The Battering Ram

Ere quitting, for the nonce, the Sperm Whale’s head, I would have you, as a sensible physiologist, simply—particularly remark its front aspect, in all its compacted collectedness. I would have you investigate it now with the sole view of forming to yourself some unexaggerated, intelligent estimate of whatever battering-ram power may be lodged there. Here is a vital point; for you must either satisfactorily settle this matter with yourself, or for ever remain an infidel as to one of the most appalling, but not the less true events, perhaps anywhere to be found in all recorded history.

Before leaving the Sperm Whale’s head for now, I want you, as a sensible physiologist, to look closely at its front. Notice how compact and solid it is. Study the head now solely to form a reasonable, unexaggerated estimate of the battering-ram power it may possess. This is a crucial point. You must either settle the question to your own satisfaction or forever disbelieve one of the most appalling events in recorded history. It is perhaps among the most appalling events found anywhere in that history, but it is no less true.

You observe that in the ordinary swimming position of the Sperm Whale, the front of his head presents an almost wholly vertical plane to the water; you observe that the lower part of that front slopes considerably backwards, so as to furnish more of a retreat for the long socket which receives the boom-like lower jaw; you observe that the mouth is entirely under the head, much in the same way, indeed, as though your own mouth were entirely under your chin. Moreover you observe that the whale has no external nose; and that what nose he has—his spout hole—is on the top of his head; you observe that his eyes and ears are at the sides of his head, nearly one third of his entire length from the front. Wherefore, you must now have perceived that the front of the Sperm Whale’s head is a dead, blind wall, without a single organ or tender prominence of any sort whatsoever. Furthermore, you are now to consider that only in the extreme, lower, backward sloping part of the front of the head, is there the slightest vestige of bone; and not till you get near twenty feet from the forehead do you come to the full cranial development. So that this whole enormous boneless mass is as one wad. Finally, though, as will soon be revealed, its contents partly comprise the most delicate oil; yet, you are now to be apprised of the nature of the substance which so impregnably invests all that apparent effeminacy. In some previous place I have described to you how the blubber wraps the body of the whale, as the rind wraps an orange. Just so with the head; but with this difference: about the head this envelope, though not so thick, is of a boneless toughness, inestimable by any man who has not handled it. The severest pointed harpoon, the sharpest lance darted by the strongest human arm, impotently rebounds from it. It is as though the forehead of the Sperm Whale were paved with horses’ hoofs. I do not think that any sensation lurks in it.

Notice that when the Sperm Whale swims normally, the front of his head presents an almost entirely vertical surface to the water. The lower part of that surface slopes sharply backward. This provides more room for the long socket that holds his boom-like lower jaw. His mouth is entirely under his head, much as if your own mouth were entirely under your chin. He also has no external nose. What he has for a nose, his spout hole, is on top of his head. His eyes and ears are on the sides of his head, nearly a third of his entire length back from the front. So you must now see that the front of the Sperm Whale’s head is a dead, blind wall. It has no organ or tender projection of any kind. Consider, too, that there is only the slightest trace of bone in the extreme lower, backward-sloping part of the front of the head. You do not reach the fully developed skull until you are nearly twenty feet back from the forehead. So this whole enormous, boneless mass is like one wad. Finally, as I will soon reveal, its contents include some of the most delicate oil. But first you must learn about the substance that surrounds and protects all that apparent delicacy. Earlier, I described how blubber wraps the whale’s body as a rind wraps an orange. It wraps the head in the same way, but with a difference. Around the head, this covering is not as thick. Yet its boneless toughness is beyond the understanding of anyone who has not handled it. The most sharply pointed harpoon and the sharpest lance, thrown by the strongest human arm, bounce off it harmlessly. It is as if the Sperm Whale’s forehead were paved with horses’ hoofs. I do not think the whale can feel anything in it.

