The whale, whose only defence is his tail, endeavours to strike his enemy

with it; and a single blow would prove mortal. But the saw-fish, with

astonishing agility, shuns the tremendous stroke, bounds into the air,

and returns upon his huge adversary, plunging the rugged weapon with

which he is furnished into his back. The whale is still more irritated by

this wound, which only becomes fatal when it penetrates the fat; and thus

pursuing and pursued, striking and stabbing, the engagement only ends

with the death of one of the unwieldy combatants.

Even the white-bear is said to attack the whale, watching his approach

to the sea-shore; but the enmity of the narwhal is evidently fabulous, as

both cetaceans may frequently be seen together in perfect harmony.

Besides these formidable attacks of what may be considered as more

or less noble foes, the whale is constantly harassed by the bites of

the vilest insects. A large species of louse adheres by thousands to

its back, and gnaws this animated pasture-ground, so as to cover it

frequently with one vast sore. In the summer, when this plague is

greatest, numbers of aquatic birds accompany the whale, and settle on his

back, as soon as it appears above the water, in order to feed upon these

disgusting parasites.

[Illustration: Whale Louse.]

Barnacles often cover the whale in such masses, that his black skin

disappears under a whitish mantle, and even sea-weeds attach themselves

to his vast jaws, floating like a beard, and reminding one of Birnam's

wandering forest.

As its name testifies, the home of the Greenland whale is confined to

the high northern seas, where it has been met with in the open waters

or along every ice-bound shore as far as man has penetrated towards

the Pole. The southern limit of its excursions seems to be about 60°

N. lat. It never visits the North Sea, and is seldom found within 200

miles of the British coasts. Its favourite resorts are the so-called

whale-grounds,[K] between 74° and 80° N. lat., where the warmth, imparted

to the water by the Gulf-stream, favours the multiplication of the small

marine animals which form the nourishment of the Leviathan of the seas.

[Footnote K: See page 20.]

Sometimes open spaces in the ice, abounding in minute crustaceans and

medusæ, attract a larger number of whales, but the huge creature cannot

be said to live in larger herds or associations.

The Fin-fish or northern Rorqual (_Balænoptera boops_, _musculus_)

attains a greater length than the sleek-backed Greenland whale, but

does not equal it in bulk, having a more elongated form and a more

tapering head. Its whalebone is much shorter and coarser, being adapted

to a different kind of food, for, despising the minute medusæ and

crustaceans which form the food of its huge relation, the more nimble

rorqual pursues the herring and the mackerel on their wandering path.

Like the blubber-whale, the fin-back is black above, white below, but

distinguishes itself by long and numerous blood-red streaks or furrows,

running under the lower jaw and breast as far as the middle of the belly.

This is the species of whale which not unfrequently strands on our

shores, for though an inhabitant of the Arctic seas, it wanders farther

to the south than the Greenland whale. It is seldom harpooned, for the

produce of oil is not equivalent to the expense, the risk, and the danger

attending its capture.

In the southern hemisphere, the Antarctic Smooth-backed Whale (_B.

antarctica_), a species similar to the Greenland whale, though of less

bulk, is the chief object of the fisherman's pursuit. It hangs much about

the coasts in the temperate latitudes, and loves the neighbouring seas,

where the discoloured waters afford the richest repasts, but is not

known in the central parts of the Pacific. In the spring it resorts to

the bays on the coasts of Chili, South Africa, the Brazils, Australia,

New Zealand, Van Diemen's Land, &c. &c., where it is attacked either by

stationary fishermen, or by whalers, who at that time leave the high seas.

Farther towards the pole _Hump-backs_ and _Fin-backs_ abound; but these

are far from equalling the former in value. When Dumont d'Urville,

returning from his expedition to the south pole, told the whalers whom

he found in the Bay of Talcahuano of the great number of cetaceans he

had seen in the higher latitudes, their eyes glistened at the pleasing

prospect; but when he added that they were only hump-backs and fin-backs,

they did not conceal their disappointment; for the hump-back is meagre,

and not worth the boiling, and the fin-back dives with such rapidity,

that he snaps the harpoon line, or drags the boat along with him into the

water.

The Sperm-Whale, or Cachalot (_Physeter macrocephalus_), rivals the great

smooth-backed whales both in its various utility to man and the colossal

dimensions of its unwieldy body. The largest authentically recorded size

of the uncouth animal is seventy-six feet by thirty-eight in girth; but

whalers are well contented to consider fifty-five or sixty feet the

average length of the largest examples they commonly obtain. The male,

however, alone attains these ample proportions; the adult female does not

exceed thirty or at most thirty-five feet, so that there is a greater

disproportion of size between sexes than in any other known species of

cetaceans.

The form of the beast is without symmetry, and from the general absence

of other prominent organs than the tail or pectoral fins, can be compared

to little else than a dark rock or the bole of some giant tree. The

prevailing colour is a dull black, occasionally marked with white,

especially on the abdomen and tail. The summit of the head and trunk

presents a plane surface, until about the posterior third of the back,

whence arises a hump or spurious fin of pyramidal form, and entirely

composed of fat. From this embossed appendage an undulating series of

six or eight similar, but smaller elevations, occupies the upper margin

or ridge of the tail to the commencement of the caudal fin. The pectoral

fins or paddles are placed a short distance behind the head; they are

triangular in shape, diminutive as compared with the size of the whale,

and being connected to the trunk by a ball and socket joint, possess free

movement, either vertical or horizontal.

[Illustration: Cuttle-fish (Sepia).]

Owing to the flexibility of the tail, the movements of the tail-fin, or

"flukes," which sometimes measures eighteen feet across, are exceedingly

extensive, whilst its power may be estimated by the gigantic bundles of

round tendons, which pass on either side the loins, to be inserted into

its base. Whether wielded in sportive mood or in anger, its action is

marked by rapidity and ease, and when struck forcibly on the surface

of the ocean, produces a report which may be heard at a considerable

distance. In progression, the action of this organ is precisely the

reverse of that of the tail of the lobster, for whilst the latter

animal swims backward by striking the water with its tail from behind

forwards, the cachalot and other cetaceans swim forward by striking

with their flukes in the contrary direction, the fin being brought

beneath the body by an oblique and unresisting movement; while the act

of springing it back and straightening the tail propels the animal ahead

with an undulating or leaping gait. When employed offensively the tail

is curved in a direction contrary to that of the object aimed at, and

the blow is inflicted by the force of the recoil. The lower jaw appears

diminutive, slender, and not unlike the lower mandible of a bird. When

the mouth is closed it is received within the soft parts pendent from

the border of the upper jaw, and is nearly concealed by them. True and

serviceable teeth are situated only in the lower jaw, and are received

into corresponding sockets in the upper jaw. In aged males they are of

great solidity and size, attaining a weight of from two to four pounds

each; their entire structure is ivory. This powerful armament shows us at

once that the food of the cachalot must be very different from that of

the whalebone cetaceans; it generally consists of cuttle-fish, many kinds

of which are ejected from its stomach when it is attacked by the boats,

as well as after death. Owing to the great projection of the snout beyond

the lower jaw, it may be requisite for this whale to turn on its side

or back to seize its more bulky prey; a supposition strengthened by the

fact that, when the animal attacks a boat with its mouth, it invariably

assumes a reversed posture, carrying the lower jaw above the object it is

attempting to bite. As long as it continues on the surface of the sea,

the cachalot casts from its nostril a constant succession of spouts, at

intervals of ten or fifteen seconds. As in all whales, the jets are not,

as frequently imagined, water-columns, but a thick white mist ejected

by one continual effort to the height of six or eight feet, and rushing

forth with a sound resembling a moderate surf upon a smooth beach. The

peculiar fat or sperm which renders the cachalot so valuable, is chiefly

situated in the head. _Junk_ is the name given by the fishermen to a

solid mass of soft, yellow, and oily fat, weighing between two and three

tons, based on the upper jaw, and forming the front and lower part of

the snout; while the cavity called _case_ is situated beneath and to the

right of the spouting canal, and corresponds to nearly the entire length

of that tube. It is filled with a very delicate web of cellular tissue,

containing in large cells a limpid and oily fluid, which is liberated

by the slightest force. The quantity, chiefly spermaceti, contained in

this singular receptacle, is often very considerable, nearly 500 gallons

having been obtained from the case of one whale. So vast an accumulation

of fat has obviously been intended to insure a correct position in

swimming, to facilitate the elevation of the spiracle above the

surface of the sea, and to counteract the weight of the bony and other

ponderous textures of the head; objects which in the Greenland whale are

sufficiently attained by a similar accumulation of fat in the lips and

tongue, and by the more elevated situation of the spout-hole.

While the large whalebone whales generally roam about in solitary

couples, the cachalot forms large societies. _Schools_, consisting of

from twenty to fifty individuals, are composed of females attended by

their young, and associated with at least one adult male of the largest

size, who generally takes a defensive position in the rear when the

school is flying from danger.

_Pods_ are smaller congregations of young or half-grown males, which have

been driven from the maternal schools. Two or more schools occasionally

coalesce to a "_body of whales_," so that Bennett[L] sometimes saw the

ocean for several miles around the ship swarming with sperm leviathans,

and strewn with a constant succession of spouts. These large assemblies

sometimes proceed at a rapid pace in one determinate direction, and are

then soon lost sight of; at other times they bask and sleep upon the

surface, spouting leisurely, and exhibiting every indication of being

_at home_, or on their feeding ground. Like most gregarious animals,

the cachalots are naturally timid. A shoal of dolphins leaping in their

vicinity is sufficient to put a whole school to flight: yet occasionally

fighting individuals are met with; particularly among those morose

solitary animals that most likely from their intolerable character have

been turned out of the society of their kind. The central deserts of

ocean, or the neighbourhood of the steepest coasts, are the chief resort

of the cachalot; and so great is the difference of his _habitat_ from

that of the smooth-backed whales, that during the whole time Bennett

was cruising in quest of cachalots, he in no single instance saw an

example of the true whale. The cachalot is more especially found on

the _line-currents_, which extend from the equator to about the seventh

degree of north and south latitudes, yet it has been noticed in the

Mediterranean, and one individual, a stray sheep indeed, has even been

captured in the Thames.

[Footnote L: Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe.]

The Narwal, or Unicorn-fish, attains a length of from twenty to

twenty-five feet. He is of a grey-white colour, punctured with many

white spots, and as his head is not disproportionate to the length of

his body, may rank among the handsomest cetaceans. He distinguishes

himself, as is well known, from all other members of the family by

the long twisted tooth or horn projecting horizontally from the upper

jaw. This mighty weapon, the true use of which has not yet been fully

ascertained, was formerly sold at a very high price, as proceeding from

the fabulous unicorn; at present, it is only paid according to the worth

of its excellent ivory, which is harder, heavier, and less liable to

turn yellow than that of the elephant. The whalers are therefore highly

delighted when they can pick up a chance narwal, but this only succeeds

in narrow bays; for the unicorn-fish is an excellent swimmer, and

extremely watchful. In spite of his menacing appearance, he is a harmless

sociable creature, fond of gambolling and crossing swords playfully with

his compeers. It is remarkable that the opening of the mouth of so huge

an animal is scarcely large enough to admit the hand of a man. Scoresby

found in the stomach of a narwal remains of cuttle fishes, which seem to

form his chief aliment, besides pieces of skates and plaice. The narwal

is frequent about Davis' Straits and Disco Bay, but is nowhere found in

the Pacific, having most likely not yet discovered the north-western

passage. He rarely wanders into the temperate seas, yet one was caught,

in 1800, near Boston in Lincolnshire, and two others, in 1736, on the

German coast of the North Sea.

The Dolphin tribe is distinguished from the cachalot by a more

proportionate head; from the narwal by the absence of the long horn; and

generally possesses sharp teeth in both jaws, all of one form. The number

of species is very great; Linnæus distinguished four sperm-whales and

three dolphins; now many naturalists acknowledge but one species of the

former, while the dolphins have increased to more than thirty, and many

are as yet unknown.

[Illustration: Delphinus Delphis.]

The most famous member of this numerous family is undoubtedly the

classical Dolphin of the ancients (_Delphinus delphis_) which attains

a length of from nine to ten feet, and is, according to Pliny, the

swiftest of all animals, so as to merit the appellation of the "arrow

of the sea." His lively troops often accompany for days the track of a

ship, and agreeably interrupt the monotony of a long sea-voyage. As if in

mockery of the most rapid sailer, they shoot past so as to vanish from

the eye, and then return again with the same lightning-like velocity.

