THE BIGGEST ONE

He was the very biggest baby in all the world. He looked like a monstrous fish as he lay beside his mother in the middle of the bay. But he was not a fish. He breathed with lungs instead of gills. On his thick skin he had a few bristly hairs instead of scales such as fishes have. The blood rushing through the great veins in his body was warm instead of cold. And finally he was drinking milk in mighty gulps that sent gallons and gallons down his baby throat at every swallow. He was a whale, and belonged to the class of mammals.

The big body of the mother whale looked like a dark rounded island as she lay on her side almost out of water. She was the largest mother animal that ever lived. When she opened her enormous jaws her mouth seemed like a gloomy cave. Fastened along its floor was an immense cushiony white tongue as big as a feather-bed.

The baby whale himself was twice as long as an ox. His smooth skin glistened like shiny leather when he heaved his back above the waves for an instant. Once in a while he flapped his forked tail or wriggled his front fins. Though his eyes were bigger than a cow’s they looked very small while he lay, half asleep, rocking lazily to and fro in the swell of the sea.

The baby whale knew how to swim alone from the very first day. The earliest thing he remembered was the water lapping over his eyes and tickling in the tiny holes of his ears. On top of his head there were two blow-holes, or nostrils, closed with valves, to keep the water from trickling into his lungs.

When he rose to the top of the sea, to fill his lungs with air, away he swam, up and up, easily and lightly, through the pale-green water, toward the sunlight twinkling on the surface above. The mother whale swam beside him, almost touching him with her flippers. Her flippers were really her arms. When he was tired she helped him by holding him up.

As soon as his head pushed above the waves he opened the valves in the blow-holes and drew great breaths of sweet, fresh air deep down into his lungs. How good it felt! Then arching his back, with a flourish of his tail down he dived after his mother. They sank swiftly into the cool depths, while the sea closed silently over their shining sides.

The baby whale did not go down very far. The air in his lungs buoyed him up. His bones were light and full of oil. Under his dark skin a layer of fat, called blubber, kept him floating, almost as if he were wearing a life-preserver wrapped around him.

The new air in his lungs grew warm and damp. After a few minutes he wanted to breathe again. So with a flap-flap-flap of his tail up he paddled. Puff, piff! out through the blow-holes rushed the warm air from his lungs. In the cold outside air it changed to spray, and went spouting up like a fountain. Down it came showering, with silver drops splashing and tinkling.

That must have been fun. The baby could not stay under water so long as his mother could. Often he left her swimming around over the rocky bottom of the bay while he paddled up to get a fresh breath. Sometimes he was in such a hurry that he blew out before reaching the top. Then the water above him went spouting up, and sprinkling back noisily about his glistening head.

For days and days the baby whale lived there in the bay with his mother. It was the whole world to him, for he had seen no other place. Of course he did not know how it looked from above, with its blue, sparkling water, and its tall cliffs casting long shadows over the ripples at dawn.

To him the bay was a delightful playground. Its oozy floor was covered with rocks under the cool green water. Long fringes of seaweed floated deep down under there. In dark caves sponges and sea-lilies grew, and crabs scuttled backward into slimy crannies. There were big fishes and little fishes darting to and fro. At times they hung motionless, with glistening scales, their round eyes unwinking, their tails quivering now and then.

Every day, after the baby whale drank all the milk he wanted, he took a nap, lying beside his mother on the surface of the bay. Every day he grew a little bigger, and swam a little faster, and stayed below a little longer without rising to breathe.

When he was old enough to stop drinking milk he learned to eat the food which his mother liked. He often watched her swimming around the bay, with her great mouth hanging open. There were millions of the tiniest kind of creatures living in the water. They flowed into her mouth at the same time with the water. When she felt them tickling and wiggling over her tongue she closed her jaw almost shut. A sieve of long elastic strips of bone fell like a curtain from the roof of her mouth. Then the water drained out between the strips of bone, leaving the tiny animals inside to be swallowed.

Instead of teeth the baby whale found such a fringe of whalebone strips growing on the roof of his mouth. When it was long enough to use he began to swim around with his jaw hanging down. Every day, in this way, he caught and ate thousands of tiny shrimps and crabs and mussels. He could not swallow any large fish because his throat was only a few inches wide.

He did not know that there are different whales in a different part of the sea. These other whales have teeth instead of whalebone sieves. In the tops of their heads they have great holes filled with sperm oil. Their throats are wide enough to swallow a man. They are called sperm whales, but the whales with whalebone strips in their mouths are called true whales.

When the baby stopped drinking milk the mother set out with him to leave the bay, and find the father whale in the deep sea without. The young whale could swim almost as fast as the old one now. He could stay under water without breathing quite as long as she could. The warm blanket of blubber under his skin had grown thicker. It kept him warm and helped him to float.

Perhaps he was afraid to leave the safe bay for the wide ocean. He kept close beside his mother as they went rushing on, with their tails slapping up and down and around. The tail sent each one ahead, just as the screw of a steamer drives it forward. With their flippers they steadied their round bodies so that they would not roll over and over like logs.

