Edible Crab, Shore-Crab, Spider-Crab, &c.
'With a smart rattle, something fell from the bed to the floor; and
disentangling itself from the death drapery, displayed a large pound
_Crab_.... Creel Katie made a dexterous snatch at a hind claw, and,
before the Crab was at all aware, deposited him in her patch-work
apron, with a "_Hech, sirs, what for are ye gaun to let gang siccan a
braw partane?_"'--T. HOOD
[Illustration:
1 EDIBLE CRAB
2 EDIBLE CRAB, casting its shell, from Nature
3 SPIDER CRAB
4 COMMON SHORE-CRAB
5 MINUTE PORCELAIN-CRAB]
IV.
The foregoing motto, extracted from a humorous tale by 'dear Tom Hood,'
which appeared in one of his comic annuals,--or volumes of 'Laughter
from _year_ to _year_,' as he delighted to call them,--may not inaptly
introduce the subject of this chapter.
The term _partane_ is generally applied in Scotland to all the true
crabs (_Brachyura_). An esteemed friend, however, informs me that in
some parts it is more particularly used to denote the Edible Crab
_(Cancer pagurus_), which is sold so extensively in the fishmongers'
shops. However that may be, there is no doubt it was a specimen of this
genus that Creel Katie so boldly captured.
Now this crab, to my mind, is one of the most interesting objects of
the marine animal kingdom, and I would strongly advise those of my
readers who may have opportunities of being at the sea-side to procure
a few youthful specimens. Its habits, according to my experience, are
quite different from those of its relative, the Common Shore-Crab
(_Carcinus_ _mænas_), or even the Velvet Swimming-Crab (_Portunus
puber_). Unlike these, it does not show any signs of a vicious temper
upon being handled, nor does it scamper away in hot haste at the
approach of a stranger. Its nature, strange as the statement may appear
to many persons, seems timid, gentle, and fawn-like.
On turning over a stone, you will perhaps perceive, as I have often
done, three or four specimens, and, unless previously aware of the
peculiarity of their disposition, you will be surprised to see each
little fellow immediately fall upon his back, turn up the whites of his
eyes, and bring his arms or claws together,--
'As if praying dumbly,
Over his breast:'
making just such a silent appeal for mercy as a pet spaniel does
when expecting from his master chastisement for some _faux pas_. One
of these crabs may be taken up and placed in the hand without the
slightest fear. It will not attempt to escape, but will passively
submit to be rolled about, and closely examined at pleasure. Even when
again placed in its native element, minutes will sometimes elapse
before the little creature can muster up courage to show his 'peepers,'
and gradually unroll its body and limbs from their painful contraction.
Most writers on natural history entertain an opinion totally at
variance with my own in regard to the poor _Cancer pagurus_, of whom
we are speaking. By some he is called a fierce, cannibalistic, and
remorseless villain, totally unfit to be received into respectable
marine society. Mr. Jones relates how he put half a dozen specimens
into a vase, and on the following day found that, with the exception
of two, all had been killed and devoured by their companions; and in a
trial of strength which speedily ensued between the pair of 'demons in
crustaceous guise,' one of these was eventually immolated and devoured
by his inveterate antagonist. Sir J. Dalyell mentions several similar
instances of rapacity among these animals. Now, these anecdotes I do
not doubt, but feel inclined, from the results of my own experience, to
consider them exceptional cases.
When studying the subject of exuviation, I was in the habit of
keeping half a dozen or more specimens of the Edible Crab together as
companions in the same vase; but except when a 'friend and brother'
slipped off his shelly coat, and thus offered a temptation too great
for crustaceous nature to withstand, I do not remember a single
instance of cannibalism. True, there certainly were occasionally
quarrelling and fighting, and serious nocturnal broils, whereby life
and limb were endangered; but then such mishaps will frequently occur,
even in the best regulated families of the higher animals, without
these being denounced as a parcel of savages.
