CHAPTER 103

  Measurement of The Whale's Skeleton

  In the first place, I wish to lay before you a particular, plain

statement, touching the living bulk of this leviathan, whose

skeleton we are briefly to exhibit. Such a statement may prove

useful here.

  According to a careful calculation I have made, and which I partly

base upon Captain Scoresby's estimate, of seventy tons for the largest

sized Greenland whale of sixty feet in length; according to my careful

calculation, I say, a Sperm Whale of the largest magnitude, between

eighty-five and ninety feet in length, and something less than forty

feet in its fullest circumference, such a whale will weigh at least

ninety tons; so that, reckoning thirteen men to a ton, he would

considerably outweigh the combined population of a whole village of

one thousand one hundred inhabitants.

  Think you not then that brains, like yoked cattle, should be put

to this leviathan, to make him at all budge to any landsman's

imagination?

  Having already in various ways put before you his skull, spout-hole,

jaw, teeth, tail, forehead, fins, and divers other parts, I shall

now simply point out what is most interesting in the general bulk of

his unobstructed bones. But as the colossal skull embraces so very

large a proportion of the entire extent of the skeleton; as it is by

far the most complicated part; and as nothing is to be repeated

concerning it in this chapter, you must not fail to carry it in your

mind, or under your arm, as we proceed, otherwise you will not gain

a complete notion of the general structure we are about to view.

  In length, the Sperm Whale's skeleton at Tranque measured

seventy-two feet: so that when fully invested and extended in life, he

must have been ninety feet long; for in the whale, the skeleton

loses about one fifth in length compared with the living body. Of this

seventy-two feet, his skull and jaw comprised some twenty feet,

leaving some fifty feet of plain backbone. Attached to this back-bone,

for something less than a third of its length, was the mighty circular

basket of ribs which once enclosed his vitals.

  To me this vast ivory-ribbed chest, with the long, unrelieved spine,

extending far away from it in a straight line, not a little

resembled the hull of a great ship new-laid upon the stocks, when only

some twenty of her naked bow-ribs are inserted, and the keel is

otherwise, for the time, but a long, disconnected timber.

  The ribs were ten on a side. The first, to begin from the neck,

was nearly six feet long; the second, third, and fourth were each

successively longer, till you came to the climax of the fifth, or

one of the middle ribs, which measured eight feet and some inches.

From that part, the remaining ribs diminished, till the tenth and last

only spanned five feet and some inches. In general thickness, they all

bore a seemly correspondence to their length. The middle ribs were the

most arched. In some of the Arsacides they are used for beams

whereon to lay footpath bridges over small streams.

  In considering these ribs, I could not but be struck anew with the

circumstance, so variously repeated in this book, that the skeleton of

the whale is by no means the mould of his invested form. The largest

of the Tranque ribs, one of the middle ones, occupied that part of the

fish which, in life, is greatest in depth. Now, the greatest depth

of the invested body of this particular whale must have been at

least sixteen feet; whereas, the corresponding rib measured but little

more than eight feet. So that this rib only conveyed half of the

true notion of the living magnitude of that part. Besides, for some

way, where I now saw but a naked spine, all that had been once wrapped

round with tons of added bulk in flesh, muscle, blood, and bowels.

Still more, for the ample fins, I here saw but a few disordered

joints; and in place of the weighty and majestic, but boneless flukes,

an utter blank!

  How vain and foolish, then, thought I, for timid untravelled man

to try to comprehend aright this wondrous whale, by merely pouring

over his dead attenuated skeleton, stretched in this peaceful wood.

No. Only in the heart of quickest perils; only when within the

eddyings of his angry flukes; only on the profound unbounded sea,

can the fully invested whale be truly and livingly found out.

  But the spine. For that, the best way we can consider it is, with

a crane, to pile its bones high up on end. No speedy enterprise. But

now it's done, it looks much like Pompey's Pillar.

  There are forty and odd vertebrae in all, which in the skeleton

are not locked together. They mostly lie like the great knobbed blocks

on a Gothic spire, forming solid courses of heavy masonry. The

largest, a middle one, is in width something less than three feet, and

in depth more than four. The smallest, where the spine tapers away

into the tail, is only two inches in width, and looks something like a

white billiard-ball. I was told that there were still smaller ones,

but they had been lost by some little cannibal urchins, the priest's

children, who had stolen them to play marbles with. Thus we see how

that the spine of even the hugest of living things tapers off at

last into simple child's play.