Their spirits are so brisk that they frequently leap into the air, as

if longing to expatiate in a lighter fluid. Hence, dolphins are the

favourites of the mariner and the poet, who have vied in embellishing

their history with the charms of fiction.

Everybody knows the wonderful story of Arion, who having been forced by

pirates to leap into the sea, proceeded merrily to his journey's end on

the back of a dolphin:--

"Secure he sits, and with harmonious strains

Requites his bearer for his friendly pains.

The gods approve, the dolphin heaven adorns,

And with nine stars a constellation forms."

Pliny relates the no less astonishing tale of a boy at Baiæ, who by

feeding it with bread, gained the affections of a dolphin, so that

the thankful creature used to convey him every morning to school

across the sea to Puteoli, and back again. When the boy died, the poor

disconsolate dolphin returned every morning to the spot where he had

been accustomed to meet his friend, and soon fell a victim to his grief.

The same naturalist tells us also that the dolphins at Narbonne rendered

themselves very useful to the fishermen by driving the fish into their

nets, and were generously rewarded for their assistance with "bread

soaked in wine." A king of Caria having chained a dolphin in the harbour,

its afflicted associates appeared in great numbers, testifying their

anxiety for its deliverance by such unequivocal signs of sorrow, that the

king, touched with compassion, restored the prisoner to liberty.

Such, and similar fables, which were believed by the naturalists of

antiquity, are laughed at even by the old women of our times. The dolphin

is in no respects superior to the other cetaceans; his musical taste is

as low as zero, and if, like the bonito and albacore, he follows a ship

for days together, it is most surely not out of affection for man, but

on account of the offal that is thrown overboard. But do not many human

friendships repose on similar selfish motives?

[Illustration: The Porpoise.]

The Porpoise (_Delphinus Phocœna_), which only attains a length of five

or six feet, and seems to be the smallest of all cetaceans, is frequently

confounded with the dolphin. It is at home in the whole Northern

Atlantic, in the Mediterranean, and the Euxine. While the dolphin prefers

the high sea, the porpoise loves tranquil bays and cliff-sheltered

shores, and often swims up the rivers, so that individuals have been

caught in the Elbe and Seine as high up as Dessau and Paris. The porpoise

is a no less excellent swimmer than the dolphin, making at least fifteen

miles an hour. His rapidity and sharp teeth render him a most dangerous

enemy to all the lesser fry of the ocean, whose sole refuge lies in the

shallowest waters. When he rises to the surface to draw breath, the back

only appears, the head and tail are kept under water. At the entrance

of harbours, where he is frequently seen gambolling, his undulatory or

leaping movements, now rising with a grunt, now sinking to reappear again

at some distance, afford an entertaining spectacle.

A much more formidable animal, the largest of the whole dolphin tribe,

is the ravenous Grampus, (_Delphinus Orca_,) which measures no less than

twenty-five feet in length, and twelve or thirteen in girth. The upper

part of the body is black, the lower white: the dorsal fin rises in the

shape of a cone, to the height of three feet or more.

All naturalists agree in describing the grampus as the most voracious

of the dolphin family. Its ordinary food is the seal and some species

of flat-fish, but it also frequently gives chase to the porpoise, and

perhaps the whale would consider the grampus as his most formidable

enemy, were it not for the persecutions of man. Pliny gives us a fine

description of the conflicts which arise between these monsters of the

deep. At the time when the whale resorts to the bays to cast its young,

it is attacked by the grampus, who either lacerates it with his dreadful

jaws, or in rapid onset endeavours to strike in its ribs, as with a

catapult. The terrified whale knows no other way to escape from these

furious attacks, than by interposing a whole sea between him and his

enemy. But the grampus, equally wary and active, cuts off his retreat,

and drives the whale into narrower and narrower waters, forcing him to

bruise himself on the sharp rocks, or to strand upon the shelving sands,

nor ceases his efforts until he has gained a complete victory. During

this fight the sea seems to rage against itself, for though no wind may

be stirring the surface, waves, such as no storm creates, rise under the

strokes of the infuriated combatants.

While the Emperor Claudius was visiting the harbour of Ostium, a grampus

stranded in the shallow waters. The back appeared above the surface of

the sea, and resembled a ship with its keel turned upwards. The Emperor

caused nets to be stretched across the mouth of the harbour to prevent

the animal's escape, and then attacked it in person with his prætorian

guards. The soldiers surrounding the monster in boats, and hurling their

inglorious spears, exhibited an amusing spectacle to the populace.

* * * * *

That man ventures to pursue the leviathans of the deep among the fogs

and icebergs of the Arctic seas, and is generally successful in their

capture, may surely be considered as one of the proudest triumphs of his

courage and his skill.

The breast of the first navigator, says Horace, was cased with triple

steel; but of what adamantine materials must that man's heart have

been formed, whose steadfast hand hurled the first harpoon against the

colossal whale?

History has not preserved his name; like the great warriors that lived

before Agamemnon, he sank into an obscure grave for want of a Homer to

celebrate his exploits. We only know that the Biscayans were the first

_civilised_ people that in the fourteenth and fifteenth century fitted

out ships for the whale fishery. At first the bold men of Bayonne and

Santander contented themselves with pursuing their prey, (most likely

rorquals) in the neighbouring seas, but as the persecuted whales

diminished in frequency, they followed them farther to the north, until

they came to the haunts of the real whale, whose greater abundance of fat

rewarded their intrepidity with a richer spoil.

Their success naturally roused the emulation and avidity of other

seafaring nations, and thus, towards the end of the sixteenth century,

we see the English, and soon after the Dutch, enter the lists as their

competitors. At first our countrymen were obliged to send to "Biskaie

for men skilful in catching the whale, and ordering of the oil, and one

cooper, skilful to set up the staved casks," (Hakluyt's _Voyages_, i.

414); but soon, by their skill, their industry and perseverance, together

with the aid and encouragement granted by the legislature, they learnt to

carry on the whale fishery on more advantageous terms than the original

adventurers, whose efforts became less enterprising as their success was

more precarious.

The first attempts of the English date as far back as the year 1594, when

some ships were sent out to Cape Breton for morse and whale fishing. The

fishing proved unsuccessful, but they found in an island 800 whale fins

or whalebone, part of the cargo of a Biscayan ship wrecked there three

years before, which they put on board and brought home. This was the

first time this substance was imported into England.

Hull took the lead in the Greenland whale fishery in 1598, thirteen years

after the first company for that purpose had been formed in Amsterdam,

and as both maritime nations gave it every encouragement, not only on

account of its profits, but also from considering it as one of the best

nurseries for their seamen, it gradually grew to a very important branch

of business. Some idea may be formed of the extent to which the Dutch

engaged in the whale fishery during the last century, by stating that for

a period of forty-six years preceding 1722, 5886 ships were employed in

it, and captured 32,907 whales.

In the year 1788, 222 English vessels were employed in the northern

fishery.

The earliest period at which we find the pursuit of the sperm-whale

conducted upon a scientific plan is about 1690, when it was commenced by

the American colonists. In 1775, ships were first sent out from ports of

Great Britain, but for some years it was necessary to appoint an American

commander and harpooner until competent officers could be reared. At the

same early date the sperm fishery was chiefly prosecuted in the Atlantic,

but Messrs. Enderby's ship "Emilia" having rounded Cape Horn in 1788,

first carried the sperm-whale fishery into the Pacific, where its success

opened a wide and fruitful field for future exertions. As our whalers

became better acquainted with the South Sea, many valuable resorts were

discovered. In 1819 the "Syren" (British) first carried on the fishery

in the western parts of that great ocean, and in the year 1848 the

American whaler "Superior," Captain Roys, penetrated through Behring's

Straits into the Icy Sea, and opened the fishery in those remote waters.

The year after no less than 154 vessels followed upon his track, and

the number has been increasing ever since. At present the Americans are

the people which carries on the whale fishery with the greatest energy

and good fortune. While of late years only thirty or forty British sail

have been employed in the Pacific, our cousins "across the Atlantic"

numbered in the year 1841 no less than 650 whalers, manned by 13,500

seamen. One of the causes of their success may be, that while the whale

fishery in England is carried on by men of large capital, who are the

sole proprietors of the ship, the American interest in one vessel is

held by many men of small capital, and not unfrequently by the commander

and officers. It must, however, not be forgotten that the Australian

colonies, being more conveniently situated than the mother country, fit

out many ships for the whale fishery, which is besides conducted in

several permanent stations along the coasts of New Zealand, &c.

Whale charts have of late years been drawn, on which the best fishing

grounds at different seasons are delineated. These maps are not only

useful guides for the fishermen, but promise the future solution of

the still undecided question of the migration of whales. While some

naturalists are of opinion that the cetaceans, flying from the pursuit

of man, abandon their old haunts for more sequestered regions, others,

like M. Jacquinot (_Zoologie, Voyage de l'Astrolabe et de la Zèlée_)

believe that if the whaler is continually obliged to look out for more

productive seas, it is not because the whale has migrated, but because he

has been nearly extirpated in one place and left unmolested in another.

The Greenland whale fishery was for more than a hundred years confined

to the seas between Spitzbergen and Greenland; the entrance and east

shore of Davis' Straits not being frequented before the beginning of the

last century. Since then the expeditions of Ross and Parry have made the

whalers acquainted with a number of admirable stations on the farther

side of Davis' Straits and in the higher latitudes of Baffin's Bay. The

vessels destined for that quarter sail usually in March, though some

delay their departure till the middle or even the end of April. They

proceed first to the northern parts of the coast of Labrador, or to the

mouth of Cumberland Strait, carrying on what is called the south-west

fishery. After remaining there till about the beginning of May, they

cross to the eastern shore of the strait and fish upwards along the

coast, particularly in South-east Bay, North-east Bay, Kingston Bay, or

Horn Sound.

About the month of July they usually cross Baffin's Bay to Lancaster

Sound, which they sometimes enter, and occasionally even ascend Barrow's

Strait twenty or thirty miles. In returning, they fish down the western

shore, where their favourite stations are Pond's Bay, Agnes' Monument,

Home Bay, and Cape Searle, and sometimes persevere till late in October.

The casualties are generally very great, the middle of Baffin's Bay

being filled with a compact and continuous barrier, through which, till

a very advanced period of the season, it is impossible for the navigator

to penetrate. Between this central body and that attached to the land,

there intervenes a narrow and precarious passage, where many a vessel

has been crushed or pressed out of the water and laid upon the ice. In

1819 ten ships were lost out of sixty-three, and in 1821 eleven out of

seventy-nine. Fortunately the loss of lives is seldom to be deplored, as

the weather is generally calm and the crew has time enough to escape in

another vessel.

Whale fishing is not only a very dangerous and laborious pursuit, it

is also extremely precarious and uncertain in its results. Sometimes a

complete cargo of oil and whalebone is captured in a short time, but it

also happens that after a long cruise not a single fish is caught--a

result equally unfortunate for the ship owner and the crew, who look to a

share of the profits for their pay.

How much the whale fishery depends upon chance is shown by the following

facts. In the year 1718 the Dutch Greenland fleet, consisting of 108

ships, captured 1291 fish, worth at least 650,000_l._, while in the

year 1710, 137 ships took no more than 62. Various meteorological

circumstances--the prevalence of particular winds, the character of the

summer or preceding winter--are probably the causes of the extraordinary

failure and success of the fishery in different years. The Pacific is

as fallacious as the Arctic seas. Thus Dumont d'Urville met in the Bay

of Talcahuano with several whalers, one of whom had rapidly filled half

his ship, while the others had cruised more than a year without having

harpooned a single fish. In such cases the captains have the greatest

trouble in preventing their men from deserting, who, being disappointed

in their hopes, naturally enough look out for a better chance elsewhere.

