A year at the shore
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Title: A year at the shore
Author: Philip Henry Gosse
Release date: May 22, 2015 [eBook #49022]
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A YEAR AT THE SHORE ***
A YEAR AT THE SHORE.
A
YEAR AT THE SHORE
BY
PHILIP HENRY GOSSE, F.R.S.
WITH THIRTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR,
PRINTED IN COLOURS BY LEIGHTON BROTHERS
ALEXANDER STRAHAN, PUBLISHER
148, STRAND, LONDON
1865
EDINBURGH: T. CONSTABLE,
PRINTER TO THE QUEEN, AND TO THE UNIVERSITY.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I.--JANUARY.
Advance of Waves upon a Beach--Foam--Shingle
Voices--Climbing the Cliff--Look-out--Assault
of the Sea--Defeat--Gulls--Descent--Cavernous
Recess--Rock-pool--Purple-spotted Top--Its
Progression--Tentacles--Eyes--Shell--A twisted
Cone--Colours--Nacre--Dog-whelks--Notch in Shell--Its
Testimony to Character--How the Whelk conquers the
Bivalve--Its Weapon--Pelican’s Foot--Its Changes of
Figure--Cowry--Description--Ciliated Proboscis--Vivid
Colours--Growth of the Shell--Scallop--Superstition--Sea
Butterflies--Leaping--Mantle--Eyes--Valves--Details of the
Scallop Trade--Tenacity of Life--Sea Cucumber--Mode of Securing
it--Its tentacular Coronet--Suckers--Dotted Siponcle--Its
Proboscis--Hermit Siponcle, 1-29
II.--FEBRUARY.
View from Babbicombe Cliffs--Dog’s Head Rock--Jackdaws--
Oddicombe--Petit Tor--Bell-Rock--Tragedy--Teignmouth
Ness--Exmouth--Portland--Fragrant Butterburr--Babbicombe and its
Beach--Descent--Stone-turning--Serpula--Triope--Its Beauty--Sea
Lemon--Crowned Eolis--Its Ferocity--Spawn--Development of
Young--Fecundity--Dog-winkle--Purple Dye of Tyre--Legend of
Hercules--Egg-capsules--Development--Limpet--Excavates the
Rock--Faculty of Adhesion--Cement--Gills--Slit Limpet--Key-hole
Limpet--Holes in Sandstone--Finger Pholas--Its Boring
Habits--Mode of Operation--Various Hypotheses--Proved
Facts--Red-noses--Coast changed by Mollusks, 30-60
III.--MARCH.
Invention of the Aquarium--The Principle--Advantages for
Zoological Study--Necessity for out-door Examination--Visit
to Anstey’s Cove--Boat Excursion--Sea-Cavern--Colonies
of Anemones--Beadlet--Submarine Forest--Green
Opelet--Its Powers--Spontaneous Division--Hope’s
Nose--London-bridge Rock--Gloomy Rock-lane--Life on the Sea
Rocks--Oyster-culture--Dead-man’s Finger--Anemones--Rosy
A.--Scarlet fringed A.--Snowy A.--Orange-disked A.--Plumose
A.--Their offensive Weapons--Dahlia Wartlet--Deluded
Bee--Lucernaria--Ultimate Purpose of Creation, 61-84
IV.--APRIL.
Barren Sand--Torquay to Paignton--Goodrington Sands--Rocky
Area--Paignton Cockle--A _bonne Bouche_--Common
Cockle--Importance to the Hebrides--Foot of Cockle--Its
Leaping and Burrowing Powers--Structure--Banded
Venus--Its Beauty--Foot--Prawn--Armour Defensive and
Offensive--Colours--Tail-plates--Movements--Keer-drag--The
Shrimper--Shrimp--Flat-fish--Aberrations of Structure--Yarrell’s
Remarks--Topknot--Effects of Fear on Colour--Beauty of its
Eyes--Sand-Launce--Curious Catenation--A Tenant in the Tank, 85-113
V.--MAY.
Lesser Weever--Its Aspect--Its Spines--Are they Venomous?--
Cuvier’s Negative--Couch’s Affirmative--Remedy--Habits--Young
Thornback--Motions--Spiracles--Eyes--Form--Colours--Spines--
Fifteen-spined Stickleback--Mode of Feeding--Nest-building--Mr.
Couch’s Observations--Changes of Form--Worm-casts--
Swimming-crab--Mask-crab--Use of the Antennæ--Rocky Barrier--
Paper-worm--Gliding Motion--Tenacity of Life--Mouth strangely
placed and strangely formed--Long-worm--A Portrait by Mr.
Kingsley, 114-138
VI.--JUNE.
Maidencombe--Sea Hare--Its Shell--Purple Excretion--Ruminating
Stomach--Its bad Reputation--Tusk-shell--Torbay
Bonnet--Cup Limpet--Locust Screw--Parental
Care--Fresh-water Screw--Great Sea Woodlouse--Maternal
Care--Leaf-worms--Rainbow Leaf-worm--Reproduced
Organs--Pearly Nereis--Blood Circulation--Proboscis--Scale
Worm--Dorsal Shields--Feet--Bristles--Their
Use--Number--Proboscis--Teeth--Tube-dwellings--
Phosphorescence--Locomotive Power in Worms, 139-167
VII.--JULY.
Dredging Ground--Two-spotted Sucker--Its Appearance--Beauty
of its Eyes--Habits in Captivity--Adhesive Power--Vacuum--
_Echinodermata_--Starlet--Its Dimensions--Figure--
Eye-specks--Other Organs--Sea-Urchin--Mechanism of its
Box--Its Growth--Sucker-feet--Spines--Feather-star--
Structure--Colours--Infant State--Dissimilar Forms
connected--Bridge from Feather-star to Urchin--Flat-crab--
Contest between Dirt and Cleanliness--Peculiar Mode of
procuring Food--Foot-jaws--Squat-lobsters--Three Kinds
described--Habits--Form of Young, 168-194
VIII.--AUGUST.
Rock-pools--Work of Boring Mollusca--Process of
Formation--Cork-wing--Natural History Illustration--Fish
poisoned by an Anthea--Lucky Proach--Respiration of
Fishes--Pipe-fishes--Persecutions of a Gammarus--A Male
Wet-nurse--Butterfly Blenny--Shanny--Taking the Air--Freckled
Goby--The Shore a profitable Field of Study, 195-220
IX.--SEPTEMBER.
Ball’s Dredge--Old Oyster Dredge--Dredging--Sun-star--
Cannibalism--Granulate Brittlestar--His Sad Fate--Angled
Crab--Researches in Cods’ Stomachs--Nut-crabs--A Slow Coach--
Bryer’s Nut-crab--Contents of a Dredge--Hermit-crabs--
Cloaklet--Strange Association--Mystery of its Maintenance--
Solution--Psychical Faculties, 221-247
X.--OCTOBER.
Life in Tropical Seas--Portuguese Man-of-War--Its Structure--
Bladder--Tentacles--Poisoning Powers--Effects--Dr. Wallich’s
Objections--Gulf-stream--_Velellæ_--_Stephanomia_--Tongued
Sarsia--Its Swimming-bell--Locomotive Powers--Tentacles--
Forbes’s Æquorea--Luminosity--Crimson-ringed Aurelia--Its
Transformations--_Cydippe_--Poetical Description of it, 248-273
XI.--NOVEMBER.
Clarence’s Dream of the Sea Bottom--Diving-bell--Lobster-horn--
_Campanularia_--Medusa-like Progeny--_Scalpellum_--Acorn
Barnacles--Necked Barnacle--_Pyrgoma_--Cirriped
Transformations--Tube-worms--_Serpula_--Its Shell--Hooks
and Bristles--Gills--Stopper--Its Homology and Use--
_Sabella_--Shell-tube--Gills--Soft-tube--Hook-plumed
Sabella--Process of Tube-building, 274-297
XII.--DECEMBER.
Squirters--Affinity with Bivalves--Test--Gill-sac--Branchial
Cilia--Heart--Blood Circulation--Digestion--Tentacles--Eyes--
_Cynthia_--Currant Squirter--Four-angled Squirter--Discharge of
Eggs--Transformations--Compound Forms--_Botrylli_--Oceanic
Forms--_Pyrosoma_--Its Luminosity--Sponges--Their Habitats--
Various Species described with the Forms of their Spicula--
Motives for Study--A Protest against prevalent Errors, 298-327
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PLATE
I. DOG-WHELK--PELICAN’S FOOT--TOP--COWRY, _Frontispiece_.
II. SCALLOPS, TO FACE PAGE 22
III. DOTTED SIPONCLE--SEA-CUCUMBER, 28
IV. SEA LEMON--CROWNED EOLIS--SPAWN OF BOTH, 40
V. LIMPET--PURPLE--SLIT-LIMPET, 50
VI. RED-NOSE--FINGER-PHOLAS, 54
VII. SNOWY ANEMONE--DEAD-MAN’S FINGER--ROSY
ANEMONE--LUCERNARIA--SMOOTH BEADLET, 66
VIII. DAHLIA WARTLET, 72
IX. GREEN OPELET--ORANGE-DISK ANEMONE, 78
X. SINOUS COCKLE--BANDED VENUS, 92
XI. COMMON SHRIMP--GREAT PRAWN, 102
XII. SAND-LAUNCE--TOPKNOT, 108
XIII. FIFTEEN-SPINED STICKLEBACK--LESSER WEEVER, 116
XIV. MASKED CRAB, 128
XV. BANDED FLAT-WORM--LONG-WORM, 134
XVI. SEA HARE, 140
XVII. LIGIA--TORBAY BONNET--TUSK-SHELL, 148
XVIII. PEARLY NEREIS--RAINBOW LEAF-WORM, 158
XIX. TWO-SPOTTED SUCKER, 168
XX. PURPLE-TIPPED URCHIN--ROSY FEATHER STAR--STARLET, 172
XXI. OLIVE SQUAT-LOBSTER--SHAGGY FLAT-CRAB--SCARLET
SQUAT-LOBSTER, 188
XXII. CORKWING WRASSE, 200
XXIII. FATHER-LASHER--WORM PIPE-FISH, 204
XXIV. FRECKLED GOBY--BUTTERFLY BLENNY, 212
XXV. GRANULATE BRITTLE-STAR--SUN-STAR, 224
XXVI. NUT-CRAB--ANGLED-CRAB, 230
XXVII. PURPLE HERMIT-CRAB--CLOAKLET--COMMON HERMIT-CRAB, 238
XXVIII. PORTUGUESE MAN-OF-WAR--TONGUED SARSIA, 248
XXIX. FORBESIAN ÆQUOREA, 264
XXX. CYDIPPE--COMMON MEDUSA--LARVAL FORMS, 268
XXXI. PYRGOMA ON A CORAL--SCALPELLUM--LOBSTER-HORN--
NECKED BARNACLE--COMMON BARNACLE--PORCATE BARNACLE, 278
XXXII. SCARLET SERPULA, 286
XXXIII. SABELLÆ, 294
XXXIV. ORANGE-SPOTTED SQUIRTER--FOUR-ANGLED SQUIRTER--CURRANT
SQUIRTER, 300
XXXV. BOTRYLLI, 310
XXXVI. SPONGES--CHITON, 318
A YEAR AT THE SHORE.
I.
JANUARY.
How grandly those heavy waves are rolling in upon this long
shingle-beach! Onward they come, with an even deliberate march that
tells of power, out of that lowering sky that broods over the southern
horizon; onward they come, onward! onward!--each following its
precursor in serried ranks, ever coming nearer and nearer, ever looming
larger and larger, like the resistless legions of a great invading
army, sternly proud in its conscious strength; and ever and anon, as
one and another dark billow breaks in a crest of foam, we may fancy we
see the standards and ensigns of the threatening host waving here and
there above the mass.
Still they drive in; and each in turn curls over its green head, and
rushes up the sloping beach in a long-drawn sheet of the purest,
whitest foam. The drifted snow itself is not more purely, spotlessly
white than is that sheet of foaming water. How it seethes and
sparkles! how it boils and bubbles! how it rings and hisses! The wind
sings shrilly out of the driving clouds, now sinking to a moan, now
rising to a roar; but we cannot hear it, for its tones are drowned in
the ceaseless rushing of the mighty waves upon the beach and the rattle
of the recoiling pebbles. Along the curvature of the shore the shrill
hoarse voice runs, becoming softer and mellower as it recedes; while
the echo of the bounding cliffs confines and repeats it, and mingles
it with the succeeding ones, till all are blended on the ear in one
deafening roar.
A LOOK-OUT.
But let us climb these slippery rocks, and picking our way cautiously
over yonder craggy ledges, leaping the chasms that yawn between
and reveal the hissing waters below, let us strive to attain the
vantage-ground of that ridge that we see some fifty feet above the
beach. It is perilous work, this scrambling over rocks, alternately
slimy with treacherous sea-weed, and bristling with sharp needle-points
of honey-combed limestone; now climbing a precipice, with the hands
clutching these same rough points, and the toes finding a precarious
hold in their interstices; now descending to a ledge awfully overhung;
now creeping along a narrow shelf, by working each foot on, a few
inches at a time; while the fingers nervously cling to the stony
precipice, and the mind strives to forget the rugged depths below, and
what would happen if--(ah! that “if!” let us cast it to the winds):
another long stride across a gulf, a bound upward, and here we are.
Yes, here we stand, on the bluff, looking out to seaward in the
very eye of the wind. We might have supposed it a tolerably smooth
slope of stone when we looked at the point from the sea, or from the
various parts of the shore whence we can see this promontory. But
very different is it on a close acquaintance. It is a wilderness of
craggy points and huge castellated masses of compact limestone marble,
piled one on another in the wildest and most magnificent confusion.
We have secured a comfortable berth, where, wedged in between two of
these masses, we can without danger lean on one breast-high, and gaze
over it down upon the very theatre of the elemental war. Is not this
a sight worth the toil and trouble and peril of the ascent? The rock
below is fringed with great insular peaks and blocks, bristling up
amidst the sea, of various sizes and of the most fantastic and singular
forms, which the sea at high-water would mostly cover; though now the
far-receding tide exposes their horrid points, and the brown leprous
coating of barnacles with which their lower sides are covered is
broadly seen between the swelling seas.
Heavily rolls in the long deep swell of the ocean from the
south-west; and as it approaches with its huge undulations driven
up into foaming crests before the howling gale, each mighty wave
breasts up against these rocks, as when an army of veteran legions
assaults an impregnable fortress. Impregnable indeed! for having
spent its fury in a rising wall of mingled water and foam, it shoots
up perpendicularly to an immense elevation, as if it would scale the
heights it could not overthrow, only to lie the next moment a broken
ruin of water, murmuring and shrieking in the moats below. The insular
peaks and blocks receive the incoming surge in an overwhelming flood,
which, immediately, as the spent wave recedes, pours off through the
interstices in a hundred beautiful jets and cascades; while in the
narrow straits and passages the rushing sea boils and whirls about in
curling sheets of snowy whiteness, curdling the surface; or, where it
breaks away, of the most delicate pea-green hue, the tint produced
by the bubbles seen through the water as they crowd to the air from
the depths where they were formed,--the evidence of the unseen combat
fiercely raging between earth and sea far below.
SEA-GULLS.
The shrieking gusts, as the gale rises yet higher and more furious,
whip off the crests of the breaking billows, and bear the spray like a
shower of salt sleet to the height where we stand; while the foam, as
it forms and accumulates around the base of the headland, is seized
by the same power in broad masses, and carried against the sides
of the projecting rocks; flying hither and thither like fleeces of
wool, and adhering like so much mortar to the face of the precipice,
till it covers great spaces, to the height of many fathoms above the
highest range of the tide. The gulls flit wailing through the storm,
now breasting the wind, and beating the air with their long wings as
they make slow headway; then, yielding the vain essay, they turn and
are whirled away, till, recovering themselves, they come up again
with a sweep, only again to be discomfited. Their white forms, now
seen against the leaden-grey sky, now lost amidst the snowy foam,
then coming into strong relief against the black rocks; their piping
screams, now sounding close against the ear, then blending with the
sounds of the elements, combine to add a wildness to the scene which
was already sufficiently savage.
But the spring-tide is nearly at its lowest; a rocky path leads down
from our eminence to a recess in the precipice, whence in these
conditions access may be obtained to a sea-cavern, that we may possibly
find entertainment in exploring.
We reluctantly turn our backs upon the magnificent battle of sea and
land, and following this sheep-track, scramble down, holding fast by
the tufts of thrift, round and soft and yielding, but sufficiently
firm to present some resistance, or by the tussocks of wiry grass,
till we leap down on the great piled masses of marble that past ages
have thrown from the cliffs upon the beach. Among these we find many
basins and pools of still water, for we are in a deep recess of the
promontory, whose shelter renders us almost unconscious of the fury of
the winter wind without; and the masses of rock that lie piled about
so curb and break the force of the incoming sea, that it percolates
rather than rushes into these secluded nooks. Tall walls of stone,
too, shut out much of the light of day; and as to the sun, only his
most slant evening rays ever reach this spot: it is enshrouded in an
obscurity which is most congenial to both the plants and the animals
which resort to our shores; and here, doubtless, though the season is
still midwinter, we shall find our searchings rewarded by not a few of
those creatures, beautiful and wondrous, in which the devout naturalist
delights to trace the handiwork of the God of glory.
TOP-SHELL.
At the very first glance into this little rock-hollow, all fringed with
crimson and purple weed, lined with scales of lilac coralline, and
partly shadowed by the olive fronds of the leathery tangle, we discern
many forms of animal life. Here, for instance, is a fine handsome
shelled mollusk, the Purple-spotted Top.[1] Before we take him up, let
us notice for a moment with what an easy even movement he glides along
over the leaves of the sea-weed, now over the stony projections of the
pool, now on the broad weeds again. On lifting the shell, we find that
the fine, fleshy, apricot-coloured animal clings with considerable
force to the weed; and on transferring it to a glass bottle, we get a
better sight of the organ by which it maintains both its stability and
its movements. The under-surface of the creature, then, forms a long,
nearly parallel-sided sole, abruptly pointed behind, where it stretches
to a considerable distance in the rear of the shell, and bounded in
front by a slightly-thickened transverse rim, a little arched, and
projecting on each side. This organ is the foot, and it is composed of
muscular fibres elaborately interwoven, much as in the human tongue,
whereby great versatility and power of motion are communicated to it;
indeed, when in motion, it strongly reminds one of the human tongue.
[Illustration:
PLATE 1.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
DOG-WHELK. PELICAN’S FOOT. TOP. COWRY.
]
The sensitive and muscular foot of our captive has already taken hold
of the glass side of its prison, and it is now smoothly mounting up
it. With a lens you may see that though it is one undivided area, yet
in the arrangement of its muscles, it is separated into two portions
by a line which runs down the middle; and that these two sides move
alternately. The muscles of the right half, for example, are moved a
little onward, and take a fresh hold of the ground, while those of
the left remain clinging; then the right half clings, while the left
relaxes and advances a little beyond the right, and again clings, when
the right makes its forward move. So that the effect is exactly that
of two feet advancing by alternate steps; and if your own two feet
were enclosed in one elastic stocking, your own progress would appear
very much like that of the _Trochus_. Indeed, some shell-fishes not
distantly allied to this, as the pretty little Pheasant-shell,[2] which
I occasionally find among these rocks, really have the foot divided
into two distinct and separate halves, in which this alternate motion
is, of course, more obvious.
Looked at from above, we discern that this foot thickens towards the
middle, where it is overlapped by a broad wing-like expansion on each
side. This, for manifest reasons, is known by the name of the cloak or
mantle. In all cases it performs important offices in the economy of
the animal, as I shall presently describe; and in this instance we see
it is adorned along its edges with certain lappets and long fleshy
taper threads (called _cirri_), which wave vivaciously to and fro as
the creature crawls. These are probably the seats of a delicate sense;
perhaps receiving impressions analogous to those of touch, from the
strokes they continually make on the surrounding fluid.
In front we see a distinct head, with a broad flat muzzle not
altogether unlike that of an ox. On each side of the back part of
this head, there is another long taper thread: these are called
tentacles, but neither in form nor in structure can we discern any
difference between these and the _cirri_ that fringe the mantle. In all
probability they are alike organs of a highly delicate sense of touch.
THE TOP’S EYES.
