The Gannet or Soland-goose (_Sula Bassana_) haunts the Bass Island, a

high steep rock in the Frith of Forth, whose black precipices are painted

with dazzling stripes of white _guano_, the product of the inconceivable

number of birds which settle upon the weather-beaten ledges. The gannets

incubate in the turf of the slopes above, and you may sit down by them

and their great downy young while their mates hover over you with

discordant screams and almost touch you with their outspread pinions.

There is but one landing-place, and this sole entrance to the natural

fastness is closed by a barred gate, proclaiming that man has taken

possession of the rock. Some years ago it was let at an annual rent

of thirty-five pounds. The eggs are not collected, and no old bird is

allowed to be shot, under a penalty of five pounds; only the young

birds are persecuted. The chase begins on the 1st of August. They are

taken with the hand or knocked on the head with sticks, and sent to the

Edinburgh market, where they fetch about half a crown a piece. The gannet

breeds also on Lundy Island, in the Severn, on Ailsa, on the coast of

Ayrshire, on the island of St. Kilda, and hardly anywhere else in Europe.

As it must let itself fall before taking wing, it requires a steep

and precipitous breeding-station. Its mode of fishing is particularly

graceful. Rapidly skimming the surface of the sea, as soon as it spies a

fish swimming below, it rises perpendicularly over the spot, and then,

suddenly folding its wings, drops head-foremost on its prey swifter than

an arrow, and with almost unerring aim. The prevalent colour of the

full-plumaged bird is white, the tips of its wings only being black, and

some black lines about the face, resembling eyebrows or spectacles. The

pale yellow eyes are encircled with a naked skin of fine blue, the head

and neck are buff colour, the legs black, and greenish on the fore part.

The plumage of the young bird is very different, being blackish, dotted

irregularly with small white specks.

The family of the Laridæ, which comprises the gulls, the sea-swallows,

the petrels, and the albatrosses, is widely spread over the whole surface

of the ocean. All the birds of this tribe have a powerful flight, and

are distinguished by the easy grace of their motions, striking the air

at long intervals with their wings, and generally gliding or soaring

with outstretched pinions. Their form is handsome and well-proportioned,

some of them resembling the swallow, others the dove; but their mode of

life does not correspond with their beauty, as they are all ill-famed

for their predatory habits and insatiable voracity. The cry of the

sea-mew is peculiar, being a mixture of screaming and laughing. When in

the solitude of a wild rocky coast it is heard mingling with the hoarse

rolling of the surge and the moaning wind, it harmonises well with the

character of the dreary scene, and produces a not unpleasing effect. It

is amusing to witness the movements of the sea-mews at the mouths of the

larger rivers, where they are seen in numbers, picking up the animal

substances which are cast on shore, or come floating down with the ebbing

tide. Such as are near the breakers will mount up the surface of the

water, and run splashing towards the crest of the wave, to get hold of

the object of their pursuit, while others are seen every now and then

diving, and reappearing with a fish in their bill. Sometimes the more

powerful sea-hawk interrupts their pleasure, pounces upon the robbers,

and scatters the screaming band.

Many different species of gulls inhabit the northern shores, and various

are the places which they choose for breeding. The Kittiwake or Tarrock

(_Larus tridactylus_), one of the commonest sea-birds in Greenland,

Iceland, the Feroës and the Scotch islands, builds its sea-weed nest on

the highest and most inaccessible rocks. According to Faber (Prodromus of

Icelandic Ornithology), its swarms are so numerous on Grimsoe, that they

darken the sun when they fly, deafen the ear when they scream, and deck

the green-capped rocks with a white covering when they breed.

[Illustration: Herring Gull (Young).]

In the famous "bird-city" at the north point of Sylt, the Silvery or

Herring-gull plays a prominent part. Its great size, equal to that of

the raven, but with much longer wings--its agreeable form, its pure

white plumage, of metallic brilliancy on the back, gradually melting

into light ash-blue; the velvet-black ends of the wings, with snowy

feather tips, the lovely yellow eye, and the deep yellow beak, with its

coral-red spot, all this together forms a beautiful picture. "There we

stood," says Naumann, "surrounded by thousands, that partly hovered close

over our heads, uttering their shrill screams, partly stood before us in

pairs; some on their nests, the males keeping guard, some sleeping on

one leg, and others leisurely stretching themselves. In one word, one

hardly knew what most to admire, the uncommon cleanliness and beauty of

their plumage, the great variety and elegance of their attitudes, their

tameness, or the immense numbers collected in so small a space."

[Illustration: Herring Gull, or Silvery Gull (Adult).]

In the same "bird-city," but apart from the former, breed also the Common

Gull (_Larus canus_) which is much smaller and of a more slender shape,

and also the Sandwich and Caspian Terns. It is astonishing to see how

each kind of sea-bird seeks its particular spot for breeding; only the

auks and guillemots herd promiscuously. What may induce the birds to meet

in such large bodies and then always to choose some particular cliff?

The gulls yield the fortunate possessor of their district an annual

income of at least two hundred rix-dollars. More than thirty thousand

of the eggs, which are larger than those of the turkey, are collected

every year, packed up with moss in baskets, and sent to the market. Two

or three persons are busy from morning till evening, during the whole

season, collecting the eggs, and receive for their trouble those of

the smaller birds, which may also amount to about twenty thousand. But

although the terns appear in considerable numbers on Sylt, they have

chosen the small flat island, Norder Oog, to the west of Pelworm, for

their chief residence. The breeding colony of the Sandwich tern amounts

here to at least a million of individuals, so that when the birds are at

rest, the island, at the distance of a mile, resembles a white stripe

in the sea; but when their innumerable multitudes hover above it, they

seem an immense white rotatory cloud. The eggs lie in some places so

close together, that it is almost impossible to walk between them without

treading upon them; the breeding birds often touch one another, and

would not find room, if, like all sea-swallows that breed socially on

the coast, they did not sit in the same posture, with their head facing

the water. It is incomprehensible how each bird can find its eggs; it

would even seem impossible, did we not know the miracles of animal

instinct. Their noise is incessant, for even during the night they keep

up a continual and lively prattle. He who approaches them during the day

is soon surrounded by these screamers, whose whirling thousand-tongued

multitudes stun his senses; and these birds, at other times so shy,

flutter so close over his head, as often to touch him with their wings.

On Nowaja Semlja's ice-bound coast, on the peaks of isolated cliffs, and

suffering no other bird in his vicinity, dwells the fierce imperious

Burgomaster (_Larus glaucus_). None of its class dares dispute the

authority of the lordly bird, when with unhesitating superiority it

descends on its prey, though in the possession of another. Although not

numerous, yet it is the general attendant on the whale-fisher whenever

spoils are to be obtained. Then it hovers over the scene of action, and

having marked out its morsel, descends upon it and carries it off on the

wing. On its descent, the most dainty pieces must be relinquished, though

in the grasp of fulmar, snow-bird, or kittiwake.

The larger parasitical or raptorial gulls (_Lestris parasiticus,

catarrhactes_), are incapable of diving or plunging, their feathers being

too large in proportion to their bulk. They are therefore obliged to

live by the exertions of the lesser species, making them disgorge what

they have eaten, and dexterously catching the rejected fish before it

reaches the water. Thus we see the old feudal relations of baron and serf

established as a natural institution among the gull-tribe.

[Illustration: Broad-billed Petrel.]

Although the sea-swallows and sea-mews are endowed with great power of

wing, yet the petrels and albatrosses alone deserve the name of oceanic

birds, as they are almost always found on the high seas, at every

distance from land, and only during breeding-time seek the solitary

coasts and islands. Petrels are scattered over the whole extent of the

ocean, but the petrels which inhabit the northern seas are different from

those of the antarctic ocean, and between both are other species, that

never forsake the intertropical waters.

[Illustration: Fork-tailed Petrel.]

The Fulmar (_Procellaria glacialis_) is at home in the high north. As

soon as the whale-fisher has passed the Shetland Islands, on his way

to the Arctic Seas, this bird is sure to accompany his track, eagerly

watching for anything thrown overboard. Walking awkwardly on land, the

fulmar flies to windward in the most terrific storms. Many thousands

frequently accumulate round a dead whale, rushing in from all quarters.

The sea immediately about the ship's stern, when the men are engaged in

skinning their gigantic prey, is sometimes so completely covered with

them that a stone can scarcely be thrown overboard without striking

one of them. When anything is thus cast among the crowd, those nearest

take alarm, and so on, till a thousand are put in motion; but as in

rising they strike the water with their feet, a loud and most irregular

splashing is produced. It is amusing to observe with what jealousy they

view, and with what boldness they attack, any of their species engaged

in devouring the finest morsels, and to hear the curious chuckling

noise they make in their anxiety for despatch, lest they should be

disturbed. The voracious birds are frequently so glutted as to be unable

to fly, in which case they rest upon the water until the advancement of

digestion restores their wonted powers. They then return to the banquet

with the same gusto as before, and although numbers of the species may

have been killed with boat-hooks, and float among them, the others,

nothing daunted, and unconscious of danger to themselves, continue their

gormandising labours. When carrion is scarce, the fulmars follow the

living whale, as if they had a presentiment of his future fate, and

sometimes, by their peculiar motions while hovering on the surface of the

water, point out to the fisherman the position of the animal. As their

beak cannot make an impression on the dead whale until some more powerful

creature tears away the skin, it may be imagined how delighted they are

when man takes upon himself the trouble of peeling a whale for them.

The Glacial Petrel (_Procellaria gelida_) does not seem to approach the

pole so near as the fulmar. He appears but seldom in Iceland, but breeds

frequently in Newfoundland. The same is the case with the Shearwater (_P.

puffinus_), which breeds in great numbers on the Feroë islands, and in

Orcadia. The tropical petrels are the least known. They do not appear to

gather troopwise, and but seldom follow ships. Towards 45° S. lat. the

first Pintados (_P. capensis_) make their appearance, and are more rarely

seen after having passed 60° S. lat. The Giant Petrel (_P. gigantea_),

extends its flight as far as the ice-banks of the south, where the

Antarctic and the Snowy (_P. antarctica et nivea_) Petrels first appear,

birds which never leave those dreary seas, and are often seen in vast

flocks floating upon the drift ice. Thus nature has set bounds to

petrels, as to all other creatures that swim or fly in and over the

ocean, and has divided the wide deserts of the sea among their different

species. Who can tell us the mysterious laws which assign to each of them

its limits? Who can show us the invisible barriers they are not allowed

to pass?

[Illustration: Stormy Petrel.]

The Stormy Petrel (_P. pelagica_) seems to belong to every sea. It is

about the size of a swallow, and in its general appearance and flight is

not unlike that bird. Although the smallest web-footed bird known, it

braves the utmost fury of the tempest, often skimming with incredible

velocity the trough of the waves, and sometimes gliding rapidly over

their snowy crests. Like all of its kind, it lives almost constantly at

sea, and seeks during the breeding season some lonely rock, where it

deposits in some fissure or crevice its solitary egg.

The mode of life of the petrels corresponds but little with their

external beauty; they are in fact the crows of the ocean, and live upon

the dead animal substances floating on its surface. Wherever the carcase

of a whale, borne along by the current, covers the sea with a long stripe

of putrid oil, they are seen feasting in the polluted waters. All petrels

have the remarkable faculty of spouting oil of a very offensive smell,

from their nostrils when alarmed, and this apparently as a means of

defence.

The Albatross (_Diomedea exulans_) is the monarch of the high seas; the

picture of a hero, who, under every storm of adverse fortune, preserves

the immoveable constancy of an undaunted heart. Proud and majestic, he

swims along in his own native element, and without ever touching the

water with his pinions, rises with the rising billow, and falls with the

falling wave. It is truly wonderful how he bids defiance to the fury of

the unshackled elements, and how quietly he faces the gale. "He seems

quite at home," say the sailors; and indeed this expression is perfectly

characteristic of his graceful ease as he hovers over the agitated ocean.

[Illustration: Wandering Albatross.]

The albatross exceeds the swan in size, attains a weight of from 12lbs.

to 28lbs., and extends his wings from ten to thirteen feet. His plumage

is white and black, harmonising with the wave-crest and the storm-cloud.

