It seems astonishing how a shoal of these enormous animals find subsistence together, when it would seem that the supplying even one with food would require greater plenty than the ocean could furnish. To increase our wonder, we not only see them herding together, but usually find them fatter than any other animals of land or sea. We likewise know that they cannot swallow large Fishes, as their throat is so narrow, that a Fish larger than a Herring could not enter. How then do they subsist and grow so fat? A small insect which is seen floating in those seas, and which Linnaeus terms the Medusa, is sufficient for this supply. These insects are black, and of the size of a small bean, and are sometimes seen floating in clusters on the surface of the water. They are of a round form, like Snails in a box, but they have wings, which are so tender that it is scarcely possible to touch them without breaking. These serve rather for swimming than flying; and the little animal is called by the Icelanders, the Walfischoas, which signifies the Whale’s provender. They have the taste of raw muscles, and have the smell of burnt sugar. These are the food of the Whale, which it is seen to draw up in great numbers with its huge jaws, and to bruise between its barbs, which are always found with several of these sticking among them. As the Whale is a meek animal, it is not to be wondered that it has many enemies, willing to take advantage of its disposition, and inaptitude for combat. There is a small animal, of the Shell-fish kind, called the Whale-louse, that sticks to its body, as we see shells sticking to the bottom of a ship. This hides itself chiefly under the fins; and whatever efforts the great animal makes, it still keeps its hold and lives upon the fat, which it is provided with instruments to reach. The Sword-fish, however, is the Whale’s most terrible enemy. “At the sight of this little animal,” says Anderson, “the Whale seems agitated in an extraordinary manner; leaping from the water as if with affright. Wherever it appears, the Whale perceives it at a distance, and flies from it in the opposite direction. I have been myself,” he continues, “a spectator of their terrible encounter. The Whale has no instrument of defence except the tail; with that it endeavors to strike the enemy; and a single blow taking place, would effectually destroy its adversary; but the Sword-fish is as active as the other is strong, and easily avoids the stroke; then bounding into the air, it falls upon its great enemy, and endeavors, not to pierce with its pointed beak, but to cut with its toothed edges. The sea all about is soon dyed with blood, proceeding from the wounds of the Whale, while the enormous animal vainly endeavors to reach its invader, and strikes with its tail against the surface of the water, making a report at each blow louder than the noise of a cannon.”