Immediately behind each of these head-tentacles you see a little wart,
which has a black bead set as it were in its substance. You have
often, doubtless, observed the similar black points that are placed
at the tips of the upper pair of the horns (tentacles) of the common
garden snail; and I daresay, when a child, you have amused yourself by
touching them, and noticing how instantaneously the sensitive creature
would roll them in, so to speak, concealing them far in the interior of
the inturned horns. And every child is taught that these black spots
are the snail’s _eyes_; and so, indeed, they are; and these spots on
our Top’s warts are its eyes too, notwithstanding that some learned
naturalists, apparently from the mere love of paradox, have affected
to doubt the fact that such is their function. If you could dissect
out one of these points, and submit it to careful examination with a
good microscope, you would find all the parts essential to an organ of
vision; there is a sclerotic coat, a distinct little pupil and iris,
a cornea in front, and a dark pigment layer within, with vitreous and
aqueous humours, and even a crystalline lens for the condensation of
the rays of light. Minute these parts are, to be sure, but not less
exquisitely finished for that. Indeed, the more skill they require in
the demonstrator, the more they reflect the inimitable skill of the
Creator. Swammerdam, the Dutch physiologist, who so beautifully showed
the structure of the snail’s eye, seems to have feared the doubts of
his conclusions that would ensue from the difficulty of repeating his
investigations. “But who will credit this?” he says; “for does it not
seem impossible that on a point not larger than the nib of the pen
with which I write, such exquisite art and so many miracles should be
displayed?”
SPIRAL SHELLS.
Now, leaving the animal, though we might devote a few moments to the
admiration of its rich colours, adorned as is its deep yellow hue with
lines and clouds of deeper brown, let us look at the shell, the solid
house of stone, which our friend Trochus has himself built up to cover
his head in the hour of danger. How well has he combined the _utile cum
dulci_!--the comfortable with the ornamental! Its general form is that
of a cone of much regularity, but with an oblique base, and perhaps
you may be surprised to learn that this conical form is but the result
of the winding of a very long cone upon itself in a spire. But if you
examine a dead shell with care, you will see that it is so. Supposing
you had a very long and slender hollow cone of plastic material, and,
beginning with the acute point, you twined the whole upon itself,
descending in a spiral form, you would have the representation of a
turbinate shell, which, by a little gentle pressure of the fingers,
might be moulded, without at all losing its essential character, into
the exact shape of our Trochus, in which the progress of the spire
can without difficulty be followed as well by slight inequalities of
surface as by the arrangement of the colours.
It is one of our showy shells. This specimen before us has for its
ground colour a chaste, cool grey, occasionally varied with tints of
reddish buff, but most conspicuously adorned with a series of large and
regular spots of purplish crimson running along the lower angle of the
spire from the base to the summit. Each of these spots passes off into
an oblique line above, the repetition of which augments the beauty of
the pattern.
The interior of the shell has a glory of quite another character. It
is covered with a coat of nacre or pearl, of exceedingly brilliant
and rich lustre, and the presence of this inward pearliness is quite
characteristic of this genus, and of most of the others belonging to
the same family, the _Turbinidæ_. Many of the fine large tropical
species are specially conspicuous for this adornment, as I have seen
in those that lie along the dazzling beach of coral-sand in lovely
Jamaica. The pearl of these shells is used in the arts. De Montfort
mentions a necklace which he had seen, that was made out of the nacred
part of the shell of the _Turbo smaragdus_, and which was _much more
brilliant and beautiful_ than any of the finest orient pearls.[3]
And Chenu observes:--“Les grandes espèces fournissent une fort belle
nacre, employée pour les ouvrages de marqueterie. Quelques espèces
ont reçu des noms sous lesquels les marchands les distinguent: il y
a le Burgau ou Nacré; la Veuve Perlée, dont les tubercles extérieurs
usés ressemblent à des perles; la Bouche-d’Or, dont la nacre est d’un
beau jaune doré; la Bouche-d’Argent; le Perroquet, ou Turbo Impérial,”
etc.[4]
At another time we may examine the structure of shell, and inquire by
what instruments and with what materials the ingenious animal contrives
to construct so strong and so elegant a dwelling. For the present,
however, as the month is January, we shall, if we sit still longer, run
the risk of “catching a cold,” if we catch nothing else, though the
wind _is_ in the south, and the temperature is so mild for the season.
THE DOG-WHELK.
Therefore, we will move about and pursue our researches among the rocks
and under the loose stones. Well, we are rewarded with other specimens:
here are several neat little shells, with a lengthened spire, and
with a remarkably thickened lip. This is the little Thick-lipped
Dog-whelk,[5] a very common mollusk with us under such stones as these
at low water-mark. And here is another species of the same genus,
the Netted Dog-whelk,[6] which is a much larger shell, being nearly
twice as long as the former, and marked with close transverse furrows,
which, crossing the longitudinal ribs at right angles, give a peculiar
reticulate surface, on which the specific name is founded.
Comparing these shells with the _Trochus_, we see that they have a deep
notch cut in the front part, of which no sign appears in the latter;
and this mark, trivial as it may seem, is an important indication
of the habits of the animal. The inhabitants of all shells which
have this notch are carnivorous, while those with simple lips are
herbivorous. The _Trochus_ gnaws or rather rasps away the tender growth
of marine vegetation, or the fronds of the grown _Algæ_, with its
remarkable palate-ribbon, all studded with reversed points, of which
I may find another opportunity to speak. The Dog-whelk, on the other
hand, acts the part of a cannibal ogre, feeding on his simpler brethren
of the bivalve shells; storming their stony castles, in which they seem
so secure, by open violence.
Look at this old valve of a _Mactra_. Like hundreds more that you may
pick up at high water-mark, it is perforated by a tiny hole near the
hinge, so smooth and so perfectly circular, that you would suppose a
clever artisan had been at work drilling the massive stony shell with
his steel wimble. No such thing: the Dog-whelk has done it: this is the
breach which he so scientifically effected in the fortress; and hence
he sucked out the soft and juicy and savoury flesh of his miserable
victim.
In order to understand his plan of operations, let us put down our
captive, and see him crawl. He is not long before he begins to march,
on his broad oblong foot, which, as you observe, is cream-coloured,
elegantly splashed and speckled with dark-brown. But before he moves he
thrusts out a long cylindrical proboscis from the front of his head,
which he carries high aloft and waves to and fro; and this organ, we
see, fits into the deep notch in front of the shell. This proboscis is
his drilling-wimble.
THE DOG-WHELK’S DRILL.
This organ is itself a study. Long as it is when extended, it can
be thoroughly drawn within the body; and there it forms two fleshy
cylinders, one within the other, exactly like a stocking half turned
on itself. There are proper muscles attached to its walls, and to
the interior of the head, by extremities which are branched in a
fan-shape, so as greatly to strengthen their insertions; and these,
by contraction, draw the one portion within the other. Then there is
a broad hoop of muscle, which, passing round the inner cylinder, by
contracting pushes it out, and lengthens it. Within the interior of
this latter there is a long narrow ribbon of cartilage, which is armed
with rows of sharp flinty points, turned backwards; and this tongue or
palate, as it is variously called, is the Dog-whelk’s weapon.
We cannot induce the Whelk to attack his prey just when we please; but
he has been detected in the operation, and I will describe it. With his
broad muscular foot he secures a good hold of the bivalve, and having
selected his point of attack, in general near the hinge--a selection
which probably looks more at the superiority of the meat within than
at any peculiar facility in the perforation--he brings the tip of his
extended proboscis to the point, so that the silicious teeth can act
on the shell. Hard as is the calcareous shell, it is not proof against
the flint; for, without any solvent excretion, the aid of which some
physiologists have been ready to suppose, these glassy points, grating
round and round as on a pivot, soon wear away the substance, and
gradually bore the tiny aperture which exposes the sapid morsel.
Continuing our researches, we find, deep in a rocky pool under a tuft
of weed, a shell of a peculiar form, because of the enormous expansion
of its outer lip. It is known as the Pelican’s-foot,[7] from the
resemblance which this lip with its diverging ribs bears to the webbed
toes of a water-fowl. This, too, is a carnivorous species; and though
it is somewhat rare to detect the animal moving, even though kept
alive in captivity, yet by carefully examining this one in its deep
pool, before we disturb its equanimity, we can just see the proboscis
protruding from the wide square notch in the shell, and discern that it
is rather prettily coloured, being marked with spots of opaque white on
a rose-coloured ground.
This species is interesting from the changes of figure which it
undergoes in its progress from youth to maturity. While young the shell
is simple, with no trace of the expanded lip; and it is only at mature
age, and rather suddenly, that the shell makes its remarkable growth
into these far-projecting points and angles, the augmented thickness of
which is, moreover, at least equally conspicuous with the expanse.
THE COWRY.
But far more remarkable changes take place in the growth of the shell
in a family of signal beauty, of which I discern a specimen in yonder
cavernous hollow. The family I speak of is that of the Cowries; and
this individual represents the only species that is indigenous to our
seas--the little Furrowed Cowry.[8] Let us pause awhile to admire it,
for it is one of the very loveliest of our marine animals.
The shell itself is doubtless familiar to most of my readers, for it
is to be picked up on every sandy beach. It varies in size from that
of a split pea to that of a large horsebean. It is elegantly marked
all over with transverse ridges. These ridges are porcellaneous white,
and the alternate furrows between are purplish, or flesh-coloured. The
larger specimens commonly display three spots of dark brown, arranged
lengthwise. But probably few are aware how very elegant a creature
it is when tenanted by its living inhabitant, and crawling at ease
in clear water. The foot, on which it glides with a slow but smooth
motion over the surface of the rock on which it habitually dwells,
or, if you please, on the bottom of the saucer of sea-water in which
you are examining it, is a broad expansion spreading out to twice the
superficies of the base of the shell. Above this is the fleshy mantle,
which is so turned up as closely to invest the shell, conforming to
its shape, and even fitting into the grooves between the ridges. This
mantle can be protruded, at the will of the animal, so far that the two
sides meet along the top of the shell, and completely cover it, or it
can be completely retracted within the wrinkled lips beneath; and it
is capable of all gradations of extension between these limits. From
the front of the shell protrudes the head, armed with two straight
and lengthened tentacles, answering in function and appearance to the
upper pair of horns in a snail; except that the little black points
which constitute the visual organs are not in this case placed at the
tips, but on a little prominence on the outside of the base of each
tentacle. Above and between these, which diverge at a considerable
angle, projects the proboscis, a rather thick fleshy tube, formed by
a flat lamina, with its edges bent round so as to meet along the
under side. The interior of this proboscis is lined with delicate
cilia, by whose constant vibrations a current of water is drawn into
the tube and poured over the surface of the gills, for the purpose
of respiration. This current may be readily perceived by any one who
will take the trouble to watch, with a pocket-lens, a Cowry crawling
along the side of a phial filled with sea-water. By placing the vessel
between your eye and the light, and fixing your attention on the front
of the proboscis, you will presently perceive the minute particles of
floating matter (always held in suspension, even in clear water) drawn
in various directions towards the tube, with a motion which increases
in velocity as they approach, and at length rapidly sucked in, and
disappearing one after another within. It is an interesting sight to
see, and one that cannot be looked on without delight and admiration
at this beautiful contrivance of Divine Wisdom, for the incessant
breathing of the respiratory organs in water charged with vivifying
oxygen.
Let us look at the vivid hues of all these organs. The foot, which
expands to so great a length and breadth behind the shell, is of a buff
or pale orange ground-colour, delicately striated with longitudinal
undulating veins of yellowish white. The mantle which embraces the
shell is of a pellucid olive, thickly mottled and spotted with black,
and studded with glands protruded through its substance, of light
yellow; and is often edged with a narrow border of red. The proboscis
is vermilion-red, varying in brilliancy in different individuals. The
tentacles are of a paler tint of the same colour, speckled with yellow.
Such, then, is the beauty of the animal which inhabits this familiar
and plain little shell,--a beauty of which those who know it only in
cabinets can hardly form an idea; while, as the observer gazes on it
placidly gliding along, he cannot avoid an emotion of surprise that
such an amplitude of organs can be folded within the narrow compass of
the shell, and protruded through so contracted an aperture.
THE SCALLOP.
You would scarcely recognise in this shell, or in the Tiger Cowry, that
one so often sees on chimney-pieces, the model of an ordinary convolute
spiral shell, such as the snail or the whelk. But in infancy and youth
the Cowry is a shell manifestly of such a character, scarcely to be
distinguished from the Olives and Volutes; a shell with a distinct
spire, a long wide aperture, and a thin-edged outer lip. But when
the animal has arrived at mature age, a sudden deposition of shelly
matter takes place on the lip, which is greatly thickened, and which
expands above so as to conceal the spire, bending inward at the same
time and approaching the inner lip, so as to reduce the aperture
to a very narrow line. Finally, a thick coat of enamel, or glossy
porcellaneous lime, is spread over the entire surface of the shell,
from the narrow aperture to the back-line, which coat takes the form of
those transverse folds which are so characteristic of the species and
so elegant.
Here, clinging to the perpendicular wall of rock, sheltered snugly
by an overshadowing stone, which I have just removed, is a lovely
specimen of the Squin or Scallop.[9] In the ages of monkery, when
men’s eyes were more directed to the land where the blessed Lord Jesus
once sojourned than to the place where He now is, and pilgrimage to an
earthly country was more valued than that to a heavenly, this shell
affixed to the hat was the accepted sign that the wearer had visited
Jerusalem; and received the homage of sanctity that such a pilgrim
claimed.
“He quits his cell, the pilgrim staff he bore,
And fixed the scallop in his hat before.”[10]
[Illustration:
PLATE 2.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
SCALLOPS.
]
Some mystic connexion, some secret sympathy, was assumed to exist
between the scallop and St. James, the brother of the Lord, first
bishop of Jerusalem. What it was appears to be irrecoverably lost in
the darkness of those very dark ages, and is doubtless not worth the
hunting up. We may leave such puerilities, to consider the impress of
His divine hand which the All-wise God has made on the shell of the
mollusk that inhabits it.
These bivalves have been called the “butterflies of the sea,” as well
on account of the vivid and varied colours with which their broad
wing-like valves are painted, as of their agile fluttering and flying
movements. We frequently see them, especially for some time after
having been taken and put into an unfamiliar scene, as our aquariums,
shoot hither and thither through the water, with irregular zigzag
flights, accompanied with fitful openings and closings of the valves.
These leaps and flights seem to have no determinate object, except “the
letting off the steam” of their exuberant animal vivacity; but the
creatures have the power of directing their leap by a forcible ejection
of water from any given part of the compressed lips of the mantle.[11]
THE SCALLOP’S EYES.
It is a very pretty sight to see a healthy Pecten in a vessel of
clear sea-water. The elegant valves are opened to a considerable
width, perhaps to half an inch or more, and the entire aperture all
round is filled by a curtain, which drops from one to the other,
perpendicularly, a little way within the margin. This is the
mantle, and it is generally painted with rich colours, in irregular
patterns, often of spots and marbled clouds of black on a rich green
ground, or pearly-green clouds on flesh-colour--sometimes pale-yellow
clouds on velvet-black; but these hues have no perceptible relation
with those of the shell. Looking closely, you see that the mantle is
not single, but composed of two curtains, whose edges meet in the
middle. And now these are slightly separating, and giving us a peep
into the interior; but the most notable thing we see is the array of
long white taper tentacles which proceed from each edge, and wave to
and fro in the clear water; while another row of similar organs, but
larger, is affixed to each curtain along the line where it starts from
the shell. And along this same line, scattered between the bases of
the larger tentacles, there is a row (and a corresponding one on the
other curtain) of beads, which seem to be turned out of the richest
and most lustrous gems. Even the unassisted eye is arrested by the
flashing brilliance, but with a powerful lens they look like rubies
set in sockets of sapphire, from which the light blazes forth with
incomparable brilliance. These are the Pecten’s eyes, each of which
possesses all the parts requisite for perfect vision.
The valves vary much in colour. Some are pure white; some white with
a crimson line along the summit of each radiating ridge; some rosy,
crimson, or lilac; some cream, straw-yellow, deep yellow; some dull
brick-red, dark purplish-red, or sienna-brown; some are marbled with
black on a red ground, making a very rich pattern.
The largest specimens, and those with greatest variety in hue, are
found in deep water, and for the most part congregated in large
numbers on some particular spot of the sea-bottom, which is called a
scallop-bed. Such are found in Weymouth Bay, and in Torbay; and there
the shell-fish can be obtained in sufficient quantity for the market.
At Weymouth there is a considerable business done in these delicacies,
which is, however, almost all in the hands of one dealer, from whom I
have collected some details of interest.
The ordinary trawlers avoid the scallop-beds, if possible, because
they are liable to have their nets torn by them; the sharp valves
doubtless catching and cutting the meshes. But they often bring up many
unintentionally, and a naturalist would find a trawler’s refuse a most
productive field: for numbers of rare and valuable zoophytes and other
forms of life come up attached to the shells, which might easily be
saved, but are not: the men “have no time, for they are so anxious to
get their craft into a berth, and then to take out the fish as soon as
the trawl is up.”
Twenty bushels of scallops are sometimes taken at once; but this is
rare. The average produce of the Weymouth trawlers is five bushels
per week, which are readily sold at twopence per hundred; about seven
hundred going to the bushel. The customers are “mostly the genteels,”
who eat the _morceaux_ stewed with flour or scolloped. The worthy woman
who commands the supply had had the trade in her hands for twenty-eight
years (in 1853); she had never heard them called by any other name
than “Squins,” though she understood they were called Scallops in some
places. “Squin” is by some said to be a corruption of “Quin,” after the
actor and epicure of that name, who is reported to have been fond of
the delicate mollusk; but I much doubt the derivation.[12]
As a proof of the tenacity of life possessed by this species, a
fisherman assured me that he once put a quantity in a bag into a
cupboard and forgot them, till, after the lapse of a week, turning them
out he found them alive.
THE SEA-CUCUMBER.
But now another object of interest claims attention: for, in this
cavern, closely squeezed in between the layers of stone, I see the
satiny-white skin of a glorious Sea-cucumber. And now to get him out,
there’s the rub. So firmly imbedded is he, so deeply ensconced, that
no pushing with fingers or sticks will avail; indeed, I can but just
touch his body with my finger-ends poked in to the utmost. No; we must
cut away the rock above and below with the strong steel chisel, by
means of well-directed strokes of a heavy hammer. Slow work it is, for
the rock is awfully hard: the prize, however, cannot escape, and the
chief point of solicitude is not to crush it in the process. At length
a fortunate blow splits off a slice of rock, which leaves the unhappy
skulker defenceless. Now I get my fingers gradually behind him, and
force him out, gently and tenderly; sucker after sucker he is compelled
to let go, and now here he is in my hand, shrunken indeed, and squeezed
flat from his very shrinking in the close crevice, but all unbroken and
none the worse.
This is a much more sluggish creature than any of the mollusks that
we have been capturing: no sooner are they put into water than they
are active, and at once display their attractions; this animal, on the
contrary, will be perhaps several days in your tank before he will feel
himself sufficiently at home to unfold his splendid array of tentacles.
But then it is indeed a magnificent coronet of plumes wherewith the
headless king is adorned.
The Sea-cucumber soon finds himself a snug berth among the rock-work
of the tank; pressing his body between the pieces just as when we saw
him first, but taking care to leave space to protrude his front. Then
this part evolves, and a deep collar of dark purple is seen, from which
a ring of ten somewhat thick stems arises, tapering to a point and
arching outwards. These are of a purplish-black hue, and are studded
with short branches set on in a spiral, which again branch and branch
again, each terminal point bearing a white papilla; so that the whole
constitutes a series of conical aggregations of white dots clustering
about the black stems, something like pointed cauliflowers, and
forming, as they wave to and fro in the clear water, a very charming
spectacle.[13]
[Illustration:
PLATE 3.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
DOTTED SIPONCLE. SEA-CUCUMBER.
]
The suckers, which, when the animal first came into our possession,
were apparent only as little warts, arranged in five clustered rows
down the angles of the body, are now seen to be long tubes, each
with an adhering disk at its extremity, by which it anchors to the
surrounding stones. The mechanism of these suckers does not importantly
differ from that of the same organs in the Star-fishes. Indeed,
notwithstanding the very wide diversity of form and appearance between
the two animals, the Cucumber and the Star are so nearly allied as to
belong to the same class, that named ECHINODERMATA; the Sea-urchins,
creatures totally diverse in aspect from both, connecting the forms
together.
And this Cucumber, again, is connected with the proper worms
(ANNELLIDA) by some obscure animals which bear the name of Siponcles.
Here is one which may illustrate the form, the Dotted Siponcle.[14]
It has a cylindrical body, rounded and abruptly pointed behind, which
is of a light-brown hue, with a satiny gloss; but the hue resolves
itself under a powerful lens into a freckling of pale dots, excessively
numerous, on a brown ground, and the lustre into a multitude of
close-set annular wrinkles. What is curious in the creature is the
protrusion and retraction of its trunk. From the front end of the
body we see rapidly protruding, by evolution of the parts, a rather
slender trunk, till it attains about one-third the length of the body;
then its tip expands, and is seen to be surrounded by eight rows of
black points, and within these a circle of slender, white, thread-like
tentacles. These latter are the representatives of the gorgeous
head-plumes of the Cucumber. Immediately the long trunk is turned out
to the outmost, it begins to be rolled in again; and this process goes
on with equal rapidity till it is quite concealed. Then again it is
unrolled, and so on alternately. Doubtless the function of respiration
is performed by this action; and perhaps also food is collected and
swallowed.
THE HERMIT SIPONCLE.
