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Title: The Sea and its Living Wonders - A Popular Account of the Marvels of the Deep and of the - Progress of Martime Discovery from the Earliest Ages to - the Present Time
Author: Hartwig, G. (Georg)
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Sea and its Living Wonders - A Popular Account of the Marvels of the Deep and of the - Progress of Martime Discovery from the Earliest Ages to - the Present Time" ***
[Illustration: ARCTIC SLEDGE-JOURNEY.]
THE SEA
AND
ITS LIVING WONDERS
A POPULAR ACCOUNT OF
THE MARVELS OF THE DEEP
AND OF THE
PROGRESS OF MARITIME DISCOVERY FROM THE
EARLIEST AGES TO THE PRESENT TIME
BY
DR. G. HARTWIG
AUTHOR OF "THE TROPICAL WORLD" "THE HARMONIES OF NATURE"
"THE POLAR WORLD" AND "THE SUBTERRANEAN WORLD"
SEVENTH EDITION
_WITH NUMEROUS WOODCUTS AND PLATES_
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16^{th} STREET
1892
NOTICE
_The right of translation into French is reserved by the Author. All
necessary steps for securing the Copyright have been taken._
PREFACE
TO
THE THIRD AND FOURTH EDITIONS.
Nothing can be more agreeable to an author anxious to merit the suffrages
of the public, than the opportunity afforded him, by a new edition, of
correcting past errors or adding improvements to his work. Should any
one of my readers think it worth his while to compare 'The Sea,' such
as it now is, with what it formerly was, I have no doubt he will do me
the justice to say that I have conscientiously striven to deserve his
approbation.
Two new chapters--one on Marine Constructions, the other on Marine
Caves--have been added; those on the Molluscs and Cœlenterata
(Jelly-fishes, Polyps) almost entirely re-written; and those on Fishes,
Crustaceans, Microscopic Animals, the Geographical Distribution of Marine
Life, and the Phosphorescence of the Sea, considerably enlarged; not to
mention a number of minor improvements dispersed throughout the volume.
Great attention has also been paid to the Illustrations, many of
questionable value having been omitted in the present edition, to make
room for a number of others, which will be found of great use for the
better understanding of the text.
In one word, I have done my best to raise my work to the standard of the
actual state of science, and to render it, as far as my humble abilities
go, a complete epitome of all that the _general_ reader _cares_ to know
about the marvels of the deep.
G. Hartwig.
Salon Villas, Ludwigsburg:
_June 30, 1873_.
PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST TWO EDITIONS.
For years my daily walks have been upon the beach, and I have learnt to
love the ocean as the Swiss mountaineer loves his native Alps, or the
Highlander the heath-covered hills of Caledonia. May these feelings have
imparted some warmth to the following pages, and serve to render the
reader more indulgent to their faults!
G. Hartwig.
Göttingen: _July 17, 1860_.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
THE PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE SEA.
CHAPTER I.
THE MAGNITUDE OF THE SEA.
Extent of the Ocean.--Length of its Coast-Line.--Mural, Rocky,
and Flat Coasts.--How deep is the Sea?--Average Depth of the
Atlantic Ocean.--The Telegraphic Plateau between Newfoundland and
Ireland.--Measurement of Depth by the Rapidity of the Tide-Wave.
--Progressive Changes in the Limits of the Ocean.--Alluvial
Deposits.--Upheaving.--Subsidence.--Does the Level of the Sea
remain unchanged, and is it everywhere the same?--Composition and
Temperature of Sea-Water.--Its intrinsic Colour.--The Azure Grotto
at Capri.--Modification of Colour owing to Animals and Plants.
--Submarine Landscapes viewed through the Clear Waters Page 3
CHAPTER II.
THE WAVES OF THE OCEAN.
Waves and the Mode of their Formation.--Height and Velocity of
Storm-Waves, on the High Seas, according to the Calculations of
Scoresby, Arago, Sir James Ross, and Wilkes.--Their Height and Power
on Coasts.--Their Destructive Effects along the British Shore.--
Dunwich.--Reculver.--Shakspeare's Cliff. 24
CHAPTER III.
THE TIDES.
Description of the Phenomenon.--Devastation of Storm-Floods on Flat
Coasts.--What did the Ancients know of the Tides?--Their Fundamental
Causes revealed by Kepler and Newton.--Development of their Theory by
La Place, Euler, and Whewell.--Vortices caused by the Tides.--The
Maelstrom.--Charybdis.--The _Barre_ at the mouth of the Seine.--The
Euripus 32
CHAPTER IV.
MARINE CAVES.
Effects of the Sea on Rocky Shores.--Fingal's Cave.--Beautiful Lines
of Sir Walter Scott.--The Antro di Nettuno.--The Cave of Hunga.--
Legend of its Discovery.--Marine Fountains.--The Skerries.--The
Souffleur in Mauritius.--The Buffadero on the Mexican Coast 45
CHAPTER V.
OCEAN CURRENTS.
Causes of the Oceanic Currents.--The Equatorial Stream.--The Gulf
Stream.--Its Influence on the Climate of the West European Coasts.
--The Cold Peruvian Stream.--The Japanese Stream 54
CHAPTER VI.
THE AËRIAL AND TERRESTRIAL MIGRATIONS OF THE WATERS.
Movements of the Waters through Evaporation.--Origin of Winds.--
Trade-Winds.--Calms.--Monsoons.--Typhoons.--Tornadoes.--Water-Spouts.
--The Formation of Atmospherical Precipitations.--Dew.--Its Origin.
--Fog.--Clouds.--Rain.--Snow.--Hail.--Sources.--The Quantities of
Water which the Rivers pour into the Ocean.--Glaciers and their
Progress.--Icebergs.--Erratic Blocks.--Influence of Forests on the
Formation and Retention of Atmospherical Precipitations.--
Consequences of their excessive Destruction.--The Power of Man over
Climate.--How has it been used as yet? 65
CHAPTER VII.
MARINE CONSTRUCTIONS.
Lighthouses.--The Eddystone.--Winstanley's Lighthouse, 1696.--The
Storm of 1703.--Rudyerd's Lighthouse destroyed by Fire in 1755.--
Singular Death of one of the Lighthouse Men.--Anecdote of Louis XIV.
--Smeaton.--Bell Rock Lighthouse.--History of the Erection of
Skerryvore Lighthouse.--Illumination of Lighthouses.--The Breakwater
at Cherbourg.--Liverpool Docks.--The Tubular Bridge over the Menai
Straits.--The Sub-oceanic Mine of Botallack. 80
PART II.
THE INHABITANTS OF THE SEA.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CETACEANS.
General Remarks on the Organisation of the Cetaceans.--The Large
Greenland Whale.--His Food and Enemies.--The Fin-Back or Rorqual.
--The Antarctic Whale.--The Sperm-Whale.--The Unicorn Fish.--The
Dolphin.--Truth and Fable.--The Porpoise.--The Grampus.--History
of the Whale Fishery 95
CHAPTER IX.
SEALS AND WALRUSES.
The Manatees and the Dugongs.--The Seals and the Esquimaux.--King
Menelaus in a Seal's Skin.--Barbarous Persecutions of the Seals in
Behring's Sea and the Pacific.--Adventures of a Sealer from Geneva.
--The Sea Calf.--The Sea Bear.--His Parental Affection.--The Sea
Lions.--The Sea Elephant.--The Arctic Walrus.--The Boats of the
"Trent" fighting with a Herd of Walruses.--The White Bear.--Touching
Example of its Love for its Young.--Chase of the Sea Otter 117
CHAPTER X.
SEA-BIRDS.
Their Vast Numbers.--Strand-Birds.--Artifices of the Sea-Lark to
protect its Young.--Migrations of the Strand-Birds.--The Sea-Birds
in General.--The Anatidæ.--The Eider Duck.--The Sheldrake.--The
Loggerheaded Duck.--Auks and Penguins.--The Cormorant.--Its Use
by the Chinese for Fish-catching.--The Frigate Bird.--The Soland
Goose.--The Gulls.--The Petrels.--The Albatross.--Bird-catching on
St. Kilda.--The Guano of the Chincha Islands 142
CHAPTER XI.
THE REPTILES OF THE OCEAN.
The Saurians of the Past Seas.--The Anatomical Structure of the
Turtles.--Their Size.--Their Visits to the Shores.--The Dangers
that await their Young.--Turtles on the Brazilian Coast.--Prince
Maximilian of Neuwied and the Turtle.--Conflicts of the Turtles
with Wild Dogs and Tigers on the Coast of Java.--Turtle-catching
on Ascension Island.--Tortoise-shell.--The Amblyrhynchus
cristatus.--Marine Snakes.--The Great Sea-Snake 172
CHAPTER XII.
THE MARINE FISHES.
General Observations on Fishes.--Their Locomotive Organs.--Tail.
--Fins.--Classification of Fishes by Cuvier.--Air-Bladder.--Scales.
--Beauty of the Tropical Fishes.--The Gills.--Terrestrial Voyages
of the Anabas and the Hassar.--Examples of Parental Affection.--
Organs of Sense.--Offensive Weapons of Fishes.--The Sea-Wolf.--The
Shark.--The Saw-Fish.--The Sword-Fish.--The Torpedo.--The
Star-Gazer.--The Angler.--The Chætodon Rostratus.--The Remora, used
for catching Turtles.--Defensive Weapons of Fishes.--The Weever.
--The Stickleback.--The Sun-Fish.--The Flying-Fish.--The numerous
Enemies of the Fishes.--Importance and History of the Herring
Fishery.--The Pilchard.--The Sprat.--The Anchovy.--The Cod.--The
Sturgeons.--The Salmon.--The Tunny.--The Mackerel Family.--The Eel.
--The Murey.--The Conger.--The Sand-Launce.--The Plectognaths.--The
Sea-Horse.--The Pipe-Fish.--The Flat-Fishes.--The Rays.--The
Fecundity of Fishes 186
CHAPTER XIII.
CRUSTACEA.
CRABS--LOBSTERS.
How are they distinguished from the Insects?--Barnacles and
Acorn-shells.--Siphonostomata.--Entomostraca.--King-Crab.
--Edriophthalmia.--Sandhoppers.--Thoracostraca.--Compound
Eye of the higher Crustaceans.--Respiratory Apparatus of the
Decapods.--Digestive Organs.--Chelæ or Pincers.--Distribution
of Crabs.--Land Crabs.--The Calling Crab.--Modifications of
the Legs in different species.--The Pinna and Pinnotheres.
--Hermit Crabs.--The Lobster.--The Cocoa-nut Crab.--The Shrimp.
--Moulting Process.--Metamorphoses of Crabs.--Victims and
Enemies of the Crustaceans.--Their Fecundity.--Marine Spiders
and Insects 243
CHAPTER XIV.
MARINE ANNELIDES.
The Annelides in general.--The Eunice sanguinea.--Beauty of the
Marine Annelides.--The Giant Nemertes.--The Food and Enemies of
the Annelides.--The Tubicole Annelides.--The Rotifera.--Their
Wonderful Organisation.--The Synchæta Baltica 262
CHAPTER XV.
MOLLUSCS.
The Molluscs in general.--The Cephalopods.--Dibranchiates and
Tetrabranchiates--Arms and Tentacles.--Suckers.--Hooked Acetabula
of the Onychoteuthis.--Mandibles.--Ink Bag.--Numbers of the
Cephalopods.--Their Habits.--Their Enemies.--Their Use to Man.
--Their Eggs.--Enormous size of several species.--The fabulous
Kraken.--The Argonaut.--The Nautili.--The Cephalopods of the
Primitive Ocean.--The Gasteropods.--Their Subdivisions.--Gills of
the Nudibranchiates.--The Pleurobranchus plumula.--The Sea-Hare.
--The Chitons.--The Patellæ.--The Haliotis or Sea-Ear.--The
Carinariæ.--The Pectinibranchiates.--Variety and Beauty of their
Shells.--Their Mode of Locomotion.--Foot of the Tornatella and
Cyelostoma.--The Ianthinæ.--Sedentary Gasteropods.--The Magilus.
--Proboscis of the Whelk.--Tongue of the Limpet.--Stomach of the
Bulla, the Scyllæa, and the Sea-Hare.--Organs of Sense in the
Gasteropods.--Their Caution.--Their Enemies.--Their Defences.
--Their Use to Man.--Shell-Cameos.--The Pteropods.--Their
Organisation and Mode of Life.--The Butterflies of the Ocean.
--The Lamellibranchiate Acephala.--Their Organisation.--Siphons.
--The Pholades.--Foot of the Lamellibranchiates.--The
Razor-Shells.--The Byssus of the Pinnæ.--Defences of the
Bivalves.--Their Enemies.--The common Mussel.--Mussel Gardens.
--The Oyster.--Oyster Parks.--Oyster Rearing in the Lago di
Fusaro.--Formation of new Oyster Banks.--Pearl-fishing in Ceylon.
--How are Pearls formed?--The Tridacna gigas.--The Teredo navalis.
--The Brachiopods.--The Terebratulæ.--The Polyzoa.--The Sea-Mats.
--The Escharæ.--The Lepraliæ.--Bird's Head Processes.--The
Tunicata.--The Sea-Squirts.--The Chelyosoma.--The Botrylli.--The
Pyrosomes.--The Salpæ.--Interesting Points in the Organisation
of the Tunicata 270
CHAPTER XVI.
ECHINODERMATA.
STAR-FISHES, SEA-URCHINS, AND SEA-CUCUMBERS.
The Star-Fishes.--Their Feet or Suckers.--Voracity of the Asterias.
--The Rosy Feather-Star.--Brittle and Sand-Stars.--The real
Sea-Stars of the British Waters.--The Sea-Urchins.--The
Pedicellariæ.--The Shell and the Dental Apparatus of the
Sea-Urchins.--The Sea-Cucumbers.--Their strange Dismemberments.--
Trepang-fishing on the Coast of North Australia.--In the Feejee
Islands 328
CHAPTER XVII.
CŒLENTERATA.
POLYPS AND JELLY-FISHES.
Thread-cells or Urticating Organs.--Sertulariæ.--Campanulariadæ.--
Hydrozoic Acalephæ.--Medusidæ.--Lucernariadæ.--Calycophoridæ.--
The Velella.--The Portuguese Man-of-war.--Anecdote of a Prussian
Sailor.--Alternating Fixed and Free-swimming Generations of
Hydrozoa.--Actinozoa.--Ctenophora.--Their Beautiful Construction.
--Sea-anemones.--Dead Man's Toes.--Sea-pens.--Sea-rods.--Red
Coral.--Coral Fishery.--Isis hippuris.--Tropical Lithophytes.--
History of the Coral Islands.--Darwin's Theory of their
Formation.--The progress of their Growth above the level of the Sea 345
CHAPTER XVIII.
PROTOZOA.
The Foraminifera.--The Amœbæ.--Their Wonderful Simplicity of
Structure.--The Polycystina.--Marine Infusoria.--Sponges.
--Their Pores.--Fibres and Spiculæ.--The Common Sponge of
Commerce 378
CHAPTER XIX.
MARINE PLANTS.
The Algæ.--Zostera marina.--The Ulvæ and Enteromorphæ.--The Fuci.
--The Laminariæ.--Macrocystis pyrifera.--Description of the
Submarine Thickets at Tierra del Fuego.--Nereocystis lutkeana.
--The Sargasso Sea.--The Gathering of edible Birds'-nests in the
marine Caves of Java.--Agar-Agar.--The Florideæ.--The
Diatomaceæ.--Their importance in the economy of the Seas 390
CHAPTER XX.
THE GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF MARINE LIFE.
The Dependence of all created Beings upon Space and Time.--The
Influences which regulate the Distribution of Marine Life.--The
four Bathymetrical Zones of Marine Life on the British Coasts,
according to the late Professor Edward Forbes of Edinburgh.
--Abyssal Animals.--_Bathybius Haeckelii._--Deep-Sea Sponges and
Shell-Fish.--Vivid Phosphorescence of Deep-Sea Animals.--Deep-Sea
Shark Fishery--The "Challenger." 405
CHAPTER XXI.
THE PHOSPHORESCENCE OF THE SEA.
Its Causes.--Noctiluca miliaris.--Phosphorescent Annelides and
Beroës.--Intense Phosphorescence of the Pyrosoma atlantica.
--Luminous Pholades.--The luminous Shark.--Phosphorescent Algæ.
--Citations from Byron, Coleridge, Crabbe, and Scott. 423
CHAPTER XXII.
THE PRIMITIVE OCEAN.
The Giant-Book of the Earth-rind.--The Sea of Fire.--Formation of
a solid Earth-crust by cooling.--The Primitive Waters.--First
awakening of Life in the Bosom of the Ocean.--The Reign of the
Saurians.--The future Ocean. 433
PART III.
THE PROGRESS OF MARITIME DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Maritime Discoveries of the Phœnicians.--Expedition of Hanno.
--Circumnavigation of Africa under the Pharaoh Necho.--Colæus of
Samos.--Pytheas of Massilia.--Expedition of Nearchus.
--Circumnavigation of Hindostan under the Ptolemies.--Voyages of
Discovery of the Romans.--Consequences of the Fall of the Roman
Empire.--Amalfi.--Pisa.--Venice.--Genoa.--Resumption of Maritime
Intercourse between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.--Discovery
of the Mariner's Compass.--Marco Polo 443
CHAPTER XXIV.
Prince Henry of Portugal.--Discovery of Porto Santo and Madeira.
--Doubling of Cape Bojador.--Discovery of the Cape Verde Islands.
--Bartholomew Diaz.--Vasco de Gama.--Columbus.--His Predecessors.
--Discovery of Greenland by Günnbjorn.--Bjorne Herjulfson.--Leif.
--John Vaz Cortereal.--John and Sebastian Cabot.--Retrospective
View of the Beginnings of English Navigation.--Ojeda and Amerigo
Vespucci.--Vincent Yañez Pinson.--Cortez.--Verazzani.--Cartier.
--The Portuguese in the Indian Ocean 454
CHAPTER XXV.
Vasco Nuñez de Balboa.--His Discovery of the Pacific, and subsequent
Fate.--Ferdinand Magellan.--Sebastian el Cano, the first
Circumnavigator of the Globe.--Discoveries of Pizarro and Cortez.
--Urdaneta.--Juan Fernandez.--Mendoza.--Drake.--Discoveries of the
Portuguese and Dutch in the Western Pacific.--Attempts of the Dutch
and English to discover North-East and North-West Passages to India.
--Sir Hugh Willoughby and Chancellor.--Frobisher.--Davis.--Barentz.
--His Wintering in Nova Zembla.--Quiros.--Torres.--Schouten.--Le
Maire.--Abel Tasman.--Hudson.--Baffin.--Dampier.--Anson.--Byron.
--Wallis and Carteret.--Bougainville 464
CHAPTER XXVI.
What had Cook's Predecessors left him to discover?--His first Voyage.
--Discovery of the Society Islands, and of the East Coast of New
Holland.--His second Voyage.--Discovery of the Hervey Group.
--Researches in the South Sea.--The New Hebrides.--Discovery of New
Caledonia and of South Georgia.--His third Voyage.--The Sandwich
Islands.--New Albion.--West Georgia.--Cook's Murder.--Vancouver.
--La Peyrouse 485
CHAPTER XXVII.
Scoresby.--The Arctic Navigators.--Ross.--Parry.--Sufferings of
Franklin and his Companions on his Overland Expedition in 1821.
--Parry's Sledge-journey to the North Pole.--Sir John Franklin.
--M'Clure.--Kane.--M'Clintock.--South Polar Expeditions.
--Bellinghausen.--Weddell.--Biscoe.--Balleny.--Dumont d'Urville.
--Wilkes.--Sir James Ross.--Recent Scientific Voyages of
Circumnavigation 496
Description of the Frontispiece.
ARCTIC SLEDGE-JOURNEY.
The sledge plays a very conspicuous part in the history of arctic
discovery, as it enables the bold investigators of the icy
wildernesses of the North to penetrate to many places, impervious to
navigation, to establish dépôts of provisions for future emergencies,
or even becomes the means of saving their lives when their ship has
been lost or hopelessly blocked up. Whenever dogs can be had, these
useful animals are made use of for the transport. Our plate represents
one of these sledging parties threading its way through blocks of ice,
and gives a good idea of the difficulties they have to encounter.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PLATES.
Arctic Sledge-Journey _Frontispiece._
FACING PAGE
The Souffleur Rock, Mauritius 52
Lighthouse and Waterspout 65
Australian Sea-Bears 117
The Boats of H.M.S. "Trent" attacked by Walruses 131
Penguins 142
Subaqueous Life--Sticklebacks and Nest 195
Russian Official collecting Algæ 392
MAP.
Map of the Globe, showing the direction of the Ocean Currents,
Cotidal Lines, &c. _facing page 3_.
WOODCUTS.
Annelidans:--
Aphrodita, or Sea-Mouse, 264
Nereis, 263
Serpula, attached to a Shell, 266
Beachy Head, 5
Bell Rock Lighthouse, 86
Birds:--
Albatross, Wandering, 163
Auk, 168
Great, 151
Avoset, 144
Barnacle Goose, 146
Cormorant, common, 155
Curlew, 143
Eider Duck, 146
Flamingo, 142
Gannet, common, 156
Great Crested Grebe, 150
Guillemot, Black, 165
(winter plumage), 167
Herring Gulls, 158
Hooded Merganser, 404
Pelican, 116, 154
Penguins, 152
Petrel, Broad-billed, 160
Fork-tailed, 160
Stormy, 162
Plover, 144
Puffins, 165, 167
Red-breasted Merganser, 149
Scissor-bill (Rhynchops nigra), 144
Sheldrake, 148
Skimmer, Black, 144
Snow Goose, 146
Speckled Diver, 145
Tailor-bird, 143
Birds of Passage, 171
Bones of the Anterior Fin of a Whale, 96
Cœlenterata:--
Alcyonidium elegans, 363
Astræa, 373
Caryophyllia, 370
Chrysaora hysoscella, 357
Coryniadæ, 358
Ctenophora, 360
Diphyes appendiculata, 353
Grey Sea-Pen, 365
Isis hippuris, 369
Jelly Fishes, 349, 350, 351
Lucernalia auricula, 352
Medusæ, 349, 350, 351
Physalia caravella, 355
Physophora Philippii, 356
Red Coral, 367
Sertularia tricuspidata, 347
Stone Corals, 373, 374
Tubipora Musica, 370
Velella, 354
Virgularia mirabilis, 365
Vogtia pentacantha, 353
Compound Foraminiferous Protozoon, magnified, 380
Crustaceans:--
American Sand-Crab, 252
Balanus ovularis, and group of, 244
Barnacle, 101, 244
Calling-Crab of Ceylon, 251
Chelura tenebrans, 247
Diogenes Hermit-Crab, 254
Dromia vulgaris, 249
Jamaica Land-Crab, 250
King Crab, 246
Large-clawed Calling-Crab, 250
Limnoria lignorum, 247
Metamorphosis of Carcinus Mœnas, 258
Pea-Crab, 253
Phyllosoma, 258
Pinna Augustana, 253
Sandhopper, 246
Seyllarus equinoxialis, 248
square facets of, 247
Spotted Fin-Crab, 252
Spotted Mantis-Crab, 256
Stenopus hispidus, 261
Whale-Louse, 101
Crustaceans and Oysters, 256
Dental Apparatus of the Sea-Urchin, viewed from above, 339
Ear, Human, 196
Ear of the Perch, 196
Echinodermata:--
Cross-Fish, common, 334
Eatable Trepang, 340
Goniaster, 336
Lily-Encrinite, 330
Sand-Star, 332
Sea-Urchin, 337
Edible, 338
Mammillated, 338
Warted Euryale, 333
Eddystone Lighthouse, 84
Esquimaux in his Kayak, 120
Fingal's Cave, 47
Fishes:--
Ammodyte, or Launce, 230
Anabas of the dry tanks, 192
Anchovy, 214
Angler, 203
Bonito, 223
Cod, 215
Conger Eel, 228
Diodon, 205
Dory, 242
Electric Eel, 202
European Sly, 203
Fierasfer, 340
File-Fish, 232
Flounder, 238
Flying Fish, 156, 206, 224
Frog-Fish, 192
Gar-Fish, 223
Globe-Fish, 232
Gurnard, 197, 414
Haddock, 215
Halibut, 236
Herring, 101, 208
Lamprey, 231
Ling, 215
Mackerel, 222
Mullet, Grey, 415
Red, 197, 415
Myxine, 231
Perch, internal ear of the, 196
Picked Dog-Fish, 200
Pilchard, 212
Pilot-Fish, 225
Plaice, 238
Porcupine-Fish, 232
Salmo Rossii, 220
Salmon, 415
Sand-Eel, 415
Saw-Fish, 201
Sea-Horse, 234, 344
Shark, Blue, 200
Hammer-headed, 199
White, 198
Short Sun-Fish, 232, 422
Sole, 237
portion of skin of, highly magnified, 190
Sturgeon, common, 217
Surgeon-Fish, 205
Swimming Pegasus, 207
Sword-Fish, 99, 201
Thornback, 240
Torpedo, 201
Toxotes Jaculator, 203
Trunk-Fish, 232
Tunny, 221
Turbot, 237
Wolf-Fish, 197
Foraminifera, various forms of, 381
Fossils:--
Ammonite, 437
Belemnite, 437
Ichthyosaurus communis, 172, 438
Pentacrinus Briareus, portion of, 330
Plesiosaurus, 438
Trilobite, 436
Hill at the Rapid on Bear Lake River
(North-West Territory, North America), 23
H.M.S. "Resolute" lying to in the North Atlantic, 24
Ice-Bear approaching the "Dorothea" and "Trent", 137
Japan Junks, 63
Licmophora flabellata, 403
Mammals:--
Dolphin, 107
Dugong, 117
female, of Ceylon, 119
Manatee, 117
Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus), 134
Porpoise, 108
Rorqual, 101
Sea-Otter, 140
Seal, 119, 123, 135
Greenland, 123
Walrus, 129, 135
Whale, common, 97
Whale, Spermaceti, 102, 115
Mollusks:--
Argonaut, 280
Ascidia mammillata, 322
Banded Dipper, 141
Bivalve deprived of its shell, to show its various openings, 300
Botryllus, 324
Bulla, 294
Calamary, 272
Carinaria, 287
Cellularia, 319
Chelyosoma Macleayanum, 323, 327
Chinese Wentle-trap (Scalaria pretiosa), 289
Chiton squamosus, 285
Clavellina producta, 322
Clio borealis, 98
Cockle, common, 303, 306
Cuttle-Fish (Sepia), 104, 275
Diazona violacea, 324
Donax, 301
Edible Mussel, 307
Edible Oyster, 308
Eolis, 284
Eschara cervicornis, 318
Gorgeous Doris, 235
Haliotis, 287
Harp-shell, 288
Hippopus maculatus, 315
Ianthina communis, 290
Leaf-like Sea-mat, 316, 317
Limpet and Shell, 286, 292, 411
Magilus antiquus, 291
Mitre-shells, 288
Murex haustellum, 291, 296
Oliva hispidula, 290
Onychoteuthis, 274
Orange Cone-shell, 288
Pearl-Oyster, 312
Pearly Nautilus, 280
Periwinkle, 411
Petunculus, 302
Pholas striata, 302
Pinna, 305
Poulp (Octopus), 272, 273
Pteroceras scorpio, 290
Retepora cellularis, 318
Salpa, 326
Scyllæa, 283
Sea-Hare, compound stomach of, 295
Sepia, 104, 275
Solen, or Razor-Shell, 304
Strombus pes pelicani, 290
Syllæa, gizzard of, 294
Tiara, 283
Tridacna gigas, 314
Whelk, 413
Worm-shell, 291
Muscles and Electric Batteries of the Torpedo, 202
Nervous Axis of an Annelidan, 262
Noctiluca miliaris, 419
Ova of the Cuttle-Fish, 278
Protozoa:--
Amœba, 379
Foraminifera, 381
Halina papillaris, 386
Infusoria, marine, 384
Nummulina discoidalis, 378
Polycistina, 383
Sponges, 385
Tethea, 385, 386
Reptiles:--
Alligator Lucius, 173
Tortoise, 174
Turtle, Green, 170
Hawk's Bill, 180
Loggerhead, 176
Water-Snake, 183
Rocky Mountains at the bend of the Bear Lake River, 79
Rotifera:--
Conochilus volvox, 268
Philodina roseola, 269
Ptygura melicerta, 267
Saw of the Saw-Fish, 100
Sea-Fowl Shooting, 168
Skeleton of the Dugong, 118
of the Perch, 188
of the Seal, 119
of the Tortoise, 174
Skerryvore Lighthouse, 89
Skull and Head of Walrus, 129
Skull of Whale, with the Baleen, 98
Sockets with teeth, of Echinus esculentus, 339
Surirella constricta, 402
Theoretic representation of the Circulation in Fishes, 192
Theoretic representation of the Circulation in Mammals
and Birds, 175
Theoretic representation of the Circulation in Reptiles, 175
Torso Rock, near Point Deas Thomson, in the Arctic Ocean, 9
Urticating organs of Cœlenterata, 346
Water-Sports, 69, 70
PART I.
THE PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF THE SEA.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
THE MAGNITUDE OF THE SEA.
Extent of the Ocean.--Length of its Coast-Line.--Mural, Rocky,
and Flat Coasts.--How deep is the Sea?--Average Depth of the
Atlantic Ocean.--The Telegraphic Plateau between Newfoundland
and Ireland.--Measurement of Depth by the Rapidity of the
Tide-Wave.--Progressive Changes in the Limits of the Ocean.--Alluvial
Deposits.--Upheaving.--Subsidence.--Does the Level of the Sea
remain unchanged, and is it everywhere the same?--Composition and
Temperature of Sea-Water.--Its intrinsic Colour.--The Azure Grotto at
Capri.--Modification of Colour owing to Animals and Plants.--Submarine
Landscapes viewed through the Clear Waters.
Of all the gods that divide the empire of the earth, Neptune rules over
the widest realms. If a giant-hand were to uproot the Andes and cast them
into the sea, they would be engulphed in the abyss, and scarcely raise
the general level of the waters.
The South American Pampas, bounded on the north by tropical palm-trees,
and on the south by wintry firs, are no doubt of magnificent dimensions,
yet these vast deserts seem insignificant when compared with the
boundless plains of earth-encircling ocean. Nay! a whole continent, even
America or Asia, appears small against the immensity of the sea, which
covers with its rolling waves nearly three-fourths of the entire surface
of the globe.
A single glance over the map shows us at once how very unequally water
and land are distributed. In one part we see continents and islands
closely grouped together, while in another the sea widely spreads in
one unbroken plain; here vast peninsulas stretch far away into the
domains of ocean, while there immense gulfs plunge deeply into the bosom
of the land. At first sight it might appear as if blind chance had
presided over this distribution, but a nearer view convinces us that
providential laws have established the existing relations between the
solid and fluid surfaces of the earth. If the sea had been much smaller,
or if the greatest mass of land had been concentrated in the tropical
zone, all the meteorological phenomena on which the existence of actual
organic life depends would have been so different, that it is _doubtful_
whether man could then have existed, and _certain_ that, under those
altered circumstances, he never would have attained his present state of
civilisation. The dependence of our intellectual development upon the
existing configuration of the earth, convinces us that Divine wisdom and
not chaotic anarchy has from all eternity presided over the destinies of
our planet.
The length of all the coasts which form the boundary between sea and
land can only be roughly estimated, for who has accurately measured
the numberless windings of so many shores? The entire coast line of
deeply indented Europe and her larger isles measures about 21,600 miles,
equal to the circumference of the earth; while the shores of compact
Africa extend to a length of only 14,000 miles. I need hardly point out
how greatly Europe's irregular outlines have contributed to the early
development of her superior civilisation and political predominance. The
coasts of America measure about 45,000 miles, those of Asia 40,000, while
those of Australia and Polynesia may safely be estimated at 16,000. Thus
the entire coast-line of the globe amounts to about 136,000 miles, which
it would take the best pedestrian full twenty-five years to traverse from
end to end.
How different is the aspect of these shores along which the ever-restless
sea continually rises or falls! Here steep rock-walls tower up from the
deep, while there a low sandy beach extends its flat profile as far
as the eye can reach. While some coasts are scorched by the vertical
sunbeam, others are perpetually blocked up with ice. Here the safe
harbour bids welcome to the weather-beaten sailor, the lighthouse greets
him from afar with friendly ray; the experienced pilot hastens to guide
him to the port, and all along the smiling margin of the land rise the
peaceful dwellings of civilised man. There, on the contrary, the roaring
breakers burst upon the shore of some dreary wilderness, the domain of
the savage or the brute. What a wonderful variety of scenes unrolls
itself before our fancy as it roams along the coasts of ocean from zone
to zone! what changes, as it wanders from the palm-girt coral island
of the tropical seas to the melancholy strands where, verging towards
the poles, all vegetable life expires! and how magnificently grand does
the idea of ocean swell out in our imagination, when we consider that
its various shores witness at one and the same time the rising and the
setting of the sun, the darkness of night and the full blaze of day, the
rigour of winter and the smiling cheerfulness of spring!
[Illustration: Beachy Head.]
The different formation of sea-coasts has necessarily a great influence
on commercial intercourse. Bold mural coasts, rising precipitously from
the deep sea, generally possess the best harbours. Rocky shores also
afford many good ports, but most frequently only for smaller vessels, and
of difficult access, on account of the many isolated cliffs and reefs
which characterise this species of coast formation.
In places where high lands reach down to the coast, the immediate depth
of the sea is proportionably great; but wherever the surface rises gently
landwards, the sea-bed continues with a corresponding slope downwards. On
these flat coasts the tides roll over a sandy or shingly beach; and here
the aid of human industry is frequently required to create artificial
ports, or to prevent those already existing from being choked with sand.
On many flat coasts the drift-sand has raised _dunes_, wearying the eye
by their monotonous uniformity; on others, where these natural bulwarks
are wanting, artificial embankments, or dykes protect the lowlands
against the encroachments of the sea, or else the latter forms vast
salt-marshes and lagunes. On some coasts these submerged or half-drowned
lands have been transformed by the industry of man into fertile meadows
and fields, of which the Dutch Netherlands afford the most celebrated
example; while in other countries, such as Egypt, large tracts of land
once cultivated have been lost to the sea, in consequence of long misrule
and tyranny.
* * * * *
How deep is the sea? How is its bottom formed? Does life still exist in
its abyssal depths? These mysteries of ocean, which no doubt floated
indistinctly before the mind of many an inquisitive mariner and
philosopher of ancient times, have only recently been subjected to a more
accurate investigation. Their solution is of the highest importance,
both to the physical geographer, whose knowledge must necessarily
remain incomplete until he can fully trace the deep-sea path of oceanic
currents, and to the zoologist, to whom it affords a wider insight into
the laws which govern the development of the innumerable forms of life
with which our globe is peopled.
The ordinary system of sounding by means of a weight attached to a
graduated line, and "armed" at its lower end with a thick coating of soft
tallow, so as to bring up evidence of its having reached the bottom in a
sample of mud, shells, sand, gravel, or ooze, answers perfectly well for
comparatively shallow water, and for the ordinary purposes of navigation,
but it breaks down for depths much over 1000 fathoms. The weight is not
sufficient to carry the line rapidly and vertically to the bottom; and if
a heavier weight be used, ordinary sounding line is unable to draw up its
own weight along with that of the lead from great depths, and gives way,
so that by this means no information can be gained as to the nature of
the sea-bottom. To obviate this difficulty, several ingenious instruments
have been invented, such as the "Bull-dog" sounding machine, which is so
contrived that on touching the bottom the weight becomes detached, while
at the same time a pair of scoops, closing upon one another scissorwise
on a hinge, and permanently attached to the sounding-line, retain and
are able to bring up a sample of the bottom.
With the aid of steam, dredging has also been successfully carried down
to 2,435 fathoms, so that the ocean bed may become in time as well known
to us as the bed of the Mersey or the Thames.
Both sounding and dredging at great depths are, however, difficult and
laborious tasks, which can only be performed under very favourable
circumstances, and require a vessel specially fitted at considerable
expense.
Many of the early deep soundings in the Atlantic, which reported the
astonishing depths of 46,000 or even 50,000 feet, are now known to have
been greatly exaggerated. In some cases bights of the line seem to be
carried along by submarine currents, and in others it is found that the
line has been running out by its own weight only, and coiling itself in
a tangled mass directly over the lead. These sources of error vitiate
very deep soundings; and consequently, in the last chart of the North
Atlantic, published on the authority of Rear-Admiral Richards in November
1870, none are entered beyond 4000 fathoms, and very few beyond 3000.
"The general result," says Professor Wyville Thomson,[A] "to which we
are led by the careful and systematic deep-sea soundings which have been
undertaken of late years is that the depth of the sea is not so great as
was at one time supposed, and does not appear to average more than 2000
fathoms (12,000 feet), about equal to the mean height of the elevated
table-lands of Asia.
[Footnote A: "The Depths of the Sea," p. 228.]
"The thin shell of water which covers so much of the face of the earth
occupies all the broad general depressions in its crust, and it is only
limited by the more abrupt prominences which project above its surface,
as masses of land with their crowning plateaux and mountain ranges. The
Atlantic Ocean covers 30,000,000 of square miles, and the Arctic Sea
3,000,000, and taken together they almost exactly equal the united areas
of Europe, Asia, and Africa--the whole of the Old World--and yet there
seem to be few depressions on its bed to a greater depth than 15,000 or
20,000 feet--a little more than the height of Mont Blanc; and, except in
the neighbourhood of the shores, there is only one very marked mass of
mountains, the volcanic group of the Açores."
Accurate soundings are as yet much too distant to justify a detailed
description of the bed of the Atlantic. I will merely state that after
sloping gradually to a depth of 500 fathoms to the westward of the coast
of Ireland, in lat. 52° N., the bottom suddenly dips to 1700 fathoms,
at the rate of from about 15 to 19 feet in the 100. From this point to
within about 200 miles of the coast of Newfoundland, where it begins
to shoal again, there is a vast undulating plain averaging about 2000
fathoms in depth below the surface--the "telegraph plateau" on which now
rest the cables through which the electric power transmits its marvellous
messages from one world to another.
Our information about the beds of the Indian, the Antarctic, and the
Pacific Oceans is still more incomplete, but the few trustworthy
observations which have hitherto been made seem to indicate that neither
the depth nor the nature of the bottom of these seas differs greatly from
what we find nearer home.
The inclosed and land-locked European seas are very shallow when compared
with the high ocean: the Mediterranean, however, has in some parts a
depth of more than 6000 feet; and even in the Black Sea, the plummet
sometimes descends to more than 3000 feet; while the waters of the
Adriatic everywhere roll over a shallow bed.
The researches of Mr. Russell on the swiftness of the tide-wave, showing
that the rapidity of its progress increases with the depth of the waters
over which it passes, afford us another means, besides the sounding
line, of determining approximately the distance of the sea-bottom from
its surface. According to this method, the depth of the Channel between
Plymouth and Boulogne has been calculated at 180 feet; and the enormous
rapidity of the flood wave over the great open seas (300 miles an hour
and more) gives us for the mean depth of the Atlantic 14,400 feet, and
for that of the Pacific 19,500.
Natural philosophers have endeavoured to calculate the quantity of the
waters contained within the vast bosom of the ocean; but as we are
still very far from accurately knowing the mean depth of the sea, such
estimates are evidently based upon a very unsubstantial foundation.
So much at least is certain, that the volume of the waters of the ocean
as much surpasses all conception, as the number of their inhabitants, or
of the sands that line their shores.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Torso Rock, near Point Deas Thomson, in the Arctic Ocean.]
The boundaries of the ocean are not invariable; while in some parts
it encroaches upon the land, in others it retreats from the expanding
coast. In many places we find the sea perpetually gnawing and undermining
cliffs and rocks; and sometimes swelling with sudden rage, it devours a
broad expanse of plain, and changes fertile meads into a dreary waste of
waters. The Goodwin Sands, notorious for the loss of many a noble vessel,
were once a large tract of low ground belonging to Earl Goodwin, father
of Harold, the last of our Saxon kings; and being afterwards enjoyed
by the monastery of St. Augustine at Canterbury, the whole surface was
drowned by the abbot's neglect to repair the wall which defended it from
the sea. In spite of the endeavours of the Dutch to protect their flat
land by dykes against the inundatory waters, the storm-flood has more
than once burst through these artificial boundaries, and converted large
districts into inland seas.
But the spaces which in this manner the dry land has gradually or
suddenly lost, or still loses, to the chafing ocean are largely
compensated for in other places, by the vast accumulations of mud
and sand, which so many rivers continually carry along with them into
the sea. Thus at the mouths of the Nile, of the Ganges, and of the
Mississippi, large alluvial plains have been deposited, which now form
some of the most fruitful portions of the globe. The whole Delta of
Egypt, Bengal, and Louisiana, have thus gradually emerged from the waters.
The volcanic powers, which once caused the highest mountain chains to
rise from the glowing bosom of the earth, are still uninterruptedly
active in changing its surface, and are gradually displacing the present
boundaries of sea and land, upheaving some parts and causing others to
subside.
On the coast of Sweden, it has been ascertained that iron rings fixed to
rocks which formerly served for the fastening of boats are at present
much too high. Flat cliffs on which, according to ancient documents,
seals used to be clubbed while enjoying the warm sunbeam, are now quite
out of the reach of these amphibious animals. In the years 1731, 1752,
and 1755, marks were hewn in some conspicuous rocks, which after the
lapse of half a century were found to have risen about two feet higher
above the level of the sea. This phenomenon is confined to part of the
coast, so that it is clearly the result of a local and slowly progressive
upheaving.
Whilst a great part of Scandinavia is thus slowly but steadily rising,
the shores of Chili have been found to rise convulsively under the
influence of mighty volcanic shocks. Thus after the great earthquake of
1822, the whole coast, for the length of a hundred miles, was found to
be three or four feet higher than before, and a further elevation was
observed after the earthquake of Feb. 21st, 1835.
While to the north of Wolstenholme Sound, Kane remarked signs of
elevation, a converse depression was observed as he proceeded southwards
along the coast of Greenland, Esquimaux huts being seen washed by the
sea. The axis of oscillation must be somewhere about 77° N. lat.
At Keeling Island, in the Indian Ocean, Mr. Darwin found evidence
of subsidence. On every side of the lagoon, in which the water is
as tranquil as in the most sheltered lake, old cocoa-nut trees were
undermined and falling. The foundation-posts of a store-house on the
beach, which the inhabitants had said stood seven years before just above
high-water mark, were now daily washed by the tide. Earthquakes had been
repeatedly remarked by the inhabitants, so that Darwin no longer doubted
concerning the cause which made the trees to fall, and the store-house to
be washed by the daily tide.
On the columns of the temple of Serapis, near Puzzuoli, the astonished
naturalist sees holes scooped out by Pholades and Lithodomas, twenty-four
feet above the present level of the sea. These animals are marine
testacea, that have the power of burying themselves in stone, and
cannot live beyond the reach of low-water. How then have they been able
to scoop out those hieroglyphic marks so far above the level of their
usual abodes? for surely marble originally defective was never used
for the construction of so proud an edifice. Alternate depressions and
elevations of the soil afford us the only key to the enigma. Earthquakes
and oscillations, so frequent in that volcanic region, must first
have lowered the temple into the sea, where it was acted upon by the
sacrilegious molluscs, and then again their upheaving powers must have
raised it to its present elevation. Thus, even the solid earth changes
its features, and reminds us of the mutability of all created things.
There can be no doubt that, in consequence of the perpetual increase of
alluvial deposits, and of the volcanic processes I have mentioned, the
present boundaries of ocean must undergo great alterations in the course
of centuries, and the general level of the sea must either rise or fall;
but the evidence of history proves to us that, for the last 2000 years at
least, there has been no notable change in this respect.
The baths hewn out in the rocks of Alexandria, and the stones of its
harbour, have remained unaltered ever since the foundation of the city
by the Macedonian conqueror; and the ancient port of Marseilles shows
no more signs of a change of level than the old sea-walls of Cadiz.
Thus, all the elevations and depressions that have occurred in the bed
of ocean, or along its margin, and all the mud and sand that thousands
of rivers continually carry along with them into the sea, have left its
general level unaltered, at least within the historic ages. However
great their effects may appear to the eye that confines itself to local
changes, their influence, as far as the evidence of history reaches, has
been but slight upon the immensity of the sea.
Geodesical operations have proved that the level of the ocean, with
the exception of certain enclosed seas of limited extent, is everywhere
the same. The accurate measurements of Corabœuf and Delcros show no
perceptible difference between the level of the Channel and that of the
Mediterranean. In the course of the operations for measuring the meridian
in France, M. Delambre calculated the height of Rodez above the level
of the Mediterranean at Barcelona, and its height above the ocean which
washes the foot of the tower of Dunkirk, and found the difference to be
equal to a fraction of a yard.
The measurements which, at Humboldt's suggestion, General Bolivar caused
to be executed by Messrs. Lloyd and Filmore, prove that the Pacific is,
at the utmost, only a few feet higher than the Caribbean Sea, and even
that the relative height of the two seas changes with the tides.
The long and narrow inlet of the Red Sea, which, according to former
measurements, was said to be twenty-four or thirty feet higher than the
Mediterranean seems, from more recent and accurate investigations, to be
of the same level, and thus to form no exception to the general rule.
* * * * *
The salts contained in sea water, and to which it owes its peculiar
bitter and unpleasant taste, form about three and a half per cent. of
its weight, and consist principally of common table salt (chloride of
sodium), and the sulphates and carbonates of magnesia and lime. But,
besides these chief ingredients, there is scarcely a single elementary
body of which traces are not to be found in that universal solvent.
Wilson has pointed out fluoric combinations in sea water, and Malaguti
and Durocher (Annales de Chimie, 1851) detected lead, copper, and silver
in its composition. Tons of this precious metal are dissolved in the vast
volume of the ocean, and it contains arsenic sufficient to poison every
living thing.
Animal mucus, the product of numberless creatures, is mixed up with the
sea water, and it constantly absorbs carbonic acid and atmospheric air,
which are as indispensable to the marine animals and plants as to the
denizens of the atmospheric ocean.
In inclosed seas, communicating with the ocean only by narrow straits,
the quantity of saline particles varies from that of the high seas. Thus
the Mediterranean, when evaporation is favoured by heat, contains about
one half per cent. more salt than the ocean; while the Baltic, which,
on account of its northern position, is not liable to so great a loss,
and receives vast volumes of fresh water from a number of considerable
rivers, is scarcely half so salt as the neighbouring North Sea.
In the open ocean, the perpetual circulation of the waters produces an
admirable equality of composition: yet Dr. Lenz, who accompanied Kotzebue
in his second voyage round the world, and devoted great attention to
the subject, found that the Atlantic, particularly in its western part,
contains a somewhat larger proportion of salts than the Pacific; and that
the Indian Ocean, which connects those vast volumes of water, is more
salt towards the former than towards the latter.
* * * * *
As water is a bad conductor of caloric, the temperature of the seas is in
general more constant than that of the air.
The equinoctial ocean seldom attains the maximum warmth of 83°, and has
never been known to rise above 87°; while the surface of the land between
the tropics is frequently heated to 129°. In the neighbourhood of the
line, the temperature of the surface-water oscillates all the year round
only between 82° and 85°, and scarce any difference is perceptible at
different times of the day.
The wonderful sameness and equability of the temperature of the tropical
ocean over spaces covering thousands of square miles, particularly
between 10° N. and 10° S. lat., far from the coasts, and where it is
not intersected by pelagic streams, affords, according to Arago, the
best means of solving a very important, and as yet unanswered question,
concerning the physics of the globe. "Without troubling itself,"
says that great natural philosopher, "about mere local influences,
each century might leave to succeeding generations, by a few easy
thermometrical measurements, the means of ascertaining whether the sun,
at present almost the only source of warmth upon the surface of the
earth, changes his physical constitution, and varies in his splendour
like most stars, or whether he has attained a permanent condition. Great
and lasting revolutions in his shining orb would reflect themselves more
accurately in the altered mean temperature of those ocean plains than in
the changed medium warmth of the dry land."
The warmest part of the ocean does not coincide with the Equator, but
seems to form two not quite parallel bands to the north and south.
In the northern Atlantic, the line of greatest temperature (87° F.) which
on the African coast is found but a little to the north of the Equator,
rises on the north coast of South America as high as 12° N. lat., and
in the Gulf of Mexico ranges even beyond the tropic. The influence of
the warmth-radiating land on inclosed waters is still more remarkable in
the Mediterranean (between 30° and 44° N. lat.) where during the summer
months a temperature of 84° and 85° is found, three degrees higher than
the medium warmth of the open tropical seas.
While in the torrid zone the temperature of the ocean is generally
inferior to that of the atmosphere, the contrary takes place in the Polar
seas. Near Spitzbergen, even under 80° N. lat., Gaimard never found the
temperature of the water below +33°. Between Norway and Spitzbergen the
mean warmth of the water in summer was +39°, while that of the air only
attained +37°.
In the enclosed seas of the Arctic Ocean, the enormous accumulation of
ice, which the warmth of a short summer is unable totally to dissolve,
naturally produces a very low temperature of the waters. Thus, in
Baffin's Bay, Sir John Ross found during the summer months only
thirty-one days on which the temperature of the water rose above freezing
point.
In the depths of the sea, even in the tropical zone, the water is found
of a frigid temperature, and this circumstance first led to the knowledge
of the submarine polar ocean currents; "for without these, the deep sea
temperature in the tropics could never have been lower than the maximum
of cold, which the heat-radiating particles attain at the surface."[B]
[Footnote B: Humboldt's "Kosmos."]
It was formerly believed that while the surface temperature--which
depended upon direct solar radiation, the direction of currents, the
temperature of winds, and other temporary causes--might vary to any
amount, at a certain depth the temperature was permanent at 4° C., the
temperature of the greatest density of fresh water. Late investigations,
however, have led to the conclusion that instead of there being a
permanent deep layer of water at 4° C., the average temperature of the
deep sea in temperate and tropical regions is about 0° C., the freezing
point of fresh water.
In the atmospheric ocean, aëronauts not seldom meet with warm air
currents flowing above others of a colder temperature; while, according
to a general law, the warmth of the air constantly diminishes as its
elevation above the surface of the sea increases.
Similar exceptions to the general rule are met with in the ocean. In
moderate depths sometimes the whole mass of water from the surface to the
bottom is abnormally warm, owing to the movement in a certain direction
of a great body of warm water, as in the "warm area" to the north-west of
the Hebrides, where, at a depth of 500 fathoms, the minimum temperature
was found to be 6° C. On the other hand, the whole body of water is
sometimes abnormally cold, as in the "cold area," between Scotland and
Faeroe, where, at a depth of 500 fathoms, the bottom temperature is found
to average -1° C.[C] The only feasible explanation of these enormous
differences of temperature, amounting to nearly 13° F. in two areas
freely communicating with one another, and in close proximity, is that
in the area to the north-west of the Hebrides a body of water warmed
even above the normal temperature of the latitude flows northwards from
some southern source, and occupies the whole depth of that comparatively
shallow portion of the Atlantic, while an arctic stream of frigid water
creeps from the north-eastward into the trough between Faeroe and the
Shetland Islands, and fills its deeper part in consequence of its higher
specific gravity. There can be no doubt that similar phenomena occur
in various parts of the ocean, and that the deep seas are frequently
intersected by streams differing in temperature from the surrounding
waters.
[Footnote C: "The Depths of the Sea," by Professor Wyville Thomson, p.
307.]
In some places, owing to the conformation of the neighbouring land or
of the sea-bottom, superficial warm and cold currents are circumscribed
and localised, thereby occasioning the singular phenomenon of a patch
or stripe of warm and a patch of cold sea meeting in an invisible but
well-defined line.
The temperature of the sea apparently never sinks at any depth below
-3·5° C. This is about the temperature of the maximum density of sea
water, which contracts steadily till just above its freezing point
(-3·67° C.), when kept perfectly still.
If we include in the tropical seas all that part of the ocean where the
surface temperature never falls below 68° F., and where consequently
living coral reefs may occur, we find that it nearly equals in size the
temperate and cold ocean-regions added together. This distribution of
the waters over the surface of the globe is of the highest importance to
mankind; for the immense extent of the tropical ocean, where, of course,
the strongest evaporation takes place, furnishes our temperate zone with
the necessary quantity of rain, and tends by its cooling influence to
diminish the otherwise unbearable heat of the equatorial lands.
The circumstance of ice being lighter than water also contributes to the
habitability of our earth. Ice is a bad conductor of heat; consequently
it shields the subjacent waters from the influence of frost, and prevents
its penetrating to considerable depths. If ice had been heavier than
water, the sea-bottom, in higher latitudes, would have been covered
with solid crystal at the very beginning of the cold season; and during
the whole length of the polar winter, the perpetually consolidating
surface-waters would have been constantly precipitated, till finally the
whole sea, far within the present temperate zone, would have formed one
solid mass of ice. The sun would have been as powerless to melt this
prodigious body, as it is to dissolve the glaciers of the Alps, and the
cold radiating from its surface would have rendered all the neighbouring
lands uninhabitable.
* * * * *
The mixture of the water of rivers with that of the sea presents some
hydrostatic phenomena which it is curious enough to observe. Fresh water
being lighter, ought to keep at the surface, while the salt water, from
its weight, should form the deepest strata. This, in fact, is what Mr.
Stephenson observed in 1818 in the harbour of Aberdeen at the mouth of
the Dee, and also in the Thames near London and Woolwich. By taking up
water from different depths with an instrument invented for the purpose,
Mr. Stephenson found that at a certain distance from the mouth the water
is fresh in the whole depth, even during the flow of the tide, but that
a little nearer the sea fresh water is found on the surface, while the
lower strata consist of sea water. According to his observations it is
between London and Woolwich that the saltness of the bottom begins to be
perceptible. Thus, below Woolwich the Thames, instead of flowing over a
solid bed, in reality flows upon a liquid bottom formed by the water of
the sea, with which no doubt it is more or less mixed.
Mr. Stephenson is of opinion that, at the flow of the tide, the fresh
water is raised as it were in a single mass by the salt water which
flows in, and which ascends the bed of the river, while the fresh water
continues to flow towards the sea.
Where the Amazon, the La Plata, the Orinoco, and other giant streams pour
out their vast volumes of water into the ocean, the surface of the sea is
fresh for many miles from the shore; but this is only superficial, for
below, even in the bed of the rivers, the bitterness of salt water is
found.
It is a curious fact, that in many parts of the ocean, fresh-water
springs burst from the bottom of the sea. Thus, in the Gulf of Spezzia,
and in the port of Syracuse, large jets of fresh water mingle with the
brine; and Humboldt mentions a still more remarkable submarine fountain
on the southern coast of Cuba, in the Gulf of Xagua, a couple of sea
miles from the shore, which gushes through the salt water with such
vehemence, that boats approaching the spot are obliged to use great
caution. Trading vessels are said sometimes to visit this spring, in
order to provide themselves in the midst of the ocean with a supply of
fresh water.
* * * * *
The sea is not colourless; its crystal mirror not only reflects the
bright sky or the passing cloud, but naturally possesses a pure bluish
tint, which is only rendered visible to the eye when the light penetrates
through a stratum of water of considerable depth. This may be easily
ascertained by experiment. Take a glass tube, two inches wide and two
yards long, blacken it internally with lamp-black and wax to within half
an inch of the end, the latter being closed by a cork. Throw a few pieces
of white porcelain into this tube, which, after being filled with pure
sea-water, must be set vertically on a white plate, and then, looking
through the open end, you will see the white of the porcelain changed
into a light blue tint.
In the Gulf of Naples, we find the inherent colour of the water exhibited
to us by Nature on a most magnificent scale. The splendid "Azure cave,"
at Capri, might almost be said to have been created for the purpose.
For many centuries its beauties had been veiled from man, as the narrow
entrance is only a few feet above the level of the sea, and it was
only discovered in the year 1826, by two Prussian artists accidentally
swimming in the neighbourhood. Having passed the portal, the cave widens
to grand proportions, 125 feet long, and 145 feet broad, and except
a small landing place on a projecting rock at the farther end, its
precipitous walls are on all sides bathed by the influx of the waters,
which in that sea are most remarkably clear, so that the smallest objects
may be distinctly seen on the light bottom at a depth of several hundred
feet. All the light that enters the grotto must penetrate the whole depth
of the waters, probably several hundred feet, before it can be reflected
into the cave from the clear bottom, and it thus acquires so deep a tinge
from the vast body of water through which it has passed, that the dark
walls of the cavern are illumined by a radiance of the purest azure, and
the most differently coloured objects below the surface of the water are
made to appear bright blue. Had Byron known of the existence of this
magic cave, Childe Harold would surely have sung its beauties in some of
his most brilliant stanzas.
All profound and clear seas are more or less of a deep blue colour,
while, according to seamen, a green colour indicates soundings. The
bright blue of the Mediterranean, so often vaunted by poets, is found all
over the deep pure ocean, not only in the tropical and temperate zones,
but also in the regions of eternal frost. Scoresby speaks with enthusiasm
of the splendid blue of the Greenland seas, and all along the great
ice-barrier which under 77° S. lat. obstructed the progress of Sir James
Ross towards the pole, that illustrious navigator found the waters of as
deep a blue as in the classical Mediterranean. The North Sea is green,
partly from its water not being so clear, and partly from the reflection
of its sandy bottom mixing with the essentially blue tint of the water.
In the Bay of Loanga the sea has the colour of blood, and Captain Tuckey
discovered that this results from the reflection of the red ground-soil.
But the essential colour of the sea undergoes much more frequent changes
over large spaces, from enormous masses of minute _algæ_, and countless
hosts of small sea-worms, floating or swimming on its surface.
"A few days after leaving Bahia," says Mr. Darwin, "not far from the
Abrolhos islets, the whole surface of the water, as it appeared under a
weak lens, seemed as if covered by chipped bits of hay with their ends
jagged. Each bundle consisted of from twenty to sixty filaments, divided
at regular intervals by transverse septa, containing a brownish-green
flocculent matter. The ship passed several bands of them, one of which
was about ten yards wide, and, judging from the mud-like colour of the
water, at least two and a half miles long. Similar masses of floating
vegetable matter are a very common appearance near Australia. During two
days preceding our arrival at the Keeling Islands, I saw in many parts
masses of flocculent matter of a brownish green colour, floating in the
ocean. They were from half to three inches square, and consisted of two
kinds of microscopical confervæ. Minute cylindrical bodies, conical at
each extremity, were involved in large numbers in a mass of fine threads."
"On the coast of Chili," says the same author, "a few leagues north of
Conception, the 'Beagle' one day passed through great bands of muddy
water; and again, a degree south of Valparaiso, the same appearance
was still more extensive. Mr. Sulivan, having drawn up some water in a
glass, distinguished by the aid of a lens moving points. The water was
slightly stained, as if by red dust, and after leaving it for sometime
quiet, a cloud collected at the bottom. With a slightly magnifying lens,
small hyaline points could be seen darting about with great rapidity,
and frequently exploding. Examined with a much higher power, their shape
was found to be oval, and contracted by a ring round the middle, from
which line curved little setæ proceeded on all sides, and these were the
organs of motion. Their minuteness was such that they were individually
quite invisible to the naked eye, each covering a space equal only to
the one-thousandth of an inch, and their number was infinite, for the
smallest drop of water contained very many. In one day we passed through
two spaces of water thus stained, one of which alone must have extended
over several square miles. The colour of the water was like that of
a river which has flowed through a red clay district, and a strictly
defined line separated the red stream from the blue water."
In the neighbourhood of Callao, the Pacific has an olive-green colour,
owing to a greenish matter which is also found at the bottom of the sea,
in a depth of 800 feet. In its natural state it has no smell, but when
cast on the fire, it emits the odour of burnt animal substances.
Near Cape Palmas, on the coast of Guinea, Captain Tuckey's ship seemed to
sail through milk, a phenomenon which was owing to an immense number of
little white animals swimming on the surface, and concealing the natural
tint of the water.
The peculiar colouring of the Red Sea, from which it has derived its
name, is owing to the presence of a microscopic alga, _sui generis_,
floating at the surface of the sea and even less remarkable for its
beautiful red colour than for its prodigious fecundity.
I could add many more examples, where, either from minute algæ or from
small animals, the deep blue sea suddenly appeared in stripes of white,
yellow, green, brown, orange or red. For fear, however, of tiring the
reader's patience, I shall merely mention the _olive-green_ water, which
covers a considerable part of the Greenland seas. It is found between
74° and 80° N. lat., but its position varies with the currents, often
forming isolated stripes, and sometimes spreading over two or three
degrees of latitude. Small yellowish Medusæ, of from one-thirtieth to
one-twentieth of an inch in diameter are the principal agents that change
the pure ultramarine of the Arctic Ocean into a muddy green. According
to Scoresby, they are about one-fourth of an inch asunder, and in this
proportion a cubic inch of water must contain 64, a cubic foot 110,592,
a cubic fathom 23,887,872, and a cubic mile nearly twenty-four thousand
billions! From soundings made in the situation where these animals were
found, the sea is probably more than a mile deep; but whether these
substances occupy the whole depth is uncertain. Provided, however, the
depth to which they extend be about 250 fathoms, the immense number of
one species mentioned above may occur in a space of two miles square; and
what a stupendous idea must we form of the infinitude of marine life,
when we consider that those vast numbers, beyond all human conception,
occupy after all only a small part of the green-coloured ocean which
extends over twenty or thirty thousand square miles! It is here that the
giant whale of the north finds his richest pasture-grounds, which at
the same time invite man to follow on his track. A small red crustacean
(_Cetochilus australis_) which forms very extensive banks in the Pacific,
and in the middle of the Atlantic about 40° S. lat., affords a similar
supply of food to the whales frequenting those seas, and exposes them to
the same dangers.
When the sea is perfectly clear and transparent, it allows the eye to
distinguish objects at a very great depth. Near Mindora, in the Indian
Ocean, the spotted corals are plainly visible under twenty-five fathoms
of water. The crystalline clearness of the Caribbean sea excited the
admiration of Columbus, who in the pursuit of his great discoveries ever
retained an open eye for the beauties of nature. "In passing over these
splendidly adorned grounds," says Schöpf, "where marine life shows itself
in an endless variety of forms, the boat, suspended over the purest
crystal, seems to float in the air, so that a person unaccustomed to the
scene easily becomes giddy. On the clear sandy bottom appear thousands of
sea-stars, sea-urchins, molluscs, and fishes of a brilliancy of colour
unknown in our temperate seas. Fiery red, intense blue, lively green,
and golden yellow perpetually vary; the spectator floats over groves of
sea-plants, gorgonias, corals, alcyoniums, flabellums, and sponges, that
afford no less delight to the eye, and are no less gently agitated by the
heaving waters, than the most beautiful garden on earth when a gentle
breeze passes through the waving boughs."
With equal enthusiasm De Quatrefages expatiates on the beauties of the
submarine landscapes on the coast of Sicily. "The surface of the waters,
smooth and even like a mirror, enabled the eye to penetrate to an
incredible depth, and to recognise the smallest objects. Deceived by this
wonderful transparency, it often occurred during my first excursions,
that I wished to seize some annelide or medusa, which seemed to swim
but a few inches from the surface. Then the boatman smiled, took a net
fastened to a long pole, and, to my great astonishment, plunged it deep
into the water before it could attain the object which I had supposed
to be within my reach. The admirable clearness of the waters produced
another deception of a most agreeable kind. Leaning over the boat, we
glided over plains, dales, and hillocks, which, in some places naked
and in others carpeted with green or with brownish shrubbery, reminded
us of the prospects of the land. Our eye distinguished the smallest
inequalities of the piled-up rocks, plunged more than a hundred feet
deep into their cavernous hollows, and everywhere the undulations of
the sand, the abrupt edges of the stone-blocks, and the tufts of algæ
were so sharply defined, that the wonderful illusion made us forget
the reality of the scene. Between us and those lovely pictures we saw
no more the intervening waters that enveloped them as in an atmosphere
and carried our boat upon their bosom. It was as if we were hanging in
a vacant space, or looking down like birds hovering in the air upon a
charming prospect. Strangely formed animals peopled these submarine
regions, and lent them a peculiar character. Fishes, sometimes isolated
like the sparrows of our groves, or uniting in flocks like our pigeons
or swallows, roamed among the crags, wandered through the thickets
of the sea-plants, and shot away like arrows as our boat passed over
them. Caryophyllias, Gorgonias, and a thousand other zoophytes unfolded
their sensitive petals, and could hardly be distinguished from the
real plants with whose fronds their branches intertwined. Enormous
dark blue Holothurias crept along upon the sandy bottom, or slowly
climbed the rocks, on which crimson sea-stars spread out immoveably
their long radiating arms. Molluscs dragged themselves lazily along,
while crabs, resembling huge spiders, ran against them in their oblique
and rapid progress, or attacked them with their formidable claws.
Other crustaceans, analogous to our lobsters or shrimps, gambolled
among the fuci, sought for a moment the surface waters to enjoy the
light of heaven, and then by one mighty stroke of their muscular tail,
instantly disappeared again in the obscure recesses of the deep. Among
these animals whose shapes reminded us of familiar forms appeared other
species, belonging to types unknown in our colder latitudes: _Salpæ_,
strange molluscs of glassy transparency, that, linked together, form
swimming chains; great _Beroës_, similar to living enamel; _Diphyæ_
hardly to be distinguished from the pure element in which they move, and
finally, _Stephanomiæ_, animated garlands woven of crystal and flowers,
and which, still more delicate than the latter, disappear as they wither,
and do not even leave a cloud behind them in the vase, which a few
moments before their glassy bodies had nearly entirely filled."
[Illustration: Hill at the Rapid on Bear Lake River. (North-West
Territory, North America.)]
CHAP. II.
THE WAVES OF THE OCEAN.
Waves and the Mode of their Formation.--Height and Velocity of
Storm-Waves, on the High Seas, according to the Calculations of
Scoresby, Arago, Sir James Ross, and Wilkes.--Their Height and
Power on Coasts.--Their Destructive Effects along the British
Shore.--Dunwich.--Reculver.--Shakspeare's Cliff.
After having admired the sea in the grandeur of its expanse, and the
profundity of its depths, I shall, in this and the two following
chapters, examine in what manner the perpetual circulation of its waters
is maintained.
[Illustration: H.M.S. "Resolute" lying to in the North Atlantic.]
"The movements of the sea," says Humboldt, "are of a three-fold
description: partly irregular and transitory, depending upon the winds,
and occasioning waves; partly regular and periodical, resulting from
the attraction of the sun and the moon (ebb and flood); and partly
permanent, though of unequal strength and rapidity at different periods
(oceanic currents)."
Who has ever sojourned on the coast, or crossed the seas, and has not
been delighted by the aspect of the waves, so graceful when a light
breeze curls the surface of the waters, so sublime when a raging storm
disturbs the depths of the ocean?
But it is easier to admire the beauty of a wave than clearly to explain
its nature, so as to convey an accurate or sufficiently general
conception of its formation to the reader's mind. Those who are placed
for the first time on a stormy sea, discover with wonder that the large
waves which they see rushing along with a velocity of many miles an hour
do not carry the floating body along with them, but seem to pass under
the bottom of the ship with scarcely a perceptible effect in carrying the
vessel out of its course.
In like manner, the observer near the shore perceives that floating
pieces of wood are not carried towards the shore with the rapidity of
the waves, but are left nearly in the same place after the wave has
passed them as before. Nay, if the tide be ebbing, the waves may even be
observed rushing with great velocity towards the shore, while the body of
water is actually receding, and any object floating in it is carried in
the opposite direction to the waves out to sea.
What, then, is wave-motion as distinct from water-motion? The force of
the wind, pushing a given mass of water out of its place into another,
dislodges the original occupant, which is again pushed forward on the
occupant of the next place, and so on. As the water-particles crowd
upon one another, in the act of going out of their old places into the
new, the crowd forms a temporary heap visible on the surface of the
fluid, and as each successive mass is displacing the one before it, the
undulation or oscillatory movement spreads farther and farther over the
waters. Wave-motion is, in fact, the transference of motion without the
transference of matter: of form without the substance, of force without
the agent.
The strongest storm cannot suddenly raise high waves, they require
time for their development. Fancy the wind blowing over an even sea,
and it will set water-particles in motion all over the surface,
and thus give the first impulse to the formation of small waves.
Numberless oscillations unite their efforts, and create visible
elevations and depressions. Meanwhile, the wind is constantly setting
new particles in motion; long before the first oscillations have lost
their effect, countless others are perpetually arising, and thus the
sum of the propelling powers is constantly increasing, and gradually
raising mountain-waves, until their growth is finally limited by the
counterbalancing power of the earth's attraction.
As the strength of the waves only gradually rises, it also loses itself
only by degrees, and many hours after the tornado has ceased to rage,
mighty billows continue to remind the mariner of its extinguished fury.
The turmoil of waters awakened by the storm propagates itself hundreds
of miles beyond the space where its howling voice was heard, and often,
during the most tranquil weather, the agitated sea proclaims the distant
war of the elements.
The velocity of waves depends not only on the power of the impulse, but
also on the depth of the subjacent waters, as I have already mentioned in
the preceding chapter.
For this reason, as increased velocity augments the power of the impulse,
the waves in the Atlantic or Pacific, the mean depth of which may be
estimated at 12,000 or 18,000 feet, attain a much greater height than in
the comparatively shallow North Sea.
The breaking of the waves against the shore arises from their velocity
diminishing with their depth. As the small flat wave rolls up the beach,
its front part, retarded by the friction of the ground, is soon overtaken
by its back, moving in swifter progression, and thus arises its graceful
swelling, the toppling of its snow-white crest, and finally its pleasant
prattle among the shingles of the strand. This is one of those pictures
of nature which Homer describes with such inimitable truth in various
places of his immortal poems: he paints with admirable colours the slow
rising of the advancing wave, how it bends forward with a graceful curve,
and, crowning itself with a diadem of foam, spreads like a white veil
over the beach, leaving sea-weeds and shells behind, as it rustles back
again into the sea.
The height which waves may attain on the open sea has been accurately
investigated by the late Rev. Dr. Scoresby, during two passages across
the Atlantic in 1847 and 1848.
"In the afternoon of March 5th, 1848," says that eminent philosopher,
"I stood during a hard gale upon the cuddy-roof or saloon deck of the
'Hibernia:' a height, with the addition of that of the eye, of 23 feet
3 inches above the line of flotation (the ship's course being similar
to that of the waves). I am not aware that I ever saw the sea more
terribly magnificent; the great majority of the rolling masses of water
was more than 24 feet high, (including depression as well as altitude,
or reckoning above the mean-level, more than 12 feet). I then went to
the larboard paddle-box, about 7 feet higher (30 feet 2 inches up to the
eye), and found that one half of the waves rose above the level of the
view obtained.
"Frequently I observed long ranges (200 yards), which rose so high above
the visible horizon, as to form an angle estimated at two or three
degrees when the distance of the wave's summit was about 100 yards from
the observer. This would add near 13 feet to the level of the eye, and at
least one in half-a-dozen waves attained this altitude. Sometimes peaks
or crests of breaking seas would shoot upward, at least 10 or 15 feet
higher.
"The average wave was, I believe, fully equal to that of my sight on
the paddle-box, or more than 15 feet, and the _mean highest waves_, not
including the broken or acuminated crests, rose about 43 feet above
the level of the hollow occupied at the moment by the ship. It was a
grand storm-scene, and nothing could exceed the pictorial effect of the
partial sunbeams breaking through the heavy masses of clouds." From the
time taken by a regular wave to pass from stern to stem, Dr. Scoresby
calculated its velocity at 2875 feet in each minute, or 32·67 English
statute miles in an hour. The mean length of the wave-ridges, was from a
quarter to a third of a mile.
To those who might be inclined to doubt the accuracy of these
measurements, the remark may suffice that our celebrated countryman had
been for years engaged in the northern whale-fishery, where he had ample
opportunities for practising his eye in measuring distances. Besides,
the conclusions of many other trustworthy observers coincide with the
evaluations of Dr. Scoresby.
Thus Captain Wilkes, commander of the U. S. Exploring Expedition, found
the height of the waves near Orange Harbour, where they rose higher and
more regular than at any other time during the cruise, to be thirty-two
feet (depression and altitude), and their apparent progressive motion
about twenty-six and a half miles in an hour.
Sir James Ross calculated the height of the waves on a strongly agitated
sea at twenty-two feet, and, according to the French naturalists who
sailed in the frigate "La Venus," on her voyage round the world, the
highest waves they met with never exceeded that measure.
Thus, according to the joint testimony of the most eminent nautical
authorities, the waves in the open sea never attain the mountain-height
ascribed to them by the exuberant fancy of poets or exaggerating
travellers. But when the tempest surge beats against steep crags or rocky
coasts it rises to a much more considerable height. The lighthouse of
Bell Rock, though 112 feet high, is literally buried in foam and spray
to the very top during ground-swells, even when there is no wind. On the
20th November, 1827, the spray rose to the height of 117 feet above the
foundation or low-water mark, which, deducting eleven feet for the tide
that day, leaves 106 feet for the height of the wave. The strength of
that remarkable edifice may be estimated from the fact, that the power of
such a giant billow is equivalent to a pressure of three tons per square
foot.
In the Shetland Islands, which are continually exposed to the full fury
of the Atlantic surge (for no land intervenes between their western
shores and America), every year witnesses the removal of huge blocks
of stone from their native beds by the terrific action of the waves.
"In the winter of 1802," says Dr. Hibbert, in his description of that
northern archipelago, "a tabular-shaped mass, eight feet two inches by
seven feet, was dislodged from its bed and removed to a distance of from
eighty to ninety feet. I measured the recent bed from which a block had
been carried away the preceding winter (A.D. 1818), and found it to be
seventeen feet and a half by seven feet, and the depth two feet eight
inches. The removed mass had been borne to a distance of thirty feet,
when it was shivered into thirteen or more lesser fragments, some of
which were carried still farther from 30 to 120 feet. A block nine feet
two inches by six feet and a half, and four feet thick, was hurried up
the acclivity to a distance of 150 feet."
The great storm of 1824, which carried away part of the breakwater at
Plymouth, lifted huge masses of rock, from two to five tons in weight,
from the bottom of the weatherside and rolled them fairly to the top of
the pile. One block of limestone weighing seven tons was washed round
the western extremity of the breakwater, and swept to a distance of 150
feet. In 1807, during the erection of the Bell Rock lighthouse, six large
blocks of granite which had been landed on the reef were removed by the
force of the sea and thrown over a rising ledge to the distance of twelve
or fifteen paces, and an anchor weighing about twenty-two hundredweight
was cast upon the surface of the rock.
With such examples before our eyes, we cannot wonder that in the course
of centuries all shores exposed to the full shock of the waves, lashing
against them with every returning tide, should gradually be wasted and
worn away. One kind of stone stands the brunt of the elements longer than
another, but ultimately even the hardest rock must yield to the rage of
the billows, which when provoked by wintry gales, batter against them
with all the force of artillery.
Thus, all along our coasts we find innumerable instances of their
destructive power. Tynemouth Castle now overhangs the sea, although
formerly separated from it by a strip of land, and in the old maps of
Yorkshire we find spots, now sand-banks in the sea, marked as the ancient
sites of the towns and villages of Auburn, Hartburn, and Hyde. The cliffs
of Norfolk and Suffolk are subject to incessant and rapid decay. At
Sherringham, Sir Charles Lyell ascertained, in 1829, some facts which
throw light on the rate at which the sea gains upon the land. There was
then a depth of twenty feet (sufficient to float a frigate) at one point
in the harbour of that port, where only forty-eight years ago there
stood a cliff fifty feet high with houses upon it! "If once in half a
century," remarks the great geologist, "an equal amount of change were
produced suddenly by the momentary shock of an earthquake, history would
be filled with records of such wonderful revolutions of the earth's
surface; but if the conversion of high land into deep sea be gradual, it
excites only local attention." On the same coast, the ancient villages of
Shipden, Wimpwell, and Eccles have disappeared, several manors and large
portions of neighbouring parishes having gradually been swallowed up; nor
has there been any intermission, from time immemorial, in the ravages
of the sea along a line of coast twenty miles in length in which these
places stood. Dunwich, once the most considerable sea-port on the coast of
Suffolk, is now but a small village with about one hundred inhabitants.
From the time of Edward the Confessor, the ocean has devoured, piece
after piece, a monastery, seven churches, the high road, the town-hall,
the gaol, and many other buildings. In the sixteenth century not
one-fourth of the ancient town was left standing, yet, the inhabitants
retreating inland, the name has been preserved,--
"Stat magni nominis umbra,"--
as has been the case with many other ports, when their ancient site has
been blotted out.
The Isle of Sheppey is subject to such rapid decay, that the church at
Minster, now near the coast, is said to have been in the middle of the
island fifty years ago, and it has been conjectured that at the present
rate of destruction, the whole isle will be annihilated before the end of
the century.
Another remarkable instance of the destructive action of the tidal surge
is that of Reculver, on the Kentish coast, an important military station
in the time of the Romans, now nothing but a ruin and a name. So late
as the reign of Henry VIII., Reculver was still a mile distant from the
sea; but, in 1780, the encroaching waves had already reached the site
of the ancient camp, the walls of which, cemented as they were into one
solid mass by the unrivalled masonry of the Romans, continued for several
years after they were undermined to overhang the sea. In 1804, part of
the churchyard with the adjoining houses was washed away, and then the
ancient church with its two lofty spires, a well-known landmark, was
dismantled and abandoned as a place of worship.
Shakspeare's Cliff at Dover has also suffered greatly from the waves, and
continually diminishes in height, the slope of the hill being towards
the land. About the year 1810, there was an immense landslip from this
cliff, by which Dover was shaken as if by an earthquake, and a still
greater one in 1772.
Thus the fame of the poet is likely to outlive for many centuries the
proud rock, the memory of which will always be entwined with his immortal
verse:--
"How fearful,
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high."
The peninsulas of Purbeck and Portland, the cliffs of Devonshire and
Cornwall, the coasts of Pembroke and Cardigan, the stormy Hebrides,
Shetland and Orcadia, all tell similar tales of destruction, a mere
summary of which would swell into a volume.
During the most violent gales the bottom of the sea is said by different
authors to be disturbed to a depth of 300, 350, or even 500 feet, and Sir
Henry de la Bêche remarks that when the depth is fifteen fathoms, the
water is very evidently discoloured by the action of the waves on the mud
and sand of the bottom. But in the deep caves of ocean all is tranquil,
all is still, and the most dreadful hurricanes that rage over the surface
leave those mysterious recesses undisturbed.
CHAP. III.
THE TIDES.
Description of the Phenomenon.--Devastations of Storm-Floods on Flat
Coasts.--What did the Ancients know of the Tides?--Their Fundamental
Causes revealed by Kepler and Newton.--Development of their Theory
by La Place, Euler, and Whewell.--Vortices caused by the Tides.--The
Maelstrom.--Charybdis.--The _Barre_ at the mouth of the Seine.--The
Euripus.
Living on the sea-coast would undoubtedly be deprived of one of its
greatest attractions, without the phenomenon of the tides, which,
although of daily recurrence, never loses the charm of novelty, and gives
constant occupation to the fancy by the life, movement, and perpetual
change it brings along with it. How wonderful to see the sandy plain on
which, but a few hours ago, we enjoyed a delightful walk, transformed
into a vast sheet of water through which large vessels plough their way!
How agreeable to trace the margin of the rising flood, and listen to its
murmurs! Those of the rustling grove or waving cornfield are not more
melodious. And then the variety of interesting objects which the reflux
of the tide leaves behind it on the beach--the elegantly formed shell,
the feathery sertularia, the delicate fucoid, and so many other strange
or beautiful marine productions, that may well challenge the attention of
the most listless lounger.
But the spectacle of the tides is not merely pleasing to the eye, or
attractive to the imagination; it serves also to rouse the spirit of
scientific inquiry. It is indeed hardly possible to witness their regular
succession without feeling curious to know by what causes they are
produced, and when we learn that they are governed by the attraction
of distant celestial bodies, and that their mysteries have been so
completely solved by man, that he is able to calculate their movements
for months and years to come, then indeed the pleasure and admiration
we feel at their aspect must increase, for we cannot walk upon the
beach without being constantly reminded that all the shining worlds that
stud the heavens are linked together by one Almighty power, and that
our spirit, which has been made capable of unveiling and comprehending
so many of the secrets of creation, must surely possess something of a
divine nature!
On all maritime coasts, except such as belong to mediterranean seas
not communicating freely with the ocean, the waters are observed to be
constantly changing their level. They regularly rise during about six
hours, remain stationary for a few minutes, and then again descend during
an equal period of time, when after having fallen to the lowest ebb, they
are shortly after seen to rise again, and so on in regular and endless
succession. In this manner twelve hours twenty-four minutes elapse on an
average from one flood to another, so that the sea twice rises and falls
in the course of a day, or rather twice during the time from one passage
of the moon through the meridian to the next, a period equivalent on an
average to 1-35/1000 day, or nearly twenty-five hours. Thus the tides
retard from one day to another; least at new and full moon, when our more
active satellite accomplishes her apparent diurnal motion round the earth
in twenty-four hours, thirty-seven minutes; and most at half-moon, when,
sailing more leisurely through the skies, she takes full twenty-five
hours and twenty-seven minutes to perform her daily journey.
As the retarding of the tides regularly corresponds with the retarding of
the moon, they always return at the same hour after the lapse of fourteen
days, so that at the end of each of her monthly revolutions, the moon
always finds them in the same position. The knowledge of this fact is
extremely useful to navigators, as it is easy to calculate the time of
any tide in a port by knowing when it is high-water on the days of new
and full moon.
The height of the tides in the same place is as unequal and changing as
the period of their intervals, and is equally dependent on the phases
of the moon, increasing with her growth, and diminishing with her
decrease. New and full moon always cause a higher rising of the flood
(spring-tide), followed by a deeper ebb, while at half-moon the change
of level is much less considerable (neap-tide). Thus in Plymouth, for
instance, the neap-tides are only twelve feet high, while the ordinary
spring-tides rise to more than twenty feet.
The highest tides take place during the equinoxes; and eclipses of the
sun and moon are also invariably accompanied by considerable floods,
a circumstance which cannot fail to add to the terror of the ignorant
and superstitious when a mysterious obscurity suddenly veils the great
luminaries of the sky. It has also been remarked that the tides are
stronger or weaker, according as the moon is at a greater or smaller
distance from the earth.
Thus as the height of the floods is always regulated by the relative
position of the sun and moon, and the movements of these heavenly bodies
can be calculated a long time beforehand, our nautical calendars are able
to tell us the days when the highest spring-tides may be expected.
This however can only be foretold to a certain extent, as the tidal
height not only depends upon the attraction of the heavenly bodies,
but also upon the casual influences of the wind, which defies all
calculation, and of the pressure of the air. Thus Mr. Walker observed
on the coasts of Cornwall and Devonshire that when the barometer falls
an inch, the level of the sea rises sixteen inches higher than would
otherwise have been the case.
When a strong and continuous wind blows in an opposite direction to
the tide-wave, and at the same time the barometer is high, the curious
spectators will therefore be deceived in their expectations, however
promising the position of the attracting luminaries may be; while an
ordinary spring-tide, favoured by a low state of the barometer and chased
by a violent storm against the coast, may attain more than double the
usual height. When all favourable circumstances combine, an event which
fortunately but rarely occurs, those dreadful _storm-tides_ take place,
as menacing to the flat coasts of the Netherlands as an eruption of Etna
to the towns and hamlets scattered along its base, for here also a vast
elementary power is let loose which bids defiance to human weakness. It
is then that the rebel sea affords a spectacle of appalling magnificence.
The whole surface seethes and boils in endless confusion. Gigantic waves
rear their monstrous heads like mighty Titans, and hurl their whole
colossal power against the dunes and dykes, as if, impelled by a wild
lust of conquest, they were burning to devour the rich alluvial plains
which once belonged to their domain. Far inland, the terrified peasant
hears the roar of the tumultuous waters, and well may he tremble when
the mountain-waves come thundering against the artificial barriers, that
separate his fields from the raging floods, for the annals of his country
relate many sad examples of their fury, and tell him that numerous
villages and extensive meads, once flourishing and fertile, now lie
buried fathom-deep under the waters of the sea.
Thus, on the first of November, 1170, the storm-flood, bursting through
the dykes, submerged all the land between the Texel, Medenblik, and
Stavoren, formed the island of Wieringen, and enlarged the openings by
which the Zuiderzee communicated with the ocean. The inundations of 1232
and 1242 caused, each of them, the death of more than 100,000 persons,
and that of 1287 swept away more than 80,000 victims in Friesland alone.
The irruption of 1395 considerably widened the channels between the Flie
and the Texel, and allowed large vessels to sail as far as Amsterdam
and Enkhuizen, which had not been the case before. Whilst reading these
accounts, we are led to compare the inhabitants of the Dutch lowlands
with those of the fertile fields and vineyards that clothe the sides of
Vesuvius: both exposed to sudden and irretrievable ruin from the rage
of two different elements, and yet both contented and careless of the
future; the first behind the dykes that have often given way to the
ocean, the latter on the very brink of a menacing volcano.
The tides which sometimes cause such dreadful devastations on the shores
of the North Sea are, as is well known, inconsiderable, or even hardly
perceptible in the Mediterranean, and thus many years passed ere the
Greeks and Romans first witnessed the grand phenomenon. The Phœnicians,
the merchant princes of antiquity, who at a very early period of history
visited the isolated Britons,--
"Penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos,"--
and sailed far away into the Indian Ocean, were of course well acquainted
with it; but it first became known to the Greeks through the voyage of
Colæus, a mariner of Samos, who, according to Herodotus, was driven by a
storm through the Straits of Hercules into the wide Atlantic 600 years
before Christ. About seventy years after this involuntary discovery,
the Phoceans of Massilia, or Marseilles, first ventured to follow on the
track of Colæus for the purpose of trading with Tartessus, the present
Cadiz; and from that time remained in constant commercial intercourse
with that ancient Phœnician colony.
With what eager attention may their countrymen have listened to the
wondrous tale of the alternate rising and sinking of the ocean! Such
must have been the astonishment of our forefathers when the first Arctic
voyagers told them of the floating icebergs, and of the perpetually
circling sun of the high northern summer.
Thus the tides became known to the Massilians about five centuries
before Christ, but in those times of limited international intercourse,
knowledge travelled but slowly from place to place; so that it was not
before the conquests of Alexander, which first opened the Red Sea and the
Persian Gulf to Grecian trade, that the great marine phenomenon began to
attract the general attention of philosophers and naturalists.
The flux and reflux of the sea is evidently so closely connected with the
movements and changes of the moon, that the intimate relations between
both could not possibly escape the penetrating sagacity of the Greeks.
Thus we read in Plutarch, that Pytheas of Marseilles, the great traveller
who sailed to the north as far as the Ultima Thule, and lived in the
times of Alexander the Great, ascribed to the moon an influence over the
tides. Aristotle expressed the same opinion, and Cæsar says positively
(Commentaries, _De Bel. Gal._ book iv. 29,) that the full-moon causes the
tides of the ocean to swell to their utmost height. Strabo distinguishes
a three-fold periodicity of the tides according to the daily, monthly,
and annual position of the moon, and Pliny expresses himself still more
to the point, by saying that the waters move as if obeying the thirsty
orb which causes them to follow its course.
This vague notion of obedience or servitude was first raised by Kepler to
the clear and well defined idea of an attractive power. According to this
great and self-taught genius, all bodies strive to unite in proportion
to their masses. "The earth and moon would mutually approach and meet
together at a point, so much nearer to the earth as her mass is superior
to that of the moon, if their motion did not prevent it. The moon
attracts the ocean, and thus tides arise in the larger seas. If the earth
ceased to attract the waters, they would rise and flow up to the moon."
The general notion of a mutual attraction, however, did no more than
point out the way for the solution of the problem, and it was reserved
to our great Newton to accomplish the prophecy of his great predecessor,
"that the discovery of the true laws of gravitation would be accomplished
in a future generation, when it should please the Almighty Creator of
nature to reveal her mysteries to man."
Newton was the first who proved that the tide-generating power of a
celestial body arises from the difference of the attraction it exerts on
the centre and the surface of the earth. Thus it was at once made clear
how the water not only rises on the surface facing the moon, but also
on the opposite side of the earth, as in the latter case the moon acts
more strongly on the mass of the earth than on the waters which cover the
hemisphere most distant from her. The evident consequence is that the
earth _sinks_ (so to say), on the surface turned from the moon, whereby
a deepening of the waters, or, in other words, a rising of the tide, is
occasioned.
It now also became clear how the moon, whose attractive power upon the
earth is 160 times smaller than that of the sun, is yet able to occasion
a stronger tide, since, from her proximity to the earth, she attracts
the surface more forcibly than the centre with the thirtieth part of
her power, while the distant sun occasions a difference of attraction
on these two points equal only to one twelve-thousandth part of her
attractive force.
Now also a full explanation was first given why the highest tides take
place at new and full moon: that is, when the moon stands between the sun
and the earth; or the latter between the sun and the moon; as then the
two celestial bodies unite their powers; while at half-moon the solar
tide corresponding with the lunar ebb, or the lunar tide with the solar
ebb, counteract each other.
But even Newton explained the true theory of the tides only in its more
prominent and general features, and the labours of other mathematicians,
such as MacLaurin, Bernoulli, Euler, La Place, and Whewell, were required
for its further development, so as fully to explain all the particulars
of the sublime phenomenon.
The reproach has often been made to science, that she banishes poetry
from nature, and disenchants the forest and the field; but this surely
is not the case in the present instance, for what poetical fiction
can fill the soul with a grander image than that of the eternal
restlessly-progressing tide-wave, which, following the triumphant march
of the sun and moon, began as soon as the primeval ocean was formed, and
shall last uninterruptedly as long as our solar system exists!
Were the whole earth covered with one sea of equal depth, the tides would
regularly move onwards from east to west, and everywhere attain the same
height under the same latitude. But the direction and the force of the
tide-wave are modified by many obstacles on its way, such as coast-lines
and groups of islands, and it has to traverse seas of very unequal depth
and form. Flat coasts impede its current by friction, while it rolls
faster along deep mural coasts. From all these causes the strength of the
tides is very unequal in different places.
They are generally low on the wide and open ocean. Thus the highest tides
at Otaheiti do not exceed eleven inches, three feet at St. Helena, one
foot and a half at Porto Rico.
But when considerable obstructions oppose the progress of the tide-waves,
such as vast promontories, long and narrow channels, or bays of
diminishing width, and mouths of rivers directly facing its swell, it
rises to a very great height. Thus, at the bottom of Fundy Bay, which
stretches its long arm between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, the
spring-tides rise to sixty, seventy, or even one hundred feet, while at
its entrance they do not exceed nine feet, and their swell is so rapid as
frequently to sweep away cattle feeding on the shore.
The Bristol Channel and the bay of St. Malo in Brittany, are also
renowned for their high tides. Near Chepstow, the flux is said sometimes
to reach the surprising height of seventy feet, and at St. Malo the
floods frequently rise to forty and fifty feet. When the water is low,
this small sea-port town appears surrounded on all sides by fantastically
shaped cliffs covered with sea-weeds and barnacles. Pools of salt water
interspersed here and there among the hollowed stones, or on the even
ground between them, and harbouring many curious varieties of marine
animals, are the only visible signs of the vicinity of the ocean, whose
hoarse murmurs are heard resounding from afar. But an astonishing change
takes place a few hours after, when the town, surrounded by the sea,
would be a complete island, but for a long, narrow causeway called "_the
Sillon_," which connects it with the mainland. On the side fronting
the open sea, the tide breaks with tremendous rage against the strong
buttresses that have been raised to oppose its fury, rises foamingly to
a height of thirty or forty feet, and threatens the tardy wanderer as he
loiters on the narrow causeway. The cliffs that erewhile were seen to
surround the town are now hidden under the waters, some few excepted,
that raise their rugged heads like minute islands above the circumambient
floods. The opposite side of the causeway is also washed by the sea: but
here its motions are less tumultuous, for after having broken against
numberless rocks and made a vast circuit, it scarce retains a vestige of
its primitive strength. On this side lies the vast, but deserted harbour
of St. Malo, completely dry at ebb-tide; a wide sea during the flood.
Two eminent French authors, Chateaubriand and Lamennais, were born at
St. Malo, and there can be no doubt that the imposing spectacle I have
briefly described must have greatly contributed to the widening of their
intellectual horizon. Daily witnesses from their early childhood of
one of the grandest phenomena of nature in all its wild sublimity, the
boundless and the infinite soon grew familiar to their mind, enriching it
with splendid imagery and bold conceptions.
Although the sun and the moon exert some attraction upon the smaller and
inclosed seas, yet the development of a powerful flood-wave necessarily
requires that the moon should act upon a sufficiently wide and deep
expanse of ocean. Even the Atlantic is not broad enough for this purpose,
as its equatorial width measures no more than one eighth of the earth's
circumference: and the Pacific itself, notwithstanding its vast area,
is so studded with islands and shallows, that it presents a much more
obstructed basin for the action of the tide-wave than might be expected,
from its apparent dimensions and equatorial position.
Thus it is in the Southern Ocean, where the greatest uninterrupted
surface of deep water is exposed to the influence of the moon, that we
must look for the "_chief cradle of the tides_." From this starting point
they flow on all sides to the northward, progressing like any other wave
that arises on a small scale in a pond from a gust of wind, the throwing
of a stone, or any other cause capable of producing an undulating
movement on the surface of the waters.
The tide-wave, which ultimately reaches our shores, arrives at the Cape
of Good Hope thirteen hours after it has left Van Diemen's Land, and
thence rolls onward in fourteen or fifteen hours to the coasts of Spain,
France, and Ireland. It penetrates into the North Sea by two different
ways. One of its ramifications turns round Scotland and thence flows
onwards to the south, taking nineteen or twenty hours for the passage
from Galway to the mouth of the Thames. A tide-wave, for instance, which
appears at five in the afternoon on the west coast of Ireland, arrives at
eight near the Shetland Islands, reaches Aberdeen at midnight, Hull at
five in the morning, and Margate at noon.
The other ramification of the same tide-wave, taking the shorter route
through the Channel, had meanwhile preceded it by twelve hours, having
reached Brest about five o'clock of the afternoon (at the same time that
the northern branch appeared at Galway), Cherbourg at seven, Brighton at
nine, Calais at eleven, and the mouth of the Thames at midnight.
Thus, in this southern corner of the North Sea, two tide-waves unite
that belong to two successive floods; the Scotch branch having started
twelve hours sooner from the great Southern Ocean than the Channel
branch, which thus results from the next following tide. The meeting of
the two branches naturally gives rise to a more considerable rising of
the waters, so that this circumstance, by allowing large ships to sail
up the Thames, may be considered as one of the fundamental causes of the
grandeur of London.
In other parts of the North Sea, where the two tide-waves appear at
different times, the contrary takes place, for the ebb of the one
coinciding with the rising of the other, they naturally weaken or
even neutralise each other. This occasions the low tides on the coast
of Jutland, in Denmark, where they are scarcely higher than in the
Mediterranean, and explains the otherwise startling fact of there being a
space in the North Sea where no periodical rise and fall of the waters
whatsoever takes place.
Thus we see that the relations of the tides in the North Sea, with regard
to height and time, are of a somewhat complicated nature, which could
only be explained after the numerous observations (amounting to more
than 40,000) made by order of the British Government in all parts of the
world, under the direction of Professor Whewell, had proved that all
the floods of the seas chiefly proceed from the great tide-wave of the
Southern Ocean, which, by its numerous ramifications in narrow seas or
through groups of islands and by the unequal rapidity of its progress,
according to the depth or shallowness of the waters it traverses,
occasions all the seeming anomalies which were quite inexplicable by the
simple Newtonian theory.
As every twelve hours a new tidal-wave originates in the Southern Ocean
which regularly follows in the same track as its predecessor, the tides
everywhere succeed each other in regular and equal periods, and can thus
everywhere be calculated beforehand.
In narrow straits or in the intricate channels which wind through
clusters of islands, different tidal-waves meeting from opposite
directions give rise to more or less dangerous whirlpools. One of the
most famous of these vortices, though inconsiderable in itself, is the
renowned Charybdis, which gave so much trouble to Ulysses on his passing
through the strait which separates Sicily from Italy, but is at present
an object of fear scarcely even to the poor fisherman's boat.
A much grander whirlpool, owing its celebrity, not to the fictions of
poetry, but to the magnificent scale on which it has been constructed by
nature, is the renowned Maelstrom, situated on the Norwegian coast in 68°
N. lat., and near the island of Moskoe, from whence it also takes the
name of Moskoestrom. It is four geographical miles in diameter, and in
tempestuous weather its roar, like that of Niagara, is said to be heard
several miles off. John Ramus gives us a terrible description of its
fury, and mentions that in the year 1645 it raged with such noise and
impetuosity, that on the island of Moskoe, the very stones of the houses
fell to the ground. He tells us also that whales frequently come too near
the stream, and, notwithstanding their giant strength, are overpowered by
its violence, but, unfortunately adds, that it is impossible to describe
their howlings and bellowings in their fruitless struggles to disengage
themselves--impossible, no doubt, as whales happen to have no voice at
all!
According to more modern travellers, such as the celebrated geologist
Leopold von Buch, the Maelstrom is far from being so terrible as depicted
by Ramus and other friends of the marvellous; so that, except during
storms and spring-tides, large ships may constantly cross it without
danger. The Norwegian fishermen are even said frequently to assemble on
the field of the Maelstrom on account of the great abundance of fishes
congregating in those troubled waters, and fearlessly to pursue their
avocations, while the whirlpool moves their boats in a circular direction.
Sir Robert Sibbald describes a very remarkable marine whirlpool among the
Orkney islands, which would prove dangerous to strangers, though it is
of no consequence to the people who are used to it. It is not fixed to
any particular place, but arises in various parts of the limits of the
sea among these islands. Wherever it appears, it is very furious, and
boats would inevitably be drawn in and perish with it, but the people
who navigate them are prepared for it and always carry a bundle of straw
or some such matter in the boat with them. This they fling into the
vortex which immediately swallows it up, and, seemingly pleased with
this propitiatory offering, subsides into smoothness, but soon after
re-appears in another place.
A remarkable and sudden rising of the spring-tide takes place at the
mouth of several rivers, for instance, the Indus (where the surprising
phenomenon nearly caused the destruction of the fleet of Alexander the
Great), the Hooghly, the Dordogne, &c. In the Seine it is observed on
a scale of great magnitude. While the tide gradually rises near Havre
and Harfleur, a giant wave is suddenly seen to surge near Quillebœuf,
spanning the whole width of the river (from 30,000 to 36,000 feet).
After this mighty billow has struck against the quay of Quillebœuf, it
enters a more narrow bed and flows stream-upwards with the rapidity
of a race horse, overflowing the banks on both sides, and not seldom
causing considerable loss of property by its unexpected appearance. The
astonishment it causes is increased when it takes place during serene
weather, and without any signs of wind or storm. A deafening noise
announces and accompanies this sudden swelling of the waters, which owes
its first origin to the silent action of gravitation, and is the result
of the diminishing velocity of the tide-wave over a shallow bottom.
While the tide-wave advances over the deep and open seas with an
astonishing rapidity, its progress up the channel of a river is
comparatively very slow, partly on account of the reason just mentioned,
and partly from its meeting a current flowing in an opposite direction.
Thus, the tide takes no less than twelve hours for its progress from the
mouth of the Thames to London, about the time it requires to travel all
the way from Van Diemen's Land to the Cape of Good Hope. Consequently,
when it is high-water at the mouth of the Thames at three o'clock in the
afternoon, for instance, we have not high-water at London Bridge before
three o'clock in the following morning, when it is again high water at
the Nore. But, in the mean time, there has been low water at the Nore
and high water about half-way to London, and while the high water is
proceeding to London, it is ebbing at the intermediate places, and is low
water there when it is high water at London and at the Nore. If the tide
extended as far beyond London as London is from the Nore, we should have
three high waters with two low waters interposed. The most remarkable
instance of this kind is afforded by the gigantic river of the Amazons,
as it appears by the observations of Condamine and others, that, between
Para, at the mouth of the colossal stream, and the conflux of the Madera
and Marañon, there are no less than seven simultaneous high waters with
six low waters between them. Thus, four days after the tide-wave was
first raised in the Southern Ocean, its last undulations expire deep in
the bosom of the South American wilds.
The Mediterranean is generally supposed to be tideless, but this opinion
is erroneous; and in the Adriatic, the flux of the sea is far from being
inconsiderable, for, at Venice, the difference between high and low water
is sometimes no less than six or even nine feet. Mr. W. Trevelyan, during
a summer residence in the old port of Antium, on the Roman coast, found
from a series of accurate observations, that the tides regularly succeed
each other and attain a height of fourteen inches. In the eastern
Mediterranean new measurements have proved that they are still more
considerable, while in the western part of that inclosed sea they are
almost imperceptible.
The differences of level caused by the Mediterranean tides, are indeed
too inconsiderable to attract the general notice of the inhabitants on
the coast, but in the famed Euripus, the narrow channel which separates
the island of Eubœa or Negropont from continental Greece, the tide
produces the striking phenomenon of very irregular fluctuations of the
waters, from one end of the channel to the other.
This phenomenon was of course completely inexplicable to the ancient
philosophers, and Aristotle is even said to have drowned himself in the
Euripus in a fit of despair, since, with all his prodigious sagacity,
he could not possibly solve the mystery. For us, who know that peculiar
formations of the sea-bed and coasts are capable of considerably
augmenting the force of the floods, and that tidal waves rushing into
a narrow channel in opposite directions, and at different times, must
necessarily produce irregular fluctuations of the waters, the phenomenon
of the Euripus has ceased to be a mystery.
CHAP. IV.
MARINE CAVES.
Effects of the Sea on Rocky Shores.--Fingal's Cave.--Beautiful
Lines of Sir Walter Scott.--The Antro di Nettuno.--The Cave
of Hunga.--Legend of its Discovery.--Marine Fountains.--The
Skerries.--The Souffleur in Mauritius.--The Buffadero on the Mexican
Coast.
Whoever has only observed the swelling of the tide on the flat coasts
of the North Sea, has but a faint idea of the Titanic power which it
develops on the rocky shores of the wide ocean. Even in fair weather, the
growing flood, oscillating over the boundless expanse of waters, rises
in tremendous breakers, so that it is impossible to behold their fury
without feeling a conviction that the hardest rock must ultimately be
ground to atoms by such irresistible forces.
Day after day, year after year, they renew their fierce attacks, and
as in the high Alpine valleys the tumultuous torrents rushing from the
glaciers tear deep furrows in the flanks of the mountains, thus it is
here the sea which stamps the seal of its might on the vanquished rocks,
corrodes them into fantastic shapes, scoops out wide portals in their
projecting promontories, and hollows out deep caverns in their bosoms.
Here, also, water appears as the beautifying element, decorating
inanimate nature with picturesque forms, and the sea nowhere exhibits
more romantic scenes than on the rocky shores against which her waves
have been beating for many a millennium. How manifold the shapes into
which the rocky shores are worn! how numberless the changes which each
varying season, nay, every hour of the day with its constant alternations
of ebb and flood, of cloud and sunshine, of storm or calm, produces in
their physiognomy! Our coasts abound in beauties such as these; but
pre-eminent above all other specimens of Ocean's fantastic architecture
is Fingal's Cave, which may well challenge the world to show its equal.
From afar, the small island of Staffa, rising precipitously from the
sea, seems destitute of all romantic interest, but on approaching,
the traveller is struck with the remarkable basaltic columns of which
it is chiefly composed. Most of them rest upon a substratum of solid
shapeless rock, and generally form colonnades upwards of fifty feet high,
following the contours of the inlets or promontories, and overtopped with
smaller hillocks. Along the west coast of the island they are tolerably
irregular, but on the south side Staffa appears as an immense Gothic
edifice, or rather as a forest of gigantic pillars seemingly arranged
with all the regularity of art. The admiration they cause is, however,
soon effaced when the vast cave to which the remote islet owes its
world-wide celebrity bursts upon the view. Fancy a grotto measuring 250
feet in length by 53 in width at the entrance, and spanned by an arch
117 feet high, which, though gradually sloping towards the interior,
still maintains a height of 70 feet at the farthest end of the cavern!
The walls consist of rows of huge hexagonal basaltic pillars, which seem
regularly to diminish according to the rules of perspective. The roof
of the vault is formed of the remnants of similar columns, whose shafts
have beyond a doubt been torn away by the sea, which, destroying them
one after the other, has gradually excavated this magnificent temple of
Nature. All their interstices, like those of the pillars, are cemented
with a kind of pale yellow spar, which brings out all the angles and
sides of their surfaces, and forms a pleasing contrast with the dark
purple colour of the basalt.
The whole floor of the cave is occupied by the sea, the depth of which,
even at its farthest end, is above six feet, during ebb-tide; but
it is only in perfectly calm weather that a boat is able to venture
into the interior, for when the sea is any way turbulent (and this is
generally the case among the stormy Hebrides) it is in danger of being
hurled against the walls of the grot and dashed to pieces. Under these
circumstances, the only access into the cave is by a narrow dyke or ledge
running along its eastern wall, about fifteen feet above the water. It
is formed of truncated basaltic pillars, over which it is necessary to
clamber with great caution and dexterity, as they are always moist and
slippery from the dashing spray. Frequently there is only room enough
for one foot, and while the left hand grasps that of the guide, it is
necessary to hold fast with the right to a pillar of the wall. As this
difficult path is most dangerous in the darkest part of the cave, but
few tourists are bold enough to trust themselves to it, for the least
false step must infallibly precipitate the adventurous explorer into the
seething caldron below. Sometimes a cormorant, fearless of any accident
of this kind, has built his nest upon the top of one of the truncated
pillars, which form the pavement of the pathway, and betrays by a peevish
hissing his ill humour at being disturbed in his solitary retreat by the
intrusion of man.
[Illustration: Fingal's Cave.]
The narrow path ultimately widens into a more roomy and slanting space
formed of the remains of more than a thousand perpendicular truncated
shafts. The back wall consists of a range of unequally sized pillars,
arranged somewhat like the tubes of an organ. When the waves rush with
tumultuous fury into the cave and dash their flakes of snow-white foam
against its wall, it seems as if the gigantic instrument, touched by an
invisible hand, were loudly singing the triumphs of ocean.
Among the beauties of this matchless cave, the clear light must not
be forgotten, which, penetrating through the wide portal, produces an
agreeable chiaro-oscuro even at its farthest end, so that the eye is able
to seize at one glance the full majesty of the splendid hall; nor the
pure air which, constantly renewed by the perpetual alternations of the
tides, is very different from the chilly dampness which generally reigns
in subterranean caverns.
When we consider the resemblance which from its regularity this
magnificent work of nature bears to a production of human art, we cannot
wonder at its having been ascribed to mortal architecture. But as men
of ordinary stature seemed too weak for so colossal an enterprise, it
was attributed to a race of giants, who constructed it for their chief
and leader, Fingal, so renowned in Gaelic mythology. This belief still
lingers among the primitive people of the neighbourhood, though some,
being averse to pagan Goliahs, ascribe its workmanship to St. Columban.
The patriotic muse of Walter Scott, who visited the cave in 1810, rises
to more than ordinary warmth while describing
"That wondrous dome,
Where, as to shame the temples deck`d
By skill of earthly architect,
Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
A minster to her Maker's praise!
Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend;
Nor of a theme less solemn, tells
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells,
And still between each awful pause
From the high vault an answer draws
In varied tones, prolonged and high,
That mocks the organ's melody.
Nor doth its entrance front in vain
To old Iona's holy fane,
That Nature's voice might seem to say,
'Well hast thou done, frail child of clay,
Thy humble powers that stately shrine
Task'd high and hard--but witness mine!'"
_Lord of the Isles_, canto iv. stanza 10.
The Mediterranean has likewise its marine grottoes of world-wide
celebrity, its azure cave of Capri,[D] which I have previously described,
and its Antro di Nettuno, in the island of Sardinia, about twelve miles
from the small sea-port of Alghero. Unfortunately this superb grotto is
very difficult of access, for any wind between the north-west and the
south prevents an entry, so that the Algherese assert that 300 out of
the 365 days it is impossible to enter it. The first vaulted cavern,
forming an antechamber about thirty feet high, has no peculiar beauty,
but on crossing a second cavern, in which are about twenty feet of
beautifully clear water, and then turning to the left, one finds oneself
in an intricate navigation among stalactites with surrounding walls and
passages of stalagmites of considerable height. Having passed them and
proceeding westerly, one reaches another cavern with a natural column in
its centre, the shaft and capital of which, supporting the immense and
beautifully fretted roof, reminds one of those in the chapter-house of
the cathedral at Wells, and the staircase of the hall at Christ Church,
Oxford. It stands, the growing monument of centuries, in all its massive
and elegant simplicity with comparatively speaking few other stalagmites
to destroy the effects of its noble solitude. In parts of the grotto
are corridors and galleries, some 300 and 400 feet long, reminding one
of the Moorish architecture of the Alhambra. One of them terminates
abruptly in a deep cavern into which it is impossible to descend; but
among many other interesting objects is a small chamber the access to
which is through a very narrow aperture. After climbing and scrambling
through it, one finds oneself in a room the ceiling of which is entirely
covered with delicate stalactites, and the sides with fretted open work,
so fantastical that one might almost imagine that it was a boudoir of the
Oceanides, where they amused themselves with making lime lace. Some of
the columns in different parts of the grotto are from seventy to eighty
feet in circumference, and the masses of drapery drooping in exquisite
elegance are of equally grand proportions.
[Footnote D: Chap. i. p. 18.]
If a rare chance was required to discover the narrow opening in the
cliffs of Capri, behind which one of the loveliest spectacles of nature
lies concealed, we well may wonder how the famous cave of Hunga in the
Tonga Archipelago ever became known, as its entrance even at low water
is completely hidden under the surface of the sea. Mariner, to whom we
owe our first knowledge of this wonderful play of nature, relates that
while he was one day _rat-hunting_[E] in the island of Hunga with king
Finow, who at that time reigned over Tonga, the barbarian monarch took
a fancy to drink his _kawa_[F] in the cave. Mariner, who had absented
himself for a few moments from the company, was very much astonished
when, returning to the strand, he saw one chieftain after another dive
and disappear. He had but just time to ask the last of them what they
were about. "Follow me," answered the chieftain, "and I will show thee
a place where thou hast never been before, and where Finow and his
chieftains are at present assembled." Mariner immediately guessed that
this must be the celebrated cave of which he had frequently heard, and,
anxious to see it, he immediately followed the diving chieftain, and
swimming close after him under the water, safely reached the opening
in the rock through which he emerged into the cave. On ascending to
the surface, he immediately heard the voices of the company, and still
following his guide, climbed upon a projecting ledge on which he sat
down. All the light of the cave was reflected from the sea beneath,
but yet it was sufficient, as soon as the eye had become accustomed to
the twilight, to distinguish the surrounding objects. A clearer light
being, however, desirable, Mariner once more dived, swam to the strand,
fetched his pistol, poured a good quantity of powder on the pan, wrapped
it carefully up in tapa-cloth and leaves, and, providing himself with
a torch, returned as quickly as possible to the cave. Here he removed
the cloth, a great part of which was still quite dry, and igniting it
by the flame of the powder made use of it to light his torch. This was
probably the very first time since its creation that the cave had ever
been illumined by artificial light. Its chief compartment, which on one
side branched out into two smaller cavities, seemed to be about forty
feet wide and the mean height above the water amounted to as much. The
roof was ornamented in a remarkable manner by stalactites resembling the
arches and fantastic ornaments of a Gothic hall. According to a popular
tradition, the chieftain who first discovered this remarkable cave while
diving after a turtle, used it subsequently as a place of refuge for his
mistress to screen her from the persecutions of the reigning despot.
The sea faithfully guarded his secret: after a few weeks of seclusion,
he fled with his beloved to the Feejee Islands, and on his returning to
his native home after the death of the tyrant, his countrymen heard with
astonishment of the wonderful asylum that had been revealed to him by the
beneficent sea-gods. Lord Byron adopted this graceful tale as the subject
of his poem "The Island, or Christian and his Comrades," and has thus
described the cave, no doubt largely adorning it from the stores of his
brilliant fancy:
"Around she pointed to a spacious cave,
Whose only portal was the keyless wave
(A hollow archway, by the sun unseen,
Save through the billows' glassy veil of green,
On some transparent ocean holiday,
When all the finny people are at play).
"Wide it was and high;
And showed a self-born Gothic canopy.
The arch upreared by Nature's architect,
The architrave some earthquake might erect;
The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurl'd,
When the poles crash'd and water was the world;
Or harden'd from some earth-absorbing fire,
While yet the globe reek'd from its funeral pyre.
The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave,
Were there, all scoop'd by darkness from her cave.
There, with a little tinge of fantasy,
Fantastic faces mopp'd and mow'd on high;
And then a mitre or a shrine would fix
The eye upon its seeming crucifix.
Thus Nature played with the stalactites,
And built herself a chapel of the seas."
[Footnote E: A favourite pastime of the Polynesian chiefs.]
[Footnote F: An intoxicating beverage extracted from the Piper
methysticum, a species of pepper plant.]
On many rocky shores the ocean has worn out subterraneous channels in the
cliffs against which it has been beating for ages, and then frequently
emerges in water-spouts or fountains from the opposite end. Thus, in
the Skerries, one of the Shetland Islands, a deep chasm or inlet, which
is open overhead, is continued under ground and then again opens to
the sky in the middle of the island. When the water is high, the waves
rise up through this aperture like the blowing of a whale in noise and
appearance.
A similar phenomenon is exhibited on the south side of the Mauritius, at
a point called "The Souffleur," or "The Blower." "A large mass of rock,"
says Lieutenant Taylor,[G] "runs out into the sea from the mainland, to
which it is joined by a neck of rock not two feet broad. The constant
beating of the tremendous swell, which rolls in, has undermined it
in every direction, till it has exactly the appearance of a Gothic
building with a number of arches. In the centre of the rock, which is
about thirty-five or forty feet above the sea, the water has forced two
passages vertically upwards, which are worn as smooth and cylindrical as
if cut by a chisel. When a heavy sea rolls in, it of course fills in an
instant the hollow caverns underneath, and finding no other egress, and
being borne in with tremendous violence, it rushes up these chimneys and
flies, roaring furiously, to a height of full sixty feet. The moment the
wave recedes, the vacuum beneath causes the wind to rush into the two
apertures with a loud humming noise, which is heard at a considerable
distance. My companion and I arrived there before high water, and,
having climbed across the neck of rock, we seated ourselves close to the
chimneys, where I proposed making a sketch, and had just begun when in
came a thundering sea, which broke right over the rock itself and drove
us back much alarmed.
"Our negro guide now informed us that we must make haste to recross our
narrow bridge, as the sea would get up as the tide rose. We lost no time
and got back dry enough; and I was obliged to make my sketches from
the mainland. In about three-quarters of an hour the sight was truly
magnificent. I do not exaggerate in the least when I say that the waves
rolled in, long and unbroken, full twenty-five feet high, till, meeting
the headland, they broke clear over it, sending the spray flying over to
the mainland; while from the centre of this mass of foam, the Souffleur
shot up with a noise, which we afterwards heard distinctly between two
and three miles. Standing on the main cliff, more than a hundred feet
above the sea, we were quite wet. All we wanted to complete the picture
was a large ship going ashore."
[Footnote G: Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London, vol.
iii. 1833.]
THE SOUFFLEUR.
This plate shows the sea beating against some hollow rocks on the
coast of the Mauritius, and producing the remarkable phenomenon called
"The Souffleur," or "The Blower," water-spouts issuing from the
wave-worn cavities of the cliff to a considerable height, and with a
noise distinctly audible at a distance of three miles.
[Illustration: THE SOUFFLEUR ROCK, MAURITIUS.]
A similar phenomenon, on a still more grand and majestic scale, occurs
near Huatulco, a small Mexican village on the coast of the Pacific. On
sailing into the bay one hears a distant noise, which might be taken for
the spouting of a gigantic whale, or the dying groans of a bull struck
by the sharp steel of the matador, or the rolling of thunder. Anxious to
know the cause, "It is the Buffadero," answer the boatmen, pointing to a
fantastically-shaped rock towards which they are rowing. On approaching,
a truly magnificent spectacle reveals itself; for a colossal fountain
springs from an aperture in the rock to a height of 150 feet, and after
having dissolved in myriads of gems, returns to the foaming element
which gave it birth. This beautiful sight renews itself as often as the
breakers rush against the rock, and must be of unequalled splendour when
a tornado sweeps across the ocean and rolls its giant billows into the
hollowed bosom of the cliff.
