Lest we think that there are no boundaries in the Martha's Vineyard and New Bedford whalers, this horrid reality posted without comment.
"There was a ripple just audible, and away glided the mate's boat right for the near shore. Following him with our eyes, we almost immediately beheld a pale, shadowy column of white, shimmering against the dark mass of the cliff not a quarter of a mile away. Dipping our paddles with the utmost care, we made after the chief, almost holding our breath. His harpooner rose, darted once, twice, then gave a yell of triumph that ran re-echoing all around in a thousand eerie vibrations, startling the drowsy PECA in myriads from where they hung in inverted clusters on the trees above. But, for all the notice taken by the whale, she might never have been touched .
Close nestled to her side was a youngling of not more, certainly, than five days old, which sent up its baby-spout every now and then about two feet into the air. One long, wing-like fin embraced its small body, holding it close to the massive breast of the tender mother, whose only care seemed to be to protect her young, utterly regardless of her own pain and danger. If sentiment were ever permitted to interfere with such operations as ours, it might well have done so now; for while the calf continually sought to escape from the enfolding fin, making all sorts of puny struggles in the attempt, the mother scarcely moved from her position, although streaming with blood from a score of wounds.
Once, indeed, as a deep-searching thrust entered her very vitals, she raised her massy flukes high in air with an apparently involuntary movement of agony; but even in that dire throe she remembered the possible danger to her young one, and laid the tremendous weapon as softly down upon the water as if it were a feather fan. So in the most perfect quiet, with scarcely a writhe, nor any sign of flurry, she died, holding the calf to her side until her last vital spark had fled, and left it to a swift despatch with a single lance-thrust. No slaughter of a lamb ever looked more like murder. Nor, when the vast bulk and strength of the animal was considered, could a mightier example have been given of the force and quality of maternal love. The whole business was completed in half an hour from the first sight of her, and by the mate's hand alone, none of the other boats needing to use their gear."
Frank T. Bullen. The Cruise of the Cachalot Round the World After Sperm Whales
Always interesting when it comes to the reality of how hundreds of thousands, millions and billions of dollars are horded by the rich in blood money, that their consciences never speak to them to give it all away to the poor people, but their guilt is appeased by a once hundred dollar donation to a bum and a few thousand dollars for a tax deduction to a charity.
That is where the fortunes of the world arose from, whether it was whale calves in paradise or babies in the womb at a clinic, that is the filthy lucre which exploits the families of this world.
You will be reminded of the source of all your money as it is all blood money, as everything from computer chips to Pepsi has either the blood of a mine cave in or the blood of a farmer wrapped around a PTO shaft to bring that dividend to your pockets.
The more money you have the bloodier your hands are.
agtG