For weeks and months together he is seen to follow the course of a ship;

but, according to Mr. Harvey (Sea Side Book), "the time he can remain on

the wing seems to have been much exaggerated, for although, like the gull

and the petrel, he is no diving-bird, he swims with the greatest ease;

and notwithstanding the enormous length of his pinions, knows well how to

rise again into the air. He is indeed unable to take wing from a narrow

deck, but when he wishes to rise from the sea, he runs along flapping

the waters until he has acquired the necessary impetus, or meets with a

wave of a sufficient height, from whose lofty crest he starts as from a

rocky pinnacle, and resumes his extensive flight over an immense expanse

of ocean." A short-winged species frequents the waters of Kamtschatka

and Japan; but the _wandering_ albatross (_D. exulans_) belongs more

particularly to the southern hemisphere, being rarely seen to the north

of 30° S. lat., and appearing more frequently as the higher latitudes

are approached. The regions of storms--the Cape of Good Hope and Cape

Horn--are his favourite resorts, and all travellers know that the

southern point of Africa is not far distant as soon as the albatrosses

show themselves in larger numbers. These birds are the vultures of the

ocean; their crooked sharp-edged beak is better adapted to lacerate a

lifeless prey, than to seize upon the rapid fish as it darts swiftly

along below the surface of the waters. From a vast distance they smell

the floating carcase of a whale, and soon alight in considerable numbers

upon the giant carrion. They also feed upon the large cephalopods that

inhabit mid-ocean, and remains of these molluscs are generally found in

their stomach. The Auckland and Campbell islands seem to be two of their

favourite breeding-stations. When Sir James Ross visited these secluded

groups, the birds were so assiduously breeding as to allow themselves

to be taken with the hand. The nest is built of sand mixed with dried

leaves and grasses, generally eighteen inches high, with a diameter of

twenty-seven inches at the surface, and of six feet at the base. While

breeding, the snow-white head and neck of the bird project above the

grasses, and betray it from afar. On endeavouring to drive it from its

eggs it defends itself valiantly, snapping with its beak. Its greatest

enemy is a fierce raptorial gull (_Lestris antarcticus_), which is always

on the look-out, and, as soon as the albatross leaves the nest, shoots

down upon it to steal the eggs.

Swift flies the albatross, but fancy travels with still more rapid wings

through the realms of space, and leads us suddenly from the lone islands

of the Pacific to the north of another hemisphere. Saint Kilda rises

before us--a glorious sight when the last rays of the setting sun, as

he slowly sinks upon the ocean, light up with dazzling splendour the

towering cliffs of the island, which one might almost fancy to be some

huge volcano newly emerged from the deep, or the impregnable bulwark of

some enchanted land. St. Kilda, one of the most striking examples of the

grandest rock-scenery, plunges on all sides perpendicularly into the sea,

so that although six miles in circumference, it affords but one single

landing-place, accessible only in fair weather. Four of the promontories

are perforated, and as many large caverns are formed, through which the

sea rolls its heaving billows. From the eastern extremity, which rises

nearly perpendicularly to the height of 1380 feet, and is supposed to

be the loftiest precipice in Britain, the view is of indescribable

sublimity. Far below, the long heavy swell of the ocean is seen climbing

up the dark rock, whose base is clothed with sheets of snow-white foam.

In many places the naked rock disappears under the myriads of sea-birds

sitting upon their nests; the air is literally clouded with them, and

the water seems profusely dotted with the larger fowl, the smaller ones

being nearly invisible on account of the distance. Every narrow ledge is

thickly covered with kittiwakes, auks, and guillemots; all the grassy

spots are tenanted by the fulmar, and honey-combed by myriads of puffins;

while close to the water's edge on the wet rocks, which are hollowed out

into deep recesses, sit clusters of cormorants, erect and motionless,

like so many unclean spirits, guarding the entrance of some gloomy cave.

[Illustration: Black Guillemot.]

On rolling down a large stone from the summit, a strange scene of

confusion ensues. Here, falling like a thunderbolt on some unfortunate

fulmar sitting upon its nest, it crushes the poor creature in an instant;

then rolling down the crags, and cutting deep furrows in the grassy

slopes, it scatters in dismay the dense groups of auks and guillemots.

Its progress all along is marked by the clouds of birds, which affrighted

shoot out from the precipice to avoid the fate to which nevertheless

many fall a prey, until at length it reaches the bottom along with

its many victims. The scared tenants of the rock now return to their

resting-places, and all is again comparatively quiet.

[Illustration: Common Puffin.]

Several species of gulls are of common occurrence on St. Kilda: _Larus

marinus_, _fuscus_, _canus_, and _tridactylus_. The last, or kittiwake,

is the most abundant; a social bird, choosing the most inaccessible

spots. On disturbing a colony of kittiwakes, most of the birds leave

their nests and fly about the intruder, uttering incessantly their

clamorous but not unmusical cry. The noise from a large flock is almost

deafening; the flapping of their wings and their loud screams, joined

to the deep guttural notes of the passing gannets, and the shrill tones

of the larger gulls, form a combination of sounds without a parallel

in nature. Probably on account of its vigilance, the kittiwake is not

pursued by the fowler.

The fulmar breeds in almost incredible numbers on St. Kilda (the only

place in Britain where he is found), and is to the natives by far the

most important production of their barren land. On the crest of the

highest precipices, and only on such as are furnished with small grassy

shelves, on every spot above a few inches in extent, the fulmars have

taken possession of the rock. On being seized, they instantly disgorge a

quantity of clear amber-coloured oil, which imparts to the whole bird,

its nest and young, and even the very rock which it frequents, a peculiar

and very disagreeable odour.

Fulmar oil is one of the most valuable productions of St. Kilda. The best

is obtained from the old bird by surprising it at night upon the rock,

and tightly closing the bill until the fowler has seized the bird between

his knees with its head downwards. By opening the bill, the fulmar is

allowed to eject about a table-spoonful, or rather more, of oil into the

dried gullet or stomach of a solan-goose. The islanders use fulmar oil

for their lamps, and consider it as an infallible remedy against chronic

rheumatism.

It is chiefly in pursuit of the fulmar that the St. Kildian often

endangers his life. Two of the fowlers generally proceed in company, each

furnished with several coils of rope, about half an inch in diameter.

One of them fastens one of the ropes under his arm-pits, and holding

the extremity of another rope in one hand, is lowered down the cliff.

His comrade stands a little away from the edge, holding the supporting

rope firmly with both hands and letting it out very slowly, while he

allows the other, or guide-rope, to slip out as is required from under

one foot, which loosely secures it. On reaching a ledge occupied by

birds, the fowler commences his operations, easily securing the eggs

and young birds, and knocking down the old ones with a short stick, or

catching them by a noose attached to a long slender rod. He then secures

his sport by bundling the birds together, and tying them to a rope let

down from above, depositing at the same time in a small basket the eggs

he has gathered. The dexterity of these rocksmen is truly astonishing.

The smallest spot is considered by them as a sufficiently secure

standing-place, and they will creep on hands and knees, though cumbered

with a load of birds, along a narrow ledge, seemingly without concern

for their personal safety. When exhibiting before strangers, a precipice

about six hundred feet high, overhanging the sea, at a short distance

from the village, is generally chosen for a display of their agility.

About midway they strike against the rock, and rebound twelve feet or

more with all the agility of a tight-rope dancer.

The Gannet, or Solan-goose, which abounds in the north of Scotland and on

the numberless islands and rocky fiords which line the Norwegian coast,

likewise congregates in vast numbers about St. Kilda, from whence a

portion of them take their departure every morning to fish for herrings,

their favourite food, in the bays and channels of the other Hebrides, the

nearest of which is about fifty miles distant. This bird is very select

in the choice of its breeding-places, which it occupies to the total

exclusion of every other species. None are to be found in Hirta, but the

island of Borreray is almost entirely occupied with them, as are also the

adjacent rocks, Stack Ly and Stack Narmin. These cliffs are remarkable

for their pointed summits and towering height, and appear, even from the

distance of many miles, as if they were covered with snow, the deceptive

appearance being caused by the myriads of gannets with which the rock

is thickly covered, as well as the dense clouds of these white-plumed

birds passing and repassing in the neighbourhood of their nests. Petrels,

shearwaters, puffins, guillemots, and auks, are also very abundant about

the weather-beaten cliffs of St. Kilda.

[Illustration: Puffin.]

If we consider that similar bird-republics are to be found on almost

every rocky coast or surf-beaten cliff of the northern seas, we must

needs be astonished at the inexhaustible prodigality of Nature, which

covers desolate rocks with such a profusion of life. The vast number of

sea-birds is the more surprising, as many species, such as the guillemot,

the auk, the fulmar, and the puffin, lay but one single egg on the

naked rock, and often in so precarious a situation, that it is almost

inconceivable how breeding can take place. When the birds are surprised

and suddenly fly off, many of the eggs tumble down into the surf.

Sea-eagles, falcons, and raptorial gulls destroy a great number, and

pounce upon the young; thousands fall a prey to the rigours of an Arctic

winter; the spring-tides sweeping over low shores, often carry away whole

generations at once, and many a maritime population lives entirely upon

the sea-fowl that breed upon the sterile soil. And yet, in spite of so

many enemies and persecutions, their numbers remain undiminished, nor

has their importance ever ceased in the domestic economy of the rude

islanders of the north.

[Illustration: Auk.]

[Illustration: Sea-Fowl Shooting.]

But however valuable the eggs and the oil, the feathers and the flesh

of the hyperborean bird-republics may be to man, they are far from

equalling in importance the guano producing sea-fowl of the tropical

seas. This inestimable manure, which has become so indispensable to the

British agriculturist, is found scattered over numerous localities in

the intertropical regions. It abounds on many of the rocky islets of the

Red Sea, where the life-teeming waters afford sustenance to innumerable

sea-gulls, cormorants, and pelicans; but its most widely celebrated

stores cover the small Chincha Islands, not far from Pisco, about a

hundred miles to the south of Callao, where they form enormous layers 50

or 60 feet deep.

The upper strata are of a greyish-brown colour, which lower down

becomes darker; and in the inferior strata the colour is a rusty red,

as if tinged by oxide of iron. The guano becomes progressively more

and more compact from the surface downwards, a circumstance naturally

accounted for by the gradual deposit of the strata and the increasing

superincumbent weight. As is universally known, guano is formed of the

excrements of different kinds of marine birds; but the species which

Tschudi, the celebrated Peruvian traveller, more particularly enumerates

are--_Larus modestus_ (Tschudi), _Rhynchops nigra_ (Linn.), _Plotus

anhinga_ (Linn.), _Pelecanus thayus_ (Mol.), _Phalacrocorax Gaimardii_

and _albigula_ (Tsch.), and chiefly the _Sula variegata_ (Tsch.).

The immense flocks of these birds, as they fly along the coast, appear

like aërial islands; and when their vast numbers, their extraordinary

voracity, and the facility with which they procure their food are

considered, we cannot be surprised at the magnitude of the beds of guano

which have resulted from the uninterrupted accumulations of countless

ages. During the first year of the deposit the strata are white, and

the guano is then called _Guano blanco_. In the opinion of the Peruvian

cultivators, this is the most efficacious kind. As soon as the dealers

in guano begin to work one of the beds, the island on which it is formed

is abandoned by the birds. It has also been remarked that, since the

increase of trade and navigation, they have withdrawn from the islands in

the neighbourhood of the ports. Under the empire of the Incas, the guano

was regarded as an important branch of state economy. It was forbidden,

on pain of death, to kill the young birds. Each island had its own

inspector, and was assigned to a certain province. The whole distance

between Arica and Chaucay, a length of two hundred nautical miles, was

exclusively manured with guano. These wise provisions have been entirely

forgotten by the Spaniards, but the Peruvians now begin to discover the

error of their former masters, and look forward with anxiety to the

period when the guano will no longer suffice for the wants of husbandry.

At the present day they use it chiefly in the cultivation of maize and

potatoes. A few weeks after the seeds begin to shoot, a little hole

is made round each root and filled up with guano, which is afterwards

covered with a layer of earth. After the lapse of twelve or fifteen

hours, the whole field is laid under water, and left in that state for

about half a day. Of the guano blanco a less quantity suffices, and the

field must be more speedily and abundantly watered, otherwise the roots

would be destroyed. The effect of this manure is incredibly rapid. In a

few days the growth of the plant is doubled; if the manure is repeated

a second time, but in smaller quantity, a rich harvest is certain;--at

least the produce will be three times greater than that which would have

been obtained from the unmanured soil. The uniformity of climate, along a

coast where rain is _never_ known to fall, contributes essentially to the

superior quality of the Chincha guano, as atmospherical precipitations

naturally dissolve and wash away many of the most fertilising salts.

