Are Whales Growing Smaller? Will They Disappear?

Inasmuch, then, as this Leviathan comes floundering down upon us from the head-waters of the Eternities, it may be fitly inquired, whether, in the long course of his generations, he has not degenerated from the original bulk of his sires.

This Leviathan comes floundering down to us from the headwaters of the Eternities. So it is fair to ask whether, over many generations, he has grown smaller than his original ancestors.

But upon investigation we find, that not only are the whales of the present day superior in magnitude to those whose fossil remains are found in the Tertiary system (embracing a distinct geological period prior to man), but of the whales found in that Tertiary system, those belonging to its latter formations exceed in size those of its earlier ones.

But when we investigate, we find that today's whales are larger than those whose fossils are found in the Tertiary system. The Tertiary system spans a distinct geological period before humans existed. We also find that whales from its later formations were larger than those from its earlier formations.

Of all the pre-adamite whales yet exhumed, by far the largest is the Alabama one mentioned in the last chapter, and that was less than seventy feet in length in the skeleton. Whereas, we have already seen, that the tape-measure gives seventy-two feet for the skeleton of a large sized modern whale. And I have heard, on whalemen’s authority, that Sperm Whales have been captured near a hundred feet long at the time of capture.

Of all the pre-Adamite whales unearthed so far, the Alabama whale mentioned in the last chapter is by far the largest. Its skeleton was less than seventy feet long. Yet, as we have already seen, the skeleton of a large modern whale measures seventy-two feet. And whalers have told me that Sperm Whales have been captured when nearly a hundred feet long.

But may it not be, that while the whales of the present hour are an advance in magnitude upon those of all previous geological periods; may it not be, that since Adam’s time they have degenerated?

But could it be that today’s whales are larger than those of all previous geological periods? And could they still have declined since Adam’s time?

Assuredly, we must conclude so, if we are to credit the accounts of such gentlemen as Pliny, and the ancient naturalists generally. For Pliny tells us of whales that embraced acres of living bulk, and Aldrovandus of others which measured eight hundred feet in length—Rope Walks and Thames Tunnels of Whales! And even in the days of Banks and Solander, Cooke’s naturalists, we find a Danish member of the Academy of Sciences setting down certain Iceland Whales (reydan-siskur, or Wrinkled Bellies) at one hundred and twenty yards; that is, three hundred and sixty feet. And Lacépède, the French naturalist, in his elaborate history of whales, in the very beginning of his work (page 3), sets down the Right Whale at one hundred metres, three hundred and twenty-eight feet. And this work was published so late as A.D. 1825.

Surely, we must conclude so if we believe the accounts of Pliny and ancient naturalists generally. For Pliny tells us of whales whose living bodies covered acres. Aldrovandus tells us of others that measured eight hundred feet long. Rope walks and Thames Tunnels of whales! Even in the days of Banks and Solander, Cooke’s naturalists, a Danish member of the Academy of Sciences recorded certain Iceland Whales (reydan-siskur, or Wrinkled Bellies) as one hundred and twenty yards long. That is three hundred and sixty feet. And Lacépède, the French naturalist, gives the Right Whale a length of one hundred metres, or three hundred and twenty-eight feet. He puts this measurement at the very beginning of his detailed history of whales, on page 3. And this work was published as recently as 1825.

But will any whaleman believe these stories? No. The whale of to-day is as big as his ancestors in Pliny’s time. And if ever I go where Pliny is, I, a whaleman (more than he was), will make bold to tell him so. Because I cannot understand how it is, that while the Egyptian mummies that were buried thousands of years before even Pliny was born, do not measure so much in their coffins as a modern Kentuckian in his socks; and while the cattle and other animals sculptured on the oldest Egyptian and Nineveh tablets, by the relative proportions in which they are drawn, just as plainly prove that the high-bred, stall-fed, prize cattle of Smithfield, not only equal, but far exceed in magnitude the fattest of Pharaoh’s fat kine; in the face of all this, I will not admit that of all animals the whale alone should have degenerated.

But will any whaler believe these stories? No. Today’s whales are as big as their ancestors were in Pliny’s time. And if I ever go where Pliny is, I will dare to tell him so. After all, I am a whaler, more of one than he was. Egyptian mummies were buried thousands of years before Pliny was even born. Yet the mummies in their coffins do not measure as much as a modern Kentuckian in his socks. And the relative proportions of cattle and other animals carved on the oldest Egyptian and Nineveh tablets plainly show something else. Smithfield’s pedigreed, stall-fed, prize cattle not only equal but far exceed the fattest of Pharaoh’s fat cattle in size. In the face of all this, I cannot understand how whales alone, of all animals, could have degenerated. I will not admit it.

