CHAPTER IX._The Harvest of the Sea A contribution to the natural and economic history of the British food fishes

OUR SHELL-FISH FISHERIES.

Productive Power of Shell-Fish—Varieties of the Crustacean

Family—Study of the Minor Shell-Fishes—Demand for

Shell-Fish—Lobsters—A Lobster Store-Pond Described—Natural

History of the Lobster and other Crustacea—March of the

Land-Crabs—Prawns and Shrimps, how they are caught and cured—Scottish

Pearl-Fisheries—Account of the Scottish Pearl-Fishery—A

Mussel-Farm—How to grow Bait.

Shell-fish is the popular name bestowed by unscientific persons on

the crustacea and mollusca, and no other designation could so well

cover the multitudinous variety of forms which are embraced in these

extensive divisions of the animal kingdom. Fanciful disquisitions on

shell-fish and on marine zoology have been intruded on the public of

late till they have become somewhat tiresome; but as our knowledge of

the natural history of all kinds of sea animals, and particularly of

oysters, lobsters, crabs, etc., is decidedly on the increase, there is

yet room for all that I have to say on the subject of these dainties;

and there are still unexplored wonders of animal life in the fathomless

sea that deserve the deepest study.

The economic and productive phases of our shell-fish fisheries have

never yet, in my opinion, been sufficiently discussed, and when I state

that the power of multiplication possessed by all kinds of crustacea

and mollusca is even greater, if that be possible, than that possessed

by finned fishes, it will be obvious that there is much in their

natural history that must prove interesting even to the most general

reader. Each oyster, as we have seen, gives birth to almost incredible

quantities of young. Lobsters also have an amazing fecundity, and

yield an immense number of eggs—each female producing from twelve to

twenty thousand in a season; and the crab is likewise most prolific. I

lately purchased a crab weighing within an ounce of two pounds, and it

contained a mass of minute eggs equal in size to a man’s hand; these

were so minute that a very small portion of them, picked off with the

point of a pin, when placed on a bit of glass, and counted by the aid

of a powerful microscope, numbered over sixty, each appearing of the

size of a red currant, and not at all unlike that fruit: so far as I

could guess the eggs were not nearly ripe. I also examined about the

same time a quantity of shrimp eggs; and it is curious that, while

there are the cock and hen lobster, I never saw any difference in the

sex of the shrimps: all that I handled, amounting to hundreds, were

females, and all of them were laden with spawn, the eggs being so

minute as to resemble grains of the finest sand.

Although the crustacean family counts its varieties by thousands, and

contains members of all sizes, from minute animalculæ to gigantic

American crabs and lobsters, and ranges from the simplest to the most

complex forms, yet the edible varieties are not at all numerous. The

largest of these are the lobster (_Astacus marinus_) and the crab

(_Cancer pagurus_); and river and sea cray-fish may also be seen in

considerable quantities in London shell-fish shops; and as for common

shrimps (_Crangon vulgaris_) and prawns (_Palæmon serratis_), they are

eaten in myriads. The violet or marching crab of the West Indies, and

the robber crab common to the islands of the Pacific, are also esteemed

as great delicacies of the table, but are unknown in this country

except by reputation.

Leaving old and grave people to study the animal economy of the

larger crustacea, the juveniles may with advantage take a peep at the

periwinkles, the whelks, or other mollusca. These are found in immense

profusion on the little stones between high and low water mark, and on

almost every rock on the British coast. Although to the common observer

the oyster seems but a repulsive mass of blubber, and the periwinkle a

creature of the lowest possible organisation, nothing can be further

from the reality. There is throughout this class of animals a wonderful

adaptibility of means to ends. The turbinated shell of the periwinkle,

with its finely-closed door, gives no token of the powers bestowed upon

the animal, both as provision for locomotion (this class of travellers

wherever they go carry their house along with them) and for reaping

the tender rock-grass upon which they feed. They have eyes in their

horns, and their sense of vision is quick. Their curiously-constructed

foot enables them to progress in any direction they please, and their

wonderful tongue either acts as a screw or a saw. In fact, simple as

the organisation of these animals appears to be, it is not less curious

in its own way than the structure of other beings which are thought to

be more complicated. In good truth, the common periwinkle (_Littorina

vulgaris_) is both worth studying and eating, vulgar as some people may

think it.

Immense quantities of all the edible molluscs are annually collected by

women and children in order to supply the large inland cities. Great

sacks full of periwinkles, whelks, etc., are sent on by railway to

Manchester, Glasgow, London, etc.; whilst on portions of the Scottish

sea-coast the larger kinds are assiduously collected by the fishermen’s

wives and prepared as bait for the long hand-lines which are used in

capturing the codfish or other Gadidæ. As an evidence of how abundant

the sea-harvest is, I may mention that from a spot so far north as

Orkney hundreds of bags of periwinkles are weekly sent to London by the

Aberdeen steamer.

From personal inquiry made by the writer a few months ago it was

estimated that for the commissariat of London alone there were required

two millions and a half of crabs and lobsters! May we not, therefore,

take for granted that the other populous towns of the British empire

will consume an equally large number? The people of Liverpool,

Manchester, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dublin are as fond of shell-fish

as the denizens of the great metropolis; at any rate, they eat all

they can get, and never get enough. The machinery for supplying this

ever-increasing demand for lobsters, crabs, and oysters is exceedingly

simple. On most parts of the British coast there are people who make

it their business to provide those luxuries of the table for all who

wish them. The capital required for this branch of the fisheries is

not large, and the fishermen and their families attend to the capture

of the crab and lobster in the intervals of other business. The Scotch

laird’s advice to his son to “be always stickin’ in the ither tree, it

will be growin’ when ye are sleepin’,” holds good in lobster-fishing.