The consumption of guano in Western Europe, and particularly in England,

increases with surprising rapidity. On the island of Iquique a layer

thirty feet deep, and covering a space of 220,000 square feet, has been

entirely removed within twenty-seven years. In the year 1854, 250,000

tons were dug in the Chincha Islands, and the actual annual exportation

amounts to double the quantity. The digestive functions of the Sula and

her companions thus bring in _larger_ sums to the Peruvian Government

than all the silver mines of Cerro de Pasco, and the transport of the

guano employs larger fleets than ever Spain possessed at the brightest

period of her power.

"The Chincha Islands," says Castelnau (_Expédition dans les Parties

Centrales de l'Amérique du Sud_; Paris, 1851), "are completely desert and

devoid of vegetation; their granite soil is clearly distinguished by its

colour from the thick stratum of guano with which it is covered, and the

surface of which looks at a distance like snow. The steep banks render

landing difficult, but facilitate at the same time the shipping of the

produce, as the vessels lie at anchor close to the pits. Digging takes

place at three places, close to one another, and the traveller has only

to compare the enormous deposits with the smallness of the excavations,

which at some distance are hardly perceptible, to convince himself of

the inexhaustible supply. Some huts have been constructed on the island,

where, in the midst of ammoniacal effluvia, some Peruvian customhouse

officers and soldiers superintend the working of the guano-mines."

[Illustration: Birds of Passage.]

CHAP. XI.

THE REPTILES OF THE OCEAN.

The Saurians of the Past Seas.--The Anatomical Structure of the

Turtles.--Their Size.--Their Visits to the Shores.--The Dangers that

await their Young.--Turtles on the Brazilian Coast.--Prince Maximilian

of Neuwied and the Turtle.--Conflicts of the Turtles with Wild Dogs

and Tigers on the Coast of Java.--Turtle-catching on Ascension

Island.--Tortoise-shell.--The Amblyrhynchus cristatus.--Marine

Snakes.--The Great Sea-Snake.

There was a time when the reptiles were the monarchs of the sea, when the

ocean swarmed with gigantic saurians, tyrants of the fishes, combining

the swiftness of the dolphin with the rapacity of the crocodile. Had

those monsters of the deep been endowed with human intelligence, they

would most likely also, with human arrogance, have boasted of an eternal

sway. For where in the whole ocean was the enemy that could cope with

them? Did not all beings flee wherever they appeared? and did not the

inexhaustible sea promise them an everlasting supply of food?

[Illustration: Ichthyosaurus.]

But in spite of their colossal power, the saurians, like all created

beings, have been forced to succumb to time.

Centuries and centuries passed on, the sea and air gradually changed,

the temperature of the elements no longer remained the same, and thus

by degrees a new ocean and a new atmosphere were formed, uncongenial to

the nature of those huge reptiles. Thus they have been effaced from the

roll of living things, and some petrified remains alone bear testimony to

their former existence.

The most powerful saurians of the present day--the crocodile the gavial

and the alligator--have left to the dolphins, the sharks, and other

monstrous or swiftly-swimming cetaceans and fishes the dominion of the

seas, and now merely infest the rivers and swamps of the tropical zone.

The lizards also have long since retired from the scene where they once

abounded, and the ocean at present harbours no other reptiles in its

bosom than turtles and sea-snakes.

Most of the animals belonging to this class are either dangerous or of

a disgusting appearance. Few creatures are objects of such universal

abhorrence as the crocodile--the very type of brutal cold-blooded

ferocity; as the venomous snake--the emblem of perfidy and ingratitude;

or as the loathsome, but innocent toad, to which, on account of its

ugliness, noxious properties have been ascribed which the poor animal

does not possess. The frogs, lizards, and turtles alone seem to have

escaped this general detestation, either from their more active habits,

or their well-known harmlessness, or their various utility to man.

The anatomy of the turtle offers many points of interest; its vertebræ,

ribs, and breast-bone growing together so as to form a bony envelope

round the whole animal. This harness is covered by the skin, which in

its turn is bedecked with large scales, while all the muscles and other

soft parts are enclosed in the inner cavity. Only the head, feet, and

tail protrude through openings between the upper and under carapace, and

these can, by the land tortoises at least, be withdrawn entirely under

the former. This is the only protection which Nature has afforded these

animals against their enemies, for they have neither swiftness of flight,

nor any offensive weapon at their command. But as soon as anything

suspicious approaches, they conceal themselves under their massive cover,

and oppose to every attack by tooth or nail the passive resistance of an

impenetrable shield. Most of their enemies find it, besides, no easy task

to turn them on their back, as many species attain a very considerable

weight, so that their mere bulk constitutes a good defence. It might

be supposed that this protection could only avail for a short time, as

the want of air must soon force the animal to stretch its head out of

its hiding-place, and this indeed would be the case, if kind Nature had

not taken her measures against this emergency, by giving the creature a

_cold_ blood, so that it can remain a very long time without breathing;

long enough, at least, to tire the patience of the most obstinate foe.

[Illustration: Skeleton of Tortoise.

A, superior maxilla; B, inferior maxilla; C, ossiculum auditus;

D, os hyoides; E, cervical vertebræ; F, dorsal vertebræ;

G, sacrum; H, caudal vertebræ; I, dorsal ribs; K, marginal scales;

N, scapula; O, coracoid bone; P, os humeri; Q, radius; R, ulna;

S, bones of the carpus; T, metacarpal bones; U, digital phalanges;

V, pelvis; W, femur; X, tibia; Y, fibula; Z, tarsus; Æ, metatarsus;

A.V., phalanges of the foot.

]

But how comes it, the reader may ask, that respiration, which pours a

warm current through our veins, fails in raising the temperature of the

turtle's blood?

Without entering into a lengthened description of the human heart, I

shall merely observe that it consists of two halves (each half being

again subdivided into two separate chambers), and that the right half,

which receives venous blood and pours it into the lungs, is completely

separated by a partition from the left half, which receives arterial or

aërated blood from the lungs, and propels it into every part of the body.

Thus the two different kinds of blood are completely separated, so that

an _unmixed_ venous blood flows into the lungs, where it is converted by

the oxygen of the air into arterial blood. But this connection, like most

chemical processes, takes place under an evolution of heat, which is so

considerable that our internal temperature constantly maintains itself at

the height of 98° F.

[Illustration: Theoretic Representation of the Circulation in Mammals and

Birds.]

[Illustration: Theoretic Representation of the Circulation in Reptiles.]

But the turtle's heart is differently formed, consisting, as the annexed

theoretic representation shows, of but one ventricle and two auricles,

so that a _mixed_, or only half aërated blood circulates throughout the

body, which naturally produces a torpidity of the whole vital process.

Besides, the lungs of the reptiles are incapable of aërating so great a

quantity of blood as ours, as their cells are much larger, thus offering

less surface to the action of the air; and finally, the ribs of the

turtles being immovable, they are incapable of extending the lungs, so

that the animal is absolutely obliged to swallow the necessary supply

of air, and to pump it, as it were, into the lungs, by contracting the

muscles of the throat. Thus we see that every precaution has been taken

to reduce respiration to a low standard, and prevent the evolution of

heat. With this indolence of its cold-blooded circulation, the whole

nature of the animal is in harmony; the bluntness of its senses, its want

of intelligence, its slow movements, and its long endurance of hunger,

thirst, and want of air. It leads but a drowsy dream-like existence,

and yet, we may be sure, it is far from unhappy, for all its functions

and organs agree perfectly one with the other, and when concord reigns,

enjoyment of some kind must exist.

The turtles are distinguished from the land tortoises particularly

by their large and long fin-shaped feet, and also by a longer tail,

which serves them as a rudder. They have no teeth, but the horny upper

jaw closes over the lower like the lid of a box, thus serving them as

excellent shears, either for crushing shells or dividing the tough fibres

of the sea-grass.

[Illustration: Green Turtle.]

They are at home in all the warmer seas, but sometimes they are carried

by oceanic streams far away from their accustomed haunts. Thus, in the

year 1752, a Green turtle, six feet long, and weighing 900 pounds,

stranded near Dieppe; and in 1778 another, seven feet long, on the coast

of Languedoc. One taken on the coast of Cornwall in July, 1756, measured

from the tip of the nose to the end of the shell, six feet nine inches,

and the weight was supposed to be nearly 800 pounds. These few examples

show us that the turtles rank among the larger inhabitants of the ocean,

although they are far from attaining the fabulous proportions assigned to

them by Pliny (who makes the Indians use their shells as boats or roofs),

or the enormous size of some colossal extinct species, such as the fossil

tortoise from the Siwala hills, preserved in the East Indian Museum,

which measures twelve feet in length. They live almost constantly at

sea, partly on shell-fish, like the fierce Loggerhead turtle (_Testudo

Caretta_), partly on sea-grass, like the Green turtle (_T. Midas_), and

only go on shore during the warmest months of the year, for the purpose

of laying their eggs.

[Illustration: Loggerhead Turtle.]

"We followed the monotonous sea-coast," says Prince Maximilian of

Neuwied, in his interesting "Travels through the Brazils;" "our two

soldiers, a Negro and an Indian, frequently stopping to dig turtle-eggs

out of the sand, which, boiled in sea-water, used to form our evening

repast. Once, while they were busy gathering drift-wood for cooking,

we found at a small distance from our fire an enormous turtle busy

laying her eggs. We could not possibly have met with anything more

agreeable; the creature seemed to have crawled there for the express

purpose of providing for our supper. Our presence did not discompose her

in the least; she allowed herself to be touched, and even raised from

the ground, for which purpose four men were required. During our loud

deliberations on her future fate, she gave no other sign of uneasiness

than a blowing sound, and continued to work slowly with her hind fins,

throwing up the earth at regular intervals.

"One of the soldiers stretched himself out at full length on the ground

near the purveyor of our kitchen, inserted his arm into the earth-hole,

and threw out the eggs as they were laid by the turtle. In this manner

above a hundred were collected in about ten minutes. A council was now

held as to the means of adding the beast to our collection, but as it

would have required an additional mule for the transport, we gave it its

life. These colossal turtles--Midas, Coriacea, and Caretta--especially

choose these desert coasts for the laying of their eggs. They emerge from

the sea in the dusk of evening, and then crawl back again into the water

one or two hours after the setting of the sun. Thus also the friendly

turtle, which had so abundantly provided for our wants, disappeared after

a short time; we found the large hole filled up, and a broad trace in the

sand showed that the animal had again retreated to its favourite element.

The Midas is said to lay from ten to twelve dozen, and the Coriacea from

eighteen to twenty dozen eggs at once."

The wild sand coast of Bantam (Java) is annually frequented by a large

number of turtles. They are often obliged to creep over nearly a quarter

of a mile of the beach, before finding at the foot of the sand-dunes a

dry and loose soil fit for their purpose; and on this journey, which for

them is a very long one, they have many dangers to encounter. Hundreds of

their skeletons lie scattered about the strand, many of them five feet

long, and three feet broad; some bleached and cleaned by time, others

still half filled with putrid intestines, and others, again, quite fresh

and bleeding. High in the air a number of birds of prey wheel about,

scared by the traveller's approach. Here is the place where the turtles

are attacked by the wild dogs. In packs of from twenty to fifty, the

growling rabble assails the poor sea-animal at every accessible point,

gnaws and tugs at the feet and at the head, and succeeds by united

efforts in turning the huge creature upon its back. Then the abdominal

scales are torn off, and the ravenous dogs hold a bloody meal on the

flesh, intestines, and eggs of their defenceless prey. Sometimes,

however, the turtle escapes their rage, and dragging its lacerating

tormentors along with it, succeeds in regaining the friendly sea. Nor

do the dogs always enjoy an undisturbed repast. Often during the night,

the "lord of the wilderness," the royal tiger, bursts out of the forest,

pauses for a moment, casts a glance over the strand, approaches slowly,

and then with one bound, accompanied by a terrific roar, springs among

the dogs, scattering the howling band like chaff before the wind. And now

it is the tiger's turn to feast, but even he, though rarely, is sometimes

disturbed by man. Thus, on this lonely, melancholy coast, wild dogs and

tigers wage an unequal war with the inhabitants of the ocean.

