Chapter Chapter 77 · The Great Heidelburgh Tun.

Now comes the Baling of the Case. But to comprehend it aright, you must

know something of the curious internal structure of the thing operated

upon.

Regarding the Sperm Whale’s head as a solid oblong, you may, on an

inclined plane, sideways divide it into two quoins,* whereof the lower

is the bony structure, forming the cranium and jaws, and the upper an

unctuous mass wholly free from bones; its broad forward end forming the

expanded vertical apparent forehead of the whale. At the middle of the

forehead horizontally subdivide this upper quoin, and then you have two

almost equal parts, which before were naturally divided by an internal

wall of a thick tendinous substance.

*Quoin is not a Euclidean term. It belongs to the pure nautical

mathematics. I know not that it has been defined before. A quoin is a

solid which differs from a wedge in having its sharp end formed by the

steep inclination of one side, instead of the mutual tapering of both

sides.

The lower subdivided part, called the junk, is one immense honeycomb of

oil, formed by the crossing and recrossing, into ten thousand

infiltrated cells, of tough elastic white fibres throughout its whole

extent. The upper part, known as the Case, may be regarded as the great

Heidelburgh Tun of the Sperm Whale. And as that famous great tierce is

mystically carved in front, so the whale’s vast plaited forehead forms

innumerable strange devices for the emblematical adornment of his

wondrous tun. Moreover, as that of Heidelburgh was always replenished

with the most excellent of the wines of the Rhenish valleys, so the tun

of the whale contains by far the most precious of all his oily

vintages; namely, the highly-prized spermaceti, in its absolutely pure,

limpid, and odoriferous state. Nor is this precious substance found

unalloyed in any other part of the creature. Though in life it remains

perfectly fluid, yet, upon exposure to the air, after death, it soon

begins to concrete; sending forth beautiful crystalline shoots, as when

the first thin delicate ice is just forming in water. A large whale’s

case generally yields about five hundred gallons of sperm, though from

unavoidable circumstances, considerable of it is spilled, leaks, and

dribbles away, or is otherwise irrevocably lost in the ticklish

business of securing what you can.

I know not with what fine and costly material the Heidelburgh Tun was

coated within, but in superlative richness that coating could not

possibly have compared with the silken pearl-coloured membrane, like

the lining of a fine pelisse, forming the inner surface of the Sperm

Whale’s case.

It will have been seen that the Heidelburgh Tun of the Sperm Whale

embraces the entire length of the entire top of the head; and since—as

has been elsewhere set forth—the head embraces one third of the whole

length of the creature, then setting that length down at eighty feet

for a good sized whale, you have more than twenty-six feet for the

depth of the tun, when it is lengthwise hoisted up and down against a

ship’s side.

As in decapitating the whale, the operator’s instrument is brought

close to the spot where an entrance is subsequently forced into the

spermaceti magazine; he has, therefore, to be uncommonly heedful, lest

a careless, untimely stroke should invade the sanctuary and wastingly

let out its invaluable contents. It is this decapitated end of the

head, also, which is at last elevated out of the water, and retained in

that position by the enormous cutting tackles, whose hempen

combinations, on one side, make quite a wilderness of ropes in that

quarter.

Thus much being said, attend now, I pray you, to that marvellous and—in

this particular instance—almost fatal operation whereby the Sperm

Whale’s great Heidelburgh Tun is tapped.