and friends.  Occasionally, however, a brave soul from the mainland found his way to this strange land that time had temporarily forgotten.

Everyone noticed a stranger.

As the newcomer approached Homer, his mischievous mind pondered the possibilities.  Without a word, he stood up straight when the stranger came alongside him.  Just as quietly, he turned with a fluidity of motion and stepped forward in the same direction as his new companion.  And then, as if it were not only socially acceptable, but also expected, he wrapped his left arm around his new friend’s waist and proceeded to accompany him on his journey down the dock.  It happened so suddenly and so nonchalantly, that this bewildered fellow was too startled to hesitate or resist. Joined in newfound, but congenial camaraderie by a curious but perversely likeable native he could not imagine what lay ahead.

Trustingly and naively, this gentleman from the land of courtesy and good manners was not prepared for Uncle Homer’s island humor.  He could hardly believe it when, at the very end of the pier, Homer held tight and they continued to walk, like two quintessential cartoon characters, directly out over the water until even Homer’s good humor could not sustain them and they plunged, side-by-side, feet first, into the harbor.”

No one can remember how the stranger reacted, except to note that he did not drown, and he was not injured!  In those days no one was concerned about lawsuits.  It was just one more excuse to enjoy a good laugh thanks to the unpredictable and impish nature of one of our own.  And, of course, it was one more story to pass down through the generations.

The next time you walk out onto Jack’s dock try to imagine what you would have thought if Uncle Homer had been your first introduction to Ocracoke!

Those of us who live on the island frequently hear folks tell us how much they wish they could move here.  (Frankly we’re glad not too many do–there just isn’t enough room on this tiny sand bar.)  But just in case you are thinking seriously about such a move we have decided to show you a little inside peek at island life.

Below is a recent photo of Travis relaxing in the Village Craftsmen employee lounge.

Travis in the employee lounge:

And a close-up of our modern, high-tech lounge chair.

Village Craftsmen employee lounge chair:

We present these photos just in case you might be feeling smug about your fancy office building in one of our great metropolises.  We want you to know that we enjoy nearly every luxury you have–and maybe a few more, besides.

Until next time, all of the staff at Village Craftsmen send you our wishes for a great fall and we hope to see you soon, or at least next season.