One species of this creature, the Hermit Siponcle,[15] common enough
with us, is in the habit of appropriating old deserted shells of
univalve mollusca, as the periwinkle, or the pelican’s-foot, for its
own residence. In this case it builds up a wall of sand-atoms, cemented
by a glue of its own secreting, across the shell-aperture, leaving only
a small central orifice, through which it may protrude its curious
trunk.
Thus we discern the infinite and inexhaustible resources of the Divine
Wisdom in contrivances which have for their object the preservation,
sustentation, and comfort of worms so obscure and humble as these.
Discerning, let us adore!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Trochus ziziphinus_, which the reader will see figured in the
upper right corner of Plate I.
[2] _Phasianella pullus._
[3] _Conch. Syst._ ii. 252.
[4] _Leç. Elém._ 188.
[5] _Nassa incrassata._
[6] _Nassa reticulata._ A figure of this species is seen in the lower
left corner of Plate I.
[7] _Aporrhais pes-pelicani_, which the reader will see figured in the
centre of Plate I.
[8] _Cypræa Europæa_, which is delineated in the lower right corner of
Plate I.
[9] _Pecten opercularis_, of which see a group in Plate II.
[10] Parnell’s “Hermit.”
[11] For a description of the mode in which this action is performed,
see _Devonshire Coast_, p. 50, _et seq._
[12] Quin died in 1766. Montagu, in 1803, says of this Pecten, that
“it is known by the name of Frills or Queens,” with no allusion to the
actor. The term “frill” obviously refers to the form of the shell.
[13] The principal figure in Plate III. represents this species
(_Pentacta pentactes_) in the expanded condition described in the text.
[14] _Sipunculus punctatissimus_, figured in Plate III., to the left.
[15] _Sipunculus Bernhardus._
II.
FEBRUARY.
What will Babbicombe Bay yield us this fine February morning? One
thing at least it yields, a magnificent coast view; and this is
scarcely affected by the season. Let there be only a moderately clear
atmosphere, a sky chequered with blue spaces and white wind-borne
clouds, and snatches of sunshine interchanging with shadows,--which
last there will be, of course, with such a sky,--and such a prospect
cannot fail to please.
And, indeed, this noble sweep of precipitous coast can hardly be
surpassed for beauty all round the sea-girt shores of Britain. The
forms of the cliffs are imposing: their broad masses of vivid colour
alternating,--the white compact limestone, the bright red sandstone,
becoming almost scarlet as the sun shines out full, yet prevented from
being tawdry by its harmonies with the various hues of green that crown
it, by its own breadth of light and shadow, by its dimming tints as
it softens and mellows into the purple of the distance; the panorama
of blue hills rising and fading far inland, the Tors and heights of
Dartmoor and Exmoor; and the ever-changing sea, now laughing in its
brightness, now frowning and chafing in its wrath, filling so vast
an area as it does from this vantage height;--these are the broader
features of a scene which I will pause a moment to depict in detail,
before I descend to the beach.
VIEW FROM BABBICOMBE CLIFF.
I take my stand on the margin of the cliff that overlooks Oddicombe, my
feet upon the short soft turf, marked with fairy rings, the Dog’s Head
just on my left,--a remarkable projection of grey lichened limestone
from the very cliff-edge, which, seen from the opposite side, bears
a curious resemblance to the head of a lop-eared, cross-grained cur;
but from my point of view far more forcibly presents the appearance
of the face of a night-capped old man, grinning with pain;--and a
fine vertical, and in some places overhanging, precipice just on my
right, in whose horizontal strata scores of noisy jackdaws find resting
ledges. I see them as they sit in conscious security only a few yards
below the margin, their sleek grey polls wagging, and their black eyes
now and then upturned, as others of the cawing tribe fly in, and seek
sitting-room. Some of the strata are strangely distorted at the western
end; and here a narrow and somewhat perilous track leads down below
the cliff to a grassy plateau at its foot. I scramble down, and sit on
a stony shelf, overhung with sheets of ivy, and mark the bright green
tufts of Sea-spleenwort springing out of the clefts, unfortunately too
high to be reached.
The eye roams northward. At foot a rough broken ground slopes steeply
down, shaggy with thickets of brake and bramble, and of furze which
glows even now with golden blossom, varied with great tracts of broken
fragments of limestone, blackened by the weather. At length this merges
into a broad beach of shingle, snowy white, on which I see ladies
reclining, with books and parasols, as if ’twere July instead of
February. The sea bounds the beach with a line of still whiter surf,
ever renewing itself as it breaks, with a sweet whispering sound.
At the back is a series of most picturesque cliffs of the reddest
sandstone, on the top of which I find in June the beautiful blossoms of
the Purple Gromwell, one of the rarest of British flowers. The ground
at the summit is very uneven; and so my eye rests on the broad opposite
slopes of Woodleigh Vale, chequered with fields and hedgerows, among
which the ploughmen are busy, and the teams are toiling up the steep
furrows.
The formation suddenly changes again, and the limestone is seen in the
fine rounded projection of Petit Tor, whose front of white marble has
been laid bare by the quarriers. Beyond this is the ruddy sandstone
once more rising into lofty headlands of noble shapes. At the foot
of one of these an isolated rock, called, from its figure, the Bell,
stands in the sea, where, even while I am writing this paper, a
mournful tragedy has occurred. Two Babbicombe fishermen went out at
midnight to examine their crab-pots at this rock, and did not return.
The morning revealed the keel of the boat bottom-up, moored by the
pot-lines, and one poor fellow entangled by his feet in the same lines,
while the sea washed his hair about the surface. The other has not yet
been found.
Farther on, the bluff Ness marks the harbour of Teignmouth, and as
the sunlight falls on the white villas that stud the opposite side,
the scene looks attractive. Then the cliff-line rapidly diminishes in
height as it recedes, and the heads of Dawlish project, and we see no
more till at Exmouth the land trends to the eastward, and from its
white terraces faintly seen in the slanting sun now, but to stand out
full and clear in the afternoon, we follow the bold, varying, beauteous
coast, beauteous in its outline, but dim in its detail, for some
twenty miles farther, till the straining eye finally fails to discern
it somewhere between Lyme and Bridport; though Portland itself is
sometimes to be seen, and I have myself made it well out, stretching
far forth upon the wide eastern horizon of blue sea. Now, however,
along that shining line nothing is discernible but a white speck or
two, and yon ocean steamer that passes down the Channel, with a long
line of black smoke on the low sky behind her.
I forsake my sheltered seat, and climb to the down, making my way
towards the left, in order to see the prospect to the right. Here is
a track winding down the broken slope, leading through roods of the
round leaves of the fragrant Butterburr. A month ago the whole air was
loaded with the delicious perfume of its lilac blossom. I make my way,
slippery and tenacious enough just now, along by the hedge of a field,
till I come to the edge of an abrupt perpendicular cliff. How beautiful
from hence is the sweet hamlet of Babbicombe the Nether! The rugged
masses of Black Wall project from the foot of the slope into the sea,
dividing Oddicombe from Babbicombe beach. Beyond it is the latter, a
sweeping curve of pebbles and then of larger boulders, backed by an
amphitheatre of picturesque fishing huts, and elegant villas, half hid
in bowery plantations and woods, with peeps of lawns and gardens, all
occupying the steep sides of the bay, up to the summit of the downs.
Beyond the beach, fine dark rock masses again project; and farther
still, the prospect is abruptly shut in by a magnificent vertical cliff
of great height, the northern boundary of that lovely spot of renown,
Anstey’s Cove.
These features, which I feebly essay to paint with many successive
words, and multitudes of others which I must fain leave untouched, the
eye drinks in at once, grasping the whole grand and beautiful picture
at a glance, steeped as it is in loveliness. Those who have seen it
may possibly find an aid to memory in recalling it in these details of
mine, for I write with the scene before me; those who have not will
probably find little of interest in them.
BABBICOMBE BEACH.
It is at the farther end of yonder beach that we must commence our
marine explorings to-day; there, where the pebbles at the lowest
water-line merge into larger dark stones, and a little on this side of
the bounding rocks. We might get down by this path to Oddicombe beach,
scramble over Black Wall, and so make our way along Babbicombe beach to
the spot; but the state of the tenacious soil at this season makes such
a descent unpleasant. There is a better road to the eastward, which
winds among the villas, and descends direct to the spot we seek. Let
us therefore pursue our walk over the downs, along the margin of the
cliff, enjoying fresh aspects of the coast view as we proceed, till we
reach the road.
We are among the olive-coated stones at the verge of the far-receded
tide, among which the springs from the cliffs having broken out from
various points in the shingle beach, are making for themselves tortuous
channels on their way to the deserting sea. Their water, originally
fresh of course, has, by the time it arrives here, become so brackish
by washing the salt stones and sea-weeds, that the sand-hoppers and
worms which inhabit the hollows under the stones are bathed in it
with impunity, though, in general, immersion in fresh water is fatal
to marine animals. Great tufts of bladder wrack and other _Fuci_
spring from the lower stones, and now lie flaccid about, awaiting the
returning tide to erect them and wave their leathery leaves to and
fro. Broad fronds of _Ulva_, too, like tissue paper of the tenderest
green, irregularly crumpled and waved, and nibbled and gnawed into
thousands of holes, lie crisp and tempting; and tufts of a darker,
duller green, and others of purple-brown, and others again of rosy
crimson, stud these rough stones, and vary their ruggedness with
elegance and beauty; a beauty, however, far more appreciable, and far
more worthy of admiration, if we could look upon it when the flowing
tide creeps up, with its calm water clear as crystal, and covers the
many-hued parterre, softening and displaying the graceful outlines
and the brilliant colours. Then, too, those tiny creatures would be
seen agilely swimming from weed to weed, or lithely twining among the
fronds, which now we have to search for in their recluse hiding-places
under these rocks.
Selecting a stone which experience teaches us is a likely one---and
only experience can teach this, though in general I may say that the
heaviest and flattest beneath, those which appear to have been long
undisturbed, and especially those which, instead of being imbedded in
the soil, rest on other stones in such a partial way that there is room
for free ingress and egress to minute creatures beneath, and which have
a broad surface to which they may cling in congenial darkness, are the
most promising---selecting, I say, such a stone, we place both hands
beneath one side, and heave with all our might to turn it bodily over.
We must be careful, for many of these stones are so beset with the
small shells of _Serpula triquetra_, that they cannot be handled with
impunity. This is a worm which makes a tubular pipe for its defence,
of hard shell, adhering to the rock throughout its length; the tube
enlarges a little as it grows, and its most recent extremity, which is
brilliantly white and clean, is defended by the projecting extremity of
a ridge which runs along the back of the shell, the point of this ridge
forming a very sharp needle-like prickle, which, as we apply our hands
beneath the stone to lift, terribly cuts the fingers. On some stones
we find hundreds of these treacherous shells, set as thickly as they
can stand, and covering large patches; on others they are scattered,
and some are quite free from them. In an aquarium the little worms
protrude their breathing fans very constantly, and are pretty, though
not conspicuous objects, being varied with bright blue, grey, and
white. Pretty as they are, however, the collector wishes them further
a hundred times during his collecting, for, in such an expedition
as this, he is fortunate indeed if he come home without half of his
fingers gashed with deep incisions, smarting from the sea-water, and
all the slower to heal from the skin of the finger-tips being worn to
thinness in handling the stones.
But these are trifles; the fortune of war; amply compensated by the joy
of victory, when we succeed in capturing some rare or lovely creature,
to be displayed in triumph within the glass walls of a prison. Such
an one is this beauty, which is lurking in an angle of the block we
have just overturned. It needs a sharp eye to detect it; for we see no
beauty yet, nothing but a little lump of whitish jelly, dappled with
orange-yellow, not bigger than the half of a split pea, clinging close
to the stone. It requires some care to get it up without crushing; the
end of a toothpick, or a penknife, or a bit of stick cut to a point,
must be inserted under it; thus we lift it, and drop it into the ready
phial of clear water. It opens instantly, sprawling even before it
reaches the bottom, where it at once begins to crawl, and we detect in
our prize the lovely little Triope.[16]
THE TRIOPE.
As it swiftly glides up the glass, we see that it has an oblong body
of a pellucid white hue, curiously beset with finger-like appendages.
There is a row of some half-dozen or so fringing the front of the head;
and down a line on each side of the body, margining the mantle, there
is a row of larger ones, and all these are tipped with the richest
orange colour. Just behind the frontal points there are two club-shaped
organs, which start up out of holes, the sides of which form sheaths
for them, into which they can be withdrawn at the will of the animal.
These organs carry a number of narrow plates set parallel to each
other, diagonally pointing backwards and downwards. Doubtless, this
structure is intended to augment the sensitive powers of these curious
organs, which are understood to be the tentacles.
Then, in the middle line of the back, but placed a little nearer the
tail than the head, there is an orifice, which is the vent; remarkable
because the breathing organs are arranged partly around it. There
are three tiny leaves cut like the fronds of a fern, which stand up
over the orifice, and are endowed with the power of absorbing for the
purposes of respiration the oxygen of the air commingled in the water.
But here is an animal which possesses all these peculiarities of
structure, displayed on a much larger scale. It is a fine specimen
of the Sea Lemon,[17] which we oftener find clinging to the sides
of perpendicular rocks, or beneath projecting ledges, than on the
undersides of stones. This fellow is two and a half inches long, and
an inch and a quarter or more broad; but I have met with individuals
much larger than he. Its back is rounded, and its outline generally
reminds one of the half of a lemon cut longitudinally. The resemblance
is heightened, too, by the round warts with which the whole surface is
studded, and by the colour, a yellow more or less pure, often, however,
clouded, as in this instance, with purple, by which its beauty is much
enhanced.
[Illustration:
PLATE 4.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
SEA LEMON. CROWNED EOLIS. SPAWN OF BOTH.
]
The mantle, in this Doris, reaches down to the foot on all sides,
and covers the head, and is not furnished with any appendages.
The tentacles, which are plated, as in the Triope, pierce through
the mantle, and are sheathed; the gill plumes are large and ample
feather-like organs, eight in number, forming a complete circle
round the orifice, in the manner of a beautiful expanded flower.
As the Doris crawls along, it now and then lifts and puckers the edge
of the mantle, and displays its under surface and that of the foot,
which are of a rich orange-scarlet hue.
THE CROWNED EOLIS.
But we have turned a stone beneath which lurk several specimens of a
much lovelier creature yet. I see by the gleams of crimson and azure
which shine out from it, that it must be the Crowned Eolis.[18] It
looked a little heap of fibrous semi-pellucid flesh when out of water,
and, like the Triope, must be immersed to display its beauties. Now in
the phial of water, how elegant it is! Its body is long and slender,
tapering away to an almost imperceptible point behind, of a clear
translucent white. The head forms two long smooth taper tentacles,
which wave hither and thither as the creature gracefully glides along;
and besides these it has two other tentacles, distinguished as the
dorsal pair, resembling, in their position and in their structure,
those of the Doris and Triope, but not sheathed.
The chief glory of this exquisite animal, however, is in its breathing
organs. These consist of clusters of finger-shaped papillæ, set
transversely across the back, in about six rows, with the middle line
of the back free. Each of these papillæ is pellucid, with a central
core of the richest crimson, while a very brilliant flush of steel
blue is reflected from the surface, and the tip is opaque white. The
combination of these hues has a most charming effect.
You would scarcely suppose such lovely creatures were fierce and
carnivorous; but they are the most determined enemies of the Sea
Anemones. This beautiful Eolis I have often seen assaulting an Anemone,
ferociously tearing away its tentacles, or gnawing great holes in its
side, and, when touched, stiffening and erecting all its brilliant
papillæ, as the porcupine does its quills.
All these creatures are Mollusca very closely allied to the Cowry and
the Trochus which we lately examined, but destitute of a shell. The
exposure of the breathing organs is a distinguishing character (these
being more commonly, in the order, concealed in a cavity), whence they
are called _Nudibranchiata_, or Naked-gilled Mollusks.
At this season, wherever we find the animals themselves, we may with
confidence expect to find their spawn. This is deposited in masses,
which possess characteristic forms. Thus this roll, which looks as if
you had made a thin ribbon of paste, half an inch wide, and rolled it
into a loose scroll of two or three turns, and then affixed it by its
edge to the under side of a stone, is the spawn-mass of the Sea Lemon.
And here is a much more elegant scroll, of which the constituent is a
slender thread, twisted into a frilled or figure-8 form, as it goes
on to make the spire.[19] This has been laid by the beautiful Crowned
Eolis. If you examine either of these masses with a lens, you will see
that it is composed of a vast multitude of white eggs, suspended in a
clear jelly, in which they are arranged in transverse rows, giving the
opaque appearance to what would else be colourless and transparent.
EGGS OF NUDIBRANCHS.
The eggs, watched day by day under a good microscopic power, as they
advance towards maturity, present a most interesting object of study.
The yolk, which at first nearly fills the egg-shell, soon becomes a
little elongated, with one end diagonally truncated, or, as it were,
cut off obliquely; the truncated end then becomes two-lobed, “each
lobe exhibiting an imperfect spiral, and having its margin ciliated.
The now animated being is seen to rotate within its prison. Shortly
the lobes enlarge, and a fleshy process, the rudimentary foot, is
observed to develop itself a little behind them, on the medial line; a
shell closely investing the inferior portion of the embryo, the lobes
and rudimentary foot being uppermost. The shell rapidly increases, and
assumes a nautiloid form; afterwards the foot displays, attached to its
posterior surface, a circular operculum, which is opposed to the mouth
of the shell. The lobes now expand into two large, flattened, ovate
appendages, with very long vibratile cilia around the margins; and the
larvæ are at length mature. The whole mass of spawn now presents the
utmost animation. Hundreds of these busy atoms are seen, each within
its transparent, membranous cell, rotating with great agility and
ceaseless perseverance, the cilia all the while vigorously vibrating
on the margins of the outstretched lobes. The membranous chorion
[or transparent egg-shell], which by this time has become enlarged,
ultimately gives way, no longer able to resist the perpetual struggle
within; and the liberated larva, wending its way through the shattered
shreds of the general envelope, boldly trusts itself to the open
trackless water, where, doubtless, thousands and tens of thousands
perish ere they find a fitting resting-place, some being swept away
by resistless currents, others falling a prey to ever-watchful and
innumerable enemies.
“When the larva is at rest, the oral lobes are pulled back into
the shell, and the foot being drawn down, brings along with it the
operculum, which closes the orifice. But when in action, the whole of
these parts project beyond the opening of the shell, the foot lying
back against the spire; and the oral lobes inclining forward, their
cilia commence to vibrate, and the larva, with the mouth of the shell
upwards, moves through the water with lively action, sinking or rising,
or advancing onwards at its pleasure.”[20]
SPAWN OF EOLIS.
The fecundity of these mollusca is immense. An _Eolis papillosa_ of
moderate size in one of my aquaria, deposited successively nine strings
of spawn between March 20th and May 24th. The strings were exactly
alike in length and arrangement; each comprised about 105 convolutions,
and each convolution 200 eggs, while each egg contained on an average
two embryos. Thus the astonishing number of 378,000 embryos proceeded
from this one animal in about two months.
Step by step we have crept along the beach, turning stones as we went,
till we are come to the great masses of sandstone rock. Here are the
Purples[21] by hundreds, with their strong massive shells, some of them
pure white, which, however, becomes dingy with age, some banded with
brown, and some, especially the young and half-grown ones, painted
with a dull but soft purplish hue. The older specimens have the inner
surface of the lip tinged with a rich rosy purple. This tint on the
shell we may receive as the advertisement of the colorific property
that resides within, a sort of sign-board to tell us that this is the
“genuine” purple-shell. And there is little doubt that it is one of
those enumerated by Pliny, as used by the ancients for obtaining the
renowned dye of Tyre: though the principal, and that which yielded the
richest hue, was probably the _Murex trunculus_, a common Mediterranean
shell, which does not extend to our shores.
[Illustration:
PLATE 5.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
LIMPET. PURPLE. SLIT-LIMPET.
]
My readers are, I dare say, familiar with the pretty myth which
professes to embody the discovery of the purple dye. The Tyrian
Hercules was one day walking with his sweetheart along the shore,
followed by her lap-dog, when the playful animal seized a shell that
had just been washed up on the beach. Its lips were presently dyed with
a gorgeous purple tint, which was traceable to a juice that was pressed
out of the shell-fish. The lady was charmed with the colour, and longed
to have a dress of it; and, as wishes under such circumstances are
laws, the enamoured hero set himself to gratify her, and soon succeeded
in extracting and applying the dye, which afterwards became so famous.
I have elsewhere[22] recorded my own experiments on the stain yielded
by the _Purpura_ before us, with the remarkable changes through which
it passes before the sunlight fully brings out the colour. The use
of cochineal makes us independent of molluscan dyes, and the matter
is merely one of antiquarian interest, or a question of zoological
chemistry.
EGGS OF DOG-WINKLE.
