path: root/77774-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77774 ***




[Illustration: THE ROCKY SHORE AT LOW-WATER.

_From photo by the Author._]




                            By the Deep Sea


                     A POPULAR INTRODUCTION TO THE

                    WILD LIFE OF THE BRITISH SHORES


                                  BY

                          EDWARD STEP, F.L.S.


    AUTHOR OF “WAYSIDE AND WOODLAND BLOSSOMS,” “BY VOCAL WOODS AND
           WATERS,” “BY SEASHORE, WOOD, AND MOORLAND,” ETC.


         _WITH 122 ILLUSTRATIONS BY P. H. GOSSE, W. A. PEARCE,
                            AND MABEL STEP_


                             THIRD EDITION


                                LONDON

              JARROLD & SONS, 10 & 11, WARWICK LANE, E.C.

                        [_All Rights Reserved_]

                                 1896




    “There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
    There is society where none intrudes
    _By the deep Sea_, and music in its roar:
    I love not Man the less, but Nature more.”
                _Byron’s_ “_Childe Harold_,” Canto iv.




CONTENTS.


      I. THE SEA AND ITS SHORES               11

     II. LOW LIFE                             20

    III. SPONGES                              28

     IV. ZOOPHYTES                            37

      V. JELLY-FISHES                         49

     VI. SEA-ANEMONES                         64

    VII. SEA-STARS AND SEA-URCHINS            86

   VIII. SEA-WORMS                           107

     IX. CRABS AND LOBSTERS                  130

      X. SHRIMPS AND PRAWNS                  160

     XI. SOME MINOR CRUSTACEANS              172

    XII. BARNACLES AND ACORN-SHELLS          176

   XIII. “SHELL-FISH”                        185

    XIV. SEA-SNAILS AND SEA-SLUGS            207

     XV. CUTTLES                             231

    XVI. SEA-SQUIRTS                         236

   XVII. SHORE FISHES                        246

  XVIII. BIRDS OF THE SEA-SHORE              277

    XIX. SEAWEEDS                            288

     XX. FLOWERS OF THE SHORE AND CLIFFS     303

         CLASSIFIED INDEX OF SPECIES
         REFERRED TO IN TEXT                 309

         ALPHABETICAL INDEX                  315




ILLUSTRATIONS.


  The Rocky Shore at Low-water      _Frontispiece_

  The Sandy Shore at Low-water      _facing_ 11

  Foraminifera                               22

  Polycistin                                 23

  Sponges                                    29

  Section through Crumb-of-Bread Sponge      32

  Grantia compressa                          35

  Grantia ciliata                            35

  Sea Oak Coralline                          39

  Calycles of Sertularia enlarged            39

  Plumularia pinnata                         43

  Plumularian, portion enlarged              43

  Haliclystus                                45

  Sea-Mat (Flustra)                          46

  Larvæ of Aurelia                           53

  Marigold (_Aurelia aurita_)                54

  Portuguese Man o’ War                      56

  Tube-mouthed Sarsia                        57

  Forbes’ Æquorea                            58

  Beröe and Young                            61

  Beadlet                                    65

  Snowy Anemone                              68

  Rosy Anemone                               68

  Orange-disk Anemone                        69

  Opelet                                     73

  Dahlia Wartlet                             81

  Sun Star                                   91

  Purple-tipped Urchin                       93

  Feather-star                               93

  Starlet                                    93

  Granulate Brittle-star                     95

  Sipunculus                                103

  Sea-cucumber                              103

  Trumpet Sabella                           109

  Brush Sabella                             109

  Common Sabella                            109

  Scarlet Serpula                           113

  Pearly Nereis                             118

  Rainbow Leaf-worm                         119

  Banded Flat-worm                          125

  Long Worm                                 125

  Zebedee (_Xantho incisus_)                137

  Hairy-crab                                138

  Velvet Fiddler                            140

  The Hermit-crab and the
  Cloaklet Anemone                          145

  Scaly Squat-lobster                       148

  Broad-claw                                148

  Prickly Spider-crab                       152

  The Masked-crab (male)                    153

  Nut-crab                                  157

  Angular-crab                              157

  The Prawn                                 163

  Common Shrimp                             167

  Sea Slater                                173

  Ship-barnacle                             177

  Pyrgoma                                   183

  Scalpellum                                183

  Porcate barnacle                          183

  Acorn-shell                               183

  Spiny Cockle                              186

  Banded Venus                              186

  Smooth Venus                              191

  Rayed Artemis                             192

  Cross-cut Carpet-shell                    193

  Common Scallops                           195

  Scallop hung up                           196

  Comb-shell                                198

  Rayed Trough-shell                        199

  Red-nosed Borer                           203

  Piddock                                   203

  Limpets                                   208

  Purples                                   208

  Smooth Limpet                             211

  Smooth Limpet, thick variety              211

  Netted Dog-whelk                          213

  Red Whelk                                 214

  Cowry                                     215

  Horn-shell                                218

  Pelican’s-foot                            220

  The Common Top                            221

  Violet-shell                              222

  Raft of Violet-shell                      222

  Slit Limpet                               223

  Hungarian Cap                             224

  Tusk-shell                                224

  Smooth Mail-shell                         225

  Sea Lemon                                 226

  Crowned Eolis                             228

  Sea-hare                                  229

  Sea-hare, front view                      230

  Octopus                                   232

  Sepia                                     234

  Squid (_loligo_)                          235

  Ascidia virginea                          237

  Cynthia quadrangularis                    237

  Diagrammatic section of an
  Ascidian                                  238

  Orange-spotted Squirt
  (_Cynthia aggregata_)                     239

  Ascidia mentula                           240

  Currant-squirter
  (_Styela grossularia_)                    240

  Clavelina                                 241

  Salpa maxima                              242

  Part of a chain of Salpæ                  242

  Botryllus                                 243

  Botryllus violaceus                       244

  Larva of a Tunicate                       245

  Shanny                                    247

  Father Lasher                             251

  Worm Pipe-fish                            251

  Little Goby                               257

  Butterfly Blenny                          257

  Corkwing Wrasse                           259

  Gunnel                                    264

  Three-bearded Rockling                    266

  Fifteen-spined Stickleback                267

  Lesser Weever                             267

  Two-spotted Sucker                        271

  Montagu’s Sucker                          273

  Topknot                                   274

  Lesser Launce or Sand-eel                 275

  Shag                                      279

  Solan Goose                               281

  Oyster Catcher                            281

  Razorbill                                 285

  Puffin                                    285

  Channelled Wrack                          289

  Bladder Wrack                             291

  Saw-edged Wrack                           291

  Pod-weed                                  292

  Peacock’s Tail                            296

  Chondrus crispus                          299

  Ash-leaved Seaweed                       300


[Illustration: THE SANDY SHORE AT LOW-WATER.

_From photo by the Author._]




CHAPTER I.

THE SEA AND ITS SHORES.


The sea is the very fountain and reservoir of the life of this globe.
As the heart is to man and his fellow vertebrates, so is the ocean to
the world. It is the centre of the circulatory system; and that system
means the life, the health, the sustenance of the body through which
it sends its fluids. With the destruction of the heart the human life
must cease; and with the annihilation of the sea, could such a thing be
possible, all life on the globe must come to an end. We know it is the
source of all our vitalizing showers, of every fertilizing stream, of
every commerce-laden river. The sun and the winds distil its waters,
and carry the sponge-like clouds over the lands, to drop their moisture
in rain and mist and snow, making vegetation possible, and giving man
two-thirds of his entire substance; for there are ninety-eight pounds
of water in the man of ten stone!

The ocean does almost everything for man. Consider this statement
well, and you will be astounded at the way in which we are everywhere
dependent, directly or indirectly, upon the sea as the great reservoir
of the world’s water, and as the manufacturer, by means of its myriads
of living contents, of new and useful material from the old and
worn-out rubbish, the very refuse and filth, that we daily pour into
it. In fact, one of the principal occupations of civilised man may be
said to consist in making clean water dirty; and one of the greatest
operations of Nature is to make the dirty water clean and pure again.
Like the man in the fairy story, the sea gives us new lamps for our
old battered and bruised ones; and it is mainly enabled to do this by
reason of its immensity and the enormous variety of its population,
each able to turn some portion of our rubbish to account. According
to the most recent estimates, the cubical contents of the ocean is
fourteen times greater than the bulk of the land, and this means that
the whole of the land could be lost in the oceans. Not only so, but
if all the continents and all the islands were dumped down into the
Atlantic, there would still be two-thirds of that great ocean quite
clear, and the whole of the other oceans would be undisturbed. It is
calculated that the entire surface of the globe is 188 millions of
square miles, and of this, the small portion of 51 millions of square
miles represents the land surface, whilst the Pacific Ocean alone has a
surface area of 67 millions of square miles.

It is no wonder that the immensity and mystery of the sea have
always exercised a fascination over man. Emerson declares that “the
Scandinavians in our race still hear in every age the murmurs of their
mother, the ocean;” but he need not thus have limited the thought--in
this respect, at least, we are all Vikings, and the murmurs of our
mother still draw us to her side. Whether we be Scandinavians or Celts,
the sea has power to bring us to her to-day as strong as ever it had
over our forefathers, who found in the seas that lap our little isles
the secret of national liberty, wealth, and power, such as no other
country has ever enjoyed. What a part the sea has played in the making
of the great Anglo-Saxon race! It is but meet that we should try to
understand something of that great heart of Nature; and for years we
have been sending expeditions here and there to sound its depths, and
collect facts that shall one day enable us to know it thoroughly.
We cannot all undertake, or accompany, such expeditions, and must,
therefore, be content to read with delight of their results; but great
numbers of us make our annual pilgrimage to the sea-shore, and, if we
will, may learn much of its wonders and beauties without running into
danger, experiencing the discomfort of sea-sickness, or risking more
than the wetting of a foot.

In the present volume it is the author’s desire to act as a friendly
go-between, introducing the unscientific seaside visitor to a large
number of the wonderful and interesting creatures of the rocks,
the sands, and the shingle beach. Some may think this a work of
supererogation, for already many volumes have been issued with a
similar object. It is true that there are a number of manuals upon
the wonders and the common objects of the shore, but the best are
out-of-date or out-of-print, and the recent ones are such shocking
examples of bookmaking without much knowledge of the subject in
hand, that the practical ’long-shore naturalist smiles and writhes
alternately as he turns their pages. Whatever else the present effort
may lack, I claim for it this merit, that it has been written in close
contact with the things it describes--not only of cabinet specimens,
but of the living creatures under natural conditions. There is not a
line in the whole volume that has not been written within a few yards
of, and in full view of the rocks where the waves forever break,
sometimes gently with a low murmuring, almost a whisper; at other times
rearing their white crests a mile away, then sweeping across the bay,
flinging their malachite curves upon the rocks with giant force and
thunderous roar, whilst the foam flakes flying high tap softly at my
window.

As far as possible I have dealt with the fauna of the rocky shore
separately from that of the sands or the shingly beach, but it must
be understood that in Nature there is a good deal of overlapping. It
will also be no surprise to the reader that the rocky shore bulks more
largely in these pages than sand or shingle; the rocks with their
cracks and caves and pools affording protection to many delicate
organisms against the fury of the waves. Naturalists have marked off
the sea-bed into a series of zones, an arrangement which may seem
somewhat arbitrary, but which is found very useful in practice. The
first or highest of these zones is known as the Littoral zone (Latin,
_litoralis_, the shore), and includes all the shore, be it rocks,
sand, shingle, or mud, that lies between the highest and the lowest of
spring-tide marks. Next to this comes the Laminarian zone, so-called
because between very low tide and a depth of about fifteen fathoms
of water, the _Laminaria digitata_, or Oar-weed, grows profusely
over the rocky ground, and forms a splendid cover for the luxuriant
animal life that haunts it. Our district is the Littoral zone, and the
Laminarian zone forms our seaward boundary, which we cannot cross,
for its exploration needs the use of boat and dredge. It is a very
tempting province to enter, for it contains the oyster-banks, and many
interesting forms of life.

He who would see the most that the shore has to exhibit to him, must
consult the local tide-table, and the table of the moon’s changes. If
his stay at the seaside is to be brief, he must endeavour to let the
date of his start be governed by lunar considerations. Many business
men cannot get away for more than a fortnight, and if any such should
wish to make the best use of his time in connection with natural
history, we should advise him to begin his holiday at the period of
the moon’s first or third quarter. He will thus arrive at the time of
_neap_-tides; that is, when high-water is low, and low-water not much
lower--when, in a word, there is the least difference between high and
low water. The local weekly newspaper will in all probability contain
the times of high-water for every day in the coming week. If not, he
must find out on his first day at what hour low-water is reached, and
for at least an hour before that time he must be on the shore with
basket of wide-mouthed bottles--glass jam-jars are the best, for they
are easily obtained everywhere, and should an accident happen to one
through collision with a rock, no great harm is done. Now bear in mind
that the time of low- or high-water will be about forty-five minutes
later to-morrow than it was to-day, and the same number of minutes must
be added on each day to give the correct time for your visit to the
shore. Arrived there, it is best to keep close to the ebbing tide, and
as it goes further and further back, to turn over the stones and weeds
that have just been left by it. In this way you will get acquainted
with the best manner of proceeding, according to the peculiarities
of the special bit of coast you are on, so that when, a week after
your arrival, there comes the spring-tides, you will be able to make
far better use of your opportunities than if you had arrived in the
locality just at the period of spring-tides.

The lowest tide is the third after New and Full Moon. Then the water
goes out to a great distance, and if on a rocky shore you will be
able just to step over the border among the Laminaria, and hunt for
specimens on its roots and under its long broad fronds. If you really
desire to see and find as much as possible with the greatest amount of
comfort, then pay attention to your dress before seeking the shore.
You should don an old suit of clothes that has become too shabby for
ordinary wear. If it is a bicycling outfit, so much the better, for
the knickerbockers will be more handy for wading. There is, of course,
no necessity for wading, but often it will be found that a “likely”
looking rock is cut off from us by a few feet of shallow water, too
wide to jump. In such a case wading pays. But it is really best to
make up the mind to wade. Take with you an old pair of shoes, and
above high-water mark you will find some safe place in the rocks for
depositing your walking-shoes, socks, and such other articles of
clothing as you wish to doff. Put the old shoes on your naked feet,
and roll up your trousers or knickerbockers as high as they will go.
You thus run little risk of getting your clothes wet, and your feet
will be protected from the sharp edges of newly-fractured rocks and
broken shells, or even from the nip of a too-familiar crab. Should
the idea of old clothes be an objectionable one to you, and you have a
preference for something appropriate, I would strongly advise a good
knitted Jersey, worn without a coat--at least when the collecting
ground is reached. Such a garment is warm without being heavy, and is
a protection against the changes of temperature that frequently take
place by the sea; there are no tails to get wet when you sit or kneel
on low rocks, and no pockets out of which things can fall when you
stoop. For the head a cloth cap is best; whilst at work wear it with
the peak behind, otherwise when you peer closely into a pool it will
get wet.

If you visit the village shop or store you can buy for a few pence
one of the handy open chip baskets with handle across the middle,
that are so much used for gardening purposes. In this you can store
your glass-jars, and have them always handy without any lid to open,
and can find room for seaweeds, shells, etc. If you are going to the
sands you should carry a garden trowel; if to the rocks, a good strong
putty knife with straight edge. You will find in most cases this will
do instead of the more cumbersome cold-chisel and hammer that you may
_have_ to use on special occasions. With it you can separate the upper
flake of a slaty rock upon which are desired specimens, by driving the
knife in at the edge. For getting anemones off rocks you will find this
knife very valuable. In such situations the anemone’s base usually
rests upon a crust of old acorn-shells, sponge, coralline, or other
foreign growth on the rock. The edge of the knife should be driven
through this crust at a little distance from the desired specimen, and
then pushed firmly towards and under it. It will come off with its
base--the most delicate part of an anemone--uninjured and undisturbed,
so that when placed in an aquarium it will spontaneously glide off the
crumbling rubbish and obtain a firmer footing.

Some of the anemones and other fixed objects in the rock-pools you
will find are in too great a depth of water to be got at with ease or
comfort; but by using one of your bottles as a baler you can rapidly
reduce the level of the water to a working height. I have in this way
almost completely emptied a deep and narrow rock basin, where there
was no play for the arms. You need have no scruples about destroying a
natural aquarium by so doing, for the rising tide will soon put that
matter right again. Where I have had to reduce the water in a large
pool that would have taken a long time to bale out in this fashion, I
have taken down a portable garden pump with splendid results.

In working a “drang” or rock gulley at low-water, pay special attention
to the lower part of the perpendicular rock-walls, that are most
protected from the full force of the waves in stormy weather. Where
such a fissure runs parallel with the cliffs, the most productive wall
will be that which faces the cliffs, for it is easy to see that in
heavy seas this is the part that is protected from the sledge-hammer
force of the waves and the big stones with which they batter and
bombard the land; therefore, it is the part where soft and delicate
organisms have the best chance of flourishing. It will be well also to
carefully scrutinise the opposite wall, but when there is only a brief
time at disposal devote it to the one we have indicated as the best.

Should you desire to obtain specimens for preservation in the cabinet
instead of the aquarium, then you must take a jar of _fresh_ water,
which should be of a distinctive shape or material, to prevent
mistakes. Most of the marine creatures are killed by immersion in
fresh-water, which has the advantage of not altering their colours, as
spirit does in too many cases--notably among the Crustacea. A few of
the corked glass tubes that most naturalists use, will be found handy
for minute specimens, which are liable to be overlooked if put into
the general collecting jars with larger creatures. Overcrowding of the
live stock must be avoided, or all will be dead or dying before your
collecting is well through.

For small fish, shrimps, and other swimming creatures, you will
require a small net, or rather two nets, for one that is suitable for
catching the small and delicate forms one finds in the rock-pools or
swimming near the surface of a smooth sea, will not be strong enough
for drawing through the rough weeds. The one should be of fine muslin
to retain minute forms; the other should be really a “net,” of the very
smallest mesh possible.

On the rocky shore you will find the greatest abundance and variety of
the marine algæ or seaweeds, most of the crustaceans, nearly all the
anemones of the littoral zone, a number of species of fishes, many of
the tube-worms, the sponges, the tunicates, and such molluscan forms
as the periwinkle family, the limpets, dog-whelk, tops, slit limpet,
smooth limpet, cowry, and sea lemon. On the sandy beaches you will find
only such seaweeds as have been washed in by the waves, shrimps, the
masked crab and the angled crab, launce or sand-eel, the razor-shell,
cockle, tellen-shells, horn-shells, the natica, and other shells.

On the shingle beach little will be found besides empty shells and
heaps of more or less damaged seaweeds, which, however, are well worth
examining, for occasionally one may find uncommon kinds there, and
among them specimens of animal life. But it is to the rocky shore we
advise our readers to give most attention. The rocks, their pools and
crannies, will engross the attention more, and the harvest will be
greater. By a little local study it will be found that certain winds
will cause the heaping up of certain shells on one particular part of a
beach, whilst other winds bring other things to the same or different
parts. This knowledge acquired, you will put it to practical use by
finding out what was the direction of that stiff gale that blew last
night, and then bending your steps in a particular direction, you will
be able to take your pick of the shells before the hinges have become
broken and the valves separated. There are many species of mollusca
whose shells you will only acquire in this way, unless you are able to
go dredging, and thus get up the living creature from the sea-bottom.
All such shells, though they may look perfectly clean, should be
carefully washed in _fresh_ water, to get rid of the salt, that would
otherwise hang about them, and prevent them becoming absolutely dry, as
cabinet specimens should be.

Probably, after you have really seen something of the exceeding beauty
of the rock-pools and the little marine caverns, you will be fired
with the ambition to start a small marine aquarium when you return
to your own home. You really ought to be filled with this desire a
month or so before you seek the shore, so that you might provide a
suitable vessel or vessels, and allow the sea-water to settle down and
the contained germs of vegetation to start into active life, and so
be ready to support animal life. We will suppose you have made some
provision of this sort before leaving home, and now desire a suitable
selection of creatures to fill it. My advice is, be modest in scheming,
and for a first experiment start with creatures that consume very
little oxygen--you cannot have better subjects than the anemones. These
should be conveyed not in water, but each specimen wrapped lightly and
separately in soft weed, and the whole packed in more weed in a light
wooden box. The pools should be searched for a rough, uneven piece
of rock, upon which small _green_ weeds are growing, and this should
also be placed in your aquarium as a suitable base for the anemones.
Most marine animals travel better in weed than in water, which rapidly
becomes foul in travelling, and destroys all that have been entrusted
to it.




CHAPTER II.

LOW LIFE.


Some persons go to the seaside every year for several weeks, and
yet know little of its treasures. Take away the bands, the bathing
machines, the itinerant entertainers of various kinds, the bustling
crowds that pass and repass on the grand parade, and they are lonely,
miserable, with nothing to occupy their minds. Of the illimitable sea,
the cliffs, the sands, the passing sails they soon tire. For a very
small sum, as money is considered to-day, such a person could acquire
a tolerable microscope, and a very little application to books would
put him in the way of getting an absolutely endless fund of interest,
knowledge, even amusement from it. Through the magic glasses he enters
another world; or, rather they enable him to see that other half of
Creation with which he has been rubbing shoulders all his life, yet
without seeing the creatures. With such an instrument and the knowledge
how to use it, a man may defy the demon _ennui_ wherever he may be.
With such an instrument at home a person who is not a naturalist may
be induced to look into a rock-pool, to take samples of its fauna
and flora, and by and by to become a naturalist without intending or
knowing it.

Behold how easy a thing it is! He has but to take away a phial full
of the water, a tiny bunch of coralline, the finer green weed, or a
snippet of sponge from the walls of the pool, and he has abundance of
material whose marvellous beauties of form and colour will delight and
astonish him when he has had time to examine it under the microscope.
For the coralline tuft and the lowly weed, when washed out in the
sea-water, will yield him multitudes of Infusoria, Rhizopoda, and the
infantile stages of many of the higher groups of life.

The Foraminifera are the minute creatures which have so largely
contributed to the formation of the enormous beds of chalk we find in
Surrey, Kent, Sussex, and other counties, such as the explorations of
the _Challenger_ showed us are being formed in the deep sea at the
present time. So minute are they that one hundred and fifty of them
placed side by side would not measure more than one inch, and of such
insignificant creatures the chalk is almost entirely composed. What
are they? How are they fashioned? How do they live? These questions
probably occur to the reader, and I must do my best to briefly answer
them.

There is a minute creature, plentiful in ditches and similar
accumulations of stagnant water into which decaying vegetation
has fallen. It is a minute speck of animated jelly, without form,
substance, or limbs. There is, in fact, no closer analogy than the
speck of almost clear jelly, to which in some mysterious way life has
been given. In the words of the late Dr. W. B. Carpenter, who made a
special study of these creatures: “A little particle of homogeneous
jelly[1] arranging itself into a greater variety of forms than the
fabled Proteus, laying hold of its food without members, swallowing
it without a mouth, digesting it without a stomach, appropriating its
nutritious material without absorbent vessels or a circulating system,
moving from place to place without muscles, feeling without nerves,
propagating itself without genital apparatus, and not only this, but in
many instances forming shelly coverings for symmetry and complexity not
surpassed by those of any testaceous animal.”

[1] It is now known that this jelly-like material is not of so simple
a character as was supposed a few years since: the most modern
microscopes prove it to be not devoid of structure.

With the exception of the last three-and-twenty words the above
description refers to the _Amæba_ and its allies; but in the
Foraminifera we have a sort of advanced type of amæbæ, a more æsthetic
race that have taken to build themselves houses, in most cases of
graceful form, such as are referred to in Dr. Carpenter’s concluding
words. One of the fresh-water amæbæ is named _Difflugia_, and it
distinguishes itself by coating the greater part of its small body
with particles of sand and other matter picked up as the _Difflugia_
rolls along. The Foraminifera do not resort to so clumsy a method
of satisfying their architectural instincts. In the course of their
feeding they take into their primitive systems a good deal of carbonate
of lime, and instead of casting this out as innutritious, useless
stuff, they secrete it as shell, in many cases not unlike the shells of
mollusks, but with minute pores (_foramina_) all over them. From this
character they derived their name _Foraminifera_ or pore-bearers.

[Illustration: FORAMINIFERA.

  1. Polymorphina. 2. Textularia. 3. Cristellaria.
]

Within these perforated shells live the amæba-like animals, and
through all these minute pores they protrude still more minute threads
or wisps of their living jelly to use as limbs wherewith to pull
themselves along, and to catch their food. There is a very ancient
conundrum which asks: “What is smaller than a mite’s mouth?” a mite
being formerly considered to be the least of all animals and a very
minute thing indeed; therefore, to imagine the mouth of a mite was to
conceive of something so very small as to be almost beyond conception.
But then came the answer: “That which goes into it!” Of course, if a
mite had a mouth it must have it for the purpose of eating, so that
though nothing were known smaller than a mite, yet a mite must have a
mouth, and that could scarcely be quite as large as the mite, and its
food must be smaller than its mouth. A naturalist would say that this
line of reasoning is weak, and it undoubtedly is so, for there are
creatures that contrive to swallow things that are much larger than
their mouths; but there is no occasion to split hairs just now. These
Foraminifera are in some cases invisible to the unassisted vision, but
as each is pierced with many pores, it follows that the individual
pore must be almost inconceivably small, though still smaller are the
wisps of jelly that protrude through them and invest the outside of the
shell. For it must not be supposed that these structures are secreted
like the shell of the snail, that the animal may live within it; rather
it is like our own skeleton, built up within our bodies.

Some of these shells have but one chamber, like _Lagena_, which is
flask-shaped, and _Entosolenia_, in which the long neck of the flask
has been pushed down inside the globose portion. Others have many
compartments, but these are subject to great variety of arrangement,
each species having its own special form. _Dentalina_ has the
chambers placed one behind the other in a straight or curved line. In
_Nonionina_, _Polystomella_, _Rotalina_, _Globigerina_, and others
they are rolled in a spiral, and resemble the chambered shell of the
Nautilus; or they may be twined, _not_ spirally, round an axis, each
making a half-turn.

[Illustration: POLYCISTIN.]

In some respects similar to the Foraminifera are the Polycistina, which
are equally minute creatures, whose skeletons are of flint instead of
chalk, and the perforations are so large and so close together that
the term pore no longer adequately expresses their proportionate size.
They are more like windows, but with little intervening stonework. The
jelly-substance, called _sarcode_, flows out through all these windows
in the form of threads (called _pseudopodia_ or false feet) as in the
Foraminifera, spreading over the outer surface and acting as legs and
arms by means of which the creature moves and captures its food. They
feed upon infusoria of various kinds, and the diatoms and desmids,
which appear to be paralysed by contact with the pseudopodia. They
also seem to derive part of their nutriment from the exertions of some
minute yellow-bodies, a species of algæ (_Xanthellæ_) that are lodgers
within their substance. These lowly plants, which have sometimes been
incorrectly alluded to as parasites, elaborate starchy products by the
aid of their chlorophyll, and on their death this material is available
for the nutrition of the Polycistin, which also can make use of the
oxygen given off by the plant.