The cold-blooded turtle is obliged to confide the hatching of her eggs

to the sun, which generally accomplishes the task in three weeks. On

creeping out of the egg, the young, even those of the largest species,

are not larger than half-a-crown and of a white colour. Unprotected by

a parent's tenderness, the poor little creatures seem only to be born

for immediate death. Their first instinctive movements are towards

the element for which they are destined; slowly they drag themselves

towards the water, but the sea meets them with a rough embrace, and the

unmerciful waves generally throw them back again upon the shore. Here

they are attacked by great sea-birds, storks and herons, against which,

in spite of their smallness, they make feeble efforts of defence, or by

still more powerful beasts of prey; and thus the greater part of the

unfortunate brood is destroyed at its very first entrance into life;

while those which reach the sea, are generally devoured by sharks and

other sharp-toothed fishes. It is therefore not in vain that the turtle

lays four or five hundred eggs in the course of a single summer, for were

she less fruitful, the race would long since have been extinguished.

I need hardly mention, that the flesh of the green turtle is everywhere

esteemed as a first-rate delicacy. The king of the Manga Reva Islands in

the South Sea keeps them in a pen for the wants of his table; and the

London alderman is said to know no greater enjoyment than swallowing

a basin of turtle soup. Hence it is no wonder that the mariner, tired

of salt-beef and dried peas, persecutes them on all the coasts of the

tropical seas, wherever solitude, a flat beach, and a favourable season

promise to reward his trouble.

Bernardin de St. Pierre gives us the following picturesque description

of turtle-catching on Ascension Island;--"Fire-wood, a kettle, and the

great boat-sail were landed, and the sailors lay down to sleep, as the

turtles do not emerge from the sea before night-fall. The moon rose

above the horizon and illumined the solitude, but her light, which adds

new charms to a friendly prospect, rendered this desolate scene more

dreary still. We were at the foot of a black hillock, on whose summit

mariners had planted a great cross. Before us lay the plain, covered with

innumerable blocks of black lava, whose crests, whitened by the drippings

of the sea-birds, glistened in the moonbeam. These pallid heads on dark

bodies, some of which were upright, and others reclined, appeared to us

like phantoms hovering over tombs. The greatest stillness reigned over

this desolate earth, interrupted only from time to time by the breaking

of a wave, or the shriek of a sea-bird. We went to the great bay to await

the arrival of the turtles, and there we lay flat upon the sand in the

deepest silence, as the least noise frightens the turtles, and causes

them to withdraw. At last we saw three of them rising out of the water,

and slowly creeping on shore, like black masses. We immediately ran up to

the first, but our impatience caused it to drop immediately again into

the sea, where it escaped our pursuit. The second, which had already

advanced too far, was unable to retreat; we turned it on its back. In

this way we caught about fifty turtles, some of which weighed five

hundred pounds. Next morning, at ten, the boat came to fetch the produce

of our nocturnal sport. This work occupied us the whole day, and in the

evening the superfluous turtles were restored to the sea. If suffered

to remain a long time on their back, their eyes become blood-red, and

start out of their sockets. We found several on the strand that had

been allowed to perish in this position, a cruel negligence, of which

thoughtless sailors are but too often guilty."

In the sea, also, the turtles are pursued by man. In the clear West

Indian waters, where they are frequently seen at great depths, feeding

on the sea-grass meadows, divers plunge after them and raise them to the

surface. Sometimes they are harpooned, or even caught sleeping on the

waters.

The ancient Romans, who spent such extravagant sums upon dishes repugnant

to our taste, seem to have had but little relish for turtle flesh, which

otherwise the conquerors of the world might easily have obtained from

the Red Sea; for though we read that Vitellius feasted upon the brains

of pheasants, and the tongues of nightingales, it is nowhere mentioned,

that he ever, like the Lord Mayor of London, set seven hundred tureens of

turtle soup before his guests.

On the other hand, they made a very extensive use of tortoise-shell,

the produce of the Hawk's-bill turtle (Testudo imbricata) a native

both of the American and Asiatic seas, and sometimes, but more rarely,

met with in the Mediterranean. The flesh of the animal is not held in

any estimation as a food, but the plates of the shell being thicker,

stronger, and cleaner than those of any other species, render it of great

importance as an article of trade.

[Illustration: Hawk's-bill Turtle.]

"Carvilius Pollio," says Pliny, "a man of great invention in matters

pertaining to luxury, was the first who cut the plates of the tortoise

for veneering or inlaying." The Romans imported large quantities of this

precious article from Egypt, and under the reign of Augustus, the wealthy

patricians used even to inlay the doors and columns of their palaces

with it. When Alexandria was taken by Julius Cæsar, the warehouses were

so full of tortoise-shell that the conqueror proposed to make it the

principal ornament of his triumph.

The use of tortoise-shell for the decoration of houses and furniture

is long since out of fashion, but it is still in great request for the

making of combs and boxes. By steeping it in boiling water it softens,

and may then, by a strong pressure, be moulded into any form. When a

considerable extent of surface is required, different pieces must be

joined together. This is done by scraping thin the edges of the pieces to

be united, and laying them over each other while they are in the heated

and softened state; strong pressure being then applied, they become

completely agglutinated. It is in this way that gold, silver, and other

metals for different ornaments are made to adhere to tortoise-shell.

* * * * *

When, at the beginning of the chapter, I mentioned that the lizards had

entirely forsaken the ocean, I forgot that the Galapagos Islands in the

South Sea, right under the Equator, exclusively possess a maritime animal

of this kind, which, from its being the sole existing representative,

or dwindled descendant of the giant oceanic saurians of yore, is far

too interesting to be passed unnoticed. This lizard is extremely common

on all the islands throughout the Archipelago. It lives exclusively on

the rocky sea-beaches, and is never found,--at least Mr. Darwin never

saw one,--even ten yards inshore. It is a hideous-looking creature, of

a dirty black colour, stupid and sluggish in its movements. The usual

length of a full-grown one is about a yard, but there are some even

four feet long. These lizards were occasionally seen some hundred yards

from the shore, swimming about; and Captain Collnett, in his "Voyage,"

says they go out to sea in shoals to fish. With respect to the object,

Mr. Darwin believes he is mistaken; but the fact, stated on such good

authority, cannot be doubted. When in the water the animal swims with

perfect ease and quickness by a serpentine movement of its body and

flattened tail; the legs, during this time, being motionless and closely

collapsed on its sides. A seaman of the "Beagle" sank one with a heavy

weight attached to it, thinking thus to kill it directly; but when an

hour afterwards he drew up the line the lizard was quite active. Their

limbs and strong claws are admirably adapted for crawling over the

rugged and fissured masses of lava, which every where form the coast. In

such situations a group of six or seven of these hideous reptiles may

oftentimes be seen on the black rocks, a few feet above the surf, basking

in the sun with outstretched legs.

Mr. Darwin opened the stomach of several, and in each case found it

largely distended with minced sea-weed, of a kind growing at the bottom

of the sea, at some little distance from the coast. The nature of this

lizard's food, as well as the structure of its tail, and the certain fact

of its having been seen voluntarily swimming out at sea, absolutely prove

its aquatic habits; yet there is in this respect one strange anomaly,

namely, that when frightened it will not enter the water. From this cause

it is easy to drive these lizards down to any little point overhanging

the sea, where they will sooner allow a person to catch hold of their

tail than jump into the water. They do not seem to have any notion of

biting; but when much frightened they squirt a drop of fluid from each

nostril. One day Mr. Darwin carried one to a deep pool left by the

retiring tide, and threw it in several times as far as he was able. It

invariably returned in a direct line to the spot where he stood. It swam

near the bottom with a very graceful and rapid movement, and occasionally

aided itself over the uneven ground with its feet. As soon as it arrived

near the margin, but still being under water, it either tried to conceal

itself in the tufts of sea-weed, or it entered some crevice. As soon

as it thought the danger was past, it crawled out on the dry rocks and

shuffled away as quickly as it could. Mr. Darwin several times caught

this same lizard by driving it down to a point, and, though possessed

of such perfect powers of diving and swimming, nothing could induce it

to enter the water; and as often as he threw it in, it returned in the

manner above described.

Perhaps this singular piece of apparent stupidity may be accounted for

by the circumstance that this reptile has no enemy whatever on shore,

whereas at sea it must often fall a prey to the numerous sharks. Hence,

probably urged by a fixed and hereditary instinct that the shore is its

place of safety, whatever the emergency may be, it there takes refuge.

On a comparison of this singular animal with the true iguanas, the most

striking and important discrepancy is in the form of the head. Instead

of the long pointed narrow muzzle of those species, we have here a

short obtusely truncated head, not so long as it is broad; the mouth

consequently is capable of being opened to only a very small extent. From

this circumstance, and from the crest on its head, it has received the

Latin name of _Amblyrhynchus cristatus_.

* * * * *

The serpent race, which thrives so abundantly in the tropical forests

and morasses, has also its marine representatives in the Indian and

Pacific Oceans, where more than fifty species of Hydrophis, Pelamys, and

Chersydra have been found. They are distinguished from their terrestrial

relations by the flattened form of their tail, the planes of which being

directed vertically give it the properties of a powerful oar, in striking

the water by lateral oscillations. These sea-snakes always appear to

prefer calms, swimming on the still surface in an undulating manner,

never raising the head much from the surface, or vaulting out of the

water. They dive with facility on the approach of danger, but do not

appear to be particularly timid.

[Illustration: Water-Snake.]

The Pelamys bicolor is very common from India to Otaheite. In the seas

of Mindoro and Sooloo, Mr. Adams saw thousands swimming on the top of

the water, especially in eddies and tide-ways where the ripple collects

numerous fish and medusæ, which principally constitute their prey. Their

tongue is white and forked, differing in respect of its colour from

the tongue of other snakes, which is generally black. The water-snakes,

which are frequently beautifully banded, and as thick as a man's leg, are

said to be highly venomous. Captain Cook, in one of his voyages, "saw

abundance of water-snakes, one of which was coming up the side of our

ship, and our men beat it off. The Spaniards affirm there is no cure for

such as are bit by them; and one of our blacks happened to fall under

that misfortune, and died notwithstanding the utmost care was taken by

our surgeons to recover him."

Such are the _real_ sea-snakes as they are met with by ordinary

travellers, while _the great sea-serpent_, which from time to time

dives up in the columns of the newspapers, must, until better evidence

be brought forward for its existence, be banished to those dim regions

peopled by unicorns, griffins, krakens, and tailed men.

Olaus Magnus, it is true, speaks of the great sea-snake as if it made its

daily appearance on the Norwegian coast. According to him, it inhabits

the rocky caves near Bergen, and wanders forth at night, particularly

by moonshine, to commit its depredations by sea and land; as calves

and pigs seem to suit its appetite as well as fishes and lobsters. The

body is covered with scales, a long mane flows along the neck, and the

head, furnished with two glistening eyes, rises like a mast out of the

water. It often attacks ships, and picks up seamen from the deck. This

description may serve as an example of the boldness with which authors

have sometimes asserted the most extravagant things.

The Greenland missionary Egede tells us in his Journal, that "on the 6th

of July, 1734, there appeared a very large and frightful sea-monster,

which raised itself so high out of the water that its head reached above

our main-top. It had a long sharp snout, very broad flappers, and spouted

water like a whale. The body seemed to be covered with scales, the skin

was uneven and wrinkled, and the lower part was formed like a snake.

After some time the creature plunged backwards into the water, and then

turned its tail up above the surface, a whole ship-length from the head."

It is hard to disbelieve so pious and excellent a man, whose excited

fancy no doubt gave extraordinary forms and dimensions to some commoner

sea-animal of large size; but the testimony of a Scoresby, who during his

frequent Arctic voyages never saw anything of the kind, would have been

more convincing.

If to this account of Egede be added the reports of some other northern

divines, such as Pontoppidan, the missionary Nicholas Græmius, and

Maclean, who either pretend to have actually seen the monster or write

about it from hearsay--and the testimony of a few seamen, among others

of Captain M'Quhae of the Dædalus, who, on the 6th of August, 1848, saw

a sea-snake on his homeward voyage from the East Indies; we have all the

evidence extant in favour of the existence of the monstrous animal.