The pots may be baited and left till such time as the victim enters,

whilst the men in the meantime take a short cruise in search of bait,

or try a cast of their haddock-lines a mile or two from the shore; or

the fishing can be watched over, and when the lobsters are numerous,

the pots be lifted every half hour or so. The taking of shell-fish

also affords occupation to the old men and youngsters of the fishing

villages, and these folks may be seen in the fine days assiduously

waiting on the lobster-traps and crab-cages, which are not unlike

overgrown rat-traps, and are constructed of netting fastened over a

wooden framework, baited with any kind of fish offal, or garbage, the

stench of which may be strong enough to attract the attention of those

minor monsters of the deep. A great number of these lobster-pots are

sunk at, perhaps, a depth of twelve or twenty fathoms at an appropriate

place, being held together by a strong line, and all marked with a

peculiarly-cut piece of cork, so that each fisherman may recognise

his own lot. The knowing youngsters of our fishing communities can

also secure their prey by using a long stick. Mr. Cancer Pagurus is

watched as he bustles out for his evening promenade, and, on being

deftly pitched upon his back by means of a pole, he indignantly seizes

upon it with all his might, and the stick being shaken a little has

the desirable effect of causing Mr. Crab to cling thereto with great

tenacity, which is, of course, the very thing desired by the grinning

“human” at the other end, as whenever he feels his prey secure he

dexterously hauls him on board, unhooks the crusty gentleman with a

jerk, and adds him to the accumulating heap at the bottom of the old

boat. The monkeys in the West Indies are, however, still more ingenious

than the “fisher loons” of Arran or Skye. Those wise animals, when

they take a notion of dining on a crab, proceed to the rocks, and

slyly insinuating their tail into one of the holes where the crustacea

take refuge, that appendage is at once seized upon by the crab, who

is thereby drawn from his hiding-place, and, being speedily dashed

to pieces on the hard stone, affords a fine feast to his captor. On

the granite-bound coast of Scotland the sport of crab-hunting may be

enjoyed to perfection and the wonders of the deep be studied at the

same time. A long pole with a small crook at the end will be found

useful to draw the crab from his nest, or great fun may be enjoyed

by tying during low-water a piece of bait to a string and attaching

a stone to the other end of the cord. The crab seizes upon this bait

whenever the tide flows, and drags it to its hole, so that when the

ebb of the tide recurs the stone at the end of the cord marks the

hiding-place of the animal, who thus falls an easy prey to his captor.

The natives are the best instructors in these arts, and seaside

visitors cannot do better than engage the services of some strong

fisher youth to act as guide in such perambulations as they may make on

the beach. There are few seaside places where the natives cannot guide

strangers to rock pools and picturesque nooks teeming with materials

for studying the wonders of the shore.

Lobsters are collected and sent to London from all parts of the

Scottish shore. I have seen on the Sutherland and other coasts the

perforated chests floating in the water filled with them. They were

kept till called for by the welled smacks, which generally made the

circuit of the coasts once a week, taking up all the lobsters or crabs

they could get, and carrying them alive to London. From the Durness

shores alone as many as from six to eight thousand lobsters have been

collected in the course of a single summer, and sold, big or little,

at threepence each to the buyers. The lobsters taken on the north-east

coast of Scotland and at Orkney are now packed in seaweed and sent in

boxes to London by railway. The lobsters have been more plentiful, it

is thought, in the Orkney Islands of late years; a larger trade has

been done in them since the railway was opened from Aberdeen—at all

events, more of the animals have been caught, and the prices are double

what they used to be in the time of the welled smacks alluded to above.

The fisher-folks of Orkney confess that the trade in lobsters pays them

well.

All kinds of crustaceans can be kept alive at the place of capture till

“wanted”—that is, till the welled vessel which carries them to London

or Liverpool arrives—by simply storing them in a large perforated

wooden box anchored in a convenient place. Nor must it be supposed

that the acute London dealers allow too many lobsters to be brought to

market at once; the supply is governed by the demand, and the stock

kept in large store-boxes at convenient places down the river, where

the sea-water is strong and the liquid filth of London harmless. But

these old-fashioned store-boxes will, no doubt, be speedily superseded

by the construction of artificial store-ponds on a large scale, similar

to that erected by Mr. Richard Scovell at Hamble, near Southampton.

That gentleman informs me that his pond has been of good service to

him. It is about fifty yards square, and is lined with brick, having

a bottom of concrete, and was excavated at a cost of about £1200.

It will store with great ease 50,000 lobsters, and the animals may

remain in the pond as long as six weeks, with little chance of being

damaged. Lobsters, however, do not breed in this state of confinement,

nor have they been seen to undergo a change of shell. There is, of

course, an apparatus of pipes and sluices for the purpose of supplying

the pond with water. The stock is recruited from the coasts of France

and Ireland; and to keep up the supply Mr. Scovell has in his service

two or three vessels of considerable size, which visit the various

fisheries and bring the lobsters to Hamble in their capacious wells,

each of which is large enough to contain from 5000 to 10,000 animals.

The west and north-west coasts of Ireland abound with fine lobsters,

and welled vessels bring thence supplies for the London market, and it

is said that a supply of 10,000 a week can easily be obtained. Immense

quantities are also procured on the west coast of Scotland. A year or

two ago I saw on board the _Islesman_ steamboat at Greenock a cargo

of 30,000 lobsters, obtained chiefly on the coasts of Lewis and Skye.

The value of these to the captors would be upwards of £1000, and in

the English fishmarkets the lot would bring at least four times that

sum. As showing how enormous the food wealth of the sea still is,

notwithstanding the quantity taken out of it, I may cite here a few

brief particulars of a little experiment of a charitable nature which

was tried by a gentleman who took a warm interest in the Highland

fishermen, and the results of which he himself lately made public.

Commiserating the wretchedness which he had witnessed among many, who,

although anxious to labour, were unable to procure work, and at the

same time feeling that the usual method of assisting them was based on

a mistaken principle, this gentleman undertook the establishment of a

fishery upon a small scale at his own expense. He therefore expended a

sum of £600, with which he procured eight boats, completely equipped,

and a small smack of sixteen tons. The crews, consisting of thirty

men, he furnished with all the necessary fishing materials, paying

the men weekly wages ranging from nine to thirteen shillings, part of

the sum being in meal. The result of this experiment was, that these

eight boats sent to the London market in a few months as many lobsters

as reimbursed the original cost of the fishing plant. The men and

their families were thus rescued from a state of semi-starvation, and

are now living in comfort, with plenty surrounding their dwellings;

and have, besides, the satisfaction of knowing that their present

independent condition has been achieved principally by means of their

own well-sustained industry.

A very large share of our lobsters is derived from Norway, as many as

30,000 sometimes arriving from the fjords in a single day. The Norway

lobsters are much esteemed, and we pay the Norwegians something like

£20,000 a year for this one article of commerce. They are brought over

in welled steam-vessels, and are kept in the wooden reservoirs already

alluded to, some of which may be seen at Hole Haven, on the Essex side

of the Thames. Once upon a time, some forty years ago, one of these

wooden lobster-stores was run into by a Russian frigate, whereby some

20,000 lobsters were set adrift to sprawl in the muddy waters of the

Thames. In order that the great mass of animals confined in these

places may be kept upon their best behaviour, a species of cruelty has

to be perpetrated to prevent their tearing each other to pieces: the

great claw is, therefore, rendered paralytic by means of a wooden peg

being driven into a lower joint.