The method of whale catching has been so often and so minutely described,

that it is doubtless familiar to the reader. As soon as a whale is in

sight, boats are got out with all speed, and row or sail as silently and

quietly as possible towards the monster. One of the crew--the man of

unflinching eye and nervous arm--stands upright, harpoon in hand, ready

to hurl the murderous spear into the animal's side, as soon as the proper

moment shall have come. When struck the whale dives down perpendicularly

with fearful velocity, or goes off horizontally with lightning speed, at

a short distance from the surface, dragging after him the line to which

the barbed instrument of his agony is fixed. But soon the necessity of

respiration forces him to rise again above the waters, when a second

harpoon, followed by a third or fourth at every reappearance, plunges

into his flank. Maddened with pain and terror, he lashes the crimsoned

waters into foam, but all his efforts to cast off the darts that lacerate

his flesh are vain, and his gaping wounds, though not "as deep as

wells, nor as wide as church-doors," are still large enough to let out

sufficient blood even to exhaust a whale. His movements become more and

more languid and slow, his gasping and snorting more and more oppressed,

a few convulsive heavings agitate the mighty mass, and then it floats

inert and lifeless on the waters. As soon as death is certain--for to

the last moment a convulsive blow of the mighty tail might dash the

overhasty boat to pieces--the whale is lashed by chains to the vessel's

side, stripped of his valuable fat, and then left to float, a worthless

carcase, on the heaving ocean.

And now, man having taken his share, there begins a magnificent feast

for birds and fishes. Crowds of fulmars, snow birds, or kittiwakes,

flock together from all sides to enjoy the delicious repast; but their

delight, so rare is perfect felicity on earth, is but too often disturbed

by their terrible rival the blue gull (_Larus glaucus_), which, while

it rivals them in rapacity, surpasses them all in strength, and forces

them to disgorge the daintiest morsels. Meanwhile sharks, saw-fishes, and

whatever else possesses sharp teeth and boldness enough to mix among such

formidable company, are busy biting, hacking, scooping, and cutting below

the water line, so that in a short time, notwithstanding its vast bulk,

the carrion disappears.

The catching of the whale does not always end so fortunately as I have

just described. Sometimes the line becomes entangled, and drags the boat

into the abyss; or the tail of the animal, sweeping rapidly through the

air, either descends upon the shallop, cutting it down to the water's

edge, or encounters in its course some of the crew standing up (such as

the headsman or harpooner), who are carried away and destroyed. Thus Mr.

Young, chief mate of the "Tuscan," was seen flying through the air at a

considerable height, and to the distance of nearly forty yards from the

boat, ere he fell into the water, where he remained floating motionless

on the surface for a few moments, and then sank and was seen no more.

Sometimes, particularly among the sperm-whales, desperate characters

are found, that without waiting for the attack, rush furiously against

the boats sent out against them, and seem to love fighting for its own

sake. Bennett describes an encounter of this kind which he witnessed in

the South Sea. The first effort of the whale was to rush against the

boat with his head. Having been baffled by the crew steering clear, he

next attempted to crush it with his jaws; failing again, through the

unaccommodating position of his mouth, he remedied this defect with much

sagacity, for approaching impetuously from a distance of forty yards,

he turned upon his back, raising his lower jaw to grasp the boat from

above. A lance-wound, however, applied in time, caused him to close his

mouth; but continuing to advance, he struck the boat with such force

that he nearly overturned it, and concluded by again turning on his back

and thrusting his lower jaw through the planks. Fortunately the other

boats came up to the rescue, and an addition of many tons of sperm to the

ship's cargo made up for the damaged boat.

[Illustration: Sperm-Whale.]

Although generally only the greater cetaceans are objects of pursuit at

sea, yet man does not disdain the capture of the several dolphin-species

when they approach his shores, and surrender themselves as it were into

his hands. The intelligence that a shoal of ca'ing whales (_Delphinus

melas_) has been seen approaching the coast, operates like an electric

shock upon the inhabitants of the Feroë Islands. The whole village, old

and young, is instantly in motion, and soon numerous boats push off

from shore to surround the unsuspecting herd. Slowly and steadily they

are driven into a bay, the phalanx of their enemies draws closer and

closer together; terrified by stones and blows, they run ashore, and lie

gasping as the flood recedes. Then begins the work of death, amid the

loud rejoicings of the happy islanders. The visits of the ca'ing whale

are extremely uncertain. From 1754 till 1776 scarce one was caught, but

on the 16th of August of the last-named year more than 800 were driven

on the strand, and changed dearth into abundance. During the four summer

months that Langbye sojourned on the islands in the year 1817, 623 of

these large dolphins, mostly from eight to ten yards long, were caught,

and served to pay one half of the imported corn. The division of spoil is

made in presence of the "_Amtmann_." Each fish is measured, and its size

marked on its skin in Roman characters. The largest whale is given to

the boat which first discovered the shoal; then others for the poor and

clergyman are selected, and the remainder divided, according to stated

rules, between the proprietor of the ground and the persons who drove

them on shore. The flesh is either eaten fresh, or cut into slices and

hung up to dry; whilst the blubber is partly converted into train oil, or

salted in casks and barrels. The fat on the sides of the fish, when hung

for a week or two, will keep for years, and is used instead of bacon by

the natives.

The ca'ing whale, remarkable from following a leader and swimming in

large herds, also strands from time to time on the coasts of Iceland and

on the Shetland and Orkney Islands, where his appearance is hailed with

universal pleasure.

[Illustration: Pelican.]

[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN SEA-BEARS.]

AUSTRALIAN SEA-BEARS.

The group of Australian sea-bears is taken from the "Zoology of the

voyage of H.M.S. Erebus and Terror." This animal, _Arctocephalus

lobatus_, is among the largest of the Seal family. It is occasionally

found congregating in vast numbers upon various portions of the coast

of Australia.

CHAP. IX.

SEALS AND WALRUSES.

The Manatees and the Dugongs.--The Seals and the Esquimaux.--King

Menelaus in a Seal's Skin.--Barbarous Persecutions of the Seals

in Behring's Sea and the Pacific.--Adventures of a Sealer from

Geneva.--The Sea Calf.--The Sea Bear.--His Parental Affection.--The

Sea Lions.--The Sea Elephant.--The Arctic Walrus.--The Boats of the

"Trent" fighting with a Herd of Walruses.--The White Bear.--Touching

Example of its Love for its Young.--Chase of the Sea Otter.

The Manatees or Lamantins of the Atlantic Ocean, and the now nearly

extinct Dugongs of the Indian seas, form the connecting link between the

real whales and the seals and walruses. Like the whales, these animals

have no hind feet, and a powerful tail, which is their chief instrument

of locomotion; they are distinguishable, however, from them by less

fin-like, more flexibly-jointed anterior extremities, on which they lean

while cropping the sea-weeds on the shallow shores. When they raise

themselves with the front part of their body out of the water, a lively

fancy might easily be led to imagine that a human shape, though certainly

none of the most beautiful, was surging from the deep. Hence they have

been named sea-sirens, mermaids, and mermen, and have given rise to many

extravagant fictions. Their intelligence is very obtuse, but their stolid

calf-like countenance indicates great mildness of temper.

They live at peace with all other animals, and seem to be solely intent

upon satisfying their voracious appetite. Like the hippopotamus, they

swallow at once large masses of sea-plants or of juicy grasses growing

beyond the water's edge on the borders of rivers.

The Manatees, or Sea-cows, as they are familiarly called, inhabit the

coasts and streams of the Atlantic between 19° S. lat. and 25° N. lat.,

and attain a length of from eight to ten feet. Humboldt compares the

flesh to ham, and Von Martius says he never tasted better meat in the

Brazils. The South American monks, who have their own ideas on the

classification of animals, consider it as fish, and fare sumptuously

upon it during Lent. Besides its flesh, one single animal gives as much

as 4000 bottles of oil, which is used both in cookery and for lighting.

The thick hide is cut into stripes, from which straps or whips are made,

to flog the unfortunate negroes. Useful in many respects, defenceless

and easy to kill, particularly during the time of the inundations, when

it ascends the great rivers, the manatee or sea-cow has been nearly

extirpated in many parts where it formerly abounded, a fate which it

partakes with the East Indian dugong. These animals might easily be

enclosed and tamed, in the lagoons and bays of the tropical streams; but

it is to be feared that they will have vanished from the face of the

earth before the industry of man endeavours to introduce them, as it

were, among the domestic animals.

[Illustration: Skeleton of the Dugong.]

The Seal family forms a still nearer approach to the land quadrupeds, as

here hind feet begin to make their appearance. The shortness of these

extremities renders their movements upon land generally awkward and

slow, but they make up for this deficiency by an uncommon activity in

the water. Their body, tapering fish-like from the shoulders to the

tail, their abundance of fat, the lightness of which is so favourable

to swimming, the position of their feet, admirably formed for rowing,

paddling, and steering, their whole economy, in a word, is calculated for

the sea. Although citizens of two worlds, their real element is evidently

the water, from which their food is exclusively derived.

[Illustration: Female Dugong of Ceylon. (From Sir J. Emerson Tennent's

Work on Ceylon.)]

[Illustration: Skeleton of Seal.]

Seals are found in almost all seas, but they particularly abound on

the coasts of the colder regions of the earth, and diminish in size

and numbers as they approach the torrid zone. Small seals are found

near Surinam, but the giants of the family, the huge, sea-elephant, the

sea-lion, the sea-bear, belong exclusively to those higher latitudes

which the sun visits only with slanting rays, or where the winter forms a

dreary and continuous night.

[Illustration: The Seal.]

How wonderful to see the desolate coasts of the icy seas peopled by such

herds of great warm-blooded mammalia! But there, where the dry land

produces only the scantiest vegetation, the bountiful sea teems with

fishes, affording abundance to the hungry seals. The _Merlangus polaris_

and the _Ophidium Parryii_ in the northern hemisphere, as well as the

_Nothothenia phocæ_, which Dr. Richardson discovered off Kerguelen's

Land, seek in vain to escape from the pursuit of the seals in the hollows

and crevices of the pack-ice; and these small fish, in turn, fare

sumptuously upon the minute crustaceans and molluscs with which those

cold waters abound. Thus animal life, but sparingly diffused over the

barren land, luxuriates in the sea, where we find one species preying

upon the other, until at last, at the bottom of the scale, we come to

creatures so small as to be invisible to the naked eye.

[Illustration: Esquimaux in his Kayak.]

The Greenland Esquimaux, whose ice-bound fatherland affords no food but

berries, is also obliged to look to the sea for his subsistence; and the

seal plays as important a part in his humble existence as the reindeer

among the Laplanders, or the camel among the Bedouins of the desert. Its

flesh and fat form his principal food; from its skin he makes his boat,

his tent, his dress; from its sinews and bones, his thread and needles,

his fishing line, and his bow-strings. Thus on the frozen confines of the

Polar Sea, as in many other parts of the world, we find the existence of

man almost entirely depending upon that of a single class of animals. But

the Bedouin who tends the patient dromedary, or the Laplander who feeds

on the flesh and milk of the domesticated reindeer, enjoys an easy life

when compared to the Esquimaux, who, to satisfy the cravings of his sharp

appetite, is in all seasons obliged to brave all the perils of the Arctic

Ocean. Sometimes he waits patiently for hours in the cold fog until a

seal rises to the surface, or else he warily approaches a herd basking

or sleeping on the ice blocks, for the least noise awakens the watchful

animals. Sometimes he has recourse to stratagem, covers himself with a

seal skin, and, imitating the movements and gestures of the deceived

phocæ, introduces himself into the midst of the unsuspecting troop.

We read in the _Odyssey_ how the "dark-featured hero," Menelaus, deigned

to conceal his royal limbs under a fresh seal-skin, in order to surprise

Proteus, the infallible seer; and what sufferings his olfactory organs

underwent from the

"Unsavoury stench of oil and brackish ooze,"

until the fair sea-nymph Eidothea, whom the gallant chief implored in his

distress,

"With nectar'd drops the sickening sense restor'd."

Fortunately for the Esquimaux, his nose is less sensitive than that of

the son of Atreus, and without ambrosia, he willingly dons a disguise

which affords his unsophisticated taste the pleasure of a theatrical

entertainment, combined with the profit of a savoury prize. Physical

strength, dexterity, caution, quickness of eye, and acuteness of hearing,

are the indispensable qualities of the Esquimaux, and require to be

exercised and developed from his tenderest years. The boy of fifteen must

be as perfect a seal-catcher as his father, and be able to make all the

instruments necessary for the chase. In these inhospitable regions, every

one is obliged to rely upon himself alone; there, where all the powers

of the body and mind are tasked to the utmost for the mere sustenance of

life, weakness and want of dexterity must inevitably succumb.