Compared to _Cancer pagurus_, the Shore-Crab appears in a very
unamiable light. When the two are kept in the same vase, they exhibit
a true exemplification of the wolf and the lamb. This, much to my
chagrin, was frequently made evident to me, but more particularly so
on one occasion, when I was, from certain circumstances, compelled to
place a specimen of each in unhappy companionship. Here is a brief
account of how they behaved to each other: The poor little lamb (_C.
pagurus_) was kept in a constant state of alarm by the attacks of her
fellow-prisoner (_C. mænas_) from the first moment that I dropped her
in the tank. If I gave her any food, and did not watch hard by until it
was consumed, the whole meal would to a certainty be snatched away. Not
content with his booty, the crabbie rascal of the shore would inflict a
severe chastisement upon his rival in my favour, and not unfrequently
attempt to wrench off an arm or a leg out of sheer wantonness. To
end such a deplorable state of matters, I very unceremoniously took
up wolf, and lopped off one of his large claws, and also one of his
hind legs. By this means I stopped his rapid movements to and fro,
and, moreover, deprived him somewhat of his power to grasp an object
forcibly. In spite of his mutilations, he still exhibited the same
antipathy to his companion, and, as far as possible, made her feel the
weight of his jealous ire. Retributive justice, however, was hanging
over his crustaceous head. The period arrived when nature compelled
him to change his coat. In due time the mysterious operation was
performed, and he stood forth a new creature, larger in size, handsomer
in appearance, but for a few days weak, sickly, and defenceless. His
back, legs, and every part of his body were of the consistency of
bakers' dough. The lamb well knew her power, and though much smaller in
size than her old enemy, she plucked up spirit and attacked him; nor
did she desist until she had seemingly made him cry peccavi, and run
for his life beneath the shelter of some friendly rock. Without wishing
to pun, I may truly say the little partane came off with _eclat_,
having my warmest approbation for her conduct, and a _claw_ in her arms
as token of her prowess. I knew that when wolf was himself again there
would be a scene. Reprisals, of course, would follow. Therefore, rather
than permit a continuance of such encounters, I separated the crabs,
and introduced them to companions more suited to the nature of each.
The difference exhibited in the form and development of the tail in
the ten-footed Crustacea (_Decapoda_)--as for instance, the crab, the
lobster, and the hermit-crab--is so striking that naturalists have
very appropriately divided them into three sections, distinguished by
terms expressive of these peculiarities of structure: 1st, _Brachyura_,
or short-tailed decapods, as the Crabs; 2d, _Anomoura_, or irregular
tailed, as the Hermit-crabs; 3d, _Macroura_, or long-tailed, as
Lobster, Cray-fish, &c.
It is to a further consideration of a few familiar examples of the
first mentioned group that I propose to devote the remainder of this
chapter.
Few subjects of study are more difficult and obscure than such as
belong to the lower forms of the animal kingdom. However carefully
we may observe the habits of these animals, our conclusions are too
often apt to be unsound, from our proneness to judge of their actions
as we would of the actions of men. As a consequence, an animal may
be pronounced at one moment quiet and intelligent, and at another
obstinate and dull, while perhaps, if the truth were known, it deserves
neither verdict.
For my own part, the more I contemplate the habits of many members
of the marine animal kingdom, the more am I astounded at the seeming
intelligence and purpose manifested in many of their actions. Prior,
apparently, must have been impressed with the same idea, for he says,
speaking of animals,--
"Vainly the philosopher avers
That reason guides our deeds, and instinct _theirs_.
How can we justly different causes frame
_When the effects entirely are the same?_
Instinct and reason, how can we divide?
'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride!"
This train of thought has been suggested to my mind by viewing the
singular conduct of a Shore-Crab, whom I kept domesticated for many
consecutive months. Three times during his confinement he cast his
exuvium, and had become nearly double his original size. His increased
bulk made him rather unfit for my small ocean in miniature, and gave
him, as it were, a loblolliboy appearance. Besides, he was always
full of mischief, and exhibited such pawkiness, that I often wished
he were back again to his sea-side home. Whenever I dropped in a meal
for my Blennies, he would wait until I had retired, and then rush out,
disperse the fishes, and appropriate the booty to himself. If at all
possible, he would catch one of my finny pets in his arms, and speedily
devour it. Several times he succeeded in so doing; and fearing that
the whole pack would speedily disappear, unless stringent measures for
their preservation were adopted, I determined to eject the offender.
After considerable trouble, his crabship was captured, and transferred
to a capacious glass.