CHAP. V.
OCEAN CURRENTS.
Causes of the Oceanic Currents.--The Equatorial Stream.--The
Gulf Stream.--Its Influence on the Climate of the West European
Coasts.--The Cold Peruvian Stream.--The Japanese Stream.
Perpetual motion and change is the grand law, to which the whole of the
created universe is subject, and immutable stability is nowhere to be
found, but in the Eternal mind that rules and governs all things. The
stars, which were supposed to be _fixed_ to the canopy of heaven, are
restless wanderers through the illimitable regions of space. The hardest
rocks melt away under the corroding influence of time, for the elements
never cease gnawing at their surface, and dislocating the atoms of which
they are composed. Our body appears to us unchanged since yesterday,
and yet how many of the particles which formed its substance, have
within these few short hours, been cast off and replaced by others. We
fancy ourselves at rest, and yet a torrent of blood, propelled by an
indefatigable heart, is constantly flowing through all our arteries and
veins.
A similar external appearance of tranquillity might deceive the
superficial observer, when sailing over the vast expanse of ocean, at a
time when the winds are asleep, and its surface is unruffled by a wave.
But how great would be his error! For every atom of the boundless sea is
constantly moving and changing its place; from the depth to the surface,
or from the surface to the depth; from the frozen pole to the burning
equator, or from the torrid zone to the arctic ocean; now rising in the
air in the form of invisible vapours, and then again descending upon our
fields in fertilising showers.
The waters are, in fact, the greatest travellers on earth; they know all
the secrets of the submarine world; climb the peaks of inaccessible
mountains, shame the flight of the condor as he towers over the summit
of the Andes, and penetrate deeper into the bowels of the earth than the
miner has ever sunk his shaft.
Leaving their wanderings through the regions of air to the next chapter,
I shall now describe the principal ocean currents, the simple, but
powerful agencies by which they are set in motion, their importance in
the economy of nature, and their influence on the climate of different
countries.
Even in the torrid zone, the waters of the ocean, like a false friend,
are warm merely on the surface, and of an almost icy coldness at
a considerable depth. This low temperature cannot be owing to any
refrigerating influence at the bottom of the sea, as the internal warmth
of the earth increases in proportion to its depth, and the waters of
profound lakes, in a southern climate, never show the same degree of cold
as those of the vast ocean.
The phenomenon can thus only arise from a constant submarine current of
cold water from the poles to the line, and strange as it may seem, its
primary cause is to be sought for in the _warming_ rays of the _sun_,
which, as we all know, distributes heat in a very unequal manner over the
surface of the globe.
Heat expands all liquid bodies, and renders them lighter; cold increases
their weight by condensation. In consequence of this physical law, the
waters of the tropical seas, rendered buoyant by the heat of a vertical
sun, must necessarily rise and spread over the surface of the ocean to
the north and south, whilst colder and heavier streams from the higher
latitudes flow towards the equator along the bottom of the ocean, to
replace them as they ascend.
In this manner, the unequal action of the sun calls forth a general and
constant movement of the waters from the poles to the equator, and from
the equator to the poles; and this perpetual migration is one of the
chief causes by which their purity is maintained. These opposite currents
would necessarily flow direct to the north or south, were they not
deflected from their course by the rotation of the earth, which gradually
gives them a westerly or easterly direction.
The unequal influence of the sun in different parts of the globe, and the
rotation of the earth, are, however, not the only causes by which the
course of ocean-currents is determined.
Violent storms move the waters to a considerable depth, and retard the
flow of rivers, and thus it is to be expected that continuous winds, even
of moderate strength, must have a tendency to impel the waters in the
same direction.
The steady trade-winds of the tropical zone, and the prevailing westerly
winds in higher latitudes, consequently unite their influence with that
of the above mentioned causes, in driving the waters of the tropical seas
to the west, and those of the temperate zones to the east.
The tides also, which on the high seas generally move from east to west,
promote the flow of the ocean in the same direction, and thus contribute
to the westerly current of the tropical seas.
Nor must we forget that the obstacles which the ocean-currents meet on
their way; such as intervening lines of coast, sand banks, submarine
ridges, or mountain chains, have a great influence upon their course, and
may even give them a diametrically opposite direction to that which they
would otherwise have followed.
Having thus briefly mentioned the origin and causes of the currents,
which intersect the seas like huge rivers, I shall now describe such of
them as are most important and interesting in a geographical point of
view.
In the northern part of the Atlantic, between Europe, North Africa, and
the New World, the waters are constantly performing a vast circular or
rotatory movement. Under the tropics they proceed like the trade-winds
from east to west, assisting the progress of the ships that sail from
the Canaries to South America, and rendering navigation in a straight
line from Carthagena de Indias to Cumana (stream upwards) next to
impossible. This westerly current receives a considerable addition from
the _Mozambique_ stream, which, flowing from north to south between
Madagascar and the coast of Caffraria, proceeds round the southern
extremity of Africa, and after rapidly advancing to the north, along the
western coast of that continent, as far as the island of St. Thomas,
unites its waters with those of the equatorial current, and continues its
course right across the Atlantic. In this manner the combined tropical
streams reach the eastern extremity of South America (Cape Roque), where
they divide into two arms. The one flowing to the south follows the
south-eastern coast, and gradually takes a south-easterly direction,
between the tropic of Capricorn and the mouth of the La Plata river,
beyond the limits of the trade-winds. Its traces show themselves to the
south-east of the Cape of Good Hope, and are finally lost far in the
Indian Ocean.
The northern arm of the equatorial stream flows along the north-eastern
coast of South America; constantly raising its temperature under the
influence of a tropical sun, and progressing with a rapidity of a hundred
miles in twenty-four hours (six feet and a half in a second), after
having been joined by the waters of the Amazon river. Thus it continues
to flow to the east, until the continent of Central America opposes
an invincible barrier to its farther progress in this direction, and
compels it to follow the windings of the coast of Costa Rica, Mosquitos,
Campeche, and Tabasco. It then performs a vast circuit along the shores
of the Mexican Gulf, and finally emerges through the Straits of Bahama
into the open ocean.
Here it assumes a new name, and forms what navigators call the
_Gulf-stream_, a rapid current of tepid water, which, flowing in a
diagonal direction, recedes farther and farther from the coast of North
America as it advances to the north-east. Under the forty-first degree
of latitude it suddenly bends to the east, gradually diminishing in
swiftness, and at the same time increasing in width.
Thus it flows across the Atlantic, to the south of the great bank of
Newfoundland, where Humboldt found the temperature of its stream several
degrees higher than that of the neighbouring and tranquil waters, which
form, as it were, the banks of the warm oceanic current. Ere it reaches
the western Azores, it divides into two arms, one of which is driven,
partly by the natural impulse of its stream, but principally by the
prevailing westerly and north-westerly winds, towards the coasts of
Europe; while the other, flowing towards the Canary Islands and the
western coast of Africa, finally returns into the equatorial current.
In this manner the waters are brought back to the point from which they
came, after having performed a vast circuit of 20,000 miles, which it
took them nearly three years to accomplish. According to Humboldt's
calculations, a boat left to the current, and moving along without any
other assistance, would require about thirteen months to float from the
Canary Islands to the Caribbean Sea as far as Caraccas. From Caraccas
to the Straits of Florida, it would remain another ten months on the
way, for though the direct distance is but short, the current has to
perform an enormous circuit of 2500 miles, and flows but slowly in those
confined seas. But the accumulated waters having now to force their
passage through the narrow channel between Cuba and the Bahama Islands on
one side, and Florida on the other, attain so considerable a velocity,
that the whole distance from the Havannah to the Bank of Newfoundland, is
traversed in forty days. During this passage the Gulf-stream particularly
deserves its name, and is easily distinguished from the surrounding
waters by its higher temperature and its vivid dark blue colour. Numerous
marine animals of the tropical seas,--the flying fish, the neat velella,
the purple ianthina, the crosier nautilus, accompany it to latitudes
which otherwise would prove fatal to their existence; and, trusting its
tepid stream, float or swim along to the north or the north-east.
At the extremity of the Bank of Newfoundland, it becomes broader, wavers
more or less in its course, according to the prevailing winds, and at the
same time decreases in rapidity, so that the boat would most likely still
require from ten to eleven months for this last station of its journey,
ere it once more reached the Canary Islands.
The direction of the Gulf-stream explains to us how the productions of
tropical America are so frequently found on the shores of the Eastern
Atlantic. Humboldt relates that the main-mast of the "Tilbury," a ship
of the line, wrecked during the seven years' war on the coast of San
Domingo, was carried by the Gulf-stream to the North of Scotland; and
cites the still more remarkable fact, that casks of palm oil belonging
to the cargo of an English vessel, which foundered on a rock near Cape
Lopez, likewise found their way to Scotland, having thus twice traversed
the wide Atlantic; first borne from east to west by the equatorial
current, and then carried from west to east, between 45° and 55° N.
latitude, by means of the Gulf-stream.
Major Rennell ("Investigation of Currents") relates the peregrinations of
a bottle, thrown overboard from the "Newcastle," on the 20th of January,
1819, in lat. 38° 52′, and long. 66° 20′, and ultimately found on the 2nd
of June, 1820, on the shore of the Island of Arran.
On the 16th of April, 1853, another bottle cast into the waters in the
vicinity of the Bank of Newfoundland, on the 15th of March, 1852, was
found near Bayonne, not far from the mouth of the Adour.
On the coasts of Orcadia, a sort of fruit, commonly known by the name of
_Molucca_, or Orkney beans, are found in large quantities, particularly
after storms of westerly wind.
These beans are the produce of West Indian trees (_Anacardium
occidentale_), and find their way from the woods of Cuba and Jamaica, to
the Ultima Thule of the ancients, by means of the Gulf-stream.
Large quantities of American drift-wood are transported by the same
current to the dreary shores of Iceland,--a welcome gift to the
inhabitants of a region where the highest tree is but a dwarfish shrub,
and cabbages of the size of an apple are raised, as a great rarity, in
the governor's garden.
A short time before Humboldt visited the island of Teneriffe, the sea had
thrown out the trunk of a North American cedar-tree (_Cedrela odorata_),
covered with the mosses and lichens that had grown upon it in the virgin
forest.
The Gulf-stream has even contributed to the discovery of America, for
it is well known that Columbus was strengthened in his belief in the
existence of a western continent, by the stranding on the Azores of
bamboos of an enormous size, of artificially carved pieces of wood, of
trunks of a species of Mexican pine, and of the dead bodies of two men,
whose features, resembling neither those of the inhabitants of Europe nor
of Africa, indicated a hitherto unknown race. But not only lifeless and
inanimate objects find their way across the wide Atlantic by means of
the Gulf-stream and its spreading waters; the living aborigines of the
distant regions of America have also sometimes been driven towards the
coasts of Europe by the combined action of the currents and the winds.
Thus, James Wallace tells us that, in the year 1682, a Greenlander in
his boat was seen by many people near the south point of the island of
Eda, but escaped pursuit. In 1684 another Greenland fisherman appeared
near the island of Wistram. An Esquimaux canoe, which the current and
the storm had cast ashore, is still to be seen in the church of Burra.
In Cardinal Bembo's "History of Venice," it is related that, in the year
1508, a small boat with seven strange-featured men, was captured by a
French vessel in the North Sea. The description given of them corresponds
exactly with the appearance of the Esquimaux; they were of a middle-size,
of a dark colour, and had a broad face with spreading features, marked
with a violet scar. No one understood their language. They were clothed
in seal-skins. They ate raw flesh, and drank blood as we do wine. Six of
these men died on the journey; the seventh, a youth, was presented to the
King of France, who at that time was residing at Orleans.
The appearance of so-called Indians on the coast of the German Sea,
under the Othos and Frederic Barbarossa, or even, as Cornelius Nepos,
Pomponius Melas, and Pliny relate, at the time when Quintus Metellus
Celer was proconsul in Gaul, may be explained by similar effects of the
current and continuous north-easterly winds. A king of the Boians made
a present of the stranded dark-coloured men to Metellus Celer. Gomara,
in his "General History of the Indies," expresses a belief that these
Indians were natives of Labrador, which would be doubly interesting as
the first instance recorded in history of the natives of the Old and the
New World having been brought into contact with each other. We can easily
account for the appearance of Esquimaux on the North European coasts in
former times; as during the eleventh and twelve centuries, their race was
much more numerous than at present, and extended, as we know, from the
researches of Rask and Finn Magnussen, from Labrador to the good Winland,
or the shores of the present State of Massachusetts and Connecticut.
If we compare the climates on the opposite coasts of the Northern
Atlantic, we find a remarkable difference in favour of the Old World.
The frozen regions of Labrador, lie under the same degree of latitude as
Plymouth, where the myrtle and laurel remain perpetually verdant in the
open air. In New York, which has a more southern situation than Rome,
the winter is colder than at Bergen in Norway, which lies 20° farther
to the north. While on the northern coasts of the old continent, the
waters remain open a great part of the year, even beyond the latitude of
80°, the ice never completely thaws on the opposite shores of Greenland.
What a contrast between the Feroë islands, where the harbours are never
frozen, where fertile meadows afford pasturage to numerous flocks of
sheep, and even crops of barley reward the labours of the husbandman,
and the frightful wildernesses on the shores of Hudson's Straits!--and
yet both are situated under the same latitude of 62°.
The milder winter and earlier spring which characterise the north-west
coast of Europe, are due, in some measure, to the prevailing westerly
winds; but there can be no doubt that they are mainly owing to the
influence of the Gulf-stream, which, as we have seen, conveys the heated
waters of the Mexican Gulf far to the north-east, and thus imparts warmth
to the climate of our native isle. In both seas, on the contrary, which
bound the peninsula or island of Greenland, icy currents descend, and
continue their course to the south, along the coasts of North America.
Near Newfoundland their temperature, in May, is found to be 14° lower
than that of the air, and even in spring and the early summer they
carry along with them immense ice-blocks, which are frequently drifted
as far south as the latitude of New York, and finally disappear in the
Gulf-stream.
It is evident that the cold of winter must be increased, and the spring
retarded along the North American coasts by these cold streams, just
as the coasts of Europe are favoured by streams of a contrary nature;
and thus the ocean-currents go a great way to explain the remarkable
differences of climate between the opposite shores of the Northern
Atlantic.
On this occasion I cannot omit directing the reader's attention to the
influence which the far-distant barrier of Central America has upon
the climate of Great Britain. Supposing yon narrow belt of land to be
suddenly whelmed under the ocean, then instead of circuitously winding
round the Gulf of Mexico, the heated waters of the equatorial current
would naturally flow into the Pacific, and the Gulf-stream no longer
exist. We should not only lose the benefit of its warm current, but cold
polar streams, descending farther to the south would take its place,
and be ultimately driven by the westerly winds against our coasts. Our
climate would then resemble that of Newfoundland, and our ports be
blocked up during many months, by enormous masses of ice. Under these
altered circumstances, England would no longer be the grand emporium of
trade and industry, and would finally dwindle down from her imperial
station to an insignificant dependency of some other country more
favoured by Nature.
On examining other coast-lands, in different parts of the globe, we
shall everywhere find the influence of the reigning currents producing
analogous effects to those I have already mentioned.
The Southern Atlantic is not warmed like the European seas by tepid
streams, it is exposed on all sides to the free afflux of the cold waters
of the Antarctic Ocean, and during the summer months to the influence of
drift ice. Thus, the southern extremity of America, Terra del Fuego, the
Falkland Islands, South Georgia, Sandwich Land, and other isles of the
southern ocean, have a much colder climate than the European coasts and
islands situated under the same latitude.
Let us for instance compare the temperature of the Falkland Islands and
of Port Famine in the Straits of Magellan, with that of Dublin, which is
situated at an equal distance from the line.
Mean Temperature.
Latitude. Winter. Summer. Annual.
Dublin 53° 21′ N. +4·0° R. 15·3° 9·6°
Port Famine 53° 38′ S. +0·6 10·0 5·3
Falkland Islands 52° 0′ S. 4·36 11·8 8·24
Feroë Islands 62° 2′ N. 3·9 11·6 7·1
Thus the climate of the Falkland Islands is, as we see, not very
different from that of the Feroë Islands, although the latter lie ten
degrees farther from the equator.
In the Pacific Ocean, as well as in the Atlantic, we find a westerly
current filling the whole breadth of the tropical zone, from the coast of
America to that of Australia and the Indian Archipelago. The best known
of its affluxes is the cold Peruvian stream, which, emerging from the
Polar Sea, flows with great rapidity along the shores of Chili and Peru,
and does not take a westerly direction, before reaching the neighbourhood
of the line. It has everywhere a remarkably low temperature,
comparatively to the latitude, and this sufficiently accounts for the
equal and temperate climate on the coasts of Chili and Peru. Thus, the
mean temperature of Callao (12° S. lat.) is only 20° R. while in Rio
Janeiro (23° S. lat.), though so much farther from the line, the annual
warmth rises to 23·2° R.
In the beginning of November, Humboldt found at Callao the temperature
of the sea within the current not higher than 15·5°, while outside the
stream it rose to 26° or even 28·5° R.
Even in the vicinity of the equator, after the current has already
assumed a westerly direction, its mean temperature does not exceed 20·5°.
But as it advances towards the west, its temperature gradually rises to
27° or 28°.
On the western banks of the Pacific the equatorial stream divides into
several branches. Part of its waters flow to the south, a greater
quantity penetrates through the channels of the south Asiatic Archipelago
into the Indian Ocean, the remainder turns to the north-east, on the
confines of the Chinese Sea, leaves the eastern coast of the Japanese
Islands, and then spreads its warm waters under the influence of
north-westerly winds over the northern part of the Pacific. Thus the
Japanese stream plays here the same part as the Gulf-stream in the
Atlantic, and exerts a similar, though less mighty influence over the
climate of the west coast of America, as it is neither so large nor
so warm, and, having to traverse a wider ocean, in higher latitudes,
naturally loses more of its heat during the passage.
[Illustration: Japan Junks.]
It is owing to this stream that Sitcha enjoys a mean annual temperature
of +7° R., while Nain in Labrador, situated under the same latitude, is
indebted to the Greenland current for a summer of +7·8°, a winter of
-18·5°, and a miserable annual temperature of -3·6°. On the west coast of
North America the analogous trees grow 3° or 4° nearer to the pole, and
the aboriginal tribes go naked as far to the north as 52°, a simplicity
of toilet that would but ill suit the Esquimaux of Labrador.
Besides their beneficial influence on different climates the
ocean-currents tend to equalise, or to maintain the equilibrium of
the saline composition of sea-water, and thus secure the existence
of numberless marine animals. Their movements also contribute to the
formation of sand-banks, where at certain seasons legions of fishes
deposit their spawn and invite the persecutions of man.
The rapidity of currents is very different, but always important enough
to be taken into account by navigators. The well-informed seaman makes
use of them to traverse wide spaces with greater rapidity, and, after
an apparently circuitous course, arrives sooner and more safely at his
journey's end than the ignorant steersman, who vainly endeavours to
strive against their power.
[Illustration: Pavonia lactuca, with Polypes in Natural Position.]
[Illustration: LIGHTHOUSE AND WATER-SPOUTS.]
LIGHTHOUSE AND WATER-SPOUTS.
A Lighthouse on a rocky shore is represented as just lighted, the
twilight having become darkened by a sudden storm, during which the
phenomena of "water-spouts" occur, which are represented to the left
of the Lighthouse.
CHAP. VI.
THE AËRIAL AND TERRESTRIAL MIGRATIONS OF THE WATERS.
Movements of the Waters through Evaporation.--Origin of
Winds.--Trade-Winds.--Calms.--Monsoons.--Typhoons.--Tornadoes.--
Water-Spouts.--The Formation of Atmospherical Precipitations.--Dew.--
Its Origin.--Fog.--Clouds.--Rain.--Snow.--Hail Sources.--The Quantities
of Water which the Rivers pour into the Ocean.--Glaciers and their
Progress.--Icebergs.--Erratic Blocks.--Influence of Forests on the
Formation and Retention of Atmospherical Precipitations.--Consequences
of their excessive Destruction.--The Power of Man over Climate.--How
has it been used as yet?
Neither storms nor ocean-currents, nor ebb and flood, however great
their influence, cause such considerable movements of the waters, or
force them to wander so restlessly from place to place as the silent and
imperceptible action of the warming sunbeam. In every zone evaporation
is constantly active in impregnating the atmosphere with moisture, but
the chief seat of its power is evidently in the equatorial regions, where
the vertical rays of the great parent of light and heat plunge, day after
day, into the bosom of ocean, and perpetually saturate the burning air
with aqueous vapours.
In this chapter I intend following these invisible agents of fertility
and life, as they lightly ascend from the tropical seas, and accompanying
them in their various transformations, until they once more return to the
bosom of their great parent. A cursory view of the benefits they confer
on the vegetable and animal world, as they wander over the surface of the
land, will, I hope, agreeably occupy the reader, and serve to increase
his admiration for that deep and dark blue ocean without which all
organic life would soon be extinct upon earth.
I begin with a few words on the winged carriers of marine exhalations,
the _winds_, which, although now and then detrimental or fatal to
individuals by their violence, largely compensate for these local
injuries, by the constant and inestimable benefits they confer on the
whole body of mankind.
On taking a comprehensive view of their origin, we find that, like the
oceanic currents, they are chiefly caused by the unequal influence of
solar warmth upon the atmosphere under the line and at the poles. In the
torrid zone, the air, rarefied by intense heat, ascends in perpendicular
columns high above the surface of the earth, and there flows off towards
the poles, in the same manner as in a vase filled with cold water and
placed over the flame of a lamp, the warmed liquid rises from the bottom
and spreads over the surface.
But cold air-currents must naturally come flowing in an opposite
direction from the poles to the equator to fill up the void, as in
the example I have cited, colder and consequently heavier water comes
streaming down the sides of the vase to replace the liquid which is
rising in the centre under the influence of heat.
Thus the unequal distribution of solar warmth over the surface of the
earth evidently generates a constant circulation of air from the equator
to the poles, and from the icy regions to the tropics, and by this means
the purity of the atmosphere is chiefly maintained. The sun is not only
the great fountain of warmth, he is also the universal ventilator; he
not only calls forth animal life, but at the same time, by a simple and
admirable mechanism, provides for its health by constantly renewing the
air, which is essential to its existence.
If caloric were the sole agent which influences the direction of the
winds, or if the earth were one uniform plain, the opposite air-currents
I have mentioned would naturally flow straight to the north and south;
but their course is modified or diverted in the same manner as that
of the ocean-currents by the rotation of the globe. Thus, the cold
air-current (polar-stream) which comes rushing upon us from the Arctic
regions, is felt in our latitude as the biting east or north-east wind,
so trying to our nerves and organs of respiration, while we enjoy the
warm air-current from the tropics as the mild western or south-western
breeze.
But besides the rotation of the earth, there are many other local
influences by which the winds are deflected from their course, or by
whose agency partial air-currents are called forth. Among these we
particularly notice high chains of mountains, the unequal capacity of
sea and land in absorbing and retaining heat, which gives rise to sea
and land breezes; the increasing or diminishing power of the sun in
different seasons by which the equilibrium of the air is modified in many
countries, the difference of radiation from a sandy desert or a forest,
electrical discharges from clouds, &c. &c.
Although subject to many of these local disturbances, the winds generally
blow with an astonishing regularity in the tropical zone; while in
our variable climate the polar and equatorial stream are engaged in a
perpetual strife, now bringing us warmth and moisture from the south and
west, now cold and dryness from the north and east.
Thus, in the Atlantic and Pacific Ocean we find the trade-winds
perpetually blowing from the east, the north-east trade-wind between 9°
and 27° N. lat., and the south-east trade-wind between 3° N. lat. and 25°
S. lat. It was by their assistance that Columbus was enabled to discover
America, and that the wretched barks of Magellan traversed the wide
deserts of the Pacific from end to end.
Between these two regions of the trade-winds lies the dreaded zone or
girdle of the equatorial calms (doldrums), where long calms alternate
with dreadful storms, and the sultry air weighs heavily upon the spirits.
"Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak, only to break
The silence of the sea.
"Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath, nor motion,
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."
On their polar limits, the trade-wind zones are again girdled with calm
belts, the _horse latitudes_, whose mean breadth is from ten to twelve
degrees. The boundaries of these alternating regions of winds and calms
are not invariably the same, on the contrary, they are perpetually moving
to the north or south, according to the position of the sun.
From 40° N. lat. to the pole, westerly winds begin to be prevalent, and
in the Atlantic Ocean their proportion to the easterly winds is as two to
one.
In the Northern Indian Ocean and in the Chinese Sea we also find the
trade-wind, which is there called the _north-east monsoon_; here,
however, it only blows from October to April, as during the summer
terrestrial influences prevail which completely divert it from its course.
From the wide plains of central Asia glowing with the rays of a
perpetually unclouded sun, the rarefied air rises into the higher
regions. Other columns of air rush from the equator to fill up the
void, and cause the trade-wind to vary its course, and change into the
_south-western monsoons_ of the Indian Ocean, which blow from May to
September. The regularly alternating monsoons materially contributed to
the early development of navigation in the Indian seas, and conducted
the Greeks and Romans as far as Ceylon, Malacca, and the Gulf of Siam.
Similar monsoons, or deflections from the ordinary course of the
trade-winds, occur also in the Mexican Gulf, in the Gulf of Guinea, and
in that part of the Pacific which borders on Central America, through the
influence of the heated plains of Africa, Utah, Texas, and New Mexico.
The passage from one monsoon to the other is of course only gradual,
since the land also is only gradually heated and cooled. Thus at the
change of the monsoon, an atmospheric war of several weeks' continuance
occurs, during which the trade-wind and the monsoon measure their
strength, and calms alternate with dreadful storms (typhoons, cyclones,
tornadoes).
According to the researches and observations of Franklin, Cooper,
Redfield, Reid, &c. &c., these storms are great rotatory winds, that move
along a curved line in increasing circles. In the northern hemisphere,
the rotatory movement follows a direction contrary to that of the hands
of a clock; while the opposite takes place in the southern hemisphere.
The knowledge of the laws which regulate the movements of storms is of
great importance to the mariner, since it points out to him the direction
he has to give his ship to gain the external limits of the tornado, and
thus to remove it from danger.
_Water-spouts_ are formed by two winds blowing in opposite directions,
and raising or sucking up the water in their vortex. They generally form
a double cone; the superior part with its apex downwards, consisting
of a dense cloud, while the inferior cone, the apex of which is turned
upwards, consists of water, which is thus sometimes raised to a height of
several hundred feet.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Water-spouts seldom last longer than half-an-hour. Their course and
movements are irregular; straight forwards; in zig-zag lines; alternately
rising and falling; stationary; slow; or progressing with the rapidity
of thirty miles an hour. The rotatory movement is also variable; its
power is often very great, but sometimes water-spouts pass over small
vessels without injuring them. They are more frequent near the coast than
on the high seas; and are more commonly seen in warm climates. They seem
to occur particularly in regions where calms frequently alternate with
storms, which is not to be wondered at, since they owe their origin to
miniature storms or whirlwinds.
[Illustration]
How do the aqueous vapours with which evaporation impregnates the
atmosphere, again descend upon the surface of the earth?
Everybody knows that when in summer a bottle filled with cold water is
brought into the room, it soon gets covered with thick dew-drops, which
presently trickle down its sides, although it was perfectly dry on
entering. Whence does this moisture come from? Not from the inside of
the bottle as ignorant people might imagine, but from the surrounding
atmosphere; in consequence of the capacity of the air to absorb and
retain moisture, increasing or diminishing, as its temperature grows
warmer or colder.
Thus when the cold bottle is introduced into the room, the warm sheet of
air, which is in immediate contact with its surface, immediately cools,
and being no longer able to retain all the moisture with which it was
impregnated, is obliged to deposit it on the sides of the vessel. This
familiar example suffices to explain the formation of dew, rain, hail,
snow, hoar-frost, and all other atmospherical precipitations. They all
result from the influence of some refrigerating cause upon the air; such
as the passage of a warm current into a cooler region; the influx of a
cold wind; a cold-radiating chain of high mountains; a forest, and so
forth.
The very name of dew is refreshing, and calls forth a host of pleasing
ideas, associated as it is with the memory of serene skies and sunny
mornings. How beautiful are its diamonds glittering in all the colours of
the rainbow, on verdant meads, or on the blushing petals of the rose. How
suggestive of all that is lovely, pure, and innocent!
Poetry is of older date than prose, and bards have sung long before
philosophers inquired. Thus, although the children of song from Homer and
Theocritus to Byron and Wordsworth so frequently mention dew in their
immortal strains, it is only in our time that its formation has been
fully explained by Dr. Wells, who in a very ingenious and masterly essay
on this subject, first proved that it results from the ground radiating
or projecting heat into free space, and consequently becoming colder than
the neighbouring air. During calm and clear nights, the upper surfaces of
grass-blades, for instance, radiate their caloric into the serene sky,
from which they receive none in return. The lower parts of the plant,
being slow conductors of heat, can only transmit to them a small portion
of terrestrial warmth, and their temperature consequently falling below
that of the circumambient atmosphere, they condense its aqueous vapours.
Clouds on the contrary compensate for the loss of heat the grass sustains
from radiation, by reflecting or throwing back again upon the terrestrial
surface, the caloric which would else have been dissipated in a clear
sky, and this is the reason why dew does not fall, or but slightly falls
during clouded nights. It is easy to conceive why none is formed in windy
weather, as then the air in contact with the ground is constantly removed
ere it has time to cool so far as to compel it to part with its moisture.
We can also understand why dew is more abundant in autumn and spring than
at any other season; as then very cold nights frequently follow upon warm
days; and why it is most copious in the torrid zone, as in those sultry
regions the air is more saturated with moisture than anywhere else, and
the comparatively cold nights are almost constantly serene and calm.
Hoar-frost is nothing but congealed dew, and owes its formation to the
same causes.
When warmer air-currents are cooled by being transported into colder
regions, or from any other refrigerating cause, a great part of their
moisture generally condenses into small vesicles, but very little heavier
than the surrounding atmosphere, which then becomes visible under the
form of clouds, those great beautifiers of our changing skies, that
frequently trace such picturesque, gorgeous, or singular groups and
landscapes in the aërial regions. The inhabitants of countries where
the heavens are monotonously serene, may well envy us the charms of a
phenomenon which in some measure affords us compensation for so many
disagreeable vicissitudes of the weather. Who that has admired at sunset
the light clouds so beautifully fringed with silver and gold, or glowing
with the richest purple, and loves to follow them in all their wonderful
and fantastic transformations, will deny that they are the poesy and life
of the skies, the awakeners of pleasing fancies and delightful reveries?
Thin wreaths of clouds have been observed, by travellers that have
ascended the most elevated mountains, floating high above the peak of
Chimborazo or Dhawalagiri, and thus shows us to what an amazing altitude
the emanations of ocean are carried by the ascending air-current.
Sometimes when light clouds pass into a warmer atmosphere, they gradually
dissolve and vanish; more frequently the accumulating moisture, too heavy
to continue floating in the air, or condensed by electrical explosions,
descends upon the earth in rain, which, with few exceptions, visits
every part of the globe, either in its liquid form or congealed to snow
or hail. But the quantity of rain which annually falls in different
regions is very unequal, and strange to say, it is not most considerable
in those countries whose climate enjoys an unenviable notoriety for
its clouded atmosphere and the great number of its rainy days. In the
tropical regions it is generally only about the time of the summer
solstice that abundant showers of rain fall regularly every afternoon,
while the rest of the year, the sky is uninterruptedly serene; but during
the short period of the rainy season, a far greater quantity of water is
precipitated upon the earth, than in the temperate zones.
While on the island of Guadaloupe, the annual quantity of rain amounts
to 274·2 French inches, and to 283·3 at Mahabuleshwar, on the western
declivity of the Ghauts, which, as far as has hitherto been ascertained,
is the place where most rain descends; only from 35 to 40 inches fall on
the western coast of England, where the skies are chronically weeping.
It is a remarkable circumstance that the annual quantity of rain which
falls in the same place remains about the same from year to year; so that
by an admirable balancing of conflicting influences, nature seems to
have provided for stability in a province which of all others might be
supposed most open to the caprices of chance.
Having thus followed the exhalations of ocean to the end of what may
be called the first stage of their journey, and seen them descend in a
condensed form upon the surface of the dry land, I will now accompany
them in their ulterior progress to the bosom of the seas. A great part
of them have many transformations and changes to undergo ere they can
accomplish their return; repeatedly rising in vapours from the solid
earth, and falling in showers upon its surface; or circulating through
the tissues of organic life: but after all these intermediate stages and
delays, they ultimately find their way into rivulets or streams, which
after many a meander restore them to the vast reservoir from which they
arose.
The waters that descend upon solid rocks, or fall in large quantities
upon abrupt declivities, immediately flow into the brooks or rivers;
but when they gently and gradually alight upon a porous soil, they are
absorbed by the earth, and, displacing in virtue of capillary attraction,
and of their superior weight, the air which fills the interstices
between its solid particles, sink deeper and deeper until they meet with
a solid and impenetrable stratum. If this forms a hollow basin, they
naturally settle in the cavity; whence they are slowly displaced by fresh
accessions and evaporation; but if its deepest declivity lies somewhere
near the surface, they gradually gush forth under the form of sources
or springs, having unequal distances to perform before they can reach
the orifice. If no fresh supply of water falls, ere the most distant
particles have reached their journey's end, the source dries up: but if
new atmospheric precipitations continually take place, the source is
perennial, although naturally of unequal strength at different times.
The temperature of springs varies from icy coldness to boiling heat. Cold
springs arise when the waters, by which they are fed, descend from high
mountains or do not penetrate a great way into the bowels of the earth;
but if the filtering waters reach a depth which is constantly of a higher
temperature, they then gush forth in the form of warm or even boiling
springs.
A crowd of agreeable associations attaches itself to the idea of sources
and springs, for they are generally both pleasing and useful to man. How
we long in summer for the refreshing waters of the cool fountain issuing
from the mountain side, and murmuring through the woods. The lover of
nature spends hours near some solitary spring, and forgets the flow of
time, as he observes the bubbling and listens to the sweet music of its
crystal waters. A luxuriant vegetation marks their progress, though all
around be burnt up by the scorching sun. Along their margin many a wild
flower blooms, and herbs and shrubs and trees rejoice in a more vivid
green, and statelier growth. There also congregate such members of the
finny race, as delight in cooler streams of untainted purity, and birds
love to build their nests among the sheltering foliage. Thus a little
world forms around the gushing spring, and shows on a diminutive scale,
how all that lives and breathes depends upon the liquid element for its
existence.
While the waters filter through the earth they naturally dissolve a
variety of substances, and all springs are more or less mixed with
extraneous particles. But many of them, particularly such as are of a
higher temperature and consequently arise from deeper strata, contain
either a larger quantity or so peculiar a combination of mineral
substances as to acquire medicinal virtues of the highest order, and to
become objects of importance to a large portion of mankind. Numberless
invalids annually flock to the hygeian fountains which nature unceasingly
pours forth from her mysterious laboratory, and are by them restored to
the enjoyments of a pleasurable existence.
How truly wonderful is the chain of processes which first raises vapours
from the deep, and eventually causes them to gush forth from the entrails
of the earth, laden with blessings and enriched with treasures more
inestimable than those the miner toils for!
Although a river generally has its source in mountainous regions, it
must be remembered that all the waters that descend upon the territory
of which it forms the lowest level, gradually find their way into
its current. Thus, the monarch of all streams, the Amazon River, is
the natural drain of a territory thirty times larger than England.
Thousands of rivulets and brooks, fed by the waters which descend
from the slopes of thousands of glens and valleys, or filter through
the vast forest-plains that rise but a few feet above their surface,
all contribute to swell the majesty of its current. Its sources are
in reality wherever, on that vast extent of land, water descends and
drains into any one of its innumerable affluents. When we hear that on
an average the river of the Amazons alone restores every minute half a
million of tons of water to the ocean, and then consider the countless
number of streams all alike active, that are scattered over the globe,
we may form a faint idea of the vast quantity of vapours which are
constantly rising from the deep, and of the magnitude of these silent
operations of nature. Yet such is the immensity of ocean, that supposing
all the waters it constantly loses, never to return again into its
bosom, it would require thousands of years of evaporation to exhaust the
immensity of its reservoirs!
It might be supposed that the waters which congeal on the sides of
mountains covered with perennial snow, or fill Alpine valleys in the
form of glaciers, were eternally fixed on earth--but there also we are
deceived by delusive appearances of immobility. Every year the glacier
slowly but restlessly makes a step forwards into the valley, and while
its lower end dissolves, new supplies of snow constantly feed it from
above. It has been calculated by Agassiz that the ice masses of the Aar
glacier require 133 years to perform their descent from its summit to
its inferior extremity--a distance of ten miles--so that their sojourn
in that chilled valley far surpasses that of the oldest patriarch of
the mountains. How great must be their delight when they at last are
liberated from the spell which so long enchained them, and freely bound
along on their way to Ocean! How they must shudder at the idea of once
more returning to their desolate prison, and long for the perpetual
warmth of spicy groves and tropical gardens!
In the colder regions of the earth, in Greenland or Spitzbergen, immense
glaciers frequently fill the valleys that open on the sea, descend even
beyond the water's edge, and, as they move along, their overhanging
masses separate from their base and plunge into the deep with a crash
louder than thunder. The icebergs that drift about the Arctic seas,
and are annually conveyed by the currents into lower latitudes, are
formed in this manner. Huge blocks of granite, detached by atmospherical
vicissitudes from the higher mountains and precipitated on the surface
of the glaciers, frequently float on the broad back of an iceberg far
away from the spot where they seemed rooted for eternity. As their
crystal support melts away in its progress to warmer climes, these rocky
fragments, which have been appropriately named _erratic blocks_, fall
to the bottom of the sea hundreds or even thousands of miles from the
starting point of their journey. Thus the great bank of Newfoundland is
covered with stones from distant Greenland, raised high in the air by
volcanic power myriads of years ago, and now condemned to an equally
long repose below the surface of ocean. When will they rise again above
the waters, and what further changes will they have to undergo ere their
compacted atoms resolve themselves into dust and assume new forms? But,
however remote their dissolution, it will inevitably come, for Time is
all-powerful, and has an eternity to work out his changes.
The large blocks of stone that so wonderfully migrate on the wandering
iceberg form but a small and insignificant portion of the terrestrial
spoils which are transported to ocean by the returning waters. Every
river is more or less laden with earthy particles which its current
carries onwards to the sea and deposits at its mouth. In course of time
their accumulation, as I have already mentioned, forms large tracts of
fertile territory encroaching upon the maritime domains.
I shall end with a few words on the influence of forests in attracting
or retaining the atmospherical moisture, as it is a subject of great
importance in the economy of nations, and shows us how much it is in the
power of man to improve or to defeat the provisions of nature in his
favour.
Forests always cool the neighbouring atmosphere, for their foliage offers
an immense warmth-radiating surface, so that the vapours readily condense
above them and descend in frequent showers. At the same time their roots
loosen the soil, and the successive falling of their leaves forms a
thick layer of humus, which has an uncommon power in attracting and
retaining moisture. Their thick canopy of verdure also prevents the rays
of the sun from penetrating to the ground, and absorbing its humidity.
Thus the soil on which forests stand is constantly saturated with water,
and becomes the parent of perennial sources and rills, that spread
fertility and plenty far from the spot where they originated.
The rain-attractive influence of forests did not escape the attention of
Columbus, who ascribed the frequent showers which refreshed and cooled
the air, as he sailed along the coasts of Jamaica, to the vast extent and
density of the woods that covered the mountains of that island. On this
occasion he mentions in his journal that formerly rain had been equally
abundant on Madeira, the Canaries, and the Azores, before their shady
forests were felled or burnt by the improvident settlers.
The wanton destruction of woods has entailed barrenness on countries
renowned in former times for their fertility. The mountains of Greece
were covered with trees during the great epoch of her history, and
the well-watered land bore abundant fruits, and sustained a numerous
population. But man recklessly laid waste the sources of his prosperity.
Along with the woods, many brooks and rivulets disappeared, and ceased
to water the parched plains. The rain gradually washed the vegetable
earth from the sides of the naked hills, and condemned them to sterility.
When the snow of the mountains began to thaw under the warm breath of
spring, it was now no longer retained by the spongy soil of the forests,
and gradually dissolved under their cover; but, rapidly melting, filled
with its impetuous torrents the bed of the rivers, and overflowing their
banks, spread ruin and devastation far around.
Unfortunately, forests when once destroyed are not so easily restored,
and it requires many centuries ere the bared mountain side reassumes
its pristine vesture of shady woods. First lichens, mosses, and other
thrifty herbs, content to feed upon nothing, have to prepare a scanty
humus for the reception of more pretentious guests. In course of time
some small stunted shrub makes its appearance here and there in some
peculiarly favoured spot, and after all requires vast powers of endurance
to maintain itself on the niggard soil, exposed to the full enmity of
wind and weather. This paves the way for a more vigorous and fortunate
offspring; and as every year adds something to the vegetation on the
mountain's side, and opposes increasing obstacles to the winds, the
falling leaves and decaying herbage accumulate more and more, until
dwarfish trees first find a sufficiency of soil to root upon, and
finally, the proud monarch of the forest spreads out his powerful arms
and raises his majestic summit to the skies.
While Greece and Asia Minor have seen their fertility decrease or
vanish with the trees that once covered their hills, other countries
have improved as their vast woods have been thinned by the axe of the
husbandman. In the time of the Romans all Germany formed one vast and
continuous forest, and its climate was consequently much more rigorous
than it is at present. All the low grounds were covered with impervious
morasses, and the winter is described by historians in terms like those
we should employ to paint the cold of Siberia.
But the scene gradually changed as tillage usurped the sylvan domain. The
excessive humidity of the soil diminished, the swamps disappeared, and
the heat of the sea, penetrating into the bosom of the earth, developed
its productive powers. Thus the chestnut and the vine now thrive and
ripen their fruits on the banks of the Rhine and the Danube, where 2000
years ago they could not possibly have existed. But Germany would also
see her fertility decline, if the destruction of the forests which still
crown the brow of many of her hills should continue in a considerable
degree. Numerous rivulets would then be dried up during the warm season,
in consequence of the more rapid descent and thaw of vernal rains and
wintry snows, and most likely, refreshing summer showers would be far
less frequent. Even now the inundations which almost annually desolate
the banks of the Elbe, the Oder, and the Rhine, are ascribed by competent
judges to the excessive clearing of the forests in the mountainous
countries where those rivers originate. These few examples suffice to
prove to us the power of man in modifying the climates of the earth, and
the vast importance of the study of terrestrial physics. By planting
or destroying woods, he is able to compel nature to a more equitable
distribution of her gifts. In marshy and low countries, he may remove
the superfluous waters by drainage, and increase the productiveness of
arid plains by judicious irrigation. Thus man is the lord and master
of the earth; but hitherto he has done but little to reap all the
advantages he might have obtained from his dominion, or even used it
to his own detriment. Drainage, irrigation, and a judicious management
of forest-lands, are only beginning to be understood even among the
most enlightened nations. A great part of our damp island still remains
undrained, and we allow the rivers of India to pour their waters into the
sea, instead of diverting them upon her thirsty plains. But there can be
no doubt that as knowledge increases, man will gradually learn to provide
every soil with the exact measure of humidity that is requisite to make
it bring forth its fruits in the greatest abundance. Views such as these
teach us, that, far from having attained the summit of civilisation,
we are still on the threshold of her temple, and that most likely our
descendants will look down upon our present condition as we do upon that
of our barbarous ancestors.
[Illustration: Rocky Mountains at the bend of Bear Lake River.]
CHAP. VII.
MARINE CONSTRUCTIONS.
Lighthouses.--The Eddystone.--Winstanley's Lighthouse, 1696.--The
Storm of 1703.--Rudyerd's Lighthouse destroyed by Fire in
1755.--Singular Death of one of the Lighthouse Men.--Anecdote of
Louis XIV.--Smeaton.--Bell Rock Lighthouse.--History of the Erection
of Skerryvore Lighthouse.--Illumination Lighthouses.--The Breakwater
at Cherbourg.--Liverpool Docks.--The Tubular Bridge over the Menai
Straits.--The Sub-oceanic Mine of Botallack.
In one of the finest passages of "Childe Harold," Byron contrasts the
gigantic power of the sea with the weakness of man. He describes the
resistless billows contemptuously playing with the impotent mariner--now
heaving him to the skies, now whelming him deep in the bosom of the
tumultuous waters; he mocks the vain pride of our armadas, which are but
the playthings of ocean, and points with a bitter sneer at the wrecks
with which he strews his shores. A less misanthropic mood or a more
truthful view of things might have prompted the wayward poet to celebrate
the triumphs of man over the brute strength of the winds and waves; how,
guided by the compass, he boldly steers through the vast waste of waters,
how he excavates the artificial harbour, or piles up the breakwater to
protect his bark against the destructive agencies of the billow and the
storm, or how he erects the lighthouse to point out the neighbourhood of
dangerous shoals or the entrance of the friendly port.
The various constructions planned and executed by man to disarm the
turbulent or perfidious seas of a great part of their terrors, are indeed
among the noblest monuments of his architectural genius, nor are any more
deserving of universal applause and gratitude. Who has ever performed a
winter voyage homewards over the wide Atlantic and not felt a thrill of
delight when the first bright flash of light beamed over the dark waters
and welcomed him back to his native isle? or what generous mind has ever
experienced this feeling without devoting the tribute of its thanks to
the wise and beneficent men whose energy and perseverance have succeeded
in lighting every headland or estuary of our rugged coast? So completely
has this been done, that in the dark and stormy night, almost as well as
in the brightest day, the homeward-bound ship need not approach danger
without receiving friendly warning, for her pathway is illuminated by
gigantic fire-beacons so thickly set that when one fades to the sight a
new one rises to the view.
Among the numerous lighthouses with which the genius of humanity has
encircled our native shores, the Eddystone, the Bell Rock, and the
Skerryvore, are pre-eminent for the vast difficulties that had to be
surmounted in their construction, situated as they are upon solitary
rocks, exposed to the full fury of the insurgent waves; and should by
some revolution all other monuments erected by man be swept away from
the surface of our land, and these alone remain, they would suffice
to testify to future ages that these islands were once inhabited by a
highly civilised and energetic race, one well worthy to lay claim to the
dominion of the seas.
At the distance of about twelve miles and a half from Plymouth Sound,
and intercepting, as it were, the entrance of the Channel, the
Eddystone rocks had been for ages a perpetual menace to the mariner.
The number of vessels wrecked on these perfidious shoals must have been
terrible indeed, it being even now a common thing in foggy weather for
homeward-bound ships to make the Eddystone Lighthouse as the first
point of land of Great Britain, so that in the night and nearly at high
water, when the whole range of the rocks is covered, the most careful
pilot might run his ship upon them, if nothing was placed there by way
of warning. As the trade of England increased, the number of fatal
accidents naturally augmented, rendering it more and more desirable to
crest the Eddystone with a tutelary beacon; yet years elapsed before
an architect appeared bold enough to undertake the task. At length, in
1696, Mr. Winstanley, a country gentleman and amateur engineer, made the
first attempt of raising a lighthouse on those sea-beaten rocks, but as
he was possessed of more enterprise than solid knowledge, the structure
he erected was deficient in every element of stability. Yet such was
the presumption of the man that he was known to express a wish that
the fiercest storm that ever blew might arise to test the solidity of
the fabric. The elements took him at his word, for while on a visit of
inspection to his lighthouse the dreadful storm of November 26, 1703,
arose, the only storm which in our latitude has equalled the rage of
a tropical hurricane. "No other tempest," says Macaulay in his Essay
on Addison, "was ever in this country the occasion of a Parliamentary
address or of a public fast. Whole fleets had been cast away. Large
mansions had been blown down. One Prelate had been buried beneath the
ruins of his palace. London and Bristol had presented the appearance of
cities just sacked. Hundreds of families were still in mourning. The
prostrate trunks of large trees and the ruins of houses still attested
in all the southern counties the fury of the blast." No wonder that a
tempest like this swept away the ill-constructed lighthouse like the
"unsubstantial fabric of a vision," and that neither poor Mr. Winstanley
nor any of his companions survived to recount the terrors of that
dreadful night.
Strange to say, the task of rebuilding the Eddystone lighthouse, which
was now felt as a national necessity, once more devolved, not upon a
professed architect, but upon a Mr. Rudyerd, a linendraper of Ludgate
Hill, the son of a Cornish vagrant, who had raised himself by his
talents and industry from rags and mendicancy to a station of honourable
competence. The choice, however, was not ill made, for, with the
assistance of two competent shipwrights, the London tradesman constructed
an edifice which, though mainly of timber, was so firmly bolted to the
rock with iron branches that for nearly half a century it resisted the
fury of the billows, and might have withstood them for many a year to
come had it not been rapidly and completely destroyed by fire. This
catastrophe, which happened on December 2, 1755, was marked by a strange
accident, for while one of the light-keepers was engaged in throwing up
water four yards higher than himself, a quantity of lead, dissolved by
the heat of the flames, suddenly rushed like a torrent from the roof,
and falling upon his head, face, and shoulders, burnt him in a dreadful
manner. Having been conveyed to the hospital at Plymouth, he invariably
told the surgeon who attended him, that he had swallowed part of the
lead while looking upward; the reality of the assertion seemed quite
incredible, for who could suppose it possible that any human being could
exist after receiving melted lead into the stomach, much less that he
should afterwards be able to bear the hardships and inconvenience from
the length of time he was in getting on shore before any remedies could
be applied. On the twelfth day, however, the man died, and having been
opened a solid piece of lead, which weighed above seven ounces, was found
in his stomach.[H]
[Footnote H: A full account of this extraordinary circumstance was sent
to the Royal Society, and printed in vol. xlix. of their Transactions, p.
477.]
Another interesting anecdote is attached to the history of Rudyerd's
lighthouse. Louis XIV. being at war with England while it was being
built, a French privateer took the men at work upon it and carried them
to France, expecting, no doubt, a good reward for the achievement. His
hopes, however, were doomed to a grievous disappointment, for while the
captives lay in prison, the transaction reached the ears of the monarch,
who immediately ordered them to be released and the captors to be put in
their place; declaring that though he was at war with England, he was not
at war with mankind. He therefore directed the men to be sent back to
their work with presents; observing that the Eddystone lighthouse was so
situated as to be of equal service to all nations navigating the Channel.
It is gratifying to meet with this trait of natural generosity in a mind
long since obscured by the bigotry which prompted the revocation of the
Edit de Nantes.
[Illustration: Eddystone Lighthouse.]
After these repeated disasters, the rebuilding of Eddystone lighthouse,
in a more substantial manner than had hitherto been effected, was now no
longer confided to amateur ingenuity, but to John Smeaton, an eminent
civil engineer, one of those men who by originality of genius and
strength of character are so well entitled to rank among the worthies of
England. From his early infancy Smeaton (born May 28, 1724) gave tokens
of the extraordinary abilities which were one day to render his name
illustrious. Before he attained his sixth year his playthings were not
the playthings of children but the tools which men employ: before he
was fifteen he made for himself an engine for turning, forged his iron
and steel, and had self-made tools of every sort for working in wood,
ivory, and metals. At eighteen he by the strength of his genius acquired
the art of working in most of the mechanical trades, and such was his
untiring zeal that a part of every day was generally occupied in forming
some ingenious piece of mechanism. In 1753, his various inventions and
improvements had already attracted such notice that he was elected member
of the Royal Society; and when, a few years later, the accident happened
which burnt down the Eddystone lighthouse to the ground, he was at once
fixed upon as the person most proper to rebuild it. A better choice
could not possibly have been made, for Smeaton's lighthouse, firm as
the rock on which it stands, has now already braved the storms of more
than a century, and will no doubt continue to brave them for many ages
to come. Of him it may well be said "exegit monumentum ære perennius,"
for to him is due the honour of having fixed the _best form_ to be given
to a marine lighthouse, and even now the Eddystone beacon-tower remains
a model which has hardly been surpassed by the taller and more graceful
edifices of Bell Rock and Skerryvore. Nothing could exceed the patient
ingenuity, the sagacity, and forethought with which that great engineer
mortised his tall tower to the wave-worn rock, and then dove-tailed the
whole together, so as to make rock and tower practically one stone, and
that of the very best form for deadening the action of the wave. Nor must
we forget that our great marine lighthouses, of which Smeaton gave the
model, are as remarkable from an artistic as from a utilitarian point
of view, as pleasing to the man of taste as to the friend of humanity.
"It is to be regretted," says, with perfect justice, the author of an
excellent article in the Quarterly Review,[I] "that these structures are
placed so far at sea that they are very little seen, for they are, taken
altogether, perhaps the most perfect specimens of modern architecture
which exist. Tall and graceful as the minar of an Eastern mosque, they
possess far more solidity and beauty of construction; and, in addition
to this, their form is as appropriate to the purposes for which it was
designed as anything ever done by the Greeks, and consequently meets
the requirements of good architecture quite as much as a column of the
Parthenon."
[Footnote I: No. 228.]
Covered to the height of fifteen feet at spring tide, and little more
than a hundred yards in its extent, the famous Bell Rock, or Inchcape,
facing the Frith of Tay at a distance of twelve miles at sea, was as
dangerous to the navigation of the eastern coast of Scotland as the
Eddystone had been to the entrance of the Channel. To erect a tower on a
spot like this was an undertaking of no common boldness, but, fired by
Smeaton's example, Mr. Robert Stevenson no less gloriously succeeded in
converting what for ages had been a source of danger into a beacon of
safety.
[Illustration: Bell Rock Lighthouse.]
On the opposite coast of Scotland, and placed in the same parallel of
latitude as Bell Rock, the Skerryvore Reef had a name equally dreaded by
the mariner. Situated considerably farther from the mainland than the
Bell Rock, it is less entirely submerged, some of its summits rising
above the level of high water, though the surf dashes over them; but the
extent of foul ground is much greater, and hidden dangers, even in fine
weather, beset the intervening passage between its eastern extremity
and Tyree, from which island it is distant some eleven miles. In rough
weather the sea which rises there is described as one in which no ship
could live. This terrible reef, so fatal to many a gallant bark, rendered
the erection of a lighthouse most desirable, yet such was the difficulty
of the case that although so long ago as 1814 an Act was obtained for
a light on Skerryvore, it was not before 1837 that Mr. Alan Stevenson,
son of the famous architect of the Bell Rock sea-tower, was authorised
to commence the work. That difficulty was not confined to the position
and character of the reef itself, as the neighbouring island of Tyree
afforded no resource, and all the materials for the building, even the
stone itself, had to be transported from distant quarters. At length, all
preliminary arrangements being settled, the engineer reached the rock
and commenced his work, in June 1838, by erecting a barrack-house upon
stilts--a sort of dovecot perched on poles--high out of the water on the
reef, close to the proposed site of the lighthouse. The erection of this
barrack fully occupied the first summer; and, lest it might be supposed
that this was but little work for so long a time, it may be as well to
remark that, such was the turbulence of the sea that between August 7
and September 11, it had only been possible to be 165 hours on the rock.
Much inconvenience was occasioned by the hard and slippery nature of the
volcanic formation of the Skerryvore, to which the action of the sea had
given the appearance and the smoothness of a mass of dark-coloured glass,
so that the foreman of the masons compared the operation of landing on it
to that of climbing up the neck of a bottle. When we consider how often,
by how many persons, and under what circumstances of swell and motion,
this operation was repeated, we must look upon this feature of the spot
as an obstacle of no slight amount.
At length, after much danger and difficulty, the barrack was completed,
but the first November storm swept it away and utterly annihilated the
work of the season. Iron stancheons had been drawn, broken, and twisted
like the wires of a champagne bottle; the smith's iron anvil had been
transported eight yards from where it was left; and a stone three-fourths
of a ton was lifted out from the bottom of a hole and sent towards the
top of the rock.
Mortified, but nothing daunted by this disaster, which gave him a warning
of the tremendous power he had to contend with, Mr. Stevenson prepared
during the winter for the labours of 1839, which, besides the re-erection
of the barrack on an improved plan, chiefly consisted in the levelling or
blasting of a flat surface of forty-two feet diameter on the top of the
rock from which the lighthouse was to arise. This foundation pit was in
itself a work of no small magnitude, as it required for its excavation
the labours of 20 men for 217 days, the firing of 296 shots, and the
removal into deep water of 2,000 tons of material. The blasting, from
the absence of all cover and the impossibility of retiring to a distance
farther in any case than thirty feet, and often reduced to twelve,
demanded all possible carefulness.
The only precautions available were a skilful appointment of the charge
and the covering the mines with mats and coarse netting made of old rope.
Every charge was fired by or with the assistance of the architect in
person, and no mischief occurred.
The year 1840 had now arrived, and the construction of the lighthouse
was about to begin. Quarriers and labourers had been busily employed
in cutting blocks of stone in the quarries. Carpenters were diligently
engaged in making wooden moulds for each lighthouse block wherewith
to gauge its exact mathematical figure. In April, a reinforcement of
thirty-seven masons from Aberdeen arrived at Tyree--men expert in the
difficult work of dressing granite--and, on April 30, the first visit was
made to the rock. To the great joy of all, the barrack constructed in
the previous season was found uninjured, though a mass of rock weighing
about five tons had been detached from its bed and carried right across
the foundation pit by the violence of the waves. In this barrack the
architect and his party now took up their quarters, which from the
frequent flooding of the apartments with water and from the heavy spray
that washed the walls were anything but agreeable. "Once," says the
gallant engineer,[J] "we were fourteen days without communication with
the shore or the steamer, and during the greater part of that time we
saw nothing but white fields of foam as far as the eye could reach;
and heard nothing but the whistling of the wind and the thunder of the
waves, which was at times so loud as to make it almost impossible to
hear anyone speak. Such a scene, with the ruins of the former barrack
not twenty yards from us, was calculated to inspire the most desponding
anticipations; and I well remember the undefined sense of dread that
flashed on my mind, on being awakened one night by a heavy sea which
struck the barrack and made my cot swing inwards from the wall, and was
immediately followed by a cry of terror from the men in the apartment
above me, most of whom, startled by the _sound and the tremor_, sprang
from their berths to the floor, impressed with the idea that the whole
fabric had been washed into the sea."
[Footnote J: Account of Skerryvore Lighthouse, by Alan Stevenson,
Engineer to the Northern Lighthouse Board. Edinburgh, 1848.]
This spell of bad weather, though in summer, well-nigh outlasted their
provisions; and when at length they were able to make the signal that a
landing would be practicable, scarcely twenty-four hours' stock remained
on the rock. The landing of the heavy stones from the lighters was a work
of no small difficulty, considering the slippery nature of the rock,
and as the loss of one dressed stone would frequently have delayed the
whole progress of the building, the anxiety was incessant. On July 4, the
building of the tower really commenced. Six courses of masonry carried
the building to the height of 8 feet 2 inches before the autumnal gales
terminated the work of 1840, and an excellent year's work it was. The
saying that "what is well begun is half done" was illustrated here. Next
year's work was comparatively easy--so that in 1842 the tower rose to its
full height of 138 feet; and the year after the light was shedding its
beneficent rays over the thirty miles of watery waste that surround the
hidden rocks of Skerryvore.
[Illustration: The Skerryvore Lighthouse.]
Well may we be proud of men like Smeaton and the Stevensons; but, while
justly admiring their architectural skill, their perseverance, and their
courage, we must not forget to offer the just tribute of our gratitude
to the eminent natural philosophers without whose ingenious optical
inventions the most splendid sea-towers would be comparatively useless.
The Pharus or lighthouse of Alexandria was, probably with justice,
reckoned among the seven wonders of the world, and its several stories,
rising on marble columns to the height of 400 feet, must have presented
an imposing spectacle, but I strongly suspect that the rude brazier
on the summit of the majestic pile bore the same proportion to the
lighthouse lanterns of our time as the wretched coasting-craft of the
ancient Greeks to the ocean steamers of the present day. Among the names
of those who have contributed most effectually to the progress of marine
illumination Argand, Borda, and Fresnel are conspicuous. The hollow
cylindrical wick of the first was a sudden and immense advance in the art
of economical and effective illumination. The second, by his invention
of the parabolic mirror, multiplied the effect of the unassisted flame
by 450, and the refracting lens of Fresnel so admirably concentrates the
light as to project its warning beams to the wonderful distance of thirty
or thirty-five miles.
In former ages the efforts of man to provide a refuge to the mariner
from the fury of the raging gale were feeble and insignificant. Content
with the harbours that nature had provided, it was then thought quite
sufficient to line a river-bank with quays or to enclose a natural pond
by walls. The idea of raising colossal breakwaters by casting whole
quarries into the deep, or of extending artificial promontories far
into the bosom of the ocean, is of modern date, and would have appeared
chimerical not only to the ancients but to our fathers not a century ago.
The first great work of this description is the famous breakwater planned
by De Cessart in 1783, and terminated in 1853, which has converted the
open roadstead of Cherbourg into a land-locked harbour. Rising from a
depth of 40 feet at low spring tides, on a coast where the floods attain
a height of 19 feet, it opposes a front of 12,700 feet to the fury of the
storm, and carries 250 pieces of the heaviest cannon on its formidable
brow.
It far surpasses in extent and boldness of construction the breakwater at
Plymouth, nor will it be eclipsed by the moles now forming at Portland,
Holyhead, and Alderney; but although it is a more impressive spectacle to
see man struggling with the ocean and producing calmness and shelter in
the midst of the raging storm, than to contemplate his operations where
he has no such adversaries to subdue, still such buildings as those just
described are neither the largest nor the most expensive works required
for the accommodation of shipping. Witness the Cyclopean grandeur of the
Liverpool docks or of the Great Float at Birkenhead, which alone covers
an area of water of 121 acres, and whose portals, with a clear opening
of 100 feet, will admit the largest screw-steamer or sailing ship the
wildest imagination has yet conceived. Six millions of money is the cost
of this one work alone--more than would be required to raise a pyramid
like that of Cheops--and even this sum is a trifle when compared with
what has been spent on the harbours of Liverpool, London, and other great
commercial cities.
Not satisfied with erecting his lighthouses on wave-worn rocks or defying
the waves with his colossal breakwaters, man spans bridges over arms of
the sea and excavates mines under the abysses of the deep. The locomotive
now rolls full speed 100 feet above high water over the strait which
separates Anglesea from the mainland; and in Botallack and several other
Cornish mines the workman, while resting from his subterranean labours,
hears the awful voice of the ocean rolling over his head.
"In all these submarine mines," says Mr. Henwood, "I have heard the
dashing of the billows and the grating of the shingle when in calm
weather. I was once, however, underground in Wheal Cock during a storm.
At the extremity of the level seaward some eighty or one hundred
fathoms from the shore, little could be heard of its effects, except
at intervals, when the reflux of some unusually large wave projected a
pebble outward, bounding and rolling over the rocky bottom. But when
standing beneath the base of the cliff, and in that part of the mine
where but nine feet of rock stood between us and the ocean, the heavy
roll of the large boulders, the ceaseless grinding of the pebbles, the
fierce thundering of the billows, with the crackling and boiling as they
rebounded, placed a tempest in its most appalling form too vividly before
me ever to be forgotten. More than once doubting the protection of our
rocky shield, we retreated in affright, and it was only after repeated
trials that we had confidence to pursue our investigations." Yet the
miners, accustomed from their early youth to the fierce and threatening
roaring of the stormy sea, pursue their work from year to year, never
doubting that the thin roof which separates them from a watery grave will
continue to protect them, as it has shielded their fathers before them.
PART II.
THE INHABITANTS OF THE SEA.
CHAP. VIII.
THE CETACEANS.
General Remarks on the Organisation of the Cetaceans.--The Large
Greenland Whale.--His Food and Enemies.--The Fin-Back or Rorqual.--The
Antarctic Whale.--The Sperm-Whale.--The Unicorn Fish.--The
Dolphin.--Truth and Fable.--The Porpoise.--The Grampus.--History of
the Whale Fishery.
Of all the living creatures that people the immensity of ocean, the
cetaceans, or the whale family, are the most perfect. Their anatomical
construction renders them in many respects similar to man, and their
heart is susceptible of a warmth of feeling unknown to the cold-blooded
fishes; for the mother shows signs of attachment to her young, and
forgets her own safety when some danger menaces her offspring. Like
man, the cetaceans breathe through lungs, and possess a double heart,
receiving and propelling streams of _warm_ red blood. The anatomical
structure of their pectoral fins bears great resemblance to that of the
human arm, as the bony structure of those organs equally consists of a
shoulder-blade, an upper arm, a radius and ulna, and five fingers.
But the arm, which in man moves freely, is here chained to the body as
far as the hand, and the latter, which, in obedience to human volition
and intellect, executes such miracles of industry and art, is here
covered with a thick skin, and appears as a broad undivided fin or
flapper. Yet still it is destined for higher service than that of a mere
propelling oar, as it serves the mother to guide and shield her young.
The lower extremities are of course wanting, but their functions are
performed by the mighty _horizontal_ tail, by whose powerful strokes the
unwieldy animal glides rapidly through the waters.
The cetaceans distinguish themselves, moreover, from the fishes by the
bringing forth of living young, by a greater quantity of blood, by the
smoothness of their skin, under which is found a thick layer of fat, and
by their simple or double blow-hole, which is situated at the top of the
head, and corresponds to the nostrils of the quadrupeds, though not for
the purpose of smelling, but merely as an organ of respiration.
[Illustration: Bones of the Anterior Fin of a Whale.]
Our knowledge of the cetaceans is still very incomplete; and this is not
to be wondered at, when we consider that they chiefly dwell in the most
inaccessible parts of the ocean, and that when met with, the swiftness
of their movements rarely allows more than a flighty view of their
external form. Thus their habits and mode of living are mostly enveloped
in obscurity; and while doubtless many cetaceans are to the present day
unknown, one and the same species has not seldom been described under
different names, to the no small confusion of the naturalist.
The cetaceans are either without a dental apparatus, or provided with
teeth. The former, or the whalebone whales, have two blow-holes on the
top of the head, in the form of two longitudinal fissures; while in the
latter, (sperm-whales, unicorn-fish, dolphins,) which comprise by far
the greater number of species, there is but one transversal spout-hole.
In all whales the larynx is continued to the spouting canal, and deeply
inserted or closely imbricated within its tube. Thus no tones approaching
to a voice can be emitted except through the spiracles, which are
encumbered with valves, and evidently badly adapted for the transmission
of sound. Scoresby assures us that the Greenland whale has no voice, and
Bennett frequently noticed sperm-whales suffering from extreme alarm
and injury, but never heard any sound from them beyond that attending an
ordinary respiration.
The whalebone whales are either _smooth-backs_ (Balænæ), or _fin-backs_
(Balænopteræ), having a vertical fin rising from the lower part of
the back. To the former belongs the mighty Greenland Whale (_Balæna
mysticetus_), the most bulky of living animals, and of all cetaceans
the most useful and important to man. Its greatest length, according to
Scoresby, is from sixty to seventy feet, and round the thickest part
of its body it measures from thirty to forty feet, but the incessant
persecutions to which it is subjected scarcely ever allow it to attain
its full growth.
The whale being somewhat lighter than the medium in which it swims,
its weight may be ascertained with tolerable accuracy; and Scoresby
tells us that a stout animal of sixty feet weighs about seventy tons,
allowing thirty to the blubber, eight or ten to the bones, and thirty
or thirty-two to the carcase. The lightness of the whale, which enables
it to keep its _crown_, in which the blow-hole is situated, and a
considerable extent of back above the water, without any effort or
motion, is not only owing to its prodigious case of fat, but also to the
lightness of its bones, most of which are very porous and contain large
quantities of fine oil; an admirable provision of nature for the wants of
a creature destined to breathe the atmospheric air, and to skim its food
from the surface of the waters.
The unsightly animal shows disproportion in all its organs. While
the tail fin measures twenty-four feet across, the pectoral fins or
paddles are no more than six feet long. The monstrous head forms
about the third of the whole body, and is furnished with an equally
monstrous mouth, which on opening exhibits a cavity about the size of
an ordinary ship's cabin. The leviathans of the dry land, the elephant,
the rhinoceros, and the hippopotamus, are provided with tusks and teeth
corresponding to their size--huge weapons fit for eradicating trees or
crushing the bone-harnessed crocodile; but the masticatory implements
of the giant of the seas are scarcely capable of dividing the smallest
food. Instead of teeth, its enormous upper jaw is beset with about 500
laminæ of whalebone, ranged side by side, two-thirds of an inch apart,
the thickness of blade included, and resembling a frame of saws in
a saw-mill. Their interior edges are covered with fringes of hair;
externally they are curved and flattened down, so as to present a smooth
surface to the lips. The largest laminæ, situated on both sides of the
jaw, attain a length of fifteen feet, and measure from twelve to fifteen
inches at their base; in front and towards the back of the mouth they are
much shorter.
[Illustration: Skull of Whale, with the Baleen.]
Besides these, there are suspended from the palate many other small
laminæ of the thickness of a quill, a few inches long, and likewise
terminating in a fringe. Thus the whole roof of the mouth resembles a
shaggy fur, under which lies the soft and spongy tongue, a monstrous mass
often ten feet broad and eighteen feet long.
[Illustration: Clio borealis.]
This whole formation is beautifully adapted to the peculiar nourishment
of the whale, which does not consist, as one might suppose, of the larger
fishes, but of the minute animals, (_Medusæ_, _Entomostraca_, _Clio
borealis_, and other pteropod molluscs,) with which its pasture-grounds
in the northern seas abound. To gather food, it swims rapidly with open
mouth over the surface; and on closing the wide gates, and expelling the
foaming streams, the little creatures remain entangled by thousands in
the fringy thicket as in a net; there to be crushed and bruised by the
tongue into a savoury pulp. Fancy the vast numbers requisite to keep a
monster of seventy tons in good condition.
The back of the whale is usually of a fine glossy black, marked with
whitish rays, which have some resemblance to the veins of wood. This
mixture of colours presents an agreeable appearance, especially when
the back of the fish is illuminated with the rays of the sun. The under
part of the trunk and of the lower jaw is of a dead white. The skin is
about an inch thick, and covers a layer of fat of fifteen inches; a most
excellent coat for keeping the whale warm and increasing its buoyancy,
but at the same time the chief cause which induces man to pursue it with
the deadly harpoon.
The usual march of the whale over the waters is rarely more than four
miles an hour, but its speed increases to an astonishing rapidity when
terror or the agonies of pain drive it madly through the sea.
In its sportive humours it is sometimes seen to spring out of the water,
and to remain suspended for a moment in the air. On falling back again
into the sea, high foam-crested fountains spout forth on all sides, and
mighty waves propagate the tumult in widening circles over the troubled
ocean. Or else it raises its bulky head vertically on high, so that the
deceived mariner fancies he sees some black rock looming out of the
distant waters. But suddenly the fancied cliff turns round and brandishes
playfully its enormous flukes in the air, or lashes the waters with such
prodigious power, that the sound rolls far away like thunder over the
deserts of the ocean.
Strange to say, the giant is of so cowardly a nature, that the sight of
a sea-bird often fills him with the greatest terror, and causes him to
avoid the imaginary danger by a sudden plunge into the deep.
Besides man, a vast number of enemies, great and small, persecute the
whale and embitter his life.
The Sword-fish (_Xiphias Gladius_) and the Thresher or Sea-fox, a species
of shark (_Carcharias Vulpes_), often attack him conjointly and in packs.
As soon as his back appears above the water, the threshers, springing
several yards into the air, descend with great violence upon the object
of their rancour, and inflict upon him the most severe slaps with their
long tails, the sound of which resembles the report of distant musketry.
The sword-fish, in their turn, attack the distressed whale, stabbing from
below; and thus beset on all sides, and bleeding from countless wounds,
the huge animal, though dealing the most dreadful blows with its enormous
tail, and lashing the crimsoned waters into foam, is obliged to succumb
at last.
The Greenland Shark (_Squalus borealis_) is also one of the bitterest
enemies of the whale, biting and annoying it while living, and feeding
on it when dead. It scoops hemispherical pieces out of its body nearly
as big as a man's head, and continues scooping and gorging lump after
lump, until the whole cavity of its belly is filled. It is so insensible
of pain, that, though it has been run through the body, and escaped,
yet after a while Scoresby has seen it return to banquet again on the
whale at the very spot where it received its wounds. The heart, as is
frequently the case with gluttons, bears no proportion to its vast
capacity of stomach; for it is very small, and performs only six or eight
pulsations in a minute, continuing its beating for some hours after
having been taken out of the body. The body also, though separated into
any number of parts, gives evidence of life for a similar length of time.
It is therefore so difficult to kill, that it is actually unsafe to trust
the hand in its mouth though the head be separated from the body.
Strange to say, though the whale-fishers frequently slip into the water
where sharks abound, Scoresby never heard an instance of their having
been attacked by one of these voracious monsters. Perhaps they are loth
to attack man, looking upon him as their best purveyor.
[Illustration: Saw of the Saw-fish.]
Fishermen relate that the whale and saw-fish, whenever they come
together, engage in deadly combat; the latter invariably making the
attack with inconceivable fury.
"The meeting of these champions proud
Seems like the bursting thunder cloud."
The whale, whose only defence is his tail, endeavours to strike his enemy
with it; and a single blow would prove mortal. But the saw-fish, with
astonishing agility, shuns the tremendous stroke, bounds into the air,
and returns upon his huge adversary, plunging the rugged weapon with
which he is furnished into his back. The whale is still more irritated by
this wound, which only becomes fatal when it penetrates the fat; and thus
pursuing and pursued, striking and stabbing, the engagement only ends
with the death of one of the unwieldy combatants.
Even the white-bear is said to attack the whale, watching his approach
to the sea-shore; but the enmity of the narwhal is evidently fabulous, as
both cetaceans may frequently be seen together in perfect harmony.
Besides these formidable attacks of what may be considered as more
or less noble foes, the whale is constantly harassed by the bites of
the vilest insects. A large species of louse adheres by thousands to
its back, and gnaws this animated pasture-ground, so as to cover it
frequently with one vast sore. In the summer, when this plague is
greatest, numbers of aquatic birds accompany the whale, and settle on his
back, as soon as it appears above the water, in order to feed upon these
disgusting parasites.
[Illustration: Whale Louse.]
Barnacles often cover the whale in such masses, that his black skin
disappears under a whitish mantle, and even sea-weeds attach themselves
to his vast jaws, floating like a beard, and reminding one of Birnam's
wandering forest.
As its name testifies, the home of the Greenland whale is confined to
the high northern seas, where it has been met with in the open waters
or along every ice-bound shore as far as man has penetrated towards
the Pole. The southern limit of its excursions seems to be about 60°
N. lat. It never visits the North Sea, and is seldom found within 200
miles of the British coasts. Its favourite resorts are the so-called
whale-grounds,[K] between 74° and 80° N. lat., where the warmth, imparted
to the water by the Gulf-stream, favours the multiplication of the small
marine animals which form the nourishment of the Leviathan of the seas.
[Footnote K: See page 20.]
Sometimes open spaces in the ice, abounding in minute crustaceans and
medusæ, attract a larger number of whales, but the huge creature cannot
be said to live in larger herds or associations.
The Fin-fish or northern Rorqual (_Balænoptera boops_, _musculus_)
attains a greater length than the sleek-backed Greenland whale, but
does not equal it in bulk, having a more elongated form and a more
tapering head. Its whalebone is much shorter and coarser, being adapted
to a different kind of food, for, despising the minute medusæ and
crustaceans which form the food of its huge relation, the more nimble
rorqual pursues the herring and the mackerel on their wandering path.
Like the blubber-whale, the fin-back is black above, white below, but
distinguishes itself by long and numerous blood-red streaks or furrows,
running under the lower jaw and breast as far as the middle of the belly.
This is the species of whale which not unfrequently strands on our
shores, for though an inhabitant of the Arctic seas, it wanders farther
to the south than the Greenland whale. It is seldom harpooned, for the
produce of oil is not equivalent to the expense, the risk, and the danger
attending its capture.
In the southern hemisphere, the Antarctic Smooth-backed Whale (_B.
antarctica_), a species similar to the Greenland whale, though of less
bulk, is the chief object of the fisherman's pursuit. It hangs much about
the coasts in the temperate latitudes, and loves the neighbouring seas,
where the discoloured waters afford the richest repasts, but is not
known in the central parts of the Pacific. In the spring it resorts to
the bays on the coasts of Chili, South Africa, the Brazils, Australia,
New Zealand, Van Diemen's Land, &c. &c., where it is attacked either by
stationary fishermen, or by whalers, who at that time leave the high seas.
Farther towards the pole _Hump-backs_ and _Fin-backs_ abound; but these
are far from equalling the former in value. When Dumont d'Urville,
returning from his expedition to the south pole, told the whalers whom
he found in the Bay of Talcahuano of the great number of cetaceans he
had seen in the higher latitudes, their eyes glistened at the pleasing
prospect; but when he added that they were only hump-backs and fin-backs,
they did not conceal their disappointment; for the hump-back is meagre,
and not worth the boiling, and the fin-back dives with such rapidity,
that he snaps the harpoon line, or drags the boat along with him into the
water.
The Sperm-Whale, or Cachalot (_Physeter macrocephalus_), rivals the great
smooth-backed whales both in its various utility to man and the colossal
dimensions of its unwieldy body. The largest authentically recorded size
of the uncouth animal is seventy-six feet by thirty-eight in girth; but
whalers are well contented to consider fifty-five or sixty feet the
average length of the largest examples they commonly obtain. The male,
however, alone attains these ample proportions; the adult female does not
exceed thirty or at most thirty-five feet, so that there is a greater
disproportion of size between sexes than in any other known species of
cetaceans.
The form of the beast is without symmetry, and from the general absence
of other prominent organs than the tail or pectoral fins, can be compared
to little else than a dark rock or the bole of some giant tree. The
prevailing colour is a dull black, occasionally marked with white,
especially on the abdomen and tail. The summit of the head and trunk
presents a plane surface, until about the posterior third of the back,
whence arises a hump or spurious fin of pyramidal form, and entirely
composed of fat. From this embossed appendage an undulating series of
six or eight similar, but smaller elevations, occupies the upper margin
or ridge of the tail to the commencement of the caudal fin. The pectoral
fins or paddles are placed a short distance behind the head; they are
triangular in shape, diminutive as compared with the size of the whale,
and being connected to the trunk by a ball and socket joint, possess free
movement, either vertical or horizontal.
[Illustration: Cuttle-fish (Sepia).]
Owing to the flexibility of the tail, the movements of the tail-fin, or
"flukes," which sometimes measures eighteen feet across, are exceedingly
extensive, whilst its power may be estimated by the gigantic bundles of
round tendons, which pass on either side the loins, to be inserted into
its base. Whether wielded in sportive mood or in anger, its action is
marked by rapidity and ease, and when struck forcibly on the surface
of the ocean, produces a report which may be heard at a considerable
distance. In progression, the action of this organ is precisely the
reverse of that of the tail of the lobster, for whilst the latter
animal swims backward by striking the water with its tail from behind
forwards, the cachalot and other cetaceans swim forward by striking
with their flukes in the contrary direction, the fin being brought
beneath the body by an oblique and unresisting movement; while the act
of springing it back and straightening the tail propels the animal ahead
with an undulating or leaping gait. When employed offensively the tail
is curved in a direction contrary to that of the object aimed at, and
the blow is inflicted by the force of the recoil. The lower jaw appears
diminutive, slender, and not unlike the lower mandible of a bird. When
the mouth is closed it is received within the soft parts pendent from
the border of the upper jaw, and is nearly concealed by them. True and
serviceable teeth are situated only in the lower jaw, and are received
into corresponding sockets in the upper jaw. In aged males they are of
great solidity and size, attaining a weight of from two to four pounds
each; their entire structure is ivory. This powerful armament shows us at
once that the food of the cachalot must be very different from that of
the whalebone cetaceans; it generally consists of cuttle-fish, many kinds
of which are ejected from its stomach when it is attacked by the boats,
as well as after death. Owing to the great projection of the snout beyond
the lower jaw, it may be requisite for this whale to turn on its side
or back to seize its more bulky prey; a supposition strengthened by the
fact that, when the animal attacks a boat with its mouth, it invariably
assumes a reversed posture, carrying the lower jaw above the object it is
attempting to bite. As long as it continues on the surface of the sea,
the cachalot casts from its nostril a constant succession of spouts, at
intervals of ten or fifteen seconds. As in all whales, the jets are not,
as frequently imagined, water-columns, but a thick white mist ejected
by one continual effort to the height of six or eight feet, and rushing
forth with a sound resembling a moderate surf upon a smooth beach. The
peculiar fat or sperm which renders the cachalot so valuable, is chiefly
situated in the head. _Junk_ is the name given by the fishermen to a
solid mass of soft, yellow, and oily fat, weighing between two and three
tons, based on the upper jaw, and forming the front and lower part of
the snout; while the cavity called _case_ is situated beneath and to the
right of the spouting canal, and corresponds to nearly the entire length
of that tube. It is filled with a very delicate web of cellular tissue,
containing in large cells a limpid and oily fluid, which is liberated
by the slightest force. The quantity, chiefly spermaceti, contained in
this singular receptacle, is often very considerable, nearly 500 gallons
having been obtained from the case of one whale. So vast an accumulation
of fat has obviously been intended to insure a correct position in
swimming, to facilitate the elevation of the spiracle above the
surface of the sea, and to counteract the weight of the bony and other
ponderous textures of the head; objects which in the Greenland whale are
sufficiently attained by a similar accumulation of fat in the lips and
tongue, and by the more elevated situation of the spout-hole.
While the large whalebone whales generally roam about in solitary
couples, the cachalot forms large societies. _Schools_, consisting of
from twenty to fifty individuals, are composed of females attended by
their young, and associated with at least one adult male of the largest
size, who generally takes a defensive position in the rear when the
school is flying from danger.
_Pods_ are smaller congregations of young or half-grown males, which have
been driven from the maternal schools. Two or more schools occasionally
coalesce to a "_body of whales_," so that Bennett[L] sometimes saw the
ocean for several miles around the ship swarming with sperm leviathans,
and strewn with a constant succession of spouts. These large assemblies
sometimes proceed at a rapid pace in one determinate direction, and are
then soon lost sight of; at other times they bask and sleep upon the
surface, spouting leisurely, and exhibiting every indication of being
_at home_, or on their feeding ground. Like most gregarious animals,
the cachalots are naturally timid. A shoal of dolphins leaping in their
vicinity is sufficient to put a whole school to flight: yet occasionally
fighting individuals are met with; particularly among those morose
solitary animals that most likely from their intolerable character have
been turned out of the society of their kind. The central deserts of
ocean, or the neighbourhood of the steepest coasts, are the chief resort
of the cachalot; and so great is the difference of his _habitat_ from
that of the smooth-backed whales, that during the whole time Bennett
was cruising in quest of cachalots, he in no single instance saw an
example of the true whale. The cachalot is more especially found on
the _line-currents_, which extend from the equator to about the seventh
degree of north and south latitudes, yet it has been noticed in the
Mediterranean, and one individual, a stray sheep indeed, has even been
captured in the Thames.
[Footnote L: Narrative of a Whaling Voyage round the Globe.]
The Narwal, or Unicorn-fish, attains a length of from twenty to
twenty-five feet. He is of a grey-white colour, punctured with many
white spots, and as his head is not disproportionate to the length of
his body, may rank among the handsomest cetaceans. He distinguishes
himself, as is well known, from all other members of the family by
the long twisted tooth or horn projecting horizontally from the upper
jaw. This mighty weapon, the true use of which has not yet been fully
ascertained, was formerly sold at a very high price, as proceeding from
the fabulous unicorn; at present, it is only paid according to the worth
of its excellent ivory, which is harder, heavier, and less liable to
turn yellow than that of the elephant. The whalers are therefore highly
delighted when they can pick up a chance narwal, but this only succeeds
in narrow bays; for the unicorn-fish is an excellent swimmer, and
extremely watchful. In spite of his menacing appearance, he is a harmless
sociable creature, fond of gambolling and crossing swords playfully with
his compeers. It is remarkable that the opening of the mouth of so huge
an animal is scarcely large enough to admit the hand of a man. Scoresby
found in the stomach of a narwal remains of cuttle fishes, which seem to
form his chief aliment, besides pieces of skates and plaice. The narwal
is frequent about Davis' Straits and Disco Bay, but is nowhere found in
the Pacific, having most likely not yet discovered the north-western
passage. He rarely wanders into the temperate seas, yet one was caught,
in 1800, near Boston in Lincolnshire, and two others, in 1736, on the
German coast of the North Sea.
The Dolphin tribe is distinguished from the cachalot by a more
proportionate head; from the narwal by the absence of the long horn; and
generally possesses sharp teeth in both jaws, all of one form. The number
of species is very great; Linnæus distinguished four sperm-whales and
three dolphins; now many naturalists acknowledge but one species of the
former, while the dolphins have increased to more than thirty, and many
are as yet unknown.
[Illustration: Delphinus Delphis.]
The most famous member of this numerous family is undoubtedly the
classical Dolphin of the ancients (_Delphinus delphis_) which attains
a length of from nine to ten feet, and is, according to Pliny, the
swiftest of all animals, so as to merit the appellation of the "arrow
of the sea." His lively troops often accompany for days the track of a
ship, and agreeably interrupt the monotony of a long sea-voyage. As if in
mockery of the most rapid sailer, they shoot past so as to vanish from
the eye, and then return again with the same lightning-like velocity.
Their spirits are so brisk that they frequently leap into the air, as
if longing to expatiate in a lighter fluid. Hence, dolphins are the
favourites of the mariner and the poet, who have vied in embellishing
their history with the charms of fiction.
Everybody knows the wonderful story of Arion, who having been forced by
pirates to leap into the sea, proceeded merrily to his journey's end on
the back of a dolphin:--
"Secure he sits, and with harmonious strains
Requites his bearer for his friendly pains.
The gods approve, the dolphin heaven adorns,
And with nine stars a constellation forms."
Pliny relates the no less astonishing tale of a boy at Baiæ, who by
feeding it with bread, gained the affections of a dolphin, so that
the thankful creature used to convey him every morning to school
across the sea to Puteoli, and back again. When the boy died, the poor
disconsolate dolphin returned every morning to the spot where he had
been accustomed to meet his friend, and soon fell a victim to his grief.
The same naturalist tells us also that the dolphins at Narbonne rendered
themselves very useful to the fishermen by driving the fish into their
nets, and were generously rewarded for their assistance with "bread
soaked in wine." A king of Caria having chained a dolphin in the harbour,
its afflicted associates appeared in great numbers, testifying their
anxiety for its deliverance by such unequivocal signs of sorrow, that the
king, touched with compassion, restored the prisoner to liberty.
Such, and similar fables, which were believed by the naturalists of
antiquity, are laughed at even by the old women of our times. The dolphin
is in no respects superior to the other cetaceans; his musical taste is
as low as zero, and if, like the bonito and albacore, he follows a ship
for days together, it is most surely not out of affection for man, but
on account of the offal that is thrown overboard. But do not many human
friendships repose on similar selfish motives?
[Illustration: The Porpoise.]
The Porpoise (_Delphinus Phocœna_), which only attains a length of five
or six feet, and seems to be the smallest of all cetaceans, is frequently
confounded with the dolphin. It is at home in the whole Northern
Atlantic, in the Mediterranean, and the Euxine. While the dolphin prefers
the high sea, the porpoise loves tranquil bays and cliff-sheltered
shores, and often swims up the rivers, so that individuals have been
caught in the Elbe and Seine as high up as Dessau and Paris. The porpoise
is a no less excellent swimmer than the dolphin, making at least fifteen
miles an hour. His rapidity and sharp teeth render him a most dangerous
enemy to all the lesser fry of the ocean, whose sole refuge lies in the
shallowest waters. When he rises to the surface to draw breath, the back
only appears, the head and tail are kept under water. At the entrance
of harbours, where he is frequently seen gambolling, his undulatory or
leaping movements, now rising with a grunt, now sinking to reappear again
at some distance, afford an entertaining spectacle.
A much more formidable animal, the largest of the whole dolphin tribe,
is the ravenous Grampus, (_Delphinus Orca_,) which measures no less than
twenty-five feet in length, and twelve or thirteen in girth. The upper
part of the body is black, the lower white: the dorsal fin rises in the
shape of a cone, to the height of three feet or more.
All naturalists agree in describing the grampus as the most voracious
of the dolphin family. Its ordinary food is the seal and some species
of flat-fish, but it also frequently gives chase to the porpoise, and
perhaps the whale would consider the grampus as his most formidable
enemy, were it not for the persecutions of man. Pliny gives us a fine
description of the conflicts which arise between these monsters of the
deep. At the time when the whale resorts to the bays to cast its young,
it is attacked by the grampus, who either lacerates it with his dreadful
jaws, or in rapid onset endeavours to strike in its ribs, as with a
catapult. The terrified whale knows no other way to escape from these
furious attacks, than by interposing a whole sea between him and his
enemy. But the grampus, equally wary and active, cuts off his retreat,
and drives the whale into narrower and narrower waters, forcing him to
bruise himself on the sharp rocks, or to strand upon the shelving sands,
nor ceases his efforts until he has gained a complete victory. During
this fight the sea seems to rage against itself, for though no wind may
be stirring the surface, waves, such as no storm creates, rise under the
strokes of the infuriated combatants.
While the Emperor Claudius was visiting the harbour of Ostium, a grampus
stranded in the shallow waters. The back appeared above the surface of
the sea, and resembled a ship with its keel turned upwards. The Emperor
caused nets to be stretched across the mouth of the harbour to prevent
the animal's escape, and then attacked it in person with his prætorian
guards. The soldiers surrounding the monster in boats, and hurling their
inglorious spears, exhibited an amusing spectacle to the populace.
* * * * *
That man ventures to pursue the leviathans of the deep among the fogs
and icebergs of the Arctic seas, and is generally successful in their
capture, may surely be considered as one of the proudest triumphs of his
courage and his skill.
The breast of the first navigator, says Horace, was cased with triple
steel; but of what adamantine materials must that man's heart have
been formed, whose steadfast hand hurled the first harpoon against the
colossal whale?
History has not preserved his name; like the great warriors that lived
before Agamemnon, he sank into an obscure grave for want of a Homer to
celebrate his exploits. We only know that the Biscayans were the first
_civilised_ people that in the fourteenth and fifteenth century fitted
out ships for the whale fishery. At first the bold men of Bayonne and
Santander contented themselves with pursuing their prey, (most likely
rorquals) in the neighbouring seas, but as the persecuted whales
diminished in frequency, they followed them farther to the north, until
they came to the haunts of the real whale, whose greater abundance of fat
rewarded their intrepidity with a richer spoil.
Their success naturally roused the emulation and avidity of other
seafaring nations, and thus, towards the end of the sixteenth century,
we see the English, and soon after the Dutch, enter the lists as their
competitors. At first our countrymen were obliged to send to "Biskaie
for men skilful in catching the whale, and ordering of the oil, and one
cooper, skilful to set up the staved casks," (Hakluyt's _Voyages_, i.
414); but soon, by their skill, their industry and perseverance, together
with the aid and encouragement granted by the legislature, they learnt to
carry on the whale fishery on more advantageous terms than the original
adventurers, whose efforts became less enterprising as their success was
more precarious.
The first attempts of the English date as far back as the year 1594, when
some ships were sent out to Cape Breton for morse and whale fishing. The
fishing proved unsuccessful, but they found in an island 800 whale fins
or whalebone, part of the cargo of a Biscayan ship wrecked there three
years before, which they put on board and brought home. This was the
first time this substance was imported into England.
Hull took the lead in the Greenland whale fishery in 1598, thirteen years
after the first company for that purpose had been formed in Amsterdam,
and as both maritime nations gave it every encouragement, not only on
account of its profits, but also from considering it as one of the best
nurseries for their seamen, it gradually grew to a very important branch
of business. Some idea may be formed of the extent to which the Dutch
engaged in the whale fishery during the last century, by stating that for
a period of forty-six years preceding 1722, 5886 ships were employed in
it, and captured 32,907 whales.
In the year 1788, 222 English vessels were employed in the northern
fishery.
The earliest period at which we find the pursuit of the sperm-whale
conducted upon a scientific plan is about 1690, when it was commenced by
the American colonists. In 1775, ships were first sent out from ports of
Great Britain, but for some years it was necessary to appoint an American
commander and harpooner until competent officers could be reared. At the
same early date the sperm fishery was chiefly prosecuted in the Atlantic,
but Messrs. Enderby's ship "Emilia" having rounded Cape Horn in 1788,
first carried the sperm-whale fishery into the Pacific, where its success
opened a wide and fruitful field for future exertions. As our whalers
became better acquainted with the South Sea, many valuable resorts were
discovered. In 1819 the "Syren" (British) first carried on the fishery
in the western parts of that great ocean, and in the year 1848 the
American whaler "Superior," Captain Roys, penetrated through Behring's
Straits into the Icy Sea, and opened the fishery in those remote waters.
The year after no less than 154 vessels followed upon his track, and
the number has been increasing ever since. At present the Americans are
the people which carries on the whale fishery with the greatest energy
and good fortune. While of late years only thirty or forty British sail
have been employed in the Pacific, our cousins "across the Atlantic"
numbered in the year 1841 no less than 650 whalers, manned by 13,500
seamen. One of the causes of their success may be, that while the whale
fishery in England is carried on by men of large capital, who are the
sole proprietors of the ship, the American interest in one vessel is
held by many men of small capital, and not unfrequently by the commander
and officers. It must, however, not be forgotten that the Australian
colonies, being more conveniently situated than the mother country, fit
out many ships for the whale fishery, which is besides conducted in
several permanent stations along the coasts of New Zealand, &c.
Whale charts have of late years been drawn, on which the best fishing
grounds at different seasons are delineated. These maps are not only
useful guides for the fishermen, but promise the future solution of
the still undecided question of the migration of whales. While some
naturalists are of opinion that the cetaceans, flying from the pursuit
of man, abandon their old haunts for more sequestered regions, others,
like M. Jacquinot (_Zoologie, Voyage de l'Astrolabe et de la Zèlée_)
believe that if the whaler is continually obliged to look out for more
productive seas, it is not because the whale has migrated, but because he
has been nearly extirpated in one place and left unmolested in another.
The Greenland whale fishery was for more than a hundred years confined
to the seas between Spitzbergen and Greenland; the entrance and east
shore of Davis' Straits not being frequented before the beginning of the
last century. Since then the expeditions of Ross and Parry have made the
whalers acquainted with a number of admirable stations on the farther
side of Davis' Straits and in the higher latitudes of Baffin's Bay. The
vessels destined for that quarter sail usually in March, though some
delay their departure till the middle or even the end of April. They
proceed first to the northern parts of the coast of Labrador, or to the
mouth of Cumberland Strait, carrying on what is called the south-west
fishery. After remaining there till about the beginning of May, they
cross to the eastern shore of the strait and fish upwards along the
coast, particularly in South-east Bay, North-east Bay, Kingston Bay, or
Horn Sound.
About the month of July they usually cross Baffin's Bay to Lancaster
Sound, which they sometimes enter, and occasionally even ascend Barrow's
Strait twenty or thirty miles. In returning, they fish down the western
shore, where their favourite stations are Pond's Bay, Agnes' Monument,
Home Bay, and Cape Searle, and sometimes persevere till late in October.
The casualties are generally very great, the middle of Baffin's Bay
being filled with a compact and continuous barrier, through which, till
a very advanced period of the season, it is impossible for the navigator
to penetrate. Between this central body and that attached to the land,
there intervenes a narrow and precarious passage, where many a vessel
has been crushed or pressed out of the water and laid upon the ice. In
1819 ten ships were lost out of sixty-three, and in 1821 eleven out of
seventy-nine. Fortunately the loss of lives is seldom to be deplored, as
the weather is generally calm and the crew has time enough to escape in
another vessel.
Whale fishing is not only a very dangerous and laborious pursuit, it
is also extremely precarious and uncertain in its results. Sometimes a
complete cargo of oil and whalebone is captured in a short time, but it
also happens that after a long cruise not a single fish is caught--a
result equally unfortunate for the ship owner and the crew, who look to a
share of the profits for their pay.
How much the whale fishery depends upon chance is shown by the following
facts. In the year 1718 the Dutch Greenland fleet, consisting of 108
ships, captured 1291 fish, worth at least 650,000_l._, while in the
year 1710, 137 ships took no more than 62. Various meteorological
circumstances--the prevalence of particular winds, the character of the
summer or preceding winter--are probably the causes of the extraordinary
failure and success of the fishery in different years. The Pacific is
as fallacious as the Arctic seas. Thus Dumont d'Urville met in the Bay
of Talcahuano with several whalers, one of whom had rapidly filled half
his ship, while the others had cruised more than a year without having
harpooned a single fish. In such cases the captains have the greatest
trouble in preventing their men from deserting, who, being disappointed
in their hopes, naturally enough look out for a better chance elsewhere.
The method of whale catching has been so often and so minutely described,
that it is doubtless familiar to the reader. As soon as a whale is in
sight, boats are got out with all speed, and row or sail as silently and
quietly as possible towards the monster. One of the crew--the man of
unflinching eye and nervous arm--stands upright, harpoon in hand, ready
to hurl the murderous spear into the animal's side, as soon as the proper
moment shall have come. When struck the whale dives down perpendicularly
with fearful velocity, or goes off horizontally with lightning speed, at
a short distance from the surface, dragging after him the line to which
the barbed instrument of his agony is fixed. But soon the necessity of
respiration forces him to rise again above the waters, when a second
harpoon, followed by a third or fourth at every reappearance, plunges
into his flank. Maddened with pain and terror, he lashes the crimsoned
waters into foam, but all his efforts to cast off the darts that lacerate
his flesh are vain, and his gaping wounds, though not "as deep as
wells, nor as wide as church-doors," are still large enough to let out
sufficient blood even to exhaust a whale. His movements become more and
more languid and slow, his gasping and snorting more and more oppressed,
a few convulsive heavings agitate the mighty mass, and then it floats
inert and lifeless on the waters. As soon as death is certain--for to
the last moment a convulsive blow of the mighty tail might dash the
overhasty boat to pieces--the whale is lashed by chains to the vessel's
side, stripped of his valuable fat, and then left to float, a worthless
carcase, on the heaving ocean.
And now, man having taken his share, there begins a magnificent feast
for birds and fishes. Crowds of fulmars, snow birds, or kittiwakes,
flock together from all sides to enjoy the delicious repast; but their
delight, so rare is perfect felicity on earth, is but too often disturbed
by their terrible rival the blue gull (_Larus glaucus_), which, while
it rivals them in rapacity, surpasses them all in strength, and forces
them to disgorge the daintiest morsels. Meanwhile sharks, saw-fishes, and
whatever else possesses sharp teeth and boldness enough to mix among such
formidable company, are busy biting, hacking, scooping, and cutting below
the water line, so that in a short time, notwithstanding its vast bulk,
the carrion disappears.
The catching of the whale does not always end so fortunately as I have
just described. Sometimes the line becomes entangled, and drags the boat
into the abyss; or the tail of the animal, sweeping rapidly through the
air, either descends upon the shallop, cutting it down to the water's
edge, or encounters in its course some of the crew standing up (such as
the headsman or harpooner), who are carried away and destroyed. Thus Mr.
Young, chief mate of the "Tuscan," was seen flying through the air at a
considerable height, and to the distance of nearly forty yards from the
boat, ere he fell into the water, where he remained floating motionless
on the surface for a few moments, and then sank and was seen no more.
Sometimes, particularly among the sperm-whales, desperate characters
are found, that without waiting for the attack, rush furiously against
the boats sent out against them, and seem to love fighting for its own
sake. Bennett describes an encounter of this kind which he witnessed in
the South Sea. The first effort of the whale was to rush against the
boat with his head. Having been baffled by the crew steering clear, he
next attempted to crush it with his jaws; failing again, through the
unaccommodating position of his mouth, he remedied this defect with much
sagacity, for approaching impetuously from a distance of forty yards,
he turned upon his back, raising his lower jaw to grasp the boat from
above. A lance-wound, however, applied in time, caused him to close his
mouth; but continuing to advance, he struck the boat with such force
that he nearly overturned it, and concluded by again turning on his back
and thrusting his lower jaw through the planks. Fortunately the other
boats came up to the rescue, and an addition of many tons of sperm to the
ship's cargo made up for the damaged boat.
[Illustration: Sperm-Whale.]
Although generally only the greater cetaceans are objects of pursuit at
sea, yet man does not disdain the capture of the several dolphin-species
when they approach his shores, and surrender themselves as it were into
his hands. The intelligence that a shoal of ca'ing whales (_Delphinus
melas_) has been seen approaching the coast, operates like an electric
shock upon the inhabitants of the Feroë Islands. The whole village, old
and young, is instantly in motion, and soon numerous boats push off
from shore to surround the unsuspecting herd. Slowly and steadily they
are driven into a bay, the phalanx of their enemies draws closer and
closer together; terrified by stones and blows, they run ashore, and lie
gasping as the flood recedes. Then begins the work of death, amid the
loud rejoicings of the happy islanders. The visits of the ca'ing whale
are extremely uncertain. From 1754 till 1776 scarce one was caught, but
on the 16th of August of the last-named year more than 800 were driven
on the strand, and changed dearth into abundance. During the four summer
months that Langbye sojourned on the islands in the year 1817, 623 of
these large dolphins, mostly from eight to ten yards long, were caught,
and served to pay one half of the imported corn. The division of spoil is
made in presence of the "_Amtmann_." Each fish is measured, and its size
marked on its skin in Roman characters. The largest whale is given to
the boat which first discovered the shoal; then others for the poor and
clergyman are selected, and the remainder divided, according to stated
rules, between the proprietor of the ground and the persons who drove
them on shore. The flesh is either eaten fresh, or cut into slices and
hung up to dry; whilst the blubber is partly converted into train oil, or
salted in casks and barrels. The fat on the sides of the fish, when hung
for a week or two, will keep for years, and is used instead of bacon by
the natives.
The ca'ing whale, remarkable from following a leader and swimming in
large herds, also strands from time to time on the coasts of Iceland and
on the Shetland and Orkney Islands, where his appearance is hailed with
universal pleasure.
[Illustration: Pelican.]
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN SEA-BEARS.]
AUSTRALIAN SEA-BEARS.
The group of Australian sea-bears is taken from the "Zoology of the
voyage of H.M.S. Erebus and Terror." This animal, _Arctocephalus
lobatus_, is among the largest of the Seal family. It is occasionally
found congregating in vast numbers upon various portions of the coast
of Australia.
CHAP. IX.
SEALS AND WALRUSES.
The Manatees and the Dugongs.--The Seals and the Esquimaux.--King
Menelaus in a Seal's Skin.--Barbarous Persecutions of the Seals
in Behring's Sea and the Pacific.--Adventures of a Sealer from
Geneva.--The Sea Calf.--The Sea Bear.--His Parental Affection.--The
Sea Lions.--The Sea Elephant.--The Arctic Walrus.--The Boats of the
"Trent" fighting with a Herd of Walruses.--The White Bear.--Touching
Example of its Love for its Young.--Chase of the Sea Otter.
The Manatees or Lamantins of the Atlantic Ocean, and the now nearly
extinct Dugongs of the Indian seas, form the connecting link between the
real whales and the seals and walruses. Like the whales, these animals
have no hind feet, and a powerful tail, which is their chief instrument
of locomotion; they are distinguishable, however, from them by less
fin-like, more flexibly-jointed anterior extremities, on which they lean
while cropping the sea-weeds on the shallow shores. When they raise
themselves with the front part of their body out of the water, a lively
fancy might easily be led to imagine that a human shape, though certainly
none of the most beautiful, was surging from the deep. Hence they have
been named sea-sirens, mermaids, and mermen, and have given rise to many
extravagant fictions. Their intelligence is very obtuse, but their stolid
calf-like countenance indicates great mildness of temper.
They live at peace with all other animals, and seem to be solely intent
upon satisfying their voracious appetite. Like the hippopotamus, they
swallow at once large masses of sea-plants or of juicy grasses growing
beyond the water's edge on the borders of rivers.
The Manatees, or Sea-cows, as they are familiarly called, inhabit the
coasts and streams of the Atlantic between 19° S. lat. and 25° N. lat.,
and attain a length of from eight to ten feet. Humboldt compares the
flesh to ham, and Von Martius says he never tasted better meat in the
Brazils. The South American monks, who have their own ideas on the
classification of animals, consider it as fish, and fare sumptuously
upon it during Lent. Besides its flesh, one single animal gives as much
as 4000 bottles of oil, which is used both in cookery and for lighting.
The thick hide is cut into stripes, from which straps or whips are made,
to flog the unfortunate negroes. Useful in many respects, defenceless
and easy to kill, particularly during the time of the inundations, when
it ascends the great rivers, the manatee or sea-cow has been nearly
extirpated in many parts where it formerly abounded, a fate which it
partakes with the East Indian dugong. These animals might easily be
enclosed and tamed, in the lagoons and bays of the tropical streams; but
it is to be feared that they will have vanished from the face of the
earth before the industry of man endeavours to introduce them, as it
were, among the domestic animals.
[Illustration: Skeleton of the Dugong.]
The Seal family forms a still nearer approach to the land quadrupeds, as
here hind feet begin to make their appearance. The shortness of these
extremities renders their movements upon land generally awkward and
slow, but they make up for this deficiency by an uncommon activity in
the water. Their body, tapering fish-like from the shoulders to the
tail, their abundance of fat, the lightness of which is so favourable
to swimming, the position of their feet, admirably formed for rowing,
paddling, and steering, their whole economy, in a word, is calculated for
the sea. Although citizens of two worlds, their real element is evidently
the water, from which their food is exclusively derived.
[Illustration: Female Dugong of Ceylon. (From Sir J. Emerson Tennent's
Work on Ceylon.)]
[Illustration: Skeleton of Seal.]
Seals are found in almost all seas, but they particularly abound on
the coasts of the colder regions of the earth, and diminish in size
and numbers as they approach the torrid zone. Small seals are found
near Surinam, but the giants of the family, the huge, sea-elephant, the
sea-lion, the sea-bear, belong exclusively to those higher latitudes
which the sun visits only with slanting rays, or where the winter forms a
dreary and continuous night.
[Illustration: The Seal.]
How wonderful to see the desolate coasts of the icy seas peopled by such
herds of great warm-blooded mammalia! But there, where the dry land
produces only the scantiest vegetation, the bountiful sea teems with
fishes, affording abundance to the hungry seals. The _Merlangus polaris_
and the _Ophidium Parryii_ in the northern hemisphere, as well as the
_Nothothenia phocæ_, which Dr. Richardson discovered off Kerguelen's
Land, seek in vain to escape from the pursuit of the seals in the hollows
and crevices of the pack-ice; and these small fish, in turn, fare
sumptuously upon the minute crustaceans and molluscs with which those
cold waters abound. Thus animal life, but sparingly diffused over the
barren land, luxuriates in the sea, where we find one species preying
upon the other, until at last, at the bottom of the scale, we come to
creatures so small as to be invisible to the naked eye.
[Illustration: Esquimaux in his Kayak.]
The Greenland Esquimaux, whose ice-bound fatherland affords no food but
berries, is also obliged to look to the sea for his subsistence; and the
seal plays as important a part in his humble existence as the reindeer
among the Laplanders, or the camel among the Bedouins of the desert. Its
flesh and fat form his principal food; from its skin he makes his boat,
his tent, his dress; from its sinews and bones, his thread and needles,
his fishing line, and his bow-strings. Thus on the frozen confines of the
Polar Sea, as in many other parts of the world, we find the existence of
man almost entirely depending upon that of a single class of animals. But
the Bedouin who tends the patient dromedary, or the Laplander who feeds
on the flesh and milk of the domesticated reindeer, enjoys an easy life
when compared to the Esquimaux, who, to satisfy the cravings of his sharp
appetite, is in all seasons obliged to brave all the perils of the Arctic
Ocean. Sometimes he waits patiently for hours in the cold fog until a
seal rises to the surface, or else he warily approaches a herd basking
or sleeping on the ice blocks, for the least noise awakens the watchful
animals. Sometimes he has recourse to stratagem, covers himself with a
seal skin, and, imitating the movements and gestures of the deceived
phocæ, introduces himself into the midst of the unsuspecting troop.
We read in the _Odyssey_ how the "dark-featured hero," Menelaus, deigned
to conceal his royal limbs under a fresh seal-skin, in order to surprise
Proteus, the infallible seer; and what sufferings his olfactory organs
underwent from the
"Unsavoury stench of oil and brackish ooze,"
until the fair sea-nymph Eidothea, whom the gallant chief implored in his
distress,
"With nectar'd drops the sickening sense restor'd."
Fortunately for the Esquimaux, his nose is less sensitive than that of
the son of Atreus, and without ambrosia, he willingly dons a disguise
which affords his unsophisticated taste the pleasure of a theatrical
entertainment, combined with the profit of a savoury prize. Physical
strength, dexterity, caution, quickness of eye, and acuteness of hearing,
are the indispensable qualities of the Esquimaux, and require to be
exercised and developed from his tenderest years. The boy of fifteen must
be as perfect a seal-catcher as his father, and be able to make all the
instruments necessary for the chase. In these inhospitable regions, every
one is obliged to rely upon himself alone; there, where all the powers
of the body and mind are tasked to the utmost for the mere sustenance of
life, weakness and want of dexterity must inevitably succumb.
Besides the savages of the north, the civilised nations also give chase
to the seals, or rather wage a barbarous war of extermination against
these helpless creatures. Thus, from the year 1786 to 1833, more than
3,000,000 sea-bears were killed on the Pribilow Islands, in Behring's
Sea. At Unalaschka, the chief staple-place of the Russian Fur Company,
700,000 skins were cast into the water in the year 1803, on the same
principle as that which induced the Dutch to burn their superfluous
nutmegs, viz. "not to glut the market." As a well-merited punishment for
this stupid slaughter, the products of the chase diminished rapidly from
that time until within the last few years, when a better husbandry has
again increased the number of the sea-bears.
Unfortunately, our own countrymen and the Americans have done no better
in the southern seas. Thousands of sea-lions used formerly to be killed
on the South American coast, while at present the number of the animals
is so much diminished as scarce to reward the sealer's trouble. Sir James
Ross informs us that the sea elephant was formerly found in great numbers
on Kerguelen's Land, and yearly attracted many vessels to those desert
islands. But at present, after such incessant persecution, the animals
have either migrated, or been almost totally extirpated. English and
American captains often set some men ashore on the uninhabited coasts
and islands of the southern seas, for the purpose of catching seals,
boiling their oil, and stripping their skins. After a few months the ship
generally returns to fetch the produce of their labours, or to bring a
fresh supply of provisions to the seal catchers, who often remain several
years in their solitary hunting grounds. But sometimes the poor wretches
are abandoned by their associates, and then their despair may be imagined
when week after week elapses without the expected sail appearing! Dumont
d'Urville found one of these adventurers in the Straits of Magellan among
a horde of Patagonians, who, though hospitably inclined, were themselves
so poor as hardly to be able to keep body and soul together. He was a
watchmaker from Geneva, who, having emigrated to New York, and finding
himself disappointed, had listened to the fair promises of a skipper,
who carried him out to Tierra del Fuego, and not finding the business
answer, had left him to his fate. The French navigator took the poor man
on board, and gave him a passage to Talcahuano in Chili.
On the east coast of North America seal catching is still carried on
with considerable success. Newfoundland intercepts many of the immense
fields and islands of ice which in the spring move south from the Arctic
Sea. The interior parts, with the openings or lakes interspersed, remain
serene and unbroken, and form the transitory abodes of myriads of seals.
In the month of March upwards of three hundred small vessels, fitted
out for the seal fishery, are extricated from the icy harbours on the
east coast of Newfoundland; the fields are now all in motion, and the
vessels plunge directly into the edges of such as appear to have seals
on them; the crews, armed with firelocks and heavy bludgeons, there
_land_, and in the course of a few weeks destroy nearly 300,000 of these
animals. The Greenland winter, it would appear, is too severe for these
luckless wanderers, and when it sets in, they accompany the field-ice,
and remain on it until it is scattered and dissolved. Old and young
being then deserted in the ocean, nature points out to them the course
to their favourite icy haunts, and thither their herds hurry over the
deep to pass an arctic summer. Winter returns, and with it commences
again their annual migration from latitude to latitude. The Scotch ports,
particularly Aberdeen, fit out ships for the spring seal-catching on the
American coast, and are generally successful in their undertakings.
[Illustration: Greenland Seal.]
[Illustration: Seal.]
According to the different numbers and forms of their canine teeth and
grinders, and to the deficiency or presence of an _outward_ ear, the seal
tribe is divided into many families, genera, and species, among which I
shall select a few of the most remarkable for further notice. The Common
Seal or Sea-calf, (_Calocephalus vitulinus_), which owes the latter name
to the unharmonious accents of its voice, attains a length of from five
to six feet. It has a large round head, small short neck, and several
strong bristles on each side of its mouth, large eyes, no external ears,
and a forked tongue. It has six fore teeth in the upper jaw, four in
the lower, a strong pointed canine tooth on each side in both jaws,
and a goodly row of sharp and jagged grinders. Woe to the poor herring
whose evil star leads him between these engines of destruction--he is
irrevocably lost! Different species of common seals inhabit the Northern
seas, from Greenland and Spitzbergen to the mouth of the Scheldt, and
from the White Sea to the eastern coast of America. Others are found in
the Antarctic seas. An excellent swimmer, the seal dives like a shot, and
rises at fifty yards' distance, often remaining full a quarter of an hour
under the water--three times longer than the most strong-breasted and
expert pearl fisher. Yet he is seldom seen more than thirty miles from
land, where he sleeps and reposes, choosing rocks surrounded by the sea
or the less accessible cliffs, left dry by the ebb of the tide, so that,
if disturbed by an enemy, he may be able to plunge immediately into the
sea. In the summer he will come out of the water to bask or sleep in the
sun on the top of large stones and ledges of rocks; and this affords our
countrymen the opportunity of shooting him. If he chances to escape, he
hastens towards his proper element, flinging dirt or stones behind him
as he scrambles along, at the same time expressing his fears by piteous
moans; but if he happens to be overtaken, he will make a vigorous defence
with his feet and teeth till he is killed. His flesh, which is tender,
juicy, and fat, was formerly, like that of the porpoise, served up at the
tables of the great, as appears from the bill of fare of a magnificent
feast that Archbishop Neville gave in the reign of Edward the Fourth.
Seals commonly bring forth two young ones at a time, which they suckle
for about a fortnight, and then carry them out to sea to instruct them
in swimming. When taken young, they may be domesticated, and will follow
their master like a dog, coming to him when called by name. According
to Pliny, no animal enjoys a deeper sleep,--"nullum animal graviore
somno premitur." This assertion is, however, contradicted by general
observation, for it is well known that seals are extremely watchful,
seldom sleeping longer than a minute without moving their heads to
ascertain whether anything suspicious is going on.
Although without external ears, seals appear to hear well both above and
under the water. Music or whistling will draw them to the surface and
induce them to stretch their necks to the utmost extent--a curiosity
which often proves a snare for their destruction. The most effectual
way of shooting seals is by firing small shot into their eyes; for
when killed with a bullet they generally sink and are lost. They are
often seen in very large shoals on their passage from one situation to
another. In such cases, all appear every now and then at the surface
together for the sake of respiration, springing up so as to run their
heads, necks, and often their whole bodies out of the water. They shuffle
along, especially over the ice, with a surprising speed considering the
shortness of their legs. They are very tenacious of life, and able to
survive even when shockingly mangled. According to Dr. Scoresby, the
island of Jan Mayen affords excellent seal fishing in March and April.
When on detached pieces of drift ice, they are captured by the use of
boats, each boat making a descent upon a different herd. When the seals
observe the boat, they endeavour to escape before it reaches the ice; the
sailors, however, raise a long-continued shout, which frequently causes
the amazed animals to delay their retreat until arrested by blows. When
seals are abundant, the boat immediately pushes off after the slaughter
is finished, and proceeds to another piece of ice for the increase of its
harvest, leaving one man to flay off the skins and fat. But in situations
where boats cannot navigate, the seal fishers have to pursue them over
the ice, leaping from piece to piece until the capture is made; every
man then flenses his own, and drags the skins and blubber to his boat
or ship. Ships fitted out for seal fishing have occasionally procured
cargoes of four or five thousand, yielding nearly a hundred tons of oil;
but such enterprises are very hazardous, from the exposed nature of that
dreary island, and the liability to heavy and sudden storms.
