THE CETACEANS.

Of all the living creatures that people the immensity of ocean, the cetaceans, or the whale family, are the most perfect. Their anatomical construction renders them in many respects similar to man, and their heart is susceptible of a warmth of feeling unknown to the cold-blooded fishes; for the mother shows signs of attachment to her young, and forgets her own safety when some danger menaces her offspring. Like man, the cetaceans breathe through lungs, and possess a double heart, receiving and propelling streams of warm red blood. The anatomical structure of their pectoral fins bears great resemblance to that of the human arm, as the bony structure of those organs equally consists of a shoulder-blade, an upper arm, a radius and ulna, and five fingers.

But the arm, which in man moves freely, is here chained to the body as far as the hand, and the latter, which, in obedience to human volition and intellect, executes such miracles of industry and art, is here covered with a thick skin, and appears as a broad undivided fin or flapper. Yet still it is destined for higher service than that of a mere propelling oar, as it serves the mother to guide and shield her young. The lower extremities are of course wanting, but their functions are performed by the mighty horizontal tail, by whose powerful strokes the unwieldy animal glides rapidly through the waters.

The cetaceans distinguish themselves, moreover, from the fishes by the bringing forth of living young, by a greater quantity of blood, by the smoothness of their skin, under which is found a thick layer of fat, and by their simple or double blow-hole, which is situated at the top of the head, and corresponds to the nostrils of the quadrupeds, though not for the purpose of smelling, but merely as an organ of respiration.

Our knowledge of the cetaceans is still very incomplete; and this is not to be wondered at, when we consider that they chiefly dwell in the most inaccessible parts of the ocean, and that when met with, the swiftness of their movements rarely allows more than a flighty view of their external form. Thus their habits and mode of living are mostly enveloped in obscurity; and while doubtless many cetaceans are to the present day unknown, one and the same species has not seldom been described under different names, to the no small confusion of the naturalist.

The cetaceans are either without a dental apparatus, or provided with teeth. The former, or the whalebone whales, have two blow-holes on the top of the head, in the form of two longitudinal fissures; while in the latter, (sperm-whales, unicorn-fish, dolphins,) which comprise by far the greater number of species, there is but one transversal spout-hole. In all whales the larynx is continued to the spouting canal, and deeply inserted or closely imbricated within its tube. Thus no tones approaching to a voice can be emitted except through the spiracles, which are encumbered with valves, and evidently badly adapted for the transmission of sound. Scoresby assures us that the Greenland whale has no voice, and Bennett frequently noticed sperm-whales suffering from extreme alarm and injury, but never heard any sound from them beyond that attending an ordinary respiration.

The whalebone whales are either smooth-backs (BalÆnÆ), or fin-backs (BalÆnopterÆ), having a vertical fin rising from the lower part of the back. To the former belongs the mighty Greenland Whale (BalÆna mysticetus), the most bulky of living animals, and of all cetaceans the most useful and important to man. Its greatest length, according to Scoresby, is from sixty to seventy feet, and round the thickest part of its body it measures from thirty to forty feet, but the incessant persecutions to which it is subjected scarcely ever allow it to attain its full growth.

The whale being somewhat lighter than the medium in which it swims, its weight may be ascertained with tolerable accuracy; and Scoresby tells us that a stout animal of sixty feet weighs about seventy tons, allowing thirty to the blubber, eight or ten to the bones, and thirty or thirty-two to the carcase. The lightness of the whale, which enables it to keep its crown, in which the blow-hole is situated, and a considerable extent of back above the water, without any effort or motion, is not only owing to its prodigious case of fat, but also to the lightness of its bones, most of which are very porous and contain large quantities of fine oil; an admirable provision of nature for the wants of a creature destined to breathe the atmospheric air, and to skim its food from the surface of the waters.

The unsightly animal shows disproportion in all its organs. While the tail fin measures twenty-four feet across, the pectoral fins or paddles are no more than six feet long. The monstrous head forms about the third of the whole body, and is furnished with an equally monstrous mouth, which on opening exhibits a cavity about the size of an ordinary ship's cabin. The leviathans of the dry land, the elephant, the rhinoceros, and the hippopotamus, are provided with tusks and teeth corresponding to their size—huge weapons fit for eradicating trees or crushing the bone-harnessed crocodile; but the masticatory implements of the giant of the seas are scarcely capable of dividing the smallest food. Instead of teeth, its enormous upper jaw is beset with about 500 laminÆ of whalebone, ranged side by side, two-thirds of an inch apart, the thickness of blade included, and resembling a frame of saws in a saw-mill. Their interior edges are covered with fringes of hair; externally they are curved and flattened down, so as to present a smooth surface to the lips. The largest laminÆ, situated on both sides of the jaw, attain a length of fifteen feet, and measure from twelve to fifteen inches at their base; in front and towards the back of the mouth they are much shorter.

