makes of that “fore-yard” a “mizen-mast,” and of the “ladles”
“pot-lids,” which may have been loose translation, even as the scraping
“_gratter_” is funnily rendered “raking,” as if the ship’s bottom were
a hayfield, but looks uncommonly like editorial expansion, which the
story really does not require.
Another story narrated by Denys de Montfort relates how a vessel was
attacked by a huge “poulp,” which endeavoured to drag down vessel and
all; but the crew, assisted by their patron, St. Thomas, succeeded in
severing so many of the monster’s arms from his body that he was fain
to depart, and leave them in peace. In gratitude for their marvellous
deliverance they caused an _ex voto_ picture to be painted of the
terrible scene, and hung in their parish church, for a testimony to the
mighty power of the saint.
In the _Phil. Trans._ of the Royal Society (lxviii. p. 226), Dr.
Schewediawer tells of a sperm whale being hooked (_sic_) which had in
its mouth a tentaculum of the Sepia Octopodia, twenty-seven feet long.
This was not its entire length, for one end was partly digested, so
that when _in situ_ it must have been a great deal longer. When we
consider, says the learned doctor, the enormous bulk of the animal to
which the tentaculum here spoken of belonged, we shall cease to wonder
at the common saying of sailors that the cuttle-fish is the largest in
the ocean.
In Figuier’s _Ocean World_ he quotes largely from Michelet, that
great authority on the Mollusca, giving at length the latter’s highly
poetical description of the vast family of “murderous suckers,” as he
terms the cephalopoda.
In the same work, too, will be found a most matter-of-fact description
and illustration of the meeting of the French corvette _Alecton_ with
an immense calamary between Teneriffe and Madeira. This account
was furnished by Lieutenant Bayer to the Académie des Sciences, and
is evidently a sober record of fact. The monster’s body was hauled
alongside, and an attempt was made to secure it by means of a hawser
passed round it, but of course, as soon as any strain was put upon the
rope, it drew completely through the soft gelatinous carcass, severing
it in two. The length of this creature’s body was fifty feet. But M.
Figuier is not satisfied; he says that even this account must be taken
_cum grano salis_, so unwilling is he to believe in a monster that
would evidently settle the great Kraken and sea-serpent question once
for all.
Even Dr. Solander and Mr. Banks, after finding a cuttle six feet long
floating upon the sea near Cape Horn, which was quite beyond all their
previous experience, could not bring themselves to believe in the
existence of any larger. So at the beginning of this century, while
people had largely consented to accept the sea-serpent, they would
have none of the Kraken or anything which might reasonably explain the
persistence of evidence about him. But had these scientific sceptics
only taken the trouble to interview the crews of the South Sea whalers,
that sailed in such a goodly fleet from our ports during the first
half of the century, they must have been convinced that, so far from
the Kraken being a myth, he is one of the most substantial of facts,
unless, indeed, they believed that all whalemen were in a conspiracy
to deceive them on that point.
Any thoughtful observer who has ever seen a school of sperm whales,
numbering several hundreds, and understood, from the configuration of
their jaws, that they must of necessity feed upon large creatures,
can never after feel difficulty in believing that, in order to supply
the enormous demand for food made by these whales, their prey must be
imposing in size and abundant in quantity.
On my first meeting with the cachalot, on terms of mutual destruction,
I knew nothing of his habits, and cared less. But seeing him, when
wounded, vomiting huge masses of white substance, my curiosity was
aroused, and when I saw that these masses were parts of a mighty
creature almost identical in structure with the small squid so often
picked up on deck, where it falls in its frantic efforts to escape from
dolphins (_Coryphæna_), albacore, or bonito, my amazement was great.
Some of these fragments were truly heroic in size.
Surgeon Beale, in his book on the sperm whale, only credits the
cachalot with being able to swallow a man, but with all the respect due
to so great a writer, I am bound to say that such masses as I have seen
ejected from the stomach of the dying whale could only have entered a
throat to which a man was as a pill is to us. We can, however, only
speak of what we have seen, and perhaps Dr. Beale had never seen such
large pieces ejected.
In an article in _Nature_ of June 4, 1896, I have described an
encounter which I witnessed between a gigantic squid and a sperm
whale, in the Straits of Malacca, which, as far as I am concerned, has
settled conclusively the Kraken and sea-serpent question for me. This
terrific combat took place under the full glare of a tropical moon,
upon the surface of a perfectly calm sea, within a mile of the ship.