The Sea-Elephant (_Cystophora proboscidea_) deserves his name, not only
from his immense size, attaining a length of twenty, twenty-five, or
even thirty feet, but also from the singular structure of his elongated
nostrils, which hang down when he is in a state of repose, but swell
out to a foot-long proboscis when he is enraged. Then the beast has
a most formidable appearance, which, along with its gaping jaws and
dreadful roar, might strike terror into the boldest huntsman. But total
helplessness and weakness conceal themselves behind this terrible mask,
for a single blow upon the snout with a club suffices to fell the giant.
Between 35° and 55° S. lat. is the home of the sea-elephant, where he
frequents desert islands and uninhabited coasts. But even here, as I have
already mentioned, he could not escape the rapacity of man, for his tough
hide and the thick layer of blubber beneath were too tempting to remain
unnoticed.
The Hooded Seal of the northern seas, (_Cystophora borealis_,) enjoys
the same faculty of inflating a folding, skinny crest extending on each
side from the snout to the eyes. But in spite of the menacing appearance
of these wind-bags, the seal fisher knocks him on the head, draws,
without ceremony, his skin over his ears, and throws his blubber into the
oil-kettle.
The _Otarias_, or seals furnished with an external ear, and whose longer
and more developed feet allow them to move more freely on land, rank in
point of organisation at the head of the whole tribe. The most important
and valuable of all is the Sea-Bear (_Arctocephalus ursinus_), of which
there are probably two species; the one inhabiting the Antarctic seas,
while the other roams about the coasts and islands of the Northern
Pacific, and selects St. Paul, one of the Pribilow group in Behring's
Sea, as its favourite summer haunt. The fine-haired, black, curly skin of
the younger animals, of from four months to one year old, is particularly
esteemed, so as to be classed among the finer furs which find a ready
sale in the Chinese market, and serve to decorate the persons of the
higher rank of mandarins. The chase, which on the latter island was
formerly a promiscuous massacre, is now reduced to the slaughter of a
limited number of victims. It begins in the latter part of September, on
a cold foggy day when the wind blows from the side where the animals are
assembled on the rocky shore. The boldest huntsmen, accustomed to clamber
over stones and cliffs, open the way; then follow their less experienced
comrades, and the chief personage of the band comes last, to be the
better able to direct and survey the movements of his men, who are all
armed with clubs. The main object is to cut off the herd as quickly as
possible from the sea. All the grown-up males and females are spared, but
the younger animals are all driven landwards, sometimes to the distance
of a couple of miles, and then partly clubbed to death. Those which are
only four months old are doomed without exception; while of the others
only a certain number of the males are killed, and the females allowed to
return again to the coast, when they soon betake themselves to the water.
For several days after the massacre, the bereaved mothers swim about the
island, seeking and loudly wailing for their young.
From the 5th of October, St. Paul is gradually deserted by the sea
bears, who then migrate to the south, and reappear towards the end of
April,--the males arriving first. Each seeks the same spot on the shore
which he occupied during the preceding year, and lies down among the
large stone blocks with which the flat beach is covered. About the middle
of May the far more numerous females begin to make their appearance, and
Otarian life takes full possession of the strand. The full-grown sea-bear
is from eight to nine feet long, measures five in girth, and acquires
a weight of from eight to nine hundred pounds. He owes his name to his
shaggy blackish fur, and not to his disposition, which is far from being
cruel or savage. He indulges in polygamy like a Turk or a Mormon, and
has often as many as fifty wives. The young are generally lively, fond
of play and fight. When one of them has thrown another down, the father
approaches with a growl, caresses the victor, tries to overturn him,
and shows increasing fondness the better he defends himself. Lazy and
listless youngsters are objects of his dislike, and these hang generally
about their mother. The male is very much attached to his wives, but
treats them with all the severity of an oriental despot. When a mother
neglects to carry away her young, and allows it to be taken, she is made
to feel his anger. He seizes her with his teeth, and strikes her several
times, not over gently, against a cliff. As soon as she recovers from
the stunning effects of these blows, she approaches her lord in the
most humble attitudes, crawls to his feet, caresses him, and even sheds
tears, as Steller, the companion of Behring's second voyage, informs us.
Meanwhile the male crawls about to and fro, gnashes his teeth, rolls his
eyes, and throws his head from side to side. But when he sees that his
young is irrevocably lost, he then, like the mother, begins to cry so
bitterly, that the tears trickle down upon his breast. In his old age
the ursine seal is abandoned by his wives, and spends the remainder of
his life in solitude, fasting, and sleeping; an indolence from which he
can only be roused by the intrusion of another animal, when a tremendous
battle is the consequence. Though extremely irascible, the sea-bears
are lovers of fair play, so that when two are fighting, the others
form a ring, and remain spectators until the contest is decided. Then,
however, they take the part of the weaker, which so enrages the victor
that he immediately attacks the peace-makers. These in turn fall out,
the dreadful roaring attracts new witnesses, and the whole ends, like an
Irish wedding, with a general fight.
Ursine seals are also found in the southern hemisphere, on desert coasts
analogous to their residences in the north. Common seals and sea-otters
stand in great awe of these animals, and shun their haunts. They again
are in equal fear of the Leonine seals, and do not care to begin a
quarrel in their presence, dreading the intervention of such formidable
arbitrators, who likewise possess the first place on the shore.
Steller's Sea-Lion, (_Otaria Stelleri_,) is about as large again as
the sea-bear, but its tawny hide, covered with short bristles, is
without value in the fur trade. To the Aleut, however, the animal is of
great use, for he covers his boat with its skin, makes his water-tight
_kamleika_ with its intestines, the soles of his shoes with the webs of
its feet, ornaments his cap with its long beard hair, and feasts upon
its flesh. On all the coasts and islands of the Pacific this sea-lion
is found, from 61° N. lat. to unknown southern limits, but nowhere in
such numbers as on the Pribilow Island, St. George, where its countless
herds afford a wonderful spectacle. The shapeless gigantic fat and
flesh-masses, awkward and unwieldy on land, cover, as far as the eye
can reach, a broad, rocky, naked strand-belt, blackened with oil. The
sea-birds occupy the empty places between the herds of the sea-lions,
and fly fearlessly before the gaping jaws of the huge monsters, without
caring about their hideous bellowing. In countless numbers they build
their nests in the caves of the surf-beaten cliffs, and among the large
boulders on the shore, whose tops are whitened with their dung. A thick
fog generally spreads over the desolate scene, and the hollow roaring of
the breakers unites, with the screaming of the birds and the bellowing of
the sea-lions, to form a wild and melancholy concert.
Steller's sea-lion is furnished only with an erect and curly hair-tuft at
his neck, while a complete mane flows round the breast of the sea-lion
of the southern hemisphere, (_Otaria jubata_). The remainder of the body
is covered with short smooth hairs, or bristles. The sea-lioness has no
mane, and is darker than the male. The fore-fins have the appearance of
large pieces of black tough leather, showing, instead of nails, slight
horny elevations; the hind-fins, which are likewise black, have a closer
resemblance to feet, and the five toes are furnished with small nails. A
formidable-looking beast, eleven feet long! and well may the naturalist
start, when, walking through the high tussack grass of the Falkland
Islands, he suddenly stumbles over a huge sea-lion, stretched along the
ground, and blocking up his path.
[Illustration: Walrus, or Morse.]
[Illustration: Skull and Head of Walrus.]
The Arctic Walrus forms the nearest approach to the seals in the scale
of creation, and is likewise better adapted for a marine life than for
existence on dry land. But he is completely without fore-teeth, and his
grinders have a broad furrowed crown, like those of the herbivorous
animals. This difference of dentition points to a different food, and
while the phocæ are such voracious fish-eaters that Sir James Ross found
no less than twenty-eight pounds of undigested fish in the stomach of a
southern seal, the walrus principally lives on sea-weeds and molluscs.
The Arctic walrus or sea-horse (_Trichechus rosmarus_) is one of the
largest mammals known, as he sometimes grows to the length of eighteen
feet, and so thick as to measure twelve feet about the middle of the
body. His form is very clumsy, having a small head, a strong elongated
neck, a thick body, and short legs, the hind feet uniting to a broad
fin. With such a form, no one can wonder at the clumsiness of its
movements on land. Admiral Beechey describes the gallop of a sea-horse
as probably the most awkward motion exhibited by the animal tribe, for,
like a large caterpillar, the unwieldly creature alternately lowers and
raises its head, in order to facilitate the bringing up of the hinder
parts of the body;--no easy task, when we consider the immense weight of
the animal, and the great disproportion between the length of its body
and its legs. The upper lip, which is very thick, and indented or cleft
into two large rounded lobes, furnished with thick yellow bristles,
contributes also but little to its external beauty. From under this
formidable-looking inflation protrude two large and long tusks, growing,
like those of the elephant, from the upper jaw, but bent downwards, not
outward and upwards, as is the case with the latter. Their uses are also
very different, for while the elephant employs his tusks in digging up
roots, the walrus raises by their assistance his unwieldy body upon
the ice-blocks and precipitous shores, where he loves to bask in the
sun. Both animals use them, moreover, as formidable weapons, the former
against the bounding tiger, the latter against the hungry ice-bear or the
voracious shark.
In fine weather the walruses, like the seals, gather on the ice,
where they may be seen in herds consisting occasionally of upwards of
100 animals each. In these situations they appear greatly to enjoy
themselves, rolling and sporting about, and frequently making the air
resound with their bellowing, which bears some resemblance to that of a
bull. These diversions generally end in sleep, during which these wary
animals appear always to take the precaution of having a sentinel to warn
them of any danger to which they may be liable. So universal seems the
observance of this precaution amongst their species, that Beechey, who
had many opportunities of observing them in Spitzbergen, scarcely ever
saw a herd, however small, in which he did not notice one of the party
on the watch, stretching his long neck in the air every half-minute, to
the utmost extent of its muscles, to survey the ground about him. In the
event of any alarming appearances, the sentinel begins by seeking his
own safety; and as these animals always lie huddled upon one another,
the motion of one is immediately communicated to the whole group, which
is instantly in motion towards the water. When the herd is large, and an
alarm is given, the consequences are most ludicrous. From the unwieldy
nature of the animals, the state of fear into which they are thrown,
and their being so closely packed together, at first they tumble over
one another, get angry, and in their endeavour to regain their feet
flounder about in each other's way, till having at last scrambled to the
edge of the ice, they tumble into the water, head first, if possible,
but otherwise, in any position in which chance may have placed them,
occasioning one of the most laughable scenes it is possible to conceive.
Though the first movement of the walruses at the approach of danger is
to seek the water, yet here, enraged by an unprovoked attack, they often
become most formidable assailants; of which Beechey recounts a remarkable
instance.
[Illustration: THE BOATS OF H.M.S. TRENT ATTACKED BY WALRUSES.]
THE BOATS OF H.M.S. TRENT ATTACKED BY WALRUSES.
This plate is taken from an incident narrated in the account of the
voyage of H.M. ships Dorothea and Trent. The boat belonging to the
Trent was attacked by a shoal of walruses, which were near swamping
it; and were not driven off till a gigantic walrus, which appeared
to be the captain of the shoal, was destroyed by a shot fired into
its throat as represented in the engraving, the original of which, as
published in the account of the voyage, was taken from a sketch by an
officer present in the singular conflict.
One evening, while the Dorothea and Trent were at anchor in Magdalena
Bay, Spitzbergen, several herds of these animals had crawled upon the
ice, to enjoy the fine weather and rest themselves. The boats, properly
equipped, and manned with some of the officers and seamen, pushed off
in pursuit of them. The first herd which was selected disappointed the
sportsmen, but another was so intent upon its gambols, that the sentinel
absolutely forgot his duty, and several of the crew managed to effect
a landing upon the ice without any alarm being given to the animals;
as soon, however, as the first musket was fired, the affrighted group
made such a desperate rush towards the edge of the ice that they nearly
overturned the whole of the assailing party, purposely stationed there
to intercept them. The seamen, finding this charge more formidable than
they expected, were obliged to separate to allow their opponents to pass
through their ranks; and being thus in their turn taken by surprise, they
suffered them, almost unmolested, to perform their somersaults towards
the sea. What with their uncertain movements, the extreme toughness of
their skin, and the respectful distance at which the men were obliged
to keep, to avoid the lashing of the head and tusks of the animals, it
was indeed no easy task to inflict any serious injury upon them. One,
however, was desperately wounded in the head with a ball, and the mate
of the brig, being determined if possible to secure his prey, resolutely
struck his tomahawk into his skull; but the enraged animal, with a twist
of its head, sent the weapon whirling in the air, and then lashing his
neck, as though he would destroy with his immense tusks everything that
came in his way, effected his escape to the water. The seamen followed
and pushed off in their boats; but the walruses, finding themselves more
at home now than on the ice, in their turn became the assailants. They
rose in great numbers about the boats, snorting with rage, and rushing
at the boats, and it was with the utmost difficulty they were prevented
upsetting or staving them by placing their tusks upon the gunwales, or by
striking at them with their heads. It was the opinion of the seamen that
in this assault the walruses were led on by one animal in particular, a
much larger and more formidable beast than any of the others, and they
directed their efforts more particularly towards him; but he withstood
all the blows of their tomahawks without flinching, and his tough hide
resisted the entry of the whale lances, which were unfortunately not
very sharp, and soon bent double. The herd was so numerous, and their
attacks so incessant, that there was not time to load a musket, which
indeed was the only effectual mode of seriously injuring them. The
purser fortunately had his gun loaded, and the whole now being nearly
exhausted with chopping and striking at their assailants, he snatched it
up, and thrusting the muzzle down the throat of the leader, fired into
his bowels. The wound proved mortal and the animal fell back amongst
his companions, who immediately desisted from the attack, assembled
round him, and in a moment quitted the boat, swimming away as hard as
they could with their leader, whom they actually bore up with their
tusks, and assiduously preserved from sinking. Whether this singular
and compassionate conduct, which in all probability was done to prevent
suffocation, arose from the sagacity of the animals, it is difficult to
say; but there is every probability of it, and the fact must form an
interesting trait in the history of the habits of the species. After the
discharge of the purser's gun, there remained of all the herd only one
little assailant, which the seamen, out of compassion, were unwilling to
molest. This young animal had been observed fighting by the side of the
leader, and from the protection which was afforded it by its courageous
patron, was imagined to be one of its young. This little animal had no
tusks, but it swam violently against the boat, and struck her with its
head, and indeed would have stove her, had it not been kept off by whale
lances, some of which made deep incisions in its young sides. These,
however, had not any immediate effect; the attack was continued, and the
enraged little animal, though disfigured with wounds, even crawled upon
the ice in pursuit of the seamen, who had _relanded_ there, until one of
them, out of compassion, put an end to its sufferings.
The valuable ivory of its tusks, which is more solid, finer grained, and
whiter than that of the elephant, exposes the walrus to the attacks of
man, no less than his thick hide, from which a strong elastic leather is
made, and his abundance of flesh and blubber. The former are sought by
civilised nations, while the latter forms the chief food of the northern
Esquimaux and of the Tschutchi on the western shore of Behring's Straits.
Every year a troop of Aleuts land on the northern coast of the peninsula
of Aliaska, where the young walruses assemble in great numbers during
the summer, having most likely been driven away by the older males from
their more northern haunts. The walruses herd on the lowest edge of the
coast which is within reach of the high spring-tides. When the Aleuts
prepare to attack the animals, they take leave of each other as if they
were going to face death, being no less afraid of the mighty tusks of
the walruses than of the awkwardness of their own companions. Armed
with lances and heavy axes, they stealthily approach the walruses, and
having disposed their ranks, suddenly fall upon them with loud shouts,
and endeavour to drive them from the sea, taking care that none of them
escape into the water, as in this case the rest would irresistibly follow
and precipitate the huntsmen along with them. As soon as the walruses
have been driven far enough up the strand, the Aleuts attack them with
their lances, endeavouring to strike at them in places where the hide is
not so thick, and then pressing with all their might against the spear,
to render the wound deep and deadly. The slaughtered animals fall one
over the other and form large heaps, while the huntsmen, uttering furious
shouts and intoxicated with carnage, wade through the bloody mire. They
then cleave the jaws and take out the tusks, which are the chief objects
of the slaughter of several thousands of walruses, since neither their
flesh nor their fat is made use of in the colony. Sir George Simpson,
in his "Overland Journey Round the World," relates that the bales of
fur sent to Kjachta are covered with walrus hide; then it is made to
protect the tea chests, which find their way to Moscow; and after all
these wanderings, the far-travelled skin returns again to its native
seas, when, cut into small pieces and stamped with a mark, it serves as a
medium of exchange. The carcases of the wholesale slaughter are left on
the shore to be washed away by the spring-tides, which soon erase every
vestige of the bloody scene, and in the following year the inexhaustible
north sends new victims to the coast.
Kane gives us a vivid description of a walrus hunt in Smith's Sound, most
likely the most northern point of the earth inhabited by man. "After a
while Myouk became convinced, from signs or sounds, that walruses were
waiting for him in a small space of recently open water that was glazed
over with a few days' growth of ice, and, moving gently on, soon heard
the characteristic bellow of a bull,--the walrus, like some bipeds,
being fond of his own music. The party now formed in single file, and
moved on in serpentine approach to the recently frozen ice spots, which
were surrounded by older and firmer ice. When within half a mile the line
broke, and each man crawled towards a separate pool. In a few minutes
the walruses were in sight, five in number, rising at intervals through
the ice in a body with an explosive puff that might have been heard
for miles. Two large grim-looking males made themselves conspicuous as
leaders of the group. When the walrus is above the water, the hunter lies
flat and motionless; as it begins to sink, he is alert and ready for a
spring. The animal's head is hardly below the water line, when every man
advances in rapid run, and again, as if by instinct, before the beast
returns, all are motionless behind protecting knolls of ice. In this way
the Esquimaux have reached a plate of thin ice, hardly strong enough to
bear them, at the very brink of the pool. Myouk, till now phlegmatic,
seems to waken with excitement. A coil of walrus hide lies by his side,
and he grasps the harpoon, ready for action. Presently the water is in
motion, and, puffing with pent-up respiration, the walrus rises before
him. Myouk rises slowly, the right arm thrown back, the left flat at his
side. The walrus looks about him, shaking water from his crest, Myouk
throws up his left arm, and the animal, rising breast-high, fixes one
look before he plunges. It has cost him all that curiosity can cost, for
the harpoon lies buried under his left flipper." The wounded animal makes
a desperate spring, and endeavours to lift itself upon the ice, which
breaks under its weight. These fruitless endeavours give its physiognomy
a still more vengeful expression; its bellowing degenerates into a roar,
and crimson foam gathers round its mouth.
[Illustration: Polar Bear (Ursus maritimus).]
The Ice-Bear (_Ursus maritimus_) may also be reckoned among the marine
animals, as the sea affords him by far the greater part of his food. From
the common bear, whom he surpasses in strength and size, as he attains
a length of nine feet, and a height of four, he not only distinguishes
himself by his white sleek-haired fur, but also by a much longer neck.
His half-webbed feet show at once that he is born for a sea life, and
he is able to swim three miles an hour, and to dive for a considerable
length of time. On land he runs as fast again as a man, and often
surprises his prey, as his tread upon the snow is almost inaudible. He
principally lives on fish, but also on seals, birds, foxes, reindeer,
and even attacks man--particularly when pinched with hunger. But in his
turn he falls a prey to the inhabitants of the Arctic regions, who eat
the flesh, though it is very coarse, and use the skin for coverings of
various kinds. He is a cunning hunter, though not always successful.
Thus one sunshiny day, Admiral Beechey saw a large walrus rise in a
pool of water not very far from where he stood. After looking around,
the grim-visaged creature drew his greasy carcase upon the ice, where
he rolled about for a time, and at length laid himself down to sleep. A
bear, which had probably been observing his movements, crawled carefully
upon the ice on the opposite side of the pool, and began to roll about
also, but apparently more with design than amusement, progressively
lessening the distance that intervened between him and his prey. The
suspicious walrus drew himself up, preparatory to a precipitate retreat,
when immediately the bear remained motionless, as if in the act of sleep;
but after a time he began to lick his paws, and clean himself, and
occasionally to encroach a little more upon his intended victim. This
time, however, his cunning was useless, for the walrus suddenly plunged
into the pool, and though the bear, throwing off all disguise, rushed
to the spot and followed him in an instant into the water, he was most
likely disappointed of a meal that would have made up for a long period
of fasting. The ice-bear is everywhere at home within the Arctic circle,
and particularly abounds on Spitzbergen and the other small islands of
that sea. He sometimes comes floating on drift ice to the north coasts of
Iceland, Norway, and Newfoundland, but is soon killed by the inhabitants.
[Illustration: Seal.]
[Illustration: Arctic Walrus.]
Manby, in his "Voyage to Spitzbergen," relates several interesting
examples of his ferocity and daring. Having perceived an ice-bear
swimming in the sea, a boat went after him to cut him off; when suddenly
the monster changed his route, faced the boat, and approached it, keeping
up a continued growling, with other indications of rage, such as showing
his frightful teeth, and elevating his head and much of his body out of
the water. Being desirous to preserve the head, Manby let him come within
twelve yards, when he fired a ball through his shoulder, which deprived
him of the use of a fore-leg. Roaring hideously, the infuriated animal
pressed towards the boat in the most ferocious manner, endeavouring to
board or upset it, but failed from the loss of his leg. He was then
attacked by the crew with lances, the thrusts of some of which he
avoided with astonishing dexterity, and, in the most resolute manner,
again made several attempts to reach the boat; but being repulsed by the
overpowering thrust of a lance from the harpooner on his flank, he was
unable longer to continue the contest. He had bitten a lance, in the heat
of the combat, with such exasperated rage, as to break one of his long
tusks; but finding his efforts fruitless, he retreated towards the ice,
swimming most astonishingly fast, considering the great propelling power
he had lost, and finally ascended it with great difficulty, having only
one fore-paw to assist him, when, exhausted by the effort, he fell down
dead, uttering a tremendous growl.
Captain Lewis, with a party of five hunters, attacked a bear, and when at
a distance of forty yards, four of them fired, and each lodged a musket
ball in its body, two of which passed directly through the lungs. The
enraged animal ran at them with open mouth, and as it came near, the
two men who had reserved their fire gave it two wounds, and broke its
shoulder, which retarded its motion for a moment. But before they could
reload, it was so near that they were obliged to run, and before they
reached the shore the bear had almost overtaken them. Two jumped into the
canoe, the other four separated, concealed themselves behind ice blocks,
and firing as fast as they could load, struck the bear several times. But
although eight balls had passed through its body, the bear pursued two of
them so closely, that they were obliged to leap down a perpendicular bank
of twenty feet into the water. The dying animal sprang after them, and
was within a few feet of the hindermost, when his strength at last failed
him.
Scoresby relates that in 1783, Captain Cook, of the Archangel, of Lynn,
landed on the coast of Spitzbergen, accompanied by the surgeon and
mate. While traversing the shore, the captain was unexpectedly attacked
by a bear, which seized him in an instant between its paws. At this
awful juncture, when a moment's pause must have been fatal to him,
the unfortunate man called to his surgeon to fire, who immediately,
with admirable resolution and steadiness, discharged his piece, and
providentially shot the bear through the head, thus literally saving the
master from the jaws of death.
[Illustration: Ice-bear approaching the "Dorothea" and "Trent."]
"One evening," says Beechey, "we set on fire some sea-horse fat, in order
to entice within reach of our muskets any bears that might be ranging
the ice; as these animals possess a very keen scent, and are invariably
attracted by burnt animal matter. About midnight we had the satisfaction
of seeing one of them drag his huge carcass out of the water, and slowly
make his way towards us. The sight of the tall masts of the ships
appeared to alarm him a little at first, for he occasionally hesitated,
threw up his head, and seemed half inclined to turn round and be off; but
the agreeable odour of the burnt blubber was evidently so grateful to his
olfactory nerves and empty stomach, that it overcame every repugnance,
and gradually brought him within range of our muskets. On receiving the
first shot he sprang round, uttered a terrific growl, and half raised
himself upon his hind legs, as if in expectation of seizing the object
that had caused him such excruciating pain; and woe to any human being
who had at that moment been within reach of his merciless paws! The
second and third ball left him writhing upon the ice, and the mate of the
Dorothea jumped out of the vessel and endeavoured to despatch him with
the butt end of a musket; but it unfortunately broke short off, and for
a moment left him at the mercy of his formidable antagonist, who showed,
by turning sharply upon his assailant, and seizing him by the thigh, that
he was not yet mastered; and he would most certainly have inflicted a
serious wound, had it not been for the prompt assistance of two or three
of his shipmates who had followed him. The animal was by no means one of
the largest of his species, being only six feet in length, and three feet
four inches in height. His stomach was quite empty, with the exception
of a garter, such as is used by Greenland sailors to tie up their boat
stockings. In his left side there was a cicatrised wound of considerable
magnitude. From what we saw of the activity and ferociousness of this
animal, added to the well-known strength of his species, we readily gave
credit to the accounts of Barentz and other early visitors to these
regions; and it may be considered a fortunate circumstance for the hero
of the Nile and Trafalgar that a natural barrier was interposed between
him and the object of his chase, when in his youth he ventured alone over
the ice in these regions in pursuit of such formidable game."
The ferocious white bear, the enemy and the dread of all other animals
that come within its reach, is exceedingly tender and affectionate to its
young, of which the following anecdote affords a striking and interesting
example. While the "Carcase" was locked in the ice, early one morning the
man at the mast-head gave notice that three bears were making their way
very fast over the frozen ocean, and were directing their course towards
the ship. They had no doubt been invited by the scent of some blubber
of a sea-horse that the crew had killed a few days before, which had
been set on fire; for they drew out of the flames a part of the flesh
that remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. The crew from the ship
threw great lumps of the flesh of the sea-horse, which they had still
left, upon the ice, which the old bear fetched singly, laid every lump
before her cubs as she brought it, and dividing it, gave to each a share,
reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was fetching away the
last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs and shot them both
dead, and in her retreat they wounded the dam, but not mortally. It would
have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling minds, to have marked the
affectionate concern expressed by this poor beast in the dying moments of
her expiring young. Though she was herself dreadfully wounded, and could
but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh
she had fetched away, as she had done others before, tore it in pieces,
and laid it before them; and when she saw that they refused to eat, she
laid her paws first upon one and then upon the other, and endeavoured
to raise them up, piteously moaning all the while. When she found she
could not stir them, she went off, and when she had got at some distance,
looked back and moaned; and that not availing her to entice them away,
she returned, and smelling round them, began to lick their wounds. She
went off a second time as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked
again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs
not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and with signs of
inexpressible fondness, went round one and round the other, pawing them
and moaning. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised
her head towards the ship, and uttered a growl of despair, which the
murderers returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her
cubs, and died licking their wounds.
The Sea-Otter is the last of the marine mammiferous animals that claim
our attention. Although it is also found in the southern Pacific, yet
its chief resort is in the Behring's Sea, along the chain of the Aleut
Islands. It is but a small animal, yet its long-haired, beautifully fine
and black fur, which is not seldom paid for with 400 or 500 rubles,
renders it by far the most important product of those seas. It has even
got an historical interest, since it has been the chief cause which led
the Russians from Ochotzk to Kamtschatka, and from thence over the Aleut
chain to the opposite coast of America.
[Illustration: Sea-Otter.]
The Aleut islanders show a wonderful dexterity in the capture of this
animal. In April or May they assemble at an appointed spot in their light
skin-boats, or _baidars_, and choose one of the most respected _tamols_,
or chiefs, for the leader of the expedition, which generally numbers from
fifty to a hundred boats. Such hunting-parties are annually organised
from the Kurile Islands to Kadjack, and consequently extend over a line
of three thousand miles. On the first fine day the expedition sets out,
and proceeds to a distance of about forty wersts from the coast, when
the baidars form into a long line, leaving an interval of about two
hundred and fifty fathoms from boat to boat as far as a sea-otter diving
out of the water can be seen; so that a row of thirty baidars occupies
a space of from ten to twelve wersts. When the number of the boats is
greater, the intervals are reduced. Every man now looks upon the sea with
concentrated attention. Nothing escapes the penetrating eye of the Aleut;
in the smallest black spot appearing but one moment over the surface of
the waters, his experienced glance at once recognises a sea-otter. The
baidar which first sees the animal, rows rapidly towards the place where
the creature dived, and now the Aleut, holding his oar straight up in
the air, remains motionless on the spot. Immediately the whole squadron
is in motion, and the long straight line changes into a wide circle, the
centre of which is occupied by the baidar with the raised oar. The otter
not being able to remain long under water, re-appears, and the nearest
Aleut immediately greets him with an arrow. This first attack is seldom
mortal; very often the missile does not even reach its over-distant mark,
and the sea-otter instantly disappears. Again the oar rises from the next
baidar; again the circle forms, but this time narrower than at first; the
fatigued otter is obliged to come oftener to the surface, arrows fly from
all sides, and finally the animal, killed by a mortal shot, or exhausted
by repeated wounds, falls to the share of the archer who has hit it
nearest to the head. If several otters appear at the same time, the boats
form as many rings, provided their number be sufficiently great. All
these movements are executed with astonishing celerity and precision, and
amidst the deepest silence, which is only interrupted from time to time
by the hissing sound of the flying arrows.
[Illustration: Banded Dipper.]
CHAP. X.
SEA-BIRDS.
Their vast Numbers.--Strand-Birds.--Artifices of the Sea-Lark to
protect its Young.--Migrations of the Strand-Birds.--The Sea-Birds
in General.--The Anatidæ.--The Eider Duck.--The Sheldrake.--The
Loggerheaded Duck.--Auks and Penguins.--The Cormorant.--Its Use by the
Chinese for Fish catching.--The Frigate Bird.--The Soland Goose.--The
Gulls.--The Petrels.--The Albatross.--Bird-catching on St. Kilda.--The
Guano of the Chincha Islands.
[Illustration: Flamingo.]
Countless are the birds of the wood and field, of the mountain and the
plain; and yet it is doubtful whether they equal in number those of the
fish-teeming seas. For every naked rock or surf-beaten cliff that rises
over the immeasurable deserts of ocean, is the refuge of myriads of
sea-birds; every coast, from the poles to the equator, is covered with
their legions and far from land, their swarms hover over the solitudes
of the deep. Many, unfit for swimming, seek their food along the shores;
others rival the fishes in their own native element; and others, again,
armed with indefatigable wings, pursue their prey upon the high seas.
But, however different the mode of living and destination of the numerous
tribes, families, genera, and species of the sea-birds may be, each of
them is organised in the most perfect manner for the exigencies of its
own peculiar sphere. Take, for instance, the Strand-birds, that live
on the margin of ocean, and feast upon the molluscs and sea-worms,
that inhabit the littoral zone. How admirably the light weight of
their proportionally small body suits the soft, yielding soil on which
they have to seek their food; how well their long legs are adapted for
striding through the mud of the shallow waters; and their long bill and
flexible neck, how beautifully formed for seizing their fugitive prey,
ere it can bury itself deep enough in the safe mud or sand!
PENGUINS ON THE SOUTH POLAR ICE.
A scene showing the immense droves of penguins which often clothe
the sea edges of the ice and rocks in the South Polar regions is
represented in the annexed plate.
The individuals in the front are of the large species known as the
Great Penguin, _Aptenodytes Forsteri_. Beyond is a group of the
lesser, but perhaps more beautiful, species, _Aptenodytes Pennantii_.
In the distance are seen lines of another small kind, which has been
made a separate genus, under the denomination of _Eudyptes_. It
is inferior in characteristic beauty to either of the last named.
_Eudyptes antipodes_ is, however, worthy of a better representation
than the dimensions of our plate permitted.
[Illustration: PENGUINS ON THE SOUTH POLAR ICE.]
[Illustration: Curlew.]
The wonderful art with which the feathered inhabitants of the grove
construct their nests, we should in vain look for among the Strand-birds,
but the anxiety they show in protecting their young brood, and the
stratagems they use to divert the attention of the enemy, are after all
instincts no less admirable than those which prompt the Cassique or the
Tailor-bird to build their complicated dwellings. Thus on the approach
of any person to its nest, the Lapwing flutters round his head with
great inquietude, and if he persists in advancing, it will endeavour
to draw him away by running along the ground as if lame, and thereby
inviting pursuit. The Golden Plover also, when it sees an enemy---man
or dog---approach, does not await their arrival, but advances to meet
them. Then suddenly rising with a shrill cry, as if just disturbed from
its nest, it flutters along the ground as if crippled, and entices them
farther and farther from its young. The dogs, expecting to catch an easy
prey, follow the lame bird, which suddenly, however, flies off with
lightning speed, and leaves its disappointed pursuers on the beach. The
discovery of the nest is rendered still more difficult by the colour and
markings of the eggs assimilating so closely to that of the ground and
surrounding herbage.
The Scoopers, Oyster-catchers, Avosets, and other strand-birds have
recourse to similar stratagems for the protection of their young. In New
Zealand, the French naturalists, Quoy and Gaimard, were deceived by an
oyster-catcher, which, having been shot at, feigned to be wounded, and
with hanging wing, diverted them from the right track.
[Illustration: Avoset.]
The strand-birds of the high northern regions fly from the winter to
coasts where milder winds are blowing. But as soon as the summer's
sun begins to exert its power, the desert shores of the Arctic Ocean
become animated with swarms of plovers, sand-pipers, rails, herons, and
phalaropes, to whom the thawed strand opens its inexhaustible supplies.
Soon, however, the approach of winter hardens once more the soil, want
follows upon abundance, and the whole long-legged host hastens to abandon
the ice-bound strand, which opposes an impenetrable armour to their beaks.
[Illustration: Plover.]
The food of the different kinds of strand-birds varies, and consequently
their bills are variously formed. Those that live upon worms have
generally a long thin awl-shaped bill, well fitted for picking their
prey out of the soft muddy or sandy soil. If the small creatures conceal
themselves under large stones, they are secure from these attacks; but
then comes the Turn-stone, (_Tringa interpres_,) who with his bill, a
little turned up at the top, raises the stone as with a lever, and makes
sad havoc amongst the defenceless garrison.
[Illustration: Scissor-bill (Rhynchops nigra).]
The Sea-pie uses its wedge-shaped bill for opening shell-fish with
great adroitness; but the industry of the Black Skimmer or Cut-water,
(_Rhynchops nigra_,) is still more remarkable. The bill of this bird,
which chiefly inhabits the hot coasts of America, is quite unique in its
kind; the under mandible, which is in fact nothing but a wedge, being
about an inch longer than the upper one, by which it is clasped. The
sandy beach of Penco, says Lesson, is full of shell-fish, which remain
nearly dry at low water in small pools. The skimmer keeps waiting close
by until one of them opens its shell, when he immediately introduces
his wedge. He then seizes the mussel, beats it to pieces upon the sand,
and devours it with all the pleasure of an epicure eating an oyster. He
is also very active in sweeping the surface of the water, from which he
skims, as it were, the smaller fish or shrimps. Thus, on all flat sandy
shores nothing exists, either soft or hard, creeping or swimming, jumping
or running, that does not find among the strand-birds its peculiar and
admirably armed enemy, or that can boast of a perfect immunity from
hostile attacks.
[Illustration: Speckled Diver.]
If we examine the real sea-birds, such as are formed for indefatigable
swimming or diving, or for wide flights over the deserts of ocean, we
shall find them no less wonderfully organised than the winged dwellers
on the strand. Their short compressed toes easily cleave the waters,
and by means of their membranes or webs form, as it were, broad oars.
Their muscular short legs, placed more behind than in other birds, are
beautifully adapted for rowing, although their movements on land are
awkward and slow. All creatures living on the sea of course require a
thick waterproof mantle against weather and storm; and consequently we
find the plumage of sea birds thicker, closer, and better furnished with
down than that of the other feathered tribes. And finally, the gland
which all birds have at the rump, and from which they express an oily
matter to preserve their feathers moist, is most considerable among
those that live upon the water, and contributes to make their plumage
impermeable. Surely the sea bird has no right to complain of imperfect
clothing or a deficient outfit!
[Illustration: Snow Goose.]
The numerous members of the duck family, or the Anatidæ, mostly live
during the summer in higher latitudes, and wander in winter in countless
swarms towards sunnier regions; as, for instance, the Snow Goose and the
Barnacle. Some remain throughout the year in Great Britain, some only
during the winter; while others, which are more particularly birds of
the Arctic zone, but very seldom make their appearance in our southern
clime. Most Anatidæ prefer the lake, the river, the pond, or the morass;
but many of them are true littoral birds, and spend a great part of their
time swimming and fishing in the sea.
[Illustration: Barnacle Goose.]
The Eider Duck, (_Anas mollissima_,) which attains nearly double the
size of the common duck, inhabits the higher latitudes of Europe, Asia,
and America. One of its most remarkable breeding places is on the small
island of Vidoë near Reikiavik (Iceland), where it lives under the
protection of the law; a person who should chance to kill a breeding bird
having to pay a fine of thirty dollars.
[Illustration: Eider Duck.]
"As our boat approached the shore," says Mackenzie, ("Voyage through
Iceland,") "we came through a multitude of these beautiful birds, who
hardly gave themselves the trouble to move out of the way. Between the
landing place and the house of the old governor the ground was covered
with them, and it was necessary to walk cautiously not to tread upon
their nests. The ganders went about with a cackle resembling the cooing
of a pigeon, and were even more familiar than our common duck. Round
about the house, on the garden wall, on the roofs, even in the inside of
the huts and the chapel, they sat breeding in great numbers. Those which
had not been long upon their nest generally left it at our approach, but
those which had more than one or two eggs remained undisturbed, allowed
themselves to be handled, and sometimes even gently used their bills to
remove our hand. The nests were lined with down, which the mother plucks
from her own breast; and near at hand a sufficient quantity was piled up
to cover the eggs when she goes to feed, which is generally at low water.
The downs are twice removed, but sometimes the poor duck is obliged to
provide for a fourth lining; and when she has no more to spare, the
gander willingly deprives himself of part of his showy snow-white and
rose-red garment. The eggs, which are considered a great delicacy, are
also partially taken away. Our Vidoë friend used to send us two hundred
at a time. When boiled, they are tolerably good, but always very inferior
to those of our domestic hen. When taken from the nest, the downs are of
course mixed with feathers and straw; and to sort and prepare them for
sale is part of the winter employment of the women. One nest furnishes
about a quarter of a pound of cleaned downs. The softness, lightness,
and elasticity of these feathers is universally known. A few handfuls
of compressed downs suffice to fill a whole coverlet, under which the
northlander bids defiance to the strongest winter cold. Almost as soon
as the young have left the egg, the mother conducts them to the water's
edge, takes them on her back, and swims a few yards with them, when she
dives, and leaves them on the surface to take care of themselves. As
soon as they have thus acquired the art of swimming, the duck returns
and becomes their leader. The broods often unite in great numbers, and
remain some weeks quite wild, after which they disappear. Long before
we left Iceland not a single duck was to be seen. No one knows to what
parts they migrate. The bird is found on the Flannen Islands, to the west
of Lewis; it is seen on the Shetland and Orkney Islands; it breeds on
May Island, at the mouth of the Frith of Forth." Even on Heligoland the
eider duck sometimes makes its appearance, but not to breed. The produce
of the eider duck, either for personal use or as an article of trade,
contributes to the comforts of many northern nations. The Esquimaux kill
these birds with darts, pursuing them in their little boats, watching
their course by the air bubbles when they dive, and always striking at
them when they rise wearied to the surface. Their flesh is valued as
food, and their skins are made into warm and comfortable under garments.
The Long-tailed Duck and the Sheldrake or Burrow Duck, (_Anas glacialis_
_tadorna_), likewise inhabit the northern shores of Europe, Asia, and
America. The former often remains the whole year in the high north,
bidding defiance to the icy winter of the Arctic circle, and enjoying
during the summer the light of an uninterrupted day. Often, however,
it migrates to the south, and wanders from Greenland and Hudson's Bay
as far as New York, and from Spitzbergen and Iceland to Heligoland and
the Schleswig Islands. The duck likewise lines her nest with her downs.
During the winter, the sheldrake is often seen in the west of England and
in Ireland, where it is caught in nets. On Sylt, on the Danish coast, it
is half domesticated, living in artificial burrows, and breeding even
in the villages, on walls, and in earth holes. In a pleasant valley
among the downs, which, although without trees, refreshed the eye with a
verdant carpet variegated with flowers, Naumann, the celebrated German
ornithologist, saw thousands of sheldrakes scattered in couples over
the meads, so tame that they could be approached within twenty paces,
when they flew up, but soon again alighted on the sward. He admired the
construction of the artificial nests, often thirteen in one cavity, with
a common entrance, and communicating by horizontal tunnels. Over every
nest is a perpendicular opening, decked with a sod. On this being raised
the duck is often seen sitting on her nest, so tame that it allows itself
to be stroked. Every householder possesses several of these artificial
burrows, from which he daily gathers during several weeks from twenty to
thirty eggs, leaving six in each nest to be hatched. He also takes care
to remove one half of the beautiful downs, which are no less light and
valuable than those of the eider duck.
[Illustration: Sheldrake.]
One of the most curious members of the duck family is the large
Loggerheaded Duck or goose (_Anas brachyptera_) of the Falkland Islands,
which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds. It was formerly called, from
its extraordinary manner of paddling and splashing upon the water,
race-horse, but is now named, much more appropriately, steamer. Its wings
are too small and weak to allow of flight, but by their aid, partly
swimming and partly flapping the surface of the water, it moves very
quickly. The manner is something like that by which the common house
duck escapes when pursued by a dog; but Mr. Darwin, who often watched
the bird, is nearly sure that the steamer moves its wings alternately,
instead of both together, as in other birds. These clumsy logger-headed
ducks make such a noise and splashing, that the effect is exceedingly
curious. It is able to dive only a very short distance. It feeds entirely
on shell-fish from the kelp and tidal rocks; and hence its beak and head,
which it uses for the purpose of breaking them, are so surprisingly heavy
and strong, that they can scarcely be fractured with a hammer.
Another remarkable inhabitant of the southern hemisphere is the Rock
Goose, (_Anas antarctica_,) which exclusively inhabits rocky shores,
and is often met with on the Falkland Islands, and on the west coast
of America, as far north as Chili. In the deep and retired channels of
Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably accompanied by his
darker consort, and standing close by each other on some distant rocky
point, is a common feature in the landscape.
[Illustration: Red-Breasted Merganser.]
The Mergansers differ chiefly from the sea-ducks, whom they otherwise
closely resemble both in outward form and mode of life, by their
comparatively long and slender bill, furnished with serrated edges and
hooked at the extremity. All the British species are adorned with crests,
or a tuft of long feathers, at the back of the head. The red-breasted
merganser is a beautiful bird, painted with a variety of gay colours.
"The head and throat are of a rich shining green, the neck white, except
a narrow dark line behind; at either side before the wings are numerous
large white feathers bordered by velvet-black; the lower part of the neck
and breast is chestnut-brown, varied with dark streaks, and the body and
wings are elegantly diversified with white, black, and brown feathers."
(Harvey, _Sea Side Book_.)
The family of the Grebes and Divers approximates the duck tribe in
the order of creation, but is distinguished by a long conical bill,
and the position of the legs, which are placed so far back towards
the tail, that when the bird leaves the water it is obliged to stand
nearly erect to preserve its equilibrium. The foot in the grebes is only
partially webbed, the toes being merely lobed or finned; but the divers
are completely web-footed, like the duck. These latter do honour to
their name, being most expert and indefatigable divers, remaining down
sometimes for several minutes, and swimming rapidly under the water. The
Red-throated Diver preys much on the fish entangled in the nets, but is
often caught himself in his rapid pursuit of the fish; thus affording a
strange example of a bird caught under water.
[Illustration: Great Crested Grebe.]
The Arctic Diver enjoys among the Norwegians the reputation of being a
most excellent weather-prophet. When the skies are big with rain, the
birds fly wildly about, and make the most horrible hoarse noise, fearing
that the swelled waters should invade their nest; on the contrary, in
fine weather, their note is different, and seemingly in an exulting
strain. For this reason, the Norwegians, who, being mostly a maritime
population, pay the greatest attention to the aspect of the sky, think it
impious to destroy, or even to disturb, this species.
The family of _Alcadæ_, comprising the Guillemots, Auks, Razor Bills, and
Puffins, is in form of body very similar to the Divers: the legs, which
are short and thick, are inserted very far back, and give a still more
erect carriage to the bird when on shore. The wings are short and small
in proportion to the bulk of the body, and in the (now probably extinct)
Great Auk, so much so as to be unfitted for flight. The Auks are strictly
sea-birds, and nestle on its borders, breeding in caverns and rocky
cliffs, and laying only one large egg. They obtain their food by diving,
at which they are very expert. They are of social habits, and congregate
in vast flocks on the rocky islets and head-lands of the northern coasts.
At the head of the Magdalen Bay, on Spitzbergen, for instance, there is a
high pyramidal mountain of granite, termed Rotge Hill, from the myriads
of small birds of that name (Little Auk, _Alca alce_), which frequent
its base, and which appear to prefer its environs to every other part of
the harbour. They are so numerous that Admiral Beechey frequently saw an
uninterrupted line of them extending full half-way over the bay, or to a
distance of more than three miles, and so close together that thirty fell
at one shot. This living column, on an average, might have been about six
yards broad, and as many deep; so that allowing sixteen birds to a cubic
yard, there must have been nearly four millions of birds on the wing at
one time.
The calling or crying of the rotges amongst one another sounds at a
distance as if you heard a great many women scolding together; so that
the noise of millions uniting in a chorus must be terrific. On a fine
summer's day, when a glorious sunshine gilds the snow peaks and glaciers
of Spitzbergen, the merry cry of the little auk unites with that of
the willocks, divers, cormorants, gulls, and other aquatic birds; and
everywhere groups of walruses, basking in the sun, mingle their playful
roar with the husky bark of the seal. It is pleasant to reflect that in
those arctic wilds, uninhabitable by man, there are still millions of
creatures enjoying life, all owing their support to the inexhaustible
"garners" of the deep.
In the Penguins of the southern hemisphere, the shortness of wing and
aptitude for swimming and diving are still more conspicuous than in the
auks of the northern regions. In the water, the penguin makes use of
its small featherless wing-stumps as paddles; on land, as fore feet,
with whose help it scales so rapidly the grass-grown cliffs, as to be
easily mistaken for a quadruped. When at sea, and fishing, it comes to
the surface for the purpose of breathing, with such a spring, and dives
again so instantaneously, that at first sight no one can be sure that it
is not a fish leaping for sport. Other sea-birds generally keep part of
their body out of the water while swimming; but this is not the case with
the penguin, whose head alone appears upon the surface; and thus it swims
with such rapidity and perseverance, as almost to defy many of the fishes
to equal it. How much it feels itself at home on the waters, may be
inferred from the fact that Sir James Ross once saw two penguins paddling
away a thousand miles from the nearest land.
[Illustration: Antarctic Penguin.]
On many uninhabited islands in the higher latitudes of the southern
hemisphere, this strange bird is met with in incredible numbers. On
Possession Island, for instance, a desolate rock discovered by Sir
James Ross in lat. 71° 56′, not the smallest appearance of vegetation
could be found; but inconceivable myriads of penguins completely and
densely covered the whole surface of the island, along the ledges of the
precipices, and even to the summits of the hills, attacking vigorously
the sailors as they waded through their ranks, and pecking at them with
their sharp beaks, disputing possession, which, together with their
loud coarse notes, and the insupportable stench from the deep bed of
guano which had been forming for ages, made them glad to get away again.
Sir James took possession of the island in the name of Queen Victoria;
but unfortunately its treasures of manure are hidden beyond a far too
formidable barrier of ice ever to be available to man.
[Illustration: Penguin.]
Duperrey ("Voyage de la Coquille,") found the Falklands swarming with
penguins. In summer and autumn these strange birds leave their burrows
early in the morning, and launch into the sea for fishing. After having
filled their capacious stomachs, they waddle on shore, and remain for a
time congregated on the strand, raising a dreadful clamour; after which
they retire to enjoy a noon-tide sleep among the high tussack grass
or in their burrows. In the afternoon the fishing recommences. Lesson
says that about sunset on fine summer evenings, which unfortunately are
but of rare occurrence on those foggy, storm-visited islands, all the
penguins together raise their discordant voices, so that at a distance
the noise might be mistaken for the hoarse murmur of a great popular
assembly. As soon as the young are sufficiently strong, the whole band
leaves the island, departing no one knows whither, though the mariners
frequenting those seas believe that they spend the winter on the ocean.
This opinion seems to be corroborated by the observations of Sir James
Ross, who, on the 4th of December, in 49° S. lat., met on the high sea a
troop of penguins that were doubtless on the way to their breeding place.
He admired the astonishing instinct of these creatures, half fish, half
bird, which leads them hundreds of miles through the pathless ocean to
their accustomed summer abodes.
It may be imagined how the neighbouring seas must abound with fish, to be
able to nourish such multitudes of penguins, whose stomach is capable of
holding more than two pounds, and whose voracity is so great that they
are often obliged to disgorge their superabundant meal. The elongated
stomach reaches to the lower part of the abdomen, and the whole length of
the intestinal canal is twenty-five feet, fifteen times longer than the
body, so that nature has evidently provided for a most vigorous appetite,
whetted by sea-bathing and sea air.
There are several species of penguins. The largest (_Aptenodytes
antarctica_) weighs about eighty pounds. It is a rare bird, generally
found singly, while the smaller species always associate in vast numbers.
In 77° S. lat., Sir James Ross caught three of these giant penguins,
the smallest of which weighed fifty-seven pounds. In the stomach of one
of them he found ten pounds of quartz, granite, and trap fragments,
swallowed most likely to promote digestion.
The penguin, like his northern representative the auk, lays but one
single egg. His not unsavoury flesh is black. Besides his dense plumage,
he is protected against the cold of the higher latitudes by a thick cover
of fat under his skin.
Humboldt's penguin (_Spheniscus Humb._) is frequently found in the Bay of
Callao. This bird is a little smaller than the common grey penguin, with
a somewhat differently coloured back and breast. The Peruvians call it
_pajaro niño_, "little darling bird," and keep it in their houses; it is
very easily tamed, gets very familiar, and follows its master like a dog.
The sight of the fat creature, awkwardly waddling about the streets on
its short feet, and violently agitating its wing-stumps to maintain its
equilibrium, is inexpressibly grotesque. Tschudi kept one of these tame
penguins, which punctually obeyed his call. At dinner it regularly stood
like a stiff footman behind his chair, and at night slept under his bed.
When "Pepe" wanted a bath, he went into the kitchen and kept striking
with his beak against an earthen jar, until some one came to pour water
over him.
[Illustration: Common Pelican.]
To the pelican tribe, which is generally distinguished by a surface of
naked skin about the throat, capable of considerable dilatation, and
serving as a pouch for the reception of unswallowed food, belong among
others the Cormorant (_Phalacrocorax_), the Frigate-Bird (_Tachypetes
aquila_), and the Gannet (_Sula bassana_), or Solan goose. All these
birds are of much more active habits than the last named family, with
bodies of more shapely form, more ample wings, and a stronger flight.
The common cormorant with his long bill, bent at the point, and furnished
with a nail, his black livery, and yellowish chin-pouch, is a most
disagreeable comrade. His smell, when alive, is more rank and offensive
than that of any other bird, and his flesh is so disgusting, that it
turns the stomach even of an Esquimaux. In spite of his voracity, he
always remains thin and meagre, the picture of a hungry parasite.
But fishing he understands remarkably well, and formerly used to be
trained for this purpose in England, in the same manner as a nearly
related species is to the present day employed in China. Mr. Fortune
thus describes this original chase, which he witnessed on the Yellow
River:--"There were two boats, each containing one man, and about ten or
twelve birds. The latter stood perched on the sides of the boats, and
seemed to have just arrived upon the scene of action. Their masters now
commanded them to leave the boats; and so excellent was their training,
that they instantly obeyed, scattered themselves over the canal, and
began to look for prey. They have a splendid sea-green eye, and quick as
lightning they see and dive upon the finny tribe, which, once caught in
the sharp notched bill, finds escape impossible. As soon as a cormorant
rises to the surface with his prey in his bill, his master calls him,
when, docile as a dog, he swims to the boat and surrenders the fish,
after which he again resumes his labours. And what is more wonderful
still, when one of them has got hold of a fish so large as to be with
difficulty dragged to the boat, the others come to his assistance, and
by their united strength overpower the sprawling giant. Sometimes when
a cormorant is lazy or playful, and seems to forget his business, the
Chinaman strikes the water with a long bamboo near to the dreamer, and
calls out to him in an angry tone. Immediately the bird, like a schoolboy
caught nodding over his lesson, gives up his play, and returns to his
duty. A small string is tied round the neck of the birds, for fear they
might be tempted to swallow the fish themselves."
[Illustration: Common Cormorant.]
[Illustration: Frigate-Bird.]
The frigate-bird hovers over the tropical waters. Its singularly easy and
graceful flight affords all the charm of variety. Sometimes it is seen
balanced in mid air, its wings spread, but apparently motionless, its
long forked tail expanding and closing with a quick alternate motion, and
its head turned inquisitively downwards; sometimes it wheels rapidly,
and darts to the surface of the water in pursuit of prey; and then
again it soars so as to be lost to vision, its elevation alone being
sufficient to distinguish it from all other sea birds. Sometimes it is
seen 400 leagues from land; and yet it is said to return every night to
its solitary roost. Its expanded pinions measure from end to end fourteen
feet, a prodigious extent of wings, equalling or even surpassing that of
the condor, the lordly bird of the loftiest Andes. Being unable to swim
or dive, it seizes the flying-fish, that, springing out of the water to
avoid the jaws of the bonito, often falls a prey to the frigate-bird, or
else it compels boobies or tropic birds to disgorge. On volcanic coasts
it builds its nest in the crevices of the high cliffs, and on the low
coral islands in the loftiest trees. In the Paumotu Group, Captain Wilkes
saw whole groves covered with the nests of the frigate-bird. When the
old birds flew away, they puffed up their red pouches to the size of a
child's head, so that it looked as if a large bladder full of blood was
attached to their neck.
[Illustration: Flying Fish.]
[Illustration: Common Gannet.]
The Gannet or Soland-goose (_Sula Bassana_) haunts the Bass Island, a
high steep rock in the Frith of Forth, whose black precipices are painted
with dazzling stripes of white _guano_, the product of the inconceivable
number of birds which settle upon the weather-beaten ledges. The gannets
incubate in the turf of the slopes above, and you may sit down by them
and their great downy young while their mates hover over you with
discordant screams and almost touch you with their outspread pinions.
There is but one landing-place, and this sole entrance to the natural
fastness is closed by a barred gate, proclaiming that man has taken
possession of the rock. Some years ago it was let at an annual rent
of thirty-five pounds. The eggs are not collected, and no old bird is
allowed to be shot, under a penalty of five pounds; only the young
birds are persecuted. The chase begins on the 1st of August. They are
taken with the hand or knocked on the head with sticks, and sent to the
Edinburgh market, where they fetch about half a crown a piece. The gannet
breeds also on Lundy Island, in the Severn, on Ailsa, on the coast of
Ayrshire, on the island of St. Kilda, and hardly anywhere else in Europe.
As it must let itself fall before taking wing, it requires a steep
and precipitous breeding-station. Its mode of fishing is particularly
graceful. Rapidly skimming the surface of the sea, as soon as it spies a
fish swimming below, it rises perpendicularly over the spot, and then,
suddenly folding its wings, drops head-foremost on its prey swifter than
an arrow, and with almost unerring aim. The prevalent colour of the
full-plumaged bird is white, the tips of its wings only being black, and
some black lines about the face, resembling eyebrows or spectacles. The
pale yellow eyes are encircled with a naked skin of fine blue, the head
and neck are buff colour, the legs black, and greenish on the fore part.
The plumage of the young bird is very different, being blackish, dotted
irregularly with small white specks.
The family of the Laridæ, which comprises the gulls, the sea-swallows,
the petrels, and the albatrosses, is widely spread over the whole surface
of the ocean. All the birds of this tribe have a powerful flight, and
are distinguished by the easy grace of their motions, striking the air
at long intervals with their wings, and generally gliding or soaring
with outstretched pinions. Their form is handsome and well-proportioned,
some of them resembling the swallow, others the dove; but their mode of
life does not correspond with their beauty, as they are all ill-famed
for their predatory habits and insatiable voracity. The cry of the
sea-mew is peculiar, being a mixture of screaming and laughing. When in
the solitude of a wild rocky coast it is heard mingling with the hoarse
rolling of the surge and the moaning wind, it harmonises well with the
character of the dreary scene, and produces a not unpleasing effect. It
is amusing to witness the movements of the sea-mews at the mouths of the
larger rivers, where they are seen in numbers, picking up the animal
substances which are cast on shore, or come floating down with the ebbing
tide. Such as are near the breakers will mount up the surface of the
water, and run splashing towards the crest of the wave, to get hold of
the object of their pursuit, while others are seen every now and then
diving, and reappearing with a fish in their bill. Sometimes the more
powerful sea-hawk interrupts their pleasure, pounces upon the robbers,
and scatters the screaming band.
Many different species of gulls inhabit the northern shores, and various
are the places which they choose for breeding. The Kittiwake or Tarrock
(_Larus tridactylus_), one of the commonest sea-birds in Greenland,
Iceland, the Feroës and the Scotch islands, builds its sea-weed nest on
the highest and most inaccessible rocks. According to Faber (Prodromus of
Icelandic Ornithology), its swarms are so numerous on Grimsoe, that they
darken the sun when they fly, deafen the ear when they scream, and deck
the green-capped rocks with a white covering when they breed.
[Illustration: Herring Gull (Young).]
In the famous "bird-city" at the north point of Sylt, the Silvery or
Herring-gull plays a prominent part. Its great size, equal to that of
the raven, but with much longer wings--its agreeable form, its pure
white plumage, of metallic brilliancy on the back, gradually melting
into light ash-blue; the velvet-black ends of the wings, with snowy
feather tips, the lovely yellow eye, and the deep yellow beak, with its
coral-red spot, all this together forms a beautiful picture. "There we
stood," says Naumann, "surrounded by thousands, that partly hovered close
over our heads, uttering their shrill screams, partly stood before us in
pairs; some on their nests, the males keeping guard, some sleeping on
one leg, and others leisurely stretching themselves. In one word, one
hardly knew what most to admire, the uncommon cleanliness and beauty of
their plumage, the great variety and elegance of their attitudes, their
tameness, or the immense numbers collected in so small a space."
[Illustration: Herring Gull, or Silvery Gull (Adult).]
In the same "bird-city," but apart from the former, breed also the Common
Gull (_Larus canus_) which is much smaller and of a more slender shape,
and also the Sandwich and Caspian Terns. It is astonishing to see how
each kind of sea-bird seeks its particular spot for breeding; only the
auks and guillemots herd promiscuously. What may induce the birds to meet
in such large bodies and then always to choose some particular cliff?
The gulls yield the fortunate possessor of their district an annual
income of at least two hundred rix-dollars. More than thirty thousand
of the eggs, which are larger than those of the turkey, are collected
every year, packed up with moss in baskets, and sent to the market. Two
or three persons are busy from morning till evening, during the whole
season, collecting the eggs, and receive for their trouble those of
the smaller birds, which may also amount to about twenty thousand. But
although the terns appear in considerable numbers on Sylt, they have
chosen the small flat island, Norder Oog, to the west of Pelworm, for
their chief residence. The breeding colony of the Sandwich tern amounts
here to at least a million of individuals, so that when the birds are at
rest, the island, at the distance of a mile, resembles a white stripe
in the sea; but when their innumerable multitudes hover above it, they
seem an immense white rotatory cloud. The eggs lie in some places so
close together, that it is almost impossible to walk between them without
treading upon them; the breeding birds often touch one another, and
would not find room, if, like all sea-swallows that breed socially on
the coast, they did not sit in the same posture, with their head facing
the water. It is incomprehensible how each bird can find its eggs; it
would even seem impossible, did we not know the miracles of animal
instinct. Their noise is incessant, for even during the night they keep
up a continual and lively prattle. He who approaches them during the day
is soon surrounded by these screamers, whose whirling thousand-tongued
multitudes stun his senses; and these birds, at other times so shy,
flutter so close over his head, as often to touch him with their wings.
On Nowaja Semlja's ice-bound coast, on the peaks of isolated cliffs, and
suffering no other bird in his vicinity, dwells the fierce imperious
Burgomaster (_Larus glaucus_). None of its class dares dispute the
authority of the lordly bird, when with unhesitating superiority it
descends on its prey, though in the possession of another. Although not
numerous, yet it is the general attendant on the whale-fisher whenever
spoils are to be obtained. Then it hovers over the scene of action, and
having marked out its morsel, descends upon it and carries it off on the
wing. On its descent, the most dainty pieces must be relinquished, though
in the grasp of fulmar, snow-bird, or kittiwake.
The larger parasitical or raptorial gulls (_Lestris parasiticus,
catarrhactes_), are incapable of diving or plunging, their feathers being
too large in proportion to their bulk. They are therefore obliged to
live by the exertions of the lesser species, making them disgorge what
they have eaten, and dexterously catching the rejected fish before it
reaches the water. Thus we see the old feudal relations of baron and serf
established as a natural institution among the gull-tribe.
[Illustration: Broad-billed Petrel.]
Although the sea-swallows and sea-mews are endowed with great power of
wing, yet the petrels and albatrosses alone deserve the name of oceanic
birds, as they are almost always found on the high seas, at every
distance from land, and only during breeding-time seek the solitary
coasts and islands. Petrels are scattered over the whole extent of the
ocean, but the petrels which inhabit the northern seas are different from
those of the antarctic ocean, and between both are other species, that
never forsake the intertropical waters.
[Illustration: Fork-tailed Petrel.]
The Fulmar (_Procellaria glacialis_) is at home in the high north. As
soon as the whale-fisher has passed the Shetland Islands, on his way
to the Arctic Seas, this bird is sure to accompany his track, eagerly
watching for anything thrown overboard. Walking awkwardly on land, the
fulmar flies to windward in the most terrific storms. Many thousands
frequently accumulate round a dead whale, rushing in from all quarters.
The sea immediately about the ship's stern, when the men are engaged in
skinning their gigantic prey, is sometimes so completely covered with
them that a stone can scarcely be thrown overboard without striking
one of them. When anything is thus cast among the crowd, those nearest
take alarm, and so on, till a thousand are put in motion; but as in
rising they strike the water with their feet, a loud and most irregular
splashing is produced. It is amusing to observe with what jealousy they
view, and with what boldness they attack, any of their species engaged
in devouring the finest morsels, and to hear the curious chuckling
noise they make in their anxiety for despatch, lest they should be
disturbed. The voracious birds are frequently so glutted as to be unable
to fly, in which case they rest upon the water until the advancement of
digestion restores their wonted powers. They then return to the banquet
with the same gusto as before, and although numbers of the species may
have been killed with boat-hooks, and float among them, the others,
nothing daunted, and unconscious of danger to themselves, continue their
gormandising labours. When carrion is scarce, the fulmars follow the
living whale, as if they had a presentiment of his future fate, and
sometimes, by their peculiar motions while hovering on the surface of the
water, point out to the fisherman the position of the animal. As their
beak cannot make an impression on the dead whale until some more powerful
creature tears away the skin, it may be imagined how delighted they are
when man takes upon himself the trouble of peeling a whale for them.
The Glacial Petrel (_Procellaria gelida_) does not seem to approach the
pole so near as the fulmar. He appears but seldom in Iceland, but breeds
frequently in Newfoundland. The same is the case with the Shearwater (_P.
puffinus_), which breeds in great numbers on the Feroë islands, and in
Orcadia. The tropical petrels are the least known. They do not appear to
gather troopwise, and but seldom follow ships. Towards 45° S. lat. the
first Pintados (_P. capensis_) make their appearance, and are more rarely
seen after having passed 60° S. lat. The Giant Petrel (_P. gigantea_),
extends its flight as far as the ice-banks of the south, where the
Antarctic and the Snowy (_P. antarctica et nivea_) Petrels first appear,
birds which never leave those dreary seas, and are often seen in vast
flocks floating upon the drift ice. Thus nature has set bounds to
petrels, as to all other creatures that swim or fly in and over the
ocean, and has divided the wide deserts of the sea among their different
species. Who can tell us the mysterious laws which assign to each of them
its limits? Who can show us the invisible barriers they are not allowed
to pass?
[Illustration: Stormy Petrel.]
The Stormy Petrel (_P. pelagica_) seems to belong to every sea. It is
about the size of a swallow, and in its general appearance and flight is
not unlike that bird. Although the smallest web-footed bird known, it
braves the utmost fury of the tempest, often skimming with incredible
velocity the trough of the waves, and sometimes gliding rapidly over
their snowy crests. Like all of its kind, it lives almost constantly at
sea, and seeks during the breeding season some lonely rock, where it
deposits in some fissure or crevice its solitary egg.
The mode of life of the petrels corresponds but little with their
external beauty; they are in fact the crows of the ocean, and live upon
the dead animal substances floating on its surface. Wherever the carcase
of a whale, borne along by the current, covers the sea with a long stripe
of putrid oil, they are seen feasting in the polluted waters. All petrels
have the remarkable faculty of spouting oil of a very offensive smell,
from their nostrils when alarmed, and this apparently as a means of
defence.
The Albatross (_Diomedea exulans_) is the monarch of the high seas; the
picture of a hero, who, under every storm of adverse fortune, preserves
the immoveable constancy of an undaunted heart. Proud and majestic, he
swims along in his own native element, and without ever touching the
water with his pinions, rises with the rising billow, and falls with the
falling wave. It is truly wonderful how he bids defiance to the fury of
the unshackled elements, and how quietly he faces the gale. "He seems
quite at home," say the sailors; and indeed this expression is perfectly
characteristic of his graceful ease as he hovers over the agitated ocean.
[Illustration: Wandering Albatross.]
The albatross exceeds the swan in size, attains a weight of from 12lbs.
to 28lbs., and extends his wings from ten to thirteen feet. His plumage
is white and black, harmonising with the wave-crest and the storm-cloud.
For weeks and months together he is seen to follow the course of a ship;
but, according to Mr. Harvey (Sea Side Book), "the time he can remain on
the wing seems to have been much exaggerated, for although, like the gull
and the petrel, he is no diving-bird, he swims with the greatest ease;
and notwithstanding the enormous length of his pinions, knows well how to
rise again into the air. He is indeed unable to take wing from a narrow
deck, but when he wishes to rise from the sea, he runs along flapping
the waters until he has acquired the necessary impetus, or meets with a
wave of a sufficient height, from whose lofty crest he starts as from a
rocky pinnacle, and resumes his extensive flight over an immense expanse
of ocean." A short-winged species frequents the waters of Kamtschatka
and Japan; but the _wandering_ albatross (_D. exulans_) belongs more
particularly to the southern hemisphere, being rarely seen to the north
of 30° S. lat., and appearing more frequently as the higher latitudes
are approached. The regions of storms--the Cape of Good Hope and Cape
Horn--are his favourite resorts, and all travellers know that the
southern point of Africa is not far distant as soon as the albatrosses
show themselves in larger numbers. These birds are the vultures of the
ocean; their crooked sharp-edged beak is better adapted to lacerate a
lifeless prey, than to seize upon the rapid fish as it darts swiftly
along below the surface of the waters. From a vast distance they smell
the floating carcase of a whale, and soon alight in considerable numbers
upon the giant carrion. They also feed upon the large cephalopods that
inhabit mid-ocean, and remains of these molluscs are generally found in
their stomach. The Auckland and Campbell islands seem to be two of their
favourite breeding-stations. When Sir James Ross visited these secluded
groups, the birds were so assiduously breeding as to allow themselves
to be taken with the hand. The nest is built of sand mixed with dried
leaves and grasses, generally eighteen inches high, with a diameter of
twenty-seven inches at the surface, and of six feet at the base. While
breeding, the snow-white head and neck of the bird project above the
grasses, and betray it from afar. On endeavouring to drive it from its
eggs it defends itself valiantly, snapping with its beak. Its greatest
enemy is a fierce raptorial gull (_Lestris antarcticus_), which is always
on the look-out, and, as soon as the albatross leaves the nest, shoots
down upon it to steal the eggs.
Swift flies the albatross, but fancy travels with still more rapid wings
through the realms of space, and leads us suddenly from the lone islands
of the Pacific to the north of another hemisphere. Saint Kilda rises
before us--a glorious sight when the last rays of the setting sun, as
he slowly sinks upon the ocean, light up with dazzling splendour the
towering cliffs of the island, which one might almost fancy to be some
huge volcano newly emerged from the deep, or the impregnable bulwark of
some enchanted land. St. Kilda, one of the most striking examples of the
grandest rock-scenery, plunges on all sides perpendicularly into the sea,
so that although six miles in circumference, it affords but one single
landing-place, accessible only in fair weather. Four of the promontories
are perforated, and as many large caverns are formed, through which the
sea rolls its heaving billows. From the eastern extremity, which rises
nearly perpendicularly to the height of 1380 feet, and is supposed to
be the loftiest precipice in Britain, the view is of indescribable
sublimity. Far below, the long heavy swell of the ocean is seen climbing
up the dark rock, whose base is clothed with sheets of snow-white foam.
In many places the naked rock disappears under the myriads of sea-birds
sitting upon their nests; the air is literally clouded with them, and
the water seems profusely dotted with the larger fowl, the smaller ones
being nearly invisible on account of the distance. Every narrow ledge is
thickly covered with kittiwakes, auks, and guillemots; all the grassy
spots are tenanted by the fulmar, and honey-combed by myriads of puffins;
while close to the water's edge on the wet rocks, which are hollowed out
into deep recesses, sit clusters of cormorants, erect and motionless,
like so many unclean spirits, guarding the entrance of some gloomy cave.
[Illustration: Black Guillemot.]
On rolling down a large stone from the summit, a strange scene of
confusion ensues. Here, falling like a thunderbolt on some unfortunate
fulmar sitting upon its nest, it crushes the poor creature in an instant;
then rolling down the crags, and cutting deep furrows in the grassy
slopes, it scatters in dismay the dense groups of auks and guillemots.
Its progress all along is marked by the clouds of birds, which affrighted
shoot out from the precipice to avoid the fate to which nevertheless
many fall a prey, until at length it reaches the bottom along with
its many victims. The scared tenants of the rock now return to their
resting-places, and all is again comparatively quiet.
[Illustration: Common Puffin.]
Several species of gulls are of common occurrence on St. Kilda: _Larus
marinus_, _fuscus_, _canus_, and _tridactylus_. The last, or kittiwake,
is the most abundant; a social bird, choosing the most inaccessible
spots. On disturbing a colony of kittiwakes, most of the birds leave
their nests and fly about the intruder, uttering incessantly their
clamorous but not unmusical cry. The noise from a large flock is almost
deafening; the flapping of their wings and their loud screams, joined
to the deep guttural notes of the passing gannets, and the shrill tones
of the larger gulls, form a combination of sounds without a parallel
in nature. Probably on account of its vigilance, the kittiwake is not
pursued by the fowler.
The fulmar breeds in almost incredible numbers on St. Kilda (the only
place in Britain where he is found), and is to the natives by far the
most important production of their barren land. On the crest of the
highest precipices, and only on such as are furnished with small grassy
shelves, on every spot above a few inches in extent, the fulmars have
taken possession of the rock. On being seized, they instantly disgorge a
quantity of clear amber-coloured oil, which imparts to the whole bird,
its nest and young, and even the very rock which it frequents, a peculiar
and very disagreeable odour.
Fulmar oil is one of the most valuable productions of St. Kilda. The best
is obtained from the old bird by surprising it at night upon the rock,
and tightly closing the bill until the fowler has seized the bird between
his knees with its head downwards. By opening the bill, the fulmar is
allowed to eject about a table-spoonful, or rather more, of oil into the
dried gullet or stomach of a solan-goose. The islanders use fulmar oil
for their lamps, and consider it as an infallible remedy against chronic
rheumatism.
It is chiefly in pursuit of the fulmar that the St. Kildian often
endangers his life. Two of the fowlers generally proceed in company, each
furnished with several coils of rope, about half an inch in diameter.
One of them fastens one of the ropes under his arm-pits, and holding
the extremity of another rope in one hand, is lowered down the cliff.
His comrade stands a little away from the edge, holding the supporting
rope firmly with both hands and letting it out very slowly, while he
allows the other, or guide-rope, to slip out as is required from under
one foot, which loosely secures it. On reaching a ledge occupied by
birds, the fowler commences his operations, easily securing the eggs
and young birds, and knocking down the old ones with a short stick, or
catching them by a noose attached to a long slender rod. He then secures
his sport by bundling the birds together, and tying them to a rope let
down from above, depositing at the same time in a small basket the eggs
he has gathered. The dexterity of these rocksmen is truly astonishing.
The smallest spot is considered by them as a sufficiently secure
standing-place, and they will creep on hands and knees, though cumbered
with a load of birds, along a narrow ledge, seemingly without concern
for their personal safety. When exhibiting before strangers, a precipice
about six hundred feet high, overhanging the sea, at a short distance
from the village, is generally chosen for a display of their agility.
About midway they strike against the rock, and rebound twelve feet or
more with all the agility of a tight-rope dancer.
The Gannet, or Solan-goose, which abounds in the north of Scotland and on
the numberless islands and rocky fiords which line the Norwegian coast,
likewise congregates in vast numbers about St. Kilda, from whence a
portion of them take their departure every morning to fish for herrings,
their favourite food, in the bays and channels of the other Hebrides, the
nearest of which is about fifty miles distant. This bird is very select
in the choice of its breeding-places, which it occupies to the total
exclusion of every other species. None are to be found in Hirta, but the
island of Borreray is almost entirely occupied with them, as are also the
adjacent rocks, Stack Ly and Stack Narmin. These cliffs are remarkable
for their pointed summits and towering height, and appear, even from the
distance of many miles, as if they were covered with snow, the deceptive
appearance being caused by the myriads of gannets with which the rock
is thickly covered, as well as the dense clouds of these white-plumed
birds passing and repassing in the neighbourhood of their nests. Petrels,
shearwaters, puffins, guillemots, and auks, are also very abundant about
the weather-beaten cliffs of St. Kilda.
[Illustration: Puffin.]
If we consider that similar bird-republics are to be found on almost
every rocky coast or surf-beaten cliff of the northern seas, we must
needs be astonished at the inexhaustible prodigality of Nature, which
covers desolate rocks with such a profusion of life. The vast number of
sea-birds is the more surprising, as many species, such as the guillemot,
the auk, the fulmar, and the puffin, lay but one single egg on the
naked rock, and often in so precarious a situation, that it is almost
inconceivable how breeding can take place. When the birds are surprised
and suddenly fly off, many of the eggs tumble down into the surf.
Sea-eagles, falcons, and raptorial gulls destroy a great number, and
pounce upon the young; thousands fall a prey to the rigours of an Arctic
winter; the spring-tides sweeping over low shores, often carry away whole
generations at once, and many a maritime population lives entirely upon
the sea-fowl that breed upon the sterile soil. And yet, in spite of so
many enemies and persecutions, their numbers remain undiminished, nor
has their importance ever ceased in the domestic economy of the rude
islanders of the north.
[Illustration: Auk.]
[Illustration: Sea-Fowl Shooting.]
But however valuable the eggs and the oil, the feathers and the flesh
of the hyperborean bird-republics may be to man, they are far from
equalling in importance the guano producing sea-fowl of the tropical
seas. This inestimable manure, which has become so indispensable to the
British agriculturist, is found scattered over numerous localities in
the intertropical regions. It abounds on many of the rocky islets of the
Red Sea, where the life-teeming waters afford sustenance to innumerable
sea-gulls, cormorants, and pelicans; but its most widely celebrated
stores cover the small Chincha Islands, not far from Pisco, about a
hundred miles to the south of Callao, where they form enormous layers 50
or 60 feet deep.
The upper strata are of a greyish-brown colour, which lower down
becomes darker; and in the inferior strata the colour is a rusty red,
as if tinged by oxide of iron. The guano becomes progressively more
and more compact from the surface downwards, a circumstance naturally
accounted for by the gradual deposit of the strata and the increasing
superincumbent weight. As is universally known, guano is formed of the
excrements of different kinds of marine birds; but the species which
Tschudi, the celebrated Peruvian traveller, more particularly enumerates
are--_Larus modestus_ (Tschudi), _Rhynchops nigra_ (Linn.), _Plotus
anhinga_ (Linn.), _Pelecanus thayus_ (Mol.), _Phalacrocorax Gaimardii_
and _albigula_ (Tsch.), and chiefly the _Sula variegata_ (Tsch.).
The immense flocks of these birds, as they fly along the coast, appear
like aërial islands; and when their vast numbers, their extraordinary
voracity, and the facility with which they procure their food are
considered, we cannot be surprised at the magnitude of the beds of guano
which have resulted from the uninterrupted accumulations of countless
ages. During the first year of the deposit the strata are white, and
the guano is then called _Guano blanco_. In the opinion of the Peruvian
cultivators, this is the most efficacious kind. As soon as the dealers
in guano begin to work one of the beds, the island on which it is formed
is abandoned by the birds. It has also been remarked that, since the
increase of trade and navigation, they have withdrawn from the islands in
the neighbourhood of the ports. Under the empire of the Incas, the guano
was regarded as an important branch of state economy. It was forbidden,
on pain of death, to kill the young birds. Each island had its own
inspector, and was assigned to a certain province. The whole distance
between Arica and Chaucay, a length of two hundred nautical miles, was
exclusively manured with guano. These wise provisions have been entirely
forgotten by the Spaniards, but the Peruvians now begin to discover the
error of their former masters, and look forward with anxiety to the
period when the guano will no longer suffice for the wants of husbandry.
At the present day they use it chiefly in the cultivation of maize and
potatoes. A few weeks after the seeds begin to shoot, a little hole
is made round each root and filled up with guano, which is afterwards
covered with a layer of earth. After the lapse of twelve or fifteen
hours, the whole field is laid under water, and left in that state for
about half a day. Of the guano blanco a less quantity suffices, and the
field must be more speedily and abundantly watered, otherwise the roots
would be destroyed. The effect of this manure is incredibly rapid. In a
few days the growth of the plant is doubled; if the manure is repeated
a second time, but in smaller quantity, a rich harvest is certain;--at
least the produce will be three times greater than that which would have
been obtained from the unmanured soil. The uniformity of climate, along a
coast where rain is _never_ known to fall, contributes essentially to the
superior quality of the Chincha guano, as atmospherical precipitations
naturally dissolve and wash away many of the most fertilising salts.
The consumption of guano in Western Europe, and particularly in England,
increases with surprising rapidity. On the island of Iquique a layer
thirty feet deep, and covering a space of 220,000 square feet, has been
entirely removed within twenty-seven years. In the year 1854, 250,000
tons were dug in the Chincha Islands, and the actual annual exportation
amounts to double the quantity. The digestive functions of the Sula and
her companions thus bring in _larger_ sums to the Peruvian Government
than all the silver mines of Cerro de Pasco, and the transport of the
guano employs larger fleets than ever Spain possessed at the brightest
period of her power.
"The Chincha Islands," says Castelnau (_Expédition dans les Parties
Centrales de l'Amérique du Sud_; Paris, 1851), "are completely desert and
devoid of vegetation; their granite soil is clearly distinguished by its
colour from the thick stratum of guano with which it is covered, and the
surface of which looks at a distance like snow. The steep banks render
landing difficult, but facilitate at the same time the shipping of the
produce, as the vessels lie at anchor close to the pits. Digging takes
place at three places, close to one another, and the traveller has only
to compare the enormous deposits with the smallness of the excavations,
which at some distance are hardly perceptible, to convince himself of
the inexhaustible supply. Some huts have been constructed on the island,
where, in the midst of ammoniacal effluvia, some Peruvian customhouse
officers and soldiers superintend the working of the guano-mines."
[Illustration: Birds of Passage.]
CHAP. XI.
THE REPTILES OF THE OCEAN.
The Saurians of the Past Seas.--The Anatomical Structure of the
Turtles.--Their Size.--Their Visits to the Shores.--The Dangers that
await their Young.--Turtles on the Brazilian Coast.--Prince Maximilian
of Neuwied and the Turtle.--Conflicts of the Turtles with Wild Dogs
and Tigers on the Coast of Java.--Turtle-catching on Ascension
Island.--Tortoise-shell.--The Amblyrhynchus cristatus.--Marine
Snakes.--The Great Sea-Snake.
There was a time when the reptiles were the monarchs of the sea, when the
ocean swarmed with gigantic saurians, tyrants of the fishes, combining
the swiftness of the dolphin with the rapacity of the crocodile. Had
those monsters of the deep been endowed with human intelligence, they
would most likely also, with human arrogance, have boasted of an eternal
sway. For where in the whole ocean was the enemy that could cope with
them? Did not all beings flee wherever they appeared? and did not the
inexhaustible sea promise them an everlasting supply of food?
[Illustration: Ichthyosaurus.]
But in spite of their colossal power, the saurians, like all created
beings, have been forced to succumb to time.
Centuries and centuries passed on, the sea and air gradually changed,
the temperature of the elements no longer remained the same, and thus
by degrees a new ocean and a new atmosphere were formed, uncongenial to
the nature of those huge reptiles. Thus they have been effaced from the
roll of living things, and some petrified remains alone bear testimony to
their former existence.
The most powerful saurians of the present day--the crocodile the gavial
and the alligator--have left to the dolphins, the sharks, and other
monstrous or swiftly-swimming cetaceans and fishes the dominion of the
seas, and now merely infest the rivers and swamps of the tropical zone.
The lizards also have long since retired from the scene where they once
abounded, and the ocean at present harbours no other reptiles in its
bosom than turtles and sea-snakes.
Most of the animals belonging to this class are either dangerous or of
a disgusting appearance. Few creatures are objects of such universal
abhorrence as the crocodile--the very type of brutal cold-blooded
ferocity; as the venomous snake--the emblem of perfidy and ingratitude;
or as the loathsome, but innocent toad, to which, on account of its
ugliness, noxious properties have been ascribed which the poor animal
does not possess. The frogs, lizards, and turtles alone seem to have
escaped this general detestation, either from their more active habits,
or their well-known harmlessness, or their various utility to man.
The anatomy of the turtle offers many points of interest; its vertebræ,
ribs, and breast-bone growing together so as to form a bony envelope
round the whole animal. This harness is covered by the skin, which in
its turn is bedecked with large scales, while all the muscles and other
soft parts are enclosed in the inner cavity. Only the head, feet, and
tail protrude through openings between the upper and under carapace, and
these can, by the land tortoises at least, be withdrawn entirely under
the former. This is the only protection which Nature has afforded these
animals against their enemies, for they have neither swiftness of flight,
nor any offensive weapon at their command. But as soon as anything
suspicious approaches, they conceal themselves under their massive cover,
and oppose to every attack by tooth or nail the passive resistance of an
impenetrable shield. Most of their enemies find it, besides, no easy task
to turn them on their back, as many species attain a very considerable
weight, so that their mere bulk constitutes a good defence. It might
be supposed that this protection could only avail for a short time, as
the want of air must soon force the animal to stretch its head out of
its hiding-place, and this indeed would be the case, if kind Nature had
not taken her measures against this emergency, by giving the creature a
_cold_ blood, so that it can remain a very long time without breathing;
long enough, at least, to tire the patience of the most obstinate foe.
[Illustration: Skeleton of Tortoise.
A, superior maxilla; B, inferior maxilla; C, ossiculum auditus;
D, os hyoides; E, cervical vertebræ; F, dorsal vertebræ;
G, sacrum; H, caudal vertebræ; I, dorsal ribs; K, marginal scales;
N, scapula; O, coracoid bone; P, os humeri; Q, radius; R, ulna;
S, bones of the carpus; T, metacarpal bones; U, digital phalanges;
V, pelvis; W, femur; X, tibia; Y, fibula; Z, tarsus; Æ, metatarsus;
A.V., phalanges of the foot.
]
But how comes it, the reader may ask, that respiration, which pours a
warm current through our veins, fails in raising the temperature of the
turtle's blood?
Without entering into a lengthened description of the human heart, I
shall merely observe that it consists of two halves (each half being
again subdivided into two separate chambers), and that the right half,
which receives venous blood and pours it into the lungs, is completely
separated by a partition from the left half, which receives arterial or
aërated blood from the lungs, and propels it into every part of the body.
Thus the two different kinds of blood are completely separated, so that
an _unmixed_ venous blood flows into the lungs, where it is converted by
the oxygen of the air into arterial blood. But this connection, like most
chemical processes, takes place under an evolution of heat, which is so
considerable that our internal temperature constantly maintains itself at
the height of 98° F.
[Illustration: Theoretic Representation of the Circulation in Mammals and
Birds.]
[Illustration: Theoretic Representation of the Circulation in Reptiles.]
But the turtle's heart is differently formed, consisting, as the annexed
theoretic representation shows, of but one ventricle and two auricles,
so that a _mixed_, or only half aërated blood circulates throughout the
body, which naturally produces a torpidity of the whole vital process.
Besides, the lungs of the reptiles are incapable of aërating so great a
quantity of blood as ours, as their cells are much larger, thus offering
less surface to the action of the air; and finally, the ribs of the
turtles being immovable, they are incapable of extending the lungs, so
that the animal is absolutely obliged to swallow the necessary supply
of air, and to pump it, as it were, into the lungs, by contracting the
muscles of the throat. Thus we see that every precaution has been taken
to reduce respiration to a low standard, and prevent the evolution of
heat. With this indolence of its cold-blooded circulation, the whole
nature of the animal is in harmony; the bluntness of its senses, its want
of intelligence, its slow movements, and its long endurance of hunger,
thirst, and want of air. It leads but a drowsy dream-like existence,
and yet, we may be sure, it is far from unhappy, for all its functions
and organs agree perfectly one with the other, and when concord reigns,
enjoyment of some kind must exist.
The turtles are distinguished from the land tortoises particularly
by their large and long fin-shaped feet, and also by a longer tail,
which serves them as a rudder. They have no teeth, but the horny upper
jaw closes over the lower like the lid of a box, thus serving them as
excellent shears, either for crushing shells or dividing the tough fibres
of the sea-grass.
[Illustration: Green Turtle.]
They are at home in all the warmer seas, but sometimes they are carried
by oceanic streams far away from their accustomed haunts. Thus, in the
year 1752, a Green turtle, six feet long, and weighing 900 pounds,
stranded near Dieppe; and in 1778 another, seven feet long, on the coast
of Languedoc. One taken on the coast of Cornwall in July, 1756, measured
from the tip of the nose to the end of the shell, six feet nine inches,
and the weight was supposed to be nearly 800 pounds. These few examples
show us that the turtles rank among the larger inhabitants of the ocean,
although they are far from attaining the fabulous proportions assigned to
them by Pliny (who makes the Indians use their shells as boats or roofs),
or the enormous size of some colossal extinct species, such as the fossil
tortoise from the Siwala hills, preserved in the East Indian Museum,
which measures twelve feet in length. They live almost constantly at
sea, partly on shell-fish, like the fierce Loggerhead turtle (_Testudo
Caretta_), partly on sea-grass, like the Green turtle (_T. Midas_), and
only go on shore during the warmest months of the year, for the purpose
of laying their eggs.
[Illustration: Loggerhead Turtle.]
"We followed the monotonous sea-coast," says Prince Maximilian of
Neuwied, in his interesting "Travels through the Brazils;" "our two
soldiers, a Negro and an Indian, frequently stopping to dig turtle-eggs
out of the sand, which, boiled in sea-water, used to form our evening
repast. Once, while they were busy gathering drift-wood for cooking,
we found at a small distance from our fire an enormous turtle busy
laying her eggs. We could not possibly have met with anything more
agreeable; the creature seemed to have crawled there for the express
purpose of providing for our supper. Our presence did not discompose her
in the least; she allowed herself to be touched, and even raised from
the ground, for which purpose four men were required. During our loud
deliberations on her future fate, she gave no other sign of uneasiness
than a blowing sound, and continued to work slowly with her hind fins,
throwing up the earth at regular intervals.
"One of the soldiers stretched himself out at full length on the ground
near the purveyor of our kitchen, inserted his arm into the earth-hole,
and threw out the eggs as they were laid by the turtle. In this manner
above a hundred were collected in about ten minutes. A council was now
held as to the means of adding the beast to our collection, but as it
would have required an additional mule for the transport, we gave it its
life. These colossal turtles--Midas, Coriacea, and Caretta--especially
choose these desert coasts for the laying of their eggs. They emerge from
the sea in the dusk of evening, and then crawl back again into the water
one or two hours after the setting of the sun. Thus also the friendly
turtle, which had so abundantly provided for our wants, disappeared after
a short time; we found the large hole filled up, and a broad trace in the
sand showed that the animal had again retreated to its favourite element.
The Midas is said to lay from ten to twelve dozen, and the Coriacea from
eighteen to twenty dozen eggs at once."
The wild sand coast of Bantam (Java) is annually frequented by a large
number of turtles. They are often obliged to creep over nearly a quarter
of a mile of the beach, before finding at the foot of the sand-dunes a
dry and loose soil fit for their purpose; and on this journey, which for
them is a very long one, they have many dangers to encounter. Hundreds of
their skeletons lie scattered about the strand, many of them five feet
long, and three feet broad; some bleached and cleaned by time, others
still half filled with putrid intestines, and others, again, quite fresh
and bleeding. High in the air a number of birds of prey wheel about,
scared by the traveller's approach. Here is the place where the turtles
are attacked by the wild dogs. In packs of from twenty to fifty, the
growling rabble assails the poor sea-animal at every accessible point,
gnaws and tugs at the feet and at the head, and succeeds by united
efforts in turning the huge creature upon its back. Then the abdominal
scales are torn off, and the ravenous dogs hold a bloody meal on the
flesh, intestines, and eggs of their defenceless prey. Sometimes,
however, the turtle escapes their rage, and dragging its lacerating
tormentors along with it, succeeds in regaining the friendly sea. Nor
do the dogs always enjoy an undisturbed repast. Often during the night,
the "lord of the wilderness," the royal tiger, bursts out of the forest,
pauses for a moment, casts a glance over the strand, approaches slowly,
and then with one bound, accompanied by a terrific roar, springs among
the dogs, scattering the howling band like chaff before the wind. And now
it is the tiger's turn to feast, but even he, though rarely, is sometimes
disturbed by man. Thus, on this lonely, melancholy coast, wild dogs and
tigers wage an unequal war with the inhabitants of the ocean.
The cold-blooded turtle is obliged to confide the hatching of her eggs
to the sun, which generally accomplishes the task in three weeks. On
creeping out of the egg, the young, even those of the largest species,
are not larger than half-a-crown and of a white colour. Unprotected by
a parent's tenderness, the poor little creatures seem only to be born
for immediate death. Their first instinctive movements are towards
the element for which they are destined; slowly they drag themselves
towards the water, but the sea meets them with a rough embrace, and the
unmerciful waves generally throw them back again upon the shore. Here
they are attacked by great sea-birds, storks and herons, against which,
in spite of their smallness, they make feeble efforts of defence, or by
still more powerful beasts of prey; and thus the greater part of the
unfortunate brood is destroyed at its very first entrance into life;
while those which reach the sea, are generally devoured by sharks and
other sharp-toothed fishes. It is therefore not in vain that the turtle
lays four or five hundred eggs in the course of a single summer, for were
she less fruitful, the race would long since have been extinguished.
I need hardly mention, that the flesh of the green turtle is everywhere
esteemed as a first-rate delicacy. The king of the Manga Reva Islands in
the South Sea keeps them in a pen for the wants of his table; and the
London alderman is said to know no greater enjoyment than swallowing
a basin of turtle soup. Hence it is no wonder that the mariner, tired
of salt-beef and dried peas, persecutes them on all the coasts of the
tropical seas, wherever solitude, a flat beach, and a favourable season
promise to reward his trouble.
Bernardin de St. Pierre gives us the following picturesque description
of turtle-catching on Ascension Island;--"Fire-wood, a kettle, and the
great boat-sail were landed, and the sailors lay down to sleep, as the
turtles do not emerge from the sea before night-fall. The moon rose
above the horizon and illumined the solitude, but her light, which adds
new charms to a friendly prospect, rendered this desolate scene more
dreary still. We were at the foot of a black hillock, on whose summit
mariners had planted a great cross. Before us lay the plain, covered with
innumerable blocks of black lava, whose crests, whitened by the drippings
of the sea-birds, glistened in the moonbeam. These pallid heads on dark
bodies, some of which were upright, and others reclined, appeared to us
like phantoms hovering over tombs. The greatest stillness reigned over
this desolate earth, interrupted only from time to time by the breaking
of a wave, or the shriek of a sea-bird. We went to the great bay to await
the arrival of the turtles, and there we lay flat upon the sand in the
deepest silence, as the least noise frightens the turtles, and causes
them to withdraw. At last we saw three of them rising out of the water,
and slowly creeping on shore, like black masses. We immediately ran up to
the first, but our impatience caused it to drop immediately again into
the sea, where it escaped our pursuit. The second, which had already
advanced too far, was unable to retreat; we turned it on its back. In
this way we caught about fifty turtles, some of which weighed five
hundred pounds. Next morning, at ten, the boat came to fetch the produce
of our nocturnal sport. This work occupied us the whole day, and in the
evening the superfluous turtles were restored to the sea. If suffered
to remain a long time on their back, their eyes become blood-red, and
start out of their sockets. We found several on the strand that had
been allowed to perish in this position, a cruel negligence, of which
thoughtless sailors are but too often guilty."
In the sea, also, the turtles are pursued by man. In the clear West
Indian waters, where they are frequently seen at great depths, feeding
on the sea-grass meadows, divers plunge after them and raise them to the
surface. Sometimes they are harpooned, or even caught sleeping on the
waters.
The ancient Romans, who spent such extravagant sums upon dishes repugnant
to our taste, seem to have had but little relish for turtle flesh, which
otherwise the conquerors of the world might easily have obtained from
the Red Sea; for though we read that Vitellius feasted upon the brains
of pheasants, and the tongues of nightingales, it is nowhere mentioned,
that he ever, like the Lord Mayor of London, set seven hundred tureens of
turtle soup before his guests.
On the other hand, they made a very extensive use of tortoise-shell,
the produce of the Hawk's-bill turtle (Testudo imbricata) a native
both of the American and Asiatic seas, and sometimes, but more rarely,
met with in the Mediterranean. The flesh of the animal is not held in
any estimation as a food, but the plates of the shell being thicker,
stronger, and cleaner than those of any other species, render it of great
importance as an article of trade.
[Illustration: Hawk's-bill Turtle.]
"Carvilius Pollio," says Pliny, "a man of great invention in matters
pertaining to luxury, was the first who cut the plates of the tortoise
for veneering or inlaying." The Romans imported large quantities of this
precious article from Egypt, and under the reign of Augustus, the wealthy
patricians used even to inlay the doors and columns of their palaces
with it. When Alexandria was taken by Julius Cæsar, the warehouses were
so full of tortoise-shell that the conqueror proposed to make it the
principal ornament of his triumph.
The use of tortoise-shell for the decoration of houses and furniture
is long since out of fashion, but it is still in great request for the
making of combs and boxes. By steeping it in boiling water it softens,
and may then, by a strong pressure, be moulded into any form. When a
considerable extent of surface is required, different pieces must be
joined together. This is done by scraping thin the edges of the pieces to
be united, and laying them over each other while they are in the heated
and softened state; strong pressure being then applied, they become
completely agglutinated. It is in this way that gold, silver, and other
metals for different ornaments are made to adhere to tortoise-shell.
* * * * *
When, at the beginning of the chapter, I mentioned that the lizards had
entirely forsaken the ocean, I forgot that the Galapagos Islands in the
South Sea, right under the Equator, exclusively possess a maritime animal
of this kind, which, from its being the sole existing representative,
or dwindled descendant of the giant oceanic saurians of yore, is far
too interesting to be passed unnoticed. This lizard is extremely common
on all the islands throughout the Archipelago. It lives exclusively on
the rocky sea-beaches, and is never found,--at least Mr. Darwin never
saw one,--even ten yards inshore. It is a hideous-looking creature, of
a dirty black colour, stupid and sluggish in its movements. The usual
length of a full-grown one is about a yard, but there are some even
four feet long. These lizards were occasionally seen some hundred yards
from the shore, swimming about; and Captain Collnett, in his "Voyage,"
says they go out to sea in shoals to fish. With respect to the object,
Mr. Darwin believes he is mistaken; but the fact, stated on such good
authority, cannot be doubted. When in the water the animal swims with
perfect ease and quickness by a serpentine movement of its body and
flattened tail; the legs, during this time, being motionless and closely
collapsed on its sides. A seaman of the "Beagle" sank one with a heavy
weight attached to it, thinking thus to kill it directly; but when an
hour afterwards he drew up the line the lizard was quite active. Their
limbs and strong claws are admirably adapted for crawling over the
rugged and fissured masses of lava, which every where form the coast. In
such situations a group of six or seven of these hideous reptiles may
oftentimes be seen on the black rocks, a few feet above the surf, basking
in the sun with outstretched legs.
Mr. Darwin opened the stomach of several, and in each case found it
largely distended with minced sea-weed, of a kind growing at the bottom
of the sea, at some little distance from the coast. The nature of this
lizard's food, as well as the structure of its tail, and the certain fact
of its having been seen voluntarily swimming out at sea, absolutely prove
its aquatic habits; yet there is in this respect one strange anomaly,
namely, that when frightened it will not enter the water. From this cause
it is easy to drive these lizards down to any little point overhanging
the sea, where they will sooner allow a person to catch hold of their
tail than jump into the water. They do not seem to have any notion of
biting; but when much frightened they squirt a drop of fluid from each
nostril. One day Mr. Darwin carried one to a deep pool left by the
retiring tide, and threw it in several times as far as he was able. It
invariably returned in a direct line to the spot where he stood. It swam
near the bottom with a very graceful and rapid movement, and occasionally
aided itself over the uneven ground with its feet. As soon as it arrived
near the margin, but still being under water, it either tried to conceal
itself in the tufts of sea-weed, or it entered some crevice. As soon
as it thought the danger was past, it crawled out on the dry rocks and
shuffled away as quickly as it could. Mr. Darwin several times caught
this same lizard by driving it down to a point, and, though possessed
of such perfect powers of diving and swimming, nothing could induce it
to enter the water; and as often as he threw it in, it returned in the
manner above described.
Perhaps this singular piece of apparent stupidity may be accounted for
by the circumstance that this reptile has no enemy whatever on shore,
whereas at sea it must often fall a prey to the numerous sharks. Hence,
probably urged by a fixed and hereditary instinct that the shore is its
place of safety, whatever the emergency may be, it there takes refuge.
On a comparison of this singular animal with the true iguanas, the most
striking and important discrepancy is in the form of the head. Instead
of the long pointed narrow muzzle of those species, we have here a
short obtusely truncated head, not so long as it is broad; the mouth
consequently is capable of being opened to only a very small extent. From
this circumstance, and from the crest on its head, it has received the
Latin name of _Amblyrhynchus cristatus_.
* * * * *
The serpent race, which thrives so abundantly in the tropical forests
and morasses, has also its marine representatives in the Indian and
Pacific Oceans, where more than fifty species of Hydrophis, Pelamys, and
Chersydra have been found. They are distinguished from their terrestrial
relations by the flattened form of their tail, the planes of which being
directed vertically give it the properties of a powerful oar, in striking
the water by lateral oscillations. These sea-snakes always appear to
prefer calms, swimming on the still surface in an undulating manner,
never raising the head much from the surface, or vaulting out of the
water. They dive with facility on the approach of danger, but do not
appear to be particularly timid.
[Illustration: Water-Snake.]
The Pelamys bicolor is very common from India to Otaheite. In the seas
of Mindoro and Sooloo, Mr. Adams saw thousands swimming on the top of
the water, especially in eddies and tide-ways where the ripple collects
numerous fish and medusæ, which principally constitute their prey. Their
tongue is white and forked, differing in respect of its colour from
the tongue of other snakes, which is generally black. The water-snakes,
which are frequently beautifully banded, and as thick as a man's leg, are
said to be highly venomous. Captain Cook, in one of his voyages, "saw
abundance of water-snakes, one of which was coming up the side of our
ship, and our men beat it off. The Spaniards affirm there is no cure for
such as are bit by them; and one of our blacks happened to fall under
that misfortune, and died notwithstanding the utmost care was taken by
our surgeons to recover him."
Such are the _real_ sea-snakes as they are met with by ordinary
travellers, while _the great sea-serpent_, which from time to time
dives up in the columns of the newspapers, must, until better evidence
be brought forward for its existence, be banished to those dim regions
peopled by unicorns, griffins, krakens, and tailed men.
Olaus Magnus, it is true, speaks of the great sea-snake as if it made its
daily appearance on the Norwegian coast. According to him, it inhabits
the rocky caves near Bergen, and wanders forth at night, particularly
by moonshine, to commit its depredations by sea and land; as calves
and pigs seem to suit its appetite as well as fishes and lobsters. The
body is covered with scales, a long mane flows along the neck, and the
head, furnished with two glistening eyes, rises like a mast out of the
water. It often attacks ships, and picks up seamen from the deck. This
description may serve as an example of the boldness with which authors
have sometimes asserted the most extravagant things.
The Greenland missionary Egede tells us in his Journal, that "on the 6th
of July, 1734, there appeared a very large and frightful sea-monster,
which raised itself so high out of the water that its head reached above
our main-top. It had a long sharp snout, very broad flappers, and spouted
water like a whale. The body seemed to be covered with scales, the skin
was uneven and wrinkled, and the lower part was formed like a snake.
After some time the creature plunged backwards into the water, and then
turned its tail up above the surface, a whole ship-length from the head."
It is hard to disbelieve so pious and excellent a man, whose excited
fancy no doubt gave extraordinary forms and dimensions to some commoner
sea-animal of large size; but the testimony of a Scoresby, who during his
frequent Arctic voyages never saw anything of the kind, would have been
more convincing.
If to this account of Egede be added the reports of some other northern
divines, such as Pontoppidan, the missionary Nicholas Græmius, and
Maclean, who either pretend to have actually seen the monster or write
about it from hearsay--and the testimony of a few seamen, among others
of Captain M'Quhae of the Dædalus, who, on the 6th of August, 1848, saw
a sea-snake on his homeward voyage from the East Indies; we have all the
evidence extant in favour of the existence of the monstrous animal.
In opposition to these testimonies, incredulous naturalists beg to
remark, that no museum possesses a single bone of the huge snake, and
that its body has nowhere been found swimming on the ocean or cast
ashore. They therefore agree with Professor Owen in regarding the
negative evidence, from the utter absence of any recent remains, as
stronger against their actual existence than the positive statements
which have hitherto weighed with the public mind in favour of their
reality; and believe that a larger body of evidence from eye-witnesses
might be got together in proof of the reality of ghosts than in proof of
the existence of the great sea-serpent.
The plain truth seems to be that lines of rolling porpoises, resembling
a long string of buoys, first gave origin to the marvellous stories of
the fabulous monster. For, keeping in close single file, and progressing
rapidly along the calm surface of the water by a succession of leaps
or demivaults forward, part only of their uncouth forms appears to the
eye, so as to resemble the undulatory motions of one large serpentiform
animal.
CHAP. XII.
THE MARINE FISHES.
General Observations on Fishes.--Their Locomotive
Organs.--Tail.--Fins.--Classification of Fishes by
Cuvier.--Air-Bladder.--Scales.--Beauty of the Tropical Fishes.--The
Gills.--Terrestrial Voyages of the Anabas and the Hassar.--Examples
of Parental Affection.--Organs of Sense.--Offensive Weapons
of Fishes.--The Sea-Wolf.--The Shark.--The Saw-Fish.--The
Sword-Fish.--The Torpedo.--The Star-Gazer.--The Angler.--The Chætodon
Rostratus.--The Remora, used for catching Turtles.--Defensive Weapons
of Fishes.--The Weever.--The Stickleback.--The Sun-Fish.--The
Flying-Fish.--The numerous Enemies of the Fishes.--Importance and
History of the Herring Fishery.--The Pilchard.--The Sprat.--The
Anchovy.--The Cod.--The Sturgeons.--The Salmon.--The Tunny.--The
Mackerel Family.--The Eel.--The Murey.--The Conger.--The
Sand-Launce.--The Plectognaths.--The Sea-Horse.--The Pipe-Fish.--The
Flat-Fishes.--The Rays.--The Fecundity of Fishes.
The bosom of the ocean is full of mysteries; it conceals a whole world of
curiously-shaped animals, which the naturalist only superficially knows,
and may, perhaps, never be able to fathom. To observe the habits of
terrestrial animals, and accurately to determine their various species,
is a comparatively easy task; but the denser element in which fishes live
prevents us from following their motions with exactness, from studying
their instincts, and from noting with fidelity their specific differences.
Since Pliny, who mentions but seventy-four different kinds of fishes, the
number of known species has indeed enormously increased. The ancients,
who knew only the waters of the Mediterranean and a very small part of
the ocean, had no conception of the finny multitudes inhabiting the
tropical and icy seas; but although modern science has succeeded in
describing and picturing above eight thousand different kinds of fishes,
yet there can be no doubt that many still unknown species dwell in the
depths of ocean, or in the distant seas which are but seldom visited by
the European mariner.
If the whole economy of the world of fishes were opened to our view,
the magnificent picture would, no doubt, give us additional reasons for
admiring the infinite wisdom of the Creator; but the little we do know
suffices to convince us that the same wonderful harmony existing between
the anatomical structure and the outward relations or mode of life in
birds and mammiferous quadrupeds is also to be found in fishes, and that
these creatures, though occupying a lower grade in Creation, are no less
beautifully adapted to the peculiar element in which they are destined to
live and move.
This strikes us at once in their external form, which, though subject to
great variety, being sometimes spherical as in the globe-fish, or cubical
as in the ostracion, or expanded as in the skate, or snake-like as in
the eel, is generally that of an elongated oval, slightly compressed
laterally, a shape which enables the fishes to traverse their native
fluid with the greatest celerity and ease. We wisely endeavour to imitate
this peculiar form in the construction of our ships, yet the rapidity
with which the fastest clipper cleaves the waters is nothing to the
velocity of an animal formed to reside in that element. The flight of
an arrow is not more rapid than the darting of a tunny, a salmon, or a
gilt-head through the water. It has been calculated that a salmon will
glide over 86,400 feet in an hour, that it will advance more than a
degree of the meridian of the earth in a day, and that it could easily
make the tour of the world in some weeks, were it desirous of emulating
the fame of a Cook or of a Magellan. Every part of the body seems exerted
in this despatch; the fins, the tail, and the motion of the whole
backbone assist progression; and it is to this admirable flexibility of
body, which mocks the efforts of art, that fishes owe the astonishing
rapidity of their movements.
Whales and dolphins move onwards by striking the water in a vertical
direction, while fishes glide along by laterally curving and extending
the spine. In some species, such as the eel, the whole body is flexible;
but most of them paddle away with their tail to the right and left, and
are thus driven forwards by the resistance of the water. Consequently the
power of fishes is chiefly concentrated in the muscles bending the spine
sideways, and generally we find these parts so much developed as to form
the greatest part of the body.
[Illustration: Skeleton of the Perch.
A A, Dorsal Fins; B, Caudal; C, Anal; D, Ventral; E, Pectoral.]
The fins are the most important auxiliary organs of locomotion in fishes.
The dorsal, caudal, and anal fins serve by their vertical position to
increase the extent of the rowing surface, and to maintain the animal's
balance, while the pectoral and ventral fins, which must be considered as
the representatives of the fore and hind limbs of other vertebrata, are,
moreover, of great assistance in directing its movements. With the help
of these organs, fishes can advance or retrograde, ascend or descend in
the water as they please, and it is curious to observe how, alternately
extending or contracting one fin or the other, they gracefully plough the
liquid element in every direction.
It is no less wonderful how perfectly the size and texture of the fins
corresponds with the habits and necessities of the different species
of fishes. Those which traverse vast portions of the ocean, or have
frequently to struggle against swelling waves, are furnished with large
and strong fins, while these organs are soft in the species which confine
themselves to greater depths, where the winds cease to disturb the waters.
From the great variety which is met with both in the number and position
of the fins, they are also of the greatest use in the classification of
fishes, and afford the naturalist many of the chief characters which
serve to distinguish the several orders, families, genera, and species of
these aquatic vertebrates.[M]
[Footnote M: Cuvier divides the fishes into:
I. Chondropterygii--Skeleton cartilaginous; fins supported by
cartilaginous rays; and
II. Osteopterygii--Skeleton composed of true bone.
The Chondropterygii are subdivided into three orders:
(_a_) Sturionidæ (sturgeons), with free gills.
(_b_) Selacii (rays, sharks), with gills fixed and a mouth formed for
mastication.
(_c_) Cyclostomata (lamprey, myxine), with gills fixed and a mouth
formed for suction.
The osseous fishes, which are far more numerous, are subdivided into six
orders:
(_a_) Acanthopterygii; distinguished by the stiff spines which
constitute the first fin-rays of the dorsal fin, or which support
the anterior fin of the back in case there are two dorsals. In some
cases the anterior dorsal fin is only represented by detached spines.
The first rays of the anal fin are likewise spinous, as well as the
first ray of the ventral fin. To this extensive order, which comprises
about three-fourths of the osseous fishes, belong, among others, the
families of the perches, gurnards, mackerels, mullets, breams, gobies,
blennies, &c.
The three following orders of the osseous fishes have the rays that
support the fins soft and composed of numerous pieces articulated with
each other, with the exception in some cases of the first ray of the
dorsal, or of the pectoral. Their leading character is afforded by the
situation or absence of the ventral fin, which in the
(_b_) Malacopterygii abdominales are suspended beneath the abdomen,
and behind the pectorals; in the
(_c_) Malacopterygii subbrachiales beneath the pectorals; and in the
(_d_) Malacopterygii apodes are totally wanting.
To the abdominal soft-rayed fishes belong the herring, salmon, pike, sly,
and carp families; to the subbrachial, the cod family, the side-swimmers,
and the lump fishes; and, finally, to the apodal malacopterygians, the
single family of the anguilliform fishes. The small order of the
(_e_) Lophobranchi comprises the pipe-fishes, sea-horses, in whom
the gills are not pectinated, as in the preceding subdivisions, but
consist of little round tufts; and, finally, the
(_f_) Plectognathi--comprising the file, porcupine, and sun
fishes--are distinguished by their maxillaries and premaxillaries
being joined immovably to each other, so as to render the upper jaw
incapable of protrusion.
]
Most fishes possess a remarkable accessory organ of locomotion in the
air-bladder or swim-bladder which extends to a greater or smaller
distance along the ventral surface of the spine, and enables them
voluntarily to increase or diminish the specific gravity of their body.
When they contract this remarkable gas-reservoir, or press out the
included air by means of the abdominal muscles, the bulk of the body
is diminished, its weight in proportion to the water is increased, and
the fish swims easily at a greater depth. The contrary takes place on
relaxing the tension of the abdominal muscles; and thus we see fishes
rise and fall in their denser element by the application of the same
physical law which is made use of by our aëronauts, to scale the heavens
or to descend again upon the earth. Those fishes which are destined to
live at the bottom of the sea or to conceal themselves in the mud, such
as eels and skates, have either no air-bladder or a very small one--for
economical Nature gives none of her creatures any organ that would be
useless to them. Even the slimy glutinous matter which is secreted from
the pores of most fishes, and lubricates their bodies, assists them in
gliding through the waters, so that no means have been neglected to
promote the rapidity of their movements.
The skin of fishes is but seldom naked; in most species it is covered
with scales, that sometimes appear in the form of osseous plates,
as in the ostracions, or project into formidable prickles, as in
the porcupine-fish, but generally offer the aspect of thin laminæ,
overlapping each other like the tiles of a roof, and embedded, like our
nails, in furrows of the skin. In nearly all the existing fishes, the
scales are flexible and generally either of a more or less circular
form (_cycloid_), as in the salmon, herring, roach, &c., or provided
with comb-like teeth projecting from the posterior margin (_ctenoid_),
as in the sole, perch, pike, &c.; while the majority of fossil fishes
were decked with hard bony scales, either rhomboidal in their form, of
a highly polished surface, as in our sturgeons (_ganoid_), and arranged
in regular rows, the posterior edges of each slightly overlapping the
anterior ones of the next, so as to form a very complete defensive armour
to the body; or irregular in their shape and separately imbedded in the
skin (_placoid_), as in the sharks and rays of the present day.
[Illustration: Portion of Skin of Sole highly magnified.]
The scales of almost any fish afford admirable subjects for microscopic
observation, but more particularly those of the ctenoid kind, which
exhibit a brilliancy of reflected light, and a regularity of structure,
such as no human mosaic could ever equal.
Many of our European fishes are richly decorated with vivid colours,
but their scaly raiment is generally far from equalling the gorgeous
magnificence of the fishes of the tropical seas.
If in the birds of the equatorial zone a part of the plumage sparkles
with a gem-like brilliancy, all the colours of the rainbow combine
to decorate the raiment of the tropical fishes, and no human art can
reproduce the beauty of their metallic lustre, which at every movement in
the crystalline waters exhibits to the enchanted eye new combinations and
reflections of the most splendid tints.
The gaudiest fishes live among the coral reefs. In the tepid waters,
where the zoophytes, those sensitive flowers of the ocean, build their
submarine palaces, we find the brilliant Chetodons, the gorgeous
Balistinæ, and the azure Glyphysodons gliding from coral branch to coral
branch like the playful Colibris, that over the Brazilian fields dart
from one lustrous petal to another.
Oxygen is as necessary to fishes and other marine creatures as it is
to the terrestrial animals, but as they are obliged to draw it from a
denser element, which absorbs but a small volume of air, their gills
are necessarily differently constructed from the lungs of the creatures
breathing in the atmosphere. In most species, comprising all the bony
fishes, and the sturgeons, among those which have a cartilaginous
skeleton, we find on either side of the throat five apertures, separated
from each other by four crooked, parallel and unequal bones, and leading
to a cavity, which is closed on the outside by an operculum or cover.
In this cavity, and attached to the bones, are situated the delicate
membranes, bearded like feathers, which serve to aërate the blood. The
water constantly flows through the gills in one direction, entering
by the branchial apertures of the throat, and emerging through the
operculum. This is, in more than one respect, a most wise provision of
Nature; for if the fishes were obliged to receive and reject the water
by the same aperture, as we do the air, each expiration would evidently
drive them backwards, and consequently retard their movements. It is
also evident that the delicate fringes or folds of the gills would soon
get into disorder if the water were carried through them in two opposite
directions.
In most of the cartilaginous fishes, such as the sharks, rays, and
lampreys, the gills are differently formed, the water not passing into
a cavity closed by a cover, but flowing directly outwards through five
(in the shark) or seven (in the lamprey) vents or spiracles. In these
species also the gills are fixed, their margins being attached. Though
the whole breathing apparatus of a fish is comprised in a small compass,
its surface, if fully extended, would occupy a very considerable space;
that of the common skate, for instance, being equal to the surface of
the human body. This single fact may convince us of the numberless
ramifications and convolutions of the gills, in which the water is
elaborated and attenuated in the course of giving out its air; and how
wonderfully Nature has contrived to effect her purpose with the greatest
economy of space.
[Illustration: Theoretic representation of the Circulation in Fishes.]
Respiration is a species of combustion, and this must necessarily be
very slow in an element which contains so small a portion of oxygen. No
wonder that the circulation of the blood in fishes is equally tardy.
Their heart, in comparison with _ours, is but half a one_, as it merely
serves to force the venous blood into the gills--whence the aërated blood
does not flow back to the heart as with us, to be rapidly and strongly
propelled through the body, but proceeds immediately to the arteries.
Evidently only a cold blood could be formed under such circumstances. It
may seem strange that, when fishes are taken out of the water, they die
from want of air; such, however, is the case. Their delicate breathing
membranes collapse in the atmosphere, the blood can no longer flow as
before into the innumerable small vessels with which they are interwoven,
and, by rapidly drying in the air, they soon entirely lose the faculty
of breathing. Thus those fishes whose gill-cover has a large aperture,
die soonest in the air, while those where the opening is narrow, and more
particularly those species where the gills communicate with a cellular
labyrinth containing water, which serves to keep them moist, are able to
live a much longer time in the atmosphere.
[Illustration: The Anabas of the Dry Tanks.]
[Illustration: Frog-Fish.--(Cheironectes.)]
It is owing to such a moistening apparatus that _the climbing fishes_
(Anabas) live for days out of the water, and even creep up the trees at
some distance from the shore, to catch the insects which serve them as
food--a curious instance indeed of an animal seeking its nourishment in
another element.
The Frog-fish of the Asiatic islands and the Southern hemisphere is
not more remarkable for its hideous deformity than for its capacity of
leading a terrestrial life. Not only can it live several days out of the
water but it can crawl about the room in which it is confined, a facility
which it owes to the great strength and the peculiar position of its
pectoral fins, which thus perform the office of feet. The whole aspect of
these grotesque-looking creatures, particularly in a walking position, is
so much like that of toads or frogs, that a careless observer would at
first be at some loss to determine their real nature.
