“Swordfish,” he said.
The whale remained nearly in the same spot while we came up. His attention was so completely taken up by the swordfish that we did not lower until the ship was considerably less than a quarter of a mile away. Then we put down two boats, Mr. Baker’s and Mr. Brown’s, which ran down under both sail and oars. We did not think it necessary to avoid making a noise, for the whale could not get away if he wanted to. By the time we had got nearly within darting distance, he had almost ceased struggling, and seemed about ready to give up the ghost. The Prince was just standing up and reaching for his iron, and Mr. Baker’s boat was approaching from the other side. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Starbuck taking his harpoon from the crotch.
Suddenly the Prince gave a yell: “Swordfish! Look out!”
Mr. Brown heaved mightily on the steering oar, to lay the boat around, but it was too late. There was a sharp crack, we felt the boat rise under us, and Kane cried out in surprise and pain. I turned my head around quickly—I had no business to do so, and I knew it as soon as I had time to think. I saw the point of the sword sticking up beside Kane’s thigh. Kane had dropped his oar, grabbed the sword point with both hands, and was yelling for the iron. The sword had gone through the thin planking—the garboard strake—and through the thwart, and had given Kane a flesh wound in the thigh. It was a narrow escape for Kane, but he was not thinking of that. His whole mind was upon holding the sword without cutting his hands too badly. The swordfish was thrashing about viciously, shaking the boat, and threatening to break out the bottom planking. It all happened more quickly than I can tell it. The Prince was alert, and he reached over, and jabbed the harpoon clear through the fish. Then he seized a lance, and churned it up and down through the heart of the fish, turning it as he churned. He could not reach the gills, where swordfish are usually lanced. The violent struggles of the swordfish ceased, he quivered once, and lay still; but his sword remained sticking through the thwart even after Kane had let go of it, and Kane’s thigh was bleeding freely.
“Badly hurt, Kane?” Mr. Brown asked.
“No, sir,” said Kane, hammering on the end of the sword with his paddle, which he had taken from its place for the purpose. “If I can only get this bloody sword out—but it ’s stuck tight.”
“All the better,” said Mr. Brown. “Heave on the line, boys, and break it off.”
At the second heave a heavy strain came on the line, and at the third there was another sharp crack, and the sword broke off at the nose. The broken sword remained sticking through the planking and the thwart, and the body of the fish came up alongside the boat. It was a big fish, two thirds the length of the boat.
While we were having it out with the swordfish, Mr. Baker had fastened to the whale, which was already dead, and we lay there and waited for the ship. There had been at least four swordfish attacking the whale, and nobody knew how many more. The whale, a small bull of thirty-seven barrels as he afterward tried out, stood no chance at all against half a dozen big swordfish, which were of a kind fairly common in the Indian Ocean, about twice as long as those I was familiar with. We got our prize on deck, and ate it within the next few days. The flesh was a little coarser than that of the smaller ones, but very good. We got others from time to time, as chances offered, as long as we were in their waters, and dolphins and porpoises occasionally.
Attacks by swordfish upon boats are not uncommon. It seems likely enough that they mistake the hull of the boat for the body of a whale. Attacks on the hull of a ship, however, seem to me to be due to accident. The fish which are the common prey of the swordfish often huddle close to the hull of a vessel, and the swordfish, in its attack upon them, may run its sword into the hull, although there have been instances where several swordfish have made a concerted attack upon the hull. We had a sword penetrate the planking of the Clearchus later on, before we had got out of the Indian Ocean, which I was convinced was due to accident. The sword went cleanly through the copper, the sheathing, a three-inch oak plank, and an oak rib, and stuck four inches into the hold; then it broke off. I saw, many years ago, in New Bedford, the Morning Star, a whaler, with a sword which had been driven clear through her keel, eighteen inches of solid oak, and the point of the sword still sticking a good eight inches beyond it.