Besides the savages of the north, the civilised nations also give chase

to the seals, or rather wage a barbarous war of extermination against

these helpless creatures. Thus, from the year 1786 to 1833, more than

3,000,000 sea-bears were killed on the Pribilow Islands, in Behring's

Sea. At Unalaschka, the chief staple-place of the Russian Fur Company,

700,000 skins were cast into the water in the year 1803, on the same

principle as that which induced the Dutch to burn their superfluous

nutmegs, viz. "not to glut the market." As a well-merited punishment for

this stupid slaughter, the products of the chase diminished rapidly from

that time until within the last few years, when a better husbandry has

again increased the number of the sea-bears.

Unfortunately, our own countrymen and the Americans have done no better

in the southern seas. Thousands of sea-lions used formerly to be killed

on the South American coast, while at present the number of the animals

is so much diminished as scarce to reward the sealer's trouble. Sir James

Ross informs us that the sea elephant was formerly found in great numbers

on Kerguelen's Land, and yearly attracted many vessels to those desert

islands. But at present, after such incessant persecution, the animals

have either migrated, or been almost totally extirpated. English and

American captains often set some men ashore on the uninhabited coasts

and islands of the southern seas, for the purpose of catching seals,

boiling their oil, and stripping their skins. After a few months the ship

generally returns to fetch the produce of their labours, or to bring a

fresh supply of provisions to the seal catchers, who often remain several

years in their solitary hunting grounds. But sometimes the poor wretches

are abandoned by their associates, and then their despair may be imagined

when week after week elapses without the expected sail appearing! Dumont

d'Urville found one of these adventurers in the Straits of Magellan among

a horde of Patagonians, who, though hospitably inclined, were themselves

so poor as hardly to be able to keep body and soul together. He was a

watchmaker from Geneva, who, having emigrated to New York, and finding

himself disappointed, had listened to the fair promises of a skipper,

who carried him out to Tierra del Fuego, and not finding the business

answer, had left him to his fate. The French navigator took the poor man

on board, and gave him a passage to Talcahuano in Chili.

On the east coast of North America seal catching is still carried on

with considerable success. Newfoundland intercepts many of the immense

fields and islands of ice which in the spring move south from the Arctic

Sea. The interior parts, with the openings or lakes interspersed, remain

serene and unbroken, and form the transitory abodes of myriads of seals.

In the month of March upwards of three hundred small vessels, fitted

out for the seal fishery, are extricated from the icy harbours on the

east coast of Newfoundland; the fields are now all in motion, and the

vessels plunge directly into the edges of such as appear to have seals

on them; the crews, armed with firelocks and heavy bludgeons, there

_land_, and in the course of a few weeks destroy nearly 300,000 of these

animals. The Greenland winter, it would appear, is too severe for these

luckless wanderers, and when it sets in, they accompany the field-ice,

and remain on it until it is scattered and dissolved. Old and young

being then deserted in the ocean, nature points out to them the course

to their favourite icy haunts, and thither their herds hurry over the

deep to pass an arctic summer. Winter returns, and with it commences

again their annual migration from latitude to latitude. The Scotch ports,

particularly Aberdeen, fit out ships for the spring seal-catching on the

American coast, and are generally successful in their undertakings.

[Illustration: Greenland Seal.]

[Illustration: Seal.]

According to the different numbers and forms of their canine teeth and

grinders, and to the deficiency or presence of an _outward_ ear, the seal

tribe is divided into many families, genera, and species, among which I

shall select a few of the most remarkable for further notice. The Common

Seal or Sea-calf, (_Calocephalus vitulinus_), which owes the latter name

to the unharmonious accents of its voice, attains a length of from five

to six feet. It has a large round head, small short neck, and several

strong bristles on each side of its mouth, large eyes, no external ears,

and a forked tongue. It has six fore teeth in the upper jaw, four in

the lower, a strong pointed canine tooth on each side in both jaws,

and a goodly row of sharp and jagged grinders. Woe to the poor herring

whose evil star leads him between these engines of destruction--he is

irrevocably lost! Different species of common seals inhabit the Northern

seas, from Greenland and Spitzbergen to the mouth of the Scheldt, and

from the White Sea to the eastern coast of America. Others are found in

the Antarctic seas. An excellent swimmer, the seal dives like a shot, and

rises at fifty yards' distance, often remaining full a quarter of an hour

under the water--three times longer than the most strong-breasted and

expert pearl fisher. Yet he is seldom seen more than thirty miles from

land, where he sleeps and reposes, choosing rocks surrounded by the sea

or the less accessible cliffs, left dry by the ebb of the tide, so that,

if disturbed by an enemy, he may be able to plunge immediately into the

sea. In the summer he will come out of the water to bask or sleep in the

sun on the top of large stones and ledges of rocks; and this affords our

countrymen the opportunity of shooting him. If he chances to escape, he

hastens towards his proper element, flinging dirt or stones behind him

as he scrambles along, at the same time expressing his fears by piteous

moans; but if he happens to be overtaken, he will make a vigorous defence

with his feet and teeth till he is killed. His flesh, which is tender,

juicy, and fat, was formerly, like that of the porpoise, served up at the

tables of the great, as appears from the bill of fare of a magnificent

feast that Archbishop Neville gave in the reign of Edward the Fourth.

Seals commonly bring forth two young ones at a time, which they suckle

for about a fortnight, and then carry them out to sea to instruct them

in swimming. When taken young, they may be domesticated, and will follow

their master like a dog, coming to him when called by name. According

to Pliny, no animal enjoys a deeper sleep,--"nullum animal graviore

somno premitur." This assertion is, however, contradicted by general

observation, for it is well known that seals are extremely watchful,

seldom sleeping longer than a minute without moving their heads to

ascertain whether anything suspicious is going on.

Although without external ears, seals appear to hear well both above and

under the water. Music or whistling will draw them to the surface and

induce them to stretch their necks to the utmost extent--a curiosity

which often proves a snare for their destruction. The most effectual

way of shooting seals is by firing small shot into their eyes; for

when killed with a bullet they generally sink and are lost. They are

often seen in very large shoals on their passage from one situation to

another. In such cases, all appear every now and then at the surface

together for the sake of respiration, springing up so as to run their

heads, necks, and often their whole bodies out of the water. They shuffle

along, especially over the ice, with a surprising speed considering the

shortness of their legs. They are very tenacious of life, and able to

survive even when shockingly mangled. According to Dr. Scoresby, the

island of Jan Mayen affords excellent seal fishing in March and April.

When on detached pieces of drift ice, they are captured by the use of

boats, each boat making a descent upon a different herd. When the seals

observe the boat, they endeavour to escape before it reaches the ice; the

sailors, however, raise a long-continued shout, which frequently causes

the amazed animals to delay their retreat until arrested by blows. When

seals are abundant, the boat immediately pushes off after the slaughter

is finished, and proceeds to another piece of ice for the increase of its

harvest, leaving one man to flay off the skins and fat. But in situations

where boats cannot navigate, the seal fishers have to pursue them over

the ice, leaping from piece to piece until the capture is made; every

man then flenses his own, and drags the skins and blubber to his boat

or ship. Ships fitted out for seal fishing have occasionally procured

cargoes of four or five thousand, yielding nearly a hundred tons of oil;

but such enterprises are very hazardous, from the exposed nature of that

dreary island, and the liability to heavy and sudden storms.

The Sea-Elephant (_Cystophora proboscidea_) deserves his name, not only

from his immense size, attaining a length of twenty, twenty-five, or

even thirty feet, but also from the singular structure of his elongated

nostrils, which hang down when he is in a state of repose, but swell

out to a foot-long proboscis when he is enraged. Then the beast has

a most formidable appearance, which, along with its gaping jaws and

dreadful roar, might strike terror into the boldest huntsman. But total

helplessness and weakness conceal themselves behind this terrible mask,

for a single blow upon the snout with a club suffices to fell the giant.

Between 35° and 55° S. lat. is the home of the sea-elephant, where he

frequents desert islands and uninhabited coasts. But even here, as I have

already mentioned, he could not escape the rapacity of man, for his tough

hide and the thick layer of blubber beneath were too tempting to remain

unnoticed.

The Hooded Seal of the northern seas, (_Cystophora borealis_,) enjoys

the same faculty of inflating a folding, skinny crest extending on each

side from the snout to the eyes. But in spite of the menacing appearance

of these wind-bags, the seal fisher knocks him on the head, draws,

without ceremony, his skin over his ears, and throws his blubber into the

oil-kettle.

The _Otarias_, or seals furnished with an external ear, and whose longer

and more developed feet allow them to move more freely on land, rank in

point of organisation at the head of the whole tribe. The most important

and valuable of all is the Sea-Bear (_Arctocephalus ursinus_), of which

there are probably two species; the one inhabiting the Antarctic seas,

while the other roams about the coasts and islands of the Northern

Pacific, and selects St. Paul, one of the Pribilow group in Behring's

Sea, as its favourite summer haunt. The fine-haired, black, curly skin of

the younger animals, of from four months to one year old, is particularly

esteemed, so as to be classed among the finer furs which find a ready

sale in the Chinese market, and serve to decorate the persons of the

higher rank of mandarins. The chase, which on the latter island was

formerly a promiscuous massacre, is now reduced to the slaughter of a

limited number of victims. It begins in the latter part of September, on

a cold foggy day when the wind blows from the side where the animals are

assembled on the rocky shore. The boldest huntsmen, accustomed to clamber

over stones and cliffs, open the way; then follow their less experienced

comrades, and the chief personage of the band comes last, to be the

better able to direct and survey the movements of his men, who are all

armed with clubs. The main object is to cut off the herd as quickly as

possible from the sea. All the grown-up males and females are spared, but

the younger animals are all driven landwards, sometimes to the distance

of a couple of miles, and then partly clubbed to death. Those which are

only four months old are doomed without exception; while of the others

only a certain number of the males are killed, and the females allowed to

return again to the coast, when they soon betake themselves to the water.

For several days after the massacre, the bereaved mothers swim about the

island, seeking and loudly wailing for their young.

From the 5th of October, St. Paul is gradually deserted by the sea

bears, who then migrate to the south, and reappear towards the end of

April,--the males arriving first. Each seeks the same spot on the shore

which he occupied during the preceding year, and lies down among the

large stone blocks with which the flat beach is covered. About the middle

of May the far more numerous females begin to make their appearance, and

Otarian life takes full possession of the strand. The full-grown sea-bear

is from eight to nine feet long, measures five in girth, and acquires

a weight of from eight to nine hundred pounds. He owes his name to his

shaggy blackish fur, and not to his disposition, which is far from being

cruel or savage. He indulges in polygamy like a Turk or a Mormon, and

has often as many as fifty wives. The young are generally lively, fond

of play and fight. When one of them has thrown another down, the father

approaches with a growl, caresses the victor, tries to overturn him,

and shows increasing fondness the better he defends himself. Lazy and

listless youngsters are objects of his dislike, and these hang generally

about their mother. The male is very much attached to his wives, but

treats them with all the severity of an oriental despot. When a mother

neglects to carry away her young, and allows it to be taken, she is made

to feel his anger. He seizes her with his teeth, and strikes her several

times, not over gently, against a cliff. As soon as she recovers from

the stunning effects of these blows, she approaches her lord in the

most humble attitudes, crawls to his feet, caresses him, and even sheds

tears, as Steller, the companion of Behring's second voyage, informs us.

Meanwhile the male crawls about to and fro, gnashes his teeth, rolls his

eyes, and throws his head from side to side. But when he sees that his

young is irrevocably lost, he then, like the mother, begins to cry so

bitterly, that the tears trickle down upon his breast. In his old age

the ursine seal is abandoned by his wives, and spends the remainder of

his life in solitude, fasting, and sleeping; an indolence from which he

can only be roused by the intrusion of another animal, when a tremendous

battle is the consequence. Though extremely irascible, the sea-bears

are lovers of fair play, so that when two are fighting, the others

form a ring, and remain spectators until the contest is decided. Then,

however, they take the part of the weaker, which so enrages the victor

that he immediately attacks the peace-makers. These in turn fall out,

the dreadful roaring attracts new witnesses, and the whole ends, like an

Irish wedding, with a general fight.

Ursine seals are also found in the southern hemisphere, on desert coasts

analogous to their residences in the north. Common seals and sea-otters

stand in great awe of these animals, and shun their haunts. They again

are in equal fear of the Leonine seals, and do not care to begin a

quarrel in their presence, dreading the intervention of such formidable

arbitrators, who likewise possess the first place on the shore.

