448 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
his human enemies. And to witness one of these mighty struggles is 
worth travelling many a thousand miles to see; it is terrible, awe-inspiring, 
and wonderful. 
The Killer ranges in length from 10 ft. to 25 ft. (whalemen have told 
me that one was seen stranded on the Great Barrier Reef in 1862 which 
measured 387 ft.). They spout, ‘ breach,” and “sound” like other Ceta- 
ceans, and are of the same migratory habits as the two “schools” which 
haunt ‘l'wofold Bay, always leave there about November 28th to cruise 
in other seas, returning to their headquarters early in July, when the 
Humpback and Finback Whales make their appearance on the coast of 
New South Wales, travelling northwards to the breeding-grounds on the 
Brampton Shoals, the coast of New Guinea, and the Moluccas. 
The whaling station at Twofold Bay is the only one in the Colony—the 
last remnant of a once great and thriving industry. It is carried on by a 
family named Davidson, father and sons, in conjunction with the Killers. 
And for more than twenty years this business partnership has existed 
between the humans and the Cetaceans, and the utmost rectitude and 
solicitude for each other’s interests has always been maintained—Orca 
gladiator seizes the Whale for Davidson, and holds him until the deadly 
lance is plunged into his “life,” and Davidson lets Orca carry the carcass 
to the bottom, and take his tithe of luscious blubber. This is the literal 
truth ; and grizzled old Davidson or any one of the stalwart sons who man 
his two boats will tell you that but for the Killers, who do half of the work, 
whaling would not pay with oil only worth from £18 to £24 a tun. 
When the men have done their part, comes the curious and yet 
absolutely truly described part that the Killers play in this ocean tragedy. 
The Killers, the moment the Whale is dead, close round him, and fastening 
their teeth into his body, bear him to the bottom. Here they tear out his 
tongue, and eat about one-third of his blubber. In about thirty-six to forty 
hours the carcass will rise again to the surface, and as the spot where he 
was taken down has been marked by a buoy, the boats are ready waiting 
to tow him ashore to the trying-out works. The Killers accompany the 
boats to the heads of the bay, and keep off the Sharks, which otherwise 
would strip off all the remaining blubber before the body had reached the 
shore. 
The Killers never hurt a man. Time after time have boats been stove 
in or smashed into splinters by a Whale and the crew left struggling in the 
water to be rescued by the ‘pick-up ” boat; and the Killers swim up to 
them, look at—ay, and smell them—but never touch them. And wherever 
the Killers are, the Sharks are not, for Jack Shark dreads a Killer as the 
devil dreads holy water. ‘Jack ” will rush in and rip off a piece of blubber 
if he can, but he will watch his chance to do so. 