I have no intention of describing the whole members of the crustacea;

they are much too numerous to admit of that, ranging as they do from

the comparatively giant-like crab and lobster down to the millions of

minute insects which at some places confer a phosphorescent appearance

on the waters of the sea. My limits will necessarily confine me to a

few of the principal members of the family—the edible crustacea, in

fact; and these I shall endeavour to speak about in such plain language

as I think my readers will understand, leaving out as much of the

fashionable “scientific slang” as I possibly can.

The more we study the varied crustacea of the British shores, the more

we are struck with their wonderful formation, and the peculiar habits

of their members. I once heard a clergyman at a lecture describe a

lobster in brief but fitting terms as a standing romance of the sea—an

animal whose clothing is a shell, which it casts away once a year in

order that it may put on a larger suit—an animal whose flesh is in its

tail and legs, and whose hair is in the inside of its breast, whose

stomach is in its head, and which is changed every year for a new one,

and which new one begins its life by devouring the old! an animal which

carries its eggs within its body till they become fruitful, and then

carries them outwardly under its tail; an animal which can throw off

its legs when they become troublesome, and can in a brief time replace

them with others; and lastly, an animal with very sharp eyes placed in

movable horns. The picture is not at all overdrawn. It is a wondrous

creature this lobster, and I may be allowed a brief space in which to

describe the curious provision of nature which allows for an increase

of growth, or provides for the renewal of a broken limb, and which

applies generally to the edible crustacea.

The habits of the principal crustacea are now pretty well understood,

and their mode of growth is so peculiar as to render a close

inspection of their habits a most interesting study. As has been

stated, a good-sized lobster will yield about 20,000 eggs, and these

are hatched, being so nearly ripe before they are abandoned by the

mother, with great rapidity—it is said in forty-eight hours—and grow

quickly, although the young lobster passes through many changes

before it is fit to be presented at table. During the early periods

of growth it casts its shell frequently. This wonderful provision for

an increase of size in the lobster has been minutely studied during

its period of moulting. Mr. Jonathan Couch says the additional size

which is gained at each period of exuviation is perfectly surprising,

and it is wonderful to see the complete covering of the animal cast

off like a suit of old clothes, while it hides, naked and soft, in a

convenient hole, awaiting the growth of its new crust. In fact, it is

difficult to believe that the great soft animal ever inhabited the

cast-off habitation which is lying beside it, because the lobster

looks, and really is, so much larger. The lobster, crab, etc., change

their shells about every six weeks during the first year of their age,

every two months during the second year, and then the changing of the

shell becomes less frequent, being reduced to four times a year. It

is supposed that this animal becomes reproductive at the age of five

years. In France the lobster-fishery is to some extent “regulated.” A

close-time exists, and size is the one element of capture that is most

studied. All the small lobsters are thrown back to the water. There is

no difficulty in observing the process of exuviation. A friend of mine

had a crab which moulted in a small crystal basin. I presume that at

some period in the life of the crab or lobster growth will cease, and

the annual moulting become unnecessary; at any rate, I have seen crabs

and other crustaceans taken from an island in the Firth of Forth which

were covered with parasites evidently two or three years old.

To describe minutely the exuviation of a lobster, crab, or shrimp

would in itself form an interesting chapter of this work, and it is

only of late years that many points of the process have been witnessed

and for the first time described. Not long ago, for instance, it was

doubtful whether or not the hermit-crabs (_Anomoura_) shed their skin;

and, that fact being settled, it became a question whether they shed

the skin of their tail! There was a considerable amount of controversy

on this delicate point, till the “strange and unexpected discovery”

was made by Mr. Harper. That gentleman was fortunate enough to catch

a hermit-crab in the very act, and was able to secure the caudal

appendage which had just been thrown off. Other matters of controversy

have been instituted in reference to the growth of various members

of the crustacea; indeed, the young of the crab in an early stage

have before now been described by naturalists as distinct species,

so great is the metamorphosis they undergo before they assume their

final shape—just as the sprat in good time changes in all probability

to the herring. Another point of controversy at one period existed in

reference to the power of crustaceans to replace their broken limbs, or

occasionally to dispense at their own good pleasure with a limb, when

it is out of order, with the absolute certainty of replacing it.

When the female crustacea retire in order to undergo their exuviation

they are watched, or rather guarded, by the males; and if one male be

taken away, in a short time another will be found to have taken his

place. I do not think there is any particular season for moulting; the

period differs in different places, according to the temperature of the

water and other circumstances, so that we might have shell-fish (and

white-fish too) all the year round were a little attention paid to the

different seasons of exuviation and egg-laying.

The mode in which a hen lobster lays her eggs is curious: she

lodges a quantity of them under her tail, and bears them about for

a considerable period; indeed, till they are so nearly hatched as

only to require a very brief time to mature them. When the eggs are

first exuded from the ovary they are very small, but before they are

committed to the sand or water they increase considerably in size and

become as large as good-sized shot. Lobsters may be found with eggs,

or “in berry” as it is called, all the year round; and when the hen is

in process of depositing her eggs she is not good for food, the flesh

being poor, watery, and destitute of flavour.

When the British crustacea are in their soft state they are not

considered as being good for food; but, curiously enough, the

land-crabs are most esteemed while in that condition. The epicure who

has not tasted “soft crabs” should hasten to make himself acquainted

with one of the most delicious luxuries of the table. The eccentric

land-crab, which lives far inland among the rocks, or in the clefts of

trees, or burrows in holes in the earth, makes in the spring-time an

annual pilgrimage to the sea in order to deposit its spawn, and the

young, guided by an unerring instinct, return to the land in order

to live in the rocks or burrow in the earth like their progenitors.

In the fish-world we have something nearly akin to this. We have

the salmon, that spends one half its life in the sea, and the other

half in the fresh water; it proceeds to the sea to attain size and

strength, and returns to the river in order to perpetuate its kind.

The eel, again, just does the reverse of all this: it goes down to the

sea to spawn, and then proceeds up the river to live; and at certain

seasons it may be seen in myriad quantities making its way up stream.

The march of the land-crabs is a singular and interesting sight: they

congregate into one great army, and travel in two or three divisions,

generally by night, to the sea; they proceed straight forward, and

seldom deviate from their path unless to avoid crossing a river. These

marching crabs eat up all the luxuriant vegetation on their route:

their path is marked by desolation. The moment they arrive at the water

the operation of spawning is commenced by allowing the waves to wash

gently over their bodies. A few days of this kind of bathing assists

the process of oviposition, and knots of spawn similar to lumps of

herring-roe are gradually washed into the water, which in a short time

finishes the operation. Countless thousands of these eggs are annually

devoured by various fishes and monsters of the deep that lie in wait

for them during the spawning season. After their brief seaside sojourn,

the old crabs undergo their moult, and at this period thousands of them

sicken and die, and large numbers of them are captured for table use,

soft crabs being highly esteemed by all lovers of good things. By the

time they have recovered from their moult the army of juveniles from

the seaside begins to make its appearance in order to join the old

stock in the mountains; and thus the legion of land-crabs is annually

recruited by a fresh batch, which in their turn perform the annual

migration to the sea much as their parents have done before them.