Steller's Sea-Lion, (_Otaria Stelleri_,) is about as large again as

the sea-bear, but its tawny hide, covered with short bristles, is

without value in the fur trade. To the Aleut, however, the animal is of

great use, for he covers his boat with its skin, makes his water-tight

_kamleika_ with its intestines, the soles of his shoes with the webs of

its feet, ornaments his cap with its long beard hair, and feasts upon

its flesh. On all the coasts and islands of the Pacific this sea-lion

is found, from 61° N. lat. to unknown southern limits, but nowhere in

such numbers as on the Pribilow Island, St. George, where its countless

herds afford a wonderful spectacle. The shapeless gigantic fat and

flesh-masses, awkward and unwieldy on land, cover, as far as the eye

can reach, a broad, rocky, naked strand-belt, blackened with oil. The

sea-birds occupy the empty places between the herds of the sea-lions,

and fly fearlessly before the gaping jaws of the huge monsters, without

caring about their hideous bellowing. In countless numbers they build

their nests in the caves of the surf-beaten cliffs, and among the large

boulders on the shore, whose tops are whitened with their dung. A thick

fog generally spreads over the desolate scene, and the hollow roaring of

the breakers unites, with the screaming of the birds and the bellowing of

the sea-lions, to form a wild and melancholy concert.

Steller's sea-lion is furnished only with an erect and curly hair-tuft at

his neck, while a complete mane flows round the breast of the sea-lion

of the southern hemisphere, (_Otaria jubata_). The remainder of the body

is covered with short smooth hairs, or bristles. The sea-lioness has no

mane, and is darker than the male. The fore-fins have the appearance of

large pieces of black tough leather, showing, instead of nails, slight

horny elevations; the hind-fins, which are likewise black, have a closer

resemblance to feet, and the five toes are furnished with small nails. A

formidable-looking beast, eleven feet long! and well may the naturalist

start, when, walking through the high tussack grass of the Falkland

Islands, he suddenly stumbles over a huge sea-lion, stretched along the

ground, and blocking up his path.

[Illustration: Walrus, or Morse.]

[Illustration: Skull and Head of Walrus.]

The Arctic Walrus forms the nearest approach to the seals in the scale

of creation, and is likewise better adapted for a marine life than for

existence on dry land. But he is completely without fore-teeth, and his

grinders have a broad furrowed crown, like those of the herbivorous

animals. This difference of dentition points to a different food, and

while the phocæ are such voracious fish-eaters that Sir James Ross found

no less than twenty-eight pounds of undigested fish in the stomach of a

southern seal, the walrus principally lives on sea-weeds and molluscs.

The Arctic walrus or sea-horse (_Trichechus rosmarus_) is one of the

largest mammals known, as he sometimes grows to the length of eighteen

feet, and so thick as to measure twelve feet about the middle of the

body. His form is very clumsy, having a small head, a strong elongated

neck, a thick body, and short legs, the hind feet uniting to a broad

fin. With such a form, no one can wonder at the clumsiness of its

movements on land. Admiral Beechey describes the gallop of a sea-horse

as probably the most awkward motion exhibited by the animal tribe, for,

like a large caterpillar, the unwieldly creature alternately lowers and

raises its head, in order to facilitate the bringing up of the hinder

parts of the body;--no easy task, when we consider the immense weight of

the animal, and the great disproportion between the length of its body

and its legs. The upper lip, which is very thick, and indented or cleft

into two large rounded lobes, furnished with thick yellow bristles,

contributes also but little to its external beauty. From under this

formidable-looking inflation protrude two large and long tusks, growing,

like those of the elephant, from the upper jaw, but bent downwards, not

outward and upwards, as is the case with the latter. Their uses are also

very different, for while the elephant employs his tusks in digging up

roots, the walrus raises by their assistance his unwieldy body upon

the ice-blocks and precipitous shores, where he loves to bask in the

sun. Both animals use them, moreover, as formidable weapons, the former

against the bounding tiger, the latter against the hungry ice-bear or the

voracious shark.

In fine weather the walruses, like the seals, gather on the ice,

where they may be seen in herds consisting occasionally of upwards of

100 animals each. In these situations they appear greatly to enjoy

themselves, rolling and sporting about, and frequently making the air

resound with their bellowing, which bears some resemblance to that of a

bull. These diversions generally end in sleep, during which these wary

animals appear always to take the precaution of having a sentinel to warn

them of any danger to which they may be liable. So universal seems the

observance of this precaution amongst their species, that Beechey, who

had many opportunities of observing them in Spitzbergen, scarcely ever

saw a herd, however small, in which he did not notice one of the party

on the watch, stretching his long neck in the air every half-minute, to

the utmost extent of its muscles, to survey the ground about him. In the

event of any alarming appearances, the sentinel begins by seeking his

own safety; and as these animals always lie huddled upon one another,

the motion of one is immediately communicated to the whole group, which

is instantly in motion towards the water. When the herd is large, and an

alarm is given, the consequences are most ludicrous. From the unwieldy

nature of the animals, the state of fear into which they are thrown,

and their being so closely packed together, at first they tumble over

one another, get angry, and in their endeavour to regain their feet

flounder about in each other's way, till having at last scrambled to the

edge of the ice, they tumble into the water, head first, if possible,

but otherwise, in any position in which chance may have placed them,

occasioning one of the most laughable scenes it is possible to conceive.

Though the first movement of the walruses at the approach of danger is

to seek the water, yet here, enraged by an unprovoked attack, they often

become most formidable assailants; of which Beechey recounts a remarkable

instance.

[Illustration: THE BOATS OF H.M.S. TRENT ATTACKED BY WALRUSES.]

THE BOATS OF H.M.S. TRENT ATTACKED BY WALRUSES.

This plate is taken from an incident narrated in the account of the

voyage of H.M. ships Dorothea and Trent. The boat belonging to the

Trent was attacked by a shoal of walruses, which were near swamping

it; and were not driven off till a gigantic walrus, which appeared

to be the captain of the shoal, was destroyed by a shot fired into

its throat as represented in the engraving, the original of which, as

published in the account of the voyage, was taken from a sketch by an

officer present in the singular conflict.

One evening, while the Dorothea and Trent were at anchor in Magdalena

Bay, Spitzbergen, several herds of these animals had crawled upon the

ice, to enjoy the fine weather and rest themselves. The boats, properly

equipped, and manned with some of the officers and seamen, pushed off

in pursuit of them. The first herd which was selected disappointed the

sportsmen, but another was so intent upon its gambols, that the sentinel

absolutely forgot his duty, and several of the crew managed to effect

a landing upon the ice without any alarm being given to the animals;

as soon, however, as the first musket was fired, the affrighted group

made such a desperate rush towards the edge of the ice that they nearly

overturned the whole of the assailing party, purposely stationed there

to intercept them. The seamen, finding this charge more formidable than

they expected, were obliged to separate to allow their opponents to pass

through their ranks; and being thus in their turn taken by surprise, they

suffered them, almost unmolested, to perform their somersaults towards

the sea. What with their uncertain movements, the extreme toughness of

their skin, and the respectful distance at which the men were obliged

to keep, to avoid the lashing of the head and tusks of the animals, it

was indeed no easy task to inflict any serious injury upon them. One,

however, was desperately wounded in the head with a ball, and the mate

of the brig, being determined if possible to secure his prey, resolutely

struck his tomahawk into his skull; but the enraged animal, with a twist

of its head, sent the weapon whirling in the air, and then lashing his

neck, as though he would destroy with his immense tusks everything that

came in his way, effected his escape to the water. The seamen followed

and pushed off in their boats; but the walruses, finding themselves more

at home now than on the ice, in their turn became the assailants. They

rose in great numbers about the boats, snorting with rage, and rushing

at the boats, and it was with the utmost difficulty they were prevented

upsetting or staving them by placing their tusks upon the gunwales, or by

striking at them with their heads. It was the opinion of the seamen that

in this assault the walruses were led on by one animal in particular, a

much larger and more formidable beast than any of the others, and they

directed their efforts more particularly towards him; but he withstood

all the blows of their tomahawks without flinching, and his tough hide

resisted the entry of the whale lances, which were unfortunately not

very sharp, and soon bent double. The herd was so numerous, and their

attacks so incessant, that there was not time to load a musket, which

indeed was the only effectual mode of seriously injuring them. The

purser fortunately had his gun loaded, and the whole now being nearly

exhausted with chopping and striking at their assailants, he snatched it

up, and thrusting the muzzle down the throat of the leader, fired into

his bowels. The wound proved mortal and the animal fell back amongst

his companions, who immediately desisted from the attack, assembled

round him, and in a moment quitted the boat, swimming away as hard as

they could with their leader, whom they actually bore up with their

tusks, and assiduously preserved from sinking. Whether this singular

and compassionate conduct, which in all probability was done to prevent

suffocation, arose from the sagacity of the animals, it is difficult to

say; but there is every probability of it, and the fact must form an

interesting trait in the history of the habits of the species. After the

discharge of the purser's gun, there remained of all the herd only one

little assailant, which the seamen, out of compassion, were unwilling to

molest. This young animal had been observed fighting by the side of the

leader, and from the protection which was afforded it by its courageous

patron, was imagined to be one of its young. This little animal had no

tusks, but it swam violently against the boat, and struck her with its

head, and indeed would have stove her, had it not been kept off by whale

lances, some of which made deep incisions in its young sides. These,

however, had not any immediate effect; the attack was continued, and the

enraged little animal, though disfigured with wounds, even crawled upon

the ice in pursuit of the seamen, who had _relanded_ there, until one of

them, out of compassion, put an end to its sufferings.

The valuable ivory of its tusks, which is more solid, finer grained, and

whiter than that of the elephant, exposes the walrus to the attacks of

man, no less than his thick hide, from which a strong elastic leather is

made, and his abundance of flesh and blubber. The former are sought by

civilised nations, while the latter forms the chief food of the northern

Esquimaux and of the Tschutchi on the western shore of Behring's Straits.

Every year a troop of Aleuts land on the northern coast of the peninsula

of Aliaska, where the young walruses assemble in great numbers during

the summer, having most likely been driven away by the older males from

their more northern haunts. The walruses herd on the lowest edge of the

coast which is within reach of the high spring-tides. When the Aleuts

prepare to attack the animals, they take leave of each other as if they

were going to face death, being no less afraid of the mighty tusks of

the walruses than of the awkwardness of their own companions. Armed

with lances and heavy axes, they stealthily approach the walruses, and

having disposed their ranks, suddenly fall upon them with loud shouts,

and endeavour to drive them from the sea, taking care that none of them

escape into the water, as in this case the rest would irresistibly follow

and precipitate the huntsmen along with them. As soon as the walruses

have been driven far enough up the strand, the Aleuts attack them with

their lances, endeavouring to strike at them in places where the hide is

not so thick, and then pressing with all their might against the spear,

to render the wound deep and deadly. The slaughtered animals fall one

over the other and form large heaps, while the huntsmen, uttering furious

shouts and intoxicated with carnage, wade through the bloody mire. They

then cleave the jaws and take out the tusks, which are the chief objects

of the slaughter of several thousands of walruses, since neither their

flesh nor their fat is made use of in the colony. Sir George Simpson,

in his "Overland Journey Round the World," relates that the bales of

fur sent to Kjachta are covered with walrus hide; then it is made to

protect the tea chests, which find their way to Moscow; and after all

these wanderings, the far-travelled skin returns again to its native

seas, when, cut into small pieces and stamped with a mark, it serves as a

medium of exchange. The carcases of the wholesale slaughter are left on

the shore to be washed away by the spring-tides, which soon erase every

vestige of the bloody scene, and in the following year the inexhaustible

north sends new victims to the coast.