There is one of these low forms of life in which almost all visitors
to the sea-shore take an interest--or rather they are interested in
certain signs of its vital activity--the mysterious phosphorescence of
the sea. There is no moon visible, the sea is quiet, and our reader
late in the evening takes a stroll along the edge of the waves, “before
turning in.” He is charmed to see the ripples as they break upon the
shore brightly outlined with glow-worm light, and stays long to enjoy
the elfish illumination. Now my advice is, do not stay long, but hasten
back to your “diggings” and get a bottle; then return and fill it with
sea-water at a spot where the phosphorescence is most abundant. You can
then examine the creature that produces the strange light.

If now you continue your stroll along to that part of the sea-wall
where the male villagers most chiefly congregate to spin yarns with
a more or less saline flavour, and to discuss village politics, you
will probably hear them talking about fishing prospects, and if it is
in early summer, mackerel will be in their talk. “Well,” says one,
“there’s no doubt the fish are about, and I propose that we get the
sean-boats ready, and to-morrow night we’ll try the briming.” The
meaning of which dark saying is that to-morrow evening they will row
across the bay till they come under the shadow of the great headland,
and there they will adapt the focus of their eyes to seeing below
the surface of the crystal waters, and watching for the streaks of
phosphorescent light that break from the fins and tails and scales of
the mackerel as they pass through the sea. This light is the “briming”
of the fishermen. It is due to the movement of the fish exciting the
light-producer, just as in a marine aquarium in a dark room you can
produce a similar effect by blowing the surface of the water into
ripples. The six long oars of the big sean-boat every time they dip
into the water send a spray of light into the air, and as they again
leave it a shower of glowing pearls drops from each. The prow of the
boat sends up a fountain of pale heatless fire on either side, and an
ever-widening track of the same mysterious light marks the way the boat
has come.

All these brilliant effects are produced by millions of a tiny
Infusorian, individually so small that twenty of the finest specimens,
placed closely together in Indian file, would only produce a procession
one inch in length, whilst of mediocre examples it would require from
fifty to eighty to cover the same space. Its size may be insignificant,
but it has a name which will at least inspire respect with some
persons--_Noctiluca miliaris_--which may be Englished as the Sea
Night-light. If now we go together to your lodgings and examine that
bottle of sea-water with a lens we shall be able to make out a large
number of these creatures swimming about, and by means of a pipette
or dipping tube we can isolate a specimen and place it under the
microscope. There it is revealed to us as a peach-shaped individual,
the spherical mass being partly mapped into two lobes by the slight
groove that, as in the peach, runs down from the depression in which
the stalk is attached. The stalk in this microscopic night-light is
represented by a long flexible tentacle, or _flagellum_, by means
of which _Noctiluca_ moves through the waters, much as a fisherman
will propel his boat by the skilful use of a single paddle at the
stern. There is a shell-like envelope of transparent material through
which may be seen a meshwork of granular material, denser than the
body-mass. A funnel, opening near the _flagellum_, becomes lost in
this granular matter; this is the creature’s mouth and gullet, within
which lies a smaller flagellum. The gullet simply opens into the
central protoplasm; no continuing alimentary canal has yet been made
out. Reproduction is effected by several methods: one is the division
of the creature transversely into two, each complete, but for the time
smaller; a second method is the conjugation of two individuals and
the subsequent breaking up of the protoplasm into numerous spores,
each provided with a flagellum. But this breaking up process may occur
independently of conjugation. The spores move by the lashing of the
flagellum, and gradually develop into the adult form. The light is
produced in flashes just under the clear cell wall, and pure sea-water,
rich in oxygen, is necessary for its continued brilliancy. At times,
on summer evenings, _Noctiluca_ is extremely abundant in the littoral
zone, and it is then impossible to take up a glass of water without
getting thousands of specimens.

If you occasionally indulge in boating, many forms of low life, or the
larval condition of higher forms may be obtained without difficulty.
Take a piece of thin, round cane--about the thickness used in training
a child in the way he should go--and bend it into a hoop. The two ends
should be cut half through for an inch of their length, so that their
flat surfaces can be brought together and secured by several turns
of a piece of thin copper wire. Now to this cane secure a small flat
piece of lead, so that when thrown into the water the hoop will assume
an erect position. If you should have a couple of inches of “compo”
gas-tubing handy, this will do admirably, and may be slipped over the
cane before the ends are lashed together. Upon the hoop now stitch a
muslin bag to serve as a net; and to three or four equi-distant points
on the frame attach short, strong strings of equal length, and join
their ends to a length (say three fathoms) of fishing line. This may
be made fast to one of the thwarts of the boat, or held in the hand,
whilst the net is thrown overboard. The movement of the boat will cause
the net to collect a large number of minute creatures that float on
the surface or immediately below it. From time to time it should be
hauled in, and the bag turned inside out and washed in a glass jar of
sea-water. In this way many interesting forms may be secured. A calm,
sunny afternoon should be selected for this work, and the boat should
be rowed gently.




CHAPTER III.

SPONGES.


To many persons the statement that we are going for a ramble among the
rocks in quest of sponges will merely suggest the idea of wreckage, and
they will suppose that we have had information that a vessel, part of
whose cargo was Turkey sponges, has gone to grief on the rocks near,
and that sponges are to be had for the trouble of picking them up. And
should they venture to accompany you on so promising an expedition,
they would certainly consider you demented as, having reached the rocks
that are only uncovered at very low tides, you proceeded to point out
the green and orange and brown and whity-yellow expanses that coat
the vertical faces of the rocks. All these things to them bear no
resemblance to the only sponges they know--the ones they use daily for
purposes of ablution. You can show them something approaching nearer to
their ideal, if you hunt among the thick stems of the shrubby weeds on
the rock. There, encrusting a branch, is a yellowish-brown form with
rough surface and large pores very much like those they know all about.
And attached to various weeds are others of the shape, size, and colour
of melon seeds, with porous surface and open end.

[Illustration: SPONGES.

Hymeniacidon albescens; Pachymatisma johnstoni; Halichondria panicea;
Grantia coriacea; Halichondria incrustans; Leuconia nivea; Leuconia
gossei.]

Your friend, though disappointed, maybe, that he is not to share in
the salvage of some splendid bath sponges from the supposed wreck,
cannot help feeling some interest in the extensive layers of colour
on the rocks, some of it raised into conical hillocks, and suggesting
a fairy plain thickly studded with volcanoes. You tell him that these
are really aquatic volcanoes so-to-speak, and that if you could get a
portion off the rock, you could exhibit the phenomenon to him at
work in a shallow dish of sea-water. Thereupon he, thinking to be of
service to you tears off a slice of the pale green, hillocky sponge
(_Halichondria panicea_) and breaks it up hopelessly. However, we will
turn his clumsiness to account and take a view of the interior thus
violently exposed. We see that these crater-like openings are the
outlets to tubular spaces running through the sponge, and from these
passages smaller branches go off at right angles, whilst these and the
larger openings are surrounded by tissues that are very like bread in
consistence; and that is really only a way of explaining that they are
spongy. Now the whole of the substance of these sponges, as you may
see by microscopical examination, is composed of myriads of minute
flint spicules, finer than the most delicate fragments of “spun glass,”
and of beautiful forms. Some are simple rods, straight and curved;
others forked at one end; some like a gribble; others what is known as
quadriradiate in form.

Now in some species these spicules are not arranged in any order; they
are merely jumbled together, and their remarkable forms make it easy
for them to become entangled. When so entangled they form the skeleton
of the sponge. Each sponge is a co-operative colony containing many
thousands of members, and these are represented to our view, through
my pocket lens, in the mass only, as a thin clear jelly investing the
spicule-tangles, or rather the spicules are imbedded in the _sarcode_
as this living matter is termed. If we were to chip off a thin flake of
rock with its investing sponge intact, and place the whole in a glass
vessel full of water, we could observe the movements which manifest
its vitality. A little finely powdered indigo or other colouring
matter should be dropped into the water near the specimen. On closely
observing it would be seen that many of these minute granules were
flowing towards the sponge, then that they entirely disappeared through
the very fine openings in the surface. A little later these particles
will reappear, not where they went in, but in a denser stream issuing
from one of the craters, which are scientifically designated _oscula_
to distinguish them from the minute pores.

[Illustration: SECTION THROUGH CRUMB-OF-BREAD SPONGE.]

If we dissect the sponge under a microscope, we shall find that from
one of these _oscula_ a broad passage runs through the centre of the
mass, and from the walls of this the minute pores run off to the
outer surface. This central cavity is invested by a living membrane
which, when examined through a higher power of the microscope, is seen
to consist of myriads of organisms closely packed together side by
side, and each resembling a glass vase, spherical below, with a wide
neck, and from its centre there issues a long antenna-like process.
This is called the _flagellum_ (Latin, a whip), because its office
is to lash the water. These flask-like organs, with their flagella,
present a wonderful likeness to some free infusoria known as collared
monads, and over this likeness and all that it may or may not imply
to the systematic naturalist much ink has been shed, and the sounds
of controversial strife it engendered, though now faint, are still
audible. Into _that_ question we do not go.

The combined lashing of these little whips in unison sets a strong
current of water flowing through the central passages and out at the
_oscula_. To feed this stream, water flows in automatically through all
the little pores, and brings with it the infusoria and other minute
particles of life with which the sea is swarming. These come in contact
with the lips of the flasks in the interior over which the living jelly
of the sponge is steadily flowing. The infusoria flow with it and are
carried away by the current to a little clear space (_vacuole_) in the
lower part of the flask, where it is digested, and the refuse portions
are thrust out to go in the general stream and be carried out through
the oscula. Each of these cells may be taken therefore as a separate
individual, enjoying home rule, yet taking part in general efforts
for the whole sponge-community, for we find that by some strangely
communicated understanding, all these cells cease lashing the water for
a time as though resting (or digesting their food), and the craters
cease to pour forth their streams. But then after a time activity is
resumed, the craters belch forth again, and we know thereby that the
flagella are in active operation down below, not merely capturing and
digesting food, but also absorbing oxygen from the inflowing streams,
whereby vital energy is maintained.

After the cells have become full grown, they split transversely or
longitudinally, and so increase their number, which means that the size
of the colony increases. But some of these divided portions develop
into eggs, which after fertilization are swept out into the ocean by
the outflowing current, and settling upon some rock become glued down
and grow, gradually, by division and subdivision, producing a new
colony. Such is a highly condensed account of the general phenomena
of sponge life. There are variations upon it in the life-history of
well-nigh every species; but this will suffice to give my reader
a general idea of what sponges are. For the rest, he must go down
among the rocks, and search out the various species of many forms,
and endeavour to add to the general sums of knowledge by some fresh
observations respecting British Sponges.

However startling the statement may sound, there is no lack either
of specimens or species on the British coasts. Some of the most
conventionally sponge-like of these must be sought by the dredge in
deep waters, but our own hunting ground, the rocks that mark the
shoreward-bounds of the laminarian zone, if carefully inspected at low
spring tides, will afford more specimens in half an hour than we can
exhaust the interest of in a week. That this is no mere figure of
speech you will agree when I add that Dr. Bowerbank published a work
in three volumes dealing only with British Sponges, and to these a
supplementary posthumous volume, edited by Dr. Norman, has since been
added.

Where the rocks rise high above the shore with their upper portions
tilted towards the cliffs, we shall find several species incrusting the
vertical or overhanging surfaces of these rocks, such as _Halichondria
incrustans_, whose buff-coloured bread-like surface is diversified with
slightly raised oscula. Its principal spicules are knobbed at one end,
in which respect it differs from the similar _Halichondria panicea_
which is peculiar in having only one type of spicules--a rounded
rod, slightly curved or quite straight, but pointed at each end.
Ellis called this species the Crumb-of-bread sponge, a name which is
reflected in the scientific cognomen _panicea_. It is one of the most
plentiful of the encrusting species, and may be readily known by the
greenish-yellow or distinctly green colour of its extensive patches.

Not far from the Crumb-of-bread will in all probability be found
the similar Sanguine sponge (_Halichondria sanguinea_), of a bright
red colour. The conical elevations of the _oscula_ in these species
distinguish them readily from the plump, though narrow bands of
_Microciona carnosa_, a plentiful species that creeps extensively
between the other kinds, its pale red branches being very unequal
in width, and alternately contracting and swelling out, joining and
separating. This will be found figured in the lower left-hand corner of
our illustration on page 29.

[Illustration: GRANTIA COMPRESSA.]

[Illustration: GRANTIA CILIATA.]

A very noticeable species on account of its neat compact shape will be
found attached to various red seaweeds, with which its whitish colour
contrasts well. It is a small oval, usually from a quarter to an inch
in length, very flat, but yet hollow, with a large vent at the free and
larger end. This is the _Grantia compressa_. Careful search among the
indescribable medley of “unconsidered trifles” that crust the rocks
beneath the shelter of the Fucus-growth, will reward us with a little
spherical sponge with tubular oscula at the summit formed of spicules,
and its general surface bristling with long spicules. This is the
_Grantia ciliata_, looking like a little gooseberry.

There are many other forms, for which I must refer my readers to Dr.
Bowerbank’s work, where also will be found descriptions and figures
of many deep-water species, such as the more conventional sponge-like
_Chalina oculata_, in branching masses nine or ten inches high.

There is, however, one other we must mention; the so-called
Boring sponge (_Cliona celata_), which attacks various shells and
stones. It is quite a common occurrence for the rambler along the shore
to pick up the shell of some mollusk, and find it so tunnelled, the
borings branching in every direction, that what would otherwise be as
strong as stone is now as weak as poor strawboard, and will yield to
very slight pressure or strain. On breaking such a shell across we get
both cross and longitudinal sections of these tunnels and chambers,
and find some of them to be lined with a dark brown filmy tissue,
the remains of some past inhabitant; others contain portions of this
_Cliona_ sponge, living or dead; others again contain little bivalve
shells that just fit the aperture, whilst yet another set exhibit clean
walls that may not have had any animal inmate. Much controversy has
raged over the question whether these excavations have been made by
the sponge, or by some boring worm, and there have not been wanting
as advocates of either view men whose authority on sponge matters is
unquestioned. Where such doctors differ how shall humble observers
venture to give a verdict? For my part, I cannot give my support to
the contention that the sponge has bored the clean holes, hollows,
and tubes that I have seen in the large numbers of attacked shells I
have broken; neither am I prepared with an opinion as to the creature
that did make them. I believe that on this matter, as on many others
connected with natural history, we have much still to learn, and
every student of Nature should have his eyes and his mind ever open
to receive hints from Nature herself as to her methods. One of these
days, some lonely wanderer by the margin of the wave will show us how
simply this boring is accomplished, and we shall all wonder that we
never thought of the possibility before. But whatever views or lack of
views we may have upon the question, “who made the burrows?” there is
no doubt that the sponge does exist in some of them, and its spicules
embedded in the yellow sarcode are well worthy of minute observation.




CHAPTER IV.

ZOOPHYTES.


Not many years ago our knowledge of the lower forms of life was very
imperfect, and it was believed that the gulf between the animal
and vegetable kingdoms was bridged over by certain creatures which
could not properly be classed in either, because they appeared
to unite the characters and organization of each. Such was the
case with the sponges, already dealt with, and with the creatures
now to be considered. These last were on that account called
Zoophytes, or animal plants, a term which we must render to-day as
plant-like animals. Some of us have again got to the notion that there
is no sharp division between animal and plant-life; but with increased
knowledge we have put back the debatable or common ground much lower in
the scale of life.

With the whole of the families included in this division of life, I
do not propose to deal in the present chapter: the Sea-Anemones and
the Sea-Jellies, for instance, being treated in succeeding chapters,
for each group deserves and demands a chapter to itself. It is
characteristic of the Zoophytes that they form a bag of jelly-like
material, with an opening at one end which may be regarded as a mouth,
though it is without tongue or teeth, and opens directly into the
stomach. Around this mouth are set a number of limb-like organs, called
tentacles, which are used for seizing the prey and conveying it within
the orifice. Their entire structure is very simple, and apart from
primitive muscular and nervous systems, and the possession of stinging
threads, which can be quickly extruded through the exterior walls of
the body, they appear to be almost innocent of organs. This form of
structure is generally referred to as a Polypite, and its appearance
has been made familiar by the descriptions and figures of the Hydra or
Polyp of our stagnant fresh-water ponds. From their general agreement
in structure with the Hydra, the creatures to which much of this
chapter will be devoted, are called Hydroid Zoophytes. There are,
however, but few species that occur solitarily, like the Hydra. In
most cases they are associated in inseparable colonies. The egg of a
zoophyte gives rise, it is true, to an organism resembling Hydra, but
this individual does not long remain solitary; it produces many buds,
which rapidly develop, and in turn produce other buds, so that before
long there is a colony that may number its thousands of polypites.
However numerous the individuals may be, we may be sure that the colony
has been the production of a single egg. One came from that egg, but
all the others were produced vegetatively by budding from the original
polypite, or as later generations from such bud-originated polyps.

A slight examination of such a colony will show that the polypites
themselves are held in association by an investing substance
(_cœnosarc_), which takes the form of a living tube of thin flesh,
which adheres to rock or shell or seaweed, acting as a support for
the community, and also reproducing the polypites. It consists of two
distinct layers, an inner and an outer, and sometimes there is a third
layer of a different kind between these two, muscular in character.
In most cases the outer wall of this tube secretes a sheath of a
substance called _chitin_, of which the external skeletons of insects
are composed. This sheath is known as the polypary, because into it
the individual polypite withdraws itself. It is this polypary that the
seaside visitor finds attached to weeds or shells, and concludes, from
its moss-like aspect, it is a seaweed, and probably adds it to his
collection as such.

[Illustration: SEA OAK CORALLINE.]

Now if we get down among the rocks near low-water, and look among
the coarse brown weeds, we shall not look long before we find one
whose stem and parts of the frond are covered with a plantation of
erect-growing “somethings,” that look like the backbones of some small
fishes. They are only about an inch in height, very slender, and
regularly notched on each side. Some of the specimens have one or two
branches, but most of them are simple erect stems. It is known as the
Sea Oak Coralline (_Sertularia pumila_), and if we examine it with
our lens, we shall find that each of the notches represents the space
between the elegant crystal vases that are arranged symmetrically along
each side of the stem. These vases are known as _calycles_, and in each
there stands a polypite, reaching out its upper portion and waving its
tentacles. In case of danger the polypite can be withdrawn into the
calycle; and certain species have an automatic contrivance for closing
the mouth of the vase when they have retreated within. All genera have
not these calycles.

[Illustration: CALYCLES OF SERTULARIA ENLARGED.]

Returning to the animal for a moment, it should be explained that
its organization is so low that there is no true circulatory system
for the renewal of the body, by the carrying of elaborated food
from the stomach to distant parts of the body; but by the activity
of innumerable eye-lash-like hairs on the surface the whole of the
particles of food digested in the stomach are carried all over the
system to be then assimilated by different parts.

Within the circle of tentacles is the mouth, which is sometimes cut
into lobes, and is generally borne upon a very mobile proboscis,
which may be withdrawn or protruded, and in some genera takes a
trumpet-shape; in others it is conical. In the winter the cœnosarc may
frequently be found with all its calycles empty; and it might then
be supposed that the zoophyte is dead and only its skeleton remains.
But this is not necessarily so, and a closer inspection may convince
us that the organism is alive. In spring it will furnish its calycles
with new polypites, and all will go merrily again. At certain seasons
buds of a peculiar structure are formed, which develop into polypites,
whose function it is to produce eggs, instead of catching and digesting
food for the colony. These are known as _gonophoræ_, and sometimes they
remain where they were produced, simply bursting to discharge their
contents. In other cases they detach themselves from the parent colony
at a certain stage in their development, and float off, having all the
appearance of minute jelly-fishes. Some of these, instead of remaining
small, attain an enormous size, so that it is difficult to credit their
origin to the so-called coralline upon which they were produced, and of
which in turn they are really the egg-bearers. The eggs they scatter
will develop into plant-like growths such as they were produced by;
from the edge of their jelly-umbrella and from its handle, buds are
given off, which open as jelly-fish like itself.

Growth proceeds rapidly among these creatures, and if a balk of timber
be immersed in the sea, it is not long ere there is a fine forest
in miniature upon its surface, and that forest will consist of some
of these corallines. The species are generally distributed along
our coasts, but a few are local. Thus the finest of all the British
species of _Sertularia_--_Diphasia pinnata_--is found only on the
coasts of Devon and Cornwall, where most other species attain their
maxima of beauty and luxuriance. Its relative _Diphasia alata_, as
well as _Calycella fastigiata_ and _Aglaophenia tubulifera_, have been
found in Britain, only in Cornwall, Shetland, the Hebrides, and on
the west coast of Scotland. On the other hand, certain species belong
to the north, and such species as _Salacia abietina_, the Sea-fir,
and _Sertularia tricuspidata_ are not found on our shores below the
north-east coast. _Sertularia fusca_ is similarly confined, so far
as our seas are concerned, to the east coast of Scotland and the
north-east of England; and _Thuiaria thuja_, found on the east coast,
is rare in Devon and Cornwall; whilst the species of _Aglaophenia_ are
plentiful on our south-west and north-west coasts, and rarely seen on
the north-east.

Although some species are distinctly deep-water forms, necessitating
the dredge for their capture, the vast majority inhabit the littoral
and laminarian zones. Among the littoral species are many of the rarer
forms, and some of these are found only on special species of seaweeds,
or on the shells of particular mollusks. Mr. Hincks, whose beautiful
work on the “Hydroid Zoophytes” you must see, gives some very good
advice as to collecting in the littoral zone. He recommends my own
favourite plan of lying flat beside the rock-pool, and bringing the eye
close to the water. “He should bring his eye to the edge of the pool,
and look _down_ the side, so as to catch the outline of any zoophytes
that may be attached to it amidst the tufts of minute _Algæ_. He must
not be content with a hasty glance, but look and look again until his
eye is familiar with the scene, and may accurately discriminate its
various elements. And let him watch for the _shadows_; for in following
them he will often secure the reality. I have frequently detected
the tiny _Campanulariæ_ and _Plumulariæ_ in this way, by means of
the images of their frail forms which the light had sketched on the
rock beneath them. For tools, the hunter must have his stout, flat,
sharp-edged, collecting knife, a long-armed and substantial forceps,
and a varied array of bottles, ranging from the homœopathic tube to
the pickle-jar. If his choice of ground be good, and his patience
proof, and his eye quick, he will have an ample reward for his labour
in the rich spoil of beauty which he will bear away, even if he should
not hit upon any novelty; but amongst the minute zoophytes there is
still, I have no doubt, much to be done in the discovery of new forms,
as there certainly is in working out thoroughly the history of those
that are known.” I hope that in the foregoing remarks I have made
it quite clear that our Sea Oak Coralline is not an individual but a
community of individuals--a community on the strictest of co-operative
principles, in which the good fortune accruing to one of the polypites
by food falling in its way, is shared by all alike; for a polypite
cannot digest it and retain it to its own selfish use, instead, it goes
to the nutriment of the commonwealth.

Some of these Hydroid Zoophytes, though sharing the communist
character, are much simpler in form, and we shall find a common example
ready to our hand on almost anything in the way of stone or shell
removed from a rock-pool. It is a minute creature, as stout as a “short
white” pin, and about a third of the length, white or pinkish; a number
of them spring in a row from a creeping stem of firmer substance, in
which are well-defined tubular openings, in which the upright bodies
stand. These answer to the calycles of _Sertularia_, just as the
upright bodies agree with the polypites of that genus. The name of this
creature is _Clava multicornis_, and it may conveniently be called
the Many-horned Club. It gets its name _Clava_ from the shape of the
polypite which thickens towards the top, and then tapers off again to
the summit, where its mouth is situated. It has a number of tentacles,
varying from ten to forty, according to age, but these do not form a
regularly disposed crown round the mouth; instead, they are placed
anyhow on the thickened part of the polypite. The name _multicornis_
refers to these many-horns or tentacles. An advance on this type is
seen in _Coryne pusilla_, a much larger but equally common inhabitant
of our rock-pools, in which the tentacles are knobbed, and are arranged
in a series of more definite whorls.

[Illustration: PLUMULARIA PINNATA.]

There is another group which is more likely to be confounded with the
Sertularians by those who are content with hasty glances at things;
but species of the one group may be readily distinguished from the
other by the aid of a simple lens. The Sertularians, as we have seen,
have the calycles arranged symmetrically on each side of the axis.
The Plumularians, as the other group are called, have their calycles
arranged along one side only of stem and branches. The Sertularians
are frequently spoken of as Sea-firs, the arrangement of the calycles
giving some species a very close resemblance to the branches of
fir-trees. In the Plumularians, the resemblance much more nearly
approaches a feather.

[Illustration: PLUMULARIAN, PORTION ENLARGED.]

Hincks, describing _Plumularia cornucopiæ_ says:--“In the present
species a conspicuous band of opaque white encircles the body, like a
girdle, a little below the tentacles, and adds much to the beauty of a
colony in full life and activity, when its many polypites are in eager
pursuit of prey, stretching themselves forward, and casting forth their
flower-like wreaths, now suddenly clasping their arms together, and
then as suddenly flinging them back; now holding them motionless, the
tips elegantly recurved, and then on some alarm shrinking into half
their size, and folding them together like flowers closing their petals
when the sun has gone.”

In addition to the calycles in which the polypites live, there are
special reproductive chambers as in the Sertularians. In this species
(_P. cornucopiæ_) “they assume the shape of an inverted horn, and are
formed of material translucent as the finest glass. Each one of them,
in fact, is a little crystal cornucopia, in which is lodged one of the
reproductive members of the commonwealth, a class totally distinct
from that which is charged with the function of alimentation. These
graceful receptacles are several times larger than the calycles, from
the base of which they spring, singly or in pairs, and within them the
ova are produced and the embryos matured which are to give rise to new
colonies.”

One of this group, the Lobster-horn or Sea-beard (_Antennularia
antennina_), shown at the back of the illustration of acorn-shells on
page 183, has the calycles arranged in whorls all around the axis,
which produces a very singular appearance, not at all unlike the
antennæ of some of the larger crustacea.

In the Creeping Bell (_Calycella syringa_) so common on seaweeds, etc.,
the calycles are more bell-shaped, and the mouth of the bell is fringed
with a series of large triangular teeth, similar to the _peristome_ of
many moss-fruits. When the polypite withdraws into his calycle, these
teeth bend inwards, and so close the opening.

Many of the forms of Jelly-fish to be described in the next chapter,
though they are described with separate names, are now known to be
merely stages in the history of some of these Hydrozoa or Hydroid
Zoophytes--the developed free-swimming gonophoræ previously mentioned.

[Illustration: HALICLYSTUS.]