Before leaving the crabs and lobsters, it is worthy of remark that an

experienced dealer can tell at once the locality whence any particular

lobster is obtained—whether from the west of Ireland, the Orkney

Islands, or the coast of Brittany. The shelly inhabitants of different

localities are distinctly marked. Indeed fish are peculiarly local

in their habits, although the vulgar idea has hitherto been that all

kinds of sea animals herd indiscriminately together; that the crab and

the lobster crept about the bottom rocks, whilst the waving skate or

the swaggering lingfish dashed about in mid-water, the prowling “dogs”

busily preying on the shoals of herring supposed to be swimming near;

the brilliant shrimp flashing through the crowd like a meteor, the

elegant saithe keeping them company; the whole being overshadowed by a

few whales, and kept in awe by a dozen or so of sharks! Nothing can be

more different than the reality of the water-world, which is colonised

quite as systematically as the earth. Particular shoals of herring,

for instance, gather off particular counties; the Lochfyne herring,

as I have mentioned in the account of the herring-fishery, differs

from the herring of the Caithness coast or that of the Firth of Forth;

and any ’cute fishmonger can tell a Tweed salmon from a Tay one. The

herring at certain periods move in gigantic shoals, the chief members

of the Gadidæ congregate on vast sandbanks, and the whales occasionally

roam about in schools; while the Pleuronectidæ occupy sandy places

in the bottom of the sea. We have all heard of the great cod-banks

of Newfoundland, of the fish community at Rockall; then is there not

the Nymph Bank, near Dublin, celebrated for its haddocks? have we not

also the Faroe fishing-ground, the Dogger Bank, and other places with

a numerous fish population? There are wonderful diversities of life

in the bosom of the deep; and there is beautiful scenery of hill and

plain, vegetable and rock, and mountain and valley. There are shallows

and depths suited to different aspects of life, and there is life of

all kinds teeming in that mighty world of waters, and the fishes live

“A cold sweet silver life, wrapped in round waves,

Quickened with touches of transporting fear.”

The prawn and the shrimp are ploughed in innumerable quantities from

the shallow waters that lave the shore. The shrimper may be seen any

day at work, pushing his little net before him. To reach the more

distant sandbanks he requires a boat; but on these he captures his prey

with greater facility, and richer hauls reward his labour than when he

plies his putting-net close inshore. The shrimper, when he captures

a sufficient quantity, proceeds to boil them; and till they undergo

that process they are not edible. The shrimp is “the ‘Undine’ of the

waters,” and seems possessed by some aquatic devil, it darts about

with such intense velocity. Like the lobster and the crab, the prawn

periodically changes its skill; and its exertions to throw off its old

clothes are really as wonderful as those of its larger relatives of

the lobster and crab family. There are a great many species of shrimp

in addition to the common one; as, for instance, banded, spinous,

sculptured, three-spined, and two-spined. Young prawns, too, are often

taken in the “putting-nets” and sold for shrimps. Prawns are caught in

some places in pots resembling those used for the taking of lobsters.

The prawn exuviates very frequently; in fact it has no sooner recovered

from one illness than it has to undergo another. Although the prawn

and the shrimp are exceedingly common on the British coasts, when

we consider the millions of these “sea insects,” as they have been

called, which are annually consumed at the breakfast tables and in the

tea-gardens of London alone (not to speak of those which are greedily

devoured in our watering-places, or the few which are allowed to reach

the more inland towns of the country), we cannot but wonder where they

all come from, or who provides them; and the problem can only be solved

by taking into account the fact that we are surrounded by hundreds of

miles of a productive seabord, and that thousands of seafaring people,

and others as well, make it their business to supply such luxuries to

all who can pay for them. It is even found profitable to send these

delicacies to England all the way from the remote fisheries of Scotland.

The art of “shrimping” is well understood all round the English coasts.

The mode of capturing this particular member of the Crustacea is by

what is called a shrimp-net, formed of a frame of wood and twine

into a long bag, which is used as a kind of minature trawl-net; each

shrimping-boat being provided with one or two of these instruments,

which, scraping along the sand, compel the shrimp to enter. Each boat

is provided with a “well,” or store, to contain the proceeds of the

nets, and on arrival at home the shrimps are immediately boiled for

the London or other markets. The shrimpers are rather ill-used by the

trade. Of the many thousand gallons sent daily to London, they only

get an infinitesimal portion of the money produce. The retail price

in London is four shillings per gallon, out of which the producer is

understood to get only threepence! I have been told that the railways

charge at the extraordinary rate of £9 a ton for the carriage of this

delicacy to London. It is an interesting sight to watch the shrimpers

at their work, and such of my readers as can obtain a brief holiday

should run down to Leigh, or some nearer fishing place, where they can

see the art of shrimping carried on in all its picturesque beauty.

The fresh-water cray-fish, a very delicate kind of miniature lobster,

abundantly numerous in all our larger streams, and exceedingly

plentiful in France, may often be seen on the counters of our

fishmongers; as also the sea cray-fish, which is much larger in size,

having been known to attain the weight of ten or twelve pounds, but it

is coarser in the flavour than either the crab or lobster. The river

cray-fish, which lodges in holes in the banks of our streams, is caught

simply by means of a split stick with a bit of bait inserted at the

end. The fresh-water cray-fish has afforded a better opportunity for

studying the structure of the crustacea than any of the salt-water

species, as its habits can be more easily observed. The sea cray-fish

is not at all plentiful in the British Islands, although we have a

limited supply in some of our markets.

There has hitherto been a fixed period for the annual sacrifice to

crustacean gastronomy. As my readers are already aware, there is a

well-known time for the supplying of oysters, which is fixed by law,

and which begins in August and ends in April. During the _r_-less

months oysters are less wholesome than in the colder weather. The

season for lobsters begins about March, and is supposed to close with

September, so that in the round of the year we have always some kind

of shell-fish delicacy to feast upon. Were a little more attention

devoted to the economy of our fisheries, we might have lobsters and

crabs upon our tables all the year round. In my opinion lobsters are

as good for food in the winter time as during the months in which they

are most in demand. It may be hoped that we shall get to understand all

this much better by and by, for at present we are sadly ignorant of the

natural economy of these, and indeed all other denizens of the deep.

A new branch of shell-fishing has been lately revived in Scotland. I

allude to the pearl-fisheries which are now being carried on in our

large streams, and which, if prudently conducted, may become a source

of considerable wealth to the Scottish people.

