He floated in the depths of the cool salt sea, an egg so small as to
remain unnoticed and undevoured. Later, he hatched into a queer-shaped
creature, not at all like a starfish, rather like a lump of jelly, with
a thick end pushed out here and there. He swam and ate, and grew
larger every day. From the sea-food he ate his wonderful little body
had power to draw minute particles of lime and build them into a
star-shaped framework within itself. Slowly the firm star grew,
spreading its rays on every side, and absorbing into itself the soft
walls of his earlier body, until at last he was a starfish.
He was strangely made. His mouth was underneath the middle of his
body, a small red eye lay at the tip of each ray-arm. His legs, scores
of them, were small and white, and could be pushed out or drawn in at
will from his ray-arms. Drawing in sea water through narrow passages
in his body, he could fill these legs and make them firm, and so crawl
up the steepest rocks or creep slowly over the smooth sea-floor. When
he did not wish to walk he drew the water from his legs and tucked them
up inside his arms. The last foot of each ray-arm was at once his nose
and finger, for by it he smelt and felt. On his back were spines, some
of them snapping in the sea like scissor-blades, to keep his skin clean
and free from parasites.
He roamed slowly here and there in search of food. Companies of
brother starfishes went with him. They were a hungry crowd, and so
numerous that soon there was very little left to eat in their valley of
the sea.
"I shall travel," said Little Starfish. "Perhaps I shall find a better
feeding-place."
He set off. Sometimes he swam, sometimes he floated with the waves,
sometimes he dropped to the bottom and crawled over the sand or rocks.
After several days he came to land. The tide was going in; the waves
were dancing gaily up the stony beach.
"Carry me, please," said Little Starfish.
He laid himself in the arms of a wave and was carried merrily up the
beach and left in a pool amongst the rocks.
"This is a good feeding-place," said the wave, as she set him down.
It was indeed a good feeding-place. All the rock creatures had opened
their shells to feast on the myriads of tiny things brought in by the
tide. The pool was awhirl with life. Shrimps darted to and fro,
barnacles and limpets raised themselves from their rocks, furry-legged
hermit crabs ran about under their borrowed shells. Best of all,
tempting rock oysters, fat and juicy, sat with their shells agape, to
catch their daily meal. Little Starfish's mouth fairly watered at the
sweet smell of them. Pushing out his scores of white sucker-feet, he
pulled himself up inch by inch to where the first one sat. As soon as
the oyster felt him near, snap went the shell. But Little Starfish was
too quick for him. One strong ray-arm was in the shell before the
edges met, and hope was over for the oyster. Little Starfish swallowed
him, and then crawled on to find another as delicious.
"So glad to find you at home," he joked, as he poked his arm into the
next open shell.
"We'll see about that," remarked the oyster. He snapped his shell
hard, hard. How it hurt! He was a powerful oyster, and the edges of
the shell caught the arm in a tender spot. Crunch! went the oyster
viciously, and off broke the arm in the middle. Little Starfish swam
painfully away from that terrible oyster, leaving half an arm in the
shell.
"How tiresome!" he said. "Now I shall have to give up travelling while
I grow again."
He crept away into a safe hiding-place under the sea. There he grew a
new half-arm, coming out again as strong as ever, but far more
cautious. Many another feast he had on the oyster rocks, but never
again did he hunt so recklessly.