OCEAN LIFE.—THE HARVEST OF THE SEA.
Fishes and their Swimming Apparatus—The Bladder—Scientific
Classification—Cartilaginous Fish—The Torpedo—A Living Galvanic
Battery—The Shark—His Love for Man in a Gastronomic Sense—Stories
of their Prowess—Catching a Shark—Their Interference with
Whaling—The Tiger‐Shark—African Worship of the Monster—The Dog‐
fish—The Sturgeon—Enormous Fecundity—Caviare—The Bony Fishes—The
Flying Fish: its Feats; its Enemies—Youth of a Salmon—The Parr,
the Smolt, and the Grilse—Flourishes in the Sea—The Ponds at
Stormontfield—The Salmon’s Enemies—The Ettrick Shepherd—Canned
Salmon, and where it comes from—The Fish a Drug in N. W.
America—Canoes impeded by them—The Fisheries of the Columbia
River—The Fishing Season—Modes of Catching Salmon—The Factories
and Processes employed.
And now we proceed to still higher organisations. The fish must have their
turn in a work treating of their natural home, the ocean.(43) Fishes,
intended always to live in water, have wonderful organs to aid them in
swimming. “The anterior limbs,” says Figuier, “which correspond with the
arms in man and the wings in birds, are attached to each side of the
trunk, immediately behind the head, and form the pectoral fins. The
posterior limbs occupy the lower surface of the body, and form the ventral
fins. The latter, which are always over the ventral line, may be placed
before, beneath, or, as is most usual, behind the former. Fishes possess,
besides these two pair of fins, odd fins. The fins which are found on the
back or dorsum are called the back or dorsal fins, those at the end of the
tail are the caudal fins; finally, there is frequently another attached to
the lower extremity of the body, which is called the anal fin. These fins
are always nearly of the same structure, consisting generally of a fold of
the skin, supported by slender, flexible, cartilaginous, or osseous rays,
connected by a thin membrane.” The muscles which move these fins are
powerful. Further, nearly all species of fish possess a swimming bladder,
over which the animal has control, and can thereby increase or diminish
the specific gravity of its body. Immediately behind the head are the gill
openings; respiration is effected by water, in its natural state always
charged with air, being taken in at the mouth, which passes over the
gills, and is afterwards ejected. The eyes in fish are usually very large.
The scientific classification of fishes usually adopted is that of Muller.
He divided them into five groups, the _Leptocardia_, _Cyclostomata_,
_Selachia_, _Ganoidea_, and _Teleostea_. The first of these is represented
by a single genus, _Amphioxus_, a little slender gelatinous fish, rarely
over two inches in length, and commonly found on all sandy coasts. The
second order is characterised as serpentine, void of fins, and with a
mouth formed for suction. The lamprey is a familiar example.
The third order, _Selachia_, includes a number of cartilaginous fish,
varying much in form; the rays, dog‐fish, skate, torpedo, shark, and saw‐
fish belong to this important division. The torpedo has the power of
giving a strong electrical shock. Redi, an Italian naturalist of the
seventeenth century, first studied them carefully. He caught and landed an
electric ray, and pressing it with his hand, experienced a tingling
sensation, which extended to his arms and shoulders, and was followed by a
disagreeable trembling. This electric power dies with the animal. Dr.
Walsh made some interesting experiments with them. He placed a living
torpedo on a clean wet towel, and connected brass wires with it. Round the
torpedo were eight persons, standing on isolating substances. One end of
the wire was placed in a basin full of water. The first person had a
finger of one hand in this basin, and a finger of the other in a second
basin, also full of water. The second person had a finger in the last‐
named basin, and a finger of the other hand in a third basin, and so on
round the circle of eight persons. The end of the second wire was plunged
into the last basin of the series, thus establishing a complete electric
circuit. At the moment when the experimenter touched the torpedo a
tolerably strong shock was felt by all participating. When the torpedo was
placed on an isolated supporter, it showed its energy by communicating to
several persons forty or fifty shocks in the short space of a minute and a
half.
