in their habits, and we know of no instance of their being known to
travel either singly or in bodies to the sea coast. A member of the
same genera, represented in the annexed cut, is found in many parts of
the south of Europe, forming burrows for itself in the river banks,
and from this habit obtains the name of _Thelphusa fluviatilis_. Few
specimens reach three inches in length, and the colour is no means
inviting, being of a dingy yellow. Yet it appears to have attracted
much attention amongst the ancients: both Aristotle and Hippocrates
knew it well, and there are medals which were struck in very early
periods bearing representations of this Crab on them. There appear
to be some religious associations connected with crustaceans of this
description, as we find the monks of the Greek church taking some pains
to procure them, and then disposing of the dainty without troubling
the cook. In Italy the burrowing Crabs are eaten at Easter, much as we
eat hot-cross-buns on Good Friday. There are other Crabs which form
burrows both in the sands of the sea-shore and the banks and plains of
the interior. One of these is the _Sand Crab_ (_Ocypoda arenaria_) of
naturalists). The wide, open sand stretches of many tropical countries,
abound with these remarkably agile little creatures, who excavate holes
in the sand close to the borders of the tide. These are the lilliputian
pedestrians with whom skylarking midshipmen engage in foot-races along
the strand, and meet ignominious defeat in consequence. As autumn
approaches, their sea-side retreats are quitted, the inland burrows
occupied, and a state of hybernation gone into, until, the winter
having passed away and the spring weather come, _Seaward ho!_ is the
order of the day again.
The _Gelasimus_ is in many respects similar in its habits to these
fleet-footed gentlemen, but he turns his attention more directly to
sapping and mining operations, carrying on his labours in the most
cunning and artful manner. Nothing annoys him more than to have prying
men or investigating animals, passing their remarks, or taking note
of the mouth of his shaft; so he digs away in his deep level, until
he has accumulated a goodly quantity of sand and earth, when up he
comes stealthily to the opening of his mine, pops out his head, peers
sharply and jealously round, and, if the coast appears clear, round he
flourishes his claw with all the force and precision of an accomplished
round-hand bowler at cricket, and away he casts the proceeds of his
excavations, but at the same time taking care that no two clawfuls go
in the same direction, lest the newly-raised sand should betray the
secret he is so careful to conceal.
The sands of the reefs and islands of the Eastern seas afford a home
for the King Crab (_Limulus_), who, with his odd-looking, shield-shaped
body, and long blade-like spike or spear, will be familiar to many of
our readers. Some individuals of this species grow to a very large
size, and are sought for by the Malays, both on account of the immense
number of eggs they sometimes contain, and the natural weapon with
which nature has armed them. These lance-shaped spears are often made
use of as points for arrows and other warlike implements, mainly
because the wounds inflicted with them are more painful and dangerous
than those received from instruments of iron or steel. The Malays
are by no means an amiable or forgiving race, and take infinitely
more pains to poison the blade of the “crease” or serpentine-knife
they carry, than to serve a friend or save a life, and we therefore
feel far more respect for the Crab who furnishes the point for the
arrow, than for the man who fires it. Then there is the _Nut Crab_, or
_Calappa_, whose queer little legs are so closely tucked away under his
odd little shell, that rambling “_Jack Tars_” in search of “_Curios_”
not unfrequently gather a few to bring home to their friends, under
the idea that when cut and polished they will serve to form elegant
brooches and splendid shirt-pins, for the gay promenades of Portsmouth
and Plymouth. A dry old salt of a quartermaster, on the Indian station,
chanced one day, when on shore for a cruise, to become possessed of a
goodly number of these _lucky stones_, as he called them, and by way
of securing his treasures placed them in an old silk-handkerchief, and
stowed them away, with a few dollars and sundry cakes of _cavendish_,
in the corner of his chest. It so happened that some piratical
ship-mate, not proof against the allurements of _honey dew_ and silver,
but totally indifferent to natural history, seized his opportunity and
spirited off the tobacco and money, but left the _lucky stones_ behind.
The next day, when our old friend came for his accustomed supply of
the weed, he, to his horror, astonishment, and indignation, found the
supposed pebbles in active motion, performing foot-races over his
best jacket, the handkerchief spread open, and, alas! empty. “Well,”
exclaimed he, “blow me if this ain’t too much of the monkey. Why, look
ye here, messmates; these here blessed stones have come to life, every
man Jack of ’em. _They’ve chawed all my bacca_ and spent every meg of
my money; and now I’ll heave all the beggars to Davey Jones’s locker.