The pearl is found in a species of shell-fish which is a variety of

the mussel, not an oyster, as is commonly supposed. The pearl has

been pronounced the most beautiful of all our gems, coming, as it

does, finished and perfect, direct from the laboratory of nature, and

consequently owing nothing to the cunning of man except its discovery—

“Ocean’s gem, the purest

Of Nature’s works! what days of weary journeyings,

What sleepless nights, what toils on land and sea,

Are borne by men to gain thee!”

In the Eastern seas professional divers are employed to go down into

the depths of the ocean in order to obtain them—a dangerous occupation,

at one time only followed by condemned criminals. The best-known

fishery for pearls is that at Ceylon, which was a very lucrative

concern, at one time, in the hands of the industrious Dutch.

[Illustration: THE SCOTTISH PEARL-MUSSEL.]

Pearls are of remote antiquity. In the time of Pliny they held the

highest rank among all gems, and the Romans esteemed and largely used

them—the ladies ornamenting, with lavish extravagance, all parts of

their dress with them; and so extravagant did they become in their

use of these gems by way of personal ornament, that Seneca, the wise

moralist, reproaches a patrician by saying that his lady wore all the

wealth of his house in her ears, it being at that time the fashion

for a lady to have three or four of these valuable gems hung in

each ear-drop. As to the value of these drops from the deep, we may

instance Cleopatra’s banquet to Mark Antony, when, according to vulgar

belief, she took a pearl from her ear, worth £80,000 of our money, and

dissolving it in vinegar, swallowed it! The pearl which Cæsar presented

to the mother of Marcus Brutus is said to have been of the value of

£48,000. Then we are told that Clodius, the son of the tragedian, once

swallowed a pearl worth £8000. Actors’ sons of the present day have

been known to do extravagant things; but few of them, I suspect, could

achieve a feat like this. In the East, too, in those early days, the

pearl was held in the highest esteem. We read of one gem, still to be

seen in Persia, I believe, that had a market price set upon it equal to

£100,000 of our money; and there is another pearl mentioned as obtained

in 1587 from the island of Margarita which weighed 250 carats, the

value of which was named as being $150,000; and there are many other

instances on record of the value of pearls to which I need not make

further reference.

When our government took up the Eastern pearl-fishery in 1797, the

annual produce was £144,000, which in the following year was increased

by £50,000, but immediately afterwards fell off, most probably from

overfishing. It revived again, and in the beginning of the present

century the pearl ground was leased to private adventurers at the

large rent of £120,000 per annum, with the wise understanding that the

bed or bank was to be divided into portions, only one of which was to

be worked at a time, so that a part of the mussels might have a good

rest. From various causes, however, the Ceylon fisheries have again

failed, and for a year or two have been totally unproductive. In a

privately-printed work on Ceylon, by James Steuart, Esq. of Colpetty,

which the author has kindly forwarded to me along with a quantity of

Oriental pearl-oyster shells, there is a very interesting description

of the Ceylon pearl-fishery, with notes on the natural history of the

oyster. In reference to the recent failure of the fishery for gems in

the Gulf of Manaar, Mr. Steuart has supplied me with the following

interesting note:—

“The Gulf of Manaar pearl-fisheries having again ceased to be

productive, the government of Ceylon appear to be impressed with a

belief that further information is needed respecting the habits of

the pearl-oyster, and that it may be desirable to obtain the services

of a naturalist to study and report on the best means of insuring a

continuous revenue from pearls.

“The natural history of the edible oyster is now so well understood

that its culture on artificial beds is in successful progress in many

places on the coasts of both England and France; but it is one thing to

breed and fatten edible oysters for the palate, and another to breed

the pearly mollusc of Ceylon to produce pearl.

“That which is commonly called the pearl-oyster of the Gulf of Manaar

is classed by naturalists with the mussel in consequence of its shells

being united by a broad hinge and its having a strong fibrous byssus

with which it attaches itself to the shells of others, to rocks,

and to other substances. It had long been believed that the fish in

question had not the power of locomotion, nor of detaching its byssus

from the substances to which it adhered; but in the year 1851 it

was satisfactorily ascertained that when it had become detached it

possessed the power of extending its body from within its shells and

of creeping up the inner side of a glass globe containing sea-water.

It was, however, left to the late Dr. Kelaart, when employed by

government as a naturalist to study the habits of the fish, to discover

that, although it could not detach its byssus from the rock to which

it adhered, it had the power of casting off from its body its entire

byssus and of proceeding to some other spot, and there, by forming a

new byssus, of attaching itself to any substance near to it. It is

therefore now believed that the Manaar pearl-fish has the power of

changing its position, and this may account for the disappearance of

large quantities from the sandy places on which the brood sometimes

settles; but it is by no means so clear that these fish are able to

drag their shells after them over the rugged surface of coral rocks.

“I have already stated that the produce of the pearl-fish of the Gulf

of Manaar varies in richness of colour, in the size of the pearl, and

the quantity of its yield, according to the nature of the ground on

which it rests, or of the food which that ground supplies. In some

cases the pearl produced barely repays the cost of fishing. It would

therefore appear to be desirable that the component parts of the

surface of the most productive banks should be subjected to chemical

analysis. And as the natural history of the mussel and the scollop does

not appear to be so well ascertained as that of the edible oyster, it

might be attended by some useful result if a prize were offered for the

best treatise on these European bivalves as being the nearest approach

to the pearly mollusc of Ceylon. With the information thus obtained, it

might not be necessary to incur the expense of sending a naturalist to

Ceylon.”

During the past two or three summers the early industry of

pearl-seeking has been very successfully revived in Scotland, chiefly

through the exertions of Mr. Moritz Unger, a dealer in gems residing in

Edinburgh. That gentleman having, in the way of his trade, occasionally

fallen in with pearls said to be obtained in Scottish rivers, was so

struck with their great beauty that he determined to set about their

collection in a more systematic way. At that time there was in Scotland

only one professed fisher for pearls, who lived at Killin, and whose

stock was principally bought up by the late Marquis of Breadalbane. Mr.

Unger, having in view the extension of the trade, travelled over the

whole country, and announced his intention of buying, at a fixed scale

of prices, all the pearls he could obtain—taking possession, in the

meantime, of such gems as he could get from the peasantry, and paying

them a liberal price. The consequence is, that now, instead of there

being but one professed pearl-seeker in Scotland, there are hundreds

who cling to pearl-fishing as their sole occupation, and, being sober

and industrious men, they make a good living by it.

