rty
congregated on the taffrail to witness the struggle which had already
commenced. The blows of the thrasher, a large fish, of the same species
as the whale, given with incredible force and noise on the back of the
whale, were now answered by his more unwieldy antagonist, who lashed the
sea with fury in his attempts to retaliate upon his more active
assailant; and while the contention lasted, the water was in a foam.

In a few minutes, the whale plunged, and disappeared.

"He has had enough of it," observed the master; "but the thrasher will
not let him off so easily. He must come up to breathe directly, and
you'll find the thrasher yard-arm and yard-arm with him again."

As the master observed, the whale soon reappeared, and the thrasher, who
had closely pursued him, as if determined to make up for lost time,
threw himself out of the water, and came down upon the whale, striking
him with tremendous force upon the shoulder. The whale plunged so
perpendicularly, that his broad tail was many feet upraised in the air,
and the persecuted animal was seen no more.

"That last broadside settled him," said Courtenay.

"_Sunk_ him too, I think," cried Jerry.

"Strange," observed Courtenay, addressing Macallan, "that there should
be such an antipathy between the animals. The West Indians assert, that
at the same time the thrasher attacks him above, the sword-fish pierces
him underneath--if so, it must be very annoying."

"I have heard the same story, but have never myself seen the
sword-fish," replied Macallan: "it is, however, very possible, as there
is no animal in the creation that has so many enemies as the whale."

"A tax on greatness," observed Jerry; "I'm glad it goes by _bulk_. Mr
Macallan," continued he, "you're a philosopher, and I have heard you
argue that whatever is, is right--will you explain to my consummate
ignorance, upon what just grounds the thrasher attacks that unoffending
mass of blubber?"

"I'll explain it to you," said Courtenay, laughing. "The whale, who has
just come from the northward, finds himself in very comfortable quarters
here, and has no wish to heave up his anchor, and proceed on his voyage
round Cape Horn. The thrasher is the port-admiral of the station, and
his blows are so many guns to enforce his orders to sail forthwith."

"Thank you, sir," answered Jerry, sarcastically, "for your very
ingenious explanation; but I do not see why his guns should be shotted.
Perhaps Mr Mac