A SHIP ATTACKED BY A SWORD-FISH. 259 



the larger sort of fish, and, attaching himself to them 

 in this way, sucks nutriment from them while they are 

 yet alive, is not known to naturalists. Certainly, he is 

 fond of attacking whales, but this may result not so 

 much from gastronomic tastes as from a natural anti- 

 pathy envy, perhaps, at their superior bulk. Unfor- 

 tunately for himself, Xiphias, though cold-blooded, 

 seems a somewhat warm-tempered animal ; and, when 

 he is angered, he makes a bull-like rush upon his foe, 

 without always examining with due care whether he is 

 likely to take anything by his motion. And when he 

 happens to select for attack a stalwart ship, and to 

 plunge his horny beak through thirteen or fourteen 

 inches of planking, with perhaps a stout copper 

 sheathing outside it, he is apt to find some little diffi- 

 culty in retreating. The aifair usually ends by his 

 leaving his sword embedded in the side of the ship. In 

 fact, no instance has ever been recorded of a sword-fish 

 recovering his weapon (if we may use the expression) 

 after making a lunge of this sort. Last Wednesday 

 the Court of Common Pleas rather a strange place, 

 by the bye, for inquiring into the natural history of 

 fishes was engaged for several hours in trying to 

 determine under what circumstances a sword-fish 

 might be able to escape scot-free after thrusting his 

 snout into the side of a ship. The gallant ship 

 6 Dreadnought,' thoroughly repaired, and classed A 1 at 

 Lloyd's, had been insured for 3,0007. against all the 

 risks of the seas. She sailed on March 10, 1864, from 

 Colombo, for London. Three days later, the crew, 



s 2 