Overboard is where I means to pitch ’em!” and so he did, no doubt
to the intense gratification of the falsely-accused Crabs. Like the
Rocky Mountain ant, in whose hill precious stones are not unfrequently
found,--the codfish acts the part of treasure-seeker among the rocks
and sands of the ocean’s depths,--minute crustaceans of great variety,
are by the shrewd and practical lover of natural history, taken from
the stomachs of the captured fish, and many would have remained all but
unknown to science had it not been that the Crab collecting-habits of
certain large sea-fish, were discovered and promptly taken advantage
of. We strongly advise all those who are fond of collecting either
British or foreign specimens never to miss the opportunity of acquiring
crustaceous wealth held out by the taking of a large deep sea-fish.
Take out his “_treasure-sack_”--the stomach,--wash the contents in
plenty of clean water, carefully examine them, and the trouble will
not be thrown away, or the research made in vain. We have obtained
very large numbers of a very pretty little Crab scarcely as large as
a coffee-bean (_Porcellana longicornis_) in this way. This little
creature is closely allied to _P. platycheles_, found abundantly on the
southern coast of Devon. He delights to dwell like a sort of “_Dirty
Dick_” of crustacean life in a mud hovel of his own scooping, working
his way beneath stones which appear close enough to the bottom to make
a crab-biscuit of him. Catch him, when or how you will, he is always
like an elfish brick-maker, condemned to make bricks without straw, and
debarred the privilege of washing. His jacket and trousers are begrimed
with red dust, and his queer little face peers out at you, like that of
an Indian idol smeared with war-paint. Nature has, however, endowed him
with brush-bearing feet, with which he from time to time dusts his own
suit; but he remains a rather dusty, grimy, little fellow after all,
and we cannot help thinking that the treatment prescribed by Mr. Dick,
for David Copperfield, would greatly benefit his personal appearance.
Nature appears, when modelling the forms of the endless types of
curious crustacean life with which the Southern and Eastern seas
abound, to have given free scope to a love for marvellous quaintness
and oddity of contour. The coasts of Japan furnish us with examples
of Crab life so hideously grotesque, that nothing short of seeing a
veritable specimen would serve to convince any one who had first
seen a sketch of this Japanese notability, that the whole conception
was not the creation of a distempered dream. _Macrocheira-kœmpferi_,
of which two remarkably fine specimens are to be seen in the British
Museum, are just the kind of Crabs a timid young lady, or nervous young
gentleman, would strongly object to meet “_by the sad sea wave_,”
or elsewhere. Their legs are so long, that running away from them
would be utterly useless,--giving them, when standing, the height of
an ordinary camp-stool, whilst the nipper claws appear constructed
precisely on the same principle as are the arms of the magic policeman
of a pantomime, which stretch easily from the level of the street to
the housetop, where that prince of evil-doers, the clown, has vainly
sought sanctuary. Then the coasts of Tasmania and other portions of
Australasia are inhabited by Crabs, who make up in bulk and enormous
power, the little they may fall short of their Japanese cousins in
length of limb. The pincers of some of these are large enough to
embrace the thigh of a man easily, and we apprehend that escape from
that bugbear of apple-stealing rustics, the village man-trap, would be
a matter of perfect simplicity, and a mere practical joke, to getting
out of the grip of one of the gigantic crustaceans of the antipodes.
As some of these are remarkable for their formidable appearance and
colossal power, so are others well worthy of note on account of their
beauty of colour and elegance of conformation. _Neptunus pelagicus_,
a Crab of medium size, is wonderfully handsome, being ornamented with
most strangely arranged spicules, and spotted with purple, shading off
into pink. _Oceanus crucifer_, an inhabitant of the Indian seas, is
perfectly charming in his way; in fact, a sort of “_Dresden beauty_,”
who might be easily mistaken for a specimen of the most exquisite pink
and white china.
