JOHN.

No. VII.

On the first arrival of the crabs, when they throng the shoals of the

creeks in vast crowds, as heretofore mentioned, a very summary way of

taking them is resorted to by the country people, and for a purpose that

few would suspect, without having witnessed it. They use a three-pronged

fork or gig, made for this sport, attached to a long handle; the

crabber, standing up in the skiff, pushes it along until he is over a

large collection of crabs, and then strikes his spear among them. By

this several are transfixed at once, and lifted into the boat, and the

operation is repeated until enough have been taken. The purpose to which

they are to be applied is to feed the hogs, which very soon learn to

collect in waiting upon the beach, when the crab spearing is going on.

Although these bristly gentry appear to devour almost all sorts of food

with great relish, it seemed to me that they regarded the crabs as a

most luxurious banquet; and it was truly amusing to see the grunters,

when the crabs were thrown on shore for them, and were scampering off in

various directions, seizing them in spite of their threatening claws,

holding them down with one foot, and speedily reducing them to a state

of helplessness by breaking off their forceps. Such a crunching and

cracking of the unfortunate crabs I never have witnessed since; and I

might have commiserated them more, had not I known that death in some

form or other was continually awaiting them, and that their devourers

were all destined to meet their fate in a few months in the stye, and

thence through the smoke-house to be placed upon our table. On the

shores of the Chesapeake I have caught crabs in a way commonly employed

by all those who are unprovided with boats and nets. This is to have a

forked stick and a baited line, with which the crabber wades out as far

as he thinks fit, and then throws out his line. As soon as he finds he

has a bite, he draws the line in, cautiously lifting but a very little

from the bottom. As soon as it is near enough to be fairly in reach, he

quickly, yet with as little movement as possible, secures the crab by

placing the forked stick across his body, and pressing him against the

sand. He must then stoop down and take hold of the crab by the two

posterior swimming legs, so as to avoid being seized by the claws.

Should he not wish to carry each crab ashore as he catches it, he

pinions or _spansels_ (as the fishermen call it) them. This is a very

effectual mode of disabling them from using their biting claws, yet it

is certainly not the most humane operation: it is done by taking the

first of the sharp-pointed feet of each side, and forcing it in for the

length of the joint behind the moveable joint or thumb of the opposite

biting claw. The crabs are then strung upon a string or wythe, and

allowed to hang in the water until the crabber desists from his

occupations. In the previous article, crabs were spoken of as curious

and interesting, and the reader may not consider the particulars thus

far given as being particularly so. Perhaps, when he takes them

altogether, he will agree that they have as much that is curious about

their construction as almost any animal we have mentioned, and in the

interesting details we have as yet made but a single step.

The circumstance of the external skeleton has been mentioned; but who

would expect an animal as low in the scale as a crab, to be furnished

with ten or twelve pair of jaws to its mouth? Yet such is the fact; and

all these variously-constructed pieces are provided with appropriate

muscles, and move in a manner which can scarcely be explained, though it

may be very readily comprehended when once observed in living nature.

But, after all the complexity of the jaws, where would an inexperienced

person look for their teeth?--surely not in the stomach?--nevertheless,

such is their situation; and these are not mere appendages, that are

called teeth by courtesy, but stout, regular grinding teeth, with a

light brown surface. They are not only within the stomach, but fixed to

a cartilage nearest to its lower extremity, so that the food, unlike

that of other creatures, is submitted to the action of the teeth as it

is passing _from_ the stomach, instead of being chewed before it is

swallowed. In some species the teeth are five in number; but throughout

this class of animals the same general principle of construction may be

observed. Crabs and their kindred have no brain, because they are not

required to reason upon what they observe: they have a nervous system

excellently suited to their mode of life, and its knots or ganglia send

out nerves to the organs of sense, digestion, motion, etc. The senses of

these beings are very acute, especially their sight, hearing, and smell.

Most of my readers have heard of crabs' eyes, or have seen these organs

in the animal on the end of two little projecting knobs, above and on

each side of the mouth: few of them, however, have seen the crab's ear;

yet it is very easily found, and is a little triangular bump placed near

the base of the feelers. This bump has a membrane stretched over it, and

communicates with a small cavity, which is the internal ear. The _organ_

of smell is not so easily demonstrated as that of hearing, though the

evidence of their possessing the sense to an acute degree is readily

attainable. A German naturalist inferred, from the fact of the nerve

corresponding to the olfactory nerve in man being distributed to the

antennae, in insects, that the antennae were the organs of smell in them.