Besides these, there are suspended from the palate many other small laminÆ of the thickness of a quill, a few inches long, and likewise terminating in a fringe. Thus the whole roof of the mouth resembles a shaggy fur, under which lies the soft and spongy tongue, a monstrous mass often ten feet broad and eighteen feet long.

This whole formation is beautifully adapted to the peculiar nourishment of the whale, which does not consist, as one might suppose, of the larger fishes, but of the minute animals, (MedusÆ, Entomostraca, Clio borealis, and other pteropod molluscs,) with which its pasture-grounds in the northern seas abound. To gather food, it swims rapidly with open mouth over the surface; and on closing the wide gates, and expelling the foaming streams, the little creatures remain entangled by thousands in the fringy thicket as in a net; there to be crushed and bruised by the tongue into a savoury pulp. Fancy the vast numbers requisite to keep a monster of seventy tons in good condition.

The back of the whale is usually of a fine glossy black, marked with whitish rays, which have some resemblance to the veins of wood. This mixture of colours presents an agreeable appearance, especially when the back of the fish is illuminated with the rays of the sun. The under part of the trunk and of the lower jaw is of a dead white. The skin is about an inch thick, and covers a layer of fat of fifteen inches; a most excellent coat for keeping the whale warm and increasing its buoyancy, but at the same time the chief cause which induces man to pursue it with the deadly harpoon.

The usual march of the whale over the waters is rarely more than four miles an hour, but its speed increases to an astonishing rapidity when terror or the agonies of pain drive it madly through the sea.

In its sportive humours it is sometimes seen to spring out of the water, and to remain suspended for a moment in the air. On falling back again into the sea, high foam-crested fountains spout forth on all sides, and mighty waves propagate the tumult in widening circles over the troubled ocean. Or else it raises its bulky head vertically on high, so that the deceived mariner fancies he sees some black rock looming out of the distant waters. But suddenly the fancied cliff turns round and brandishes playfully its enormous flukes in the air, or lashes the waters with such prodigious power, that the sound rolls far away like thunder over the deserts of the ocean.

Strange to say, the giant is of so cowardly a nature, that the sight of a sea-bird often fills him with the greatest terror, and causes him to avoid the imaginary danger by a sudden plunge into the deep.

Besides man, a vast number of enemies, great and small, persecute the whale and embitter his life.

The Sword-fish (Xiphias Gladius) and the Thresher or Sea-fox, a species of shark (Carcharias Vulpes), often attack him conjointly and in packs. As soon as his back appears above the water, the threshers, springing several yards into the air, descend with great violence upon the object of their rancour, and inflict upon him the most severe slaps with their long tails, the sound of which resembles the report of distant musketry. The sword-fish, in their turn, attack the distressed whale, stabbing from below; and thus beset on all sides, and bleeding from countless wounds, the huge animal, though dealing the most dreadful blows with its enormous tail, and lashing the crimsoned waters into foam, is obliged to succumb at last.

The Greenland Shark (Squalus borealis) is also one of the bitterest enemies of the whale, biting and annoying it while living, and feeding on it when dead. It scoops hemispherical pieces out of its body nearly as big as a man's head, and continues scooping and gorging lump after lump, until the whole cavity of its belly is filled. It is so insensible of pain, that, though it has been run through the body, and escaped, yet after a while Scoresby has seen it return to banquet again on the whale at the very spot where it received its wounds. The heart, as is frequently the case with gluttons, bears no proportion to its vast capacity of stomach; for it is very small, and performs only six or eight pulsations in a minute, continuing its beating for some hours after having been taken out of the body. The body also, though separated into any number of parts, gives evidence of life for a similar length of time. It is therefore so difficult to kill, that it is actually unsafe to trust the hand in its mouth though the head be separated from the body.

Strange to say, though the whale-fishers frequently slip into the water where sharks abound, Scoresby never heard an instance of their having been attacked by one of these voracious monsters. Perhaps they are loth to attack man, looking upon him as their best purveyor.

Fishermen relate that the whale and saw-fish, whenever they come together, engage in deadly combat; the latter invariably making the attack with inconceivable fury.

"The meeting of these champions proud
Seems like the bursting thunder cloud."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:—

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?

The Porpoise (Delphinus Phocoena), 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 650,000l., 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.

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.

AUSTRALIAN SEA-BEARS.