The swordfish is the most fearless of all fishes, I reflected; he is afraid of nothing and might take our little ship for a whale, and attack us; for the whale and the swordfish are sworn enemies. There are many instances on record of ships being attacked by swordfish, and their thick oak hulls pierced through, the sword remaining in the wood, the fish not having strength enough to draw it out when deeply imbedded in the hull. There have also been instances in which small vessels have been sunk by them.
Soon I noticed another swordfish, and saw both of them leap out of the water, pursuing each other and then discovered that they were fighting. They were swimming with the rapidity of an express train at the rate, I thought, of thirty or forty miles an hour. They were so quick in their movements that they could not hit each other with their swords. Their dorsal fins as they cut through the surface of the water made a peculiar noise like a sharp boat with sails set cutting through the sea. They would disappear under the water and then reappear on the surface, then swim towards each other with such extraordinary velocity that my eyes could hardly follow them. They seemed to know that their vulnerable point was the side, and wheeled with astonishing quickness, so that they would always face each other.
“The captain shouted to me: ‘A swordfish is fighting a whale’”
A short time afterwards I saw ahead of us a great commotion in the water—the sea was white with foam. The captain shouted to me: “A swordfish is fighting a whale.” I went up the rigging to see the fight. The whale spouted big streams of water in the air, its tail was slapping the sea with terrific force, beating the water into white spray all around. At times everything was like a white mist round the huge creature, which seemed to be going in every direction, as if bewildered. It was fighting for dear life, and was trying to hit its antagonist with its powerful tail. If it only succeeded in striking the swordfish, then the greatest creature of the sea would be the victor.
Unfortunately, the whale is unwieldy and the swordfish is very quick in its movements. Every frantic motion the whale made was a sign that the swordfish had plunged its long, pointed sword into its body. The fight went on for a while, the swordfish getting evidently the better of the whale, for the blows of the latter’s huge tail did not strike the water with as much force as before, and the sea did not look so disturbed. Then suddenly I saw a great spout of water rise above the sea, and all became quiet. The fight was over; the whale had been vanquished and had received its death-thrust from the swordfish, and it must have received many wounds, for as we sailed over the place where they had been fighting, the sea was red with blood.
“In these conflicts between the swordfish and the whale, it is said that the whale is oftener the victor,” said the captain to me, “for if the whale succeeds in striking the swordfish with its tail, the latter is either killed or so much stunned that the combat is not renewed.”
CHAPTER III
THE SARGASSO SEA—THE NORTHEAST TRADE-WINDS—DOLPHINS AND BONITAS—NEW STARS COME INTO VIEW.
A few days after the fight between the swordfish and the whale, as I came on deck early in the morning, a strange sight met my eyes. I could not see the water of the ocean, the vessel appeared as if it had been stranded and left by the tide on a land covered with seaweed. We had entered during the night that part of the Atlantic which was called by Columbus and other early Spanish navigators “Mar de Sargaço”—and which is known to us now under the name of the Sargasso Sea.