What is that object that lies on yonder stretch of sand, over which
the shallow water ripples, washing the sand around it and presently
leaving it dry? It looks like a stone; but there is a fine scarlet knob
on it; which all of a sudden has disappeared. Let us watch the moment
of the receding wave, and run out to it. It is a fine example of the
great spinous cockle,[46] for which all these sandy beaches that form
the bottom of the great sea-bend of Torbay are celebrated. Indeed the
species is scarcely known elsewhere; so that it is often designated in
books as the Paignton cockle. A right savoury _bonne bouche_ it is,
when artistically dressed. Old Dr. Turton, a great authority in his
day for Devonshire natural history, especially in matters relating to
shells and shell-fish, says that the cottagers about Paignton well know
the “red noses,” as they call the great cockles, and search for them
at the low spring-tides, when they may be seen lying in the sand with
the fringed siphons appearing just above the surface. They gather them
in baskets and panniers, and after cleansing them a few hours in cold
spring-water, fry the animals in a batter made of crumbs of bread. The
creatures have not changed their habits nor their habitats; for they
are still to be seen in the old spots just as they were a century ago:
nor have they lost their reputation; they are indeed promoted to the
gratification of more refined palates now, for the cottagers, knowing
on which side their bread is buttered, collect the sapid cockles for
the fashionables of Torquay, and content themselves with the humbler
and smaller species,[47] which rather affects the muddy flats of
estuaries than sand beaches, though not uncommon here. This latter,
though much inferior in sapidity to the great spinous sort, forms a
far more important item in the category of human food, from its very
general distribution, its extreme abundance, and the ease with which it
is collected. Wherever the receding tide leaves an area of exposed mud,
the common cockle is sure to be found; and hundreds of men, women, and
children, may be seen plodding and groping over the stinking surface,
with naked feet and bent backs, picking up the shell-fish by thousands,
to be boiled and eaten for home consumption, or to be cried through
the lanes and alleys of the neighbouring towns by stentorian boys, who
vociferate all day long,--“Here’s your fine cockles, here! Here they
are! Here they are! Twopence a quart!”