ised themselves on their huge tail, and
looked like giants ready to fall on us and crush us; then they went down
again into the water, which foamed under their immense weight. Then they
seemed to be going through some military evolutions, advancing in a
single line, like a body of regular troops, one after another swimming
with grave dignity; still more frequently they were in lines of two and
two. This wonderful sight partly diverted us from our own melancholy
thoughts. Fritz had, however, seized his oar, without giving himself
time to dress, whilst I, at the rudder, steered as well as I could
through these monsters, who are, notwithstanding their appearance, the
mildest animals that exist. They allowed us to pass so closely, that we
were wetted with the water they spouted up, and might have touched them;
and with the power to overturn us with a stroke of their tail, they
never noticed us; they seemed to be satisfied with each other's society.
We were truly sorry to see their mortal enemy appear amongst them, the
sword-fish of the south, armed with its long saw, remarkable for a sort
of _fringe_ of nine or ten inches long, which distinguishes it from the
sword-fish of the north. They are both terrible enemies to the whale,
and next to man, who wages an eternal war with them, its most formidable
foes. The whales in our South Seas had only the sword-fish to dread; as
soon as they saw him approach, they dispersed, or dived into the depths
of the ocean. One only, very near us, did not succeed in escaping, and
we witnessed a combat, of which, however, we could not see the event.
These two monsters attacked each other with equal ferocity; but as they
took an opposite direction to that we were going, we soon lost sight of
them, but we shall never forget our meeting with these wonderful giants
of the deep.

We happily doubled the promontory behind which the canoe had passed, and
found ourselves in an extensive gulf, which narrowed as it entered the
land, and resembled the mouth of a river. We did not hesitate to follow
its course. We went round the bay, but found no traces of man, but
numerous herds of the amphibious animal, called sometimes the sea-lion,
the sea-dog, or the sea-elephant, or trunked phoca: modern voyagers give
it the last name. These animals, though of enormous size, are gentle and
peaceful, unless roused by the cruelty of man. They were in such numbers
on this desert coast, that they would have prevented our a