In opposition to these testimonies, incredulous naturalists beg to

remark, that no museum possesses a single bone of the huge snake, and

that its body has nowhere been found swimming on the ocean or cast

ashore. They therefore agree with Professor Owen in regarding the

negative evidence, from the utter absence of any recent remains, as

stronger against their actual existence than the positive statements

which have hitherto weighed with the public mind in favour of their

reality; and believe that a larger body of evidence from eye-witnesses

might be got together in proof of the reality of ghosts than in proof of

the existence of the great sea-serpent.

The plain truth seems to be that lines of rolling porpoises, resembling

a long string of buoys, first gave origin to the marvellous stories of

the fabulous monster. For, keeping in close single file, and progressing

rapidly along the calm surface of the water by a succession of leaps

or demivaults forward, part only of their uncouth forms appears to the

eye, so as to resemble the undulatory motions of one large serpentiform

animal.

CHAP. XII.

THE MARINE FISHES.

General Observations on Fishes.--Their Locomotive

Organs.--Tail.--Fins.--Classification of Fishes by

Cuvier.--Air-Bladder.--Scales.--Beauty of the Tropical Fishes.--The

Gills.--Terrestrial Voyages of the Anabas and the Hassar.--Examples

of Parental Affection.--Organs of Sense.--Offensive Weapons

of Fishes.--The Sea-Wolf.--The Shark.--The Saw-Fish.--The

Sword-Fish.--The Torpedo.--The Star-Gazer.--The Angler.--The Chætodon

Rostratus.--The Remora, used for catching Turtles.--Defensive Weapons

of Fishes.--The Weever.--The Stickleback.--The Sun-Fish.--The

Flying-Fish.--The numerous Enemies of the Fishes.--Importance and

History of the Herring Fishery.--The Pilchard.--The Sprat.--The

Anchovy.--The Cod.--The Sturgeons.--The Salmon.--The Tunny.--The

Mackerel Family.--The Eel.--The Murey.--The Conger.--The

Sand-Launce.--The Plectognaths.--The Sea-Horse.--The Pipe-Fish.--The

Flat-Fishes.--The Rays.--The Fecundity of Fishes.

The bosom of the ocean is full of mysteries; it conceals a whole world of

curiously-shaped animals, which the naturalist only superficially knows,

and may, perhaps, never be able to fathom. To observe the habits of

terrestrial animals, and accurately to determine their various species,

is a comparatively easy task; but the denser element in which fishes live

prevents us from following their motions with exactness, from studying

their instincts, and from noting with fidelity their specific differences.

Since Pliny, who mentions but seventy-four different kinds of fishes, the

number of known species has indeed enormously increased. The ancients,

who knew only the waters of the Mediterranean and a very small part of

the ocean, had no conception of the finny multitudes inhabiting the

tropical and icy seas; but although modern science has succeeded in

describing and picturing above eight thousand different kinds of fishes,

yet there can be no doubt that many still unknown species dwell in the

depths of ocean, or in the distant seas which are but seldom visited by

the European mariner.

If the whole economy of the world of fishes were opened to our view,

the magnificent picture would, no doubt, give us additional reasons for

admiring the infinite wisdom of the Creator; but the little we do know

suffices to convince us that the same wonderful harmony existing between

the anatomical structure and the outward relations or mode of life in

birds and mammiferous quadrupeds is also to be found in fishes, and that

these creatures, though occupying a lower grade in Creation, are no less

beautifully adapted to the peculiar element in which they are destined to

live and move.

This strikes us at once in their external form, which, though subject to

great variety, being sometimes spherical as in the globe-fish, or cubical

as in the ostracion, or expanded as in the skate, or snake-like as in

the eel, is generally that of an elongated oval, slightly compressed

laterally, a shape which enables the fishes to traverse their native

fluid with the greatest celerity and ease. We wisely endeavour to imitate

this peculiar form in the construction of our ships, yet the rapidity

with which the fastest clipper cleaves the waters is nothing to the

velocity of an animal formed to reside in that element. The flight of

an arrow is not more rapid than the darting of a tunny, a salmon, or a

gilt-head through the water. It has been calculated that a salmon will

glide over 86,400 feet in an hour, that it will advance more than a

degree of the meridian of the earth in a day, and that it could easily

make the tour of the world in some weeks, were it desirous of emulating

the fame of a Cook or of a Magellan. Every part of the body seems exerted

in this despatch; the fins, the tail, and the motion of the whole

backbone assist progression; and it is to this admirable flexibility of

body, which mocks the efforts of art, that fishes owe the astonishing

rapidity of their movements.

Whales and dolphins move onwards by striking the water in a vertical

direction, while fishes glide along by laterally curving and extending

the spine. In some species, such as the eel, the whole body is flexible;

but most of them paddle away with their tail to the right and left, and

are thus driven forwards by the resistance of the water. Consequently the

power of fishes is chiefly concentrated in the muscles bending the spine

sideways, and generally we find these parts so much developed as to form

the greatest part of the body.

[Illustration: Skeleton of the Perch.

A A, Dorsal Fins; B, Caudal; C, Anal; D, Ventral; E, Pectoral.]

The fins are the most important auxiliary organs of locomotion in fishes.

The dorsal, caudal, and anal fins serve by their vertical position to

increase the extent of the rowing surface, and to maintain the animal's

balance, while the pectoral and ventral fins, which must be considered as

the representatives of the fore and hind limbs of other vertebrata, are,

moreover, of great assistance in directing its movements. With the help

of these organs, fishes can advance or retrograde, ascend or descend in

the water as they please, and it is curious to observe how, alternately

extending or contracting one fin or the other, they gracefully plough the

liquid element in every direction.

It is no less wonderful how perfectly the size and texture of the fins

corresponds with the habits and necessities of the different species

of fishes. Those which traverse vast portions of the ocean, or have

frequently to struggle against swelling waves, are furnished with large

and strong fins, while these organs are soft in the species which confine

themselves to greater depths, where the winds cease to disturb the waters.

From the great variety which is met with both in the number and position

of the fins, they are also of the greatest use in the classification of

fishes, and afford the naturalist many of the chief characters which

serve to distinguish the several orders, families, genera, and species of

these aquatic vertebrates.[M]

[Footnote M: Cuvier divides the fishes into:

I. Chondropterygii--Skeleton cartilaginous; fins supported by

cartilaginous rays; and

II. Osteopterygii--Skeleton composed of true bone.

The Chondropterygii are subdivided into three orders:

(_a_) Sturionidæ (sturgeons), with free gills.

(_b_) Selacii (rays, sharks), with gills fixed and a mouth formed for

mastication.

(_c_) Cyclostomata (lamprey, myxine), with gills fixed and a mouth

formed for suction.

The osseous fishes, which are far more numerous, are subdivided into six

orders:

(_a_) Acanthopterygii; distinguished by the stiff spines which

constitute the first fin-rays of the dorsal fin, or which support

the anterior fin of the back in case there are two dorsals. In some

cases the anterior dorsal fin is only represented by detached spines.

The first rays of the anal fin are likewise spinous, as well as the

first ray of the ventral fin. To this extensive order, which comprises

about three-fourths of the osseous fishes, belong, among others, the

families of the perches, gurnards, mackerels, mullets, breams, gobies,

blennies, &c.

The three following orders of the osseous fishes have the rays that

support the fins soft and composed of numerous pieces articulated with

each other, with the exception in some cases of the first ray of the

dorsal, or of the pectoral. Their leading character is afforded by the

situation or absence of the ventral fin, which in the

(_b_) Malacopterygii abdominales are suspended beneath the abdomen,

and behind the pectorals; in the

(_c_) Malacopterygii subbrachiales beneath the pectorals; and in the

(_d_) Malacopterygii apodes are totally wanting.

To the abdominal soft-rayed fishes belong the herring, salmon, pike, sly,

and carp families; to the subbrachial, the cod family, the side-swimmers,

and the lump fishes; and, finally, to the apodal malacopterygians, the

single family of the anguilliform fishes. The small order of the

(_e_) Lophobranchi comprises the pipe-fishes, sea-horses, in whom

the gills are not pectinated, as in the preceding subdivisions, but

consist of little round tufts; and, finally, the

(_f_) Plectognathi--comprising the file, porcupine, and sun

fishes--are distinguished by their maxillaries and premaxillaries

being joined immovably to each other, so as to render the upper jaw

incapable of protrusion.

]

Most fishes possess a remarkable accessory organ of locomotion in the

air-bladder or swim-bladder which extends to a greater or smaller

distance along the ventral surface of the spine, and enables them

voluntarily to increase or diminish the specific gravity of their body.

When they contract this remarkable gas-reservoir, or press out the

included air by means of the abdominal muscles, the bulk of the body

is diminished, its weight in proportion to the water is increased, and

the fish swims easily at a greater depth. The contrary takes place on

relaxing the tension of the abdominal muscles; and thus we see fishes

rise and fall in their denser element by the application of the same

physical law which is made use of by our aëronauts, to scale the heavens

or to descend again upon the earth. Those fishes which are destined to

live at the bottom of the sea or to conceal themselves in the mud, such

as eels and skates, have either no air-bladder or a very small one--for

economical Nature gives none of her creatures any organ that would be

useless to them. Even the slimy glutinous matter which is secreted from

the pores of most fishes, and lubricates their bodies, assists them in

gliding through the waters, so that no means have been neglected to

promote the rapidity of their movements.

The skin of fishes is but seldom naked; in most species it is covered

with scales, that sometimes appear in the form of osseous plates,

as in the ostracions, or project into formidable prickles, as in

the porcupine-fish, but generally offer the aspect of thin laminæ,

overlapping each other like the tiles of a roof, and embedded, like our

nails, in furrows of the skin. In nearly all the existing fishes, the

scales are flexible and generally either of a more or less circular

form (_cycloid_), as in the salmon, herring, roach, &c., or provided

with comb-like teeth projecting from the posterior margin (_ctenoid_),

as in the sole, perch, pike, &c.; while the majority of fossil fishes

were decked with hard bony scales, either rhomboidal in their form, of

a highly polished surface, as in our sturgeons (_ganoid_), and arranged

in regular rows, the posterior edges of each slightly overlapping the

anterior ones of the next, so as to form a very complete defensive armour

to the body; or irregular in their shape and separately imbedded in the

skin (_placoid_), as in the sharks and rays of the present day.

[Illustration: Portion of Skin of Sole highly magnified.]

The scales of almost any fish afford admirable subjects for microscopic

observation, but more particularly those of the ctenoid kind, which

exhibit a brilliancy of reflected light, and a regularity of structure,

such as no human mosaic could ever equal.

Many of our European fishes are richly decorated with vivid colours,

but their scaly raiment is generally far from equalling the gorgeous

magnificence of the fishes of the tropical seas.

If in the birds of the equatorial zone a part of the plumage sparkles

with a gem-like brilliancy, all the colours of the rainbow combine

to decorate the raiment of the tropical fishes, and no human art can

reproduce the beauty of their metallic lustre, which at every movement in

the crystalline waters exhibits to the enchanted eye new combinations and

reflections of the most splendid tints.

The gaudiest fishes live among the coral reefs. In the tepid waters,

where the zoophytes, those sensitive flowers of the ocean, build their

submarine palaces, we find the brilliant Chetodons, the gorgeous

Balistinæ, and the azure Glyphysodons gliding from coral branch to coral

branch like the playful Colibris, that over the Brazilian fields dart

from one lustrous petal to another.

Oxygen is as necessary to fishes and other marine creatures as it is

to the terrestrial animals, but as they are obliged to draw it from a

denser element, which absorbs but a small volume of air, their gills

are necessarily differently constructed from the lungs of the creatures

breathing in the atmosphere. In most species, comprising all the bony

fishes, and the sturgeons, among those which have a cartilaginous

skeleton, we find on either side of the throat five apertures, separated

from each other by four crooked, parallel and unequal bones, and leading

to a cavity, which is closed on the outside by an operculum or cover.

In this cavity, and attached to the bones, are situated the delicate

membranes, bearded like feathers, which serve to aërate the blood. The

water constantly flows through the gills in one direction, entering

by the branchial apertures of the throat, and emerging through the

operculum. This is, in more than one respect, a most wise provision of

Nature; for if the fishes were obliged to receive and reject the water

by the same aperture, as we do the air, each expiration would evidently

drive them backwards, and consequently retard their movements. It is

also evident that the delicate fringes or folds of the gills would soon

get into disorder if the water were carried through them in two opposite

directions.