Perhaps you may be more interested in the development of the
Dog-winkle. Under the ledges of rocks we find in abundance groups of
little yellow bodies, resembling ninepins in shape, set on their ends
in close contact with each other, and varying in numbers from three or
four to a hundred or upwards in a group. Some of them are tinged with
purple at the tips; and while sometimes you find them closed, and full
of a yellow creamy substance, at others they are open at the top, and
empty.
These are the egg-capsules of this mollusk, and some very unusual
circumstances connected with the birth of the progeny, and their
development within these cases, have been discovered by Dr.
Carpenter.[23] Each capsule contains 500 or 600 globules that cannot
be distinguished from each other at first; but only twelve to thirty
of these are developed into young animals, though their united bulk
ultimately equals that of the whole mass. The greater number of these
globules are not real eggs, but only “yolk-spherules,” destined to
afford nutriment to the true embryos, which greedily swallow them,
after certain changes have taken place, and increase rapidly in bulk.
It is curious, however, that they do not advance in development during
this absorption of nutriment, but are, so to speak, arrested until a
great augmentation of size is thus attained; then they quickly acquire
the form of little free-swimming nautiloids, closely like those of the
Doris and Eolis, a form which indeed is common to the early stages
of all the known higher mollusca, however various may be their adult
conditions.
LIMPET.
Here are the familiar Limpets, too: let us look at _them_ awhile.[24]
They are not generally very attractive in appearance, the shell
being coarse and rubbed, especially in the larger specimens; and in
an aquarium they do not live long, and are so inert as to afford no
amusement even while they survive. Yet we occasionally find examples
prettily coloured; and there are facts in their economy which make them
worthy of a few moments’ notice.
If you look carefully over the rocks, especially when these are of a
somewhat soft nature, as the slates and shales, you will find oval
depressions, sometimes but just discernible, at other times sunk to the
depth of an eighth of an inch, corresponding in outline to the shell of
a Limpet; and in many instances you will actually see a Limpet imbedded
in such a pit, which it accurately fills. Strange as it may seem, it
has been ascertained that these cavities are formed by the animals,
which make them their ordinary resting-places, wandering away from them
nightly to feed, and returning to them to rest early in the morning.
The force with which a Limpet adheres to the rock is very great,
especially when it has had warning of assault, and has had time to put
out its muscular strength. Réaumur found that a weight of twenty-eight
or thirty pounds was required to overcome this adhesive force. His
experiments seem to prove, however, that its power is mainly owing, not
to muscular energy, nor to the production of a vacuum in the manner of
a sucker. If an adhering Limpet were cut quite through perpendicularly,
shell and animal, the two parts maintained their hold with unabated
force, although of course a vacuum, if there had been one, would have
been destroyed by the incision. The power is said to reside in a very
strong glue, a very viscid secretion, deposited at the will of the
animal. “If, having detached a _Patella_,” says Dr. Johnston, “the
finger be applied to the foot of the animal, or to the spot on which it
rested, the finger will be held there by a very sensible resistance,
although no glue is perceptible. And it is remarkable that if the spot
be now moistened with a little water, or if the base of the animal be
cut, and the water contained in it allowed to flow over the spot, no
further adhesion will occur on the application of the finger: the glue
has been dissolved. It is nature’s solvent, by which the animal loosens
its own connexion with the rock. When the storm rages, or when an enemy
is abroad, it glues itself firmly to its rest; but when the danger has
passed, to free itself from this forced constraint, a little water is
pressed from the foot, the cement is weakened, and it is at liberty
to raise itself and be at large. The fluid of cementation, as well as
the watery solvent, is secreted in an infinity of miliary glands with
which the foot is, as it were, shagreened; and as the Limpet cannot
supply the secretion as fast as this can be exhausted, you may destroy
the animal’s capacity of fixation by detaching it forcibly two or three
times in succession.”
THE GILLS.
If we remove one of these Limpets from his selected area of
rock,--which we may readily do, notwithstanding the strength of his
cement, if we take him at unawares, and give him a smart sudden
horizontal rap with a piece of wood, or a moderated blow with a
hammer,--we shall obtain a view of a structure well worth looking at.
The animal is essentially like a Trochus or a Purple inhabiting a
conical shell; only in this case the cone is low and simple, whereas
in the others it is tall and slender, and rolled into a spire. One of
the most curious peculiarities in the Limpet is its gill or breathing
organ. This, we perceive, completely encircles the animal, forming a
ring interrupted only at one point. It lies in the fold between the
mantle and the foot, commencing on the left side of the neck, and
passing quite round the body, parallel with the edge of the shell,
in front of the head, till it terminates close to the point where
it began. It is a long cord closely beset with tiny leaflets, and
thus forming a continual plume. Each leaflet, conical in outline, is
permeated with blood-vessels, and clothed with minute _cilia_, whose
constant vibrations cause the circumambient water ever to play over the
surface of these organs in ceaseless currents, bringing fresh supplies
of oxygen to be respired; and this is absorbed by the blood through the
thin membrane by which they are protected.
There is a very pretty little shell, not uncommon in deep water off
these coasts, but rarely found by the shore collector, though it does
occasionally venture to peep at daylight at the verge of extreme
low-tide. It is the Slit Limpet,[25] which by the older naturalists was
placed in close alliance with the Limpets proper, as if a member of
the same family. They were, however, deceived by paying too exclusive
attention to the form of the shell, which is a cone, somewhat rounded,
and nearly simple, the summit being slightly turned over in a backward
direction. The margin of the shell is delicately notched, the points
being the extremities of the radiating ridges; for the entire surface
is covered with reticulations, one series of alternate furrows and
ridges proceeding from the summit to the margin, and another series
crossing these at right angles, running round the shell parallel with
the margin. The animal has its sides ornamented with short fleshy
processes, and possesses two symmetrical gill-plumes, one on each side.
It is rather attractive in appearance, but I cannot tell you anything
of its manners; for though I have kept specimens in the aquarium,
they are so habitually sluggish, and so reluctant to allow one a peep
beneath the edge of the jealous shell, that I could learn nothing about
their ways;--if indeed they have any.
PHOLAS HOLES.
Another curious form closely related to this is the Keyhole Limpet,[26]
whose shell is of a long oval outline, of a lower cone, reticulated,
like the Slit Limpet, but pierced at the summit with a double hole,
or rather a perforation apparently made of two holes broken into one,
something like a keyhole. This orifice, like the slit in the former
case, is for the discharge of the effete water taken in in breathing.
See! here is the soft red sandstone lying in great beds, pierced
through and through with smooth round holes, just as if bored with a
carpenter’s auger, big enough to admit a man’s thumb. What agency has
been in operation to effect these perforations? Let us try to discover.
A few good blows with the stout hammer on the chisel-head serve to
split off a great slice of the coarse red sandstone. The holes run
through its substance, but they are all empty, or filled only with the
black fœtid mud which the sea has deposited in their cavities. Yes;
these are too superficial; they are all deserted; the stone lies too
high above low-water mark: we must seek a lower level. Try here; where
the lowest spring-tide only just leaves the rock bare. Ha! now we have
uncovered the operators. Here lie, snugly ensconced within the tubular
perforations, great mollusca, with ample ivory-like shells, which yet
cannot half contain the whiter flesh of their ampler bodies, and the
long stout yellow siphons that project from one extremity, reaching far
up the hole towards the surface of the rock.[27]
We lift one from its cavity, all helpless and unresisting, yet
manifesting its indignation at the untimely disturbance by successive
spasmodic contractions of these rough yellow siphons, each accompanied
with a forcible _jet d’eau_, a polite squirt of sea-water into our
face; while, at each contraction in length, the base swells out, till
the compressed valves of the sharp shell threaten to pierce through its
substance.
[Illustration:
PLATE 6.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
RED-NOSE. FINGER-PHOLAS.
]
HYPOTHESES OF THEIR FORMATION.
Strange as it seems, these animals have bored these holes in the stone;
and they are capable of boring in far harder rock than this; even in
compact limestone. The actual mode in which this operation is performed
long puzzled philosophers. Some maintained that the animal secreted
an acid which had the power of dissolving not only various kinds of
stone, but also wood, amber, wax, and other substances, in which the
excavations are occasionally made. But it was hard to imagine a solvent
of substances so various, and to know how the animals’ own shells were
preserved from its action; while, confessedly, no such acid had ever
been detected by the most careful tests.
Others maintained that the rough points which stud the shell enable it
to serve as a rasp, which the animal, by rotating on its axis, uses
to wear away the stone or other material; but it was difficult to
understand how it was that the shell itself was not worn away in the
abrasion.
Another zoologist, rejecting this hypothesis, maintained that the edges
of the mantle and the short thick foot are the instruments employed;
and that, though these fleshy organs seem little fitted for such
work, they are really endowed with the requisite power in the shape
of crystals of flint which are deposited thickly in their substance.
Strange to say, however, other accurate observers fail to detect these
siliceous crystals, and therefore reject the hypothesis.
Another suggested that the stone was removed in invisible particles by
the constant action of currents in the water, produced by vibratile
cilia seated on the soft parts of the animal; but this supposition was
found untenable on examination.
Actual observation in the aquarium has proved that the second
hypothesis is the true one. M. Cailliaud in France and Mr. Robertson
in England have demonstrated that the Pholas uses its shell as a
rasp, wearing away the stone with the asperities with which the
anterior parts of the valves are furnished. Between these gentlemen a
somewhat hot contention was maintained for the honour of priority in
this valuable discovery. M. Cailliaud himself used the valves of the
dead shell, and imitating the natural conditions as well as he could,
actually bored an imitative hole, by making them rotate. Mr. Robertson,
at Brighton, exhibited to the public living Pholades in the act of
boring in masses of chalk. He described it as “a living combination
of three instruments, viz., a hydraulic apparatus, a rasp, and a
syringe.” But the first and last of these powers can be considered
only as accessory to the removing of the detritus out of the way,
when once the hole was bored, the _rasp_ being the real power. If you
examine these living shells, you will see that the fore part, where
the foot protrudes, is set with stony points arranged in transverse
and longitudinal rows, the former being the result of elevated ridges
radiating from the hinge, the latter that of the edges of successive
growths of the shell. These points have the most accurate resemblance
to those set on a steel rasp in a blacksmith’s shop. It is interesting
to know that the shell is preserved from being itself prematurely worn
away by the fact, that it is composed of arragonite, a substance much
harder than those in which the Pholas burrows. Yet we see by the
specimens before us that such a destructive action does in time take
place, for some of these have the rasping points much more worn than
others, many of the older ones being nearly smooth.
The animal turns in its burrow from side to side when at work, adhering
to the interior by the foot, and therefore only partially rotating to
and fro. The substance is abraded in the form of fine powder, which
is periodically ejected from the mouth of the hole by the contraction
of the branchial siphon; a good deal of the more impalpable portions
being deposited by the current as it proceeds, and lodging as a soft
mud between the valves and the stone. Mr. Hudson,[28] who watched some
Pholades at work in a tide-pool in the chalk, observed the periodic
ejection of the cloud of chalk-powder, and noticed the heaps of the
same material deposited around the mouth of each burrow. The discharges
were made with no regularity as to time. Mrs. Merrifield[29] records
a curious fact. “A lady, watching the operations of some Pholades
which were at work in a basin of sea-water, perceived that two of
them were boring at such an angle that their tunnels would meet.
Curious to ascertain what they would do in this case, she continued
her observations, and found that _the larger and stronger Pholas bored
straight through the weaker one_, as if it had been merely a piece of
chalk rock.”
Mr. Ross, of Rhyl, having a Pholas in his aquarium, prepared a piece of
wood, by excavating a shallow cavity, about a quarter of an inch deep,
in which he set the animal, whose shell was two inches long. “After
a short time the animal attached its foot to the bottom of the hole
and commenced swaying itself from side to side, until the hole was of
sufficient depth to allow it to proceed in the following manner:--It
inflated itself with water, apparently to its fullest extent, raising
its shell upwards from the hole; then holding by its muscular foot, it
drew its shell gradually down. This would have produced a perpendicular
and very inefficient action, but for a wise provision of nature. The
edges of the valves are not joined close together, but are connected
by a membrane (extension of the mantle), and instead of being joined
at the hinge (umbo) like ordinary bivalves, they possess an extra
plate, attached to each valve of the shell, which is necessary for the
following operation:--In boring, this mollusk, having dilated itself
with water, draws down its shell within the hole, gradually closing the
lower anterior edges until they almost touch. It then raises its shell
upwards, gradually opening the lower anterior edges, and closing the
upper, thus boring both upwards and downwards. The spines are placed
in rows, like the teeth of a saw; those towards the lower part of the
shell being sharp and pointed, while those above, being now useless,
are not renewed.”[30]
RED-NOSES.
In this limestone cliff we shall find other borers, for you may see
even at a considerable distance how holed and honeycombed its surface
is; the cavities being so numerous, so close, and so irregular in
their direction, that the whole face of the rock is fashioned into
small sharp-edged shapeless points. Nor need we be long in finding
the industrious masons who thus rough-point acres upon acres, nay
miles upon miles, of limestone rock. Here in ten thousand orifices you
discern little double-tipped knobs of crimson flesh, which, as soon as
you disturb them, shoot at you a column of water and then disappear
within their fortress, having exhausted their artillery. The fishermen
know them well, and use them for bait, applying to them the familiar
but expressive soubriquet of Red-noses.[31]
It is not so easy to get at these as at the Pholades, because of the
superior hardness of the stone which they excavate. With the chisel,
however, we need not fail of uncovering a few, especially as their
burrows are but shallow. Here they are, half-a-dozen in a block as
big as your fist. Ugly, uncouth, bemired, the valves not nearly
containing the shapeless flesh, they are not particularly attractive
creatures, maugre the brilliant hue of their blushing siphons. Like
Mrs. Merrifield’s Pholas, these Saxicavæ habitually break into one
another’s houses, as we see here, and even cut one another’s shells and
bodies through and through most ruthlessly. They will live very well
out of the rock, and may be kept a considerable time in the aquarium.
There is no doubt that the burrowing Mollusca are slowly but surely
effecting changes in the configuration of rocky coasts, by destroying
the rock. It is true their excavations extend but a few inches in
depth; but then, as the force of the elements readily breaks down the
thin partitions left standing, and discovers a new face, so the borers
are continually renewing their attacks on this; and so in time the
cliffs are worn away, while the debris of impalpable mud is deposited
upon the shallows, entering into new combinations, and filling up
estuaries and harbours.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] _Triopa clavigera._
[17] _Doris tuberculata_, which the reader will see figured in Plate
IV., in the centre of the foreground.
[18] _Eolis coronata_, figured in the upper part of Plate IV., above
the Sea Lemon.
[19] Both these are depicted in Plate IV. That on the right of the
picture is the spawn of _Doris tuberculata_; that on the left is the
spawn of _Eolis coronata_.
[20] Alder and Hancock (DORIS).
[21] _Purpura lapillus_, sometimes known as the Dog-winkle. Three
individuals, representing the varieties of colour, are seen in the
middle of Plate V., and a cluster of their egg-capsules in the lower
left corner.
[22] See _Devonshire Coast_, p. 60.
[23] _Trans. Micr. Soc._ (Ser. II.), vol. iii. p. 17.
[24] _Patella vulgata_, represented by two examples in Plate V., at the
left side of the picture.
[25] _Emarginula reticulata_, of which a figure appears in the
right-hand corner of Plate V.
[26] _Fissurella reticulata._
[27] _Pholas dactylus_; the principal figure in Plate VI., represented
as exposed in its burrow by the splitting off of a portion of the
limestone rock.
[28] _Zoologist_, p. 7819.
[29] _Nat. Hist. of Brighton_, p. 185.
[30] _Zoologist_, p. 6541.
[31] _Saxicava rugosa_; represented by the smaller figure in Plate VI.
III.
MARCH.
Perhaps the most effective aid to the investigation of natural
history which the present age has produced is the invention of the
aquarium, and particularly its application to marine forms of life.
Depending on that grand principle of organic chemistry, of world-wide
prevalence, that the emanations from animals and vegetables are
respectively essential to the continued life each of the other, it
was discovered that the relative proportions of number and bulk in
which organic beings of the two kinds could healthfully live together
was easily determined; and since the fact that the creatures were
inhabitants of water, whether fresh or salt, presented no exception to
the universality of the law, they had but to be placed together in a
suitable ratio, enclosed in a vessel containing water, and an aquarium
was established. Improvements in the form of the vessel, in the mode
of exposing the contents to observation, in the impact of the rays of
light, in the arrangement of the interior, and other points of value,
have indeed been progressively made; whereby the practical availability
of the invention for the purposes of experimental natural history has
been augmented; but some of us have found little difficulty, even
from the very first announcement of the discovery, in maintaining
the collections of sea-water, with their living plants and animals,
unchanged from year’s end to year’s end. I may be perhaps excused for
observing, that I have at present in use a large tank, full of marine
creatures, in which the water has been unchanged for four years, and
on which I look with peculiar interest, because it was the first tank
ever made for private use. This very aquarium has afforded, and still
affords the opportunity for the observation of many interesting details
of the structure and habits of the lower forms of animal life, details
which constitute the basis not only of my works on marine natural
history already published, but of the present series of papers also. We
collect the creatures, indeed, abroad, and there gather up some broad
facts of interest concerning their modes of life; but it is at home,
in the quiet of the study, with conveniences and aids to examination,
experiment, and record at command, that they must be studied. The
aquarium becomes in fact an apparatus, whereby we bring a portion of
the sea, with its rocks, and weeds, and creatures, to the side of our
study-table, and maintain it there.
USE OF THE AQUARIUM.
Thus an opportunity of close and valuable familiarity with
sea-productions is open to multitudes who have never seen the broad
expanse of ocean, nor searched its prolific shores; and facilities for
extending the bounds of zoological science are everywhere enjoyed,
which till lately were restricted to a very few naturalists, whose
residences were situated on certain favourable spots upon the coast.
Yet both modes of investigation are necessary. He who has never seen
marine animals except in the confinement of an aquarium, cannot but be
conscious of many chasms in his knowledge, which are filled up by him
who is in the habit of collecting his own specimens in their proper
haunts; and who, by finding them _in ferâ naturâ_, can, when he studies
them at leisure in his tanks, make such allowances as are necessary
for the variations in habit which may be dependent on the difference
between their present artificial, and their original natural,
conditions of existence.
While we rejoice then in tanks and vases of crystal water, filled with
the lovely forms and brilliant hues of sea-weeds and sea-anemones, I
invite my readers to accompany me on a few hours’ visit to the charming
creatures at their own homes. The season is propitious; the sun
has just passed the vernal equinox, and the genial warmth of spring
is diffusing new life into the cold blood of the animals that dwell
beneath the waters; the equinoctial storms that lately raged have
blown themselves out, and are succeeded by a quietude whose effect
is delightfully seen in yonder mirror-like ocean: it is the time of
spring-tide; and the near approach of the hour of lowest water will
afford us unusual facilities for finding species only to be invaded
under such conditions.
Let us then scramble down to the beautiful Anstey’s Cove, along the
steep path tangled with briers and ferns; where the swelling buds of
the hawthorn and honeysuckle are already bursting, while the blackbird
mellowly whistles in the fast-greening thicket, and the lark joyously
greets the mounting sun above us. Yonder on the shingle lies a boat,
newly painted in white and green, for the attraction of young ladies
of maritime aspirations; she is hauled up high and dry; but the sinewy
arms of honest Harry Bate, who hearing footsteps has come out of his
little grotto under the rock to reconnoitre, will soon drag her down
to the rippling waves, and, “for the small sum of a shilling an hour,”
will pull us over the smooth and pond-like sea, whithersoever we may
choose to direct him.
“Jump aboard, please, Sir! Jump in, ladies! jump in, little master!”
And now, as we take our seats on the clean canvas cushions astern, the
boat’s bottom scrapes along with a harsh grating noise over the white
shingle-pebbles, and we are afloat.
SEA-CAVERN.
First to the caverns just outside yonder lofty point. The lowness of
the tide will enable us to take the boat into them, and the calmness of
the sea will preclude much danger of her striking the rocks; especially
as watchful Bate will be on the alert, boat-hook in hand, to keep her
clear. Now we lie in the gloom of the lofty arch, gently heaving and
sinking and swaying on the slight swell, which, however smooth the
surface, is always perceptible when you are in a boat among rocks, and
which invests such an approach with a danger that a landsman does not
at all appreciate. Yet the water, despite the swell, is glassy, and
invites the gaze down into its crystalline depths, where the little
fishes are playing and hovering over the dark weeds. The sides of the
cavern rise around us in curved planes, washed smooth and slippery by
the dashing of the waves of ages, and gradually merge into the massive
angles and projections and groins of the broken roof, whence a tuft or
two of what looks like samphire depends. But notice the colonies of the
Smooth Anemone or Beadlet[32] clustered about the sides; many of them
are adhering to the stone walls, several feet above the water. These
have been left uncovered for hours, and are none the worse for it. They
are closed, the many tentacles being concealed by the involution of the
upper part of the body, so that they look like balls, or hemispheres,
or semi-ovals of flesh; or like ripe fruits, so plump and succulent
and glossy and high-coloured, that we are tempted to stretch forth
the willing hand, to pluck and eat. Some are greengages, some Orleans
plums, some magnum-bonums,--so various are their rich hues; but look
beneath the water, and you see them not less numerous, but of quite
another guise. These are all widely expanded; the tentacles are thrown
out in an arch over the circumference, leaving a broad flat disk; just
like a many-petalled flower of gorgeous hues: indeed, we may fancy
that here we see the blossoms, and there the ripened fruit. Do not
omit, however, to notice the beads of pearly blue that stud the margin
all round, at the base of the over-arching tentacles. These have been
supposed by some to be eyes; the suggestion, however, rests on no
anatomical ground, and is, I am afraid, worthless; though I cannot tell
you what purpose they do serve.