But still another inquiry remains; one often agitated by the more recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing to the almost omniscient look-outs at the mast-heads of the whale-ships, now penetrating even through Behring’s straits, and into the remotest secret drawers and lockers of the world; and the thousand harpoons and lances darted along all continental coasts; the moot point is, whether Leviathan can long endure so wide a chase, and so remorseless a havoc; whether he must not at last be exterminated from the waters, and the last whale, like the last man, smoke his last pipe, and then himself evaporate in the final puff.

But another question remains, one often debated by the more learned Nantucketers. Whaling ships have lookouts at their mastheads who seem to see everything. These ships now reach through Behring’s straits and into the world’s most remote secret drawers and lockers. Thousands of harpoons and lances are hurled along all continental coasts. So the question is whether Leviathan can long survive such a widespread hunt and such relentless slaughter. Must he finally be wiped out from the waters? Will the last whale, like the last man, smoke his last pipe and then vanish in the final puff?

Comparing the humped herds of whales with the humped herds of buffalo, which, not forty years ago, overspread by tens of thousands the prairies of Illinois and Missouri, and shook their iron manes and scowled with their thunder-clotted brows upon the sites of populous river-capitals, where now the polite broker sells you land at a dollar an inch; in such a comparison an irresistible argument would seem furnished, to show that the hunted whale cannot now escape speedy extinction.

Compare the humped herds of whales with the humped herds of buffalo. Less than forty years ago, buffalo covered the prairies of Illinois and Missouri by the tens of thousands. They shook their iron manes and scowled with thunderous brows at the sites of populous river cities. Now a polite broker sells you land there at a dollar an inch. Such a comparison would seem to offer an irresistible argument that the hunted whale cannot escape rapid extinction.

But you must look at this matter in every light. Though so short a period ago—not a good lifetime—the census of the buffalo in Illinois exceeded the census of men now in London, and though at the present day not one horn or hoof of them remains in all that region; and though the cause of this wondrous extermination was the spear of man; yet the far different nature of the whale-hunt peremptorily forbids so inglorious an end to the Leviathan. Forty men in one ship hunting the Sperm Whales for forty-eight months think they have done extremely well, and thank God, if at last they carry home the oil of forty fish. Whereas, in the days of the old Canadian and Indian hunters and trappers of the West, when the far west (in whose sunset suns still rise) was a wilderness and a virgin, the same number of moccasined men, for the same number of months, mounted on horse instead of sailing in ships, would have slain not forty, but forty thousand and more buffaloes; a fact that, if need were, could be statistically stated.

But you must look at this matter from every angle. Not so long ago, less than a lifetime, Illinois had more buffaloes than London now has people. Today, not one horn or hoof of those buffaloes remains anywhere in that region. And man’s spear caused this astonishing extermination. Yet hunting whales is so different that it rules out such an inglorious end for the Leviathan. Forty men may spend forty-eight months in one ship hunting Sperm Whales. If they finally carry home the oil of forty whales, they think they have done extremely well and thank God. But consider the days of the old Canadian and Indian hunters and trappers of the West. Back then, the far west was an untouched wilderness. In its sunset, suns still rise. The same number of men in moccasins, mounted on horses instead of sailing in ships, would have hunted for the same number of months. They would have killed not forty buffaloes, but forty thousand or more. If necessary, statistics could prove this.

Nor, considered aright, does it seem any argument in favour of the gradual extinction of the Sperm Whale, for example, that in former years (the latter part of the last century, say) these Leviathans, in small pods, were encountered much oftener than at present, and, in consequence, the voyages were not so prolonged, and were also much more remunerative. Because, as has been elsewhere noticed, those whales, influenced by some views to safety, now swim the seas in immense caravans, so that to a large degree the scattered solitaries, yokes, and pods, and schools of other days are now aggregated into vast but widely separated, unfrequent armies. That is all. And equally fallacious seems the conceit, that because the so-called whale-bone whales no longer haunt many grounds in former years abounding with them, hence that species also is declining. For they are only being driven from promontory to cape; and if one coast is no longer enlivened with their jets, then, be sure, some other and remoter strand has been very recently startled by the unfamiliar spectacle.

Nor, properly considered, is there any argument that the Sperm Whale, for example, is gradually dying out. In earlier years, say, the latter part of the last century, these Leviathans were encountered in small pods much more often than now. As a result, voyages were shorter and much more profitable. But, as noted elsewhere, the whales now swim the seas in immense caravans, apparently for safety. So the scattered individuals, pairs, pods, and schools of earlier days have largely gathered into vast armies. These armies are few and far between. That is all. Equally mistaken is the idea that the so-called whalebone whales are declining because they no longer frequent many grounds where they once abounded. For they are only being driven from one headland to another. If their spouts no longer enliven one coast, then be sure they have recently startled some other, more distant shore with the unfamiliar sight.