The family _Carcharidæ_ includes the true sharks, some species of which
attain to a length of twenty, or even thirty, feet. They are the terror of
all other fish and molluscs. “But the prey which has the greatest charm
for him is man; the shark loves him dearly, but it is with the affection
of the gourmand. If we may believe some travellers, when several varieties
of human food comes in its way, the shark prefers the European to the
Asiatic, and both to the negro.” He has been known to jump clean aboard a
fisherman’s boat, and even to snap up a sailor from the shrouds. Commerson
relates the following:—The corpse of a negro had been suspended from a
yard‐arm _twenty feet_ above the level of the sea. A shark was seen making
every effort to reach the body, which eventually he did, and tore it limb
from limb in presence of the horror‐stricken crew. The mouth of the shark
is placed in the lower part of the head, and the animal has to turn itself
in the water before he can seize an object above him. On the African coast
the negroes take advantage of this fact; they swim towards him, and seize
the moment when he turns to rip up his belly with a large strong knife.
The adult shark has six rows of murderous‐looking teeth, forming a perfect
arsenal of deadly weapons.
Captain Basil Hall describes the mode by which sharks are sometimes
captured. “The sharp‐curved dorsal fin of a huge shark was seen rising
about six inches above the water, and cutting the glazed surface of the
sea by as fine a line as if a sickle had been drawn along it. ‘Messenger,
run to the cook for a piece of pork,’ cried the captain, taking the
command with as much glee as if an enemy’s cruiser had been in sight.
‘Where’s your hook, quartermaster?’ ‘Here, sir, here,’ cried the fellow,
feeling the point, and declaring it was as sharp as any lady’s needle, and
in the next instant piercing with it a huge junk of pork weighing four or
five pounds. The hook, which is as large as one’s little finger, has a
curvature about as large as a man’s hand when half closed, and is six or
eight inches in length, while a formidable line, furnished with three or
four feet of chain attached to the end of the mizen topsail halyard, is
now cast into the ship’s wake.
“Sometimes the very instant the bait is cast over the stern the shark
flies at it with such eagerness that he actually springs partially out of
the water. This, however, is rare. On these occasions he gorges the bait,
the hook, and a foot or two of the chain, without any mastication, and
darts off with the treacherous prize with such prodigious velocity that it
makes the rope crack again as soon as the coil is drawn out. Much
dexterity is required in the hand which holds the line at this moment. A
bungler is apt to be too precipitate, and jerk away the hook before it has
got far enough into the shark’s stomach. The secret of the sport is to let
the monster gulp down the whole bait, and then to give the line a violent
pull, by which the barbed point buries itself in the coat of the stomach.
When the hook is first fixed it spins out like the log‐line of a ship
going twelve knots.
“The suddenness of the jerk with which the shark is brought up often turns
him quite over. No sailor, however, thinks of hauling one on board merely
by the rope fastened to the hook. To prevent the line breaking, the hook
snapping, or the jaw being torn away, a running bowline is adopted. This
noose is slipped down the rope and passed over the monster’s head, and is
made to join at the point of junction of the tail with the body; and now
the first part of the fun is held to be completed. The vanquished enemy is
easily drawn up over the taffrail, and flung on deck, to the delight of
the crew.” Even then he is sometimes a very formidable enemy. The flesh of
the shark, though sometimes eaten, is coarse and leathery.
[Illustration: THE COMMON SHARK (_Carcharias vulgaris_).]
On several of the smaller islands of the Spanish Main whaling stations are
established. After the huge fish have been captured, they are towed by the
boats to one of these stations, and the blubber is stripped off and
carried on shore to the boiling‐house in large white blocks, where a
simple apparatus is set up for “trying‐out” the oil. It sometimes happens
that immediately after the whale has been killed the sharks surround it in
such numbers, and devour the blubber with such rapacity, that if the
distance be great and the currents adverse, the greater part has been
eaten off before the whale can be towed ashore; and the labour of the
fishermen is thus thrown away.
The tiger‐shark is a more formidable monster than others of its tribe,
because of its power of seizing its prey without turning on its back or
side. It is enabled to do this from the great size of its mouth, and from
its position, which is near the end of the snout, instead of underneath,
as in other varieties of the shark.
“As soon as the carcase of the whale has been stripped of its blubber, it
is towed out at high water to a sufficient distance from the station to
ensure of its being carried away by the falling tide. This is necessary,
for the stench from so large a mass of putrefying flesh, exposed as it has
been to the intense action of a tropical sun for three or four days, is
more than unpleasant.