A singular member of the group has the form of a jelly-fish, but does
not act as one. This was formerly named Lucernaria, but is now known as
_Haliclystus octoradiatus_. It was thought to swim like a jelly-fish,
but it really creeps. Its form is like a ladies’ sunshade that, instead
of being the ordinary umbrella shape, tapers off to the stick at the
top. What would be the ferrule of the sunshade is the footstalk of
_Haliclystus_. By this footstalk it attaches itself to a weed, say, and
hangs down its eight arms with their connecting web, and by means of a
little knob on the edge of the web alternating with its “arms,” it is
able to take hold until it has “looped” like a geometer caterpillar, by
bringing its footstalk forward and taking fresh hold. The extremities
of the eight arms (or ribs of the sunshade) are ornamented with tassels
of tentacles, and it uses these after the manner of a sea-anemone when
it wishes to secure food. It, in fact, has some of the peculiarities of
both jelly-fish and anemone, though it will not act quite consistently
with either character. I have found it on Laminaria and other weeds at
low water, and a few months since I picked one off the plumage of a
dead guillemot, that had been drowned in a storm and afterwards washed
ashore.

There is an important group of incrusting organisms that you will
find represented on almost the first specimen of _Fucus_ you pick
up, and which you may be tempted to class with these zoophytes; but
they occupy a much higher position in the scale of life. I refer to
the Sea-mats, the Sea-scurfs, the Bird’s-head Coralline, and allied
forms, whose proper designation is Marine Polyzoa. They are more
nearly allied to the mollusks, the structure approaching towards that
of the Lamp shells. They are associated in colonies (_zoaria_), but
there is no connecting _cœnosarc_ as in the Hydrozoa, although there
is communication between the chambers by wisps of animal matter. Each
chamber of the Sea-mat marks the habitation of a complete individual,
who catches, eats, and digests for himself alone, not for the colony.
These chambers are of a horny, persistent character, secreted of course
by the polypide; with a small opening through which the creature
protrudes its mouth and fringe of tentacles. Its body consists of a
thin bag filled with a clear fluid, in which can be traced the gullet
enlarging into a simple stomach, contracting again into the intestine.
There are muscles by means of which the upper part of the sac with the
mouth and tentacles are withdrawn inside the lower part. Add to this a
nerve-ganglion beside the gullet, sexual organs within the sac, and
the polypide is fully described.

The original founder of the colony was produced from an egg, and was
for a time a restless larva, swimming and creeping and whirling around
by the aid of _cilia_. Finally it settles down on weed or stone, and
becomes anchored; drops its cilia and develops its horny chamber and
its crown of tentacles. Having reached its full degree of growth,
it buds at the sides, and originates other creatures like itself.
Just as the solitary daisy root or chrysanthemum throws out what the
gardener terms suckers, and soon becomes the centre of a clump of
similar plants; so the solitary Sea-mat soon becomes only one in a
symmetrically arranged colony, containing hundreds of individuals, all
produced by budding from the original egg-produced polypide.

Some of these colonies have a number of queer adjuncts, which bear a
startling likeness to the head of a bird of prey, with moveable jaws,
that are for ever snapping. These have, of course, given rise to many
theories to account for them; but it appears now to be generally
accepted that the “bird’s-head” is a specialised member of the zoarium
who serves some purpose, probably of defence, or of scavenging, that is
of advantage to the whole colony. In some species, this differentiation
of individuals takes the form of a long whip-like process, constantly
lashing, instead of the snapping jaws. The forms of the marine polyzoa
are very varied, but we shall be unable to do more than indicate a few
of them here, leaving the reader to make wider acquaintance with a most
interesting group by studying the species in Hincks’s _British Marine
Polyzoa_.

[Illustration: SEA-MAT (FLUSTRA).]

The Sea-mat (_Flustra foliacea_) is a deep-water form, whose colonies
take the shape of fronds, resembling _Fucus serratus_ in outline; but
it is thrown up on the beach in great quantities, and it will be one
of the first things you will find on the shore, especially if you
rout about among the weeds washed up by every tide. Creeping over
these flat frond-like masses you will probably find other species that
take a more branching form, such as the common Creeping Coralline
(_Scrupocellaria reptans_), or the more bushy Bird’s-head Coralline
(_Bugula avicularia_). The Tufted Ivory Coralline (_Crisea eburnea_)
has tubular chambers of ivory whiteness; it is of branching habit,
and occurs on some of the red seaweeds. The Foliaceous Coralline
(_Membranipora pilosa_) runs in very narrow ribbons, covered with a
“pile” of bristles, up the stems of various weeds; and many another of
the nearly two hundred and fifty British species will be sure to fall
to the patient and sharp-eyed investigator.

The horny cell in which the polypide resides is really its own
cuticle or outer skin, to which it is inseparably attached. If
careful examination be made, it will be found that at the mouth of
the so-called cell the horny material suddenly changes its character
and becomes a very fine and delicate tissue, capable of the greatest
freedom of movement and folding such as is absolutely impossible
with the horny portion. This remarkable change of character in the
two portions of the same cuticle allows the anterior portion of the
polypide, with its crown of tentacles, to be suddenly and completely
withdrawn out of danger, just as easily as the tip of a glove-finger
can be withdrawn into its lower portion.

The tentacles that encircle the mouth of the polypide are hollow, and
covered with ever-waving cilia, whose beating causes currents of
water to set in towards the animal’s mouth, bringing food with them.
These tentacles appear to be also the only sense organs possessed
by the polypide, and to serve the further purpose of gills. None of
the Polyzoa to which we here make reference possesses a heart or
blood-vessels.




CHAPTER V.

JELLY FISHES.


It has been remarked that we get our best ideas of geography from the
newspaper-man’s special correspondence in war time. Certainly, at such
times certain places that are not even marked on ordinary maps are
thrust into such prominence that they become familiar to thousands
who otherwise would never have known of their existence. In a similar
fashion many scraps and fragments of useful knowledge that will stick
in the memory will be picked up by the newspaper reader who is simply
bent on following the moves in the great political game. For instance,
it is not many years since a well-known Scots peer, in order to cast
ridicule upon his opponents, enlightened the world upon the subject
of Jelly-fish organization. The party he held up to scorn resembled
Jelly-fishes in his estimation because they were invertebrate--they
possessed no backbone, and could make no progress against the tide,
but were forced to float aimlessly with the current. The political
small-fry took up the parable from the venerable duke, some reproducing
it with variations that appeared marvellous indeed to the mere
naturalist; but it was soon quite generally known without recourse to
text-books, that the Jelly-fish was not a vertebrate animal, and that
it had no muscular power sufficient to enable it to move against the
tide.

Now these facts in the natural history of the _Medusæ_, elementary
though they be, are such as in the ordinary way might have taken
generations to get fixed on the public mind. Many persons who spend
their autumnal holiday at the seaside, become fairly familiar with
the more or less broken and lifeless forms of one or two common
species, as they get drifted upon the beach and are unable to get off
again; but they have probably little idea of the beauty and elegance
of these frail creatures when fully expanded and pulsating with life a
short distance from the shore.

There are two things which stand in the way of a more familiar
knowledge of these Jelly-fish, on the part of the public. First,
they are almost entirely composed of water, and, having no muscular
tissue, are soft and flabby to the touch--a characteristic which
inspires feelings of abhorrence in the average man or woman. A man may
courageously face a dangerous wild beast, and yet shrink with loathing
and disgust from contact with a slug or a Jelly-fish--though, with
strange inconsistency, he may swallow a living oyster with gusto!
Having found a stranded Jelly-fish on the beach, he will probably turn
it over with his stick, call to mind the Duke of Argyll’s political
simile, and pass on.

The second reason is that certain common forms have an unpleasant trick
of stinging slightly. This is a power given to them for the purpose of
paralysing small creatures they secure as food, but they have sometimes
mistakenly exerted it upon a timorous thin-skinned bather, against whom
they have drifted.

There are, however, only two or three of our native species that
have that power, and though they have been known from ancient days
as Sea-nettles, Stingers, and Stangers, there is no doubt that their
virulence has been greatly exaggerated. This exaggeration probably owes
something to the graphic word-picture of the late Professor Forbes,
in which he described the Hairy Stinger (_Cyanea capillata_). In
picturesque language he depicted it as “a most formidable creature, and
the terror of tender-skinned bathers. With its broad, tawny, festooned
and scalloped disk, often a full foot or more across, it flaps its
way through the yielding waters, and drags after it a long train of
riband-like arms, and seemingly interminable tails, marking its course,
when the body is far away from us. Once tangled in its trailing ‘hair,’
the unfortunate, who has recklessly ventured across the monster’s
path, soon writhes in prickly torture. Every struggle but binds the
poisonous threads more firmly round his body, and then there is no
escape, for when the winder of the fatal net finds his course impeded
by the terrified human wrestling in his coils, seeking no combat with
the mightier biped, he casts loose his envenomed arms and swims away.
The amputated weapons, severed from their parent body, vent vengeance
on the cause of their destruction, and sting as fiercely as if their
original proprietor gave the word of attack.”

No doubt Forbes had good grounds for his statement in the experience of
one of these delicate and nervous persons who suffer more mentally than
physically, and whose imaginative powers would create a horror out of
their contact with a spider, or even its web. The mischief is that the
bookmakers, who have no practical knowledge of their subjects, go on
quoting Forbes approvingly, and on this slight foundation characterise
the whole jelly-fish race as stinging creatures. It seems very probable
that some of the larger tropical forms that have the stinging power
are far more virulent than those inhabiting British seas; but I have
handled the Hairy Stinger and lifted it from the water with my bare
hands and experienced no discomfort from the operation.

The Rev. J. G. Wood improved upon Forbes, and described the pain
inflicted by _Cyanea_ as being at first like that following contact
with the stinging nettle of our hedgerows; getting more severe it
causes a sharp pain to flit right through the nervous system, the heart
and lungs suffer spasmodically. This state of affairs lasts for ten or
twelve hours, and then for several days the skin is so sensitive that
the sufferer can scarcely bear the contact of clothes; and it is months
before the shooting pains depart.

With such a character it is little wonder that the unscientific public
should decline an intimate acquaintance with the family. And yet the
story they have to tell is as marvellous as any that will be found in
the whole range of Mr. Lang’s Blue, Red, and Green Fairy Books. It is
the story of the insignificant and despised dwarf, who one day bursts
through his squalid exterior and stands revealed as the handsome prince
magnificently attired, whom all the princesses desire to marry. It
begins in the orthodox way with, Once upon a time there was a simple
and very tiny creature, with soft white flesh and no bones, who dwelt
on a rock on the sea-shore. He was just a little tube of jelly, and
though he had a mouth he had no head. His many arms were arranged
in a circle round his mouth, and from his body sprouted out several
creatures like himself, but much smaller. Learned men had examined
him and declared that his proper name was _Hydra tuba_. He remained
fixed to this rock from the autumn right through the winter’s storms,
and in the spring it was noticed that he was getting old, for a large
number of wrinkles appeared on his tubular body. Weeks went by and the
wrinkles became deeper and the edges of them turned up, so that the
upper part of the creature’s body looked like a dozen saucers piled up
one in the other. Then these saucers each grew a series of eight arms
from its edge, and the uppermost of the pile broke away from the others
and began to float off through the water. The next, and the next, and
every one of the remaining saucers floated off in the same fashion,
and those who watched them do so, say that they gradually grew into
glorious Marigolds or Sea-Jellies, with umbrella-like bodies of clear
jelly, marked on the top with rings and streaks of red, and all around
its edge each had a delicate fringe looking like the finest of silk.
And so they floated off to see the world and seek their fortunes.

[Illustration: LARVÆ OF AURELIA.]

The Jelly-fish produces ova, which develop _cilia_--eye-lash-like
processes, by means of which they swim through the water. Settling on
a rock or shell, they develop into _Hydra tuba_, with long tentacles,
as at _a_ _a_. Then comes the saucer-like stage, as at _b_; finally the
free-swimming segment, _c_, which ultimately becomes the huge creature
of our next illustration, which is so plentiful in our seas during
summer and early autumn.

Every person that has any acquaintance with Jelly-fishes at all knows
this species well--by sight. It is probable that many of those who
think they know it would be somewhat puzzled if asked to point out
the creature’s mouth and to give a rough outline of its organization.
It may be described roughly as umbrella-shaped. There is an arched
disk, from the centre of which, on the concave or lower surface there
depends a thick cylindrical body, the _manubrium_ or handle, sometimes
erroneously termed the _polypite_, which finally terminates in four
lobes assuming the form of trailing ribbons. In the centre of these
lobes is the creature’s mouth, and the stomach is continued from the
mouth _up_ the middle of the manubrium. Here digestion takes place,
and the nutriment thus obtained is carried up to the centre of the
umbrella, and thence distributed to all parts by means of nutrient
tubes which may be seen running straight from the centre to the
circumference.

Looked at from above, the _Aurelia_ will be seen to have its disk
symmetrically marked off into eight portions by these nutrient tubes,
each of which reaches the edge where there is a little notch, and then
continues round the margin. Now at the notch there is a ganglion, or
nerve centre, a kind of local brain, for the Jelly-fish is very low in
the scale of nervous organization, and possesses no central brain;
in fact, its ganglia are only the beginnings of a nervous system of
primitive type. At one time these spots were thought to be eyes,
and the Jelly-fishes were divided into naked-eyed and hooded-eyed
according to whether these sense organs were covered with a kind of
flap or not. It is now more clearly established that they are olfactory
organs, possibly in some cases they combine the functions of both
nose and eyes. They are known to naturalists as _tentaculocysts_. The
_Aurelia_ moves slowly through the water by the alternate expansion
and contraction of its umbrella-disk. The four crimson lunar marks
on the disk are the ovaries in which the eggs of the Jelly-fish are
produced. The eggs make their way through the stomach to the mouth of
the manubrium, where there are little cavities for their reception, and
here they stay until they have developed a fringe of cilia, when they
swim off. In this condition they are quite flat, and of old they were
regarded as a distinct species of animal under the name of _Planula_.
It afterwards becomes pear-shaped, tires of wandering, and settles
down on a rock or shell to undergo the series of developments we have
already described, every stage of which was formerly considered a
different animal and bore its special name.

[Illustration: MARIGOLD (_Aurelia aurita_).]

In spite of the structureless appearance presented by these
Jellies--owing to the presence of a thick layer of transparent
gelatinous material--they are endowed with true muscular fibres, which
are confined to the under surface of the umbrella, to the manubrium
and tentacles, and to a flap of the umbrella margin which is directed
inwards and known as the _velum_. It is by the contraction of the velum
that water is expelled from beneath, and this has the effect of forcing
the Jelly-fish in the opposite direction.

Somewhat similar to the _Aurelia_ in general form is the Hairy Stinger
(_Cyanæa capillata_), to which allusion has already been made. Its
umbrella is not so disk-like, but has a raised central dome, and its
edges are beautifully fringed with long threads. The lobes around
the mouth are developed into very long appendages, all frills and
furbelows. An allied species, _Cyanæa chrysaora_, has a very thick and
bulging manubrium, but no long streamers depending from it.

A very common form which swarms in harbours is _Thaumantias_, of which
there are several species. In these the jelly is very thick at the
crown of the umbrella, which is more bell-shaped than in _Aurelia_
or _Cyanæa_. The nutrient tubes are four, and the ovaries are beside
them. A very small species, _Turris digitalis_, is bell-shaped, with
a conical top and a deep fringe of tentacles round the margin. It
originates as a polypite on a so-called coralline similar to those
described in Chapter IV.

On our South-western shores we sometimes receive visits from
Jelly-fishes which must be regarded as distinguished foreigners. Among
these is the beautiful creature to which seamen give the name of
the “Portuguese Man o’ War” (_Physalia pelagica_). It is of a shape
entirely different from those we have noted. Instead of an umbrella
it has a spindle-shaped bladder distended with air and coloured with
blue, whilst along its upper surface there runs a beautiful pink frill
which serves as a sail. From the lower surface there hangs down a
cluster of long trailing corkscrews, beautifully coloured and capable
of stinging. Occasionally individuals from this floating colony develop
into Jelly-fish of distinct form, and swim away from the community.

[Illustration: THE “PORTUGUESE MAN O’ WAR” (_Physalia pelagica_).]

There seems no doubt of the stinging powers of this species, for Dr.
Bennett, a naturalist, has given us his account of the unpleasant
effects following upon his handling of this “Man o’ War.” He took hold
of the bladder, and the creature raised its long appendages, twining
them round his hands and stinging with great severity, and clinging so
tightly that he had difficulty in removing them. He says the pain was
like that caused by severe rheumatism, and extended up his arm to the
muscles of his chest. Symptoms of fever followed, with rapid pulse and
difficult breathing. This continued for three-quarters of an hour; but
even then he was not free, for his skin was marked with raised white
wheals for several hours. The tentacles, he says, can be thrown out
to a distance even of eighteen feet for the purpose of stinging its
prey. This species is often met by mariners in extensive fleets, so to
speak, and sometimes great numbers of them are wrecked upon the coasts
of Devon and Cornwall; occasionally they have been found on the eastern
shores of England, but they really belong to the Mediterranean and the
open ocean.

[Illustration: TUBE-MOUTHED SARSIA.]

A common form on the south coasts is the Tube-mouthed Sarsia (_Sarsia
tubulosa_), of which we give a portrait. It is bell-shaped, with what
looks like a very long clapper hanging from its centre, and four long
tentacles from the edge. The clapper is, of course, the manubrium,
and contains the mouth and stomach, which it can stretch out to very
accommodating proportions. The bell is only about half an inch in
height, but the manubrium is more than twice that length.

[Illustration: FORBES’ ÆQUOREA.]

Scarcely to be found on our coasts away from Devon and Cornwall are two
species of _Æquorea_, of which the one represented is dedicated to the
memory of the late Professor Edward Forbes, who did so much to extend
the knowledge of marine life, especially in relation to jelly-fishes,
anemones, star-fishes, and mollusks. It is therefore designated
_Æquorea forbesiana_, and a man might well feel proud to have so
beautiful a creature named with his name. It is a little larger than
our figure. Its upper portion is of thick crystalline jelly, coloured
with a lovely sky-blue tint lower down. Below the blue region are a
number of curved lines of bright crimson--the nutrient channels--and
the four lobes of the manubrium are similarly coloured. There are
streaming tentacles around the margin which lay hold of minute
creatures that pass by. The early history of this form of Jelly-fish is
unknown--whether it passes through stages resembling those of _Aurelia_
or of _Turris_, or attains the medusa-form direct from the egg. Any of
our readers that may have the opportunity for observing this beautiful
creature, should make a point of recording what he sees. It may be of
great assistance in working out the true relation of this species to
other forms.

One that must be classed with the “Portuguese Man o’ War” as a visitor
to our south-western coasts, is called the Sallee-Man (_Velella
scaphoidea_), a kind of Jelly-raft, upon which is hoisted a little
sail, and whose margin is fringed with tentacles. As in _Physalia_,
the underside of this float consists of a colony of many individuals,
which from time to time develop into free-swimming jellies.

But in spite of the colour-glories and imposing size of these larger
forms, we have upon our shores swarms of a veritable gem that, in
its way, for delicate beauty outshines them all. It is the Globe
Beröe (_Pleurobrachia pileus_), sometimes called the Sea Gooseberry.
In early summer, when the seas are still, and everything for five
fathoms or more can be clearly seen through the crystal waters of
the Cornish coast, this fairy form may be clearly seen in spite of
its short diameter (half-inch) and its perfect transparency. You are
lazily drifting in a boat, but your eye catches minute flashes of
iridescent colour in the water, and you must lean over the boat’s side
to see what it is. You then discover a number of these crystal globes
passing gracefully and without seeming effort through the water, not
always in our plane, now upwards to the surface, then downwards out of
reach. You are fascinated by the exquisite beauty, and hope the one
you are watching will not pass out of sight. As if in response to your
unexpressed wish, it ceases its downward course, and whilst suspending
itself in the water begins to revolve laterally. Your astonishment
increases, for you now see that it is furnished with paddle-wheels,
or else it is an animated paddle-wheel itself. No; a turn convinces
you again it is globular in form, but the paddles are equally obvious.
How can it be? What machinery turns them? and what are the two almost
interminable threads of gossamer that trail behind, below, or above it?

You watch your opportunity, and the next time one comes near the
surface you skilfully trap it in a glass jar, and then some of its
mystery is made clearer. The paddle-wheels are eight bands that
stretch from pole to pole, and across these at short intervals are
rows of “eye-lashes.” There is no rotatory motion of the bands, but
by the alternate depression and raising of the eye-lashes, an optical
illusion is produced. And yet the effect is the same as if these bands
revolved with fixed “floats;” the movements of the eye-lashes _row_ the
fragile vessel through the water, and with every movement the light
is reflected in prismatic tints that seem to pass in rapid flashes
along each of the eight bands. But whilst we have been investigating
the mystery of propulsion, what has become of those long attenuated
streamers? Broken off by our rough handling as we potted it? No; the
creature, as though sensible of danger, has carefully tucked them away
into suitable pockets. We can behold them through the clear jelly in
curved club-shaped receptacles. Look; here they come! The Beröe is
getting confident, and the tentacles stream out again to six times the
length of the animated globe. They can be lengthened or shortened at
the creature’s will; and each one is provided with an enormous number
of short side-branches, like tendrils on a vine. There is no pendulous
stomach and mouth hanging from the floating body, for the Beröe differs
from the Marigolds and Stingers, and is more closely allied with the
Sea-Anemones. Its mouth is at the top of the globe, and its digestive
cavity is central.

[Illustration: BERÖE AND YOUNG.]

I have described its appearance as seen from a boat, but it must not be
inferred that it cannot be obtained from the shore. A sharp eye will
see them in ports and harbours when gazing from low rocks or landing
slips. If our reader is desirous of watching these, a few should be
entrapped into a clear glass jar of sea-water, but other creatures
should not be introduced. I find that small crabs, prawns, or even
anemones are not to be trusted with _Pleurobrachia_, or these will
rapidly disappear.

The creatures we have brought together in this chapter under the
popular term Jelly-fish, really belong to very distinct groups of
animal life, and their developmental histories are different. Many of
them, in fact, are nothing more than buds from the branching Zoophytes
incorrectly called corallines that grow from shells and stones, and of
which we have had something to say in a previous chapter.

Agassiz has described a huge form of Stinger (_Cyanæa arctica_), with
an umbrella-disk like those we have mentioned, but measuring no less
than seven feet across, yet originating as a bud from a lowly coralline
not exceeding half an inch in stature. Others are not solitary
individuals, but companies of polyps that share the organ which bears
them through the waters. Such is the case with the _Physalia_ and
the _Velella_, the appendages of which consist not of one mouth and
stomach, but of many.

I remarked near the beginning of this chapter that the Jelly-fish was
very largely composed of water. Professor Owen, not content with having
to make an indefinite statement of that kind, went carefully into the
matter of pounds and ounces and grains. He said: “Let this fluid part
of a Medusa (Jelly-fish), which may weigh two pounds when recently
removed from the sea, drain from the solid parts of the body, and
these, when dried, will be represented by a thin film of membrane, not
exceeding thirty grains in weight.”

As a practical illustration of the value of having _that_ amount of
knowledge respecting such trivial things as Jelly-fish, the late Robert
Patterson, F.R.S., gives the following story, which was told to him as
a personal experience by an eminent zoologist, whose name he does not
mention.

“This gentleman had been delivering some zoological lectures in a
seaport town in Scotland, in the course of which he had adverted to
some of the most remarkable points in the economy of the Acalephæ.
After the lecture a farmer, who had been present, came forward and
inquired if he had understood him correctly, as having stated that
the Medusæ contained so little of solid material, that they might be
regarded as little else than a mass of animated sea-water. On being
answered in the affirmative, he remarked that it would have saved him
many a pound had he known that sooner, for he had been in the habit
of employing his men and horses carting away large quantities of
Jelly-fish from the shore, and using them as manure on his farm; and
he now believed they could have been of little more real use than
an equal load of sea-water. Assuming that so much as one ton weight
of Medusæ, recently thrown on the beach, had been carted away in one
load, it will be found that, according to the experiments of Professor
Owen, the entire quantity of solid material would be only about four
pounds of avoirdupois weight, an amount of solid material which, if
compressed, the farmer might, with ease, have carried home in one of
his coat pockets.”

Let me, in closing this very inadequate glimpse of a most interesting
group, add that many of these creatures contribute to that
phosphorescent appearance of the sea, which is such a wonder and a
revelation to those who behold it for the first time. The limits set
for the entire volume will not permit me to deal with all the British
species; but I trust sufficient has been said to awaken real interest
in these despised Stingers, Jellies, and Sea-blubbers.




CHAPTER VI.

SEA-ANEMONES.


The visitor to a rocky coast possesses the greatest advantage for
the study of the Sea-Anemones. These are among the surprises for the
inlander whose get-up is not too fine to allow him to scramble over
the rocks. If he has already gained some introduction to the beauties
of form and colouring in this group, and wishes to get a more intimate
knowledge, let him visit some coast village in South Cornwall.

Anemones, with few exceptions, dislike a muddy shore, and are not very
partial to sand; nor are they easily seen in thick water. But where
the cliffs and fringing rocks are hard and insoluble, the waters are
crystalline, and every detail of life in the rock-basins, and even on
the submerged reefs, can be plainly observed. Such conditions Cornwall
offers, and there anemone-life may be said to attain its greatest
luxuriance.

Between the limits of high and low-water the rocks will be found
thickly studded with the common Beadlet (_Actinia equina_), in several
well-defined colour varieties. In the rock-pools more Beadlets, with a
few large specimens of the Opelet (_Anemonia sulcata_) and many young
ones. Huge Dahlia Wartlets (_Urticina felina_) lurk under gravel at the
bottom. Almost invisible, though exceedingly abundant, are the Daisies
(_Cereus pedunculatus_) and the Gem Pimplets (_Bunodes verrucosa_).

For others we must wait until the ebb of the spring-tides brings us a
few days of exceptionally low water. Then, when we can get to a floor
of a big “drang,” like that shown in our frontispiece, we may take
such species as the Plumelet (_Metridium senilis_), the Rosy Anemone
(_Sagartia rosea_), the Snake-locked (_Cylista viduata_), the Globehorn
(_Corynactis viridis_), and others to be named hereafter.

Now these, I think, make a fairly representative list, though it by no
means exhausts the British species. However, if the reader can manage,
during two or three visits to the seaside, to find and identify the
species named, he will be fairly well acquainted with the Anemones of
the shore, as distinguished from those found solely in deep water,
which can only be explored with the trawl or dredge. With this class we
have no concern in the present volume, as the deep water is beyond our
province; except so far as certain of them may come ashore attached to
deep-water mollusks and crabs.

[Illustration: THE BEADLET.]

