The sword, as it is called, of the sword-fish—though it is more like a long lance—is formed by the prolongation of the bones of the upper jaw. It is wedge-shaped, sharp at the end, and sometimes more than half the whole length of the rest of the creature’s body—a most formidable weapon, which its owner can drive through the body of a porpoise or shark, or into the side of a whale, as easily as a lady can stick a knitting-needle into a ball of worsted. This may seem like an exaggeration, but it cannot be a very great one, since a sword-fish has been known to run its sword right through the timbers of a ship, though sheathed with copper, so as to pierce an oil-cask lying, with others, in the hold. Of course, under such circumstances, it was unable to withdraw the weapon, which was broken off, and remained so tightly wedged in the hole it had made, that neither did any water enter the ship, nor a drop of oil escape from the oil-cask. In the museum at South Kensington, portions of the hulls of ships, or of other hard substances, thus pierced, and with the broken sword lying either in or beside them, are exhibited. Probably, in these cases, the ship has been mistaken for a whale by the sword-fish, and such incidents may be looked upon as evidence both of his being able, as a rule, to distinguish the one from the other, and of his habit of attacking the whale in this way; for ships are so numerous that were it by chance merely that such things happened, they would probably happen more often. I do not know if there is any record of men having been attacked by sword-fish, but in natural history books bathers are generally warned against them, and it is difficult to imagine a more terrific creature coming to attack one in the water. A man may kill a shark even under these circumstances, and there are even negroes who are said to be expert in doing so. As the shark turns upon his back they dive underneath him, and then, as he turns over again, they stab him with a long knife in the belly, ripping him up. But then the shark is slow, and he has to pause and turn over before he strikes, which gives a man who is expert and keeps his presence of mind, a chance to strike at him first. The shark comes near the man—near him with its whole body, that is to say—but the sword-fish would not. His sword projects three feet in front of him, and so he would be three feet away, so to speak, when he first pricked the man with it. Only after he had been run right through would the man get to proper striking distance, and then it would be too late. Nor would there be any avoiding that sword-thrust—the sword-fish is so very swift, and comes with such a tremendous rush.