In most of the cartilaginous fishes, such as the sharks, rays, and

lampreys, the gills are differently formed, the water not passing into

a cavity closed by a cover, but flowing directly outwards through five

(in the shark) or seven (in the lamprey) vents or spiracles. In these

species also the gills are fixed, their margins being attached. Though

the whole breathing apparatus of a fish is comprised in a small compass,

its surface, if fully extended, would occupy a very considerable space;

that of the common skate, for instance, being equal to the surface of

the human body. This single fact may convince us of the numberless

ramifications and convolutions of the gills, in which the water is

elaborated and attenuated in the course of giving out its air; and how

wonderfully Nature has contrived to effect her purpose with the greatest

economy of space.

[Illustration: Theoretic representation of the Circulation in Fishes.]

Respiration is a species of combustion, and this must necessarily be

very slow in an element which contains so small a portion of oxygen. No

wonder that the circulation of the blood in fishes is equally tardy.

Their heart, in comparison with _ours, is but half a one_, as it merely

serves to force the venous blood into the gills--whence the aërated blood

does not flow back to the heart as with us, to be rapidly and strongly

propelled through the body, but proceeds immediately to the arteries.

Evidently only a cold blood could be formed under such circumstances. It

may seem strange that, when fishes are taken out of the water, they die

from want of air; such, however, is the case. Their delicate breathing

membranes collapse in the atmosphere, the blood can no longer flow as

before into the innumerable small vessels with which they are interwoven,

and, by rapidly drying in the air, they soon entirely lose the faculty

of breathing. Thus those fishes whose gill-cover has a large aperture,

die soonest in the air, while those where the opening is narrow, and more

particularly those species where the gills communicate with a cellular

labyrinth containing water, which serves to keep them moist, are able to

live a much longer time in the atmosphere.

[Illustration: The Anabas of the Dry Tanks.]

[Illustration: Frog-Fish.--(Cheironectes.)]

It is owing to such a moistening apparatus that _the climbing fishes_

(Anabas) live for days out of the water, and even creep up the trees at

some distance from the shore, to catch the insects which serve them as

food--a curious instance indeed of an animal seeking its nourishment in

another element.

The Frog-fish of the Asiatic islands and the Southern hemisphere is

not more remarkable for its hideous deformity than for its capacity of

leading a terrestrial life. Not only can it live several days out of the

water but it can crawl about the room in which it is confined, a facility

which it owes to the great strength and the peculiar position of its

pectoral fins, which thus perform the office of feet. The whole aspect of

these grotesque-looking creatures, particularly in a walking position, is

so much like that of toads or frogs, that a careless observer would at

first be at some loss to determine their real nature.

A no less wonderful pedestrian is the Hassar (_Doras costata_), a South

American fish, that marches over land in search of water, travelling

a whole night when the pools dry up in which it commonly resides. It

projects itself forwards on its bony pectoral fins, by the elastic spring

of the tail, exerted sidewise, and in this manner proceeds nearly as fast

as a man will leisurely walk. The strong scuta or bands which envelop its

body must greatly facilitate its march, in the manner of the plates under

the belly of serpents, which are raised and depressed by a voluntary

power, in some measure performing the office of feet. The Indians say

justly that these fishes supply themselves with water for their journey.

If they find the pools and rivers everywhere dried up, they bury

themselves in the mud, and fall into a kind of asphyxia or lethargy, till

the rainy season recalls them again to life.

The hassar is also remarkable for a parental affection, almost unexampled

among fishes. Sir Richard Schomburgk relates that it not only builds a

complete nest for its spawn but also watches over it with the utmost

vigilance till the young brood comes forth. In April, this marine artist

begins to build his little dwelling of vegetable fibres, among the

water-plants and rushes, until it resembles a hollow ball, flattened at

the top. An aperture corresponding to the size of the mother leads into

the interior. The parental affection of the fish is shamefully misused by

man for its destruction. A small basket is held before the opening; then

the nest is slightly beaten with a stick; and, furious, with extended

fins, whose sharp points are able to inflict a painful wound, the poor

hassar darts into the fatal basket.

[Illustration: SUBAQUEOUS LIFE--STICKLEBACKS AND NEST.]

SUBAQUEOUS LIFE--STICKLEBACKS AND NEST.

This plate represents a group of fifteen-spined sticklebacks busily

employed in making their nests. To the left is seen a curious piece

of marine architecture, mentioned by Mr. Couch, the well-known

ichthyologist. A pair of sticklebacks had made their nest "in the

loose end of a rope, from which the separated strands hung out about

a yard from the surface, over a depth of four or five fathoms, and to

which the materials could only have been brought, of course, in the

mouth of the fish, from the distance of about thirty feet. They were

formed of the usual aggregation of the finer sorts of green and red

sea-weed, but they were so matted together in the hollow formed by

the untwisted strands of the rope that the mass constituted an oblong

ball of nearly the size of the fist, in which had been deposited the

scattered assemblage of spawn, and which was bound into shape with a

thread of animal substance, which was passed through and through in

various directions, while the rope itself formed an outside covering

to the whole."

The black Goby (_Gobius niger_) also prepares a nest for its eggs. This

fish inhabits the slimy bottoms of the lagoons near Venice, and burrows

galleries in the clayey soil, where it spends the greater part of the

year, protected against storms and enemies. In spring it digs more

superficial dwellings among the roots of the sea-grass, to which the

spawn attaches itself. The architect watches over the entrance of the

house, opposing sharp rows of teeth to every intruder.

A similar care may be admired in the tiny Stickleback, which the

celebrated ichthyologist, M. Coste, has often watched building its

nest. After the fish has collected the materials, it covers them with

sand, glues the walls with a mucous secretion, and prepares a suitable

entrance. At a later period it becomes the bold and indefatigable

defender of its eggs, repelling with tooth and prickles all other

sticklebacks that approach the nest. If the enemy is too powerful,

it has recourse to artifice, darts forth, seems actively engaged in

the pursuit of an imaginary prey, and often succeeds in diverting the

aggressor's attention from its nest. The River Bullhead is likewise said

to evince the same parental affection for its ova, as a bird for its

nest, returning quickly to the spot, and being unwilling to quit it when

disturbed. It is believed, also, of the Lump-Sucker, that the male first

keeps watch over the deposited ova, and guards them from every foe with

the utmost courage. If driven from the spot by man, he does not go far,

but is continually looking back, and in a short time returns. Thus we

find among the inferior animals glimpses of a higher nature, which prove

that all created beings form a continuous chain, linked together by one

all-pervading and almighty Power.

[Illustration: Internal Ear of Perch.]

[Illustration: Osseous labyrinth of the Human Ear.

_a_, Oval or vestibular fenestra; _b_, round or cochlear fenestra; _c_,

external or horizontal semicircular canal; _d_, superior or anterior

vertical semicircular canal; _e_, posterior or inferior vertical

semicircular canal; _f_, the turns of cochlea.]

The senses of the fishes are also in perfect harmony with the

peculiarities of their mode of life. Their eyes are indeed wanting in

the fire and animation which gives so much expression to the physiognomy

of the higher animals, but the structure of these organs is admirably

calculated for the element in which they are plunged, as the spherical

form and great size of the crystalline lens, by concentrating the rays

of light, enables them to see with distinctness even through so dense a

medium as that which surrounds them. When water is clear, smooth, and

undisturbed the sight of fishes is very acute, a circumstance well known

to anglers, who prefer a breeze undulating over the surface, as they can

then approach much nearer the objects of their pursuit and practise their

_artful dodges_ with a much better chance of success. The eyes in fishes

are observed to occupy very different positions in different species,

but their situation is always such as best to suit the exigencies of

the particular fish. Thus in the star-gazer and sea-devil, that watch

their prey from a muddy concealment, they are very appropriately placed

at the top of the head, while in the flat-fishes, where an eye on the

side habitually turned towards the ground would have been useless, the

distorted head, by placing both eyes on the same level, affords them an

extensive range of view in those various directions in which they may

either endeavour to find suitable food or avoid dangerous enemies. That

fishes are not deficient in the sense of hearing may be seen at once by

the annexed illustrations, which show a marked similarity of organisation

between the human ear and that of the perch. It is well known that they

start at the report of a gun, though it is impossible for them to see

the flash. Sir Joseph Banks used to collect his fishes by sounding a

bell, and the Chinese call the gold-fish with a whistle to receive their

food. In spite of their scaly covering, the fishes are not unprovided

with organs of touch. The lips in many species are soft, and the mouths

of others, such as the red mullet--for which such enormous sums were

paid by the Roman epicures--are provided with barbules largely supplied

with nerves, which no doubt enable them to distinguish the objects with

which they come in contact. In the three elongated rays of their pectoral

fins the gurnards may be said to possess fingers to compensate for their

bony lips; and in many other fishes these modified arms or forefeet are

applied as organs of feeling to ascertain the character of the bottom of

the water. "You may witness the tactile action of the pectoral fins,"

says Professor Owen,[N] "when gold-fish are transferred to a strange

vessel; their eyes are so placed as to prevent them seeing what is below

them; so they compress their air-bladder, and allow themselves to sink

near the bottom, which they sweep, as it were, by rapid and delicate

vibrations of the pectoral fins, apparently ascertaining that no sharp

stone or stick projects upwards, which might injure them in their rapid

movements round their prison." Whether fishes possess any high degree of

taste is a subject not easily proved; but, to judge by the large size of

their olfactory nerves, their sense of smell is probably acute.

[Footnote N: "Lectures on Comparative Anatomy."]

[Illustration: Red Mullet.]

[Illustration: Gurnard.]

[Illustration: Wolf-Fish.--(Anarrhicas lupus.)]

The life of fishes is a state of perpetual warfare, a constant

alternation of flight and pursuit. Prowling through the waters, they

attack and devour every weaker being they meet, or dart away to escape

a similar lot. Many of them are provided, besides their swiftness and

muscular power, with the most formidable weapons. Thus the Sea-wolf

has six rows of grinders in each jaw, excellently adapted for bruising

the crabs and whelks, which this voracious animal grinds to pieces,

and swallows along with the shells. When caught, it fastens with

indiscriminate rage upon anything within its reach, fighting desperately,

even when out of its own element, and inflicting severe wounds if not

cautiously avoided. Schönfeld relates that it will seize on an anchor,

and leave the marks of its teeth behind, and Steller informs us that

one which he saw taken on the coast of Kamschatka frantically seized a

cutlass with which it was attempted to be killed, and broke it in pieces

as if it had been made of glass. No wonder that the fishermen, dreading

its bite, endeavour as soon as possible to render it harmless by heavy

blows upon the head. The great size of the monster, which in the British

waters attains the length of six or seven feet, and in the colder and

more extreme northern seas is said to become still larger, renders it one

of the most formidable denizens of the ocean. It commonly frequents the

deep parts of the sea, but approaches the coasts in spring to deposit

its spawn among the marine plants. Fortunately for its more active

neighbours, it swims but slowly, and glides along with the serpentine

motion of the eel.

[Illustration: White Shark.]

Far more dreadful, from its gigantic size and power, is the White

Shark (_Squalus carcharias_), whose jaws are likewise furnished with

from three to six rows of strong, flat, triangular, sharp-pointed, and

finely serrated teeth, which it can raise or depress at pleasure. This

tyrant of the seas grows to a length of thirty feet, and its prodigious

strength may be judged of from the fact that a young shark, only six feet

in length, is able to break a man's leg by a stroke of its tail. Thus,

when a shark is caught with a baited hook at sea, and drawn upon deck,

the sailors' first act is to chop off its tail, to prevent the mischief

otherwise to be apprehended from its enormous strength. An anecdote

related by Hughes, the well-known and esteemed author of the "Natural

History of Barbadoes," gives a good idea of the savage nature of this

monster. "In the reign of Queen Anne a merchant-ship arrived at that

island from England: some of the crew, ignorant of the danger of the

recreation, were bathing in the sea, when a large shark appeared and swam

directly towards them; being warned of their danger, however, they all

hurried on board, where they arrived safe, except one poor fellow, who

was bit in two by the shark, almost within reach of the oars. A comrade,

and intimate friend of the unfortunate victim, when he observed the

severed trunk of his companion, vowed his revenge. The voracious monster

was seen traversing the bloody surface of the waves, in search of the

remainder of his prey, when the brave youth plunged into the water. He

held in his hand a long sharp-pointed knife; and the rapacious animal

pushed furiously towards him. He had turned on his side and opened his

enormous jaws, when the youth, diving dexterously, seized the shark with

his left hand, somewhere below the upper fins, and stabbed him repeatedly

in the belly. The animal, enraged with pain, and streaming with blood,

attempted in vain to disengage himself. The crews of the surrounding

vessels saw that the combat was decided; but they were ignorant which

was slain, till the shark, exhausted by loss of blood, was seen nearer

the shore, and along with him his gallant conqueror--who, flushed with

victory, redoubled his efforts, and, with the aid of an ebbing tide,

dragged him to the beach. Finally, he ripped open the stomach of the

fish, and buried the severed half of his friend's body with the trunk in

the same grave."