Cuvier and others suggest that a similar arrangement may exist in the

crustacea. To satisfy myself whether it was so or not, I lately

dissected a small lobster, and was delighted to find that the first pair

of nerves actually went to the antennae, and gave positive support to the

opinion mentioned. I state this, not to claim credit for ascertaining

the truth or inaccuracies of a suggestion, but with a view of inviting

the reader to do the same in all cases of doubt. Where it is possible

to refer to _nature_ for the actual condition of facts, learned

_authorities_ give me no uneasiness. If I find that the structure bears

out their opinions, it is more satisfactory; when it convicts them of

absurdity, it saves much fruitless reading, as well as the trouble of

shaking off prejudices.

The first time my attention was called to the extreme acuteness of sight

possessed by these animals, was during a walk along the flats of Long

Island, reaching towards Governor's Island, in New York, A vast number

of the small land-crabs, called fiddlers by the boys (_gecarcinus_),

occupy burrows or caves dug in the marshy soil, whence they come out and

go for some distance, either in search of food or to sun themselves.

Long before I approached close enough to see their forms with

distinctness, they were scampering towards their holes, into which they

plunged with a tolerable certainty of escape--these retreats being of

considerable depth, and often communicating with each other, as well as

nearly filled with water. On endeavouring cautiously to approach some

others, it was quite amusing to observe their vigilance--to see them

slowly change position, and, from lying extended in the sun, beginning

to gather themselves up for a start, should it prove necessary: at

length standing up, as it were, on tiptoe, and raising their

pedunculated eyes as high as possible. One quick step on the part of the

individual approaching was enough--away they would go, with a celerity

which must appear surprising to any one who had not previously

witnessed it. What is more remarkable, they possess the power of moving

equally well with any part of the body foremost; so that, when

endeavouring to escape, they will suddenly dart off to one side or the

other, without turning round, and thus elude pursuit. My observations

upon the crustaceous animals have extended through many years, and in

very various situations; and for the sake of making the general view of

their qualities more satisfactory, I will go on to state what I remarked

of some of the genera and species in the West Indies, where they are

exceedingly numerous and various. The greater proportion of the genera

feed on animal matter, especially after decomposition has begun: a large

number are exclusively confined to the deep waters, and approach the

shoals and lands only during the spawning season. Many live in the sea,

but daily pass many hours upon the rocky shores for the pleasure of

basking in the sun; others live in marshy or moist ground, at a

considerable distance from the water, and feed principally on vegetable

food, especially the sugar-cane, of which they are extremely

destructive. Others, again, reside habitually on the hills or mountains,

and visit the sea only once a year, for the purpose of depositing their

eggs in the sand. All those which reside in burrows made in moist

ground, and those coming daily on the rocks to bask in the sun,

participate in about an equal degree in the qualities of vigilance and

swiftness. Many a breathless race have I run in vain, attempting to

intercept them, and prevent their escaping into the sea. Many an hour of

cautious and solicitous endeavour to steal upon them unobserved, has

been frustrated by their long-sighted watchfulness; and several times,

when, by extreme care and cunning approaches, I have actually succeeded

in getting between a fine specimen and the sea, and had full hope of

driving him farther inland, have all my anticipations been ruined by the

wonderful swiftness of their flight, or the surprising facility with

which they would dart off in the very opposite direction, at the very

moment I felt almost sure of my prize. One day, in particular, I saw on

a flat rock, which afforded a fine sunning place, the most beautiful

crab I had ever beheld. It was of the largest size, and would have

covered a large dinner-plate, most beautifully coloured with bright

crimson below, and a variety of tints of blue, purple, and green above:

it was just such a specimen as could not fail to excite all the

solicitude of a collector to obtain. But it was not in the least

deficient in the art of self-preservation: my most careful manoeuvres

proved ineffectual, and all my efforts only enabled me to see enough of

it to augment my regrets to a high degree. Subsequently, I saw a similar

individual in the collection of a resident: this had been killed against

the rocks during a violent hurricane, with very slight injury to its

shell. I offered high rewards to the black people if they would bring me

such a one, but the most expert among them seemed to think it an

unpromising search, as they knew of no way of capturing them. If I had

been supplied with some powder of nux vomica, with which to poison some

meat, I _might_ have succeeded.

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