Every detail of the struggle was clearly visible through a splendid
glass, and is indelibly graven upon my mind. It was indeed a battle
of giants--perhaps all the more solemnly impressive from being waged
in perfect silence. The contrast between the livid whiteness of the
mollusc’s body and the massive blackness of the whale,--the convulsive
writhing of the tremendous arms, as, like a Medusa’s head magnified
a thousand times, they wound and gripped about the columnar head of
the great mammal,--made a picture unequalled in all the animal world
for intense interest. The immense eyes, at least a foot in diameter,
glared out of the dead white of the head, inky black, appalling in
their fixity of gaze. Could we have seen more nearly, and in daylight,
we should have also found that the sea was turned from its normal
blue into a dusky brown by the discharge of the great cephalopod’s
reservoir of sepia, which in such a creature must have been a tank of
considerable capacity. Each of those far-reaching arms were of course
furnished with innumerable sucking discs, most of them a foot in
diameter, and, in addition to the adhering apparatus, provided with
a series of claws set round the inner edges of the suckers, large as
those of a grizzly bear. Besides the eight arms, there were the two
tentacula, double the length of the arms, or over sixty feet long--in
fact, about the length of the animal’s body, and quite worthy of
being taken for a pair of sea-serpents by themselves. But the whale
apparently took no heed of the Titanic struggles of this enormous
mollusc. He was busy wielding his mighty jaws, not in mastication,
but in tearing asunder the soft flesh into convenient lumps for being
swallowed. All around were numerous smaller whales or sharks, joining
in the plentiful feast, like jackals round a lion. Every fisherman
worth his salt knows how well all fish that swim in the sea love the
sapid flesh of the cephalopoda, making it the finest bait known, and
in truth it is, and always has been, a succulent dainty, where known,
for mankind as well. But it is evident from the scanty number of times
that the gigantic cuttle-fish has been reported, that his habitat
is well beneath the surface, yet not so far down but that he may be
easily reached by the whale, and also find food for his own vast bulk.
Probably they prey upon one another. From what we know of the habits
of those members of the family who live in accessible waters, it is
evident that nothing comes amiss to them in the way of fish or flesh,
dead or alive.
The Prince of Monaco, who is a devotee of marine natural history, was
fortunate enough to witness some bay whalers at Terceira early this
year catching a sperm whale. He and his scientific assistants were
alike amazed at seeing the contents of the whale’s stomach ejected
before death, but their amazement became hysterical delight when they
found that the ejecta consisted of portions of huge cuttle-fish, as yet
unknown to scientific classification. The species was promptly named
after the Prince, _Lepidoteuthis Grimaldii_, and a paper prepared and
read before the Académie des Sciences at Paris. So profoundly impressed
was the Prince with what he had seen, that he at once determined to
convert his yacht into a whaler, in order to become better acquainted
with these wonderful creatures, so long known to the obtuse and
careless whale-fishers. One interesting circumstance noted by the
Prince was the number of circular impressions made upon the tough and
stubborn substance of the whale’s head, hard as hippopotamus hide,
showing the tremendous power exerted by the mollusc as well as his
inability to do the whale any harm.
But were I to describe in detail the numerous occasions upon which I
have seen, not certainly the entire mollusc, but such enormous portions
of their bodies as would justify estimating them as fully as large as
the whales feeding upon them, it would become merely tedious repetition.
As I write, comes the news that an immense squid has just been found
stranded on the west coast of Ireland, having arms thirty feet in
length, a formidable monster indeed.
In conclusion, it may be interesting to know that these molluscs
progress, while undisturbed, literally on their heads, with all the
eight arms which surround the head acting as feet as well as hands to
convey food to the ever-gaping mouth; but when moving quickly, as in
flight, or to attack, they eject a stream of water from an aperture
in the neck, which drives them backwards at great speed, all the arms
being close together. Close to this aperture is the intestinal opening,
a strange position truly. Strangest, perhaps, of all is the manner in
which some species grow, at certain seasons, an additional tentacle,
which, when complete, becomes detached and floats away. In process
of time it finds a female, to which it clings, and which it at once
impregnates. It then falls off, and perishes. It is probable that the
animal kingdom, in all its vast range, presents no stranger method than
this of the propagation of species.