[Illustration: Hammer-headed Shark.--(Squalus Zygæna.)]

It is no uncommon thing for the negroes, who are admirable divers,

thus to attack and vanquish the dreaded shark, but success can only be

achieved by consummate dexterity, and by those who are armed for this

express purpose.

Ordinary swimmers are constantly falling a prey to the sharks of warm

climates. Thus Sir Brooke Watson, when in the West Indies, as a youth,

was swimming at a little distance from a ship, when he saw a shark making

towards him. Struck with terror at its approach, he immediately cried out

for assistance. A rope was instantly thrown, but, even while the men were

in the act of drawing him up the ship's side, the monster darted after

him, and at a single snap took off his leg.

Fortunately for the friends of sea-bathing on our shores, the white

shark, like his relation, the monstrous Hammer-headed Zygæna, appears but

seldom in the colder latitudes, though both have occasionally been found

on the British coast.

[Illustration: Picked Dog-Fish.]

The northern ocean has got its peculiar sharks, but they are generally

either good-natured like the huge basking shark (_S. maximus_), which

feeds on sea-weeds and medusæ, or else like the _Picked_ dog-fish

(_Galeus acanthius_), of too small a size to be dangerous to man, in

spite of the ferocity of their nature.

[Illustration: Blue Shark.]

But the dog-fish and several other species of our seas, such as the Blue

Shark (_Carcharias glaucus_), though they do not attempt the fisherman's

life, are extremely troublesome and injurious to him, by hovering about

his boat and cutting the hooks from the lines in rapid succession. This,

indeed, often leads to their own destruction, but when their teeth do not

deliver them from their difficulty, the blue sharks, which hover about

the Cornish coast during the pilchard season, have a singular method of

proceeding, which is, by rolling the body round so as to twine the line

about them throughout its whole length; and sometimes this is done in

such a complicated manner, that Mr. Yarrell has known a fisherman give up

any attempt to unroll it as a hopeless task. To the pilchard drift-net

this shark is a still more dangerous enemy, and it is common for it

to pass in succession along the whole length of net, cutting out, as

with shears, the fish and the net that holds them, and swallowing both

together.

[Illustration: Saw-Fish.]

[Illustration: Sword-Fish.]

The Saw-snouted Shark or Saw-fish (_Squalus pristis_), which grows

to fifteen feet in length, and the Sword-fish (_Xiphias gladius_,

_platypterus_), are furnished with peculiarly formidable weapons. The

long flat snout of the former is set with teeth on both sides through

its whole length, while the upper jaw of the latter terminates in a long

sword-shaped snout. A twenty-feet long sword-fish once ran his sword with

such violence into the keel of an East Indiaman, that it penetrated up to

the root, and the fish itself was killed by the violence of the shock.

The perforated beam, with the driven-in sword, are both preserved in

the British Museum, and give a good idea of the prodigious power of the

leviathans of ocean.

[Illustration: Torpedo.]

While most fishes only rely upon their well-armed jaws, their physical

strength, or their rapidity, for attack or defence, some of them are

provided with more mysterious weapons, and stun their victims or their

enemies by electrical discharges.

[Illustration: Muscles and Electric Batteries of the Torpedo.]

The Torpedo of the Mediterranean is furnished with wonderful organs

for this purpose, situated on each side of the anterior part of the

body,--perfect galvanic batteries, consisting of a multitude of small

prismatic columns, subdivided into cells, and interwoven with a multitude

of nerves, which serve to disengage the electric fluid, and discharge

it according to the will of the fish, or when it is excited by some

external stimulus. The shock of the torpedo is not so strong as that of

the electric eel (_Gymnotus electricus_) of the Orinoco, which is able

to stun a horse, but its power suffices to paralyse the arm of a man. A

Sly, or Silurus, found in the Nile or Senegal, and called by the Arabs

_raasch_, or lightning, and one of the many Tetrodons inhabiting the

tropical seas, is endowed with a similar faculty of producing galvanic

shocks.

[Illustration: Electric Eel.]

Some fishes, to whom nature has denied all other offensive weapons,

have recourse to stratagem for procuring their food. Hidden in the mud,

the Star-gazer (_Uranoscopus scaber_) exposes only the tip of the head,

and waving the beards with which its lips are furnished in various

directions, decoys the smaller fishes and marine insects, that mistake

these organs for worms.

The Angler, or Sea-devil (_Lophius piscatorius_), a slow swimmer, who

would very often be obliged to fast if he had only his swiftness to

rely upon, uses a similar stratagem. Crouching close to the ground, he

stirs up the sand or mud, and, hidden by the obscurity thus produced,

attracts many a prize by leisurely moving to and fro the two slender

and elongated appendages on his head, the first of which, the better

to deceive, is broad and flattened at the end, inviting pursuit by the

shining silvery appearance of the dilated part. Even the great European

Sly, a fish which has been known to grow to the length of fifteen feet,

and to attain a weight of 300 lbs. is not ashamed to owe its food to

similar deceits. Like a true lazzarone, the fat creature lies hidden in

the mud of rivers, its mouth half open, and angling with its long beards.

[Illustration: Angler.]

[Illustration: European Sly.--(Silurus glanis.)]

But no fish catches its prey in a more remarkable manner than the Beaked,

or Rostrated Chætodon, a native of the fresh waters of India. When he

sees a fly alighting on any of the plants which overhang the shallow

water, he approaches with the utmost caution, coming as perpendicularly

as possible under the object of his meditated attack. Then placing

himself in an oblique direction, with the mouth and eyes near the

surface, he remains a moment immoveable, taking his aim like a first-rate

rifleman. Having fixed his eyes directly on the insect, he darts at it a

drop of water from his tubular snout, but without showing his mouth above

the surface, from which only the drop seems to rise, and that with such

effect, that though at the distance of four, five or six feet, it very

seldom fails to bring its prey into the water. Another small East Indian

fish, the _Toxotes jaculator_, catches its food by a similar dexterous

display of archery.

[Illustration: Toxotes Jaculator.]

While all other fishes hunt only for their own benefit, the Indian

Remora, or Sucking-fish (_Echeneis Naucrates_), owes to the remarkable

striated apparatus on its head, by which it firmly adheres to any

object--rock, ship, or animal,--to which it chooses to attach itself,

the rare distinction of being employed by man as a hunting-fish. When

Columbus first discovered the West Indies, the inhabitants of the

coasts of Cuba and Jamaica made use of the remora to catch turtles, by

attaching to its tail a strong cord of palm-fibres, which served to drag

it out of the water along with its prey. By this means they were able

to raise turtles weighing several hundred pounds from the bottom; "for

the sucking-fish," says Columbus, "will rather suffer itself to be cut

to pieces than let go its hold." In Africa, on the Mozambique coast,

a similar method of catching turtles is practised to the present day.

Thus a knowledge of the habits of animals, and similar necessities, have

given rise to the same hunting artifices among nations that never had

the least communication with each other. Everybody knows the fables that

have been related of the small Mediterranean remora (_Echeneis remora_).

It even owes its Latin name to the marvellous story of its being able

to arrest a ship under full sail in the midst of the ocean; and from

this imaginary physical power a no less astonishing moral influence was

inferred, for the ancients believed that tasting the remora completely

subdued the passion of love, and that if a delinquent, wishing to gain

time, succeeded in making his judge eat some of its flesh, he was sure of

a long delay before the verdict was pronounced.

[Illustration: Sucking-fish. (Remora.)]

[Illustration: Common Weever.]

Most fishes have only a rapid flight to depend upon for their safety;

some, however, more favoured by nature, have been provided with peculiar

defensive weapons. Thus the dorsal fins of the Dragon-weever (_Trachinus

draco_), a small silvery fish, frequently occurring on our shores, are

armed with strong spines, that effectually provide against its being

easily swallowed by a more powerful enemy. The wounds it inflicts are

very troublesome and painful, though it does not appear that the spines

contain any poisonous matter, as the fishermen generally believe. At

all events, the dragon-weever is not nearly so dangerous as the _Clip

bagre_, a kind of silurus or sly, inhabiting the Brazilian rivers, that

inflicts with its long spines such painful wounds as to deprive the

sufferer of consciousness, and to produce an inflammation that lasts for

several weeks. The Lance-tails, or Acanthuri, have a sharp bony process,

not unlike the very large thorn of a rose-tree, placed on each side of

the tail; by this they can inflict a deep cut on the hand of any one who

is so imprudent as to seize them in that part.

[Illustration: Surgeon Fish. (Acanthurus.)]

I could still add a long list of spine-armed fishes, but content myself

with noticing the Stickleback, which frequently owes its preservation to

the sharp needles with which it is provided.

[Illustration: Diodon.]

The Tetrodons and Diodons have the power of inflating their body at

pleasure, and thus raising the small spines dispersed over their sides

and abdomen in such a manner, as to operate as a defence against their

enemies. These beautiful and remarkable fishes chiefly inhabit the

tropical waters, but sometimes wander into higher latitudes. Man is not

the only creature driven by the currents of fate far from the place of

his birth.

The Flying-fishes (_Exoceti_) are provided with pectoral fins of so great

a length, as to be able to carry them, like wings, a great distance

through the air. According to Mr. George Bennett ("Wanderings in New

South Wales"), they cannot raise themselves when in the atmosphere,

the elevation they take depending entirely on the power of the first

spring or leap they make on leaving their native element. Their flight,

as it is called, carries them fifteen or eighteen feet high over the

water, and the lines which they traverse when they enjoy full liberty

of motion, are very low curves, and always in the direction of their

previous progress in the usual element of fishes. Their silvery wings and

blue bodies glittering beneath the rays of a tropical sun, afford a most

beautiful spectacle, when, as is frequently the case, they rise into the

air by thousands at once, and in all possible directions. The advantage

afforded them by their wing-like fins, in escaping from the pursuit of

the bonitos and albacores, often, however, leads to their destruction

in another element, where gulls and frigate-birds frequently seize them

with lightning-like rapidity, ere they fall back again into the ocean.

It is amusing to observe a bonito swimming beneath the feeble aëronaut,

keeping him steadily in view, and preparing to seize him at the moment

of his descent. But the flying-fish often eludes the bite of his enemy,

by instantaneously renewing his leap, and not unfrequently escapes by

extreme agility.

[Illustration: Flying-Fish.]

The specific gravity of the flying-fish can be most admirably regulated

in correspondence with the element through which it may move. The

swim-bladder, when distended, occupies nearly the entire cavity of the

abdomen, thus containing a large volume of air; and in addition to this,

there is a membrane in the mouth which can be inflated through the gills.

The pectoral fins, though so large when expanded, can be folded into an

exceedingly slender, neat, and compact form, so as to be no hindrance

to swimming. A light displayed from the chains of a vessel in a dark

night, will bring many flying-fishes on board, where they are esteemed

as a great delicacy. Their fate, thus to be persecuted in both elements

and to find security nowhere, has often been pitied in prose and verse;

but although they excite so much sentimental commiseration, they are

themselves no less predaceous than their enemies, feeding chiefly on

smaller fishes.

The flying-fish of the West Indian waters is frequently allured by the

tepid waters of the Gulf-stream into higher latitudes, and Pennant cites

several examples of its having been found near the British coast.

The Flying-Gurnard (_Trigla volitans_) of the Mediterranean, Atlantic,

and Indian seas, a highly singular and beautiful species, also raises

itself into the air by means of its large pectoral fins. It does not fly

very high, but swings itself as far as a musket-ball reaches, and may

thus elude even the rapidity of the dolphin. That strangely formed fish,

the _Pegasus_ of the Indian seas, is also enabled by its large pectoral

fins to support itself for some moments in the air, when it springs over

the surface of the water.