Kane gives us a vivid description of a walrus hunt in Smith's Sound, most

likely the most northern point of the earth inhabited by man. "After a

while Myouk became convinced, from signs or sounds, that walruses were

waiting for him in a small space of recently open water that was glazed

over with a few days' growth of ice, and, moving gently on, soon heard

the characteristic bellow of a bull,--the walrus, like some bipeds,

being fond of his own music. The party now formed in single file, and

moved on in serpentine approach to the recently frozen ice spots, which

were surrounded by older and firmer ice. When within half a mile the line

broke, and each man crawled towards a separate pool. In a few minutes

the walruses were in sight, five in number, rising at intervals through

the ice in a body with an explosive puff that might have been heard

for miles. Two large grim-looking males made themselves conspicuous as

leaders of the group. When the walrus is above the water, the hunter lies

flat and motionless; as it begins to sink, he is alert and ready for a

spring. The animal's head is hardly below the water line, when every man

advances in rapid run, and again, as if by instinct, before the beast

returns, all are motionless behind protecting knolls of ice. In this way

the Esquimaux have reached a plate of thin ice, hardly strong enough to

bear them, at the very brink of the pool. Myouk, till now phlegmatic,

seems to waken with excitement. A coil of walrus hide lies by his side,

and he grasps the harpoon, ready for action. Presently the water is in

motion, and, puffing with pent-up respiration, the walrus rises before

him. Myouk rises slowly, the right arm thrown back, the left flat at his

side. The walrus looks about him, shaking water from his crest, Myouk

throws up his left arm, and the animal, rising breast-high, fixes one

look before he plunges. It has cost him all that curiosity can cost, for

the harpoon lies buried under his left flipper." The wounded animal makes

a desperate spring, and endeavours to lift itself upon the ice, which

breaks under its weight. These fruitless endeavours give its physiognomy

a still more vengeful expression; its bellowing degenerates into a roar,

and crimson foam gathers round its mouth.

[Illustration: Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus).]

The Ice-Bear (_Ursus maritimus_) may also be reckoned among the marine

animals, as the sea affords him by far the greater part of his food. From

the common bear, whom he surpasses in strength and size, as he attains

a length of nine feet, and a height of four, he not only distinguishes

himself by his white sleek-haired fur, but also by a much longer neck.

His half-webbed feet show at once that he is born for a sea life, and

he is able to swim three miles an hour, and to dive for a considerable

length of time. On land he runs as fast again as a man, and often

surprises his prey, as his tread upon the snow is almost inaudible. He

principally lives on fish, but also on seals, birds, foxes, reindeer,

and even attacks man--particularly when pinched with hunger. But in his

turn he falls a prey to the inhabitants of the Arctic regions, who eat

the flesh, though it is very coarse, and use the skin for coverings of

various kinds. He is a cunning hunter, though not always successful.

Thus one sunshiny day, Admiral Beechey saw a large walrus rise in a

pool of water not very far from where he stood. After looking around,

the grim-visaged creature drew his greasy carcase upon the ice, where

he rolled about for a time, and at length laid himself down to sleep. A

bear, which had probably been observing his movements, crawled carefully

upon the ice on the opposite side of the pool, and began to roll about

also, but apparently more with design than amusement, progressively

lessening the distance that intervened between him and his prey. The

suspicious walrus drew himself up, preparatory to a precipitate retreat,

when immediately the bear remained motionless, as if in the act of sleep;

but after a time he began to lick his paws, and clean himself, and

occasionally to encroach a little more upon his intended victim. This

time, however, his cunning was useless, for the walrus suddenly plunged

into the pool, and though the bear, throwing off all disguise, rushed

to the spot and followed him in an instant into the water, he was most

likely disappointed of a meal that would have made up for a long period

of fasting. The ice-bear is everywhere at home within the Arctic circle,

and particularly abounds on Spitzbergen and the other small islands of

that sea. He sometimes comes floating on drift ice to the north coasts of

Iceland, Norway, and Newfoundland, but is soon killed by the inhabitants.

[Illustration: Seal.]

[Illustration: Arctic Walrus.]

Manby, in his "Voyage to Spitzbergen," relates several interesting

examples of his ferocity and daring. Having perceived an ice-bear

swimming in the sea, a boat went after him to cut him off; when suddenly

the monster changed his route, faced the boat, and approached it, keeping

up a continued growling, with other indications of rage, such as showing

his frightful teeth, and elevating his head and much of his body out of

the water. Being desirous to preserve the head, Manby let him come within

twelve yards, when he fired a ball through his shoulder, which deprived

him of the use of a fore-leg. Roaring hideously, the infuriated animal

pressed towards the boat in the most ferocious manner, endeavouring to

board or upset it, but failed from the loss of his leg. He was then

attacked by the crew with lances, the thrusts of some of which he

avoided with astonishing dexterity, and, in the most resolute manner,

again made several attempts to reach the boat; but being repulsed by the

overpowering thrust of a lance from the harpooner on his flank, he was

unable longer to continue the contest. He had bitten a lance, in the heat

of the combat, with such exasperated rage, as to break one of his long

tusks; but finding his efforts fruitless, he retreated towards the ice,

swimming most astonishingly fast, considering the great propelling power

he had lost, and finally ascended it with great difficulty, having only

one fore-paw to assist him, when, exhausted by the effort, he fell down

dead, uttering a tremendous growl.

Captain Lewis, with a party of five hunters, attacked a bear, and when at

a distance of forty yards, four of them fired, and each lodged a musket

ball in its body, two of which passed directly through the lungs. The

enraged animal ran at them with open mouth, and as it came near, the

two men who had reserved their fire gave it two wounds, and broke its

shoulder, which retarded its motion for a moment. But before they could

reload, it was so near that they were obliged to run, and before they

reached the shore the bear had almost overtaken them. Two jumped into the

canoe, the other four separated, concealed themselves behind ice blocks,

and firing as fast as they could load, struck the bear several times. But

although eight balls had passed through its body, the bear pursued two of

them so closely, that they were obliged to leap down a perpendicular bank

of twenty feet into the water. The dying animal sprang after them, and

was within a few feet of the hindermost, when his strength at last failed

him.

Scoresby relates that in 1783, Captain Cook, of the Archangel, of Lynn,

landed on the coast of Spitzbergen, accompanied by the surgeon and

mate. While traversing the shore, the captain was unexpectedly attacked

by a bear, which seized him in an instant between its paws. At this

awful juncture, when a moment's pause must have been fatal to him,

the unfortunate man called to his surgeon to fire, who immediately,

with admirable resolution and steadiness, discharged his piece, and

providentially shot the bear through the head, thus literally saving the

master from the jaws of death.

[Illustration: Ice-bear approaching the "Dorothea" and "Trent."]

"One evening," says Beechey, "we set on fire some sea-horse fat, in order

to entice within reach of our muskets any bears that might be ranging

the ice; as these animals possess a very keen scent, and are invariably

attracted by burnt animal matter. About midnight we had the satisfaction

of seeing one of them drag his huge carcass out of the water, and slowly

make his way towards us. The sight of the tall masts of the ships

appeared to alarm him a little at first, for he occasionally hesitated,

threw up his head, and seemed half inclined to turn round and be off; but

the agreeable odour of the burnt blubber was evidently so grateful to his

olfactory nerves and empty stomach, that it overcame every repugnance,

and gradually brought him within range of our muskets. On receiving the

first shot he sprang round, uttered a terrific growl, and half raised

himself upon his hind legs, as if in expectation of seizing the object

that had caused him such excruciating pain; and woe to any human being

who had at that moment been within reach of his merciless paws! The

second and third ball left him writhing upon the ice, and the mate of the

Dorothea jumped out of the vessel and endeavoured to despatch him with

the butt end of a musket; but it unfortunately broke short off, and for

a moment left him at the mercy of his formidable antagonist, who showed,

by turning sharply upon his assailant, and seizing him by the thigh, that

he was not yet mastered; and he would most certainly have inflicted a

serious wound, had it not been for the prompt assistance of two or three

of his shipmates who had followed him. The animal was by no means one of

the largest of his species, being only six feet in length, and three feet

four inches in height. His stomach was quite empty, with the exception

of a garter, such as is used by Greenland sailors to tie up their boat

stockings. In his left side there was a cicatrised wound of considerable

magnitude. From what we saw of the activity and ferociousness of this

animal, added to the well-known strength of his species, we readily gave

credit to the accounts of Barentz and other early visitors to these

regions; and it may be considered a fortunate circumstance for the hero

of the Nile and Trafalgar that a natural barrier was interposed between

him and the object of his chase, when in his youth he ventured alone over

the ice in these regions in pursuit of such formidable game."

The ferocious white bear, the enemy and the dread of all other animals

that come within its reach, is exceedingly tender and affectionate to its

young, of which the following anecdote affords a striking and interesting

example. While the "Carcase" was locked in the ice, early one morning the

man at the mast-head gave notice that three bears were making their way

very fast over the frozen ocean, and were directing their course towards

the ship. They had no doubt been invited by the scent of some blubber

of a sea-horse that the crew had killed a few days before, which had

been set on fire; for they drew out of the flames a part of the flesh

that remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. The crew from the ship

threw great lumps of the flesh of the sea-horse, which they had still

left, upon the ice, which the old bear fetched singly, laid every lump

before her cubs as she brought it, and dividing it, gave to each a share,

reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the

last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs and shot them both

dead, and in her retreat they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would

have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling minds, to have marked the

affectionate concern expressed by this poor beast in the dying moments of

her expiring young. Though she was herself dreadfully wounded, and could

but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh

she had fetched away, as she had done others before, tore it in pieces,

and laid it before them; and when she saw that they refused to eat, she

laid her paws first upon one and then upon the other, and endeavoured

to raise them up, piteously moaning all the while. When she found she

could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got at some distance,

looked back and moaned; and that not availing her to entice them away,

she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She

went off a second time as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked

again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs

not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and with signs of

inexpressible fondness, went round one and round the other, pawing them

and moaning. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised

her head towards the ship, and uttered a growl of despair, which the

murderers returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her

cubs, and died licking their wounds.

The Sea-Otter is the last of the marine mammiferous animals that claim

our attention. Although it is also found in the southern Pacific, yet

its chief resort is in the Behring's Sea, along the chain of the Aleut

Islands. It is but a small animal, yet its long-haired, beautifully fine

and black fur, which is not seldom paid for with 400 or 500 rubles,

renders it by far the most important product of those seas. It has even

got an historical interest, since it has been the chief cause which led

the Russians from Ochotzk to Kamtschatka, and from thence over the Aleut

chain to the opposite coast of America.

[Illustration: Sea-Otter.]

The Aleut islanders show a wonderful dexterity in the capture of this

animal. In April or May they assemble at an appointed spot in their light

skin-boats, or _baidars_, and choose one of the most respected _tamols_,

or chiefs, for the leader of the expedition, which generally numbers from

fifty to a hundred boats. Such hunting-parties are annually organised

from the Kurile Islands to Kadjack, and consequently extend over a line

of three thousand miles. On the first fine day the expedition sets out,

and proceeds to a distance of about forty wersts from the coast, when

the baidars form into a long line, leaving an interval of about two

hundred and fifty fathoms from boat to boat as far as a sea-otter diving

out of the water can be seen; so that a row of thirty baidars occupies

a space of from ten to twelve wersts. When the number of the boats is

greater, the intervals are reduced. Every man now looks upon the sea with

concentrated attention. Nothing escapes the penetrating eye of the Aleut;

in the smallest black spot appearing but one moment over the surface of

the waters, his experienced glance at once recognises a sea-otter. The

baidar which first sees the animal, rows rapidly towards the place where

the creature dived, and now the Aleut, holding his oar straight up in

the air, remains motionless on the spot. Immediately the whole squadron

is in motion, and the long straight line changes into a wide circle, the

centre of which is occupied by the baidar with the raised oar. The otter

not being able to remain long under water, re-appears, and the nearest

Aleut immediately greets him with an arrow. This first attack is seldom

mortal; very often the missile does not even reach its over-distant mark,

and the sea-otter instantly disappears. Again the oar rises from the next

baidar; again the circle forms, but this time narrower than at first; the

fatigued otter is obliged to come oftener to the surface, arrows fly from

all sides, and finally the animal, killed by a mortal shot, or exhausted

by repeated wounds, falls to the share of the archer who has hit it

nearest to the head. If several otters appear at the same time, the boats

form as many rings, provided their number be sufficiently great. All

these movements are executed with astonishing celerity and precision, and

amidst the deepest silence, which is only interrupted from time to time

by the hissing sound of the flying arrows.

[Illustration: Banded Dipper.]

CHAP. X.

SEA-BIRDS.

Their vast Numbers.--Strand-Birds.--Artifices of the Sea-Lark to

protect its Young.--Migrations of the Strand-Birds.--The Sea-Birds

in General.--The Anatidæ.--The Eider Duck.--The Sheldrake.--The

Loggerheaded Duck.--Auks and Penguins.--The Cormorant.--Its Use by the

Chinese for Fish catching.--The Frigate Bird.--The Soland Goose.--The

Gulls.--The Petrels.--The Albatross.--Bird-catching on St. Kilda.--The

Guano of the Chincha Islands.