The Beadlet being at once so widely distributed round our shores,
and so abundant wherever found, becomes very suitable for use as a
type of the whole class. We are not to be tempted into repeating
or plagiarising the gushy nonsense that has been so lavishly poured
out by many writers, in which the Anemones have been commended to
popular notice because of their wonderful resemblances to flowers.
Even the older naturalists were not free from blame in this matter,
for they named the animals zoophytes (animal plants) and anthozoa
(flower-animals), names that have stuck, and of which we cannot be rid.
The term “anemone” (wind-flower) itself is utterly absurd when applied
to the Actinia. Beyond the brilliant colours and the petal-like rays
of certain species, there is no parallel between these creatures and
flowers, and the institution of such poetical similes in too many cases
only serves to hide the true nature of these interesting forms of life.

On a rocky coast at low-water we shall find the Beadlet thickly
studding the rocks that stand up high above the sand or pebbles. Those
that are on the perpendicular face of the rock are smooth hemispheres
of dark crimson, bottle-green, olive, or ruddy-brown, with a more or
less vivid thin margin of blue where the base is attached to the rock.
Lower down, a little above the water, we shall find them more elongated
and hanging downwards, some with the rays or tentacles partly extended,
but the whole animal looking somewhat flaccid. _In_ the water, however,
whether it be of the rock-pool or the actual sea, the tentacles are so
widely spread that, looking down upon them, we can see but little of
the fleshy column or even of its base. These tentacles are never very
long in this species, but they are fairly numerous, there being 192 in
an adult specimen, arranged in six series. Their general tendency is
to arch over towards the column, and so hide the row of blue eye-like
spherules that peep out between the column and the tentacles. Within
the radius of the tentacles is an almost flat, smooth expansion of
flesh, called the disk, in the centre of which, on a conical eminence,
is the mouth. The mouth is the opening of a bottomless sack which
serves as stomach, and from the internal cavity, into which the
digested food falls, there are channels which convey it all over the
body, whilst the indigestible portion is rolled up and thrown out by
the way it entered.

The entire quantity of solid matter in an Anemone is very small, as
may be seen in certain species (_i.e._, the Snake-locked Anemone) that
become exceedingly thin and flat in the daytime, but expand into a
tall graceful column at night. In a similar fashion the tentacles are
constantly withdrawn by becoming very small; and the full expansion of
these and of the column is alike affected by the absorption of much
water.

Most of the Anemones attach themselves to rocks, shells, or weeds,
by means of the broad base of the column; others have a rounded base
which is thrust down into sand and there retained by inflation. They
can move on this base, much after the manner of a snail or slug, but
more slowly; some, such as the Opelet, constantly inflate it to such an
extent that it becomes a swimming bladder, buoying them to the surface
of the water, along which they float inverted.

Reproduction takes place in three ways: first, a division may take
place across the disk and mouth, and this be continued right down the
column to the base; second, buds may appear on the disk or column and
develop into complete Anemones; third, by eggs, which are usually
retained until the germs have developed a row of tentacles, when they
are cast out from the mouth in batches. This last is the commonest
mode; and the extruded young at once attach themselves to the surface
upon which they fall.

The Beadlet gets its popular name from the row of blue bead-like
spherules to which notice has already been directed. In one
well-marked variety of this species the spherules lose their azure
hue and become quite white, whilst the normally blue line at the
base becomes flesh-coloured, or is entirely absent. There are many
other colour variations which it would be foreign to the purpose of a
simple handbook to enumerate in detail. We will mention one, because
otherwise it might be taken for some other species: if the ground
colour of its column is green, it may be marked with short lines or
dashes or spots of yellow; or if it is dark red or liver-coloured, it
may be studded with green dots. It is one of the hardiest kinds to keep
in an aquarium, where it will soon multiply by discharging a number of
tiny replicas of itself, though sometimes these will be sent out as
mere eggs, which will not get their tentacles until a week or ten days
later.

[Illustration:

  SNOWY ANEMONE.      ROSY ANEMONE.
]

There are several species of Anemone which, though they differ strongly
in the eyes of a naturalist, may easily be confused with the Beadlet
on a cursory glance when they are in the “button” or closed condition.
Two of these are represented in this illustration. The Rosy Anemone
(_Sagartia rosea_) is representative of an entirely different genus
from that to which the Beadlet belongs. When expanded the column
is cylindric in shape, its base not nearly so broad as that of the
Beadlet. Near the base the colour is buff, deepening above into a
rich ruddy-brown; on the upper part there are a number of little
suckers, to which fragments of shell and gravel adhere. The tentacles
are rosy, with an inclination to become purplish, and some of them
are indistinctly marked by two transverse bands of a darker hue. The
disk is pale olive, and the mouth white or pinkish-white, not raised
like that of the Beadlet. Its usual habitat is in rock-pools that are
uncovered only at very low water. One called the Pallid Anemone (_S.
pallida_) is, I feel sure, a mere colourless variety of _S. rosea_.

[Illustration: ORANGE-DISK ANEMONE.]

The Snowy Anemone (_Sagartia nivea_) is in form much like the
last-mentioned species, but its column is coloured pale olive-brown,
paler near the base. The whitish suckers on the upper part are more
prominent than in the Rosy Anemone. The disk, the tentacles, and the
mouth are all a beautiful white. It will be found in the low-lying
rock-pools.

There is another species, nearly allied, that has white tentacles
with grey tips, but the disk is of a dull, orange tint, with a dusky
border at the roots of the tentacles. This is the Orange-disk Anemone
(_Sagartia venusta_), a species that likes to hide its brown column in
a hole or a crevice of some overhanging rock or in a cavern. It is very
local.

_S. venusta_ is very shy, and readily folds in her tentacles--in truth,
she seldom opens them very widely. _S. rosea_, on the other hand, will
fully display her charms immediately after she has been transferred
to an artificial home. _S. venusta_ is but little inclined to rove
about an aquarium, but whenever she does so she appears bound to leave
a portion of her base behind her. In the course of about ten days
this detached portion develops tentacles, and sets up an independent
existence.

There is a group of which the members are invisible unless their
tentacles are expanded, and even then they harmonise so well with their
surroundings that they are seen only with difficulty. Of course, when
the eye has got accustomed to their forms and colours, and knows what
to look for, it finds them, if they are present.

I have shown a small rock basin to a friend whose eye is pretty keen
where natural objects are concerned, but he has utterly failed to see
the crowd of Anemones in full expansion that were there, until several
had been almost touched by my finger in pointing them out; then a
minute or two later he was finding out the others that were there,
without any assistance from me. One of the species concerned was--

The Cave-dweller (_Cylista undata_), which is exceedingly liable to
variation in form and colour. It is difficult to obtain, owing to its
awkward habit of fixing its base in some narrow chink of the rock,
and spreading out its broad disk above the crevice. Unless one is
very careful in excavating the troglodyte, one may cut it in two, or
hopelessly smash it. The column is of a dirty-looking drab colour,
shading off into grey near the summit. The disk is variable in
colour, and indefinite in detail; but in general effect it is a minute
patchwork of black, brown, and yellowish-drab lines radiating from the
whitish mouth, and minutely dotted with white. From each angle of the
mouth there is a very distinct, short, opaque white line. The tentacles
are numerous, and variable in length; their ground colour is a clear
grey, with several cross bands of white, and at the base there are two
small patches of white surrounded by black in such fashion as to form
an obscure B. This is a pretty constant mark in the identification of
the species, though the white patches are sometimes missing.

The Cave-dweller, though not easily seen at first, is widely
distributed upon our shores, whether rocky or sandy, and careful
examination of the pools on hands and knees will probably reveal
large numbers. Occasionally we shall come upon a cleanly-hollowed
basin in the rocks, about two feet across and almost as deep, the
interior thickly coated with a dense growth of coralline. In this
the Cave-dweller and the Gem Pimplet delight to grow, and in such
situations they can be more easily obtained than from the chinks of
rock that will not admit the fingers.

The Daisy Anemone (_Cereus pedunculatus_) is similar at first sight to
the Cave-dweller. Why it was named daisy it is difficult to imagine,
for I have seen no specimens that suggested the most remote resemblance
to that flower. It is similar to the Cave-dweller both in form and
habits, but it is more soberly coloured, the very broad disk being
dark brown or black, crossed by very fine red lines radiating from the
mouth and continued along the sides of the tentacles. The brown of the
tentacles has a yellowish bias. Near the base of some tentacles there
are two white bands separated by a patch of brown; others are uniformly
coloured throughout, save for tiny specks of white sprinkled without
order over them. The tentacles are very numerous (400 or 500), and
mostly small. The Daisy is found in the crevices of pools left by the
ebbing tide rather than in those of perpendicular rock-walls.

The Scarlet-fringed Anemone (_Sagartia miniata_) has a crimson-brown
column with buff-coloured suckers. The disk is greenish-grey with
darker mottlings. The tentacles are clear glassy, of a brown tint
with darker rings; on the surface a pair of longitudinal dark lines
converging to one point at the tip of the tentacle; at the base two
patches each of black and white alternating. The outer row of tentacles
differ by having the interior coloured with orange or scarlet, which
shows clearly through the thick but colourless substance of the
tentacle; from these the Anemone gets its name of Scarlet-fringed. It
inhabits holes in the rock-pools, and in the rocks of deep water, but
does not affect such deep and narrow crevices as the Cave-dweller.

Occasionally, when we are engaged in stone-turning at low-water,
we shall come across a colony of the pale spectral forms of the
Snake-locked Anemone (_Cylista viduata_), but it is one found only
with difficulty, because in the daytime it compresses itself into a
dirty yellow button as thick as about six of the pages of this book,
with pale lines radiating from the centre. In this condition it offers
to the eye the appearance of a limpet-shell, or a flake of rock. I
once found a colony of seven individuals on the back of the Gabrick
Spider-crab (_Maia squinado_), where no doubt they had been planted
by the crab with a view to getting artistic effects. This suggests to
us that some of the deep-water species, not referred to here, may be
obtained by examining the shells of oysters, quins, whelks, etc., which
are dredged in deep waters.

Supposing you have been fortunate enough to find a small-sized stone
supporting two or three of these compressed Anemones (_Cylista_),
and having taken it home have placed it in a thin glass tumbler of
sea-water for observation. At night you look at the glass to see how
the strangers are doing, and behold with astonishment the change that
has taken place. The depressed yellow button has gone, and where it lay
there stands a tall and elegantly-formed column, two inches in height,
tapering from the base and the summit to the middle, and supporting
a crown of many pellucid tentacles. The inner row of these stand up
and arch outward, the outer ones hang out a little way and then droop
with perfect grace. The contrast between the two conditions is really
startling; and as you observe the tentacles slowly but continuously
writhing you admit the propriety of the English name.

[Illustration: THE OPELET.]

The column is marked with a series of paler longitudinal lines, and on
its upper portion there are small suckers, though the creature does
not appear to use them. The distinctive mark of the species is its
long, lithe, transparent grey tentacles. There is a very fine black
line running along each side of these, and at right angles to them is a
couple of bands of white--one at the base and one about the middle.

On the rocks that are uncovered only at the recess of the spring
tides, and in the shallow pools a little higher up the shore, we shall
find abundant supplies of Opelets (_Anemonia sulcata_), here buried
in holes with only the tentacles protruding, there attached to the
bare rock-surface and exhibiting a substantial brown column, short
but very broad, and bearing an innumerable, almost disorderly crowd
of snaky-tentacles, ever writhing and intertwining. In some specimens
these are a lovely lustrous green with lilac tips; in others grey,
or white, or yellow. The grey and the green are the most abundant
forms, and we may take the satiny green as the typical form. One
peculiarity will soon strike him that makes its acquaintance for the
first time--that unlike the other Anemones he knows, he cannot see one
with tentacles withdrawn. There is no button stage in the Opelet, but
there is a corresponding restful condition when the waters have receded
from its rock, and the previously solid-looking column has collapsed,
and the flaccid tentacles hang in an empty, lifeless manner among the
weeds. The Opelet does not settle down permanently on one spot. He
likes a change, and so never attaches his broad base very strongly.
It is easy to get him off the rock when he is wanted for an aquarium
specimen, and it is equally easy for him to slide off, and, inflating
his base to a great size, float on the surface of the water with his
tentacles waving downwards.

The Opelet attains a great size, and then appears to delight in sitting
on the broad leathery fronds of _Laminaria_, with which his olive
column harmonises well.

I had a specimen for about eight months that practically filled a
bell-glass, nine inches in diameter. Stationed in the middle, he could
nearly touch the glass all round with the tips of his tentacles; as a
matter of fact he was nearly an inch away, which meant that the area
occupied by his tentacles was at least seven inches across, and when
he chose to inflate himself fully he could improve upon this. He was
a very voracious feeder, and there was always room in his capacious
column for a good meal. Alas! he was a victim to gluttony. One day I
brought home a Butterfish, or Gunnel (_Murænoides guttata_), about six
and a half inches in length. Thinking he was large enough to take care
of himself, I put him in with the big Opelet. He had been there but a
few minutes, when I looked in to see how he was settling down in this
new world. He was already dead or insensible, in the snake-like folds
of the green tentacles which were tightly coiled around the fish. I
attempted a rescue, but these tentacles are wonderfully adhesive, and
feel as though they had been painted with patent glue: they adhere on
the slightest touch.

I was too late to save his life, so I did not trouble to recover
the corpse. Before long it had reached the mouth, which extended
considerably in order to accommodate it; but it was a little while
before the intelligence of the Opelet could be so brought to bear on
the matter in hand that the Anemone could comfortably get the Gunnel
“end on.” Now the task was easy, and although the Gunnel considerably
exceeded the Opelet in length, the Anemone tucked him safely in. It
was not a comfortable arrangement in spite of the elasticity of the
Opelet; and the fish, as could plainly be seen from outside, had to be
slanted. Whether this caused a rupture of any vital part, or whether
the Gunnel was too much for the Opelet’s digestive powers, cannot
now be ascertained; but the Opelet sickened, and though the fish was
discharged next day, the Anemone never recovered, but finally died
about a week after this inordinate meal.

The late Mr. Gosse experimented upon the Opelet as an addition to our
breakfast table, and declared it good. He says that “the dish called
_Rastegna_, which is a great favourite in Provence, is mainly prepared
from the Opelet.”

Perhaps some of our readers would like to experiment in the same
direction whilst they are at the seaside; in that case we should be
glad to have their experience and candid opinion on the suitability of
our native Anemones for human food.

Dr. Andrew Wilson, in the days of his youth, desirous of emulating
Mr. Gosse’s example, cooked a specimen of the Dahlia Wartlet, but the
result was not such as to confirm him in this line of alimentation,
though he admits that the Dahlia is probably a tougher subject than the
Opelet, and requires different treatment to make it equally inviting as
a _bonne bouche_.

One of the most delicately beautiful of our Anemones is the Gem
Pimplet (_Bunodes verrucosa_), which may be sought in rock-pools near
low-water; also at low-water, half buried in the sand, at the base of
rocks.

Its name of Pimplet is a soft way of describing its column, which is
crowded with pimples. As a rule these are of a light pinky-brown or
rosy tint, diversified by six vertical bands of larger white pimples.
In several specimens I have before me as I write, however, the column
is uniformly grey with a pinkish tinge, the pimples being of the same
hue and of equal size. The disk is dark grey, marked with fine lines
of the darker rays proceeding to the tentacles, and the space around
the elevated mouth is yellow, marked with a small clear spot of carmine
at the angles of the lips. The tentacles are conical, rounded, with
blunt tips; the underside transparent grey, the upper side darker, with
many thin lines and broad rounded bars of opaque white across it. When
the tentacles are withdrawn and we have the rounded top of the button
stage, the effect of the six white rows of pimples converging at the
summit and forming a star pattern is very pretty. But when the whole
of the tentacles are fully expanded, the outer row bending slightly
downwards, the next row curving upwards and outwards, whilst the inner
ones stand more or less erect, the effect of the delicate pencillings
and the pellucid greys in contrast with the warmer tints of the column
is exceedingly fine.

When the specimens are growing in a coralline-lined basin, however,
this peculiar style of beauty does not render them at all conspicuous;
on the contrary, the Gem Pimplet is a species that will not fall to
the hasty collector who rushes with a mere glance from pool to pool,
but it will soon reward the careful and patient investigator who is
willing to recline at the side of a small pool until his eyes have
closely scrutinised every inch of the bottom, and given the fixed
objects a chance of revealing themselves by a slight movement.

Owing to the transparency of the tentacles in _B. verrucosa_, an
interesting point in the natural history of the species may be observed
without difficulty. The larvæ are retained by the Pimplet until
they have developed their first series of tentacles, and the hollow
tentacles of the parent are made use of as convenient receptacles
in which to store the brood until it is ready to be sent forth into
the surrounding waters. Four or five of these may be seen in one
tentacle. For some time after their discharge these young Pimplets are
exceedingly beautiful. They are pellucid, and in them the remarkable
structure of anemones may be clearly seen. When first excluded they are
nearly globular, about one-twelfth of an inch in diameter, crowned with
a double circlet of tentacles, the outer arching outward and downward,
the inner more erect. Within a few minutes they have increased in size
to one-sixth of an inch, by the mere absorption of water, their tissues
becoming relatively more transparent, and their forms protean. From the
globular form they have quickly changed to one more cylindrical, or to
a cylinder with a bulbous base, then to a long inverted cone.

The Pimplet is easily removed; he has not got that unpleasant habit
of squeezing himself into a crevice, like the Cave-dweller; and
when placed in the aquarium he shows no resentment of his change of
quarters, but makes himself at home and reveals his beauties at once,
even before he has well fixed his base.

An allied species, the Red-specked Pimplet (_Bunodes ballii_), may be
found under stones at low-water, but is more frequent in the deeper
water outside our zone. It is of a warmer hue than the Gem, its
pimples less prominent, and each one with a tiny crimson speck at
its centre; the interspaces between the pimples being freckled with
crimson. In the aquarium it will be found to select an obscure angle
between the floor of the tank and a stone. It is very sluggish, and
readily settles down to aquarium life.

In strong contrast to the quiet loveliness of the little Pimplet, is
the massive and showy beauty of the Dahlia Wartlet (_Urticina felina_).
The Pimplet reaches up to the light and adds grace to its beauty;
but the Dahlia Wartlet spreads itself out as widely as possible, so
that its diameter exceeds its height about three times. In spite of
its size and its magnificence, one has got to learn _how_ to see it
before it appears at all plentiful; _then_, if we are on the rocks
near low-water, we shall find it in abundance. It is fond of crevices
and places where gravel and broken shell accumulate. Beneath these
it buries its broad base and attaches bits of shell and stone to the
many whitish suckers with which the upper part of its dark crimson
column is thickly studded, and when the tide recedes and leaves it,
the collector has to look, not for an expanse of brilliant tentacles,
but for a little rounded heap of gravel. In permanent pools, however,
where it has crimson weeds and white corallines around to harmonise
with its bright hues, the Wartlet seldom closes, except for the purpose
of securing its food; there its sucker-warts are little used, and
consequently they dwindle in size. The tentacles are thick, transparent
cones, marked with transverse bands of dark crimson and white. The disk
is of a transparent olive hue at the circumference, merging into full
crimson nearer the centre, where the disk swells into a low elevation
with the mouth in a depression at its summit. It is a very voracious
creature, and its large mouth and capacious stomach enable it to
swallow half-sized specimens of the Shore Crab (_Carcinus mænas_),
sea-urchins, dog-whelks, and small fishes. On this account it is not so
suitable as an inmate of the aquarium as the others we have described.
It is subject to great variation of colour and markings; that which we
have described and figured is perhaps the most plentiful form, but by
no means the most beautiful.

[Illustration: THE DAHLIA WARTLET.]

There is a pretty little species called the Globehorn (_Corynactis
viridis_), to be found by the observant eye, growing in patches on
the under surface of overhanging rocks near to low-water, on our
south-western coasts. It is seldom a quarter of an inch in stature,
and its breadth is a little more; but they are always close together
in colonies of from twenty to fifty individuals. It is very variable
in colour, but as a rule the members of one colony will resemble each
other very closely, in this as in other respects. The peculiarity
which separates it from the several species we have been describing,
is in the form of the tentacles. These, instead of being more or less
conical, and ending in a point, consist of globular heads set on
stalks--from which circumstance the popular name Globehorn is derived.
The column is of even breadth throughout, the base slightly broader,
transparent, but coloured white, grey, yellow, green, brown, crimson,
or scarlet. Probably the most common form is that which has the
column and disk of emerald green. The footstalks of its tentacles are
colourless and transparent, but studded with rich brown warts, whilst
their heads are rich crimson. The thick-lipped mouth is bright green.

At low-water we shall probably come upon a rock upon which is a group
of dumpy masses of clear white jelly. Carefully remove some of these to
your collecting bottles, and in the evening, when they have had time to
recover from the shock, they will astonish you. The squat jelly-lump
erects itself into a shapely alabaster column, a couple of inches high,
and near the top a rounded parapet, above which the lobes of the crown
will spread out, densely clothed with feathery tentacles. It is well
named the Plumose Anemone (_Metridium senilis_).

In the straightness and tallness of its column, the Plumose Anemone
is suggestive of a deep-water species that you may sometimes have
brought in shore by a fisherman who has discovered your weakness for
what he will term “curios.” This is the Parasite Anemone (_Cribrina
effoeta_), which will almost always be found perched on a full-sized
shell of the common whelk (_Buccinum undatum_), or the red whelk
(_Fusus antiquus_). Yet the whelk-shell will not be tenanted by the
whelk, but by the Hermit-crab (_Eupagurus bernhardus_). The Parasite,
when fully expanded, is about four inches high, and the measurement
across the tentacles is not much less. Its column is pale drab in
colour, the tentacles creamy white, and the disk somewhat conical.
To see a weak creature like the Hermit hauling a heavy-looking shell
along is a trifle amusing; but when Cribrina’s huge tower of apparently
solid flesh is perched on top of that, the picture is absurd. Owing to
its large size and its unhappiness when deprived of the society of the
Hermit, the Parasite is not a desirable aquarium specimen, except where
one has very large tanks affording sufficient depth and range for the
Hermit-crab. It is not clear what advantage each of the parties to this
strange co-operation gain, though it is easy to propound theories to
account for it.

Such partnerships (_commensalism_) are by no means uncommon in Nature;
and there is one subsisting on our own coasts between another species
of Hermit-crab (_Eupagurus prideaux_) and the Cloaklet Anemone
(_Adamsia palliata_). It is probable that the Anemone derives advantage
from being carried about from place to place, and thus has better
opportunity for securing food than if stationary; whilst the crab is
probably saved from being swallowed by a big-mouthed fish, owing to
the unpleasant odour of the Anemone. One other way in which the Hermit
may benefit is by feeding on the crumbs that fall from the Parasite’s
table. I have had specimens brought to me that had been hauled up on
“spiller lines,” the fishermen characterising the Anemone as _an enemy_
for stealing his bait. Here probably the advantage gained by being
perched atop of the whelk-shell alone enabled the Parasite to reach
and swallow the bait on the spiller hook. It should be added that the
base of the Anemone gradually absorbs that portion of the whelk-shell
to which it is attached, as may plainly be seen on removing a large
individual from the shell.

It may be presumed that a large number of our readers not only desire
to be able to identify the natural objects they encounter by the deep
sea, but would like, also, to watch the habits and conduct of some of
them under more favourable conditions for continuous observation than
the constant ebbing and flowing of the tides will allow on the shore.
For their benefit let us add a few words.

Certain of the Anemones, which we have already indicated, adapt
themselves to the artificial life of an aquarium very readily, and
without any great exhibition of shyness. For this purpose it is
advisable to take medium-sized specimens, rather than to look out
for the largest example we can find, remembering that the younger
individuals in time become large; but what is of greater importance
they are less likely to be injured by removal. In many cases patient
search will show us examples of such species as the Beadlet attached
to small stones, and it is much better for our purpose to take these,
stone and all, than to disturb the attachment of others to the rock.
Others may be found on weeds, especially the broad smooth fronds of
the great oarweed; but some of the more delicate in texture must be
removed by chipping off with cold-chisel and hammer a flake of the rock
with Anemones attached.

Anemones are not great consumers of oxygen, and consequently the water
in the vessels to which they are consigned does not readily become
fouled, except as the result of feeding. Do not give food more often
than once in a fortnight or ten days, but be sure then that it is
suitable food, and in small fragments only. Some people think the best
thing to give to such delicate creatures is a piece of raw steak. It
is probably unnecessary to tell _you_ that we have the best guarantee
of success when we imitate Nature as closely as possible. Anemones in
a state of Nature do not often get a chance of raw beef, except when
a bullock has been washed overboard from a ship and comes in a very
inflated and “gamey” condition, begging the Coastguard to bury it
decently.

If oysters or mussels can be obtained where you are staying, give
Anemones tiny pieces uncooked; or a piece out of the side of a young
sole or plaice. Do not give them fish that is all hard muscle, for they
cannot readily digest it. They require so very little to eat, that we
may easily select that little from a fish that is known to be easily
digestible.

Here, too, let me warn you against a misapprehension that may cause you
to be much concerned about the supposed lack of appetite in your pets.
The nutriment they extract from their food appears to be entirely of
a fluid character; they suck the juices from it, and having done so
completely, what remains becomes pearly white, and having been wrapped
in a thick transparent _glaire_, is thrust out by the way it entered.

Now this excrement is of a very objectionable character, and if allowed
to remain for a short time will infect the whole of the water in the
vessel, and begin to destroy all the life therein: so it must be
removed at once. Persons who have had no previous experience in keeping
Anemones, suppose that the individual fed had no appetite, and had
rejected his food without change.

The ordinary rectangular aquarium is very suitable for the reception of
the Anemones, and a special piece of rock should be selected from one
of the rock-pools to serve them as a residence. This stone should not
cover more than half the floor space of the tank; and it should be very
irregular as regards its surface, pitted with holes and recesses into
which the more retiring species may partially withdraw their columns.
If no suitable piece can be found readily, then one must be made by
means of the cold-chisel and hammer. Look out a rock whose surface is
broken with the holes of the _Pholas_. Taking advantage of these holes
as weakening the rock, a piece of the required size can be marked off
with the cold-chisel, and then by vigorous chipping can be separated.

If a suitable stone can be found ready to hand in the rock-pool,
and it has green weed growing from its surface, you need nothing
better, especially if that weed be the thin membrane-like tubes of
_Enteromorpha_, for it will continue to grow in the aquarium. But
beware of stones with a growth of any of the thick-fronded leathery
olive weeds. For a few days they will look well, but then they will
begin to decay and melt in slime, with a putrid odour that will
assuredly kill everything in a day or two more, and drive you out of
the house.

Should you be staying at the seaside only for a few weeks, and desire
to see as much as you can of these creatures, yet have no proper
aquarium to accommodate them, remember that any vessel not too deep
that allows you to look into it will serve your purpose. Even a
soup-plate, or an old-fashioned saucer may at times serve better
than anything else for observation purposes. But if greater depth be
required, a china “slop-basin,” or a thin glass tumbler may be borrowed
or otherwise brought into requisition.

To convey Anemones from the sea to a distance, it is best to wrap them
lightly in some of the finer seaweeds and put them into a weed-lined
box. This is much better than attempting to carry them in water, and
will be attended with more satisfactory results.