From the Chilian coast we have another Crab, of a totally different
style of beauty, in the person of _Cancer dentatus_, who appears
to have laid the forest under contribution to furnish his unique
wardrobe. A coat of bark, plant-stalk legs, and a very becoming frill,
of autumnal-brown fern-leaves, constitute his _get up_, and it is no
flattery to say that he looks uncommonly well in it. From the Caribbean
sea we get, amongst a whole host of strange productions, that little
gem of a Crab, _Mithraculus coronatus_. He looks as if designed
expressly to be converted into a brooch, his compact little body
resembling the most delicately tinted, blue porcelain, whilst his tiny
claws are more like minute tufts of fur than aught else we can compare
them to.
_Leucosia urania_ is another strange Chinese Crab, resembling in no
common degree a pebble of polished white agate; whilst a brother, _P.
porcellana_, is found in Australia; and nearer home, we obtain from
the neighbourhood of the Island of Madeira the _Plagusia squamosa_, or
Goat Crab, whose whole shell is rich in ornamentation, and who is by no
means unlike a handsomely chased snuff-box, inlaid with chinaware and
metal. Unlike these bits of ocean bric-a-brac is _Parthenope horrida_,
from the reefs bordering the Isle of France. This unprepossessing
individual the casual observer would declare without hesitation to be
an ungainly, rugged lump of broken white coral rock; and there are
uncomfortable asperities and corners enough to prevent any pedestrian,
however heedless, from stepping on it; and let him just pick one up
to cast at some passing sea-bird, and see how quickly the stone will
resent the liberty, and show how he is to be depended on at a pinch.
Then, to step from the harsh and uncompromising to the grotesque
and elfish, we have but to visit the genial blue waters of the
Mediterranean, where we find about as comical a little Crab as exists
in all “Crabdom,” wide as that ill-defined dominion unquestionably
is. This little gentleman is known as _Dromia lator_, and his habits,
to say the least of them, are as eccentric as his personal appearance
is queer. A hairy, wiry-coated, round-bodied, little crabling is
he, and his delight is to go hunting and foraging about amongst the
coralines, medusæ, and molluscs at the bottom, and because he is a
designing, artful little wolf of a crab, he brings to bear his talent
for stratagem. After searching out a nice, hollow piece of soft and
fine-grained sponge, he works his way under it--roaches up his little
back, until the yielding material opens and again closes round him,
thus forming a snug and well fitting great-coat, which, like charity,
covers a multitude of sins.
The tricksy sprites of fish and shrimps, as they joyously disport
themselves amongst the branching coral, take little heed of the
familiar ball of sponge, which in some unaccountable manner or another
appears, uninvited, in the very midst of the revels. It is strange,
certainly, that guest after guest should vanish into it, and return
no more; but sponges, you know, are common enough in every grade
of society, and therefore it is that the one in question is little
suspected of having a live adventurer, of the most acquisitive and
_nipsome_ habits, bound up within its folds: but there he is, for all
that, as you would find out to your cost, if you unwittingly enlisted
him for toilet purposes, on the strength of his borrowed uniform.
As another instance of quaint resemblance to inanimate or stationary
objects, we have _Echinocerus cibarius_, a native of the North-west
Coast of America, where it was discovered during the voyage of Her
Majesty’s ship _Plumper_; and nothing on earth does this rugose
creature so much resemble as a large, uneven, ball of half-baked brick
clay, and his claim to the honour of being a Crab, would be laughed to
scorn by those who from bashfulness had never shaken hands with him.
Australia, that land of oddities, contributes to our store a perfect
little sea vagabond, in the person of _Pilumnus nespertilis_, who is
without any exception the very dirtiest and most disreputable-looking
little scamp in all king Neptune’s dominions. Cut a frayed-out corner,
from a chimney-sweep’s soot-bag, and you have his exact resemblance.
Yet who shall say that _P. nespertilis_ is not a gentleman, in spite of
his unpromising and unfashionable raiment!
Australia is a land of contradictions, as we all know. Even
_explorers’_ names serve but to mislead and confound the uninitiated.
We have “Cape pigeons,” which are no more pigeons than wild geese or
storks: “Cape salmon,” which own to no bonds of relationship with the
family of _Salmonidæ_.