[Illustration:
PLATE 7.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
SNOWY ANEMONE. DEAD-MAN’S FINGER. ROSY ANEMONE. LUCERNARIA. SMOOTH BEADLET.
]
TANGLE FORESTS.
Away! for I wish to explore another scene not less romantic than
this, and which I know by experience to be much more prolific in
strange and beautiful forms of life. Harry shall pull us round yonder
low point, which bears the appellation of Hope’s Nose, calling on
the way to look at some one of the inlets that lie between the long
projecting points at the foot of Black Rock. Here the boat floats over
dense forests of great brown sea-weeds, the _Laminariæ_, which lift
their dark masses, and wave to and fro, with a majestic dignity. Here
is the narrow crumpled blade of the Oarweed, of a rich yellow brown;
and the wavy stem of the Furbelows springing from its hedgehog-like
bladder; but chiefly is the forest composed of vast plants of the
Tangle, whose broad deep-brown fronds of a substance like stout
leather, French-polished, divide into many long straps, slide over
each other, and flap to and fro in the heave of the sea. Yonder we see
on the broadest part of a frond, just before it divides, what seems a
flower, as large as a chrysanthemum, but of the liveliest pea-green
hue, every long petal tipped with rosy pink. Hand over the boat-hook,
and carefully lift the tangle to the surface. Now we have it fully in
view. It is the green variety of the Opelet;[33] so called because
it is scarcely capable of infolding the walls of the body over the
disk and tentacles; these therefore remain habitually _open_, though
the animal is at times much less expanded than at others. We now see
it in its most charming condition; the short fawn-coloured column
inflated, the mouth elevated on a strong cone in the centre of the wide
saucer-shaped disk, and the numerous tentacles arranged in groups,
as if several stems sprang from the same root, long, slender, very
flexible, twisting about like the snaky locks of Medusa’s head, all
of the most delicate light green, with a rich satin lustre, and all
tipped with the richest crimson-lilac or light rose,--a most beautiful
harmony of colours. The animal adheres by a broad base firmly to the
disk of the tangle, and awaits, as it waves hither and thither, the
approach of one of the little fishes that play heedlessly at bo-peep
among the fronds. No sooner does one of them touch the far-stretching
tentacles, than a virulent and penetrating poison shoots through its
frame; its vigour is benumbed in an instant; it ceases to struggle; its
powerful fins strike the water no more; others of the fatal tentacles
enwrap themselves around it, and drag it towards the mouth, already
protruding and expanding in expectation of the morsel; where it is in
a few minutes engulfed, and soon digested in that capacious maw.
[Illustration:
PLATE 9.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
GREEN OPELET. ORANGE-DISK ANEMONE.
]
It is not very uncommon for a single specimen of this species to become
two by a perpendicular division. The whole process has been observed. A
little notch first appears in the margin of the disk, which extends,
cutting through the tentacles of that side, splitting the disk across,
proceeding through the tentacles on the opposite side till it divides
the margin there also. Meanwhile, it has advanced downward in an equal
ratio, till it has reached the base; and at length there are two
half-opelets still adhering in the closest proximity. Now, however,
the two raw and open surfaces close up, and the bases glide gradually
apart. A thick wall of flesh forms between the stomach and the wound,
and new tentacles develop themselves on this. The two Opelets are
complete.
RAISED BEACHES.
Half-an-hour’s vigorous pulling has doubled the long promontory
of Hope’s Nose, a wilderness of stones, like what I suppose, from
published descriptions, the foot of Mount Sinai to be, and brought us,
between two raised beaches, into the pretty cove of Meadfoot, capped by
elegant villas. These beaches, evidences of the lifting of the land,
for they surely once stood, as beaches stand now, at the sea-level, are
situate, the one on the main, the other on the Thatcher, a rocky islet
some two hundred yards off shore. A few minutes more, and we are in a
wild scene indeed. Isolated rocks stand up, in angular masses, upright
columns, and sharp peaks, out of the sea, which is quite deep, even at
lowest spring-tide. The coast itself too is rugged, precipitous, and
in many spots quite perpendicular; one bold promontory, which runs out
with a narrow knife-edge summit, is perforated by a natural archway of
lofty elevation, of very striking aspect. It is distinctly visible for
miles along the shores of Torbay, and is dignified with the name of
London Bridge.
Here, then, is our fishing-ground to-day. Threading the slender
passages between the perpendicular rocks, or creeping-in close under
their overhanging landward sides, where no ray of the sun has ever
penetrated, we hang on by the points and groins, and eagerly peer
below. Into one lane our boatman hesitates to venture. It is but just
wide enough to allow the boat to pass; indeed here and there she cannot
without rubbing her gunwales; and if a stronger swell than usual were
to roll-in from seaward while entangled, her side might be stove-in
before she could be extricated. However, its gloom looks so tempting,
and the water among the islets is so very smooth, that we succeed in
persuading him, and we push and drag into the very midst of the watery
alley. The rocks rise close on either hand like lofty walls, and
descend as perpendicularly, deep and far down beneath our keel; as we
can well see, for the water is of lustrous transparency.
LIFE ON SEA-ROCKS.
And what a sight is here! Hundreds of Anemones of many species are
studding the walls almost as thick as they can be packed. Every tiny
crevice, every hollow, every hole left by _Pholas_ or _Saxicava_ (and
the rock is riddled and honeycombed by these burrowing mollusks),
holds its little knob of plump flesh; some lolling out with a dewdrop
hanging from the end; some just filling the cavity, and allowing the
tips of the crowded tentacles to peep out as a speck of white, or of
orange, or of rosy lilac, according to the species; and some retreated
to the bottom of their stony fortress, to be detected only by the
probing touch. Other forms too there are;--dead men’s fingers, white
and yellow; worms, green and brown and grey, twining in and out, and
grasping the sharp edges of the rock; tunicate mollusks, simple and
compound; univalves and bivalves; sponges of all bright colours by
hundreds:--what a maze, what a teeming world of life it is!
All this is at and above the level of the eye. Now let us bend over
the boat’s gunwale, and gaze below, with our faces brought nearly to
the surface of the sea. Here the sight is far more wonderful, and far
more attractive; for here the life is seen in all its fullest activity,
every creature performing its functions, and pursuing its instincts
with the most single earnestness, self-contained, and altogether
regardless of the myriad fellow-beings that surround it and press upon
it, in this eager contest and struggle for maintained existence.
DEAD MAN’S FINGER.
A yard or two below the surface the eye is caught by a great oyster
projecting from the vertical wall. It is a strange situation for
an oyster to be in, but it shows how the infant young, in their
free-swimming form, so different from their ultimate condition, may be
carried by the aid of their own cilia, and the sea-currents, into the
most improbable situations, and may there find circumstances congenial
for permanent settlement.[34] Perhaps, however, its brown and rough
shell would scarcely have attracted our notice, but for the rider that
sits upon it. A specimen of the Dead-man’s finger,[35] of noble
dimensions, has selected this shell as the seat of its dominion; and
we can discern the three or four great lobes of which it consists
all surrounded by the gauzy cloud that tells of the thousands of
translucent polyps projected from every part of its periphery. Fine as
is that specimen, however, there are scores of others, many of which
are of equal dimensions, and more easily accessible. By the aid of
the hammer and cold-chisel, we may easily secure a specimen without
harming it, after searching a while to select one which is seated on
some projection of the rock that can be struck off. Thus removed,
and at once transferred to one of our collecting jars, the curious
compound animal will in captivity display its beauties, though, it must
be confessed, it is often rather bashful before company. The lobes
into which the mass is divided are sufficiently like stumpy fingers
to have given it a popular designation, while their dull white hue
has suggested that the fingers are those of a corpse. The animal is
sometimes, however, called Cows’ paps, and sometimes Mermaids’ gloves;
but I think this latter is a book name.
When we examine it in the aquarium, after it has recovered its
equanimity disturbed by the rude shocks of the hammer battering about
its castle, we see that the lobes are greatly swollen and sub-pellucid,
from the imbibition of water into the canals with which its whole
substance is penetrated. When out of water the surface was studded with
shallow pits, as if the poor thing had at some period of its history
been afflicted with the small-pox. Now, however, these pittings reveal
their true character; for each has protruded itself in the form of a
long but slender polyp, of exquisite translucency and perfect symmetry.
It resembles a tubular flower with eight narrow pointed petals, which
arch outward like those of a campanula or tulip. Each petal carries on
its edges a row of very slender transparent filaments, arranged like
the teeth of a comb, which also arch downward, and greatly augment the
beauty of the flower-like polyp.
Structurally, this polyp is closely allied to the common forms of the
Sea Anemones; the most obvious peculiarity being, that a multitude are
combined into one mass, with a common life animating the whole. The
fleshy mass is of a spongy texture, full of branching water-canals, and
containing a multitude of calcareous spicula of characteristic forms.
They resemble gnarled branches of oak, with the branchlets broken off,
leaving ragged ends. The skin of the polyps contains, at certain fixed
spots, groups of similar spicula, but much more minute. The microscope
is necessary to discern these, as well as some other details of the
organization of this very interesting creature.
The technical character by which this animal with its allies
is distinguished from the proper Anemones, is that its plan of
organization is fashioned on the number _eight_, whereas the true
Anemones have _six_, as their characteristic number. Thus, however
numerous the tentacles of an anemone may be,--and in the case of the
Daisy or the Plumose, they often amount to several hundreds,--the young
animal began with six, and the increase is normally a multiplication
of six, though accidental irregularities do occur. On the other hand,
the tentacles of the Alcyonium are permanently eight, as are the
vertical partitions of the interior of the body; and by consequence,
the chambers into which those membranous partitions divide it.
But we must not allow the interest attaching to these forms to divert
our attention from the Anemones themselves. All the species which we
saw on the rock above the water, are here below it, and all displaying
their beauties in an incomparably more charming fashion. We can compare
the whole submerged wall to nothing else than a parterre of most
brilliant flowers, taken bodily and set on end. The eye is bewildered
with their number and variety, and knows not which to look at first.
Here are the Rosy Anemones,[36] with a firm fleshy column of rich
sienna-brown, paler towards the base, and with the upper part studded
with indistinct spots, marking the situation of certain organs which
have an adhesive power. The disk is of a pale neutral tint, with a
crimson mouth in the centre, and a circumference of crowded tentacles
of the most lovely rose-purple, the rich hue of that lovely flower that
bears the name of General Jacqueminot. In those specimens that are most
widely opened, this tentacular fringe forms a blossom whose petals
overhang the concealed column, expanding to the width of an inch or
more; but there are others in which the expansion is less complete in
different degrees, and these all give distinct phases of loveliness. We
find a few among the rest, which, with the characteristically-coloured
tentacles, have the column and the disk of a creamy white; and one in
which the disk is of a brilliant orange, inclining to scarlet. Most
lovely little creatures are they all.
SCARLET-FRINGED ANEMONE.
Commingled with these charming Roses, there are others which attain a
larger size, occurring in even greater abundance. They are frequently
an inch and a half in diameter when expanded, and some are even larger
than this. You may know them at once by observing that the outer row of
tentacles, and occasionally also some of the others, are of a scarlet
hue, which, when examined minutely, is seen to be produced by a sort of
core of that rich hue pervading the pellucid tentacle. The species is
commonly known as the Scarlet-fringed Anemone.[37] The inner rows of
tentacles, which individually are larger than those of the outer rows,
are pale, marked at the base with strong bars of black. The disk is
very variable in hue, but the column is for the most part of the same
rich brown as we saw in the Rosy. Yet, though these are characteristic
colours, there are specimens which diverge exceedingly from them, and
some approach so near the Roses, as to be scarcely distinguishable
from them. Generally, however, the scarlet-cored outer tentacles,
and a peculiar habit of throwing the tentacular margin of the disk
into crumpled folds, will be found sufficient to determine this very
handsome kind of Anemone from its nearest allies.
PLUMOSE ANEMONE.
There are multitudes too of a charming little kind, which, on account
of the pure whiteness of the crown of tentacles, is known as the
Snowy.[38] The disk is of the same spotless hue; and the column of
a light drab deepening into pale olive towards the summit. With the
exception of its colours, this species has a very close resemblance
to the Rosy, with which it is generally associated, even as we see it
here. And here is the Orange-disk,[39] one of exceeding loveliness,
which you might fancy a cross-breed between the Rosy and the Snowy,
having the rich brown column of the former, and the white tentacles of
the latter; but that it has a character of its own in the disk being
of the most brilliant orange-red. All these are scattered in the most
abundant profusion, looking like gems sown on the rough rock; or, as
I compared them before, like gorgeous composite flowers, of which you
might easily fancy the little tufts of green and purple _Algæ_ to be
the proper leaves. There are also others, less conspicuous, the Daisy,
the Sandalled, the Cave-dweller, the Translucent,[40] more or less
numerously mingled with the rest, of which I have not space here to
speak, but whose history I have elsewhere written in detail.[41] And
we see here and there, for the most part crowded into groups, another
interesting kind, the Plumose,[42] which differs much in appearance
from its associates, having a taller column much more pellucid, and a
crown of tentacles so short, so numerous and so dense, as to form a
large confused tuft of frills, which cannot be separated into rows.
This kind is always of self-colours, which, however, may be light
olive, fawn-brown, orange, flesh-colour, or pure white. Those which the
tide has left exposed, loll out of their holes and droop; but under the
water they stand erect, with a noble boldness. Each group generally
contains individuals of all sizes, and may be considered as a single
family of several generations, or, to speak more correctly, of several
series of offsets, of different ages. For it is highly characteristic
of this species to increase by spontaneous division. When a large
individual has been a good while adherent to one spot, and at length
chooses to change its quarters, it does so by causing its base to
glide slowly along the surface on which it rests;--the glass side of
the tank, for instance. But it frequently happens that small irregular
fragments of the edge of the base are left behind, as if their adhesion
had been so strong, that the animal found it easier to tear its own
tissues apart than to overcome it. The fragments so left soon contract
become smooth, and spherical or oval in outline; and in the course
of a week or fortnight each may be seen furnished with a margin of
tentacles and a disk; transformed, in fact, into perfect though minute
Anemones. Occasionally a separated piece, more irregularly jagged than
usual, will, in contracting, constringe itself, and form two smaller
fragments, united by an isthmus, which goes on attenuating until a
fine thread-like line only is stretched from one to the other; this at
length yields, the substance of the broken thread is rapidly absorbed
into the respective pieces, which soon become two young Anemones.
All the kinds which we have seen in this locality belong to one great
family, the _Sagartiadæ_, a group which includes nearly one-third of
the seventy species of Anemones and Corals which we have on the British
coast; and certainly the most beautiful and the most known, taking them
one with another. They are distinguished by a remarkable peculiarity;
the skin of the body is pierced with minute holes, capable of being
opened and closed at will, out of which can be forced curious slender
threads, which ordinarily lie coiled up in great profusion in the
interior of the animal. These threads are almost entirely composed of
those extraordinary capsules, called _cnidæ_, or nettling-cells, found
indeed in most of the tissues, but nowhere in such abundance as here,
which eject with amazing force a poisonous filament having the strength
and elasticity of a wire, and furnished with reversed barbs, but of
almost inconceivable tenuity. The filaments, projected by myriads
at the pleasure of the animal, penetrate deeply into the flesh of
other soft-bodied creatures, and cause immediate paralysis and speedy
death.[43]
DAHLIA WARTLET.
The waning day and the turning tide warn us homeward; but we shall
have time to visit a fine dark overarched pool in the rocks which I
know on our route. Here it is; noticeable because of its being the
chosen residence of a colony of that magnificent species, the Dahlia
Wartlet.[44] All round the curving sides of the sea-washed basin,
crowding one upon the other beneath the projecting angles, or seated
in single majesty on some prominence, we see them flaunting the most
gorgeous colours, and attaining a diameter of expanse that no other,
at least of our common forms, can rival or approach. The wide but
low column, rough with coarse warts, may be olive, or deep green,
or purple-crimson, or light green splashed and streaked with scarlet
like an apple; the disk is equally varied, but generally displays
diverging bands of rich red which fork and embrace the tentacles; while
the tentacles, short, stout, and conical, may be white with pellucid
rings, deep crimson, or of the highest flush of rose, with a broad ring
of lilac. Widely expanded, the Crassicornis is as good a mimicry of
the great dahlias of our gardens, as the Sagartiæ are of the daisies
and pompone chrysanthemums. Even bees are occasionally deceived. Mr.
Couch, when once looking at a fine specimen which was expanded so close
to the surface that only a thin film of water covered the disk and
tentacles, saw a roving bee alight on the tempting surface, evidently
mistaking the anemone for a veritable blossom; the tenacious tentacles
instantly seized it, and though it struggled a good deal for its
liberty, retained the disappointed bee till it was drowned, when it was
soon consigned to the insatiable stomach. The story reminds us of the
well-known fact that the flesh-flies, deceived by the carrion smell of
some of the Stapeliæ, sometimes lay their eggs on the flowers; both
cases showing that animal instinct is not quite so unerring as it is
frequently represented.
[Illustration:
PLATE 8.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
DAHLIA WARTLET.
]
LUCERNARIA.
Attached to the thin crumpled leaf of an Ulva in this pool is an
animal, having much of the texture, and somewhat of the form, of an
Anemone. Formerly, indeed, it was associated in the same group, but
it is now ascertained to have more affinities with the translucent
and often colourless free-swimming jelly-fishes. From its resemblance
to an elegant lamp, it is called _Lucernaria_.[45] We must suppose
a _Medusa_ to be turned hollow upwards, and an adhesive foot to be
produced from what was before the summit of its “umbrella;” and little
more is necessary to constitute a _Lucernaria_. The most observable
peculiarity is that the tentacles, which are very minute, and have the
form of a globose head seated on a short stem, are disposed in compact
groups of as many as seventy, which groups, eight in number, like so
many round balls, are seated on projecting angles of the margin; while
from the centre of the hollow rises a mouth, with four protrusile lips
in form of a square. The colour is a dull dark red or liver brown.
The animal preys on other creatures, which it captures by means of
poison-capsules, and swallows, much as the anemones do.
And thus we wend our way homeward; meditating much as we glide across
the smooth bay, on the wondrous elegance of form, the exquisite
brilliance of colours, the great variety, the instincts, the powers,
the most elaborate apparatus, bestowed on these humble creatures, of
no apparent use whatever to man; indeed, until quite recently, utterly
neglected by him and unknown, though exhibiting their loveliness under
his very eyes, and close to his doors. We meditate on these things, and
ask, For what purpose is all this profuse expenditure of power, wisdom,
taste, skill? We hear the answer in the choral praise of those who know
more of these matters than we can yet attain to,--“Thou hast created
all things, and _for thy pleasure_ they are, and were created.”
FOOTNOTES:
[32] _Actinia mesembryanthemum_, represented in Plate VII., at the
lower right-hand corner.
[33] _Anthea cereus_, var. _smaragdina_, represented at the left hand
of Plate IX.
[34] M. Coste has lately communicated a paper to the Academy of
Sciences on the progress of his artificial oyster-beds on the western
coast of France. Several thousands of the inhabitants of the island
of Ré have been for the last four years engaged in cleansing their
muddy coast of the sediments which prevented oysters from congregating
there; and as the work advances the seed wafted over from Nieulle and
other oyster localities settles in the new beds, and, added to that
transplanted, peoples the coast, so that 72,000,000 of oysters, from
one to four years old, and nearly all marketable, is the lowest average
per annum registered by the local administration, representing, at the
rate of from 25 to 30 francs per thousand, which is the current price
in the locality, a sum of about two millions of francs, the produce
of an extremely limited surface. That the waves or currents carry
the seed of oysters is a well-known fact, since the walls of sluices
newly erected are often covered with them. In the island of Ré, the
existence of the oyster-beds, however, no longer depends upon this
contingency, they being now in a state of permanent self-reproduction.
The distinction of oyster-beds into those of collection and those of
reproduction is quite unnecessary, since the property of reproduction
belongs to them all. In some localities it is sufficient to prepare the
emerging banks for collection to see them soon covered with seed; but
in other places nothing would be obtained without transplanting proper
subjects, an operation which by no means impairs their reproductive
qualities. The concession of emerging banks is anxiously applied for
by the inhabitants of the coast; the more so as improvements in the
working of this branch of trade are of daily occurrence. Thus, Dr.