A no less wonderful pedestrian is the Hassar (_Doras costata_), a South
American fish, that marches over land in search of water, travelling
a whole night when the pools dry up in which it commonly resides. It
projects itself forwards on its bony pectoral fins, by the elastic spring
of the tail, exerted sidewise, and in this manner proceeds nearly as fast
as a man will leisurely walk. The strong scuta or bands which envelop its
body must greatly facilitate its march, in the manner of the plates under
the belly of serpents, which are raised and depressed by a voluntary
power, in some measure performing the office of feet. The Indians say
justly that these fishes supply themselves with water for their journey.
If they find the pools and rivers everywhere dried up, they bury
themselves in the mud, and fall into a kind of asphyxia or lethargy, till
the rainy season recalls them again to life.
The hassar is also remarkable for a parental affection, almost unexampled
among fishes. Sir Richard Schomburgk relates that it not only builds a
complete nest for its spawn but also watches over it with the utmost
vigilance till the young brood comes forth. In April, this marine artist
begins to build his little dwelling of vegetable fibres, among the
water-plants and rushes, until it resembles a hollow ball, flattened at
the top. An aperture corresponding to the size of the mother leads into
the interior. The parental affection of the fish is shamefully misused by
man for its destruction. A small basket is held before the opening; then
the nest is slightly beaten with a stick; and, furious, with extended
fins, whose sharp points are able to inflict a painful wound, the poor
hassar darts into the fatal basket.
[Illustration: SUBAQUEOUS LIFE--STICKLEBACKS AND NEST.]
SUBAQUEOUS LIFE--STICKLEBACKS AND NEST.
This plate represents a group of fifteen-spined sticklebacks busily
employed in making their nests. To the left is seen a curious piece
of marine architecture, mentioned by Mr. Couch, the well-known
ichthyologist. A pair of sticklebacks had made their nest "in the
loose end of a rope, from which the separated strands hung out about
a yard from the surface, over a depth of four or five fathoms, and to
which the materials could only have been brought, of course, in the
mouth of the fish, from the distance of about thirty feet. They were
formed of the usual aggregation of the finer sorts of green and red
sea-weed, but they were so matted together in the hollow formed by
the untwisted strands of the rope that the mass constituted an oblong
ball of nearly the size of the fist, in which had been deposited the
scattered assemblage of spawn, and which was bound into shape with a
thread of animal substance, which was passed through and through in
various directions, while the rope itself formed an outside covering
to the whole."
The black Goby (_Gobius niger_) also prepares a nest for its eggs. This
fish inhabits the slimy bottoms of the lagoons near Venice, and burrows
galleries in the clayey soil, where it spends the greater part of the
year, protected against storms and enemies. In spring it digs more
superficial dwellings among the roots of the sea-grass, to which the
spawn attaches itself. The architect watches over the entrance of the
house, opposing sharp rows of teeth to every intruder.
A similar care may be admired in the tiny Stickleback, which the
celebrated ichthyologist, M. Coste, has often watched building its
nest. After the fish has collected the materials, it covers them with
sand, glues the walls with a mucous secretion, and prepares a suitable
entrance. At a later period it becomes the bold and indefatigable
defender of its eggs, repelling with tooth and prickles all other
sticklebacks that approach the nest. If the enemy is too powerful,
it has recourse to artifice, darts forth, seems actively engaged in
the pursuit of an imaginary prey, and often succeeds in diverting the
aggressor's attention from its nest. The River Bullhead is likewise said
to evince the same parental affection for its ova, as a bird for its
nest, returning quickly to the spot, and being unwilling to quit it when
disturbed. It is believed, also, of the Lump-Sucker, that the male first
keeps watch over the deposited ova, and guards them from every foe with
the utmost courage. If driven from the spot by man, he does not go far,
but is continually looking back, and in a short time returns. Thus we
find among the inferior animals glimpses of a higher nature, which prove
that all created beings form a continuous chain, linked together by one
all-pervading and almighty Power.
[Illustration: Internal Ear of Perch.]
[Illustration: Osseous labyrinth of the Human Ear.
_a_, Oval or vestibular fenestra; _b_, round or cochlear fenestra; _c_,
external or horizontal semicircular canal; _d_, superior or anterior
vertical semicircular canal; _e_, posterior or inferior vertical
semicircular canal; _f_, the turns of cochlea.]
The senses of the fishes are also in perfect harmony with the
peculiarities of their mode of life. Their eyes are indeed wanting in
the fire and animation which gives so much expression to the physiognomy
of the higher animals, but the structure of these organs is admirably
calculated for the element in which they are plunged, as the spherical
form and great size of the crystalline lens, by concentrating the rays
of light, enables them to see with distinctness even through so dense a
medium as that which surrounds them. When water is clear, smooth, and
undisturbed the sight of fishes is very acute, a circumstance well known
to anglers, who prefer a breeze undulating over the surface, as they can
then approach much nearer the objects of their pursuit and practise their
_artful dodges_ with a much better chance of success. The eyes in fishes
are observed to occupy very different positions in different species,
but their situation is always such as best to suit the exigencies of
the particular fish. Thus in the star-gazer and sea-devil, that watch
their prey from a muddy concealment, they are very appropriately placed
at the top of the head, while in the flat-fishes, where an eye on the
side habitually turned towards the ground would have been useless, the
distorted head, by placing both eyes on the same level, affords them an
extensive range of view in those various directions in which they may
either endeavour to find suitable food or avoid dangerous enemies. That
fishes are not deficient in the sense of hearing may be seen at once by
the annexed illustrations, which show a marked similarity of organisation
between the human ear and that of the perch. It is well known that they
start at the report of a gun, though it is impossible for them to see
the flash. Sir Joseph Banks used to collect his fishes by sounding a
bell, and the Chinese call the gold-fish with a whistle to receive their
food. In spite of their scaly covering, the fishes are not unprovided
with organs of touch. The lips in many species are soft, and the mouths
of others, such as the red mullet--for which such enormous sums were
paid by the Roman epicures--are provided with barbules largely supplied
with nerves, which no doubt enable them to distinguish the objects with
which they come in contact. In the three elongated rays of their pectoral
fins the gurnards may be said to possess fingers to compensate for their
bony lips; and in many other fishes these modified arms or forefeet are
applied as organs of feeling to ascertain the character of the bottom of
the water. "You may witness the tactile action of the pectoral fins,"
says Professor Owen,[N] "when gold-fish are transferred to a strange
vessel; their eyes are so placed as to prevent them seeing what is below
them; so they compress their air-bladder, and allow themselves to sink
near the bottom, which they sweep, as it were, by rapid and delicate
vibrations of the pectoral fins, apparently ascertaining that no sharp
stone or stick projects upwards, which might injure them in their rapid
movements round their prison." Whether fishes possess any high degree of
taste is a subject not easily proved; but, to judge by the large size of
their olfactory nerves, their sense of smell is probably acute.
[Footnote N: "Lectures on Comparative Anatomy."]
[Illustration: Red Mullet.]
[Illustration: Gurnard.]
[Illustration: Wolf-Fish.--(Anarrhicas lupus.)]
The life of fishes is a state of perpetual warfare, a constant
alternation of flight and pursuit. Prowling through the waters, they
attack and devour every weaker being they meet, or dart away to escape
a similar lot. Many of them are provided, besides their swiftness and
muscular power, with the most formidable weapons. Thus the Sea-wolf
has six rows of grinders in each jaw, excellently adapted for bruising
the crabs and whelks, which this voracious animal grinds to pieces,
and swallows along with the shells. When caught, it fastens with
indiscriminate rage upon anything within its reach, fighting desperately,
even when out of its own element, and inflicting severe wounds if not
cautiously avoided. Schönfeld relates that it will seize on an anchor,
and leave the marks of its teeth behind, and Steller informs us that
one which he saw taken on the coast of Kamschatka frantically seized a
cutlass with which it was attempted to be killed, and broke it in pieces
as if it had been made of glass. No wonder that the fishermen, dreading
its bite, endeavour as soon as possible to render it harmless by heavy
blows upon the head. The great size of the monster, which in the British
waters attains the length of six or seven feet, and in the colder and
more extreme northern seas is said to become still larger, renders it one
of the most formidable denizens of the ocean. It commonly frequents the
deep parts of the sea, but approaches the coasts in spring to deposit
its spawn among the marine plants. Fortunately for its more active
neighbours, it swims but slowly, and glides along with the serpentine
motion of the eel.
[Illustration: White Shark.]
Far more dreadful, from its gigantic size and power, is the White
Shark (_Squalus carcharias_), whose jaws are likewise furnished with
from three to six rows of strong, flat, triangular, sharp-pointed, and
finely serrated teeth, which it can raise or depress at pleasure. This
tyrant of the seas grows to a length of thirty feet, and its prodigious
strength may be judged of from the fact that a young shark, only six feet
in length, is able to break a man's leg by a stroke of its tail. Thus,
when a shark is caught with a baited hook at sea, and drawn upon deck,
the sailors' first act is to chop off its tail, to prevent the mischief
otherwise to be apprehended from its enormous strength. An anecdote
related by Hughes, the well-known and esteemed author of the "Natural
History of Barbadoes," gives a good idea of the savage nature of this
monster. "In the reign of Queen Anne a merchant-ship arrived at that
island from England: some of the crew, ignorant of the danger of the
recreation, were bathing in the sea, when a large shark appeared and swam
directly towards them; being warned of their danger, however, they all
hurried on board, where they arrived safe, except one poor fellow, who
was bit in two by the shark, almost within reach of the oars. A comrade,
and intimate friend of the unfortunate victim, when he observed the
severed trunk of his companion, vowed his revenge. The voracious monster
was seen traversing the bloody surface of the waves, in search of the
remainder of his prey, when the brave youth plunged into the water. He
held in his hand a long sharp-pointed knife; and the rapacious animal
pushed furiously towards him. He had turned on his side and opened his
enormous jaws, when the youth, diving dexterously, seized the shark with
his left hand, somewhere below the upper fins, and stabbed him repeatedly
in the belly. The animal, enraged with pain, and streaming with blood,
attempted in vain to disengage himself. The crews of the surrounding
vessels saw that the combat was decided; but they were ignorant which
was slain, till the shark, exhausted by loss of blood, was seen nearer
the shore, and along with him his gallant conqueror--who, flushed with
victory, redoubled his efforts, and, with the aid of an ebbing tide,
dragged him to the beach. Finally, he ripped open the stomach of the
fish, and buried the severed half of his friend's body with the trunk in
the same grave."
[Illustration: Hammer-headed Shark.--(Squalus Zygæna.)]
It is no uncommon thing for the negroes, who are admirable divers,
thus to attack and vanquish the dreaded shark, but success can only be
achieved by consummate dexterity, and by those who are armed for this
express purpose.
Ordinary swimmers are constantly falling a prey to the sharks of warm
climates. Thus Sir Brooke Watson, when in the West Indies, as a youth,
was swimming at a little distance from a ship, when he saw a shark making
towards him. Struck with terror at its approach, he immediately cried out
for assistance. A rope was instantly thrown, but, even while the men were
in the act of drawing him up the ship's side, the monster darted after
him, and at a single snap took off his leg.
Fortunately for the friends of sea-bathing on our shores, the white
shark, like his relation, the monstrous Hammer-headed Zygæna, appears but
seldom in the colder latitudes, though both have occasionally been found
on the British coast.
[Illustration: Picked Dog-Fish.]
The northern ocean has got its peculiar sharks, but they are generally
either good-natured like the huge basking shark (_S. maximus_), which
feeds on sea-weeds and medusæ, or else like the _Picked_ dog-fish
(_Galeus acanthius_), of too small a size to be dangerous to man, in
spite of the ferocity of their nature.
[Illustration: Blue Shark.]
But the dog-fish and several other species of our seas, such as the Blue
Shark (_Carcharias glaucus_), though they do not attempt the fisherman's
life, are extremely troublesome and injurious to him, by hovering about
his boat and cutting the hooks from the lines in rapid succession. This,
indeed, often leads to their own destruction, but when their teeth do not
deliver them from their difficulty, the blue sharks, which hover about
the Cornish coast during the pilchard season, have a singular method of
proceeding, which is, by rolling the body round so as to twine the line
about them throughout its whole length; and sometimes this is done in
such a complicated manner, that Mr. Yarrell has known a fisherman give up
any attempt to unroll it as a hopeless task. To the pilchard drift-net
this shark is a still more dangerous enemy, and it is common for it
to pass in succession along the whole length of net, cutting out, as
with shears, the fish and the net that holds them, and swallowing both
together.
[Illustration: Saw-Fish.]
[Illustration: Sword-Fish.]
The Saw-snouted Shark or Saw-fish (_Squalus pristis_), which grows
to fifteen feet in length, and the Sword-fish (_Xiphias gladius_,
_platypterus_), are furnished with peculiarly formidable weapons. The
long flat snout of the former is set with teeth on both sides through
its whole length, while the upper jaw of the latter terminates in a long
sword-shaped snout. A twenty-feet long sword-fish once ran his sword with
such violence into the keel of an East Indiaman, that it penetrated up to
the root, and the fish itself was killed by the violence of the shock.
The perforated beam, with the driven-in sword, are both preserved in
the British Museum, and give a good idea of the prodigious power of the
leviathans of ocean.
[Illustration: Torpedo.]
While most fishes only rely upon their well-armed jaws, their physical
strength, or their rapidity, for attack or defence, some of them are
provided with more mysterious weapons, and stun their victims or their
enemies by electrical discharges.
[Illustration: Muscles and Electric Batteries of the Torpedo.]
The Torpedo of the Mediterranean is furnished with wonderful organs
for this purpose, situated on each side of the anterior part of the
body,--perfect galvanic batteries, consisting of a multitude of small
prismatic columns, subdivided into cells, and interwoven with a multitude
of nerves, which serve to disengage the electric fluid, and discharge
it according to the will of the fish, or when it is excited by some
external stimulus. The shock of the torpedo is not so strong as that of
the electric eel (_Gymnotus electricus_) of the Orinoco, which is able
to stun a horse, but its power suffices to paralyse the arm of a man. A
Sly, or Silurus, found in the Nile or Senegal, and called by the Arabs
_raasch_, or lightning, and one of the many Tetrodons inhabiting the
tropical seas, is endowed with a similar faculty of producing galvanic
shocks.
[Illustration: Electric Eel.]
Some fishes, to whom nature has denied all other offensive weapons,
have recourse to stratagem for procuring their food. Hidden in the mud,
the Star-gazer (_Uranoscopus scaber_) exposes only the tip of the head,
and waving the beards with which its lips are furnished in various
directions, decoys the smaller fishes and marine insects, that mistake
these organs for worms.
The Angler, or Sea-devil (_Lophius piscatorius_), a slow swimmer, who
would very often be obliged to fast if he had only his swiftness to
rely upon, uses a similar stratagem. Crouching close to the ground, he
stirs up the sand or mud, and, hidden by the obscurity thus produced,
attracts many a prize by leisurely moving to and fro the two slender
and elongated appendages on his head, the first of which, the better
to deceive, is broad and flattened at the end, inviting pursuit by the
shining silvery appearance of the dilated part. Even the great European
Sly, a fish which has been known to grow to the length of fifteen feet,
and to attain a weight of 300 lbs. is not ashamed to owe its food to
similar deceits. Like a true lazzarone, the fat creature lies hidden in
the mud of rivers, its mouth half open, and angling with its long beards.
[Illustration: Angler.]
[Illustration: European Sly.--(Silurus glanis.)]
But no fish catches its prey in a more remarkable manner than the Beaked,
or Rostrated Chætodon, a native of the fresh waters of India. When he
sees a fly alighting on any of the plants which overhang the shallow
water, he approaches with the utmost caution, coming as perpendicularly
as possible under the object of his meditated attack. Then placing
himself in an oblique direction, with the mouth and eyes near the
surface, he remains a moment immoveable, taking his aim like a first-rate
rifleman. Having fixed his eyes directly on the insect, he darts at it a
drop of water from his tubular snout, but without showing his mouth above
the surface, from which only the drop seems to rise, and that with such
effect, that though at the distance of four, five or six feet, it very
seldom fails to bring its prey into the water. Another small East Indian
fish, the _Toxotes jaculator_, catches its food by a similar dexterous
display of archery.
[Illustration: Toxotes Jaculator.]
While all other fishes hunt only for their own benefit, the Indian
Remora, or Sucking-fish (_Echeneis Naucrates_), owes to the remarkable
striated apparatus on its head, by which it firmly adheres to any
object--rock, ship, or animal,--to which it chooses to attach itself,
the rare distinction of being employed by man as a hunting-fish. When
Columbus first discovered the West Indies, the inhabitants of the
coasts of Cuba and Jamaica made use of the remora to catch turtles, by
attaching to its tail a strong cord of palm-fibres, which served to drag
it out of the water along with its prey. By this means they were able
to raise turtles weighing several hundred pounds from the bottom; "for
the sucking-fish," says Columbus, "will rather suffer itself to be cut
to pieces than let go its hold." In Africa, on the Mozambique coast,
a similar method of catching turtles is practised to the present day.
Thus a knowledge of the habits of animals, and similar necessities, have
given rise to the same hunting artifices among nations that never had
the least communication with each other. Everybody knows the fables that
have been related of the small Mediterranean remora (_Echeneis remora_).
It even owes its Latin name to the marvellous story of its being able
to arrest a ship under full sail in the midst of the ocean; and from
this imaginary physical power a no less astonishing moral influence was
inferred, for the ancients believed that tasting the remora completely
subdued the passion of love, and that if a delinquent, wishing to gain
time, succeeded in making his judge eat some of its flesh, he was sure of
a long delay before the verdict was pronounced.
[Illustration: Sucking-fish. (Remora.)]
[Illustration: Common Weever.]
Most fishes have only a rapid flight to depend upon for their safety;
some, however, more favoured by nature, have been provided with peculiar
defensive weapons. Thus the dorsal fins of the Dragon-weever (_Trachinus
draco_), a small silvery fish, frequently occurring on our shores, are
armed with strong spines, that effectually provide against its being
easily swallowed by a more powerful enemy. The wounds it inflicts are
very troublesome and painful, though it does not appear that the spines
contain any poisonous matter, as the fishermen generally believe. At
all events, the dragon-weever is not nearly so dangerous as the _Clip
bagre_, a kind of silurus or sly, inhabiting the Brazilian rivers, that
inflicts with its long spines such painful wounds as to deprive the
sufferer of consciousness, and to produce an inflammation that lasts for
several weeks. The Lance-tails, or Acanthuri, have a sharp bony process,
not unlike the very large thorn of a rose-tree, placed on each side of
the tail; by this they can inflict a deep cut on the hand of any one who
is so imprudent as to seize them in that part.
[Illustration: Surgeon Fish. (Acanthurus.)]
I could still add a long list of spine-armed fishes, but content myself
with noticing the Stickleback, which frequently owes its preservation to
the sharp needles with which it is provided.
[Illustration: Diodon.]
The Tetrodons and Diodons have the power of inflating their body at
pleasure, and thus raising the small spines dispersed over their sides
and abdomen in such a manner, as to operate as a defence against their
enemies. These beautiful and remarkable fishes chiefly inhabit the
tropical waters, but sometimes wander into higher latitudes. Man is not
the only creature driven by the currents of fate far from the place of
his birth.
The Flying-fishes (_Exoceti_) are provided with pectoral fins of so great
a length, as to be able to carry them, like wings, a great distance
through the air. According to Mr. George Bennett ("Wanderings in New
South Wales"), they cannot raise themselves when in the atmosphere,
the elevation they take depending entirely on the power of the first
spring or leap they make on leaving their native element. Their flight,
as it is called, carries them fifteen or eighteen feet high over the
water, and the lines which they traverse when they enjoy full liberty
of motion, are very low curves, and always in the direction of their
previous progress in the usual element of fishes. Their silvery wings and
blue bodies glittering beneath the rays of a tropical sun, afford a most
beautiful spectacle, when, as is frequently the case, they rise into the
air by thousands at once, and in all possible directions. The advantage
afforded them by their wing-like fins, in escaping from the pursuit of
the bonitos and albacores, often, however, leads to their destruction
in another element, where gulls and frigate-birds frequently seize them
with lightning-like rapidity, ere they fall back again into the ocean.
It is amusing to observe a bonito swimming beneath the feeble aëronaut,
keeping him steadily in view, and preparing to seize him at the moment
of his descent. But the flying-fish often eludes the bite of his enemy,
by instantaneously renewing his leap, and not unfrequently escapes by
extreme agility.
[Illustration: Flying-Fish.]
The specific gravity of the flying-fish can be most admirably regulated
in correspondence with the element through which it may move. The
swim-bladder, when distended, occupies nearly the entire cavity of the
abdomen, thus containing a large volume of air; and in addition to this,
there is a membrane in the mouth which can be inflated through the gills.
The pectoral fins, though so large when expanded, can be folded into an
exceedingly slender, neat, and compact form, so as to be no hindrance
to swimming. A light displayed from the chains of a vessel in a dark
night, will bring many flying-fishes on board, where they are esteemed
as a great delicacy. Their fate, thus to be persecuted in both elements
and to find security nowhere, has often been pitied in prose and verse;
but although they excite so much sentimental commiseration, they are
themselves no less predaceous than their enemies, feeding chiefly on
smaller fishes.
The flying-fish of the West Indian waters is frequently allured by the
tepid waters of the Gulf-stream into higher latitudes, and Pennant cites
several examples of its having been found near the British coast.
The Flying-Gurnard (_Trigla volitans_) of the Mediterranean, Atlantic,
and Indian seas, a highly singular and beautiful species, also raises
itself into the air by means of its large pectoral fins. It does not fly
very high, but swings itself as far as a musket-ball reaches, and may
thus elude even the rapidity of the dolphin. That strangely formed fish,
the _Pegasus_ of the Indian seas, is also enabled by its large pectoral
fins to support itself for some moments in the air, when it springs over
the surface of the water.
[Illustration: Swimming Pegasus.]
Neither the quadrupeds nor the birds are subject to so many persecutions
as the fishes, which have inexorable enemies in all classes of animals.
Numberless molluscs and zoophytes feed upon their eggs, or devour their
minute fry; myriads of sea-birds are on the look-out for them along
the strands, or on the high ocean; seals and ice-bears lie in wait for
them, while with weapons and deceit, with net, angle and harpoon, man
carries death and destruction into their ranks. It would be a difficult
task to state with any degree of exactness the number of fishermen
disseminated over the face of the globe, but if we consider that, on
a moderate calculation, at least a million of persons are directly or
indirectly engaged in fishing in Great Britain and Ireland alone, and
then cast a glance over the immense coast-line of the ocean, we may
without exaggeration affirm that at least one-fiftieth part of the
human race lives upon the produce of the seas. If we further reflect
that fishes form a great part of the food of all coast-inhabitants, and
consider in what masses they are sent into the interior,--fresh, dried,
salted, smoked, and pickled,--we cannot doubt that the great extent of
the ocean only apparently limits the numbers of the human race, for how
many thousands of square miles of the most fruitful soil would it not
require to bring forth the quantity of food which the blue and green
fields of ocean supply to man? "Bounteous mother," "_Alma parens_," was
the name given by the grateful ancients to the corn and grass-producing,
herd-feeding earth; but how much more deserving of that endearing
appellation is the sea, that, without being ploughed or manured,
dispenses her gifts with such inexhaustible profusion! Numberless indeed
are the various kinds of fishes which she furnishes to man, for almost
every species affords an equally agreeable and healthy food: but of all
the finny families or tribes that people the ocean none can compare
for utility with that of the _Clupeidæ_, or Herrings, small in size but
great in importance. In mile-long shoals, often so thickly pressed that
a spear cast into them would stand upright in the living stream, the
common herring appears annually on the coasts of north-western Europe,
pouring out the horn of abundance into all the lochs, bays, coves, and
fiords, from Norway to Ireland, and from Orcadia to Normandy. Sea-birds
without end keep thinning their ranks during the whole summer; armies of
rorquals, dolphins, seals, shell-fish, cods, and sharks devour them by
millions, and yet so countless are their numbers, that whole nations live
upon their spoils.
[Illustration: Herring.]
As soon as the season of their approach appears, fleets of herring boats
leave the northern ports, provided with drift-nets, about 1200 feet long.
The yarn is so thick that the wetted net sinks through its own weight,
and need not be held down by stones attached to the lower edge, for it
has been found that the herring is more easily caught in a slack net.
The upper edge is suspended from the drift-rope by various shorter and
smaller ropes, called buoy ropes, to which empty barrels are fastened,
and the whole of the floating apparatus is attached by long ropes to
the ship. Fishing takes place only during the night, for it is found
that the fish strike the nets in much greater numbers when it is dark
than while it is light. The darkest nights, therefore, and particularly
those in which the surface of the water is ruffled by a fresh breeze,
are considered the most favourable. To avoid collisions, each boat is
furnished with one or two torches. From off the beach at Yarmouth,
where often several thousand boats are fishing at the same time, these
numberless lights, passing to and fro in every direction, afford a
most lively and brilliant spectacle. The meshes of the net are exactly
calculated for the size of the herring, wide enough to receive the head
as far as behind the gill-cover, but not so narrow as to allow the
pectoral fins to pass. Thus the poor fish, when once entangled, is unable
to move backwards or forwards, and remains sticking in the net, like a
bad logician on the horns of a dilemma, until the fisherman hauls it on
board. In this manner a single net sometimes contains so vast a booty,
that it requires all the authority of a Cuvier or a Valenciennes to make
us believe the instances they mention. A fisherman of Dieppe caught in
one night 280,000 herrings, and threw as many back again into the sea.
Sometimes great sloops have been obliged to cut their nets, being about
to sink under the superabundant weight of the fish.
The oldest mention of the herring-fishery is found in the chronicles
of the monastery of Evesham, of the year 709; while the first French
documents on the subject only reach as far as the year 1030. As far back
as the days of William the Conqueror, Yarmouth was renowned for its
herring-fishery; and Dunkirk and the Brill conducted it on a grand scale
centuries before William Beukelaer of Biervliet, near Sluys, introduced a
better method of pickling herrings in small kegs, instead of salting them
as before in loose irregular heaps. It is very doubtful whether Solon
or Lycurgus ever were such benefactors of their respective countries as
this simple uneducated fisherman has been to his native land; for the
pickled herring mainly contributed to transform a small and insignificant
people into a mighty nation. In the year 1603, the value of the herrings
exported from Holland amounted to twenty millions of florins; and in
1615, the fishery gave employment to 2000 _buysen_, or smacks, and to
37,000 men. Three years later we see the United Provinces cover the
sea with 3000 _buysen_; 9000 additional boats served for the transport
of the fishes, and the whole trade gave employment to at least 200,000
individuals. At that time Holland provided all Europe with herrings, and
it may without exaggeration be affirmed that this small fish was their
best ally and assistant in casting off the Spanish yoke, by providing
them with money, the chief sinew of war. Had the emperor Charles V.
been able to foresee that Beukelaer's discovery would one day prove so
detrimental to his son and successor Philip II., he would hardly have
done the poor fisherman the honour to eat a herring and drink a glass of
wine over his tomb.
But all human prosperity is subject to change; and thus towards the
middle of the sixteenth century a series of calamities ruined the Dutch
fisheries. Cromwell gave them the first blow by the Navigation Act;
Blake the second, by his victories; in 1703 a French squadron destroyed
the greatest part of their herring-smacks; and finally, the competition
of the Swedes, and the closing of their ports by the English, under the
disastrous domination of Napoleon I., completed the ruin of that branch
of trade which had chiefly raised the fortunes of their fathers.
In the year 1814, when the Dutch first began to breathe after having
shaken off the yoke of the modern Attila, they made a faint attempt to
renew the herring-fishery with 106 boats, which, up to the year 1823,
had only increased to 128; since 1836, however, there has been a steady
progress, and herring-catching in the Zuyder Zee during the winter months
is yearly increasing in importance.
During the second half of the last century, while the herrings began
to desert the Dutch nets, they enriched the Swedes, who, during the
year 1781, exported from Gottenburg alone 136,649 barrels, each of them
containing 1200 herrings. But some years after, the shoals on the Swedish
coasts began also to diminish, so that in 1799 there was hardly enough
for home consumption. And now commenced the rapid rise and increase of
the Scotch herring-fisheries; and it is certainly remarkable that this
should have taken place at so late a period, since the British waters are
perhaps those which most abound in herrings. When we think of the present
grandeur of British commerce, which extends to the most distant parts of
the globe, and ransacks all Nature for new articles of trade, it seems
almost incredible that up to the middle of the sixteenth century the
herring-fishery on the British coasts was left in the hands of the Dutch
and Spaniards, and that the acute and industrious Scotchmen should have
been so tardy in working the rich gold-mines lying at their gates. But if
their appearance in the market has been late, they have made up for lost
time, by completely distancing all their competitors. In 1855, the Scotch
herring-fisheries employed no less than 11,000 smacks or boats, manned
by 40,000 seamen, who were assisted by 28,000 curers and labourers,
exclusive of the vessels and men bringing salt and barrels or engaged in
carrying on the export trade.
The English herring-fishery is also extremely important, for Yarmouth
alone employs in this branch of trade about 400 sloops, of from forty
to seventy tons, the largest of which have ten or twelve men on board.
Three of these sloops, belonging to the same proprietor, landed, in the
year 1857, 285 lasts, or 3,762,000 fishes; and as each last was sold for
£14 sterling, it is probable that no whaler made a better business that
season. The importance of the Yarmouth herring-fishery may be inferred
from the fact, that it gives employment and bread to about 5,000 persons
during several months of the year, and engages a capital of at least
£700,000. No wonder, that among the north seamen the herring-fishery is
called the "great" fishery, while that of the whale is denominated only
the "small."
But the herring is a very capricious creature, seldom remaining long in
one place; and there is not a station along the British coast which is
not liable to great changes in its visits, as well with regard to time
as to quantity. The real causes of these irregularities are unknown; the
firing of guns, the manufacture of kelp, and the paddling of steam-boats
have been assigned as reasons, but such reasons are quite imaginary.
The progress of science promises to find, however, a remedy even for
the caprices of the herring; and if his shoals frequently appear and
disappear again in the more retired bays or fiords of Norway, before the
fishermen are apprised of his movements, the electric telegraph (the most
wonderful discovery of a time so rich in wonderful inventions), will be
used for his more effectual capture. By this time the wires are already
laid, which are to communicate along the whole Scandinavian coast, and
with the rapidity of lightning, every important movement of the marine
hosts. Poor herring! who would have thought, when Franklin made his first
experiments upon electricity, that that mysterious power should ever be
used for thy destruction!
The supposed migration of herrings to and from the high northern
latitudes is not founded on fact; the herring has never been seen in
abundance in the northern seas, nor have our whale-fishers or Arctic
voyagers taken any particular notice of them. There is no fishery for
them of any consequence either in Greenland or Iceland. On the southern
coast of Greenland the herring is a rare fish, and, according to Crantz,
only a small variety makes its appearance on the northern shore. This
small variety, or species, was found by Sir John Franklin on the shore of
the Polar basin, on his second journey. There can be no doubt that the
herring inhabits the deep water all round our coast, and only approaches
the shores for the purpose of depositing its spawn within the immediate
influence of the two principal agents in vivification--increased
temperature and oxygen--and as soon as that essential object is
effected, the shoals that haunt the superficial waters disappear, but
individuals are found, and many are to be caught throughout the year. So
far are they from being migratory to us from the north only, that they
visit the west coast of Cork in August, arriving there much earlier than
those which come down the Irish Channel, and long before their brethren
make their appearance at places much farther north. Our common herring
spawns towards the end of October, or the beginning of November, and
it is for two or three months previous to this, when they assemble in
immense numbers, that the fishing is carried on, which is of such great
and national importance. "And here," Mr. Couch observes, "we cannot but
admire the economy of Divine Providence, by which this and several other
species of fish are brought to the shores, within reach of man, at the
time when they are in their highest perfection and best fitted to be his
food." The herring having spawned, retires to deep water, and the fishing
ends for that season. While inhabiting the depths of the ocean, its food
is said, by Dr. Knox, to consist principally of minute entomostraceous
animals, but it is certainly less choice in its selection when near the
shore.
[Illustration: Pilchard.]
Although the common herring of our northern seas is beyond all doubt
the most important of the tribe, yet there is no sea, no coast, where
other species of the same family are not a source of abundance to man,
and of astonishment by their vast numbers. Thus the enormous shoals of
Pilchards appearing along our south-western coasts are not less valuable
to the fishermen of Devon and Cornwall than the common herring to those
of the North Sea. The older naturalists considered the pilchard, like
the herring, as a visitor from a distant region, and they assigned to
it also the same place of resort as that fish, with which indeed the
pilchard has been sometimes confounded. To this it will be a sufficient
reply, that the pilchard is never seen in the Northern Ocean. They
frequent the French coasts, and are seen on those of Spain, but on
neither in considerable numbers or with much regularity; so that few
fishes confine themselves within such narrow bounds. On the coast of
Cornwall they are found throughout all the seasons of the year, and even
there their habits vary in the different months. In January they keep
near the bottom, and are chiefly hauled up in the stomachs of ravenous
fishes; in March they sometimes assemble in _schulls_, but this union is
only partial and not permanent and only becomes so in July; when they
regularly and permanently congregate so as to invite the fisherman's
pursuit. The season and situation for spawning, and the choice of food,
are the chief reasons which influence the motions of the great bodies
of these fish; and it is probable that a thorough knowledge of these
particulars would explain all the variations which have been noticed in
the doings of the pilchard, in the numerous unsuccessful seasons of the
fishery.
They feed with voracity on small crustaceous animals, and Mr. Yarrell
frequently found their stomachs crammed with thousands of a minute
species of shrimp, not larger than a flea. It is probably when they are
in search of something like this, that fishermen report they have seen
them lying in myriads quietly at the bottom, examining with their mouths
the sand and small stones in shallow water. The abundance of this food
must be enormous, to satisfy such a host.
"When near the coast," says the author of the "History of British
Fishes," "the assemblage of pilchards assumes the arrangement of a mighty
army, with its wings stretching parallel to the land, and the whole is
composed of numberless smaller bodies, which are perpetually joining
together, shifting their position, and separating again. There are three
stations occupied by this great body, that have their separate influence
on the success of the fishery. One is to the eastward of the Lizard, the
most eastern extremity, reaching to the Bay of Bigbury in Devonshire,
beyond which no fishing is carried on, except that it occasionally
extends to Dartmouth; a second station is included between the Lizard and
Land's End; and the third is on the north coast of the county, the chief
station being about St. Ives. The subordinate motions of the shoals are
much regulated by the tide, against the current of which they are rarely
known to go, and the whole will sometimes remain parallel to the coast
for several weeks, at the distance of a few leagues; and then, as if by
general consent, they will advance close to the shore, sometimes without
being discovered till they have reached it. This usually happens when the
tides are strongest, and is the period when the principal opportunity
is afforded for the prosecution of the sean-fishery." The quantity of
pilchards taken is sometimes incredibly large. In 1847, a very productive
year, 40,000 hogsheads were cured in Cornwall alone, representing
probably, after all deductions, a net value to the takers of £80,000. The
Sardine (_Clupea sardina_), a fish closely allied to the Pilchard though
smaller, is considered as the most savoury of all the herring tribe. It
is chiefly found in the Mediterranean, on the coasts of South France and
Africa, and about the islands of Corsica and Sardinia, where it plays a
no less important part than the Pilchard on the coasts of Cornwall and
Devonshire.
Though a much less valuable fish than its larger-sized relatives, the
diminutive Sprat is not to be despised. Coming into the market in immense
quantities, and at a very moderate price, immediately after the herring
season is over, it affords during all the winter months a cheap and
agreeable food. Like all other species of the herring tribe, the sprats
are capricious wanderers, and make their appearance in exceedingly
variable numbers. The coasts of Kent, Essex, and Suffolk, are the most
productive. So great is the supply thence obtained, that notwithstanding
the immense quantity consumed by the vast population of London and its
neighbourhood, there is yet occasionally a surplus to be disposed of at
so low a price, as to induce the farmers, even so near the metropolis as
Dartford, to use them for manure.
[Illustration: Anchovy.]
The Mediterranean seems to be the peculiar birthplace of the Anchovy
(_Engraulis encrasicholus_), where it appears in the spawning season in
countless multitudes along the shallow coasts. It is about four inches
long, of a bluish-brown colour on the back, and silvery-white on the
belly. It is covered with large thin and easily deciduous scales, and
may be readily distinguished from the Sprat and other kindred species
by the anal fins being remarkably short. It is mostly caught in the
neighbourhood of Antibes, Frejus, and St. Tropez, and sent pickled
in enormous quantities to the fair of Beaucaire, from whence it is
transported in small tin boxes to all parts of the world.
[Illustration: Haddock.]
[Illustration: Ling.]
[Illustration: Cod.]
The Cod-family, to which among others, the Dorse, the Haddock, the
Whiting, the Hake, the Ling, and other valuable fishes belong, ranks next
to that of the herrings in importance to man. In the seas with which
Europeans are best acquainted the common Cod, the chief representative
of the tribe, is found universally, from Iceland to very nearly as far
south as Gibraltar, but appears most abundantly on the eastern side of
the American continent, and among its numerous islands, from 40° up to
66° N. lat., where it may be said to hold dominion from the outer edge
of the great banks of Newfoundland, which are more than three hundred
miles from land, to the verge of every creek and cove of the bounding
coast. To support such a mass of living beings, the ocean sends forth
its periodical masses of other living beings. At one season the cod is
accompanied by countless myriads of the Capelin (_Salmo arcticus_),
and at another by equal hosts of a molluscous animal, the Cuttle-fish
(_Sepia loligo_), called in Newfoundland the squid. The three animals are
migratory, and man, who stations himself on the shore for their combined
destruction, conducts his movements according to their migrations,
capturing millions upon millions of capelins and squids, to serve as
a bait for the capture of millions of cods. In the United Kingdom
alone this fish, in the catching, the curing, the partial consumption,
and sale, supplies employment, food, and profit to thousands of the
human race; but the banks of Newfoundland are the chief scene of its
destruction. As soon as spring appears, England sends forth 2000 ships,
with 30,000 men, across the Atlantic, towards those teeming shallows;
France about one-half the number; and the Americans as many as both
together. On an average, each ship is reckoned to catch about 40,000
fishes; and we may form some idea of the voracity, as well as of the
numbers of the cod, when we hear that in the course of a single day a
good fisherman is able to haul up four hundred one after another with his
line--no easy task considering the size of the fish, which often attains
a length of from two to three feet and a weight of from twenty to forty
pounds.
The captured fish have but little time left them to bewail their lot,
for a few thousands will be "dressed down"--that is, gutted, boned and
salted--in the course of two or three hours. For this purpose the crew
divide themselves into throaters, headers, splitters, salters, and
packers. First the throater passes his sharp knife across the throat of
the unfortunate cod to the bone and rips open the bowels. He then passes
it quickly to the header, who with a strong sudden wrench pulls off the
head and tears out the entrails, which he casts overboard, passing at
the same time the fish instantly to the splitter, who with one cut lays
it open from head to tail, and almost in the twinkling of an eye with
another cut takes out the backbone. After separating the sounds, which
are placed with the tongues, and packed in barrels as a great delicacy,
the backbone follows the entrails overboard, while the fish at the same
moment is passed with the other hand to the salter. Such is the amazing
quickness of the operations of heading and splitting that a good workman
will often decapitate and take out the entrails and backbone of six fish
in a minute. Every fisherman is supposed to know something of each of
these operations, and no rivals at cricket ever entered with more ardour
into their work than do some athletic champions for the palm of "dressing
down" after a "day's catch."
Besides its excellent firm flesh, the liver-oil of the cod is used as a
valuable medicine, and serves to restore many a scrofulous or rickety
child to health. The sound-bladder is also employed by the Icelanders for
the manufacture of fish-lime or isinglass. The best quality of the latter
article, however, is afforded by a species of Sturgeon (_Accipenser
Huso_) which is chiefly found in the Black and Caspian seas, and ascends
the tributary rivers in immense numbers.
The Common Sturgeon (_Accipenser sturio_), though principally frequenting
the seas and rivers of North-Eastern Europe, where, especially in the
Volga, extensive fisheries are established for its destruction, is also
captured on the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland, as examples are by
no means uncommon in the fish-mongers' shops of our great cities, a few
coming into the hands of the principal dealers every season. Yarrell
mentions one caught in a stake-net near Findhorn, in Scotland, in July
1833, which measured eight feet six inches in length and weighed two
hundred and three pounds; but in the Baltic specimens of a length of
eighteen feet and weighing a thousand pounds have occasionally been
captured. The body is long and slender from the shoulders backward,
somewhat pentagonal in shape, with five longitudinal rows of flattened
plates, with pointed central spines, directed backwards, and the snout
is tapering and beak-shaped, the mouth small and toothless, so that the
sturgeon, though almost equalling the white shark in size, is of a much
more harmless character and formidable only to the crustaceans, small
fish, or soft animals, he meets with at the bottom in deep water, beyond
the ordinary reach of sea-nets. Hence he is rarely caught in the open
sea, but falls an easy prey to the cunning of man when entering the
friths, estuaries, and rivers for the purpose of spawning. The sturgeon
is a highly valuable fish not only for its well-flavoured flesh but
also for its roe, which furnishes the delicate caviar of commerce. The
smallest but most highly esteemed of the sturgeons is the Sterlet of
the Volga, which sometimes fetches such extravagant prices that Prince
Potemkin has been known to pay three hundred roubles for a single tureen
of sterlet-soup.
[Illustration: Common Sturgeon.]
While many of the numerous members of the salmon family confine
themselves to the rivulet or to the lake, others alternate, like the
sturgeons, between the river and the sea. Of these the most remarkable
is the noble fish which has given its name to the whole tribe, and may
justly be considered as its head, not only in point of size but also for
its wide-spread utility to man.
Every spring or summer the salmon leave the ocean to deposit their spawn
in the sweet waters, often at a distance of many hundred miles in the
interior of the Continent, so that the same fish which during part of
the year may be breasting the waves of the North Sea, may at another
be forcing the current of an Alpine stream. Their onward progress is
not easily stopped: they shoot up rapids with the velocity of arrows,
and make wonderful efforts to surmount cascades or weirs by leaping,
frequently clearing an elevation of eight or ten feet. These surprising
bounds appear to be accomplished by a sudden jerk, which is given to its
body by the animal from a bent into a straight position. If they fail
in their attempt, and fall back into the stream, it is only to rest a
short time, and thus recruit their strength for a new effort. The fall of
Kilmaroc, on the Beauly, in Inverness-shire, is one of the spots where
the leaping feats of the salmon can best be witnessed. "The pool below
that fall," says Mr. Mudie, in the _British Naturalist_, "is very large,
and as it is the head of the run in one of the finest salmon rivers in
the north, and only a few miles distant from the sea, it is literally
thronged with salmon, which are continually attempting to pass the fall,
but without success, as the limit of their perpendicular spring does not
appear to exceed twelve or fourteen feet; at least, if they leap higher
than that, they are aimless and exhausted, and the force of the current
dashes them down again before they have recovered their energy. They
often kill themselves by the violence of their exertions to ascend, and
sometimes they fall upon the rocks and are captured. It is indeed said
that one of the wonders which the Frasers of Lovat, who are lords of the
manor, used to show their guests was a voluntarily cooked salmon at the
falls of Kilmaroc. For this purpose a kettle was placed upon the flat
rock on the south side of the fall, close by the edge of the water and
kept full and boiling. There is a considerable extent of the rock where
tents were erected, and the whole was under a canopy of overshadowing
trees. There the company are said to have waited until a salmon fell into
the kettle, and was boiled in their presence. We have seen as many as
eighty taken in a pool lower down the river at one haul of the seine, and
one of the number weighed more than sixty pounds."
As the salmon laboriously ascend the rivers, it may easily be imagined
that the cunning and rapacity of man seeks every opportunity to intercept
their progress. Nets of the most various form and construction are
employed for their capture; numbers are entrapped in enclosed spaces
formed in weirs, into which they enter as they push up the stream, and
are then prevented by a grating of a peculiar contrivance from returning
or getting out; and many are speared, a mode frequently practised at
night-time, when torches are made use of to attract them to the surface,
or to betray them by their silvery reflection to the attentive fisherman.
The ruddy gleam illumining the river banks or sparkling in the agitated
waters, the black sky above, the deep contrasts of light and shade,
attach a romantic interest to this nocturnal sport, which has been both
practised and sung by Walter Scott.
"'Tis blithe along the midnight tide
With stalwart arm the boat to guide,
On high the dazzling blaze to rear
And heedful plunge the barbed spear.
Rock, wood, and scour emerging bright,
Fling on the stream their ruddy light,
And from the bank our band appears
Like Genii armed with fiery spears."
The natural history of the salmon was until lately but very imperfectly
known, as the parr (brandling, samlet) and the grilse, which are now
fully proved to be but intermediate stages of its growth, were supposed
by Yarrell to be distinct fishes. The first person who seems to have
suspected the true nature of the parr was James Hogg, the Ettrick
shepherd, who in his usual eccentric way took some pains to verify his
opinion. As an angler, he had often caught the parr in its transition
state, and had frequently captured smolts (at that time the only
acknowledged youthful salmon) with the scales barely covering the bars
or finger marks of the parr. Wondering at this, he marked a great number
of the lesser fish and offered rewards of whisky (being himself a great
admirer of the genuine mountain-dew) to the peasantry to bring him any
fish that had evidently undergone the change. These crude experiments
of the talented shepherd convinced him that the parr were the young of
the salmon in the first stage, and since then professed naturalists have
fully settled the question by watching the egg into life, and tracing
the growth of the young fish step by step until it ultimately changed
into the kingly salmon.
This ignorance of the true nature of the parr had most disastrous
effects, as it largely contributed to the depopulation of our streams,
for the farmers and cottars who resided near the rivers used not
unfrequently, after filling the frying-pan with parr, to feed their
pigs with them, and myriads were annually killed by juvenile anglers.
This truly deplorable havoc has fortunately been arrested by Act of
Parliament, but the killing of grilse is still, I believe, a fertile
source of destruction,[O] and should undoubtedly be restrained by law,
as the wholesale slaughter of these juvenile fishes is a most lamentable
example of improvident waste.
[Footnote O: In 1862, 8,467 salmon and 25,042 grilse were captured in the
Tweed.]
In former times our rivers abounded with salmon, more than 200,000
having been caught in a single summer in the Tweed alone, and 2,500 at
one haul in the river Thurso; but, besides the causes above mentioned,
over fishing or fishing at an improper season, and probably in many
cases the pollution of the streams with deleterious matter from mines
or manufactories, have considerably reduced their numbers. Fortunately,
public attention has at length been thoroughly aroused to the danger
which menaces our king of fishes; and, what with better laws for his
protection and the successful attempts that have latterly been made in
artificial fish-breeding, we may hope that more prosperous times are in
store for our salmon-fisheries.
[Illustration: Salmo Rossii]
The salmon not only frequents the streams of Northern Europe but ascends
in vast multitudes the giant rivers of Siberia and of North America. It
is fished by the Ostjak and the Tunguse, and speared by the Indian of the
New World. Ross's Arctic salmon, which is of a more slender form than the
common salmon, differently marked and coloured, and with a remarkably
long under jaw, is so extremely abundant in the sea near the mouths of
the rivers of Boothia Felix that 3,378 were obtained at one haul of a
small-sized seine. The rivers of Kamtschatka abound in salmon of various
kinds, so that the stream, swelling as it were with living waves, not
seldom overflows its banks and casts multitudes ashore. Steller affirms
that, in that almost uninhabited peninsula, the bears and dogs and other
animals catch more of these fishes with their mouths and feet than man in
other countries with all his cunning devices of net and angle.
The salmon of Iceland, which formerly remained undisturbed by the
phlegmatic inhabitants, are now caught in large numbers for the British
market. A small river, bearing the significant name of Laxaa or Salmon
river, has been rented for the trifling sum of 100_l._ a year by an
English company which sends every spring its agents to the spot,
well provided with the best fishing apparatus. The captured fish are
immediately boiled and hermetically packed in tin boxes, so that they can
be eaten in London almost as fresh as if they had just been caught. Other
valuable salmon-streams in Iceland and Norway pay us a similar tribute;
and as commerce, aided by the steamboat and the railway, extends her
empire, rivers more and more distant are made to supply the deficiencies
of our native streams. More than 150,000 salmon are annually caught in
Aljaska--not a quarter of a century ago a real "ultima Thule"--and after
having been well pickled and smoked at the various fishing-stations are
chiefly sent from Sitcha to Hamburg.
Nature has denied the salmon to the streams of Australia and New Zealand;
but as the eggs of this fish can be preserved for a very long time, they
have been transported with perfect success to those far-distant colonies.
[Illustration: Tunny.]
If neither the salmon, nor the common herring, nor the cod, dwell in the
Mediterranean, the fishermen of that sea rejoice in the capture of the
Tunny, the chief of the mackerel or scomberoid family. Its usual length
is about two feet, but it sometimes grows to eight or ten; and Pennant
saw one killed in 1769, when he was at Inverary, that weighed 460 pounds.
The flesh is as firm as that of the sturgeon, but of a finer flavour.
"In May and June," says Mr. Yarrell, "the adult fish rove along the coast
of the Mediterranean in large shoals and triangular array. They are
extremely timid, and easily induced to take a new and apparently an open
course, in order to avoid any suspected danger. But the fishermen take
advantage of this peculiarity for their destruction by placing a look-out
or sentinel on some elevated spot, who makes the signal that the shoal
of tunnies is approaching, and points out the direction in which it will
come. Immediately a great number of boats set off, range themselves in a
curved line, and, joining their nets, form an enclosure which alarms the
fish, while the fishermen, drawing closer and closer, and adding fresh
nets, still continue driving the tunnies towards the shore, where they
are ultimately killed with poles.
"But the grandest mode of catching the tunny is by means of the French
_madrague_, or, as the Italians call it, _tonnaro_. Series of long and
deep nets, fixed vertically by corks at their upper edges, and with lead
and stones at the bottom, are kept in a particular position by anchors,
so as to form an enclosure parallel to the coast, sometimes extending an
Italian mile in length; this is divided into several chambers by nets
placed across, leaving narrow openings on the land side. The tunnies
pass between the coast and the tonnaro; when arrived at the end, they
are stopped by one of the cross-nets, which closes the passage against
them, and obliges them to enter the tonnaro by the opening which is left
for them. When once in, they are driven by various means from chamber
to chamber to the last, which is called the chamber of death. Here a
strong net, placed horizontally, that can be raised at pleasure, brings
the tunnies to the surface, and the work of destruction commences.
The tonnaro fishery used to be one of the great amusements of rich
Sicilians, and, at the same time, one of the most considerable sources
of their wealth. When Louis XIII. visited Marseilles, he was invited to
a tunny-fishery, at the principal _madrague_ of Morgiou, and found the
diversion so much to his taste that he often said it was the pleasantest
day he had spent in his whole progress through the south."
[Illustration: Mackerel.]
The elegant shape and beautiful colouring of the common Mackerel are too
well known to require any particular description, and its qualities as
an edible fish have been long duly appreciated. It dies very soon after
it is taken out of the water, exhibits for a short time a phosphoric
light, and partly loses the brilliancy of its hues. Like all other
members of the family, it is extremely voracious, and makes great havoc
among the herring-shoals, although its own length is only from twelve to
sixteen inches. It inhabits the northern Atlantic, and is caught in large
numbers along the British coast, where it is preceded in its annual visit
by the Gar-fish, which for this reason has received also the name of
Mackerel-guide. The older naturalists ascribed to the mackerel the same
distant migrations as to the tunny, but most probably it only retires
during the winter into the deeper waters, at no very great distance
from the shores, where it appears during the summer season in such
incalculable numbers.
[Illustration: Gar-Fish.]
The mackerel is caught with long nets or by hand-lines. It bites greedily
at every bait, but generally such a one is preferred as best represents a
living prey darting through the water--either some silvery scaled fish,
or a piece of metal, or of scarlet cloth. With swelling sails the boat
flies along, and a sharp wind is generally considered so favourable that
it is called a "Mackerel-breeze." The line is short, but made heavy with
lead, and in this manner a couple of men can catch a thousand in one day.
The more rapid the boat the greater the success, for the mackerel rushes
like lightning after the glittering bait, taking it for a flying prey.
The chieftains of the Sandwich Islands used to catch the bonito mackerels
in a similar way, by attaching flying-fish to their hooks, and rapidly
skimming the surface of the waters. Thus everywhere man knows how to turn
to his advantage the peculiar instincts or habits of the animal creation.
[Illustration: Bonito.]
The author of "Wild Sports of the West" has favoured us with an animated
description of mackerel-fishing on the coast of Ireland.
"It was evident that the bay was full of mackerel. In every direction,
and as far as the eye could range, gulls and puffins were collected,
and, to judge by their activity and clamour, there appeared ample
employment for them among the fry beneath. We immediately bore away for
the place where these birds were numerously congregated, and the lines
were scarcely overboard when we found ourselves in the centre of a shoal
of mackerel. For two hours we killed these beautiful fish, as fast as
the baits could be renewed and the lines hauled in; and when we left
off fishing, actually wearied with sport, we found that we had taken
above five hundred, including a number of the coarser species, called
Horse-mackerel. There is not, on sea or river, always excepting angling
for salmon, any sport comparable to this delightful amusement: full of
life and bustle, everything about it is animated and exhilarating; a
brisk breeze and fair sky, the boat in quick and constant motion, all is
calculated to interest and excite. He who has experienced the glorious
sensations of sailing on the Western Ocean, a bright autumnal sky above,
a deep-green lucid swell around, a steady breeze, and as much of it as
the hooker can stand up to, will estimate the exquisite enjoyment our
morning's mackerel-fishing afforded."
Although an occasional visitor of our shores, the Bonito, or
Stripe-bellied Tunny (_Thynnus pelamys_), which is much inferior in
size to the common tunny of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, is a
true ocean-fish, and generally met with at a vast distance from land.
It inhabits the warmer seas, of which it is one of the most active and
voracious denizens. It is well known to all voyagers within the tropics
for the amusement it affords by its accompanying the vessel in its track,
and by its pursuit of the flying-fish. But in its turn the predacious
Bonito is subject to the persecutions of the huge Sperm-whale, who will
often drive whole shoals before him, and crush dozens at a time between
his prodigious jaws.
The Pelamid (_Thynnus sarda_), which abounds in all districts of the
Mediterranean and on both sides of the Atlantic, has but very lately been
discovered in the British waters, a single specimen having been caught
a few years ago at the mouth of the North Esk. It greatly resembles the
species just mentioned in form and mode of life, prowling about the high
seas for cephalopods and flying-fishes, and is very commonly confounded
with the bonito by sailors, who also give both of them the name of
Skip-jacks, expressive of the habit which many of the large Scomberoids
have of skimming the surface of the sea, and springing occasionally into
the air.
[Illustration: Pilot-Fish.--(Naucrates ductor.)]
Another member of the mackerel family, the Pilot-Fish (_Naucrates
ductor_), easily recognised by the three dark-blue bands which surround
its silvery body, will frequently attend a ship during its course at sea
for weeks or even months together, most likely to profit by the offal
thrown overboard. Regardless of the useful precept, "avoid bad company,"
it is frequently found attending the white shark, and owes its name to
its being supposed to act as a trusty guide or friendly monitor to that
voracious monster, sometimes directing it where to find a good meal,
and at others warning it when to avoid a dangerous bait. At all events,
the pilot-fish is well rewarded for his attendance by snatching up the
morsels which are overlooked by his companion, and as he is an excellent
swimmer, and probably keeps a good look-out, has but little reason to
fear being snatched up himself.
"It has been observed," says Yarrell, "that when a shark and his pilot
were following a vessel, if meat was thrown overboard cut into small
pieces, and therefore unworthy the shark's attention, the pilot-fish
showed his true motive of action by deserting both shark and ship to feed
at his leisure on the morsels."
The family of the anguilliform fishes, characterised by their
serpent-like bodies, destitute of ventral fins, and generally covered
by a slippery skin, with, in some of the genera, small scales embedded
therein, likewise comprises a number of highly interesting and useful
species, forming many generic groups.
Its chief representative in our waters is the Common Eel (_Anguilla
vulgaris_), which, though a frequent inhabitant of our lakes, ponds,
and rivers, may also justly be reckoned among the marine fishes; for
the same wonderful instinct which prompts the salmon and the sturgeon
annually to leave the high seas and seek the inland streams for the sake
of perpetuating their race, forces also the eel to migrate, but his
peregrinations are of an opposite character, for here the full-grown
fishes descend the rivers to deposit their spawn in the sea, and the
young, after having been born in the brackish estuaries, ascend the
streams to accomplish their growth in the sweet waters. The mode of
procreation of eels, which for ages had been an enigma, has now at length
been completely elucidated by Professor Rathke, who discovered that the
eggs, which are of microscopic smallness, so as to be undistinguishable
by the naked eye from the fat in which they lie imbedded, are expelled
through an opening hardly large enough to admit the point of a needle.
The energy of the salmon in swimming stream-upwards for hundreds and
hundreds of miles, and bounding over rapids and cataracts, is truly
wonderful, but the instinctive efforts of the little eels or _elvers_ to
surmount obstacles that seem quite out of proportion to their strength
are no less admirable. Mr. Anderson, upwards of a century ago, described
the young eels as ascending the upright posts and gates of the waterworks
at Norwich until they came into the dam above; and Sir Humphry Davy,
who was witness of a vast migration of elvers at Ballyshannon, speaks
of the mouth of the river under the fall as blackened by millions of
little eels. "Thousands," he adds, "died, but their bodies remaining
moist, served as the ladder for others to make their way; and I saw some
ascending even perpendicular stones, making their road through wet moss,
or adhering to some eels that had died in the attempt. Such is the energy
of these little animals that they continue to find their way in immense
numbers to Loch Erne. Even the mighty fall of Schaffhausen (which stops
the salmon) does not prevent them from making their way to the Lake of
Constance, where I have seen many very large eels." After the little eels
have gained the summit of a fall, they rest for a while with their heads
protruded into the stream. They then urge themselves forward, taking
advantage of every projecting stone or slack water, and never get carried
back by the current. Myriads are destroyed on the way by birds or fishes;
but, as usual, their greatest enemy is man, who not only devours whole
cart-loads of little eels not larger than a knitting-needle, frying them
into cakes, which are said to be delicious, though rather queer-looking
from the number of little eyes with which they are bespangled, but after
getting tired of eating them, actually feeds his pigs with them, or even
uses them for manure. A prodigal waste which should be looked after, as
these little eels would soon increase their weight, and consequently
their value a thousand fold. On the Continent many lakes and ponds have
been stocked with elvers, packed in wet grass, and sent by the railroads
or the post far into the interior of the country.
Eels are pre-eminently nocturnal animals. They always congregate at the
darkest parts of the stews in which they are kept, and invariably select
the darkest nights for their autumnal migration to the sea. Owing to
the smallness of their gill aperture, the membranous folds of which,
by closing the orifice when the eel is out of the water, prevents the
desiccation of the branchiæ, they have the power of living a long time
out of the water when the air is humid, and not unfrequently travel
during the night over the moist surface of meadows or gardens in quest of
frogs or other suitable food.
That eels are not devoid of sagacity is proved by many well authenticated
anecdotes. "In Otaheite," says Ellis in his "Polynesian Researches,"
"they are fed till they attain an enormous size. These pets are kept in
large holes two or three feet deep, partially filled with water. On the
sides of these pits they generally remain, excepting when called by the
person who feeds them. I have been several times with the young chief
when he has sat down by the side of the hole, and by giving a shrill sort
of whistle has brought out an enormous eel, which has moved about the
surface of the water and eaten with confidence out of his master's hand."
The eel has many enemies, among others the common heron, who, in spite
of the slippery skin of his victim, knows how to drive his denticulated
middle claw into his body, or to strike him with his pointed bill.
Yarrell relates that a heron had once struck his sharp beak through
the head of an eel, piercing both eyes, and that the eel--no doubt
remembering that one good turn deserves another--had coiled itself so
tightly round the neck of the heron as to stop the bird's respiration:
both were dead.
The London market is principally supplied with eels from Holland,
a country where they abound. According to Mr. Mayhew, about ten
millions of eels, amounting to a weight of 1,500,000 lbs., are
annually sold in Billingsgate market. These figures show us at once
that the multiplication of eels in our sluggish rivers, which only
contain such fish as are comparatively speaking worthless, is a matter
worth consideration, and powerfully pleads for the protection and
transplantation of the elvers wherever they are likely to prosper.
Eels are extremely susceptible of cold; none whatever are found in the
Arctic regions, and at the approach of winter they bury themselves in
the mud, where they remain in a state of torpidity until the genial
warmth of spring recalls them to a more active state of existence.
In this condition they are frequently taken by eel-spears, and in
Somersetshire the people know how to find the holes in the banks of
rivers in which eels are laid up, by the hoar-frost not lying over them
as it does elsewhere, and dig them out in heaps. Though generally only
from two to three feet long, eels sometimes acquire a much larger size.
Specimens six feet long and fifteen pounds in weight are occasionally
captured, and Yarrell saw at Cambridge the preserved skins of two which
weighed together fifty pounds. They were taken on draining a fen-dyke at
Wisbeach. As eels are but slow in growth, these sizes speak for a great
longevity.
[Illustration: Conger Eel.]
The Conger is in its general appearance so nearly allied to the common
eel that it might easily be mistaken for the same species. It, however,
materially differs from it by its darker colour in the upper part, and
its brighter hue beneath, by its dorsal fin beginning near the head, and
by its snout generally projecting beyond the lower jaw.
This marine giant of the eel tribe attains a length of ten feet, and a
weight of 130 pounds, and is well known on all the rocky parts of the
coast of the British Islands, though nowhere more abundant than on the
Cornish coast, where, according to Mr. Couch, it is not uncommon for a
boat with three men to bring on shore from five hundredweight to two
tons. The fishing for congers is always performed at night, and not
unattended with danger, as it is quite a common occurrence for a conger
to attack the fishermen with open jaws, and so great is the strength of
the large specimens that they have occasionally succeeded in pulling the
fisherman quite out of his boat, if by any chance he has fastened the
line to his arm. The congers that keep among rocks hide themselves in
crevices, where they are not unfrequently left by the retiring tide; but
in situations free from rocks, congers hide themselves by burrowing in
the ground, where it is customary on some parts of the coast of France to
employ dogs in their search. In spite of its tough flesh and exceedingly
nauseous smell, the conger was highly esteemed by Greek epicures, and
in England in the time of the Henrys considered an article of food fit
for a king. Thus, the Prince and Poins, according to Falstaff's account,
found amongst other reasons for their companionship this one: that both
of them were fond of conger and fennel sauce. In our times its flesh,
though banished from all aristocratic tables, meets a ready sale at a
low price among the poorer classes. In the Isle of Man the conger may be
said to take the place of the poor man's pig; it is his bacon, which he
would find difficult to save if it were not for these large eels, which
are caught in great abundance, and sold at the rate of 2_d._ or 3_d._ per
lb. The Manx men split the congers, and then salt them and hang them up
to dry on their cottage walls, where they do not exactly contribute to
perfume the gale.
The Murry or Muræna differs from the common eel by the want of pectoral
fins, and its beautifully-marked skin. It is said to live with equal
facility in fresh or salt water, though generally found at sea, and it
is as common in the Pacific as it is in the Atlantic and Mediterranean.
The only specimen on record as a British fish was caught by a fisherman
of Polperro, October 8, 1834; its length was four feet four inches. The
muræna has acquired a kind of historical celebrity from the strange
fondness with which it was cherished by the Romans, who preserved large
quantities of them in their numerous vivaria, as we do the lustrous
gold-fish in the water-basins of our gardens. A certain Cajus Hirrius,
who lived in the time of Julius Cæsar, was the first that introduced
the fashion, which soon became a passion among the wealthy senators and
knights of the imperial city, who used to deck their especial pets with
all kinds of ornaments. The celebrated orator, Hortensius, the rival of
Cicero, had a _piscina_ at Bauli, on the gulf of Baiæ, where he took
great delight in a favourite murry that would come at his call and feed
from his hand. When the creature died, he was unable to stop his tears;
and another celebrated Roman, L. Licinius Crassus, appears to have had
an equally tender heart, for he, too, wept at the death of his fishy
darling. Vedius Pollio, a Roman knight, has even acquired through these
fishes a scandalous renown, by causing now and then a slave that had
been guilty of some slight offence to be cast alive and naked into their
piscina, and amusing himself with the sight of the murrys lacerating and
devouring the body. That this wretch was a friend of the Emperor Augustus
harmonises but badly with the ideas of the urbanity of his court which
we may have formed from the poems of Horace and Virgil. It is but fair,
however, to the character of the emperor to state that he reprobated
Pollio's cruelty, and ordered his fish-pond to be filled up.
[Illustration: Ammodyte, or Launce.]
The Launces are distinguished from the eels by their large gill openings,
and their caudal fin being separated from their dorsal and anal fins. The
common Sand Launce abounds on many parts of our shore. On account of its
silvery brightness it is highly esteemed by the fishermen as bait for
their hooks, and its remarkable habit of burrowing in the sand as the
tide recedes affords easy means of capture. While underground, it most
likely gets hold of many an unfortunate lob-worm, mollusc, or crustacean,
but on emerging from its retreat it is in its turn preyed upon by the
larger fishes. On a calm evening it is an interesting sight to see the
surface of the water broken by the repeated plunges of the voracious
mackerel as they burst upon the launces from beneath. On the sands at
Portobello, near Edinburgh, people of all ages may be seen when the tide
is out diligently searching for the sand launce, and raking them out with
iron hooks. On the south coast of Devonshire, where the sand launces are
extremely plentiful, the fishermen employ a small seine with a fine mesh,
and are frequently so successful that six or seven bushels are taken
at one haul. The usual length of the sand launce is from five to seven
inches. In many localities it is prepared for table, and considered a
great delicacy.
Although the Lamprey essentially differs from the eel in the formation
of its gills, the softness of its cartilaginous skeleton, and its
funnel-shaped mouth provided with sharp teeth, disposed in circles, yet
it resembles it closely in its outward form. Its colour is generally
a dull brownish olive, clouded with yellowish-white variegations; the
fins are tinged with dull orange, and the tail with blue. The Marine
or Sea Lamprey inhabits the ocean, but ascends the rivers in spring.
Though capable of swimming with considerable vigour and rapidity, it
is more commonly seen attached by the mouth to some large stone or
other substance, the body hanging at rest, or obeying the motion of the
current. Its power of adhesion is so great that a weight of more than
twelve pounds may be raised without forcing the fish to quit its hold.
Like the eel, it is remarkably tenacious of life, the head strongly
attaching itself for several hours to a stone, though by far the greater
part of the body be cut away from it. The lamprey is still considered
as a delicacy; every schoolboy knows that King Henry I. died of an
indigestion caused by this favourite dish; and the town of Gloucester
still sends every Christmas a lamprey-pie to Queen Victoria, such as it
was wont to offer to its sovereign in the days of the Plantagenets and
Tudors.
[Illustration: Myxine.]
The Myxine, Glutinous Hag, or Borer, bears a near resemblance to the
lamprey, but stands upon a much inferior degree of organisation, having
no eyes--(the sole example of blindness among fishes), and a still softer
skeleton, so that, when boiled, it almost entirely dissolves into mucus.
In the lamprey and myxine, the branchial cells, which admit water, are
lined by the delicate membrane through which the blood is aërated. In the
former, however, the external apertures of the branchial cells are placed
on the side of the neck; while in the myxine, which feeds on the internal
parts of its prey, and buries its head and part of its body in the
flesh, the openings of the respiratory organs are removed sufficiently
far back to admit of the respiration going on while the animal's head
is so inserted. Thus, even in this lowest and meanest of all vertebrate
animals, we find a remarkable adaptation of its construction to its
wants, and the proof that it has been as well taken care of by its
Creator as the highest organised creatures of its class.
[Illustration: Porcupine-Fish--(Diodon hystrix.)]
[Illustration: Globe-Fish.]
[Illustration: Short Sun-Fish.--(Orthagoriscus Mola.)]
[Illustration: Trunk-Fish.--(Ostracion triqueter.)]
[Illustration: File-Fish.--(Balistes erythropterus.)]
One of the most remarkable orders of fishes is that of the Plectognaths,
which are distinguished by having the superior maxillary bones and
the intermaxillaries soldered together so as to render the upper jaw
immovable, or incapable of projection. Among the Plectognaths, we
find among others the prickly Globe-fishes and sea-porcupines; the
curiously-shaped Sun-fishes, all head and no body; the Ostracions
or Trunk-fishes, clothed like the armadillos in a defensive coat of
mail, leaving only the tail, fins, mouth, and a small portion of the
gill-opening, capable of motion; and the gorgeous Balistæ or File-fishes,
which owe their family-name to the peculiar structure of their first
dorsal fin. The first and strongest spine of this organ is studded up
the front with numerous small projections, which, under the microscope,
look like so many points of enamel or pearl arising from the surface of
the bone and giving it the appearance of a file. The second smaller spine
has in the fore part of its base a projection which, when the spines are
elevated, locks into a corresponding notch in the posterior base of the
first spine, and fixes it like the trigger of a gun-lock; from which the
fish is called in Italy _pesce balestra_, or the cross-bow fish. The
strong spine cannot be forced down till the small one has been first
depressed and the catch disengaged.
The Plectognaths are mostly denizens of the warmer seas, but the
pig-faced trigger-fish of the Mediterranean (_Balistes capriscus_) has
been caught three times in the British waters since 1827, and the short
sun-fish or molebut, though occurring but occasionally, may be said to
have been taken from John o' Groat's to the Land's End. It grows to an
immense size, often attaining the diameter of four feet, sometimes even
double that size, and occasionally weighing from 300 to 500 pounds.
When observed in our seas, the sun-fishes have generally appeared as
though they were dead or dying, floating lazily along on one side and
making little or no attempt to escape. It is to be presumed that in more
congenial waters they evince a greater degree of liveliness.
The order of the Lophobranchii is in many respects too curious and
interesting to be passed over in silence. Here the gills, instead of
being as usual ranged like the teeth of a comb, are clustered into
small filamentous tufts placed by pairs along the branchial arches;
the face projects into a long tubular snout, having the mouth either
at its extremity, as in the Hippocampus and in the Pipe-fishes, or at
its base, as in the Pegasus of the Indian seas; and the body is covered
with shields or small plates, which often give it an angular form,
and encase it as it were in jointed armour. But the most interesting
feature of their economy is the pouches in which the males of the most
characteristic genera carry the eggs until they are hatched. In the
hippocampi this provision for the safety of the future generation, which
strongly reminds one of the kangaroo or the opossum, forms a perfect
sack, opening at its commencement only; in the pipe-fishes it is closed
along its whole length by two soft flaps folding over each other. Another
peculiarity of these interesting little fishes is the independent motion
of their eyes, the one glancing hither and thither while its fellow
remains motionless, or looks in different directions. This phenomenon of
_double_ vision, which was long supposed to be peculiar to the chameleon,
is, however, not confined to this singular reptile or to the hippocampi
and pipe-fishes, but has been found by Mr. Gosse to exist likewise in
the Little Weever (_Trachinus vipera_), in the Suckers (_Lepidogastri_),
a small family remarkable for the power they possess of attaching
themselves to stones or rocks by means of an adhesive disk on the under
surface of their bodies, and in several other fishes.
When imprisoned in an aquarium, few subjects of the deep display more
intelligence or afford more entertainment than the little _Hippocampus
brevirostris_, or Sea-Horse.
[Illustration: Sea-Horse.]
"While swimming about," says Mr. Lukis,[P] "it maintains a vertical
position, but the tail, ready to grasp whatever meets it in the water,
quickly entwines itself in any direction round the weeds, and, when
fixed, the animal intently watches the surrounding objects, and darts
at its prey with great dexterity. When two of them approach each other,
they often twist their tails together, and struggle to separate or attach
themselves to the weeds; this is done by the under part of their cheeks
or chin, which is also used for raising the body when a new spot is
wanted for the tail to fasten upon afresh."
[Footnote P: Yarrell, "British Fishes," 3rd edition, vol. ii. p. 396.]
"In captivity," says Mr. Gosse, "the manners of the Worm Pipe-Fish
(_Syngnathus lambriciformis_), the smallest of our native species, are
amusing and engaging. Its beautiful eyes move independently of each
other, like those of the chameleon, and another point of resemblance to
that animal our little pipe-fish presents in the prehensile character of
its tail. It curves just the tip of this organ laterally round the stem
or frond of some sea-weed and holds on by this half-inch or so, while
the rest of its body roves to and fro, elevating and depressing the head
and fore parts, and throwing the body into the most graceful curves. All
the motions of the Pipe-fish manifest much intelligence. It is a timid
little thing, retiring from the side of the glass at which it had been
lying when one approaches, and hiding under the shadow of the sea-weeds,
which I have put in, both to afford it shelter, and also to supply food
in the numerous animalcules that inhabit these marine plants. Then it
cautiously glides among their bushy fronds, and from under their shelter
peeps with its brilliant eyes at the intruder as if wondering what he
can be, drawing back gently at any alarming motion. In swimming, it is
constantly throwing its body into elegant contortions and undulations;
often it hangs nearly perpendicular with the tail near the surface; now
and then it butts against the side of the vessel with reiterated blows of
its nose, as if it could not make out why it should not go forward where
it can see no impediment. Now it twists about as if it would tie its body
into a love knot, then hangs motionless in some one of the 'lines of
beauty' in which it has accidentally paused."
The family of the Pleuronectidæ or Flat-fishes recommends itself to our
notice as much by the singularity of its form as by its usefulness to
man. "The want of symmetry," says Yarrell, "so unusual in vertebrated
animals, is the most striking and distinctive character of these fishes:
the twisted head with both eyes on the same side, one higher than the
other, not in the same vertical line, and often unequal in size; the
mouth cleft awry, and the frequent want of uniformity in those fins that
are in pairs, the pectoral and ventral fins of the under side being
generally smaller; and the whole of the colour of the fish confined
to one side, while the other side remains white, produce a grotesque
appearance: yet a little consideration will prove that these various and
seemingly obvious anomalies are perfectly in harmony with that station in
nature which an animal possessing such conformation is appointed to fill.
"As birds are seen to occupy very different situations, some obtaining
their food on the ground, others on trees, and not a few at various
degrees of elevation in the air, so are fishes destined to reside in
different depths of water. The flat-fishes and the various species of
skate are, by their depressed form of body, admirably adapted to inhabit
the lowest position, where they occupy the least space among their
kindred fishes."
"Preferring sandy or muddy shores, the place of the flat-fish is close
to the ground; where, hiding their bodies horizontally in the loose soil
at the bottom, with the head only slightly elevated, an eye on the under
side of the head would be useless; but as both eyes are placed on the
upper surface, an extensive range of view is afforded in those various
directions in which they may either endeavour to find suitable food or
avoid dangerous enemies. Light, one great cause of colour, strikes on the
upper surface only; the under surface, like that of most other fishes,
remains perfectly colourless. Having little or no means of defence,
had their colour been placed only above the lateral line on each side,
in whatever position they moved their piebald appearance would have
rendered them conspicuous objects to all their enemies. When near the
ground, they swim slowly, maintaining their horizontal position; and the
smaller pectoral and ventral fins, on the under side, are advantageous
where there is so much less room for their action than with the larger
fins that are above. When suddenly disturbed, they sometimes make a rapid
shoot, changing their position from horizontal to vertical; and, if the
observer happens to be opposite the white side, they may be seen to pass
with the rapidity and flash of a meteor. Soon, however, they sink down
again, resuming their previous motionless horizontal position, and are
then distinguished with difficulty, owing to their great similarity in
colour to the surface on which they rest."
The number of species of the flat-fishes diminishes as the degrees of
northern latitude increase. In this country we have twenty-three species;
at the parallel of Jutland there are thirteen; on the coast of Norway
they are reduced to ten; in Iceland the number is but five, and in
Greenland only three.
[Illustration: Halibut.]
Many of them attain a considerable size, particularly the Halibut
(_Pleuronectes hippoglossus_). In April 1828 a specimen seven feet six
inches long and three feet six inches broad was taken off the Isle of
Man, and sent to Edinburgh market. Olafsen mentions that he saw one which
measured five ells; and we are told by the Norwegian fishermen that a
single halibut will sometimes cover a whole skiff. Let us, however,
remember that these stories proceed from the country where monstrous
krakens and sea-snakes are most frequently seen, and where the mists of
the north seem to produce strange delusions of vision. At all events, the
halibut is better entitled to the name of _maximus_ than its relation the
Turbot, to which that epithet has been improperly applied by naturalists.
The turbot, equally esteemed by the ancients and the moderns for the
delicacy of its flesh, is often confounded in our markets with the
halibut, but may be easily recognised by the large unequal and obtuse
tubercles on its upper part.
[Illustration: Turbot.]
The number of turbot brought to Billingsgate within twelve months, up to
a recent period, was 87,958. Though very considerable quantities of this
fish are now taken on various parts of our own coasts, from the Orkneys
to the Land's End, yet a preference is given to those caught by the Dutch
fishermen, who are supposed to draw not less than 80,000_l._ for the
supply of the London market alone. According to Mr. Low, it is rare along
our most northern shores, but increases in numbers on proceeding to the
south.
[Illustration: Sole.]
Next to the turbot, the Sole is reckoned the most delicate of the
flat-fishes. It inhabits the sandy shore all round our coast, where it
keeps close to the bottom, indiscriminately feeding on smaller testaceous
animals, crustacea, annelides, radiata, and the spawn and fry of other
fishes. It is found northward as far as the Baltic and the seas of
Scandinavia, and southward along the shores of Spain, Portugal, and the
Mediterranean. The consumption is enormous, for Mr. Bertram informs us
that no less than 100,000,000 soles are annually brought to the London
market.[Q] They seldom take any bait, and are caught almost entirely by
trawling. The principal fishing-ground in England is along the south
coast from Sussex to Devonshire, where the soles are much larger and
considered otherwise superior to those of the north and east. On the
Devonshire coast, the great fishing-station is at Brixham in Torbay,
where the boats, using large trawling nets from thirty to thirty-six feet
in beam, produce a continual supply.
[Footnote Q: We are told by the same author ("Harvest of the Seas,"
Murray, 1866) that 500,000 cod-fish, 25,000,000 mackerel, 35,000,000
plaice, and 200,000,000 haddocks, &c., form the yearly supply of the
metropolis, which, besides this immense number of white-fish, consumes
50,000,000 red herrings and 1,600,000 dried cod. These, with the addition
of Molluscous shell-fish (oysters, &c.) to the amount of 920,000,000,
and a daily demand for 10,000 lobsters during the season, afford an
instructive indication of what must be the requirement of the whole
population of the United Kingdom as regards fish food.
The Report of the Commissioners appointed in the year 1863 to enquire
into the sea-fisheries of the United Kingdom gives us the gratifying
intelligence that the number of fishermen in Great Britain has nearly
doubled within the last twenty years, while the boats are increasing
in number and size. No class of the population is said to be in a more
flourishing condition; and this prosperity is no doubt mainly due to
the railroads, which have opened throughout the whole kingdom a ready
market for the produce of the seas. In Ireland, however, there has been
a diminution of 10,583 boats and 52,127 men within the same time; a
consequence of the famine of 1848, and subsequent emigration.]
[Illustration: Plaice.]
The Plaice and Flounder, though far inferior to the sole in quality, are
still in great request as articles of food. On the English coast, the
plaice are obtained in abundance on all sandy banks and muddy grounds,
wherever either lines or trawl-nets can be used. On the sandy flats of
the Solway Frith, they are taken by the fishermen and their families
wading in the shoal water with bare feet. When a fish is felt, it is
pressed by the foot firmly against the bottom until it can be secured by
the hand and transferred to the basket. Long practice gives the dexterity
which renders this kind of fishing successful.
In some parts of the North of Europe, where from the rocky nature of
the soil the sea is remarkably transparent, plaice and some other
flat-fish of large size are taken by dropping down upon them from a boat
a doubly-barbed short spear, heavily leaded, to carry it with velocity
to the bottom, with a line attached to it, by which the fish, when
transfixed, is hauled up.
[Illustration: The Flounder.]
The Flounder, one of the most common of the flat-fish, is found in
the sea and near the mouths of large streams all round our coast,
particularly where the bottom is soft, whether of sand, clay, or mud. It
also ascends the rivers, and is caught in considerable quantities from
Deptford to Richmond by Thames fishermen, who, with the assistance of an
apprentice, use a net of a particular sort, called a tuck-sean. "One end
of this net," says Yarrell, "is fixed for a short time by an anchor or
grapple, and its situation marked by a floating buoy; the boat is then
rowed or rather sculled by the apprentice in a circle, the fisherman near
the stern handing out and clearing the net: when the circle is completed
and a space enclosed, the net is hauled in near the starting-point in a
direction across the fixed end."
The Sail-fluke, a species of flat-fish common among the Orkneys, where it
is highly prized as an article of food, its flesh being firm and white,
is remarkable for its curious habit of coming ashore spontaneously, with
its tail erected above the water, like a boat under sail, whence it has
derived its name. This it does generally in calm weather, and on sandy
shores, and the country people residing near such places train their dogs
to catch it. In North Ronaldshay, the northernmost island of the group, a
considerable supply is obtained in an original manner: thus described in
a letter from a resident inserted in Yarrell's "British Fishes:" "In the
winter and early spring, a pair of black-headed gulls take possession of
the South Bay, drive away all interlopers, and may be seen at daybreak
every morning, beating from side to side, on the wing, and never both in
one place, except in the act of crossing as they pass. The sail-fluke
skims the ridge of the wave towards the shore with its tail raised over
its back, and when the wave recedes is left on the sand, into which
it burrows so suddenly and completely that, though I have watched its
approach, only once have I succeeded in finding its burrow.
"The gull, however, has a surer eye, and casting like a hawk pounces on
the fluke, from which, by one stroke of its bill, it extracts the liver.
If not disturbed, the gull no sooner gorges the luscious morsel than
it commences dragging the fish to some outlying rock, where he and his
consort may discuss it at leisure. By robbing the black backs, I have
had the house supplied daily with this excellent fish, in weather during
which no fishing-boat could put to sea. Close to the beach of South Bay,
a stone wall has been raised to shelter the crops from the sea-spray.
Behind this we posted a smart lad, who kept his eye on the soaring gulls.
The moment one of the birds made its well-known swoop, the boy rushed to
the sea-strand shouting out with all his might. He was usually in time
to scare the gull away and secure the fluke, but almost in every case
with the liver torn out. If the gull by chance succeeded in carrying his
prey off the rock, he and his partner set up a triumphant cackling, as if
deriding the disappointed lad."
[Illustration: Thornback.]
The Rays resemble the side-swimmers by the flatness of their form, but
differ widely from them in many other particulars. Like the sharks and
sturgeons, they belong to the cartilaginous fishes, and as their branchiæ
adhere to the cells, these respiratory membranes are not furnished with
a gill-cover, but communicate freely with the water by means of five
spiracles on either side. More unsightly fishes can hardly be conceived.
The rhomboidal broad body, the long narrow tail frequently furnished with
two and sometimes three small fins, and mostly armed with one or more
rows of sharp spines along its whole length, the dirty colour, and the
thick coat of slime with which it is covered, render them pre-eminently
disgusting. Their mode of defending themselves is very effectual, and
forms a striking contrast to the helplessness of the flat fish. The point
of the nose and the base of the tail are bent upwards towards each other,
and the upper surface of the body being then concave, the tail is lashed
about in all directions over it, and the rows of sharp spines frequently
inflict severe wounds.
Eleven species of rays are found on the British coasts, some, like the
skates, with a perfectly smooth skin; others, like the thornback, with
an upper surface studded with spines, and some, like the sting-ray,
with a tail still more powerfully armed with a long serrated spine: a
formidable weapon, which the fish strikes with the swiftness of an arrow
into its prey or enemy, when with its winding tail it makes the capture
secure. The lacerations inflicted by the tropical sting-rays produce the
most excruciating tortures. An Indian who accompanied Richard Schomburgk
on his travels through Guiana, being hit by one of these fishes while
fording a river, tottered to the bank, where he fell upon the ground and
rolled about on the sand with compressed lips in an agony of pain. But no
tear started from the eye, no cry of anguish issued from the breast, of
the stoical savage. An Indian boy wounded in the some manner, but less
able to master his emotions, howled fearfully, and flung himself upon the
sand, biting it in the paroxysm of his anguish. Although both had been
hit in the foot, they felt the severest pain in the loins, in the region
of the heart, and in the arm-pits. A robust man, wounded by a sting-ray,
died in Demarara under the most dreadful convulsions.
The rays are very voracious; their food consists of any sort of fish,
mollusc, annelide, or crustacean, that they can catch. So powerful are
their muscles and jaws that they are able to crush the strong shell of a
crab with the greatest ease. Even in our seas they attain a considerable
size. Thomas Willoughby makes mention of a single skate of two hundred
pounds' weight, which was sold in the fish market at Cambridge to the
cook of St. John's College, and was found sufficient for the dinner of
a society, consisting of more than a hundred and twenty persons. Dr. G.
Johnston measured a sharp-nosed ray at Berwick, which was seven feet
nine inches long and eight feet three inches broad. But our European
rays are far from equalling the colossal dimensions of the sea-devil of
the Pacific. This terrific monster swims fast, and often appears on the
surface of the ocean, where its black unwieldy back looks like a huge
stone projecting above the waters. It attains a breadth of twelve or
fifteen feet, and Lesson was presented by a fisherman of Borabora with
a tail five feet long. The Society Islanders catch the hideous animal
with harpoons, and make use of its rough skin as rasps or files in the
manufacture of their wooden utensils.
Creatures so voracious and well armed as the rays would have attained
a dangerous supremacy in the maritime domains had they equalled most
other fishes in fecundity. Fortunately for their neighbours, they seldom
produce more than one young at a time, which, as in the sharks, is
enclosed in a four-cornered capsule ending in slender points, but not, as
in the former, produced into long filaments.
Thus nature has in this case set bounds to the increase of a race which
else might have destroyed the balance of marine existence; in most
fishes, however, she has been obliged to provide against the danger of
extinction by a prodigal abundance of new germs. If the cod did not
annually produce more than nine millions of eggs, and the sturgeon more
than seven; if the flat-fish, mackerels, and herrings, did not multiply
by hundreds of thousands, they could not possibly maintain themselves
against the vast number of their enemies. "Not one egg too much," every
one will say who considers that of all the myriads of germs which are
deposited on the shallow sand-banks and shores to be quickened by the
fructifying warmth of the sun, not one in a hundred comes to life, as
fishes and molluscs, crabs and radiata, devour the spawn with equal
voracity; that a thousand dangers await the young defenceless fry, since
everywhere in the oceanic realms no other right is known than that of
the stronger; and that, finally, the insatiable rapacity of man is
continually extirpating millions on millions of the full-grown fishes.
But if very few of this much-persecuted race die a natural death, a life
of liberty makes them some amends for their violent end. The tortured
cart-horse or the imprisoned nightingale would, if they could reflect,
willingly exchange their hard lot and joyless existence for the free
life of the independent fish, who, from the greater simplicity of his
structure, his want of higher sensibilities, his excellent digestion,
and the more equal temperature of the element in which he lives, remains
unmolested by many of the diseases to which the warm-blooded and
particularly the domestic animals are subject.
[Illustration: Dory.]
CHAP. XIII.
CRUSTACEA.
CRABS--LOBSTERS.
How are they distinguished from the Insects?--Barnacles and
Acorn-shells.--Siphonostomata.--Entomostraca.--King-Crab.
--Edriophthalmia.--Sandhoppers.--Thoracostraca.--Compound
Eye of the higher Crustaceans.--Respiratory Apparatus of the
Decapods.--Digestive Organs.--Chelæ or Pincers.--Distribution
of Crabs.--Land Crabs.--The Calling Crab.--Modifications of the
Legs in different species.--The Pinna and Pinnotheres.--Hermit
Crabs.--The Lobster.--The Cocoa-nut Crab.--The Shrimp.--Moulting
Process.--Metamorphoses of Crabs.--Victims and Enemies of the
Crustaceans.--Their Fecundity.--Marine Spiders and Insects.
[Illustration: Barnacle.]
[Illustration: Balanus ovularis.]
[Illustration: Development of Balanus balanoides.--(Acorn-shell.)
A. Earliest form. B. Larva after second moult. C. Side view of the same.
D. Stage immediately preceding the loss of activity. _a._ Stomach. _b._
Nucleus of future attachment.]
The Crustaceans were included by Linnæus among his insects, but their
internal structure presents such numerous and important differences
that modern naturalists have raised them to the dignity of a separate
class. They have indeed, in common with the insects, an articulated body,
generally cased with hard materials; they are like them provided with
jointed legs, with antennæ or feelers, and their organs of mastication
are similarly formed; but insects breathe atmospheric air through lateral
pores or tracheæ, while the crustaceans, being either aquatic animals
or constantly frequenting very damp places, have a branchial or a
tegumentary respiration. The perfect insect undergoes no further change;
the crustacean, on the contrary, increases in size with every successive
year. The higher crustacean possesses a heart, which propels the blood,
after it has been aërated in the gills, to every part of the body; in the
insect the circulation of the blood is by no means so highly organised.
On the other hand many of the insects are far superior in point of
intelligence to even the best endowed crustaceans, for here we find no
parental care, no mutual affection, no joint labours for the welfare of
a large community, no traces of an amiable disposition, but frequent
outbursts of an irascible and sanguinary temper. Though the whole of the
Crustacea are formed after one and the same general type, and the same
fundamental idea may be traced throughout all their tribes, yet the rings
of which their body is composed, and the limbs or appendages attached to
these segments, undergo such extensive modifications of structure in the
various orders into which the class has been divided that even the eye
of science has with difficulty made out the true nature of many of their
lowest forms. Who, for instance, judging from outward appearances alone,
would suppose that the Barnacles and Acorn-shells which he sees riveted
to the rock or to a piece of floating timber were relations of the crab
or lobster; but a view of their early forms at once points out their real
character, for then they appear as active little animals possessing three
pairs of legs and a pair of compound eyes, and having the body covered
with an expanded shield like that of many of the lower crustaceans.
After going through a series of metamorphoses, these larvæ, tired of a
roaming life, attach themselves by their head, a portion of which becomes
excessively elongated into the "peduncle" of the Barnacles, whilst in
the Balani or acorn-shells it expands into a broad disk of adhesion. The
multivalve shell is gradually formed, the eyes are cast away as being
no longer needed, and the now useless feet are replaced by six pairs of
extremely useful _cirrhi_, long, slender, many-jointed, tendril-like
appendages fringed with delicate filaments and covered with vibratile
cilia. These cirrhi, which resemble a plume of purple feathers, and from
whose peculiar character the name of the group, Cirrhipoda, is derived,
are constantly in motion as long as they are bathed in water, projecting
outwards and expanding into an oval concave net, then retracting inwards,
and closing upon whatever may have come within their reach. They are
so judiciously placed that any small animal which becomes entangled
within them can rarely escape, and is at once conveyed to the mouth. The
currents produced in the water by their perpetual activity serve also to
aërate the blood, so that these delicate organs act both as gills and
as prehensile arms. In spite of their sessile condition, the Cirrhipeds
have not been left without protection against hostile attacks, for at the
approach of danger they shrink within their shell, and close its orifice
against a host of hungry intruders.
Their various families are widely spread over the seas. It is well known
that the barnacles frequently attach themselves in such vast numbers to
ships' bottoms as materially to obstruct their way, and the acorn-shells
often line the coasts for miles and miles with their large white scurfy
patches. The Coronulæ settle so profusely on the skin of the Greenland
whale as often to hide the colour of its skin, while the Tubicinellæ
exclusively occur on the huge cetaceans of the South Sea. Some of the
larger sea-acorns are highly esteemed as articles of food. The Chinese,
after eating the animal of _Balanus tintinnabulum_ with salt and vinegar,
use the shell, which is about two or three inches high and an inch in
diameter, as a lamp, and the flesh of _Balanus psittacus_ on the southern
parts of the South American coast is said to equal in richness and
delicacy that of the crab.
While the Cirrhipeds grasp their prey as in a living net, the
Siphonostomata lead a parasitic life chiefly upon fishes, sucking their
juices with a bloodthirsty proboscis. Some (Argulus, Caligus) wander
about freely on the body of their victims as grazing animals on their
pasture grounds, or even make excursions in the water, where they will
turn over and over several times in succession like mountebanks; others
(Lerneæ), after having, like the barnacles, indulged in a vagabond
existence in their first youth, remain ever after clinging to the spot
on which they originally settled, and where their body undergoes such
remarkable transformations that not a vestige of the crustacean structure
which characterised their erratic life remains.
As we continue to proceed from the lower to the higher forms, we find,
on the next stage of crustacean life, the numerous families of the
Entomostraca; some bristly-footed (Lophyropoda), with a small number
of legs and with respiratory organs attached to the parts in the
neighbourhood of the mouth, others gill-footed (Branchiopoda), with
numerous foliaceous legs, serving both for respiration and swimming. Some
of these creatures, which are generally of such minute size as to be only
just visible to the naked eye, have an unprotected body (Branchipus),
but generally they are enclosed within a horny or shelly casing, which
sometimes closely resembles a bivalve shell in shape and in the mode
of junction of its parts, whilst in other instances it forms a kind of
buckler, an opening being left behind, through which the members project.
[Illustration: King-Crab.]
Though enjoying a royal title, the King-crabs, or Limuli, occupy in
reality but a low rank among the crustaceans, and are hardly superior
in organisation to the Entomostraca. They are of large size, sometimes
attaining the length of two feet, and of a very singular structure, the
bases of the legs performing the part of jaws. The best-known species
comes from the Moluccas, where they are often seen slowly swimming in the
sheltered bays, or still more slowly crawling along upon the sandy shores.
[Illustration: Sandhopper.]
In the Edriophthalmia are included the lower crustaceans that have
no carapace, and whose thorax and abdomen are distinctly composed of
articulated segments. The numerous legs are variously formed in the
different genera for springing, walking, or swimming; and respiration
is executed by certain portions of the extremities, modified for this
purpose in their structure. To this order belong among others the
saltatorial sandhoppers (Talitrus), which so frequently jump up before
our feet when walking on the wet sea-sand; the ill-famed Cheluræ and
Linnoriæ, whose devastations in submerged timber almost rival those of
the ship-worm, and the parasitical Cyami, which gnaw deep holes into the
skin of the whale. The sandhoppers are extremely frequent on the shores
of the arctic seas, where they emulate the tropical ants in their speedy
removal of decaying animal substances. Thus Captain Holböll relates that,
having enclosed a piece of shark's flesh in a basket, and let it down to
a depth of seventy-five fathoms, in the Greenland sea, he by this means
caught within two hours six quarts of these little creatures, while a
vast number still followed the basket as it was hauled up.
[Illustration: Chelura terebrans.]
[Illustration: Limnoria lignorum.]
[Illustration: Square facets of Scyllarus.]
[Illustration: Hexagonal facets of Squilla.]
As the lower crustaceans offer but few points of interest to the general
reader, they required but a few words of notice; but the highest order of
the class, the Thoracostraca, thus named from the carapace which covers
their thorax, so that only the abdomen presents an annular structure,
may justly claim a more ample description. The preceding orders had
either sessile eyes or none at all; here the movable eyes are fixed on
stalks and of a compound structure like those of the insects; each ocular
globe consisting of a number of distinct parallel columns, every one of
which is provided with its own crystalline lens, receives its separate
impression of light, and is thus in itself a perfect eye. Approaches to
this structure are seen in some of the lower crustaceans; but here the
"ocelli," as these minute individual eyes have been designated, are very
numerous. They are at once recognised, under even a low magnifying power,
by the facetted appearance of the surface of the compound eye, the facets
being either square (Scyllari, &c.) or more commonly hexagonal (Paguri,
Squillæ, &c). The auditory apparatus is likewise highly developed; the
sense of smell is known to be very acute; and the antennæ are delicate
organs of touch.
The Thoracostraca are subdivided into the small group of the Stomatopoda,
whose branchiæ are external and the feet prehensile or formed for
swimming, and the far more numerous and important Decapods, which are
either long-tailed like the scyllarus or short-tailed like the crab. In
these the branchiæ no longer float in the water, but are enclosed in two
chambers, situated one at each side of the under surface of the broad
shelly plate which covers the back of the animal. Each of these chambers
is provided with two apertures, one in the front near the jaws, the other
behind.
[Illustration: Scyllarus equinoxialis.]
The disposition of the anterior or efferent orifice varies but little;
but in the long-tailed species the afferent or posterior orifice is a
wide slit at the basis of the feet, while in the short-tailed kinds it
forms a small transverse aperture generally placed almost immediately
in front of the first pair of ambulatory extremities. By means of this
formation, the short-tailed decapods or crabs, like those fishes that
are provided with a narrow opening to their gill covers, are enabled
to exist much longer out of the water than the long-tailed lobsters.
Some of them even spend most of their time on land; and, still better
to adapt them for a terrestrial life, the internal surfaces of the
branchial caverns are lined with a spongy texture, and the gill branches
separated from each other by hard partitions, so as to prevent them from
collapsing after a long penury of water and thus completely stopping the
circulation. While in fishes the water that serves for respiration flows
from the front backwards, so as not to impede their motions, we find
in the interior of the branchial cavity of the decapods a large valve
attached to the second pair of maxillary feet, which, continually falling
and rising, occasions a rapid current from behind forwards in the water
with which the cavity is filled, a structure perfectly harmonising with
their retrograde or sidelong movements.
The digestive apparatus of the decapods is of a very complicated
structure. The mouth is here furnished with at least eight pieces or
pairs of jaws, which pass the food through an extremely short gullet
into a stomach of considerable size. This stomach is rendered curious
by having within certain cartilaginous appendages, to which strong
grinding-teeth are attached. These are placed at the outlet of the
stomach, so that the aliment, after being subjected to the action of
the jaws, is again more perfectly comminuted by the stomach-teeth
before entering the digestive tube. The different pieces composing the
masticatory apparatus of the stomach vary considerably in the different
genera, and even in the several species of the same genus; but in every
case they are always singularly in harmony with the kind of food taken
and the general habits of the animal.
To enable the decapods to seize their victims or to defend themselves
against their enemies, their anterior thoracic extremities generally
assume the form of "chelæ," claws, or pincers of considerable strength,
armed with teeth or sharp hooks, which give them increased powers
of prehension. This form results mainly from the state of extreme
development in which the penultimate articulation frequently occurs,
and its assumption of the shape of a finger by the prolongation of one
of its inferior angles. Against the finger-like process thus produced,
which is of great strength, and quite immovable, the last articulation
can be brought to bear with immense force, as it is put into motion by
a muscular mass of great size, and in relation with the extraordinary
development of the penultimate articulation. In most cases only the
first pair of legs is converted into these formidable weapons, but in
the Dromiæ, which are very common in the warmer seas, we find the two
posterior pairs of legs, which are of a much smaller size, and raised
above the plane of the others, similarly armed. These posterior claws,
however, are not intended for active warfare, but merely for strategical
purposes, as they serve to hold fast the pieces of sponges, shells,
medusæ, and other marine productions, under whose cover the wily robber
approaches and entraps his prey.
[Illustration: Dromia Vulgaris.]
While the lower crustaceans abound in the polar seas, the crabs are
completely wanting in those desolate regions; their number increases
with the warmer temperature of the waters, and attains its maximum in
the tropical zone. Here we find the most remarkable and various forms,
here they attain a size unknown in our seas; and here they do not, as
with us, inhabit solely the salt waters, but also people the brooks
and rivers, or even constantly sojourn on land,--as, for instance, the
_Thelphusæ_ and _Gecarcini_. There are even some species of land-crabs
that suffocate when dipped into water. They breathe indeed through
branchiæ, but the small quantity of oxygen dissolved in water does not
suffice for the wants of their active respiration. They generally live
in the shades of the damp forests, often at a great distance from the
sea, concealing themselves in holes. At breeding time they generally seek
the shore for the purpose of washing off their spawn, and depositing it
in the sand, and no obstruction will then make them deviate from the
straight path. They feed on vegetable substances, and are reckoned very
excellent food. When taken, they will seize the person's finger with
their claw, and endeavour to escape, leaving the claw behind, which for
some time after it has been separated from the body, continues to give
the finger a friendly squeeze. In the dusk of the evening they quit their
holes, and may then be seen running about with great swiftness.
[Illustration: Jamaica Land-Crab.]
All sandy and muddy coasts of the tropical seas, affording sufficient
protection against a heavy sea, swarm with crabs. In the East and West
Indies the Gelasimi bore in every direction circular holes in the moist
black soil of the coast. One of the claws of these remarkable creatures
is much larger than the other, so as sometimes to surpass in size the
whole remainder of the body. They make use of it as a door, to close the
entrance of their dwelling, and when running swiftly along, carry it
upright over the head, so that it seems to beckon like an outstretched
hand. One might fancy the crab moved it as in derision of its pursuers,
telling them by pantomimic signs, "Catch me if you can!"
[Illustration: Large-Clawed Calling-Crab.]
As soon as the ebbing flood lays bare the swampy grounds of the mangrove
woods, myriads of animals are seen wallowing in the pestiferous mud. Here
a fish jumps about, there a holothuria crawls, and crabs run along by
thousands in every direction. The black mud along the coast of Borneo
assumes quite a brilliant blue tinge, when, at low water, during the heat
of the day, the cœrulean Gelasimi come forth to feed.
[Illustration: Calling-Crab of Ceylon.]
The Venetian lagoons also harbour a vast number of the common Shore-Crab
(_Portunus Mænas_), the catching of which affords a profitable employment
to the inhabitants of those swampy regions. Whole cargoes are sent to
Istria, where they are used as bait for anchovies. The fishermen gather
them a short time before they cast their shell, and preserve them in
baskets, until the moulting process has been effected, when they are
reckoned a delicacy even on the best tables. On attempting to seize this
crab, it runs rapidly sideways, and conceals itself in the mud; but when
unsuccessful, it raises itself with a menacing mien, beats its claws
noisily together, as if in defiance of the enemy, and prepares for a
valiant defence, like a true knight.
The most valuable short-tailed crustacean of the North Sea is undoubtedly
the Great Crab (_Cancer pagurus_), which attains a weight of from four to
five pounds, and is consumed by thousands in the summer, when it is in
season and heaviest. It is caught in wicker-baskets, arranged so as to
permit an easy entrance, while egress is not to be thought of.
The legs of the crabs are very differently formed in various species.
In those which have been called sea-spiders they are very long, thin,
and weak, so that the animal swims badly, and is a slow and uncertain
pedestrian. For greater security it therefore generally seeks a greater
depth, where, concealed among the sea-weeds, it wages war with annelides,
planarias, and small mollusks. Sea-spiders are often found on the
oyster-banks, and considered injurious by the fishermen, who unmercifully
destroy them whenever they get hold of them.
In other species the legs are short, muscular, and powerful, so as
rapidly to carry along the comparatively light body. The tropical
land-crabs and the genera _Ocypoda_ and _Grapsus_, which form the link
between the former and the real sea-crabs, are particularly distinguished
in this respect.
The Rider or Racer (_Ocypoda cursor_), who is found on the coasts of
Syria and Barbary, and abounds at Cape de Verde, owes his name to his
swiftness, which is such that even a man on horseback is said not to
be able to overtake him. The West Indian ocypodas dig holes three or
four feet deep, immediately above high-water mark, and leave them after
dusk. Towards the end of October they retire further inland, and bury
themselves for the winter in similar holes, the opening of which they
carefully conceal.
[Illustration: American Sand-Crab.]
In the Portuni, or true Sea-crabs, finally, we find the hind pair of legs
flattened like fins, so that they would cut but a sorry figure on the
land, but are all the better able to row about in their congenial element.
[Illustration: Spotted Fin-Crab.]
A strange peculiarity of many crabs is the quantity of parasites they
carry along with them on their backs. Many marine productions, both
of a vegetable and animal nature, have their birth and grow to beauty
on the shell of the sea-spider. Corallines, sponges, zoophytes, algæ,
may thus be found, and balani occasionally cover the entire upper
surface of the body of the crab. "All the examples of the _Inachus
Dorsettensis_ which I have taken," says the distinguished naturalist,
Mr. W. Thompson of Belfast, "were invested with sponge, which generally
covers over the body, arms, and legs; algæ and zoophytes likewise spring
from it." In this extraneous matter some of the smaller zoophytes find
shelter, and, together with the other objects, render the capture of
the _Inachus Dorsettensis_ interesting far beyond its own acquisition.
In Mr. Hyndman's collection, there is a sea-spider carrying on its back
an oyster much larger than itself, and covered besides with numerous
barnacles. Like Atlas, the poor creature groaned under a world.
The extraneous matters which so many crabs carry along with them are,
however, far from being always a useless burden; they are often a
warlike stratagem, under cover of which the sly crustacean entraps many
a choice morsel. Thus Bennett witnessed at Otaheite the proceedings of
an interesting Hyas species, which disguised itself by investing its
body with a covering of decayed vegetable substances and coral-sand. The
better to ensnare its prey, the back was covered with rigid and incurved
bristles, calculated to retain the extraneous substances, while the short
and well concealed forceps-claws were ready for the attack, and the
ophthalmic peduncles, curving upward to raise the eyes above the pile of
materials, gave the wily crab the great advantage of seeing without being
seen. As soon as an unfortunate mollusk, unsuspicious of evil, approached
the lurking ruffian, he darted upon it like an arrow, and, ere it could
recover its presence of mind, was busy tearing it to pieces.
[Illustration: Pea-Crab.]
If many crabs are burdened with small animals and plants, others live
parasitically in the shells of mollusks. Thus the small _Pinnotheres
veterum_ claims the hospitality of the Pinna, a large bivalve of the
Mediterranean. The ancients supposed that this was a friendly connection,
an _entente cordiale_, formed for mutual defence: that the Pinna,
being destitute of eyes, and thus exposed when he opened his shell to
the attacks of the cuttle-fish and other enemies, was warned of their
approach by his little lodger, upon which he immediately closed his shell
and both were safe. Unfortunately, there is not a word of truth in the
whole story. The sole reason why the Pinnotheres takes up its abode under
a stranger's roof is the softness of its own integuments, which otherwise
would leave it utterly defenceless; nor does the Pinna show the least
sign of affection for its guest, who, on returning from an excursion,
often finds it very difficult to slip again into the shell.
[Illustration: Pinna Augustana.]
According to Mr. Thompson, the _Modiola vulgaris_, a species of mussel
very common on the Irish coast, almost always harbours several parasitic
crabs (_Pinnotheres pisum_). At Heligoland, Dr. Oetker, to whom we are
indebted for the best work on that interesting island, scarce ever found
a modiola without several guests of this description, while he never
could find any in oysters, mussels, and other nearly related species.
What may the reason be of either this predilection or that desertion?
The numerous family of the Paguri, or Hermit crabs, is also condemned
by its formation to lead a parasitic and robber-life. The fore part of
the body is indeed, as in other crabs, armed with claws and covered with
a shield, but ends in a long soft tail provided with one or two small
hooks. How then are the poor creatures to help themselves? The hind part
is not formed for swimming, and its weight prevents them from running.
Thus nothing remains for them but to look about them for some shelter,
and this is afforded them by several conchiform shells, _buccina_,
_neritæ_, in which they so tenaciously insert their hooked tails, as if
both were grown together. So long as they are young and feeble, they
content themselves with such shells as they find empty on the strand, but
when grown to maturity, they attack living specimens, seize with their
sharp claws the snail, ere it can withdraw into its shell, and after
devouring its flesh, creep without ceremony into the conquered dwelling,
which fits them like a coat when they take a walk, and the mouth of which
they close when at rest with their largest forceps, in the same manner
as the original possessor used his operculum or lid. How remarkable that
an animal should thus find in another creature belonging to a totally
different class, the completion, as it were, of its being, and be
indebted to it for the protecting cover which its own skin is unable to
secrete!
[Illustration: Diogenes Hermit Crab.]
When the dwelling of the pagurus becomes inconveniently narrow, the
remedy is easy, for appropriate sea-shells abound wherever hermit crabs
exist. They are found on almost every coast, and every new scientific
voyage makes us acquainted with new species. According to Quoy and
Gaimard, they are particularly numerous at the Ladrones, New Guinea,
and Timor. The strand of the small island of Kewa, in Coupang Bay, was
entirely covered with them. In the heat of the day they seek the shade
of the bushes; but as soon as the cool of evening approaches, they come
forth by thousands. Although they make all large snail-houses answer
their purposes, they seem in this locality to prefer the large Sea
Nerites.
The famous East Indian Cocoa-nut Crab (_Birgus latro_), a kind of
intermediate link between the short and long tailed crabs, bears a
great resemblance to the paguri. It is said to climb the palm-trees, for
the sake of detaching the heavy nuts; but Mr. Darwin, who attentively
observed the animal on the Keeling Islands, tells us that it merely
lives upon those that spontaneously fall from the tree. To extract its
nourishment from the hard case, it shows an ingenuity which is one of
the most wonderful instances of animal instinct. It must first of all be
remarked, that its front pair of legs is terminated by very strong and
heavy pincers, the last pair by others, narrow and weak. After having
selected a nut fit for its dinner, the crab begins its operations by
tearing the husk, fibre by fibre, from that end under which the three
eye-holes are situated; it then hammers upon one of them with its heavy
claws, until an opening is made. Hereupon it turns round, and by the
aid of its posterior pincers, extracts the white albuminous substance.
It inhabits deep burrows, where it accumulates surprising quantities of
picked fibres of cocoa-nut husks, on which it rests as on a bed. Its
habits are diurnal; but every night it is said to pay a visit to the sea,
no doubt for the purpose of moistening its branchiæ. It is very good to
eat, living as it does on choice vegetable substances; and the great mass
of fat, accumulated under the tail of the larger ones, sometimes yields,
when melted, as much as a quart of limpid oil. Thus our taking possession
of the Keeling Islands, as a coaling station for the steamers from
Australia to Ceylon, bodes no good to the Birgus.
The long tail, which the paguri sedulously conceal in shells, serves the
shrimps and lobsters as their chief organ of locomotion, for although
these creatures have well-formed legs, they make but slow work of it when
they attempt to crawl. But nothing can equal the rapidity with which
they dart backwards through the water, by suddenly contracting their
tail. Thus the Lobster makes leaps of twenty feet at one single bound,
and the little shrimp equals it fully in velocity in proportion to its
size, and belongs unquestionably to the most active of the denizens of
the ocean. It swarms in incalculable numbers on the sandy shores of the
North Sea, where it is caught in nets attached to a long cross pole,
which the fishermen, walking knee-deep in the water, push along before
them. Boiled shrimps are a well known delicacy; and the _Squilla Mantis_
of the Mediterranean, which resembles our common shrimp in outer form,
but essentially differs from it in the formation of its branchiæ, which
float freely in the water, attached to the abdominal legs, holds an equal
rank in the estimation of the South Europeans.
[Illustration: Crustaceans and Oysters.]
[Illustration: Spotted Mantis Crab.]
But of all crustaceans, none approaches the Lobster in delicacy of taste.
This creature, the epicure's delight, loves to dwell in the deep clear
waters along bold rocky shores, where it is taken in wicker baskets, or
with small nets attached to iron hoops. About two millions of lobsters
are annually imported from Norway, although they are also found in great
abundance along the Scottish and Irish coasts. Thus, considering their
high price, they form a considerable article of trade; and yet they
are far from equalling in importance the minute Herring-crab (_Cancer
halecum_), which, by forming the chief nourishment of that invaluable
fish, renders in an indirect way incalculable services to man.
The lobster breeds in the summer months, depositing many thousands of
eggs in the sand, and leaving them there to be hatched by the sun. But
few, as may easily be imagined, live to attain a size befitting them to
appear in red livery on our tables. Like all crustaceans, the lobster
casts its shell annually, and with such perfection, that the discarded
garment, with all its appendages, perfectly resembles the living animal.
The process is curious enough to deserve a few lines of description.
When towards autumn, the time of casting the shell approaches, the
lobster retires to a silent nook, like a pious hermit to his cell, and
fasts several days. The shell thus detaches itself gradually from the
emaciated body, and a new and tender cuticle forms underneath. The old
dress seems now, however, to plague the lobster very much, to judge by
the efforts he makes to sever all remaining connection with it. Soon
the harness splits right through the back, like the cleft bark of a
tree, or a ripe seed-husk, and opens a wide gate to liberty. After much
tugging and wriggling, the legs, tail, and claws gradually follow the
body. The claws give the lobster most trouble; but he is well aware that
perseverance generally wins the day, and never ceases till the elastic
mass, which can be drawn out like india-rubber, and instantly resumes
its ordinary shape, has been forced through the narrow passage. It can
easily be supposed that, after such a violent struggle for freedom, the
lobster is not a little exhausted. Feeling his weakness, and the very
insufficient protection afforded him by his soft covering, he bashfully
retires from all society until his hardened case allows him to mix again
with his friends on terms of equality, for he well knows how inclined
they are to bite and devour a softer brother.
The facility with which the crustacea cast off their legs, and even
their heavy claws, when they have been wounded in one of these organs or
alarmed at thunder, is most remarkable. Without the least appearance of
pain, they then continue to run along upon their remaining legs. After
some time a new limb grows out of the old stump, but never attains the
size of the original limb.
At the beginning of the chapter I have already briefly described the
wonderful transformations of the barnacles, acorn-shells, and lerneæ, but
the changes which the young crabs, lobsters, prawns, and shrimps, have to
undergo ere they assume their perfect form are no less astonishing. Thus
in the earliest state of the small edible crab (_Carcinus mœnas_) we find
a creature with a preposterously large helmet-shaped head, ending behind
in a long spine, and furnished in front with two monstrous sessile eyes
like the windows of a lantern. By means of a long articulated tail the
restless Chimera continually turns head over heels. Claws are wanting,
and while the old crab is of course a perfect decapod, the young has only
four bifid legs, armed at the extremity with four long bristles, that are
continually pushing food towards the ciliated mouth. Who could imagine
that a creature like this should ever change into a crab, to which it
has not the least resemblance? But time does wonders. After the first
change of skin the body assumes something like its permanent shape, the
eyes become stalked, the claws are developed, and the legs resemble those
of the crab, but the tail is still long, and the swimming habit has not
yet been laid aside. At the next stage, while the little creature is
still about the eighth of an inch in diameter, the crab form is at length
completed, the abdomen folding in under the carapace. No wonder that
these larvæ were long supposed to be distinct types, and described under
the names of Zoëa and Megalops, until Mr. T. J. Thompson first discovered
their real nature.
[Illustration: Metamorphosis of Carcinus mœnas.
A. First stage. B. Second stage. C. Third stage, in which it begins to
assume the adult form. D. Perfect form.]
[Illustration: Phyllosoma.]
The life history of the Palinuri or spiny lobsters is equally curious.
They frequently weigh ten or twelve pounds each, and are distinguished
by the very large size of their lateral antennæ and by their feet
being unarmed with pincers. Surely nothing can be more dissimilar than
the glass crabs or _Phyllosomas_, thin as a leaf of paper, and so
transparent that their blue eyes are their only visible parts while
swimming in the water; and yet these flimsy creatures are nothing but the
young of the large and bulky Palinuri.
Though several of the lower crustaceans ascend into the regions of
eternal snow, while others hide themselves in the perpetual night of
subterranean grottoes; though many delight in the sweet waters of the
river or the lake, or rapidly multiply in stagnant pools, yet the chief
seat of their class, which altogether comprises about 1,600 known
species, is in the ocean and its littoral zone, where their numbers,
their voracity, and their powerful claws, render them the most formidable
enemies of all the lower aquatic animals that are not swift or cunning
enough to escape them. Even the fishes and cetaceans are, as we have
seen, exposed to their attacks; and as the whale, the carp, the sturgeon,
the shark, the perch, have each of them their peculiar crustacean
parasites, it can easily be imagined how large the number of still
unknown species must be which feast on that vast host of fishes that has
never yet been accurately examined. On the other hand, the crustaceans
constitute a great part of the food, as well of the sea-stars,
sea-urchins, annelides, and many of the molluscs, as also of the fishes
and sea-birds; and as they are found of all sizes, from microscopical
minuteness to the gigantic proportions of the _Inachus Kæmpferi_ of
Japan, the fore-arm of which measures four feet in length, and the others
in proportion, so that it covers about 25 feet square of ground, they are
able to satisfy the wants or the voracity of a vast number of enemies,
from the rotifer or the polyp that feed on tiny entomostraca or the larvæ
of the barnacle, to man, who selects a great variety of the fat and
luscious decapods for his share of the feast.