The new lodging, though not so large as the one to which for so long
a time he had been accustomed, was nevertheless clean, neat, and
well-aired. At its base stood a fine piece of polished granite, to
serve as a chair of state, beneath which was spread a carpet of rich
green ulva. The water was clear as crystal; in fact, the accommodation,
as a whole, was unexceptionable. The part of host I played myself,
permitting no one to usurp my prerogative. But in spite of this,
the crab from the first was extremely dissatisfied and unhappy with
the change, and for hours together, day after day, he would make
frantic and ineffectual attempts to climb up the smooth walls of
his dwelling-place. Twice a day, for a week, I dropped in his food,
consisting of half a mussel, and left it under his very eyes; nay, I
often lifted him up and placed him upon the shell which contained his
once-loved meal; still, although the latter presented a most inviting
come-and-eat kind of appearance, not one particle would he take, but
constantly preferred to raise himself as high as possible up the sides
of the vase, until losing his balance, he as constantly toppled over
and fell upon its base.
This behaviour not a little surprised me. Did it indicate sullenness?
or was it caused by disappointment? Was he aware that escape from
his prison without aid was impossible, and consequently exhibited
the pantomime, which I have described, to express his annoyance, and
longing for the home he had lately left?
Thinking that perhaps there was not sufficient sea-weed in the glass,
I added a small bunch of _I. edulis_. Having thus contributed, as I
believed, to the comfort of the unhappy crab, I silently bade him
_bon soir_. On my return home, I was astonished by the servant, who
responded to my summons at the door, blurting out in a nervous manner,
'O sir! the creature's run awa!' 'The creature--what creature?' I
inquired. 'Do ye no ken, sir?--the wee crabbie in the tumler!'
I could scarcely credit the evidence of my sight when I saw the
'tumler' minus its crustaceous occupant. The first thought that
occurred to me was as to where the crab could be found. Under chairs,
sofa, and fender, behind book-case, cabinet, and piano, in every
crevice, hole, and corner, for at least an hour did I hunt without
success. Eventually the hiding-place of the fugitive was discovered in
the following singular manner: As I sat at my desk, I was startled by
a mysterious noise which apparently proceeded from the interior of my
'Broadwood,' which, by-the-by, I verily believe knows something about
the early editions of 'The battle of Prague,' The strings of this
venerable instrument descend into ill-disguised cupboards, so that
at the lower part there are two doors, or, in scientific language,
'valves.' On opening one of these, what should I see but the poor
crab, who, at my approach, 'did' a kind of scamper polka over the
strings. This performance I took the liberty of cutting short with
all possible speed. On dragging away the performer, I found that his
appearance was by no means improved since I saw him last. Instead of
being ornamented with gracefully-bending polypes, he was coated, body
and legs, with dust and cobwebs. I determined to try the effect of a
bath, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing him regain his usual
comely appearance. The next step was to replace him in his old abode;
and having done so, I felt anxious to know how the creature had managed
to scale his prison walls. The _modus operandi_ was speedily made
apparent; yet I feel certain that, unless one had watched as I did, the
struggles of this little fellow, the determination and perseverance he
exhibited would be incredible.
After examining his movements for an hour, I found, by dint of standing
on the points of his toes, poised on a segment of weed, that he managed
to touch the brim of the glass. Having got thus far, he next gradually
drew himself up, and sat upon the edge of the vessel. In this position
he would rest as seemingly content as a bird on a bush, or a schoolboy
on a gate.
My curiosity satisfied, the _C. mænas_ was again placed in the vase,
and every means of escape removed.
Here let me mention that I still had a Fiddler-Crab in my large tank,
who had formerly lived in companionship with the shore-crab above
mentioned. With 'the fiddler' I had no fault to find; he was always
modest and gentle, and gave no offence whatever to my Blennies. He
never attempted to embrace them, nor to usurp their lawful place at the
table, nor even to appropriate their meals. On the contrary, he always
crept under a stone, and closely watched the process of eating until
the coast was clear, when he would scuttle out, and feed, Lazarus-like,
upon any crumbs that might be scattered around.