“Now is the opportunity for the shark‐hunters. They take possession of the
remains, tow them to some convenient nook of the Bocas, as the channels
between the islands are called, and there anchor them. All is now
prepared, and nothing remains but eagerly and silently to watch for the
assembly of the ravenous brutes to their midnight orgies.”
The liver of the shark yields a most valuable oil, largely used in the
colony as a substitute for cod‐liver oil. The liver of a shark fifteen
feet long will yield from twelve to sixteen gallons of oil.
The canoes used for shark‐hunting are some twenty feet in length. In the
bow a deep groove is cut, to guide the rope after the fish has been
struck. A coil of fifteen fathoms of rope, carefully arranged under the
thwarts, is secured at one end to a piece of strong chain, at the other
end of which is a harpoon. A lance is kept on board to assist in giving
the _coup de grâce_ to the shark when he has exhausted himself
sufficiently.
The inhabitants of many parts of the African coasts worship the shark, and
consider its stomach the road to heaven. Three or four times a year they
row out and offer the shark poultry and goats to satisfy his appetite.
This is not all; a child is once a year sacrificed to the monster, which
has been specially fattened for this occasion from its birth to the age of
ten. On the _fête_ day, the unfortunate little victim is bound to a post
on a sandy point at low water; as the tide rises the sharks arrive. The
child may shriek, and the mother may weep, but it is of no avail; even its
own parent thinks that the horrible sacrifice will ensure her child’s
entry into heaven.
[Illustration: THE DOG‐FISH (_Acanthias vulgaris_).]
The dog‐fish—from which we derive the skin known as _shagreen_, used for
spectacle and other cases—the furious and voracious hammerhead, and the
saw‐fish, belong to the same great order. The last named will attack any
inhabitant of the deep whatever, and even dares to measure his strength
with the whale. Its length is from twelve to fifteen feet, while its
weapon of defence is sometimes as much as two yards in length.
Occasionally it dashes itself against the side of a ship with such fury as
to leave its sword broken in the timber.
Of the fourth great order, _Ganoidea_, the sturgeon is the most prominent
example. It is essentially a sea‐fish, although ascending rivers at stated
periods, as does the salmon. It is particularly noticeable for the number
of bony plates or scales on its back and belly. In the sea the sturgeon
feeds on herrings, mackerel, and other fish; in the rivers on salmon. It
is caught in traps, or in nets. The prepared roe, cleaned, washed in
vinegar, and partially dried, is the caviare of the Russians. The eggs of
a female sturgeon will weigh over one‐third of its entire body, and as
they sometimes reach a weight of nearly 3,000 pounds, the preparation of
caviare becomes an important and profitable industry.
[Illustration: THE GLOBE‐FISH (_Tetrodon_) AND SUN‐FISH (_Orthagoriscus
mola_).]
[Illustration: THE PIPE FISH (_Syngnathus acus_).]
The fifth order, _Teleostea_, or bony fishes, constitutes a lengthy
series. Among it must be placed the globular and phosphorescent sun‐fish,
the spiny globe‐fish, the bony trunk‐fish, and the cuirassed pipe‐fish,
the sea‐horse, which has a head not unlike a horse, and floats vertically,
the flying‐fish, the eels, herrings, salmon, carp, cod, flat‐fish,
mullets, tunnies, and others too numerous to mention. It is for man’s
purposes the most important of all the orders.
[Illustration: THE FLYING‐FISH (_Exocœtus exiliens_.)]
The flying‐fish have been incidentally mentioned before in this work.
Captain Basil Hall observed a flight of 200 yards; they have come on board
a vessel fourteen or fifteen feet, and into the chains of a line‐of‐battle
ship twenty feet above the water. They are considerably harassed by the
attacks of other fish, and when they take to the air often fall victims to
gulls and other sea‐birds. Sharks and dolphins are their particular
enemies. Their glittering, silvery brilliancy is most beautiful in the
brightness of tropical seas.
Among the most important bony fishes must certainly be first placed the
salmon, which includes three well‐known species, _Salmo salar_ (the salmon
itself), _S. fario_ (the salmon trout), and _S. trutta_ (the trout). The
early life of the salmon is interesting. The infant fry is primarily, of
course, very helpless, and during the first two or three weeks of its
existence carries about with it, as a provision for food, a portion of the
yolk of the egg from which it was hatched. This generally lasts it from
twenty to forty days. It is two years before the youngster ventures out to
sea. In the first stage the young salmon is called a _parr_; during the
second it is a _smolt_, _i.e._, a parr plus a covering of silvery scales.
