The Sperm Whale and its Food

Abstract

OUR fund of accurate knowledge of the Cetacea being at so low a level, it is to be deplored that trained scientific observers have hitherto had few opportunities for noting under normal conditions the habits of these most interesting animals. And therefore naturalists generally will certainly hail with delight the news of the resolution of the Prince of Monaco to endeavour by all the means at his disposal to make an effective study of that least understood of all the deep sea mammalia—the great sperm whale. An observer like Dr. Scoresby who, while gaining his livelihood by the pursuit of the Greenland whale, lost no opportunity of studying that monster's manners and customs for the benefit of science generally, is still to seek for the world-wide fishery of the cachalot. This may be said without in the least minimising the excellent work done by Surgeons Beale and Bennett, who remain almost the only first-hand authorities we have on the sperm whale. They were not in command, and were consequently at a great disadvantage for making observations; for the whole crew of a whaleship are co-partners in the venture, and the essential business of oil-getting must on no account be hindered, or there is trouble all around. And since their day, unfortunately, British shipowners have had little or no interest in the southern whale fishery, while none who know what a motley crowd constitute the crews of American whalers, will be surprised that no contributions to natural history come from that quarter. I am the more pleased, therefore, that in the course of my career as a seaman, it happened that I was induced some twenty-one years ago to join a whaleship in New Zealand for a long cruise in the Southern and Eastern seas. All the average sailors' usual ignorance of the differing characteristics of different whales was mine; but so interesting did I find the study of these great denizens of the deep sea, under my extended acquaintance with them, that I seized every chance I could obtain to learn wrhatever I could of them, without any idea at the time of putting the knowledge so gained to any practical use. The first occasion worthy of note here was also my initial encounter with a cachalot. We were cruising the wide stretch of ocean in the South Pacific known as the “Vasquez” grounds, and sighted a small pod of sperm whales, mostly sprightly young cows, under the guardianship of two or three immense bulls. We lowered four boats, and very soon the boat in which I happened to be “fastened” a medium-sized cow, who promptly returned the compliment by rising bodily beneath the boat and ripping the bottom out of it with her hump. Of course our connection with that whale was at once severed, the task of keeping our heads above water, with our boat hardly more than a bundle of loose planks beneath us, being amply sufficient to occupy all our energies until we were rescued. In the meantime the second mate had successfully harpooned and slaughtered another and much larger whale very near to us—so near, in fact, that we weltered in a gory sea lashed into foam by the monster's dying struggles.