CHAPTER VII.

SEA-STARS AND SEA-URCHINS.


At low-water, turning over stones and looking into rock-crevices, we
are sure to come across members of the _Echinodermata_--the creatures
with tough and rough or spiny coverings, popularly known as Star-fish
and Sea-urchins. There are many forms of these to be found on the
British coasts, though some of them are peculiar to deep water, and not
likely to fall in our way, unless it be their dead bodies washed up to
our part of the shore. But we can obtain a fair knowledge of the class
to which they belong, from the specimens we can find living their lives
in our own littoral zone. Here, hunched up into an almost globular form
under this drooping mass of leathery wrack, is the common Five-fingers,
Cross-fish, or Star-fish (_Uraster rubens_). Turning him on his back we
see the reason for the contracted condition of his five rays: in the
hollow thus formed he holds no less than three specimens of the Purple
or Dog Winkle. Why? He is a glutton, and is eating those three poor
mollusks at one sitting.

Not many years ago we all believed literally the tales that were told
of the Star-fish swallowing oysters as large or larger than itself. It
was well known that they caused havoc to oyster and mussel beds, and
that seemed the most likely way in which the valuable bivalve would
be destroyed. Some went so far as to assert that Five-fingers waited
his opportunity to catch the oyster gaping, and then slipped in one of
his fingers, and so prevented the shell closing. It was left to the
imagination to picture that same finger hooking out the native and
swallowing it in the approved fashion--off the shell.

The Uraster’s mouth is small, and the integuments tough and not capable
of great distention; but its stomach is a most accommodating organ,
though a very delicate one, and when the Star has come upon food too
large to pass through the mouth to the stomach, the stomach passes
through the mouth to the food. It surrounds the victim with its fine
membrane, pours out its gastric juice, and having reduced it to a fluid
condition, re-absorbs the whole, and returns to its natural position
inside the Star. That is a wonderful process, but it is quite a common
one, and you will certainly catch the animal in the act before you have
long been shore-hunting.

This is probably the way in which the securely boxed up oyster falls a
victim to Five-fingers. The oyster’s powerful adductor muscles keep the
valves closed, and appear to defy any burglariously-disposed creature
of its own size; but Five-fingers’ gastric juice is a penetrating
solvent which paralyzes the muscles and kills the oyster. The elastic
hinge then opens the shell automatically, and allows Five-fingers to
make an unresisted entrance, and a short end of the oyster.

As we have shaken off the dog-winkles, the Star-fish takes in his
stomach for safety, and we are enabled to have a look at his exterior.
When we say that he has five rays proceeding from a common centre, we
have said well-nigh all that is to be said about his form. But the
minutiæ of the organs disposed over those rays, and within them--for
their interiors form part of the general body-cavity--requires much
describing and explaining. The creature has no legs, yet he moves
with considerable celerity in any one direction as easily as another,
and inequalities of surface present no difficulties to him. And yet
the five rays, from their stiffness, are practically useless for this
purpose; but on the under surface of these rays are hundreds of pliable
and active little suckers, worked by hydraulic power, and it is all one
to them whether they have to walk on rock, weed, or glass, up or down,
across the floor, or under the ceiling.

Looking at the underside of this Star, we find that each of the rays is
deeply channelled along its centre. Only the true Stars have got this
channel; the Sand-stars and Brittle-stars have not, neither have they
got the wonderful suckers; but along each side of the channel, under
each of Five-fingers’ arms, there are two rows of soft filaments that
bend and wave in any direction, and that end each in a little knob
containing a tiny limy plate. By means of this little plate each knob
is converted into a sucker, similar to those by which trades-people
suspend their goods from the surface of their plate-glass shop-fronts,
but worked by water instead of air. There are hundreds of these to
each ray, and all act in unison, so that real progress is made when
Five-fingers’ olfactory sense informs the sucker-feet of the direction
in which food may be sought.

Ah, you say, has it a nose? No, it has not; but experiments have shown
that the entire underside is sensitive to odours. At the tip of each
ray there is a spot that is ordinarily spoken of as its eye, but it has
no true eye, though these spots are sensitive to light. Its mouth is in
the centre of its under surface, and opens directly into the stomach,
which has branches running into each of the rays. The vent for the
undigested particles of food and for waste, is on the upper surface.

Near the junction of two of the rays on the upper surface will be seen
a round stony knob, which is sometimes taken for the creature’s eye.
This is not a very wild shot at its purpose, though it is entirely a
wrong one, for as placed it certainly does suggest some such function.
Its real office could not suggest itself to any person unacquainted
with the internal economy of the Star-fish. Looked at through a lens,
it will be found to have a number of minute pores in its surface.
Strange as it may seem that the Star-fish should require such a
convenience, this is really a filter. Scientific men honour it with
the important-sounding name of the “madreporiform plate,” because
its tubes resemble somewhat those of the madrepore coral. I have
already referred to the hydraulic system by which the sucker-feet are
distended and worked, and this is the “intake” of the supply, as a
water-company would call it. Within these is a tube, running near to
the creature’s mouth on its lower surface, and connecting with a ring
of tube that surrounds the mouth, and sends out a branch to each of the
five rays. To this branch-pipe all the sucker-feet in a particular ray
are connected, and the pressure can be so regulated as to alternately
distend the sucker-feet, or to leave them partly empty and flaccid.

Upon one occasion, when I was describing these arrangements of the
Stars to a jocular friend, he said the idea of having a big mouth
that let in water freely, and a number of minute mouths that let it
in slowly, reminded him of the poet Cowper’s whim in making a large
aperture for his big hares to pass through, and a small one for the
little hares. He thought the mouth would have served both purposes; but
as I pointed out to him, the water that the Star takes in involuntarily
with its food goes into the stomach, where the food is retained and the
water strained off by the mouth again. This water would contain grains
of sand, vegetable _débris_, and other impurities, which would clog the
delicate tubes and spoil a beautiful piece of mechanism. The water that
percolates through the minute pores of the stony plate must be pure,
and free from all extraneous matter, so that the special supply-pipe
is a necessity. The scientific appellation of the sucker-feet is
_pedicels_ or _ambulacral feet_.

We must not omit to mention organs of another sort that occur in
plenty among the sucker-feet, and for many years presented a puzzle to
naturalists, who long regarded them as parasites--something foreign
to the Star-fish. They are now understood to be pedicels that have
been specialised to adapt them for particular functions. They consist
of slender flexible stalks, ending in an enlarged head of three claws
which normally converge to a point, but they are for ever opening and
shutting and taking hold of something. They are analogous to those
curious bird’s-head organs on some of the zoophytes, to which attention
has already been directed. Their function is to take hold of seaweeds
and other substances, until the suckers can be got to work; also to
keep the sucker-feet clean by removing all matter tending to clog them
and impede their efficient working.

The upper side of a common Star-fish is covered with rough or spiny
plates, and bosses of carbonate of lime secreted by the creatures, and
these take definite patterns in different species.

The Common Star-fish (_Uraster rubens_) is well-known for its rough
orange-coloured exterior, and its profusion, in some seasons, upon
certain parts of the coast. It swarms on oyster and mussel beds,
and causes considerable annoyance to fishermen, who find it taking
possession of the bait on their lines, and so keeping off the fishers’
rightful prey.

There is a less common but prettier species, the Spiny Star (_Uraster
glacialis_), you may find among the rocks at low-water. It is much
larger than the common Cross-fish, and in proportion the rays are
longer, their sides more parallel, the upper side more distinctly
spiny, and the colour a glaucous green, with variations towards violet.
It is more angular-looking than the common species.

Another species is the Eyed Cribella (_Cribella oculata_), which has an
upper surface quite free from spines or roughnesses, and of a purple
colour.

These Stars go through a remarkable metamorphosis. In the year 1835,
Sars, the celebrated naturalist, discovered a peculiar creature about
an inch in length, to which he gave the name, _Bipinnaria asterigera_,
and classed it among the Jelly-fishes. Nine years later, however, some
further observations caused him to reconsider this view, and to regard
the creature as more probably the larva of a Star-fish; and in the
course of a few years this opinion was confirmed by the researches of
Messrs. Koren and Danielssen.

The Sun Star (_Solaster papposa_) is really a glorious creature, with a
broad central cushion of rich crimson, from which radiate from twelve
to fifteen arms of the same colour, but with a band of lighter tint at
their base. The upper surface is covered with a network of slightly
raised lines, upon which are threaded, as it were, a great number of
little cushions, supporting erect brushes of spines. It may be found at
low-water, but is more frequently obtained from trammels set in deeper
water, and from the fishermen’s lines. It is sometimes nearly a foot
across from tip to tip of opposite rays.

[Illustration: SUN STAR.]

In the bottom right-hand corner of the plate on page 93, will be seen
a figure of the Gibbous Starlet (_Asterina gibbosa_), in which it
will be seen that the figure of the Common Star has been considerably
modified by the partial filling up of the angles between the rays,
so that the body appears to be more extensive than the rays. This
pretty species--it is represented natural size--is fairly plentiful in
rock-pools where there is sand and a vigorous growth of coralline and
fine weeds. In such pools it is not easily seen, owing to the manner in
which it harmonises with its surroundings. It is covered with a short
“pile” of spines, of a greenish-grey tint, with an indefinite shade of
brown. It is cushion-shaped; and the underside is channelled from the
five points to the central mouth. These channels are bordered with a
row of spines on each side, to protect the double range of sucker-feet
within.

[Illustration:
  PURPLE-TIPPED URCHIN.      FEATHER-STAR.      STARLET.
]

In the same pools, among the rubbish at the bottom, under stones at
low-water, and climbing about corallines and weeds, we shall be sure to
find in plenty a little Brittle-star (_Ophiocoma neglecta_), of very
attenuated proportions, and not exceeding an inch across, if you can
get it to keep still whilst you measure it. It is exceedingly active,
and all its tiny rays bend and wriggle at the same time.

The Brittle-stars pass to the other extreme from the Starlet, in
modifying the five-rayed plan of the Common Star. Here the creature
runs almost entirely into the five writhing arms, which leave but
little material for the circular trunk, which looks, in truth, as
though five active worms had simultaneously seized a minute button by
its edge.

There are several other species of Brittle-star to be found between
tide-marks, but they all share, more or less, the peculiarity which
gives them the popular name. They are so “touchy” that you need
scarcely do more than look at them to cause them to voluntarily snap
off a part or whole of a ray, or several rays--and they commonly throw
off the lot, if they commence self-mutilation. The amputated members
are replaced by new growths, if the Star lives; for sometimes this
act of renunciation of limbs that offend, is but a prelude to the
extinction of vitality in the trunk.

[Illustration: GRANULATE BRITTLE-STAR.]

In the illustration here given of the Granulate Brittle-star, it will
be seen that the rays do not merge imperceptibly into the trunk, but
are attached to it by a kind of dovetail joint on the upper side.
Below, the arms, at their termination, form a ring, within which is the
mouth, whilst the trunk acts as a roof above the mouth, and overhanging
all round. The rays are composed of a series of joints, which allow
free lateral action, or wriggling, but not much vertically. Each of
these joints consists of four little plates, one each above and below,
and one on each side. The side plates bear each from five to ten stiff
and granular spines of varying length; and short tentacles come out
beside the lower plates. These tentacles are not sucker-feet, like
those of Five-fingers, but rigid, hooked processes; and there are no
_pedicellariæ_ with their snapping jaws. The mouth is a very extensive
opening, but its area is largely occupied by the five jaws, the free
ends of which extend upwards far into the body cavity, and are covered
with rows of long, close-set teeth. These teeth, on the five jaws
being brought together, must form a wonderfully efficient masticatory
apparatus.

One of the commoner forms of these Brittle-stars is the Granulate
Brittle-star (_Ophiocoma granulata_), represented in part in our
illustration. I have seen crab-pots brought in with this species
thickly coating the bottoms inside, and attached to well-nigh every
bar; there must have been thousands in each “pot.”

An allied species that is more plentiful as an inhabitant of the
littoral zone, is the Red Brittle-star (_Ophiothrix rosula_), which
will be found sprawling over the under surfaces of big stones at
low-water, in company with the Broad-claw Crab. Of this species Edward
Forbes truly remarks:--

“Of all our native Brittle-stars, this is the most common and the most
variable. It is also one of the handsomest, presenting every variety of
variegation, and the most splendid displays of vivid hues, arranged in
beautiful patterns. Not often do we find two specimens coloured alike.
It varies also in the length of the ray-spines, the spinuousness of the
disk, and the relative proportions of rays and disk; and in some places
it grows to a much greater size than in others. It is the most brittle
of all Brittle-stars, separating itself into pieces with wonderful
quickness and ease. Touch it, and it flings away an arm; hold it, and
in a moment not an arm remains attached to the body.”

Another species, the Long-armed Brittle-star (_Ophiocoma brachiata_),
has the rays about twenty times the diameter of the disk, each
consisting of three or four hundred joints; so that if one reckons
up the four plates that go to make one joint, then adds to these the
eight to ten spines on each joint, and multiplies the first total by
say three hundred and fifty (the number of joints), and this second
total by five (the number of rays), one gets a grand total of seventy
thousand pieces, constituting merely the external covering of the rays
of this small creature--leaving entirely out of the reckoning the
internal bony framework upon which these are placed.

These Brittle-stars go through a peculiar stage of existence, prior to
their assumption of rays. When summer is verging upon autumn, their
minute larval forms may be gathered in a fine muslin net, from the
surface of the sea. Gosse has given a description of this stage with
admirable brevity. He says:--

“A painter’s long easel affords the only object with which to compare
the little creature; for it consists of four long, slender, calcareous
rods, arranged two in front and two behind, with connecting pieces
going across in a peculiar manner, and meeting at the top in a slender
head. On this shelly, fragile, and most delicate framework, as on a
skeleton, are placed the soft parts of the animal, a clear gelatinous
flesh, forming a sort of semi-oval tunic around it, from the summit
to the middle; but thence downward the rods, individually, are merely
encased in the flesh, without mutual connection. The interior of the
body displays a large cavity, into which a sort of mouth ever and anon
admits a gulp of water. Delicate cilia cover the whole integument, and
are particularly large and strong on the flesh of the projecting rods.

“The appearance of this most singular animal is very beautiful; its
colour pellucid-white, except the summit of the apical knob, and the
extremities of the greater rods, which are of a lovely rose-colour. It
swims in an upright position, with a calm and deliberate progression.
The specimens which I have seen were not more than one-fortieth of an
inch in length.

“From this form the Brittle-star is developed, but in a manner
unparalleled in any other class of animals. The exterior figure is not
gradually changed, but the star is constructed within a particular part
of the body of the larva, ‘like a picture upon its canvas, or a piece
of embroidery in its frame, and then takes up into itself the digestive
organs of the larva.’ The plane of the future Star-fish is not even the
plane of the larva, but one quite independent of, and oblique to it.
Strange to tell, the young Star does not absorb into itself the body of
the larva, which has acted as a nidus for it, but throws it off as so
much useless lumber--flesh, rods, and all!”

Prof. A. Agassiz, however, would have taken exception to that last
sentence, for he declared that “the whole larva and all its appendages
are gradually drawn into the body, and appropriated.”

In the plate on page 93 there are two figures besides the Starlet--the
Feather-star and a Sea-urchin. The Feather-star (_Comatula rosacea_)
is really a deep-water form, but it has been taken occasionally within
the littoral zone, and may occur there in the experience of the reader.
It is undoubtedly the most beautiful of the entire group, so far as
British waters are concerned, and it possesses a special interest
for us, as being the only British representative of the Stone-lilies
or Encrinites that so abounded in Palæozoic times that their remains
make up whole strata, but of which, until the deep-sea explorations
of recent years, no living European species was known. But the
Feather-star, as shown in our illustration, had been long known, for
in several localities round Britain and Ireland it came up abundantly
in the dredge, yet no one suspected it was closely related to the
Encrinites.

In the year 1823 Mr. J. Vaughan Thompson, when dredging in the Cove of
Cork, brought up a tiny creature less than an inch in length, but which
might have been one of these Encrinites, into which life and mobility
had been infused. The discovery was hailed with joy by naturalists,
and the little stranger was named _Pentacrinus europæus_. Thirteen
years later Thompson came to the conclusion that his _Pentacrinus_ was
only the larval form of _Comatula_; and in 1840 Edward Forbes, Robert
Ball, and C. Wyville Thomson were dredging in Dublin Bay, when the
dredge brought up specimens of the so-called _Pentacrinus_ in a more
advanced stage than had been seen hitherto, and behold, some of these
underwent the final change in their early history under their eyes: the
Feather-star left its stalk and floated off, a true _Comatula_. Sir C.
Wyville Thomson has given this interesting account of its progress from
the egg condition:--

“The young escapes from the egg a pear-shaped free animalcule, swimming
and gyrating rapidly through the water, large end foremost, by four
transverse bands of cilia, and by a tail-like tuft of long cilia,
which it uses somewhat in the style of a screw propeller. On one side
of the body there is a large oval mouth, richly ciliated, and a short
curved stomach. After swimming freely in this form for several days,
a network of calcareous plates begins to appear, at length making a
closed chamber in the wide end of the pear, and extending as a sort
of stalk to the narrow end. The stalk now lengthens, and the creature
loses its symmetrical form; it attaches itself to a stone or seaweed,
and from the free, wide extremity, there springs a little circlet of
branches--the arms of the second stage.”

On turning again to the illustration (page 93), it will be seen that
the Rosy Feather-star, to give it the full title, is possessed of
ten rays, or rather five rays each forking into two, and that these
branches are _pinnate_, or feathered with little appendages which
contain the ova. The ordinary organs are all contained in the central
body, and do not extend into the rays as in Five-fingers.

The remaining figure in that plate is the Purple-tipped Sea-urchin
(_Echinus miliaris_), which is a well-known inhabitant of rock-pools.
It is enclosed in a stone box, which is a miracle of design, for
although there is no elasticity about it, and it cannot be stretched,
it yet serves the growing Urchin for years, and never cramps him. There
is never any necessity for throwing it off, as the crabs and lobsters
have to do repeatedly with _their_ suits of armour. The nearest
parallel to it in nature is the human skull, which although consisting
only of a few pieces, enlarges in a similar manner to accommodate the
growing brain.

It is remarkable how, in the whole sub-kingdom Echinodermata, all the
wonderful variety displayed by the many species is found compatible
with rigid loyalty to the dominating “number” principle: in these
animals everything is governed by the number five. With a few
exceptions, the rays are in fives, or multiples of that number; so are
the jaws, the boundaries of the plates, and other details, as may be
seen in any of the Stars to which we have alluded.

In the Sea-urchins we get an advance in that direction, for its stone
box is built up of nearly six hundred five-sided[2] plates of lime,
securely attached to each other by their edges, and fitting with such
beautiful accuracy, that there is not the ghost of a crevice from base
to crown of this wonderful cupola.

[2] Dr. Andrew Wilson, in his “Glimpses of Nature,” impresses upon
his readers this “pentarchy” in the building of an _Echinus_, but
curiously describes the plates as being _six_-sided. He evidently had
none but living specimens to refer to when he thus wrote. It is only in
a specimen from which the spines and skin have been carefully cleaned
that the form of the plates can be seen.

But if there are no crevices there are many apertures--over five
thousand of them in a full-grown _Echinus esculentus_. Forbes, many
years ago, calculated there were 3,720 in a _moderate-sized_ specimen;
and his figures, though used in all the books since his day, do not
appear to have been checked. But I have counted the pores in what
I should describe as a moderate-sized individual, _i.e._, one that
measured, when denuded of its spines, twelve inches in circumference,
and find no less than 4,800. The calculation is as follows: ten
bands, each consisting of eighty rows of six holes (10 × 80 = 800 × 6
= 4,800). The specimens that the crabbers take out of their crab-pots,
and smash against the rocks, are commonly much larger than this. It
always grieves me to see such wonderful structures destroyed in that
fashion.

The five thousand pores are in pairs, each pair giving rise to one
_pedicel_ or sucker-foot, like those we described in the Five-fingers.
The ten bands of pores are also arranged in pairs, the bands forming
a pair being separated by about five rows of spines, and each pair
of bands being separated from the next by twenty (4 × 5) rows of
spines. These intervening spines are borne on two series of long, yet
still five-sided, plates; the number of spines to each, in a growing
specimen, varying; but from counting many of these I should suppose a
fully-grown plate, from the middle of a series, would support twenty
spines; at the top and bottom of the series, however, there are only
two or three spines to each plate. These spines are not mere rigid
outgrowths like the prickles on a chestnut bur; they are beautifully
finished pieces of mechanism, with considerable latitude for movement
in any direction. Although only about five-eighths of an inch in
length, each is a beautiful column in alabaster, tapering slightly to
the top, and decorated from near the base with a series of thirty (6 ×
5) parallel rounded ridges. The bottom of this spine is hollowed out
and polished perfectly, to enable it to move freely on the polished
knob upon which it fits. These knobs are the bosses left on the shell
when the spines have been cleaned off; the spines being held to them
and moved by a circular band of muscular tissue.

If we look at the underside of the Urchin we shall find the mouth
occupying the centre, with five polished white teeth protruding.
Although these are not much to look at from outside, they form a
large and complicated structure within, which goes by the name of the
“Lantern of Aristotle,” because the famous Stagyrite appropriately
compared its shape to a lantern. Within we find a set of organs
similar to those described in connection with Five-fingers, much of
the space being occupied with the water-vascular system by which the
enormous number of sucker-feet are worked. The Urchin also possesses
a great number of pedicellariæ which keep the upper parts of the
huge sphere clean, by passing any particles of dirt from one to the
other, until they are passed off altogether. The madreporiform plate
is situate right at the summit of the edifice, near the five eyes and
the vent. As its specific name suggests, this urchin is edible; it is
boiled like an egg.

The Purple-tipped Urchin (_Echinus miliaris_) is depressed in form,
and its outline would represent an oval from which one-fourth had been
cut away, whilst _E. esculentus_ would represent a circle from which
about one-sixth had been abstracted. The skin of _E. esculentus_,
when the spines are removed, is reddish; that of _E. miliaris_, a
dusky greenish-grey. _Miliaris_ is common in rock-pools and about the
rocks at low-water; but _esculentus_ is found in deeper water, though,
from the frequency with which it is brought in by the crabbers for
destruction, rather than throw it overboard where they find it, and
from its empty house being rolled in by the waves, it is a fairly
common object of the shore.

There is a rarer shore species, called the Purple Urchin
(_Strongylocentrus lividus_), which excavates circular holes in the
rocks large enough to house itself, spines and all. This is more
plentiful in Ireland than on the English coasts; and it is remarkable
not only for its excavating propensities, but also because it sheds its
thick purple-spines annually, and produces a new crop.

[Illustration:
  SIPUNCULUS.      SEA-CUCUMBER.
]

Closely allied to the Sea-stars and Sea-urchins are the Sea-cucumbers,
of which we have a number of native species, though many of them
belong too exclusively to the deeper waters to be mentioned here.
Several of the genus _Cucumaria_, however, may be met among the rocks,
at low-water, on our southern coasts. One of these is represented in
the accompanying plate, protruding from a crevice in the rock. It
is the Sea-cucumber (_Cucumaria pentactes_), a species that requires
a fair pair of eyes to detect it. Certainly, when seen for the first
time, unless the finder had previously read about Sea-cucumbers,
it would never strike him as being a relation of the Sea-stars and
Urchins. There are no spines, no limy plates; instead, the body is soft
and molluscous, so that it can progress by its alternate extension
and contraction. But a careful scrutiny of the appendages encircling
the mouth might awaken suspicion, for there are ten branching rays,
and then it might be noted that the body has five distinct angles,
and that these angles are pierced with pores not unlike those of the
Urchins, through which protrude sucker-feet. This, he would consider,
constituted a very strong case in favour of their relationship to the
Echinoderms; and in this conclusion he would be in agreement with
the scientific men, who have, however, also taken the Sea-cucumber’s
internal arrangement into consideration. Another point which suggests
affinity with the Sea-stars--especially with the Brittle section--is
their trick when suffering from want of food or lack of oxygen in the
water surrounding them, of throwing off portions of their body, and
thus increasing their chances of life by their reduction of the area or
bulk that has to be fed or refreshed. The animated Cucumber not only
throws off its rays for such reasons, but also its mouth and dental
apparatus, and its intestines and ovaries are turned out, and only an
empty hollow bag remains. Should its prospects brighten through the
access of food and the oxygenating of its surroundings, it will, in the
course of a few months, reproduce these sacrificed organs, and make a
fresh start with a new lease of life. This is a close connection of
the tropical Beche de Mer, of which the Malays make Trepang, a very
important item in their trade with China, by whom it is used as a
choice article of food.

The creature to the left of the Sea-cucumber, on page 103, is the
Dotted Siphon-worm (_Sipunculus punctatissima_), formerly included
with the Sea-cucumbers, but now relegated by the systematist to the
biological lumber-room, whose door is labelled “Vermes,” that limbo
to which all sorts of creatures are sent who cannot be satisfactorily
classified, in the hope that future discoveries may make their
affinities more clear. The Siphon-worm has a cylindrical proboscis that
is almost as long as its body, and a wreath of simple tentacles around
the mouth.




CHAPTER VIII.

SEA-WORMS.


A chance reader picking up this volume by accident, or from curiosity,
and opening it at this chapter, will in all probability put it down
quickly with the remark, “Worms indeed! and who wishes to read about
such disgusting creatures?”

Our prejudices trip us up at every other step we take, and interfere
with our seeing and learning much that would interest and edify us. Our
notions of worms are suggested by our imperfect knowledge of the common
earth-worm (_Lumbricus_) which few persons have properly seen. It is a
nasty, slimy, wriggling creature, that spoils the look of the lawn with
its unsightly casts, and is a further nuisance in that it disturbs the
seedlings in our seed-beds.

Well, as a naturalist I have no great sympathy with this view, for
a worm is a wonderful creature; but there are worms and worms, and
probably the most sensitive soul who would shrink from a near view
of the loathly earth-worm would have his or her interest awakened by
a sight of the Rainbow Leaf-worm, the golden-haired Sea-mouse, the
cinnabar Cirratulus, or the glowing plumy crown of the Tube-worm.
So, too, their imagination may be stirred at the marvellous power
of elongation possessed by the _Lineus_, whose full length can only
be estimated with difficulty, but which has been ascertained to be
something over twenty feet.

There are among them builders--in porcelain, stone, sand, mud--and
spinners of submarine webs like those of spiders. Brilliant colours,
elegant forms, wonderful structures and mechanism, ease of motion, and
symmetry, are among the attributes of the humble sea-worms. Let us
look at a few representative forms.