Kemmerer, of Ré, covers a number of tiles with a coating of a kind of
mastic, brittle enough to enable him to detach the small oysters from
it. When this coating is well covered with seed he gets it off all in
one piece, which he carries to the place where the seed is to grow. The
same tile he coats a second time, and so on as long as the seed will
deposit upon it. In short, wherever the violence of the currents and
the instability of the bottom do not present irresistible obstacles the
cultivation of the oysters has become a lucrative business.
[35] _Alcyonium digitatum_, for which see Plate VII. It is the white
object near the middle of the picture, partly concealed by the
intervening leaf of green _Ulva_.
[36] _Sagartia rosea_, of which a specimen, only partially open, is
delineated in the centre foreground of Plate VII.
[37] _Sagartia miniata._
[38] _Sagartia nivea_; two of this species, one closed, the other
partially opened, are seen at the left corner of the foreground in
Plate VII.
[39] _Sagartia venusta_, a group of which occupies the right-hand side
of Plate IX., including both expanded and closed individuals.
[40] _Sag. bellis_, _sphyrodeta_, _troglodytes_, _pura_.
[41] See my _History of the British Sea-anemones_.
[42] _Actinoloba dianthus._
[43] For a fuller account of these organs and their offensive function,
which constitute an apparatus not exceeded in interest by any that
I know of in the whole realm of natural history, I beg to refer the
reader to my _Naturalist’s Rambles on the Devonshire Coast_, and my
_Actinologia Britannica_, _passim_.
[44] _Tealia crassicornis_, which forms the subject of Plate VIII.
[45] _Lucernaria campanulata_ is represented in the upper right-hand
corner of Plate VII.
IV.
APRIL.
Shall we explore the sands to-day? A bright sandy beach well exposed to
the sea is no bad hunting-ground for the naturalist, bare as it looks,
and proverbial as is its character for sterility,--“barren as the sand
on the sea-shore.” And specially is it likely to be productive, when,
as is often the case, the wide reach of yellow sand is interrupted by
one or more isolated areas of rough rocks. Goodrington Sands, lying in
the hollow of Torbay, afford just these conditions; and thither will we
bend our steps this April morning.
So we make our way along the dusty highroad, that leads from Torquay
southward, skirting the shore, now and then getting peeps of the rocks
and the retiring tide, over the massive sea-walls, as the successive
coves open and again shut-in by bounding hedgerows as we cross the
bases of the intervening headlands. Wild hyacinths are peeping among
the rank foliage of the arums and nettles; and harts-tongue ferns, and
primroses are everywhere, clustering in great masses, or studding the
green banks in single stars; the bright rose-campion smiles, and the
ever lovely germander speedwell, brightest, sweetest of spring flowers,
gladdens us here and there, like “angels’ eyes,” as our rustics
poetically call these pretty azure flowers.
As we proceed, we pause to wipe our foreheads, and turning round,
see Torquay behind us, covering and crowning its amphitheatre of
hills, like a queenly city, surely the most beauteous of all our
watering-places;--and beyond it on the left, we see the old church
tower of Marychurch, on its elevated plateau, standing out massive and
dark against the sky.
We pass through the outskirts of the long straggling village of
Paignton, and mark how picturesquely it is embosomed in the midst of
its apple orchards; the old-fashioned cottages buried in the trees, so
that only the time-stained roofs of brown thatch rise here and there,
like islets in a wide sea of blushing blossom. And now extensive osier
grounds lie on either side; the young tender-green shoots, the hope of
the harvest, rising thickly from the uncouth pollard stumps; while the
still water glimmers everywhere around their roots.
A narrow lane leads off abruptly on our left, into which we turn, and
in a moment are in a mossy, flowery, ferny region. The open gate of a
villa reveals a little girl “perambulating” a baby amid the bowers and
blossoms of a sweet garden, whose numerous old tamarisk trees, rough
and bristling, guard the wall, just breaking into their plumy foliage.
And then we open the expanse of shore and sea, and the wheels of the
carriage are suddenly six inches deep in the soft sand. How brightly
the wide silver sea is glancing and sparkling under the climbing sun!
Scarcely a breeze breaks its mirrory face, though far out in the offing
lines and bands of deep blue show that there are intermitting puffs
ruffling the water; and the craft that creep along the horizon have
evidently got a working breeze, though the yachts in the half-distance
sit like white swans, their motionless prows pointing every way, and
“floating double,” on the molten looking-glass.
GOODRINGTON SANDS.
These are the Goodrington Sands; for there on the left is the
projecting bluff of red sandstone, horizontally stratified, known as
Roundham Head, and beyond it in the distance we see Hope’s Nose, and
its two guardian islets, the Orestone and the Thatcher. On the other
side, the long wall of land terminating in Berry Head projects to an
equal distance, and we are in the bottom of the deep bight, nearly
equidistant from both.
Immediately in front of the debouchure of the little green lane,
beginning some way down the beach, and stretching away into the sea,
there is a mass of low black rock, leprous with barnacles, and draped
with ragged tufts of oar-weed and tangle and bladder-wrack, sweltering
and blackening in the sun. It is much broken up, and narrow winding
lanes paved with sand pierce it in all directions; and shallow pools of
quiet water sleep everywhere in the hollows. Sweet little sea-gardens
are these pools: bright green leaves of ulva float like tinted cambric
in the water; tufts of chondrus are glittering with steely reflections
of gemmeous blue; large broad leaves of dulse, richly, darkly red,
afford fine contrasts with the green sea-lettuce; and one and all
give ample shelter to thousands of vigilant, busy, happy, living
creatures. It is treacherous walking; for the footing is very uneven,
and the glare of the sun on the water renders it difficult to see where
to tread; while the advance and recess of the wavelets on the sand
between, give to the bewildered brain the impression that everything is
sliding from under the foot.
PAIGNTON COCKLE.
What is that object that lies on yonder stretch of sand, over which
the shallow water ripples, washing the sand around it and presently
leaving it dry? It looks like a stone; but there is a fine scarlet knob
on it; which all of a sudden has disappeared. Let us watch the moment
of the receding wave, and run out to it. It is a fine example of the
great spinous cockle,[46] for which all these sandy beaches that form
the bottom of the great sea-bend of Torbay are celebrated. Indeed the
species is scarcely known elsewhere; so that it is often designated in
books as the Paignton cockle. A right savoury _bonne bouche_ it is,
when artistically dressed. Old Dr. Turton, a great authority in his
day for Devonshire natural history, especially in matters relating to
shells and shell-fish, says that the cottagers about Paignton well know
the “red noses,” as they call the great cockles, and search for them
at the low spring-tides, when they may be seen lying in the sand with
the fringed siphons appearing just above the surface. They gather them
in baskets and panniers, and after cleansing them a few hours in cold
spring-water, fry the animals in a batter made of crumbs of bread. The
creatures have not changed their habits nor their habitats; for they
are still to be seen in the old spots just as they were a century ago:
nor have they lost their reputation; they are indeed promoted to the
gratification of more refined palates now, for the cottagers, knowing
on which side their bread is buttered, collect the sapid cockles for
the fashionables of Torquay, and content themselves with the humbler
and smaller species,[47] which rather affects the muddy flats of
estuaries than sand beaches, though not uncommon here. This latter,
though much inferior in sapidity to the great spinous sort, forms a
far more important item in the category of human food, from its very
general distribution, its extreme abundance, and the ease with which it
is collected. Wherever the receding tide leaves an area of exposed mud,
the common cockle is sure to be found; and hundreds of men, women, and
children, may be seen plodding and groping over the stinking surface,
with naked feet and bent backs, picking up the shell-fish by thousands,
to be boiled and eaten for home consumption, or to be cried through
the lanes and alleys of the neighbouring towns by stentorian boys, who
vociferate all day long,--“Here’s your fine cockles, here! Here they
are! Here they are! Twopence a quart!”
COCKLE-FISHING.
It is on the north-western coasts of Scotland, however, that the
greatest abundance of these mollusca occurs, and there they form not
a luxury, but even a necessary of life to the poor semi-barbarous
population. The inhabitants of those rocky regions enjoy an unenviable
notoriety for being habitually dependent on this mean diet. “Where
the river meets the sea at Tongue,” says Macculloch, “there is a
considerable ebb, and the long sand-banks are productive of cockles
in an abundance which is almost unexampled. At that time (a year of
scarcity) they presented every day at low water a singular spectacle,
being crowded with men, women, and children, who were busily employed
in digging for these shell-fish as long as the tide permitted. It was
not unusual also to see thirty or forty horses from the surrounding
country, which had been brought down for the purpose of carrying away
loads of them to distances of many miles. This was a well-known season
of scarcity, and, without this resource, I believe it is not too much
to say, that many individuals must have died for want.”[48]
The isles of Barra and North Uist, in the Hebrides, possess also
enormous resources of the same character. “It is not easy to
calculate,” says Mr. Wilson, “the amount of such beds of shell-fish,
but we may mention that, during a period of great distress which
prevailed a good many years ago, all the families in the island (then
about two hundred in number) resorted, for the sake of this food, to
the great sands at the northern end of Barra. It was computed that,
for a couple of summers at the time alluded to, no less than from one
hundred to two hundred horse-loads were taken at low water every day of
the spring-tides during the months of May, June, July, and August. We
were pleased to hear it observed that the shell-fish are always most
abundant in years of scarcity.”[49]
These Barra beds are of great antiquity. A very old writer, Dean Monro,
thus notices them:--“This ile is full of grate cokills, and alledgit
be the auncient countrymen that the same cokills comes down out of the
foresaid hill throw the said strype in the first smalle forme that
wee have spokyn of, and aftir theyr comying down to the sandes growis
grate cokills allways. Ther is no fayrer and more profytable sandes for
cokills in all the worlde.”
But all this time our fair “cokill” has been lying at our feet,
snapping, and gaping, and thrusting forth and back his great coral
foot, waiting our leisure to take him up. No longer shall he be
neglected. The bivalve shell is a fine solid house of stone, massive,
strong, and heavy, elegantly fluted with prominent ribs that radiate
regularly on both valves from the curved beaks, which ribs are beset
with polished spiny points. The hues of the shell are attractive,
though not at all showy; they consist of tints of yellowish and reddish
browns, rich and warm, arranged in concentric bands, and gradually
fading to a creamy white at the beaks. Unlike the scallops, the cockles
have the two valves alike in shape, and from the bent beaks meeting
each other, and the curvature of the outline, they present, when
viewed endwise, a very regular and beautiful heart-shape, whence the
scientific name of the genus is derived, _Cardium_, from καρδία, the
heart.
The animal which inhabits this strong fortress is handsomer than
bivalves usually are. The leaves of the mantle are thick and convex,
corresponding to the shell-valves; the edges are strongly fringed in
the neighbourhood of the siphons, which are short tubes of considerable
diameter, soldered, as it were, together. The mantle has a soft spongy
character towards its edges, but towards the back, where it lines the
valves, it is very thin and almost membranous. The hue of the former
parts is very rich, a fine brilliant orange, with the shaggy fringe of
tentacles paler; the siphons are also orange, with the inner surface of
the tubes white, having a pearly gleam.
FOOT OF THE COCKLE.
But what was that scarlet knob that we saw protruded and retracted but
now? Ha! as it lies, slightly gaping, the lips of the mantle recede,
and we catch a peep within of the gorgeous colour. Suddenly the valves
open to their full extent, like the folding doors of a drawing-room,
allowing exit to a richly dressed lady. Here comes the vermilion
tenant! Place for my lady! But what is she? And what is she about to do
in her gorgeous raiment? Nay; ’tis but the cockle’s foot; a monopod
he is: this is all the foot he has. It is clad in neither shoe nor
stocking; and truly it needs it not. Never was the silken-hosed foot
of cardinal arrayed like this. But see to what an extent the organ
protrudes! four inches from the valves’ edges does its tip reach;
smooth, lubricous, taper, with a knee at the upper part, and the toe
bent in the form of a hook. As to its general appearance when thus
extended, I have compared it to a finger of polished carnelian; but
Mr. Kingsley thinks that this resemblance will not hold, the foot
being too opaque for that gem: he likens it to a long capsicum, which
is, however, too dull and too dark; and he tells a story of a certain
(mythic, I fear) countess who, seeing it for the first time, exclaimed,
“Oh, dear! I always heard that my pretty red coral came out of a fish,
and here it is, all alive!”
Nay; after all, it is what it is; and those comparisons just help one
who has never seen it, to form some conception of its appearance; but
by one who has, all will be rejected as inadequate.
And as to what the brilliant organ is going to do, that we see. For
the long taper foot being thrust to its utmost, feels about for some
resisting surface, that stone, half buried in the sand, for instance;
which no sooner does it feel than the hooked point is pressed stiffly
against it, the whole foot by muscular contraction is made suddenly
rigid, and the entire creature,--mantle, siphons, foot, shell and
all--is jerked away in an uncouth manner, “quite permiscous,” as the
fisherman hard-by says, to a distance of some foot or more. But the
cockle can leap on occasion much more vigorously; one has been seen
to throw itself clear over the gunwale of a boat when laid on the
bottom-boards.
ITS BURROWING FUNCTION.
Thus we see one use of the hooked tip is to afford a stronger spring;
but it has a more direct bearing on the burrowing habits of the animal.
Like all the rest of its beautiful tribe, this species is a dweller in
the deep sand, into which it can penetrate with considerable power and
rapidity. In order to do this, the foot is straightened, and the sharp
point is thrust perpendicularly down into the wet sand. The muscular
force exerted is sufficient to penetrate the soft sand to the whole
length, when the point is suddenly bent sidewise, thus obtaining a
strong holdfast. The whole organ is now strongly contracted in length,
and the animal and shell are dragged forcibly to the mouth of the
burrow, the edges of the valves downward and piercing the sand a little
way. The straightened point is then pushed an inch or two farther
down; again hooked, and another pull is made. The shell descends a
little farther into the yielding sand, and the same interchange of
processes goes on till the animal is sufficiently buried. To read
this description you would suppose it a most clumsy, and ineffective,
and slow business; but indeed this is very far from its character. The
elongations and contractions are made with great rapidity; and almost
with the quickness of thought the unwieldy cockle, when in full vigour
and thoroughly alarmed, disappears into his sandy fortress; so fast,
indeed, that you must be very alert to overtake him and prevent his
descent, if you have no appliances but your two hands.
Cuvier, in his elaborate and beautiful dissections of the Mollusca,
has demonstrated that this important organ is mainly composed of an
immense multitude of muscles, circular, longitudinal, and transverse,
wonderful in their complexity and arrangement, but most perfectly
adapted to impart variety, force, and precision to its movements. In
these respects the human tongue perhaps presents the closest parallel
to its organization. It is remarkable that at its upper or basal part
it is hollow, and encloses some of the viscera of the body.
BANDED VENUS.
Here, under this low-lying ledge of rock, is another shell, which in
beauty perhaps excels even the gorgeous cockle. It belongs to a genus
pre-eminent for loveliness, to which the name of the Goddess of Love
has been assigned. This is the Banded Venus.[50] The most prominent
and obvious character is that the shell-valves are covered with ribs,
more or less strongly marked, which, instead of running fan-like from
the beaks to the edges, as in the cockles, are concentric, being
parallel with the edges. In this species these ribs are well marked,
about a dozen in number, broad, flat, sharply defined, and nearly
equally distant. They impart to the shell, which is very convex, and
nearly round, an aspect of great strength combined with elegance. The
colours, too, are very ornamental: broad bands of brownish lilac,
varied with warmer tints, widening as they go, radiate from the
beaks to the margins, relieved by a whitish ground. The hues vary
in different individuals; the bands being sometimes rusty brown, or
purple; and the ground yellow, or pale orange; and the contrasts are
in some better marked than in others; but when fresh and unrubbed the
shell is always a beautiful one.
[Illustration:
PLATE 10.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
SPINOUS COCKLE. BANDED VENUS.
]
The specimen before us is alive. I will drop it into this shallow
pool in the rock. See, the valves are opening, and a large foot of
a waxy whiteness, almost semi-pellucid, protrudes, thicker and more
ovate than that of the cockle, but not capable of such elongation. The
siphons, however, are proportionally longer; they are separate at their
extremities, and project considerably from the shell.
But while we are gazing at the beauty of our little Venus, we become
cognizant of the presence of another spectator. He has slowly come out
from beneath the shadow of that long dark-brown leaf of _Laminaria_,
that floats like a crumpled ribbon across the pool, and now rests on
the tuft of _Iridæa_, that fine scarlet weed of leathery texture, that
grows in the shaded corner. It is a Prawn;[51] and a fellow of noble
dimensions. Is he too attracted by the fair shell? or rather is not his
attention occupied by us? Yes; the latter is the true case; as you may
discern by his long-stalked eyes, steadily staring upwards. He wonders
what our two faces can mean; and, as we remain still, he ventures forth
to take a fuller view.
[Illustration:
PLATE 11.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
COMMON SHRIMP. GREAT PRAWN.
]
THE PRAWN’S ARMS.
An elegant creature is the common prawn, or rock-shrimp, as the
fishermen designate him, by way of distinction from another sapid
crustacean that inhabits these shores. His armour of proof, composed
of plates that slide so smoothly one under another, sustains the most
lustrous polish, and is ever subject to the animal’s efforts to keep
it so; for, whenever he has a moment’s leisure from more pressing
avocations, he is constantly engaged in cleaning it with the brushes
which those slender fore-limbs of his carry. Like a true soldier, like
a knight of chivalry, the Prawn lives, eats, sleeps in armour. How
completely is his body encased in defensive mail; and he carries his
tempered weapon too. Look at the serrate sword which he always points
at the foe whom he faces! Who would rashly provoke such a weapon as
this? Stiff and firm in substance, long, pointed, two-edged, keen on
both edges, curved sabre-like, and cut into acute teeth; it does seem
a most formidable affair: and yet, truth to tell, I do not know what
use the owner makes of it. Though I have been for many years in the
practice of keeping these elegant animals in my aquaria, I have never
seen one smite a foe with his two-edged sword. Perhaps like the cane
over the looking-glass in a nursery, its mere presence is sufficient to
keep in awe encroaching enemies, whose hearts sink when they behold the
sharp-toothed weapon.
Exquisitely painted is the Prawn. His ground colour is semi-pellucid
olive-grey, on which transverse lines of black are drawn; and specks
and dashes of sparkling white, symmetrically arranged and well defined,
are scattered here and there, especially upon the broad swimming plates
that serve as his principal instruments of locomotion. His limbs, too,
are ringed with blue and orange, a felicitous combination!
I have just alluded to the tail as a motive power. It is a very curious
organ, consisting of five plates, so hinged that they can play over
each other, or be spread out in shape of a fan, and each plate beset
on its edges with a most delicate fringe of stiff bristles. To see its
use, you have only to approach the animal. He instantly darts away with
force; all the while, however, keeping his face to the foe, as becomes
a soldier so armed. Now this retrocessive power is his great _cheval de
bataille_. When gently exploring, he crawls among the weeds on the tips
of his long feet; when swimming at ease, he glides gracefully along by
the rapid paddling of the false feet, of which he carries five pairs
beneath his abdomen. But when alarmed, he forcibly throws forward this
plated tail, expanded to the utmost, bending the last joints of the
body from the hump on his back, and thus strikes a powerful forward
blow on the water, by the impact of which the whole prawn is jerked
backward to a distance of several inches.
But he is gone; and it were useless to look for him any more in this
wilderness of sea-weeds, and amid the cavernous recesses of those rocky
ledges, where he enjoys ample means of retreat and concealment. For,
even if you did catch a momentary glimpse of him again, it would be
only as he darts from one shelter to another, and he would presently be
far out of your reach in the obscurity of some inexplorable hole.
Let us turn to the beach and follow the water’s edge. Let us see
what this fisherman is so busy about, and what that horse is doing
as he paces backward and forward belly-deep in the sea, from one end
of the beach to the other, then retracing his steps, as if he were
ploughing the shallows. And why does the fisherman watch the horse so
attentively? Hark! what says he? He shouts to the diminutive urchin
that rides the horse to come in; and now he eagerly goes down to the
edge of the sea, as the beast and his little rider come ashore. We will
go and see.
KEER-DRAG.
The man is civil and communicative, and lets us into the whole secret;
though now indeed that we are on the spot, it is sufficiently patent.
The horse draws behind him an implement called a keer-drag; a net,
which is stretched upon an oblong iron frame, that forms its mouth.
Behind, the net tapers to a point, but is left open there in the
making, and only tied with a string. The iron frame keeps the net-mouth
open, and being attached by a bridle to a rope, which is fastened to
the horse’s harness, scrapes the sea-bottom as he proceeds; whatever is
collected passing into the net, and accumulating at the narrow point.
Now the shallows just here are alive with swarms of another edible
species of crustacea, the Shrimp,[52] _par excellence_; or, as the
people here say, the sand shrimp, to distinguish it from the prawn,
which, as I have observed, they call the rock shrimp. And this sand
shrimp finds a ready sale in the Torquay market; the fisherman getting,
as he tells us, a shilling a quart from the fishmongers.