Although so modest and retiring, I soon discovered that this little
crab possessed an ambitious and roving disposition. This made him
wish to step into the world without, and proceed on a voyage of
discovery--to start, indeed, on his own account, and be independent of
my hospitality, or the dubious bounty of his finny companions. Taking
advantage on one occasion of a piece of sandstone that rested on the
side of the aquarium, he climbed up its slanting-side, from thence he
stepped on to the top of the vessel, and so dropped down outside upon
the room floor. For nearly two days I missed his familiar face, but had
no conception that he had escaped, or that he wished to escape from his
crystal abode. It was by mere accident that I discovered the fact.
Entering my study, after a walk on a wet day, umbrella in hand, I
thoughtlessly placed this useful article against a chair. A little pool
of water immediately formed upon the carpet, which I had no sooner
noticed, than I got up to remove the _parapluie_ to its proper place in
the stand, but started back in surprise, for in the little pool stood
the fugitive fiddler moistening his branchiæ.
Taking up the little prodigal who had left my protection so lately,
I soon deposited him in a vase of clear salt water. After a while,
thinking it might conduce to the happiness of both parties, I placed
him in companionship with his old friend, _Carcinus mænas_. This,
like many other philanthropic projects, proved a complete failure.
Both creatures, once so harmless towards each other, seemed suddenly
inspired by the demon of mischief. Combats, more or less severe,
constantly occurring, in a few days I separated them.
The 'fiddler' I placed in the large tank, where he rested content, and
never again offered to escape--evidently the better of his experience.
Not so his old friend, who still continued obstinate and miserable as
ever. In his case I determined to see if a certain amount of sternness
would not curb his haughty spirit. For two days I offered him no
food, but punished him with repeated strokes on his back, morning and
evening. This treatment was evidently unpleasant, for he scampered
about with astonishing rapidity, and ever endeavoured to shelter
himself under the granite centre-piece. When I thought he had been
sufficiently chastised, I next endeavoured to coax him into contentment
and better conduct. My good efforts were, however, unavailing. Every
morning I placed before him a newly-opened mussel, but on no occasion
did he touch a morsel. All day he continued struggling, as heretofore,
to climb up the side of his chamber, trying by every means in his power
to escape. This untameable disposition manifested itself for about a
week, but at the end of that time, on looking into the vase, I saw
the crab seated on the top of the stone, his body resting against the
glass. I then took up a piece of meat and placed it before him. To my
surprise he did not run away as usual. Having waited for some minutes,
and looking upon his obstinacy as unpardonable, I tapped him with a
little stick--still he never moved. A sudden thought flashed across my
mind; I took him up in my hand, examined him, and quickly found that he
was stiff and dead!
* * * * *
There is a little crab, _Porcellana longicornis_, or Minute
Porcelain-Crab, frequently to be met with in certain localities.
The peculiarity of this creature is the thickness and the great
disproportionate length of his arms, as compared with the size of his
pea-like body. He possesses a singular habit which I have not observed
in any other crustaceans. He does not sit under a stone, for instance,
but always lies beneath such object with his back upon the ground;
so that when a boulder is turned over, these crabs are always found
sitting upon it, whereas the shore-crabs, when the light of day is
suddenly let in upon them, scamper off with all possible speed; or if
any remain, it appears as if they had been pressed to death almost, by
the weight of the stone upon their backs.
The colour of _P. longicornis_ is that of prepared chocolate, shaded
off to a warm red.
Another crab, equally common with those already mentioned, is to
be met with when dredging, and in most rock-pools. At Wardie, near
Edinburgh, I have seen hundreds of all sizes hiding beneath the rocks
at low tide. Its scientific name is _Hyas araneus_, but it is better
known as one of the Spider-Crabs. It claims close relationship with
that noted crustaceous sanitory reformer, _Maia squinado_. Although
this H. araneus is a somewhat pleasant fellow when you get thoroughly
acquainted with his eccentricities, appearances are sadly against him
at starting. Speaking with due caution and in the gentlest manner
possible, consistent with truth, I must say that this crab is, without
exception, one of the dirtiest-looking animals I have ever met with in
my zoological researches. At a by no means hasty glance, he appears to
be miraculously built up of mud, hair, and grit on every part, except
his claws, which are long and sharp as those of any bird of prey.