XVI
CONCERNING SHARKS
Among the most fascinating of natural history studies, but withal one
of the most difficult, is that of the _Squalidæ_, or shark family. The
plodding perseverance of German professors has furnished students with
an elaborate classification of these singular creatures in all their
known genera, but of their habits little is really known. A mass of
fable has clustered round them, much of it surviving from very remote
times, and added to periodically by people who might, if they would,
know better. The reiteration of shark stories has in consequence
resulted in more ignorant prejudice against the really useful _squalus_
than has perhaps fallen to the lot of any other animal, although most
observant people know how absurd are many of the popular beliefs about
much better known creatures. Strangely enough, the detestation in which
the shark is generally held is largely the fault of sea-farers. It
never seems to occur to shore-going folk how few are the opportunities
obtained by the ordinary sailor-man of studying the manners and
customs of the marine fauna. Merchant ships, even sailing vessels, must
“make a passage” in order to pay, and, except when unfortunate enough
to get becalmed for a long spell, are rarely in a position favourable
to close observation of deep-sea fishes and their ways. Men-of-war,
especially surveying ships, who spend much time in unfrequented waters,
and are often stationary for weeks at a time, are in a much better
plight, and give the eager student of marine natural history great
facilities for closely watching the sea-folk. Yet those are seldom
taken advantage of as they might be for the rectification of the
abundant errors that are to be found in books that deal in a popular
way with the life-histories of sea-monsters. The only class of mariners
who have had, so to speak, the home life of the sea-people completely
open to them, who for periods of time extending to three or four years
were in daily contact with the usually hidden sources of oceanic lore,
were the South Sea whalers, whose calling is now almost a thing of the
past. But even they wasted their invaluable privileges most recklessly,
the contributions which they have made to science being exceedingly
trivial.
Thus it comes about that the very men who should have either verified
or disproved the really stupid stories current concerning sharks
have chosen instead to adopt them blindly, and have, therefore, for
centuries been guilty of the most revolting cruelty towards these
strange fish. In this connection it is interesting to note the remote
times in which shark legends arose. Aristotle, whose multifarious
researches extended into so many fields of knowledge, furnishes us with
almost the first recorded mention of the shark, and his designation
of them is perpetuated in the scientific nomenclature of a very
numerous species to-day, the _Lamiæ_. From another name for the same
creature πρίστις, we get _Pristiophoridæ_, or saw-fish, a curious
shark confounded by an enormous number of otherwise well-read people
with swordfish (_Xiphias_), which is really a huge mackerel with a
keen bony elongation of the upper jaw. Lycophron has recorded that
Hercules, in the course of his superhuman adventures, was swallowed
by a shark (Κάρχαρος), in whose maw he remained for three nights (why
not days as well?), thence being surnamed Trinox, or Trihesperides.
Theophrastus, pupil of Aristotle and Plato, observes that the Red Sea
abounds with sharks, a remark which is as true in our day as it was in
his. The Hercules myth was doubtless founded upon the reports of some
actual witnesses of the voracious habits of these insatiable monsters,
magnified and distorted, as most natural events were in those days,
by superstitious terror. Even down to the present year of grace most
people believe that quite a moderate-sized _squalus_ is capable of
swallowing a man entire, in spite of the abundant ocular evidence to
the contrary afforded them by the specimens in museums, whose jaws,
generally denuded of flesh, give a greater idea of their capacity
than is warranted by the living creature. It is refreshing to find,
however, that even in those dark ages for all kinds of animals such a
judicial writer as Plutarch speaks a good word for this universally
feared and detested fish. He says that in parental fondness, in suavity
and amiability of disposition, the shark is not excelled by any other
creature. Keen as is my desire to see tardy justice awarded to the
shark, I should hesitate to endorse the eminent Greek’s statement
as far as the last two qualities are concerned. My long and close
acquaintance with the _Squalidæ_ does not furnish me with any evidence
in their favour on either of these heads. But in parental affection
they are only equalled by the _Cetacea_, no other fish having, as far
as I am aware, any reluctance to devour its own offspring. Plutarch’s
testimony, however, speaks volumes for his powers of observation and
courage of his opinions, for verily in it he is _contra mundum_.
Oppian, having seen the body of a huge shark in the museum at Naples,
voices in his fifth _Halieutic_ the general feeling in his day by the
following remarkable outburst: “May the earth which I now feel under
me, and which has hitherto supplied my daily wants, receive, when I
yield it, my latest breath. Preserve me, O Jupiter! from such perils
as this, and be pleased to accept my offerings to thee from dry land.
May no thin plank interpose an uncertain protection between me and the
boisterous deep. Preserve me, O Neptune! from the terrors of the rising
storm, and may I not, as the surge dashes over the deck, be ever cast
out amidst the unseen perils that people the abyss. ’Twere punishment
enough for a mortal to be tossed about unsepulchred on the waves, but
to become the pasture of a fish, and to fill the foul maw of such a
ravenous monster as I now behold, would add tenfold to the horrors of
such a lot.”