The “robins” of the United States of America bear no resemblance to
those of England, and enjoy none of the love, protection, and numerous
privileges universally accorded to their more fortunate namesakes
on this side of the Atlantic. Again, we say advisedly, let no man
heedlessly try the strength of his teeth on an “Indian wood-apple,”
simply because it is called “an apple.” He had far better make an
attempt on an iron cannon-shot of Woolwich pattern at once, than try
his powers of mastication on one of these forest fruits. The cherry of
Australia, too, has a disagreeable and exasperating habit of growing
with its stone outside, and of being highly unpalatable into the
bargain; whilst the “pear” of that favoured land would, if duly fitted
by a clever cabinet-maker, and properly polished, make an excellent
and highly ornamental knob for a street door. A cabbage-tree is by
no means bad as a producer of material for the manufacture of hats,
and the green tops are occasionally boiled by settlers of vegetarian
inclinings; but any one sanguine enough to seek cabbages amongst the
cabbage-palms might reasonably be looked for, with bridle on arm, and
basket in hand, carefully prospecting the pastures for a “mare’s nest,”
with a view to the leading home of the colts and the basketing of such
eggs as might remain unhatched. Depend, therefore, that our begrimed
little acquaintance is not exactly as stupid as he looks, and that his
dirty, hempen jacket, is given him for some wise purpose. Nothing is
created in vain; and Columbus, with all his talent and power as a sea
commander, gladly availed himself of the services of one of the most
tiny Crabs (_Planes minutus_), who, floating by the good ship, in his
tangled bed of _Sargossa_ or gulf-weed, was hauled on board by the
bronzed and storm-tossed mariners, by whom he was at once introduced
to the chief, the man of demonstration, who crushed in the egg’s end to
make it stand upright. “A crab!” said he; “a good and fair harbinger of
land, which, with God’s help, we shall soon discover.” And so they did,
for the Crab’s tale came true, and the West India Islands were almost
immediately fallen in with, and duly investigated.
_P. minutus_ is a roving sailor by nature, and is carried on his long
sea-voyages by the masses of weed ever carried onward by the warm and
genial gulf-stream, and there is little doubt that members of the
family to which he belongs, now naturalized on our own coasts, first
travelled hither amongst the meshes of their ocean raft, which knew no
return. Such specimens as have been procured on the coasts of England,
are not as large or brilliant in their colour, as those captured in
more genial climes.
The Floating Crabs, as met with in true gulf streams, are extremely
pretty little creatures, measuring about eight-tenths of an inch in
length. They are clouded and shaded with rich warm brown, yellow,
and buff, and well deserve the consideration of the lover of natural
history.
The almost innumerable channels stretching between the coral reefs,
lagunes, and palm-clad islands of the Southern Seas are inhabited
by legions of Crabs of next to endless species and varieties. Many
of these feed luxuriously on the vast numbers of “Trepang,” or sea
slug (_Holotharia edulis_) found in these latitudes. The human crab
industriously seeks his share of this half-grub, half-slug, delicacy,
and some account of its nature and mode of preparation may not prove
unacceptable to the reader. The _Bêche-de-mer_, as this uninviting
looking creature is called by the traders who deal in it, is in
immense request in nearly every market in the Chinese empire, as a
stock ingredient to be used in the preparation of the rich, glutinous
soups and stews, in which the Celestials so much delight. They are
also extensively used to mix with little squares of salt pork, sharks’
fins, and pickled bamboo shoots; when thus combined, served up as a
stew, and accompanied by diminutive cups of hot “sam shoo,” or rice
spirit, John Chinaman, when fortunate enough to get it, yields himself
to gastronomic enjoyment, and cares not to call the most important
mandarin in the empire, his uncle. As there are brands of high repute
amongst wine producers, so are there _high_ and _low_ class _slugs_ in
the sea’s great larder, and there are six kinds well known in the trade.
The best are those procured by divers, who prosecute their labours
amongst the deep recesses between the reefs, where the water is
always of considerable depth. The next quality is taken by nocturnal
hunting-parties, who sally forth, torch in hand, and thread the
intricate mazes amongst the coral ponds and lagunes, making night
hideous by their fiendish shouts, and wild, weird proceedings. The
bright moon-light nights so enjoyable within the tropics, are also
taken advantage of, for slug-catching purposes, when great quantities
of average worth are not unfrequently procured. The inferior sorts
are usually gathered by the idlers and children of the islands, who
wander about in the rock pools left by the receding tide, and pick up
all they can there discover. The trader obtains the various kinds and
qualities from the slug-hunters, and at once proceeds to select them
according to their market value. Benches are erected, on which they are
first cut open with sharp knives, cleansed, and placed without water in
very large cauldrons to cook. The juices thrown out by the Trepang are
sufficient to prepare him in, and prevent his becoming too dry in the
kettle stage of the operation.