Furthermore: concerning these last mentioned Leviathans, they have two firm fortresses, which, in all human probability, will for ever remain impregnable. And as upon the invasion of their valleys, the frosty Swiss have retreated to their mountains; so, hunted from the savannas and glades of the middle seas, the whale-bone whales can at last resort to their Polar citadels, and diving under the ultimate glassy barriers and walls there, come up among icy fields and floes; and in a charmed circle of everlasting December, bid defiance to all pursuit from man.

Furthermore, the whales just mentioned have two strong fortresses. In all human probability, these will remain impregnable forever. When invaders entered their valleys, the Swiss retreated to their cold mountains. Just as the Swiss did, baleen whales can retreat when hunted from the open waters of the middle seas. They can seek refuge in their Polar strongholds, diving beneath the furthest glassy barriers and walls. There they surface among ice fields and floes. In a charmed circle of everlasting December, they defy all human pursuit.

But as perhaps fifty of these whale-bone whales are harpooned for one cachalot, some philosophers of the forecastle have concluded that this positive havoc has already very seriously diminished their battalions. But though for some time past a number of these whales, not less than 13,000, have been annually slain on the nor’ west coast by the Americans alone; yet there are considerations which render even this circumstance of little or no account as an opposing argument in this matter.

But perhaps fifty of these whalebone whales are harpooned for every cachalot. Some sailors who fancy themselves philosophers have therefore concluded that this slaughter has already seriously reduced their numbers. Yet for some time, Americans alone have killed at least 13,000 of these whales each year off the northwest coast. Even so, there are reasons why this fact carries little or no weight as an opposing argument on the matter.

Natural as it is to be somewhat incredulous concerning the populousness of the more enormous creatures of the globe, yet what shall we say to Harto, the historian of Goa, when he tells us that at one hunting the King of Siam took 4,000 elephants; that in those regions elephants are numerous as droves of cattle in the temperate climes. And there seems no reason to doubt that if these elephants, which have now been hunted for thousands of years, by Semiramis, by Porus, by Hannibal, and by all the successive monarchs of the East—if they still survive there in great numbers, much more may the great whale outlast all hunting, since he has a pasture to expatiate in, which is precisely twice as large as all Asia, both Americas, Europe and Africa, New Holland, and all the Isles of the sea combined.

It is natural to doubt that the world's largest creatures exist in great numbers. Yet what are we to make of Harto, the historian of Goa? He tells us that the King of Siam took 4,000 elephants in a single hunt. Harto also says that elephants in those regions are as numerous as herds of cattle in temperate climates. Elephants have been hunted there for thousands of years, by Semiramis, Porus, Hannibal, and all the successive monarchs of the East. Yet if elephants still survive there in great numbers, there seems no reason to doubt that the great whale may outlast all hunting even more easily. The whale has a pasture to roam in that is precisely twice as large as all Asia, both Americas, Europe and Africa, New Holland, and all the Isles of the sea combined.

Moreover: we are to consider, that from the presumed great longevity of whales, their probably attaining the age of a century and more, therefore at any one period of time, several distinct adult generations must be contemporary. And what that is, we may soon gain some idea of, by imagining all the grave-yards, cemeteries, and family vaults of creation yielding up the live bodies of all the men, women, and children who were alive seventy-five years ago; and adding this countless host to the present human population of the globe.

Moreover, whales are thought to live a very long time, probably reaching a hundred years or more. So, at any given time, several distinct adult generations must be alive together. We can soon get some idea of what that means. Imagine all the graveyards, cemeteries, and family vaults in the world giving up the living bodies of all the men, women, and children who were alive seventy-five years ago. Then imagine adding this countless host to the present human population of the globe.

Wherefore, for all these things, we account the whale immortal in his species, however perishable in his individuality. He swam the seas before the continents broke water; he once swam over the site of the Tuileries, and Windsor Castle, and the Kremlin. In Noah’s flood he despised Noah’s Ark; and if ever the world is to be again flooded, like the Netherlands, to kill off its rats, then the eternal whale will still survive, and rearing upon the topmost crest of the equatorial flood, spout his frothed defiance to the skies.

For all these reasons, we consider the whale immortal as a species, though each individual whale can die. He swam the seas before the continents rose above the water. He once swam over the sites of the Tuileries, Windsor Castle, and the Kremlin. During Noah’s flood, he scorned Noah’s Ark. And if the world is ever flooded again, like the Netherlands, to kill off its rats, the eternal whale will still survive. He will rise on the highest crest of the equatorial flood and spout his foaming defiance at the skies.