The Scotch pearls were, in the middle ages, celebrated all over Europe

for their size and beauty. Just one hundred years ago—between the years

1761 and 1764—pearls to the value of £10,000 were sent to London from

the rivers Tay and Isla; but the trade carried on in the corresponding

years of this century is far more than double that amount. Mr. Unger

estimates the pearls found last summer (1864) to be of the value to

the finders of about £10,000; whereas, on his first tour, he bought

up, four years ago, all that were to be had for the sum of £40. Single

specimens have recently been found worth as much as £60.

From the middle of last century till about 1860 the Scottish

pearl-fisheries were quite neglected, and large pearls were found only

as it were by accident in occasional dry seasons, when the rivers were

scant of water, and the mussels were consequently accessible without

much trouble. It was left for Mr. Unger to discern the capabilities

of the Scottish pearl as an ornamental gem of great value; and it is

now a fact that the beautiful pink-hued pearls of our Scottish streams

are admired even beyond the Oriental pearls of Ceylon. The Empress

Eugenie, Queen Victoria, and other royal ladies, as well as many of

the nobility, have been making large purchases of these Scottish gems.

In some rural districts the peasantry are making little fortunes by

pearl-seeking for only a few hours a day. Many of the undemonstrative

weavers and cobblers, whose residence is near a pearl-producing stream,

contrive, in the early morning, or after the usual day’s work, to step

out and gather a few hundreds of the pearl-containing mussels, in which

they are almost sure to find a few gems of more or less value. The

pearl-fisher requires no capital to set him up in his trade; he needs

no costly instruments, but has only to wade into the stream, put forth

his hand, and gather what he finds.

An intelligent pearl-fisher, who resides near the river Doon, has

sent me the following graphic account of what he calls “the pearl

fever:”—“For many years back the boys were in the habit of amusing

themselves in the summer-time, when the water was shallow, by gathering

mussels and searching them for pearls, having heard somehow that money

could be obtained for them; but they often enough found that, however

difficult it might be to secure the pearl, it was still more difficult

to get it converted into cash—threepence, sixpence, or a shilling,

being the ordinary run of prices, buyers and sellers being alike

ignorant of the commodity in which they were dealing. It was not until

the middle of the summer of 1863 that the fever of pearl-seeking broke

out thoroughly on the banks of the classic Doon. The weather had been

uncommonly dry for some time, and the river had in many places become

extremely shallow; some of the women and children had been employing

their spare time in gathering mussels and opening them, and few of

those who had given it a trial failed to become the possessors of one

or more pearls. Just then Mr. Unger made his appearance, and bought up

all he could get at prices which perfectly startled the people; and,

as a consequence, young and old, male and female, rushed like ducks to

the water, and waded, dived, and swam, till the excitement became so

intense as to be called by many the ‘pearl fever.’ The banks of the

river for some time presented an extraordinary scene. Here a solitary

female, very lightly clad indeed, is seen wading up to the breast, and

as she stoops to pick up a mussel, her head is of necessity immersed in

the water. Having got hold of a shell she throws it on to the opposite

bank and stoops for another, and in this manner secures as many as

her apron will hold, and carries them home to find that, very likely,

she has more blanks than prizes among them. There, in a shallow part

of the stream, a swarm of boys are trying their fortune; there is a

great degree of impatience in their mode of fishing, for each shell is

opened and examined so soon as it is lifted. A little above them are

two scantily-clad females earnestly at work; one of them is actually

stone blind, but she gropes with her naked feet for a shell, then

picks it up with her hand, carefully opens it with a stout knife, and

with her thumb feels every part of its interior. She has been pretty

successful, and her tidy dress when she is resting from her labour

betokens the good use she makes of the proceeds of her fishing. The

spectator may next pass through the crowds of men, women, and boys

similarly employed, where the grassy banks are reddened by the constant

tread of many feet, and the smell of heaps upon heaps of putrid mussels

tells the magnitude of the slaughter. The eye is then attracted by the

sight of a man on crutches making for the river. He soon gets seated on

the right bank of the stream, where his better half, in water almost

beyond her depth, is gathering from the bottom of the muddy and all but

stagnant part of the river a quantity of shells for him to examine. Nor

were the labours of this couple unrewarded; by their united exertions

they earned in a few weeks somewhat above £8, and so little idea

had they of the value of the pearls, that on one occasion when they

expected about 15s. for a few they had despatched to the collector,

they were agreeably surprised at the receipt of three times the amount

by return of post. It was found that the fishing was most successful

where the river was deep and its motion sluggish. To get at the mussels

in such places, large iron rakes, with long teeth and handles about

twenty feet in length, were procured, and by means of these some of

the deepest parts of the river were dragged and some valuable pearls

secured; many of which were disposed of at £1 each, others at 25s., and

one at £2; while a great number ranged from 7s. 6d. to 15s. each. But

by far the greater portion were either entirely useless, or on account

of their smallness, bad shape, or colour, were parted with for a mere

trifle. Some idea of the extent of the pearl-fishery in 1863 of this

one river may be gathered from the fact that Mr. Unger paid to those

engaged in it a sum exceeding £150 for each month the fishing lasted;

and a goodly number of pearls were disposed of to private individuals

in the vicinity for their own special use, besides those that found

their way into the markets. During the continuance of the fishery

the general cry was that so much exposure of the body was likely to

introduce a variety of diseases such as had not hitherto been known in

the place; but no such effects made their appearance. And though there

were exceptional cases where the extra cash (for it was like found

money) obtained for the pearls was worse than wasted, there are many

who can point to a new suit of clothes or a good lever watch, when

asked what they had to show as the reward of the many cold drenchings

they got while dredging the Doon for pearls.”

In 1863 a controversy arose as to which rivers produced the best

pearls, and it was then argued that only in those streams issuing from

lochs was a continuous supply of the pearl-mussel to be found, and

although there are a few pearl streams which take their rise in some

little spring and gather volume as they flow, yet their number, as

far as is known, is only four—viz. the Ugie, Ythan, Don, and Isla—and

even these are now (1865) very nearly exhausted. Many of the finest

gems have been found in the Doon, Teith, Forth, Earn, Tay, Lyon, Spey,

Conan, etc. etc. Until this summer (1865) it has been supposed that

the lochs are the natural reservoirs of the pearl-mussel, and when

in 1860-1 a portion of Loch Venachar was laid dry for the purpose of

building a sluice for the Glasgow Waterworks, innumerable shells were

found, from which the labourers gathered a great many very fine pearls.