A great fecundity enables the crustaceans to bear up against all these
persecutions. 12,000 eggs have been found on the lobster; 6,807 on the
shrimp; 21,699 on the great crab (_Platycarcinus pagurus_). The lower
orders are still more prolific, for such is the rapidity with which
many of them come to maturity and begin to propagate that it has been
calculated that a single female Cyclops may be the progenitor in one
year of 4,442,189,120 young! Endowed with such powers, the crustaceans
are not likely to be extirpated, nor to disappoint the hopes of their
gastronomical admirers for many an age to come.
* * * * *
When we hear of fishes wandering about on the dry land, we cannot wonder
that some insects and arachnidans should depart so strangely from the
usual habits of their class as to select the sea for their habitation.
"There is a minute marine spider," says Mr. Gosse, "very common on most
parts of the coast, crawling sluggishly upon the smaller sea-weeds, which
seems, from its lack of centralisation, to realise our infant ideas of
Mr. Nobody; but zoologists have designated him as _Nymphon gracile_.
Widely different from the spiders of terra firma, in which an abdomen
some ten times as bulky as all the rest of the animal put together is the
most characteristic feature, the belly of our marine friend is reduced to
an atom not so big as a single joint of one of his eight legs; though his
thorax is more considerable, this is little more than the extended line
formed by the successive points of union of the said legs. These latter,
on the other hand, are long, stout, well-armed, and many-jointed; but,
apparently from the lack of the centralising principle, they are moved
heavily, sprawled hither and thither, and dragged about like the limbs
of an unfortunate who is afflicted with the gout." This strange little
creature has four eyes gleaming like diamonds, respires by the skin, and
its stomach is prolonged into each of its eight legs, which are thus
made the seats of digestion. Mr. Nobody and his marine relations, some
of which also attach themselves to fishes, form the small group of the
_Pycnogonida_ (πυκνος, _frequent_; γὁνυ _knee_) thus
named from their many-jointed legs.
It is a well-known fact that the winds will sometimes waft butterflies to
an immense distance from the shore. Thus _Acherontia atropos_ has been
found on the Atlantic a thousand miles from the nearest land; and while
Mr. Darwin was in the bay of San Blas, in Patagonia, he saw thousands of
butterflies hovering over the sea as far as the eye could reach. These
insects, of course, are nothing but stray wanderers on an alien and
hostile element; but _Leptopus longipes_, a species of bug, makes the
salt water its home; the Halobates, another hemipterous insect, faces the
tranquil mirror of the tropical seas as leisurely as our water-bugs sport
on the glassy surface of our ponds, and the _Gyrinus marinus_, a beetle
belonging to the family of the whirligigs, ambitiously seeks a wide
expanse, and may be seen curvetting about on the surface of the sea, and
darting down every now and then to seize its prey.
[Illustration: Stenopus hispidus.]
CHAP. XIV.
MARINE ANNELIDES.
The Annelides in general.--The Eunice sanguinea.--Beauty of the
Marine Annelides.--The Giant Nemertes.--The Food and Enemies of the
Annelides.--The Tubicole Annelides.--The Rotifera--Their Wonderful
Organisation.--The Synchæta Baltica.
The class of the Annelides, or annulated worms--to which also our common
earth-worm and the leech belong--peoples the seas with by far the greater
number of its genera and species. All of them are distinguished by an
elongated, and generally worm-like form of body, susceptible of great
extension and contraction. The body consists of a series of rings, or
segments, joined by a common elastic skin; and each ring, with the
exception of the first or foremost, which forms the head, and the last
which constitutes the tail, exactly resembles the others, only that
the rings in the middle part of the body are larger than those at the
extremities. The head is frequently provided with eyes, and more or less
perfect feelers; the mouth is armed in many species with strong jaws, or
incisive teeth. The blood is red, and circulates in a system of arteries
and veins.
[Illustration: Nervous Axis of an Annelidan.]
With the idea of a worm we generally connect that of incompleteness;
we are apt to consider them as beings equally uninteresting and ugly,
and disdain to enquire into the wonders of their organisation. But a
cursory examination of the _Eunice sanguinea_, a worm about two and a
half feet long, and frequently occurring on our coasts, would alone
suffice to give us a very different opinion of these despised, but far
from despicable creatures. The whole body is divided into segments
scarce a line and a half long, and ten or twelve lines broad, and
thus consists of about three hundred rings. A brain and three hundred
ganglions, from which about three thousand nervous branches proceed,
regulate the movements, sensations, and vegetative functions of an
Eunice. Two hundred and eighty stomachs digest its food, five hundred
and fifty branchiæ refresh its blood, six hundred hearts distribute this
vital fluid throughout the whole body, and thirty thousand muscles obey
the will of the worm, and execute its snake-like movements. What an
astonishing profusion of organs! Surely there is here but little occasion
to commiserate want, or to scoff at poverty!
And if we look to outward appearance, we shall find that many of the
marine annelides may well be reckoned among the handsomest of creatures.
They display the rainbow tints of the humming-birds, and the velvet,
metallic brilliancy of the most lustrous beetles. The vagrant species
that glide, serpent-like, through the crevices of the submarine rocks, or
half creeping, half swimming conceal themselves in the sand or mud, are
pre-eminently beautiful. The delighted naturalists have consequently given
them the most flattering and charming names of Greek mythology,--Nereis,
Euphrosyne, Eunice, Alciopa.
[Illustration: Nereis.]
"Talk no more of the violet as the emblem of modesty," exclaims De
Quatrefages, "look rather at our annelides, that, possessed of every
shining quality, hide themselves from our view, so that but few know of
the secret wonders that are hidden under the tufts of algæ, or on the
sandy bottom of the sea."
[Illustration: Aphrodita, or Sea-Mouse.]
In most of the wandering annelides, each segment is provided with
variously formed appendages, more or less developed, serving for
respiration and locomotion, or for aggression and defence; while in some
of the least perfect of the class, not a trace of an external organ is
to be found over the whole body. The great Band-worm (_Nemertes gigas_)
is one of the most remarkable examples of this low type of annelism.
It is from thirty to forty feet long, about half an inch broad, flat
like a ribbon, of brown or violet colour, and smooth and shining like
lackered leather. Among the loose stones, or in the hollows of the
rocks, where he principally lives on Anomiæ,--minute shells that attach
themselves to submarine bodies,--this giant worm forms a thousand
seemingly inextricable knots, which he is continually unravelling and
tying. When after having devoured all the food within his reach, or from
some other cause, he desires to shift his quarters, he stretches out a
long dark-coloured ribbon, surmounted by a head like that of a snake,
but without its wide mouth or dangerous fangs. The eye of the observer
sees no contraction of the muscles, no apparent cause or instrument
of locomotion; but the microscope teaches us that the Nemertes glides
along by help of the minute vibratory ciliæ with which his whole body is
covered. He hesitates, he tries here and there, until at last, and often
at a distance of fifteen or twenty feet, he finds a stone to his taste;
whereupon he slowly unrolls his length to convey himself to his new
resting place, and while the entangled folds are unravelling themselves
at one end, they form a new Gordian knot at the other. All the organs
of this worm are uncommonly simplified; the mouth is a scarce visible
circular opening, and the intestinal canal ends in a blind sack.
Nature has not in vain provided the more perfect annelides with the
bristly feet, which have been denied to the Nemertes and the sand-worm.
Almost all of them feed on a living prey,--Planarias and other minute
creatures--which they enclasp and transpierce with those formidable
weapons. Some, lying in wait, dart upon their victims as they heedlessly
swim by, seize them with their jaws, and stifle them in their deadly
embrace; others, of a more lively nature, seek them among the thickets
of corallines, millepores and algæ, and arrest them quickly ere they can
vanish in the sand.
But the annelides also are liable to many persecutions. The fishes are
perpetually at war with them; and when an imprudent annelide quits its
hidden lurking-place, or is uncovered by the motion of the waves, it may
reckon itself fortunate, indeed, if it escapes the greedy teeth of an
eel or a flat-fish. It is even affirmed of the latter, as it is of the
whelks, that they know perfectly well how to dig the annelides out of
the sand. The sea-spiders, lobsters, and other crustacea are the more
dangerous, as their hard shells render them perfectly invulnerable by the
bristling weapons of the annelides.
While the greater part of these worms lead a vagrant life, others, like
secluded hermits, dwell in self-constructed retreats which they never
leave. Their cells, which they begin to form very soon after having
left the egg, and which they afterwards continue extending and widening
according to the exigencies of their growth, generally consist of a
hard calcareous mass; but sometimes they are leathery or parchment-like
tubes, secreted by the skin of the animal, not however forming, as in the
mollusks, an integral part of the body, but remaining quite unconnected
with it. Thus these tubicole annelides spend their whole life within
doors, only now and then peeping out of their prison with the front part
of their head.
As they lead so different a life from their roaming relations, their
internal structure is very different, for where is the being whose
organisation does not perfectly harmonise with his wants? Thus, we find
here no bristling feet or lateral respiratory appendages; but instead of
these organs, which in this case would be completely useless, we find
the head surmounted by a beautiful crown of feathery tentaculæ, which
equally serve for breathing and the seizing of a passing prey. Completely
closed at the inferior extremity, the tube shows us at its upper end a
round opening, the only window through which our hermit can peep into the
world, seize his food, and refresh his blood by exposing his floating
branchiæ to the vivifying influence of the water.
Do not, therefore, reproach him with vanity or curiosity, if you see him
so often protrude his magnificently decorated head; but rejoice rather
that this habit, to which necessity obliges him, gives you a better
opportunity for closer observation. Place only a shell or stone covered
with _serpulas_ or _cymospiras_, into a vessel filled with sea-water, and
you will soon see how, in every tube, a small round cover is cautiously
raised, which hitherto hermetically closed the entrance, and prevented
you from prying into the interior. The door is open, and soon the inmate
makes his appearance. You now perceive small buds, here dark violet or
carmine, there blue or orange, or variously striped. See how they grow,
and gradually expand their splendid boughs! They are true flowers that
open before your eye, but flowers much more perfect than those which
adorn your garden, as they are endowed with voluntary motion and animal
life.
[Illustration: Serpula, attached to a Shell.]
At the least shock, at the least vibration of the water, the splendid
tufts contract, vanish with the rapidity of lightning, and hide
themselves in their stony dwellings, where, under cover of the protecting
lid, they bid defiance to their enemies.
Not all the tubicole annelides form grottos or houses of so complete
a structure as those I have just described. Many content themselves
with agglutinating sand or small shell-fragments into the form of
cylindrical tubes. But even in these inferior architectural labours of
the _Sabellas_, _Terebellas_, _Amphitrites_, &c., we find an astonishing
regularity and art; for these elegant little tubes, which we may often
pick up on the strand, where they lie mixed with the shells and algæ
cast out by the flood, consist of particles of almost equal size, so
artistically glued together, that the delicate walls have everywhere
an equal thickness. The form is cylindrical, or funnel-shaped, the
tube gradually widening from the lower to the upper end. Some of these
tubicoles live like solitary hermits, others love company; for instance,
the _Sabella alveolaris_, which often covers wide surfaces of rock,
near low-water mark with its aggregated tubes. When the flood recedes
nothing is seen but the closed orifices; but when covered with the rising
waters, the sandy surface transforms itself into a beautiful picture.
From each aperture stretches forth a neck ornamented with concentric
rings of golden hair, and terminating in a head embellished with a tiara
of delicately feathered, rainbow-tinted tentacula. The whole looks like
a garden-bed enamelled with gay flowers of elegant form and variegated
colours.
* * * * *
If size alone were a criterion of classification, the Rotifera would have
to be ranked among the microscopic Protozoa, as they are scarcely visible
to the naked eye; but a more complicated organisation separates them
widely from these lowest members of the animal kingdom, and entitles them
to be placed next to the worms.
[Illustration: Ptygura mehcerta.--(A rotifer highly magnified.)
1. Partially expanded.
2. Completely expanded, the cilia in action causing currents
indicated by the arrows.
3. Contracted. _a._ Contractile vesicle.
_b._ Situation of the anal orifice.
]
They are chiefly characterised by a remarkable rotatory or ciliary
apparatus, whose vibrating motions, whirling the water about in swift
circles or eddies, engulf in a fatal vortex their microscopic food, or
enable them to swim from place to place. Such is the crystal transparency
of these curious little creatures that their internal structure can be
easily recognised. The mouth is placed immediately below the rotatory
apparatus, and when once an unfortunate animalcule has been driven into
its gaping portals, it is presently crushed between a pair of formidable
sharp-toothed jaws, which are perpetually in motion, whether the animal
is taking food or not. After having undergone the action of this lively
apparatus, the aliment passes into a tubular stomach surrounded by a
cushion-like mass of cells commonly coloured with the hue of the food,
and, therefore, concluded to be connected with the digestive system.
[Illustration: Conochilus volvox.--(Highly magnified.)
_a._ Jaws and teeth. _b._ Papillæ. _c._ Glands. _d._ Ovarium.
]
The rotifera are either naked or covered with a sheath, and many
inhabit a tube formed by themselves, attached by its lower end to some
water-plant, and open at the summit, from which the animal protrudes
when it would exercise its active instincts, and into which it retires
for repose from labour or for refuge from alarm. The majority, however,
have a furcated foot, which is often capable of contraction by a set of
telescopic sheathings or false joints, and by which they are enabled
to secure a hold of the minute stems of water-plants. This is their
ordinary position when keeping their wheels in action for a supply of
food or of water; but they have no difficulty in letting go their hold,
and either creeping along by alternate contractions and extensions or
swimming away in search of a new attachment. From the neck projects
a telescopic spur, supposed to be an organ of respiration, and just
below this are seen two minute red specks, supposed to be eyes. The
first rotifer was discovered by Leeuwenhoek, in 1702; now more than 180
species are known, and new discoveries are constantly adding to their
numbers. They are chiefly found in sweet water, but some are inhabitants
of the sea, as, for instance, the _Synchæta baltica_, remarkable for
its luminous powers. It measures about 1/125 of an inch in length, and
but 1/350 in width, so that it is invisible to the sharpest unassisted
sight: but when viewed through a microscope, it appears as a beautiful
and richly organised creature, clear as glass and perfectly colourless,
except that its stomach is usually distended with yellow food, and that
it carries a large red eye, which glitters like a ruby.
[Illustration: Philodina roseola.--(Highly magnified.)
_a._ Respiratory tube.
_b._ Alimentary canal.
_c._ Cellular mass.
_d._ Terminal intestinal pouch.
_e._ Anal orifice.
]
"Its motions too," says Mr. Gosse, "are all vivacious and elegant. It
shoots rapidly along or circles about in giddy dance, in company with its
fellows, sometimes near the surface, at others just over the bottom of
the vase in which it is kept. Occasionally the foot with the tiny toes
is drawn up into the body and then suddenly thrown down, and bent up
from side to side as a dog wags his tail. Sometimes the rotatory organs
are brought forward and then spasmodically spring back to their ordinary
position, when the little creature shoots forward with redoubled energy.
In all its actions it displays vigour and precision, intelligence and
will."
CHAP. XV.
MOLLUSCS.
The Molluscs in general.--The Cephalopods.--Dibranchiates
and Tetrabranchiates.--Arms and Tentacles.--Suckers.--Hooked
Acetabula of the Onychoteuthis.--Mandibles.--Ink Bag.--Numbers
of the Cephalopods.--Their Habits.--Their Enemies.--Their Use to
Man.--Their Eggs.--Enormous size of several species.--The fabulous
Kraken.--The Argonaut.--The Nautili.--The Cephalopods of the
Primitive Ocean.--The Gasteropods.--Their Subdivisions.--Gills of the
Nudibranchiates.--The Pleurobranchus plumula.--The Sea-Hare.--The
Chitons.--The Patellæ.--The Haliotis or Sea-Ear.--The Carinariæ.--The
Pectinibranchiates.--Variety and Beauty of their Shells.--Their
Mode of Locomotion.--Foot of the Tornatella and Cyclostoma.--The
Ianthinæ.--Sedentary Gasteropods.--The Magilus.--Proboscis of the
Whelk.--Tongue of the Limpet.--Stomach of the Bulla, the Scyllæa,
and the Sea-Hare.--Organs of Sense in the Gasteropods.--Their
Caution.--Their Enemies.--Their Defences.--Their Use to
Man.--Shell-Cameos.--The Pteropods.--Their Organisation and Mode
of Life.--The Butterflies of the Ocean.--The Lamellibranchiate
Acephala.--Their Organisation.--Siphons.--The Pholades.--Foot of
the Lamellibranchiates.--The Razor-Shells.--The Byssus of the
Pinnæ.--Defences of the Bivalves.--Their Enemies.--The common
Mussel.--Mussel Gardens.--The Oyster.--Oyster Parks.--Oyster Rearing
in the Lago di Fusaro.--Formation of new Oyster Banks.--Pearl-fishing
in Ceylon.--How are Pearls formed?--The Tridacna gigas.--The Teredo
navalis.--The Brachiopods.--The Terebratulæ.--The Polyzoa.--The
Sea-Mats.--The Escharæ.--The Lepraliæ.--Bird's Head Processes.--The
Tunicata.--The Sea-Squirts.--The Chelyosoma.--The Botrylli.--The
Pyrosomes.--The Salpæ.--Interesting Points in the Organisation of the
Tunicata.
Simple or compound, free or sessile, peopling the high seas or lining the
shores, the marine Molluscs, branching out into more than ten thousand
species, extend their reign as far as the waves of ocean roll. Though
distinguished from all other sea-animals by the common character of a
soft unarticulated body, possessing a complicated digestive apparatus,
and covered by a flexible skin or mantle, under or over which a
calcareous shell is generally formed by secretion, yet their habits are
as various as their forms. Some dart rapidly through the waters, others
creep slowly along, or are firmly bound to the rock; in some the senses
are as highly developed as in the fishes, in others they are confined to
the narrow perceptions of the polyp. Many are individually so small as
to escape the naked eye, others of a size so formidable as to entitle
them to rank among the giants of the sea; some are perfectly harmless and
unarmed, others fully equipped for active warfare. It is evident that
creatures so variously gifted, and consequently so widely dissimilar
in structure, cannot possibly be grouped together in one description,
and that each of the four orders, Cephalopoda, Gasteropoda, Pteropoda,
and Acephala (Lamellibranchiates, Brachiopods, Polyzoa, and Tunicata),
into which they have been subdivided, must be separately brought before
the reader, in order to give him a clear and faithful picture of their
organisation and mode of life.
The Cephalopods are the most perfect specimens of the molluscan type,
as the decapods are the first among the crustaceans. These remarkable
creatures consist of two distinct parts: the trunk or body, which,
in form of a sack, open to the front, encloses the branchiæ and
digestive organs, and the well-developed head, provided with a pair of
sharp-sighted eyes, and crowned with a number of fleshy processes, arms
or feet, which encircle and more or less conceal the mouth. It is to this
formation that the cephalopod owes its scientific name, for as the feet
grow from the circumference of the mouth, it literally creeps upon its
head.
All the cephalopods are marine animals, and breathe through branchiæ or
gills. These are concealed under the mantle, in a cave or hollow, which
alternately expands and contracts, and communicates by two openings with
the outer world. The one in form of a slit serves to receive the water;
the other, which is tubular, is used for its expulsion.
According to the different number of their gills, the cephalopods are
divided into two groups. The first, to which the poulp and common
cuttle-fish belong, and which comprises by far the majority of living
species, has only two sets of gills; while the second, which, in the
present epoch, is only represented by a few species of Nautilus, has
four, two on each side, according to the number of their arms or
feet--for these remarkable organs serve equally well for prehension
or locomotion. The first group is again subdivided into two orders,
Octopods and Decapods, the former having only eight sessile feet, while
the latter possess an additional pair of elongated tentacles, which serve
to seize a prey that may be beyond the reach of the ordinary feet, and
also to act as anchors to moor them in safety during the agitations of a
stormy sea.
[Illustration: Poulp (Octopus).]
Both the arms and tentacles are furnished with suckers disposed along
the whole extent of the inner surface of the former, but generally
confined to the widened extremities of the latter, where they are closely
aggregated on the inner aspect.
[Illustration: Calamary.]
In all the octopods the suckers are soft and unarmed. Every sucker
is composed of a circular adhesive disk, which has a thick fleshy
circumference and bundles of muscular fibres radiating towards the
circular orifice of an inner cavity.
This widens as it descends, and contains a cone of soft substance, rising
from the bottom of the cavity, like the piston of a syringe. When the
sucker is applied to a surface for the purpose of adhesion, the piston,
having previously been raised so as to fill the cavity, is retracted,
and a vacuum produced, which may be still further increased by the
retraction of the plicated central portion of the disk. So admirably are
these air-pumps constructed, and so tenacious is their grasp, that, when
they have once seized or fixed upon a prey, it cannot possibly disengage
itself from their murderous embrace.
In many of the decapods, who, generally seeking their prey in the deeper
waters, have to contend with the agile, slippery, and mucus-clad fishes,
more powerful organs of prehension have been superadded to the suckers.
Thus, in the Calamary the base of the piston is enclosed by a horny
hoop, the margin of which is developed into a series of sharp-pointed
curved teeth; and in the still more formidable Onychoteuthis each hoop
is produced into the form of a long, curved, and sharp-pointed claw
(_f_), which the predacious mollusc presses firmly into the flesh of its
struggling victim, and then withdraws by muscular contraction.
[Illustration: Section of an arm and suckers of a Poulp.
_e._ Soft and tumid margin of the disk.
_g._ Circular aperture.
]
Besides the hooked acetabula, a cluster of small simple unarmed suckers
may be observed at the base of the expanded part. These add greatly to
the animal's prehensile powers, for when they are applied to one another
(_e_), the tentacles are firmly locked together at that point, and the
united strength of both the elongated peduncles can be applied to drag
towards the mouth any resisting object which has been grappled by the
terminal hooks. There is no mechanical contrivance which surpasses the
admirable structure of this natural forceps.
The size of the arms and the arrangement of the suckers differ
considerably in the various species. In the octopods or poulps, which
generally lead a more sedentary creeping life, and, hidden in the
crevices of rocks, await the passing prey, the arms, in accordance
with their wants, are with rare exceptions longer, more muscular,
and stronger, than in the actively swimming decapods, where the two
elongated tentacles or peduncles are the chief organs of prehension. In
some species we find the arms distinct--in others they are united by a
membrane. Some have a double row of suckers on each arm, others four
rows, others again but one. So wonderful are the variations which nature,
that consummate artist, plays upon a single theme--so inexhaustible are
the modifications she introduces into the formation of numerous species,
all constructed upon the same fundamental plan, and all equally perfect
in their kind.
[Illustration: Arms and Tentacles of an Onychoteuthis.
_e._ Parts joined together by the mutual
apposition of the armed suckers.
_f._ Terminal expanded portions bearing
the hooks.
]
Thus well provided with the means for seizing and overcoming the
struggles of a living prey, the Cephalopods likewise possess adequate
weapons for completing its destruction; for their mouth is most
formidably armed with two horny or calcareous jaws, shaped like the
mandibles of a parrot, playing vertically on each other, and enclosing a
large fleshy tongue bristling with recurved horny spines. Hard, indeed,
must be the crab which can resist this terrible beak; and when the
cuttle-fish has once fixed on the back of a fish, though much larger
and stronger than himself, it is in vain for the tortured victim to fly
through the water: he carries his enemy with him till he sinks exhausted
under his murderous fangs.
Besides their arms, by help of which the Cephalopods either swim or
creep, the forcible expulsion of the water through the respiratory tube
or infundibulum serves them as a means of locomotion in a backward
direction. By those which have an elongated body and comparatively strong
muscles, this movement is performed with such violence that they shoot
like arrows through the water, or even like the flying-fish perform a
long curve through the air.
Thus Sir James Ross tells us, that once a number of cuttle-fish not only
fell upon the deck of his ship, which rose fifteen or sixteen feet above
the water, and where more than fifty were gathered, but even bolted
right over the entire breadth of the vessel, like a sportsman over a
five-barred gate. Finally, the fin-like expansion of their mantle renders
the nimble decapods good service in swimming. In the Sepias this finny
membrane runs along the sides of the body, while in the Calamary it forms
a kind of terminal paddle.
[Illustration: Sepia.
_b._ Finny membrane running along the sides of the body.
_c._ Arms with four rows of suckers.
_d._ Elongated retractile tentacles.
_e._ Eyes.
]
It might be supposed that the dibranchiate cephalopods, by their
swiftness, their arms, and their powerful jaws, were sufficiently
provided with means of attack or defence; but it must be remembered
that their body is soft and naked, and that, though well armed in
front, they may readily be attacked in the rear. To afford them the
additional protection they required, nature, ever ready to minister to
the real wants of her children, has furnished them with an internal bag
communicating with the respiratory tube, and secreting a large quantity
of an inky fluid, which they can squirt out with force in the face of
their foe, and which, mixing readily with the water, envelops them in
an opaque cloud, and thus screens them from pursuit. But this inky
fluid, thus useful to its owner, is often the cause of his destruction
by man, who applies it to his own purpose, for the Italian pigment,
called sepia, so invaluable to painters in water-colours, is prepared
from the inspissated contents of the ink bag of a cuttle-fish. Such
is the durability of this colour that even the inky fluid of fossil
species has been found to retain its chromatic property. We are told that
grains of wheat buried with Egyptian mummies three thousand years ago
have germinated; but it is surely still more astonishing that an animal
secretion, the origin of which is lost in the dark abyss of countless
ages, should remain so long unaltered.
The cephalopods are scattered in vast numbers over the whole ocean,
from the ice-bound shores of Boothia Felix to the open main; they seem,
however, to be most abundant in temperate latitudes. Some, like the
common poulp, constantly frequent the coasts, creeping among the rocks
and stones at the bottom; others, like the Cirroteuthis and Ommastrephes,
roam about the high seas at a vast distance from the land.
They are generally nocturnal or vespertine in their habits; they abound
towards evening and at night on the surface of the seas, but sink to a
greater depth, or retire into the crevices of the rocks, as soon as the
sun rises above the horizon. Some are of a recluse disposition, and lead
a solitary life in the anfractuosities of the littoral zone; others, of a
more social temper, wander in large troops along the shores, or over the
vast plains of ocean.
Possessing the organs of sense, and the means of locomotion in a high
degree of development, the cephalopods may naturally be expected to be
far more active and intelligent than the inferior orders of the molluscs.
On moonlight nights, among the islands of the Indian Archipelago,
Mr. Adams frequently observed the Sepiæ and Octopi in full predatory
activity, and had considerable difficulty and trouble in securing them,
so great was their restless vivacity, and so vigorous their endeavours to
escape. "They dart from side to side of the pools," says the naturalist
in his entertaining and instructive account of his journey to those
distant gems of the tropical sea, "or fix themselves so tenaciously to
the surface of the stones by means of their suckers that it requires
great force and strength to detach them. Even when removed and thrown
upon the sand, they progress rapidly, in a sidelong shuffling manner,
throwing about their long arms, ejecting their ink-like fluid in sudden
violent jets, and staring about with their big shining eyes (which at
night appear luminous, like a cat's) in a very grotesque and hideous
manner."
At the Cape de Verd islands, Mr. C. Darwin was also much amused by the
various arts to escape detection used by a cuttle-fish, which seemed
fully aware that he was watching it. Remaining for a time motionless, it
would then stealthily advance an inch or two, like a cat after a mouse,
and thus proceeded, till, having gained a deeper part, it darted away,
leaving a dusky train of ink, to hide the hole into which it had crawled.
All the cephalopods are extremely voracious; they destroy on shallow
banks the hopes of the fishermen, devour along the coasts and on the
high seas countless myriads of young fish and naked molluscs, and kill,
like the tiger, for the mere love of carnage. Thus they would become
dangerous to the equilibrium of the seas if nature, to counterbalance
their destructive habits, had not provided a great number of enemies for
the thinning of their ranks.
They form the almost exclusive food of the sperm-whales, and the
albatross and the petrels love to skim them from the surface of the
ocean. Tunnies and bonitos devour them in vast numbers, the cod consumes
whole shoals of squids, and man, as I have already mentioned, catches
many millions to serve him as a bait for this valuable fish.
At Teneriffe, in the Brazils, in Peru and Chili, in India and China,
various species of cephalopods are used as food. Along the eastern shores
of the Mediterranean, the common sepia constitutes now, as in ancient
times, a valuable part of the food of the poor. "One of the most striking
spectacles," says Edward Forbes, "is to see at night on the shores of the
Ægean the numerous torches glancing along the shores, and reflected by
the still and clear sea, borne by poor fishermen, paddling as silently
as possible over the rocky shallows in search of the cuttle-fish, which,
when seen lying beneath the water in wait for his prey, they dexterously
spear, ere the creature has time to dart with the rapidity of an arrow
from the weapon about to transfix his soft but firm body."
Animals exposed to the attacks of so many enemies must necessarily
multiply in an analogous ratio. Their numerous eggs are generally brought
forth in the spring. In the species inhabiting the high seas, they float
freely on the surface, carried along by the currents and winds, and form
large gelatinous bunches or cylindrical rolls, sometimes as large as a
man's leg.
The eggs of the littoral cephalopods appear in the form of dark-coloured,
roundish or spindle-shaped bodies, of the size and colour of grapes, and
hanging together in clusters. They are soft to the touch, with a tough
skin, resembling india-rubber; one end is attenuated into a sort of point
or nipple, and the other prolonged into a pedicle, which coils round
sea-weed or other floating objects, and serves to fix the berry-like bag
in its place. At an early stage these "sea-grapes," as they are called
by the fishermen, contain a white yolk enclosed in a clear albumen, and
nearer maturity the young cuttle-fish may be found within in various
stages of formation, until finally, hatched by the heat of the sun, it
emerges from the husk perfectly formed, and launches forth into the water.
[Illustration: Ova of the Cuttle-fish.]
Some species of cephalopods are only about the size of a finger, while
others attain an astonishing size. Banks and Solander, in Cook's first
voyage, found the dead carcass of a gigantic cuttle-fish floating between
Cape Horn and the Polynesian islands. It was surrounded by aquatic birds,
which were feeding on its remains. From the parts of this specimen, which
are still preserved in the Hunterian collection, and which have always
strongly excited the attention of naturalists, it must have measured at
least six feet from the end of the tail to the end of the tentacles.
Near Van Diemen's Land, Péron saw a sepia about as big as a tun
rolling about in the waters. Its enormous arms had the appearance of
frightful snakes. Each of these organs was at least seven feet long, and
measured seven or eight inches round the base. These well authenticated
proportions are truly formidable, and fully justify the dread and
abhorrence which the Polynesian divers entertain of those snake-armed
monsters of the deep; but not satisfied with reality, some writers have
magnified the size of the cephalopods to fabulous dimensions. Thus
Pernetti mentions a colossal cuttle-fish, which, climbing up the rigging,
overturned a three-masted ship; and Pliny notices a similar giant, with
arms thirty feet long and a corresponding girth. But all this is nothing
to the Norwegian kraken, a mass of a quarter of a mile in diameter, and a
back covered with a thicket of sea-weeds. When it comes to the surface,
which seems to be but rarely the case, it raises its arms mast-high into
the air, and, having enjoyed for a time the lovely daylight, sinks slowly
back again into abysmal darkness. Fishermen are said to have landed on
a kraken, and to have kindled a fire upon the supposed island for the
purpose of cooking their dinner. But even a kraken, thick-skinned as he
may be, does not like his back to be converted into a hearth, and thus
it happened that the treacherous ground gave way under the mistaken
mariners, and overwhelmed them in the waters. Strange that the oriental
tale of Sinbad the sailor should thus be re-echoed in the wild legends of
the north.
All the dibranchiate cephalopods are destitute of an outward shell, with
the sole exception of the Spirula, a small species chiefly found in the
South Sea, and of the far more renowned Argonaut, which poets, ancient
and modern, have celebrated as the model from which man took the first
idea of navigation. Its two sail-like arms expanding in the air, and the
six others rowing in the water, the keel of its elegant shell is pictured
as dividing the surface of the tranquil sea. But as soon as the wind
rises, or the least danger appears, the cautious argonaut takes in his
sails, draws back his oars, creeps into his shell, and sinks instantly
into a securer depth. Unfortunately there is not a word of truth in
this pleasing tale. Like the common octopus, the argonaut generally
creeps about at the bottom of the sea, or when he swims, he places his
sails close to his shell, stretches his oars right out before him, and
shoots backwards like most of his class by expelling the water from his
respiratory tube.
[Illustration: Argonaut.]
As he sits loosely in his shell, he was supposed by some naturalists
to be a parasite enjoying the house of the unknown murdered owner; but
this is perfectly erroneous, as the young in the egg already show the
rudiments of the future shell, and the full-grown animal repairs by
reproduction any injury that may have happened to it.
[Illustration: Pearly Nautilus.]
The tetrabranchiate cephalopods, or Nautili, are very differently
constructed from their dibranchiate relations. Here, instead of mighty
muscular arms, furnished with suckers or raptorial claws, we find a
number of small, sheathed, and retractile tentacles (_f_), surrounding
the mouth in successive series, and amounting to little short of a
hundred. The head is further provided with a large muscular disk (_g_),
which, besides acting as a defence to the opening of the shell, serves
also in all probability as an organ for creeping along the ground,
like the foot in the Gasteropods. The mandibles are strengthened by a
dense calcareous substance fit to break up the defensive armour of the
crustacean or shell-fish on which the animal feeds. There is no ink-bag,
no organ of hearing, and the eyes (_h_) are pedunculated, and of a more
simple structure. The handsome pearl-mother and spirally wound shell
is divided by transverse partitions (_a_), perforated in the centre,
into numerous chambers (_b_). The animal takes up its abode in the
foremost and largest (_b′_), but sends a communicating tube or siphon
(_c_) through all the holes of the partitions to the very extremity of
the spirally wound shell. Though the empty conch was frequently found
swimming on the waters of the Indian Ocean, or cast ashore on the
Moluccas or New Guinea, yet it was only in 1829 that the animal was known
with any certainty, one having been caught alive by Mr. George Bennett,
near the New Hebrides, which, preserved in spirits, is now in the museum
of the College of Surgeons. Since then three different species have been
found to abound in the waters of the above-named archipelago, of New
Caledonia, and of the Feejee and Solomon Islands, where they principally
sojourn among the coral reefs at depths of from three to six fathoms.
They usually remain at the bottom of the water, where they creep along
rather quickly, supporting themselves upon their tentacula, with their
head downwards and the shell raised above. After stormy weather, as it
becomes more calm, they may be seen in great numbers floating upon the
surface of the sea with the head protruded, and the tentacula resting
upon the water, the shell at the same time being undermost; they remain,
however, but a short time sailing in this manner, as they can easily
return to their situation at the bottom of the sea, by merely drawing in
their tentacles and upsetting the shell. They are caught in baskets by
the natives, who eat them roasted as a great delicacy.
What renders these animals peculiarly interesting is the circumstance
that they are the only living representatives of a class which once
filled in countless numbers the bosom of the primeval ocean, and whose
fossil remains (Orthoceratites, Ammonites) furnish the naturalist with
a series of historical documents, attesting the unmeasured age of our
planet. What are the ruins, thirty or forty centuries old, that speak of
the vanished glories of extinguished empires to these wonderful medals
of creation that lead our thoughts through the dim vista of unnumbered
centuries to the fathomless abyss of the past.
* * * * *
In point of development of organisation the Gasteropods or snails
rank immediately after the Cephalopods. They also have a head plainly
distinguishable from the rest of the body, and to which two brilliant
black eyes give an animated expression. But their nervous system is far
less developed, and while the lively cephalopod is able to swim about,
and rapidly to seize a distant prey, almost all the gasteropods creep
slowly along upon a flat disk or foot situated below the digestive
organs, a formation to which they owe their name of gasteropods or
stomach-footers.
The marine snails are divided into several groups according to the
different position and arrangement of their gills. In some species these
organs form naked or free-swimming tufts on the back (Nudibranchiata)
but generally they are variously disposed either in special cavities or
under the folds of the mantle. Thus in the Inferobranchiata they are
arranged under its inferior border on both sides of the body, or upon
one side only, while in the Tectibranchiata they are placed, as in the
Nudibranchiata, upon the dorsal aspect of the body, but are protected by
a fold of the skin. In the Cyclobranchiata they form a fringe round the
margin of the body, between the edge of the mantle and the foot, and in
the Scutibranchiata and Pectinibranchiata they are pectinated, or shaped
like the teeth of a comb, and placed in a large hollow chamber, which
opens externally at the side of the body or above the head.
[Illustration: Tiara.]
[Illustration: Glaucus.]
[Illustration: Scyllæa.]
Nothing can be more elegant or various than the form and arrangement of
the gills in most of the nudibranchiate gasteropods. In the Glauci and
Scyllææ, we see at each side of the elongated body long arms branching
out into tufty filaments; in the Briarei a hundred furcated stems serve
for the aëration of the blood. On the back of the Eolides the gills are
arranged in rows; in the Dorides they form a wreath or garland round the
posterior intestinal aperture.
The beauty of these animals corresponds with their charming mythological
names, for every part of them which is not sparkling like the purest
crystal shines with the liveliest colours, red, yellow, or azure. Some
inhabit the coasts, where they creep along upon a well-developed foot,
others live in the deep waters, where they cling to the stems of floating
sea-weed with a narrow and furrowed foot, or swim upon their back,
using the borders of the mantle and of the branchiæ as oars. Though
chiefly living in the warmer latitudes, they are found in every sea,
and many interesting species inhabit the British waters: such as the
Sea-lemon (_Doris tuberculata_), which, when its horns and starry wreath
of branchiæ are concealed, bears a curious resemblance in size, form,
colour, and warty surface to the half of a citron divided longitudinally;
the exquisite _Eolis coronata_, whose crowded clusters of branchial
papillæ are radiant with crimson and cerulean tints; and the crested
Antiopa, whose transparent breathing organs are tipped with silvery white.
[Illustration: Eolis.]
Though they have no shell to cover them, the Nudibranchiata are not left
defenceless to the mercy of their enemies. The transparency of their
body is a cause of safety to many of them. Some conceal themselves under
stones or among the branches of the madrepores, and some on contracting
cast off a part of their mantle, which they leave in possession of their
hungry foe, while they themselves make their escape.
Among the British Inferobranchiata we find the rare golden or
orange-coloured _Pleurobranchus plumula_, thus named from its branchiæ
projecting like a plume from between the mantle and foot in crawling; and
among the Tectibranchiata the common sea-hare (_Aplysia punctata_), which
resembles a great naked snail; its back opening with two wide lobes,
which can be expanded or closed over the opening at the animal's will.
When open, they expose to view on the right side the finely fringed and
lobed branchiæ, seated in a deep hollow beneath a fold of the mantle.
The uncomely creature glides along over the stones upon its flat fleshy
foot and up the slender stems of sea-weeds by bringing the borders of the
same locomotive apparatus to meet around the stem, thus tightly grasping
it as if enclosed in a tube. While progressing, the fore part is poked
forward as a narrow neck furnished with two pair of tentacles, one pair
of which, standing erect and being formed of thin laminæ, bent round so
as to bring the edges nearly into contact, look like the ears of the
timid quadruped, from which the Aplysia has derived its common name. The
colour is a dark-brownish purple studded with rings and spots of white.
On being disturbed, the sea-hare pours out from beneath the mantle-lobes
a copious fluid of the richest purple hue, which however quickly fades,
and is of no value in the arts.
More than forty species of Aplysiæ are known, most of them inhabitants of
the warmer seas. The acrid humour exuded by the depilatory aplysia, or
_Aplysia depilans_, of the Mediterranean is still supposed by the Italian
fishermen to occasion the loss of the hair, and was used by the ancient
Romans in the composition of their venomous potions--though it is by no
means poisonous. Such are the prejudices resulting from the propensity of
man to associate evil qualities with an unprepossessing appearance.
[Illustration: Chiton squamosus.]
To the Cyclobranchiate order belong the Limpets and the Chitons. The
latter, which are the only multivalve shells among the Gasteropods, are
spread in more than two hundred species over every shore from Iceland to
the Indies, but they are particularly abundant on the coasts of Peru and
Chili. Some of the smaller species inhabit our coasts, where they may be
found adhering to stones near low water mark. They are coated with eight
transverse shelly plates, folding over each other at their edges like the
plates of ancient armour, and inserted into a tough marginal band, so as
to form a complete shield to the animal. Thus encased in coat of mail,
the chitons have the power of baffling the voracity of their enemies by
rolling themselves up into a ball like the wood-louse or the armadillo:
they are also able to cling with such tenacity to the rock that it is
difficult to detach them without tearing them to pieces. The Limpets, or
Patellæ, likewise attach their shield-like shell so firmly to a hard body
that it requires the introduction of a knife between the shell and the
stone to detach them. It has been calculated that the larger species are
thus able to produce a resistance equivalent to a weight of 150 pounds,
which, considering the sharp angle of the shell, is more than sufficient
to defy the strength of a man to raise them. They often congregate in
large numbers in one place, and an old writer compares them to nail-heads
struck into the rock. More than a hundred species are known; one of
which, the _Patella cochlear_ of the Cape, is almost invariably found
squatting upon the shell of another species of limpet. The finest and
largest varieties abound on the shores of the Oriental seas and the
coasts of the Mediterranean, but several of the smaller species are very
numerous in our littoral or sub-littoral zone, where they either feast
on the green sea-weeds that we find covering at ebb-tide the stones with
a thin emerald layer, or upon the coarser olive-coloured algæ. Thus
_Patella pellucida_ and _Patella lævis_, both remarkable for longitudinal
streaks of iridescent colours on an olive-shell, may generally be found
feeding either on the broad fronds or on the roots and stems of the
Laminariæ, or Oar-weeds. To their labours may indeed be partly attributed
the annual destruction of these gigantic algæ, for, eating into the lower
part of the stems, and destroying the branches of the roots, they so far
weaken the base that it is unable to support the weight of the frond, and
thus the plant is detached and driven on shore by the waves.
[Illustration: Limpet and Shell.]
The beautiful Sea-ear, or Haliotis, is the chief representative of the
scutibranchiate gasteropods. The flattened shell, perforated with small
holes on one side, is characterised by a very wide mouth or aperture, the
largest in any shell except the limpet. The outside is generally rough,
or covered with marine substances; the inside presents the same enamelled
appearance as mother-of-pearl, and exhibits the most beautiful colours.
The holes with which the shell is perforated serve to admit water to the
branchiæ, and are formed at regular intervals as it increases in size.
The foot is very large, having the margin fringed all round, and is able,
like that of the chiton or the limpet, to cling firmly to the rock. More
than seventy species of Haliotis are known, the greater part occurring in
the Pacific Ocean.
[Illustration: Haliotis.
_c._ Series of perforations.
_d._ Eye peduncles.
_e._ Tentacles.
_g._ Foot.
]
[Illustration: Carinaria.]
To the scutibranchiate gasteropods also belong the strangely formed
Carinariæ, which seem to be made up of disjointed parts. The gills (_g_)
project from under a thin vitreous shell (_f_), which projects from the
dorsal surface, and has a form not unlike that of the Argonaut or of a
Phrygian cap. The foot (_b_) is not formed for creeping, but constitutes
a muscular vertical paddle or fin, that serves them for swimming on the
back, and is furnished with a sucking disk (_c_), with which they are
enabled to attach themselves to floating objects.
The Pectinibranchiata comprise all the spiral univalve shells, and are by
far the most numerous of all the gasteropods, as their species are not
counted by hundreds, but by thousands. If their calcareous garment could
be drawn out, it would be found to consist of a tube gradually widening
from the apex to the base; but what an immense variety of form and
ornaments, what a prodigality of splendid tints, has not Nature spread
over this interminable host! The same fundamental idea appears to us in
thousands of modifications, one yet more elegant and capricious than the
other. Thus the passion of the shell collector is as conceivable as that
of the lover of choice flowers, and when we read that rich tulip-amateurs
have given thousands of florins for one single bulb, we cannot wonder
that many of the Volutes, Cones, Mitres, and Harps, are worth several
times their weight in gold; that more than a hundred pounds have been
paid for a Chinese wentle-trap, and that the _Cypræa aurora_, which the
Polynesian chiefs used to wear about the neck, is valued at thirty or
forty guineas.
[Illustration: Orange Cone-Shell.]
[Illustration: Mitre-Shells.]
[Illustration: Harp-shell.]
The mode in which these beautifully painted structures are formed is very
similar to what takes place among bivalve shells. They are secreted by
the glandular margin of the mantle or soft skin which clothes the upper
part of the body of the snail, and their form depends on the shape of the
body they are destined to cover, while the outline of the border is alike
regulated by that of the mantle. In the border of the mantle are placed
the glands through which colouring matter is added to the lime of which
the shell consists, and here also the whole of the outer coat of the
shell is formed by constant annual additions to the lip. The after-growth
of the shell proceeds, layer over layer, from the general surface of the
mantle, so that the calcareous robe constantly increases in thickness
with the age of the animal.
[Illustration: Chinese Wentle-trap.--(Scalaria pretiosa.)]
However different the form of a shell may be, its use is invariably
the same, affording the soft-bodied animal a shield or retreat against
external injuries. In this respect it is not uninteresting to remark that
those species which inhabit the littoral zone, and are most exposed to
the violence of the waves, have a stronger shell than those which live in
greater depths, and that the fresh-water molluscs have generally a much
more delicate and fragile coat than those which live in the ocean. The
greater the necessity of protection the better has Nature provided for
the want. Thus most of the gasteropods, besides possessing a stone-hard
dwelling, are also furnished at the extremity of the foot with an
operculum, or calcareous lid, which fits exactly upon the opening of
their house, and closes it like a fortress against the outer world. But
no animal exists that is safe against every attack, for the large birds
sometimes carry the ponderous sea-snails, whose entrance they cannot
force with their beaks, high up into the air, and let them fall upon the
rocks, where they are dashed to pieces.
The ordinary mode of locomotion of the testaceous sea-snails is by
creeping along on their foot: those that have a very heavy house to
carry, such as the Cassis or the Pteroceras, generally move along
very slowly, while others, such as the Olivæ, that are possessed of a
comparatively strong and broad foot, have rapid and lively movements,
and quickly raise themselves again when they have been overturned. The
Strombidæ and Rostellariæ place their powerful and elastic foot under
the shell in a bent position, when suddenly by a muscular effort they
straighten that organ and roll and leap over and over. The structure
of the foot of the _Tornatella fasciata_, an inhabitant of our coast,
is most remarkable: beaten incessantly by the waves, in the cavities
of rocks which it frequents, nearly on a level with the surface of the
sea, to the violence of which it is always exposed, it has need of
additional powers for retaining its hold; its foot is therefore divided
into two adhering portions, placed at each extremity, and separated by a
wide interval; when it crawls, it fixes the posterior disc and advances
the other, which it attaches firmly to the place of progression, and
this being effected, the hinder sucker is detached and drawn forwards,
locomotion being accomplished by the alternate adhesion of these two
prehensile discs. In Cyclostoma the foot is likewise furnished with two
longitudinal adhering lobes, which are advanced alternately. But the foot
of the marine snails is not merely an instrument of progression on a
solid surface, for in many species it is convertible at the will of the
animal into a boat, by means of which the creature can suspend itself in
an inverted position at the surface of the water, where by the aid of its
mantle and tentacles it can row itself from place to place.
[Illustration: Pteroceras scorpio.]
[Illustration: Oliva hispidula.]
[Illustration: Strombus pes pelicani.]
[Illustration: Ianthina communis.]
The Ianthinæ, or purple Sea-Snails, carry under their foot a vesicular
organ like a congeries of foam-bubbles, that prevents creeping, but
serves as a buoy to support them at the surface of the water.
[Illustration: Murex haustellum.]
When the sea is quiet, these little creatures,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
appear in vast shoals on the surface, but as soon as the wind ruffles
the ocean, or an enemy approaches, they at once empty their air-cells,
contract their float, and sink to the bottom, pouring out at the same
time a darkened fluid like that of the Aplysia or the Murex, which no
doubt serves them as a defence against their foes, and, according to
Lesson, furnished the celebrated purple of the ancients. The Ianthinæ
inhabit the Mediterranean and the warmer regions of the Atlantic, but
especially towards the close of summer they are frequently drifted by the
Gulf Stream to the west coast of Ireland.
[Illustration: Magilus antiquus.]
[Illustration: Worm-Shell.]
While the vast majority of the gasteropods either creep or swim, some are
doomed to the sedentary life of the oyster, and remain for ever fixed
to the spot where they first attached themselves as small free-swimming
larvæ. Thus the _Magilus antiquus_, which in its young state presents
all the characters of a regular spiral univalve, establishes itself in
the excavations of madrepores, and as the coral increases around it, the
Magilus is obliged, in order to have its aperture on a level with the
surrounding surface, to construct a tube, lengthening with the growth of
the coral. As the tube goes on increasing, the animal abandons the spiral
for the tubular part of the shell, and in the operation it leaves behind
no partitions, but secretes a compact calcareous matter which reaches
to the very summit of the spiral part, so that in an old specimen the
posterior part of the shell presents a solid mass.
The Siliquariæ are generally found embedded in a similar manner in
sponges or other soft bodies, while the Vermetus, or Worm-Shell, usually
attaches itself, like the Serpulæ, to rocks, coral-reefs, or shells.
In these genera, which have been arranged by Cuvier in a separate order
(Tubulibranchiata), the foot is naturally reduced to the state of an
adhesive organ, its chief functions consisting in opening and closing the
lid.
The sea-snails are either predaceous or herbivorous; among the
pectinibranchiates, those with circular mouths to the shell are vegetable
feeders, while such as have an aperture ending in a canal are animal
feeders. Considerable modifications of internal structure indicate this
difference of food; and the external organs, particularly about the
mouth, exhibit a corresponding variety of form. In those which feed on
vegetables the mouth is generally a slit furnished with more or less
perfect lips, armed with a simple cutting apparatus, which is often
powerful enough to divide or dismember comparatively hard substances.
In most animal feeders the mouth presents the appearance of a proboscis
that can be protruded or shortened at the will of the animal, and
which, grasping the food, conveys it to a spine-armed tongue, by the
aid of which it is propelled into the gullet without mastication or any
preparatory change.
In the Whelk and its shell-boring allies, the alternate protrusion and
retraction of the proboscis, which is here of a much more complicated
structure, causes the sharp tongue to act as a rasp or auger, capable of
drilling holes into the hardest shells. It is this circumstance which
renders the whelk so formidable an enemy to mussel and oyster banks.
During the erection of Bell Rock lighthouse, an attempt was made to plant
a colony of mussels on the wave-beaten cliff, as they were likely to be
of great use to the workmen, and especially to the light keepers, the
future inhabitants of the rock; but the mussels were soon observed to
open and die in great numbers. "For some time," says Mr. Stevenson in his
interesting narrative, "this was ascribed to the effects of the violent
surge of the sea, but the Buccinum lapillus having greatly increased,
it was ascertained that it had proved a successful enemy to the mussel.
The buccinum was observed to perforate a small hole in the shell, and
thus to suck out the finer parts of the body of the mussel; the valves
of course opened, and the remainder of the shell-fish was washed away
by the sea. The perforated hole is generally upon the thinnest part of
the shell, and is perfectly circular, of a champhered form, being wider
towards the outward side, and so perfectly smooth and regular as to have
all the appearance of the most beautiful work of an expert artist. It
became a matter extremely desirable to preserve the mussel, and it seemed
practicable to extirpate the buccinum. But after we had picked up and
destroyed many barrels of them, their extirpation was at length given
up as a hopeless task. The mussels were consequently abandoned as their
prey; and, in the course of the third year's operations, so successful
had the ravages of the buccinum been that not a single member of the
imported mussel colony was to be found upon the rock." Thus the engineer,
whose skill and perseverance had gained so proud a triumph over the waves
of the stormy ocean, was defeated by an ignoble whelk.
[Illustration: Limpet's tongue.]
In the genera which have no proboscis, the tongue, acting as a prehensile
and rasping or abrading organ, is frequently of considerable length;
thus, in the Ear-shell, it is half as long as the body, and in the common
Limpet even three times longer than the entire animal. From the two
cartilaginous pieces (_b b_), placed on each side of its root, arise the
short and powerful muscles which wield the organ. The surface of this
curious piece of mechanism, a magnified view of which is given at B, is
armed with minute, though strong, teeth, placed in transverse rows, and
arranged in three series; each central group consists of four spines,
while those on the sides contain but two a-piece. It is only at its
anterior extremity (_d_), however, that the tongue, so armed, presents
that horny hardness needful for the performance of its functions, the
posterior part being comparatively soft; so that, probably in proportion
as the anterior part is worn away, the parts behind it gradually assume
the necessary firmness, and advance to supply its place. In the upper
part of the circumference of the mouth, we find a semicircular horny
plate, resembling an upper jaw, and the tongue, by triturating the food
against this, gradually reduces substances however hard. On opening the
limpet, the tongue is found doubled upon itself, and folded in a spiral
manner beneath the viscera.
Many of the Gasteropods which live on coarse and refractory materials are
provided with several digestive cavities, resembling in some degree the
stomachs of the ruminating quadrupeds; and frequently the triturating
power of these organs is still further increased by their being armed
with teeth variously disposed.
[Illustration: Bulla.]
In the Bulla, for instance, a genus belonging, like the sea-hares, to the
tectibranchiate order, the gizzard, or second stomach, contains three
plates of stony hardness attached to its walls, and so disposed that they
perform the part of a most efficacious grinding mill.
On opening the gizzard of the Scyllæa, it is found to be still more
formidably armed, for in its muscular walls there are embedded no less
than twelve horny plates (_e_), which are extremely hard and as sharp as
the blades of a knife.
[Illustration: Gizzard of Bulla.]
[Illustration: Gizzard of Syllæa.]
The Sea-hare, however, furnishes us with the most curious form of these
stomachal teeth, for here we see not only the gizzard (_b_) armed with
horny pyramidal plates, whose tuberculated apices, meeting in the centre
of the organ, must necessarily bruise by their action whatever passes
through that cavity, but the third stomach (_d_) is also studded with
sharp-pointed hooks (_c_), resembling canine teeth, and admirably adapted
to pierce and subdivide the tough leathery fronds of the olive sea-weeds
on which the animal feeds. Thus these deformed and disgusting molluscs
afford us one of the most interesting examples of the adaptation of
organs to their functions, which an enlightened research is continually
finding in creation.
[Illustration: Compound stomach of Sea-Hare.]
Though not so gifted as the cephalopods, many of the gasteropods possess
all the organs of sense. Like them, they have an apparatus specially
calculated to appreciate sonorous undulations, and consisting of a
membranous vesicle attached to an auditive nerve, and containing either
a single spherical otolithe or a larger number of similar smaller
calcareous bodies, which by their vibrations communicate the impression
of sound to the nerve. Their minute eyes are short-sighted, it is true,
and frequently either entirely wanting or, as in the Nudibranchiates,
scarcely able to distinguish light from darkness; but their inactive
habits require no wide field of vision, and thus they see as much of the
external world as is necessary for their humble sphere of existence. The
organs of sight are generally situated either on a prominence at the base
of the superior pair of tentacles or, as, for instance, in the Murex, at
the extremity of these organs (_a_, _b_), a position which enables the
animal to direct them readily to different objects.
[Illustration: Tentacles and eye of Murex.
_c._ Eye highly magnified.]
Many of the Gasteropods are evidently capable of perceiving odours; thus,
animal substances let down in a net to the bottom will attract thousands
of Nassæ in one night. We also may infer that they are not deficient
in taste from the presence of papillæ at the bottom of their mouth,
analogous to those found on the tongue of other animals; but, of all
their senses, that of touch is undoubtedly the most perfect. The whole
soft surface of the body is indeed of exquisite sensibility, but more
especially the vascular foot, and the tentacles, or horns, which vary
both in number and in shape in different genera. Yet, in spite of this
delicacy in the organisation of the skin, which makes it so sensible of
contact, it appears to have been beneficently ordered that animals so
helpless and exposed to injury from every quarter are but little sensible
to pain. Although they are deprived of all higher instincts, we find
among the Gasteropods a few examples of concealment under extraneous
objects, which remind us of the masks and artifices frequently employed
by the insects and crustaceans.
The Agglutinating Top (_Trochus agglutinans_) covers itself with small
stones and fragments of shells, and thus shielded from the view escapes
the voracity of many an enemy but little suspecting the savoury morsel
hidden under the mound of rubbish which he disdainfully passes by.
In animals which are only provided with passive means of defence, we may
naturally expect a considerable degree of caution, and in this respect
the gasteropods might give many useful lessons to man. How carefully they
protrude their tentacles as far as possible to sound every obstacle in
their way, before they creep onwards, and how rapidly they withdraw into
their shell at the least symptom of danger! What an example to so many of
us that leap before they look, and frequently break their necks in the
fall!
Yet, in spite of all their prudence and of the protection of their
stony dwellings, they serve as food to a host of powerful enemies. The
sea-stars, their most dangerous foes, not only swallow the young fry but
also seize with their long rays the full-grown gasteropods, and clasp
them in a murderous embrace.
They are preyed upon by fishes, crustaceans, and sea-birds, who pick them
up along the shores; but it will sometimes happen that a crow, while
endeavouring to detach a limpet for its food, is caught by the tip of its
bill, and held there until drowned by the advancing tide.
Man also consumes a vast number of sea-snails, for on every coast there
are some edible species; and it may be said that, with the exception of
very few that have a disagreeable taste, they are all of them used as
food by the savage. The miserable inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego chiefly
live upon a large limpet that abounds on the rocky shores of their
inhospitable land, and but for this resource would most likely long since
have been extirpated by hunger.
Many of the univalve shells are, moreover, highly prized as objects of
ornament or use both by savage and civilised nations. The South Sea
Islander makes use of a Triton as a war conch; the Patagonian drinks
out of the Magellanic volute, the Arab of the Red Sea employs a large
Buccinum as a water-jug, and the _Cypræa moneta_ is well known in
commerce as the current coin of the natives of many parts of Africa.
In Europe the iridescent Haliotis is frequently used for the inlaying
of tables or boxes, and various species of Helmet-shells and Strombi
(_Cassis rufa madagascariensis_, _Strombus gigas_), peculiar as being
formed of several differently coloured layers, placed side by side, are
in great request for the cutting of cameos, as they are soft enough
to be worked with ease, and hard enough to resist wear. More than two
hundred thousand of these shells are annually imported into France,
and the value of cameos produced in Paris alone amounts to more than a
hundred thousand pounds. A large number are also cut in the small town of
Oberstein on the Nahe (a river flowing into the Rhine at Bingen), which
has long been famous for the manufactory of agate ornaments and trinkets,
and has now added this new branch of industry to the more ancient sources
of its prosperity.
* * * * *
The Pteropods, or Wing-footers, move about by means of two fin-like
flaps, proceeding wing-like from the fore part of the body. They have no
disk to walk upon, nor arms for the seizure of prey, like the cephalopods
and gasteropods, but resemble them by the possession of a head distinct
from the rest of the body, which some, like the Hyaleas and Cleodora,
conceal in a thin transparent or translucent shell, in which they also
hide their head and wings at the approach of danger, and immediately sink
to the bottom; while others, like the blue and violet Clios, beautifully
variegated with light red spots, are perfectly naked. They generally
inhabit the high seas, and are but rarely drifted by storms or currents
into the neighbourhood of the land. They mostly swim about freely,
but sometimes also they are found clinging by their wings to floating
sea-weeds. They are small creatures, but propagate so fast that the _Clio
borealis_ and _Limacina arctica_ form the chief food of the colossal
whale.
[Illustration: Hyalea globulosa.]
While these two little pteropods, in spite of their minute proportions,
deserve to rank among the most important inhabitants of the northern
seas, the Mediterranean species belong mainly to the genera Hyalea,
Cleodora, and Criseis--forms wholly unknown to our own fauna except as
waifs. Vast shoals of these animals frequent the deeper parts of that
sea, leaving their remains strewed over its bed, between depths of from
one hundred to two hundred fathoms; they are short-lived creatures, and
have their seasons, being met with near the surface during spring and
winter, sparkling in the water like needles of glass.
"The pteropods are the winged insects of the sea," says M. Godwin-Austen,
"reminding us, in their free circling movements and crepuscular habits,
of the gnats and moths of the atmosphere; they shun the light, and if the
sun is bright, you may look in vain for them during the life-long day--as
days sometimes are at sea; a passing cloud, however, suffices to bring
some Cleodoræ to the surface. It is only as day declines that their true
time begins, and thence onwards the watches of the night may be kept by
observing the contents of the towing-net, as the hours of a summer day
may be by the floral dial. The Cleodoræ are the earliest risers; as the
sun sets, _Hyalæa gibbosa_ appears, darting about as if it had not a
moment to spare, and, indeed, its period is brief, lasting only for the
Mediterranean twilight. Then it is that _Hyalæa trispinosa_ and _Cleodora
subula_ come up; _Hyalæa tridentata_, though it does not venture out till
dusk, retires early, whilst some species, such as _Cleodora pyramidata_,
are to be met with only during the midnight hours and the darkest nights.
This tribe, like a higher one, has its few irregular spirits, who manage
to keep it up the whole night through. All, however, are back to their
homes below before dawn surprises them."
* * * * *
The lamellibranchiate Acephala, or headless molluscs with comb-like
gills, are distinguished from the preceding orders of molluscs by a
more simple organisation and the peculiar formation of their external
coverings. They are all contained within a bivalve shell, articulated
after the manner of a hinge, and to which some of their families are
attached by one strong muscle (Monomyaria), others by two (Dimyaria).
In this shell, which is secreted by two large flaps or folds of their
skin or mantle, they generally lie concealed like a book in its binding,
and bid defiance to many of their enemies. When danger menaces, the
sea-snail withdraws its head and closes the entrance of its hermitage
with a lid, but the bivalve shuts its folding-doors when it wishes to
avoid a disagreeable intruder. A strong elastic ligament connects the
two valves, and opens them wide as soon as the muscular contraction which
closed them ceases to act.
While the sea-snail creeps along upon a mighty foot, the bivalve is
frequently doomed to a sedentary life, and the former protrudes from its
shell a well-formed head, while the latter, like many a biped, has no
head at all. The lamellibranchiate Acephala have, however, been treated
by nature not quite so step-motherly as might be supposed from this
deficiency, for many of them have eyes, or at least ocular spots, which
enable them to distinguish light from darkness; and even auditory organs
have been discovered in many of them. Their circulation is performed by
a heart generally symmetrical, and their respiration by means of four
branchial leaflets equal in size, and symmetrically arranged on either
side of the body. The mouth is a simple orifice without any teeth,
bordered by membranous lips, and placed at one end of the body between
the two inner leaves of the branchiæ. The digestive apparatus consists of
a stomach or intestine of different lengths, a liver, and several other
accessory organs. A simple nervous system brings all the parts of the
body into harmonious action.
[Illustration: Bivalve deprived of shell, to show its various openings.]
In many lamellibranchiates the folds of the mantle are disjoined, as, for
instance, in the oyster, which, on opening its shell, at once admits the
water to its delicately fringed branchiæ; in others they are more or less
united, so as to form a closed sack with several openings, an anterior
one (_h_) for the passage of the foot, and two posterior ones (_g_, _f_)
for the ingress and egress of the water which the animal requires for
respiration. These posterior openings are often prolonged into shorter
or longer tubes or siphons, sometimes separate, and sometimes grown
together so as to form a single elongated fleshy mass. The use of these
prolongations becomes at once apparent when we consider that they are
chiefly developed in those species which burrow in sand, mud, wood, or
stone, and which therefore require to be specially guarded against the
danger of suffocation. The interior of these siphonal canals is lined
with innumerable vibratory cilia, by the action of which the water is
drawn towards the branchial orifice and conveyed in a current through the
canal over the surface of the gills; then, having been deprived of its
oxygen, it is expelled by a similar mechanism through the other tube;
and it is by the force of this anal current that the passage is kept
free from the deposit of mud or other substances, which would otherwise
soon choke it up. The cleaning action of the anal current is assisted by
the faculty the burrowing molluscs possess of elongating and contracting
their siphons, and the degree to which this may be accomplished depends
on the depth of the cavity which the species is accustomed to make. Yet
since many particles of matter float even in clear water, which from
their form or other qualities might be injurious to the delicate tissue
of the viscera to be traversed, how is the entrance of these to be
guarded against in an indiscriminating current? A beautiful contrivance
is provided for this necessity. The margin of the branchial siphon,
and sometimes, though more rarely, of the anal one, is set round with
a number of short tentacular processes, endowed with an exquisite
sensibility and expanding like feathery leaves. In _Pholas dactylus_
this apparatus, which is here confined to the oral tube, is of peculiar
beauty, forming a network of exquisite tracery, through the interstices
or meshes of which the water freely percolates, while they exclude
all except the most minute floating atoms of extraneous matter. Thus
admirably has the health and comfort of the lowly shell-fish been provided
for that spend their whole life buried in sepulchres of stone or sand.
[Illustration: Donax.
_a_, _b_. Siphons.]
The fragile shell of the pholades seems to have prompted them to seek
a better protection in the hard rock; a similar necessity may have
induced the ship-worm to drill a dwelling in wood. Its shells, which
are only a few lines broad, are very small compared with the size of
the vermiform body, and are therefore completely inadequate for its
defence. For better security it bores deep passages in submerged timber,
which it lines with a calcareous secretion, closing the opening with two
small lids. Unfortunately, while thus taking care of itself, it causes
considerable damage to the works of man. It is principally to guard
against the attacks of this worm that ships are sheathed with copper,
and the beams of submarine constructions closely studded with nails.
During the last century, the Teredo caused such devastations in the dykes
which guard a great part of Holland against the encroachments of an
overwhelming ocean that the Dutch began to tremble for their safety; and
thus a miserable worm struck terror in the hearts of a nation which had
laughed to scorn the tyranny of Philip II., and bid defiance to the
legions of Louis XIV.
[Illustration: Pholas striata.]
[Illustration: Ship-worm.--(Teredo navalis.)]
But while blaming the teredo for its damages, justice bids us not pass
over in silence the services which it renders to man. If it here and
there destroys useful constructions, on the other hand, it removes the
wrecks that would otherwise obstruct the entrance of rivers and harbours;
and we may ask whether these services do not outweigh the harm it causes.
The pholades also belong to the noxious animals; they perforate the
walls and calcareous jetties which man opposes to the fury of the sea,
or raises for the creation of artificial harbours and landing places,
destroy their foundations, and gradually cause their destruction.
[Illustration: Petunculus.
_a._ Foot.]
The foot of the lamellibranchiates presents a great variety of form,
and is found in various degrees of development, gradually passing into
a rudimentary state, until finally it is completely wanting in the
oyster family. In most of those which live at large it is strong and
muscular, serving either as an excellent spade for speedy concealment
in the sand when an enemy approaches, or to dig a furrow into which
the animal forces itself partially, and then advances slowly by making
slight see-saw or balancing motions, or even to jump along with tolerable
rapidity. Thus, the common Cockle protrudes its foot to its utmost
length, bending it and fixing it strongly against the surface on which it
stands; then by a sudden muscular spring it throws itself into the air,
and, by repeating the process again and again, hops along at a pace one
would hardly expect to meet with in a shell-bound mollusc.
Even some of those which have but a very rudimentary foot, incapable of
subserving locomotion, are able to move from place to place by the sudden
opening or shutting of their valves. In this manner the scallop, which
inhabits deep places, where it lies on a rocky or shelly bottom, swims or
flies through the water with great rapidity, and the file or rasp mussel,
a closely related genus, principally occurring in the Indian Ocean,
glides so swiftly through the water that the French naturalists Quoy and
Gaimard were hardly able to overtake it.
[Illustration: Cockle.
_a._ Foot.]
In the stone or wood-boring bivalves the functions of the foot with
regard to locomotion are much more limited than in the Cockle, or
Tellina, as they merely consist in moving the animal up and down in the
cavity where it has fixed its residence. In the Razor-Shells, which will
sometimes burrow to the depth of two feet, and very rarely quit their
holes, the cylindrical foot, no longer fit for horizontal locomotion,
serves the animal for rising or sinking in the sand, for when about to
bore, it attenuates it into a point, and afterwards contracts it into a
rounded form so as to fix it by its enlargement when it desires to rise.
In places where the razor-shells abound, they are sought after as bait
for fish, and taken in spite of their mole-like facility of concealment,
for when the tide is low, their retreat is easily recognised by the
little jet of water they eject when alarmed by the motion of the
fishermen above. Having thus detected their burrow, the wily enemy who
is well aware that, though inhabiting the salt water, the Solen does not
like too much of a good thing, merely throws some salt into the hole,
which, sadly irritating the nerves of the poor creature, generally brings
it to the surface. He must, however, be very quick in grasping it firmly,
for should he fail, the animal speedily sinks again into the sand and
will remain there, being either insensible to the additional irritation
or its instinct of self-preservation teaching it to remain beneath.
The pholades, which have very delicate milk-white valves, burrow holes in
limestone or sandstone rocks, though occasionally they content themselves
with houses of clay or turf. How creatures invested with shells as thin
as paper and as brittle as glass are able to work their way through hard
stone has long been a puzzle to naturalists, some of whom asserted that
they attained their object by means of an acid solvent, others that
they bored like an auger by revolving; but recent investigations have
discovered that their short and truncated foot is the chief instrument
they use in their mining operations, being provided at its base with a
rough layer of sharp crystals of flint, which, when worn off, are soon
replaced by others, and act as excellent files.
[Illustration: Solen, or Razor-Shell.
_a._ Foot.]
In several of the sedentary genera the rudimentary foot, though incapable
of locomotion, makes itself useful by spinning a bundle of silken
threads, called _byssus_, or beard, which serve to anchor the animal to
any solid submarine object as firmly as a ship in harbour. Generally
the connection is permanent, but some species, among others the edible
mussel, are able to detach the filaments from the glandular pedicle
situated at the inferior base of the foot which originally secreted them,
and then to seek another point of attachment.
If the byssus be examined under a powerful lens, before any of the
filaments are torn, it is easy to perceive that these are fixed to
submarine bodies by means of a small disc-like expansion of their
extremities of various extent, according to the genus and species.
Certain genera are celebrated for the abundance and fineness of their
byssus; that of the Pinnæ, or Wing-Shells, among others, which are very
common in some parts of the Mediterranean, and attain a considerable
size, is so long and firm that in Naples it is sometimes manufactured
into gloves and other articles of dress, though more as an object of
curiosity than for use.
Thus we find in the same class of animals the same organ most variously
modified in form and structure; now serving as a foot, now as a spade,
or as a rasp, or as a spinning machine, and, throughout all these
modifications, admirably adapted in every case to the mode of life of its
possessor.
[Illustration: Pinna.
_c._ Pedicle from which the filaments are detached.
_d._ Inferior base of the foot.
]
The whole construction, and generally the extremely restricted
locomotion, of the bivalves tells us at once that they are unable
to attack their prey, but must be satisfied with the food which the
sea-currents bring to the door of their shells, or within the vortex
of their branchial siphons. But they have as little reason to complain
as the equally slow or sessile polyps, bryozoa, and ascidians, for the
waters of the ocean harbour such incalculable multitudes of microscopic
animals and plants that their moderate appetite never remains long
unsatisfied. The same streams which aërate their blood also convey to
their mouth all the food which they require.
Deprived of more active weapons, most bivalves rely upon their shells
as their best means of defence, and to answer this purpose, their stony
covering must naturally increase in solidity the more its owner is
exposed to injury. The pholades, lithodomes, and teredines, which scoop
out their dwellings in stone or wood, and thus enjoy the protection of
a retrenched camp, can do with a thin and brittle or even with a mere
rudimentary shell. The solens, which at the least alarm bury themselves
deeper and deeper in the sand, likewise require no closely-fitting
valves; but the oysters or mussels, which have no external fortress to
retire to, and are unable to move from the spot, would be badly off
indeed if they could not entirely conceal themselves within their thick
shells, and keep them closed by strong muscular contraction.
Bernardin de St. Pierre, in his "Studies of Nature," points out another
admirable provision for the safety of molluscs. Thus, those which crawl
and travel, and can consequently choose their own asylums, are in general
those of the richest colours. Such, among the Gasteropods, are the
gaudily-tinted Nerites, and the polished marbled Cowries, the Olives,
richly ornamented with three or four colours, and the Harps, which have
tints as rich as the most beautiful tulips; while among the bivalves
the vivacious Pectens, coloured scarlet and orange, and a host of other
travelling shells, are impressed with the most lively colours. But those
which do not swim, as the Oysters, which are adherent always to the
same rocks, or those which are perpetually at anchor, as the Pinnas and
Mussels, or those which repose on the bosom of Madrepores, such as the
Arcs, or those which are entirely buried in the calcareous rocks, as the
Lithodomi, or those which immovably, by reason of their weight, pave the
surface of the reefs, as the Tridacna, are of the colour of the bottoms
or floors which they respectively inhabit, in order, no doubt, that they
shall be less perceived by their enemies.
But even so the best guarded of the bivalves fall a prey to innumerable
enemies, and when we see the strand covered for miles and miles with
their débris, we may rest assured that but few of the quondam inmates
of these fragmentary shells have died a natural death. Annelides
and Sea-snails, crustaceans and star-fishes, strand birds and even
quadrupeds, all fatten upon their delicate flesh, and man devours
incalculable numbers.
[Illustration: Edible Cockle.]
In vain the Pholas buries itself in stone, or the cockle in the sand;
their security was at an end as soon as man had found out that they
were grateful to the palate. The former was reckoned a delicacy by the
ancients, and the latter is preferred by some to the oyster itself. So
much is certain, that, during the years of famine caused by the potato
disease, it preserved the lives of many of the poor Shetlanders and
Orcadians.
The Razor-Shells, particularly when roasted, and the Clam-Mussels, which
are not only a favourite repast of the Greenlander but also of the white
bear and arctic fox, are equally reckoned among the most delicate of
bivalves.
The common Mussel (_Mytilus edulis_), which is found in the littoral
zone on almost every rocky shore, is eaten in vast numbers by the coast
inhabitants, and carried in enormous masses into the interior of the
country; it furnishes an equally cheap and agreeable food, but is not
easy of digestion, and sometimes produces symptoms of poisoning, which
have been ascribed to the eggs of asterias, on which it feeds during the
summer. In the northern countries it is also in great request as a bait
for cod, ling, rays, and other large fishes that are caught by the line.
In the Frith of Forth alone from thirty to forty millions of mussels are
used for this purpose, and in many places they are enclosed in _gardens_,
the ground of which is covered with large stones, to which they attach
themselves by their byssus or beard.
[Illustration: Edible Mussel.]
It is a curious fact that the rearing of mussels should have been
introduced into France as far back as the year 1235, by an Irishman
of the name of Walton. This man, who had been shipwrecked in the Bay
de l'Aiguillon, and gained a precarious living by catching sea-birds,
observed that the mussels, which had attached themselves to the poles
on which he spread his nets over the shallow waters, were far superior
to those that naturally grow in the mud, and immediately made use
of his discovery by founding the first "_bouchot_," or mussel-park,
consisting of stakes and rudely interwoven branches. His example soon
found imitators, and, strange to say, the method of construction adopted
by Walton, six centuries ago, has been maintained unaltered to the
present day. It may give some idea of the immense resources that might
be obtained from so many utterly neglected lagunes when we hear that
the fishermen of l'Aiguillon, although they sell three hundredweight of
mussels for the very low sum of five francs, or four shillings, annually
export or send them into the interior to the amount of a million or
twelve hundred thousand francs.
The praise which Pliny bestowed on the oyster, calling it the palm or
glory of the table, is still re-echoed by thousands of enthusiastic
admirers. We know that this king of the molluscs congregates in enormous
banks, often extending for miles and miles, particularly on rocky ground,
though it is also found on a sandy or even on a muddy bottom. Along the
shallow alluvial shores of many tropical lands, great quantities of
oysters are often found attached to the lower branches of the mangroves,
where they are so situated as to be covered when the flood sets in, and
to remain suspended in the air when it retires, swinging about as the
wind agitates their movable support. The oyster inhabits all the European
seas from the shores of the Mediterranean to the Westenfiord in Norway,
where it finds its northern boundary, lat. 68° N., but the British
waters may be considered as its headquarters, for nowhere is it found
in greater abundance and of a richer flavour. After the ancient Romans
had once tasted the oysters of Kent--the renowned _Rutupians_--they
preferred them by far to those of the Lucrine lake, of Brindisi, and of
Abydos, and Macrobius tells us that the Roman epicures in the fourth
century never failed to have them at table. The "Pandores" of Edinburgh,
and the "Carlingfords" of Dublin, are likewise celebrated for their
delicious flavour; and if we turn to the Continent, we find the Bay
of Biscay, and the coasts of Brittany and Normandy, of Holland and of
Schleswig-Holstein, renowned for the excellence of their oysters.
Three sorts of oysters are distinguished in the trade. The first
comprises those which are dredged from the deeper banks. These are the
largest-sized, but also the least valued. The second consists of those
that are gathered on a more elevated situation. Being accustomed to
the daily vicissitudes of ebb and flood, they retain their water much
longer, and can therefore be transported to much greater distances than
the former. Those are preferred that grow on a clear bottom near the
estuaries of rivers. The third and most valued sort of oysters are those
that are cleaned and fattened in artificial _parks_ or stews.
This branch of industry was already known to the Romans, and Pliny
tells us that Sergius Orata, a knight, was the first who established an
artificial basin for the cultivation of oysters, and realised large sums
of money by this ingenious invention. At present Harwich, Colchester,
Whitstable, and many other sea-ports along our coast are famed for their
oyster-stews, as are, in France and Belgium, Marennes, Havre, Dieppe,
Tréport, and Ostend, where real British natives are cleaned and fattened
for continental consumption.
The renowned oyster-parks of Ostend, the oldest of which celebrated its
hundredth anniversary in 1860, are extensive walled basins, communicating
by sluices with the open sea, so that the water can be let in and out
with every returning tide. As microscopic algæ and animalculæ are
produced in much greater numbers in these tranquil reservoirs than in
the boisterous sea, the oysters find here much more abundant food, and
being detached one from the other, they can also open and close their
shells with greater facility, so that nothing hinders their growth. Thus
fostered and improved by constant attention, they are greatly superior
in flavour to the rough children of nature that are sent without any
further preparation to market and condemned to the knife soon after
having been dragged forth from their submarine abode. The highly prized
_green_ oysters owe their colour to the number of ulvæ, enteromorphæ, and
microscopic infusoriæ, that are abundantly generated in the parks, and
communicate their verdant tinge to the animal that swallows them.
In spite of their high price, which unfortunately debars the poorer
classes from their enjoyment, the consumption of oysters is immense; so
that in a commercial point of view they are by far the most important of
all the mollusc tribes. Of the quantities eaten in London alone, it is
impossible to give even an approximate guess, as no reliable statistics
can be arrived at. Exclusive of those bred in Essex and Kent, in the
rivers Crouch, Blackwater, and Colne, and in the channel of the Swale and
the Medway, vast numbers are brought from Jersey, Poole, and other places
along the coast. The Channel Islands alone, which export about 100,000
bushels a year, send a great part of their oysters to the metropolitan
market.
The luxurious tables of Paris likewise consume unnumbered millions, and
when we consider that, thanks to the railroad, even the most distant
inland towns of the Continent may now be supplied with Ostend oysters, we
cannot wonder that their price has risen enormously with the constantly
increasing demand.
This great augmentation of value has naturally directed attention to
the creation of new oyster-banks, and to the better management of those
already existing, and fortunately the manner in which the mollusc
propagates renders its culture in appropriate localities a by no means
difficult task.
The oyster spawns from June to September. Instead of immediately
abandoning its eggs to their fate, as is the case with so many
sea-animals, it keeps them for a time in the folds of its mantle, between
the branchial lamellæ, and it is only after having thus acquired a more
perfect development that the microscopic larvæ, furnished with a swimming
apparatus and eyes, emerge from the shell, and are then driven about
by the floods and currents, until they find some solid body to which
they attach themselves for life. In this manner the oyster produces in
one single summer a couple of millions of young, which, however, mostly
perish during the first wandering stage of their existence. Thus we see
what rich rewards may be gained by protecting and fixing the oyster-larvæ
at an early date; and that this can be done in many places without any
great outlay of capital is proved to us by successful examples both in
ancient and modern times.
Between the Lucrine Lake, the ruins of Cumæ, where of yore the Sibyl
uttered her ambiguous oracles, and the promontory of Misenum, lies a
small salt-water lake, about a league in circumference, generally from
three to six feet deep, and reposing on a volcanic, black, and muddy
bottom. This is the old Acheron of Virgil, the present Fusaro. Over
its whole extent are spread from space to space great heaps of stones,
that have been originally stocked with oysters brought from Tarentum.
Round each of these artificial mounds stakes are driven into the ground,
tolerably near each other, and projecting from the water, so as to be
pulled up easily. Other stakes stand in long rows several feet apart,
and are united by ropes, from which bundles of brushwood hang down into
the water. All these arrangements are intended to fix the _oyster-dust_,
that annually escapes from the parental shells, and to afford it a vast
number of points to which it may attach itself. After two or three years
the microscopic larvæ have grown into edible oysters. Then, at the proper
season, the stakes and brushwood bundles are taken out of the water, and
after the ripe berries of the marine vineyard have been plucked, they
are again immersed into the lake, until a new generation brings a new
harvest. Thus the indolent Neapolitans have for ages given an example
which has but recently been imitated by the men of the North. In 1858
a mason named Beef (a name which, if not misspelt, would seem to point
out an English origin) inaugurated the modern era of oyster cultivation,
at the island of Ré, near La Rochelle, by laying down a few bushels of
growing oysters among a quantity of large stones on the fore shore. His
success encouraged his neighbours to follow his example, so that now
already upwards of 4,000 beds or _claires_ extend along the coast.
Between March and May 1859 a quantity of oysters taken from different
parts of the sea were distributed in ten longitudinal beds in the Bay of
St. Brieux, on the coast of Brittany. The bottom was previously covered
with old oyster-shells and boughs of trees arranged like fascines, which
afford a capital holding-ground for the spat. In 1860 three of the
fascines were taken up indiscriminately from one of the banks, and found
to contain about 20,000 oysters each, of from one inch to two inches in
diameter. The total expense for forming the above bank was 221 francs,
and reckoning the number of oysters on each of the 300 fascines laid down
on it at only 10,000, these sold at the low price of 20 francs a thousand
would produce the sum of 60,000 francs, thus yielding a larger profit
than any other known branch of industry.
Encouraged by these successful examples, an English company has obtained
a grant by Act of Parliament of a piece of fore shore lying between the
Whitstable and Faversham Oyster Companies' beds, and thus admirably
situated for receiving a large quantity of floating spawn from these
establishments. There can be no doubt that oyster cultivation will
spread further and further, and that ultimately all the worthless bays
and lagunes along our coasts will be converted into rich oyster-fields,
yielding a good profit to their owners and enjoyment to millions of
consumers.
A shell nearly related to the oyster produces the costly pearls of the
East that have ever been as highly esteemed as the diamond itself.
The most renowned pearl-fisheries are carried on at Bahrein, in the
Persian Gulf, and in the Bay of Condatchy, in the island of Ceylon, on
banks situated a few miles from the coast. Before the beginning of the
fishery, the government causes the banks to be explored, and then lets
them to the highest bidder, very wisely allowing only a part of them
to be fished every year. The fishing begins in February, and ceases by
the beginning of April. The boats employed for this purpose assemble in
the bay, set off at night at the firing of a signal-gun, and reach the
banks after sunrise, where fishing goes on till noon, when the sea-breeze
which arises about that time warns them to return to the bay. As soon as
they appear within sight, another gun is fired, to inform the anxious
owners of their return. Each boat carries twenty men and a chief; ten
of them row and hoist up the divers, who are let down by fives,--and
thus alternately diving and resting keep their strength to the end of
their day's work. The diver, when he is about to plunge, compresses his
nostrils tightly with a small piece of horn, which keeps the water out,
and stuffs his ears with bees'-wax for the same purpose. He then seizes
with the toes of his right foot a rope to which a stone is attached, to
accelerate the descent, while the other foot grasps a bag of network.
With his right hand he lays hold of another rope, and in this manner
rapidly reaches the bottom. He then hangs the net round his neck, and
with much dexterity and all possible despatch collects as many oysters
as he can while he is able to remain under water, which is usually about
two minutes. He then resumes his former position, makes a signal to
those above by pulling the rope in his right hand, and is immediately
by this means hauled up into the boat, leaving the stone to be pulled
up afterwards by the rope attached to it. Accustomed from infancy to
their work, these divers do not fear descending repeatedly to depths of
fifty or sixty feet. They plunge more than fifty times in a morning,
and collect each time about a hundred shells. Sometimes, however, the
exertion is so great that, upon being brought into the boat, they
discharge blood from their mouth, ears, and nostrils.
[Illustration: Ceylon Pearl-Oyster.]
While the fishing goes on, a number of conjurors and priests are
assembled on the coast, busily employed in protecting the divers by their
incantations against the voracity of the sharks. These are the great
terror of the divers, but they have such confidence in the skill or
power of their conjurors that they neglect every other means of defence.
The divers are paid in money, or receive a part of the oyster-shells in
payment. Often, indeed, they try to add to their gains by swallowing
here or there a pearl, but the sly merchant knows how to find the stolen
property. The oysters, when safely landed, are piled up on mats, in
places fenced round for the purpose. As soon as the animals are dead, the
pearls can easily be sought for and extracted from the gaping shells.
After the harvest has been gathered, the largest, thickest, and finest
shells, which furnish mother-of-pearl, are sorted, and the remaining heap
is left to pollute the air. Some poor Indians, however, often remain for
weeks on the spot, stirring the putrid mass in the hopes of gleaning some
forgotten pearls from the heap of rottenness. The pearls are drilled and
stringed in Ceylon, a work which is performed with admirable dexterity
and quickness. For cleaning, rounding, and polishing them, a powder of
ground pearls is made use of.
The Pacific also furnishes these costly ornaments to wealth and beauty,
but the pearls of California and Tahiti are less prized than those of the
Indian Ocean.
Pearl-like excrescences likewise form on the inner surface of our oysters
and mussels, and originate in the same manner as the true pearls.
The formation of the pearl, however, is not yet quite satisfactorily
accounted for. Some naturalists believe that the animal accumulates
the pearl-like substance to give the shell a greater thickness and
solidity in the places where it has been perforated by some annelide or
gasteropod; and according to Mr. Philippi, an intestinal worm stimulates
the exudation of the pearl-like mass, which, on hardening, encloses and
renders it harmless.
Brilliancy, size, and perfect regularity of form are the essential
qualities of a beautiful pearl. Their union in a single specimen is rare,
but it is of course still more difficult to find a number of pearls of
equal size and beauty for a costly necklace or a princely tiara.
Nature has given the bivalves the same beauty of colouring and wonderful
variety of elegant or capricious forms as to the sea-snails; so that
they are equally esteemed in the cabinets of wealthy amateurs. Among the
most costly are reckoned the Spondyli, which are found in the tropical
seas, where they grow attached to rocks. They are distinguished by
the brilliancy of their colours, but particularly by the long thorny
excrescences with which their shells are covered. A Parisian professor
once pawned all his silver spoons and forks to make up the sum of six
thousand francs which was asked for a _Royal Spondylus_; but on returning
home was so _warmly_ received by his lady that, overwhelmed by the
hurricane, he flung himself on a chair, when the terrific cracking of the
box containing his treasure reminded him too late that he had concealed
it in his skirt-pocket. Fortunately but two of the thorns had been broken
off, and the damage was susceptible of being repaired; his despair,
however, was so great that his wife had not the heart to continue her
reproaches, and in her turn began to soothe the unfortunate collector.
[Illustration: Tridacna gigas.]
The gigantic Tridacna, which is now to be found in the shop of every
dealer in shells, was formerly an object of such rarity and value that
the Republic of Venice once made a present of one of them to Francis I.,
who gave it to the Church of St. Sulpice in Paris, where it is still made
use of as a basin for holy water. The tridacna attains a diameter of
five feet, and a weight of five hundred pounds, the flesh alone weighing
thirty. The muscular power is said to be so great as to be able to cut
through a thick rope on closing the shell. It is found in the dead rocks
on the coral reefs, where there are no growing lithophytes except small
tufts. Generally only an inch or two in breadth of the ponderous shell
is exposed to view, for the tridacna, like the pholas, has the power of
sinking itself in the rock, by removing the lime about it. Without some
means like this of security, its habitation would inevitably be destroyed
by the roaring breakers. A tuft of byssus, however strong, would be a
very imperfect security against the force of the sea for shells weighing
from one to five hundred pounds. It is found in the Indian Ocean and the
Pacific as far as the coral zone extends. The animal of the tridacna,
and of the nearly related Hippopus, distinguishes itself by the beauty
of its colours. The mantle of the _Tridacna safranea_, for instance,
has a dark blue edge with emerald-green spots, gradually passing into a
light violet. When a large number of these beautiful creatures expand the
velvet brilliancy of their costly robes in the transparent waters, no
flower-bed on earth can equal them in splendour.
[Illustration: Hippopus maculatus.]
* * * * *
Like the Lamellibranchiate Acephala, the Brachiopods are covered with
a bivalve shell, but their internal organisation is very different.
Instead of being disposed in separate gills, their respiratory system is
combined with the ciliated mantle on which the vascular ramifications are
distributed, but their most striking feature is the possession of spiral
fringed arms or buccal appendages which serve to open the shell and
occupy the greater part of its cavity. These curious organs are in some
Brachiopods quite free, in others attached to a complicated cartilaginous
or calcareous skeleton. None of the existing molluscs of this class are
capable of changing place, but are either fixed to extraneous substances
by the agglutination of one of their valves or by a muscular peduncle
passing through a perforation of their shells. There are no more than
forty-nine living species, chiefly belonging to the genera Terebratula
and Crania, and generally found at great depths in the Southern Ocean;
but the fossil remains of 1,370 species prove their importance in the
primitive seas, where they rivalled the lamellibranchiates in numbers and
variety. Though now so rare or so local in the British seas that ordinary
collectors are not likely to meet with any, they abound in many of our
oldest rocks. "A visit to the quarries at Dudley," says E. Forbes, "or
an Irish lime-kiln, or an oolitic section on the Dorsetshire coast, or
a green sand ravine in the Isle of Wight, will afford more information
about the Brachiopods than an examination of the finest collection of the
living species. In each of the above excursions a different set of forms
would be collected, for many of the palæozoic genera have altogether
disappeared when we rise among the secondary rocks, and in the latter
we find forms which closely remind us of existing species, but which,
though very near, are yet unquestionably distinct. In formations of all
epochs, a few generic types are common, and the Lingulæ of the earliest
sedimentary formations, presenting traces of organic life, strikingly
remind us of the species of that curious group living in exotic seas at
the present day."
* * * * *
[Illustration: Leaf-like Sea-Mat.]
At the lower extremity of the great series of molluscous animals we find
the Polyzoa (Bryozoa, or Sea-Mosses) and Tunicata. The former, which
comprise the Sea-Mats (Flustræ, Escharæ), the Sea-Scurfs (Lepraliæ), the
Retepores, the Cellulariæ, and several other families, were formerly
reckoned among the polyps, whom they greatly resemble in appearance
and mode of life, but far surpass by the complexity of their internal
organisation. The Sea-Mats are among the commonest objects which the tide
casts out upon our shores, for you will hardly ever walk upon the strand
without finding their blanched skeletons among the relics of the retiring
flood. Their flat leaf-like forms might easily cause them to be mistaken
for dried sea-weeds, but a pocket-lens suffices to show that they are
built up of innumerable little oblong cells, placed back to back like
those of a honey-comb, and each crowned by four stout spines, which give
their surface a peculiarly harsh feel when the finger is passed over it
from the apex to the base. "The individual cells," says Mr. Gosse, "are
shaped like a child's cradle, and if you will please to suppose some
twenty thousand cradles stuck side to side in one plane, and then turned
over, and twenty thousand more stuck on to these bottom to bottom, you
will have an idea of the framework of a flustra. And do not think the
number outrageous, for it is but an ordinary average. I count in an area
of half an inch square sixty longitudinal rows, each of which contains
about twenty-eight cells in that space; this gives 6,720 cells per square
inch on each surface. Now a moderate-sized polyzoary contains an area
of three square inches, i. e. six on both surfaces, which will give the
high number of 40,320 cells on such a specimen. Many, however, are much
larger."
Before the stormy tide detached them from the bottom of the sea, and
left them to perish on the shore, each of the cells contained a living
creature whose mouth was surrounded by a coronet of filiform and ciliated
tentacles, destined to produce a vortex in the water, and thus to provide
the tiny owner with its food. The body was bent on itself somewhat like
the letter V, the one branch (_a_) being the mouth and throat, the other
(_b_) the rectum, opening by an anus, and the middle part (_c_) the
stomach. Each of these tiny members of the flustra colony possessed a
considerable number of muscles; each was furnished with a movable lip or
lid to block up the entrance of his cell when he courted retirement; each
had his individual nerves, and consequently his individual sensations,
though feeling and moving simultaneously with his fellow citizens by the
agency of a system of nerves common to the whole republic, and sending
forth a delicate filament to the inmate of each cell.
[Illustration: Flustra in its cell. (Highly magnified.)]
Such are the wonders which but for the microscope would for ever have
remained unknown to man.
The Escharæ greatly resemble the Flustræ, for here also the cells
are disposed side by side upon the same plane, so as to form a broad
leaf-like polyzoary, which, however, is not of a horny or coriaceous
texture, as in the latter genus, but completely calcified, so as to
present something of the massiveness of the stony corals. The annexed
wood-cuts, showing us _Eschara cervicornis_, first A, in its natural
size; then B, a few cells magnified twenty diameters, and ultimately C,
a single individual so highly magnified as to reveal some of the details
of its otherwise invisible structure, give us a good idea of the truly
remarkable organisation of the Polyzoa.
In the Escharæ and Flustræ the cellular extension of the common stock
or polyzoary is unbroken, and opening on both surfaces, while in the
Retepores we find the cells opening only on one side, and the leaf-like
expansion pierced like network.
[Illustration: Eschara cervicornis. (Natural size.)]
[Illustration: Portion of a branch of the polypary of Eschara cervicornis,
magnified twenty diameters, to show the form and arrangement of cells.]
In cabinets of natural history, the species commonly called Neptune's
ruffles will rarely be found wanting. It is a native of the
Mediterranean, but individuals of a smaller size are also found in the
British seas.
[Illustration: An individual of Eschara cervicornis, highly magnified.
_a._ Tentacula
_b._ First digestive cavity.
_d._ Stomach.
_f._ Anus.
]
[Illustration: Retepora cellulosa. (Neptune's Ruffle.)]
The Lepraliæ, or Sea-Scurfs, form thin calcareous crusts of a
white-yellow or reddish colour on rocks, shells, and sea-weeds. To the
naked eye they appear as rude unsightly eruptions, so as to justify
their name derived from the hideous leprosy of the East, but, when
magnified, their cells, generally disposed in regular concentric rows,
exhibit a surprising diversity and elegance of structure. Forty species
are found in the North Sea alone; hence we may judge how great the number
of still unknown forms must be that spread their microscopic traceries
over the algæ and shells of every zone.
It would lead me too far were I minutely to describe the Cellulariæ with
their cells disposed in alternating rows on narrow bifurcated branches;
the Tubulipores, with their mouths at the termination of tubular cells
without any movable appendage or lip; the Bowerbankias and Lagunculas,
with their creeping stems and separate cells; suffice it to say that a
wonderful exuberance of fancy displays itself in the structure of the
numerous varieties of the Polyzoa.
[Illustration: A. Portion of a Cellularia, magnified.
B. A Bird's Head Process, more highly magnified, and seen in the act of
grasping another.]
But a closer inspection reveals still greater miracles to the marine
microscopist, for most genera, and chiefly the Cellulariæ, possess
very remarkable appendages, or processes, presenting the most striking
resemblance to the head of a bird. Each of these processes, or
"aviculariæ," as they have been named, has two "mandibles," of which one
is fixed like the upper jaw of a bird, the other movable like its lower
jaw; the latter is opened and closed by two sets of muscles, which are
seen in the interior of the head, and between them is a peculiar body,
furnished with a pencil of bristles, which is probably a tactile organ,
being brought forwards when the mouth is open, so that the bristles
project beyond it, and being drawn back when the mandible closes. During
the life of the polyzoon, these tiny "vulture-heads," which are either
sessile or pedunculated, keep up a continual motion, and it is most
amusing to see them see-sawing and snapping and opening their jaws, and
then sometimes in their incessant activity even closing upon the beaks of
their neighbours.
It is still very doubtful what is their precise function in the economy
of the animal; whether it is to retain within reach of the ciliary
current bodies that may serve as food, or whether it is like the
pedicellariæ of the sea-urchins to remove extraneous particles that may
be in contact with the surface of the polyzoary. The latter would seem to
be the function of the "vibracula," which are likewise pretty generally
distributed among the polyzoa. Each of these long bristle-shaped organs,
springing at its base out of a sort of cup, that contains muscles by
which it is kept in almost constant motion, sweeps slowly and carefully
over the surface of the polyzoary, and removes what might be injurious
to the delicate inhabitants of the cells, when their tentacles are
protruded. So carefully have these lowly molluscs been provided for!
The polyzoa can neither hear nor see, at least as far as we are able to
ascertain, but the delicacy of their sense of touch is very great. "When
left undisturbed in a glass of fresh sea-water," says Dr. Johnston,[R]
"they push their tentacula beyond the mouth of the cell by straightening
the body, and then expanding them in the form of a funnel or bell,
they will often remain quiet and apparently immovable for a long time,
presenting a very pretty and most interesting object to an observer of
the 'minims of nature.' If, however, the water is agitated, they withdraw
on the instant, probably by aid of the posterior ligament or muscle; the
hinder part of the body is pushed aside up the cell, the whole is sunk
deeper, and by this means the tentacula, gathered into a close column,
are brought within the cell, the aperture of which is shut by the same
series of actions. The polyzoa of the same polyzoary often protrude their
thousand heads at the same time, or in quick but irregular succession,
and retire simultaneously, or nearly so, but at other times I have often
witnessed a few only to venture on the display of their glories, the
rest remaining concealed, and if, when many are expanded, one is singled
out and touched with a sharp instrument, it alone feels the injury, and
retires, without any others being conscious of the danger, or of the
hurt inflicted on their mate. The polyzoa propagate by gemmation and by
ova or eggs, which, germinating on the inner surface, escape at a later
period into the visceral cavity, and are finally discharged into the wide
sea, so to fulfil their mission in creation, and people the shores of
every clime with myriads of busy workers in horn and in lime, which, with
subtle chemistry, they draw from a fluid quarry and build up in textures
of admirable beauty and heaven-ordered designs."
[Footnote R: "History of the British Zoophytes," 2nd edit. vol. i. p.
259.]
Each polyzoon begins with a single ovum. The original or seminal cell
of a flustra or lepralia has no sooner fixed itself upon some stone,
shell, or alga, than new buds begin to shoot forth, which in their turn
produce others from their unattached margins, so as rapidly to augment
the number of cells to a very large amount. Thus a common specimen of
_Flustra carbasea_ presents more than 18,000 individual polyzoa, and as
each of these has about twenty-two tentacula, which are again furnished
with about a hundred ciliæ a piece, the entire polyzoary presents no less
than 396,000 tentacula and 39,600,000 ciliæ. The Rev. David Landsborough
calculated that a specimen of _Flustra membranacea_ five feet in length
by eight inches in breadth had been the work and the habitation of above
two millions of inmates, so that this single colony on a submarine island
was about equal in number to the population of Scotland. As the tentacula
are numerous in this species, four thousand millions of ciliæ must have
provided for its wants, about four times the number of the inhabitants of
this globe!
[Illustration: Clavellina producta. Group of two adult and several young
individuals, magnified about five times.
_c._ Branchial orifice.
_e._ Branchiæ.
_i._ Anal orifice.
_l._ Stomach.
_o._ Heart.
_u_, _u′_, _u″_. Reproductive
buds, springing from the abdomen of the adults.
]
[Illustration: Ascidia mammillata.
_a._ Branchial orifice, open.
_b._ Anal orifice, closed.
]
The Tunicata are so called because their soft parts are not enclosed in
a calcified shell such as invests the majority of their class, but in a
more or less coriaceous envelope or tunic which is either bag-shaped, and
provided with two apertures, or tube-shaped, and open at the ends. They
present a strong resemblance to the Polyzoa, not merely in their general
plan of conformation, but also in their tendency to produce composite
structures by gemmation; they may, however, be at once distinguished from
them by the absence of the ciliated tentacula which form so conspicuous
a feature in the external aspect of a flustra or a retepore. Their
branchiæ, which have generally the form of ridges (_e_), occupy a large
sac, forming, as it were, the antechamber of the alimentary canal, which
is barely distinguishable into gullet, stomach, and intestine, and always
convoluted or folded once on itself. The Tunicata are exclusively marine,
and widely spread from the arctic to the tropical seas. All of them are
free during the earlier parts of their existence; some remain permanently
so (Pyrosomidæ, Salpæ), but the generality (Ascidiæ, Botrylli) become
fixed to shells and other marine bodies; some exist as distinct
individuals (Ascidiæ, Cynthia), whilst various degrees of combination are
effected by others (Botryllus, Clavellina, Pyrosoma), and some are simple
in one generation and combined in the next (Salpæ).
Thus the whole family is divisible into two groups, the _simple_ and the
_aggregate_; both branching out into numerous genera, of which my limits
only allow me to mention some of the most remarkable. The simple Ascidiæ,
or Sea-Squirts, are very common on our shores. "Rarely," says Forbes,
"is the dredge drawn up from any sea-bed at all prolific in submarine
creatures without containing few or many of their irregularly shaped
leathery bodies, fixed to sea-weed, rock, or shell, by one extremity, or
by one side, free at the other, and presenting two more or less prominent
orifices, from which, on the slightest pressure, the sea-water is ejected
with great force. On the sea-shore, when the tide is out, we find similar
bodies attached to the under surface of rough stones. They are variously,
often splendidly, coloured, but otherwise are unattractive or even
repulsive in aspect. Some are of a large size, several inches in length.
As may easily be imagined, they lead a very inactive life, except in the
young state, when by means of a long tail they rapidly swim about, until
finally settling in some convenient spot, they gradually assume the form
and adopt the quiet life of the parent from which they sprang."
[Illustration: Chelyosoma Macleayanum.
_a._ Branchial orifice.
_b._ Anal orifice.
_c._ Coriaceous envelope of the sides.
_d._ Stone to which the animal is fixed.
]
To the simple Tunicata belong also the Chelyosomata, whose coriaceous
envelope, consisting of eight somewhat horny angular plates, reminds
one of the carapace of the turtle. Their small and prominent orifices,
perforating the plated surface, are each surrounded by six triangular
valvules.
Some species of simple Ascidians on the coasts of the Channel and the
Mediterranean are valued as articles of food. At Cette sea-squirts
are taken regularly to market, and _Cynthia microcosmus_, although so
repulsive externally, furnishes a very delicate morsel.
[Illustration: Botryllus violaceus. Two of the stems magnified.
_a._ Common test.
_b._ Some of the branchial orifices.
_c._ The common anal orifice of one of the systems.
]
[Illustration: Diazona violacea (magnified).]
While in the Clavellinidæ the animals are connected by creeping tubular
prolongations of the common tunic through which the blood circulates,
the Botrylli form translucent jelly-like masses of various hues of
orange, yellow, purple, blue, grey, and green; sometimes nearly uniform
in tint, sometimes beautifully variegated, and very frequently pencilled
as if with stars of gorgeous device; now encrusting the surface of the
rock, now descending from it in icicle-like projections. They are also
frequently attached to the broad-leaved fuci, investing the stalks, or
clothing with a glairy coat the expanse of the fronds. "In examining
their bodies," says the distinguished naturalist previously quoted,
"we find that it is not a single animal which is before us, but a
commonwealth of beings bound together by common and vital ties. Each star
is a family, each group of stars a community. Individuals are linked
together in systems, systems combined into masses. Few bodies among the
forms of animal life exhibit such exquisite figures as those which we see
displayed in the combinations of these compound Ascidians."
In the genus Diazona, which has its chief seat in the Mediterranean, the
animals, which are very prominent and arranged in concentric circles,
form a single system expanded into a disc like that of a flower or of an
Actinia. The anal orifices, it will be seen, are situated close to the
branchial apertures at the free end of the single animals, while in the
Botrylli they open into a central excretory cavity.
[Illustration: A single individual of Pyrosoma giganteum, cut out of the
common test and magnified.
_a._ Branchial or external orifice.
_b._ Anal or internal orifice.
_d._ Stomach.
_e._ Liver.
_f._ Branchiæ.
]
In the Pyrosomes we find large colonies of small individuals aggregated
in the form of a cylinder open at one end. Their mouths or anterior
extremities are situated on the exterior of this hollow body, which they
bristle with large and longish tubercles (_a_), whilst the opposite or
anal orifices (_b_) open into the cavity of the cylinder, whose smooth
wall they perforate with numerous small holes. By a simultaneous action
the central cavity is either narrowed or enlarged, and by this means the
strange social republic glides slowly through the waters.
The Pyrosomes inhabit the Mediterranean and the warmer parts of the
ocean. In the former at times their abundance is a source of great
annoyance to the fishermen, sometimes even completely clogging their
nets, and on the high seas they are not seldom met with in almost
incredible profusion. Their delicate and transparent forms, their
elegant tints, and their unrivalled phosphorescence render them objects
of admiration to the voyager, and entitle them to rank amongst the most
resplendent living gems of the ocean.
[Illustration: Salpa maxima.
_a._ Upper lip or posterior orifice.
_b._ Anterior orifice.
_c._ Prolongations of the test by which the
animal is adherent to its neighbours.
]
[Illustration: Salpæ, isolated and associated.
A. _Salpa runcinata_, solitary.
B. _Salpa runcinata_, associated.
C. _Salpa zonaria_, aggregated.
]
While the sessile Ascidiæ remind one of the polyps, the transparent
Salpæ, freely swimming in the sea, bear a great resemblance to the
pellucid jelly-fishes. Each resembles a crystalline tube, through
which one can distinctly see the internal coloured parts. Sometimes
these animals, which abound in the warmer seas, are found solitary,
at other times associated in circular or lengthened groups, termed
garlands, ribands, and chains; but, strange to say, these two forms so
different in outward appearance are only the alternating generations
of one and the same animal. The chained Salpæ produce only solitary
ones, and the latter only chains, or, as Chamisso, to whom we owe the
discovery of this interesting fact, expresses himself, "a salpa mother
never resembles her daughter, or her own mother, but is always like her
sister, her grand-daughter, or her grand-mother." When Chamisso first
made known his discovery, he was laughed at as a fanciful visionary, but
all later observations have not only fully confirmed his statement but
also discovered similar or even more wonderful metamorphoses among the
jelly-fish, polyps, crustacea, sea-urchins, and other marine animals.
Thus Chamisso gave the first impulse to a whole series of highly
interesting observations, and his rank is now as well established among
naturalists as it has long been among the most distinguished poets of
Germany. The Salpæ progress by the alternate contractions and dilatations
of their tubular body. In this manner the chains, as if obeying a common
impulse, glide along with a serpentine movement, and are often regarded
by sailors as sea-snakes.
[Illustration: Inner or under side of the superior plated surface of
Chelyosoma Macleayanum.
_a._ Branchial orifice.
_b._ Anal orifice.
_c._ Muscles bordering the carapace-plates.
_d._ Central hexagonal plate.
_e._ Surrounding plates.
_f._ The nerve-ganglion and nerve-fibres.
_g_, _h_. Auditory apparatus.
_i._ Row of tentacles, anterior to the œsophagus.
_j._ Stomach.
_k._ Part of the intestine.
]
Before quitting the Tunicata, a few points of interest in their simple
history remain to be noticed. Despite their humble organisation, they
have a heart which, as may easily be ascertained in the transparent
species, is subject to strange alternations of action. For after
having received for a minute or two the blood _from_ the branchiæ, and
propelled it _to_ the system at large, it will at once cease to pulsate
for a moment or two, and then propel the blood _to_ the branchial sac,
receiving it at the same time _from_ the system generally. After this
reversed course has continued for some time, another pause occurs,
and the first course is resumed. It is very probable that many of the
Tunicata are able to hear and to see. In Chelyosoma, organs have been
discovered whose structure seems to indicate that they are destined
for the transmission of sound, and the Ascidiæ have frequently around
the extremity of their tubes a row of coloured points similar to the
imperfect organs of sight present in the majority of the bivalve
Acephalans. Thus a closer examination of the lower animals is constantly
bringing new faculties to light, and the further we penetrate into the
secrets of their life the more we find occasion to admire the power and
wisdom of their Maker!
CHAP. XVI.
ECHINODERMATA.
STAR-FISHES, SEA-URCHINS, AND SEA-CUCUMBERS.
The Star-Fishes.--Their Feet or Suckers.--Voracity of
the Asterias.--The Rosy Feather-Star.--Brittle and
Sand-Stars.--The real Sea-Stars of the British Waters.--The
Sea-Urchins.--The Pedicellariæ.--The Shell and the Dental
Apparatus of the Sea-Urchin.--The Sea-Cucumbers.--Their strange
Dismemberments.--Trepang-fishing on the Coast of North Australia.--In
the Feejee Islands.
"As there are stars in the sky, so are there stars in the sea," is
the poetical exordium of Link's treatise on Star-fishes, the first
ever published on the subject; and James Montgomery tells us in rather
bombastic style, that the seas are strewn with the images of the
constellations with which the heavens are thronged.
This is no doubt highly complimentary to the star-fishes, but is far
from being merited by any particularly shining or radiant quality; as
they occupy a very inferior grade among the denizens of the sea, and
merely owe their stellar name to their form, which somewhat resembles the
popular notion of a star.
But if they are of an inferior rank to most marine animals; if even the
stupid oyster boasts of a heart, which they do not possess; yet a closer
inspection of their organisation shows us many wonderful peculiarities,
and proves to us once more that nature has impressed the stamp of
perfection as well upon her lowest and most simple creations, as upon
those beings that rank highest in the scale of life.
Every one knows the common Star-fish, with its lanceolate arms; its
generally orange-coloured back, thickly set with tubercles, and the pale
under-surface, with its rows of feet, feelers, or suckers, which serve
both for locomotion and the seizure of food.
When one of these creatures is placed on its back, in a plate filled
with sea-water, it is exceedingly curious to watch the activity which
those numberless sucking feet display. At first the star-fish is
motionless; for, offended by the rough handling it has undergone, the
feet have all shrunk into the body; but soon they are seen to emerge
like so many little worms from their holes, and to grope backwards and
forwards through the water, evidently seeking the nearest ground to lay
hold of. Those that reach it first immediately affix their suckers, and,
by contracting, draw a portion of the body after them, so as to enable
others to attach themselves, until, pulley being added to pulley, their
united power is sufficient to restore the star-fish to its natural
position.
[Illustration: Star-Fish.
The upper tuberculated surface is shown, with some of the spines of
the under surface projecting at the sides of the rays. At one of the
angles between the rays, on the right side, is seen the eccentric
calcareous plate, or madreporic tubercle, which indicates the
existence of a bilateral symmetry.]
This act of volition is surely remarkable enough in so simple an animal,
which scarcely possesses the rudiments of a nervous system, but the
simple mechanism by which the suckers are put into motion is still more
wonderful. Each of these little organs is tubular, and connected with
a globular vesicle filled with an aqueous fluid, and contained within
the body of the star-fish immediately beneath the hole from which the
sucker issues. When the animal wishes to protrude its feet, each vesicle
forcibly contracts, and, propelling the fluid into the corresponding
sucker, causes its extension; and, when it desires to withdraw them,
a contraction of the suckers drives back the fluid into the expanding
vesicles. The internal walls of the suckers and their vessels are
furnished with vibratory cilia, and by this simple means a continual
circulation of the fluid they contain goes on within them.
[Illustration: Lily-Encrinite.]
Numerous species of star-fishes are so very common in our waters,
that in many places the sea-bottom is literally paved with them. They
likewise abounded in the primeval ocean, for deep beds of carboniferous
limestone and vast strata of the triassic muschelkalk are often formed
by the accumulation of little else than the skeletons of Encrinites and
Pentacrinites, which, unlike the sea-stars which every storm drifts
upon our shores, did not move about freely, but were affixed to a
slender flexible stalk, composed of numerous calcareous joints connected
together by a fleshy coat. The feathered bifurcated arms of the Crinoids
are unprovided with suckers, which would have been perfectly useless
to creatures not destined to pursue their game to any distance, but
passively to receive the nutriment which the current of sea-water set
in motion by their richly-ciliated pinnules conveys to the mouth. These
beautiful creatures were formerly supposed to be nearly extinct, for up
to within the last few years only two living stalked crinoids were known
in the ocean of the present period, but the dredge has latterly brought
up new and remarkably fine species from depths of more than 2000 fathoms,
and there is every reason to believe that these animals still form an
important element in the abyssal fauna.[S]
[Footnote S: See page 420.]
[Illustration: Portion of the Pentaorinus Briareus. (Fossil.)]
Of freely-swimming Crinoids but one single representative is known in the
northern seas, the Rosy Feather-star (_Comatula rosacea_), whose long
and delicately fringed rays and deep rose colour dotted with brown may
serve to give us an idea of the beauty of the submarine landscapes where
_Pentacrinus Wyville-Thomsoni_ or _Bathycrinus gracilis_ abound. During
the earlier stage of its existence, the comatula is attached to a stalk;
a discovery for which science is indebted to Mr. T. V. Thompson, who in
1823 dredged in the Cove of Cork a singular little pedunculated crinoid
animal (_Pentacrinus europæus_), which he found attached to the stems
of zoophytes. It measured about three-fourths of an inch in height, and
resembled a minute _comatula_ mounted on the stalk of a _pentacrinus_.
When this pygmy representative of the ancient lily-stars was first
dragged up from its submarine haunts, it created a great sensation among
naturalists, as it was the first recent animal of the encrinite kind
which had ever been seen in the seas of Europe. At first it was supposed
to be a distinct species, but Mr. Thompson, by carefully following it
through all the stages of its growth, succeeded in proving that it was
merely the hitherto unnoticed young of the rosy feather-star.
This elegant crinoid is found all round our coasts, and its range
extends from Norway to the shores of the Mediterranean. In swimming, the
movements of its arms exactly resemble the alternating stroke given by
the medusa to the liquid element, and have the same effect, causing the
animal to raise itself from the bottom and to advance back foremost, even
more rapidly than the medusa. When dying, either in fresh water or in
spirits, it emits a most beautiful purple colour, which tinges the liquid
in which it is killed.
The _Ophiuridæ_, or _snake-stars_, are essentially distinguished from
the true _star-fishes_ by the long serpent or worm-like arms, which are
appended to their round, depressed, urchin-like bodies. They have no true
suckers with which to walk, their progression being effected (and with
great facility) by the twisting or wriggling of their arms, which are
moreover in many species furnished with spines on the sides, assisting
locomotion over a flat surface. These arms are very different from those
of the true star-fishes, which are lobes of the animal's body, whereas
the arms of the Ophiuridæ are mere processes attached or superadded to
the body.
These animals are very generally distributed through the seas of our
earth, both of its northern and southern hemispheres, but are found
largest in the tropical ocean. In our own waters they are very abundant,
and are among the most curious and beautiful game pursued by the dredger.
[Illustration: Sand-star.]
The British Ophiuridæ belong to two generic types, that of the
_Ophiuræ_ and that of the _Euryales_. The former, to which the sand and
brittle-stars belong, have simple arms; the latter, arms ramifying into
many processes.
The rays of the Sand-stars have a whip-like or lizard-tail appearance,
while those of the Brittle-stars look like so many centipedes or
annelides attached at regular distances round a little sea-urchin. We
have ten native brittle-stars, the most common of which (_Ophiocoma
rosula_, Forbes) is also one of the handsomest, presenting every variety
of variegation, and the most splendid displays of vivid hues arranged in
beautiful patterns. Not often are two specimens found coloured alike. It
is the most brittle of all brittle-stars, separating itself into pieces
with wonderful quickness and ease. Touch it, and it flings away an arm;
hold it, and in a moment not an arm remains attached to the body. "The
common brittle-star," says Edward Forbes, "often congregates in great
numbers on the edges of scallop-banks, and I have seen a large dredge
come up completely filled with them; a most curious sight, for when the
dredge was emptied, these little creatures, writhing with the strangest
contortions, crept about in all directions, often flinging their arms in
broken pieces around them; and their snake-like and threatening attitudes
were by no means relished by the boatmen, who anxiously asked permission
to shovel them overboard, superstitiously remarking that the things
weren't altogether right."