The smolt, which in the course of its two or more years’ stay in the river
has only attained a growth of six or eight inches, returns from the sea in
a couple of months weighing three or four pounds, and after six months ten
or twelve pounds. It is now a _grilse_.
Dr. Bertram says of the salmon’s growth:—
“The sea‐feeding must be favourable, and the condition of the fish well
suited to the salt‐water to ensure such rapid growth—a rapidity which
every visit of the fish to the ocean serves but to confirm. Various fish,
whilst in the grilse state, have been marked to prove this; and at every
migration they returned to their breeding‐stream with added weight and
improved health. What the salmon feeds upon whilst in the salt‐water is
not well known, as the digestion of the fish is so rapid as to prevent the
discovery of food in their stomachs when they are captured and opened.
Guesses have been made, and it is likely that these approximate to the
truth; but the old story of the rapid voyage of the salmon to the North
Pole and back again turns out, like the theory upon which was built up the
herring migration romance, to be a mere myth.
“None of our naturalists have yet attempted to elucidate that mystery of
salmon life which converts one‐half of the fish into sea‐going smolts,
whilst as yet the other moiety remain as parr. It has been investigated so
far at the breeding‐ponds at Stormontfield, but without resolving the
question. There is another point of doubt as to salmon life which I shall
also have a word to say about—namely, whether or not that fish makes two
visits annually to the sea; likewise, whether it be probable that a smolt
remains in the salt water for nearly a year before it becomes a grilse. A
salmon only stays, as it is popularly supposed, a very short time in the
salt water; and as it is one of the quickest‐swimming fishes we have, it
is able to reach a distant river in a very short space of time, therefore
it is most desirable we should know what it does with itself when it is
not migrating from one water to the other; because, according to the
opinion of some naturalists, it would speedily become so deteriorated in
the river as to be unequal to the slightest exertion....
“At every stage of its career the salmon is surrounded by enemies. At the
very moment of spawning, the female is watched by a horde of devourers,
who instinctively flock to the breeding‐grounds in order to feast on the
ova. The hungry pike, the lethargic perch, the greedy trout, the very
salmon itself, are lying in wait, all agape for the palatable roe, and
greedily swallowing whatever quantity the current carries down. Then the
waterfowl eagerly pounces on the precious deposit the moment it has been
forsaken by the fish; and if it escape being gobbled up by such
cormorants, the spawn may be washed away by a flood, or the position of
the bed may be altered, and the ova be destroyed, perhaps for want of
water. As an instance of the loss incidental to salmon‐spawning in the
natural way, I may just mention that a whiting of about three‐quarters of
a pound weight has been taken in the Tay with three hundred impregnated
salmon ova in its stomach! If this fish had been allowed to dine and
breakfast at this rate during the whole of the spawning season it would
have been difficult to estimate the loss our fisheries would have
sustained by his voracity. No sooner do the eggs ripen, and the young fish
come to life, than they are exposed, in their defenceless state, to be
preyed upon by all the enemies already enumerated; while, as parr, they
have been taken out of our streams in such quantities as to be available
for the purpose of pig‐feeding and manure! Some economists estimate that
only one egg out of every thousand becomes a full‐sized salmon. Mr. Thomas
Tod Stoddart calculated that 150,000,000 of salmon ova are annually
deposited in the river Tay; of which only 50,000,000, or one‐third, come
to life and attain the parr stage; that 20,000,000 of these parr become in
time smolts, and that their number is ultimately diminished to 100,000; of
which 70,000 are caught, the other 30,000 being left for breeding
purposes. Sir Humphry Davy calculated that if a salmon produced 17,000
roe, only 800 of these would arrive at maturity. It is well, therefore,
that the female fish yields 1,000 eggs for each pound of her weight; for a
lesser degree of fecundity, keeping in view the enormous waste of life
indicated by these figures, would long since—especially taking into
account the destructive modes of fishing that used a few years ago to be
in use—have resulted in the extinction of this valuable fish.