The above theory was thereby so much confirmed that Mr. Unger was

induced in 1864 to try further experiments on Lochs Venachar, Achray,

and Lubnaig, by means of dredging, which, considering the rough mode of

procedure, was so successful, especially on a place called Lynn Achore,

at the east end of Loch Venachar, that he at last considered himself

justified in incurring considerable expense. Accordingly he procured

this summer (1865) one of Siebes’ diving apparatus, and bringing down

one of the best divers from London, proceeded to search the bottoms

of several lochs on a systematic plan. Many obstacles were thrown in

Mr. Unger’s way by the proprietors, and although he was particularly

anxious to experiment on Loch Tay, the present Earl of Breadalbane

would not grant permission for him to do so. But with the consent of

the Earl of Moray the first regular trial was made on Loch Venachar,

and it was ascertained beyond a doubt that shells were to be found in

all the sandy shallow parts of the loch; not however in beds, as people

were led to suppose from dredging experiments, but only here and there

in clusters of a dozen or so, except at the mouth of the loch, where

they were more extensive and in larger quantities. The diver also went

down in various parts of the loch to the depth of a hundred feet,

where it was found to be quite impracticable to search for anything

so small as a pearl-mussel on account of the thick muddy bottom. Mr.

Unger, nothing daunted by this partial failure, went to Sir Robert

Menzies, who not only consented at once to his trying Loch Rannoch,

but generously placed all available boats and utensils, besides the

service of several men, at his disposal; after a week’s trial, however,

Mr. Unger was reluctantly compelled for the present to desist from any

further experiments.

Pearls are found in many of the Irish and Welsh rivers, and Mr.

Unger now receives constant accessions to his stock from the north

of Ireland. The Conway was noted for pearls in the days of Camden.

The pearl-mussels are called by the Welsh “Deluge shells,” and are

thought by the ignorant to have been left by the Flood. The river

Irt, in Cumberland, was also at one time a famous stream for pearls;

and during last century several pearls were found in the streams of

Ireland, particularly in the counties of Tyrone and Donegal. We read of

specimens that fetched sums varying from £4 to £80.

If my readers be curious to know how many shells will have to be

opened before this toil is rewarded with a find of pearls, let them be

told that, on the average, the searcher never opens a hundred mussels

without being made happy with a few of the gems. It is remarked that

they are more certain to have pearls when they are taken from the

stony places of the river. Thousands of mussels have been found in

the sand, but these have rarely if ever contained a single pearl;

whilst the shells again that are found in soft and muddy bottoms have

plenty of gems, but they are poor in quality and bad in colour. No

pearls are ever found in a young shell, and all such may at once be

rejected. A skilful operator opens the mussel with a shell, in order

to avoid scratching the pearl; the opened fish is thrown into the

water, and it is either the mussels or the insects gathering about

them that are greedily devoured by the salmon and other fish, so

that those proprietors of streams who were becoming uneasy as to the

effects of the pearl-fishery on the salmon may set their minds at rest.

Although at one time none of the London dealers in gems would look at

a Scotch pearl, it is an interesting fact that now the fame of the

Scottish fisheries has so extended as to bring buyers from France and

other Continental countries; and, as boats and dredges are now being

introduced, it is thought that any moderate demand may be supplied.

Great quantities of pearls have been sent to the collector through the

post-office.

An Ayrshire paper says of the Doon fishery:—“That owing to the

wholesale slaughter of the mussels last season, the pearl-fishing

this summer (1864) in the river Doon has been neither so exciting nor

remunerative. Few have paid much attention to it; but even amongst

those few rather more than £100 has been obtained for pearls since the

month of May, there being more than one individual who has earned at

least £13 during that period, having followed their avocation daily,

whilst the pearl-fishing was engaged in as a _profitable_ recreation.

As a whole the pearls of the river Doon are of an inferior quality,

£2 being about the highest price at which any of them have been sold;

these weighed from eight to twelve grains, but were far from being

very bright in colour. ‘It is all a matter of chance,’ say some of the

pearl-fishers; ‘you may fish a whole day and not make sixpence, and one

worth a pound may be, yea has been, found in the second shell.’” Such

things have frequently happened, but the earnest plodding fisher has

always been handsomely paid for his work. Though on an average a pearl

is found in every thirty shells, only one pearl in every ten is fit for

the market. It will thus be seen that one hundred and thirty shells

have to be gathered, opened, and examined, and one hundred and thirty

lives sacrificed, in order to secure one marketable pearl.[16]

It is not unlikely that the present mania for pearl-gathering may very

speedily exhaust the supply of mussels. The energy with which the

fishing is carried on undoubtedly points to a very speedy diminution

of a shell-fish which was never very plentiful, and it would be a

very good plan to try the system of culture on hurdles which has been

found so successful for the growth of the edible mussel of the Bay of

Aiguillon, to be now described.

Considering the importance attached by fishermen to the easy attainment

of a cheap supply of bait, it is surprising that no attempt has been

made in this country to economise and regulate the various mussel-beds

which abound on the Scottish and English coasts. The mussel is very

largely used for bait, and fishermen have to go far, and pay dear,

for what they require—their wives and families being also employed to

gather as many as they can possibly procure on the accessible places of

the coast, but usually the bait has to be purchased and carried from

long distances. I propose to show our fisher-people how these matters

are managed in France, and how they may obviate the labour and expense

connected with bait buying or gathering, by growing such a crop of

mussels as would not only suffice for an abundant supply of bait, but

produce a large quantity for sale as well.

[Illustration: MUSSEL-STAKES.]

Mussel-culture has been carried on with immense success on a certain

part of the coast of France for a period of no less than seven

centuries! So long ago as the year of grace 1135 an Irish barque was

wrecked in the Bay of Aiguillon. The cargo and one of the crew were

saved by the humanity of the fishermen inhabiting the coast. The name

of the one man who was thus saved from shipwreck was Walton, and he

gave to the people, in gratitude for saving his life, the germ of a

marvellous fish-breeding idea. He invented artificial mussel-culture.

An exile from Erin, Walton was ingenious enough to create a “hurdle,”

which, intercepting the spat of the mussels, served as a place for them

to grow. In a sense, the origin of this mussel-farm was accidental.

The bay where this industry is now flourishing was, at the time of

the shipwreck, and is at present, a vast expanse of mud, frequented

by sea-fowl, and it was while devising a kind of net or trap for the

capture of these that he obtained the germ of his future idea of

mussel-culture. The net or bag-trap which he employed in catching

the night birds which floated on the water was fixed in the mud by

means of tolerably strong supports, and he soon found out that the

parts of his net which were sunk in the water had intercepted large

quantities of mussel-spat, which in time grew into the finest possible

mussels, larger in size and finer in quality than those grown upon the

neighbouring mud. From less to more this simple discovery progressed

into a regular industry, which at present forms almost the sole

occupation of the inhabitants of the neighbouring shores. The system

pursued is that invented by Walton about the middle of the twelfth

century, and has been handed down from generation to generation in all

its original simplicity and ingenuity. The apparatus for the growth

of the mussel, with which the bay is now almost covered, is called

a _bouchot_, and is of very simple construction. A number of strong

piles or stakes, each 12 feet in length and 6 inches in diameter, are

driven into the mud to the depth of 6 feet, at a distance of about 2

feet from each other, and are ranged in two converging rows, so as to

form a V, the sharp point of which is always turned towards the sea,

that the stakes may offer the least possible resistance to the waves.