Fancy the naturalist's vexation, who has no other means of preserving a
brittle-star entire than by quickly plunging it into cold fresh water,
which acts as a poison on the Ophiuræ as well as on most other marine
animals, and kills them so instantaneously that even the most brittle
species have no time to make the contraction necessary to break off their
rays.
The _Ophiocoma rosula_ seems to be equally abundant on all parts of the
coast of Britain and Ireland. It is fond of rocky places, and grows in
Shetland to a much larger size than elsewhere. It is said to prey on
little shells and crabs, and is greatly relished by the cod in its turn,
great numbers being often found in the stomach of that voracious fish.
[Illustration: Warted Euryale.]
The Scotch or Shetland Argus (_Euryale verrucosum_, Lamarck), a very rare
animal, of which the adjoining wood-cut represents a segment, is the only
British _Euryale_. It measures a foot or more across, and its singular
aspect has long excited admiration among naturalists. "So odd a creature
as this," remarks Bradley in his "Works of Nature," "is well worth the
contemplation of such curious persons as live near the sea, where every
day they have subjects enow to employ their curiosity and improve their
understanding." Grew says that "as he swims he spreads and stretches out
all his branches to their full length, and so soon as he perceives his
prey within his reach, he hooks them all in, and so takes it as it were
in a net."
The British species of true star-fishes may be arranged under four
families. The _Urasters_ are distinguished from all others by having four
rows of suckers in each of the avenues which groove the under surface of
their rounded rays. In consequence of the great number of these singular
organs, the under surface of a living cross-fish presents a sight
truly curious and wonderful. Hundreds of worm-like suckers, extending
and contracting, coiling and feeling about, each apparently acting
independently of the others, give the idea rather of an assemblage of
polypi than of essential parts of _one_ animal. They are sensitive in the
extreme, for, if we touch one of those singular tubes when outstretched,
all those in its neighbourhood are thrown into a state of agitation;
and when it shrinks from our touch, changing from a lengthy fibre to a
little shrunk tubercle, some of its neighbours, as if partaking in its
fears, contract themselves in like manner.
[Illustration: Common Cross-fish.]
The common Cross-fish (_Uraster rubens_) abounds on most parts of our
shores, so as in some places to be used for manure in large quantities.
"It is a sworn enemy to oysters, and as it is frequently found with one
or more of its rays broken off, the fishermen fancy that it loses them
in consequence of its oyster-hunting propensities; that it insinuates an
arm into the incautious oyster's gape, with the intent of whipping out
its prey, but that sometimes the apathetic mollusk proves more than a
match for its radiate enemy, and closing on him, holds him fast by the
proffered finger; whereupon the cross-fish preferring amputation and
freedom to captivity and dying of an oyster, like some defeated warrior
flings his arms away, glad to purchase the safety of the remaining whole
by the reparable loss of a part, as it has the power of reproducing the
broken rays.
"There is, however, reason to think that the cross-fish destroys his prey
in a very different manner from that just narrated; for star-fishes are
not unfrequently found feeding on shell-fish, enfolding their prey within
their arms, and seeming to suck it out of its shell with their mouths,
pouting out the lobes of the stomach, which they are able to project in
the manner of a proboscis. Possibly the stomach secretes an acrid and
poisonous fluid, which, by paralysing the shell-fish, opens the way to
its soft and fleshy parts."--_Forbes's Star Fishes._
The _Solasters_ are "suns in the system of sea-stars," and are entitled
to this distinguished rank among the marine constellations by their many
rays and brilliant hues. The _Solaster papposa_, or common Sun-star, with
rays varying in number from twelve to fifteen, is one of the commonest,
and at the same time handsomest, of all the British species. Sometimes
the whole upper surface is deep purple, and frequently the disk is red,
and the rays white tipped with red. It grows to a considerable size,
having been found eleven inches broad.
The Goniasters, or Cushion-stars, are distinguished from the allied
species by their pentagonal form. One of the most singular of our native
species is the Birdsfoot Sea-star (_Palmipes membranaceus_), being the
thinnest and flattest of all its class. When alive it is flexible, like
a piece of leather, and a person who had never seen it before would be
apt to mistake it for the torn off dorsal integument of some gibbous
goniaster. The colour is white, with a red centre and five red rays,
proceeding one to each angle. The whole upper surface is covered with
tufts of minute spines arranged in rows.
The Asteriæ, with their stellate body and flat rays, are very different
in aspect from the Goniasters. The Butt-thorn (_Asterias aurantiaca_)
owes its name to one of those strange superstitions which originate in
some inexplicable manner, and are handed down by one credulous generation
to the next. "The first taken by the fishermen at Scarborough is
carefully made a prisoner, and placed on a seat at the stern of the boat.
When they hook a butt (halibut) they immediately give the poor star-fish
its liberty and commit it to its native element; but if their fishery is
unsuccessful it is left to perish, and may eventually enrich the cabinet
of some industrious collector."
To the family of the Asteriæ belongs also the Ling-thorn (_Luidia
fragilissima_), the largest, and one of the most interesting of our
British species. When full grown, it measures two feet across, and would
appear to exceed that size occasionally, judging from fragments. The rays
are from five to seven in number, quite flat, and generally five times
as long as the disk is broad. The colour is brick-red above, varying in
intensity, the under surface being straw-coloured. The wonderful power
which the Luidia possesses, not merely of casting away its arms entire,
but of breaking them voluntarily into little pieces with great rapidity,
approximates it to the brittle-stars, and renders the preservation of a
perfect specimen a very difficult matter.
"The first time I ever took one of these creatures," says Edward Forbes,
"I succeeded in getting it into the boat entire. Never having seen one
before, and quite unconscious of its suicidal powers, I spread it out on
a rowing-bench, the better to admire its form and colours. On attempting
to move it for preservation, to my horror and disappointment I found
only an assemblage of rejected members. My conservative endeavours
were all neutralised by its destructive exertions, and it is now badly
represented in my cabinet by an armless disk and a diskless arm. Next
time I went to dredge on the same spot, determined not to be cheated out
of a specimen in such a way a second time, I brought with me a bucket of
cold fresh water, to which article star-fishes have a great antipathy.
As I expected, a luidia came up in the dredge, a most gorgeous specimen.
As it does not generally break up before it is raised above the surface
of the sea, cautiously and anxiously I sunk my bucket to a level with
the dredge's mouth, and proceeded in the most gentle manner to introduce
luidia to the purer element. Whether the cold air was too much for him,
or the sight of the bucket too terrific, I know not, but in a moment he
proceeded to dissolve his corporation, and at every mesh of the dredge
his fragments were seen escaping. In despair I grasped at the largest,
and brought up the extremity of an arm with its terminating eye, the
spinous eyelid of which opened and closed with something exceedingly like
a wink of derision."
[Illustration: Goniaster.]
The Sea-star might be called a flattened sea-urchin, with radiated
lobes, and the Sea-urchin, a contracted or condensed sea-star, so near
is their relationship. In both we find the same radiating construction,
in which the number five is so conspicuous, and in both also the rows
of suckers, which, starting from a centre, are set into motion by a
similar mechanism, and used for the same purpose. In all the sea-urchins
finally, and in many of the sea-stars, we find the surface of the
body covered with numerous exceedingly minute, two- or three-forked
pincers, that perpetually move from side to side, and open and shut
without intermission. These active little organs, which have been named
_Pedicellariæ_, were formerly supposed to be parasites, working on their
own account, but they are now almost universally recognised as organs
subservient to the nutrition of the animal, and destined to seize the
food floating by, and to convey it to the mouth, one passing it to
the other. Even in their outward appearance, the sea-urchins are not
so very different from the sea-stars as would be imagined on seeing a
Butt-thorn near a globular urchin, for both orders approach each other
by gradations; thus, the Goniasters, with their cushion-shaped disks and
shortened rays, approximate very much in shape to the sea-urchins; and
among the latter we also find a gradual progression from the flattened
to the globular form. Still there are notable differences between the
two classes. Thus in the sea-urchins the digestive organs form a tube
with two openings, while in the true sea-stars they have but one single
orifice. Their mode of life is, however, identical.
[Illustration: Shell of Echinus, or Sea-Urchin.
On the right side covered with spines, on the left the spines removed.]
The Echinidæ move forward by means of the joint action of their suckers
and spines, using the former in the manner of the true star-fishes, and
the latter as the snake-stars. They also make use of the spines, which
move in sockets, to bury themselves in the fine sand, where they find
security against many enemies.
Some species even entomb themselves pholas-like in stone, inhabiting
cavities or depressions in rocks, corresponding to their size, and
evidently formed by themselves. Bennett describes each cavity of the
edible _Echinus lividus_ as circular, agreeing in form with the urchin
within it, and so deep as to embrace more than two-thirds of the bulk of
the inhabitant. It is large enough to admit of the creature's rising a
little, but not of its coming out easily. The echinus adheres so firmly
to this cavity by its suckers, as to be forced from it with extreme
difficulty when alive. On the coasts of the county of Clare thousands
may be seen lodged in the rock, their purple spines and regular forms
presenting a most beautiful appearance on the bottoms of the grey
limestone rock-pools. How the boring is performed has, like many other
secrets, not yet been settled by naturalists. The first perforation is
most likely effected by means of the teeth, and then the rock softened by
some secreted solvent.
[Illustration: Mammillated Sea-Urchin.]
Sea-urchins are found in all seas, but as they are extremely difficult to
preserve, and many of them have such long and delicate spines that it is
almost impossible to procure perfect specimens, probably not one tithe of
their species is known.
On our coasts the common "egg-urchin" affords the poor a somewhat scanty
repast; but, throughout the Mediterranean, its greater size, and also
that of its allies, _Echinus melo_ and _E. sardicus_, render them, when
"in egg," important articles of food. In Sicily these animals are in
season about the full moon of March; there the _E. esculentus_ is still
called the "King of Urchins;" whilst the larger melon-urchin is popularly
considered to be its mother. The size and abundance of these edible
species are among the striking peculiarities of the fish markets of the
Mediterranean sea-board.
[Illustration: Edible Sea-Urchin.]
The calcareous shell of the "sea-urchin" seems, at first sight, to be
composed of one simple crust, but proves, on nearer inspection, to be
a masterpiece of mosaic consisting of several hundred parts, mostly
pentagonal. These are so closely united that their junctions are hardly
visible, but on allowing the shell to macerate for some days in fresh
water, it falls to pieces. This complicated structure is by no means
a mere architectural fancy, a useless exuberance of ornament, but
essentially necessary to the requirements of the animal's growth. A
simple hard crust would not have been capable of distension, whereas
a complicated shell, such as the sea-urchin possesses, can grow in the
same ratio as the internal parts, by continual deposits on the edges of
the individual pieces. On closely examining a living sea-urchin, we find
the whole surface of the shell and spines covered with a delicate skin,
which, in spite of their close connexion, penetrates into the intervals
of the several pieces. This membrane secretes the chalk of which the
shell is composed, and deposits fresh layers on the edges of the plates,
so that in this manner the shell continually widens until the animal has
attained its perfect size. The spines are secreted in the same manner,
and show under the microscope an admirable beauty and regularity of
structure. So bountifully has the great Architect of worlds provided for
the poor insignificant sea-urchin!
[Illustration: Dental Apparatus of the Sea-urchin, viewed from above.]
The dental apparatus of the animal--the so-called lantern of
Aristotle--is another masterpiece in its way. Fancy five triangular
bones or jaws, each provided with a long, projecting, movable tooth. A
complicated muscular system sets the whole machinery going, and enables
the jaws to play up and down, and across, so that a more effective
grinding-mill can scarcely be imagined.
[Illustration:
A. Two sockets with teeth, of Echinus esculentus. B. Single socket
with its tooth viewed on the outside.]
The _Holothuriæ_, or Sea-cucumbers, may be regarded in one light as
soft sea-urchins, and in another as approximating to the Annelides or
worms. Their suckers are similar to those of the true star-fishes and
sea-urchins. Besides progression by means of these organs, they move,
like annelides, by the extension and contraction of their bodies. The
mouth is surrounded by plumose tentacula, the number of which, _when
they are complete_, is always a multiple of five. They all have the power
of changing their shapes in the strangest manner, sometimes elongating
themselves like worms, sometimes contracting the middle of their bodies,
so as to give themselves the shape of an hour-glass, and then again
blowing themselves up with water, so as to be perfectly globular.
[Illustration: Fierasfer.]
The great Sea-cucumber is the largest of all the known European species,
and probably one of the largest _Cucumeriæ_ in the world, measuring when
at rest fully one foot, and capable of extending itself to the length
of three. Under the influence of terror, it dismembers itself in the
strangest manner. Having no arms or legs to throw off, like its relations
the luidia and the brittle-star, it simply disgorges its viscera, and
manages to live without a stomach; no doubt a much greater feat than
if it contrived to live without a head. According to the late Sir
James Dalyell, the lost parts are capable of regeneration, even if the
process of disgorgement went so far as to leave but an empty sac behind.
Considering the facility with which the sea-cucumber separates itself
from its digestive organs, it is the more to be wondered how it tolerates
the presence of a very remarkable parasite, a fish belonging to the genus
_Fierasfer_, and about six inches long. This most impudent and intrusive
comrade enters the mouth of the cucumber, and, as the stomach is too
small for his reception, tears its sides, quartering himself without
ceremony between the viscera and the outer skin. The reason for choosing
this strange abode is as yet an enigma.
[Illustration: Eatable Trepang.]
The _Holothuriæ_, which in our part of the globe are very little noticed,
play a much more important part in the Indian Ocean, where they are
caught by millions, and, under the name of _Trepang_ or _Biche de mer_,
brought to the markets of China and Cochin-China. Hundreds of praos are
annually fitted out in the ports of the Sunda Islands for the gathering
of trepang; and sailing with help of the western monsoon to the
eastern parts of the Indian Archipelago, or along the northern coast of
Australia, return home again by favour of the eastern monsoon. The bays
of the inhospitable treeless shores of tropical New Holland, the abode
of a few half-starved barbarians, are enlivened for a few months by the
presence of the trepang fishers.
"During my excursions round Raffles Bay," says Dumont d'Urville, ("Voyage
to the South Pole,") "I had remarked here and there small heaps of
stones surrounding a circular space. Their use remained a mystery until
the Malayan fishers arrived. Scarce had their praos cast anchor, when
without loss of time they landed large iron kettles, about three feet
in diameter, and placed them on the stone heaps, the purpose of which
at once became clear to me. Close to this extemporised kitchen they
then erected a shed on four bamboo stakes, most likely for the purpose
of drying the holothurias in case of bad weather. Towards evening,
all preliminaries were finished, and the following morning we paid a
visit to the fishermen, who gave us a friendly reception. Each prao had
thirty-seven men on board, and carried six boats, which we found busily
engaged in fishing. Seven or eight Malays, almost entirely naked, were
diving near the ship, to look for trepang at the bottom of the sea. The
skipper alone stood upright, and surveyed their labours with the keen eye
of a master. A burning sun scorched the dripping heads of the divers,
seemingly without incommoding them; no European would have been able
to pursue the work for any length of time. It was about noon, and the
skipper told us this was the best time for fishing, as the higher the
sun, the more distinctly the diver is able to distinguish the trepang
crawling at the bottom. Scarce had they thrown their booty into the boat
when they disappeared again under the water, and as soon as a boat was
sufficiently laden, it was instantly conveyed to the shore, and succeeded
by another.
"The holothuria of Raffles Bay is about six inches long, and two inches
thick. It forms a large cylindrical fleshy mass, almost without any
outward sign of an organ, and as it creeps very slowly along is easily
caught. The essential qualities of a good fisherman are great expertness
in diving, and a sharp eye to distinguish the holothurias from the
similarly coloured sea-bottom.
"The trepang is first thrown into a kettle filled with boiling sea-water.
After a few minutes, it is taken out of its hot-bath and ripped open
with a knife to cleanse it of its intestines. It is then thrown into a
second kettle, where a small quantity of water and the torrefied rind of
a mimosa produce dense vapours. This is done to smoke the trepang for
better preservation. Finally, it is dried in the sun, or in case of bad
weather under the above-mentioned shed. I tasted the trepang, and found
it had some resemblance to lobster. In the China market the Malays sell
it to the dealers for about fifteen rupees the picul of 125 pounds. From
the earliest times, the Malays have possessed the monopoly of this trade
in those parts, and Europeans will never be able to deprive them of
it, as the economy of their outfit and the extreme moderation of their
wants forbid all competition. About four in the afternoon the Malays had
terminated their work. In less than half an hour the kettles and utensils
were brought on board, and before night-fall we saw the praos vanish from
our sight."
The inhabitants of the island of Waigiou, to the north of New Guinea,
prepare the trepang in the Malay manner, and barter it for cotton and
woollen stuffs, which are brought to them by some Chinese junks. "In
every hut," says Lesson, "we found great heaps of this dried leathery
substance, which has no particular taste to recommend it, and is so
highly esteemed by the Chinese for no other reason than because they
ascribe to it,--as to some other gelatinous substances, as agar-agar,
shark-fins, and edible bird's nests,--peculiar invigorating properties,
by means of which their enervated bodies are rendered fit for new
excesses."
The Feejee islanders have the reputation of being the greatest cannibals
and the most perfidious savages of the whole Pacific, yet the trepang
fishery attracts many American and European speculators to that dangerous
archipelago. Captain Wilkes, of the United States Exploring Expedition,
found there a countryman, Captain Eagleston, who had been successful in
more than one of these expeditions, and obligingly communicated to him
all the particulars of his adventurous trade. There are six valuable
sorts of biche de mer, or trepang; the most esteemed is found on the
reefs one or two fathoms deep, where it is caught by diving. The inferior
sorts occur on reefs which are dry, or nearly so, at low water, where
they are picked up by the natives, who also fish the biche de mer on
rocky coral bottoms by the light of the moon or of torches, as they come
forth by night to feed. The most lucrative fisheries are on the northern
side of Viti Levu. They require a large building for drying, with rows
of double staging, on which reeds are placed. Slow fires are kept up by
natives underneath, about fifteen hands being required to do the ordinary
work of a house.
Before beginning, the services of some chief must be secured, who
undertakes the building of the house, and sets his dependants at work to
fish. The usual price is a whale's tooth for a hogshead of the animals
just as they are taken on the reef; but they are also bought with
muskets, powder, balls, vermilion, blue beads, and cotton cloth of the
same colour. When the animals are brought on shore, they are measured
into bins containing about fifty hogsheads, where they remain until next
day. They are then cut along the belly for a length of three or four
inches, taking care not to cut too deep, as this would cause the fish to
spread open, which would diminish its value. They are then thrown into
boilers, two men attending each pot, and relieving each other, so that
the work may go on night and day. No water need be added, as the fish
itself yields moisture enough to prevent burning. After draining on a
platform for about an hour, they are taken to the house and laid four
inches deep upon the lower battens, and afterwards upon the upper ones,
where they remain three or four days. Before being taken on board they
are carefully picked, all damp pieces being removed. They are stowed
in bulk, and sold in Manilla or Canton by the picul, which brings from
fifteen to twenty-five dollars. In this manner Captain Eagleston had
collected in the course of seven months, and at a trifling expense, a
cargo of 1200 piculs, worth about 25,000 dollars. The outfit is small,
but the risk is great, as no insurance can be effected; and it requires
no small activity and enterprise to conduct this trade. A thorough
knowledge of native character is essential to success, and the utmost
vigilance and caution must always be observed to prevent surprise, or
avoid difficulties.
No large canoes should ever be allowed to remain alongside the vessel,
and a chief of high rank should be kept on board as a hostage. That
these precautions are by no means unnecessary, is proved by the frequent
attempts of the savages to cut off small vessels trading on their
coasts. One of the most frequent methods is to dive and lay hold of the
cable; this, when the wind blows fresh to the shore, is cut, in order
that the vessel may drift upon it, or in other cases a rope is attached
to the cable by which the vessel may be dragged ashore. The time chosen
is just before daylight. The moment the vessel touches the land, it is
treated as a prize sent by the gods, and the crew murdered, roasted, and
devoured.
[Illustration: Sea-horse.]
CHAP. XVII.
CŒLENTERATA.
POLYPS AND JELLY-FISHES.
Thread-cells or Urticating
Organs.--Sertulariæ.--Campanulariadæ.--Hydrozoie
Acalephæ.--Medusidæ.--Lucernariadæ.--Calycophoridæ.--The
Velella.--The Portuguese Man-of-war.--Anecdote of a
Prussian Sailor.--Alternating Fixed and Free-swimming
Generations of Hydrozoa.--Actinozoa.--Ctenophora.--Their
Beautiful Construction.--Sea-anemones.--Dead Man's
Toes.--Sea-pens.--Sea-rods.--Red Coral.--Coral Fishery.--Isis
hippuris.--Tropical Lithophytes.--History of the Coral
Islands.--Darwin's Theory of their Formation.--The progress of their
Growth above the level of the Sea.
Despite the low rank they occupy in the hierarchy of animal life, the
Cœlenterata, comprising the numerous families of the Jelly-fishes and
Polyps, play a most important part in the household of the ocean, for the
sea is frequently covered for miles and miles with their incalculable
hosts, and whole archipelagos and continents are fringed with the
calcareous structures they raise from the bottom of the deep.
Their organisation is more simple than that of the preceding classes,
for they have neither the complex intestinal tube of the polyzoa or the
sea-urchins nor the jointed rays or arms of the star-fishes; their whole
digestive apparatus is but a simple sac, and their instincts are reduced
to the mere prehension of the food that the currents bring within reach
of their tentacles, or to the retraction of these organs when exposed to
a hostile attack.
But, simple as they are, they have been provided by Nature with a
comparatively formidable weapon in those remarkable "thread-cells," or
urticating organs, which are so constantly met with in their integuments,
and chiefly in their tentacles.
The thread-cells are composed of a double-walled sac having its open
extremity produced into a short sheath terminating in a long thread.
A number of barbs or hooks are sometimes disposed spirally around the
sheath, the thread itself being often delicately serrated. Under pressure
or irritation the thread-cell suddenly breaks, its fluid escapes, and the
delicate thread is so rapidly projected that the eye is utterly unable to
follow the process. The violent protrusion of this barbed missile, along
with the acrid secretion of the cell, causes many a worm or crustacean
of equal or superior strength, that might have gone forth as victor from
the struggle of life, to succumb to the cœlenterate, and is even in
many cases exceedingly irritating to the human skin. Besides enabling
its possessor to derive his subsistence from animals whose activity, as
compared with his own, might be supposed to have removed them altogether
out of the reach of danger, these stings serve also as admirable weapons
of defence, and many a rapacious crab or annelide that would willingly
have feasted upon a sea-anemone is no doubt repelled by the venomous
properties of its urticating tentacles.
[Illustration: Urticating Organs of Cœlenterata.
_a_, _e_, _f_. Threads and thread-cells of _Caryophyllia Smithii_.
_b._ Thread-cell of _Corynactis Allmani_.
_c._ Peculiar receptacle of _Willsia stellata_, containing thread-cells.
_d._ A single thread-cell of the same.
_g._ Thread-cell of _Actinia crassicornis_.--(All magnified.)
]
The Cœlenterata have been subdivided into two great classes: the
Hydrozoa, in which the wall of the digestive sac is not separated from
that of the cavity of the body, and the Actinozoa, in which the stomach
forms a distinct bag separated from the wall of the cavity of the body by
an intervening space, subdivided into chambers by a series of vertical
partitions. Each of these two classes comprises a number of families of
various forms and habits of life. Thus among the Hydrozoa, with whom I
begin my brief survey of cœlenterate life, some are of a compound nature
(Sertularidæ, &c.), and, having once settled, remain permanently attached
to the site of their future existence; while others (Rhizostomidæ, &c.)
continue freely to roam through the water, and others again appear in
the various stages of their development either as sessile polyps or as
free-swimming Medusæ.
The sertularian tribes are remarkable for the elegance of their forms,
resembling feathers more or less stiff and angular, more or less flexible
and plumose. Their bleached skeletons are among the commonest objects
thrown out by the waves, and so plant-like is their appearance and manner
of growth that, like the Flustræ, they might easily be mistaken for
sea-weeds.
[Illustration: Sertularia tricuspidata.
_a._ Skeleton (natural size).
_b._ Portion of the same, highly magnified.
_κ._ _Cœnosarc_, or common trunk.
_π′._ _Hydrotheca_, or protective envelope of individual polyp.
_ρ′._ _Gonoblastidium_, or reproductive germ or body.
]
Originally produced from a single ovulum, every species, by the evolution
of a succession of buds, after an order peculiar to each, grows up to a
populous colony, and simultaneously with its growth the fibres by which
it is rooted extend, and at uncertain intervals give existence to similar
bodies, whence new polypiferous shoots take their origin, for these root
fibres are full of the same medullary substance with the rest of the
body. Thus the graceful sea-fir (_Sertularia cupressina_), the largest
of our native species, may attain a height of two or three feet, and bear
on its branches no less than 100,000 distinct microscopical polypi, each
with its own crown of tentacles, and each of these armed with numerous
thread-cells, as formidable in their way as the crustacean's claw or
the annelide's embrace. But though each polyp has a certain share of
independence yet its body is continuous with the more fluid pulp that
fills the branches and stem of the common trunk, and by this means all
the polyps of it are connected together by a living thread, and made to
constitute a family whose workings are all regulated by one harmonious
instinct. Each of these plant-like structures may therefore be considered
as one animal furnished with a multitude of armed heads and mouths, and
in all the other compound cœlenterates we find a similar organisation.
All the soft parts of a sertularian polypary are enclosed in a horny
sheath (_hydrosoma_) which develops peculiar cup-shaped processes
(_hydrothecæ_) for the protection of each individual polyp, and capsules
for the reproductive bodies (_gonoblastidia_) in which the ova are
produced. The various modifications of form and structure of the polyps,
of their hydrothecæ and gonoblastidia, give rise to a number of families,
genera, and species. Thus in the Sertulariæ the polypites are sessile,
biserial, alternate, or paired; sessile and uniserial in the Plumulariæ,
and stalked in the Campanulariadæ.
[Illustration:
_a._ _Laomedea neglecta_, natural size.
_b._ Portion of the same, magnified.
_c._ Reproductive body of _Campanularia volubilis_.
_e._ Reproductive body of _C. syringa_.
]
The free-swimming Jelly-fishes, or Acalephæ, as they have been named by
Aristotle on account of the stinging properties due to their urticating
cells, are likewise among the commonest objects left upon our shores
by the retreating tide. When stranded, they appear like gelatinous
masses, disgusting to the sight; but these shapeless objects were
beautiful while they moved along in their own element, and their simple
organisation shows no less the masterhand of the Creator than the complex
structure of the higher stages of animal existence. With the exception
of the Ctenophora, they all belong to the hydrozoic class, and from the
great diversity of their structure have been ranged under four orders,
Medusidæ, Lucernaridæ, Calycophoridæ, and Physophoridæ.
[Illustration:
_a._ Medusid seen in profile.
_b._ The same viewed from below.
_c._ Its polypite.
_d._ Part of its marginal canal, and other structures in
connection therewith.
ν. Disk or swimming organ.
π. Polypite.
ψ. Veil.
τ. Tentacle.
χ. Radiating canal.
χ′. Marginal canal.
ω. Reproductive organ.
ο′. Coloured spot.
ο″. Marginal vesicle.
]
The Medusidæ are distinguished by their globular or bell-shaped disc,
which by its alternate contractions and expansions forces them forward
through the water. By contracting the whole or only part of its disc,
the medusa has it in its power to direct its movements, and while thus
swimming along with the convex side of the disc directed forwards, and
its oral lobes and tentacles following behind like "streamers long and
gay," it may well rank among the most elegant children of the sea.
From the roof of the disc a single polypite is suspended, whose mouth,
generally produced into four lobes, though in some forms it is much
more divided, passes into the central cavity (stomach) of the swimming
organ, from which canals (either four in number, or multiples of four)
radiate to join a circular vessel surrounding the margin of the bell.
A shelf-like membrane or veil, extending around the margin, and highly
contractile, assists locomotion by narrowing more or less the aperture
of the bell, and thus concentrating its efforts upon a narrower space.
More or less numerous tentacles generally depend from the margin, and
around it are disposed two kinds of remarkable bodies--"vesicles" and
"pigment spots," or "eye-specks"--which are supposed to be able to
communicate the impressions of light and sound. This complexity of
organisation in creatures which Réaumur contemptuously styled mere lumps
of animated jelly is all the more wonderful when we consider that they
consist almost entirely of water, and shrink to a mere nothing when
abandoned by their vital power. Thus of a medusa originally weighing many
pounds but few traces remain after death; the ground is covered with a
light varnish; all the rest has been absorbed by the thirsty sands.
[Illustration: Various forms of Medusidæ.
_a._ _Aequorea formosa_, seen in profile.
_b._ The same, viewed from above.
_c._ Upper view of _Willsia stellata_.
_d._ _Slabberia conica._
_e._ Portion of the marginal canal of _Tiaropsis Pattersonii_.
_f._ Polypite of _Bougainvillea dinema_.
_g._ Part of its marginal canal.
_h._ _Steenstrupia Owenii._ (_a_, _b_, and _d_ are about the natural
size; the others are magnified.)
]
The oceanic or free-swimming forms of the Lucernaridæ resemble the
Medusidæ by their bell-shaped umbrella, but differ from them by their
internal structure, by the absence of a marginal veil, by the nature of
their canal system and marginal bodies, and by their mode of development.
The radiating canals, never less than eight in number, send off numerous
branches, which form a very intricate network, and the vesicles and
pigment-spots, here united into a single organ, termed the lithocyst, are
each protected externally by a sort of hood, whence these jelly-fishes
have been named "Stegonophthalmia," or "covered-eyed," by Forbes, to
distinguish them from the naked-eyed "Gymnophthalmia," or Medusidæ. The
Pelagidæ (Chrysaora), which form one of the divisions of this group,
are simple, and have their margin surrounded with tentacles like the
Medusidæ, while the Rhizostomidæ have no marginal tentacles, and consist
of numerous polyps studding the trunks of a dependent tree. These animals
have consequently no central mouth, but hundreds of little mouths all
active for the welfare of the community.
[Illustration: Oceanic forms of Lucernaridæ.
_a._ _Rhizostoma pulmo._
_b._ _Chrysaora hysoscella._
_c._ Its lithocyst.--(All reduced.)
]
The sessile Lucernaridæ differ from the other members of the order by the
narrow disc or stalk which serves to fix their body when at rest. Their
quadrangular mouth is in the centre of the umbrella expansion, and round
the margin of the cup arise a number of short tentacles, disposed in
eight or nine tufts in Lucernaria, and forming one continuous series in
Carduella.
[Illustration: Lucernalia auricula. (Natural size.)]
Though generally preferring to lie at anchor, the Lucernaridæ are able
to detach themselves, and to swim in an inverted position by the slowly
repeated movements of their cup-like umbrella. When in a state of
expansion, few marine creatures exceed them in beauty and singularity
of form; when contracted, they are shapeless, and easily overlooked.
"Their mode of progression," says Mr. Couch, "differs under different
circumstances. If intending to move to any great distance, they do so by
loosening their attachments, and then, by various and active contortions,
they waft themselves away till they meet with any obstruction, where they
rest; and if the situation suits them, they fix themselves; if not, they
move on in the same manner to some other spot. If the change be only for
a short distance, as from one part of a leaf to another, they bend their
campanulate rims, and bring the tentacula in contact with the jaws, and
by them adhere to it. The foot-stalk is then loosened and thrown forward
and twirled about till it meets with a place to suit it; it is then
fixed, and the tentacula are loosened, and in this way they move from one
spot to another. Sometimes they advance like the Actiniæ, by a gliding
motion of the stalk. In taking their prey, they remain fixed with their
tentacula expanded, and if any minute substance comes in contact with any
of the tufts, that tuft contracts, and is turned to the mouth, while the
others remain expanded watching for prey."
The Calycophoridæ are distinguished by the cup-shaped swimming organs,
which form the most prominent part of their body. Generally transparent
like glass, their course upon distant inspection is only revealed by the
bright tints of some of their appendages. In Diphyes, the type of the
group, the two cups (ν, ν′′) fit into each other so as to form a
more or less perfect close canal. The common stem of the numerous polyp
colony freely glides up and down the chamber thus formed, into which it
can be completely retracted, and along its sides are placed the several
appendages of the compound creature, consisting chiefly of polypites
(π), tentacles, and organs of reproduction. Large specimens of
Diphyes attain, when fully extended, a length of several inches, the stem
giving support to at least fifty different polypites. The other genera
of the order exhibit a great variety in the form and arrangement of
their various parts; thus, in Vogtia, each of the swimming organs (ν)
is produced into five points, of which the three upper are much longer
and stronger than the two lower. The individual polyps (π), large in
size, but few in number, are congregated immediately under the swimming
apparatus, and are provided with long and formidable tentacula.
[Illustration: _a._ Diphyes appendiculata.]
[Illustration: _b._ Vogtia pentacantha. (Natural size.)]
In the Physophoridæ the basal end of the common polyp stem is modified
so as to form a float or aëriform sac, which is, however, extremely
different in shape, structure, and size in the various families. In
the Velellæ, the float, whose under surface is studded, besides one
larger central polypite, with numerous small nutritive, reproductive,
and tentacular bodies, forms a horizontal disc traversed by a diagonal
triangular crest, and divided into numerous hollow chambers. Thus
equipped, the semi-transparent velella, beautifully tinged with
ultramarine, sails on the surface of the warmer seas, but the currents
of the Gulf Stream, and the westerly winds, frequently drift it to the
coast of Ireland, where it is often found on the beach, entangled in
masses of sea-weed. Of the vast numbers in which it sometimes occurs,
Herr von Kittlitz relates an interesting instance in his "Travels to
Russian America and Micronesia." "Having passed 30° N. lat. in the
Pacific, the sea was suddenly found covered with myriads of Velellæ, of a
size somewhat greater than the Atlantic species." Two days long the ship
sailed through these floating masses, when suddenly the scene changed,
and large clusters of barnacles appeared, which, having no doubt devoured
the soft parts of the Velellæ, now invested their horny skeletons. As
the ship advanced, the number of the barnacle clusters augmented, which,
to judge from the various sizes of the individuals, must have taken
some time for their formation, and were apparently destined to increase
until the final destruction of the Velellæ hosts, into which, from their
greater weight, they were continually drifting deeper and deeper by the
action of the currents. Again two or three days elapsed, and as the
surface of the sea occupied by both species of animals extended at the
least over four degrees of latitude, a faint idea may be formed of their
numbers. Shoals of dolphins and sperm-whales were busy exterminating
the barnacles, as these had devoured the Velellæ. The whole scene was
an example on the grandest scale of the destruction and regeneration
perpetually going on in the wastes of the ocean.
[Illustration:
_a_. _Velella spirans_, somewhat enlarged.
_b._ One of its smaller polypites, much magnified.
ν. Crest.
λ. Liver.
ο. Mouth of polypite.
δ. Its digestive cavity.
φ′. Rounded elevations, containing thread-cells.
ρ. Medusiform zoöids.
]
[Illustration: Physalia caravella.--(Considerably reduced.)
α. Pneumatophore, or float-bladder.
π. Polypites.
τ. Tentacles.
]
The Physaliæ, which far surpass the Velellæ in size and beauty, are
also inhabitants of the warmer seas, where the _Physalia caravella_,
or "Portuguese man-of-war," is the mariner's admiration. On a large
float-bladder eight or nine inches long and three inches broad, whose
transparent crystal shines in every shade of purple and azure, rises a
vertical comb, the upper border of which sparkles with fiery red. This
beautiful float has a small opening at either end, and strong muscular
walls, so that by their contraction its cavity can be considerably
diminished. And thus partly by the escape of air forced out through the
openings, and partly by the compression of what remains, the specific
gravity is so much altered as to admit of the animal's sinking into
the deep when danger threatens. Numerous polyps proceed from the lower
surface, accompanied by tentacles having a sac-like extension at their
base, and hanging down in beautifully blue and violet coloured locks
or streamers. When fully extended, these tentacles form fishing lines
fifteen or sixteen feet long, which, as their thread-cells are uncommonly
large, at once paralyse the resistance of the fish or cephalopod they
meet with. Then rolling together, they convey the senseless prey to the
numerous mouths of the compound animal, which, sucking like leeches, pump
out its nutritious juices. In this manner the greedy physalia devours
many a bonito or flying-fish of a size far superior to its own, and such
is the corrosive power of its tentacles that even man is punished with
excruciating pains when heedlessly or ignorantly he comes within their
reach. "One day," says Dutertre in his "History of the Antilles," "as
I was sailing in a small boat, I saw a physalia, and as I was anxious
to examine it more closely, I tried to get hold of it. But scarcely
had I stretched out my hand when it was suddenly enveloped by a net of
tentacles, and after the first impression of cold (for the animal has a
cold touch) it seemed as if my arm had been plunged up to the shoulder in
a caldron of boiling oil, so that I screamed with pain." In his journey
round the world, Dr. Meyen also relates the case of a sailor who jumped
overboard to catch a physalia. But scarce had he come within reach of its
tentacles when the excruciating pain almost deprived him of sensation,
and he was with great difficulty hauled out of the water. A severe fever
was the consequence, and his life was for some time despaired of.
Several of the Physophoridæ are provided, besides the float, with
swimming-bells (_nectocalyces_) and peculiar appendages or bracteæ
(_hydrophyllia_), which, overlapping the polypites, serve for their
protection. The graceful _Athorybia rosacea_ possesses from twenty to
forty of these organs inserted in two or three circlets immediately below
the pneumatocyst, and above a much smaller number of polypites.
It has the power of alternately raising and depressing them so as to
render them agents of propulsion.
The Physophoræ have no hydrophyllia, but their swimming-bells are
considerably developed, and serve as powerful instruments of locomotion.
They are also provided with certain processes termed "hydrocysts," which
some observers appear disposed to regard as organs of touch. Such are but
a few of the numerous genera of the Physophoridæ.
[Illustration: Physophora Philippii.
α. Pneumatophore.
ν. Swimming-bells.
φ. Hydrocysts.
π. Polypites.
τ. Tentacles.
]
Of the jelly-fishes in general it may be remarked that, though they are
denizens of the frigid as well as of the temperate and tropical seas,
their beauty increases on advancing towards the equator, for while the
Medusæ in our latitudes are generally dull and obscure, those of the
torrid zone appear in all the splendour of the azure, golden-yellow, or
ruby-red tints which distinguish the birds and fishes of those sunny
regions. They are indeed of no immediate use to man, but their indirect
services are not to be despised. They partly nourish the colossal whale,
and thus, converted into oil, attract thousands of hardy seamen to the
icy seas; numberless Crustacea and molluscs also live upon their hosts,
and are in their turn devoured by the mighty herring shoals, whose
capture gives employment and wealth to whole nations of fishermen.
[Illustration: Development of Chrysaora hysoscella.
_a._ Ova with gelatinous investment.
_b_ and _c_. Free ova.
_d._ Young Hydratuba developed therefrom.
_e._ The same with eight tentacles.
_f._ Hydratuba in its ordinary condition.
_g_, _h_. More advanced forms, with constrictions.
_i._ A specimen undergoing fission, in which the tentacles are seen
to arise from below the constricted portion, while its upper
segments separate and become free-swimming zoöids (_k_).
]
Armed with that wonderful instrument, the microscope, naturalists have
been taught to disunite in many cases animals which from their external
resemblance were formerly supposed to belong to the same class or family;
and to join others to all appearances extremely dissimilar. Thus the
Bryozoa have been detached from the polyps, in spite of their similitude
of growth, while the roaming and fixed Hydrozoa have been found in many
cases to be but alternating generations or various phases of development
of the same animal. Take, for instance, _Chrysaora hysoscella_ (see
preceding figure, page 351), one of our commonest jelly-fishes. The ova
this free-swimming creature produces might naturally be supposed to
develop themselves into equally free-swimming Chrysaoræ; but instead
of this they soon become attached, and grow into a colony of sessile
Hydratubæ, as, at this stage of their career, they have been termed.
For years they may thus continue, but then the evolutions shown in the
annexed illustration take place until free-swimming zoöids are detached,
which eventually become similar to the huge Chrysaora, from one of whose
ova the primitive hydratube was produced.
[Illustration: Various forms of Coryniadæ.
_a_ and _b_. _Vorticlava humilis._
_c._ Four polypites of _Hydractinia echinata_, growing on
a piece of shell.
_d._ Portion of _Syncoryne Sarsii_, with medusiform zoöids (ρ),
budding from between the tentacles (τ) of the polypite (ο).
--(All, except _a_, magnified.)
]
In a similar manner the Coryniadæ, a family of hydrozoic polyps, which,
unpossessed of the firm investment of the sertularians, are frequently
found decking sea-weeds and stones with dense arborescent structures,
give birth to detached medusiform zoöids. On the other hand, many medusid
forms produce organisms directly resembling their parents, and many fixed
Hydrozoa, such as the Sertularidæ, do not give birth to free-swimming
medusoids, but to ciliated gemmules, which, escaping from the capsules
in which they had been formed, soon evolve themselves into true polyps.
A great part of this "strange eventful history" is still enveloped
in darkness, as the life of comparatively but few Hydrozoa has been
thoroughly investigated; so much is certain that future observations will
bring many new interesting relationships to light, and add new links to
the chain which binds together the various members of the hydrozoic class.
Although the Ctenophora, thus named from the ciliated bands which
constitute so obvious a feature in their physiognomy, closely resemble
the Medusæ by their gelatinous consistence and their mode of life,
yet a more complex organisation assigns them the highest rank among
the Actinozoa, and approximates them to the sea-anemones. The elegant
_Pleurobrachia pileus_, which in the summer so often appears on our
coasts in countless multitudes, is the species that has been longest
known. The melon-shaped body, from half an inch to nearly an inch
in length, is clear as crystal, and divided by eight longitudinal
equidistant ribs into eight equally large segments or fields. These
ribs are covered with numberless flat paddles or ciliæ, placed one
above another, and obeying the will of the animal. When it wishes to
swim backwards or forwards, it sets all its paddles in motion, whose
united power drives the living crystal rapidly and gracefully through
the water; and when it wishes to turn, it merely stops their movements
on one side. In sunlight, the ribs of the pleurobrachia sparkle with all
the colours of the rainbow; in darkness they emit a beautiful cerulean
phosphorescence.
The prehensile apparatus of the elegant little creature is no less
beautifully organised than its locomotive mechanism. It consists of two
long tentacles emerging from the under part of the body, and capable
of so wonderful a contraction as entirely to disappear within its
cavity, where they are lodged in tubular sheaths. On one side they are
provided at regular intervals with shorter and much thinner filaments,
which roll together spirally when the chief tentacle contracts, and
expand when it is stretched forth. On the secondary branches themselves
still more minute threads are said to have been observed. Words are
unable to express the beauty which the entire apparatus presents in the
living animal, or the marvellous ease with which it can be alternately
contracted, extended, and bent at an infinite variety of angles.
Most of the Ctenophora are spheroidal or ovate, but in Cestum elongation
takes place to an extraordinary extent, at right angles to the direction
of the digestive track, a flat ribbon-shaped body, three or four feet in
length, being the result. The Callianiræ are remarkable for having their
ciliated ribs elevated on prominent wing-like appendages, and the Beroës,
which have no tentacles, receive their nourishment through a widely
gaping mouth, whose size makes them amends for the deficiency of other
prehensile organs. Such are but a few of the varieties exhibited by the
beautiful and interesting Ctenophora.
In habit they resemble the oceanic Hydrozoa, like them swimming near
the surface in calm weather, and again descending on the approach of a
squall. Like them also, their delicate structures rapidly disappear when
removed from the sea-water and exposed to the rays of the sun, an almost
imperceptible film remaining the only trace of what was erewhile an
active and beautiful organism. Yet in spite of their aqueous consistence
the Ctenophora are very voracious, feeding on a number of floating marine
animals, among which their own kindred seem especially to be preferred.
The prey once swallowed is assimilated with a rapidity which to some may
seem strange when the simple structure of the digestive apparatus is
considered.
[Illustration: Various forms of Ctenophora.
_a. Cestram Veneris._ _b. Eurhamphæa vexilligera._ _c. Beroë
rufescens._ _d. Callianira triploptera._ _e. Pleurobrachia pileus._
(_a_ is considerably reduced; _b_ slightly so; _c_ and _e_ are about
the natural size; the size of _d_ is uncertain.)
]
The land has its flowers; they bloom in our gardens, they adorn our
meadows, they perfume the skirts of the forest, they brave the winds that
blow round the high mountain peaks, they conceal themselves in the clefts
of rocks, or spring forth out of ruins; wherever a plant can find room
there Flora appears with her lovely gifts.
But the ocean also has its large radiate anemones, whose lustrous petals,
still more wonderful than those of the land, for they are endowed with
animal life, form the chief ornament of the crystal tide-pools, or of the
sheltered basins of our rock-bound shores.
More than twenty species of these marine flowers, many of them displaying
a gorgeous wreath of richly coloured tentacles, are denizens of the
British waters; but the finest and largest are found along the margin of
the equatorial ocean, where they occasionally measure a foot in diameter.
Their tints are as various as the arrangement of their prehensile crown;
fiery red and apple-green, yellow and white as driven snow. Sometimes the
tentacles form a gorgon's head of long thick worms, clothed in satin and
velvet, and sometimes a thicket of delicate filaments.
Nothing seems more inoffensive than a sea-anemone expanding its disc in
the tranquil waters, but woe to the wandering annelide, to the shrimp, or
whelk, or nimble entomostracon, that comes within reach of its urticating
tentacles, for, plunged into a fatal lethargy, it is soon hurried to
the gaping mouth of its voracious enemy, ever ready to engulf it in a
living tomb. The morsel thus swallowed is retained in the stomach for
ten or twelve hours, when the undigested remains are regurgitated,
enveloped in a glairy fluid, not unlike the white of an egg. The size of
the prey is frequently in unseemly disproportion to the preyer, being
often equal in bulk to itself. Thus Dr. Johnstone mentions a specimen of
_Actinia crassicornis_, that might have been originally two inches in
diameter, and that had somehow contrived to swallow a scallop-valve of
the size of an ordinary saucer. The shell fixed within the stomach was
so placed as to divide it completely into two halves, so that the body,
stretched tensely over, had become thin and flattened like a pancake.
All communication between the inferior portion of the stomach and the
mouth was of course prevented; yet instead of emaciating and dying of an
atrophy, the animal had availed itself of what undoubtedly had been a
very untoward accident to increase its enjoyments and chances of double
fare. A new mouth, furnished with two rows of numerous tentacula, was
opened upon what had been the base, and led to the under stomach; the
individual had indeed become a sort of Siamese twin, but with greater
intimacy and extent in its unions.
From this instance we may naturally infer that the Actiniæ are no mean
adepts in the art of accommodating themselves to circumstances. They may
be kept without food for upwards of a year; they may be immersed in water
hot enough to blister their skins, or exposed to the frost, or placed
within the exhausted receiver of the air-pump, and their hardy vital
principle will triumph over all these ordeals. Their reproductive powers
are truly astonishing. Cut off their tentacles, and new ones sprout
forth; repeat the operation, and they germinate again. Divide their
bodies transversely or perpendicularly through the middle, and each half
will develop itself into a more or less perfect individual.
But these apparently indestructible creatures die almost instantly when
plunged into fresh water, which is for them, or for so many other marine
animals, a poison no less fatal than prussic acid to man.
Though generally firmly attached by means of a glutinous secretion from
their enlarged base to rocks, shells, and other extraneous bodies,
the sea-anemones can leave their hold, and remove to another station,
whensoever it pleases them, either by gliding along with a slow and
almost inperceptible movement or by reversing the body and using the
tentacula as feet; or, lastly, inflating the body with water so as to
diminish its specific weight, they detach themselves, and are driven to a
distance by the random motion of the waves. They are extremely sensible
not only to external irritations--the slightest touch causing them to
shrink into a shrivelled shapeless mass--but also of atmospherical
changes. They hide their crown under a glare of light; but in a calm
and unclouded sky expand and disclose every beauty, while they remain
contracted and veiled in cloudy or stormy weather. The Abbé Dicquemare
has even found, from several experiments, that they foretell changes of
the weather as certainly as the barometer. When they remain naturally
closed there is reason to fear a storm, high wind, and a troubled sea;
but a fair and calm season is to be anticipated when they lie relaxed
with expanded tentacula. The ova of the Actiniæ are detained for some
time after their separation in the interseptal spaces, or even in the
stomach, and there hatched, as it were, into their lasting form. On
emerging into the open ocean, they already resemble their full-grown
relatives, the only difference consisting in a smaller number of
tentacles and septa. The sea-anemones were consequently supposed to be
viviparous, an error which more accurate observations have fully refuted.
[Illustration: Alcyonidium elegans.
_a._ Branch to which the polypary is fixed.
_b._ Foot.
_c._ Trunk.
_d._ Polyp-bearing branches.
_e._ Polyps contracted within the foot.
]
Both the Ctenophora and the Sea-Anemones are single or solitary, but the
vast majority of the Actinozoa consist of aggregated animals attached to
one another by lateral appendages, or by their posterior extremity, and
participating in a common life, while at the same time each member of the
family enjoys its independent and individual existence. These compound
polyps are all either _Alcyonarians_, in which each polyp is furnished
with eight pinnately fringed tentacles, or _Zoantharians_, in which the
tentacula are simple or variously modified, and generally disposed in
multiples of five or six. The Alcyonarians are again subdivided into the
four families of the Alcyonidæ, the Pennatulidæ, the Gorgonidæ, and the
Tubiporidæ.
The Alcyonidæ vary much in form, being either lobed, branched, rounded,
or existing in a shapeless mass or crust, while the interior substance
is of a spongy or cork-like nature, surrounded by tubular rays enclosed
in a sort of tough fleshy membrane. The _Alcyonium digitatum_ is one of
our most common marine productions, so that on many parts of the coast
scarce a shell or stone can be dredged from the deep that does not
support one or more specimens. As it lies on the shore, it certainly
offers few inducements from its beauty to recommend it to further
notice, and seems fully to warrant the more expressive than elegant
names of "cow's paps," "dead man's toes," or "dead man's hands," which
the fishermen have conferred on it. On putting one of these shapeless
masses into a glass of sea-water, however, and allowing it to remain
for a little time undisturbed, its real nature becomes apparent, and a
series of most interesting phenomena present themselves. The dull orange
mass, which was at first opaque and of a dense texture, slowly swells and
becomes more diaphanous, apparently by the absorption of the surrounding
water into its substance, until, having attained its full dimensions,
numerous dimples appear, studding its entire surface, each of which, as
it gradually expands, reveals itself to be a cell, the residence of a
polyp, which, gradually protruding itself, pushes out a cylindrical body,
clear as crystal, fluted like a column, and terminated by a coronet of
eight delicately fringed tentacula. The unsightly aspect of the trunk,
which reminded us of cadaverous fingers or toes, is now forgotten, just
as we forget the uncouth branches of a cactus when we see it clothed with
its gorgeous flowers. All the polyp-cells are connected by a complicated
system of inosculating canals, bound together by a fibrous network,
and lying imbedded in a transparent jelly, which forms the fleshy part
of the compound animal. The eggs are lodged in the tubes, and at length
discharged through the mouth.
The Sea-Pens, or Pennatulæ, are remarkable from the circumstance that,
although they possess an internal calcareous support, they are not
permanently attached to foreign bodies. The lower portion of the stem,
which strikingly resembles the barrel of a quill, is naked, and, when
found in the bays upon our coast, is generally stuck into the mud at
the bottom like a pen into an inkstand, whilst the upper two thirds of
the stem are feathered with long closely set pinnæ, comparable to the
barbs of a quill, from the margin of which are protruded the rows of
polyps which minister to the support of the common body of the compound
animal. The purple-red _Pennatula phosphorea_, which is found in great
plenty sticking to the baits on the fishermen's lines, especially when
they use muscles to bait their hooks, is one of the most singular
and elegant of the British sea-pens. Some authors believe that it
is capable of using its fin-like arms like oars, but observations
are wanting in corroboration. The pale orange fawn _Virgularia
mirabilis_, an allied species, has a more elongated slender form than
the pennatula. Its rod-like body, from six to ten inches long, is
furnished with short fin-like lobes of a crescent shape, which approach
in pairs, but are not strictly opposite; they are about the eighth of
an inch asunder, and are furnished along the margins with a row of
urn-shaped polyp-cells. These very delicate and brittle animals seem
to be confined to a small circumscribed part of the coast, which has a
considerable depth and a muddy bottom, and the fishermen accustomed to
dredge at that place believe from the cleanness of the Virgulariæ, when
brought to the surface, that they stand erect at the bottom with one
end fixed in the mud or clay.
[Illustration: Grey Sea-Pen.]
[Illustration: Virgularia mirabilis.]
The Gorgonidæ (Gorgonia, Primnoa, Corallium, Isis, Mopsea) mainly differ
from the Alcyonidæ in having an erect and branching stem, firmly rooted
by its expanded base. A soft and fleshy crust, studded with numerous
polyps, envelops a solid horny or calcareous axis, which serves as a
support to the arborescent structure, and enables it to rise to a height
of several feet, or even, if we are to credit the Norway fishermen, to
rival our forest-trees in magnitude. This they conclude to be the case
from their nets being sometimes entangled on the trunk or stem of the
_Primnoa lepadifera_, as this large species of gorgon is called, when the
united strength of several men is unable to free the nets. "They have
even assured me," says Sir A. Capell de Brooke, "that the corals grow
to the height of fifty or sixty feet, as they judge from the following
circumstance, which seems clear and simple. The lines for the red-fish,
which is found in the greatest plenty where the primnoa grows, are set in
very deep water at the distance of about six feet from the bottom, and
in the parts where it is flat and level, which they can tell from their
soundings. On drawing up the lines at the distance of forty, fifty, or
sixty feet, and sometimes even more from the bottom, they get entangled
with some of the upper parts or branches of the gorgon, which are thus
torn off, and hence they reasonably conclude that the animal rises to
this height."
The Gorgonidæ either branch away irregularly like shrubs, or else their
branches inosculate and form a kind of net or fan, as in the _Flabellum
Veneris_, a beautiful Indian species, which some naturalist of more than
usual fancy has appropriated to the use of Venus.
Four British species of Gorgonia are recorded. _G. verrucosa_, the
commonest of these, abounds in deep water along the whole of the south
coast of England. It is more than twelve inches in height, and fifteen or
seventeen in breadth, and expands laterally in numerous cylindrical and
warty branches. It is somewhat fan-shaped, but does not form a continuous
network. Its coral has a dense black axis, with a snow-white pith in the
centre, and is covered, while living, with a flesh-coloured crust. The
flexible corneous stem of the Gorgonias enables them to bend beneath the
passing current, and thus prevents their long and slender ramifications
from breaking, while the hard calcareous branches of the valuable red
coral (_Corallium nobile_) are sufficiently short and strong to resist
the violence of the sea. This beautiful marine production, though also
occurring in the Ethiopic Ocean and about Cape Negro, is chiefly found in
the Mediterranean, on the shores of Provence, about the isles of Majorca
and Minorca, on the south of Sicily, and on the coast of Africa. It grows
on rocky bottoms, and frequently in an inverted position, or downwards
from the under surface of stones, generally at a depth of several hundred
feet.
[Illustration: Red Coral.
Gorgonia nobilis. (A small detached portion magnified.)]
When alive, the soft rind which invests the valuable central stony axis
is studded with snow-white polyps. The fishery is still carried on in
the same way as it was described by Marsigli 150 years ago. The net is
composed of two strong rafters of wood tied crosswise, with leads fixed
to them; to these they fasten a quantity of hemp twisted loosely round
and intermingled with some loose netting. This apparatus is let down, and
while the boat is sailing or being rowed along, alternately raised and
dropped so as to sweep a certain extent of the bottom and to entangle
the corals in its coarse meshes. The labour, as may be imagined, is very
great; frequently, after a long toil, the net is brought up empty, or
filled only with other marine productions, which, however interesting
they may be to the naturalist, are perfectly worthless in the eyes of the
coral-fisher; and not seldom immense exertions are required to loosen it
from the rocks, among which it has got entangled.
The chief seat of the coral-fishery is at present along the coasts
of Algeria and Tunis, where it is almost exclusively carried on by
the Italians, who fit out more than 400 small ships, or "corallines,"
of from five to sixteen tons, for this purpose. In spring this fleet
of nut-shells leaves the ports of Torre del Greco, Sicily, Sardinia,
and Genoa, and proceeds to its various points of destination, where
it remains until the autumnal gales compel the fragile "corallines"
to retire. Every month or fortnight the products of the fishery are
delivered up to agents in Bona or La Calle, under whose direction the
corals are sorted, packed in cases, and sent to Naples, Leghorn, or
Genoa, where they are cut, polished, and manufactured into necklaces and
other ornaments or trinkets. About 4,000 sailors are employed in the
fishery, each man receiving an average pay of 380 franks for the season,
which he almost entirely brings home with him, his trifling expenses on
land being generally defrayed by the small pieces of coral he manages
to conceal from the sharp eye of the "padrone." The average quantity of
corals fished by each "coralline" amounts to about six hundredweight, and
the total value of the fishery to more than 200,000_l._, without taking
into account the produce of the fisheries at Stromboli, in the Straits of
Messina, and other parts of the Italian coast.
The manufactured articles sell of course for a much higher price, so
that the "red coral" is a by no means inconsiderable article of trade.
Great quantities are exported to India, and in Leghorn and Genoa several
large manufactories work exclusively for that distant market, where the
blood-red corals, whose colour harmonises with the dark complexion of the
native ladies, are particularly in demand, while those of a roseate hue
are preferred in Europe.
The fishermen have a strange belief that the corals are by nature soft,
but immediately turn into stone from terror when entangled by the net.
There is also a legendary tale of an enchanted coral-tree, large and
powerful as an oak, which is said to grow in a deep grotto at the foot of
Mont Alban, on the Ligurian coast. It extends its arms when no danger is
nigh, but immediately withdraws them, like a cuttle-fish, at the approach
of an insidious enemy. This superstition is so firmly rooted that, while
Professor Vogt was at Villafranca in 1865, a "coralline" arrived from
Torre del Greco for the purpose of fishing for this imaginary prey.
The "padrone" swore he would not leave the neighbourhood before he had
secured his prize, hoping to enrich himself with the spoils, but doomed,
no doubt, to a grievous disappointment, and a considerable loss, on a
coast where but few ordinary corals are found.
[Illustration: Isis hippuris.]
In the elegant _Isis hippuris_, which grows in the Indian Ocean, and is
frequently found in cabinets of natural history, the horny and calcareous
matter of the axis is disposed in alternate joints, so as to unite
flexibility with firmness. A similar structure of alternately disposed
calcareous and horny segments occurs in Mopsea. In Isis branches are
developed from the calcareous, in Mopsea from the horny segments of the
axis.
[Illustration: Tubipora Musica.]
The Tubiporidæ are confined to the narrow limits of a single genus
containing but few species. Here the polypary is composed of distinct
calcareous tubes rising from a fleshy or membranaceous basis, and
arranged in successive stages. These tubes are separated from each
other by considerable intervals, but mutually support each other by the
interposition of external horizontal plates, formed of the same dense
substance as themselves, by which they are united together, so that
a mass of these tubes exhibits an arrangement something like that of
the pipes in an organ, whence the beautiful Indian species, _Tubipora
musica_, has derived its name. From the upper ends of the tubes the
polyps are protruded, and being, when alive, of a bright grass-green
colour, they contrast very beautifully with the rich crimson of the tubes
they inhabit.
[Illustration: Caryophyllia.]
In our seas, the coralligenous Zoophytarians, distinguished by the hard
calcareous skeletons they deposit within their tissues are but feebly
represented by a few straggling Caryophylliæ, but in the tropical
ocean they branch out into numerous families, genera, and species, and
play a highly important part in the economy of the maritime domain.
Originally proceeding from single ova, which at first freely move by
means of vibratile ciliæ, and become fixed after a short period of
erratic existence, they multiply by gemmation, and grow into an immense
variety of forms, of which the following description by one who has
long and attentively studied them in their native haunts may serve to
give an idea. "Trees of coral," says Professor Dana, "are well known;
and although not emulating in size the oaks of our forests--for they do
not exceed six or eight feet in height--they are gracefully branched,
and the whole surface blooms with coral polyps in place of leaves and
flowers. Shrubbery, tufts of rushes, beds of pinks, and feathery mosses,
are most exactly imitated. Many species spread out in broad leaves or
folia, and resemble some large-leaved plant just unfolding; when alive,
the surface of each leaf is covered with polyp-flowers. The cactus, the
lichen clinging to the rock, and the fungus in all its varieties, have
their numerous representatives. Besides these forms imitating vegetation,
there are gracefully modelled vases, some of which are three or four feet
in diameter, made up of a network of branches and branchlets, and sprigs
of flowers. There are also solid coral hemispheres like domes among the
vases and shrubbery, occasionally ten or even twenty feet in diameter,
whose symmetrical surface is gorgeously decked with polyp-stars of purple
and emerald-green."
Under such aspects appear the living organisms whose combined efforts
have mainly constructed those reefs and islands of coral origin which
now lie scattered far and wide over the surface of the equatorial ocean.
Words are inadequate to express the splendour of the submarine gardens
with which the lithophytes clothe the rocky shores of the tropical seas.
"There are few things more beautiful to look at," says Captain Basil
Hall, "than these corallines when viewed through two or three fathoms
of clear and still water. It is hardly an exaggeration to assert that
the colours of the rainbow are put to shame on a bright sunny day by
what meets the view on looking into the sea in those fairy regions." And
Ehrenberg was so struck with the magnificent spectacle presented by the
living polyparia in the Red Sea that he exclaimed with enthusiasm, "Where
is the paradise of flowers that can rival, in variety and beauty, these
living wonders of the ocean!"
Besides the charms of their own growth, the tropical coral gardens afford
a refuge or a dwelling-place to numberless animals clothed in gorgeous
apparel. Fishes attired in azure, scarlet, and gold, crustaceans,
sea-urchins, sea-stars, sea anemones, annelides, of a brilliancy of
colour unknown in the northern seas, glide or swim along through their
tangled shrubberies; and frequently the gigantic tridacna, embedded in
their calcareous parterres, discloses, on opening her ponderous valves,
her violet mantle tinted with emerald-green. The enchanted naturalist
lingers for hours over the magnificent spectacle, and forgets the lapse
of time, as wonders upon wonders crowd on his enraptured gaze.
But the tropical coral-gardens serve not only as a harbour of refuge
to the numberless creatures that frequent their labyrinthine recesses,
for many annelides, crustaceans, asterias, and even fishes, feed upon
their animal flowrets. Among these, the Scari are provided with a very
remarkable dental apparatus to protect their mandibles from injury
while biting the calcareous corals. These fishes have their jaws,
which resemble the beak of a parrot (whence they receive their usual
appellation "parrot fishes"), covered externally with a kind of pavement
of teeth, answering the same purpose as the horny investment of the
mandibles of the bird. The teeth that form this pavement are perpetually
in progress of development towards the base of the jaw, whence they
advance forward, when completed, to replace those which become worn away
in front by the constant attrition to which they are subjected. Thus
armed, the Scari browse without difficulty on the newest layers of the
stony corals, digesting the animal matter therein contained, and setting
free the carbonate of lime in a chalky state. Many of the Diodons,
Chætodons, and Balistæ or file-fishes, of which Kittlitz saw some new
species, one still more splendid than the other, in every lagoon-island
he visited in the long range of the Carolines, likewise feed upon corals,
and possess a dental apparatus fit for masticating their refractory
aliment. The Diodons have grooved teeth, excellently adapted to crush and
bruise, and the Balistæ have eight strong conical teeth in every jaw,
with which they easily nip off the shoots of the coral bushes.
Of the reef-building corals it may well be said that they build for
eternity. The bones of the higher animals vanish after a few years, but
the stony skeleton of the polyp remains attached to the spot of its
formation, and serves as a basement or stage for new generations to
build upon. Life and death are here in concurrent or parallel progress;
generally the whole interior of a corallum is dead. The large domes of
the astræas are in most species covered with a hemispherical living
shell, about half an inch thick; and in some porites of the same size the
whole mass is lifeless, except the exterior for a sixth of an inch in
depth.
[Illustration: Astræa.]
We are astonished when travellers tell us of the vast extent of certain
ancient ruins; but how utterly insignificant are the greatest of these
when compared with the piles of stone accumulated in the course of ages
by these minute, and individually so puny architects! The history of
the formation of coral-reefs is no less wonderful than their extent.
They have been divided, according to their geological character, into
three classes. The first fringes the shores of continents or islands
(shore-reefs); the second, rising from a deep ocean, at a greater
distance from the land, encircles an island, or stretches like a barrier
along the coast (encircling-reefs, barrier-reefs); the third, enclosing
a lagoon, forms a ring or annular breakwater round an interior lake
(atolls, or lagoon-islands).
[Illustration: Stone Corals.]
Many of the high rocky islands of the Pacific lie, like a picture in
its frame, in the middle of a lagoon encircled by a reef. A fringe of
low alluvial land in these cases generally surrounds the base of the
mountains; a girdle of palm-trees, backed by abrupt heights, and fronted
by a lake of smooth water, only separated from the deep blue ocean by
the breakers roaring against the encircling reef; such, for instance, is
the scenery of Tahiti, so justly named "the queen of islands." But the
encircling reefs are often at a much greater distance from the shore.
Thus in New Caledonia they extend no less than 140 miles beyond the
island.
As an example of barrier-reefs, I shall cite that which fronts the
north-east coast of Australia. It is described by Flinders as having a
length of nearly a thousand miles, and as running parallel to the shore
at a distance of between twenty and thirty miles from it, and in some
parts even of fifty and seventy. The great arm of the sea thus inclosed,
has a usual depth of between ten and twenty fathoms. This probably is
both the grandest and most extraordinary reef now existing in any part of
the world.
[Illustration: Stone Corals.]
The atolls, or lagoon-islands, are numerously scattered over the face
of the tropical ocean. The Marshall and Caroline islands, the Paumotic
group, the Maldives and Lacadives, and many other groups or solitary
islets of the Pacific or Indian Ocean, are entirely built up of coral;
every single atom, from the smallest particle to large fragments of
rock, bearing the stamp of having been subjected to the power of organic
arrangement. A narrow rim of coral-reef, generally but a few hundred
yards wide, stretches around the enclosed waters. When a lagoon-island
is first seen from the deck of a vessel, only a series of dark points is
descried just above the horizon. Shortly after, the points enlarge into
the plumed tops of cocoa-nut trees, and a line of green, interrupted at
intervals, is traced along the water's surface.
The long swell produced by the gentle but steady action of the trade
wind, always blowing in one direction over a wide area, causes breakers
which even exceed in violence those of our temperate regions, and which
never cease to rage. It is impossible to behold these waves without
feeling a conviction that a low island, though built of the hardest rock,
would ultimately yield, and be demolished by such irresistible forces.
Yet the insignificant coral-islets stand and are victorious; for here
another power, antagonistic to the former, takes part in the contest.
The organic forces separate the atoms of carbonate of lime one by one
from the foaming breakers, and unite them in a symmetrical structure. Let
the hurricane tear up its thousand huge fragments, yet what will this
tell against the accumulated labours of myriads of architects at work
night and day, month after month. Thus do we see the soft and gelatinous
body of a polyp, through the agency of vital laws, conquering the great
mechanical power of the waves of an ocean, which neither the art of man
nor the inanimate works of nature could successfully resist.
The reef-building corals, so hardy in this respect, are extremely
sensitive and delicate in others. They absolutely require warmth for
their existence, and only inhabit seas the temperature of which never
sinks below 60° Fahr. They also require clear and transparent waters.
Wherever streams or currents are moving or transporting sediment, there
no corals grow, and for the same reason we find no living zoophytes upon
sandy or muddy shores.
As within one cast of the lead coral-reefs rise suddenly like walls from
the depths of ocean, it was formerly supposed that the polyps raised
their structures out of the profound abysses of the sea; but this opinion
could no longer be maintained, after Mr. C. Darwin and other naturalists
had proved that the lithophytes cannot live at greater depths than twenty
or at most thirty fathoms.
Hereupon Quoy and Gaimard broached the theory that corals construct their
colonies on the summits of mountain ridges, or the circular crests of
submarine craters, and thus accounted both for the great depths from
which the coral-walls suddenly rise, and the annular form of lagoon
islands. Yet this theory, ingenious as it was, could not stand the test
of a closer examination: for no crater ever had such dimensions as, for
instance, one of the Radack Islands, which is fifty-two miles long by
twenty broad; and no chain of mountains has its summits so equally high,
as must have been the case with the numerous reef-bearing submarine
rocks, considering the small depth from which the lithophytes build.
Another seemingly inexplicable fact was, that, although corals hardly
exist above low-water mark, reefs are found at Tongatabu or Eua, for
instance, at elevations of forty and even three hundred feet above the
level of the ocean.
Mr. Charles Darwin was the first to give a satisfactory explanation
of all the phenomena of coral formations, by ascribing them to the
oscillations of the sea bottom, to its partial upheaving or subsidence.
It is now perfectly well known that large portions of the continent of
South America, Scandinavia, North Greenland, and many other coasts, are
slowly rising, and that other terrestrial or maritime areas are gradually
subsiding. Thus on every side of the lagoon of the Keeling Islands, in
which the water is as tranquil as in the most sheltered lake, Mr. Darwin
saw old cocoa-nut trees undermined and falling. The foundation-posts of
a store-house on the beach, which, the inhabitants said, had stood seven
years before just above high water, were now daily washed by the tide.
Supposing on one of these subsiding areas an island-mountain fringed with
corals, the lithophytes, keeping pace with the gradual sinking of their
basis, soon raise again their solid masses to the level of the water; but
not so with the land, each inch of which is irreclaimably gone. Thus the
fringing reef will gradually become an encircling one; and, if we suppose
the sinking to continue, it must by the submergence of the central land,
but upward growth of the ring of coral, be ultimately converted into a
lagoon-island.
The numerous _atolls_ of the Pacific and Indian Ocean give us a far
insight into the past, and exhibit these seas overspread with lofty lands
where there are now only humble monumental reefs dotted with verdant
islets. Had there been no growing coral, the whole would have passed
away without a record; while, from the actual extent of the coral-reefs
and islands, we know that the entire amount of the high land lost to
the Pacific was at least 50,000 square miles. But as other lands may
have subsided too rapidly for the corals to maintain themselves at the
surface, it is obvious that the estimate is far below the truth.
As living coral-reefs do not grow above low-water mark, it may well be
asked how habitable islands can form upon their crests. The breakers
are here the agents of construction. They rend fragments and blocks
from the outer border of the reef and throw them upon the surface.
Corals and shells are pulverised by their crushing grinding power,
and gradually fill up the interstices. In this manner the pile rises
higher and higher, till at last even the spring tides can no longer wash
over it into the lagoon, on the border of which the fine coral sand
accumulates undisturbed. The seeds which the ocean-currents often carry
with them from distant continents find here a congenial soil, and begin
to deck the white chalk with an emerald carpet. Trees, drifting from the
primeval forest, where they have been uprooted by the swelling of the
river on whose banks they grew, are also conveyed by the same agency to
the new-formed shore, and bring along with them small animals, insects,
or lizards, as its first inhabitants. Before the stately palm extends
its feathery fronds sea-birds assemble on this new resting-place, and
land-birds, driven by storms from their usual haunts, enjoy the shade
of the rising shrubbery. At last, after vegetation has completed its
work, man appears on the scene, builds his hut on the fruitful soil
which falling leaves and decaying herbs have gradually enriched, and
calls himself the master of this little world. In this manner all the
coral-reefs and islands of the tropical seas have gradually become
verdant and habitable; thus has arisen the kingdom of the Maldives, whose
sultan, Ibrahim, glories in the title of sultan of the thirteen atolls
and twelve thousand isles. May his shadow never be less!
CHAP. XVIII.
PROTOZOA.
The Foraminifera.--The Amœbæ--Their Wonderful Simplicity of
Structure.--The Polycystina.--Marine Infusoria.--Sponges--Their
Pores--Fibres and Spiculæ--The Common Sponge of Commerce.
Think not, reader, that the life of the ocean ends with the innumerable
hosts of fishes, molluscs, crustacea, medusæ, and polyps we have
reviewed, and that the waters of the sea or the sands of the shore have
now no further marvels for us to admire. The naked eye indeed may have
attained the limits of life, but the microscope will soon reveal a new
and wonderful world of animated beings.
Take only, for instance, while wandering on the beach, a handful of
drift-sand, and examine it through a magnifying glass. You will then not
seldom find, among the coarser grains of inorganic silica, a number of
the most elegant shells; some formed like ancient amphoræ, others wound
like the nautilus, but all shaped in their minuteness with a perfection
which no human artist could hope to equal in the largest size.
[Illustration: Nummulina discoidalis.
_a._ Natural size.
_b._, _c._ The same, highly magnified.
]
The knowledge of these charming little marine productions is of modern
date, for they were first observed in the sand of the Adriatic by
Beccaria in 1731, and for some time believed to belong exclusively to
that gulf. At a later period some species were discovered here and there
in England and France, but their universality and importance in the
economy of the ocean were first pointed out in 1825, by the distinguished
French naturalist Alcide d'Orbigny.
The sand of many sea-coasts is so mixed with Foraminifera, as they have
been called from the openings with which their shells are pierced, that
they often form no less than half its bulk. Plancus counted 6000 in an
ounce of sand from the Adriatic, and d'Orbigny reckoned no less than
3,849,000 in a pound of sand from the Antilles. Along the whole Atlantic
coast of the United States, the plummet constantly brings up masses
of foraminiferous shells from a depth of ninety fathoms, so that the
vast extent of ocean-bottom, which itself forms but a small part of the
domains they occupy, is literally covered with their exuviæ.
Thus their numbers surpass all human conception, nor can any other series
of beings be compared to them in this respect; not even the minute
crustaceans which colour thousands of square miles on the surface of the
sea, and, according to Scoresby, form almost exclusively the food of
the huge Greenland whale; nor the infusory animals of the fresh-water,
whose shields compose the Bilin slate quarries in Bohemia; for these are
limited in their distribution, whereas the Foraminifera occur in all
parts of the world.
[Illustration: Amœba.]
[Illustration: Amœba, showing the extemporaneous feet formed by
evanescent projections of the general plastic mass of the animal.]
The resemblance of the Foraminifera to the nautili and ammonites at first
led naturalists to suppose that they formed part of the same class, which
in a long course of centuries had dwindled down in less congenial seas
to almost invisible dimensions; but a closer investigation proved them
to belong to a much lower order of beings, nearly related to the Amœbæ,
which likewise occur all over the ocean. Other animals excite our wonder
by their complicated structure, but the amœba raises our astonishment by
the excessive simplicity of its organisation. The amœba is nothing more
than a living globule of mucus, a transparent, colourless, contractile
substance, or plastic mass, the individual life of which shows itself in
manifold changes of form, bearing the character of voluntary motion. When
an amœba approaches another minute animal or plant unable to move out of
its reach, it sends out extemporaneous feet, which soon clasp the prey
on all sides, and the prisoner lies embedded in the living mucus until
all his soluble parts have been absorbed. There is absolutely no trace of
particular organs in the amœba; all its constituent particles may be used
for any purpose, all equally move and digest, and each can at any time
perform the organic functions pertaining to the whole.
[Illustration: A Compound Foraminiferous Protozoon, magnified.
The shell is perforated with holes, through which the different lobes
of the animal communicate, and thread-like portions are protruded
externally.]
In their internal simplicity the Foraminifera are on a par with the
amœbæ, and differ from them only in respect of their outward form. The
amœbæ are naked, while the Foraminifera are covered with a shell, out
of which, through one or numerous openings, the animal protrudes the
processes which it requires for creeping or seizing its prey. These
processes or filaments of mucus frequently ramify, closing as they
spread, and sometimes covering an area of several lines in diameter, in
the centre of which the animal inclosed in its shell waits for its prey,
like a spider in its net.
The extended filaments appear to have something venomous about them;
for Dr. Schultze, to whom we owe an interesting monograph on the
Foraminifera, frequently saw small and sprightly parameciæ, colpodes, and
other infusoria drop down paralysed as soon as they touched the net.
[Illustration: Various forms of Foraminifera.
_a. Lagena striata._
_a′. Nodosaria rugosa._
_b. Marginulina raphanus._
_b′._ Longitudinal section of shell of ditto.
_c. Polystomella crispa_, with its pseudopodia protruded.
_d. Nummulites lenticularis_, shown in horizontal section.
_e. Cassidulina lævigata._
_f. Textularia globulosa._
_g. Miliolina seminulum._
_g′._ Animal of Miliolina removed from its shell.
]
The amazing variety of form of the Foraminifera is no less remarkable
than the elegance of their delicately chiselled shells, and may well be
called immense, as no less than 2,400 living and fossil species have
already been distinguished by naturalists, and a far greater number is
probably still nameless and unknown. Though generally so minute that the
diameter of the pores through which they protrude their filaments usually
only ranges from 1/3000 to 1/10000 of an inch yet the diminutive world
of the Foraminifera has also its giants, particularly among the fossil
species, such as the Nummulites, which occur in such prodigious numbers
in the limestone of the Egyptian pyramids, and whose flattened lenticular
coin-like forms (d) attain the comparatively gigantic diameter of several
inches. Thus the material with which the proud Pharaohs of the Nile
constructed their colossal tombs was originally piled up at the bottom of
the sea by countless generations of shell-cased Protozoa.
The Foraminifera are among the oldest inhabitants of our globe,[T] and
as the present ocean contains them in countless multitudes, thus have
they swarmed in the waters of the primeval seas from the first dawn of
creation, and piled up the monuments of their existence in vast strata
of limestone. A great part of the rocky belt from Rügen to the Danish
isles, the white chalk cliffs which, beginning in England, extend through
France as far as Southern Spain, are chiefly composed of the shells
of Foraminifera, and the zone of Nummulite limestone, which served to
build the huge quadrilateral monument of Cheops, forms a band, often
1,800 miles in breadth, and frequently of enormous thickness, from the
Atlantic shores of Europe and Africa through Western Asia up to North
India and China; enough to satisfy the most extravagant architectural
folly of millions of despots. So important is the part which these
beings, individually so minute, have performed and still perform in the
geological annals of the globe.
[Footnote T: The _Eozoon canadense_, the oldest of known organic remains,
found in the Upper Laurentian series, which preceded the Cambrian
formation, is a Foraminifer. Millions of years must have passed since it
first felt and moved.]
Many of these "minims of nature" consist of only one chamber, and
hence are called unilocular or monothalamous; but a vast proportion
consist of several chambers, and hence are called multilocular or
polythalamous. The latter, however numerous their chambers or seemingly
complex their structure, always originate as a single shell. The
primitive jelly-sphere, or first sarcode segment, secretes around itself
its appropriate calcareous envelope. Having grown too large for its
habitation, it protrudes a portion of itself without, and thus forms
a second segment. If by a process of spontaneous fission this segment
becomes quite detached from its parent, and repeats the life and method
of reproduction of the latter, a series of monothalamous shells will be
formed. But if by means of a sarcode band the primitive segment maintains
its connection with its immediate offspring, and this, repeating the
reproductive process, does the same, a compound shell will, of course, be
the result.
Among the microscopic denizens of the ocean, the Polycystina rival the
Foraminifera both by their number and their wonderful elegance of form
and structure. Their body consists of the same viscid homogeneous plastic
mass, termed "sarcode" by the naturalists; like them they are capable of
protruding it through the foramina with which their shell is pierced,
and consequently they are ranked with them among the Rhizopods, or
root-footed animalcules, that form the lowest order of the Protozoa, the
lowest class of the animal world.
[Illustration: Polycystina.
_a. Podocyrtis Schomburgkii. b. Haliomma Humboldtii._]
It is a peculiar feature of these beautiful little shells (whose delicate
sculpture frequently reminds the observer of the finest specimens of
the hollow ivory balls carved by the Chinese) that they are usually
surmounted by a number of spine-like projections, very frequently having
a radiate disposition. Some have an oblong shape (Podocyrtis), others a
discoid form (Haliomma), from the circumference of which the silicious
spines project at regular intervals, so as to give them a star-like
aspect. They are generally of a smaller size than even the Foraminifera,
appear to be almost as widely diffused, and have also largely contributed
to the structure of the earth-rind. They were first discovered by
Professor Ehrenberg at Cuxhaven, on the North Sea; they were afterwards
found by him in collections made in the antarctic seas, and have been
brought up by the sounding lead from the bottom of the Atlantic at depths
of from 1,000 to 2,000 fathoms.
The term Infusoria, which formerly comprised a most heterogeneous
assemblage of minute plants and animals, is now confined to the highest
order of the Protozoa, distinguished from the Rhizopods by the possession
of a mouth and of ciliary filaments, whose vibrations serve them both
for progression through the water and for drawing alimentary particles
into the interior of their body. Though most of the Infusoria live in
ponds, morasses, pools, wells, or cisterns, yet many are marine, as, for
instance, the _Carchesium polypinum_, which is frequently found attached
to corallines, and the _Vaginicola valvata_, which from its sheath and
valve strongly reminds one of a tubicolar annelide.
[Illustration: Marine Infusoria.
_a._ _Vaginicola valvata_, showing animal extended, and
valve (φ) raised.
_a′._ The same, showing animal contracted within its sheath, and
valve (φ′) shut down.
_b._ _Lagotia viridis_, showing rotatory organ (ξ).
_b′._ Young animal of preceding.
]
The wide diffusion both in time and space of the marine Protozoa, and
chiefly of the Foraminifera and Polycystina, is a sufficient proof of
their vast importance in the household of the seas. Along with the
Diatoms and other microscopical forms of vegetation on which their own
existence depends, they evidently constitute the basis on which the
superstructure of all the higher orders of the animal life of the ocean
reposes. Hosts of minute crustaceans, annelides, acalephæ, and molluscs,
feed upon their inexhaustible legions, and serve in their turn to sustain
creatures of a larger and still larger size until finally Man is enabled
to feast on the abundance of the seas.
The Porifera, or Sponges, were formerly supposed to belong to the
vegetable kingdom, but their animal nature is now fully ascertained, for
modern researches have proved that the soft glairy substance with which
their skeleton is invested during life consists of "sarcode," similar to
that which forms the soft parts of the Foraminifera and Polycystina. It
is by this animated or organic gelatine, which can generally be pressed
out with the finger, and in some species is copious even to nauseousness,
that the solid parts of the sponge are deposited, and from it the whole
growth of the mass proceeds. The framework or skeleton of the Porifera is
usually composed of horny fibres of unequal thickness, which ramify and
interlace in every possible direction, anastomosing with each other so as
to form innumerable continuous cells and intricate canals, the walls of
which in the recent sponge are crusted over with the gelatinous living
cortex.
[Illustration: Single interspace or open cell, and surrounding finer
meshwork of the skeleton of a sponge.]
[Illustration: Needle-like and starred spicula of a Tethea. (Highly
magnified.)]
Generally this fibrous mass is interwoven with numerous mineral spicules
of a wonderful elegance and variety of forms, for their shapes are not
only strictly determinate for each species of sponge but each part of
the sponge, it is believed, has spiculæ of a character peculiar to
itself. Sometimes they are pointed at both ends, sometimes at one only,
or one or both ends may be furnished with a head like that of a pin, or
may carry three or more diverging points, which sometimes curve back
so as to form hooks. Sometimes they are triradiate, sometimes stellar;
in some cases smooth, in others beset with smaller spinous projections
like the lance of the saw-fish. In many species they are embedded in the
horny framework; in others, as, for instance, in Tethea Cranium, or in
Halichondria, they project from its surface like a tiny forest of spears.
They are generally composed of silex or flint, but in the genus Grantia
they consist of carbonate of lime. Though the skeleton of most sponges is
formed both of horny fibres and of mineral spicules yet the proportions
of these two component parts vary considerably in different species. In
the common sponge, for instance, the fibrous skeleton is almost entirely
destitute of spicules, a circumstance to which it owes the flexibility
and softness that render it so useful to man, while they predominate
in the Halichondriæ, and sometimes even, as in the Grantiæ, completely
supersede the horny fabric.
[Illustration: Minute portion of the surface of Tethea Cranium,
magnified, spicula projecting beyond the surface.]
[Illustration: Halina papillaris.
Currents passing inwards through the pores (_a a_), traversing the
internal canals (b), and escaping by the larger vents (_c_, _d_).]
On examining a sponge, the holes with which the substance is everywhere
pierced may be seen to be of two kinds; one of larger size than the rest,
few in number, and opening into wide channels and tunnels which pierce
the sponge through its centre; the other minute, extremely numerous,
covering the wide surface, and communicating with the innumerable
branching passages which make up the body of the skeleton. Through the
smaller openings or pores the circumambient water freely enters the
body of the sponge, passes through the smaller canals, and, ultimately
reaching the larger set of vessels, is evolved through the larger
apertures or oscula. Thus by a still mysterious agency (for the presence
of cilia has as yet been detected but in one genus of full-grown marine
sponges) a constant circulation is kept up, providing the sponge with
nourishing particles and oxygen, and enabling its system of channels
to perform the functions both of an alimentary tube and a respiratory
apparatus.
Dr. Grant describes in glowing terms his first discovery of this highly
interesting phenomenon: "Having put a small branch of sponge with some
sea-water into a watch-glass, in order to examine it with the microscope,
and bringing one of the apertures on the side of the sponge fully into
view, I beheld for the first time the spectacle of this living fountain,
vomiting forth from a circular cavity an impetuous torrent of liquid
matter, and hurling along in rapid succession opaque masses, which it
strewed everywhere around. The beauty and novelty of such a scene in the
animal kingdom long arrested my attention, but after twenty-five minutes
of constant observation, I was obliged to withdraw my eye from fatigue,
without having seen the torrent for one instant change its direction or
diminish in the slightest degree the rapidity of its course. I continued
to watch the same orifice at short intervals for five hours, sometimes
observing it for a quarter of an hour at a time, but still the stream
rolled on with a constant and equal velocity."
Subsequent observations have proved that the living sponge has the power
of opening and closing at pleasure its oscula, which are capable of
acting independently of each other, thus fully establishing the animal
nature of these simple organisations, in whom latterly even traces of
sensibility have been detected, such as one would hardly expect to meet
with in a sponge. For these creatures, as we are entitled to call them,
are able to protrude from their oscula the gelatinous membrane which
clothes their channels, and on touching these protruded parts with a
needle, they were seen by Mr. Gosse to shrink immediately--a proof that
the sponge, however low it may rank in the animal world, is yet far from
being so totally inert or lifeless as was formerly imagined.
The propagation of the sponges is provided for in a no less wonderful
manner than their respiration and nourishment. Minute globular particles
of sarcode sprout forth as little protuberances from the interior of
the canals. As they increase in size, they are gradually clothed with
vibratile cilia, and, finally detaching themselves, are cast out through
the oscula into the world of waters. Here their wanderings continue for
a short time, until, if they be not devoured on the way, they reach some
rock or submarine body on which, tired of their brief erratic existence,
they fix themselves for ever, and, bidding adieu to all further rambles,
lead henceforth the quiet sedentary life of their parents. In this manner
the sponges, which otherwise would have been confined to narrow limits,
spread like a living carpet over the bottom of the seas, and in spite of
their being utterly defenceless, maintain their existence from age to
age. At the same time they serve to feed a vast number of other marine
animals, for the waters frequently swarm with their eggs, and these
afford many a welcome repast to myriads of sessile molluscs, annelides,
polyps, and other creatures small or abstemious enough to be satisfied
with feasting on atoms.
Sponges inhabit every sea and shore, and differ very much in habit of
growth. For whilst some can only be obtained by dredging at considerable
depths, others live near the surface, and others, again, attach
themselves to the surfaces of rocks and shells between the tide marks.
Like the corals, they revel in every variety of shape and tint, imitate
like them every form of vegetation, and adorn like them the submarine
grounds with their fantastic shrubberies. The fine collection of West
Indian sponges exhibited in the Crystal Palace, but to which fancy must
add the additional ornament of colour, may serve to give some idea of
their prodigal versatility of growth. More than sixty different species
have been discovered in the British waters alone, and as they go on
increasing in numbers, size, and beauty, until they attain their highest
development along the shores of the tropical ocean, they no doubt hold
a conspicuous rank among the living wonders of the sea. The branched
sponges, with a compact feltred tissue, are more common than others in
the colder maritime domains, where the species of a loose texture, which
grow in large massive forms, either do not exist or are very rare. Many
sponges are of considerable size, such as the vase-like tropical species
known under the name of Neptune's cup; others are almost microscopical;
and while by far the greater number grow superficially from a solid base,
some penetrate like destructive parasites into the texture of other
animals. Thus the _Halichondria celata_ establishes itself in the small
holes which some of the smaller annelides drill in the shell of the
oyster, eat further and further into the unfortunate mollusc's vitals,
causing the softer parts of the shell to rot away, and spread through
its whole substance, like the dry-rot fungus through a solid beam of
timber, until, sinking under the weight of his misery, the poor victim
perishes, and his loosened shell is cast to the mercy of the waves. On
the other hand, some marine Acorn-shells nestle habitually in a sponge,
the normal construction of the base of the shell being altered to suit
the peculiarities of its habitation, so that in this instance, as in many
others, there is a foreseen relation between two very dissimilar animals.
Amongst the reticulated fibres of its spongy dwelling, the Acorn-shell
finds a secure refuge in its infant state, and is soon enclosed by the
growing fabric of the sponge-animal, except a small opening, which is
kept clear by the vortex occasioned by the constant motion of its feelers
or tentacula.
But very few of the manifold species of sponges are of any use to man.
The common sponge of commerce (_Spongia communis_), so serviceable in
our households, is most abundant in the Lycian seas, where it is found
attached to rocks at various depths between three fathoms and thirty.
When alive, it is of a dull bluish black above, and dirty white beneath.
There are several qualities, possibly indicating as many distinct species.
"The most valued kinds," says Edward Forbes, "are sought for about the
Gulf of Macri, along the Carian coast, and round the opposite islands.
The species which live immediately along the shore near the water's edge,
though often large, are worthless. These are of many colours; some of
the brightest scarlet or clear yellow form a crust over the faces of
submarine rocks; others are large and tubular, resembling holothuriæ
in form and of a gamboge colour, which soon turns to dirty brown when
taken out of the water; others are again lobed or palmate, studded with
prickly points, and perforated at intervals with oscula. These grow to
a considerable size, but, like the former, are useless, since their
substance is full of needles of flint."
Large quantities of excellent sponge (_Spongia usitatissima_) are
likewise imported from the West Indies.
CHAP. XIX.
MARINE PLANTS.
The Algæ.--Zostera marina.--The Ulvæ and Enteromorphæ.--The Fuci.--The
Laminariæ.--Macrocystis pyrifera.--Description of the Submarine
Thickets at Tierra del Fuego.--Nereocystis lutkeana.--The Sargasso
Sea.--The Gathering of edible Birds'-nests in the marine Caves of
Java.--Agar-Agar.--The Florideæ.--The Diatomaceæ.--Their importance in
the economy of the Seas.
The dry land develops the most exuberant vegetation on the lowest
grounds, the plains and deep valleys, and the size and multiplicity of
plants gradually diminish as we ascend the higher mountain regions, until
at last merely naked or snow-covered rocks raise their barren pinnacles
to the skies: but the contrary takes place in the realms of ocean; for
here the greater depths are completely denuded of vegetation, and it
is only within 600 or 800 feet from the surface that the calcareous
nullipores begin to cover the sea-bottom, as mosses and lichens clothe
the lofty mountain-tops. Gradually corallines and a few algæ associate
with them, until finally about 80 or 100 feet from the surface begins the
rich vegetable zone which encircles the margin of the sea. The plants
of which it is composed do not indeed attain the same high degree of
development as those of the dry land, being deprived of the beauties of
flower and fruit: but as the earth at different heights and latitudes
constantly changes her verdant robe, and raises our highest admiration
by the endless diversity of her ornaments, thus also the forms of the
sea-plants change, whether we descend from the brink of ocean to a
greater depth, or wander along the coast from one sea to another; and
their delicate fronds are as remarkable for beauty of colour and elegance
of outline, as the leaves of terrestrial vegetation.
The difference of the mediums in which land- and sea-plants exist
naturally requires a different mode of nourishment, the former
principally using their roots to extract from a varying soil the
substances necessary for their perfect growth, while the latter absorb
nourishment through their entire surface from the surrounding waters, and
use their roots chiefly as holdfasts.
The constituent parts of the soil are of the greatest importance to
land-plants, to whose organisation they are made to contribute; while to
the sea-plant it is generally indifferent whether the ground to which it
is attached be granite, chalk, slate, or sandstone, provided only its
roots find a safe anchorage against the unruly waters.
Flat rocky coasts, not too much exposed to the swell of the waves, and
interspersed with deep pools in which the water is constantly retained,
are thus the favourite abode of most algæ, while a loose sandy sea-bottom
is generally as poor in vegetation as the Arabian desert.
But even on sandy shores extensive submarine meadows are frequently
formed by the Grass Wrack (_Zostera marina_), whose creeping stems,
rooting at the joints and extending to a considerable depth in the sand,
are admirably adapted for seeming a firm position on the loose ground.
Its long riband-like leaves, of a brilliant and glossy green, wave freely
in the water, and afford shelter and nourishment to numerous marine
animals and plants. In the tropical seas it forms the submarine meadows
on which the turtles graze, and in the North of Europe it is used for the
manufacture of cheap bedding. It also furnishes an excellent material for
packing brittle ware.
Sea-weeds are usually classed in three great groups, green,
olive-coloured, and red; and these again are subdivided into numerous
families, genera, and species.
On the British coasts alone about 400 different species are found,
and hence we may form some idea of the riches of the submarine flora.
Thousands of algæ are known and classified, but no doubt as many more at
least still wait for their botanical names, and have never yet been seen
by human eye.
The _Green_ sea-weeds, or Chlorospermeæ, generally occur near high-water
mark, and love to lead an amphibious life, half in the air and half in
salt-water. The delicate Enteromorphæ, similar to threads of fine silk,
and the broad brilliant Ulvæ, which frequently cover the smooth boulders
with a glossy vesture of lively green, belong to this class. Many of them
are remarkable for their wide geographical distribution. Thus the _Ulva
latissima_ and the _Erderomorpha compressa_ of our shores thrive also
in the cold waters of the Arctic Sea, fringe the shores of the tropical
ocean, and project into the southern hemisphere as far as the desolate
head-lands of Tierra del Fuego. But few animals or plants possess so
pliable a nature, and such adaptability to the most various climates.
The _Olive-coloured_ group of sea-weeds, or Melanospermeæ, plays a much
more considerable part in the economy of the ocean. The common fuci,
which on the ebbing of the tide impart to the shore cliffs their peculiar
dingy colour, belong to this class; as well as the mighty Laminariæ,
which about the level of ordinary low water, and one or two fathoms
below that limit, fringe the rocky shore with a broad belt of luxuriant
vegetation.
The first olive-coloured sea-weed we meet with on the receding of the
flood is the small and slender _Fucus canaliculatus_, easily known by
its narrow grooved stems and branches, and the absence of air-vessels.
Then follows _Fucus nodosus_, a large species, with tough thong-like
stems, expanding at intervals into knob-like air-vessels, and covered
in winter and spring with bright yellow berries. Along with it we find
the gregarious _Fucus vesiculosus_, with its forked leaf traversed by a
midrib, and covered with numerous air-vessels situated in pairs at each
side of the rib. Finally, about the level of half-tide, a fourth species
of fucus appears, _Fucus serratus_, distinguished from all the rest by
its toothed margin and the absence of air-vessels.
These four species generally occupy the littoral zone of our sea-girt
isle, being found in greatest abundance on flat rocky shores,
particularly on the western coasts of Scotland and Ireland, where they
used formerly to be burnt in large quantities for the manufacture of kelp
or carbonate of soda, which is now obtained by a less expensive process.
In Orcadia alone more than 20,000 persons were employed during the whole
summer in the collection and incineration of sea-weeds, a valuable
resource for the poverty-stricken islanders, of which they have been
deprived by the progress of chemical science.
The fuci are, however, still largely used, either burnt or in a fermented
state, as a valuable manure for green crops. Thus every year several
small vessels are sent from Jersey to the coast of Brittany, to fetch
cargoes of sea-weeds for the farmers of that island.
A RUSSIAN OFFICIAL, ATTENDED BY A SOLDIER, COLLECTING ALGÆ ON THE SHORES
OF THE NORTH PACIFIC.
The annexed plate is taken from the frontispiece of the magnificent
folio volume by Messrs. Ruprecht and Postels, on the Algæ of the North
Pacific. This work, in which even the largest of the marine plants of
that region are represented of their natural size, was published at
the expense of the Russian Government, and copies were presented to
some of the principal libraries of Europe.
In the middle distance, a Russian official belonging to one of the
settlements is seen gathering algæ, attended by a soldier.
In the front of the picture the water is supposed to be so clear as to
show distinctly the growth of sea-weeds of various kinds, which clothe
the submarine rocks in that region. Some species of these have been
added to the number shown in the original composition.
In the centre, with the light fully upon them, are streaming plants
of a gigantic _Alaria_, whose fronds sometimes extend to a length
of 40 feet. Immediately beneath it, to the right, is the curiously
perforated _Agarium Gmelini_, the singular perforations of which are
indicated by small white patches.
To the right is the curious "flower-bearing" sea-weed known as the
Sea Rose, _Constantinea Rosa marina_, the flower-like growth of
which, combined with the pink colour of its seeming flowers, is very
remarkable.
In front, and rather to the right of the last, is a dark mass of the
splendid _Iridæa Mertensiana_, the dark velvety masses of which, of a
deep crimson colour, are often more than a foot across.
To the right of the last, in the corner, is one of the most beautiful
of the ulvæ, _Ulva fenestrata_, a name which may be popularised as the
"windowed" ulva, in allusion to its extremely perforated character,
the openings being of considerable size, and often separated from
each other only by the slenderest divisions, thus forming a kind of
vegetable lace-work.
[Illustration: A RUSSIAN OFFICIAL ATTENDED BY A SOLDIER COLLECTING ALGÆ
ON THE SHORES OF THE NORTH PACIFIC.]
The largest of indigenous sea-weeds are the _Laminaria saccharina_ and
_digitata_, or the sugary and fingered oar-weeds. Their stout woody
stems, and broad tough glossy leaves of dark olive-green, often twelve
or fourteen feet long, must be familiar to every one who has sojourned
on the coast. When gliding over their submerged groves in a boat, their
great fronds floating like streamers in the water afford the interesting
spectacle of a dense submarine thicket, through whose palm-like tops the
fishes swim in and out, emulating in activity the birds of our forests.
But our native oar-weeds, large as they seem with regard to the other
fuci among which they grow, are mere pygmies when compared with the
gigantic species which occur in the colder seas.
None of the members of this family grow in the tropical waters, but
they extend to the utmost polar limits, and seem to increase in size
and multiplicity of form as they advance to the higher latitudes. The
northern hemisphere has generally different genera from the southern. To
the former belong the gigantic Alarias with their often forty feet long
and several feet broad fronds, the singularly perforated Thalassophyta,
and the far-spreading Nereocystis, which is only found in the Northern
Pacific; while the genera Macrocystis and Lessonia are denizens of the
Southern Ocean.
In the numerous channels and bays of Tierra del Fuego, the enormous and
singular _Macrocystis pyrifera_ is found in such incredible masses as
to excite the astonishment of every traveller. "On every rock," says
Mr. Darwin, perhaps the best observer of nature that ever visited those
dreary regions, and certainly their most poetical describer, "the plant
grows from low-water mark to a great depth, both on the outer coast and
within the channels. I believe, during the voyages of the Adventure
and Beagle, not one rock near the surface was discovered which was not
buoyed by this floating weed. The good service it thus affords to vessels
navigating near this stormy land is evident, and it certainly has saved
many a one from being wrecked. I know few things more surprising than
to see this plant growing and flourishing amidst those great breakers
of the western ocean, which no mass of rock, let it be ever so hard,
can long resist. The stem is round, slimy, and smooth, and seldom has a
diameter of so much as an inch. A few taken together are sufficiently
strong to support the weight of the large loose stones to which in the
inland channels they grow attached; and some of these stones are so
heavy, that when drawn to the surface they can scarcely be lifted into a
boat by one person."
"Captain Cook, in his second voyage says, that 'at Kerguelen's Land
some of this weed is of most enormous length, though the stem is not
much thicker than a man's thumb. I have mentioned that, on some of
these shoals on which it grows, we did not strike ground with a line
of twenty-four fathoms; the depth of water, therefore, must have been
greater. And as this weed does not grow in a perpendicular direction,
but makes a very acute angle with the bottom, and much of it afterwards
spreads many fathoms on the surface of the sea, I am well warranted to
say that some of it grows to the length of sixty fathoms and upwards.'
"Certainly at the Falkland Islands, and about Tierra del Fuego, extensive
beds frequently spring up from ten and fifteen fathoms water. I do
not suppose the stem of any other plant attains so great a length as
360 feet, as stated by Captain Cook. Its geographical range is very
considerable; it is found from the extreme southern islets near Cape
Horn, as far north on the eastern coast as lat. 43°, and on the western
it was tolerably abundant, but far from luxuriant, at Chiloe, in lat.
42°. It may possibly extend a little further northward, but is soon
succeeded by a different species.
"We thus have a range of 15° in latitude, and as Cook, who must have been
well acquainted with the species, found it at Kerguelen's Land, no less
than 140° in longitude.
"The number of living creatures, of all orders, whose existence
intimately depends on the kelp, is wonderful. A large volume might be
written, describing the inhabitants of one of these beds of sea-weed.
Almost every leaf, except those that float on the surface, is so thickly
incrusted with corallines as to be of a white colour. We find exquisitely
delicate structures, some inhabited by simple hydra-like polypi, others
by more organised kinds and beautiful compound ascidiæ. On the flat
surfaces of the leaves, various patelliform shells, trochi, uncovered
mollusks, and some bivalves are attached. Innumerable crustacea frequent
every part of the plant. On shaking the great entangled roots, a pile
of small fish, shells, cuttle-fish, crabs of all orders, sea-eggs,
star-fish, beautiful holothuriæ (some taking the external form of the
nudibranch mollusks), planariæ, and crawling nereidous animals of a
multitude of forms, all fall out together. Often as I recurred to a
branch of the kelp, I never failed to discover animals of new and curious
structure. In Chiloe, where, as I have said, the kelp did not thrive very
well, the numerous shells, corallines, and Crustacea were absent, but
there yet remained a few of the Flustraceæ, and some compound ascidiæ;
the latter, however, were of different species from those in Tierra del
Fuego. We here see the fucus possessing a wider range than the animals
which use it as an abode.
"I can only compare these great aquatic forests of the southern
hemisphere with the terrestrial ones in the intertropical regions. Yet,
if the latter should be destroyed in any country, I do not believe nearly
so many species of animals would perish, as under similar circumstances
would happen with the kelp. Amidst the leaves of this plant numerous
species of fish live, which nowhere else would find food or shelter; with
their destruction the many cormorants, divers, and other fishing-birds,
the otters, seals, and porpoises, would soon perish also; and lastly the
Fuegian savage, the miserable lord of this miserable land, would redouble
his cannibal feast, decrease in numbers, and perhaps cease to exist."
For many a day's sail before reaching Cape Horn, large bundles of the
macrocystis detached by the storm announce to the navigator that he is
approaching the desolate coasts of Tierra del Fuego.
"We succeeded," says Professor Meyen, in his _Reise um die Welt_,
"in getting hold of one of these floating islands, which, amid loud
acclamations, was hauled upon deck by the exertions of five men. It was
quite impossible to disentangle the enormous mass; we could only detach,
to the length of about sixty feet, what we considered to be the chief
stem; the branches were from thirty to forty feet long, and as thick
as the principal trunk from which they sprang. We estimated the total
length of the plant at about two hundred feet; the pear-shaped air
vessels at the basis of the leaves were often six or seven inches long,
and the leaves themselves measured seven or eight feet. On these swimming
fucus-islands lived a vast multitude of various animals; thousands upon
thousands of barnacles and sertulariæ, of crustaceans and annelides.
"The admiration which the gigantic sea-weeds of Tierra del Fuego excited
in our minds equalled that which had been raised by the exuberant
vegetation of the virgin forests of Brazil. One single plant of the
_Macrocystis pyrifera_ would suffice, like one of the mammoth-trees of
those luxuriant woods, to cover a large space of land with its leaf-like
substance. The quantity of small algæ, of sertularias, cellarias, and
other minute animals dwelling on these swimming islands, surpasses in
variety the multitude of parasitical plants bedecking the trees in a
tropical forest. It seems as if, in these desolate and dreary regions,
the generative powers of the planet were solely confined to the gigantic
growth of submarine vegetation."
On the rocky coasts of the Falkland Islands are found no less
astonishing masses of enormous sea-weeds, chiefly belonging to the
genera Macrocystis, Lessonia, and Durvillea. Rent from the rocks to
which they were attached, and cast ashore, they are rolled by the heavy
surf into prodigious vegetable cables, much thicker than a man's body
and several hundred feet long. Many of the rarest and most beautiful
algæ may be here discovered, which have either been wrenched from
inaccessible rocks far out at sea, along with the larger species, or have
attached themselves parasitically to their stems and fronds. Many of
them remind the botanist, by some similarity of form, of the sea-weeds
of his distant home, while others tell him at once that he is far away
in another hemisphere. The gigantic lessonias particularly abound about
these islands. Their growth resembles that of a tree. The stem attains
a height of from eight to ten feet, the thickness of a man's thigh, and
terminates in a crown of leaves two or three feet long, and drooping like
the branches of a weeping-willow. They form large submerged forests, and,
like the thickets of the macrocystis, afford a refuge and a dwelling to
countless sea animals.
A similar abundance of colossal algæ is found in the Northern Pacific,
about the Kurile and Aleutic Islands, and along the deeply indented and
channel-furrowed north-west coast of America.
Thus the _Nereocystis lutkeana_ forms dense forests in Norfolk Bay and
all about Sitcha. Its stem, resembling whipcord, and often above 300
feet long, terminates in a large air-vessel, six or seven feet long, and
crowned with a bunch of dichotomous leaves, each thirty or forty feet in
length. Dr. Mertens assures us that the sea-otter, when fishing, loves
to rest upon the colossal air-vessels of this giant among the sea-weeds,
while the long tenacious stems furnish the rude fishermen of the coast
with excellent tackle. The growth of the nereocystis must be uncommonly
rapid, as it is an annual plant, and consequently develops its whole
gigantic proportions during the course of one brief summer.
Before proceeding to the third chief group of marine plants, the red
sea-weeds, or Rhodosperms, I must mention the enormous fucus banks, or
floating meadows of the Atlantic, which form undoubtedly one of the
greatest wonders of the ocean.
We know that the mighty Gulf Stream, which rolls its indigo-blue floods
from America to the opposite coasts of the Old World, flows partly
southwards in the neighbourhood of Azores, and is ultimately driven
back again to America. In the midst of these circuitous streams, from
22° to 36° N. lat., and from 35° to 65° W. long., extends a sea without
any other currents than those resulting from the temporary action of
the winds. This comparatively tranquil part of the ocean, the surface
of which surpasses at least twenty times that of the British Isles, is
found more or less densely covered with floating masses of _Sargassum
bacciferum_. Often the sea-weed surrounds the ship sailing through these
savannas of the sea, in such quantities as to retard its progress, and
then again hours may pass when not a single fucus appears. While Columbus
was boldly steering through the hitherto unknown fields of the Sargasso
Sea, the fears of his timorous associates were increased by this singular
phenomenon, as they believed they had now reached the bounds of the
navigable ocean, and must inevitably strike against some hidden rock, if
their commander persevered in his audacious course.
It is an interesting fact that the Sargasso Sea affords the most
remarkable example of an aggregation of plants belonging to one single
species. Nowhere else, according to Humboldt, neither in the savannas
of America, nor on the heaths or in the pine forests of Northern Europe,
is such a uniformity of vegetation found as in those boundless maritime
meadows.
"The masses of sea-weeds," says Meyen, "covering so vast an extent
of ocean have ever since the time of Columbus been the object of
astonishment and inquiry. Some navigators believe, that they are driven
together by the Gulf Stream, and that the same species of Sargassum
plentifully occurs in the Mexican Sea; this is however perfectly
erroneous.
"Humboldt was of opinion that this marine plant originally grows on
submarine banks, from which it is torn by various forces; I for my part
have examined many thousands of specimens, and venture to affirm that
they never have been attached to any solid body. Freely floating in the
water, they have developed their young germs, and sent forth on all sides
roots and leaves, both of the same nature."
Thus the Sargassum seems to be the indigenous production of the sea where
it appears, and to have floated there from time immemorial. Its swimming
islands afford an abode and nourishment to a prodigious amount of animal
life. They are generally covered with elegant sertularias, coloured
vorticellas, and other strange forms of marine existence. Various naked
or nudibranchiate mollusks and annelides attach themselves to the fronds,
and afford nourishment to hosts of fishes and crustaceans, the beasts of
prey of this little world.
Similar aggregations of sea-weeds are also met with in the Indian and
Pacific Oceans, in the comparatively tranquil spaces encircled by
rotatory currents. Their rare occurrence on the surface of the sea may
serve as a proof of the restless motion of its waters. Were the ocean not
everywhere intersected by currents, it would most likely be covered with
sea-weeds, opposing serious, if not invincible obstacles to navigation.
The _Red_ sea-weeds, Rhodosperms or Florideæ, are by far the most
numerous in species, and undoubtedly the most beautiful and perfect of
all the algæ. They love neither light nor motion, and generally seek the
shade of larger plants on the perpendicular sides of deep tide-pools
removed from the influences of the tides and gales. They mostly grow
close to low-water mark, and are to be seen only for an hour or two at
the spring-tides, during which, as is well known, the deepest ebbs take
place. To this group belong the wonderfully delicate polysiphonias,
callithamnias, plocamias, and delesserias, whose elegant rosy scarlet
or purple leaves are the amateur's delight, and when laid out on paper
resemble the finest tracery, defying the painter's art to do justice to
their beauty. It likewise numbers among its genera the chalky corallines
and nullipores, which on account of the hardness of their substance were
formerly considered to be polyps, but whose true nature becomes apparent
on examining their internal structure.
The _Chondrus crispus_, or Carrigeen, which grows in such vast quantities
on the coasts of the British Isles, also belongs to the rhodosperms,
though when growing, as it frequently does, in shallow tide-pools,
exposed to full sunlight, its dark purple colour fades into green or
even yellowish white. When boiled it almost entirely dissolves in the
water, and forms on cooling a colourless and almost tasteless jelly,
which of late years has been largely used in medicine as a substitute
for Iceland moss. Similar nutritious gelatines, which also serve for the
manufacture of strong glues, are yielded by other species of rhodosperms,
among others by the _Gracillaria spinosa_ of the Indian Ocean, which the
Salangana (_Hirundo esculenta_), a bird allied to the swallow, is said
principally to use for the construction of her edible nest.
The steep sea-walls along the south coast of Java are clothed to the very
brink with luxuriant woods, and screw-pines strike everywhere their roots
into their precipitous sides, or look down by thousands from the margin
of the rock upon the unruly sea below. The surf of incalculable years has
worn deep caves into the chalk cliffs, and here the Salangana builds her
nest. Where the sea is most agitated whole swarms are observed flying
about, and purposely seeking the thickest wave-foam. From a projecting
cape, on looking down upon the play of waters, may be seen the mouth of
the cave of Gua Rongkop, sometimes completely hidden under the waves, and
then again opening its black recesses, into which the swallows vanish, or
from which they dart forth with the rapidity of lightning. While at some
distance from the coast the blue ocean sleeps in undisturbed repose, it
never ceases to fret and foam against the foot of the mural rocks, where
the most beautiful rainbows glisten in the eternally rising vapours.
Who can explain the instinct which prompts the birds to glue their
nests to the high dark vaults of those deep, and apparently so
inaccessible, caverns? Did they expect to find them a safe retreat from
the persecutions of man? Then surely their hopes were vain, for where is
the refuge to which his insatiable avidity cannot find the way? At the
cavern of Gua-gede, the brink of the precipitous coast lies eighty feet
above the level of the sea at ebb-tide; the wall first bends inwards,
and then, at a height of twenty-five feet from the sea, throws out a
projecting ledge which is of great use to the nest-gatherers, serving
as a support for a rotang ladder let down from the cliff. The roof of
the cavern's mouth lies only ten feet above the sea, which, even at
ebb-tide, completely covers the floor of the cave, while at flood-tide
the opening of the vast marine grotto is entirely closed by every wave
that rolls against it. To penetrate into the interior is thus only
possible at low water, and during very tranquil weather; and even then it
could not be done, if the rugged roof were not perforated and jagged in
every direction. The boldest and strongest of the nest-gatherers wedges
himself firmly in the hollows, or clings to the projecting stones, while
he fastens rotang ropes to them, which then depend four or five feet
from the roof. To the lower ends of these ropes long rotang cables are
attached, so that the whole forms a kind of suspension bridge throughout
the entire length of the cavern, alternately falling and rising with
its inequalities. The cave is 100 feet broad and 150 long as far as
its deepest recesses. If we justly admire the intrepidity of the St.
Kildans, who, let down by a rope from the high level of their rocky
birthplace, remain suspended over a boisterous sea, we must needs also
pay a tribute of praise to the boldness of the Javanese nest-gatherers.
Before preparing their ladders for the plucking of the birds' nests,
they first offer solemn prayers to the goddess of the south-coast, and
sometimes deposit gifts on the tomb where the first discoverer of the
caverns and their treasures is said to repose. Thus in all zones and in
every stage of civilisation, man is directed by an inward voice to seek
the protection of the invisible powers when about to engage in a great
and perilous undertaking.
As I have already mentioned, the Salangana builds her nest of sea-weeds,
which she softens in her stomach and then disgorges. During its
construction new layers, which soon grow hard in the air, are continually
deposited on the margin, until it has attained the proper size. When
gathering time approaches, some of the pluckers daily visit the cavern
to examine the state of the brood. As soon as they find that most of
the young are beginning to be provided with feathers, their operations
commence. These nests form the first quality; those in which the young
are still completely naked, the second; while those which only contain
eggs, and are consequently not yet ripe, rank third. The nests with
young whose feathers are completely developed are over-ripe, black, and
good for nothing. All the young and eggs are thrown into the sea. The
gathering takes place three times a year; the birds breed four times
a year. In spite of these wholesale devastations their numbers do not
diminish; as many of the young have no doubt flown away before the day of
execution, or other swallows from still unexplored caverns may fill up
the void. In this manner about 50 piculs are annually collected, which
the Chinese pay for at the rate of 4000 or 5000 guilders the picul. Each
picul contains on an average 10,000 nests. Dividing these 500,000 nests
among three gatherings, and reckoning two birds to each nest, we find
that more than 333,000 swallows inhabit at the same time the Javanese
coast caverns.
In the interior of the island, in the chalkstone grottos of Bandong, the
Salangana also breeds, but in far inferior numbers, as here the annual
collection amounts on an average to no more than 14,000 nests. In these
inland caves swallows and bats reside together, but without disturbing
each other, as the former when not breeding leave their caverns at
sunrise, disappear in the distance, and only return late in the evening,
when the bats are already enjoying their vespertine or nocturnal flight.
In Sumatra and some other islands of the Indian archipelago, birds'-nests
are likewise collected, but nowhere in such numbers as in Java. They are
brought to the Chinese market, where they are carefully cleaned before
being offered for sale to the consumer. The addition of costly spices
renders them one of the greatest delicacies of Chinese cookery, but as
for themselves they are nothing better than a fine sort of gelatine.
The Japanese have long been aware that these costly birds' nests are
in fact merely softened algæ. They consequently pulverise the proper
species of sea-weeds, which are abundantly found on their own coasts,
boil them to a thick jelly, and bring them to market under the name of
_Dschin-schan_, as artificial birds'-nests. The Dutch call it Agar-agar,
and make great use of it; simple boiling sufficing to convert the dried
substance into a thick uniform jelly, which is both nourishing and easy
of digestion. Thus we see that the algæ, which the Romans considered
so perfectly worthless that, when they wished to express their utter
contempt of an object, they declared it to be still viler than the vile
sea-weed, are by no means deserving of so hard a sentence. Man himself
might be much more justly reproached for neglecting the abundant stores
of nourishment which nature has gratuitously provided for him on all flat
and rocky coasts. For not only the species I have mentioned are eatable,
but also some of the commonest fuci of our seas (_Fucus nodosus_, _F.
vesiculosus_, _Laminaria saccharina_), as well as the gigantic alarias
and durvilleas of the colder oceanic regions. And yet how rare is their
use, notwithstanding the increasing wants of a rapidly growing population!