[Illustration: Swimming Pegasus.]

Neither the quadrupeds nor the birds are subject to so many persecutions

as the fishes, which have inexorable enemies in all classes of animals.

Numberless molluscs and zoophytes feed upon their eggs, or devour their

minute fry; myriads of sea-birds are on the look-out for them along

the strands, or on the high ocean; seals and ice-bears lie in wait for

them, while with weapons and deceit, with net, angle and harpoon, man

carries death and destruction into their ranks. It would be a difficult

task to state with any degree of exactness the number of fishermen

disseminated over the face of the globe, but if we consider that, on

a moderate calculation, at least a million of persons are directly or

indirectly engaged in fishing in Great Britain and Ireland alone, and

then cast a glance over the immense coast-line of the ocean, we may

without exaggeration affirm that at least one-fiftieth part of the

human race lives upon the produce of the seas. If we further reflect

that fishes form a great part of the food of all coast-inhabitants, and

consider in what masses they are sent into the interior,--fresh, dried,

salted, smoked, and pickled,--we cannot doubt that the great extent of

the ocean only apparently limits the numbers of the human race, for how

many thousands of square miles of the most fruitful soil would it not

require to bring forth the quantity of food which the blue and green

fields of ocean supply to man? "Bounteous mother," "_Alma parens_," was

the name given by the grateful ancients to the corn and grass-producing,

herd-feeding earth; but how much more deserving of that endearing

appellation is the sea, that, without being ploughed or manured,

dispenses her gifts with such inexhaustible profusion! Numberless indeed

are the various kinds of fishes which she furnishes to man, for almost

every species affords an equally agreeable and healthy food: but of all

the finny families or tribes that people the ocean none can compare

for utility with that of the _Clupeidæ_, or Herrings, small in size but

great in importance. In mile-long shoals, often so thickly pressed that

a spear cast into them would stand upright in the living stream, the

common herring appears annually on the coasts of north-western Europe,

pouring out the horn of abundance into all the lochs, bays, coves, and

fiords, from Norway to Ireland, and from Orcadia to Normandy. Sea-birds

without end keep thinning their ranks during the whole summer; armies of

rorquals, dolphins, seals, shell-fish, cods, and sharks devour them by

millions, and yet so countless are their numbers, that whole nations live

upon their spoils.

[Illustration: Herring.]

As soon as the season of their approach appears, fleets of herring boats

leave the northern ports, provided with drift-nets, about 1200 feet long.

The yarn is so thick that the wetted net sinks through its own weight,

and need not be held down by stones attached to the lower edge, for it

has been found that the herring is more easily caught in a slack net.

The upper edge is suspended from the drift-rope by various shorter and

smaller ropes, called buoy ropes, to which empty barrels are fastened,

and the whole of the floating apparatus is attached by long ropes to

the ship. Fishing takes place only during the night, for it is found

that the fish strike the nets in much greater numbers when it is dark

than while it is light. The darkest nights, therefore, and particularly

those in which the surface of the water is ruffled by a fresh breeze,

are considered the most favourable. To avoid collisions, each boat is

furnished with one or two torches. From off the beach at Yarmouth,

where often several thousand boats are fishing at the same time, these

numberless lights, passing to and fro in every direction, afford a

most lively and brilliant spectacle. The meshes of the net are exactly

calculated for the size of the herring, wide enough to receive the head

as far as behind the gill-cover, but not so narrow as to allow the

pectoral fins to pass. Thus the poor fish, when once entangled, is unable

to move backwards or forwards, and remains sticking in the net, like a

bad logician on the horns of a dilemma, until the fisherman hauls it on

board. In this manner a single net sometimes contains so vast a booty,

that it requires all the authority of a Cuvier or a Valenciennes to make

us believe the instances they mention. A fisherman of Dieppe caught in

one night 280,000 herrings, and threw as many back again into the sea.

Sometimes great sloops have been obliged to cut their nets, being about

to sink under the superabundant weight of the fish.

The oldest mention of the herring-fishery is found in the chronicles

of the monastery of Evesham, of the year 709; while the first French

documents on the subject only reach as far as the year 1030. As far back

as the days of William the Conqueror, Yarmouth was renowned for its

herring-fishery; and Dunkirk and the Brill conducted it on a grand scale

centuries before William Beukelaer of Biervliet, near Sluys, introduced a

better method of pickling herrings in small kegs, instead of salting them

as before in loose irregular heaps. It is very doubtful whether Solon

or Lycurgus ever were such benefactors of their respective countries as

this simple uneducated fisherman has been to his native land; for the

pickled herring mainly contributed to transform a small and insignificant

people into a mighty nation. In the year 1603, the value of the herrings

exported from Holland amounted to twenty millions of florins; and in

1615, the fishery gave employment to 2000 _buysen_, or smacks, and to

37,000 men. Three years later we see the United Provinces cover the

sea with 3000 _buysen_; 9000 additional boats served for the transport

of the fishes, and the whole trade gave employment to at least 200,000

individuals. At that time Holland provided all Europe with herrings, and

it may without exaggeration be affirmed that this small fish was their

best ally and assistant in casting off the Spanish yoke, by providing

them with money, the chief sinew of war. Had the emperor Charles V.

been able to foresee that Beukelaer's discovery would one day prove so

detrimental to his son and successor Philip II., he would hardly have

done the poor fisherman the honour to eat a herring and drink a glass of

wine over his tomb.

But all human prosperity is subject to change; and thus towards the

middle of the sixteenth century a series of calamities ruined the Dutch

fisheries. Cromwell gave them the first blow by the Navigation Act;

Blake the second, by his victories; in 1703 a French squadron destroyed

the greatest part of their herring-smacks; and finally, the competition

of the Swedes, and the closing of their ports by the English, under the

disastrous domination of Napoleon I., completed the ruin of that branch

of trade which had chiefly raised the fortunes of their fathers.

In the year 1814, when the Dutch first began to breathe after having

shaken off the yoke of the modern Attila, they made a faint attempt to

renew the herring-fishery with 106 boats, which, up to the year 1823,

had only increased to 128; since 1836, however, there has been a steady

progress, and herring-catching in the Zuyder Zee during the winter months

is yearly increasing in importance.

During the second half of the last century, while the herrings began

to desert the Dutch nets, they enriched the Swedes, who, during the

year 1781, exported from Gottenburg alone 136,649 barrels, each of them

containing 1200 herrings. But some years after, the shoals on the Swedish

coasts began also to diminish, so that in 1799 there was hardly enough

for home consumption. And now commenced the rapid rise and increase of

the Scotch herring-fisheries; and it is certainly remarkable that this

should have taken place at so late a period, since the British waters are

perhaps those which most abound in herrings. When we think of the present

grandeur of British commerce, which extends to the most distant parts of

the globe, and ransacks all Nature for new articles of trade, it seems

almost incredible that up to the middle of the sixteenth century the

herring-fishery on the British coasts was left in the hands of the Dutch

and Spaniards, and that the acute and industrious Scotchmen should have

been so tardy in working the rich gold-mines lying at their gates. But if

their appearance in the market has been late, they have made up for lost

time, by completely distancing all their competitors. In 1855, the Scotch

herring-fisheries employed no less than 11,000 smacks or boats, manned

by 40,000 seamen, who were assisted by 28,000 curers and labourers,

exclusive of the vessels and men bringing salt and barrels or engaged in

carrying on the export trade.

The English herring-fishery is also extremely important, for Yarmouth

alone employs in this branch of trade about 400 sloops, of from forty

to seventy tons, the largest of which have ten or twelve men on board.

Three of these sloops, belonging to the same proprietor, landed, in the

year 1857, 285 lasts, or 3,762,000 fishes; and as each last was sold for

£14 sterling, it is probable that no whaler made a better business that

season. The importance of the Yarmouth herring-fishery may be inferred

from the fact, that it gives employment and bread to about 5,000 persons

during several months of the year, and engages a capital of at least

£700,000. No wonder, that among the north seamen the herring-fishery is

called the "great" fishery, while that of the whale is denominated only

the "small."

But the herring is a very capricious creature, seldom remaining long in

one place; and there is not a station along the British coast which is

not liable to great changes in its visits, as well with regard to time

as to quantity. The real causes of these irregularities are unknown; the

firing of guns, the manufacture of kelp, and the paddling of steam-boats

have been assigned as reasons, but such reasons are quite imaginary.

The progress of science promises to find, however, a remedy even for

the caprices of the herring; and if his shoals frequently appear and

disappear again in the more retired bays or fiords of Norway, before the

fishermen are apprised of his movements, the electric telegraph (the most

wonderful discovery of a time so rich in wonderful inventions), will be

used for his more effectual capture. By this time the wires are already

laid, which are to communicate along the whole Scandinavian coast, and

with the rapidity of lightning, every important movement of the marine

hosts. Poor herring! who would have thought, when Franklin made his first

experiments upon electricity, that that mysterious power should ever be

used for thy destruction!

The supposed migration of herrings to and from the high northern

latitudes is not founded on fact; the herring has never been seen in

abundance in the northern seas, nor have our whale-fishers or Arctic

voyagers taken any particular notice of them. There is no fishery for

them of any consequence either in Greenland or Iceland. On the southern

coast of Greenland the herring is a rare fish, and, according to Crantz,

only a small variety makes its appearance on the northern shore. This

small variety, or species, was found by Sir John Franklin on the shore of

the Polar basin, on his second journey. There can be no doubt that the

herring inhabits the deep water all round our coast, and only approaches

the shores for the purpose of depositing its spawn within the immediate

influence of the two principal agents in vivification--increased

temperature and oxygen--and as soon as that essential object is

effected, the shoals that haunt the superficial waters disappear, but

individuals are found, and many are to be caught throughout the year. So

far are they from being migratory to us from the north only, that they

visit the west coast of Cork in August, arriving there much earlier than

those which come down the Irish Channel, and long before their brethren

make their appearance at places much farther north. Our common herring

spawns towards the end of October, or the beginning of November, and

it is for two or three months previous to this, when they assemble in

immense numbers, that the fishing is carried on, which is of such great

and national importance. "And here," Mr. Couch observes, "we cannot but

admire the economy of Divine Providence, by which this and several other

species of fish are brought to the shores, within reach of man, at the

time when they are in their highest perfection and best fitted to be his

food." The herring having spawned, retires to deep water, and the fishing

ends for that season. While inhabiting the depths of the ocean, its food

is said, by Dr. Knox, to consist principally of minute entomostraceous

animals, but it is certainly less choice in its selection when near the

shore.

[Illustration: Pilchard.]

Although the common herring of our northern seas is beyond all doubt

the most important of the tribe, yet there is no sea, no coast, where

other species of the same family are not a source of abundance to man,

and of astonishment by their vast numbers. Thus the enormous shoals of

Pilchards appearing along our south-western coasts are not less valuable

to the fishermen of Devon and Cornwall than the common herring to those

of the North Sea. The older naturalists considered the pilchard, like

the herring, as a visitor from a distant region, and they assigned to

it also the same place of resort as that fish, with which indeed the

pilchard has been sometimes confounded. To this it will be a sufficient

reply, that the pilchard is never seen in the Northern Ocean. They

frequent the French coasts, and are seen on those of Spain, but on

neither in considerable numbers or with much regularity; so that few

fishes confine themselves within such narrow bounds. On the coast of

Cornwall they are found throughout all the seasons of the year, and even

there their habits vary in the different months. In January they keep

near the bottom, and are chiefly hauled up in the stomachs of ravenous

fishes; in March they sometimes assemble in _schulls_, but this union is

only partial and not permanent and only becomes so in July; when they

regularly and permanently congregate so as to invite the fisherman's

pursuit. The season and situation for spawning, and the choice of food,

are the chief reasons which influence the motions of the great bodies

of these fish; and it is probable that a thorough knowledge of these

particulars would explain all the variations which have been noticed in

the doings of the pilchard, in the numerous unsuccessful seasons of the

fishery.

They feed with voracity on small crustaceous animals, and Mr. Yarrell

frequently found their stomachs crammed with thousands of a minute

species of shrimp, not larger than a flea. It is probably when they are

in search of something like this, that fishermen report they have seen

them lying in myriads quietly at the bottom, examining with their mouths

the sand and small stones in shallow water. The abundance of this food

must be enormous, to satisfy such a host.