These two rows form the framework of the _bouchot_. Strong branches

of trees are then twisted and interwoven into the upper part of the

stakes, which are 6 feet in height, until the whole length of the row

is, by this species of basket-work on a large scale, formed into a

strong fence or palisade. A space of a few inches is left between the

bottom of the fence and the surface of the mud, to allow the water to

pass freely between the stakes when the tide ebbs and flows. The sides

of the _bouchot_ are from 200 to 250 metres long, and each _bouchot_,

therefore, forms a fence of about 450 metres, 6 feet high. There are

now some 500 of these _bouchots_ or breeding-grounds in the Bay of

Aiguillon, making a fence of 225,000 metres, extending over a space of

8 kilometres, or 5 miles, from the point of St. Clemens to the mouth of

the river of Marans.

[Illustration: A MUSSEL-FARM.]

The Bay of Aiguillon, as has already been observed, is a vast field

of mud, and, when left dry at low water, it is impassable on foot.

To enable him to traverse it at low water, the _boucholeur_ uses a

canoe. This canoe, formed of plain planks of wood, is about nine feet

in length and eighteen inches in breadth and depth, the fore-end being

something like the usual shape of the bow of a boat. The _boucholeur_

places himself at the stern of the canoe, rests his right knee on the

bottom of the boat, leans his body forward, and, seizing the two sides

of the canoe with his hands, throws out his left leg, which is encased

in a strong boot, backwards to serve as an oar. In this position he

pushes his left leg in and out of the mud, and thus propels his light

boat along the surface to whatever part of the field he wishes to

visit. Notwithstanding the windings and twistings of the confused

maze formed on the surface of the bay by the _bouchots_, long habit

enables the _boucholeur_, even in the darkest night, to distinguish

his neighbour’s establishment in the crowd. The _boucholeur_ uses his

canoe not only in transporting his mussels from the _bouchot_ to the

shore, and attending to the various operations of the mussel-field, but

also in conveying to the proper spot the stakes and hurdles necessary

for the construction and repair of the _bouchots_. The furrows left by

the canoe in the mud might, in the summer time, by hardening in the

sun, render the propulsion of his canoe across the field a very arduous

task to the _boucholeur_. Nature has, however, provided an admirable

remedy for this possible evil. A small crustacean, the _corophie_,

appears in great numbers in the mud-field about the end of the month

of April, and during the summer months levels and overturns many

leagues of these furrows, and mixes the mud with water, in searching

after the innumerable multitudes of worms (annelidæ) of all species

that infest the mud. The corophies, which are remarkably fond of these

marine worms, pursue them in every direction through the mud; and, by

their vigorous efforts to discover their prey, prevent the furrows

from forming an obstacle to the progress of the _boucholeur_. This

crustacean disappears suddenly, in a single night, towards the end of

October.

The cultivation of mussels is carried on by the inhabitants of the

communes of Esnandes, Chavron, and Marsilly. Many of the _boucholeurs_

possess several _bouchots_, while the poorest of them have only a share

of one _bouchot_, cultivating it, together with the other owners,

and dividing the profits among them, according to their shares. The

_bouchots_ are arranged in four divisions, according to their position

in the bay, and are distinguished as _bouchots du bas_ or _d’aval_,

_bouchots batard_, _bouchots milieu_, and _bouchots d’avant_. The

_bouchots du bas_, placed farthest from the shore, and only uncovered

during spring tides, are not formed of fences as the _bouchots_

proper, but consist simply of a row of stakes, planted about one boat

distant from each other, and in the most favourable position for the

preservation of the _naissain_, or young of the mussels. Upon these

isolated stakes the spat is allowed to collect, which is afterwards to

be transplanted for the purpose of peopling barren or poorly-furnished

palisades in those divisions which, planted nearer the shore, are more

frequently uncovered by the tide.

The various operations of mussel-cultivation are designated by

agricultural terms—such as sowing, planting, transplanting, etc.

Towards the end of April the seed (_semence_) fixed during February

and March to the stakes of the _bouchot du bas_ is about the size of

a grain of flax, and is then called _naissain_. By the month of July

it attains the size of a bean, and is called _renouvelain_, and is

then ready for transplantation to a less favourable state of existence

upon the _bouchot batard_, where the action of the tide would probably

have retarded its growth if transplanted earlier. In the month of

July, then, the _boucholeurs_ direct their canoes towards the isolated

stakes, bearing the _semence_, now developed into the _renouvelain_,

which they detach by means of a hook fixed to the end of a pole. Care

is taken to gather such a quantity as they are able to transplant

during low water—the only time when this operation can be carried on.

The _semence_, placed in baskets, is transported by means of the canoe

to the fences of the _bouchot batard_. The operation of fixing the

_renouvelain_ upon the palisades of the _bouchot batard_ is called _la

batrisse_. The _semence_, enclosed in bags of old net, is placed in

all the empty spaces along the palisades until the hurdles are quite

covered, sufficient space being left between the bags to admit of the

growth of the young mussels. The bags soon rot and fall to pieces,

leaving the young mussels adhering to the sides of the _bouchot_. The

mussels by and by attain a large size, and grow so close to each other

that the whole fence looks like a wall blackened by fire.

When the mussels grow so large that they touch and overlap each other,

the cultivator thins the too-crowded ranks of the _bouchots batard_, in

order to make way for a younger generation of mussels. The mussels thus

obtained are transplanted and placed on the empty or partially-covered

hurdles, and transplanted to the _bouchot milieu_, which is uncovered

during neap-tides. This operation is performed in the manner already

described, only the larger size of the mussels renders the use of a net

to enclose them unnecessary. The labour of transplanting is continued

so long as there remain upon the _bouchot du bas_ any _renouvelain_ fit

for being placed on the _bouchots_ nearer the shore. The work must be

carried on at all times of the day and night during low water, as that

is the only period that the _bouchots_ are uncovered. There is also the

labour of replacing and covering with mussels any of the palisades that

may have sunk or been broken.

After about a year’s sojourn on these artificial beds the mussels are

fit for the market. Before being ready for sale, they are transplanted

to the _buchots d’avant_, which are placed close to the shore to

admit of the mussels being easily gathered by the hand when ready for

the market. A very perceptible difference in quality is seen in the

mussels grown on different parts of the bay—those of the upper division

possessing the finest flavour, while those of the lower divisions are

much inferior, a circumstance caused no doubt by their suffering much