“The first person who ‘took a thought about the matter’—_i.e._, as to
whether the parr was or was not the young of the salmon—and arrived at a
solid conclusion, was James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, who, in his usual
impulsive way, proceeded to verify his opinions. He had, while herding
sheep, many opportunities of watching the fishing streams, and, like most
of his class, he wielded his fishing‐rod with considerable skill. While
angling in the tributaries of some of the Border salmon‐streams, he had
often caught the parr as it was changing into the smolt, and had, after
close observation, come to the conclusion that the little parr was none
other than the infant salmon. Mr. Hogg did not keep his discovery a
secret, and the more his facts were controverted by the naturalists of the
day the louder became his proclamations. He had suspected all his life
that parr were salmon in their first stage. He would catch a parr with a
few straggling scales upon it; he would look at this fish, and think it
queer; instantly he would catch another, a little better covered with
silver scales, but all loose, and not adhering to the body. Again, he
would catch a smolt, manifestly a smolt, all covered with the white silver
scales, yet still rather loose upon the skin, which would come off in his
hand. Removing these scales, he found the parr with the blue finger‐marks
below them, and that the fish were young salmon then became as manifest to
the shepherd as that a lamb, if suffered to live, would become a sheep.
Wondering at this, he marked a great number of the lesser fish, and
offered rewards (characteristically enough, of whisky) to the peasantry to
bring him such as had evidently undergone the change predicted by him.
When this conclusion was settled in his mind, the Shepherd at once
proclaimed his new‐gained knowledge. ‘What will the fishermen of Scotland
think’ said he, ‘when I assure them, on the faith of long experience and
observation, and on the word of one who can have no interest in instilling
an untruth into their minds, that every insignificant parr with which the
cockney fisher fills his basket is a salmon lost!’ These crude attempts of
the impulsive Shepherd of Ettrick—and he was hotly opposed by the late Mr.
Buist, of Stormontfield—were not without their fruits; indeed, they were
so successful as quite to convince him that parr were young salmon in
their first stage.”
The following amusing dialogue on the habits of the salmon once took place
between the Ettrick Shepherd and a friend:—
“_Shepherd_:—‘I maintain that ilka saumon comes aye back again frae the
sea till spawn in its ain water.’
“_Friend_:—‘Toots, toots, Jamie! hoo can it manage till do that? Hoo, in
the name o’ wonder, can a fish, travelling up a turbid water frae the sea,
know when it reaches the entrance to its birthplace, or that it has
arrived at the tributary that was its cradle?’
“_Shepherd_:—‘Man, the great wonder to me is no hoo the fish get back, but
hoo they find their way till the sea first ava, seein’ that they’ve never
been there afore!’”
The canned salmon, now generally popular in England, and which, though
some few years ago an expensive luxury, is now within the reach of all,
comes principally from the Columbia River, Oregon, and other parts of the
North Pacific coasts. In North‐Western America the fish is a perfect drug
in the market. In a city like San Francisco it sells for eight cents (4d.)
per pound. Higher up the coast a large fish is obtained for a quarter to
half a dollar. Further north a piece of tobacco or a few needles will
purchase a twenty or thirty pound salmon. They are so abundant that the
writer has seen them on the beaches of streams and creeks falling into
Frazer River, British Columbia, by the score, bleeding, gasping, and
dying, having literally crowded each other out of the water. “Schools” of
them are often so densely packed together, that they impede the progress
of canoes and boats.
The salmon fisheries of the Columbia, Oregon, itself one of the grandest
rivers in the world, give employment to 4,000 men during the season, and
nearly all the canned salmon consumed in Europe comes from it.(44) There
are dozens of rivers on the north‐west coast equally available, and the
business even now is in its infancy; while salted, pickled, or smoked
salmon, hardly ever reaches England from there at all. As will appear,
there are splendid opportunities on that coast for hundreds of new‐comers,
it may almost be said with or without capital. It is needless to state
that the former is always to be preferred. Where isn’t it?
Some ten or a dozen varieties of salmon and salmon‐trout, Mr. Murphy tells
us, enter the rivers of North‐Western America, but only one is selected
for commercial purposes. Two of the most delicate‐eating varieties—the
silvery‐white and spring salmons—are never packed in tins, because their
schools are less abundant and the fish themselves smaller. The hook‐nosed
and dog salmons are rarely eaten, except by Indians; while the man has not
yet been discovered who would tackle the hump‐back. The blue‐back, or
weak‐toothed salmon, an inferior fish also, is only exported to the
Sandwich Islands, where the natives are said to really prefer its lean and
fibrous flesh to the more delicately‐flavoured and succulent kinds. The
salmon principally caught is distinguished by the Indians as the “Tyhee,”
or chief; it is abundant, large, and most excellent eating; it possesses
those “all‐round” qualifications which particularly fit it for commerce
and cooking. It is the _Salmo quinnat_ of the naturalists.