Olaus Magnus, upon whom we may always depend for something startling
and original both in prose and picture, exhibits to our wondering gaze
an agonised swimmer rising half out of the sea with three ravenous
dog-fish hanging to him as hounds to a stag. In the distance is a huge
ray or skate (one of the same family, by the by) with a human face,
intended probably for a kind of sea angel, towards which wondrous
apparition the despairing wretch stretches forth his appealing arms.
Coming down to mediæval times, Rondolet babbles of a shark, taken
at Marseilles, in whose stomach was discovered the body of a man in
complete armour, a tough morsel to swallow in more senses than one.
He also tells of a shark accidentally stranded near the same port
and lying upon the shore with mouth wide gaping. Into this inviting
portal there entered a man accompanied by a dog. The venturesome
pair roamed about the darksome cavern making all sorts of strange
discoveries, finally emerging into the outer air swelling with
importance at having accomplished so curious a feat. Enlarging upon
this most obvious “yarn,” the learned Dr. Badham gravely remarks that
it greatly strengthens the probability that the fish which swallowed
Jonah was a shark (_Piscis anthropophagus_), but that he is quite
certain it could not have been a whale, from the well-known smallness
of the latter’s gullet. Without commenting upon the Old Testament
story, there can be no doubt whatever that in the cachalot, or sperm
whale, we have a marine monster capable of swallowing Jonah and his
companions of Tarshish at a gulp--I had almost said ship and all,
such is the capacity of that vast cetacean’s throat. But Dr. Badham,
while posing as an eminent authority, further exposes his bountiful
want of acquaintance with his subject by observing that the liver of a
medium-sized shark will yield two tons and a half of oil! As it is a
huge shark that will scale that much altogether, he must have imagined
them to be even better supplied with liver than Mulvaney’s hepatic
Colonel--in fact, all liver and some over.
A very favourite shark fable is to the effect that these fish prefer
negroes to Europeans as food. The inventor of this was probably Père
Labat, a mediæval French li--, I mean historian. After enlarging upon
it for awhile he proceeds to embellish it with the addition that
the shark prefers Englishmen to Frenchmen, because their flesh is
more sapid and juicy from being better nourished. That was probably
before the French acquired their reputation for cookery. Numberless
variants of this fantastic fable are extant, all, without exception, as
baseless as the original yarn from which they have lineally descended.
The annals of the slave-trade have, as might be expected, produced a
plentiful crop of shark stories, of which apparently only the untrue
ones survive. It may perhaps be true that the fiendish flesh dealers
on the “West Coast” really did surround themselves with a cordon of
slaves when they went bathing in the sea, having relays ready to supply
the places of those occasionally snatched away by the sharks. Highly
improbable though, since it would have been so expensive. Little doubt
can attach to the supposition that, with their instinct for offal so
marvellously developed as it is, great numbers of sharks followed
the slave-ships across the seas, from whose pestilential holds the
festering corpses were daily flung. But when Pennant tells us that
the slaving captains used to hang the body of a slave from yard-arm
or bowsprit-end that they might be amused by the spectacle of sharks
leaping twenty feet out of the sea and tearing the bodies to fragments,
he is stating that which is not only grotesquely untrue, but manifestly
absurd. Sharks do not leap out of water. In making this statement I am
liable to be contradicted, as I have been before in the columns of the
_Spectator_, but never, _nota bene_, except upon hearsay, or personal
evidence that had grave elements of doubt about it. Sharks can of
course raise their bodies _partly_ out of water by an upward rush, a
supreme effort rarely made by a naturally and habitually sluggish fish;
but, after an experience among many thousands of sharks under the most
varied conditions in all parts of the world where they abound, I repeat
emphatically that it is impossible for a shark to raise his entire body
out of water and seize anything suspended in the air. And anyone who
has carefully watched one shark seizing anything in the water or on the
surface will find it difficult to disagree with me.
One more “authority” and we will get to firsthand facts. Sir Hans
Sloane, in a very particular account of the shark, remarkable in many
respects for its accuracy, perpetrates the following:--“It has several
ducts on the head filled with a sort of gelly, from which, being
pressed by the water, issues an unctuous, _viscid_, slippery, and
mucilaginous matter, very proper to make the fish very glib to sail the
readier through the water. Most fish have something analagous to this.”
That any fish should secrete a lubricant, at once unctuous and viscid,
for the purpose of accelerating its progress through the limpid element
in which it lives, would be curious indeed were such a contradictory
fact possible, but that Sir Hans Sloane should say so, when the
most cursory acquaintance with his subject would have shown him the
absurdity of such a statement, would be far stranger were it not for
the evidence afforded by the _Phil. Trans._ of the wildest flights of
imagination on the part of savants even down to comparatively recent
times. But probably enough space has been given to ancient fables about
the shark.