The first specimen I ever saw, seemed as if he had been dipped in a gum
pot, and then soused over head and ears in short-cut hair and filth.
The second specimen, although equally grimy, had some redeeming points
in his personal appearance, for at intervals every part of his back and
claws were covered with small frondlets of ulva, dulse, _D. sanguinea_,
and other beautiful weeds, all of which were in a healthy condition.
After keeping him in a vase for a week, he managed, much against my
wish, to strip himself of the greater part of these novel excrescences.
Instead of minute algæ, we read that these crabs are sometimes found
with oysters (_Ostrea edulis_) attached to their backs. Mr. W. Thompson
mentions two instances where this occurs, with specimens of _H.
araneus_, to be seen in Mr. Wyndman's cabinet. Speaking of these, he
adds, 'The oyster on the large crab is three inches in length, and five
or six years' old, and is covered with many large Balani. The shell,
a carapace of the crab, is but two inches and a quarter in length,
and hence it must, Atlas-like, have born a world of weight upon its
shoulders. The presence of the oyster affords interesting evidence that
the Hyas lived several years after attaining its full growth.
For days after I had brought him home, my second specimen appeared as
if he were dead, and it was only by examining his mouth through a hand
lens that I could satisfy myself as to his being alive. When I pushed
him about with an ivory stick he never resisted, but always remained
still upon the spot where I had urged him.
This species of _acting_ he has given up for some time, and at the
present moment I rank H. araneus among my list of marine pets, for he
does not appear any longer to pine for mud with which to decorate his
person, but is quite content to 'purge and live cleanly' all the rest
of his days.
The ancients imagined that _Maia squinado_ possessed a great degree of
wisdom, and further believed him to be sensible to the divine charms
of music. It is very curious, as well as true, that this animal has
in a far higher degree than other crustaceans, a gravity of demeanour,
and a profound style of doing everything, that always excites our
irreverent laughter, but at the same time leaves an impression that,
if justice were done, the animal ought to hold a higher position in
the marine world than a scavenger and devourer of ocean garbage. If
_Maia_ and _C. mænas_ be both eating out of the same dish, in the shape
of an open mussel, the former seems ever inclined to admonish his
companion upon greediness and want of manners. The only seeming reason
why _M. squinado_ does not really give such advice, is because of the
impossibility of any individual speaking with his mouth full. The
knowledge, too, that if he commenced a pantomimic discourse, it would
give his young friend an opportunity of gaining too large a share of
the banquet, may, perhaps, have something to do with his preferring to
remain quiet.
As for _Maia's_ possession of appreciative musical qualities, I can
only state that both he and his friend _Hyas_ really do convey to
the beholder an impression confirmatory of this statement. I have
frequently been amused to observe the singular phenomenon of each
animal coming to the side of the vase and rocking his body to and fro,
in apparent delight at the exercise of my vocal abilities, just as
when a pleasing melody is being played in the concert room, we bend
backwards and forwards, and beat time to the tune. These animals also
adopt the same course: it must be to unheard music (which the poets say
is sweetest), that seems ever and anon to fall on their ears, giving
them great delight.
The movements here alluded to may be in no way influenced by music; but
such as they are, it is curious that they have not been noticed as an
apparent explanation of the origin of the ancient belief regarding the
Spider-Crabs.
* * * * *
A friend, on one occasion having procured for me, among other objects,
a Common Limpet, I placed this mollusc in my aquarium, and soon had
the pleasure of watching it affix its broad foot to the surface of the
glass. After a while, on the Limpet slightly raising its canopy, I was
surprised to observe a little Shore-Crab peer out from between the foot
and shell. On suddenly ejecting the intruder by means of a small brush,
he speedily hid himself from view among the surrounding pebbles. A few
hours after, on again approaching the tank to view the Patella (which
was easily identified, from the fact of an immense colony of Mussels
being settled on its back), I found to my great astonishment that the
crab had re-seated himself in his old position. I often repeated the
sweeping operation, but without success, for the little rascal had
become artful, and was not inclined to be driven forth a second time
by a _coup de main_. I touched the Limpet frequently and saw it glue
itself, as usual, to the glass; but, singular to state, the creature
always left a larger space between its foot and the circumference
of the shell on the side at which the crab was seated, than on the
opposite one, seemingly from a wish to accommodate its crustaceous
friend. This space, moreover, let me observe, was larger than was
absolutely necessary, for, as the shell was not air-tight, I was
enabled to thrust my camel-hair pencil teazingly upon the crab, and was
much amused to watch him clutch at the intruding object, and, at times,
move about with it in his grasp, thus proving that he was by no means
uncomfortably 'cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd.'
