It is at the farther end of yonder beach that we must commence our
marine explorings to-day; there, where the pebbles at the lowest
water-line merge into larger dark stones, and a little on this side of
the bounding rocks. We might get down by this path to Oddicombe beach,
scramble over Black Wall, and so make our way along Babbicombe beach to
the spot; but the state of the tenacious soil at this season makes such
a descent unpleasant. There is a better road to the eastward, which
winds among the villas, and descends direct to the spot we seek. Let
us therefore pursue our walk over the downs, along the margin of the
cliff, enjoying fresh aspects of the coast view as we proceed, till we
reach the road.
We are among the olive-coated stones at the verge of the far-receded
tide, among which the springs from the cliffs having broken out from
various points in the shingle beach, are making for themselves tortuous
channels on their way to the deserting sea. Their water, originally
fresh of course, has, by the time it arrives here, become so brackish
by washing the salt stones and sea-weeds, that the sand-hoppers and
worms which inhabit the hollows under the stones are bathed in it
with impunity, though, in general, immersion in fresh water is fatal
to marine animals. Great tufts of bladder wrack and other _Fuci_
spring from the lower stones, and now lie flaccid about, awaiting the
returning tide to erect them and wave their leathery leaves to and
fro. Broad fronds of _Ulva_, too, like tissue paper of the tenderest
green, irregularly crumpled and waved, and nibbled and gnawed into
thousands of holes, lie crisp and tempting; and tufts of a darker,
duller green, and others of purple-brown, and others again of rosy
crimson, stud these rough stones, and vary their ruggedness with
elegance and beauty; a beauty, however, far more appreciable, and far
more worthy of admiration, if we could look upon it when the flowing
tide creeps up, with its calm water clear as crystal, and covers the
many-hued parterre, softening and displaying the graceful outlines
and the brilliant colours. Then, too, those tiny creatures would be
seen agilely swimming from weed to weed, or lithely twining among the
fronds, which now we have to search for in their recluse hiding-places
under these rocks.
Selecting a stone which experience teaches us is a likely one---and
only experience can teach this, though in general I may say that the
heaviest and flattest beneath, those which appear to have been long
undisturbed, and especially those which, instead of being imbedded in
the soil, rest on other stones in such a partial way that there is room
for free ingress and egress to minute creatures beneath, and which have
a broad surface to which they may cling in congenial darkness, are the
most promising---selecting, I say, such a stone, we place both hands
beneath one side, and heave with all our might to turn it bodily over.
We must be careful, for many of these stones are so beset with the
small shells of _Serpula triquetra_, that they cannot be handled with
impunity. This is a worm which makes a tubular pipe for its defence,
of hard shell, adhering to the rock throughout its length; the tube
enlarges a little as it grows, and its most recent extremity, which is
brilliantly white and clean, is defended by the projecting extremity of
a ridge which runs along the back of the shell, the point of this ridge
forming a very sharp needle-like prickle, which, as we apply our hands
beneath the stone to lift, terribly cuts the fingers. On some stones
we find hundreds of these treacherous shells, set as thickly as they
can stand, and covering large patches; on others they are scattered,
and some are quite free from them. In an aquarium the little worms
protrude their breathing fans very constantly, and are pretty, though
not conspicuous objects, being varied with bright blue, grey, and
white. Pretty as they are, however, the collector wishes them further
a hundred times during his collecting, for, in such an expedition
as this, he is fortunate indeed if he come home without half of his
fingers gashed with deep incisions, smarting from the sea-water, and
all the slower to heal from the skin of the finger-tips being worn to
thinness in handling the stones.
But these are trifles; the fortune of war; amply compensated by the joy
of victory, when we succeed in capturing some rare or lovely creature,
to be displayed in triumph within the glass walls of a prison. Such
an one is this beauty, which is lurking in an angle of the block we
have just overturned. It needs a sharp eye to detect it; for we see no
beauty yet, nothing but a little lump of whitish jelly, dappled with
orange-yellow, not bigger than the half of a split pea, clinging close
to the stone. It requires some care to get it up without crushing; the
end of a toothpick, or a penknife, or a bit of stick cut to a point,
must be inserted under it; thus we lift it, and drop it into the ready
phial of clear water. It opens instantly, sprawling even before it
reaches the bottom, where it at once begins to crawl, and we detect in
our prize the lovely little Triope.[16]