Out between the rocky cliffs, at the mouth of the inlet, they rushed through the green water. After travelling some distance out to sea the baby noticed that the water looked black below them, reaching down and down and down. He could not see the oozy, shell-covered floor, as in the bay. Above him the waves were larger, and swayed to and fro, cresting in foam. The big fishes were darting hither and thither before the great round, rushing bodies of the mother and the baby whale.

Very likely the old whale had been lonesome in the bay. She swam on in a hurry to find her mate and the rest of the herd. The baby followed as hard as he could paddle. This was a wonderful new world to him. Probably he wanted to stop and look around, especially when he rose to breathe. Once he gave a mighty jump and shot out far above the waves. He could not see well, except directly behind him. But while above there in the air he twisted in a curving leap. Everywhere water, water, water, stretching on and on and on.

He could not see a single sign of any other whales being near. Yet somehow or other the old mother knew that they were not far away. It may be that she could hear through the water, as if telephone-wires were spread under the waves. Sure enough! soon the baby heard the splashing of heavy bodies turning over and over in slow rolling. When he rose to breathe he caught sight of spouting fountains, where the other whales were blowing in the sea.

When the strangers came swimming toward him he hung back behind his mother. They glided about him, now and then touching him with their fins, noses, or tails. They twisted around so as to see him with their dull little eyes. Then they went on with their eating and lazy rolling on the surface of the sea.

The baby and his mother belonged to the herd now. It was time for them all to start north to colder waters, as summer was near. Food was growing scarce in that part of the ocean. When the whales stayed too long in one place barnacles and limpets fastened on the huge bodies, and made them uncomfortable. One day the baby felt a tickling barnacle on his throat. He scratched so hard against a jagged rock that he tore a rent a foot long in the blubber. But it did not hurt much, and in a few days it was healed.

There were a number of other young whales in the herd. The biggest old father whale took the lead while the rest followed, on and on, moving through the sea all day long. Sometimes they stopped to swim around and around with their mouths hanging open. The tiny crabs and other animals flowed in upon the great satiny white tongues. Sometimes they all took pleasant naps while floating on the surface. Once a sea-bird flew down and pecked at a barnacle on the baby’s head.

At night the herd lay still, sleeping beneath the stars. All around them the ocean glimmered and twinkled. The ripples shone with fiery light. Now and then one or another big whale blew out his warm breath slowly and drowsily, his great sides heaving in a tremendous sigh. Then, when the morning came, and the sky grew bright at the horizon, they woke and plunged below for breakfast. They did not even look at the beautiful colors in the sky.

Nearly every day the young ones had a race. Off and away! their bodies bending like bows, their broad tails churning the water into foaming waves behind them. Many a time the baby dived down, down, down, till the water looked black around him. Then, when he was almost smothering under the heavy weight of the sea, he turned in a hurry, and went rushing up with a bound and a puff. He shot out into the sunshine with a mighty leap. What a tremendous splashing he made as he fell back on his side, while all the other baby whales slapped the water with their tails under the shower of spray!

One morning he had a terrible fright. It happened that he lagged behind the herd to catch one more mouthful of breakfast. When at last he was ready to follow the rest he saw three strange animals hurrying after him. They were almost as big as he was, and they had fierce little eyes and sharp white teeth. He was so afraid that he swam as fast as he could.

They were really a kind of small whale that eats the tongues of large whales. They were called killers. All three raced after the baby. One caught hold of his lip and tried to drag his mouth open. The other two pulled and bit at the other side of the poor frightened fellow. Just as they had his mouth almost open, and were snapping like wolves at sight of his tongue, they heard the old mother whale come tearing back to the rescue.

The Whale.
“The old mother whale came tearing back to the rescue.” Page 39.

Before they had time to dart away she dived head foremost. Raising her great tail she swept it around and around, churning the water into foam. One dreadful blow crushed a killer, and the others rushed away. Seizing the trembling baby between her flippers and neck the mother hurried on to catch up with the herd again.

This was excitement enough for one day. Indeed, it was the greatest adventure of the year, except for the narrow escape from the ice-floe. This last adventure happened when the herd was just leaving the north to swim south again. The baby whale was quite a big fellow by this time. By some accident he found himself shut into a bay by a floating mass of ice.

The ice-floe covered the water and was driving closer and closer to the shore. The young whale swam ahead of it till he was almost on the beach. Still it kept pressing nearer and nearer. Again and again he tried to swim under it, but he could not hold his breath long enough to get through to the open sea. If he could not breathe he would drown, just like any other mammal.

Finally, just as the ice was rubbing against the big black sides, he raised himself high in the air and threw his heavy body with a crash down on the floe. Luckily, he happened to strike a thin place. The immense cake of ice cracked and split. The whale gave a plunge and broke his way through to safety. He was glad enough to find the herd again and swim on with them toward the southern waters.

So down along the shore the huge beasts went frolicking together. They leaped out of the sea, turning summersaults and tumbling over and over. They patted one another with such resounding smacks of their flippers that the noise was like thunder. Now they darted ahead, leaving a wake of dancing foam; now they dived, arching their backs, and flirting their tails high in the air. And through the quiet nights they lay with the waves lapping softly against them, with the starlight glistening upon the great black bodies rolling in the swell.