[Illustration: Flamingo.]

Countless are the birds of the wood and field, of the mountain and the

plain; and yet it is doubtful whether they equal in number those of the

fish-teeming seas. For every naked rock or surf-beaten cliff that rises

over the immeasurable deserts of ocean, is the refuge of myriads of

sea-birds; every coast, from the poles to the equator, is covered with

their legions and far from land, their swarms hover over the solitudes

of the deep. Many, unfit for swimming, seek their food along the shores;

others rival the fishes in their own native element; and others, again,

armed with indefatigable wings, pursue their prey upon the high seas.

But, however different the mode of living and destination of the numerous

tribes, families, genera, and species of the sea-birds may be, each of

them is organised in the most perfect manner for the exigencies of its

own peculiar sphere. Take, for instance, the Strand-birds, that live

on the margin of ocean, and feast upon the molluscs and sea-worms,

that inhabit the littoral zone. How admirably the light weight of

their proportionally small body suits the soft, yielding soil on which

they have to seek their food; how well their long legs are adapted for

striding through the mud of the shallow waters; and their long bill and

flexible neck, how beautifully formed for seizing their fugitive prey,

ere it can bury itself deep enough in the safe mud or sand!

PENGUINS ON THE SOUTH POLAR ICE.

A scene showing the immense droves of penguins which often clothe

the sea edges of the ice and rocks in the South Polar regions is

represented in the annexed plate.

The individuals in the front are of the large species known as the

Great Penguin, _Aptenodytes Forsteri_. Beyond is a group of the

lesser, but perhaps more beautiful, species, _Aptenodytes Pennantii_.

In the distance are seen lines of another small kind, which has been

made a separate genus, under the denomination of _Eudyptes_. It

is inferior in characteristic beauty to either of the last named.

_Eudyptes antipodes_ is, however, worthy of a better representation

than the dimensions of our plate permitted.

[Illustration: PENGUINS ON THE SOUTH POLAR ICE.]

[Illustration: Curlew.]

The wonderful art with which the feathered inhabitants of the grove

construct their nests, we should in vain look for among the Strand-birds,

but the anxiety they show in protecting their young brood, and the

stratagems they use to divert the attention of the enemy, are after all

instincts no less admirable than those which prompt the Cassique or the

Tailor-bird to build their complicated dwellings. Thus on the approach

of any person to its nest, the Lapwing flutters round his head with

great inquietude, and if he persists in advancing, it will endeavour

to draw him away by running along the ground as if lame, and thereby

inviting pursuit. The Golden Plover also, when it sees an enemy---man

or dog---approach, does not await their arrival, but advances to meet

them. Then suddenly rising with a shrill cry, as if just disturbed from

its nest, it flutters along the ground as if crippled, and entices them

farther and farther from its young. The dogs, expecting to catch an easy

prey, follow the lame bird, which suddenly, however, flies off with

lightning speed, and leaves its disappointed pursuers on the beach. The

discovery of the nest is rendered still more difficult by the colour and

markings of the eggs assimilating so closely to that of the ground and

surrounding herbage.

The Scoopers, Oyster-catchers, Avosets, and other strand-birds have

recourse to similar stratagems for the protection of their young. In New

Zealand, the French naturalists, Quoy and Gaimard, were deceived by an

oyster-catcher, which, having been shot at, feigned to be wounded, and

with hanging wing, diverted them from the right track.

[Illustration: Avoset.]

The strand-birds of the high northern regions fly from the winter to

coasts where milder winds are blowing. But as soon as the summer's

sun begins to exert its power, the desert shores of the Arctic Ocean

become animated with swarms of plovers, sand-pipers, rails, herons, and

phalaropes, to whom the thawed strand opens its inexhaustible supplies.

Soon, however, the approach of winter hardens once more the soil, want

follows upon abundance, and the whole long-legged host hastens to abandon

the ice-bound strand, which opposes an impenetrable armour to their beaks.

[Illustration: Plover.]

The food of the different kinds of strand-birds varies, and consequently

their bills are variously formed. Those that live upon worms have

generally a long thin awl-shaped bill, well fitted for picking their

prey out of the soft muddy or sandy soil. If the small creatures conceal

themselves under large stones, they are secure from these attacks; but

then comes the Turn-stone, (_Tringa interpres_,) who with his bill, a

little turned up at the top, raises the stone as with a lever, and makes

sad havoc amongst the defenceless garrison.

[Illustration: Scissor-bill (Rhynchops nigra).]

The Sea-pie uses its wedge-shaped bill for opening shell-fish with

great adroitness; but the industry of the Black Skimmer or Cut-water,

(_Rhynchops nigra_,) is still more remarkable. The bill of this bird,

which chiefly inhabits the hot coasts of America, is quite unique in its

kind; the under mandible, which is in fact nothing but a wedge, being

about an inch longer than the upper one, by which it is clasped. The

sandy beach of Penco, says Lesson, is full of shell-fish, which remain

nearly dry at low water in small pools. The skimmer keeps waiting close

by until one of them opens its shell, when he immediately introduces

his wedge. He then seizes the mussel, beats it to pieces upon the sand,

and devours it with all the pleasure of an epicure eating an oyster. He

is also very active in sweeping the surface of the water, from which he

skims, as it were, the smaller fish or shrimps. Thus, on all flat sandy

shores nothing exists, either soft or hard, creeping or swimming, jumping

or running, that does not find among the strand-birds its peculiar and

admirably armed enemy, or that can boast of a perfect immunity from

hostile attacks.

[Illustration: Speckled Diver.]

If we examine the real sea-birds, such as are formed for indefatigable

swimming or diving, or for wide flights over the deserts of ocean, we

shall find them no less wonderfully organised than the winged dwellers

on the strand. Their short compressed toes easily cleave the waters,

and by means of their membranes or webs form, as it were, broad oars.

Their muscular short legs, placed more behind than in other birds, are

beautifully adapted for rowing, although their movements on land are

awkward and slow. All creatures living on the sea of course require a

thick waterproof mantle against weather and storm; and consequently we

find the plumage of sea birds thicker, closer, and better furnished with

down than that of the other feathered tribes. And finally, the gland

which all birds have at the rump, and from which they express an oily

matter to preserve their feathers moist, is most considerable among

those that live upon the water, and contributes to make their plumage

impermeable. Surely the sea bird has no right to complain of imperfect

clothing or a deficient outfit!

[Illustration: Snow Goose.]

The numerous members of the duck family, or the Anatidæ, mostly live

during the summer in higher latitudes, and wander in winter in countless

swarms towards sunnier regions; as, for instance, the Snow Goose and the

Barnacle. Some remain throughout the year in Great Britain, some only

during the winter; while others, which are more particularly birds of

the Arctic zone, but very seldom make their appearance in our southern

clime. Most Anatidæ prefer the lake, the river, the pond, or the morass;

but many of them are true littoral birds, and spend a great part of their

time swimming and fishing in the sea.

[Illustration: Barnacle Goose.]

The Eider Duck, (_Anas mollissima_,) which attains nearly double the

size of the common duck, inhabits the higher latitudes of Europe, Asia,

and America. One of its most remarkable breeding places is on the small

island of Vidoë near Reikiavik (Iceland), where it lives under the

protection of the law; a person who should chance to kill a breeding bird

having to pay a fine of thirty dollars.

[Illustration: Eider Duck.]

"As our boat approached the shore," says Mackenzie, ("Voyage through

Iceland,") "we came through a multitude of these beautiful birds, who

hardly gave themselves the trouble to move out of the way. Between the

landing place and the house of the old governor the ground was covered

with them, and it was necessary to walk cautiously not to tread upon

their nests. The ganders went about with a cackle resembling the cooing

of a pigeon, and were even more familiar than our common duck. Round

about the house, on the garden wall, on the roofs, even in the inside of

the huts and the chapel, they sat breeding in great numbers. Those which

had not been long upon their nest generally left it at our approach, but

those which had more than one or two eggs remained undisturbed, allowed

themselves to be handled, and sometimes even gently used their bills to

remove our hand. The nests were lined with down, which the mother plucks

from her own breast; and near at hand a sufficient quantity was piled up

to cover the eggs when she goes to feed, which is generally at low water.

The downs are twice removed, but sometimes the poor duck is obliged to

provide for a fourth lining; and when she has no more to spare, the

gander willingly deprives himself of part of his showy snow-white and

rose-red garment. The eggs, which are considered a great delicacy, are

also partially taken away. Our Vidoë friend used to send us two hundred

at a time. When boiled, they are tolerably good, but always very inferior

to those of our domestic hen. When taken from the nest, the downs are of

course mixed with feathers and straw; and to sort and prepare them for

sale is part of the winter employment of the women. One nest furnishes

about a quarter of a pound of cleaned downs. The softness, lightness,

and elasticity of these feathers is universally known. A few handfuls

of compressed downs suffice to fill a whole coverlet, under which the

northlander bids defiance to the strongest winter cold. Almost as soon

as the young have left the egg, the mother conducts them to the water's

edge, takes them on her back, and swims a few yards with them, when she

dives, and leaves them on the surface to take care of themselves. As

soon as they have thus acquired the art of swimming, the duck returns

and becomes their leader. The broods often unite in great numbers, and

remain some weeks quite wild, after which they disappear. Long before

we left Iceland not a single duck was to be seen. No one knows to what

parts they migrate. The bird is found on the Flannen Islands, to the west

of Lewis; it is seen on the Shetland and Orkney Islands; it breeds on

May Island, at the mouth of the Frith of Forth." Even on Heligoland the

eider duck sometimes makes its appearance, but not to breed. The produce

of the eider duck, either for personal use or as an article of trade,

contributes to the comforts of many northern nations. The Esquimaux kill

these birds with darts, pursuing them in their little boats, watching

their course by the air bubbles when they dive, and always striking at

them when they rise wearied to the surface. Their flesh is valued as

food, and their skins are made into warm and comfortable under garments.

The Long-tailed Duck and the Sheldrake or Burrow Duck, (_Anas glacialis_

_tadorna_), likewise inhabit the northern shores of Europe, Asia, and

America. The former often remains the whole year in the high north,

bidding defiance to the icy winter of the Arctic circle, and enjoying

during the summer the light of an uninterrupted day. Often, however,

it migrates to the south, and wanders from Greenland and Hudson's Bay

as far as New York, and from Spitzbergen and Iceland to Heligoland and

the Schleswig Islands. The duck likewise lines her nest with her downs.

During the winter, the sheldrake is often seen in the west of England and

in Ireland, where it is caught in nets. On Sylt, on the Danish coast, it

is half domesticated, living in artificial burrows, and breeding even

in the villages, on walls, and in earth holes. In a pleasant valley

among the downs, which, although without trees, refreshed the eye with a

verdant carpet variegated with flowers, Naumann, the celebrated German

ornithologist, saw thousands of sheldrakes scattered in couples over

the meads, so tame that they could be approached within twenty paces,

when they flew up, but soon again alighted on the sward. He admired the

construction of the artificial nests, often thirteen in one cavity, with

a common entrance, and communicating by horizontal tunnels. Over every

nest is a perpendicular opening, decked with a sod. On this being raised

the duck is often seen sitting on her nest, so tame that it allows itself

to be stroked. Every householder possesses several of these artificial

burrows, from which he daily gathers during several weeks from twenty to

thirty eggs, leaving six in each nest to be hatched. He also takes care

to remove one half of the beautiful downs, which are no less light and

valuable than those of the eider duck.

[Illustration: Sheldrake.]

One of the most curious members of the duck family is the large

Loggerheaded Duck or goose (_Anas brachyptera_) of the Falkland Islands,

which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds. It was formerly called, from

its extraordinary manner of paddling and splashing upon the water,

race-horse, but is now named, much more appropriately, steamer. Its wings

are too small and weak to allow of flight, but by their aid, partly

swimming and partly flapping the surface of the water, it moves very

quickly. The manner is something like that by which the common house

duck escapes when pursued by a dog; but Mr. Darwin, who often watched

the bird, is nearly sure that the steamer moves its wings alternately,

instead of both together, as in other birds. These clumsy logger-headed

ducks make such a noise and splashing, that the effect is exceedingly

curious. It is able to dive only a very short distance. It feeds entirely

on shell-fish from the kelp and tidal rocks; and hence its beak and head,

which it uses for the purpose of breaking them, are so surprisingly heavy

and strong, that they can scarcely be fractured with a hammer.