Flat, or nearly flat rocks that are only uncovered by the recess of the
spring tides, will often be found to be strangely coated with coarse
sand in which are immersed round tubes with their mouths protruding.
This is a colony of the common Sabella (_Sabella alveolaria_), which
cements the sand together in long tubes, and appears also to spill
some of its liquid glue around; for the spaces between the tubes are
filled with sand similarly agglutinated, so that the whole surface of
the rock is uniformly coated with sand in which are the sabellæ-tubes.
There is nothing to see, so long as the sea remains out; but when the
incoming tide covers this rock it is a sight worth seeing. From every
one of these tubes there comes forth a plume of feathers in shape like
a funnel. The tubes are fashioned by curiously-modified antennæ, which
serve the purpose of a couple of trowels to manipulate the material
that has been scooped up by another organ, to mould and smooth it, and
make it comfortable for habitation.

Its methods of working can be clearly seen by capturing a specimen or
two, evicting it from its home, and placing it in a glass vessel with
a little clean sand on the bottom. It will immediately proceed to the
elaboration of a new tube; and with that eye for economy of labour
and material which characterises the majority of natural builders, it
will make the glass serve as the base of its tube, and thus reduce its
labour by a third.

[Illustration:
  TRUMPET SABELLA. BRUSH SABELLA. COMMON SABELLA.
]

The breathing organs (_branchiæ_) of these tube-masons are external,
and form a very beautiful object when the worm lies on the threshold
of his house and pushes this apparatus out, that his blood may benefit
from the abundant oxygen of the ever-moving waters. At first the
branchial plume issues very cautiously and with slight pauses and
withdrawals; but finding all safe the _Sabella_ at length gets it quite
out and expands it to its glorious fulness, delicate in structure,
splendid in colour as the light is variously reflected from the
finely-toothed threads.

We must use the lens if we are to get an idea of the structure of
this beautiful crown. By its aid we find there are a great number of
filaments, each one fringed with finer processes on each side. Fine as
these are, they are all hollow, and through them the blood constantly
flows, to be brought in contact with, and to absorb the oxygen of the
sea-water, which can pass through the microscopic meshes of their walls
through which, however, the free cells of the blood cannot pass. In
some species these gills are arranged not in circular form but spirally
round a central shaft.

Among the numerous species of _Sabella_ to be found on our shores,
there is one that is not inaptly termed the Silkworm Sabella (_S.
bombyx_), and indeed, being a real worm it has more claim to the
title than has the caterpillar that is called the Silkworm. This
silk-producing Sabella, however, could scarcely be pressed into the
service of man, though one could fancy an imaginative writer employing
this spinner to make gossamer vestments for sea-fairies, for the
material produced is of just the texture a fairy would desire. Not
long ago, I introduced to one of my aquarium vases a flat stone that
supported a sea-anemone, which I was loth to disturb, and would rather
he moved off on his own account. In doing this, one never knows what
one may be introducing in addition to the specimen desired, unless one
takes the precaution of scraping or scrubbing the stone. A week or two
later, I was surprised one morning to find several threads--so clear
as to be scarcely visible--running up from this stone at the bottom to
a point about four inches up the glass. Next day there was more of it,
and so on from day to day the quantity increased, and the older portion
became more visible than before, for its extreme transparency passed
away, and it became dusty-looking--in fact, cobwebby. By this time it
was clear that what had at first looked like purposeless threads and
filaments were really part of a quite voluminous tube.

One of these tube-worms, the Trumpet Sabella (_S. tubularia_), is
represented in our illustration on page 109. It does not form its tube
of foreign material, but of shelly matter secreted by its own body. It
does not associate with other individuals of its species as does the
common kind (_S. alveolaria_), but attaching the small beginnings of
its tube to a shell or stone, it builds by itself and secretes a long
tube that gradually rises from its support and attains a more or less
erect attitude. From this “coign of vantage” it expands its glorious
jewelled coronet, and instantly vanishes far into its depths on the
slightest alarm, real or false.

The tubes of another family, the Serpuladæ, resemble those of the
Trumpet Sabella in their material, but instead of the semi-erect,
free tube of that species, most of the Serpulæ are cemented to shells
and stones for the greater part of their length, and are irregularly
twisted. There is an important feature, however, which will enable us
to distinguish between Serpula and Sabella at a glance. Serpula is
furnished with a peculiar organ in shape like a long inverted cone, so
placed that it is the last part of the animal to be withdrawn into the
tube, which it accurately fits and effectually closes like a stopper.
This organ is really one of the tentacles specially developed to serve
the purpose of a house-door.

The species represented in the accompanying figure is a very beautiful
one, the Scarlet Serpula (_Serpula contortuplicata_). Its scarlet
stopper and fine fanlike branchiæ present a splendid contrast with the
smooth white, china-like tubes.

Along the sides of these creatures are peculiarly shaped and toothed
hooks, and bunches of bristles which serve in lieu of limbs to enable
the worm to push out its breathing apparatus and to rapidly withdraw it.

We must look for the Scarlet Serpula on shells and stones that have
been washed in from deeper water; but there is a more plentiful
species to be found in abundance between tide-marks, sometimes almost
completely covering loose flat stones with its ridge-shaped tube,
which earns its scientific name (_Serpula triquetra_). Of the three
flat surfaces implied in that name one is cemented throughout its
length to the shell or stone it has selected for its freehold. A third
species (_S. vermicularis_) secretes a round tube, but may be readily
distinguished from _S. contortuplicata_, by its possession of a double
stopper with toothed edges.

[Illustration: SCARLET SERPULA.]

One of the most plentiful of these tube-making worms is the Spirorbis,
which is to be found everywhere on stones, rocks, and weeds in the
littoral zone. More especially shall we be struck by its numbers
when we observe it thickly studding the fronds of the Toothed Wrack
(_Fucus serratus_), for the dark olive hue of the Wrack throws up the
dead-white Spirorbis tubes very strongly indeed. These tubes and the
animals that form them are very like Serpulæ, but the tube instead of
being more or less straight, or merely twisted, is coiled in a flat
spiral, like the shell of the fresh-water Trumpet snail (_Planorbis_).
Normally these are very flat at the base, and regularly formed, but
where (as in specimens before me) they are densely crowded on the
Wrack, there is not sufficient room for this regular growth when they
get large, and the outer turns of the spiral are twisted aside and
greatly distorted. The worm is very like a Serpula, closing its shell
with a similar stopper, but the branchial plumes are not nearly so
extensive, these rosy appendages being but six in number in Spirorbis.

It is impossible to do much work upon the shore before coming upon some
specimens of another species of tube-maker, though of a less artistic
character. The probability is that you will turn over a flat stone
that is partly imbedded in the sand, and under it will find a furrow
with an active worm wriggling through it. On glancing at the stone the
explorer finds that he has ruined a habitation by forcibly tearing off
the roof which had been cemented to the stone for greater security, and
continued for some distance beyond the stone on either side. The tube,
as a fact, is of great length, so that the worm, which is not more than
six inches long, may have ample room for exercise without going into
the dangerous glare of daylight, to be seen by some ravenous fish. This
species is commonly known as the Sand-worm (_Arenicola piscatorum_).
In some districts it is the “Lug.” It is popularly thought to be a
favourite bait with fishermen, and it is so described in all the books;
but in the part of Cornwall where this book is being written the
fishermen do not set great value upon it, though they highly appreciate
the Wilfry or Woolfry (_Nereis pelagica_).

The Lug does not produce a very favourable impression when you have
turned him out of his burrow, for his very dark greenish hue looks
black at a little distance, and his branchial tufts give him a ragged
appearance. The fore part of his body is much swollen, but runs off to
a point where the proboscis is situated. The branchiæ are attached to
about a dozen of the middle rings only, in branching tufts that change
from green to crimson. It is a rapid burrower, opening a way through
the sand with its proboscis, widening it with the thicker part of its
length just beyond, and exuding a mucous cement that agglutinates the
grains of sand and leaves the passage open for further use. Its body is
cylindrical throughout.

In similar situations we shall find a vertical shaft of sand protruding
from the shore, with a kind of halo of fine branching sandy tubes
around the mouth. The whole structure will consist either of grains of
sand or fragments of shell cemented together on a silky lining. Its
mouth is about an inch above the level of the sands, but the tube, if
carefully dug out, will be found to extend to a foot or more. This is
the home of the Sand Mason or Shell-binder (_Terebella littoralis_);
and now that the tide is out the master of the house will probably
be lying, like Truth, at the bottom of his well-like structure, and
ready to bolt still deeper in the sand if necessary. He is about four
inches long, and the most distinguishing feature is a regular mop of
pink tentacles around his--I had almost said head, but he has no head,
so we will substitute the more correct expression “anterior segment.”
The gills are much branched, and there is a bright red stripe along
the under surface. There are several allied species; one known as the
Potter (_T. figulus_) from its choice of mud or clay as the material
for its tube.

There is a remarkable worm called _Cirratulus_ that lives in stones.
Some say he bores the stone, but of that I am very doubtful; but there
is no question that he lives in the perforation. Gosse says “under
stones,” and I have no doubt Gosse is right; it is sometimes taken
under stones, I dare say, for it leaves its burrow occasionally and
sees the outside world. A living specimen now before me is in that free
condition, having quitted its stone yesterday, Boxing Day, 1895, and
not yet settled down again. He is evidently an up-to-date worm, and
goes out on Bank Holidays! He is about four inches long, though from
his restless wriggling and obvious objection to assuming a straight
form, it is not easy to measure him accurately. His body proper is of a
fine cinnabar colour, and appears to be hung loosely in a clear outer
skin, which is very roomy in the fore half, sufficiently so to allow
the contained body to curl and twist and double upon itself without
affecting the envelope. A series of sausage-shaped expansions of this
envelope constantly travel from the rear, forwards, and are caused by
water that has passed through the creature’s gills and is now making
its way out along the outer envelope. Cirratulus has a head, a rather
poor one, and a mouth, but it is not easy to find either, for the
segments near the head produce an enormous mop of tentacular processes,
many of them five inches in length, which completely hides the head and
mouth. These are of the same bright red as the body, and when they are
extended in all directions, and the creature in a good light is shown
to those ignorant of Annelid-beauty as a worm, it causes a considerable
shock to their notions of worm-repulsiveness. This shock is not abated
when the light plays on the bristles and a ripple of silvery flashes
runs along them. In the dark a gentle touch will cause the entire
creature to flash with a bluish electric light, which runs also along
every one of the hundreds of finely attenuated filaments from the
head-region.

There is a group of these lowly creatures that are really magnificent.
They build no tubes, neither do they sink definite tunnels, but they
shun the light and lurk under stones, in the chinks of rocks, and
round about the roots of seaweeds. Such are the Leaf-worms (_Nereis_),
of which several are of great length. They have more or less linear
bodies, of equal thickness for the greater part of their length,
and consisting of a great number of joints. The head is conical,
and adorned with several antennæ. They are carnivorous creatures,
and have the proboscis armed with a pair of jaws well toothed. The
well-developed feet protrude from the side, and bear gill-warts at
their tips, and jointed bristles. One of the most plentiful and
striking of these is the Wilfry (_Nereis pelagica_), previously alluded
to, a killing bait for sea-fishing, for no fish can resist its glowing
play of iridescence. The colour is a pale fleshy-fawn, but with a
succession of metallic gleams shooting over it. It is six or eight
inches long, and exceedingly active in its movements. Its favourite
habitat is the fœtid black muddy sand, rich in organic matter, that
collects in hollows between the rocks, or in the mud of brackish creeks.

If you desire a real good day’s fishing, spend half of the day before
in grubbing for this worm, with bare legs in the rich mud of such a
creek; a better plan is to pay somebody a few pence per dozen to get
them for you, and save yourself much discomfort.

Another species is the Pearly Nereis (_Nephthys margaritacea_), similar
to the Wilfry, but much smaller and running off to a very slender
point behind. The warm fawn colour of the upper surface exhibits
lively silvery iridescence, very suggestive of mother o’ pearl. The
large proboscis is cleft in two and adorned with a fringe of greenish
processes. The large feet carry each a leaf-like expansion in front of
each branch, and tufts of bristles. It occurs chiefly in the sand near
low-water.

The Rainbow Leaf-worm (_Phyllodoce lamelligera_) is one of the most
glorious of this group of worms, for each of its three or four hundred
segments bears a couple of expansive leaf-like plates, which are the
breathing organs. These are of a vivid green colour, and on the back
of the body proper this hue changes to blue-green shot with purple
and olive gleams. Its head is rounded, and is distinguished by the
tentacles about it. This species attains a length of over twenty
inches, but there is, among several others, a small intensely-green
form (_Phyllodoce viridis_) about two inches long, to be found among
the roots of weeds on low rocks. As this is very slender and of
thin texture, it can be well examined under the one-inch power of
the microscope, when the rowing action of the gill-leaves, and the
extrusion and withdrawal of the bundles of crystal bristles will be
seen.

[Illustration: RAINBOW LEAF-WORM.]

[Illustration: PEARLY NEREIS.]

Another family of these tubeless worms is represented in the Sanguine
Eunice (_Eunice sanguinea_), of which specimens may be found a couple
of feet in length, and of considerable thickness. It is green in
colour, but the gill-plates are of a glowing blood-red. One edge of
these plates is cut up after the fashion of a comb; and its head
is ornamented by fine antennæ. M. Quatrefages has left a graphic
description of this worm under the microscope, and as that account has
not been greatly hackneyed, I reproduce part of it here. He says: “We
have just placed upon the stage [of the microscope] a little trough
filled with sea-water, in which an Eunice is disporting itself. See
how indignant it is at its captivity; how its numerous rings contract,
elongate, twist into a spiral coil, and at every movement emit flashes
of splendour in which all the tints of the prism are blended in the
brightest metallic reflections. It is impossible, in the midst of
this tumultuous agitation, to distinguish anything definitely. But it
is more quiet now. Lose no time in examining it. See how it crawls
along the bottom of the vessel, with its thousand feet moving rapidly
forwards. See what beautiful plumes adorn the sides of the body; these
are the branchiæ, or organs of respiration, which become vermilion as
they are swelled by the blood, the course of which you may trace all
along the back. Look at that head enamelled with the brightest colours;
here are the few tentacles, delicate organs of touch, and here, in the
midst of them is the mouth, which, at first sight, seems merely like an
irregularly puckered slit. But watch it for a few moments; see how it
opens and protrudes a large proboscis, furnished with three pairs of
jaws, and possessing a diameter which equals that of the body within
which it is enclosed, as in a living sheath.

“Well; is it not wonderful? Is there any animal that can surpass it in
decoration? The corselet of the brightest beetle, the sparkling throat
of the humming-bird, would all look pale when compared with the play of
light over the rings of its body, glowing in its golden threads, and
sparkling over its amber and coral fringes.

“Now let us take a lens of higher power, and move the lamp in such a
manner as to let its rays fall on the reflector of our microscope,
and examine a few of the hairs taken from the sides of the Annelid we
have been describing. To the outer edge of every foot are appended two
bundles of hairs (_setæ_); these are far stiffer than ordinary hairs,
and appear to be placed on either side of the animal to defend it from
its enemies. A moment’s consideration will suffice to confirm this
view, for there is perhaps scarcely a weapon invented by the murderous
genius of man, whose counterpart could not be found amongst this class
of animals. Here are curved blades, whose edges present a prolonged
cutting surface, sometimes on the concave edge, as in the yatagan of
the Arab, sometimes on the convex border, as in the oriental scimitar.
Next we meet with weapons which remind us of the broad-sword of the
cuirassier, the sabre, and the bayonet; here are harpoons, fish-hooks,
and cutting blades of every form, loosely attached to a sharp handle:
these moveable pieces are intended to remain in the body of the enemy,
while the handle which supported them becomes a long spike, as sharp as
it was before. Here we have straight or curved poniards, cutting-bills,
arrows with the barbs turned backwards, but carefully provided with a
sheath to protect the fine indentations from being blunted by friction,
or broken by any unforeseen accident. Finally, if the enemy should
disregard his first wounds, there darts from every foot a shorter
but stronger spear, which is brought into play by a special set of
muscles, so soon as the combatants are sufficiently near to grapple in
close fight.”

From the use of the word “feet” in the foregoing it must not be
inferred that worms have true jointed feet, like those of crabs or
insects, for instance. What are sometimes spoken of as feet in the
case of the worm-class are lateral warts, which carry glassy and
elastic bristles in little bundles, like paint brushes; and these are
partially withdrawn into a sheath, or pushed out and used like oars
with a rowing motion that, all moving rhythmically, send the creature
along very speedily, especially when burrowing in sand or mud. To
such of my readers as possess a microscope I would advise the careful
examination of these bristles, their variety of form, as mentioned by
M. Quatrefages, will afford subjects for considerable study; though it
is open to doubt whether they are ever used for offensive or defensive
purposes.

There is a family of these Sea-worms whose members are mostly
characterised by the possession of broad overlapping scales upon their
backs, and beneath these are the rudimentary gills, the plates being
evidently intended to create currents to supply the blood with oxygen.
Two of the most-likely-to-be-met-with of these are _Polynoe squamata_
and _P. cirrata_. The former is uniformly pale brown on the upper side,
completely clothed with the large, loose-looking scales, beyond which
the three pairs of tentacles, and the lateral organs of touch (_cirri_)
project. It is not easy to examine this creature closely whilst it
is in a living condition, it is so sensitive to the light, and ever
seeking to avoid it. Its chief concern is, “where can I hide?” It
possesses four eyes, and its scales are delicately fringed. _Polynoe
cirrata_ is larger, darker, and its feet protrude further beyond the
edge of the scales.

The Sea-mouse (_Aphrodita aculeata_) belongs to this section. It is a
species that prefers deeper water, but sometimes comes to shore with a
heavy sea. In addition to its scales the arched back is covered with a
thick brown felt, thinner in the middle, from which emerge long brown
bristles and hairs of yellow and green, that are also iridescent and
reflect all the colours of the spectrum.

All the worms we have been considering belong to the Class Annelida,
the true worms, with their bodies formed of a long series of rings
or segments. There is another group of worms, belonging to the Class
Turbellaria, of much lower organization, and generally spoken of as
Planarians. Most of them are thin textured creatures that appear
capable of almost indefinite expansion, and, on the other hand, they
have the power of contraction to a mere speck of jelly. Their voracity
is in inverse proportion to their size; and the mouth is situated on
the middle line of the under surface, usually not far from the centre
of the body, and opening directly into the stomach. The whole of the
body is covered with very fine cilia, by whose movements they appear to
owe their power of gliding and swimming. Some of them have a pair of
tentacles, though in some instances these are little more than backward
folds of the body, and on them or in their neighbourhood is frequently
gathered a cluster, or two clusters, of eye-like sensitive spots which,
however, do not appear to be very perfectly fitted for visual purposes.
In some cases the mouth is the only opening to the organism, and has to
serve several purposes.

The student who would collect and study the Planarians must be gifted
with patience and keen sight. The fronds, stems, and roots of seaweeds
are suitable places to examine; also the narrowest cracks and fissures
of slaty rocks, where there appears to be no room even for a fine piece
of tissue paper. Where such rocks show a loosening of the laminæ, break
a portion off by inserting the putty-knife and separate the flakes. You
will see some delicate specimens of the conventional worm-shape, but
very thin; you will see mere specks of almost transparent jelly. Lift
these off the stone carefully. How? Ah, that is a difficult matter,
for they are so soft that our clumsy fingers could do nothing with
them; but you must be prepared for this, and bring with you a clean
camel’s hair brush. With this you can pick them up, and by dipping it
into a jar of sea-water, and giving a quick rotatory motion to the
brush, the Planarian will be dislodged, and will probably settle on
the side conveniently for your examination of it with your lens. Any
slimy-looking spot of colour that appears upon a stone or sponge you
should attempt to move with your brush, and in many cases it will prove
to be a Planarian that may afterwards so expand as to surprise you with
its beauty.

Sir John Dalyell, many years ago, described how he cut up a specimen
of the common Black Planaria (_P. nigra_) of our fresh-water ditches,
each portion of which became a complete animal; and upon this slender
basis appears to have been founded the statement, which is copied in
all the books, that worms of this class partly propagate by spontaneous
division, in addition to their interesting egg-laying.

Dr. Collingwood, who has paid considerable attention to this
comparatively neglected group, doubts this, and I think with good
reason. He has never seen this division take place; and I would humbly
add that I have kept large numbers of the fresh-water species for
years, but never observed the phenomenon, though I have carefully
watched for and really expected it to take place--as such fission
undoubtedly occurs in the Sea-anemones.

One of the largest and most conspicuous of our native species is
the Banded Flat-worm (_Eurylepta vittata_), which is marked with
longitudinal black lines on a whitish ground. It has a pair of
tentacles in front of the broad, flat body, which gradually tapers away
to a point behind. It has a large mouth opening near the centre of the
underside.

A more worm-like group is the Nemertea, which is divided into genera,
founded on the number or absence of eye-spots. One of these is the
Red-faced Blind-worm (_Astemma rufifrons_), about an inch and a half
in length, with a roundish body, no eyes, and the mouth near the front
end.

The Four-eyed Worm (_Tetrastemma quadrioculatum_) is similar in form,
but larger, thicker in the middle, and with four eye-spots arranged in
a semicircle parallel with the front margin.

The Many-eyed Red-worm (_Polystemma roseum_) has a distinct snake-like
head and neck, with many eye-spots in groups around the margin of the
head and towards the neck, and in the latter there are two red spots
which appear to be hearts. Just below these is the mouth. Viewed
laterally the head is wedge-shaped. It is to be found in rock-crevices,
and among the rubbish at the roots of seaweeds on the rocks.

The most marvellous, in certain respects, of all these worms is _the_
Long Worm (_Lineus marinus_[3]), so long, indeed, that it is all but
impossible to give its measurement. It is extremely soft like the
others of its tribe, very narrow and quite linear, that is, slender
with parallel sides. You will probably find it--for it is fairly
common--beneath some deserted shell, resting for the day, away from
the light; and it will no doubt be twisted and tangled and coiled
upon itself in such a manner as would lead you to say--if you have no
experience of its ways--that it were impossible for it or any other
creature to disentangle it without many breakages. How any creature
can carry on the ordinary functions of life so tightly coiled and
twisted and knotted is a marvel. And yet, hopeless as the task of
disentanglement appears, _Lineus_ accomplishes it without any of
those strainings that the juggler puts on when he has been tied up by
the sailor, until the confining rope is all knots. Whilst it is day
the _Lineus_ has no particular desire to uncoil; he is happier as he
is, his enormous length more under control and, like an army that is
concentrated in one mass, is less open to the assaults of an enemy.
But when the fitting occasion has arrived, and _Lineus_ wishes to be
elsewhere, he solves your difficulties in a way you can scarcely
understand, though you see the whole performance. He simply unravels
himself; taking the right end of him, and applying a little pressure,
he glides off without any fuss, and you see that there is a flowing
motion of the black string; no untying, no contortions. He has uncoiled
about a foot of himself and laid hold of a stone, a shell, or a weed
that distance away, and to the horror of yourself, who hoped now to
be able to measure this animated bootlace, he has commenced twisting
himself into an equally hopeless tangle at the other end.

[3] Better known by its former name, _Nemertes borlasii_.

[Illustration:
  BANDED FLAT-WORM. LONG WORM.
]

He is so remarkably elastic too! You may look at this living Gordian
knot and see about a quarter of an inch of the head end protruding
from a tight kink; you may watch the kink and certify that no movement
takes place in it; yet the head moves away to a distance of five or six
inches, simply by the stretching and consequent attenuation of that
free quarter of an inch.

The Rev. Hugh Davis many years ago contributed to the Transactions of
the Linnean Society an account of his dealings with this Planarian,
and as does not often happen to contributions to that useful but
technical work, it became much quoted. It was all sober fact, as became
the calling of the author and the character of the eminent society to
which he communicated the story; but we were greatly amused not many
years ago seeing Davis’ account of its length, etc., put forward as a
specimen of a “traveller’s tale,” drawn chiefly from the imagination.

Later, but practically identical accounts have been published by Gosse,
Charles Kingsley, and others. Kingsley, if we remember rightly, had
to defend himself from the charge of shooting with the long-bow, or
“slinging the hatchet,” and in doing so he said there was so much
that was truly marvellous in Nature that it was unnecessary for an
author to invent lies wherewith to startle his readers. Yet the story
was too much for a well-known and generally well-informed science
lecturer, for on the editor of one of the snippety periodicals printing
Kingsley’s account with the sensational headline, “A living fish-line,”
and without acknowledgment of the source from which quoted, Mr. W.
Mattieu Williams, F.R.A.S., F.C.S., requoted it in his monthly “Gossip
on Current Topics,” contributed to “Science Gossip,” and headed it
“Munchausen Science.” He coupled it with what he called “an equally
sensational account of the latest method of disposing of the dead, by
electroplating the corpse,” and concludes, “It is not my wont to be
presumptuous, but in this case I do venture to suggest that for such
revelations the general title of Popular Science should be exchanged
for that which I have given, Munchausen Science.” Of course, Mr.
Williams was a physicist, rather than a biologist, but Dr. Taylor,
the editor, professed to have a knowledge of marine biology, and
how he could have let Williams’ strictures pass without comment or
explanation, is more wonderful than the account of _Lineus_.

Davis gave up the attempt to measure the living _Lineus_, but when
it was dead he unravelled it without stretching, and found it to be
twenty and two feet long. He adds: “I give it as my firm opinion, that
I speak within bounds when I say the animal, when alive, might have
been extended to four times the length it presented when dead. It is,
therefore, by no means impossible that this most astonishing creature
may have been susceptible of being drawn out to the length of twelve
fathoms, or, according to the accounts of the fishermen, to thirty
yards or fifteen fathoms.”

I would only add that from my acquaintance with the living _Lineus_, I
see no occasion whatever for taxing the Rev. H. Davis or Canon Kingsley
with exaggeration. Neither, I think, will my readers, when they have
read the following quotation from Prof. W. C. MacIntosh’s “Monograph of
British Annelida”:--“This is unquestionably the giant of the race, and
even now I am not quite satisfied about the limit of its growth, for
after a severe storm in the spring of 1864, a specimen was thrown on
shore at St. Andrews, which half filled a dissecting jar eight inches
wide and five inches deep. Thirty yards were measured without rupture,
and yet the mass was not half uncoiled.”




CHAPTER IX.

CRABS AND LOBSTERS.


The professional crab and lobster catcher has to provide himself with
“pots” and “hullies” for the taking and storing of his crustaceans for
the market, and ultimately the table. As we are concerned more with the
unmarketable smaller fry, to which the fisherman almost denies the name
of crab, we need no such cumbrous paraphernalia; our handy open basket,
with its stock of glass jam-jars, is all we require.

Our occupation to-day consists in turning the large stones at low-water
in the “long drang,” and lifting the heavy tapestry of olive weeds that
covers the rocks. In this occupation we shall encounter several species
of the crab class, or the Crustacea, as naturalists term that division
of the animal kingdom which includes the crabs, lobsters, shrimps,
prawns, and barnacles. The crab and the lobster of the fishmonger’s
shop are creatures that, as adults at least, are chiefly found in deep
water, and therefore do not concern us much. But in seeking for other
sorts we shall turn out no end of young specimens of the Great Crab,
up to three or four inches across the longest part of his _carapace_,
as the upper “shell” of a crab is styled in the precise language of
science. As this Great Crab, from its occasional appearance on our
tables and its large size, is the best known of the whole tribe, we
shall do well to use it for a type of the Crustacea, and write a few
words concerning it. Any of these small specimens that we can catch
under the stones or in rock-holes will serve our purpose, and having
taken the precaution to hold his longest diameter between our thumb and
forefinger, so that he may not inflict a painful nip with his pincer
claws, we shall be able to examine him at leisure.