[Illustration: Surirella constricta.
A. Front view. B. Binary subdivision.--(Highly magnified.)]
Besides the larger forms of vegetation, the ocean contains a vast
number of microscopical plants. Among these the most remarkable are
the Diatomaceæ, simple vegetable cells enclosed in a flinty envelope,
consisting of two plates closely applied to each other like the two
valves of a mussel. The forms of these minute organisms are no less
curious than those of the Foraminifera, for they exhibit regular
mathematical figures, and their surface is often most delicately
sculptured. Multiplying by spontaneous fissure, many of the Diatoms are
met with entirely free after the process of duplicative subdivision
has once been completed, while others, such as the Licmophora, or
Fan-bearer, an elegant native species, habitually remain coherent one to
another, producing clusters or filaments of various shapes, connected
by a gelatinous investment or by a stalk-like appendage, which serves
to attach them to other plants or to stones and to pieces of wood.
Though individually invisible to the naked eye, they appear, when thus
congregated, as patches of a green or brownish slimy mass, or as little
glittering tufts a line or two in height. Some of their numerous species
are natives of fresh water, but by far the majority are denizens of
the sea, where they are found from the equator to the poles. The brown
scum floating upon the surface of the antarctic waters near the mighty
ice barrier which arrested Sir James Ross's progress to the south pole
was found to consist almost solely of Diatomaceæ, and they are equally
abundant in the Arctic Ocean.
It is remarked by Dr. Hooker that the universal presence of this
invisible vegetation throughout the South Polar Seas is a most important
feature, since there is a marked deficiency in this region of higher
forms of vegetation, so that without the Diatoms there would neither be
food for aquatic animals nor (if it were possible for these to maintain
themselves by preying on one another) could the ocean waters be purified
of the carbonic acid which animal respiration would be continually
imparting to it. Thus it is not in vain that they abound in the most
inhospitable seas, where but for them no sea-bird would flap its wings,
and no dolphin dart through the desert waters.
[Illustration: Licmophora flabellata. (Highly magnified.)]
From the indestructible nature of their flinty coverings the Diatoms play
a no less conspicuous part in the geological history of our globe than
the calcareous Foraminifera.
Extensive rocky strata, chains of hills, beds of marl--once deposited
at the bottom of the ocean, and raised by subsequent changes of level
from the depth of the waters--contain the remains of these little
plants in greater or less abundance. No country is destitute of such
monuments, and in some they constitute the leading features in the
structure of the soil. Under the whole city of Richmond, in Virginia,
and far beyond its limits, over an area of unknown extent, they form a
stratum of eighteen feet in thickness, and similar deposits are found
to alternate in the neighbourhood of the Mediterranean with calcareous
strata chiefly composed of Foraminifera. At first sight it may seem a
gross exaggeration to attribute so vast an agency to beings individually
so minute, but when we recollect how quickly they multiply by division,
and how their activity dates from the first dawn of organic creation,
their architectural powers no longer seem incredible. In forty-eight
hours a single diatom may multiply to 8,000,000, and in four days to
140,000,000,000,000, when the silicious coverings of its enormous
progeny will already suffice to fill up a space of two cubic feet. No
wonder, then, that during the course of ages these microscopic plants
have been able to form prodigious strata wherever circumstances favoured
their propagation. In no case is the power of numbers more forcibly
exemplified, for where can we find results more vast, proceeding from
the infinite multiplication of the smallest individuals, than that whole
tracts of country should literally be built up of the skeletons of
Foraminifera and Diatomaceæ?
[Illustration: Hooded Merganser.]
CHAP. XX.
THE GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF MARINE LIFE.
The Dependence of all created Beings upon Space and Time.--The
Influences which regulate the Distribution of Marine Life.--The
four Bathymetrical Zones of Marine Life on the British Coasts,
according to the late Professor Edward Forbes of Edinburgh.--Abyssal
Animals.--_Bathybius Haeckelii._--Deep-Sea Sponges and
Shell-Fish.--Vivid Phosphorescence of Deep-Sea Animals.--Deep-Sea
Shark Fishery.--The "Challenger."
The wanderer to distant lands sees himself gradually surrounded by a new
world of animals and plants. On crossing the Alps, for instance, the
well-known vegetable forms of our native country leave us one after the
other; the beech, the fir, the oak, no longer meet the eye, or appear
but rarely, and of more stunted growth, while in their stead citron and
olive-trees decorate the landscape; and finally, on the shores of the
Mediterranean the world of palms begins to disclose its beauties.
Thus during a long journey our early companions drop off one after the
other, until at last we see ourselves surrounded by a crowd of new
associates, who were strangers to us at the beginning of our pilgrimage.
We may cross the earth from pole to pole, or follow the sun in his
diurnal course; in all directions, from north to south and from east to
west, Nature will be found to change her garments as we proceed, and
never to resume again those she has once cast off. The plants and animals
of the temperate and cold regions of the north are different from those
of the analogous regions in the southern hemisphere; and in the tropical
zone each part of the world nourishes its peculiar inhabitants.
Similar changes meet our eye on ascending from the plains to the
summits of high mountains. At the foot of Etna flourishes the luxuriant
vegetation of a warmer sky, the palmetto (_Chamærops humilis_) and
the pomegranate, even the cotton shrub and the sugar-cane; higher up,
the cool shade of magnificent chestnut woods refreshes our path; then
follows the stately oak; until finally we attain the dreary height where
all vegetation ceases in the dreadful cold of an eternal winter. With
every thousand feet we rise above the level of the sea, we seem to have
advanced nearer and nearer to the pole.
This wonderful change of form, which decorates the various regions of the
earth with such an endless variety of organised existence, alike prevails
in the realms of ocean. Here we find every larger sea-basin nourishing
its peculiar inhabitants, and discover at various vertical distances
beneath the surface of the sea, changes in organic nature similar to
those we observed at different distances above its level.
Thousands of extinct animal and vegetable forms, which have successively
flourished and disappeared, teach us the important lesson, that all
created beings are made but for a season. It is only during a determined
epoch of planetary life that each genus or species finds that combination
of outward circumstances, under which it is able to attain its highest
perfection. But imperceptibly, in the course of ages, the external world
modifies its nature; families once flourishing in a different atmosphere
decline and wither; they are no longer able to maintain themselves
against new forms of life starting up in all the vigour of youth, and
disappear from the scene, supplanted by races which must one day vanish
in their turn.
Organic life is no less dependent on place than it is on time. Of the
numberless animal and vegetable forms that people the earth, each
finds in only one spot the scene of its greatest size and its greatest
profusion. Some endowed with a more pliable or energetic nature occupy a
large space upon the surface of the globe; we find them in the enjoyment
of healthy existence scattered far and wide over whole hemispheres, while
others are obliged to content themselves with the narrowest birthplace,
and are not seldom confined to a single bay, or a single mountain side.
A great part of the magic charm of nature is owing no doubt to this
deep and mysterious connexion between the soil and its productions.
Here all is harmony; we feel it in our hearts; and our eye delights in
the consonance of forms and colours, as our ear in the concord of sweet
sounds. And where is the mortal artist whose paintings could rival the
ever-changing panorama which the Master of all worlds unfolds through all
zones, from pole to pole? His pictures constantly fade away; but they
are perpetually succeeded by new creations of equal beauty. Happy the
man whose eye is open to their charms! Every ramble through the woods and
fields is to him a banquet of pure and inexhaustible delight.
The causes which confine the life of animals and plants to circumscribed
localities are in many cases easily to be traced. The warmth or coldness
of the sea, resulting from currents, geographical position, and depth;
tranquil or disturbed, pure or troubled waters; abundance or scarcity
of food, solidity or softness of the ground, sufficiently explain why
many species of marine animals appear in some places in considerable
numbers, while in others they are totally wanting. A superficial view of
their organisation often shows us at once the physical properties their
_habitat_ must necessarily possess. By looking at a fucus we immediately
see whether it requires the protection of tranquil waters, or is able to
bid defiance to the floods; whether it is made to anchor upon the rock,
or to sink its roots into a more yielding soil.
In many cases, however, the causes which regulate the distribution of the
sea-animals are still enveloped in darkness, and we no more know why the
tropical seas bring forth in some places numerous coral-reefs, and none
at all in other to all appearance just as favourably situated localities,
than we do why the tea-plant is confined to a small corner of Asia, or
the Peruvian cinchonas to a narrow girdle on the Andes.
Evidently, besides the influences known to us, there are many other
hidden ones at work, whose conflicting powers draw round every living
creature a mysterious circle, whose bounds it is unable to transgress.
Their discovery belongs to the future, and certainly forms one of the
most interesting subjects for the naturalist's inquiries.
The geographical distribution of the terrestrial plants and animals is
undoubtedly much easier to be ascertained than that of the denizens of
the ocean. The naturalist is able to climb the highest mountains beyond
the extreme limit of vegetation, and far above their most towering peaks
his eye, piercing the transparent atmosphere, sees the condor soar in
solitary majesty; he can wander through the deepest glens, or even,
penetrating into the bowels of the earth, examine and collect the forms
of the subterranean flora; but it has not been given him to perambulate
the submarine meads, or to force his way leisurely through dense thickets
of algæ, and explore their hidden wonders.
Yet, in spite of these natural impediments, his inventive genius, fired
by his insatiable avidity of knowledge, has given him the means of
interrogating the abyss, and partly raising the veil behind which marine
life conceals its secret operations. Armed with a dredge, he fetches from
the bottom of the sea plants, polypi, mollusks, and annelides, and learns
to distinguish the various depths assigned for their abode; or he puts on
the helmet of the submarine diver, and passes whole hours in collecting
and observing beneath the clear waters of the sea; or he drops the
plummet hundreds of fathoms deep into the ocean, and draws it up again
coated with specimens of corals or Foraminifera.
To the late Professor Edward Forbes of Edinburgh science is indebted for
the first investigations of this nature that have been undertaken on a
greater scale; and, to give the reader some idea of the causes which
regulate the distribution of marine life, I cannot do better than cite a
few of the general results of that eminent naturalist's researches.[U]
[Footnote U: Natural History of the European Seas, by the late Professor
E. Forbes. Edited by R. Godwin Austen, 1859.]
As the animals and plants of the land are grouped together into distinct
zoological and botanical provinces, so likewise is the population of the
sea gathered into geographical groups, which, though well marked in their
more central and most developed portions, imperceptibly merge at their
margins into those of neighbouring realms. "These submarine provinces
have a more or less direct correspondence with those of the neighbouring
lands, though sometimes they differ very considerably from the latter in
their extent; since the physical features which may constitute boundaries
in the one, may not be sufficiently extended or developed in the other
to impede the spread of peculiar species of animals or plants. Marine
creatures, owing to their organisation and the transporting powers of
the element in which they live, are much more capable of diffusion, as
a whole, than the terrestrial organisms; hence we should expect to find
the regions they respectively inhabit, beneath the waves, of much vaster
dimensions than those occupied by similar geographical assemblages
of their terrestrial brethren; and such is to a great extent true.
Nevertheless, the inequalities of the sea-bed, the modifications of the
temperature of the ocean produced by currents pouring through it like
mighty rivers, the projection of promontories, and the more important
interruptions caused by the great gulfs and abysses of the deep, or by
vast and comparatively desert tracts of unprolific sand, which in many
places are spread out in extensive shallows, are all-powerful influences,
determining their diffusion within certain and more or less defined
limits."
The _structure of the coast_, as far as the mineral character of its
rocks is concerned, may seriously affect the distribution of particular
tribes. Since many shell-fish, for instance, bore only in limestone or
rocks containing abundance of lime, a very ordinary difference in the
nature of the strata must necessarily determine their presence or absence.
The _outline of a coast_ has also great influence in regulating the
diffusion of species. A much indented region is very favourable to
submarine life; a straight coast-line, exposed to the full rolling of the
surf, is usually unfavourable, though there are a few creatures which
delight in the dash of the waves, and hardily, though some of them are
small and exceedingly delicate, brave the full force of the ocean storms,
reminding us, as Mr. Godwin Austen quaintly remarks, "of those sturdy
people, not uncommon in this stormy life, who thrive best in troubles,
and feel happiest under conditions that make most men miserable."
The _nature of the sea-bottom_, according as it consists of mud, sand,
gravel, nullipore, broken shells, loose stones, or rock, determines, to a
great extent, the presence or absence of peculiar forms of shell-fish and
other invertebrata, and of fish also, since the distribution of the food
regulates that of the devourers.
The _rise and fall of the tides_ are most important in determining the
presence or absence of the species inhabiting the littoral zone. The
_currents_, besides their agency as modifiers of climate, act as means
of transport, by carrying the germs and larvæ of numerous creatures from
region to region.
The _influence of climate_ is conspicuously manifested in the diminution
of the number of genera and species as we proceed northwards to the Icy
Ocean.
The _composition of the waters_ has also a most important effect on the
distribution of aquatic animals, as the degree of saltness or freshness
determines the presence or absence of numerous forms of both fishes and
invertebrate animals; and last, not least, the _influence of depth_, in
which _pressure_ and the _diminution of light_ are doubtless important
elements, is everywhere manifest over the ocean, "for everywhere we
find creatures, whether animal or vegetable, distributed in successive
belts or regions, from high-water mark down to the deepest abysses from
which living beings have been drawn up. Peculiar types inhabit each of
the zones, and are confined within their destined limits, whilst others
are common to two or more, and not a few appear capable of braving all
bathymetrical conditions. Nevertheless, so marked is the appearance
of the inhabitants of any given region of depth, that the sight of a
sufficient assemblage of them from any one locality will enable the
naturalist at once to declare the soundings within certain limits, and
without the aid of line or plummet."
In the British seas _four_ distinct and well-marked zones of life succeed
each other in vertical extension. The first of these is the _littoral
zone_, equivalent to the tract between tide-marks, but quite as manifest
in those portions of the coast-line where the tides have a fall of only
a foot or two, or even less, as in districts where the fall is very
great. This important belt, which again forms four subdivisions, and is
inhabited by animals and plants capable of enduring periodical exposure
to the air, to the glare of light, the heat of the sun, the pelting of
rain, and often to being more or less flooded with fresh water when the
tide has receded, claims many genera as well as species peculiar to
itself. "The verge of continual air is generally distinguished by the
abundant presence of _Fucus canaliculatus_, among whose roots may be
found crowds of small varieties of the periwinkle, called _Littorina
rudis_, which indeed range out of the water considerably, and may be
found adhering to rocks many feet above high-water mark." The second
sub-region is marked by the abundance of a small dark rigid sea-weed,
called _Lichina_, painting the rock sides as if with a dingy stripe.
With it we find the larger forms of _Littorina rudis_, abundance of the
common limpet (_Patella vulgata_), the common mussel (_Mytilus edulis_),
and myriads of small seaside barnacles, often striping the sea-wall in
a broad white band. "Where the shore shelves a little, and rocky ledges
decline gradually into the sea, the common mussel delights to live,
firmly anchored by its byssal cable in the crevices of rocks or among
masses of gravel, the pebbles of which are tied together by its silky
filaments." The rock sides and the floors of transparent pools are here
often thickly coated with a nullipore, forming a hard pale red crust.
The region of half-tide forms a third subdivision of the littoral zone,
and is exceedingly prolific in marine animals and plants. "Here we find
_Fucus articulatus_, with its graceful even-edged rich brown fronds,
mingled occasionally with the less elegant _Fucus nodosus_. Here limpets
throng, and dog-periwinkles (_Purpura lapillus_) crawl observantly,
seeking to bore more passive mollusks and extract their juicy substance.
This is the home of the best of periwinkles, the large black _Littorina
littorea_, gathered in thousands for the London market. On our western
coasts we find it in company with the purple-striped top-shell (_Trochus
umbilicatus_), and towards the south with the larger _Trochus crassus_.
Here also sea-anemones love to expand their many-armed disks, often
glowing with the most brilliant colours." A fourth sub-region succeeds,
the lowest belt above low-water mark, and is distinguished by the
presence of the black saw-toothed sea-weed (_Fucus serratus_), so much
used in the packing of lobsters for market. On its fronds creeps the
lowest in grade of the periwinkles, the variously tinted _Littorina
neritoides_, exhibiting every colour in its obtuse and thickened shell.
[Illustration: Limpet.]
[Illustration: Periwinkle.]
"At the verge of low-water mark, immediately below it, wherever the coast
is rocky, there are all round the British shores, within a space of a few
inches, a remarkable series of more or less distinctly defined belts,
each consisting of a different species of sea-weed. These in succession
are, the _Laurencia pinnatifida_ uppermost; then the green _Conferva
rupestris_; then the elegant and firm, often iridescent, fronds of
_Chondrus crispus_; and, lowermost, the thong-weed or _Himanthalia
lorea_."
Succeeding the shore-band, or littoral zone, we have the _region of
the great laminaria or tangle forests_, or in sandy places the waving
meadows of zostera, or grass-wrack. It extends from the edge of low
water to a depth varying in different localities, but seldom exceeding
fifteen fathoms, and is itself divided into sub-regions, marked by
belts of differently tinted algæ. This zone above all others swarms
with life, and is the chief residence of fishes, mollusks, crustaceans,
and invertebrata of all classes, remarkable for brightness and variety
of colouring. "Here," says Mr. Godwin Austen, "is the chosen haunt of
the nudibranchiate mollusks, animals of exceedingly delicate texture,
extraordinary shapes, elegance of organs, and vividness of painting.
Their bodies exhibit hues of a brilliancy and intensity such as can match
the most gorgeous setting of a painter's palette. Vermilion red, intense
crimson, pale rose, golden yellow, luscious orange, rich purple, the
deepest and the brightest blues, even vivid greens and densest blacks,
are common tints, separate or combined, disposed in infinite varieties
of elegant patterns, in this singular tribe. Our handsomest fishes
are congregated here, the wrasses especially, some of which are truly
gorgeous in their painting. Here are gobies and more curious blennies,
swimming playfully among these submarine groves. Strange worms crawl
serpent-like about their roots, and formidable crustacea are the wild
beasts who prowl amid their intricacies. The old stalks, and the surfaces
of the rocky or stony ground on which they usually grow, are incrusted
like the trunks of ancient trees or faces of barren rocks with lichenous
investments. But whereas in the air these living crusts are chiefly if
not all of vegetable origin, in the sea they are more often constructed
out of animal organisms. Some of them are sponges, others are true
zoophytes, others polyzoa or bryozoa, beings that have proved to belong
to the class of mollusks, however unlike they may seem to shell-fish.
"In the middle and lower part of the Laminarian region around our shores
the tangles become less plentiful as we descend, and at last become
exceptional and disappear. But other sea-weeds are very abundant,
especially those that delight in red or purple hues. Tender sea-mosses,
exquisitely delicate in form and colouring, abound. Where none of these
are very plentiful, we often find the coral-weed or nullipore in vast
quantities, and assuming many strange modifications of form. Among these
vegetable corals numbers of shells and articulate animals delight to
live, and probably not a few feed upon their stony fronds. The Lima, a
shell-fish related to the scallop, gathers the broken branches by means
of prehensile tentacles, and constructs for itself a comfortable nest
lined with a woven cloth of byssal threads. Numerous fishes resort to
these rugged pastures in order to deposit their spawn among the gnarled
branchlets."
To the laminarian succeeds the _coralline zone_, extending in most
places some thirty fathoms or more. Plants, indeed, are rare, but here
the horny plant-like sertularias love to rear their graceful feathery
branches, and form miniature gardens of fairy-like delicacy and beauty;
and here carnivorous mollusks, whelks above all, prowl in great numbers.
Bivalves of remarkable elegance, especially clams and scallops, are
found buried in multitudes beneath its gravels and muddy sands; and no
less plentifully congregate the spider-crabs, with many other peculiar
crustaceans. As a natural consequence of this well-furnished table,
fishes abound, and many of our deep sea and white fisheries owe their
value to the zoological features of the coralline zone.
Last and lowest of our regions of submarine existence is that of
_deep-sea corals_, so named on account of the great stony zoophytes
characteristic of it in the oceanic seas of Europe. Many sea-stars and
sea-urchins are likewise found in this region, in the depths of which the
number of peculiar creatures is few, yet sufficient to give it a marked
character.
[Illustration: Whelk.]
[Illustration: Gurnard.]
The aspect of the British submarine fauna is in general more remarkable
for elegance of form and neat simplicity than for glaring or vivid hues.
"The smaller kinds of sponges are not seldom brilliantly dyed, but the
more conspicuous kinds are tawny or brownish. The sea-anemones are
elegantly variegated with rich colours, but the majority of zoophytes are
not strikingly tinted. The star-fishes, as a group, are most remarkable
among the invertebrata for gorgeous painting, but our sea-urchins
are sombre when compared with their relatives from warmer seas. The
jelly-fish are occasionally tinged with delicate hues, and some of the
smaller kinds even showily ornamented; but those which most figure in
our waters are not conspicuous on account of colour, however elegant in
their contours. Our marine shells, though often pretty, are not gaudy or
attractive, except in rare instances. The same may be said with almost
equal truth of our marine crustaceans, though, on close inspection,
the elegance of device on the carapaces of many species is exceedingly
admirable."
Our fishes are not distinguished by brilliancy of colour. "Their hues
are quaker-like, though sufficiently lustrous for sober tinting. The
cod and flounder tribes are among the most characteristic, and such of
the more common fishes as belong to families of which we have but few
representatives are in most instances clothed in sober grey and silver.
Beauty of no mean description may, however, be displayed by these modest
vestments; as, for instance, in the mackerel and the herring. Our
gorgeously decorated wrasses form the chief exception to the general
rule, but these belong to a family more characteristic of the southern
seas. A like deficiency in the numbers of the gurnard and mackerel tribes
seriously affects the aspect of our piscine fauna when compared with
denizens of the Mediterranean." The sharks and rays too are comparatively
deficient, although a few species, as we have seen in a former chapter,
are, to the great annoyance of our fishermen, over-abundant. The sea-eels
are also few, though in the common conger and the larger sand-eel
(_Ammodytes lancea_) we have two very conspicuous species.
[Illustration: Sand-Eel.]
[Illustration: Grey Mullet.]
[Illustration: Red Mullet.]
[Illustration: Salmon.]
As the surface of the British islands exhibits a transition as it were
from a northern to a southern character, from the firs of Scotland to the
free-growing myrtles of the Devon coast, so the inhabitants of our seas
pass through a great variety of form, from a northern to a southern type.
While the rorqual of the Frozen Ocean not seldom strands on our northern
and eastern coasts; the flying-fish of the equinoctial seas sometimes
appears within view of our southern shores; and it is this peculiar
position of our insular empire, fronting the colder and the warmer seas,
which enriches its waters with such a variety of marine life. "Several
characteristic boreal forms find their southern limit within the northern
half of our waters, and there some of the most striking and abundant
kinds are chiefly developed in numbers, such as the cat-fish or sea-wolf
(_Anarhicas lupus_), the scythe (_Merlangus carbonarius_), the ling
(_Lota molva_), the cod (_Gadus morrhua_), the lump-sucker (_Cyclopterus
lumpus_), and even the herring (_Clupea harengus_). On the other hand,
along the southern shores of England we find fishes becoming frequent
which are distinctly of a southern type, such as the grey and red mullets
(_Mugil cephalus_ and _Mullus barbatus_), the sea-bream, and, far more
plentifully, the John Dory (_Zeus aper_) and the pilchard (_Clupea
pilchardus_)."[V]
[Footnote V: Godwin Austen, Natural History of the European Seas, pp.
103, 104.]
Although very inferior in beauty to the tropical fishes, our finny
tribes are far superior in flavour, and may well challenge the world to
produce their equals for the table. The turbot, cod, whiting, herring,
whitebait, mackerel, sole, and even the salmon, though it belongs rather
to fluviatile history than to the chronicles of the sea, may fairly be
cited to testify to the truth of this assertion; so that surely we have
no reason to complain of having been but indifferently provided for in
the geographical distribution of fishes, which of all marine productions
are the most important to man.
The researches of Forbes led him to believe that "as we descend deeper
and deeper, the denizens of the sea become fewer and fewer, indicating
our approach towards a silent and desolate abyss, where life is either
extinguished or exhibits but faint glimmerings to mark its lingering
presence;" but subsequent deep-sea soundings, performed with improved
dredging apparatuses, have led to the surprising result that the bottom
of the ocean, even in its abyssal depths, far from being a dreary void,
as was formerly imagined, is in reality a busy scene, absolutely teeming
with life. And in this case, as in so many others, we have a fine
instance of the truth of the observation that every new invention or
discovery casts a new light upon some other province of human knowledge;
for to the submarine telegraph we are indebted for the first certain
proof of the existence of highly organised animals living at abyssal
depths.
In 1860 the submarine cable between Sardinia and Bona, on the coast of
Africa, having completely failed, was picked up from a depth exceeding
one thousand fathoms, and found encrusted with various shells and corals.
All previous observations with reference to the existence of living
creatures at extreme depths had been liable to doubt from two sources. In
the first place the methods of deep-sea soundings were still so imperfect
that there was always a possibility, from the action of deep currents
upon the sounding-line or from other causes, of a greater depth being
indicated than really existed; and, secondly, there was no absolute
certainty that the animals entangled on the sounding instrument had
actually come up from the bottom. They might have been caught on the way.
But now all doubt was removed. A submarine cable lies on the ground
throughout its whole length. Before laying it, its course is carefully
surveyed and the real depth accurately ascertained. Fishing it up is a
delicate and difficult operation, and during its progress the depth is
checked again and again. When, therefore, as in this case, the animals
dragged up with a cable from depths of upwards of one thousand fathoms
are found, not sticking loosely to it, but moulded upon its outer
surface, or cemented to it by horny or calcareous excretions, it is
evident that they must have lived and grown upon it at the bottom of the
deep sea.
The subsequent dredging cruises of H.M.SS. "Porcupine" and "Lightning" in
1868, 1869, and 1870, under the scientific direction of Dr. Carpenter,
Professor Wyville Thomson, and Mr. Gwyn Jeffreys, afforded additional
and convincing proofs that life abounds in the abyssal regions of the
ocean. During these several cruises 57 hauls of the dredge were taken at
depths beyond 500 fathoms, and 16 at depths beyond 1,000 fathoms, and
in all cases life was abundant. In 1869 two casts were taken in depths
greater than 2,000 fathoms, and proved equally successful in bringing up
specimens of deep-sea life. With the deepest cast, 2,435 fathoms, off
the mouth of the Bay of Biscay, living, well-marked, and characteristic
specimens of all the five invertebrate sub-kingdoms were taken. "And
thus," says Professor Wyville Thomson,[W] "the question of the existence
of abundant animal life at the bottom of the sea has been finally
settled, and for all depths, for there is no reason to suppose that the
depth anywhere exceeds between three and four thousand fathoms; and if
there be nothing in the conditions of a depth of 2,500 fathoms to prevent
the full development of a varied fauna, it is impossible to suppose that
even an additional 1,000 fathoms would make any great difference."
[Footnote W: The Depths of the Sea. London, 1873.]
It may be asked how the deep-sea animals bear the enormous pressure at
these great depths, which seems at first sight alone sufficient to put
any idea of life out of the question? There was a curious popular notion
that on descending deeper and deeper the sea water became gradually,
under the pressure, heavier and heavier, so that at last it became more
weighty than molten gold. But water is, in fact, almost incompressible;
so that its density at 2,000 fathoms is scarcely appreciably increased.
Any free air suspended in the water, or contained in any compressible
tissue of an animal at 2,000 fathoms, would of course be reduced to a
mere fraction of its bulk; but the animals subject to the pressure of
the deep seas, being permeated throughout their whole organisation by
incompressible fluids at the same pressure, are consequently as capable
of bearing it as we do the pressure of the atmosphere. The absence of
light seemed another circumstance incompatible with the existence of
animal life at abyssal depths, as all plants depend upon light for
their growth, and their absence apparently involves that of vegetable
food, which, as we all know, forms everywhere the substratum of animal
existence. We have as yet very little exact knowledge as to the distance
to which the sun's light penetrates into the water of the sea. According
to some recent experiments it would appear that the rays capable of
affecting a delicate photographic film are very rapidly cut off, their
effect being imperceptible at the depth of only a few fathoms; and though
probably some portions of the sun's light possessing certain properties
may penetrate to a much greater distance, it is certain that, beyond the
first fifty fathoms, plants to whose existence light is essential are
barely represented, and after two hundred fathoms entirely absent.
But though plant-life is thus limited to the more superficial parts of
the ocean, the analysis of sea water, taken in all localities and at all
depths, has shown that it everywhere contains a very appreciable and very
uniform quantity of organic matter in solution and in suspension. It
is thus quite intelligible that numberless protozoa--whose distinctive
character is that they are capable of being supported by the absorption
of organic matter through the surface of their bodies--are able to exist
in the dark abysses of the sea, and in their turn afford nourishment to
more highly organised animals.
After these general remarks on the creatures of the deep, I will now give
a brief account of their various groups.
Over an enormous extent the abyssal ocean bottom is found covered with a
sheet of almost formless beings, absolutely devoid of internal structure,
and consisting merely of living and moving expansions of jelly-like
matter. Whether this form of life, still more simple than the Amœba,[X]
to which Professor Huxley has given the name of _Bathybius Haeckelii_, be
continuous in one vast sheet or broken up into circumscribed individual
particles, it is equally an object of wonder; and as no living thing,
however slowly it may live, is ever perfectly at rest, it shows us that
the bottom of the sea is, like its surface, the theatre of perpetual
change.
[Footnote X: See Chapter XVIII., p. 380.]
Living among and upon this Bathybius we find a multitude of other
protozoa, foraminifera and other rhizopods, radiolarians, and sponges.
Such is the countless number of the Foraminifera inhabiting the deep
seas, that their remains form the chief mass of the soft oozy bottom of
the ocean. In the surface layer of the deposit the shells of _Globigerina
bulloides_, the prevailing species, are found fresh, whole, and living,
and in the lower layers dead and gradually crumbling down by the
decomposition of their organic cement and by the pressure of the layers
above. Countless generations are thus piled one upon the other; and each
successive stratum, weighing upon those of older date, is laying the
foundation of future rocks, which subsequent revolutions may perhaps
heave out of the deep and raise in towering pinnacles to the skies.
Sponges[Y] of wonderful beauty and lustre appear to extend in endless
variety over the whole of the bottom of the sea. Some (_Holtenia
Carpenteri_) anchor in the ooze by means of a perfect maze of delicate
glassy filaments, like fine white hair, spreading out in all directions
through the sea's fluid mud; while others (_Hyalonema_) send right down
a coiled whisp of strong spicules, each as thick as a knitting-needle,
which open out into a brush as the bed gets firmer, and fix the sponge
in its place somewhat on the principle of a screw-pile. "A very singular
sponge, from deep water off the Loffoden Islands, spreads into a thin
circular cake, and adds to its surface by sending out a flat border of
silky spicules, like a fringe of white floss silk round a little yellow
mat; and the lovely Euplectella, whose beauty is imbedded up to its
fretted lid in the grey mud of the seas of the Philippines, is supported
by a frill of spicules standing up round it like Queen Elizabeth's
ruff."[Z]
[Footnote Y: Ibid. pp. 385-389.]
[Footnote Z: The Depths of the Sea, p. 73.]
The stalked sea-stars, which, as the fossil pentacrinites and encrinites
testify, abounded in the past periods of the earth's history, were, until
now, supposed to be on the verge of extinction; but when we consider
that the first few scrapes of the dredge at great depths have brought
new species to light, we are entitled to believe that they constitute an
important element in the abyssal fauna, and probably pave large tracts
of the sea-bottom with a carpet of animated flowers. Freely-moving
sea-stars and sea-urchins have likewise been hauled up in great numbers
from abyssal depths; crustaceans have not been found wanting, and the
captured shell-fish have shown that the deep-sea molluscs are by no means
deficient in colour, though as a rule they are paler than those from
shallow water.
_Dacrydium vitreum_, dredged from 2,435 fathoms, a curious little
mytiloïd shell-fish, which makes and inhabits a delicate flask-shaped
tube of foraminifera and other foreign bodies cemented together
by organic matter and lined by a delicate membrane, is of a fine
reddish-brown colour dashed with green, and the animals of one or two
species of Lima from extreme depths are of the usual vivid orange scarlet.
Some of the abyssal molluscs have even been found provided with organs
of sight. A new species of Pleurotoma, from 2,090 fathoms, had a pair
of well-developed eyes on short foot-stalks, and a Fusus from 1,207
fathoms was similarly provided. The presence of organs of sight at these
great depths leaves little room to doubt that light must reach even
these abysses from some source, and as from many considerations it can
scarcely be sunlight, Professor Wyville Thomson throws out the suggestion
"that the whole of the light beyond a certain depth may be due to
phosphorescence, which is certainly very general, particularly among the
larvæ and young of deep-sea animals."
Thus many of the creatures dredged in the Northern Atlantic, off the
west coast of Ireland,[AA] in depths varying from 557 to 584 fathoms,
were most brilliantly phosphorescent. In some places nearly everything
brought up seemed to emit light, and the mud itself was perfectly
full of luminous specks. The alcyonarians, the brittle-stars, and
some annelids were the most brilliant. The Pennatidæ, the Virgulariæ,
and the Gorgoniæ shone with a lambent white light, so bright that it
showed quite distinctly the hour on a watch, while the light from
_Ophiacantha spinulosa_ was of a brilliant green, coruscating from the
centre of the disk, now along one arm, now along another, and sometimes
vividly illuminating the whole outline of the star-fish. While the
Ophiacantha shines like a star of the most vivid uranium green, the
sea-pen (_Pavonaria quadrangularis_) is resplendent with a pale lilac
phosphorescence like the flame of cyanogen gas, not scintillating like
the green light of Ophiacantha, but almost constant, sometimes flashing
out at one point more vividly, and then dying gradually into comparative
dimness, but still sufficiently bright to make every portion of the polyp
visible.
[Footnote AA: Ibid., Chapter III. Cruise of the "Porcupine," pp. 98-149.]
Such numbers of the Pavonaria were brought up at one haul of the dredge
in the Sound of Skye, that the "Porcupine" had evidently passed over a
forest of them. While the darkness of winter frowns over the surface
of the Northern Atlantic, the animated shrubs at its bottom are thus
glowing with light, and a kind of magical day prevails in depths which
were supposed to be shrouded with perpetual night. But it might have been
better for many of the luminous denizens of the abyss if a more obscure
existence had been their lot; for in a sea swarming with predaceous
crustaceans with great bright eyes phosphorescence must surely be a fatal
gift.
Off the coast of Portugal there is a great fishery of sharks
(_Centroscymnus Cœlolepis_), carried on at a depth of 500 fathoms. If an
animal so highly organised as a shark can thus bear without inconvenience
the enormous pressure of more than half a ton on the square inch existing
at that depth, it is a sufficient proof that the pressure is applied
under circumstances which prevent its affecting it to its prejudice,
and there seems to be no reason why it should not tolerate equally well
a pressure of one or two tons, or why many other fishes--though the
dredge, in consequence of their facility of locomotion, will hardly ever
be able to bring them to light--should not abound in the still waters of
the abyssal deep.
The "Challenger" Exploring Expedition will no doubt reveal to us still
many an unknown wonder of those interesting regions, and make us
acquainted with a world of new animals which even the profundity of the
ocean vainly strives to hide from the curiosity of man.
[Illustration]
CHAP. XXI.
THE PHOSPHORESCENCE OF THE SEA.
Its Causes.--Noctiluca miliaris.--Phosphorescent Annelides and
Beroës.--Intense Phosphorescence of the Pyrosoma atlantica.--Luminous
Pholades.--The luminous Shark.--Phosphorescent Algæ.--Citations from
Byron, Coleridge, and Crabbe.
He who still lingers on the shore after the shades of evening have
descended, not seldom enjoys a most magnificent spectacle; for lucid
flashes burst from the bosom of the waters, as if the sea were anxious
to restore to the darkened heavens the light it had received from them
during the day. On approaching the margin of the rising flood to examine
more closely the sparkling of the breaking wave, the spreading waters
seem to cover the beach with a sheet of fire. Each footstep over the
moist sands elicits luminous star-like points, and a splash in the water
resembles the awakening of slumbering flames.
The same wonderful and beauteous aspect frequently gladdens the eye of
the navigator who ploughs his way through the wide deserts of ocean,
particularly if his course leads him through the tropical seas.
"When a vessel," says Humboldt, "driven along by a fresh wind, divides
the foaming waters, one never wearies of the lovely spectacle their
agitation affords; for, whenever a wave makes the ship incline sideways,
bluish or reddish flames seem to shoot upwards from the keel. Beautiful
beyond description is the sight of a troop of dolphins gambolling in the
phosphorescent sea. Every furrow they draw through the waters is marked
by streaks of intense light. In the Gulf of Cariaco, between Cumana and
the peninsula of Maniquarez, this scene has often delighted me for hours."
But even in the colder oceanic regions the brilliant phenomenon appears
from time to time in its full glory. During a dark and stormy September
night, on the way from the Sea-lion island, Saint George, to Unalaschka,
Chamisso admired as beautiful a phosphorescence of the ocean as he
had ever witnessed in the tropical seas. Sparks of light, remaining
attached to the sails that had been wetted by the spray, continued to
glow in another element. Near the south point of Kamtschatka, at a
water-temperature hardly above freezing point, Ermann saw the sea no less
luminous than during a seven months' sojourn in the tropical ocean. This
distinguished traveller positively denies that warmth decidedly favours
the luminosity of the sea.
At Cape Colborn, one of the desolate promontories of the desolate
Victoria Land, the phosphoric gleaming of the waves on the 6th September,
when darkness closed in, was so intense that Simpson assures us he had
seldom seen anything more brilliant. The boats seemed to cleave a flood
of molten silver, and the spray dashed from their bows, before the fresh
breeze, fell back in glittering showers into the deep.
Mr. Charles Darwin paints in vivid colours the magnificent spectacle
presented by the sea, while sailing in the latitudes of Cape Horn on a
very dark night.
There was a fresh breeze, and every part of the surface, which during
the day is seen as foam, now glowed with a pale light. The vessel drove
before her bows two billows of liquid phosphorus, and in her wake she was
followed by a milky train. As far as the eye reached, the crest of every
wave was bright, and the sky above the horizon, from the reflected glare
of these livid flames, was not so utterly obscure as over the rest of the
heavens.
While "La Venus" was at anchor before Simon's Town, the breaking of the
waves produced so strong a light that the room in which the naturalists
of the expedition were seated was illumined as by sudden flashes of
lightning. Although more than fifty paces from the beach where the
phenomenon took place, they tried to read by this wondrous oceanic light,
but the successive glimpses were of too short duration to gratify their
wishes.
Thus we see the same nocturnal splendour which shines forth in the
tropical seas, and gleams along our shores, burst forth from the arctic
waters, and from the waves that bathe the southern promontories of the
old and the new worlds.
But what is the cause of the beautiful phenomenon so widely spread over
the face of ocean? How comes it that at certain times flames issue from
the bosom of an element generally so hostile to their appearance?
Without troubling the reader with the groundless surmises of ancient
naturalists, or repeating the useless tales of the past, I shall at
once place myself with him on the stage of our actual knowledge of this
interesting and mysterious subject. It is now no longer a matter of doubt
that many of the inferior marine animals possess the faculty of secreting
a luminous matter, and thus adding their mite to the grand phenomenon.
When we consider their countless multitudes, we shall no longer wonder
at such magnificent effects being produced by creatures individually so
insignificant.
[Illustration: Noctiluca miliaris. (Highly magnified.)]
In our seas it is chiefly a minute gelatinous animal, the _Noctiluca
miliaris_, most probably an aberrant member of the infusorial group,
which, as it were, repeats the splendid spectacle of the starry heavens
on the surface of the ocean. In form it is nearly globular, presenting
on one side a groove, from the anterior extremity of which issues a
peculiar curved stalk or appendage, marked by transverse lines, which
might seem to be made use of as an organ of locomotion. Near the base
of this tentacle is placed the mouth, which passes into a dilatable
digestive cavity, leading, according to Mr. Huxley, to a distinct
anal orifice. From the rather firm external coat proceed thread-like
prolongations through the softer mass of the body, so as to divide it
into irregular chambers. This little creature, which is just large enough
to be discerned by the naked eye when the water in which it may be
swimming is contained in a glass jar exposed to the light, seems to feed
on diatoms, as their loricæ may frequently be detected in its interior.
It multiplies by spontaneous fission, and the rapidity of this process
may be inferred from the immensity of its numbers. A single bucket of
luminous sea-water will often contain thousands, while for miles and
miles every wave breaking on the shore expands in a sheet of living
flame. It was first described by Forster in the Pacific Ocean; it occurs
on all the shores of the Atlantic, and the Polar Seas are illuminated by
its fairy light. "The nature of its luminosity," says Dr. Carpenter, "is
found by microscopic examination to be very peculiar; for what appears to
the eye to be a uniform glow is resolvable under a sufficient magnifying
power into a multitude of evanescent scintillations, and these are given
forth with increased intensity whenever the body of the animal receives
any mechanical shock."
The power of emitting a phosphorescent light is widely diffused both
among the free-swimming and the sessile Cœlenterata. Many of the
Physophoridæ are remarkable for its manifestation, and a great number of
the jelly-fishes are luminous. Our own _Thaumantias lucifera_, a small
and by no means rare medusid, displays the phenomenon in a very beautiful
manner, for, when irritated by contact of fresh water, it marks its
position by a vivid circlet of tiny stars, each shining from the base of
a tentacle. A remarkable greenish light, like that of burning silver,
may also be seen to glow from many of our Sertularians, becoming much
brighter under various modes of excitation.
Among the Ctenophora the large _Cestum Veneris_ of the Mediterranean is
specially distinguished for its luminosity, and while moving beneath the
surface of the water gleams at night like a brilliant band of flame.
The Sea-pens are eminently phosphorescent, shining at night with a
golden-green light of a most wonderful softness. When touched, every
branchlet above the shock emits a phosphoric glow, while all the polyps
beneath remain in darkness. When thrown into fresh water or alcohol, they
scatter sparks about in all directions, a most beautiful sight; dying, as
it were, in a halo of glory.
But of all the marine animals the Pyrosomas, doing full justice to their
name (fire-bodies) seem to emit the most vivid coruscations. Bibra
relates in his "Travels to Chili" that he once caught half a dozen
of these remarkable light-bearers, by whose phosphorescence he could
distinctly read their own description in a naturalist's vade-mecum.
Although completely dark when at rest the slightest touch sufficed to
elicit their clear blue-green light. During a voyage to India, Mr.
Bennett had occasion to admire the magnificent spectacle afforded
by whole shoals of Pyrosomas. The ship, proceeding at a rapid rate,
continued during an entire night to pass through distinct but extensive
fields of these molluscs, floating and glowing as they floated on all
sides of her course. Enveloped in a flame of bright phosphorescent
light, and gleaming with a greenish lustre, the Pyrosomes, in vast
sheets, upwards of a mile in breadth, and stretching out till lost in the
distance, presented a sight, the glory of which may be easily imagined.
The vessel, as it cleaved the gleaming mass, threw up strong flashes of
light, as if ploughing through liquid fire, which illuminated the hull,
the sails, and the ropes, with a strange unearthly radiance.
In his memoir on the Pyrosoma, M. Péron describes with lively colours
the circumstances under which he first made its discovery, during a
dark and stormy night, in the tropical Atlantic. "The sky," says this
distinguished naturalist, "was on all sides loaded with heavy clouds;
all around the obscurity was profound; the wind blew violently, and the
ship cut her way with rapidity. Suddenly we discovered at some distance
a great phosphorescent band stretched across the waves, and occupying
an immense tract in advance of the ship. Heightened by the surrounding
circumstances, the effect of this spectacle was romantic, imposing,
sublime, rivetting the attention of all on board. Soon we reached the
illuminated tract, and perceived that the prodigious brightness was
certainly and only attributable to the presence of an innumerable
multitude of largish animals floating with the waves. From their swimming
at different depths they took apparently different forms: those at the
greatest depth were very indefinite, presenting much the appearance
of great masses of fire, or rather of enormous red-hot cannon balls;
whilst those more distinctly seen near the surface perfectly resembled
incandescent cylinders of iron.
"Taken from the water, these animals entirely resembled each other in
form, colour, substance, and the property of phosphorescence, differing
only in their sizes, which varied from three to seven inches. The
large, longish tubercles with which the exterior of the Pyrosomes was
bristled were of a firmer substance, and more transparent than the rest
of the body, and were brilliant and polished like diamonds. These were
the principal scene of phosphorescence. Between these large tubercles,
smaller ones, shorter and more obtuse, could be distinguished; these
also were phosphorescent. Lastly, in the interior of the substance of
the animal, could be seen, by the aid of the transparency, a number of
little, elongated, narrow bodies (viscera), which also participated in a
high degree in the possession of the phosphoric light."
In the Pholades or Lithodomes, that bore their dwellings in the hard
stone, as other shell-fish do in the loose sands, the whole mass
of the body is permeated with light. Pliny gives us a short but
animated description of the phenomenon in the edible date-shell of the
Mediterranean (_Pholas dactylus_):--
"It is in the nature of the pholades to shine in the darkness with
their own light, which is the more intense as the animal is more juicy.
While eating them, they shine in the mouth and on the hands, nay, even
the drops falling from them upon the ground continue to emit light, a
sure proof that the luminosity we admire in them is associated with
their juice." Milne-Edwards found this observation perfectly correct,
for wishing to place some living pholades in alcohol, he saw a luminous
matter exude from their bodies, which on account of its weight sank
in the liquid, covering the bottom of the vessel, and there forming a
deposit as shining as when it was in contact with the air.
Several kinds of fishes likewise possess the luminous faculty. The
sun-fish, that strange deformity, emits a phosphoric gleam; and a species
of Gurnard (_Trigla lucerna_) is said to sparkle in the night, so as to
form fiery streams through the water.
[Illustration: Short Sun-Fish.]
With regard to the luminosity of the larger marine animals, Ermann,
however, remarks that he so often saw small luminous crustacea in the
abdominal cavity of the transparent _Salpa pinnata_, that it may well
be asked whether the phosphorescence of the larger creatures is not in
reality owing to that of their smaller companions.
According to Mr. Bennett, "Whaling Voyage round the Globe," a species
of shark first discovered by himself is distinguished by an uncommonly
strong emission of light. When the specimen, taken at night, was removed
into a dark apartment, it afforded a very interesting spectacle. The
entire inferior surface of the body and head emitted a vivid and greenish
phosphorescent gleam, imparting to the creature by its own light a truly
ghastly and terrific appearance. The luminous effect was constant, and
not perceptibly increased by agitation or friction. When the shark
expired, (which was not until it had been out of the water more than
three hours,) the luminous appearance faded entirely from the abdomen,
and more gradually from other parts; lingering longest around the jaws
and on the fins.
The only part of the under surface of the animal which was free from
luminosity was the black collar round the throat; and while the inferior
surface of the pectoral, anal, and caudal fins shone with splendour,
their superior surface (including the upper lobe of the tail fin) was in
darkness, as were also the dorsal fins, and the back and summit of the
head.
Mr. Bennett is inclined to believe that the luminous power of this
shark resides in a peculiar secretion from the skin. It was his first
impression that the fish had accidentally contracted some phosphorescent
matter from the sea, or from the net in which it was captured; but the
most rigid investigation did not confirm this suspicion, while the
uniformity with which the luminous gleam occupied certain portions of the
body and fins, its permanence during life, and decline and cessation upon
the approach and occurrence of death, did not leave a doubt in his mind
but that it was a vital principle essential to the economy of the animal.
The small size of the fins would appear to denote that this fish is not
active in swimming; and, since it is highly predaceous and evidently of
nocturnal habits, we may perhaps indulge in the hypothesis, that the
phosphorescent power it possesses is of use to attract its prey, upon the
same principle as the Polynesian islanders and others employ torches in
night-fishing.
Some of the lower sea-plants also appear to be luminous. Thus, over a
space of more than 600 miles (between lat. 8° N. and 2° S.), Meyen saw
the ocean covered with phosphorescent Oscillatoria, grouped together
into small balls or globules, from the size of a poppy-seed to that of a
lentil.
But if the luminosity of the ocean generally proceeds from living
creatures, it sometimes also arises from putrefying organic fibres
and membranes, resulting from the decomposition of those living
light-bearers. "Sometimes," says Humboldt, "even a high magnifying power
is unable to discover any animals in the phosphorescent water, and yet
light gleams forth wherever a wave strikes against a hard body and
dissolves in foam. The cause of this phenomenon lies then most likely in
the putrefying fibres of dead mollusks, which are mixed with the waters
in countless numbers."
Summing up the foregoing in a few words, it is thus an indisputable fact,
that the phosphorescence of the sea is by no means an electrical or
magnetic property of the water, but exclusively bound to organic matter,
living or dead. But although thus much has been ascertained, we have as
yet only advanced one step towards the unravelling of the mystery, and
its proximate cause remains an open question. Unfortunately, science
is still unable to give a positive answer, and we are obliged to be
contented with a more or less plausible hypothesis. When we consider that
the phosphorescence most commonly resides only in the outward mucous
covering of the body, in which a number of particles cast off by the skin
are continually undergoing decomposition, the phenomenon seems to be a
simple chemical process, during which more or less phosphorus may be
disengaged, which by agitation or friction gives rise to the emission of
light. It is more difficult to explain those cases in which the entire
mass of the body is luminous (as in Pholas), or the muscular substance
(as in some Annelides), or the vibratory cilia (as in the Beroës); and
here we do better to confess our entire ignorance, than to resort to the
hypothesis of electrical discharges, extremely improbable in an element
which is so excellent an electrical conductor, and particularly when we
consider that no emission of light takes place in the few and powerful
electrical fishes we are acquainted with.
We know as little of what utility marine phosphorescence may be. Why do
the countless myriads of Mammariæ gleam and sparkle along our coasts? Is
it to signify their presence to other animals, and direct them to the
spot where they may find abundance of food? So much is certain, that so
grand and wide-spread a phenomenon must necessarily serve some end equally
grand and important.
As the phosphorescence of the sea is owing to living creatures, it must
naturally show itself in its greatest brilliancy when the ocean is at
rest; for during the daytime we find the surface of the waters most
peopled with various animals when only a slight zephyr glides over the
sea. In stormy weather, the fragile or gelatinous world of the lower
marine creatures generally seeks a greater depth, until the elementary
strife has ceased, when it again loves to sport in the warmer or more
cheerful superficial waters.
In the tropical zone, Humboldt saw the sea most brilliantly luminous
before a storm, when the air was sultry, and the sky covered with clouds.
In the North Sea we observe the phenomenon most commonly during fine
tranquil autumnal nights; but it may be seen at every season of the year,
even when the cold is most intense. Its appearance is, however, extremely
capricious; for, under seemingly unaltered circumstances, the sea may one
night be very luminous, and the next quite dark. Often months, or even
years, pass by without witnessing it in full perfection. Does this result
from a peculiar state of the atmosphere, or do the little animals love to
migrate from one part of the coast to another?
It is remarkable that the ancients should have taken so little notice of
oceanic phosphorescence. The "Periplus" of Hanno contains perhaps the
only passage in which the phenomenon is described. To the south of Cerne
the Carthaginian navigator saw the sea burn, as it were, with streams
of fire. Pliny, in whom the miracle (_miraculum_, as he calls it) of
the date-shell excited so lively an admiration, and who must often have
seen the sea gleam with phosphoric light, as the passage proves where he
mentions in a few dry words the luminous gurnard (_lucerna_) stretching
out a fiery tongue, has no exclamation of delight for one of the most
beautiful sights in nature. Homer also, who has given us so many charming
descriptions of the sea in its ever-changing aspects, and who so often
leads us with long-suffering Ulysses through the nocturnal floods, never
once makes them blaze or sparkle in his immortal hexameters.
Even modern poets mention the phenomenon but rarely. Camoens himself,
whom Humboldt, on account of his beautiful oceanic descriptions, calls,
above all others, the "poet of the sea," forgets to sing it in his
Lusiad. Byron in his "Corsair" has a few lines on the subject:
"Flash'd the dipt oars, and, sparkling with the stroke,
Around the waves phosphoric brightness broke;"
but contents himself, as we see, with coldly mentioning a phenomenon so
worthy of all a poet's enthusiasm. In Coleridge's wondrous ballad of
"The ancient Mariner" we find a warmer description:
"Beyond the shadow of the ship
I watch'd the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And, when they rear'd, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
"Within the shadow of the ship
I watch'd their rich attire--
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black:
They coiled and swam, and every track
Was a flash of golden fire."
These indeed are lines whose brilliancy emulates the splendour of the
phenomenon they depict, but even they are hardly more beautiful than
Crabbe's admirable description:
"And now your view upon the ocean turn,
And there the splendour of the waves discern;
Cast but a stone, or strike them with an oar,
And you shall flames within the deep explore;
Or scoop the stream phosphoric as you stand,
And the cold flames shall flash along your hand;
When, lost in wonder, you shall walk and gaze
On weeds that sparkle, and on waves that blaze."
Or than the graphic numbers of Sir Walter Scott:
"Awak'd before the rushing prow,
The mimic fires of ocean glow,
Those lightnings of the wave;
Wild sparkles crest the broken tides.
And flashing round, the vessel's sides
With elfish lustre lave;
While, far behind, their livid light
To the dark billows of the night
A blooming splendour gave."
CHAP. XXII.
THE PRIMITIVE OCEAN.
The Giant-Book of the Earth-rind.--The Sea of Fire.--Formation of a
solid Earth-crust by cooling.--The Primitive Waters.--First awakening
of Life in the Bosom of the Ocean.--The Reign of the Saurians.--The
future Ocean.
The greatest of all histories, traced in mighty characters by the
Almighty himself, is that of the earth-rind. The leaves of this giant
volume are the strata which have been successively deposited in the
bosom of the sea, or raised by volcanic powers from the depths of the
earth; the wars which it relates are the Titanic conflicts of two hostile
elements, water and fire, each anxious to destroy the formations of its
opponent; and the historic documents which bear witness to that ancient
strife lie before us in the petrified or carbonified remains of extinct
forms of organic existence--the medals of creation.
It is only since yesterday that science has attempted to unriddle the
hieroglyphics in which the past history of our planet reveals itself to
man, and it stands to reason that in so difficult a study truth must
often be obscured by error; but although the geologist is still a mere
scholar, endeavouring to decipher the first chapters of a voluminous
work, yet even now the study of the physical revolutions of our globe
distinctly points out a period when the molten earth wandered, a ball
of liquid fire, through the desert realms of space. In those times,
so distant from ours that even the wildest flight of imagination is
unable to carry us over the intervening abyss, the waters of the ocean
were as yet mixed with the air, and formed a thick and hazy atmosphere
through which no radiant sunbeam, no soft lunar light, ever penetrated
to the fiery billows of molten rock, which at that time covered the
whole surface of the earth. What pictures of desolation rise before our
fancy, at the idea of yon boundless ocean of fluid stone, which rolled
from pole to pole without meeting on its wide way anything but itself.
Ever and ever in the dark-red clouds shone the reflection of that vast
conflagration, witnessed only by the eye of the Almighty, for organic
life could not exist on a globe which exclusively obeyed the physical and
chemical laws of inorganic nature.
But while the fiery mass with its surrounding atmosphere was circling
through the icy regions of ethereal space (the temperature of which is
computed to be lower than 60° R. below freezing point), it gradually
cooled, and its hitherto fluid surface began to harden to a solid crust.
Who can tell how many countless ages may have dropped one after the other
into the abyss of the past, ere thus much was accomplished; for the dense
atmosphere constantly threw back again upon the fiery earth-ball the heat
radiating from its surface, and the caloric of the vast body could escape
but very slowly into vacant space?
Thus millions of years may have gone by before the aqueous vapours, now
no longer obstinately repelled by the cooling earth-rind, condensed
into rain, and, falling in showers, gave birth to an incipient ocean.
But it must not be supposed that the waters obtained at once a tranquil
and undisturbed possession of their new domain, for, as soon as they
descended upon the earth, those endless elementary wars began, which,
with various fortunes, have continued to the present day.
As soon as the cooling earth-rind began to harden, it naturally
contracted, like all solid bodies when no longer subject to the influence
of expanding heat, and thus in the thin crust enormous fissures and
rents were formed, through which the fluid masses below gushed forth,
and, spreading in wide sheets over the surface, once more converted into
vapours the waters they met with in their fiery path.
But after all these revolutions and vicissitudes which opposed the birth
of ocean, perpetually destroying its perpetually renewed formation,
we come at last to a period when, in consequence of the constantly
decreasing temperature of the earth-rind, and its increasing thickness,
the waters at last conquered a permanent abode on its surface, and the
oceanic empire was definitively founded.
The scene has now changed; the sea of fire has disappeared, and water
covers the face of the earth. The rind is still too thin, and the
eruptions from below are still too fluid to form higher elevations above
the general surface: all is flat and even, and land nowhere rises above
the mirror of a boundless ocean.
This new state of things still affords the same spectacle of dreary
uniformity and solitude in all its horrors. The temperature of the waters
is yet too high, and they contain too many extraneous substances, too
many noxious vapours arise from the clefts of the earth-rind, the dense
atmosphere is still too much impregnated with poisons, to allow the
hidden germs of life anywhere to awaken. A strange and awful primitive
ocean rises and falls, rolls and rages, but nowhere does it beat against
a coast; no animal, no plant, grows and thrives in its bosom; no bird
flies over its expanse.
But meanwhile the hidden agency of Providence is unremittingly active in
preparing a new order of things. The earth-rind increases in thickness,
the crevices become narrower, and the fluid or semi-fluid masses escaping
through the clefts ascend to a more considerable height.
Thus the first islands are formed, and the first separation between the
dry land and the waters takes place. At the same time no less remarkable
changes occur, as well in the constitution of the waters as in that of
the atmosphere. The farther the glowing internal heat of the planet
retires from the surface, the greater is the quantity of water which
precipitates itself upon it. The ocean, obliged to relinquish part of its
surface to the dry land, makes up for the loss of extent by an increase
of depth, and the clearer atmosphere allows the enlivening sunbeam to
gild here the crest of a wave, there a naked rock.
And now also life awakens in the seas, but how often has it changed its
forms, and how often has Neptune displaced his boundaries since that
primordial dawn. Alternately rising or subsiding, what was once the
bottom of the ocean now forms the mountain crest, and whole islands and
continents have been gradually worn away and whelmed beneath the waves of
the sea, to arise and to be whelmed again. In every part of the world we
are able to trace these repeated changes in the fossil remains embedded
in the strata that have successively been deposited in the sea, and
then again raised above its level by volcanic agencies, and thus, by a
wonderful transposition, the history of the primitive ocean is revealed
to us by the tablets of the dry land. The indefatigable zeal of the
geologists has discovered no less than thirty-nine distinct fossiliferous
strata of different ages, and as many of these are again subdivided into
successive layers, frequently of a thickness of several thousand feet,
and each of them characterised by its peculiar organic remains, we may
form some idea of the vast spaces of time required for their formation.
[Illustration: Trilobite.]
The annals of the human race speak of the rise and downfall of nations
and dynasties, and stamp a couple of thousand years with the mark of high
antiquity; but each stratum or each leaf in the records of our globe has
witnessed the birth and the extinction of numerous families, genera, and
species of plants and animals, and shows us organic Nature as changeable
in time as she appears to us in space. As, when we sail to the southern
hemisphere, the stars of the northern firmament gradually sink below the
horizon, until finally entirely new constellations blaze upon us from the
nightly heavens; thus in the organic vestiges of the palæozoic seas we
find no form of life resembling those of the actual times, but every class
"Seems to have undergone a change
Into something new and strange."
Then spiral-armed Brachiopods were the chief representatives of the
molluscs; then crinoid star-fishes paved the bottom of the ocean; then the
fishes, covered with large thick rhomboidal scales, were buckler-headed
like the Cephalaspis, or furnished with wing-like appendages like the
Pterichthys; and then the Trilobites, a crustacean tribe, thus named from
its three lobed skeleton, swarmed in the shallow littoral waters where
the lesser sea-fry afforded them an abundant food. From a comparison of
their structure with recent analogies, it is supposed that these strange
creatures swam in an inverted position close beneath the surface of
the water, the belly upwards, and that they made use of their power of
rolling themselves into a ball as a defence against attacks from above.
The remains of seventeen families of Trilobites, including forty-five
genera and 477 species, some of the size of a pea, others two feet long,
testify the once flourishing condition of these remarkable crustaceans,
yet but few of their petrified remains, so numerous in the Silurian and
Devonian strata, are found in the carboniferous or mountain limestone,
and none whatever in formations of more recent date. Thus, long before
the wind ever moaned through the dense fronds of the tree ferns and
calamites which once covered the swampy lowlands of our isle, and long
before that rich vegetation began, to which we are indebted for our
inexhaustible coal-fields, now frequently buried thousands of feet below
the surface on which they originally grew, the Trilobites belonged
already to the things of the past!
[Illustration: Ammonites, or Snake-Stones.]
In the seas of the mesozoic or mediæval period, new forms of life appear
upon the scene. A remarkable change has taken place in the cephalopods;
for the chambered and straightened Orthoceratites and many other families
of the order have passed away, and the spiral Ammonites, branching
out into numerous genera, and more than 600 species, now flourish in
the seas, so that in some places the rocks seem, as it were, composed
of them alone. Some are of small dimensions, others upwards of three
feet in diameter. They are met with in the Alps, and have been found
in the Himalaya Mountains, at elevations of 16,000 feet, as eloquent
witnesses of the vast revolutions of which our earth has been the scene.
Carnivorous, and resembling in habits the Nautili, their small and feeble
representatives of the present day, their immense multiplication proves
how numerous must have been the molluscs, crustaceans, and annelides, on
which they fed, all like them widely different from those of the present
day.
[Illustration: Belemnites.
_a._ B. acutus.
_b._ Belemnite (restored).
]
Then also flourished the Belemnites (Thunder-stones), supposed by the
ancients to be the thunderbolts of Jove, but now known to be the
petrified internal bones of a race of voracious ten-armed cuttle-fishes,
whose importance in the oolitic or cretaceous seas may be judged of
by the frequency of their remains, and the 120 species that have been
hitherto discovered. Belemnites two feet long have been found, so that,
to judge by analogies, the animals to which they belonged as cuttle-bones
must have measured eighteen or twenty feet from end to end, a size which
reduces the rapacious Onychoteuthis of the present seas to dwarfish
dimensions.
[Illustration: Ichthyosaurus communis.]
But of all the denizens of the mesozoic seas none were more formidable
than the gigantic Saurians, whose approach put even the voracious sharks
to flight. The first of these monsters that raises its frightful head
above the waters is the dreadful Ichthyosaurus, a creature thirty or
even fifty feet long, half fish, half lizard, and combining in strange
assemblage the snout of the porpoise, the teeth of the crocodile, and the
paddles of the whale. Singular above all is the enormous eye, in size
surpassing a man's head. Woe to the fish that meets its appalling glance!
No rapidity of flight, no weapon, be it sword or saw, avails, for the
long-tailed gigantic saurian darts like lightning through the water, and
its dense harness bids defiance to every attack. Not only have fifteen
distinct species of Ichthyosauri been distinguished, but the remains of
crushed and partially digested fish-bones and scales, which are found
within their skeleton, indicate the precise nature of their food. Their
fossil remains abound along the whole extent of the lias formation, from
the coasts of Dorset, through Somerset and Leicestershire to the coast of
Yorkshire, but the largest specimens have been found in Franconia.
[Illustration: Plesiosaurus.]
Along with this monster, another and still more singular deformity makes
its appearance, the Plesiosaurus, in which the fabulous chimæras and
hydras of antiquity seem to start into existence. Fancy a crocodile
twenty-seven feet long, with the fins of a whale, the long and flexible
neck of a swan, and a comparatively small head. With the appearance of
this new tyrant, the last hope of escape is taken from the trembling
fishes; for into the shallow waters, inaccessible to the more bulky
Ichthyosaurus, the slender Plesiosaurus penetrates with ease.
A race of such colossal powers seemed destined for an immortal reign, for
where was the visible enemy that could put an end to its tyranny? But
even the giant strength of the saurians was obliged to succumb to the
still more formidable power of all-changing time, which slowly but surely
modified the circumstances under which they were called into being, and
gave birth to higher and more beautiful forms.
In the tertiary period, the dreadful reptiles of the mesozoic seas have
long since vanished from the bosom of the ocean, and cetaceans, walruses,
and seals, unknown in the primitive deep, now wander through the waters
or bask on the sunny cliffs. With them begins a new era in the life of
the sea. Hitherto it has only brought forth creatures of base or brutal
instinct, but now the Divine spark of parental affection begins to
ennoble its more perfect inhabitants, and to point out the dim outlines
of the spiritual world.
During all these successive changes the surface of the earth has
gradually cooled to its present temperature, and many plants and animals
that formerly enjoyed the widest range must now rest satisfied with
narrower limits. The sea-animals of the north find themselves for ever
severed from their brethren of the south, by the impassable zone of
the tropical ocean; and all the fishes, molluscs, and zoophytes, whose
organisation requires a greater warmth, confine themselves to the
equatorial regions.
As the tertiary period advances towards the present epoch, the species
which flourished in its prime become extinct, like the numberless races
which preceded them; new modifications of life, more and more similar to
those of the present day, start into existence; and, finally, creation
appears with increasing beauty in her present rich attire.
Thus old Ocean, after having devoured so many of his children, has
transformed himself at last into our contemporaneous seas, with their
currents and floods, and the various animals and plants growing and
thriving in their bosom.
Who can tell when the last great revolutions of the earth-rind took
place, which, by the upheaving of mighty mountains or the disruption of
isthmuses, drew the present boundaries of land and sea? or who can pierce
the deep mystery which veils the future duration of the existing phase of
planetary life?
So much is certain, that the ocean of the present day will be transformed
as the seas of the past have been, and that "all that it inhabit" are
doomed to perish like the long line of animal and vegetable forms which
preceded them.
We know by too many signs that our earth is slowly but unceasingly
working out changes in her external form. Here lands are rising, while
other areas are gradually sinking; here the breakers perpetually gnaw
the cliffs, and hollow out their sides, while in other places alluvial
deposits encroach upon the sea's domain.
However slowly these changes may be going on, they point to a time when
a new ocean will encircle new lands, and new animal and vegetable forms
arise within its bosom. Of what nature and how gifted these races yet
slumbering in the lap of time may be, He only knows whose eye penetrates
through all eternity; but we cannot doubt that they will be superior to
the present denizens of the ocean.
Hitherto the annals of the earth-rind have shown us uninterrupted
progress; why, then, should the future be ruled by different laws? At
first the sea only produces weeds, shells, crustacea; then the fishes and
reptiles appear; and the cetaceans close the vista. But is this the last
word, the last manifestation of oceanic life, or is it not to be expected
that the future seas will be peopled with beings ranking as high above
the whale or dolphin as these rank above the giant saurians of the past?
PART III.
THE PROGRESS OF MARITIME DISCOVERY.
CHAP. XXIII.
Maritime Discoveries of the Phœnicians.--Expedition of
Hanno.--Circumnavigation of Africa under the Pharaoh
Necho.--Colæus of Samos.--Pytheas of Massilia.--Expedition of
Nearchus.--Circumnavigation of Hindostan under the Ptolemies.--Voyages
of Discovery of the Romans.--Consequences of the Fall of the Roman
Empire.--Amalfi.--Pisa.--Venice.--Genoa.--Resumption of Maritime
Intercourse between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic.--Discovery of
the Mariner's Compass.--Marco Polo.
Among the nations of antiquity, navigation, as may well be supposed,
was in a very rude and imperfect state. Unacquainted with the mariner's
compass, which during the darkest and most tempestuous nights safely
leads the modern seaman over the pathless ocean, the sparkling
constellations of a serene sky, or the position of the sun, were the only
guides of the ancient navigator. He therefore rarely ventured to lose
sight of land, but cautiously steering his little bark along the shore,
was subject to all the delays and dangers of coast navigation. Even under
the mild sky and in the calm waters of the Mediterranean, it was only
during the summer months that he dared to leave the port; to brave the
fury of the wintry winds was a boldness he never could have thought of.
Under such adverse circumstances, it is surely far less astonishing that
the geographical knowledge of the ancients was so extremely limited when
compared with ours, than that with means so scanty they yet should have
known so much of the boundaries of ocean.
But the spirit of commercial enterprise triumphs over every difficulty.
Stimulated by the love of gain, and the hope of discovering new sources
of wealth, the Phœnicians, the first great maritime nation mentioned in
history, were continually enlarging the limits of the known earth, until
the fatal moment when the sword of the conqueror destroyed their cities,
and extinguished their power for ever.
The first periods of Phœnician greatness are veiled in the mysterious
darkness of an unknown past, yet so much is certain, that their date
must have been very remote; as, according to the accounts which Herodotus
received from the priests, the foundation of Tyre took place thirty
centuries before the Christian era.
Long before the expedition of the Argonauts, the Phœnicians had already
founded colonies on the Bithynian coast of the Black Sea (Pronectus,
Bithynium); and that at a very early time they must have steered through
the Straits of Grades into the Atlantic is proved by the fact, that, as
far back as the eleventh century before Christ, they founded the towns of
Grades and Tartessus on the western coast of Southern Spain. Penetrating
farther and farther to the north, they discovered Britain, where they
established their chief station on the Scilly Isles, at present so
insignificant and obscure, and even visited the barbarous shores of the
Baltic in quest of the costly amber. They planted their colonies along
the north-west coast of Africa, even beyond the tropic; and, 2000 years
before Vasco de Gama, Phœnician mariners are said to have circumnavigated
that continent, for Herodotus relates that a Tyrian fleet, fitted out by
Necho II., Pharaoh of Egypt (611-595 B.C.), sailed from a port in the Red
Sea, doubled the southern promontory of Africa, and, after a voyage of
three years, returned through the Straits of Grades to the mouth of the
Nile.
Less wonderful, but resting on better historical proof, is the celebrated
voyage of discovery to the south which Hanno performed by command of the
senate of Carthage, the greatest of all Phœnician colonies, eclipsing
even the fame of Tyre itself. Sailing from Cerne, the principal Phœnician
settlement on the western coast of Africa, and which was probably
situated on the present island of Arguin, he reached, after a navigation
of seventeen days, a promontory which he called the West Horn (probably
Cape Palmas), and then advanced to another cape, to which he gave the
name of South Horn, and which is manifestly Cape de Tres Puntas, only
5° north of the line. During daytime the deepest silence reigned along
the newly discovered coast, but after sunset countless fires were seen
burning along the banks of the rivers, and the air resounded with music
and song, the black natives spending, as they still do now, the hours
of the cool night in festive joy. Most likely the Canary Islands were
also known to the Phœnicians, as the summit of the Peak of Teneriffe is
visible from the heights of Cape Bojador.
The progress of the great mariners of old in the Indian Ocean was no
less remarkable than the extension of their Atlantic discoveries. Far
beyond Bab-el-Mandeb their fleets sailed to Ophir or Supara, and returned
with rich cargoes of gold, silver, sandal-wood, jewels, ivory, apes,
and peacocks, to the ports of Elath and Ezion-Geber at the head of the
Red Sea. These costly productions of the south were then transported
across the Isthmus of Suez to Rhinocolura, the nearest port on the
Mediterranean, and thence to Tyre, which ultimately distributed them over
the whole of the known world.
The true position of Ophir is an enigma which no learned Œdipus will
ever solve. While some authorities place it on the east coast of Africa,
others fix its situation somewhere on the west coast of the Indian
peninsula; and Humboldt is even of opinion that the name had only a
general signification, and that a voyage to Ophir meant nothing more
than a commercial expedition to any part of the Indian Ocean, just as at
present we speak of a voyage to the Levant or the West Indies.
But whatever Ophir may have been, it is certain that the Phœnicians
carried on a considerable trade with the lands and nations beyond the
Gates of the Red Sea. Their trade in the direction of the Persian Gulf
was no less extensive. Through the Syrian desert, where Palmyra, their
chief station or emporium, proudly rose above the surrounding sands,
their caravans slowly wandered to the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates,
to provide Nineveh and Babylon with the costly merchandise of Sidon
and Tyre. Following the course of the great Mesopotamian streams, they
reached the shores of the Persian Gulf, where they owned the ports of
Tylos and Aradus and the rich pearl islands of Bahrein, and, having
loaded their empty camels with the produce of Iran and Arabia, returned
by the same way to the shores of the Mediterranean. How far their ships
may have ventured beyond the mouth of the Persian Gulf is unknown, but
the researches of the learned orientalists, Gesenius, Benfey, and Lassen,
render it extremely probable, that, taking advantage of the regularly
changing monsoons, they sailed through the Straits of Ormus to the coast
of Malabar.
The progress of the Phœnician race in the technical arts, as well as in
the astronomical and mathematical sciences so highly important for the
improvement of their navigation, was no less remarkable for the age in
which they lived, than the vast extension of a commercial intercourse
which reached from Britain to the Indus, and from the Black Sea to the
Senegal. They wove the finest linen, and knew how to dye it with the most
splendid purple. They were unsurpassed in the workmanship of metals, and
possessed the secret of manufacturing white and coloured glass, which
their caravans and ships exchanged for the produce of the north and of
the south. By the invention of the alphabet, which with many other useful
sciences and arts, they communicated to the Greeks and other nations with
whom they traded, they no less contributed to the progress of mankind
than by the humanising influence of commerce.
Thus when we consider the services which these merchant-princes of
antiquity rendered to their contemporaries, wherever their flag was seen
or their caravans appeared, the annihilation of the maritime power of
Tyre by Alexander (332 B.C.), and the destruction of Carthage by the
Romans (146 B.C.), must strike us as events calamitous to the whole human
race. Had the Carthaginians, so distinguished by their commercial spirit
and ardour for discovery, triumphed over the semi-barbarous Romans, who,
then at least, had not yet learned to imitate the arts of plundered
Greece, there is every probability that some Punic Columbus would have
discovered America at least a thousand years sooner, and the world at
this day be in possession of many secrets still unknown, and destined to
contribute to the comforts or enjoyments of our descendants.
In the times of Homer, when the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic had long
been known to the Phœnicians, the geographical knowledge of the Greeks
was still circumscribed by the narrow limits of the Eastern Mediterranean
and part of the Euxine, and many a century elapsed ere their ships
ventured beyond the Straits of Gades. Colæus of Samos (639 B.C.) is said
to have been the first seafarer of Hellenic race who sailed forth into
the Atlantic, compelled by adverse winds, and was able on his return
from his involuntary voyage to tell his astonished countrymen of the
wondrous rising and falling of the oceanic tides. It was seventy years
later before the Phoceans of Massilia, the present Marseilles, ventured
to follow the path he had traced out, and to visit the Atlantic port of
Tartessus.
The town of Massilia had the additional honour of reckoning among her
sons the great traveller Pytheas, the Marco Polo of antiquity. This
far-wandering philosopher, who lived about 330 years before Christ, had
visited all the coasts of Europe, from the mouths of the Tanais or Don to
the shores of Ultima Thule, which, according to Leopold von Buch, was not
Iceland, nor Feroë, nor Orcadia, but the Norwegian coast. His narrative
first made the Greeks acquainted with North-western Europe, and remained
for a long time their only geographical guide to those hyperborean lands.
While the horizon of the Greeks was thus considerably expanding towards
the regions of the setting sun, the conquests of Alexander opened to them
a new world in the distant Orient. Greek navigators now for the first
time unfurled their sails on the Indian Ocean. The Macedonian, desirous
not only of subduing Asia but of firmly attaching it to the nations of
the Mediterranean by the bonds of mutual interest, and hoping by this
means to consolidate his vast conquests, sent a fleet under the command
of Nearchus, from the mouths of the Indus to the head of the Persian
Gulf, to establish if possible a new road for a regular commercial
intercourse between India and Mesopotamia. The performance of this voyage
was reckoned by the conqueror one of the most glorious events of his
reign, but it may serve as a proof of the slowness of ancient navigation,
that Nearchus took ten months to perform a journey which one of our
steamers might easily accomplish in five days.
After the disruption of the Macedonian empire, the circle of the Greek
discoveries in the Indian Ocean was widened by the enterprising spirit of
the Seleucidæ and Ptolemies. Seleucus Nicator is said to have penetrated
to the mouths of the Ganges, and the fleets of the Egyptian kings sailed
round the peninsula of Hindostan and discovered the coasts of Taprobane
or Ceylon, the spicy odours of whose cinnamon-groves are said to be
wafted far out to sea, so that--
"for many a league,
Pleased with the grateful scent, old Ocean smiles."
But now came the time when earth-ruling Rome called the whole civilised
world her own, and her victorious eagles expanded their triumphant wings
from the Red Sea to the coasts of the Northern Ocean. What discoveries
might not have been expected from such a power, if the Romans had
possessed but one tithe of the maritime spirit of conquered Carthage?
But even this military empire contributed something to the enlargement
of maritime knowledge. Under the reign of Augustus a Roman fleet sailed
round the promontory of Skagen, discovered about sixteen years after the
birth of Christ the Island of Fionia or Fünen, and is even supposed to
have reached the entrance of the Gulf of Finland. In the year 84 A.C.
Julius Agricola, the conqueror of Britain, sailed for the first time
round Scotland, and discovered the Orcadian Isles.
In Pliny's time the real magnitude of the earth was still so imperfectly
known that, according to the calculations of that great though rather
over-credulous naturalist, Europe occupied the third part, Asia only the
fourth, and Africa about the fifth, of its whole extent.
The geographer Ptolemy, who lived about the middle of the second century,
under the reigns of Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius, describes the limits
of the earth as far as they were known in his time. To the west, the
coast of Africa had been explored as far as Cape Juby; and the Fortunate
Islands or Hesperides, the present Canaries, rose from the ocean as the
last lands towards the setting sun.
To the north discovery had reached as far as the Shetland Isles, and
the promontory Perispa at the entrance of the Gulf of Finland; while
on the east coast of Africa Cape Brava formed the ultimate boundary of
the known world. Soon after Ptolemy's time the whole coast of Malacca
(_Aurea Chersonesus_) and the Siamese Sea, as far as the Cape of Cambogia
(_Notium promontorium_), was explored, and the Romans even appear to have
had some knowledge of the great islands of the Indian archipelago, Java,
Sumatra, and Borneo.
And yet, notwithstanding all this progress towards the East, it may well
be asked whether the Phœnicians had not embraced a wider horizon than the
Romans in the full zenith of their fortunes. Even though we reject the
circumnavigation of Africa under Necho, and the discovery of America by
Punic navigators, as not fully proved or fabulous, it is quite certain
that they had explored the west coast of Africa to a much greater extent
than the Romans, and extremely probable that they knew at least as much
of the lands which bound the Indian Ocean. But, as from a narrow-minded
mercantile policy they kept many of their discoveries profoundly secret,
all knowledge of them perished with their ruin. In ancient times, when
the defeat of a people too often led to its complete destruction,
or at least to the extinction of its peculiar civilisation, and the
difficulties of intercourse rendered the diffusion of knowledge extremely
difficult and slow, it not unfrequently happened that useful discoveries
were erased from the memory of mankind, a danger which, thanks to the
printing-press and the steam-engine, is now no longer to be feared.
Thus a darkening or eclipse of intellectual life took place to a vast
extent when the western Roman Empire succumbed to the barbarians of
the North, and the bands which for centuries had united the cities of
the east and west were violently sundered. Under that fatal blight
Civilisation vanished from the lands which had so long been her chosen
seat, only to dawn again after a long and obscure night. Commercial
intercourse ceased between the sea-ports of the Mediterranean, all
communication with distant countries was cut off, and the boundaries
of the known earth became more and more narrow, as the ignorance of a
barbarous age increased.
It is not before the beginning of the ninth century that we perceive the
first glimpses of a better day in the rising fortunes of some Italian
sea-ports, where favourable circumstances had given birth to liberal
institutions. As early as the year 840 Amalfi possessed a considerable
number of trading-vessels, and carried on a lucrative commerce with
the Levant. The maritime code of this little republic regulated the
commercial transactions of all the Mediterranean sea-ports; as in a later
century the law-book of Wisby served as a guide to the merchants of the
Baltic. A few years after its submission in 1131 to the arms of King
Roger of Sicily, Amalfi was plundered by the Pisanese and almost entirely
destroyed. The neglected harbour was gradually choked with sand, and the
little town, which now numbers no more than 3000 inhabitants, has nothing
to console it for its actual poverty but the remembrance of a glorious
past. Along with Amalfi, Gaëta, Naples, and Pisa, rose to considerable
eminence in commerce, though far from equalling the power and splendour
of Genoa and Venice, the great republics of northern Italy.
As far back as the beginning of the sixth century, the city of the
lagunes fits out a small fleet to purge the Adriatic of Istrian pirates.
By a prudent course of policy she renders herself indispensable to the
Byzantine court, and acquires great privileges in Constantinople. It is
here she purchases the costly productions of the East, with which during
the ninth and tenth centuries, she provides Northern Italy and a great
part of Germany. About the beginning of the eleventh century her trade
with Egypt and Syria begins to flourish, and soon raises her to the
pinnacle of her power and wealth. In the year 1080 she extends her rule
over Croatia and Dalmatia, and gains in 1204 considerable advantages by
assisting the western crusaders in the conquest of Constantinople. Pera,
numerous coast towns from the Hellespont to the Ionian Sea, a great part
of the Morea, Corfu, and Candia fall to the winged lion's share, and
requite the services of "blind old Dandolo." The silk manufacture is
transported, as a valuable fruit of conquest, from the Morea to Venice,
and becomes a new source of wealth to the Adriatic Tyre. The Euxine opens
her ports to the Venetian seamen, treaties of commerce are concluded with
Trebizond and Armenia, and a factory is established at Tana, at the mouth
of the Don.
While thus the power of Venice rises more and more in the East, Genoa,
which already in the tenth century carried on a flourishing trade,
acquires by degrees the supremacy in the Western Mediterranean.
The aid afforded by the republic to the Greek emperor Michael
Palæologus contributes largely to the overthrow of the Latin throne
of Constantinople, and opens the Bosphorus and the Black Sea to the
enterprise of her merchants. The grandeur of Genoa now reaches its
height; she holds fortified possession of Pera and Galata, and covers the
coasts of the Crimea with her strong-holds and castles.
At a later period the Florentines appear on the scene, and assume the
rank formerly held by Pisa in Mediterranean commerce. The acquisition of
the sea-port of Leghorn (1421) opens the barriers of the ocean to the
birthplace of Dante and Galileo.
After their deliverance from the Moorish yoke in the ninth century, a
fresh and vigorous spirit begins also to animate the Catalans. They
conclude treaties of commerce with Genoa and Pisa, and towards the end of
the thirteenth century the ships of Barcelona are found visiting all the
ports of the Mediterranean.
But in spite of the growth of trade and navigation in Italy and Spain,
many years had yet to elapse after the fall of the Roman empire ere the
gates of the Atlantic were once more opened to the navigators of the
Mediterranean. It was not before the middle of the thirteenth century,
after Seville and a great part of the Andalusian coast had been wrested
from the Moors by Ferdinand of Castile, that the Italian and Catalonian
seafarers, encouraged by privileges and remissions of duties, began to
visit the port of Cadiz, where they met with merchants from Portugal and
Biscay. Soon after, and most probably in consequence of the connexions
thus formed, we find Italian ships visiting the ports of England and the
Netherlands. About 1316, Genoese vessels began to carry goods to England;
and somewhat later the Venetians, whose visits are not mentioned by the
chroniclers before 1323.
Thus after a long interruption we see the seamen of the Mediterranean at
length resuming the track to the Atlantic ports that had been struck out
more than thirty centuries before by their predecessors the Phœnicians.
But their voyages to the western ocean took place under circumstances
much more favourable than those which had attended the men of Tyre
and Carthage in their adventurous expeditions. Not only the better
construction of their ships, but still more the use of the mariner's
compass, for which Europe is probably indebted to the Arabs, who in
their turn owed its knowledge to the Chinese, enabled them to steer more
boldly into the open sea, and regardless of the bendings of the coasts
to reach their journey's end by a less circuitous route. The period when
the magnetic needle was first made use of by the Mediterranean navigators
is not exactly known, but so much is certain that it did good service
long before the time of Flavio Gioja (1302), to whom its discovery has
been erroneously ascribed, though he may have introduced some improvement
in the arrangement of the compass. Humboldt tells us in his "Cosmos,"
that in the satirical poem of Guyot de Provens, "La Bible" (1190), and
in the description of Palestine by Jaques de Vitry, bishop of Ptolemais
(1204-1215), the sea-compass is mentioned as a well-known instrument.
Dante also speaks of the needle which points to the stars (Paradise, xii.
29); and in a nautical work by Raimundus Lullus of Majorca, written in
the year 1286, we find another proof of a much earlier knowledge of the
compass than before the beginning of the fourteenth century, since its
use by the mariners of his time is expressly mentioned by that author.
Confidently following this unerring guide, the Catalonians sailed at
an early period to the north coast of Scotland, and even preceded the
Portuguese in their discoveries on the west coast of Africa, since
Don Jayme Ferrer penetrated to the mouth of the Rio de Ouro as early
as August 1346. About the same time the long-forgotten Canary Islands
were rediscovered by the Spaniards; and at a later period (1402-1405)
conquered and depopulated by some Norman adventurers, the Bethencourts.
While thus the South-European navigators unfurled their sails on the
Atlantic, and gave the first impulse to the glorious discoveries that
in the following century were destined to open up the ocean, and reveal
its hitherto unknown greatness to mankind, the Indian Sea still remained
closed to their enterprise; for though the Venetians by this time
rivalled, if they did not surpass the ancient maritime greatness of the
Tyrians in the Mediterranean, they did not, like them, directly fetch the
rich produce of the South in their own ships from the East-African and
Indian ports, but received them at second hand from the Arabian masters
of Syria and Egypt.
But though no ship of theirs was ever seen in the Indian seas, through
them the knowledge of the Arabian discoveries in those parts penetrated
to Europe, and widely extended the knowledge of the ocean. For when the
Arabs, fired by the prophetic ardour of Mahomet, suddenly emerged from
the obscurity of pastoral life, and appeared as conquerors before the
astonished world, the trade of the Indian Ocean fell into the hands of
these new masters of the Red Sea and Persian Gulf, who soon learnt to
pursue it with an energy which the Romans and Persians had never known.
The town of Bassora was founded by the caliph Omar on the western shore
of the great stream formed by the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates,
and soon emulated Alexandria herself in the greatness of its commerce.
From Bassora the Arabs sailed far beyond the Siamese Gulf, which had
formerly bounded European navigation. They visited the unknown ports of
the Indian archipelago, and established so active a trade with Canton,
that the Chinese emperor granted them the use of their own laws in that
city.
This progress of the Arabs, and the vast treasures accruing to Venice
from the overland Indian trade, could not fail to excite the envy of
the other seafaring powers, and to call forth an increasing desire
of discovering a new maritime route to the wealth-teeming regions of
Southern Asia.
The wonderful narratives of the first travellers who wandered by land to
the distant East likewise contributed in no small degree to foment the
ardour of discovery. The most celebrated of these geographical pioneers
was Marco Polo, a noble Venetian who had resided many years at the court
of the Mongol ruler, Kublai Khan, and visited the most remote regions
of Asia. He was the first European that ever sailed along the western
shores of the Pacific, the first that told his astonished countrymen of
the magnificence of Cambalu or Peking, the capital of the great kingdom
of Cathay, and of the splendour of Zipanga or Japan situated on the
confines of a vast ocean extending to the east. He also made more than
one sea-voyage in the Indian Ocean, and to him Europe owed her first
knowledge of the Moluccas, the east coast of Africa, and the island of
Madagascar.
This greatest of all the mediæval travellers, who without exaggeration
may be said to have enlarged the boundaries of the known earth as much as
Alexander the Great, was followed by Oderich of Portenau, who travelled
as far as India and China (1320-1330); by Sir John Mandeville, who
visited almost all the lands described by Marco Polo; by Schildberger
of Munich, who accompanied the barbarous Tamerlane on his locust
expeditions; and finally by Clavigo, sent in the year 1403 by the Spanish
court on an embassy to Samarcand. The truths which these bold travellers
communicated to their countrymen about the riches and the commerce of the
nations they had visited, as well as the fables in which their credulity
or their extravagant fancy indulged, made an enormous impression on the
European mind, and raised to a feverish heat the longing after those
sunny lands and isles which imagination adorned with all the charms of an
earthly paradise.
CHAP. XXIV.
Prince Henry of Portugal.--Discovery of Porto Santo and
Madeira.--Doubling of Cape Bojador.--Discovery of the Cape Verde
Islands.--Bartholomew Diaz.--Vasco de Gama.--Columbus.--His
Predecessors.--Discovery of Greenland by Günnbjorn.--Bjorne
Herjulfson.--Leif.--John Vaz Cortereal.--John and Sebastian
Cabot.--Retrospective View of the Beginnings of English
Navigation.--Ojeda and Amerigo Vespucci.--Vincent Yañez
Pinson.--Cortez.--Verazzani.--Cartier.--The Portuguese in the Indian
Ocean.
The reigning idea of a century finds always one or more eminent spirits,
in whom and through whose agency the desires and hopes of thousands ripen
into deeds, and are changed from dreams into realities. One of these
rare and highly gifted men was Prince Henry of Portugal, a son of King
John I., who made it the chief aim of his life to extend the boundaries
of maritime discovery, and devoted with glowing ardour all the powers
of his energetic mind, and all the influence of rank and riches to the
attainment of this noble object. From the castle of Sagres near Cape St.
Vincent, where, far from the court, he had fixed his residence in order
to be less disturbed in his favourite studies, his eye glanced over
the Atlantic, which constantly reminded him of the unknown lands which
held out such brilliant prospects to the navigator who should venture
to steer southwards along the African coast. The experienced seamen and
learned geographers that surrounded him confirmed him in his hopes, and
encouraged him to attempt the realisation of his generous ideas.
Fortunately all outward circumstances combined to favour the prince's
projects. At that time Portugal was not plunged, as at present, in a
state of slothful lethargy, but full of the bold and enterprising spirit
which the expulsion of the Moors and long intestine wars had called to
life. The geographical position of the country, bounded on every side by
the dominions of a mightier neighbour, forbade all extension by land, and
pointed to the ocean as the only field in which a comparatively small
but spirited people could hope to reap a rich harvest of wealth and glory.
The first two ships which Prince Henry sent out on a voyage of discovery
along the African coast (1412) did not reach farther than Cape Bojador,
whose rocky cliffs stretching far out into the Atlantic intimidated their
inexperienced commanders. Six years later (1418) Juan Gonsalez Zarco and
Tristan Vaz Tejeira were intrusted with a new expedition, and sailed with
express commands to double that ill-famed promontory; but a terrible gale
drove them out to sea, and forced them to seek a refuge on an unknown
island, to which they thankfully gave the name of Porto Santo. This
discovery, though extremely unimportant in itself, served to confirm the
prince in his projects, and encouraged him to send out in the following
year a new expedition under the same commander, to take possession of the
island.
This led to a more important discovery, for on landing on Porto Santo
the attention of the Portuguese was struck by a black and prominent
spot, rising above the southern horizon. To this they now directed their
course, and were equally delighted and surprised to see it swell out as
they approached to the ample proportions of a large island; to which,
on account of the dense forests which at that time covered its verdant
hill-slopes up to the very top, they gave the name of Madeira. Prince
Henry immediately equipped a considerable fleet to carry a colony of his
countrymen to the new land of promise, and furnished them with the vine
of Cyprus, and the sugar-cane of Sicily, which throve so well on the
Atlantic isle, that after a few years the produce of Madeira began to be
of consequence in the trade of the mother country.
Thus the first undertakings of Prince Henry were not left unrewarded;
but, besides the commercial advantages arising from the possession of
Madeira, it encouraged the Portuguese navigators no longer servilely to
creep along the coasts, but boldly to steer into the open sea. Thus Don
Gilianez, by avoiding the shore-currents, succeeded at last in doubling
the dreaded Cape Bojador (1433), and opening a new sphere to navigation.
One discovery now rapidly followed another. Gonsalez and Nuño Tristan
(1440-1442) penetrated as far as the Senegal; Cape de Verd was reached in
1446; and three years later, the limits of the known earth were extended
as far as the islands of the same name and the Azores, those advanced
sentinels in the bosom of the Atlantic. It may easily be imagined how
much these successes contributed to encourage the universal ardour for
discovery. Adventurers from all countries hastened to Portugal, hoping to
gratify their ambition or avarice under the auspices of a prince who had
already achieved so much; and even many Venetians and Genoese, who were
at that time superior to all other nations in naval science, reckoned it
as an honour to serve under a flag which might justly be considered as
the high school of the seaman. Thus before Prince Henry closed his eyes
(1463) the aim of his glorious life had been attained; for, though he did
not live to see his countrymen penetrate into the Indian Ocean, yet he
witnessed the mighty impulse which in a short time was to lead to that
important result.
In the year 1471 the line was crossed for the first time, and the
Portuguese thus detected the error of the ancients, who believed that
the intolerable heat of a vertical sun rendered the equatorial regions
uninhabitable by man.
Under John the Second a mighty fleet discovered the kingdoms of Benin and
Congo (1484), followed the coast above 1500 miles beyond the equator, and
revealed to Europe the constellations of another hemisphere.
The farther their ships penetrated to the south, the higher rose the
flood tide of their hopes. As the African continent appeared sensibly
to contract itself, and to bend towards the East as they proceeded,
they no longer doubted that the way to the Indian Ocean would now soon
be found, and give them the exclusive possession of a trade which had
enriched Venice, and made that city the envy of the world. The ancient
long-forgotten tale of the Phœnician circumnavigation of Africa now
found belief, and Bartholomew Diaz sailed from Lisbon for the purpose
of solving the important problem. The storms of an unknown ocean, the
famine caused by the loss of his store-ship, and the frequent mutinies of
a dispirited crew, could not stop the progress of this intrepid mariner,
who, boldly advancing in the face of a thousand difficulties, at length
discovered the high promontory which forms the southern extremity of
Africa. But, as his weather-beaten ships were no longer able to confront
the mountain-billows and furious gales foaming or roaring round that
stormy headland, he was obliged, sore against his will, to give up the
attempt to double the Cape of Tempests, Cabo tormentoso, as he called
it, but to which the king gave the more inviting name of the Cape of
Good Hope. Yet before Vasco de Gama set sail from Lisbon to accomplish
the great work (1498) and win the prize to which so many navigators had
gradually paved the way, the astounding intelligence had flashed through
Europe that on the 12th of October, 1492, Columbus had discovered a new
world in the west. The history of this most famous, and most important
in its results, of all sea-voyages, is so well known that I may well
refrain from entering into any details on the subject: at all events the
reader will be much more interested by a short account of the intrepid
navigators who, long before the great Genoese, found their way to the
shores of the new continent.
While Tropical America is separated from Europe and Africa by a vast
tract of intervening ocean, and even the advanced posts of the Azores
and Cape de Verd Islands are far distant from the western shores of the
Atlantic, Iceland and Greenland appear to us in the north as stations
linking at comparatively easy distances the Old World and the New. It is,
therefore, by no means surprising that the discovery of Iceland by the
Norwegian _Viking_ or pirate Nadod, and the somewhat later colonisation
of the island by Ingolf, in the year 875, should in the following century
have led the Norsemen to the discovery of America, particularly when we
consider that no people ever equalled them in daring and romantic love of
adventure:
"Kings of the main their leaders brave,
Their barks the dragons of the wave."
Greenland, discovered by Günnbjorn in the year 876 or 877, was indeed not
colonised by the Icelanders before 983; a delay excusable enough when
we consider the uninviting climate of that dreary peninsula or island,
but three years after the latter date, we already find Bjorne Herjulfson
undertaking a cruise from the new settlement to the south-west, and
successively discovering Nantucket, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland, though
without making any attempts to land. Bjorne was followed about the
year 1000 by Leif, a son of Erick the Red, the founder of the Greenland
colony; who, sailing along the American coast as far as 41-1/2° north
lat. discovered the _good Winland_, which received its name from the
wild vines which Tyrker, a German who accompanied the expedition,
found growing there in abundance. The fertility and mild climate of
this coast, when compared with that of Labrador and Greenland, induced
the discoverers to settle, and to found the first European colony on
the American continent. Frequent wars with the Eskimos or Skrelingers
(dwarfs), who at that time, as I have already mentioned in the fourth
chapter, extended far more to the south than at present, soon however
destroyed the colony; and the last account of Norman America we find in
the old Scandinavian records is the mention of a ship which, in the year
1347, had sailed from Greenland to Markland (Nova Scotia) to gather wood,
and was driven by a storm to Stamfjord on the west coast of Iceland.
About this time also the colonies in Greenland, which until then had
enjoyed a tolerable state of prosperity, decayed and ultimately perished
under the blighting influence of commercial monopolies, of wars with the
aborigines, and above all of the _black death_ (1347-1351), that horrible
plague of the fourteenth century, which, after having depopulated Europe,
vented its fury even upon those remote wilds. Thus the knowledge of the
Norman discovery of America gradually faded from the memory of man,
and thus also it happened that the names and deeds of Leif and Bjorne
Herjulfson remained totally unknown to the southern navigators, who at
that time moreover, had little intercourse with the nations of Northern
Europe.
Besides his well-authenticated Norman predecessors, Columbus may possibly
have had others. Traces of early Irish and Welsh discoveries are pointed
out by the Northern historians, and John Vaz Cortereal, a Portuguese
navigator, is said to have visited the coasts of Newfoundland some time
previous to the voyages of Columbus and Cabot.
If before the first voyage of the great Genoese navigator a mighty
longing to penetrate to distant countries pervaded the public mind of
Europe, it may be imagined to what a feverish glow this reigning idea
of the century was excited, when the wonderful accounts of the gold
and enchanting beauty of Haiti spread from land to land. As in former
times, half Europe had thrown itself upon the Orient to liberate the
tomb of our Saviour from the tyranny of the Moslem; so now one flood of
adventurers followed another to the new land of promise, which held out
such glittering prospects of wealth and enjoyment. Obeying the mighty
impulse, England and France now entered upon the path on which Portugal
and Spain had so gloriously preceded them, and, as the fruit of this
general emulation, we see after a few years the whole western shore of
the great Atlantic basin drawn into the circle of the known earth.
If Columbus was undoubtedly the first discoverer of the West Indian
islands (the Bahamas, Cuba, Haiti, 1492; Lesser Antilles, 1493; Jamaica,
1494), the honour of having preceded him on the American continent
belongs to John Cabot, a Venetian merchant settled in Bristol, and to
the youthful energy of his son Sebastian, since they landed on the coast
of Labrador (24th June, 1497) seventeen months before the continent of
Tropical America, in the delta of the Orinoco, was discovered by Columbus
on his third voyage.
Thus Genoa and Venice, the great Mediterranean rivals, divide the glory
of having revealed a new world to mankind, but it was ordained that
the laurels of their sons should bloom under a foreign flag, and the
fruits of their endeavours be reaped by other nations. For as Columbus
steered into the western ocean in the service of the Spanish monarch, the
Cabots were sent by Henry the Seventh of England across the Atlantic to
discover a north-western passage to India. This, of course, they did not
accomplish, but the discovery of Newfoundland and of the coast of America
from Labrador to Virginia rewarded their efforts, and laid the foundation
of Britain's colonial greatness. Their voyage is also remarkable as
having been the first expedition of the kind that ever left the shores of
England, which at that time held a very inferior rank among the maritime
nations, and gave but taint indications of her future naval supremacy. On
this occasion it may not be uninteresting to cast a retrospective glance
on the modest beginnings of British navigation. In the year 1217 the
first treaty of commerce was concluded with Norway, and in the beginning
of the fourteenth century Bergen was the most distant port to which
English vessels resorted. Soon afterwards they ventured into the Baltic,
and it was not before the middle of the following century that they began
to frequent some of the Castilian and Portuguese ports. Towards the end
of the fifteenth century the English flag was still a stranger to the
Mediterranean, and direct intercourse with the Levant only began with the
sixteenth. Edward the Second, preparing for his great Scottish war, was
obliged to hire five galleys from Genoa, the same town whence a few years
back our giant steamers transported a whole Sardinian army to the shores
of the Crimea, where centuries before the Genoese had been established
as lords and masters. Such are the changes in the relative position of
nations that have been brought about by the power of time!
After this short digression I return to America, where, in 1499, Ojeda
and Amerigo Vespucci were the first to sail along the coast of Paria.
The following year was uncommonly rich in voyages of discovery, as
well in the south as in the north. In the western ocean the line was
first crossed by Vincent Yañez Pinson, who doubled Cape Saint Augustin,
discovered the mouths of the Amazon river, and thence sailed northwards
along the coast as far as the island of Trinidad, which Columbus had
discovered two years before. About the same time a Portuguese fleet,
sailing under the command of Pedro Alvarez Cabral to the Indian Ocean,
was driven by adverse winds to the coast of the Brazils; so that, if the
genius of Columbus had not evoked, as it were, America out of the waves,
chance would have effected her discovery a few years later.
A third voyage, which renders the year 1500 remarkable in maritime
annals, is that of Gaspar Cortereal, a son of John Vaz Cortereal whom I
have already mentioned as one of the doubtful precursors of Columbus.
Hoping to realise the dream of a north-west passage to the riches of
India, Gaspar appeared on the inhospitable shores of Labrador, and
penetrated into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Storms and ice-drifts forced
him to retreat, but firmly resolved to prosecute his design, he again set
sail in the following year with two small vessels. It is supposed that on
this second voyage he penetrated into Frobisher Bay, but here floating
ice-masses and violent gales separated him from his companion ship,
which returned alone to Portugal.
As in our times the uncertain fate of Franklin has called forth a series
of heroic deeds, so the doubtful destiny of the Portuguese explorer
allowed his brother Miguel no rest, whom in the following spring we
find hastening with three ships on the traces of the lost Gaspar. But
Miguel also disappeared for ever among the ice-fields of the north. A
third brother of this high-minded family yet remained, who earnestly
implored the king that he also might be allowed to go forth and seek for
his missing kindred. But Emanuel steadfastly refused permission, saying
that these deplorable enterprises had already cost him two of his most
valuable servants, and he could afford to lose no more.
In the year 1501 Rodrigo de Bastidas sailed to the coast of Paria, and
discovered the whole shore-line from Cape de Vela to the Gulf of Darien.
In the year 1502 the aged Columbus, entering with youthful ardour upon
his fourth and last voyage, set sail with four wretched vessels, the
largest of which was only seventy tons burthen, and discovered the coast
of the American continent from Cape Gracias á Dios to Porto-Bello. The
east coast of Yucatan was explored in the year 1508 by Juan Diaz de Solis
and Vincent Yañez Pinson, and the island of Cuba circumnavigated for the
first time by Sebastian de Ocampo.
In 1512 Juan Ponce de Leon is led by his evil star to Florida, where,
instead of finding as he hoped the fountain of eternal youth, he is
doomed to a miserable end; and in 1517 the above-mentioned Solis sails
along the coasts of the Brazils to the mouth of the Rio de la Plata,
where he is killed in a conflict with the Indians. In 1518 Cordova makes
his countrymen acquainted with the north and west coasts of Yucatan, and
in the same year Grijalva discovers the Mexican coast from Tabasco to San
Juan de Ulloa. In 1518 he is followed by the great Cortez, who lands at
Vera Cruz, overthrows the empire of Montezuma after a series of exploits
unparalleled in history, and renders the whole coast of Mexico far to the
north subject to the Spanish crown.
The voyages of Verazzani (1523) who sailed along the coast of the United
States, and of Jacques Cartier (1524) who investigated the Bay of
St. Lawrence, did not indeed widely extend geographical knowledge, as
these navigators, who had been sent out by Francis I., did no more than
examine more closely the previous discoveries of Cabot and Cortereal;
their explorations however had the result of giving France possession of
Canada, and of entitling her to a share in the fisheries of Newfoundland.
Thus within half a century after the ever memorable day when Columbus
first landed on Guanahani, we find almost the whole eastern coast of
America rising into light from the deep darkness of an unknown past.
But while the western shores of the Atlantic were thus unrolling
themselves before the wondering gaze of mankind, the Indian Ocean was
the scene of no less remarkable events; for in the same year (1498) that
Columbus first visited the American continent, Vasco de Gama doubled
the Cape of Good Hope, which thus fully justified its auspicious name,
crossed the Eastern Ocean, and on the 22nd of May landed at Calicut on
the coast of Malabar, ten months and two days after leaving the port of
Lisbon.
And now, as if by magic, the great revolution in commerce took place
which the Venetians long had feared and the Portuguese had no less
anxiously hoped for; for the latter lost no time in reaping the golden
fruits of the glorious discoveries of Gama and his predecessors. In less
than twenty years their flag waved in all the harbours of the Indian
Ocean, from the east coast of Africa to Canton; and over this whole
immense expanse a row of fortified stations secured to them the dominion
of the seas. Their settlements in Diu and Goa awed the whole coast of
Malabar, and cut off the intercourse of Egypt with India by way of
the Red Sea. They took possession of the small island of Ormus, which
commands the entrance of the Persian Gulf, and rendered this important
commercial highway likewise tributary to their power. In the centre of
the East-Indian world rose their chief emporium, Malacca, and even in
distant China Macao obeyed their laws. The discovery of the Molucca
Islands gave them the monopoly of the lucrative spice trade, which was
destined at a later period, and more permanently, to enrich the thrifty
Dutchman.
What vast changes had taken place since Prince Henry's first expeditions
to the coast of Africa! How had old Ocean enlarged his bounds! He who as
a child had still known the earth with her old and narrow confines might,
before his hair grew white, have seen the Atlantic assume a definite
form; Africa project like an enormous peninsula into the boundless world
of waters, and one single ocean bathe all the coasts from Canton to the
West Indies.
Yet a few years and the Pacific opens its gates, and all the discoveries
of Columbus and Vasco seem small when compared with the vast regions
which Magellan reveals to man.
CHAP. XXV.
Vasco Nuñez de Balboa.--His Discovery of the Pacific, and
subsequent Fate.--Ferdinand Magellan.--Sebastian el Cano, the
first Circumnavigator of the Globe.--Discoveries of Pizarro and
Cortez.--Urdaneta.--Juan Fernandez.--Mendoza.--Drake.--Discoveries
of the Portuguese and Dutch in the Western Pacific.--Attempts
of the Dutch and English to discover North-East and
North-West Passages to India.--Sir Hugh Willoughby and
Chancellor.--Frobisher.--Davis.--Barentz.--His Wintering in
Nova Zembla.--Quiros.--Torres.--Schouten.--Le Maire.--Abel
Tasman.--Hudson.--Baffin.--Dampier.--Anson.--Byron.--Wallis and
Carteret.--Bougainville.
The riches which the Indian trade had poured into the lap of Venice, and
which at a later period fell to the share of the Portuguese, formed the
chief incitement to the great maritime discoveries which illustrated the
end of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century.
The hope to discover a new road to India had not only animated the
Portuguese navigators, but also led Columbus and Cabot across the
Atlantic. It caused the unfortunate Cortereal to sail into the Gulf of
St. Lawrence, induced Juan de Solis to penetrate into the mouth of the
Rio de la Plata, and was finally the chief end and aim of the wondrous
expedition of Magellan. The time is now come when the barriers of
the Pacific are to fall, but before crossing its vast bosom with the
illustrious navigator who first traversed it from end to end, I shall
detain the reader a few moments on the shores of the Gulf of Darien,
where the wretched remains of the colony of Santa Maria el Antigua,
founded by Ojeda in 1509, had, after the departure of that unfortunate
adventurer, freely elected Vasco Nuñez de Balboa to be their governor.
This great man, who would have emulated the fame of a Cortez or Pizarro
if his good fortune had been equal to his merit, omitted no opportunity
of justifying the choice of his comrades by the unremitting zeal he
displayed for their welfare. Making up for the scantiness of his
resources by unceasing activity, he subdued the neighbouring caciques,
and collected a great quantity of gold, which abounded more in that part
of the continent than in the islands.
It happened during one of his frequent excursions that a young Cacique,
witnessing a very angry dispute among the Spaniards about a few grains of
gold, asked them in a contemptuous tone why they quarrelled about such
a trifle; and added, that, if they set such an exorbitant value upon a
metal comparatively worthless in his eyes, he could gratify their utmost
wishes by pointing out to them a land where gold was so plentiful that
even common utensils were made of it. And when Balboa eagerly asked where
that happy country was situated, "Six days' journey to the south," was
the answer, "will bring you to another ocean along whose coast it lies!"
This was the first time the Spaniards ever heard of the Pacific and of
gold-teeming Peru, and the intelligence was well calculated to inflame
the enterprising spirit of their leader. Balboa immediately concluded
that this sea must be that which Columbus and so many other navigators
had vainly sought for, and that its discovery would beyond all doubt
open the way to India, which, according to the geographical error of the
times, was supposed to be far less distant from America than it really is.
The most brilliant prospects rose before his fancy, and he would
immediately have gone forth to realise them, if prudence had not
warned him first to provide all the means necessary to insure success.
He therefore endeavoured before all to gain the good-will of the
neighbouring Indian chiefs, and sent some trustworthy agents to
Hispaniola with a considerable quantity of gold, whereby many adventurers
were induced to flock to his standard. Having thus reinforced himself, he
thought he might now safely undertake his important expedition.
The Isthmus of Darien, over which he had to force his way, is not above
sixty miles broad, but this short distance was rendered difficult, or
rather impervious, by the innumerable obstacles of a tropical wilderness.
The high mountains running along the neck of land were covered with
dense forests, and the low grounds beneath filled with deep swamps, from
which arose exhalations deadly to a European constitution. Wild torrents
rushed down the ravines, and often forced them to retrace their steps. A
march through a country like this, thinly peopled by a few savages, and
without any other guides than some Indians of doubtful fidelity, was an
enterprise worthy of all the energies of a Balboa.
On the 1st of September, 1513, after the end of the rainy season, he set
out with a small but well chosen band of 190 Spaniards, accompanied by
1000 Indian carriers. As long as he remained on the territories of the
friendly Caciques his progress was comparatively easy, but scarce had
he penetrated into the interior, when, besides the almost invincible
obstacles of nature--forests, swamps, and swollen torrents,--he had to
encounter the deadly enmity of the Indians. As he approached, some of
the Caciques fled to the mountains, after having destroyed or carried
along with them all that might have been of use to the hated strangers;
while others, of more determined hostility, opposed his progress by force
of arms. Although the Spaniards had been led to expect that a six days'
march would bring them to their journey's end, they had already spent no
less than twenty-five days in forcing their way through the wilderness,
amidst incessant attacks and hardships. The greater part of them were
rapidly giving way under fatigues almost surpassing the limits of mortal
endurance, and even the strongest felt that they could not hold out much
longer. But Balboa, ever the foremost to face danger or difficulty,
whose spirits no reverse could damp, and whose fiery eloquence painted
in glowing colours the glorious reward of their present privations,
knew how to inspire his men with his own unconquerable spirit, so that
without a murmur they kept toiling on through swamp and forest. At length
the Indian guides pointed out to them a mountain-crest from which they
promised them the view of the longed-for ocean. Filled with new ardour
they climbed up the steep ascent, but before they reached the summit
Balboa ordered them to halt, that he might be the first to enjoy the
glorious prospect. As soon as he saw the Pacific stretch out in endless
majesty along the verge of the distant horizon, he fell on his knees and
poured forth his rapturous thanks to heaven for having awarded him so
grand a discovery. And now also his impatient companions hurried on, and
soon the primeval forest--accustomed only to the howlings of the brute
or the eagle's scream--resounded with the loud exclamations of their
astonishment, gratitude, and joy.
It was from the small mountain-chain of Quarequa, on the 25th of
September, 1513, that the Spaniards first saw the sea-horizon, but they
had still several days to march before they reached the Gulf of San
Miguel. Here Alonzo Martin de Don Benito was the first white man that
ever floated in a canoe on the Eastern Pacific, even before Balboa, armed
with sword and shield, descended into the water to take possession of the
newly discovered ocean in the name of the king his master.
Although the subsequent fortunes of this great man are foreign to my
subject, yet it may not be uninteresting to the reader to be informed
how his important services were requited. Unfortunately the ingratitude
of the Spanish court, which so scandalously embittered the declining
years of Columbus and Cortez, reached its lowest depth in the case of
Balboa. Those great men had at least in the beginning enjoyed some show
of favour, but the discoverer of the Pacific was treated throughout with
the basest indignity. The governorship of Darien, to which his splendid
achievements had given him so undeniable a claim, was conferred upon
a certain Pedrarias Davila, a wretch who, after having persecuted and
thwarted the hero in every possible way, caused him at length to be
beheaded, under a false accusation of high treason.
Six years after Balboa had first seen the Pacific, two years after his
execution, Ferdinand of Magellan made his appearance in that great
ocean. A Portuguese of noble birth, this eminent navigator had served
with distinction under Albuquerque, the conqueror of Malacca. His plan
of seeking a new road to India across the Atlantic being but coldly
received in his native country, he transferred his services to Spain,
where his distinguished merit found better judges in Cardinal Ximenes,
and his youthful master, Charles V. With five ships, the largest of which
did not carry more than 120 tons, and with a crew of 236 men, partly
the sweepings of the jails, he sailed on the 20th of September, 1519,
from the port of San Lucar, and spent the following summer (the winter
of the southern hemisphere) on the dreary coast of Patagonia. In this
uncomfortable station he lost one of his squadron; and the Spaniards
suffered so much from the excessive rigour of the climate, that the crews
of three of his ships, headed by their officers, rose in open mutiny,
and insisted on relinquishing the visionary project of a desperate
adventurer, and returning directly to Spain. This dangerous insurrection
Magellan suppressed by an effort of courage no less prompt than intrepid,
and inflicted exemplary punishment on the ringleaders.
He now continued his journey to the south, and reached, near 53° south
lat., the celebrated straits which bear his name. Here again he had to
exert his full authority to induce his reluctant followers to accompany
him into the unknown channel that was to lead them to an equally unknown
ocean. One of his ships immediately deserted him and returned to Europe,
but the others remained true to their commander, and, after having spent
twenty days in winding through those dangerous straits, they at last,
on the 27th of November, 1521, emerged into the open ocean, the sight
of which amply repaid Magellan for all the anxieties and troubles he
had undergone. They now pursued their way across the wide expanse of
waters, of whose enormous extent they had no conception, and soon had
to endure all the miseries of hunger and disease. But the continuous
beauty of the weather, and the steady easterly wind, which, swelling the
sails of Magellan, drove him straight onwards to the goal, kept up his
courage; and induced him to give to the ocean which greeted him with
such a friendly welcome the name of the Pacific, which it still, though
undeservedly, retains. During three months and twenty days he sailed to
the north-west, and, by a singular mischance, without seeing any land
in those isle-teeming seas, except only two uninhabited rocks which he
called the "Desventuradas," or the "Wretched." At last, after the longest
journey ever made by man through the deserts of the ocean, he discovered
the small but fruitful group of the Ladrones (March 6, 1521), which
afforded him refreshments in such abundance, that the vigour and health
of his emaciated crew was soon reestablished. From these isles, to which
his gratitude might have given a more friendly name, he proceeded on his
voyage, and soon made the more important discovery of the islands now
known as the _Philippines_. In one of these he got into an unfortunate
quarrel with the natives, who attacked him in great numbers and
well-armed; and, while he fought at the head of his men with his usual
valour, he fell by the hands of those barbarians, together with several
of his principal officers.
Thus Magellan lost the glory of accomplishing the first circumnavigation
of the globe; the performance of which now fell to the share of his
companion, Sebastian El Cano, who returned to San Lucar in the "Victoria"
by the Cape of Good Hope, having sailed round the globe in the space of
three years and twenty-eight days.
But although Magellan did not live fully to achieve his glorious
undertaking, the astonishing perseverance and ability with which he
performed the chief and most difficult part of his arduous task have
secured him an immortal renown. Nor has posterity been unmindful of his
services, having awarded his name an imperishable place in the memory of
man, both in the straits, the portal of his grand discovery, and in the
"Magellanic clouds," those dense clusters of stars and nebulæ which so
beautifully stud the firmament of the southern hemisphere.
After Magellan, Pizarro, the conqueror of Peru, shines as a discoverer
in the South Sea. The history of his memorable feats by land does not
belong to this narrative, but I may well accompany him on his adventurous
navigation along the unknown coast of South America, and relate the
hardships he had to endure before he was enabled to reap the rewards of
victory.