From the boiling department they are removed to large wooden sheds,
erected for drying them in. Here they are arranged on shelves placed
one over the other, where they are constantly turned and most
carefully attended to; huge wood fires being kept burning to expedite
the process, as it is essential that the slugs should be completely
freed from even the slightest suspicion of moisture before they are
packed for deposit on board ship. Comparatively few persons have
any idea of the immense commercial importance to be attached to this
branch of industry; but some rough notion of the enormous number of
these questionable-looking dainties annually collected by the Trepang
catchers may be formed, when we state, that a single trader from
America obtained, during a bartering expedition amongst the Fejee group
of islands, in return for the issue of miscellaneous articles and
objects of trade, representing no very great value, 25,000 dollars’
worth of Trepang in seven months. And in order to still further
show that even this repulsive and insignificant-looking sea-worm
is worthy of the consideration of the “grave and staid merchant,”
we give the financial return made on one voyage prosecuted for its
obtainment:--Peculs[3] of slugs obtained, 1,200; cost of goods and
outfit, 3,500 dollars; money return on sales effected, 27,000 dollars.
The value of the prepared slugs in the markets of the East may be
said to range between ten and sixty dollars per pecul, according to
condition, demand, and quality. Advantages even greater than the
direct acquisition of money have resulted from this peculiar trade.
Discoveries have been made of islands, unknown until the adventurous
traders landed on them; and commercial pursuits have been successfully
prosecuted with tribes who, in all probability, would have remained
hostile to Europeans for ages to come, had not that humble missionary,
the sea-slug, opened up the road to friendship, well-reposed trust, and
business relationship.
[3] A _Pecul_ weighs 133⅓ lbs., and is a weight common throughout the
Southern and Eastern seas.
SHRIMPS AND PRAWNS.
Like our friends the crabs, these are of many species, and inhabit
every sea from pole to pole. Our own coast line is pretty generally
occupied by them, and very few places of seaside resort fail in
affording sport to the Shrimp or Prawn catcher. An error, into which
many persons fall, is the confounding of Shrimps and Prawns with
each other, although the differences between their general form and
appearance are sufficiently marked to strike the most casual observer.
The true Shrimp of our waters is the mottled spotted-brown kind, the
so-called Sand Shrimp (_Crangon vulgaris_) the subject of the annexed
cut. Besides the difference in colour and the hooked form of the
fore-feet, the tremendously formidable-looking weapon with which the
head of the Prawn is provided, and from which the Pacific Islanders
appear to have borrowed the design for their shark-tooth swords, is
absent in _C. vulgaris_. Its favourite haunts are the wide, open sand
flats and the mouths of tidal rivers. The name “sand raiser,” often
applied to it by fishermen, is by no means inappropriate, and arises
from the curious habit it has of suddenly raising a perfect cloud of
fine sand, round itself--firing, so to speak, “a broadside for the sake
of the smoke,” and literally throwing dust in the eyes of his enemies.
[Illustration]
This designing little Genius, after raising his own sand storm,
adroitly scoops for himself a tiny trench in the soft material on which
he rests, and then remaining perfectly still, allows the falling grains
to cover him snugly in, like a sheep in a snow-drift. Great numbers of
Shrimps of this kind, as well as small flat fish, and an endless number
of odd waifs and strays, can be taken with the dredge--a contrivance
shown in the following cut. The framework is of iron, the two straight
bars or bridle rods are made so as to play freely round the end bars
of the frame, as at _a_, whilst a sort of hinge joint admits of their
moving up or down, thus insuring close contact between the lower edge
of the frame and the bottom, as it is dragged along by a rope, either
lowered from a boat or attached to a horse. The extreme end, or purse
of the net, is made to untie like the mouth of a bag as at B, which
greatly facilitates the removal of its contents when overhauling is
needed. The two rings, C C, serve to attach the drag rope to.
[Illustration]