The most striking feature of the Great Crab (_Cancer pagurus_) is
its heavy pincer-claws (_chelæ_), which in a really large male, or
Jack-crab, assume enormous proportions. I measured a specimen that a
few months since found its way to the cooking pot at home. Across the
back, measuring the “shell” only, it was ten and a quarter inches long
by six and three-quarters from back to front. I took no account of the
walking feet, but the big _chelæ_ measured sixteen and three quarter
inches from the root to the tip, and their girth at the thickest part
of the “hand” was eight inches and a half. One of these large specimens
of the Great Crab always reminds me of a well-baked pie, when I look at
him tucking his legs beneath his roof. It is not alone the substance of
his shell and the brown tint that suggests pastry, but there are those
deep lines in the frontal margin, marking off the “quadrate lobes” of
the scientific describer, that at once reminds you of the marks the
cook impresses upon her paste with a fork. Then, of course, there is
the pale undercrust; and the resemblance will be strengthened when you
observe the voracious Shore Crab, after dining upon a younger brother,
holding the empty carapace to his mouth in his pincer-claw, like a
piece of pastry, whilst he nibbles at the edge until it is all gone.

So much for this fanciful notion; now let us to business. This shell
or carapace of the crab has no more than the merest superficial
resemblance to the shells of oysters or other shell-_fish_, falsely
so-called. Its relationship is much closer to the horny integuments
of beetles and other insects. These are formed of a substance called
_chitin_, and of _chitin_ also are all the hard parts of a crab
composed, with the addition to it, when in a fluid condition, of
calcareous matter, which hardens upon a short exposure to the air
or water. Where the limb is to bend the calcareous salts are not
deposited, so we find the joints covered with a membrane of soft chitin
alone.

The Crustacea belong to that grand division of the animal kingdom
known as the Arthropoda, _i.e._, animals whose bodies consist of a
series of variously-shaped segments, the skeleton being external, and
giving more definite form to those rings, which are placed edge to
edge, and some of which have limbs attached to them. Taking a bird’s
eye view of the crabs, and seeing only the continuously solid surface
of the carapace, it would be difficult to accept this statement; more
especially should we stare hard at the crab’s back if we were told
that the typical number of such rings or segments in the Crustacea is
twenty (some authorities say twenty-one). But if we turn the crab over
so that we can get a fair view of his smooth white underside, we begin
to think there may be something in this ring theory after all, for the
undercrust is not solidly continuous like the upper, but marked off
by grooves to indicate the segments. The idea is that in the original
progenitor of the race the whole twenty segments were distinct and
had independent movement, but that in the process of evolution of the
various species it has served their purpose in life to have some of
these segments soldered together. And so in the many genera into which
the vast army of crustaceans are classified, we find great variations
in this respect; also in the various functions which the pair of limbs
or otherwise modified appendages that spring from each segment is
called upon to play.

Under the carapace of the Great Crab are gathered together no less than
fourteen segments, nine belonging to the head and bearing appendages
transformed into eyes, antennæ, jaws, etc.; whilst five belong to
the trunk and bear the great _chelæ_ and the four pairs of walking
limbs. The remaining six segments belong to the tail (_pleon_), and in
the crabs are folded over under the united head and trunk. Among the
different groups of crustacea we shall find the widest variations in
the arrangements of these parts; even in different genera of crabs is
this so, as we shall see before we have left the long drang. “Glancing
along the whole line of limbs, as the outgrowths from the segments
have some right to be called, twenty pairs in number, we find them
successively devoted to seeing, feeling, and otherwise perceiving,
feeding, and presumably tasting, grasping and striking, walking
and digging, swimming and leaping. But although the order in which
they act may thus be generally stated, there is not unfrequently a
transfer of function from one part of the line to another. The feelers
may be employed to assist in swimming or climbing or clasping. The
mouth-organs of one group are the grasping weapons of another. The
walking legs of one set are elsewhere adapted for swimming. There are
also other functions conjugal or maternal, in which the swimming legs
or the walking legs may take part, while the breathing apparatus,
simple or complicated, may be connected with the mouth-organs or
limbs of the trunk or both, or else with the swimming organs of the
tail-part, commonly called the pleon.”--(_Stebbing._[4])

[4] History of Recent Crustacea: International Scientific Series, 1893.

What may be called the personal or life-history of the Great Crab
is a scientific romance. Once upon a time there was a grotesque sea
monster--as big as the head of a good-sized pin--that resembled in
a small way a German soldier’s spiked helmet, with a couple of huge
eyes in front of it, a long jointed tail behind it, and a few bristles
around its edge. This creature naturalists recognised as a distinct
species, to which they gave the name _Zoea taurus_. It was first
taken from the sea by a Dutch naturalist, one Martin Slabber, in the
year 1768, but his account was not published until ten years later,
whereupon Bose created a new genus to receive the little oddity. Then
there was another sea creature, not much larger, but having a distant
resemblance to a lobster, and for this form Leach founded his genus
Megalopa. Now it chanced that an Irish naturalist, Mr. J. Vaughan
Thompson, nearly fifty years later, thought he would like to verify
Slabber’s observations, and he searched for the supposed-rare _Zoea_,
and found it in profusion. He watched its progress in life, and lo!
he beheld _Zoea_ cast its skin and became at once a _Megalopa_. This
was sufficiently startling, when the best authorities had agreed that
the Crustacea went through no metamorphoses whatever; but continuing
to watch and observe, Megalopa was found at its next moult to assume
an undoubted crab-shape, and its progress thereafter revealed what has
ever since remained one of the most important facts of crustaceology,
that no such _species_ as _Zoea_ and _Megalopa_ exist, but that these
_forms_ are mere stages in the development of a crab.

As the crab grows and gets too large for its shell, the difficulty of
stretching or otherwise increasing the capacity of such a strong-box
arises. It cannot be met as in the case of mollusks, by the simple but
sufficient method of increasing the length and breadth of the shell by
adding new shelly matter to the edge; because the principal part of
the crab’s internal machinery is in that part of his shell that has no
proper edge. There is no help for it--he must do as man does when his
garments get too small to accommodate his growing body and lengthening
limbs: he gets a new suit. But a glance at his armour-plated condition
would suggest that the most difficult part of the business would be,
how to get out of the old suit! It might not be such a hopeless task
if his limbs were straight and of equal thickness throughout; but in
every case the joints are very much narrower than the rest of the limb.
Yet, in spite of this difficulty, by the shrinking of the body and its
limbs, and by the dissolution of partnership between the upper and
lower crusts, the crab, clad in a kind of parchment suit, comes clean
out, and leaves his old clothes intact, even to the coverings of the
eyes, the antennæ, and the old jaws and mouth-fittings. When the crab
emerges from his old home, he is, strange to say, much bigger than that
empty presentment of himself, and you might as well attempt to put back
the chick into the eggshell it has just vacated as to squeeze the soft
crab into his old husk.

Very probably my reader will be so fortunate in some of his captures
as to take a specimen that is on the eve of casting his shell. He may
see, as I have several times seen, the whole process, and be rewarded
with a beautifully clean cabinet specimen of the crab’s shell, perfect
in every part. It only requires careful rinsing in _fresh_ water, and
drying on a blotting pad away from the sun or heat, and is then ready
to label and put away.

Many human creatures when they chance to get a new “rig-out”--to use
a nautical expression--are only too anxious to appear in public, that
the cut and colour and pattern of the garments may be admired, and the
wearer--if of the fair sex--envied; but our crab’s paramount desire
is to get into a deep dark hole in the rock, or under a stone, and
hide himself. It is not modesty or shame that thus impels him to hide
the newness of his coat, but the knowledge that he is a wee bit soft,
and too new to meet his own brother, who would instantly improve the
occasion by eating him. He would not like his own brother to be guilty
of the hideous sins of fratricide and cannibalism at one gulp, and he
feels it his duty as his brother’s keeper to put temptation out of his
way by seeking seclusion, until the new crust has set firm and hard.

Here, in this drang, you may frequently find a soft crab in a hole,
awaiting the hardening process; you may as frequently find a hardened
one, or a lobster. They are, in fact, generally of a retiring
disposition, except when looking for breakfast. Then they quit their
holes and cavernous recesses, and come out on the open rocky bottom
where the crabber has dropped his row of “pots,” each with something
high and “gamey” skewered within. Of such a full bouquet is this
bait--delicious to the olfactory apparatus of the crab--that he scents
it from afar, and rapidly makes a one-sided progress to the string of
pots. There, within, are the lumps of delight in the shape of split
wrasse, and the osier bars of the pot are so conveniently arranged
that he can easily ascend to the top, and more easily descend to the
interior through the tubular opening. The prevailing notion is that
these pots are so constructed that it is well-nigh impossible for a
crab to get out again; but this is not so, and the fishermen know they
must go round every morning whilst the crab or lobster is still at
breakfast on the savoury viands they have provided, and haul their pots
before he has thoughts of finding the way out. Improved pots have been
invented, from which it is impossible for a crab or lobster to escape,
but the fisherman is extremely conservative, and sticks religiously to
the ways and means of his father’s great-grandfather.

Having taken his captures from the pots and thrown them into the bottom
of his boat, the fisherman rows with them to a protected area of
deep water near the shore, in which each of the crabbers keeps his own
store-pot or _hully_, and hauling his own particular hully, puts his
new captures in. This he will continue to do perhaps till the end of
the week, or until the merchant comes round with his boat to buy.

Now, having spent so much time over _Cancer pagurus_, we must leave
him, and pay some brief attention to other members of his family--of
small concern in the crabber’s eyes, but of equal interest to the
student of nature. Under the overhanging masses of _Fucus_ that drape
the rocks, in the smaller holes of those rocks and among the stones on
the floor of the drang, we are bound to meet with innumerable specimens
of two crabs that possess no English name. It is true that if you ask
the boys of the place whom you will find at times among the rocks (and
they are the most reliable of local informants on such matters), they
will tell you, with a flavour of contempt for the crabs, that these
are “devil crabs;” but later on you will find that this term is not
specific but generic, for they apply it to several species that are
worthless in their eyes. In a similar mood, the adult fisherman will
tell you they (and a number of others) are “Zebedees or devil crabs.”
Well, Dr. Leach, who founded the genus in 1813, would probably have
called it yellow-crab in the vernacular, for he dubbed it _Xantho_,
in scientific language, from the Greek _Xanthos_, yellow. Many of us
are more or less colour-blind, and should therefore be careful to
abstain from dogmatism in relation to tints, but I should certainly not
describe either of the British species of _Xantho_ as being yellow,
although some specimens of _X. hydrophilus_ are certainly yellow_ish_.

[Illustration: ZEBEDEE (XANTHO INCISUS).]

_Xantho hydrophilus_ is rather an odd, clumsy-looking creature, owing
to the want of proportion between his trunk and the large pincer-claws.
The carapace is peculiarly wrinkled, and the margin on the outside
of the eye on each side (_latero-anterior_) is marked by four stout
triangular teeth. The four pairs of smaller legs (2 to 5) have a row
of fine hairs along the upper edge of each joint; and the fingers of
the pincer-claws are brown, the moveable one being also grooved on the
upper surface. Colour yellowish-brown with darker markings.

_Xantho incisus_ is very like the last, and some specimens will prove
difficult to determine with satisfaction. The description of the
carapace and its toothed margin will apply equally to either species;
but the distinctive characters of this as compared with the last are
that (1) the fingers of the pincer-claws are _black_, (2) that they
are _not_ grooved, (3) the second to fifth pairs of legs instead of
having the fringe of hairs all along their upper margin have only the
third (or longest) joint of each leg so decorated. The second and third
points are, I believe, reliable--the first is not. I have seen many
specimens with the fingers of a paler brown even than the general hue
of the big claws, and have such a specimen alive before me as I write.

[Illustration: HAIRY-CRAB.]

In the course of our stone-turning we are likely to come upon a little
purplish-brown crab, about an inch across the carapace, and bristling
all over with hairs and spines. It is known to the naturalist as
_Pilumnus hirtellus_, but none of the writers on crabs appears to
have troubled about a popular name for it, so it is incumbent upon me
to supply the deficiency. For the purpose of communication with my
readers, I therefore dub _Pilumnus hirtellus_ with the nickname or
alias of Hairy-Crab. The front of the carapace is cut up into a number
of teeth much sharper than those of _Xantho_; in fact, in comparison
with those, these of the Hairy-crab are spines. One of these spines
protects the orbit of the eye, and there are four others on each side
between it and the base of the pincer-claws. The pincer-claws have
a very robust appearance in comparison with the size of the trunk,
being thick and rounded; one is usually larger than its fellow, but
it may be either the right or the left. The smaller of the two is
covered with tubercles on the upper parts, the larger is smooth. The
smaller legs are very hairy indeed, and similar hairs are scattered
over the carapace among the short down with which it is covered. It is
common all along the Southern and Western coasts of England and around
Ireland, under stones at low-water, though by no means so abundant
as _Xantho_, and others we have to mention. Bell, in his “History of
Stalk-eyed Crustacea,” almost seems to question Dr. Leach’s statement
that it is found at low tide mark, for he adds, “those which I have
obtained have been from deep water.” Dr. Leach, however, was quite
correct in his statement, and Bell could easily have substantiated it,
as we have done.

We shall not be long at our work before we meet with far too many
examples of the Common Shore Crab, Green Crab or Harbour Crab
(_Carcinus mænas_); young specimens of which will scuttle away sideways
with marvellous alacrity, but bigger examples will at once put up their
heavy hands and challenge us to fight. Everybody that has been to the
sea-shore knows this crab, for even if entirely void of curiosity as
to the wonders of the shore, _Carcinus mænas_ will not be ignored.
Whether the shore be sandy or rocky, or of that nondescript character
that pertains to many harbours, a mixture of sand, stones, and domestic
rubbish, this crab will be seen strolling along at a little distance
from the water. All know its mottled greeny-yellowy-brown back, and the
strength of its sharp nippers! There is only this one member of the
genus, so that there is little danger of confusing it with its nearest
relations. It most closely resembles certain of the swimming-crabs
(_Portunus_), to be described hereafter, but may be readily separated
from them by glancing at the terminal joint of the last pair of feet.
In _Portunus_ this is flattened out as though it had been beaten on an
anvil until it was very broad and very thin, to serve as a swimming
plate. In _Carcinus_, though the smaller legs are obviously compressed,
this last joint of all is stout and runs off to a rounded point, more
suited for obtaining a good hold of a sandy bottom than for swimming.
We shall find it frequently under both weeds and stones. It is an
omnivorous feeder, accepting fish, flesh, or fowl; stealing bait from
the fisherman’s lines and from his crab-pots, disfiguring the fish
which has been already caught on spillers, and, worse than all, causing
great havoc among the young oysters that have been laid down in the
beds, by eating them, shell and all. They are said to form an important
article of food along the shores of the Adriatic, and they were at one
time not unknown in the London markets. Leach says that in his time
(early in the century), immense quantities were eaten by the London
poor. Whether there is any considerable trade of this kind now I do
not know; but I remember how more than thirty years ago I considered
them very sweet and toothsome, and used to go as a boy to buy them,
all alive, of an old woman in one of that intricate maze of courts and
alleys that then existed where now the Royal Courts of Justice stand.
I think they were sold at about eight or ten for a penny. Had they not
been sold alive I should probably never have desired to have them.

[Illustration: VELVET FIDDLER.]

When throwing aside the heavy bunches of _Fucus_ that hang over the
rocks, in order that we may see their surfaces, we shall catch sight
of a more pugnacious crab even than _Carcinus_, leaping, rather than
running sideways, with such rapidity that we need to be smart to catch
it. Aye, and we need to have a little nerve, or the Velvet Fiddler
will alarm us into letting him pass into the oblivion of the seaweed
jungle, or one of those rock-crevices which always seem to be in the
right place to afford sanctuary to a poor hunted crab. Most crabs
are so flattened that these cracks seem specially provided for them,
whereas the evolutionist will tell you it is the rock-haunting crabs
that have become specially adapted to find salvation in these asylums.
This is the crab we alluded to especially when speaking of the
likeness between the swimming-crabs (_Portunus_) and the Shore Crab.
The Velvet Fiddler (_Portunus puber_) is one of the swimming-crabs;
this may easily be seen on reference to the hindmost pair of legs,
as already indicated. The Velvet Fiddler gets the two words of his
queer name from two distinct characters. He is clad in a dingy suit of
velveteen, which appears to be much the worse for wear--rusty, and in
places the nap is worn right off, probably by too much squeezing into
tight places in the rocks. On his limbs the velveteen is marked in
such definite patterns, that we feel inclined to abandon the hard-wear
theory, and to fall back upon one of natural artistic adornment. He is
really a very fine fellow; his legs being covered on the upper sides
with this velvet pile, with the exception of certain longitudinal
raised lines of polished blue-black. The square-looking back of the
carapace has a similar smooth raised border, with two raised lines of
the same character below it. Then all the smaller legs have the longest
joint fringed along the upper edge, but the hindmost pair in addition
have a close broad band of stiff feather-like fringe standing out
all round the three last joints. The last two of these are flattened
out to such an extremity of thinness that there seems to be no room
for living flesh within. The pincer-claws are not so heavy or robust
as those of the species we have already considered. They are more
uniform in thickness, more elegant in their slim tapering, so that the
members of this genus are often called Lady-crabs. The upper surface
is velvety, picked out here and there with blue, and the hand, with
its fixed nipper, is decorated below with white and blue tubercles.
The moveable nipper is finely ridged, and both of them have a fine
row of teeth. Then these pincer-claws are well-armed with long sharp
spines; the _antero-lateral_ margins of the carapace are finished off
with five sharp curved spines on each side, and the space between the
eye-orbits are similarly protected, but with thinner, straight spines.
The large round eyes are a pair of gleaming rubies, and the tough skin
that hinges the joints of the limbs together is of the same hue as the
eyes. Such is the appearance of the living Velvet Fiddler; the museum
specimens lack much of his brightness and beauty.

The name of Fiddler has been given to him, according to Mr. Gosse,
“because the see-saw motion of the bent and flattened joints of the
oar-feet is so much like that of a fiddler’s elbow.” You will, I am
sure, agree that this is a satisfactory explanation when you see the
Velvet Fiddler flinging these feet about in a perfectly unnecessary,
and ineffectual manner, considering that he is out of water. When
we disturb him during our exploration of the drang, he puts up
his pincer-claws in similar fashion to the tactics adopted by the
Shore Crab; but we are not to be alarmed in that manner. Pretending
to hit him between the eyes with one hand, we slip the other behind
him, and catch the longest part of his carapace between our finger and
thumb, and his kicks and threats are thrown away.

There are seven other species of Swimming-crabs belonging to this
genus, _Portunus_, found in British waters, but as they all inhabit
deep water, and can be obtained only with the dredge, or by arrangement
with the crabbers, who regretfully find them in their pots, they are
not likely to thrust themselves on the notice of the shore-naturalist.

Gazing into the rock-pools, an observer who was acquainted with
molluscan life, but not with the Crustacea, would be astonished at the
marvellous rate at which winkles, dog-whelks, tops, and other shells
move over the bottom; but if he lifted one of these he would discover
that the builder of the house had given up possession, and a tenant had
taken it for a term. This tenant is one or other of a dozen species
of crabs known indiscriminately to the great British Public as _the_
Hermit Crab or Soldier Crab. The fact that it shuts itself up in a
solitary cell is sufficient to account for its name of Hermit-crab; and
a strong tendency to wage war upon a fellow crab, who may live in a
slightly larger shell, is probably the reason for its military name.
The Hermit-crabs are among the curiosities of crab life--though for
the matter of that, so are all crabs. If there were but one species,
we could say it was singular in the fact that the carapace is reduced
to the smallest proportions, and the greater part of the crab’s body
without a shell of its own secretion. Nature has been unkind to it in
this respect, so the first thought or prompting in the baby Hermit
is to look around for a deserted gasteropod-shell. It must be an
exceedingly small one to fit him, but he will find plenty such. It has
been a matter for considerable debate whether the Hermit is content
with an abandoned shell, of which the builder is dead, or whether he
first murders and eats the original owner, and then takes possession
of his victim’s real estate. It is remarkable that naturalists should
raise such a question, for anyone who has had any acquaintance with
mollusks must know that if a Hermit-crab were to kill, say a Purple, a
Top, or a Winkle, he would not be able to get the dead body cleaned out
of the shell until putrescence had loosened the muscular attachment.
The Hermit could not wait for this process, and therefore I imagine
this theory must stand aside until observers have actually seen
the crabs in a state of nature forcibly ejecting the mollusk, and
appropriating its shell. But it is pretty certain that the Hermits do
rob each other of desirable shells, not always with good judgment.
A Hermit in my possession lived in a large Top-shell, but coveted a
smaller, though large Winkle-shell, which was inhabited by a brother
Hermit. For about a week these two were dodging and chasing each other,
but to no purpose, for each is powerless to make any impression when
the other suddenly shuts himself in his shell with a snap, leaving only
the tips of his claws blocking the entrance. However, by some means he
got his brother ejected, and eaten by a Shanny; he quitting his own
commodious Top-shell and putting on the Winkle-shell. He was evidently
trying hard to persuade himself that it was a splendid fit and most
becoming; but the whole business was absurd. The shell was so small
that it did not protect his soft parts, and in case of danger he could
not defend himself from an attack in the rear. To add to his troubles
he cast his natural shell, and was, of course, much larger than before.
For a day or two he still pretended that he lived in a sufficiently
roomy house; then I suppose the pressure on his abdomen became awkward
at dinner time, for he publicly owned up that he had committed an error
of judgment, quitted the Winkle-shell, and resumed possession of his
old top-coat, though this necessitated another murder. After he had
vacated it a much smaller individual took possession, but as he fitted
very loosely it was no very difficult matter for the previous owner to
have him out “by the scruff of his neck,” and give him his quietus.

The most familiar of the Hermits is _Eupagurus bernhardus_, the Common
Hermit-crab, but we are not likely to find full-grown individuals,
which keep out in deep water. When full grown, they are about five
inches long, and house themselves in large Whelk-shells. The characters
by which this species may be distinguished are: the right pincer-claw
(_cheliped_) is usually much larger than the left, and the plentiful
granulations of its surface are almost large enough to be described
as tubercles; the last joints of the second and third pairs of legs
are edged on the upper side with spiny teeth, and they are a wee bit
twisted.

Prideaux’s Hermit-crab (_Eupagurus prideaux_), is so-called because
Dr. Leach, who first identified it as a species distinct from _E.
bernhardus_, received it from his friend Prideaux, who had taken large
numbers of it in Plymouth Sound. The granulations of the pincer-claws
are much smaller than in _bernhardus_, and whereas the next joint
to the pincers in the latter species has its inner margin decorated
with a row of spines, those in _prideaux_ are innocent tubercles.
Then, again, the second and third pairs of legs are nearly smooth,
and their last joints have no twist, but instead have a groove
carved in each side; the eye-stalks are stouter and the inner antennæ
longer than in the Common species. It does not attain such large
proportions as _bernhardus_. An interesting point in the natural
history of _prideaux_, is the friendly relations subsisting between it
and a peculiar species of anemone--the so-called Cloaklet (_Adamsia
palliata_)--which attaches itself to the shell serving as the Hermit’s
cell, and spreads its base out in two lobes, that almost encircle the
mouth of the shell. There is no doubt that this _commensalism_, as such
alliances are called by naturalists, is of advantage to both parties to
it: the anemone is thus brought into contact with food at the Hermit’s
own table, so-to-speak, and the crab may be in turn protected from the
cavernous jaws of fishes, whose gorge rises at the nauseous odour of
all anemones. Several such alliances are known in connection with other
species of Hermits.

[Illustration: THE HERMIT-CRAB AND THE CLOAKLET ANEMONE.]

To return to our overhauling of stones: this should be done with care,
especially when we are dealing with large masses. I have, when serving
my apprenticeship at this kind of work, years ago, had the misfortune,
on more than one occasion, to so miscalculate the weight and shape of a
large stone, that it has fallen with greater force and in a different
direction from that expected--and my toes have been on the spot where
it fell! But apart from such accidents, the stone must be turned
sharply, or the queer creatures which Nature has specially contrived
for living beneath it, will vanish into holes, under other stones, in
the sand or mud, or in some other manner.

[Illustration:

  SCALY SQUAT-LOBSTER.      BROAD-CLAW.
]

Among those that require a sharp eye to see them is the Hairy Porcelain
Crab, Shaggy Flat-crab, or Broad-claw (_Porcellana platycheles_).
Here is his portrait, but it is only fair to the reader I should
explain that, like many other portraits, it was taken after the
subject of it had been carefully washed and brushed up. _Platycheles_
is a ragamuffin, a crustacean mud-lark. There is none other like him
in the whole range of British crab life, though several are fond of
dressing themselves up in a variety of living rubbish; but they do
not get themselves so bedaubed with mud on a coast where mud has to be
searched for if wanted. He has really made it one of the objects of
his life to collect that mud, particle by particle, and entangle it in
the luxuriant crop of hair with which he is covered. He is a little
fellow--only measuring about half an inch from back to front edges of
the carapace--and I suppose, were he built upon the same plan as other
crabs, he would be smaller, if only the same quantity of material were
to be allowed; for he is flattened out, and looks as though he had at
one time formed part of a travelling show and the fat woman had sat
upon him. His body is flat, but his pincer-claws are flatter, and the
area of each of the latter is equal to that of his carapace; they are
enormous. And yet, if he had the sense to keep still when the stone is
overturned, you would probably fail to see him; he sits so tightly,
and presses the cleaner side of him to the stone. But he has that
fatal _crabbiness_, the desire to fight, and whilst he is sidling off
somewhere, he thinks he may as well give you a nip, and he puts up one
of his massive-looking pincers, and grips your finger with spirit.
With your other hand you grip the offending pincer, and say, “Aha! my
friend, you’ve caught a Tartar this time; let go!” He does, but instead
of loosing his hold on your finger, he just touches a spring or some
other mechanism, and separates his claw from his body without any
compunction whatever, whilst his other claws and his body go sliddering
off beneath the stone again.

If you catch your Broad-claw young, you will find that his upper
surfaces are of a ruddy-brown tint, with hair to match, but when he has
got this well filled up with filth, he might pass for a daub of mud.
Hold him over on his back, if you can, and you will understand why he
is called Porcelain crab. He is smooth and comparatively clean beneath,
and his under surface is of a creamy-white colour.