The horse, doubtless nothing loath, for his toil must be great, wading
on soft sand in three feet of water, and dragging that heavy apparatus
behind him, walks to dry land, where, as soon as the keer-drag is
ashore, the man seizes it, cries “whow!” to the obedient animal, and,
having spread a cloth on the sand, proceeds to untie the string, and
pour out on the cloth the struggling contents. “It is a very good
haul,” says the fellow; “there’s more nor two quart there!” So, being
in a good humour, and naturally civil besides, we venture to propound a
bargain; that, for a small coin of the realm, we may be allowed to pick
out all the “rubbish;” _i.e._, everything that is not a shrimp, and
convey it to our own private reservoirs; a pleasant agreement for both
parties; for the net gathers many curious creatures of great interest
to the naturalist, though of no value whatever to the fisherman.
Shrimps, however, are the staple; there are probably a hundred of these
to one of all other kinds, lumping these latter all together. And very
fine these shrimps are. Mr. Bell gives two inches and a half as the
total length of the species,[53] and I do not remember that I ever
before saw one that exceeded that size: but here, the great majority
are upwards of three inches; and a very considerable number are full
three and a half. They are mostly females loaded with spawn, which they
carry entangled among the false feet beneath the body.
SHRIMP.
In general figure the shrimp resembles the prawn: it, however,
carries no sword-like rostrum; and the front pair of feet, instead
of terminating each in a pair of claws, have a strong hook which
bends down upon a short spine. The limbs too are very much shorter,
and the animal is less elegant. The colour is a pale warm brown; but
when examined closely this is seen to resolve itself into a freckling
of black, grey, brown, and orange specks, arranged so as to make a
kaleidoscopic sort of pattern. When highly magnified many of the dots
take star-like forms.
It is amusing to see how rapidly and cleverly the shrimp takes its
place in the sand. If there be an inch or two’s depth of water, the
animal quietly sinks on the bottom; then, in a moment, you see a little
cloud of dust (so it seems) rise up along each side, and the body sinks
till the surrounding surface is nearly level with its back. Then you
perceive the value of the peculiar style of colouring: the freckling
of specks of various tints of brown, grey, and red, so exactly
resembles the hues of the sand, that you might look close at a shrimp
so sunken, and yet not discern it. The eyes, however, which are set on
the top of the head, like a Dutchman’s garret windows, are keeping a
bright watch upward, and here it lies, quiet and, against most enemies,
safe. The iron lip of the drag, however, scrapes up with its edge the
upper inch of sand-bottom, routs out the poor shrimps, which dart
upwards, to find themselves within the mouth of the ever-advancing net.
The agency in the burrowing is the false feet, which, waved rapidly to
and fro, brush up the fine sand with the currents that they make in the
water, and throw it up in those clouds on each side, presently to fall
again on the body, and help to conceal it.
FLAT-FISHES.
But there are more things than shrimps in the gleaming, working,
struggling mass of life before us. Not to mind the uncouth
soldier-crabs, dragging about their despoiled shells, which, numerous
and conspicuous as they are, we shall neglect for another occasion,--we
have other fish to fry. Here are sundry examples of that remarkable
race, the proper Flat-fishes. These thin, brown, long-oval ones are
specimens of Soles, of which there are two kinds here, the Common Sole,
uniform dull brown, and the Lemon Sole, of a more freckled tint, pale
orange brown, with darker spots.[54] The fisherman considers them
marketable if they are not less than four or five inches long, and
bundles them into his common depository, under the title of tea-dabs,
a name which sufficiently indicates their destiny.
Now every one has looked at hundreds of pairs of soles raw and ready,
but perhaps not all have ever adequately remarked the singular anomaly
presented by their structure, or are aware how unique their tribe is
among animals. That one surface is positively coloured, while the other
is fleshy white, is no great matter; for many creatures, and fishes in
particular, are darker above and paler below. The flat Rays are equally
abject, and show a like contrast of hues; but, _structurally_, the
colours in the Sole are not respectively on the back and belly, though
they are certainly above and below. These fishes, in fact, swim and lie
_on one side_; and so they have one side dark and one side light.
This habit, however, imposed upon them, involves other very important
aberrations from ordinary forms. Let us suppose that the eyes had been
placed, like those of the Chætodons (very thin, wide, and flat fishes
of the tropical seas), one on each side of the head. That eye which
belonged to the white or inferior side, would be rendered useless,
since it would be almost perpetually buried in the mud of the bottom.
Hence, by an unprecedented exception to the symmetry which marks the
organs of sense in all other vertebrate animals, both of the eyes are
placed on the same side of the head, one above the other. They are,
however, frequently not in the same line, and one is often smaller and
less developed than the other.
In addition to these peculiarities, we may remark, that the spine makes
a sudden twist near the head to one side; that the bones of the head
are not symmetrical; that the two sides of the mouth are unequal; that
the pectoral and ventral fins of the under side are generally smaller
than those of the upper; and that the dorsal and anal fins generally
correspond to each other, the one fringing the whole length of the
dorsal, the other that of the ventral edge of the body.
YARRELL ON FLAT-FISHES.
We must not suppose that these peculiarities are defects and mistakes;
nor, like Buffon, when he found some structure or habit which was
at variance with his preconceived notions of fitness, accuse the
all-wise God of bungling in His work. They are merely examples of
that inscrutable wisdom, those inexhaustible resources of power and
skill, which can and often do delight to attain the most worthy ends
by the most unexpected roads, in which we can only follow, as the
way is opened up to us, and wonderingly adore. Let us hear what
Yarrell says on these strange modifications. “The Flat-fishes ...
are, by this depressed form of body, admirably adapted to inhabit the
lowest position, and where they occupy the least space, among their
kindred fishes. Preferring sandy or muddy shores, and unprovided with
swimming-bladders, their place 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 both eyes placed on the upper surface afford them an
extensive range of view 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; if the
observer happens to be opposite the white side, they may be seen to
pass with the rapidity and flash of a meteor; but they soon sink down,
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.”[55]
On several occasions I have, when examining the contents of the
shrimpers’ nets, found a pretty little species of flat-fish, which,
though we find it not at this moment, is a pretty constant inhabitant
of these sandy beaches. It is too small and too worthless for the
fisherman to have a distinctive name for it, but our systematic books
call it a Topknot,[56] and assign to it near consanguinity with the
majestic and delicious turbot. It is marked as very rare; but I have
seen three or four come up at a haul of the drag, and have found it
among the rocks. Not long ago, I took a specimen by turning over a flat
stone in a sandy pool in this ledge. It was indeed small, not exceeding
an inch and a half in length; the ordinary size of those that occur as
the shrimps’ companions in captivity; but their utmost growth scarcely
attains five inches.
[Illustration:
PLATE 12.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
SAND-LAUNCE. TOPKNOT.
]
TOPKNOT.
The specimen I allude to I took home, and observed at leisure. In a
white saucer it was a charming little object, though rather difficult
to examine, because, the instant the eye with the lens was brought
near, it flounced in alarm, and often leaped out upon the table. When
its fit of terror was over, however, it became still, and would allow
me to push it hither and thither, merely waving the edges of its dorsal
and ventral fins rapidly as it yielded to the impulse. The shape of
these fins gives to the outline of the fish a form resembling an
oblong parallelogram with the corners rounded, and the fan-like tail
projecting; but the outline of the body is much more oval. The first
ray of the dorsal is a little lengthened; whence the name of Topknot.
We have two little species of Turbot with this peculiarity, called
Muller’s Topknot, and Bloch’s Topknot. This was the former. Yarrell,
indeed, distinguishes the two by saying that this one has “the first
ray of the dorsal not longer than the succeeding rays;” or, in other
words, that it has no topknot at all. It may be that it is obliterated
in age, but in this half-grown specimen, it was quite conspicuous,
projecting like a little horn from the forehead, about one-fourth
longer than the second and following rays. In Bloch’s Topknot it is,
indeed, more marked, for it there runs off into a slender filament,
of more than twice the length of the rays. The fins were exquisitely
delicate, and were very pretty in their markings, every tenth or
twelfth ray being black interrupted with white; the middle ray between
these was black at the tip, and the central one of these subordinate
divisions was again more slightly specked. This had a very pretty
effect. The body was pellucid yellowish brown, studded with irregular
faint clouds and stronger specks of dark brown, and bearing one
conspicuous ring-like mark near the tail The flesh was so translucent,
that the stomach and principal viscera could be distinctly seen, and
the accumulation of the chief blood-vessels here, gave a crimson flush
to these parts.
Alarm had a curious effect, probably dependent on the quickening of
the circulation. When I tried to catch the little fish, all the spots
and markings became instantly deepened and vivified, and particularly
those of the fins, so that the change seemed magical. I have observed
the same thing in the Gobies, and some other fishes.
The eyes were very beautiful and interesting. As in all this family of
Flat-fishes, they are set close together on the same side of the head,
the upper one inclined slightly upward, the lower downward. Viewed
with a lens, the iris was seen to be pale green, with radiating dark
bands, and the pupil surrounded by an edge-line of ruddy gold. The iris
projects into the pupil with an angle, making it crescent-shaped. The
eyes move quite independently of each other, and very curious it was
to look down with a lens upon the quaint little face, and see one eye
quickly turned up towards the beholder, while the other remained still,
or presently turned in the opposite direction.
Now and then it curved the head and tail downwards, and leaped out of
water, clearing the side of the saucer in which it was confined; then,
when put back, it lay some seconds on its back (or rather on its wrong
side), with the dorsal and ventrals incurved, and thus the whole body
concave, as if in tetanus; but when turned over it soon recovered.
SAND-LAUNCE.
What is this writhing, wriggling thing, that looks like a narrow tape
of burnished silver? It is a Sand-launce,[57] and very slyly is it
endeavouring to make its way down to the rippling edge of the wave, to
liberty and life. But not so fast, pretty Launce! we want to have a
look at you, and to introduce you to a very jolly set in our aquarium
at home. Now don’t flounce and dart round the jar so angrily: you can’t
get out, and may as well be philosophic.
Do you see the remarkable projection of the lower jaws? With that sort
of spade the little silvery fish manages to scoop out a bed for itself
very quickly in the wet sand, and so lie hid. It is numerous enough in
these bays, and it is in request among fishermen, who use it largely as
bait, and who, to obtain it, cast a seine, and enclose vast multitudes,
which are thus dragged up on the beach high and dry.
A short time ago I saw a paragraph in the _Times_, from some Jersey
correspondent, who complained of the recent scarcity of fish, and
accounted for it by the following curious catenation of links. A number
of sharks had recently appeared in the offing, which frightened away
the shoals of porpesses, which ordinarily came to feed on the fishes,
which fed on the Sand-launce. Now when the porpesses were there the
fishes were driven with the Launce into the shallows, and were readily
taken; but, on being relieved of these persecutors by the intruding
sharks, were free to retire to the deeper water, where the fishers
could less easily entrap them. The writer stated, however, that at
length the sharks had departed, the porpesses had returned, the fishes
were consequently driven in shore, and were again devouring the Launce.
The whole account has something of the “House that Jack built” twang,
and I do not quite pin my faith on the philosophy of the explanation.
LAUNCE IN THE TANK.
Be that as it may, I can vouch for the Launce making a very attractive
tenant of an aquarium, where it will live a considerable time. The
pearly gleams of lustre from its sides are very beautiful, and such as
no pictorial art can reproduce.
FOOTNOTES:
[46] _Cardium rusticum_, figured at the left hand of Plate X., with the
foot thrust out and pushing.
[47] _Cardium edule._
[48] _Highlands and Islands of Scotland_, vol. iii. p. 349.
[49] _Voyage round Scotland_, vol. i. p. 460.
[50] _Venus fasciata_, of which a figure is given in the midst of the
foreground of Plate X.
[51] _Palæemon serratus_, represented in the upper figure in Plate XI.,
resting, as described, on a leaf of _Iridæa edulis_.
[52] _Crangon vulgaris_, a figure of which may be seen in the lower
part of Plate XI.
[53] _British Stalk-eyed Crustacea_, p. 257.
[54] _Solea vulgaris_, and _S. pegusa_.
[55] _British Fishes_, vol. ii. p. 298.
[56] _Rhombus punctatus_, delineated at the right-hand side of Plate
XII., adhering to a flat stone.
[57] _Ammodytes lancea_, for which see the centre of Plate XII.
V.
MAY.
We are far from having exhausted the treasures of the teeming sands.
Another visit to their broad expanse may yield other objects of
interest not inferior to those we lately discovered there. Let us,
then, seek the shore, where our humble friend the shrimper, with his
wading horse, under the guidance of his shrill-voiced little son, still
pursues his indefatigable calling.
Again the keer-drag is drawn up the tawny beach, the bag is untied, and
the sparkling, crawling, jumping heap spreads itself over the sand,
beyond the limits of the insufficient cloth.
A little silvery fish wriggles from the mass, and, by a few lateral
vibrations, in an instant buries himself in the soft wet sand, all
but the upper surface of his head and back. Our attention is drawn
towards this object; but our friend the shrimper shouts rather abruptly
a note of warning. “Mind what ye be ’bout! that ’ere’s pison! He’s a
sting-bull, he is.” Thus armed, we use caution in our approaches, and
look well before we touch. As we see it now, it certainly presents a
noteworthy appearance. A large head, with a wide mouth opening at very
upward angles; two staring eyes, set in the crown so as to look upward
instead of sideways, and intently watching our intentions; a short fin
on the back, of which the membrane is of the deepest velvet black, and
the rays, which are stout sharp spines, are white; these rays are now
stretched to the utmost, like a fan widely expanded, so as to offer
the threatening points in all directions to a foe;--these are all the
features we can discern, except a narrow line of olive presently lost
in the sand, which marks the buried body.
WEEVER.
In spite of the good man’s earnest warnings to have nothing to do with
so venomous a creature, we must contrive to take possession of it for
study at home; and by the aid of our hand-net we find no difficulty
in lifting it and transferring it, an unwilling guest, to a glass jar
of sea-water. We now discern it more fully and distinctly; though it
manifests its indignation at this tyrannical suspension of the _Habeas
Corpus_ Act, by flouncing around the glass, and scattering the water
hither and thither. This wrath, however, gradually subsides, and our
captive philosophically makes up his mind to his fate.
It is the Lesser Weever;[58] a name corrupted from the French, who call
it Vive, from the length of time which the fish will _live_ out of its
native element. It also bears the names of sting-fish, sting-bull, and
sea-cat, among English fishermen; on the shores of the Mediterranean it
bears the title of spider, and the ancient Romans called it sea-dragon.
The specific names,--_vipera_ and _draco_, viper and dragon--which are
appropriated to this species and another which is nearly allied to it,
make up an extensive list of aliases, all combining to give this pretty
little fish a thoroughly bad reputation. All these titles point to a
habit and a power possessed by it of inflicting severe wounds, which
without doubt are of a highly inflammatory character, and are slow and
difficult to cure. These are effected by the rays of the first dorsal
fin, which, as we have just seen, are erected and spread in a way
which indicates a perfect consciousness of their power, and by certain
spines, long and acute, set on the gill-covers, one on each, pointing
backward. These all are of needle-like sharpness, and are wielded most
effectively. Yarrell tells us that if trod upon, or only touched, while
on the watch, nearly buried in the sand at the bottom of the water, it
strikes with force either upwards or sideways; and Pennant says that
he had seen it direct its blows with as much judgment as a fighting
cock. Fishermen hold it in great dread; and the name of sting-bull is
said to be due to its power of piercing even the proverbial thickness
of a bull’s hide.
[Illustration:
PLATE 13.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
FIFTEEN-SPINED STICKLEBACK. LESSER WEEVER.
]
VENOM OF ITS SPINES.
Cuvier considers the imputation of venom to the wounds made by the
Weever as a popular error. He says, “They cannot inject into the wounds
they inflict with their spines any poisonous substance, properly so
called; but, as these spines are very strong and sharp-pointed, and can
no doubt pierce the flesh to a considerable depth, these wounds, like
all others of the same description, may produce dangerous consequences
if care is not taken to enlarge them, and to allow the blood to flow;
this perhaps, is the most certain, as the simplest remedy, and much
preferable to the boasted applications of the ancients.”
This is oracular; but it does not appear that the decision of the great
French anatomist was grounded on any definite experiments. Mr. Couch,
on the other hand, has known three men wounded successively in the hand
by the same fish (the Greater Weever), and the consequences have been
felt in a few minutes as high as the shoulder. It is certain that the
spinous bristles of certain caterpillars have the power of inflicting
envenomed wounds, which in some cases even prove fatal, notwithstanding
the minuteness of the organs, and evidence appears very strong for the
injection of some highly irritant poison by means of these prickles of
the Weevers.
The flesh of these fishes is esteemed for the table; but such is the
general apprehension of danger attendant upon touching them, heightened
also by their great tenacity of life, that the fishermen usually cut
off the first dorsal and the gill-spines as soon as they capture them;
while in Spain and France these precautions are enforced by legal
penalties, on such fishes being exposed in the market without having
been disarmed.[59]
According to Mr. Couch smart friction of the wounded part with
olive-oil is the most effectual remedy; and this fact again suggests
analogy of the evil with the effects produced by the bites of venomous
snakes and the stings of insects.[60]
Our little fish is not uncomely in its form or the distribution
of its sober colours. The upper parts are light olive, with lines
of ill-defined reddish spots running lengthwise; the sides are
silver-grey, tenderly washed with blue; the under parts pearly white:
the cheeks and operculum are richly adorned with pearly reflections;
these parts are destitute of scales, which is the chief distinction
between this species and the Greater Weever, after the size; this
species rarely exceeding five or six inches in length, whereas its
congener attains double those dimensions, and even more.
ITS HABITS.
In the tank, it is not particularly interesting; it grovels on the
bottom among the pebbles, and will cover its body with the sediment so
far as it is able; where it lies for hours, watching upward. Doubtless
this is its habitual mode of obtaining its food; lying motionless in
wait, nearly concealed, the eyes and the mouth both opening upwards,
so that the former can observe, and the latter seize, any vagrant
crustacean, or annelid, or young fish-fry that unsuspectingly swims
within reach. Its motions when its energies are aroused are rapid,
sudden, and forcible; and it probably rarely misses its victim when
it makes its snap; while the multitude of minute creatures that
roam continually over every part of the sea-bottom give no lack of
opportunities for the exercise of its instincts. He fares sumptuously,
no doubt.
Here is in the drag a specimen of an interesting tribe of fishes. It is
the young of the common Thornback, a little thing about five inches in
width, and in its infantile grace and beauty much more attractive than
the older ones we are accustomed to see on the fishmonger’s table. It
flaps and flutters in impatience at being dragged out of its element,
and exposed to ungenial air: we will quiet its anxiety by lifting it
into yonder shallow rock-pool. Now watch it. How easily and gracefully
it glides around its new abode, moving along by an undulation of the
edges of the broad pectoral fins, a movement which Yarrell describes
as something between flying and swimming. Now it lies still on the
sand-floor of the pool, motionless, save that the two oval orifices
just behind the eyes are constantly opening and closing, by the drawing
across each or back, of a film which exactly resembles an eyelid, and
which on examination with a lens we see to be edged with a delicate
fringe. The action is so closely like the winking of an eye, that an
observer seeing the fish for the first time might readily suppose
the orifices to be the organs of vision. They are, however, outlets
of the gills, called spiracles; the ordinary gill-apertures are five
on each side, placed semi-circularly on the inferior surface of the
body, as you see when I turn the fish on its back, a demonstration
which it resents and resists with all its might: these upper orifices
communicate with the gill-chambers by canals, and you may see the water
now and then strongly driven out of them.
YOUNG SKATE.
The eyes are these knobs just in front of the spiracles; or rather
these are the orbits, the pupil looking sideways and somewhat downward.
If you use the lens again, you perceive that there is a singular
protection to the pupil in the form of a fan-like array of about a
dozen stiff points arching over it.
The general form of the fish is beautifully symmetrical; it is nearly
a rhomboid, with the two front sides slightly excavated, and the two
posterior sides convex. At the point where these latter unite, there
are two smaller fins (the ventrals), and the body is continued very
slender to a considerable length, tapering to a point, near which two
upright dorsals are placed. The pectorals, as in all this tribe, are
of enormous size, forming the lateral angles of the rhomboid, and
extending in front of the head to the tip of the snout.
The colours are beautiful, but not at all gaudy. A warm olive brown is
the ground hue, on which numerous roundish black spots, with softly
blending outlines, are set in symmetrical patterns, and there are also
rows of pale spots. This combination of hues is elegant. The slender
prolongation of the body is edged with a narrow stripe of pure white.
The colour of the whole under surface is richly iridescent, like
mother-of-pearl.
At present we see only a few of the curved spines appearing, chiefly
in the vicinity of the eyes, which in the adult become so conspicuous
and remarkable; being something like strong rose-spines, each set on an
oval button of bone, imbedded in the skin.
STICKLEBACK.
