I
Until the extraordinary affair at Sidmouth, the peculiar species
_Haploteuthis ferox_ was known to science only generically, on the
strength of a half-digested tentacle obtained near the Azores, and a
decaying body pecked by birds and nibbled by fish, found early in 1896
by Mr. Jennings, near Land’s End.
In no department of zoölogical science, indeed, are we quite so much in
the dark as with regard to the deep-sea cephalopods. A mere accident,
for instance, it was that led to the Prince of Monaco’s discovery of
nearly a dozen new forms in the summer of 1895, a discovery in which the
before-mentioned tentacle was included. It chanced that a cachalot was
killed off Terceira by some sperm-whalers, and in its last struggles
charged almost to the Prince’s yacht, missed it, rolled under, and died
within twenty yards of his rudder. And in its agony it threw up a number
of large objects, which the Prince, dimly perceiving they were strange
and important, was, by a happy expedient, able to secure before they
sank. He set his screws in motion, and kept them circling in the
vortices thus created until a boat could be lowered. And these specimens
were whole cephalopods and fragments of cephalopods, some of gigantic
proportions, and almost all of them unknown to science!
It would seem, indeed, that these large and agile creatures, living in
the middle depths of the sea, must, to a large extent, for ever remain
unknown to us, since under water they are too nimble for nets, and it is
only by such rare unlooked-for accidents that specimens can be obtained.
In the case of _Haploteuthis ferox_, for instance, we are still
altogether ignorant of its habitat, as ignorant as we are of the
breeding-ground of the herring or the sea-ways of the salmon. And
zoölogists are altogether at a loss to account for its sudden appearance
on our coast. Possibly it was the stress of a hunger migration that
drove it hither out of the deep. But it will be, perhaps, better to
avoid necessarily inconclusive discussion, and to proceed at once with
our narrative.
The first human being to set eyes upon a living _Haploteuthis_—the first
human being to survive, that is, for there can be little doubt now that
the wave of bathing fatalities and boating accidents that travelled
along the coast of Cornwall and Devon in early May was due to this
cause—was a retired tea-dealer of the name of Fison, who was stopping at
a Sidmouth boarding-house. It was in the afternoon, and he was walking
along the cliff path between Sidmouth and Ladram Bay. The cliffs in this
direction are very high, but down the red face of them in one place a
kind of ladder staircase has been made. He was near this when his
attention was attracted by what at first he thought to be a cluster of
birds struggling over a fragment of food that caught the sunlight, and
glistened pinkish-white. The tide was right out, and this object was not
only far below him, but remote across a broad waste of rock reefs
covered with dark seaweed and interspersed with silvery, shining, tidal
pools. And he was, moreover, dazzled by the brightness of the further
water.
In a minute, regarding this again, he perceived that his judgment was in
fault, for over this struggle circled a number of birds, jackdaws and
gulls for the most part, the latter gleaming blindingly when the
sunlight smote their wings, and they seemed minute in comparison with
it. And his curiosity was, perhaps, aroused all the more strongly
because of his first insufficient explanations.
As he had nothing better to do than amuse himself, he decided to make
this object, whatever it was, the goal of his afternoon walk, instead of
Ladram Bay, conceiving it might perhaps be a great fish of some sort,
stranded by some chance, and flapping about in its distress. And so he
hurried down the long steep ladder, stopping at intervals of thirty feet
or so to take breath and scan the mysterious movement.
At the foot of the cliff he was, of course, nearer his object than he
had been; but, on the other hand, it now came up against the
incandescent sky, beneath the sun, so as to seem dark and indistinct.
Whatever was pinkish of it was now hidden by a skerry of weedy boulders.
But he perceived that it was made up of seven rounded bodies, distinct
or connected, and that the birds kept up a constant croaking and
screaming, but seemed afraid to approach it too closely.
Mr. Fison, torn by curiosity, began picking his way across the wave-worn
rocks, and, finding the wet seaweed that covered them thickly rendered
them extremely slippery, he stopped, removed his shoes and socks, and
coiled his trousers above his knees. His object was, of course, merely
to avoid stumbling into the rocky pools about him, and perhaps he was
rather glad, as all men are, of an excuse to resume, even for a moment,
the sensations of his boyhood. At any rate, it is to this, no doubt,
that he owes his life.
He approached his mark with all the assurance which the absolute
security of this country against all forms of animal life gives its
inhabitants. The round bodies moved to and fro, but it was only when he
surmounted the skerry of boulders I have mentioned that he realised the
horrible nature of the discovery. It came upon him with some suddenness.
The rounded bodies fell apart as he came into sight over the ridge, and
displayed the pinkish object to be the partially devoured body of a
human being, but whether of a man or woman he was unable to say. And the
rounded bodies were new and ghastly-looking creatures, in shape somewhat
resembling an octopus, and with huge and very long and flexible
tentacles, coiled copiously on the ground. The skin had a glistening
texture, unpleasant to see, like shiny leather. The downward bend of the
tentacle-surrounded mouth, the curious excrescence at the bend, the
tentacles, and the large, intelligent eyes, gave the creatures a
grotesque suggestion of a face. They were the size of a fair-sized swine
about the body, and the tentacles seemed to him to be many feet in
length. There were, he thinks, seven or eight at least of the creatures.
Twenty yards beyond them, amid the surf of the now returning tide, two
others were emerging from the sea.
Their bodies lay flatly on the rocks, and their eyes regarded him with
evil interest; but it does not appear that Mr. Fison was afraid, or that
he realised that he was in any danger. Possibly his confidence is to be
ascribed to the limpness of their attitudes. But he was horrified, of
course, and intensely excited and indignant at such revolting creatures
preying upon human flesh. He thought they had chanced upon a drowned
body. He shouted to them, with the idea of driving them off, and,
finding they did not budge, cast about him, picked up a big rounded lump
of rock, and flung it at one.
And then, slowly uncoiling their tentacles, they all began moving
towards him—creeping at first deliberately, and making a soft, purring
sound to each other.
In a moment Mr. Fison realised that he was in danger. He shouted again,
threw both his boots, and started off, with a leap, forthwith. Twenty
yards off he stopped and faced about, judging them slow, and, behold!
the tentacles of their leader were already pouring over the rocky ridge
on which he had just been standing!
At that he shouted again, but this time not threatening, but a cry of
dismay, and began jumping, striding, slipping, wading across the uneven
expanse between him and the beach. The tall red cliffs seemed suddenly
at a vast distance, and he saw, as though they were creatures in another
world, two minute workmen engaged in the repair of the ladder-way, and
little suspecting the race for life that was beginning below them. At
one time he could hear the creatures splashing in the pools not a dozen
feet behind him, and once he slipped and almost fell.
They chased him to the very foot of the cliffs, and desisted only when
he had been joined by the workmen at the foot of the ladder-way up the
cliff. All three of the men pelted them with stones for a time, and then
hurried to the cliff top and along the path towards Sidmouth, to secure
assistance and a boat, and to rescue the desecrated body from the
clutches of these abominable creatures.