I have often read of ships being followed for days by whales but have no first-hand information of such occurrences. Scammon, however, remarks that he has “observed them following in a vessel’s wake for several leagues,” and gives an extract from the journal of Dr. J. D. B. Stillman of San Francisco, in 1850, concerning a blue whale, or “sulphur-bottom,” as it is sometimes called, which followed the ship Plymouth for twenty-four consecutive days. The account is so interesting that I quote it in full:
The eye and ear of a blue whale. The eye is just above the corner of the mouth and the ear is the small spot about four feet behind it. The ear canal is just large enough to admit a small pencil, but because water is such a good medium for carrying sound, whales hear excellently.
November 13th: We are witnesses of a very remarkable exhibition of the social disposition of the whale. A week ago today we passed several, and during the afternoon it was discovered that one of them continued to follow us, and was becoming more familiar, keeping under the ship and only coming out to breathe. A great deal of uneasiness was felt, lest in his careless gambols he might unship our rudder, or do us some other damage.
It was said that bilge-water would drive him off, and the pumps were started, but to no purpose. At length more violent means were resorted to; volley after volley of rifle shots were fired into him, billets of wood, bottles, etc., were thrown upon his head with such force as to separate the integument; to all of which he paid not the slightest attention, and he still continued to swim under us, keeping our exact rate of speed, whether in calm or storm, and rising to blow almost into the cabin windows.
He seems determined to stay with us until he can find better company. His length is about eighty feet; his tail measures about twelve feet across; and in the calm, as we look down into the transparent water, we see him in all his huge proportions.
November 29th: The bark Kirkwood hove in sight, and bore down to speak to us. When off a mile or two to leeward, our whale left us and went to her, but returned soon after. He showed great restlessness last night; and today, whenever we stood off on the outward tack, he kept close below us, and rose just under our quarter, and most commonly to windward, to blow. But whenever we stood toward the land he invariably hung back and showed discontent. This afternoon he left us.
It is now twenty-four days since he attached himself to us, and during that time he has followed us as faithfully as a dog an emigrant’s wagon. At first we abused him in every way that our ingenuity could devise to drive him off, lest he might do us some mischief; but save some scratches he received from our ship’s coppering and numerous sloughing sores, caused by the balls that had been fired into him, no damage was received by either of us by his close companionship, though our white paint was badly stained by the impurity of his breath.
We long since ceased our efforts to annoy him, and had become attached to him as to a dog. We had named him “Blowhard,” and even fancied, as we called him, that his came closer under our quarter, when I felt like patting his glabrous sides, and saying: “Good old fellow.”
As the water grew shoaler he left us, with regret unfeigned on our part, and apparently so on his. This story of the whale is so remarkable, that were there not so many witnesses, I would not venture to tell it, lest I be accused of exaggeration. There were a number of experienced whalemen among our passengers, who said the animal was a “Sulphurbottom.”[[6]]