Another draught presents us with the Fifteen-spined Stickleback,[61] a
little fish, remarkable for its form, but much more so for its habits.
It is ordinarily about five or six inches in length, very slender and
lithe, from which circumstance, combined with a protrusion of the
jaws, which gives it a sinister expression, it is on some parts of
the coast called the Sea-Adder. The lower jaw projects considerably
beyond the upper, which indicates that the fish habitually takes its
food from a point above the level of its own body. The dorsal and
anal fins are high and short, so as to form, when erected, nearly
equal-sided triangles; but the former is preceded by fifteen minute
sharp erectile spines, each of which has its own little membrane, and
all together represent the spinous portion of the dorsal fin in such
fishes as have but one, as the Blennies, or the first dorsal in such
as have two, as the Weevers. The caudal is narrowly lozenge-formed, as
ordinarily carried, but becomes fan-like when expanded. The colours are
deep sepia, or olive-brown, cast into streaks and irregular clouds, on
the sides, where they are interrupted by white, and by a rich golden
yellow, that extends over the inferior surface: the dorsal and anal
fins are white, each crossed by a broad conspicuous band of brown; the
eyes have golden irides.
We frequently see this attractive little fish hovering about the long
tufts of wrack and tangle that hang from perpendicular rocks, and
from the quays and wharves of our harbours. It diligently hunts about
for its minute crustacean prey, in picking off which it assumes all
varieties of position “between the horizontal and perpendicular, with
the head downward or upward,” thrusting its projecting snout into the
tufted weed, and snatching its morsel with a sudden jerk.
It is, however, in its domestic relations that this little fish
presents itself in the most interesting aspect. It was known ages ago
to Aristotle, that some fishes are in the habit of forming nests, in
which they deposit their eggs, and bring up their young with a parental
care not inferior to that of birds. Until lately, however, this fact
was supposed to be fabulous; and fishes were believed by the greatest
masters of modern zoology to be utterly destitute of the parental
instinct. Recent research has in this, as in so many instances, proved
the exactitude of the old Stagyrite’s knowledge, and we now know that
several fishes of different families nidificate. The Sticklebacks, most
of which inhabit in common our marine and fresh waters, are remarkable
for the manifestation of this faculty, as was first shown by Mr.
Crookenden, of Lewisham, in 1834, and as has since been proved, with
many interesting details, by Mr. A. Hancock and Mr. Warington. Our
Sea-Adder, which is exclusively marine, was first ascertained to be a
nest-builder by the late Dr. George Johnston, who mentioned the fact in
the “Transactions of the Berwickshire Naturalists’ Club” in 1839. But
the most interesting account is that of Mr. R. Q. Couch, who noticed
the facts on the coast of Cornwall, and thus records them in a paper
read before the Royal Institution of that county:--
ITS NEST.
“During the summers of 1842 and 1843, while searching for the naked
mollusks of the county, I occasionally discovered portions of sea-weed
and the common coralline (_Corallina officinalis_) hanging from the
rocks in pear-shaped masses, variously intermingled with each other.
On one occasion, having observed that the mass was very curiously
bound together by a slender, silken-looking thread, it was torn open,
and the centre was found to be occupied by a mass of transparent,
amber-coloured ova, each being about the tenth of an inch in diameter.
Though examined on the spot with a lens, nothing could be discovered
to indicate their character. They were, however, kept in a basin, and
daily supplied with sea-water, and eventually proved to be the young
of some fish. The nest varies a great deal in size, but rarely exceeds
six inches in length, or four inches in breadth. It is pear-shaped, and
composed of sea-weed or the common coralline as they hang suspended
from the rock. They are brought together, without being detached from
their places of growth, by a delicate opaque white thread. This thread
is highly elastic, and very much resembles silk, both in appearance
and texture: this is brought round the plants, and tightly binds them
together, plant after plant, till the ova, which are deposited early,
are completely hidden from view. This silk-like thread is passed in all
directions through and around the mass, in a very complicated manner.
At first the thread is semi-fluid, but by exposure it solidifies; and
hence contracts and binds the substance forming the nest so closely
together that it is able to withstand the violence of the sea, and
may be thrown carelessly about without derangement. In the centre are
deposited the ova, very similar to the masses of frog-spawn in ditches.
“Some of these nests are formed in pools, and are consequently always
in water: others are frequently to be found between tide-marks, in
situations where they hang dry for several hours in the day; but
whether in the water or liable to hang dry, they are always carefully
watched by the adult animal. On one occasion I repeatedly visited one
every day for three weeks, and invariably found it guarded. The old
fish would examine it on all sides, and then retire for a short time,
but soon returned to renew the examination. On several occasions I laid
the eggs bare, by removing a portion of the nest; but when this was
discovered, great exertions were made to re-cover them. By the mouth of
the fish the edges of the opening were again drawn together, and other
portions torn from their attachments and brought over the orifice, till
the ova were again hid from view. And as great force was sometimes
necessary to effect this, the fish would thrust its snout into the
nest as far as the eyes, and then jerk backwards till the object was
effected. While thus engaged it would suffer itself to be taken by
the hand, but repelled any attack made on the nest, and quitted not
its post so long as I remained; and to those nests that were left
dry between tide-marks, the guardian fish always returned with the
returning tide, nor did they quit the post to any great distance till
again carried away by the receding tide.”
It is worthy of note that the newly-hatched young from these nests
were so unlike the full-grown Stickleback, and so like the common
smooth Blenny, that Mr. Couch concluded that there had been some error
in his observation, and that the nest truly belonged to the latter
fish. Further research, however, proved that the Stickleback was
indeed the parent; and the transition from the infantile Blenny-like
outline of the face, high, bluff, and almost perpendicular, to the true
Stickleback outline, long, slender, pointed, with the far-projecting
lower jaw, is something remarkable.
CRABS.
But now the tide has reached its lowest mark; and as we wander over
the wet sand at its very verge, our attention is attracted by every
tiny object that breaks the uniform level, even at a considerable
distance. Some of these are worm-casts thrown up by busy Annelids,
working away in the sand to reach a lower and therefore a wetter level,
as the upper stratum dries in the sun. But others are Crabs, of two or
three species. One of them is the somewhat uncommon and very beautiful
_Portumnus variegatus_, of which a great number are left by the sea,
but all of them dead; some of them, however, from their freshness,
only recently defunct. The shape of the carapace, or body-shell, is
very elegant, and the colours, though sober--a light drab, mottled and
pencilled with pale lilac--are pleasing: the hindmost pair of feet
terminate in thin swimming-plates, but they are narrow, and exhibit the
natatory character in only a subordinate degree.
Other Crabs are alive and active, though, to be sure, in a somewhat
sluggish way. Here we catch sight of a slight movement in the wet
sand, and, stooping, we perceive a pair of antennæ, much beset with
short bristles, projecting from the surface. They wag to and fro,
and presently up pushes a shelly head, with its pair of stalked and
jointed eyes, and two tremendously long angular arms, furnished with
awkward-looking nippers at their extremities. Another effort, and
the whole Crab emerges from his sandy burrow, and displays his pale
buff-coloured shell, wrinkled across, and armed with sharp spiny points
at its front and edges. We easily take him up, for his means of escape
are feeble, as he uncouthly shuffles on his short legs over the sand;
and his bellicose instincts are not strongly developed, nor, if they
were, have those long levers of arms any formidable powers of offence.
Latreille gave to the genus the title of _Corystes_; which signifies a
warrior armed for battle, from κόρυς, a helmet, but its inoffensiveness
belies the appellation.[62] Pennant had already conferred on the
species the name of _Cassivelaunus_, the ancient British chief
immortalized by Cæsar. If you were to ask me why this obscure crab
should bear a name so renowned, I can answer only by conjecture. The
carapace is marked by wrinkles, which, while in some specimens they
suggest nothing, in others, especially old males, bear the strongest
and most ludicrous resemblance to the face of an ancient man. I have
taken specimens in which the _vraisemblance_ was so perfect as to
strike me, and others to whom I showed it, with amazement. Now Pennant,
as is well known, had strong sympathies with his British ancestry;
and perhaps, by a not extravagant stretch of imagination, his playful
fancy saw the features of the grand old Celtic warrior perpetuated on
this Crab, which he first met with, too, be it remembered, on the Welsh
coast.
[Illustration:
PLATE 14.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
MASKED CRAB.
]
USE OF THE ANTENNÆ.
Mr. Couch, in his Cornish Fauna, notices the unusual length of the
antennæ. “These organs,” he says, “are of some use beyond their common
office of feelers; perhaps, as in some other crustaceans, they assist
in the process of excavation; and, when soiled by labour, I have seen
the Crab effect their cleaning by alternately bending the joints of
their stalks, which stand conveniently angular for this purpose.
Each of the long antennæ is thus drawn along the brush that fringes
the internal face of the other, until both are cleared of every
particle that adhered to them.” This suggested use of the antennæ
does not seem to me to be a very felicitous guess of the excellent
Cornish naturalist: I should fancy them to be somewhat inefficient
instruments in excavation: perhaps I can help him to a better. I have
observed that, when these Crabs are kept in an aquarium, they are
fond of sitting bolt upright, the antennæ placed close together, and
also pointing straight upward from the head. This is, doubtless, the
attitude in which the animal sits in its burrow, for the tips of the
antennæ may often be seen just projecting from the sand. When the
chosen seat has happened to be so close to the glass side of the tank
as to bring the antennæ within the range of a pocket lens, I have
minutely investigated these organs, without disturbing the old warrior
in his meditation. I immediately saw, on each occasion, that a strong
current of water was continuously pouring up from the points of the
approximate antennæ. Tracing this to its origin, it became evident that
it was produced by the rapid vibration of the foot-jaws, drawing in
the surrounding water, and pouring it off upwards _between the united
antennæ_, as through a long tube. Then, on examining these organs, I
perceived that the form and arrangement of their bristles did indeed
constitute each antenna a semi-tube, so that when the pair were brought
face to face the tube was complete. It is difficult to make this
arrangement intelligible by mere words; but I may say that if either of
the antennæ were broken off in the middle and viewed vertically, the
bristles would be seen to project from each side of the inner face,
in a curved form, each making about a fourth of a circle, so that the
two corresponding bristles enclose, with the body of the antenna,
a semicircle. Of course, those of the opposite antenna make another
semicircle, and, when placed face to face, the points of the bristles
just cross each other, and a circle is enclosed. Now, the whole length
of the antennæ (about an inch and a half) is closely beset with these
bristles, and thus a long row of rings is formed with very narrow
interspaces between them; and these rings do in effect constitute a
tube quite sufficient to retain the stream of water that is poured
through it.
I think then that we may, with an approach to certainty, conclude
that the long antennæ are intended to keep a passage open through the
sand, from the bottom of the burrow to the superincumbent water, for
the purpose of pouring off the waste water, rendered effete by having
bathed the gills: and it is one of those exquisite contrivances and
appropriations of structure to habit which are so constantly exciting
our admiration in the handiwork of the ever blessed God, which cannot
be predicated by the _à priori_ reasoner, however astute, but are ever
rewarding the research of the patient observer.
Our walk along the sands with steady downcast poring gaze suddenly
ends, and we find ourselves among low ledges of black rock (ruddy,
however, in its recent fractures, for it is the old red sandstone),
clad with sweltering weed, and intersected by little sparkling pools
and basins, in which the tiny fishes and entangled prawns shoot
hither and thither at our approach. It is the low-lying ridge in the
midst of the broad sandy bight that I have already spoken of. Well,
_n’importe_; there is plenty of game to be obtained here, and all is
fish that comes to our net. What have we here, creeping over the broad
brown leathery leaf of this _Laminaria_? Is it a little scrap torn
from an old newspaper? It looks like it at the first glance, only that
it moves steadily onward with a smooth gliding motion, which shows
that it possesses a life of its own. Examine it closely: it is exactly
like a bit of white paper, about as large as a rose leaf, and cut into
that shape, only with an even edge, its clear white surface marked all
over with black parallel lines, some thinner, some thicker, running
lengthwise, and as clear as if drawn with a pen. What answers to the
base of the leaf is the head of the creature, the pointed end being the
tail, where the two most strongly marked black lines meet; from the
head end arise two curious ear-like leaflets, which are studded with
crowded black dots, and are thrown back upon the general surface. With
a lens we may discern on the surface of the body, just between these
ear-like tentacles, a group of black specks. These are ascertained
to be veritable eyes, notwithstanding their number, for they have
a cornea, a light-refracting body surrounded with pigment, and a
nerve-bulb.
LINED EURYLEPTA.
As the animal glides over the surface of the smooth weed, or over the
inequalities of the rough rock, we see that its thin papery margin is
frequently thrown up into waves, or folds, more or less distinctly
revealing the inferior surface. The movement is very even and uniform,
but the mode by which it is effected has not been satisfactorily
explained. It has been asserted that certain staff-like bristles which
project from the skin are used as oars, but this seems doubtful. It
is certain that the whole body of the animal, as of the entire class
to which it belongs, is densely clothed with minute vibratory cilia;
and these, while they probably serve as organs of locomotion in freely
swimming, do also without doubt make the whole skin a highly delicate
and sensitive organ of touch.
It is asserted of the near allies of this species, and probably is
equally true in this case, that if an individual be cut to pieces,
every portion continues to live and feel, from whatever part of the
body it may be taken; and what is not a little remarkable, each piece,
even if it be the end of the tail, as soon as the first moment of pain
and irritation has passed, begins to move in the same direction as that
in which the entire animal was advancing, as if the body were actuated
throughout by the same impulse; and, moreover, every division, even
if it is not more than the eighth or tenth part of the creature, will
become complete and perfect in all its organs.[63]
You would naturally expect to find the creature’s mouth at the front
end, where the two tentacles are placed, and the group of eyes, but
you would search for it there in vain. It is, in fact, situated most
strangely in the very midst of the belly; that is, at the very centre
of the inferior surface. And its structure is not less peculiar than
its locality. It consists of an orifice, in the midst of which lies a
sort of trumpet of enormous extent when opened, but when not in active
use thrown into many folds, which, when the animal wishes to seize
prey, are thrust forth, and being partly opened, take the appearance
of many irregular tentacles radiating in all directions, at the centre
of which is the œsophagus, leading immediately into a much ramified
intestine. The name which is given to this elegant and interesting
creature is _Eurylepta vittata_.[64]
[Illustration:
PLATE 15.
P. H. GOSSE, _del._ LEIGHTON, BROS.
BANDED FLAT-WORM. LONG-WORM.
]
But here is another member of the same class of strange creatures.
On turning up a large flat stone, we expose to the light of day what
might readily be mistaken for a very long thong of black leather,
or rather a narrow strip of Indian-rubber, twisted and tied together,
and coiled in all possible contortions. If you take hold of it, you
find it not so easy to secure it as you expected, for it is excessively
lubricous and soft, and withal so extensile and so tough, that you may
pull one of the coils to almost any length without lifting the rest
of the creature. However, you at last contrive to raise the slippery
subject, and commit it safe to your tank at home, in which it will
live an indefinite while; often invisible for weeks at a time, lying
concealed under some of the stones, then seen perhaps in every corner
of your aquarium at once, stretching from one stone to another, and
coiling around every groin and projection, folded back upon itself,
until in the multitude of convolutions you despair of finding head,
tail, or any end at all to the uncouth vermin. You may soon discover
the signs of its presence, however, in another way, for its voracity
is great, and it is a ferocious foe to the tube-dwelling worms; such
as the lovely _Sabellæ_ and _Serpulæ_, thrusting its serpent-like head
into their tubes, and dragging out the hapless tenant to be quickly
swallowed.
LONG-WORM.
The animal is named _Nemertes Borlasii_, or sometimes _Borlasia
longissima_, in allusion to Dr. Borlase, the historian of Cornwall. It
is also occasionally termed the Long-worm, _par excellence_, a name
whose appropriateness will appear from the fact that it sometimes
reaches a length of thirty feet, with a breadth of an eighth of an inch.
Mr. Kingsley has drawn the portrait of this ciliated worm; and if he
has painted it in somewhat dark colours, and manifested more than a
common measure of antipathy to it, we must confess that the physical
and moral lineaments of the subject do in some degree justify the
description. I will quote his vivid words.
ITS FORM AND HABITS.
“There are animals in which results so strange, fantastic, even
seemingly horrible, are produced, that fallen man may be pardoned if
he shrinks from them in disgust. That, at least, must be a consequence
of our own wrong state; for everything is beautiful and perfect in its
place. It may be answered, ‘Yes, in its place; but its place is not
yours. You had no business to look at it, and must pay the penalty for
intermeddling.’ I doubt that answer: for surely, if man have liberty to
do anything, he has liberty to search out freely his Heavenly Father’s
works; and yet every one seems to have his antipathic animal, and I
know one bred from his childhood to zoology by land and sea, and bold
in asserting, and honest in feeling, that all without exception is
beautiful, who yet cannot, after handling, and petting, and admiring
all day long every uncouth and venomous beast, avoid a paroxysm of
horror at the sight of the common house-spider. At all events, whether
we were intruding or not, in turning this stone, we must pay a fine for
having done so; for there lies an animal, as foul and monstrous to the
eye as ‘hydra, gorgon, or chimera dire,’ and yet so wondrously fitted
for its work, that we must needs endure for our own instruction to
handle and look at it. Its name I know not (though it lurks here under
every stone), and should be glad to know. It seems some very ‘low’
Ascarid or Planarian worm. You see it? That black, slimy, knotted lump
among the gravel, small enough to be taken up in a dessert-spoon. Look
now, as it is raised and its coils drawn out. Three feet! Six--nine
at least, with a capability of seemingly endless expansion; a slimy
tape of living caoutchouc, some eighth of an inch in diameter, a dark
chocolate-black, with paler longitudinal lines. Is it alive? It hangs
helpless and motionless, a mere velvet string across the hand. Ask the
neighbouring Annelids and the fry of the rock fishes, or put it into a
vase at home, and see. It lies motionless, trailing itself among the
gravel; you cannot tell where it begins or ends; it may be a strip of
dead sea-weed, _Himanthalia lorea_, perhaps, or _Chorda filum_; or even
a tarred string. So thinks the little fish who plays over and over it,
till he touches at last what is too surely a head. In an instant a
bell-shaped sucker mouth has fastened to its side. In another instant,
from one lip, a concave double proboscis, just like a tapir’s (another
instance of the repetition of forms), has clasped him like a finger,
and now begins the struggle; but in vain. He is being ‘played’ with
such a fishing-rod as the skill of a Wilson or a Stoddart never could
invent; a living line, with elasticity beyond that of the most delicate
fly-rod, which follows every lunge, shortening and lengthening,
slipping and twining round every piece of gravel and stem of sea-weed,
with a tiring drag such as no Highland wrist or step could ever bring
to bear on salmon or trout. The victim is tired now; and slowly, yet
dexterously, his blind assailent is feeling and shifting along his
side, till he reaches one end of him; and then the black lips expand,
and slowly and surely the curved finger begins packing him end foremost
down into the gullet, where he sinks, inch by inch, till the swelling
which marks his place is lost among the coils, and he is probably
macerated into a pulp long before he has reached the opposite extremity
of his cave of doom. Once safe down, the black murderer contracts
again into a knotted heap, and lies like a boa with a stag inside him,
motionless and blest.”[65]
FOOTNOTES:
[58] _Trachinus vipera_, represented by the lower figure in Plate XIII.
[59] So old Drayton, in his “Polyolbion” sings, quaintly enough, and
with a noble defiance of grammar:--
“The Weever, which, although his prickles venom be,
By fishers cut away, which buyers seldom see,
Yet for the fish he bears, ’tis not accounted bad.”
[60] Since the above was written, the question has been set at rest, by
Dr. Günther’s and Mr. Byerley’s actual discovery of poison-glands in
connexion with these spines.
[61] _Gasterosteus spinachia_, represented by the upper figure in Plate
XIII.
[62] It is depicted in Plate XIV.
[63] Jones’s _Animal Kingdom_, p. 90.
[64] This species, together with the following, is represented on Plate
XV.; the latter coiled among the stones, and preparing to attack a
_Serpula_.
[65] _Glaucus_, p. 103.
VI.
JUNE.
We are on the narrow shingle-beach of Maidencombe, or, sometimes, more
familiarly, Minnicombe; one of the slight indentations of this line of
coast, which, from the mouth of the Exe to Start Point, runs nearly
north and south, and so looks right up-channel, and receives the full
violence of the keen and blustering east winds.
Away down the gentle slope till we come to the line where the wavelets
are kissing the rock, where the next step would put us into King
Canute’s circumstances, where the sea is washing to and fro the
shaggy weed, and just preventing it from assuming the shrivelled and
blackened condition, into which the tufts a little above are fast
falling under the baking powers of this June sun; and here, on these
very weeds, now submerged, now dry, are crawling some uncouth beings
of a dark liver colour or purple-brown hue. The creature passes by the
name of Sea-hare;[66] a not inappropriate designation, for I have
often seen it in postures when the resemblance to a couching hare was
spontan
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