The perils of the sea are depicted in this sketch from an illustrated newspaper in the 19th century. Robert Neff Collection

Narwhals have always been viewed with a sense of wonder tinged with supernatural mysticism. They were bearers of the great unicorn horns, and symbols of purity and good fortune. It was fortune that brought the "wooden narwhals" to Korea.

In the 19th century, there were a couple of ships named Narwhal that prowled along the Korean Peninsula. They were predators and preyed upon the majestic monarchs of the deep sea — known in Japan as the Koku Kujira (devilfish) but better known to Western whalers as gray whales. These ships, however, did not find wealth, only misfortune.

One of these first ships was the 450-ton Narwhal, a French whaler hailing from Havre, France, that came to the northern Pacific Ocean in search of whales. It had a crew of 30 Frenchmen, including the captain, and two canine mascots — one from France and the other from the Bering Sea.

Commanding the ship was Captain Rivalan. Although we know almost nothing about him, we can assume he was a competent sailor and leader who was going through a streak of bad luck. For nearly 12 months, he and his crew had prowled the waters of China, Japan and Korea, but were unsuccessful in their pursuit of whales. One can imagine he cursed the fickleness of the sea and the craftiness of the elusive whales, and his crew and financers cursed him for his bad luck. However, things were about to get much worse.

A sketch of the island of Geomundo in 1866 / Robert Neff Collection

At the end of March 1851, the Narwhal weighed anchor and sailed out of Shanghai in search of prey. The good captain was determined to not return empty-handed and would get at least one whale on this voyage — regardless of the risks. He planned to spend some time in the relatively warm waters around Korea and Japan before proceeding to the Bering Sea which was considered prime whaling grounds.

As the Narwhal neared a group of Korean islands, whales were spotted and immediately the hunt began. Rivalan was undoubtedly pleased; his luck had changed. His elation, however, quickly faded when the majestic beasts easily eluded the whalers' small wooden boats and harpoons. Rivalan's bad luck remained.

On the morning of April 2, the sky grew dark and a northern wind battered the ship in the rough sea. Later that afternoon, it was grounded temporarily on a sandbar near a small island — fortunately, the crew was quickly able to free it. As darkness was quickly falling and the storm worsening, the captain ordered the crew to drop anchor in hopes the morning would bring better weather. It didn't, in fact — it got much worse.

Korean islanders casually watch foreign sailors at Geomundo in the mid-1880s. Robert Neff Collection

At 3 a.m., the watchman on deck reported the anchor had slipped and the ship was drifting towards the island's rocky coast. Whatever actions the crew took were not enough; they struck the rocks with such force that the Narwhal was destroyed.

Most of the crew — including the captain — managed to scramble into the three whaling boats, while others were forced to jump onto the jagged rocks and risk being taken out to sea. One man and the Bering Strait's dog were unable to scramble to safety and drowned — their bodies were tossed about and battered by the sea. They were soon joined by another.

"[The dog] from France, more fortunate than the other, escaped with the men who gained the rocks, and after scrambling to the top of the precipice, its joy deprived it of its instinctive caution, for it jumped about until it fell over the rocks and was killed."

As dawn broke, the storm abated and the survivors made camp and began salvaging what they could from the wreck. Considering the ferocity of the storm and the force with which the ship was cast upon the rocks, the men were surprisingly unharmed. Injuries were light and were treated with the limited supplies the ship's doctor was able to salvage.

Korean islanders observe an English sailor on Geomundo in the mid-1880s. Robert Neff Collection

Yet, despite being relatively unharmed, they were still in dire straits. The events leading up to the shipwreck had occurred so quickly that there was little time to gather any supplies and the men barely escaped with the clothes on their backs. They managed to salvage a small quantity of hard bread or biscuits but likely very little fresh water and no weapons.

Korea had the unjust reputation for being hostile to foreigners — merchants and shipwrecked survivors. Thus, when a group of Koreans suddenly appeared, the French were worried they would not see another sunrise, but the Koreans were curious and wanted to know where they were from. Through hand gestures and pantomime, the French answered as best as they could. The islanders then gave them rice and other supplies. According to the crew, the Koreans treated them very well, although they "showed a propensity to pilfer" some of the goods from the shipwreck.

While the Frenchmen were treated well, they were not allowed to leave the immediate vicinity of their camp. After a week of confinement, the sailors began to plot their escape. It was clear they all couldn't leave, so it was decided the chief officer, Arnaud, and eight other men would take one of the whalers and attempt the perilous voyage back to Shanghai for help.

Everyone used tobacco on Geomundo in the mid-1880s. Robert Neff Collection

After secretly storing a small supply of biscuits and water, Arnaud and his men departed the island in the middle of the night. Those who remained behind were also in danger. What would their Korean captors do to them once it was discovered one of the boats and nine men were missing? They quickly found out. The village headman took steps to ensure more of his foreign charges did not escape.

The French were moved further inland and were housed in a compound located in the middle of a rice field. It had three small dilapidated huts and was surrounded by a walled-in courtyard. They were housed in two of the huts while the other hut served as the guards' quarters.

Oddly enough, there was nothing stopping the French from leaving except guilt. If any of them were caught outside of the compound, the village headman severely punished the guards in front of the sailors. Unwilling to have the guards suffer, the French refrained from leaving the "confinement" area.

The huts consisted of a small kitchen and main room that was only about 2.1 meters wide and 3 meters long. In this small space, it was impossible for the 10 men in each hut to stretch out and sleep on the floor. They likely had to sleep in shifts.

An island boy carries straw or hay on Geomundo in the mid-1880s. Robert Neff Collection

Other than the cramped quarters, they were treated well. They received three meals daily consisting of rice and spiced fish, and once a week they were given a small amount of beef. However, it was not a diet that appealed to them, and the men began to look "meager and broken down."

They were also presented with wooden identity tags (numbered 1-20) and were informed they had to remain on the island until the government in Seoul decided what to do with them. There are a number of similarities between their plight and the Dutch who were shipwrecked on Jeju Island in the mid-17th century.

The Dutch had been forced to entertain the local population with their stories and antics in order to obtain food and necessities; the French, to some extent, were in the same position. They were viewed as curiosities, and the people from the surrounding villages came to view these "distinguished foreigners." The Frenchmen, in an effort to keep themselves supplied with tobacco and other necessities, charged a small admission fee.

Other islanders came to learn French. For a small bit of tobacco, the French taught short phrases and were impressed with how quickly their Korean students acquired the language. According to one sailor, "[They] succeeded much better than Chinamen could have done."

On the morning of May 1, 1851, the shipwrecked sailors heard a cannon's boom in the harbor. They tried to run to the harbor, but were prevented by the Korean guards. Soon, however, they were relieved to see a mixed group of foreign sailors walking through the village. Arnaud and his daring men had succeeded in sailing to Shanghai and then guiding a rescue party back. After nearly a month of captivity, all of the shipwrecked survivors were rescued.

But it wasn't as easy as that. Although the rescue party was welcomed by the Korean islanders, it soon became apparent that they were unwilling to allow any of them to leave until word was received from Seoul.

On May 4, just before sunrise, the survivors and the rescuers made their way to the rescue ship and quickly set sail. Their sudden departure caught the Korean guards by surprise, and although they shouted, the Europeans ignored them. On the morning of May 8, the rescue ship sailed into Shanghai and all were greeted as heroes.

What became of Captain Rivalan is unclear, but his crew likely found employment on one of the many whaling vessels or returned to France on another ship — lucky to be alive.

Some captains had successful whale hunts but did not live to enjoy the rewards — as we shall see tomorrow.

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.