For a whole week the crab remained in his favorite lodgings, and only
resigned occupancy thereof when his friend gave up the shell--and died.
There is a certain species of crab, _Pinnotheres pisum_, or common
Pea-Crab, frequently found in _Mytilus edulis_, the Oyster, and the
Common Cockle. Indeed, one gentleman states, that on his examining, on
two occasions, a large number of specimens of the _Cardium edule_, he
found that nine out of every ten cockles contained a crab. Still, in no
other instance than the one my own experience furnishes, have I ever
heard of the Shore-Crab, or, indeed, of any other crustacean, becoming
the guest of _Patella_.
The classical reader will not fail to remember Pliny's statement
(somewhat analogous to that above narrated) of a small crab,
_Pinnotheres veterum_, which is always found to inhabit the Pinna,--a
large species of mussel. This latter animal being blind, but muscularly
strong, and its juvenile companion quick-sighted, but weak of limb, the
crab, it is said, always keeps a sharp look-out, and when any danger
approaches, he gladly creeps into the gaping shell for protection. Some
writers assert, that when the bivalve has occasion to eat, he sends
forth his faithful henchman to procure food. If any foe approaches,
_Pinnotheres_ flies for protection with his utmost speed to the anxious
bosom of his friend, who, being thus warned of danger, closes his
valves, and escapes the threatened attack. When, on the contrary, the
crab loads himself with booty, he makes a gentle noise at the opening
of the shell, which is closed during his absence, and on admission,
this curious pair fraternize, and feast on the fruits of the little
one's foray.
For those of my readers who may prefer verse to prose, I here append a
poetical version of this fable--equally pretty, but, let me add in a
whisper, equally opposed to fact, at least in its principal details:--
'In clouded depths below, the Pinna hides,
And through the silent paths obscurely glides;
A stupid wretch, and void of thoughtful care,
He forms no bait, nor lays no tempting snare;
But the dull sluggard boasts a _crab_ his friend,
Whose busy eyes the coming prey attend.
One room contains them, and the partners dwell
Beneath the convex of one sloping shell:
Deep in the watery vast the comrades rove,
And mutual interest binds their constant love;
That wiser friend the lucky juncture tells,
When in the circuit of his gaping shells
Fish wandering enters; then the bearded guide
Warns the dull mate, and pricks his tender side.
He knows the hint, nor at the treatment grieves,
But hugs the advantage, and the pain forgives:
His closing shell the Pinna sudden joins,
And 'twixt the pressing sides his prey confines.
Thus fed by mutual aid, the friendly pair
Divide their gains, and all their plunder share.'
There is one singular feature in the Crustacea which it may prove
interesting to dwell a little upon. I allude to their power of living
apparently without food, or at least without any other sustenance
than is afforded by the animalculæ contained in the water in which
they dwell. One accurate observer states that he kept a Cray-fish for
a period of two years, during which time the only food the animal
received was a few worms,--not more than fifty altogether. This
statement I have often had ample means of verifying. Yet, on the other
hand, strange to say, the crab is always on the hunt after tit-bits;
and nothing seems to give him greater delight than a good morning meal,
in the shape of a newly opened Mussel, Cockle, and above all--a Pholas.
Let a youthful crustacean cast its shell, and rest assured, unless its
companions have had their appetites appeased, they will endeavour to
fall upon and devour the defenceless animal. This, to my chagrin and
annoyance, I have known to occur repeatedly. When nothing else can be
procured, not only the Lobster Crabs, but any Brachyurous Decapods
who may be at hand, will set to work, and industriously pick off and
eat the Acorn-Barnacles attached to any object within reach. These
facts show that the asceticism of the crab is not voluntary, and that
when opportunity occurs, he is as fond of a good dinner as are animals
possessed of a higher degree of organization.