Soon after the execution, or rather the murder, of Balboa, Pedrarias
Davila obtained permission to transfer the colony of Darien to Panama,
which, although equally unhealthy, yet from its situation on the Pacific
afforded greater facilities for the prosecution of discovery on the
south-west coast, to which now all the hopes and plans of the Spanish
gold-seekers were directed. Several expeditions left the new colony in
rapid succession, but all proved unsuccessful. Their timorous leaders,
none of whom had ventured beyond the dreary coasts of _Tierra firme_,
gave such dismal accounts of their hardships and the wretched aspect
of the countries they had seen, that the ardour for discovery was
considerably damped, and the opinion began to gain ground that Balboa
must have founded chimerical hopes on the idle tales of an ignorant or
deceitful savage.
But there were three men in Panama, Francisco Pizarro, Diego de Almagro,
and Hernando Luque, who, far from sharing the general opinion, remained
fully determined to seek the unknown gold-land. Pizarro and Almagro
were soldiers, Luque was a priest. They formed an association approved
of by the governor, each agreeing to devote all his energies to the
common interest. Pizarro, the poorest of the three, took upon himself
the greater part of the hardships and dangers of the enterprise, and
volunteered to command the first expedition that should be fitted out;
Almagro engaged to follow him with the necessary reinforcements; and
Luque, the man of peace, promised to watch in Panama over the interests
of the association.
On the 14th of November, 1524, Pizarro sailed from Panama with 112 men,
closely packed together in one small vessel. Unfortunately he had chosen
the worst season of the year for his departure, as the periodical winds
raging at the time blew quite contrary to the course he intended to
pursue, and thus it happened that after seventy days he had advanced
no farther to the south-east than an experienced navigator will now
traverse in as many hours. During this tedious journey he landed in
different parts of the coast of Tierra firme, but, finding all the
previous descriptions of its inhospitable nature fully confirmed, he
saw himself obliged to await the promised reinforcements in Chuchama,
opposite to the Pearl Islands. Here he was soon joined by Almagro, who
had suffered similar hardships, and moreover lost an eye in a fight with
the Indians. But, as he had advanced farther to the south, where the
country and people wore a more favourable aspect, this slight glimpse of
hope encouraged the adventurers to persevere in spite of all the miseries
they had endured. Almagro returned to Panama, where with the greatest
difficulty he could levy fourscore men, his sufferings and those of his
companions having given his countrymen a very unfavourable idea of the
service.
With this small reinforcement the associates did not hesitate to renew
their enterprise, and at length, after a passage no less tedious than the
first, reached the Bay of Saint Matthew on the coast of Quito (1526). In
Tecumez, to the south of the Emerald River, they were delighted with the
aspect of a fine well-cultivated country, inhabited by a people whose
clothing and dwellings indicated a higher degree of civilisation and
wealth. But, not venturing to attempt its conquest with a handful of men
enfeebled by fatigue and disease, they retired to the small island of
Gallo, where Pizarro waited, while Almagro once more returned to Panama,
hoping that the better accounts he could give of their second journey
would procure reinforcements large enough for the conquest of the newly
discovered countries.
But the new governor of Panama, Pedro de los Rios, interdicted all
further volunteering for an enterprise he considered chimerical, and
even sent a vessel to the island of Gallo to bring back Pizarro and his
companions. The associates, on the other hand, were less inclined than
ever to give up their enterprise, now that better prospects had opened,
so that Pizarro peremptorily refused to obey the governor's commands, and
used all his eloquence in persuading his men not to abandon him. But the
hardships they had endured, and the prospect of soon revisiting their
families and friends, pleaded so strongly against him, that when he drew
a line with his sword upon the sand, and told those that wished to leave
him to pass over it, only thirteen of his veterans remained true to his
fortunes.
With this select band of heroes Pizarro now retired to the desert island
of Gorgona, where, as it lay further from the coast, he could await
with greater security the reinforcements which he trusted the zeal of
his associates would soon be able to procure. Nor was he deceived, for
Almagro and Luque, by their repeated solicitations, at length prevailed
upon the governor to send out a small vessel to his assistance, though
without one landsman on board, that he might not be encouraged to any
new enterprise. Meanwhile Pizarro and his faithful "thirteen" had spent
five long months on their wretched island, their eyes constantly turned
to the north, until, heart-sick and despairing from hope deferred, they
resolved to intrust themselves to the inconstant waves upon a miserable
raft, rather than remain any longer in that dreadful wilderness. But now
at last the vessel from Panama appeared, and raised them so thoroughly
from the deepest despondency to the most extravagant hopes, that Pizarro
easily induced not only his old friends, but also the crew of the vessel,
to sail farther to the south instead of returning at once to Panama.
This time the winds were favourable, and after a voyage of twenty days
they at length reached the town of Tumbez on the coast of Peru, where
the magnificent temple of the sun and the palace of the Incas, with its
costly golden vases, exceeded their most sanguine expectations. But
once more Pizarro, too weak to attempt invasion, was obliged to content
himself with the view of the riches he one day hoped to possess, and
returned to Panama after an absence of three years.
Amidst interminable delays and difficulties, which, although not to be
compared to those he had endured, would still have totally discouraged a
mind of a less iron mould, five years more elapsed before the matchless
perseverance of Pizarro met with its reward. On the 14th of April, 1531,
he landed in Peru for the second time, and in a few months the empire of
the Incas lay prostrate at his feet. The poor adventurer of Gorgona was
now one of the richest men on earth.
From this time the stream of conquest and discovery continuously rolled
on to the south, so that after a few years the whole coast of Peru and
Chili, as far as the wilds of Patagonia, was either known or subject to
the Spaniards.
But while Pizarro and his comrades were thus opening the south-west
coast of America to the knowledge of mankind, the conqueror of Mexico
was no less anxious to add to his laurels the glory of discovery in the
Northern Pacific, whose shores his warriors had reached in 1521, soon
after the fall of the Aztec capital. Desirous of opening a new passage to
the East Indies, he fitted out a fleet (1526), which, under the command
of his kinsman Alvaro de Saavedra, was to sail to the Moluccas, and most
likely discovered part of the Radack and Ralick Archipelago, visited and
described three centuries later by Kotzebue and Chamisso.
In the year 1536 Cortez himself undertook a maritime expedition to
the north, discovered the peninsula of California, and explored the
greater part of the long and narrow bay which separates it from the
mainland. After the return of this great man to Spain, where, loaded with
ingratitude, he died in 1547, Rodriguez Cabrillo (1543) sailed as far
as Monterey, and subsequently the pilot of the expedition, Bartholomew
Ferreto, reached 43° N. lat., where Vancouver's Cape Oxford is situated.
In the year 1542 Villalobos made the first attempt to establish a colony
on the Philippine Islands with settlers from Mexico, but, having failed,
the colonisation did not take place before 1565. The intelligence of
this success was brought to America by the pilot and monk, Fray Andreas
Urdaneta, who sailed on the 1st of June from Manilla and arrived on the
3rd of October in the Mexican port of Acapulco. All previous attempts
to sail from Asia to America had failed, on account of the opposing
trade-winds; but Urdaneta sailed northward till he encountered the
favourable west wind, which carried him to the New World across the
wide bosom of the Pacific. The discovery of this new ocean route was of
considerable importance to the Spaniards, and, to perpetuate the memory
of Urdaneta's nautical ability, they continued to call the passage by his
name.
About the same time another Spanish pilot, Juan Fernandez, discovered the
proper sea route from Callao to Chili, by first sailing far out to sea,
and thus avoiding the coast-currents from the south. He also discovered
the island which still bears his name, and has become so celebrated by
the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, and the immortal tale of Daniel
Defoe.
In the year 1567 an expedition sailed from Callao under Alvaro Mendana,
which discovered the Solomon Islands; and in 1595 the group of the
Marquesas de Mendoza was first brought to light by the same navigator.
Before the last expedition of Mendana, Drake, the first circumnavigator
of the globe (1577-1580) after Magellan and El Cano, penetrated into the
Pacific, by rounding Cape Horn, and subsequently discovered the coasts of
New Albion as far as 48° N. lat.
After having thus rapidly followed the course of the discoveries which
during the sixteenth century made Europe acquainted with the whole
western coast of America, from Cape Pillares in Tierra del Fuego to the
mouth of the Columbia River, I return to the Indian Ocean, where in the
beginning of the century we left the Portuguese in the full bloom of
their power, and, to judge by the progress already made, likely to add
largely to the stock of geographical knowledge. But whether the masters
of the Indian Ocean had no desire to extend still farther the circle of
their conquests, or the fiery spirit of enterprise which had animated
Vasco de Gama and Diaz was prematurely extinguished, the discoveries of
the Portuguese in the Pacific by no means corresponded to the gigantic
flight which in less than a quarter of a century had led them from Cape
de Verde to the extremity of the Malayan Archipelago. New Guinea was
indeed discovered by Don Jorge de Menezes (1526) and Alvaro de Saavedra
(1528), and some old maps prove that before 1542 a part of the coast of
New Holland was known to the Portuguese, who had penetrated to the north
as far as Formosa and Japan, yet at the end of the sixteenth century the
western boundaries of the Pacific were only known from 40° N. lat. to 10°
S. lat., and all beyond was enveloped in darkness. As little was known
of the innumerable South Sea islands, for although some of the groups had
been seen or visited by the Spaniards, their existence was kept secret
lest other seafaring nations should be tempted to explore the wastes of
the Pacific.
I have already mentioned that the desire to find a shorter route to the
wealth of India was the chief inducement which led to the discoveries of
Vasco de Gama, Columbus, and Magellan; this same motive also called forth
the first attempts of the Dutch and English to find a northern passage to
the southern seas.
In the year 1553 Sir Hugh Willoughby and Chancellor left England on their
memorable voyage of Arctic discovery, and steered to the north-east.
In a stormy night they parted company, never to meet again. For a long
time nothing was heard of Willoughby, until some Russian sailors found
on the dreary coast of Lapland two wrecks tenanted only by the dead.
A note, dated January 1554, proved that then at least some of the
unfortunate navigators were still alive; but this was the last and only
memorial of the mysterious end of the first Britons that ever ventured
into the frozen seas. Chancellor was more fortunate. After having for
a long time been driven about by storms, he discovered the White Sea,
and on landing heard for the first time of Russia and her sovereign the
Czar Ivan Vasiliovitch, who resided in a great town called Moscow. This
unknown potentate the indefatigable seaman resolved to visit in his
capital, where he was graciously received, and obtained permission for
his countrymen to frequent the port of Archangel. Soon after his return
to England he was sent back to Russia by Queen Mary, for the purpose
of settling the terms of a treaty of commerce between the two nations;
and, having satisfactorily accomplished his mission, once more set sail
from the White Sea, accompanied by a Muscovite ambassador. But this time
the return voyage was extremely unfortunate; two of the ships, richly
laden with Russian commodities, ran ashore on the coast of Norway, and
Chancellor's own vessel was driven by a dreadful storm as far as Pitsligo
in Scotland, in which bay it was wrecked. Chancellor endeavoured to save
the ambassador and himself in a boat, but the small pinnace was upset,
and, although the Russian reached the strand, the Englishman, after
having escaped so many dangers in the Arctic Ocean, was doomed to an
untimely end within sight of his native shores.
Twenty years afterwards, Martin Frobisher set sail with three small
vessels of thirty-five, thirty, and ten tons, on no less an errand than
the discovery of a north-west passage to Asia. With these wretched
nut-shells he reached the coasts of Greenland and Labrador, but was
prevented by the ice from effecting a landing.
This first voyage was little remarkable in itself, but its accidental
results tended much to the advancement of northern research, for
Frobisher brought home some glittering stones, the lustre of which was
erroneously attributed to gold; a circumstance which, as may well be
imagined, greatly contributed to pave the way for a second expedition
to "Meta Incognita." This time Frobisher sailed with three ships, of a
much larger size, that they might be able to hold more of the anticipated
treasure; and, besides securing 200 tons of the imaginary gold,
discovered the entrance of the strait which bears his name.
His geographical knowledge may be inferred from the fact that he firmly
believed the land on one side of this channel to be Asia, and on the
other America; and, though we may be tempted to smile at his ignorance,
yet the lion-hearted seaman is not the less to be admired, who with such
inadequate means ventured to brave the unknown terrors of the Frozen
Ocean.
The gales and floating ice which greeted Frobisher as he endeavoured to
force a passage through the strait put a stop to all farther progress
to India; but, as the gold delusion still continued, the expedition was
considered eminently successful. A large squadron of fifteen vessels was
consequently fitted out for the summer of 1578, and commissioned not
only to bring back an untold amount of treasure, but also to take out
materials and men to establish a colony on those desolate shores.
But this grand expedition, which sailed forth with such extravagant
hopes, was doomed to end in disappointment. One of the largest vessels
was crushed by an iceberg at the entrance of the strait, and the others
were so beaten about by storms and obstructed by fogs, that the whole
summer elapsed, and they were fain to return to England without having
done anything for the advancement of geographical knowledge.
The utter worthlessness of the glittering stones having meanwhile been
discovered, Frobisher relinquished all further attempts to push his
fortunes in the northern regions, and sought new laurels in a sunnier
clime. He accompanied Drake to the West Indies, commanded subsequently
one of the largest vessels opposed to the Spanish Armada, and ended his
heroic life while attacking a small French fort on behalf of Henry IV.,
during the war with the League. He was one of those adventurous spirits
always thirsting for action, and too uneasy ever to enjoy repose.
In the year 1585, John Davis, with the ships "Sunshine" and "Moonshine,"
carrying besides their more necessary equipments a band of music "to
cheer and recreate the spirits of the natives," made his first voyage in
quest of the north-west passage, and discovered the broad strait which
leads into the icy deserts of Baffin's Bay. But neither in this attempt
nor in his two following ones was he able to effect the object for
which he strove; and these repeated failures cooled for a long time the
national ardour for northern discovery.
In the year 1594 the Dutch appear upon the scene. This persevering and
industrious people, which in the following century was destined to play
so important a part in the politics of Europe, had just then succeeded in
casting off the Spanish yoke, and was laudably endeavouring to gain by
maritime enterprise a position among the neighbouring states, which the
smallness of its territory seemed to deny to its ambition. All the known
roads to the treasures of the south were at that time too well guarded by
the jealous fleets of Spain and Portugal to admit of any rivalry; but,
if fortune should favour them in finding the yet unexplored northern
passage to India, they might still hope to secure a lion's share in that
most lucrative of trades. Animated by the bold spirit of adventure which
the dawn of independence always calls forth in a nation, a company of
Amsterdam merchants fitted out an expedition of northern discovery, which
it intrusted to the superintendence and pilotage of William Barentz, one
of the most experienced seamen of the day.
Barentz left the Texel on the 6th of June, 1594, reached the northern
extremity of Nova Zembla, and returned to Holland. Meanwhile his
associate, penetrating through a strait to which he gave the very
appropriate name of Waigats or "Wind-hole," battled against the floating
ice of the Sea of Kara, until, rounding a promontory, he saw a blue
and open sea extending before him, and the Russian coast trending away
towards the south-east. He now no longer doubted that he had sailed round
the famous cape "Tabis" of Pliny, an imaginary promontory which according
to that erroneous guide formed the northern extremity of Asia, and whence
the voyage was supposed to be short and easy to its eastern and southern
shores. He had only reached the Gulf of Obi, and within the Arctic
Circle the continent of Asia still stretched 120 degrees to the east;
but this was then unknown, and the Dutchman, satisfied with the prospect
of success, did not press onward to test its reality, but started in
full sail for Holland, to rouse the sluggish fancy of his phlegmatic
countrymen with chimerical hopes and golden visions.
On the receipt of this glad intelligence six large vessels were
immediately fitted out, and richly laden with goods suited to the taste
of the Indians. A small swift-sailing yacht was added to the squadron
to bear it company as far as the imaginary promontory of Tabis, and
thence to return with the good news that it had safely performed what was
supposed to be the most perilous part of the voyage, and had been left
steering with a favourable wind right off to India.
But, as may well be imagined, these sanguine hopes were destined to
meet with a woeful disappointment, for the Wind-hole Strait, doing
full justice to its name, did not allow them to pass; and, after many
fruitless endeavours to force their way through the mighty ice-blocks
that obstructed that inhospitable channel, they returned dejected and
crest-fallen to the port whence they had sailed a few months before,
elated with such brilliant expectations.
Although great disappointment was felt at this failure, the scheme
however was not abandoned, and on the 16th of May, 1596, Heemskerk,
Barentz, and Cornelis Ryp once more started for the north-east. Bear
Island and Spitzbergen were discovered, whereupon the ships separated;
Cornelis and Heemskerk returning to Holland, while Barentz, enclosed by
the ice, was obliged to spend a long and dreary winter in the dreadful
solitudes of Nova Zembla. Fortunately a quantity of drift-wood was found
on the strand, which served the Dutchmen both for the construction of
a small hut and for fuel. At the same time it raised their courage, as
they now no longer doubted that Providence, which had sent them this
unexpected succour in the wilderness, would guide them safely through all
their difficulties. And indeed they stood in need of this consolatory
belief, for as early as September the ground was frozen so hard that
they tried in vain to dig a grave for a dead comrade, and their cramped
fingers could hardly proceed with the building of the hut.
The attacks of the white bears also gave them great trouble. One day
Barentz, from the deck of the vessel, seeing three bears stealthily
approaching a party of his men who were labouring at the hut, shouted
loudly to warn them of their peril, and the men, startled at the near
approach of danger, sought safety in flight. One of the party, in his
haste and perturbation, fell into a cleft in the ice; but the hungry
animals fortunately overlooked him, and continued their pursuit of the
main body. These gained the vessel and began to congratulate themselves
on their safety, when, to their horror, they perceived that their foes,
instead of retreating from a hopeless pursuit, were actually scaling
the ship's sides, evidently determined to have their meal. Matters now
became serious. One of the sailors was despatched for a light, but in
his hurry and agitation could not get the match to take fire (Enfields
and revolvers were then unknown), and the muskets being thus rendered
useless, the sailors in despair kept their enemies off by pelting
them with whatever articles came first to hand. This unequal conflict
continued for some time, until a well-directed blow on the snout of the
largest bear caused the _barking_[AB] monster to retire from the field
followed by his two companions,
"who, seeing Hector flee,
No longer dared to face the enemy."
[Footnote AB: "I did not hear them roar as ours do, but they only
bark."--_Marten's Voyage to Spitzbergen._]
By the middle of October the hut was completed; and though the
accommodations it afforded were extremely scanty, they were glad to take
up their abode in it at once.
And now began the long, dreary, three months' night of the 77th degree
of latitude, during which snow-drifts and impetuous winds confined them
to their miserable dwelling. "We looked pitifully one upon the other,"
says Gerret De Veer, the simple narrator of the sufferings of that Arctic
winter, "being in great fear that if the extremity of the cold grew to
be more and more, we should all die there of cold; for that what fire
soever we made would not warm us." The ice was now two inches thick upon
the walls and even on the sides of their sleeping-cots, and the very
clothes they wore were whitened with frost, so that as they sat together
in their hut they "were all as white as the countrymen used to be when
they came in at the gates of the towns in Holland with their sleads, and
have gone all night."
Yet in the midst of all their sufferings these hardy men maintained brave
and cheerful hearts, and so great was their elasticity of spirit that,
remembering the 5th of January was "Twelfth Even," they determined to
celebrate it as best they might. "And then," says the old chronicler, "we
prayed our maister that we might be merry that night, and said that we
were content to spend some of the wine that night which we had spared,
and which was our share (one glass) every second day; and so that night
we made merry and drew for king. And therewith we had two pounds of
meale, whereof we made pancakes with oyle, and every man had a white
biscuit, which we sopt in the wine. And so, supposing that we were in our
own country, and amongst our friends, it comforted as well as if we had
made a great banket in our owne house." Blessed Content! arising from a
simple heart and a life of honest and healthful toil, never didst thou
celebrate a greater triumph, or more forcibly show thy power, than in
that dreary hut on Nova Zembla!
Some weeks afterwards the sun appeared once more above the horizon; and
the glorious sight, though it soon vanished again into darkness, was a
joyful one indeed, full of delightful images of a return to friends and
home. Now, also, the furious gales and snow-storms ceased; and, though
the severity of the cold continued unabated, they were able to brave the
outer air and recruit their strength by exercise.
When summer came, it was found impossible to disengage the ice-bound
vessel, and the only hopes of escaping from their dreary prison now
rested on two small boats, in which they ventured on the capricious
ocean. On the fourth day of their voyage, their fragile barks became
surrounded by immense quantities of floating ice, which so crushed and
injured them, that the crews, giving up all hope, took a solemn leave
of each other. But in this desperate crisis they owed their lives to
the presence of mind and agility of De Veer, who with a well-secured
rope leaped from one fragment of ice to another till he gained a firm
field, on which first the sick, then the stores, the crews, and finally
the boats themselves, were safely landed. Here they were obliged to
remain while the boats underwent the necessary repairs, and during this
detention upon a floating ice-field the gallant Barentz closed the
eventful voyage of his life. He died as he had lived, calmly and bravely,
thinking less of himself than of the safety of his crew, for his last
words were directions as to the course in which they were to steer.
Even the joyful prospect of a return to their families and home could
not console his surviving comrades for the loss of their leader, whom
they loved and revered as a friend and father. After a most tedious and
dangerous passage, they at length arrived at Kola in Russian Lapland,
where to their glad surprise they found their old comrade, John Cornelis,
who received them on board his vessel and conveyed them to Amsterdam.
During the seventeenth century the most remarkable maritime discoveries
were made by the English, Dutch, and Spaniards, though by the latter
only at its commencement. In the year 1605 Quiros sailed from Callao,
discovered the island of Sagittaria, since so renowned under the name of
Otaheite, and the archipelago of Espiritu Santo, or the New Hebrides of
Cook. On this journey he was accompanied by Torres, the bold seaman who
some years after gave his name to the strait which separates New Guinea
from Australia.
While the declining sun of Spain was thus gilding with its last rays the
northern shore of New Holland, the meridian splendour of the Batavian
republic cast forth bright beams of light over the wide Pacific.
Schouten and Le Maire, penetrating through the strait which is still
named after the latter, sailed in the year 1616 round Tierra del Fuego;
and about the same time Hartog discovered Eendragt's Land, on the west
coast of Australia. The successive voyages of Jan Edel (1619), Peter
Nuyts (1627), and Peter Carpenter (1628), brought to light the northern
and southern shores of the vast island, which thus began to assume a
rude shape on the map of the geographer. In the year 1642, Abel Tasman,
the greatest of the Dutch navigators, drew a mighty furrow through the
South Sea, discovered Van Diemen's Land, which posterity desirous of
perpetuating his fame has called Tasmania, saw the northern extremity of
New Zealand emerge from the ocean, and finally unveiled to the world the
hidden beauties of Tonga.
While the Dutch navigators were thus dissipating the darkness of
Australia, Hudson and Baffin were immortalising their names in the Arctic
Ocean.
In the year 1627 Henry Hudson made the first attempt to steer right on to
the pole, and to cross to India over the axis of the globe. He reached
the northern extremity of Spitzbergen, but all his attempts to penetrate
deeper into the polar ocean were baffled by the mighty ice-fields that
opposed his progress. But though he failed in his undertaking to sail
through the region of eternal winter to the spicy groves of India,
yet the numerous morses and seals he had seen basking on the coast of
Spitzbergen opened such cheering prospects of future profit, that the
"Muscovy Company," which had fitted out the expedition, was by no means
discontented with the issue of his voyage.
Three years after we find the gallant Hudson once more attempting
to discover the north-west passage in a vessel of fifty-five tons,
provisioned for six months. The crew which he commanded was unfortunately
utterly unworthy of such a leader, and quailed as soon as they had to
encounter the fog and ice-fields of the Frozen Ocean.
"And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold;
And ice mast-high came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen,
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken,
The ice was all between."
But, in spite of the murmurs and repinings of his faint-hearted
followers, the dauntless commander pressed on through the strait which
bears his name, until at last his little bark emerged into a boundless
deep blue sea. Hudson's Bay lay before him, but the delighted discoverer
was happy in the belief that the grand object of his voyage was attained,
and the shortest road to India laid open to the mariners of England. It
was about the beginning of August, and the spiritless crew considering
the passage accomplished, urged an immediate return; but Hudson was
determined on completing the adventure, and wintering if possible on the
sunny shores of India.
Three months long he continued tracking the coasts of that vast northern
Mediterranean, now for the first time explored by civilised man, vainly
hoping to see a new channel opening to the west, until at length November
came and imprisoned his small vessel in adamantine fetters. A long
and dreary winter awaited the ice-bound seamen, with almost exhausted
provisions, and unfortunately without that heroic patience and serene
concord which had sustained the sufferings of Barentz and his companions.
It must indeed have been a melancholy winter for poor Hudson, solitary
and friendless among scowling ruffians, hating him as the cause of their
bitter misery; but spring came at last with its consolatory sunshine, and
hope once more dawned in his tortured breast. The ship is again afloat,
and on the 21st of June, 1611, the captain comes forth from his cabin,
refreshed by the sleep of a quiet conscience, and strong in body and
mind to meet the duties of the day. But as he steps on deck his arms are
suddenly pinioned, and he finds himself in the power of a mutinous crew.
He looks around for some trace of sympathy, but hatred meets him in every
eye. Inquiry, remonstrance, entreaty, command, all alike fail to move
their stubborn resolution, and now Hudson resigns himself bravely to his
fate, with all the quiet dignity of a noble nature, and looks calmly at
the ominous preparations going forward. A small open boat is in waiting,
and into this he is lowered, some powder and shot and the carpenter's box
come next, followed by the carpenter himself, a strong brave fellow, the
captain's _one_ devoted adherent among the rebellious crew; the sick and
infirm complete the unfortunate cargo. A signal is given, the boat is
cast adrift, and soon the last faint cry for mercy expires in the breeze
which carries the vessel onwards on its homeward course.
Thus perished the high-minded Hudson, without further tiding or trace,
on the scene of his glory; but the vengeance of heaven soon overtook
the ringleaders of that dark conspiracy. Some fell in a fight with the
Eskimos, and others died on the homeward voyage, which was performed
under the extremity of famine. Whatever horrors may have attended the
last moments of Hudson, his sufferings were less, for his conscience was
undefiled by guilt.
In the year 1616 Baffin sailed round the enormous bay to which his name
has been given, but without attempting to penetrate through any one of
those wide sounds that have led the Arctic navigators of our days to so
many glorious discoveries.
From the times of Tasman, whose bold voyage through the wastes of
the Southern Pacific has already been mentioned, to those of our own
immortal Cook, but very little was done for the progress of geography,
as if, after so many heroic endeavours, the spirit of maritime discovery
had required a long repose to recruit its energies, ere the greatest
navigator of modern times was destined to unveil the mysterious darkness
which still concealed one half of the vast Pacific from the knowledge of
mankind. The voyages most worthy of remark during this period were those
of the Cossack Semen Deshnew (1654), who sailed from the mouth of the
Kolyma River round the eastern promontory of Asia, and must be considered
as the discoverer of Behring's Straits; of the adventurous Dampier
(1689-1691), that strange combination of the buccaneer, the author,
and the naturalist, who first discovered the strait which separates
New Guinea from New Ireland; of the Dutchman Roggewein (1721-23), who
made known some islands in the Pacific; of the brothers Laptew and of
Prontschitschew (1734-1743), who unveiled the greatest part of the
Siberian coast; of Commodore Anson (1740-1744), whose heroic sufferings
and successes in the Pacific still live in the memory of his countrymen;
and of the unfortunate Behring (1730-1741), who terminated his second
unsuccessful exploring expedition by a miserable death on a desert island.
After the peace of Aix la Chapelle England felt that the dominion of
the seas imposed upon her the obligation of extending the bounds of
geographical knowledge, and thus in rapid succession Byron (1764) and
Wallis and Carteret (1766-1768) were sent forth to discover unknown
shores, while France made a simultaneous effort to refresh the somewhat
meagre laurels she had reaped by the voyages of Verazzani and Cartier.
The consequences of this emulation were not unimportant. Bougainville
(1766-1768) completed the discovery of the Solomon Islands, which Mendana
had only partly seen; Wallis made the world acquainted with the beauties
of Tahiti, and Byron explored the unvisited coasts of Patagonia. But the
fame of these worthy mariners was soon eclipsed by a greater renown, for,
in the same year that Wallis returned from his expedition, Cook sailed
from the port of Plymouth on his first voyage round the world.
CHAP. XXVI.
What had Cook's Predecessors left him to discover?--His first
Voyage.--Discovery of the Society Islands, and of the East Coast
of New Holland.--His second Voyage.--Discovery of the Hervey
Group.--Researches in the South Sea.--The New Hebrides.--Discovery of
New Caledonia and of South Georgia.--His third Voyage.--The Sandwich
Islands.--New Albion.--West Georgia.--Cook's Murder.--Vancouver.--La
Peyrouse.
To form a correct estimate of Cook's discoveries, it is necessary that,
before following the track of that great seaman, we should glance
over the vast regions of the Pacific previously unknown to man. Many
navigators indeed, since Magellan, had traversed that immense ocean, but
the greater part of its expanse still lay buried in obscurity.
To the north of the line, the Spaniards, sailing from Manilla to
Acapulco, still servilely followed the route which Urdaneta had pointed
out, and all beyond was unexplored.
The regions to the south of the line were better known, but here also
maritime discoverers, with the sole exception of Tasman, had confined
themselves to the tropical waters. No one had yet tried to sail through
the boundless space which to the south of the 25th degree of latitude
extended between New Zealand and America. Of Australia only the western
coast was known; the existence of Torres' Strait had long since been
forgotten, and New Guinea and New Holland were supposed to form one
connected land. To the south no one knew whether Australia and Van
Diemen's Land were joined together, or severed by a channel; and the
eastern coast of the fifth part of the world still awaited a discoverer.
The boundaries of New Zealand were buried in the same obscurity. Tasman
had only visited the west coast of the northern island, which, as
far as was then known, might have extended a thousand miles farther
on towards Chili. In one word, the great geographical problem of an
enormous southern continent, the existence of which was formerly supposed
necessary to form the counterpoise of the northern lands, still remained
unsolved. The discoveries already made had indeed narrowed the limits
which during the sixteenth century were still assigned to that imaginary
continent, but in the unexplored bosom of the South Sea there yet was
room enough for lands surpassing the whole of Europe in extent. Many of
the South Sea islands moreover, though discovered before Cook's voyages,
had vanished again from the memory of the world, or, according to
Humboldt's expression, "wavered, as if badly rooted on the map, for want
of exact astronomical measurements." Thus two hundred and fifty years
after Magellan the Pacific still offered an enormous field for discovery,
and when Cook set sail on the 30th of July, 1768, on his first voyage of
circumnavigation, nearly one half of the globe lay open to his researches.
The first service he rendered on this voyage was the discovery that the
route to the Pacific through the Strait of Le Maire and round Cape Horn
was preferable to that which until then had been followed, through the
Straits of Magellan.
After having observed at Otaheite the transit of Venus across the sun,
which was one of the chief objects of the expedition, he soon after
landed on the shores of Huaheine, Ulietea, and Borabora, which had never
yet been visited by a European mariner, and gave to the whole group the
name of the Society Islands, on account of their close vicinity to each
other. Thence he sailed to New Zealand, which he was the first to find
consisted of two large islands, separated by the strait which bears his
name. With unwearied industry he spent no less than six months on the
accurate survey of the New Zealand group, and then sailed to New Holland,
the eastern coast of which he first discovered, and closely examined
in its full length of 2000 miles. He also found that the continent of
Australia was separated from New Guinea by a channel which he called
"Endeavour Strait," but to which the justice of posterity has restored
or awarded the name of Torres, its first explorer. This whole sea is so
full of dangerous reefs and shoals that for months the sounding line was
scarce ever laid aside, and any less experienced and prudent navigator
must inevitably have been wrecked during these constant cruises in such
perilous waters. Even Cook owed more than once his preservation to what
may well be called a miraculous interposition of Providence, of which I
shall cite a remarkable example. It was on the 10th of June, 1770, in
the latitude of Trinity Bay. The vessel sailed, under a fresh breeze
and by clear moonlight, through a sea the depth of which the plummet
constantly indicated at 20 to 21 fathoms, so that not the least danger
was apprehended. But suddenly the depth diminished to four fathoms, and
before the lead could be heaved again the vessel struck and remained
immoveable, except as far as she was heaved up and down and dashed
against the rocks by the surge. The general anxiety may be imagined,
and indeed the situation was such as to warrant the most serious
apprehensions. It was found that the ship had been lifted over the ledge
of a rock and lay in a hollow, inside of the reef, where the water in
some places was three or four fathoms deep and in others hardly as many
feet. The sheathing boards were knocked off and floating round the ship
in great numbers, and at last the false keel also was destroyed, while
the constant grating of the vessel against the rock seemed to announce
its speedy disruption. It was now necessary to lighten the vessel as much
as possible, and soon more than 50 tons' weight was thrown overboard.
On the following morning land was seen at the distance of eight miles;
but no islet lay between, on which, in case the vessel went to pieces, a
speedy refuge might be found. To add to their distress, the vessel drew
so much water that three pumps could hardly master it; and, finally,
it was found that even the rising of the flood, on which they mainly
reckoned, was unavailing to extricate them from their perilous position.
All that could possibly be spared was now therefore cast into the sea,
still more to lighten the vessel, and thus the next tide was patiently
expected, when, after incredible exertion, the ship righted, and they got
her over the ledge of the rock into deep water.
But the men were by this time so much exhausted by their uninterrupted
labour that they could not stand to the pumps more than five or six
minutes at a time, after which they threw themselves flat on the
streaming deck, where they lay till others exhausted like themselves
took their places, on which they started up again and renewed their
exertions. In this desperate situation one of the midshipmen, named
Monkhouse, bethought himself of a means by which a ship, having sprung
a leak admitting more than four feet of water in an hour, had yet been
able to perform the whole journey from Virginia to London. He took a
lower studding-sail, and, having mixed a large quantity of oakum and wool
together, stitched them down by handfuls as lightly as possible. The sail
was then hauled under the ship's bottom by means of ropes which kept it
extended. When it came under the leak, the wool and oakum, with part of
the sail, were forced inwards by the pressure of the water, which thus
prevented its own ingress in such an effectual manner that one pump,
instead of three, was now sufficient to keep it under. In this way they
got the ship into a convenient port on the coast of New Holland, where
they repaired the injury. Here it was found that their preservation was
not entirely owing to that ingenious expedient, for one of the holes in
the ship's bottom was almost entirely plugged by a piece of rock which
had broken off and stuck in it; and this hole was so large, that, had it
not been filled up in this truly extraordinary manner, the vessel must
undoubtedly have sunk. Some persons, leading a tranquil life unvexed by
storm or wave, might perhaps be inclined to ascribe so miraculous an
escape to chance, but the seaman, who has had death before his eyes, will
always in such a case recognise the hand of an Almighty protector: and
who can doubt that a thrill of intense gratitude flashed through the soul
of Cook on the discovery of the cause to which he owed the preservation
of his life?
With a vessel thus shattered, and a crew thus worn with fatigue, further
discoveries were no more to be thought of, and Cook hastened to return by
way of Batavia and the Cape to England, where he arrived on the 11th of
June, 1771.
The object of his second voyage (1772-1775) was to determine finally the
question of the existence of a great southern continent, and to extend
the geography of that part of the globe to its utmost limits. Sir Joseph
Banks and Dr. Solander had accompanied him on his first voyage, this time
John Reinhold Forster and his son George were engaged by government to
explore and collect the natural history of the countries through which
they should pass.
On the 13th of July, 1772, Cook sailed from Plymouth, and reached the
Cape without having a single man sick. Well aware how much cleanliness
and pure air contribute to health, he had neglected none of the means
necessary to insure it. Every day the beds were aired, the linen of the
sailors was frequently washed, and in rainy weather fire often made
between decks, to dispel unwholesome damps and effluvia.
He now sailed to the south far into a desert and unknown sea, crossed
it in various directions, and after having spent 117 days on the ocean,
mostly among floating ice-fields, and without having once seen land, he
steered northwards to the well-known coast of New Zealand, where on the
25th of January, 1773, he cast anchor in Dusky Bay. The feelings of the
seaman may be imagined, when, after long wanderings over the waste of
waters, he sees land, mountains, forests, and green plains rise above
the horizon, when singing-birds take the place of the wild sea-mew, and
friendly faces greet him on the strand. A beneficent mind is ever anxious
to do good, and thus before sailing farther on to Otaheite, Cook caused
a little garden to be planted, in which European vegetable seeds were
sown and confided with proper instructions to the care of the intelligent
savages, who were moreover presented with goats and pigs.
On the return voyage from Tahiti to New Zealand, where he intended to
provide himself with fire-wood and provisions, before advancing once
more into the high southern latitudes, he was pleased with the discovery
of the small but lovely Harvey Islands, whose green girdle of cocoa-nut
palms mirrors itself in the dark blue waters.
And now again he cruised in all directions through the icy sea, over an
extent of 65° of longitude and as far as the 71st degree of southern
latitude, without having seen any land; and having thus satisfied
himself of the non-existence of a southern continent, or at least of its
circumscription within bounds which must ever render it perfectly useless
to man, he left those dreary regions of eternal winter, to continue his
discoveries under a less inclement sky.
He first visited Easter Island and the Marquesas, where a new discovery
received the name of Hood's Island, and on the way thence to Tahiti
added the Palisser Group to the map of the world. We now follow him to
the extensive archipelago of Espiritu Santo, first seen by Quiros in
1606, who took it for a part of the imaginary southern continent. Since
then it had only been visited by Bougainville (1768), who however had
contented himself with landing on the Isle of Lepers, and ascertaining
the fact that it did not form part of a continent but of a considerable
group of islands. Cook on his part examined the whole archipelago in such
an accurate manner, ascertaining the situation of many of the islands
and discovering such numbers of new ones, that he justly thought he had
acquired the right to rebaptize them under the name of the New Hebrides.
From these islands he sailed for the third time to New Zealand, and
discovered on his passage New Caledonia and the romantic Norfolk Island.
Leaving New Zealand on the 10th of November, 1774, once more to search
for the southern continent, he traversed a vast extent of sea for 17
days, from 43° to 55° 48′ S. lat., when he gave up all thoughts of
finding any more land in that part of the ocean, and determined to steer
directly for the west entrance of the Straits of Magellan, with a design
of coasting the southern part of Tierra del Fuego, quite round Cape Horn
to Le Maire's Straits. Those wild, deeply indented, rocky coasts, the
region of eternal storms and fogs, form the most striking contrast to
the smiling shores of the South Sea islands. But, if in the latter the
splendour of tropical vegetation enchants the eye of the spectator, the
exuberance of animal life in the Magellanic Archipelago may well raise
his astonishment. In one of the small islands near Staaten Land Cook
admired the remarkable harmony reigning among the different species of
mammifera and birds. The sea-lions occupied the greatest part of the
sea-coast, the bears the inland; the shags were posted on the highest
cliffs, the penguins in such places as had the best access to the sea;
and the other birds chose more retired places. Occasionally, however,
all these animals were seen to mix together like domestic cattle and
poultry in a farmyard, without one attempting to hurt the other in the
least. Even the eagles and the vultures were frequently observed sitting
together on the hills among the shags, while none of the latter, either
old or young, appeared to be disturbed at their presence. No doubt the
poor fishes had to pay for the touching union of this "happy family."
Having fully explored the southern extremity of America, we once more see
the indefatigable navigator steer forth into the deserts of the southern
Polar Ocean, where he discovers some snow-clad isles, Bird Island, South
Georgia, Sandwich Land, the southern Thule; and finally returns to
England (30th July, 1775) after an absence of three years and seventeen
days.
His third voyage (1776) was undertaken for the purpose of exploring the
Northern Pacific, and casting the same broad light over those unvisited
waters as over the southern part of that vast ocean. To the south-east of
the Cape of Good Hope he discovered Prince Edward's Islands, and thence
proceeded to explore Kerguelen's Land, discovered six years previously
by the Frenchman of that name. This wintry island bears neither tree nor
shrub, but in the bays the gigantic sea-weeds form submarine forests, and
countless penguins make the dreary shores resound with their deep braying
voice.
Van Diemen's Land, New Zealand, and the Friendly and Society Isles were
now visited for the last time. Steering to the north, Cook discovered
in the last days of the year 1777 the Sandwich Islands, most likely
previously known to the Spaniards, but kept secret from the world; and
reached on the 7th of March, 1778, the mountainous forest-girt coast of
New Albion, along which two centuries before Drake had sailed as far as
48° N. lat. Penetrating farther and farther to the north, he at length
reached the most westerly point of the American continent, Cape Prince
of Wales, which, stretching far out into the Straits of Behring, is only
thirty-nine miles distant from the east coast of Siberia. Both pillars of
this water-gate, according to Chamisso's description, are high mountains
within sight of each other, rising abruptly from the sea on the Asiatic
side, while on the American their foot is bordered by a low alluvial
plain. On the Asiatic side the sea has its greatest depth, and the
current, which sets from the south into the channel with a rapidity of
two or three knots an hour, its greatest strength. Whales and numberless
herds of walruses are seen only on the Asiatic side.
Through these famous straits, which Deshnew had first passed, and
which Behring most likely never saw, Cook penetrated into the Arctic
Ocean, examined a part of the Siberian coast, and then sailed to the
opposite shores of America, where he discovered and explored the coast
of West Georgia as far as 70° 44′ N. lat., until fields of ice opposed
an impenetrable barrier to his progress.
After having thus illumined with the torch of science the farthest
extremities of the earth, Cook once more steered to the south and
discovered Hawaii, the largest of the Sandwich Islands. But better had it
been for him if the glory of this discovery had fallen to the share of
some other navigator, for it was here that the illustrious seaman, who
had thrice circumnavigated the globe, was doomed to fall by the club of a
barbarous savage.
No navigator has ever made so many important discoveries at such
distances from each other as Cook, or done more for the progress of
geographical knowledge. The wide Pacific he so thoroughly explored,
that his successors found only single ears to glean where he had reaped
the richest harvest. With the firm resolution and the indomitable
perseverance of the ancient mariners who preceded him on that vast ocean,
he combined a scientific knowledge they never possessed. What they
had only flightily observed, or imperfectly described, he in reality
discovered, and indelibly marked upon the map of the globe. Indefatigable
with the astrolabe and the plummet, he neglected no opportunity of
pointing out to his successors both the dangers they would have to avoid,
and the harbours in which they might find a refuge against storms, and a
supply of fresh water and provisions. His excellent method of preserving
the health of seamen from the murderous attacks of the scurvy, secures
him a lasting place among the benefactors of mankind. But he not only
anxiously watched over the welfare of his companions--his humanity
extended a no less salutary influence over the savages with whom he
came in contact. He everywhere sought to better their condition, made
them presents of useful animals and seeds, and pointed out to them the
advantages of peace and agriculture. But his chief praise remains yet to
be told, and this is, that he owed the high position he acquired in life
exclusively to himself. He whose fame reached as far as the limits of
the civilised world, and whose death was mourned as a national calamity,
was the son of a poor labourer, and had commenced his career as a common
sailor.
The most celebrated navigators during the last quarter of the eighteenth
century were Vancouver and La Peyrouse.
Vancouver, who had accompanied Cook on his last and fatal voyage, gained
his chief laurels (1790) by thoroughly exploring the north-west coast
of America, which his illustrious friend had merely sketched in its
most important outlines, having been prevented by his untimely end
from investigating it more fully on a second visit. Vancouver began
his hydrographical labours at Cape Mendocino, examined the Straits of
Juan de Fuca, and, having convinced himself of the non-existence of a
passage to the eastward, accurately investigated the labyrinth of bays,
isles, sounds, and inlets, extending between 50° and 60° N. lat., thus
establishing the important fact of the uninterrupted continuation of the
American continent in these parts. Vancouver's Island will transmit his
name to the latest posterity, and British Columbia remember him as the
first navigator that accurately mapped her shores.
The fame of La Peyrouse is owing more to his misfortunes than to his
eminent services. After having distinguished himself as a naval officer,
he was sent by the equally unfortunate Louis XVI. on the voyage of
discovery from which he was never to return. On the coast of Tartary
and in the Japanese seas he examined a part of the world which hitherto
no European had visited, and after having rectified many geographical
errors sailed to Botany Bay, whence he forwarded his last despatches (7th
Feb. 1788) to Europe. With the design of sailing through Torres' Straits
to the Gulf of Carpentaria, he left the new-born English colony, but
disappeared in the trackless ocean, and years and years passed on without
solving the mystery of his fate.
At length, in 1826, Captain Dillon, an Englishman, was informed by
Martin Bushart, a Prussian sailor whom he found settled on the Island
of Tikopia, that many years since two large ships had been wrecked on
the neighbouring Island of Vanikoro. Having brought this intelligence to
Calcutta, he was sent out by the East India Company in the "Research" to
make further inquiries on the scene of the catastrophe. On the 13th of
Sept., 1827, Dillon anchored at Vanikoro, and, having collected the most
interesting relics of the shipwreck, left it after a few weeks.
These facts became known at Hobart Town to the French circumnavigator
Dumont d'Urville, who immediately resolved to sail to Vanikoro. He
arrived there on the 22nd Feb., 1828, but at first found it very
difficult to persuade the suspicious natives to point out to him the
remains of the wrecked ship, until the offer of a piece of red cloth
effectually overcame their scruples. One of the boldest immediately
jumped into a boat and offered to guide them on condition of receiving
the proffered reward. The bargain was gladly struck, and the Frenchmen,
piloted by the negro, eagerly pushed off from shore.
The coral reef which forms an enormous girdle round Vanikoro approaches
the land opposite to the village of Paiou, so that the distance between
them is hardly a mile. There, in a channel dividing the breakers, the
savage caused the boat to stop, and made signs to the Frenchmen to look
down to the bottom, where they saw anchors, cannons, and other objects
scattered about and overgrown with corals. No doubt now remained, and
with deep emotion they gazed on these last memorials of the unfortunate
expedition of La Peyrouse. Metal alone had been able to resist the tooth
of time, the rolling waters, or the gnawing ship-worm; all wood-work was
gone.
I have already stated that on d'Urville's arrival he found the natives
extremely distrustful and shy, answering all his questions by negations.
It was evident that their conduct towards La Peyrouse had been anything
but hospitable, and that they now feared the tardy vengeance of the white
men. But, finding themselves treated with invariable kindness, their
fears gradually gave way, and thus it became possible to gather some
information about the catastrophe from some old men who had witnessed it,
and from the most intelligent of the chiefs.
After a dark and stormy night the islanders saw early on the following
morning an enormous _pirogue_ stranded on the coral reef on the south
side of the island. The surf soon destroyed the ship, and but a small
number of the crew reached the shore in a boat. On the following day a
second large _pirogue_ stranded opposite Paiou. But this wreck lying on
the lee-side of the island, less exposed to the surf, and resting on a
more even ground, remained a longer time without going to pieces. The
whole of the crew escaped in the boats to Paiou, where they built a small
vessel, and after a stay of five months once more embarked, and were
never heard of since. Most likely they had steered towards New Ireland,
with the intention of ultimately reaching the Moluccas or the Philippine
Islands, and perished on some unknown reef. The unhealthy condition of
d'Urville's crew prevented him from extending his researches any further
along the western coasts of the Solomon Islands. That the stranded
vessels were those of La Peyrouse is beyond all doubt; for years before
and after no other large vessels had been lost in those seas. The heavy
cannons could only have belonged to ships of war such as La Peyrouse
commanded, and several of the instruments collected by Captain Dillon
evidently belonged to a scientific expedition.
Before d'Urville left Vanikoro he resolved to raise a simple monument to
the memory of his unfortunate countrymen, a four-sided pyramid resting on
a square base. Neither nails nor iron clasps fastened the coral blocks
together, for fear of awakening the cupidity of the savages; and, if they
have kept their word to honour the _Papalangi_ monument as they would a
temple erected to their own gods, it still reminds the navigator whom
chance may lead to that secluded island, of the renown and tragical end
of the ill-fated La Peyrouse.
CHAP. XXVII.
Scoresby.--The Arctic Navigators.--Ross.--Parry.--Sufferings
of Franklin and his Companions on his Overland Expedition
in 1821.--Parry's Sledge-journey to the North Pole.--Sir
John Franklin.--M'Clure.--Kane.--M'Clintock.--South Polar
Expeditions.--Billinghausen.--Weddell.--Biscoe.--Balleny.--Dumont
d'Urville.--Wilkes.--Sir James Ross.--Recent scientific Voyages of
Circumnavigation.
Although the undaunted courage and indomitable perseverance of the great
navigators whom I have named in the preceding chapters had gradually
circumscribed the bounds of discovery, and no vast ocean remained to be
explored by some future Cook or Magellan, yet at the beginning of this
century many secrets of the sea still remained unrevealed to man.
The north coast of America and the Arctic Ocean beyond were still plunged
in mysterious darkness; and although Cook in several places had advanced
far into the Antarctic seas, yet here also a wide field still lay open to
the adventurous seaman.
Many coasts, many groups of islands scattered over the vast bosom of
the ocean, awaited a more accurate survey, and would no doubt have
remained unexplored, if gold, as in former times, had still been the sole
magnet which attracted the seafarer to distant parts of the world. But
fortunately science had now become a power which induced man, without
any prospect of immediate profit, to spare no expense and to shrink from
no danger, that he might become better and better acquainted with his
dwelling-place the earth.
It cannot be denied that our century has laboured at the solution of all
these various geographical questions with an energy and perseverance
unexampled in the history of civilisation; and the prominent part she
has taken in their investigation is undoubtedly one of the great glories
of England. At no other time have more voyages of discovery and more
scientific expeditions been undertaken; never have more courageous
Argonauts gone forth to conquer the golden fleece of knowledge. It
will be the pleasing task of this closing chapter to follow these noble
mariners in their adventurous course; and, to avoid confusion, I shall
begin with a short history of Arctic discovery up to the present day,
and afterwards treat of the efforts made to extend our knowledge towards
the South Pole. In spite of the unsuccessful efforts of a Frobisher, a
Davis, a Hudson, and a Baffin, England had never given up the hope of
discovering a northern passage to India, either direct across the Pole,
or round the north coast of America. It had been one of the chief objects
of Cook's third voyage to find a sea-path from Behring's Straits to
Baffin's or Hudson's Bay; and some years before, while the illustrious
navigator was busy exploring the Southern Pacific, we see Captain Phipps
renewing the old attempt to sail direct to the Pole (1773). But, like his
predecessor Hudson, he reached no farther than the northern extremity of
Spitzbergen, where his vessel, surrounded by mighty ice-blocks, would
have perished but for a timely change of wind. This repulse damped for a
time the spirit of discovery; but hope revived again when it became known
that Scoresby, on a whaling expedition in the Greenland seas (1806), had
attained 81° N. lat. and thus approached the Pole to within 540 miles.
No one before him had ever reached so far to the north, and an open sea
tempted him mightily to proceed, but as the object of his voyage was
strictly commercial, and he himself answerable to the owners of his
vessel, Scoresby felt obliged to sacrifice his inclinations to his duty
and to steer again to the south.
During the continental war, England indeed had little leisure to
prosecute discoveries in the Arctic Ocean; but not long after the
conclusion of peace (1818) two expeditions were sent out for that purpose.
Captain Buchan, with the ships "Dorothea" and "Trent," sailed with
instructions to proceed in a direction as due north as might be
practicable through the Spitzbergen Sea; but, having after much
difficulty gained lat. 80° 34′ north in that polar archipelago, he was
obliged speedily to withdraw and try his fortune off the western edge of
the pack. Here however a tremendous gale, threatening every moment to
crush the ships between the large ice-blocks heaving and sinking in the
roaring billows, induced the bold experiment of dashing right into the
body of the ice; a practice which has been resorted to by whalers in
extreme cases, as their only chance of escaping destruction.
"While we were yet a few fathoms from the ice," says Admiral Beechey, the
eloquent eye-witness and narrator of the dreadful scene, "we searched
with much anxiety for a place that was more open than the general line of
the pack, but in vain; all parts appeared to be equally impenetrable, and
to present one unbroken line of furious breakers, in which immense pieces
of ice were heaving and subsiding with the waves.
"No language, I am convinced, can convey an adequate idea of the terrific
grandeur of the effect now produced by the collision of the ice and
the tempestuous ocean. The sea violently agitated, and rolling its
mountainous waves against an opposing body, is at all times a sublime and
awful sight; but when, in addition, it encounters immense masses, which
it has set in motion with a violence equal to its own, its effect is
prodigiously increased. At one moment it bursts upon these icy fragments,
and buries them many feet beneath its wave, and the next, as the buoyancy
of the depressed body struggles for reascendency, the water rushes in
foaming cataracts over its edges; whilst every individual mass, rocking
and labouring in its bed, grinds against and contends with its opponent
until one is either split with the shock or upheaved upon the surface of
the other. Nor is this collision confined to one particular spot, it is
going on as far as the sight can reach; and when, from this convulsive
scene below, the eye is turned to the extraordinary appearance of the
blink in the sky above, where the unnatural clearness of a calm and
silvery atmosphere presents itself bounded by a dark hard line of stormy
clouds, such as at this moment lowered over our masts, as if to mark the
confines within which the efforts of man would be of no avail, the reader
may imagine the sensation of awe which must accompany that of grandeur in
the mind of the beholder.
"At this instant, when we were about to put the strength of our little
vessel in competition with that of the great icy continent, and when it
seemed almost presumption to reckon on the possibility of her surviving
the unequal conflict, it was gratifying in the extreme to observe in all
our crew the greatest calmness and resolution. If ever the fortitude of
seamen was fairly tried, it was on this occasion; and I will not conceal
the pride I felt in witnessing the bold and decisive tone in which the
orders were issued by the commander of our little vessel (the since so
far-famed and lamented Franklin), and the promptitude and steadiness with
which they were executed by the crew.
"We were now so near the scene of danger as to render necessary the
immediate execution of our plan, and in an instant the labouring vessel
flew before the gale. Each person instinctively secured his own hold
and with his eyes fixed upon the masts, awaited in breathless anxiety
the moment of concussion. It soon arrived; the brig, cutting her way
through the light ice, came in violent contact with the main body. In an
instant we all lost our footing, the masts bent with the impetus, and the
cracking timbers from below bespoke a pressure which was calculated to
awaken our serious apprehensions. The vessel staggered under the shock,
and for a moment seemed to recoil; but the next wave, curling up under
her counter, drove her about her own length within the margin of the ice,
where she gave one roll and was immediately thrown broadside to the wind
by the succeeding wave. This unfortunate occurrence prevented the vessel
from penetrating sufficiently far into the ice to escape the effect of
the gale, and placed her in a situation where she was assailed on all
sides by battering rams, if I may use the expression, every one of which
contested the small space, which she occupied, and dealt such unrelenting
blows that there appeared to be scarcely any possibility of saving her
from foundering. Literally tossed from piece to piece, we had nothing
left but patiently to abide the issue, for we could scarcely keep our
feet, much less render any assistance to the vessel. The motion indeed
was so great, that the ship's bell, which in the heaviest gale of wind
had never struck of itself, now tolled so continually that it was ordered
to be muffled, for the purpose of escaping the unpleasant association it
was calculated to produce."
By setting more head-sail, though at the risk of the masts, already
tottering with the pressure of that which was spread, the vessels,
splitting the ice and thus effecting a passage between the pieces, were
at length released from their perilous situation, but the "Dorothea" was
found to be completely disabled. A short time at Fairhaven in Spitsbergen
was spent in necessary repairs, and even then she was unfit for any
farther service than the voyage to England. Franklin volunteered to
prosecute the enterprise with the "Trent" alone, but the Admiralty Orders
opposed such a proceeding, and the vessels returned home in company.
Meanwhile Captain John Ross, with the "Isabella" and "Alexander," had
proceeded to Baffin's Bay, but instead of exploring Smith's, Jones's, and
Lancaster Sounds, which recent voyages have proved to be each and all
grand open channels to the Polar Sea, he contented himself with Baffin's
assertion that they were enclosed by land, and, after having thus
fruitlessly accomplished the circuit of the bay, returned to England.
With Parry's first expedition, which took place in the following year
(1819), the epoch of modern discoveries in the Arctic Ocean, may properly
be said to begin. Sailing right through Lancaster Sound, he discovered
Prince Regent Inlet, Wellington Channel, and Melville Island. Willingly
would he have proceeded farther to the west, but the ice was now rapidly
gathering, the vessels were soon beset, and, after getting free with
great difficulty, Parry was only too glad to turn back, and settle down
in Winter Harbour. It was no easy task to attain this dreary port, as a
canal two miles and a third in length had first to be cut through solid
ice of seven inches average thickness, yet such was the energy of that
splendid expedition, that the Herculean labour was accomplished in three
days. The two vessels were immediately put in winter trim, the decks
housed over, heating apparatus arranged, and everything done to make the
ten months' imprisonment in those Arctic solitudes as comfortable as
possible.
It was not before the 1st of August that the ships were able to leave
Winter Harbour, when Parry once more stood boldly for the west, but no
amount of skill or patience could penetrate the obstinate masses of
ice, or insure the safety of the vessels under the repeated shocks they
sustained. Finding the barriers absolutely invincible he gave way, and,
steering homeward, reached London on Nov. 3, 1820, where, as may well be
imagined, his reception was most enthusiastic and cordial.
While this wonderful voyage was performing, Franklin, Richardson, and
Back, with two English sailors and a troop of Canadians and Indians, were
penetrating by land to the mouth of the Coppermine River, whence they
intended to make a boat-voyage of discovery along the coasts of the Icy
Ocean. An idea of the difficulties of this undertaking may be formed,
when I mention that the travellers started from Fort York, in Hudson's
Bay, on the 30th of August, 1819, and after a voyage of 700 miles up the
Saskatchewan, reached Fort Cumberland, where they spent the first winter.
The next found them 700 miles further on their journey, established
during the extreme cold at Fort Enterprise. During the summer of 1821
they accomplished the remaining 334 miles, and on the 21st of July
commenced their exploration of the Polar Sea in two birch-bark canoes.
In these frail shallops they skirted the desolate coast of the American
continent, 555 miles to the east of the Coppermine, as far as Point
Turnagain, when the rapid decrease of their provisions and the shattered
state of the canoes imperatively compelled their return. And now began a
dreadful land-journey of two months, accompanied by all the horrors of
famine. A lichen, called by the Canadians _tripe de roche_ (rock-tripe),
afforded them for some time a wretched subsistence, and, that failing,
they were glad to satisfy their hunger with scraps of roasted leather or
burnt bones, from prey which the wolves might have abandoned. On reaching
the Coppermine a raft had to be framed, a task accomplished with the
utmost difficulty by the exhausted party. One or two of the Canadians
had already fallen behind, and never rejoined their comrades, and now
three or four sank down, and could proceed no farther. Back, with the
most vigorous of the men, had already pushed on to send help from Fort
Enterprise; and Richardson, Hood, and Hepburn volunteered to remain with
the disabled men, near a supply of the rock-tripe, while Franklin pursued
his journey with the others capable of bearing him company. On reaching
Fort Enterprise this last party found that wretched tenement completely
deserted, and a note from Back stating that he had gone in pursuit of the
Indians. Some cast-off deer-skins and a heap of bones, provisions worthy
of the place, sustained their flickering life-flame, and after eighteen
miserable days, they were joined in their dreary quarters by Richardson
and Hepburn, the sole survivors of _their_ party. At length, when on
the point of sinking under their sufferings, three Indians sent by Back
brought them timely succour. After a while they were able to join this
valuable friend, and the following year brought them safely back to
England.
I pass over Parry's second and third voyages, undertaken in the years
1821 and 1824, which were consumed in fruitless endeavours to penetrate
westward; the first through some unknown channel to the north of Hudson's
Bay, the second through Prince Regent's Inlet; but his last attempt to
reach the North Pole, by boat and sledge-travelling over the ice, is
of too novel and daring a character to remain unnoticed. His hopes of
success were founded on Scoresby's descriptions, who had seen ice-fields
so free from either fissure or hummock, that, had they not been covered
with snow, a coach might have been driven many leagues over them in a
direct line, without obstruction or danger; but when Parry reached the
ice-fields to the north of Spitzbergen he found them of a very different
nature, composed of loose rugged masses, which rendered travelling over
them extremely irksome and slow.
The strong flat-bottomed boats--amphibious constructions, half sledge,
half canoe,--expressly built for an amphibious journey over a region
where solid ice was expected to alternate with pools of water, had thus
frequently to be unloaded, in order to be raised over the intervening
blocks or mounds, and repeated journeys backward and forward over the
same ground were the necessary consequences. In some places the ice took
the form of sharp pointed crystals, which cut the boots like penknives;
in others, sixteen or eighteen inches of soft snow made the work of
boat-dragging both fatiguing and tedious. Sometimes the men were obliged,
in dragging the boats, to crawl on all-fours, to make any progress at
all, and one day, when heavy rain melted the surface of the ice, four
hours of vigorous effort accomplished only half a mile.
Yet in spite of all these obstacles they toiled cheerfully on and on,
until at length the discovery was made, that while they were apparently
advancing towards the Pole, the ice-field on which they journeyed was
moving to the south, and thus rendering all their exertions fruitless.
Yet though disappointed in his great hope of planting his country's
standard on that unattainable goal, Parry had the glory of reaching the
highest latitude (82° 45′) ever attained by man.
Before this adventurous voyage, Franklin, Richardson, and Back,
forgetful of their long life and death struggle with famine (1819), had
once more (1825) with heroic perseverance bent their steps to the north.
This time they chose the mouths of the Mackenzie for the starting-point
of their discoveries, and having separated into two parties, proceeded to
the east and west, and explored 4000 miles of unknown coast.
In 1829 Captain John Ross, having for a long time vainly solicited
government to send him out once more on an Arctic expedition, was
enabled by the munificence of a private individual, Mr. Felix Booth, to
accomplish his wishes, and to purchase a small steamer, to which the
rather presumptuous name of "Victory" was given. The selection of the
vessel was no doubt unlucky enough: for can anything be conceived more
unpractical than paddle-boxes among ice-blocks; but, to make amends for
this error, the veteran commander was fortunate in being accompanied by
his illustrious nephew, James Ross, who with every quality of the seaman
united the ardour and knowledge of the most zealous naturalist.
He it was who discovered the peninsula which in compliment to the patron
of the expedition was named Boothia Felix; to him also we owe the
discovery of the Magnetic Pole; but the voyage is far less remarkable for
these after all not very important successes, than for its unexampled
protraction during a space of five years.
The first season had a fortunate termination. On the 10th of August,
1829, the "Victory" attained Prince Regent's Inlet, and reached on the
13th the spot where Parry on his third voyage had been obliged to abandon
the "Fury." Of the ship itself no traces remained; but the provisions
which had providently been stored up on land were found untouched. The
solid tin boxes had effectually preserved them from the voracity of the
white bears; and the flour, bread, wine, rum, and sugar were found as
good after four years, as on the day when the expedition started.
It was to this discovery, to this "manna in the wilderness," that Ross
owed his subsequent preservation; for how else could he have passed
four winters in the Arctic waste? Never was the hand of Providence more
distinctly visible than here.
On the 15th of August Cape Garry was attained, the most southern point
of the inlet which Parry had reached on his third voyage. Fogs and
drift-ice considerably retarded the progress of the expedition; but
Ross, though slowly, moved on, so that about the middle of September
the map of the northern regions was enriched by some 500 miles of newly
discovered coast. But now winter broke in with all its Arctic severity,
and the "Victory" was obliged to seek refuge in Felix Harbour, where the
useless steam-engine was thrown overboard as a nuisance, and the usual
preparations made for spending the cold season as agreeably as possible.
The following spring, from the 17th of May to the 13th of June, was
employed by James Ross on a sledge journey, which led to the discovery
of King William's Sound and King William's Land; and during which that
courageous mariner penetrated so far to the west, that he had only ten
days' provisions, scantily measured out, for a return voyage of 200 miles
through an empty wilderness.
After an imprisonment of full twelve months the "Victory" was set free on
the 17th of September, 1830, and proceeded once more on her discoveries.
But the period of her liberty was short indeed, short like that of
revolted slaves between two despotisms; for, after advancing three miles
in one continual battle against the currents and the drift-ice, she again
froze fast on the 27th of the same month.
In the following spring we again see the indefatigable James Ross, ever
active in the cause of science, extending the circle of his excursions
and planting the British flag upon the site of the Northern Magnetic
Pole, which, however, is not invariably fixed to one spot, as was then
believed, but moves from place to place within the glacial zone.
On the 28th of August, 1831, the "Victory," after a second imprisonment
of eleven months, was warped into open water, and, after having spent a
whole month to advance _four_ English miles, was again enclosed by the
ice on the 27th of September.
But seven miles in two long years! According to this measure, there
was but little hope indeed of ever seeing Old England again: the only
chance left was to abandon the vessel, and endeavour by means of the
boats left among the "Fury's" stores to reach Baffin's Bay, and get a
homeward passage in some whaler. Accordingly the colours were nailed to
the mast-head of the "Victory," and then officers and crew took leave of
the ill-fated little vessel, on the 23rd of April, 1832. Captain Ross
was deeply moved on this occasion; for, after having served forty-two
years in thirty-five different ships, this was the first he had ever been
obliged to abandon as a wreck.
Provisions and boats had now to be transported over long tracts of rugged
ice, and as their great weight rendered it impossible to carry all at
once, the same ground had to be traversed several times. Terrific snow
storms retarded the progress of the wanderers, and invincible obstacles
forced them to make long circuits. Thus it happened that during the first
month of their pilgrimage through the wilderness, although they had
travelled 329 miles, they only gained thirty in a direct line.
On the 9th of June, James Ross, the leading spirit of the expedition,
accompanied by two men and with a fortnight's provisions, left the main
body to ascertain the state of the boats and supplies at Fury Beach.
Returning, they met their comrades on the 25th of June, and gratified
them with the intelligence, that, though they had found three of the
boats washed away, enough still remained for their purpose, and that all
the provisions were in good condition.
On the 1st of July the whole party arrived at Fury Beach, whence, after
having repaired the weather-worn boats, they set out again on the 1st of
August, and, after much buffeting among the ice in their frail shallops,
reached the mouth of the inlet by the end of the month. But here they
were doomed to disappointment; for, after several fruitless attempts to
run along Barrow's Strait, the obstructions from the ice obliged them to
haul the boats on shore and pitch their tents.
Barrow's Strait was found from repeated surveys to be one impenetrable
mass of ice. After lingering here till the third week in September, it
was unanimously agreed that their only resource was to fall back again on
the stores at Fury Beach, and spend their fourth winter in that dreary
solitude. Here they sheltered their canvass tent with a wall of snow, and
setting up an extra stove made themselves tolerably comfortable until the
increasing severity of the winter, and the rigour of the cold, added to
the tempestuous weather, made them perfect prisoners, and sorely tried
their patience. Scurvy now began to appear, and several of the men fell
victims to the scourge. At the same time cares for the future darkened
the gloom of their situation, for, if they were not liberated in the
ensuing summer, their diminishing food gave them but little hope of
surviving another year.
It may be imagined how anxiously the aspect of the sea was watched during
the ensuing summer, and with what beating hearts they at length embarked
on the 15th of August. The spot which the year before they had attained
after the most strenuous exertions was soon passed, and slowly winding
their way through the ice-blocks with which the inlet was encumbered,
they now saw the wide expanse of Barrow's Strait open before them. With
spirits invigorated by hope they push on, alternately rowing and sailing,
and on the night of the 25th rest in a good harbour on the eastern shore
of Navy Board Inlet. "A ship in sight!" is the joyful sound that awakens
them early on the following morning; and never have men more hurriedly
and energetically set out, never have oars been more indefatigably
plied. But the elements are against them, calms and currents conspire
against their hopes, and to their inexpressible disappointment the ship
disappears in the distant haze.
But after a few hours of suspense the sight of another vessel lying to in
a calm relieves their despair. This time their exertions are crowned with
success; and, wonderful! the vessel which receives them on board is the
same "Isabella" in which Ross made his first voyage to these seas.
They told him of his own death, and could hardly be persuaded that it was
really he and his party who now stood before them. But when all doubts
were cleared away, you should have heard their thrice-repeated thundering
hurrahs!
The scene that now followed cannot better be told than in Ross's own
words:--
"Every man was hungry, and was to be fed; all were ragged, and were to be
clothed; there was not one to whom washing was not indispensable; nor one
whom his beard did not deprive of all human semblance. All, everything,
too was to be done at once. It was washing, dressing, shaving, eating,
all intermingled; it was all the materials of each jumbled together;
while in the midst of all there were interminable questions to be asked
and answered on both sides; the adventures of the "Victory," our own
escapes, the politics of England, and the news, which was now four years
old.
"But all subsided into peace at last. The sick were accommodated, the
seamen disposed of, and all was done for us which care and kindness could
perform.
"Night at length brought quiet and serious thoughts; and I trust there
was not a man among us who did not then express, where it was due, his
gratitude for that interposition which had raised us all from a despair
which none could now forget, and had brought us from the very borders
of a most distant grave to life and friends and civilisation. Long
accustomed, however, to a cold bed on the hard snow or the bare rock,
few could sleep amid the comfort of our accommodations. I was myself
compelled to leave the bed which had been kindly assigned me, and take
my abode in a chair for the night, nor did it fare much better with the
rest. It was for time to reconcile us to this sudden and violent change,
to break through what had become habit, and to inure us once more to the
usages of our former days."
I have no time to relate how Ross was received in England, and what
honours were heaped upon him; honours conferred with all the better
grace that the nation had not forgotten him during his long-protracted
absence, and had no cause to blush for culpable neglect. For Britain has
ever considered it her duty to help and assist the men who venture their
lives in the cause of science and for the advancement of her glory; nor
will she allow the officer who carries her standard into unknown lands,
and there falls a victim to nature or to man, to perish without feeling
his last moments gladdened by the conviction, that, however distant his
grave, the eye of his country rests upon him.
Thus when Back, that noble Paladin of Arctic research, volunteered to
lead a relief expedition in quest of Ross, £4000 were immediately raised
by public subscription to defray the expenses of the undertaking. While
deep in the American wilds Back was gratified with the intelligence that
the object of his search had safely arrived in England, but, instead of
returning home, the indefatigable explorer resolved to trace the unknown
course of the Thlu-it-scho, or Great Fish River, down to the distant
outlet where it pours its waters into the polar seas. It would take
a volume to recount his adventures in this wonderful expedition, the
numberless falls, cascades, and rapids that obstructed his progress; the
storms and snow-drifts that vainly conspired to repel him; the horrors
of that iron-ribbed desert, without a single tree on the whole line of
his passage; and how heroically he persevered to the very last, and added
Back's River, as the Thlu-it-scho has most deservedly been called, to the
geographical conquests of which England may well be proud.
The present is not a detailed account of Arctic discovery, a complete
historical narrative of how step by step those dreary regions, the refuse
of the earth, have grown into distinctness on the map; so passing over
Simpson's wonderful boat-voyage along the northern shores of America,
which led to the discovery of 1600 miles of coast (1837-1839), and Rae's
important researches on Melville Peninsula (1846, 1847), I proceed to
the last expedition of Sir John Franklin. We all know how the veteran
seaman left England in the sixtieth year of his age, once more to try
the north-western passage; how since his last despatches, dated from the
Whalefish Islands, Baffin's Bay, July 12th, 1845, months and months,
and then years and years, elapsed without bringing any tidings of his
fate; how Collinson and M'Clure, Penny and Inglefield, Kane and Bellot,
and so many other worthies, went out to search for the "Erebus" and
"Terror," and how in spite of all their efforts mystery still overhung
the ill-fated expedition, until M'Clintock raised the veil and informed
us how miserably most of the gallant seamen perished in those dreary
wastes, but how their commander had been spared the pangs of protracted
suffering, and gone to his eternal rest even before his country began to
feel concerned about his loss.
The search for Franklin is a page in history of which a nation may
well be proud, more noble than a hundred battles and grander than the
conquest of an empire. These are no blood-stained laurels, but palms of
glory gained by matchless energy and perseverance over the horrors of a
nature inimical to man, a theme which some future Homer will delight to
sing. Had Franklin been ever so successful, he could not possibly have
achieved so much for Arctic discovery as his loss gave rise to; for to
the disasters of his voyage we owe the knowledge of all the coasts of
that intricate conglomeration of islands which faces the Pole, and of
the channels, which opening far to the north, lead to its profoundest,
and seemingly impenetrable depths. All these discoveries are of little
commercial value, it is true, for no trading vessel will ever plough
those desert seas; but it is no small advantage to a nation to have to
register such pages in her annals, and to leave them as a legacy and an
example to future generations.
The series of modern South Polar expeditions was opened in 1819 by
Smith's casual discovery of New South Shetland. Soon afterwards a Russian
expedition under Lazareff and Bellinghausen discovered (January, 1821),
in 69° 3′ south lat., the islands Paul the First and Alexander, the most
southern lands that had ever been visited by man.
The year after, Captain Weddell, a sealer, penetrated into the icy sea
as far as 74° 15′ south lat. three degrees nearer to the pole than had
been attained by the indomitable perseverance of Cook. Swarms of petrels
animated the sea, and no ice impeded his progress, but as the season was
far advanced, and Weddell apprehended the dangers of the return voyage,
he steered again to the north. In 1831 Biscoe discovered Enderby Land,
and soon afterwards Graham's Land, to which the gratitude of geographers
has since given the discoverer's name.
Then follows Balleny who in 1839 revealed the existence of the group of
islands called after him, and of Sabrina Land (69° south lat.).
About the same time three considerable expeditions appear in the southern
seas, sent out by France, the United States, and England.
Dumont d'Urville discovered _Terre Louis Philippe_ (63° 30′ south lat.)
in February, 1838, and _Terre Adélie_ (66° 67′ south lat.) on the 21st
of January, 1840.
Almost on the same day, Wilkes, the commander of the United States
exploring expedition reached a coast which he followed for a length of
1500 miles, and which has been called Wilkes' Land, to commemorate the
discoverer's name. But of all the explorers of the southern frozen ocean,
the palm unquestionably belongs to Sir James Ross, who penetrated farther
towards the Pole than any other navigator before or after, and followed
up to 79° south lat. a steep coast, whose enormous glaciers stretched
far out into the sea. In 77° 5′ south lat. he witnessed a magnificent
eruption of Mount Erebus, the Etna of the extreme south. The enormous
columns of flame and smoke rising two thousand feet above the mouth of
the crater, which is elevated 12,000 feet above the level of the sea,
combined, with the snow-white mountain-chain and the deep blue ocean,
to form a scene, the magnificence of which seemed to be enhanced by the
reflection that no human eye had ever witnessed its beauty, as most
likely none will ever witness it again. As all the efforts of the gallant
leader to penetrate still farther to the south were baffled by a mighty
ice-barrier, forming an uninterrupted mural precipice for the length of
several hundred miles, he yielded to the invincible obstacles of nature,
and returned to more genial climes. It is worthy of notice, that Sir
James Clark Ross had accompanied Parry on his sledge-expedition to the
North Pole, and thus acquired the unique distinction of having approached
_both_ poles nearer than any other man.
Whether the lands discovered by Wilkes, d'Urville, Biscoe, Balleny, and
Ross form a continuous continent, or belong to a large group of islands
behind which an open sea extends to the very Pole, is a question which
most likely will never be solved, as its determination can never be of
the least use to mankind.
The numerous scientific voyages of circumnavigation achieved during the
course of the present century are far more important, with regard to the
welfare and progress of humanity, than the researches which have been
made in the icy wildernesses of the north and south. New lands and isles
of great extent have indeed not been discovered by these expeditions, but
they have contributed not less largely to the advancement of geography
and the natural sciences.
The wonders of oceanic life have first been shown in a more distinct
light by the labours of Chamisso, Meyen, Lesson, Darwin, Gray, Hooker,
Robinson, Dana, &c., who accompanied Kotzebue, Freycinet, Fitzroy, Ross,
&c., on their world-encircling course; and numerous coasts and groups of
islands, situated in the remotest seas, and formerly only superficially
known, have been accurately measured and traced on the map by the
distinguished hydrographers who took part in those far-famed voyages.
INDEX
INDEX.
Aar glacier, formation and dissolution of the, 75
Acalephæ, 348. _See_ Jelly-fishes
Acephala, their organisation, 299
-- their food, 305
-- their enemies, 305, 306
Acorn-shell, the, 244
Actiniæ, 361
Actinozoa, 363
Adriatic, depth of the, 8
-- tides of the, 43
Africa, length of coast-line of, 4
-- circumnavigated by the Phœnicians, 444
-- Hanno's discoveries on the west coast of, 444
Agar-agar, or artificial edible birds'-nests of Java, 402
Agricola, Julius, sails round Scotland, 422
Air-bladder of fishes, 189
Air-currents. _See_ Winds
Albatross, 163
Albion, New, discovery of, 467
Alcyonarians, 363
Alexander the Great, maritime discoveries resulting from the
conquests of, 447
Alexandria, the Pharus or lighthouse of, 89
Algæ, 390
-- changes produced by, in the colour of the sea, 19
-- Russian official collecting, 392
Alligators, 172
Amalfi, maritime trade of, 449
-- decline of, 449
Amazon river, tides of the, 43
-- -- quantity of water which it pours into the ocean, 75
-- -- discovery of the river, 460
America, length of coast-line of, 4
-- salmon of Russian America, 221
-- discovery of, by Columbus, 457
-- account of early navigation along the shores of, 457
Amerigo Vespucci, his discoveries, 460
Ammodyte, or launce, 230
Ammonites, 437
Amœbæ, 379
-- simplicity of their structure, 380
Anabas of the dry tanks, 193
Anchovy, 214
Angler, or sea-devil, 203
Annelides, marine, 262
-- general remarks on the, 262
-- their beauty, 263
-- their food, 264
-- their enemies, 265
-- tubicole, 266
Anson, Commodore, his maritime discoveries, 483
Aphrodita, or sea-mouse, 264
Arab commerce and maritime discovery, 452
Arctic discovery, 474, 496
-- winter passed by Barentz, 478
Argand, his improvement in marine illumination, 90
Argonaut, 280
Argus, Scotch or Shetland, 333
Ascidia mammillata, 322
Asia, length of coast-line of, 4
Asteriæ, 335
Astræa, 373
Atlantic Ocean, depth of the, according to Maury, 7
-- -- temperature of the, 14
-- -- fury of the Atlantic surge, 28, 29
-- -- enormous fucus banks, or floating meadows of the, 397
Atolls, or lagoon islands, 374
Auburn, site of the village of, 29
Auks, 151, 168
Australia, length of coast-line of, 4
-- discoveries in, 480, 486
Avosets, 143, 144, 146
Azores, discovery of the, 456
Back's arctic voyages, 507
Baffin, his maritime discoveries, 483
Baffin's Bay, discovery of, 483
Balani, 244
Balanus ovularis, 244
-- balanoides, 244
Balboa, Vasco Nuñez de, sketch of him and his discoveries, 464
Baleen of the whale, 98
Balleny, his discoveries, 509
Baltic, depth of the, 8
Band-worm, the great, 264
Barentz, William, his maritime discoveries, 476
Barnacles, 244
-- their attacks on the whale, 17
Barnacle goose, 146
Barrow's Straits, discovery of, 505
Basaltic pillars of Fingal's Cave, 46
Bassora, foundation of the town of, 452
Bastidas, Roderigo de, his maritime discoveries, 461
Beachy Head, 5
Bear, white, said to attack the whale, 100
-- organisation of the polar bear, 10
-- attacks Barentz's men, 478
Bear Islands, discovery of, 477
Behring, his maritime discoveries and death, 484
Belemnites, 437
Bellrock lighthouse, 28, 86
-- -- height of the waves at the, 28
-- -- in the storm of 1807, 29
Benin, discovery of, 456
Bermudas, depth of the sea near the, 7
Bird Island, discovery of, 490
Bird's-foot sea-star, 335
Birds'-nests, edible, of Java, 399
-- mode of gathering them, 399
-- agar-agar, or artificial birds'-nests, 402
Birds of passage, 171
Birkenhead, the Great Float at, 91
Biscoe, his discoveries, 509
Bivalves, or acephalous mollusca. _See_ Acephala
Black-skimmer, or cut-water, the, 144
Blocks, erratic, of Greenland and Spitzbergen, 76
Bojador, Cape, doubling of, for the first time, 455
Bonito, the, 223, 224
Booth, Mr. Felix, 503
Boothia Felix, discovery of, 503
Borda, his improvements in marine illumination, 90
Borer, the, 231
Botallack, submarine mine, 91
Botrylli, 324
Bougainville, his maritime discoveries, 483
Boundaries of the ocean. _See_ Limits of the ocean
Brachiopods, 315
Brazils, discovery of the, 460
Breakwater of Cherbourg, 90
-- of Plymouth, 90
-- moles of Portland, Holyhead, ind Alderney, 90
Bream, sea, 415
Bristol Channel, high tides of the, 38
-- -- marine fauna, 414
Britannia Tubular Bridge, 91
Bryozoa, 316
Buchan, Captain, his arctic discoveries, 497
Buffadero, the marine cave of the, 52
Bullhead, river, its parental affection, 195
Burgomaster-bird, 159
Butthorn, the, 335
Byron, Commodore, his maritime discoveries, 483
Cabot, John and Sebastian, their discoveries, 459
Cachalot, or sperm-whale, its organisation, 102-104
-- its food, 104
Ca'ing whale, the, 115
Calamary, 272
Caledonia, New, discovery of, 490
California, discovery of, 472
Callao, colour of the sea near, 20
Calling crabs, 250, 251
Calms, or doldrums, causes of, 67
Calycophoridæ, 352
Canada acquired by France, 461
Canary Islands probably known to the Phœnicians, 444
Cano, Sebastian el, first performs the circumnavigation of
the globe, 469
Cape de Verd Islands, depth of the sea near the, 7
Capelins, 162
Capri, 'azure cave' at, 18, 49
Carcinas mænas, metamorphosis of, 258
Caribbean Sea, crystalline clearness of the, 21
Carinaria, 287
Carrigeen (Chondrus crispus), 399
Carteret, his maritime discoveries, 483
Cartier, Jacques, voyages of, 461
Caryophyllia, 370
Cat-fish, or sea-wolf, 415
Catalonians, their maritime discoveries, 452
Caves, marine, 45
-- Fingal's Cave, 45-48
-- azure cave of Capri, 18, 49
-- the Antro di Nettuno, 49
-- the Cave of Hunga, 49-51
-- cave of the Skerries, 51
-- the Souffleur, or Blower, 52
-- the Buffadero, 53
Caviar, 217
Cellulariæ, 319
Cephalopods, their organisation, 271
-- their locomotion, 274
-- their food, 277
-- their enemies, 277
-- their great size in some cases, 379
-- the Norwegian kraken, 279
-- the argonaut, 280
-- the nautilus, 281
-- the cephalopods of the primitive ocean, 282
Cessart, De, his breakwater at Cherbourg, 90
Cetaceans, general remarks on the organisation of the, 95
-- food of whales, 98
-- their enemies, 99
-- large Greenland whale, 101
-- the rorqual, or fin-back, 101
-- the antarctic smooth-back, 102
-- sperm-whale, 102
-- the narwhal, or unicorn-fish, 106
-- the dolphin, 107
-- the porpoise, 108
-- the grampus, 108
-- history of the whale-fishery, 109
-- the ca'ing whale, 115
Cetochilus australis, banks of the, in the Pacific, 21
Ceylon, or Taprobane, discovery of, 447
Chætodon rostratus, 203
Chancellor's discovery of the White Sea, 474
-- his death, 475
Charybdis, vortex of, 41
Chelura tenebrans, 247
Chelyosoma, 323
Chepstow, high tides at, 38
Cherbourg, breakwater of, 90
Chili, upheaving of the coast of, 10
Chincha Islands, statistics of the guano trade of the, 169
Chiton squamosa, 285
Chlorospermeæ, or green sea-weeds, 391
Chondrus crispus, or carrigeen, 399
Circumnavigation of the globe first performed by Sebastian el Cano, 469
Clavellina producta, 322
Climate, influence of the Gulf Stream on that of the west European
coasts, 51
-- variety of climates in similar latitudes, 52
-- Peruvian cold stream, 53
-- Japanese stream, 54
-- influence of forests on climates, 78
-- power of man over climate, 78
Climbing fishes, 193
Clio borealis, 298
Clouds, formation of, 71, 72
Coast-line of the sea, length of, 4
Coasts, different formation of, 5
-- destructive power of the sea on all, 29
Cockle, the, 303, 306
Cocoa-nut crab of the East Indies, 254
Cod, the, 415
-- curing the cod, 216
-- cod-liver oil, 216
Cœlenterata, 345, 357
Colæus of Samos, his maritime discoveries, 446
Colour of the sea, 17
-- the azure cave at Capri, 18
-- changes produced by algæ and sea-worms, 19
Columbus, his discovery of America, 457
Compass, mariner's, invention of the, 451
Composition of sea-water, 12
Cone-shell, orange, 288
Conger-eels, 222
Congo, discovery of, 456
Constructions, marine, 80-91
Cook, Captain, his voyages and discoveries, 485
-- his first voyage, 486
-- discovery of the Society Islands, 486
-- of the east coast of New Holland, 486
-- his second voyage, and discoveries, 492
-- his third voyage, 491
-- his death, 462
Cook's Strait, discovery of, 486
Conochilus volvox, 268
Coral, spotted, of the Indian Ocean, 21
Coral, 366
-- deep sea, 367
-- fishing of the Mediterranean, 367
Coral-reefs, 374
-- barrier-reef of Australia, 374
-- how they become habitable for man, 375, 376
Coralline zone, 413
Cordova, his discoveries, 491
Cormorants, 154, 155
Cortereal, Gaspar, his maritime discoveries, 460
Cortereal, John Vaez, his discoveries, 458
Cortereal, Miguel, 461
Cortes, his conquest of Mexico, 461
Coryniadæ, 358
Crabs, 246
-- legs of crabs, 251
-- larvæ of crabs, 258
Cross-fish, the common, 334
Crustacea, by what are they distinguished from the insects and
spiders? 243
-- their respiratory organs, 244
Ctenophora, 358
Cuba discovered, 459
-- circumnavigated for the first time, 461
Curlew, the, 143
Currents, ocean, 54
-- causes of, 54, 55
-- the equatorial stream, 56
-- the Gulf Stream, 57
-- influence of the Gulf Stream, 60
-- the cold Peruvian stream, 62
-- the Japanese stream, 63
-- beneficial influence of the ocean currents, 64
Cushion star-fishes, 335
Cuttle-fish, 275
-- ova of the, 278
Cuvier's classification of fishes, 188
Cyclobranchiata, 285
Cyclones, causes of, 68
Cymospiras, 266
Dampier, his maritime discoveries, 483
Darien, Gulf of, discovered, 461
Darwin's theory of the formation of lagoon islands, 375
Davis, John, his maritime discoveries, 476
Depth of the sea, 6
-- of the Atlantic, according to Maury, 7
-- American mode of sounding in deep water, 6
-- telegraphic plateau between Newfoundland and Ireland, 7
-- measurement of depth by the rapidity of tide-wave, 8
Dew, formation of, 68
Diatomaceæ, 402
-- their importance in reference to the existence of animal life in
high latitudes, 403
Diaz, Bartholomew, his discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, 476
Diazona violacea, 324
Diodons, 178
Diogenes hermit-crab, 254
Diphyes, 352
Discovery, maritime, progress of, 441. _See_ Maritime Discovery
Diu, Portuguese settlement of, 462
Divers, 150
Docks of London and Liverpool, 91
Dogfish, 200
Dolphins, 107
Donax, 301
Dory, 242
Dragon-weever, 204
Drake, Sir Francis, his discoveries, 473
Duck family, 146
Dugong, 117
-- skeleton of the, 118
-- female dugong of Ceylon, 119
Dunes, formation of, 5
Dunwich, destruction of the coast at, 30
d'Urville, Dumont, his discoveries, 509
Dusky Bay, discovery of, 487
Dutch, their attempts to discover a North-West passage to
India, 474, 476
Earth-rind, the giant book of the, 432
-- formation of a solid earth-crust by cooling, 432
Echinus, or sea-urchin, 337
-- mammillated, 338
-- edible, 338
-- dental apparatus of sea-urchins, 339
Eddystone lighthouse, the, 81
-- Winstanley's structure, 81
-- Rudyerd's, 82
-- Smeaton's, 83
Edward's Island, Prince, discovery of, 491
-- Land, 415
Eel, the common, 225
-- conger, 228
-- the murry, or muræna, 229
Eendragt's Land, discovery of, 480
Eider-duck, 146
Electric eel, 202
Endeavour Strait, discovery of, 486
Enderby Land, discovery of, 509
English navigation, retrospective view of, 459
-- attempts to discover the North-West passage, 474
Enteromorphæ, 391
Eolis coronata, 284
Eozoon canadense, 381 _note_
Equatorial ocean-current, 57
Equinoctial line crossed for the first time, 456
Erebus, Mount, discovery of, 509
Escharæ, 317
Espiritu Santo, discovery of the Archipelago of, 480, 490
Esquimaux in his kayak, 120
Euripus, phenomenon produced by the tides of the, 44
Europe, length of coast-line of, 4
Euryale, warted, 333
Evaporation, movement of the waters through, 65
Extent of the ocean, 1
Falkland Islands, sea-weeds at, 396
Fan-bearer, 402, 403
Feather-star, the rosy, 330
Fernandez, Juan, his discoveries, 473
Fierasfer, 340
File-fish, 232
Fin-crab, spotted, 252
Fin-fish, or northern rorqual, 101
Fingal's Cave, 45-48
-- -- popular belief as to its workmanship, 48
-- -- Sir W. Scott's description of it, 48
Fire, sea of, 434
Fish, consumption of, in London, 237 _note_
Fish River, Great, course of, traced, 507
Fishes, general remarks on, 186
-- their locomotive organs, 187
-- Cuvier's classification of fishes, 188 _note_
-- fins, 188
-- air-bladder, 189
-- skin of, 190
-- beauty of tropical, 191
-- gills of, 191
-- circulation of the blood of, 191, 192
-- climbing, 193
-- parental affection of, 194
-- organs of sense, 196
-- offensive weapons of, 198
-- numerous enemies of, 207
-- luminous, 422
Flamingoes, 142
Flat-fishes, 235
Florence, its commercial grandeur, 450
Flounder, 238
Flying-fishes, 156, 205, 224
Flying-gurnard, 206
Foraminifera, 378
-- their immense numbers, 378
-- simplicity of their structure, 380
-- various forms of Foraminifera, 381
Forbes, Professor Edward, on the four zones of marine life on the
British coasts, 408
Forests, influence of, on the formation and retention of atmospherical
precipitations, 76
-- formation of, 77
-- influence of, on climates, 78
Franklin, Sir John, his arctic voyages, 501
-- his last voyage, 508
Fresnel, his improvements in marine illumination, 90
Frigate-bird, 155
Frobisher, Martin, his maritime discoveries, 475
Frog-fish, 193, 194
Fuci, 392
-- fucus banks, or floating meadows, of the Atlantic 397
Fulmar, the, 195
Gades, Phœnician town of, 444
Gaëta, maritime trade of, 451
Gama, Vasco de, doubles the Cape of Good Hope, 462
Gannet, or soland goose, 156
Gar-fish, 223
Garry, Cape, discovery of, 503
Gasteropods, 282
-- respiratory apparatus, 283
-- growth of their shells, 289
-- mode of locomotion, 289
-- their food, 294
-- organs of sense, 295
-- their enemies, 297
-- their use to man, 296
Genoa, maritime grandeur of, 450
Geographical distribution of marine life, 405
Georgia, South, discovery of, 490
Germany, its climate at the time of the Romans and at the present
time, 78
Glaciers, formation and dissolution of, 75
-- the Aar glacier, 75
-- of Greenland and Spitzbergen, 76
Glaucus, 283
Globe-fish, 232
Goa, Portuguese settlement of, 462
Goby, the black, 194
Goniaster, 335, 336
Good Hope, Cape of, discovery of, 457
-- -- first doubled, 462
Goodwin Sands, 9
Goose, sea, various kinds of, 146
Gorgonidæ, 365
Grampus, the, 108
-- -- anecdote of one, 109
Grass wrack (Zostera marina), 391
Great crab, 251
Grebes, the, 150
Greenland, depression of the coast of, 10
-- olive colour of the water of the Greenland seas, 20
-- glaciers of, 76
-- whale-fishery of, 110
-- discovery of, 457
Grijalva, his maritime discoveries, 461
Guano of the Chincha Islands, 169
-- statistics of the trade of, 170
Guillemot, black, 165, 167
Guinea, New, discovery of, 473
Gulf Stream, the, 57, 58
-- -- its influence on the climate of the west European coasts, 59
Gulls, sea, 157
Günnbjorn, his discovery of Greenland, 457
Gurnard, 414
Haddock, 215
Hag. glutinous, 231
Haiti discovered, 459
Halibut, 236
Hanno, the Carthaginian, his voyage, 444
Harp-shell, 288
Hartburn, site of the village of, 29
Hartog, his maritime discoveries, 480
Hassar, land journeys of the, 194
Hawaii, discovery of the island of, 492
Hebrides, New, discovery of the, 480, 490
Henry, Prince, of Portugal, his maritime discoveries, 453
Hermit-crabs, 254
Herrings, 208, 415
Herring-crab, 256
Herring-fishery, 208
-- history of the, 209
-- statistics of the, 210
Herring-gull, 158
Hervey's Islands, discovery of, 487
Hindustan, circumnavigation of, 447
Hippocamp, 129, 234
Hippopus, 315
Hoar-frost, causes of, 72
Hogg, James, his experiments with salmon, 219
Holland, devastations caused by storm-tides on the coast of, 35
Holland, New, discoveries of, 473
-- -- Cook's discoveries in, 486
Holothuriæ, 339
Homer, his picture of the breaking of the waves against the shore, 27
Hood's Island, discovery of, 489
Hooded seal of northern seas, 125
Huatulco, sea-cave of, 52, 53
Hudson, Henry, his maritime discoveries, 481
-- his unfortunate end, 482
Hudson's Bay, discovery of, 481
Hump-back whales, 102
Hunga, cave of, 49-51
Hyalæa, 298
Hyde, site of the village of, 29
Ianthinæ, 290
Ice-bear, 100, 134
Icebergs, formation of, 76
-- erratic blocks carried away by, 76
Iceland, salmon of, 220
-- discovery and colonisation of, 361
Ichthyosaurus, 438
Inachus Kæmpferi of Japan, 259
India, Portuguese discovery in, 462
Indian Ocean, spotted corals in the, 21
Indus, sudden rising of the spring-tide at the mouth of the, 42
Inferobranchiata, 284
Infusoria, marine, 383
Insects, marine, 261
Isinglass, 216
Isis hippuris, 369
Ivory of the walrus, 132
Jamaica discovered, 459
Japanese ocean-stream, the, 63
Java, gathering of edible birds'-nests on the south coast of, 399
Jelly-fishes, 345
-- their anatomical structure, 345
-- their size and colours, 356
-- their indirect use to man, 357
-- their phosphorescence, 420
-- the Velella, 353
-- the Portuguese man-of-war, 354
John Dory, 415
Kamtschatka, salmon of, 220
Keeling Island, subsidence of the coast at, 10
Kerguelen's Land, discovery of, 491
Kilda, St., bird-catching on, 164
King-crab, 246
Kittiwake, or tarrock, the, 158
Kraken, the Norwegian, 279
Labrador, discovery of, 459
Ladrone Islands, discovery of the, 468
Lagoon islands, 374
-- -- Darwin's theory of the formation of, 375
-- -- how they became habitable for man, 376
Lamantins of the Atlantic Ocean, 117
Laminaria, region of the great, or tangle forests, 393
Laminariæ, 393
Lampreys, 230, 231
Land-crabs, 250
Landscapes, submarine, 21
-- in the Caribbean Sea, 21
-- on the coast of Sicily, 21
La Perouse, his maritime discoveries, 493
-- -- his fate, 493
Launces, 230
Le Maire, his maritime discoveries, 480
Lepraliæ, 318
Lessonias, of the Falkland Islands, 396
Level of the ocean, does it remain unchanged, and every where the
same? 11
Licmophora, or fan-bearer, 402
Life, marine, geographical distribution of, 405
-- dependence of all created beings upon space and time, 406
-- influences which regulate the distribution of marine life, 407
-- the four bathymetrical zones of marine life on the British coasts,
according to the late Professor Edward Forbes, of Edinburgh, 408
-- first wakening of life in the bosom of the ocean, 435
Lighthouses, 80
-- the Eddystone lighthouse, 81
-- the Bellrock, or Inchcape, lighthouse, 85
-- the Skerryvore lighthouse, 85-89
-- the Pharus of Alexandria, 89
-- progress of marine illumination, 90
Lily encrinites, 340
Limacina arctica, 298
Limits of the ocean, progressive changes in the, 9
-- Goodwin Sands, 10
-- alluvial deposits, 10
-- upheaving of coasts, 10
-- subsidence, 10
-- temple of Serapis, 11
-- level of the sea everywhere the same, 11
Limnoriæ, 247
Limpet, 285, 294
Limuli, or king-crabs, 246
Ling, 215, 415
Ling-thorn, 335
Lithophytes, 373
Liverpool Docks, 91
Lizards of the sea, 173, 181
-- serpent-lizard, 435
Lobsters, 256, 257
Loggerheaded duck or goose, 148
London Docks, 91
Long-tailed duck, 148
Lophobranchii, the, 233
Louse, whale, 101
Lucernaridæ, 350
Luminous marine animals, 418
Lump-sucker, 415
Mackerel, 222
Macrocystis pyrifera, 393
-- -- Mr. Darwin's description of it at Tierra del Fuego, 393, 396
Madeira, depth of the sea near, 1
-- discovery of, 505
Maelstrom, the, 41
Magellan, Ferdinand, his discoveries, 467, 468
Magellan's Straits, discovery of, 468
-- -- harmony of animal life in the islands of, 490
Magilus antiquus, 291
Malacca Islands, discovery of the, 462
Malo, St., high tides of, 38
Mammaria scintillans, 275
Manatee, the, 116
Mantis crab, spotted, 256
Marco Polo, his travels and discoveries, 453
Maritime discovery, progress of, 441
-- discoveries of the Phœnicians, 443
-- expedition of Hanno, 444
-- circumnavigation of Africa, under Pharaoh Necho II., 444
-- Ophir, 339
-- Colæus of Samos and Pytheas of Massilia, 340
-- expedition of Nearchus, 447
-- circumnavigation of Hindostan, under the Ptolemies, 447
-- voyages of discovery of the Romans, 453
-- consequences of the fall of the Roman empire, 448
-- Amalfi, 449
-- Pisa, Venice, and Genoa, 449
-- resumption of maritime intercourse between the Mediterranean and
the Atlantic, 451
-- discovery of the compass, 451
-- Marco Polo, 453
-- other discoveries, 453
-- Prince Henry of Portugal, 454
-- discovery of Porto Santo and Madeira, 455
-- doubling of Cape Bojador, 455
-- discovery of the Azores, 456
-- the line crossed for the first time, 456
-- Benin and Congo discovered, 456
-- and the Cape of Good Hope, 457
-- discovery of America, 457
-- and of Iceland, 457
-- Greenland, 457
-- discoveries of John and Sebastian Cabot, 459
-- retrospective view of the beginnings of English navigation, 461
-- Ojeda and Amerigo Vespucci, 460
-- Vincent Yañez Pinson, 460
-- Cortes, 461
-- Verazzani, 461
-- Jacques Cartier, 461
-- the Portuguese in the Indian Ocean, 462
-- Balboa's discovery of the Pacific Ocean, 466
-- Magellan, 467
-- Sebastian el Cano, the first circumnavigator of the globe, 469
-- Pizarro and Cortes, 470
-- Urdaneta, 472
-- Juan Fernandez, 473
-- Mendoza, 473
-- Drake, 473
-- Willoughby and Chancellor, 474
-- Martin Frobisher, 475
-- Davis, 476
-- Barentz, 476
-- Quiros, 480
-- Torres, 480
-- Schouten, Le Maire, and others, 480
-- Tasman, 480
-- Henry Hudson, and his unfortunate end, 481
-- Baffin, 481
-- Dampier, 483
-- Anson, Behring, Byron, Wallis, Carteret, and Bougainville, 483
-- Cook's voyages, 485-492
-- arctic discovery, 496
Marquesas de Mendoza Islands, discovery of the, 473
Mauritius, sea-cave on the, 52
Mediterranean Sea, depth of the, 8
-- -- height of the, 12
-- -- temperature of the, 14
-- -- colour of the, 18
-- -- sides of the, 43
-- -- Phœnician trade in the, 443
-- -- decline of trade in the, 33
-- -- resumption of maritime intercourse between the Mediterranean and
the Adriatic, 449
Medusidæ, 349, 350
Melanospermeæ, or olive-coloured sea-weeds, 392
Melville Island, discovery of, 500
Mendana, Alvaro, his discoveries, 473
Menezes, Don Jorge de, his discoveries, 473
Merganser, 149, 404
Mexico, discovery of the coast of, 461
-- conquest of, by Cortes, 461, 472
Microscopic life of the ocean, 378
Mines, submarine, 91
Mitre shells, 288
Mollusca, 270
-- general remarks on, 270
Monsoons, north-east, 68
-- south-west, 68
Moon, influence of the, on the tides, 446
Mother-of-pearl, 313
Mullet, grey, 415
Murex haustellum, 291
Murry, or muræna, 229
Mussels, edible, 307
-- history of, 307
-- 'bouchots,' or mussel-parks, 307
Myxine, the, 231
Naples, maritime trade of, 449
Narwhal, or unicorn-fish, 106
Nautilus, 280
-- the pearly, 281
Nearchus, voyage of, 447
Necho II., Pharaoh, of Egypt, his maritime discoveries, 444
Nelson, Horatio, pursuing a polar bear, 138
Neptune's ruffles, 318
Nereis, the, 263
Nereocystis lutkeana, the, of Norfolk Bay and Sitcha, 397
Nettuno, Antro di, 49
Newfoundland, discovery of, 459
Noctiluca miliaris, 419
Norfolk, rapid destruction of the cliffs of, 29
Norfolk Island, discovery of, 490
North Sea, depth of the, 8
-- -- colour of the, 18
North-West Passage, attempts of the Dutch and English to discover
the, 474
Norway, treaty of commerce concluded with, 459
Nova Zembla, 476, 477
-- -- sufferings of Barentz and his crew during a winter at, 478
Nudibranchiata, 284
Nummulina discoidalis, 378
Oar-weeds, 393
Ocean, the primitive, 433
Ojeda, discoveries of, 460
Oliva hispidula, 290
Onychoteuthis, arms and tentacles of an, 274
Ophir, the, of the Phœnicians, 445
Ophiuridæ, or snake-stars, 331
Orkney Islands, whirlpools among the, 42
Ormus, taken by the Portuguese, 462
Ostend, oyster-parks of, 309
Otarian seals, 126
Oyster, 307
-- account of the oyster-trade, 308
-- catchers, 143
-- oyster-dust, 310
-- pearl, 311
Pacific Ocean, depth of the, 7
-- -- height of the, 12
-- -- discovery of the, 466
-- -- Cook's voyages in, 492
Paguri, 254
Palisser Islands, discovery of the, 489
Palmas, Cape, colour of the sea near, 20
Palmyra, 445
Parrot-fishes, 372
Parry, Sir John, his arctic discoveries, 500
Patagonia, discovery of, 484
Pea-crab, 253
Pearl-oyster, 311
Pearls, 311, 312
Pectinibranchiata, 288
Pectunculus, 302
Pegasus, swimming, 207
Pelamid, 224
Pelamys bicolor, 183
Pelicans, 116, 154
Penguins, 142, 152
-- species of, 153
Pentacrinus briareus, 330
Periwinkle, 411
Peru, visited by Pizarro, 471
-- conquered by him, 472
Peruvian ocean-current, the, 62
Petrels, 160
-- stormy, 162
Philippine Islands, discovery of the, 468
Philodina roseola, 269
Phœnicians, maritime discoveries of the, 443
-- their progress in the arts and sciences, 445
Pholades, 304
Pholas dactylus, 301
-- Pliny's accounts of its phosphorescence, 431
-- striata, 302
Phosphorescence of the sea, causes of, 418
-- of various marine animals, 418
Phyllosoma, 258
Physaliæ, the, 354
Physophoridæ, 353
Pilchards, 212, 415
Pilot-fish, 225
Pinnæ of the Mediterranean, 253, 304, 305
Pinson, his discoveries, 460
Pipe-fishes, 233, 234
Pisa, maritime trade of, 449
Pizarro, sketch of him and his companions, 469
Plaice, 238
Plants, marine, 390
Plectognaths, 232
Plesiosaurus, the, 438
Pleuronectidæ, or flat-fishes, 235
Pliny, his geographical knowledge, 448
Plover, the, 144
Plymouth breakwater, in the great storm of 1824, 29
Polycystina, 382, 383
Polynesia, length of coast-line of, 4
Polyps, 345
Polyzoa, 316, 320
Porcupine-fish, 232
Porpoise, 108
Portland, destructive action of the sea at, 31
Porto Santo, discovery of, 455
Portuguese man-of-war, 354
Poulp, 272, 273
Prontzchitschew, his maritime discoveries, 483
Protozoa, 378
Pteroceras, 290
Pteropods, their organisation and mode of life, 298
-- the butterflies of the ocean, 299
Ptolemies, maritime discoveries of the, 447
Ptolemy, the geographer, his knowledge of the globe, 449
Ptygura melicerta, 267
Puffins, 165, 167
Purbeck, destruction of the cliffs at, 31
Pyrosoma atlantica, its phosphorescence, 420
Pyrosomes, 325
Pytheas of Massilia, his maritime discoveries, 446
Quantity of the waters contained within the bosom of the ocean, 8
Quiros, his maritime discoveries, 480
Quito, coast of, discovery of, 470
Racer, or rider-crab, the, 251
Rain, formation of, 72
-- inequality of, 72
-- its return to the sea, 73
Rays, 240
Razor-shell, 303-306
Ré, oyster-trade of, 311
Reculver, destruction of the coast at, 30
Red Sea, height of the, 12
-- -- red algæ of the, 20
-- -- Phœnician trade on the, 445
Reef-building corals, 374
Regent Inlet, Prince, discovery of, 500
Reptiles of the sea, 172
Rhodosperms, Florideæ, or red sea-weeds, 398
-- their habitat, 398
Richardson, Sir John, his arctic voyages, 501
Rivers, phenomena presented by the mixture of salt and fresh
water in, 16
-- quantities of water which rivers pour into the ocean, 75
Rock-goose, 149
Roggewein, his maritime discoveries, 483
Rome, ancient, maritime discoveries of, 448
Rorqual, northern, or fin-fish, 101
-- its food, 102
Ross, Sir James, on the height of waves, 28
-- -- -- his discoveries, 509
-- -- John, his arctic discoveries, 500, 503
Rotifera, the, 267
Rudyerd, Mr., his lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks, 82
Saavedra, Alvaro de, his discoveries, 473
Sabrina Land, discovery of, 509
Sagittaria, discovery of the island of, 480
Sail-fluke, 239
Salangana caves in Java, 399
Salmon, 217, 324
-- trade, 220
-- salmon-spearing, 219
-- growth of the salmon, 219
-- abundance of salmon, 220
-- introduced into Australia and New Zealand, 221
Salmon-leaps, 218
Salpæ, 325
-- their alternating generations, 327
Salts of the sea, 12
Sand-crab, American, 252
Sandhopper, 246
Sand-stars, 332
Sandwich Land, discovery of, 490
-- Islands, discovery of, 490
Sardinia, stalactite caves of the island of, 49
Sargasso Sea, the, 397
Saurians of the past seas, 172, 438
Scari, or parrot-fishes, 372
Schouten, his maritime discoveries, 480
Scissor-bill, 144
Scoopers, 143
Scoresby, his arctic voyages, 497
Scyllæa, 283
Scythe, the, 415
Sea-anemones, 361
Sea-bear, 117, 126
Sea-birds, 128, 142
-- their vast numbers, 142
Sea-cask, 142
Sea-cucumbers, 339
Sea-devil of the Pacific, 241
Sea-ear, 286, 287
Sea-elephant, 125
Sea-fox, 99
Sea-hare, 284, 295
Sea-horse, 129, 234
Sea-lemon, 284
Sea-lion, 128
Sea-mat, leaf-like, 316
Sea-mew, 157
Sea-otter, 139
-- chase of the, 139
Sea-pen, 364
-- its phosphorescence, 426
Sea-pie, the, 144
Sea-pinks, 391
Sea-scurfs, 318
Sea-snail, purple, 290
Sea-snakes, 183
Sea-squirts, 323
Sea-swallows, 157
Sea-urchin, 337
Sea-weeds, 391
-- luminous, 423
Sea-wolf, 197
Seals and walruses, 117
-- food of, 120
-- statistics of seal-fishery, 121
-- various kinds of, 123
Seine, sudden rising of the spring-tides at the mouth of the, 42
Seleucidæ, maritime discoveries of the, 42
Seleucus Nicator, his circumnavigation of Hindostan, and discovery
of Taprobane, or Ceylon, 447
Semen Deshnew, the Cossack, his maritime discoveries, 483
Sepia. _See_ Cuttle-fish
Serapis, temple of, 11
Serpents of the seas, 183
Serpulas, 266
Sertularia, 347
Shakspeare's Cliff, destructive action of the sea on, 30
Sharks, 198
-- Greenland shark, an enemy of the whale, 99
-- luminous, 330
Sheldrake, or burrow duck, 148
Sheppey, Isle of, rapid decay of the coast of the, 30
Sherringham, ravages of the sea on the coast at, 29
Shetland Islands, fury of the Atlantic waves at the, 28
Shetland, New South, discovery of, 509
Ship-worm (teredo), 302
Shore-crab, 251
Siberia, Cook's visits to the coasts of, 492
Sicily, submarine landscapes of the coast of, 21
Siphonostomata, 245
Skerries, cave in the, 51
Skerryvore lighthouse, 85
Skimmer, 169
Sledge-journey, arctic, 502
Sly, 202
Smeaton, John, his lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks, 83
Smooth-back whale, the antarctic, 102
Snake-stars, 437
Snow-goose, 146
Society Islands, discovery of the, 486
Soland goose, 156
Solasters, 334
Sole, 237
-- skin of the, 190
Solen, or razor-shell, 304
Solis, Juan de, his discoveries, 461
-- -- -- his death, 461
Solomon Islands, discovery of the, 473, 483
Souffleur, or blower, the marine cave of the, 52
Soundings, American method of taking, in deep water, 6
South Sea Islands, discovery of the, 474
Speckled diver, 145
Sperm-whale, or cachalot, 102
Spiders, marine, 260
Spitzbergen, discovery of, 477
Spondylus, royal, 314
Sponge-crab, 249
Sponges, 385
-- their remarkable growth, 385
-- habitat of the common sponge, 388
Sprat, the, 214
Springs, origin of, 73
-- mineral waters, 74
Springs of fresh water in the bottom of the sea, 17
Staffa, island of, 46
Stalactite caves of the island of Sardinia, 49
Star-fishes, 328
-- their organisation, 328
Star-gazer fish, 202
Sterlet of the Volga, 217
Stevenson, Mr. Alan, his Skerryvore lighthouse, 86
Stevenson, Mr. Robert, his lighthouse on the Bell Rock, 85
Stickleback, parental affection of the, 195
Stone-corals, 373
Storm, the great, of 1703, 82
Storm-tides, 34
-- devastations of, on flat coasts, 34, 35
Strand-birds, 143
-- migration of, 144
-- food of, 144
Strombus pes pelicani, 290
Sturgeons, 216, 217
-- caviar, 217
Sucking-fish, 203
Suffolk, rapid decay of the cliffs of, 29
Sun-fish, 232, 233
-- its luminousness, 422
Sun, his influence on the tides, 37
Sun-star fish, 334
Surgeon-fish, the, 205
Sweden, gradual upheaving of the coast of, 10
Sword-fish, an enemy of the whale, 99
-- his weapon, 201
Synchæta baltica, 269
Tahiti, discovery of, 484
Tailor-bird, the, 143
Taprobane, or Ceylon, discovery of, 447
Tartessus, Phœnician town of, 444
Tasman, Abel, his maritime discoveries, 480
Tasmania, discovery of, 481
Tectibranchiata, 284
Temperature of the sea, 13
-- at various parts of the surface of the globe, 14
Teredo navalis, 302
Thames, progress of the tide-wave in the, 43
Thornbacks, 240
Thresher, or sea-fox, an enemy of the whale, 99
Thunder-stones, 437
Tide-wave, measurement of the depth of the sea by the rapidity of the, 8
-- progress and course of the, 40, 43
Tides, the, 32
-- description of the phenomenon, 32
-- devastations of storm-floods on flat coasts, 34, 35
-- knowledge of the ancients respecting the tides, 35
-- fundamental causes of the tides revealed by Kepler and Newton, 36, 37
Tides, height of the, at various places, 38
-- vortices caused by the: the Maelstrom, Charybdis, &c., 41
-- the phenomena of the Euripus, 44
Tierra del Fuego, masses of sea-weed at, 394
-- -- -- rounded by Schouten and Le Maire, 480
Tonga, discovery of, 481
Top, agglutinating, 296
Tornadoes, causes of, 68
Tornatella fasciata, 290
Torpedo, the, 201
Torres, his maritime discoveries, 480
Torso Rock, the, 9
Tortoise-shell, 180
Tortoises, 176
Trade-winds, the, 67
Transparency of the sea at Capri, 18
-- -- -- -- in the Indian Ocean, 21
-- -- -- -- in the Caribbean, 21
Trepang, or Biche de Mer, 340
-- mode of curing, 340
-- the fishery in the Feejee Islands, 342
Tridacna, the gigantic, 314
Trigger-fish, 233
Trilobites, 436
Trunk-fish, 232
Tubiporidæ, 370
Tubulibranchiata, 292
Tunicata, 316, 321
Tunny, the, 221
-- stripe-bellied, 224
Turbot, the, 236, 237
Turn-stone bird, 144
Turtles, 173
-- catching turtles in the island of St. Thomas, 172
Tynemouth Castle, destruction of the coast near, 29
Typhoons, causes of, 68
Tyrian dye, 446
Ulvæ, 391
Unicorn-fish, or narwhal, 106
Urasters, 334
Urdaneta, first reaches Acapulco from Manilla, 472
Vancouver's discoveries, 472
Van Diemen's Land, discovery of, 480
Vanikoro, island of, 493
Velellæ, the, 353
Venice, maritime grandeur of, 450
Verazzani, voyage of, 461
Vermetus, 291
Virgularia mirabilis, 365
Vogtia pentacantha, 353
Wales, Cape Prince of, discovery of, 491
Wallis, his maritime discoveries, 483
Walrus, or morse, 117, 129, 135
-- anecdote of a fight with, 130
-- ivory of the, 132
Walton, his mussel-beds in France, 307
Water-snakes, 183
Water-spouts, causes of, 68
Waves of the ocean, 24
-- wave-motion as distinct from water motion, 25
-- height and velocity of storm-waves, 26-28
-- Homer's picture of the breaking of the waves against the shore, 26
-- Scoresby on the height of waves in the open sea, 27
-- force and height of the waves on rocky coasts, 28
-- instances of the destructive action of the tidal waves on
coast-lines, 28-31
Weddell, Captain, his voyages, 509
Weevers, 204
Wellington Channel, discovery of, 500
Wentle-trap, Chinese, 289
Whalebone, 96
Whale-fishery, history of the, 109
Whales. _See_ Cetaceans
Whelks, 292
Wilkes, Captain, on the height of waves, 28
Wilkes, his explorations, 509
Willoughby, Sir Hugh, his unfortunate arctic voyage, 474
Winds, origin of, 66
-- trade-winds, 67
-- calms, or doldrums, 67
-- monsoons, 68
-- typhoons, tornadoes, &c., 68
-- water-spouts, 68
Wing-shells, 304
Winstanley, Mr., his lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks, 81
Winter Harbour, discovery of, 500
Wolf-fish, 197
Wolstenholme Sound, elevation of the coast at, 10
Worm-shell, 291
Yorkshire, wearing away of the coast of, 29
Yucatan, first exploration of, 461
Zostera marina, 391
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Transcriber's Note
Minor typos have been corrected. Most words that sometimes have
hyphenations and other times non-hyphenated were left as written.
Illustrations were repositioned to not split paragraphs. An assumed
missing end quotation was added on page 353.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Sea and its Living Wonders - A Popular Account of the Marvels of the Deep and of the - Progress of Martime Discovery from the Earliest Ages to - the Present Time" ***
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