This fish is one of the wonders of the mighty deep, well known to those
engaged in whaling, and in the Pacific cruisers. It is thus described by
one who has often witnessed its attacks on the whale.
“The _killer_ is the wolf of the ocean, and hunts in packs, and their
tall dorsal fin can be constantly seen above the water. This fish has
always as a companion, but swimming deeper, the _sword-fish_, and now
and then can be seen the _shark_. On sighting their prey, which the
killer sees at a great distance, the pack gives chase. The unconscious
whale is slowly moving near the surface, and occasionally spouting, as
it were in sport, jets of water above him. But he now suddenly sees the
sea-wolf near him. Instinct at once teaches him that on the surface he
can not be safe, and, taking in a long breath, he flukes; that is,
dives. But there has been another enemy watching him from the depths
below—the sword-fish, which now darts at him with the velocity of
lightning, and perforates the whale beneath, with his long and
spear-like nose. This sends him at once to the surface; here he again
meets with his enemies, the killers; but as yet they are afraid to
approach him. The whale now begins to see the extent of his danger, and
for a time merely lashes the water with his ponderous fluke. He soon
tires of this, and remains for a short time at rest; the pack now
approach him, and he seeks safety in flight. But what can he do? The
poor whale has a hump on his back, and steers unsteadily, while the
killer’s tail and stiff fin steady him on his course. Nearer and nearer
approach the pack to their victim; again he takes a long breath and
dives. The sword-fish has steadily kept him in view; he, too, has a tall
fin and long slender propelling tail; and while it is an effort to the
whale to increase his speed, it is but play to the sword-fish, which
again darts and perforates his prey, and sends the wounded whale again
to the surface.
“The race again commences, but this time with diminished speed, the
killers having separated to watch the rise of the whale, who, finding
his enemies in every direction, courses in a circle, and again makes a
third, and sometimes a fourth attempt to escape by diving, but is always
met by the terrible spike of the sword-fish. He at last, weak, exhausted
and dispirited, returns to the surface, where he again attempts escape
by flight. Streams of blood mark his course; his enemies still follow
steadily after him, until he stops and begins to lash and make the ocean
foam around him; but now large streams of his life-blood are pouring
out, and he is only increasing his weakness by the exertion, and merely
lashing amidst his own gore. Tired, exhausted and faint, he rolls over.
The deep red streaks of blood flowing from large orifices in his white
belly can now be distinctly seen. The hungry pack now close, and one
more bold than the rest seizes him near the throat and tears away the
white skin and fat; he opens his mouth and bellows with pain. This is
generally the signal for a combined attack. His tongue is seized and
torn out; so are his eyes. The sword-fish now rises to the surface, and
his tall spar-like protuberance is seen projecting over the body of the
whale; the sharks also close in and feed on the fat rejected by the
killers. In this state the whale makes a few dying struggles. The feast
now commences and continues until the fat and sufficient flesh are
stripped off to cause the carcass to become too heavy to float on the
surface, and it sinks. The shark is left to enjoy his few streaks of
fat, while the killer pack, accompanied by their companion, the
sword-fish, rove again the broad ocean to seek another leviathan of the
great deep.”