Bethink yourself also of another thing. When two large, loaded Indiamen chance to crowd and crush towards each other in the docks, what do the sailors do? They do not suspend between them, at the point of coming contact, any merely hard substance, like iron or wood. No, they hold there a large, round wad of tow and cork, enveloped in the thickest and toughest of ox-hide. That bravely and uninjured takes the jam which would have snapped all their oaken handspikes and iron crow-bars. By itself this sufficiently illustrates the obvious fact I drive at. But supplementary to this, it has hypothetically occurred to me, that as ordinary fish possess what is called a swimming bladder in them, capable, at will, of distension or contraction; and as the Sperm Whale, as far as I know, has no such provision in him; considering, too, the otherwise inexplicable manner in which he now depresses his head altogether beneath the surface, and anon swims with it high elevated out of the water; considering the unobstructed elasticity of its envelope; considering the unique interior of his head; it has hypothetically occurred to me, I say, that those mystical lung-celled honeycombs there may possibly have some hitherto unknown and unsuspected connexion with the outer air, so as to be susceptible to atmospheric distension and contraction. If this be so, fancy the irresistibleness of that might, to which the most impalpable and destructive of all elements contributes.

Consider another thing. When two large, loaded Indiamen happen to crowd against each other in a dock, what do the sailors do? They do not place a hard substance, such as iron or wood, between the ships where they are about to touch. No, they hold a large, round wad of tow and cork there, wrapped in the thickest, toughest oxhide. The wad bravely withstands the crushing pressure without damage, though that pressure would have snapped all their oak handspikes and iron crowbars. This alone clearly illustrates the point I am driving at. But I have also formed a hypothesis. Ordinary fish have what is called a swim bladder, which they can expand or contract at will. As far as I know, the Sperm Whale has no such organ. Yet at one moment he lowers his head completely beneath the surface, and at another he swims with it raised high out of the water. This is otherwise inexplicable. Consider, too, the unrestricted elasticity of the covering of his head and its unique interior. Taking all this into account, I have wondered whether those mysterious, lung-celled honeycombs might have some previously unknown and unsuspected connection with the outside air. If so, they might be able to expand and contract with the air. And if this is true, imagine how irresistible that force must be, aided by the most intangible and destructive of all elements.

Now, mark. Unerringly impelling this dead, impregnable, uninjurable wall, and this most buoyant thing within; there swims behind it all a mass of tremendous life, only to be adequately estimated as piled wood is—by the cord; and all obedient to one volition, as the smallest insect. So that when I shall hereafter detail to you all the specialities and concentrations of potency everywhere lurking in this expansive monster; when I shall show you some of his more inconsiderable braining feats; I trust you will have renounced all ignorant incredulity, and be ready to abide by this; that though the Sperm Whale stove a passage through the Isthmus of Darien, and mixed the Atlantic with the Pacific, you would not elevate one hair of your eye-brow. For unless you own the whale, you are but a provincial and sentimentalist in Truth. But clear Truth is a thing for salamander giants only to encounter; how small the chances for the provincials then? What befell the weakling youth lifting the dread goddess’s veil at Lais?

Now, pay attention. Behind that dead, impenetrable, invulnerable wall and the extraordinarily buoyant substance within it swims a massive living force. You can only properly measure its bulk as you would stacked firewood, by the cord. Yet all of it obeys a single will, just like the smallest insect. Later, I will describe all the particular powers and concentrated forces lurking throughout this enormous monster. I will also show you some of his less significant feats of strength. By then, I trust you will have abandoned your ignorant disbelief. You should be ready to accept this: even if the Sperm Whale smashed a passage through the Isthmus of Darien and mingled the Atlantic with the Pacific, you would not raise an eyebrow. For unless you acknowledge the whale, you are merely narrow-minded and sentimental when it comes to Truth. But only salamander giants can face the plain Truth. What chance, then, do narrow-minded people have? What happened to the frail young man who lifted the dread goddess’s veil at Lais?