242 THE OCEAN. 
saken for the sunny isles of Polynesia, and these, 
again, for the inhospitable shores of Kamschatka. 
Peculiar dangers attend them in their protracted 
voyage; if they escape unscathed from the storms 
of the south, it is to enter an ocean strewn with in- 
numerable reefs of stony coral, whose positions are 
but imperfectly indicated in charts, to touch one of 
which would be inevitable destruction; if these are 
safely passed, it is to penetrate into a sea vexed with 
the most terrible of tempests, the typhoon. The 
duration of the voyage is protracted to a length 
which would justify our calling it an exile; this is 
no summer’s trip; three and even four years are 
the ordinary periods allotted to this enterprise. The 
object of the pursuit, gigantic in size and power, 
seems to demand no ordinary courage in its assail- 
ant; and more especially in his own element, when 
he is “making the sea to boil like a pot of oint- 
ment,” to venture to the: battle in a frail boat, needs 
a hardihood of more than common calibre. The 
moment of victory is frequently the moment of 
danger; the dying struggles of the lanced Whale 
are of fearful impetuosity; the huge and muscular 
tail lashes the Ocean into foam, and the long and 
powerful lower jaw, serried with teeth, snaps con- 
vulsively in every direction. Timid as this mighty 
animal usually is, instances are not infrequent, in 
which a consciousness of strength has been accom- 
panied by the will to use it. The destruction of 
the ship Essex, an American whaler, affords a re- 
markable instance of the ferocity and determination, 
as well as of the power, of the Sperm Whale. This 