It will be gratifying if other observers are able to verify the
circumstance which I shall allude to hereafter, and which would seem
to show that the _exuviation_ of crustacea is expedited by affording
specimens an unlimited supply of food.
'The organs for pursuing, seizing, tearing, and comminuting the food of
the Brachyurous Decapods,' says Professor Bell, 'are carried to a high
degree of development; ... these appendages consist of six pairs, of
which some are actual organs of mastication, as the mandibles or the
true jaws, the foot jaws or pedipalps, generally serving to keep the
food in contact with the former, whilst it is being broken up by them.
'The buccal orifice in the Brachyura occupies the interior face of
the cephalic division of the body, and is bounded anteriorly by a
crustaceous lamina of determinate form, which has been termed the upper
lip, and posteriorly by another, termed the lower lip. The mandibles
occupy the sides of the opening. After these, and external to them,
are the first, and then the second pair of true jaws, followed by the
three pairs of pedipalps or foot jaws, the last of which, when at rest,
close the mouth, and include the whole of the preceding ones. In the
Macroura the pedipalps are very different in their forms, and have the
aspect of very simple feet.
'The means of comminuting the food are not restricted to the
complicated machinery above referred to, for the stomach itself
contains a very remarkable apparatus, consisting of several hard
calcareous pieces, which may be termed _gastric teeth_. They are
attached to horny or calcareous levers, fixed in the parietes of
the stomach; they are moved by a complicated system of muscles, and
are admirably adapted to complete the thorough breaking-down of the
aliment, which had already been to a considerable extent affected by
the buccal appendages. These gastric teeth may be readily seen and
examined in the larger species of Decapoda, as in the large eatable
crab and the lobster; and it will be readily perceived how perfectly
the different pieces are made to act upon each other, and to grind the
food interposed between them.'
Having been on a certain day at the sea-side collecting, I was amused
to observe the movements of two ragged little urchins, who approached
near to where I stood, bottle in hand, examining some beautiful
zoophytes by aid of a pocket lens. One of them had a short iron rod,
with which he very dexterously hooked out any unfortunate crab who
happened to have taken up its quarters in some crevice or beneath
a boulder. Having captured a specimen, it was handed over to his
companion, who quickly tied it to a string which he held in his hand.
I had seen many a rope of onions, but this was the first time I had
seen a rope of crabs. On inquiry, I learned that the boys had taken two
dozen animals in about two hours. When any of the green-bellied crabs
happened to be poked out, they were allowed to escape back again as
quickly as they pleased.
With poor _Cancer pagurus_ the case was different,--every specimen, as
soon as caught, being strung up, and doomed to 'death in the pot.'
The above, I need scarcely state, is not the usual manner of fishing
for crabs, the approved plan being to take them in what are termed
crab-pots, 'a sort of wicker-trap made, by preference, of the twigs of
the golden willow (_salex vitellina_), at least in many parts of the
coast, on account, as they say, of its great durability and toughness.
These pots are formed on the principle of a common wire mousetrap, but
with the entrance at the top; they are baited with pieces of fish,
generally of some otherwise useless kind, and these are fixed into the
pots by means of a skewer. The pots are sunk by stones attached to the
bottom, and the situation where they are dropped is indicated, and the
means of raising them provided, by a long line fixed to the creel, or
pot, having a piece of cork attached to the free end of the line; these
float the line, and at the same time serve to designate the owners
of the different pots--one, perhaps, having three corks near together
towards the extremity of the line, and two distant ones--another may
have one cork fastened crosswise, another fastened together, and so
on. It is, of course, for their mutual security that the fishermen
abstain from poaching on their neighbour's property; and hence we find
that stealing from each other's pots is a crime almost wholly unknown
amongst them.'
'The fishery for these crabs constitutes an important trade on many
parts of the coast. The numbers which are annually taken are immense;
and, as the occupation of procuring them is principally carried on
by persons who are past the more laborious and dangerous pursuits of
general fishing, it affords a means of subsistence to many a poor man
who, from age or infirmity, would be unable without it to keep himself
and his family from the workhouse.'[3]
[3] Bell's Brit. Crus.