"In this very town of New Bedford, everything breathes the sea." Herman Melville knew what he was talking about: it was from here that he set out in 1841 aboard a whaler, a formative experience that would feed into Moby-Dick. The Whaling City, on the south coast of Massachusetts, was the leading whaling centre on the planet in the mid-19th century and remains today the most lucrative fishing port in the United States. Cruise ships dock a few minutes from the old quarter, thirteen cobbled blocks protected within a national historical park, where on some mornings a mingled scent of tide and coffee hangs in the air.

The great whale saga

It all begins at the New Bedford Whaling Museum, the largest museum of its kind in America. Several cetacean skeletons hang from its ceilings, including that of a juvenile blue whale, and the main hall houses the Lagoda, a half-scale replica of a three-masted whaler said to be the largest ship model in the world: you climb aboard as recruits once did, between barrels and suspended whaleboats. Collections of scrimshaw, logbooks, captains' portraits and contemporary perspectives on whale conservation round out a visit that easily takes two hours, more for maritime enthusiasts.

The Moby-Dick chapel

Across from the museum, the 1832 Seamen's Bethel seems straight out of the novel, and for good reason: Melville attended services here before his departure, and his pew bears a discreet plaque. On the walls, marble cenotaphs list the names of crews who never came back, from the Grand Banks of Newfoundland to the seas of Japan. Few places sum up so soberly what the oil that lit the world really cost, and you tend to leave in silence, then walk down the cobbled street toward the docks as departing sailors did, between lanterns and granite façades that have hardly changed since.

Cobblestones, counting houses and old-fashioned lamps

Around these two focal points, the national historical park protects a district where granite banks, riggers' workshops and the homes of Quaker shipowners line streets with period lampposts. In season, park rangers offer free walking tours that bring this dense area back to life, from the recruiting office to the barrel warehouses; the visitor centre, housed in a former bank building, hands out maps and sound advice. It is a rare place: a 19th-century setting that is no stage set at all, since the city still works there.

A port still very much alive

New Bedford is not an open-air museum: its docks overflow with trawlers and scallopers that make it, year after year, the American champion for the value of landed catch, thanks above all to the sea scallop. In season, narrated harbour tours tell the story of this very current industry, from unloading the holds to the fish auction, and the waterfront restaurants serve scallops every which way, often landed that very morning. The large Portuguese and Azorean community, direct heirs of the whaling crews recruited in the Azores, adds its touch to the local table: grilled chouriço and caldo verde slip onto the menus. The Fishing Heritage Center, a ten-minute walk from the pier, gives a voice to today's crews.

Before casting off

You leave New Bedford with contrasting images: a whale skeleton suspended in the light, names engraved in a chapel's marble, crates of scallops hoisted onto a wharf. The city that lit the world with sperm whale oil now feeds America — and it tells the story of this continuity with a candour that gives the port call unexpected depth.