Another remarkable inhabitant of the southern hemisphere is the Rock

Goose, (_Anas antarctica_,) which exclusively inhabits rocky shores,

and is often met with on the Falkland Islands, and on the west coast

of America, as far north as Chili. In the deep and retired channels of

Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably accompanied by his

darker consort, and standing close by each other on some distant rocky

point, is a common feature in the landscape.

[Illustration: Red-Breasted Merganser.]

The Mergansers differ chiefly from the sea-ducks, whom they otherwise

closely resemble both in outward form and mode of life, by their

comparatively long and slender bill, furnished with serrated edges and

hooked at the extremity. All the British species are adorned with crests,

or a tuft of long feathers, at the back of the head. The red-breasted

merganser is a beautiful bird, painted with a variety of gay colours.

"The head and throat are of a rich shining green, the neck white, except

a narrow dark line behind; at either side before the wings are numerous

large white feathers bordered by velvet-black; the lower part of the neck

and breast is chestnut-brown, varied with dark streaks, and the body and

wings are elegantly diversified with white, black, and brown feathers."

(Harvey, _Sea Side Book_.)

The family of the Grebes and Divers approximates the duck tribe in

the order of creation, but is distinguished by a long conical bill,

and the position of the legs, which are placed so far back towards

the tail, that when the bird leaves the water it is obliged to stand

nearly erect to preserve its equilibrium. The foot in the grebes is only

partially webbed, the toes being merely lobed or finned; but the divers

are completely web-footed, like the duck. These latter do honour to

their name, being most expert and indefatigable divers, remaining down

sometimes for several minutes, and swimming rapidly under the water. The

Red-throated Diver preys much on the fish entangled in the nets, but is

often caught himself in his rapid pursuit of the fish; thus affording a

strange example of a bird caught under water.

[Illustration: Great Crested Grebe.]

The Arctic Diver enjoys among the Norwegians the reputation of being a

most excellent weather-prophet. When the skies are big with rain, the

birds fly wildly about, and make the most horrible hoarse noise, fearing

that the swelled waters should invade their nest; on the contrary, in

fine weather, their note is different, and seemingly in an exulting

strain. For this reason, the Norwegians, who, being mostly a maritime

population, pay the greatest attention to the aspect of the sky, think it

impious to destroy, or even to disturb, this species.

The family of _Alcadæ_, comprising the Guillemots, Auks, Razor Bills, and

Puffins, is in form of body very similar to the Divers: the legs, which

are short and thick, are inserted very far back, and give a still more

erect carriage to the bird when on shore. The wings are short and small

in proportion to the bulk of the body, and in the (now probably extinct)

Great Auk, so much so as to be unfitted for flight. The Auks are strictly

sea-birds, and nestle on its borders, breeding in caverns and rocky

cliffs, and laying only one large egg. They obtain their food by diving,

at which they are very expert. They are of social habits, and congregate

in vast flocks on the rocky islets and head-lands of the northern coasts.

At the head of the Magdalen Bay, on Spitzbergen, for instance, there is a

high pyramidal mountain of granite, termed Rotge Hill, from the myriads

of small birds of that name (Little Auk, _Alca alce_), which frequent

its base, and which appear to prefer its environs to every other part of

the harbour. They are so numerous that Admiral Beechey frequently saw an

uninterrupted line of them extending full half-way over the bay, or to a

distance of more than three miles, and so close together that thirty fell

at one shot. This living column, on an average, might have been about six

yards broad, and as many deep; so that allowing sixteen birds to a cubic

yard, there must have been nearly four millions of birds on the wing at

one time.

The calling or crying of the rotges amongst one another sounds at a

distance as if you heard a great many women scolding together; so that

the noise of millions uniting in a chorus must be terrific. On a fine

summer's day, when a glorious sunshine gilds the snow peaks and glaciers

of Spitzbergen, the merry cry of the little auk unites with that of

the willocks, divers, cormorants, gulls, and other aquatic birds; and

everywhere groups of walruses, basking in the sun, mingle their playful

roar with the husky bark of the seal. It is pleasant to reflect that in

those arctic wilds, uninhabitable by man, there are still millions of

creatures enjoying life, all owing their support to the inexhaustible

"garners" of the deep.

In the Penguins of the southern hemisphere, the shortness of wing and

aptitude for swimming and diving are still more conspicuous than in the

auks of the northern regions. In the water, the penguin makes use of

its small featherless wing-stumps as paddles; on land, as fore feet,

with whose help it scales so rapidly the grass-grown cliffs, as to be

easily mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea, and fishing, it comes to

the surface for the purpose of breathing, with such a spring, and dives

again so instantaneously, that at first sight no one can be sure that it

is not a fish leaping for sport. Other sea-birds generally keep part of

their body out of the water while swimming; but this is not the case with

the penguin, whose head alone appears upon the surface; and thus it swims

with such rapidity and perseverance, as almost to defy many of the fishes

to equal it. How much it feels itself at home on the waters, may be

inferred from the fact that Sir James Ross once saw two penguins paddling

away a thousand miles from the nearest land.

[Illustration: Antarctic Penguin.]

On many uninhabited islands in the higher latitudes of the southern

hemisphere, this strange bird is met with in incredible numbers. On

Possession Island, for instance, a desolate rock discovered by Sir

James Ross in lat. 71° 56′, not the smallest appearance of vegetation

could be found; but inconceivable myriads of penguins completely and

densely covered the whole surface of the island, along the ledges of the

precipices, and even to the summits of the hills, attacking vigorously

the sailors as they waded through their ranks, and pecking at them with

their sharp beaks, disputing possession, which, together with their

loud coarse notes, and the insupportable stench from the deep bed of

guano which had been forming for ages, made them glad to get away again.

Sir James took possession of the island in the name of Queen Victoria;

but unfortunately its treasures of manure are hidden beyond a far too

formidable barrier of ice ever to be available to man.

[Illustration: Penguin.]

Duperrey ("Voyage de la Coquille,") found the Falklands swarming with

penguins. In summer and autumn these strange birds leave their burrows

early in the morning, and launch into the sea for fishing. After having

filled their capacious stomachs, they waddle on shore, and remain for a

time congregated on the strand, raising a dreadful clamour; after which

they retire to enjoy a noon-tide sleep among the high tussack grass

or in their burrows. In the afternoon the fishing recommences. Lesson

says that about sunset on fine summer evenings, which unfortunately are

but of rare occurrence on those foggy, storm-visited islands, all the

penguins together raise their discordant voices, so that at a distance

the noise might be mistaken for the hoarse murmur of a great popular

assembly. As soon as the young are sufficiently strong, the whole band

leaves the island, departing no one knows whither, though the mariners

frequenting those seas believe that they spend the winter on the ocean.

This opinion seems to be corroborated by the observations of Sir James

Ross, who, on the 4th of December, in 49° S. lat., met on the high sea a

troop of penguins that were doubtless on the way to their breeding place.

He admired the astonishing instinct of these creatures, half fish, half

bird, which leads them hundreds of miles through the pathless ocean to

their accustomed summer abodes.

It may be imagined how the neighbouring seas must abound with fish, to be

able to nourish such multitudes of penguins, whose stomach is capable of

holding more than two pounds, and whose voracity is so great that they

are often obliged to disgorge their superabundant meal. The elongated

stomach reaches to the lower part of the abdomen, and the whole length of

the intestinal canal is twenty-five feet, fifteen times longer than the

body, so that nature has evidently provided for a most vigorous appetite,

whetted by sea-bathing and sea air.

There are several species of penguins. The largest (_Aptenodytes

antarctica_) weighs about eighty pounds. It is a rare bird, generally

found singly, while the smaller species always associate in vast numbers.

In 77° S. lat., Sir James Ross caught three of these giant penguins,

the smallest of which weighed fifty-seven pounds. In the stomach of one

of them he found ten pounds of quartz, granite, and trap fragments,

swallowed most likely to promote digestion.

The penguin, like his northern representative the auk, lays but one

single egg. His not unsavoury flesh is black. Besides his dense plumage,

he is protected against the cold of the higher latitudes by a thick cover

of fat under his skin.

Humboldt's penguin (_Spheniscus Humb._) is frequently found in the Bay of

Callao. This bird is a little smaller than the common grey penguin, with

a somewhat differently coloured back and breast. The Peruvians call it

_pajaro niño_, "little darling bird," and keep it in their houses; it is

very easily tamed, gets very familiar, and follows its master like a dog.

The sight of the fat creature, awkwardly waddling about the streets on

its short feet, and violently agitating its wing-stumps to maintain its

equilibrium, is inexpressibly grotesque. Tschudi kept one of these tame

penguins, which punctually obeyed his call. At dinner it regularly stood

like a stiff footman behind his chair, and at night slept under his bed.

When "Pepe" wanted a bath, he went into the kitchen and kept striking

with his beak against an earthen jar, until some one came to pour water

over him.

[Illustration: Common Pelican.]

To the pelican tribe, which is generally distinguished by a surface of

naked skin about the throat, capable of considerable dilatation, and

serving as a pouch for the reception of unswallowed food, belong among

others the Cormorant (_Phalacrocorax_), the Frigate-Bird (_Tachypetes

aquila_), and the Gannet (_Sula bassana_), or Solan goose. All these

birds are of much more active habits than the last named family, with

bodies of more shapely form, more ample wings, and a stronger flight.

The common cormorant with his long bill, bent at the point, and furnished

with a nail, his black livery, and yellowish chin-pouch, is a most

disagreeable comrade. His smell, when alive, is more rank and offensive

than that of any other bird, and his flesh is so disgusting, that it

turns the stomach even of an Esquimaux. In spite of his voracity, he

always remains thin and meagre, the picture of a hungry parasite.

But fishing he understands remarkably well, and formerly used to be

trained for this purpose in England, in the same manner as a nearly

related species is to the present day employed in China. Mr. Fortune

thus describes this original chase, which he witnessed on the Yellow

River:--"There were two boats, each containing one man, and about ten or

twelve birds. The latter stood perched on the sides of the boats, and

seemed to have just arrived upon the scene of action. Their masters now

commanded them to leave the boats; and so excellent was their training,

that they instantly obeyed, scattered themselves over the canal, and

began to look for prey. They have a splendid sea-green eye, and quick as

lightning they see and dive upon the finny tribe, which, once caught in

the sharp notched bill, finds escape impossible. As soon as a cormorant

rises to the surface with his prey in his bill, his master calls him,

when, docile as a dog, he swims to the boat and surrenders the fish,

after which he again resumes his labours. And what is more wonderful

still, when one of them has got hold of a fish so large as to be with

difficulty dragged to the boat, the others come to his assistance, and

by their united strength overpower the sprawling giant. Sometimes when

a cormorant is lazy or playful, and seems to forget his business, the

Chinaman strikes the water with a long bamboo near to the dreamer, and

calls out to him in an angry tone. Immediately the bird, like a schoolboy

caught nodding over his lesson, gives up his play, and returns to his

duty. A small string is tied round the neck of the birds, for fear they

might be tempted to swallow the fish themselves."

[Illustration: Common Cormorant.]

[Illustration: Frigate-Bird.]

The frigate-bird hovers over the tropical waters. Its singularly easy and

graceful flight affords all the charm of variety. Sometimes it is seen

balanced in mid air, its wings spread, but apparently motionless, its

long forked tail expanding and closing with a quick alternate motion, and

its head turned inquisitively downwards; sometimes it wheels rapidly,

and darts to the surface of the water in pursuit of prey; and then

again it soars so as to be lost to vision, its elevation alone being

sufficient to distinguish it from all other sea birds. Sometimes it is

seen 400 leagues from land; and yet it is said to return every night to

its solitary roost. Its expanded pinions measure from end to end fourteen

feet, a prodigious extent of wings, equalling or even surpassing that of

the condor, the lordly bird of the loftiest Andes. Being unable to swim

or dive, it seizes the flying-fish, that, springing out of the water to

avoid the jaws of the bonito, often falls a prey to the frigate-bird, or

else it compels boobies or tropic birds to disgorge. On volcanic coasts

it builds its nest in the crevices of the high cliffs, and on the low

coral islands in the loftiest trees. In the Paumotu Group, Captain Wilkes

saw whole groves covered with the nests of the frigate-bird. When the

old birds flew away, they puffed up their red pouches to the size of a

child's head, so that it looked as if a large bladder full of blood was

attached to their neck.

[Illustration: Flying Fish.]

[Illustration: Common Gannet.]