The fishery season on the Columbia lasts from the beginning of April to
the end of July, and the fisheries extend along the river for a hundred
miles or more. Some of the curing establishments employ their own men to
tend the nets, while others purchase from fishermen, the price for fish
weighing from fifteen to forty pounds ranging from 25 cents to 50 cents
(approximately one to two shillings). These prices would seem ridiculously
low were it not for the abundance of the fish and the ease with which they
are taken. A party of four men may secure from 300 to 2,000 salmon in
twenty‐four hours! Take the lowest estimate—300 at 25 cents. This gives 75
dollars (or £15) to divide among the four fishermen. But this would be a
very poor catch. A thousand fish are no uncommon haul. This at the lowest
price paid would give 250 dollars (£50) to be divided. Of course there is
the wear and tear of boat and fishing gear to be considered.
Large quantities of the fish are caught in weirs. The Indians, also,
knowing that the salmon avoids currents if possible, build out into the
river from the shore, for ten or a dozen feet, walls of stone a few inches
in height. The salmon crowd into the quieter water caused thereby, and are
easily captured in nets or by spearing. They are so numerous in places
that the Indian can often flap them out of the water, by a sudden
dexterous jerk of his paddle, to his squaw on the beach, who then
immediately knocks them on the head and guts them.
At the curing houses, mostly owned by Americans, the labour is chiefly
performed by Chinamen under the superintendence of white men. “John”
quickly and cleverly guts the fish and cuts off its head; then cuts it
into chunks, which are boiled, first in salt and afterwards in fresh
water. Next the tins are filled, and soldered down, all but one little
hole in their tops. The tins are then immersed in boiling water, and when
every particle of air is excluded, a few drops of solder effectually seal
them up till wanted for the table. The process is in effect the same
employed in the preservation of meats and fruits in tins.
Many British and Irish waterfalls are celebrated for their salmon leaps.
In Inverness‐shire at Kilmorack, at Ballyshannon in Donegal, and Leixlip
near Dublin, in Pembrokeshire and elsewhere, the leaps are noted, and at
many of them there are osier baskets placed below to catch the fish when
they fail and fall. Sportsmen have even shot them, on the wing as it were,
in their leap. At the Falls of Kilmorack “Lord Lovat conceived the idea of
placing a furnace and frying‐pan on a point of rock overhanging the river.
After their unsuccessful effort some of the unfortunate salmon would fall
accidentally into the frying‐pan. The noble lord could thus boast that the
resources of his country were so abundant, that on placing a furnace and
frying‐pan on the banks of its rivers, the salmon would leap into it of
their own accord, without troubling the sportsman to catch them. It is
more probable, however, that Lord Lovat knew that the way to enjoy salmon
in perfection is to cook it when fresh from the water, and before the
richer parts of the fish have ceased to curd.”
In our own land, the Tweed, Tay, Spey, and Severn, are all noted rivers
for salmon; the Tay fish sometimes weigh sixty pounds. It is a curious
fact that the full‐grown salmon never feeds in the rivers. “Juvenile
experience on the part of the fish, recurring as a phantasm, causes them
to snap at a shining artificial minnow or a gaudy fly, but they never rise
out of the water; the bait must dip to them, and when hooked they shake
the intruder as a terrier does a rat.” Their superabundant store of fat
enables them to live on themselves, as it were, as do the Asiatic and
African doomba sheep when avalanches and heavy snow‐falls stop their
supplies of herbage.(45) They become much thinner during their stay in
fresh water; their colour becomes duller, and their flavour much
depreciated. Izaak Walton’s statement that “the further they get from the
sea they be both fatter and better” is utterly erroneous, for they fatten
only in the sea. In March, 1845, the Duke of Athole took a ten‐pound
salmon in the Tay after it had spawned, and attached a medal to it and
then let it go to sea. The same individual, with its decoration, was
fished up five weeks and a few days afterwards, when it had been to the
refreshing salt water. It had more than doubled its weight, for it weighed
twenty‐one pounds.
[Illustration: THE SALMON (_Salmo salar_).]