And what a sight is here! Hundreds of Anemones of many species are
studding the walls almost as thick as they can be packed. Every tiny
crevice, every hollow, every hole left by _Pholas_ or _Saxicava_ (and
the rock is riddled and honeycombed by these burrowing mollusks),
holds its little knob of plump flesh; some lolling out with a dewdrop
hanging from the end; some just filling the cavity, and allowing the
tips of the crowded tentacles to peep out as a speck of white, or of
orange, or of rosy lilac, according to the species; and some retreated
to the bottom of their stony fortress, to be detected only by the
probing touch. Other forms too there are;--dead men’s fingers, white
and yellow; worms, green and brown and grey, twining in and out, and
grasping the sharp edges of the rock; tunicate mollusks, simple and
compound; univalves and bivalves; sponges of all bright colours by
hundreds:--what a maze, what a teeming world of life it is!
All this is at and above the level of the eye. Now let us bend over
the boat’s gunwale, and gaze below, with our faces brought nearly to
the surface of the sea. Here the sight is far more wonderful, and far
more attractive; for here the life is seen in all its fullest activity,
every creature performing its functions, and pursuing its instincts
with the most single earnestness, self-contained, and altogether
regardless of the myriad fellow-beings that surround it and press upon
it, in this eager contest and struggle for maintained existence.