The Thirst for Blood 271 



weight of four hundred pounds and a sword nearly 

 two feet in length. 



He is now practically immune from pursuit or 

 damage by any of the deep-sea folk, unless he sleep 

 and let the wily shark slip up from beneath and snatch 

 a ghastly mouthful from his middle. Or the saw-fish 

 glide along and rip him from end to end. But while 

 these dangers are very real, they are seldom experienced. 

 As a rule, the watchfulness and wakefulness of such 

 a sea denizen as the Sword-fish secures him from 

 surprise. And the shark, no matter how hungry, 

 must be quite sure of his prey before venturing his 

 cowardly carcase in such an enterprise. 



As the Xiphias grows to his full size he becomes 

 aggressively valiant. Unlike most of the sea people, 

 who only hunt for food, and that obtained keep peace, 

 the Sword-fish longs, apparently with irresistible 

 desire, for some foe worthy of his attack. This it 

 is that impels him to launch himself like some living 

 torpedo at the vast bulk of the whale, for the sheer 

 savage delight of stabbing viciously again and yet 

 again at the yielding living mass before him, even if, 

 as in the case of the enormous bowhead, with its two 

 feet thickness of blubber, he cannot draw blood. 

 To bear away, impaled by one swift and terrible blow, 

 the newly bom calf from beneath its mother's pro- 

 tecting arm is a supreme delight, and one too that 

 yields solid results in the shape of food, for the tender 

 body of a young whale is easily divided by repeated 

 blows of the sword. 



But this fiercely aggressive spirit has its drawbacks 

 too. As, for instance, when the Xiphias attacks a 

 sperm whale, and, meeting the impervious mass of 

 the head, rebounds helplessly, to be caught before 

 recovery between the huge mammal's lethal jaws 



