A Tiger of the Sea 



and rapacity of these smaller but toothed cannibal 

 whales. 



Such an attack was witnessed several years ago off 

 the Bay of Avalon. The channel was as smooth as 

 a disk of steel and of that blue that seems a reflection 

 of the sky. Suddenly not far from the rocky cliffs 

 of the islands a large whalebone whale shot into the 

 air, flung itself out of the water, returning with a 

 mighty crash, so near a boat that the occupant saw 

 the details of what was apparently a tragedy. As 

 the monster rose, clinging to its head were seen sev- 

 eral black and white creatures, which appeared to be 

 fastened to it, and the leap of the whale was to shake 

 them off. The whale evidently sounded and came 

 out of the water a moment later like a catapult, 

 swinging its tail about and around with relentless 

 fury, striking blows that would have wrecked a large 

 vessel at contact. 



The whale, which was sixty or more feet in length, 

 was attacked by these hounds of the sea, the orca or 

 killer; they had seized it by its huge lips and were 

 clinging with all the ferocity of a pack of bulldogs. 

 In vain did the giant swing its deadly tail. The 

 nimble foes leaped over it, avoiding it with ease, 

 directing their attacks at its most vulnerable point 

 the throat, lips, and tongue. 



Impelled by the fascination of this duel of sea mon- 

 sters, the observers drew nearer and watched what 

 was in all probability one of the most remarkable 



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