We hear surprising stories of the Whales of past ages which measured
from one or two hundred feet in length; and from the skeletons that have
been discovered, it is found that even if they did not reach this great
length, it is probably true, as Goldsmith claims, that they were very
much larger in the past than now. It is the same as with the quadrupeds,
the huge Mastodons, etc., from the skeletons that have been dug up from
time to time it is evident that there must have been terrestrial animals
twice as large as the Elephant, but these, being rivals with mankind for
the large territory required for their existence, must have been
destroyed in the contest. And in the sea, as well as upon land, Man has
destroyed the larger tribes of animals.
The Whale is the largest animal of which we have any certain
information; and the various purposes to which, when taken, its
different parts are converted, have made us well acquainted with its
history. Of the Whale proper, there are no less than seven different
kinds; all distinguished from each other by their external figure or
internal formation. They differ somewhat in their manner of living; the
Fin-fish having a larger swallow than the rest, being more active,
slender and fierce, and living chiefly upon Herrings. However, they are
none of them very voracious; and, if compared to the Cachalot, that
enormous tyrant of the deep, they appear harmless and gentle. The
history of the rest, therefore, may be comprised under that of the Great
Common Greenland Whale, with which we are best acquainted.
The Great Greenland Whale is a large, heavy animal, and the head alone
makes a third of its bulk. It is usually found from sixty to seventy
feet long. The fins on each side are from five to eight feet, composed
of bones and muscles, and sufficiently strong to give the great mass of
body which they move, speed and activity. The tail, which lies flat on
the water, is about twenty-four feet broad, and, when the Whale lies on
one side, its blow is tremendous. The skin is smooth and black, and in
some places marbled with white and yellow; which, running over the
surface, has a very beautiful effect.
The Whale makes use only of the tail to advance itself forward in the
water. This serves as a great oar to push its mass along; and it is
surprising to see with what force and celerity its enormous bulk cuts
through the ocean. The fins are only made use of for turning in the
water, and giving direction to its course. The Mother-whale also makes
use of them, when pursued, to bear off her young, clapping them on her
back, and supporting them, by the fins on each side, from falling.
The outward or scarf skin of the Whale is no thicker than parchment; but
this removed, the real skin appears, of about an inch thick, and
covering the fat or blubber that lies beneath; this is from eight to
twelve inches in thickness; and is, when the Whale is in health, of a
beautiful yellow. The muscles lie beneath; and these, like the flesh of
quadrupeds, are very red and tough.
Nothing can exceed the tenderness of the mother for her young; she
carries it with her wherever she goes, and, when hardest pursued, keeps
it supported between her fins. Even when wounded, she still clasps her
baby; and when she plunges to avoid danger, takes it to the bottom; but
rises sooner than usual, to give it breath again.
It seems astonishing how a shoal of these enormous animals find
subsistence together, when it would seem that the supplying even one
with food would require greater plenty than the ocean could furnish. To
increase our wonder, we not only see them herding together, but usually
find them fatter than any other animals of land or sea. We likewise know
that they cannot swallow large Fishes, as their throat is so narrow,
that a Fish larger than a Herring could not enter. How then do they
subsist and grow so fat? A small insect which is seen floating in those
seas, and which Linnaeus terms the Medusa, is sufficient for this
supply.
These insects are black, and of the size of a small bean, and are
sometimes seen floating in clusters on the surface of the water. They
are of a round form, like Snails in a box, but they have wings, which
are so tender that it is scarcely possible to touch them without
breaking. These serve rather for swimming than flying; and the little
animal is called by the Icelanders, the Walfischoas, which signifies the
Whale’s provender. They have the taste of raw muscles, and have the
smell of burnt sugar. These are the food of the Whale, which it is seen
to draw up in great numbers with its huge jaws, and to bruise between
its barbs, which are always found with several of these sticking among
them.
As the Whale is a meek animal, it is not to be wondered that it has many
enemies, willing to take advantage of its disposition, and inaptitude
for combat. There is a small animal, of the Shell-fish kind, called the
Whale-louse, that sticks to its body, as we see shells sticking to the
bottom of a ship. This hides itself chiefly under the fins; and whatever
efforts the great animal makes, it still keeps its hold and lives upon
the fat, which it is provided with instruments to reach.
The Sword-fish, however, is the Whale’s most terrible enemy. “At the
sight of this little animal,” says Anderson, “the Whale seems agitated
in an extraordinary manner; leaping from the water as if with affright.
Wherever it appears, the Whale perceives it at a distance, and flies
from it in the opposite direction. I have been myself,” he continues, “a
spectator of their terrible encounter. The Whale has no instrument of
defence except the tail; with that it endeavors to strike the enemy; and
a single blow taking place, would effectually destroy its adversary; but
the Sword-fish is as active as the other is strong, and easily avoids
the stroke; then bounding into the air, it falls upon its great enemy,
and endeavors, not to pierce with its pointed beak, but to cut with its
toothed edges. The sea all about is soon dyed with blood, proceeding
from the wounds of the Whale, while the enormous animal vainly endeavors
to reach its invader, and strikes with its tail against the surface of
the water, making a report at each blow louder than the noise of a
cannon.”
The Whale has still another deadly enemy—the tribe of Bloodheads, known
as the Wolves of the ocean. This is a species of Whale and, like the
Whale, also belongs to Mammalian animals. Although the Bloodheads in
relation to the enormous Whale may be termed small, they wage war in
troups of five or ten, undaunted and impassionately attacking the huge
monster who usually succumbs to the assault. They, therefore, deserve
the name assigned them by Linneus, “Torment of the Whale.” They are even
more blood-thirsty than the Shark in boldness, killing Seal and smaller
Fish in masses.
The Whale when attacked by these Fish of Prey appears to become at first
paralyzed with fear and hardly makes any effort to defend himself,
although it would hardly benefit him to do so as the Bloodheads are the
swiftest of the Whale family, swimming with extraordinary quickness and
dexterity. The “Wolves of the Sea” encircle the gigantic, clumsy Whale
like a pack of Hounds around a pursued and exhausted Deer. Some of them
attack him at the head and forefins, others attack him from underneath,
while others attack the lips, and when he opens his gigantic mouth,
attempt to slash apart his tongue. Finally the giant becomes angered. He
whips the water with his tail and his front fins with tremendous force,
snorts powerful streams out of the nostrils of his colossal head; dives
under and shoots up in an endeavor to shake off his enemies and to
dispatch them with his fins. Often this terrific combat, as illustrated
on page 88, lasts for a considerable length of time, ending mostly with
the downfall and death of the Whale. The Bloodheads tear him apart in a
horrible manner until death ensues, after which they feast for days with
pleasure on the immense carcass, and then start in search of further
prey.