Broad-claw has an equally odd-looking relative, the Minute Porcelain
Crab (_Porcellana longicornis_), which really belongs to deeper waters
than our researches at present extend to, but one or two can usually
be found under, or among, the stones at extreme low tide. Its colour
is red, and its carapace comes very near to being circular. It has not
that depressed appearance that makes you pity _platycheles_ for having
to support such heavy stones upon his back; in truth, the circularity
of the carapace, its convexity, and the fact that it has some depth as
well as breadth, makes it appear almost rotund. Its larger pincer-claw
is almost three times the length of the carapace; the other about
one-third less, and not nearly so thick. They are both rugged in
character, and convex, the larger being slightly keeled on top, and
the lesser strongly keeled and grooved. The antennæ are very long, a
circumstance to which the creature owes its second name. There is very
little hair about this species, and consequently he is able to keep
himself clean and neat.

In close alliance with the Porcelain-crabs is a group popularly known
(as far as they are known at all, which is but slightly) as Squat
Lobsters. They are not lobsters however, though the long slender
pincers, the elongated carapace, and the lobster-like tail all
contribute to the likeness. The most plentiful species is that figured
on page 148, with Broad-claw, viz.:--

The Scaly Squat-lobster (_Galathea squamifera_), which we shall find
freely under the stones at very low-water in our drang. He is a very
lively fellow, who objects to too much publicity, and is very anxious
to get into a hole or under another stone the moment you lift the roof
off his former retreat. He shoots backwards in true lobster fashion,
his pincers held straight out in front. If, however, you interfere with
his retrograde movement, the nippers will not be trailed uselessly,
but raised and brought into action. Like Broad-claw, he does not set
great store by a limb or two, and will willingly part with several as
the price of liberty. In colour, _squamifera_ is very dark olive, the
carapace covered with waved lines across it, said lines being evenly
fringed with short hairs. Similarly fringed scales occur plentifully
over all the legs. The carapace begins in front, with a distinct beak,
and an awful array of fixed bayonets. The first of these is a stout
sharp spine in the very front, and behind it on either side just above
the eyes is a series of four similar spines slightly curved, of which
the first is the largest, and the fourth very short. Along each side
of the carapace is a closely-set row of spines, and the outer edge of
the “hand” is protected in a like manner. The next three limbs have
smaller spines upon their upper margin, and of larger size, on what
might, from its apparent position, be popularly regarded as the knee.
All these spines, wherever fixed, agree in having red points. But
these particulars are not sufficient by themselves to distinguish this
species from certain of its congeners, and I am compelled to ask my
readers to enter into some minute, and I fear to them, tedious details
of description. Of the various appendages to the segments comprised
in the head of these crustaceans, some constitute the eyes, antennæ,
and jaws. Outside the jaws, and immediately between the pincer-claws
of _squamifera_, is a pair of appendages called the third pair of
maxillipeds or footjaws, with long hairy fringes to the extremities.
Study these carefully, for from these we can tell at once which of
three species we are looking at. Each of these mouth-organs, like the
larger legs, is made up of seven joints; but it is not always easy to
reckon these up from the base, because sometimes a joint is hidden or
coalesces with another. If now we commence at the other end, calling
the top-joint No. 7, and reckoning backwards, we shall have less
difficulty. To save further description, and to make easy of reference,
I have drawn up a table of distinguishing features for the British
species of Galathea:--

                          { Third footjaws             }
                          { (_maxillipeds_) with       }
  Specimens having branch { 3rd joint shorter than 4th } _squamifera_
    (_epipod_) from basal { 3rd joint longer than 2nd  }
    joint of pincer-legs  {
    and two next pairs    { 3rd joint equal to 4th.    } _nexa_
    of legs               { 3rd joint shorter than 2nd }
                          {
                          { 3rd joint longer than 4th  } _dispersa_

  Branch (_epipod_) from  {                            } _intermedia_
   pincer-legs _only_     {                            }

  No epipods from either  { 2nd joint longer than 3rd  } _strigosa_
    pair of legs          {                            }

The Spinous Squat-lobster (_Galathea strigosa_) has spines on his hands
along both the inner and the outer margins; and the antennæ are so long
that if extended over the back they will reach for some distance beyond
the tail. Its colour is inclined to red, with spots and lines of blue.
These are the only two we are _likely_ to find in our stone-turning,
and even _strigosa_ appears to be more at home in deeper water.
According to Couch and Spence-Bate, _dispersa_ is the commonest form in
Cornwall below the low-water mark. _Nexa_ is also a deep-water species.

At extreme low water (spring-tides) one may be so fortunate among these
rocks to come across a stray lobster or two. Just outside you can see
the corks which mark the ends of the long series of lobster pots that
are put down to catch them, so that it is not very far for them to
stray up to this level. I think my readers could be trusted to know
the Lobster (_Astacus gammarus_) if they saw it, without bothering
them with a description? Probably they would not be expecting to see a
creature with a coat of the same colour as the uniform of a grenadier
guard, instead of blue-black relieved on the underside by dull orange.
They may also be trusted to know the Spiny Lobster, Crawfish or Greek
(_Palinurus vulgaris_), with its very horrid carapace of purplish
brown, its lack of heavy pincer-legs, its red-tinted white legs, and
its long, thick and strong antennæ. If you do not come across either of
these at low-water, you may see them when the crabbers bring in their
catches. Their boats should be watched as they come in each morning,
for you can frequently pick up deep-water specimens of _Echini_,
spider-crabs, and so forth, that have dropped out of the crab-pots into
the boat.

[Illustration: PRICKLY SPIDER-CRAB.]

On our south-western shores you will see, brought in by the crabbers,
or occasionally at liberty among the rocks, a rough, long-legged fellow
called the Prickly Spider-crab, Corwich, or Gabrick (_Maia squinado_),
with a convex carapace of oval form, the broadest part behind. His
pincer-legs are but little thicker, though much longer, than the
others. On that account he is not greatly esteemed as merchandise,
but his flesh is far sweeter than that of the Great Crab. He is a
creature of slow and languid habit, who takes as much pains with the
“get-up” of his carapace as a lady does with her hair or her bonnet.
His notion is to make it look like a rough piece of rock, with its
characteristic flora and fauna, and to this end he takes cuttings of
plants, sponges, ascidians, and anemones, and giving them a lick with
his lips, as though they were postage stamps, he carefully sticks them
in the valleys between the spines and tubercles on his back, adjusting
them by means of his conveniently long arms. The seeker after zoophytic
treasures might look in many a worse place for them than on the
Gabrick’s back.

We have now done as much as possible with the crabs of the rocky shore,
and must shift our ground for a while to the flat sands that run out
from the upper part of the bay, and taking advantage of the very lowest
tides, must go, armed with trowel or spade, to dig in the treacherous
sands. Many things we may find other than those we came specially to
seek, and those we specially want just now may not come to light; still
it is in the sand we shall find the Masked-Crab and the Angular-Crab,
if they occur in the district.

[Illustration: THE MASKED-CRAB (MALE).]

The Masked-crab (_Corystes cassivelaunus_) has a carapace that is much
longer than it is broad, almost elliptical in outline, and so marked
with depressions that some specimens present a remarkable likeness
to a human face, more especially so if the crab is held in a way
that will accentuate the prominences by casting small shadows. It is
prettily coloured with yellow and red. The male has deeper tints than
the female, and his pincer-legs are much longer than hers. Their habit
is to burrow into the sand in rather deep water, and lie buried, with
only the tips of their long antennæ at the surface. These antennæ are
furnished with a double row of hairs throughout their length, and by
placing the antennæ so close together that these hairs interlock, a
tube is formed through which the crab can draw in the current of water
necessary for respiration. After storms, great numbers of this crab are
sometimes cast up on the shore, dead.

Another crab of singular aspect is the Angular-crab (_Gonoplax
rhomboides_), so-called on account of the many sharp angles of the
flesh-tinted carapace. Its pincer-legs look as though they had been
drawn out when the animal was soft, for in the adult male they are
quite four times the length of the carapace--in the female and young
male they are much less. Another distinction of the sexes will be found
in the colour of the moveable finger of the pincers, which is black
in the male only. The eyes are mounted on such long stalks that they
reach nearly to the sides of the carapace, which run out into a long
sharp spine at each front corner for the protection of the eyes. These
are mounted very much like the eyes of the Racer-crab (_Ocypoda_) of
other lands, and they are used for a similar purpose. The footstalks
are erected so that the crab can see over a wider extent of territory,
and behind as well as before. They appear to live in excavations in the
mud on our southern and western coasts. They are much esteemed as food
by various kinds of fish, and many specimens have been taken from the
stomach of the cod particularly.

[Illustration:
  NUT-CRAB.      ANGULAR-CRAB.
]

If it be desired to keep living crabs for the purpose of observing
them, a shallow vessel will be found the best; or at least, a vessel in
which they can easily get into shallow water. Provision should always
be made whereby a crab can climb right out of the water, yet so that
he cannot get out of the vessel; otherwise he will wander all over the
house, and either get stepped upon, or get dried up in some obscure
corner. It must be remembered that the crab consumes much oxygen, and
if specimens of any size are put into tanks containing more delicate
creatures, much harm may result. It should also be borne in mind that
they are of ravenous and omnivorous appetite, and your choice specimens
of soft-bodied creatures will not be held sacred by the crabs. We
should therefore advise a separate receptacle for crustaceans; and
some of the smaller, more delicate kinds, must be kept each in their
own vessels. The smaller species will probably be able to pick up
sufficient food from the minute animal and vegetable life of your
tanks, but the large ones will require to have food specially provided
for them. Small pieces of fish will be found the most convenient for
this purpose, and it will be more highly appreciated if it be not too
fresh. Like the slum-boy who could not relish farmhouse eggs because
they were deficient in flavour, the crab prefers his food to be kept
for a time.




CHAPTER X.

SHRIMPS AND PRAWNS.


Popularly there are about three British species of shrimps, including
the Prawn; and the reader whose knowledge of our Crustacea is slight
will look for a very brief chapter this time. But he who has paid a
little attention to this group will know that we have a difficulty
before us in giving anything like a reasonable account of British
shrimps without the chapter running into a book. However, our task is
greatly lightened for us by the fact that many of these are to be found
only in deeper water than lies within the littoral zone, and therefore
must be excluded from our survey. By a course of proceeding then from
the known to the unknown, we would call attention to the largest of the
well-known trio.

The Great Prawn (_Leander serratus_), which we fear is best known in
its brilliant red colouring, as seen on the breakfast tables of the
well-to-do, and in the shop of the first-class fishmonger. Neither of
these places offers great advantages for the pursuit of natural history
studies so far as the external appearance of living creatures is
concerned. It is in the rock-pools that we must make our acquaintance
with the noble Prawn in all the glow and glory of life and activity. It
is true he then lacks the fine colour of the boiled article, but he has
the greater beauty with which Nature has endowed him; and when you have
seen him in his native haunt you will confess that we have not misused
the term “noble” in applying it to the bearing of the Prawn.

Not many years ago a learned Professor wrote a book on the sea-shore,
and in it stated, among many other curious things, curiously said,
that the Prawn could scarcely be called a shore animal except in its
younger condition. Probably he had got most of his natural history from
the University, and his Professorial dignity would not allow him to go
on hands and knees beside a rock-pool that he might learn of the living
creatures there: for in all the pools on a rocky coast, Prawns of all
sizes, including the giants of the species, are very plentiful.

The young prawns, though somewhat lacking the grandeur of the older
ones, are more beautiful; their shelly armour is so crystalline, and
their flesh is so clear. But with adult-growth comes a thickening of
the armour-plates, and a very pale brown coloration produced by the
greater density of the muscular tissue with which it is principally
filled. You cannot help being struck with the pretty colouring of those
limbs which the late Thomas Bell called the Prawn’s hands; these are
the limbs that are furnished with nippers or pincers at their ends, of
which the Prawn has two pairs. The first two are very delicate organs,
and are only used for delicate work. The second pair the Prawn always
carries in front of him, ready for action, but the first are carefully
folded up and held close under the jaws. In an aquarium where you have
introduced a mossy-looking stone from low-water, you will see the Prawn
ranging over it and picking up with his smaller pincers some minute
objects that his eyes enable him to see, but which we cannot make out
without a lens. In the securing of larger masses of food the heavy
“hands” would be employed, but to convey small particles of the mass
to the mouth the smaller hands are brought into requisition, and very
daintily they perform their work.

The Prawn resembles the crab in his bold, fearless spirit, and it is
of little moment to him how he comes by his food. In the rock-pools,
as in the aquarium, I have seen him pull some tit-bit out from the
depths of an anemone’s mouth without the slightest ceremony. He does
not quarrel--not a bit. He just walks up to the anemone, and keeping
his body clear of her tentacles by means of his spindly walking legs,
reaches to her mouth with his widely extended pincers--the larger pair.
There is such a matter-of-fact, business-like air about his action that
you would scarcely be surprised if you heard him say, “Hallo! what have
we got for dinner to-day? Young goby, eh! Thanks; I’ll take a little!”
and you see the luckless goby that has been stung by the anemone
quickly withdrawn from her throat and taken off to the Prawn’s den
beneath the big stone at the other end of the pool. In all probability,
if he has happened to arrive just too late, when the anemone’s meal has
entirely disappeared from sight, you will see him giving a sly tweak to
her tentacles.

The young ones swarm in the pools, and you have only to disturb the
drapery of weeds that lines the wall to see a number of them come
out into the middle; but the big fellows, of four inches and more in
length, keep close, as a rule, in a hole or under a stone. Oftentimes
a huge stone that cannot be lifted will be found in a pool supported
upon other stones, or kept away from the floor by the concavity of the
bottom. A thin stick introduced beneath that stone and moved from side
to side will cause several splendid specimens to emerge from obscurity.
It now remains for the disturber of their peace to show his activity by
catching them: by no means an easy thing to do.

I have already dealt in the previous chapter with the principle of
construction in the Crustacea, and the intelligent reader can easily
apply the description there to the case of the shrimps here. As in the
crabs and lobsters the eyes, antennæ, and various parts of the mouth
are all modified feet.

[Illustration: THE PRAWN.]

I would strongly advise my readers to catch a full-grown Prawn, kill it
by immersion in fresh cold water, cut the body through at the junction
between the helmet-like carapace and the first plate of the abdomen,
when the entire contents of both head and body can be cleaned out,
and the space filled with white cotton-wool. When thoroughly dry the
two parts may be reunited by a mere touch with Lepage’s Liquid Glue.
It would be well to do this in duplicate, and whilst still fresh to
take one specimen to pieces, and mount the various appendages on a
white card, gumming them down in their natural sequence. Leaving the
pear-shaped eyes where they are, we commence with the first or internal
antennæ, which we shall thus see has its basal joint spread out into
a broad scale which ends in a sharp spine at the side of the second
joint. It is in this basal joint that the Prawn’s organ of hearing is
contained. Spence-Bate and others have investigated this remarkable
organ in various species, and find there is a little chamber with a
slit-like opening, only to be seen when the creature has just shed his
coat of mail, at which time he picks up with his “finger and thumb”
a few minute grains of sand and carefully introduces them into this
auditory chamber, where they mix with some fine hairs or cilia, and
their agitation when acted upon by sound-vibrations transmits sensation
to the nerves. The third joint gives support to two lashes or “horns,”
one of which in this species is branched.

The basal joint of the second antennæ also bears a flattened scale that
is enormous, being three-quarters of an inch in length and a quarter
of an inch in breadth. There is but one lash (_flagellum_) to this
external antenna, and this strong, long organ measures over six inches
in full-grown specimens; that is, one and a half times the extreme
length of the Prawn from the tip of the forbidding rostrum to the
extremity of the tail.

We have mentioned the two pairs of “hands” (_chelæ_), and behind these
are three pairs of long and slender walking feet. Then, further back,
beneath the abdomen, there are five pairs of swimming organs, and to
these in the female the eggs are attached. The tail-fan must not be
forgotten; it is a beautiful and most effective organ. The four plates
of which it is composed are finely fringed with delicate hairs, and
are so hinged that they can be partially closed one over the other,
or fully expanded to have greater power when opposed to the water.
It is by means of this valuable organ that the Prawn takes those
astonishingly rapid backward leaps which make him hard to be caught
either by man or smaller enemies.

Before leaving the Prawn, I would like to say that our portrait of
him does not pretend to show the length of his antennæ; and it would
be well to make clear how he carries so many to be useful to him. He
is always waving these about, and there can be little doubt that he
receives impressions through their agency, olfactory and otherwise. It
does not matter how far away a Prawn may be; if you give an anemone a
small portion of food, and there is a Prawn at the far end of the tank
he will know it, and will come prancing up to the right neighbourhood.
But his olfactory sense though it helps him to this extent, appears
to act best at a little distance from the fragrant object. I have
frequently observed a Prawn come quickly to the _locality_ where food
has been introduced and evince great excitement and interest; but his
sense has not been fine enough to tell him at once the particular spot
in the locality where it lay. I have on such occasions seen him walk
over what he was seeking, whilst his hands were nervously scraping the
ground and casting around for the delicacy he knew was close by. Now
this is the order of his antennæ-bearing: of the first or internal
antennæ that lash which has the short branch is carried half erect
pointing outwardly, the companion lash pointing forwards, so that he
cannot run against any obstruction without knowing it. The second or
external antennæ are borne with a slight curve forward, then far abroad
on either side. He is thus fairly guarded by sensitive organs well-nigh
all round.

There are two other British species of _Leander_--_L. squilla_ and _L.
fabricii_--which occur in the rock-pools, and may easily be mistaken
for young specimens of _L. serratus_. The distinguishing feature is to
be found in that awe-inspiring, saw-edged rostrum that projects far in
advance of the Prawn’s head, and of which no one has yet discovered
the purpose. In the _bona fide_ Prawn this has a very decided curve
upwards all the way, and on its upper edge it has seven sharp spines
closely following each other, with an eighth lagging a sixth of an
inch behind the seventh, and really on the carapace, not the rostrum;
on the underside there are four close together in the middle, and a
half-hearted one midway between the first of these and the tip of the
rostrum. So much for the type; now for _L. squilla_. The rostrum is
almost straight with a slight upward curve towards its tip. Like its
big relative it has seven or eight teeth above, but _two_ of these
are really part of the carapace, and there are only _three_ spines
below. The second pincer-legs are not proportionately as robust as in
the Prawn, and the creature does not attain to more than half the
Prawn’s dimensions. _L. fabricii_ has the rostrum nearly straight,
with five teeth above and three beneath; in addition, this species has
the rostrum covered with a multitude of minute reddish dots. There are
similar dots in the Prawn, but none in _L. squilla_, with which it
agrees more closely in size. These two, with young specimens of _L.
serratus_, get mixed up and sold together under the name of Red Shrimps
or Cup Shrimps.

There is a somewhat similar form called the Æsop Prawn (_Pandalus
montagui_). It may be distinguished by the fact that the carapace is
distinctly keeled along the foremost half of its upper part, and this
keel is continued forward as the rostrum, which is armed above with
moveable spines, while below it has five fixed teeth. The outer antennæ
are long, and marked throughout by alternate light and dark bands.
The inner antennæ have two lashes, the outer of the two thicker than
its fellow. The first pair of legs are _not_ furnished with nippers;
and the second pair are very unequal in length and stoutness. It is
reddish-grey in colour, dotted with a darker tint. Its length on our
shores, according to Bell, does not exceed two and a half inches; but
on the coasts of the United States it is said to attain to a length of
four or five inches.

There is a beautiful little Crustacean, which may fitly be named the
Varying Prawn (_Hippolyte varians_); it swarms in certain rock-pools
and among the rocks at low-water. In such situations it is not so
widely distributed as some of the species we have named, but it is
worth looking for on account of its remarkable sensitiveness to the
colour of its surroundings. Specimens taken from a pool in which the
green _Ulva_ or _Enteromorpha_ is the prevailing vegetation are green;
but if transferred to a vessel containing only brown, red, or yellow
weeds, will in the course of a few hours be found to have changed their
colours to harmonise with their new environment. So complete is this
change that one can well understand how this shrimp may be commonly
distributed all round our coasts, and yet only known from a few
localities, because a careless observer would never see it. Like the
species of _Leander_ this has a rostrum--in this case quite straight, a
sharp point. On the upper edge there are usually four teeth, but this
number may be increased to five or even six; on the underside they
never exceed two, and there may be only one.

[Illustration: COMMON SHRIMP.]

Whilst referring to these little-known species of Prawns, we must not
forget to mention the very well-known Common Shrimp or _the_ Shrimp
(_Crangon vulgaris_), which affects sandy shores and rivers rather than
rocky coasts. The natural colour of the Shrimp before it has been in
the pot and made to reappear as the _Brown_ Shrimp, is a pale brownish
grey, thickly dotted with darker brown, which harmonises well with the
sandy flats on which it loves to live. Looking at this species we see
how great a finish is given to the Prawns by the possession of that
saw-edged rostrum. By comparison the Shrimp has a square front, which
is by no means so prepossessing. His eyes are not so distant one from
the other as are those of the Prawn, and only one pair of his antennæ
(the external) are at all long. There are three small spines on the
carapace, one on the middle line and one on each side. The first pair
of legs are stout, and what is technically described as _sub-chelate_,
those of the Prawn’s being _chelate_. The Shrimp’s nippers have not
got the well-formed moveable finger and fixed thumb of the Prawn, but
a moveable finger and a little stump upon which it folds down. I do
not pretend that it is not as efficient for the Shrimp’s use as the
better-looking contrivance of the Prawn. The plates of the tail-fan,
too, are narrower than those of the Prawn, but the swimming feet are
longer.

Now these two things would lead us to suppose that the Shrimp depends
less on jumping back from danger than on swimming, and this is true.
If the Shrimp suspects harm he sinks upon the sand, and setting his
swimming feet rapidly to work they “kick up such a dust” in the water
that he is hidden in a cloud of fine sand, which as quickly settles
down and partially buries him--sufficiently so with his sandy hue to
effectually hide him. Upon those swimming feet the female carries her
eggs. From the fact that shrimps may be found laden with these eggs at
almost all seasons, it would appear that they have no special breeding
time; and this fact probably accounts for the endless supply of them.
In common with most other small Crustacea they are constantly preyed
upon by fishes, and we know something of the enormous mortality among
them caused by man, when we think of the heaps in the fishmongers’
shops and in the baskets of the itinerant vendors in towns. But the
united efforts of man and fish do not appear to make them at all scarce.

There are quite a multitude of distinct species of British shrimps, but
many of them keep away from the shore and are only caught in the dredge
or the trawl. Some others swarm after the bait in lobster pots, though
the lobster catcher does not want them, and does not even dignify them
with a name--scarcely notices their existence, in fact. There remain,
however, several species to which I must call attention, even though
my readers may have expected me to have exhausted the list long before
this.

The Chameleon Shrimp (_Mysis flexuosus_) will be found in summer to
abound around the rocks and in the pools. It partakes somewhat of
the character of _Hippolyte varians_ in respect of colouring. If you
take it around rocks that are covered with the _Laminaria_ it is pale
brown, or darker if from among _Fuci_, and in the pools where _Ulva_,
_Enteromorpha_, and _Cladophora_ prevail, its colour will be a light
or dark green. It is a singular-looking shrimp on account of its long
and slender carapace and the cylindrical abdomen. It has six pairs
of feet, and not one among them all possesses a pair of pincers. The
external antennæ are very long, and each is accompanied by a long flat
scale similar to that of the Prawn’s. The eyes are large and very
prominent. The carapace is inclined to have a rostrum, but it is a poor
attempt, and does not extend to more than a third of the eye-stalk. It
is sometimes called Opossum Shrimp, because it has a peculiar pouch in
which the eggs are retained until hatched, and where the young pass
their early days.

There remain several species which should more fitly be included with
the Lobsters, but from their small size they may pass muster with the
Shrimps. They are exceedingly interesting, even if we take but one fact
into account: their habit of burrowing in deep sand like mole-crickets.
Right back in the early days of the present century an enthusiastic
naturalist, Colonel Montagu, was digging for Razor-shells (_Solen_) in
a sandbank near Kingsbridge in Devonshire, when he had the good fortune
to turn up some things he was neither looking for nor suspecting the
existence of--as a matter of fact they were quite unknown until Montagu
unearthed them. Now here is encouragement for anybody and everybody who
turns over weeds, pries into rock-pools and crannies, or digs in the
sand for Launce or Razor-shells. You may or may not find what you seek,
but something of interest you cannot help finding, and it may be a new
fact--if not a new species.

When Montagu published a description of his find in 1808--three years
afterwards--it was under the three-barrelled name of _Cancer Astacus
subterraneus_; but Dr. Leach, six years later, saw that it could not
go into the same genus with the crabs or lobsters, and he called
it _Callianassa subterranea_, by which name it has been known ever
since. So far the account is plain sailing enough, but to attempt a
description of _Callianassa_ is not nearly so simple. The carapace
is very small, with the slightest pretence to a rostrum, flattened
at the sides, rounded above. The eyes very small, like those of its
fellow-digger the mole, though more exposed than his. There are two
pairs of antennæ; the internal ones double. The first legs are adorned
with nippers, but they are very unequal in size, one being scarcely
larger than the second or third feet, and the other much larger than
the carapace, broad, flat, and hairy on the edges. On the outer side of
the arm of this big limb there is a process which looks like a reaping
hook. Now, the word _Callianassa_, I presume, is made up from two Greek
words (Kalli, anassa), signifying Beautiful Queen; but I fancy that
if a female monarch had one of her hands normal and the other bigger
than her chest and head combined, none but courtiers would flatter
her by declaring she was beautiful, and possibly they might be partly
actuated thereby through a wholesome fear of that big hand. However,
she is beautiful in respect of colouring--a fine bright pink, which
departs with life. The second pair of legs are small and terminate in a
little pair of pincers; the third have one finger which works against
the enlarged next joint; the fourth terminate simply in a claw; the
fifth in an intermediate condition as though the extremities intended
to develop into pincers. The seven-jointed abdomen is long, the fifth
segment broadest, from which it narrows gradually to the front, and
suddenly to the rear, where it is finished off with a tail-fan of four
plates. From a glance at the Beautiful Queen’s hands and with knowledge
of her burrowing habits, I should suppose that the bigger of the two
served the double purpose of a digger and a street-door; the latter
to keep enemies and prying intruders out of her burrow. Her majesty
measures about two inches in length, and her crust is very thin and
parchmenty.

That was a day to be remembered by Colonel Montagu, for on the same
occasion he unearthed another burrower--_Upogebia stellata_--new to
science. This is more lobster-like than Callianassa in form, though
less so in size, for it is only about an inch and a half in length. It
is content with having pincers to the first pair of legs, and these are
nearly equal in size. All the limbs are liberally fringed with long
hairs. The carapace begins with a small and sharp rostrum. Dr. Leach
records it from mud in Plymouth Sound. Its colour is yellowish-white,
sprinkled with minute orange spots.

And now, though we have by no means exhausted the list of British
species, we must close this chapter. It should be stated that all these
creatures go through a series of transformations similar to, but not
identical with, those marking the early life of the crab and lobster.




CHAPTER XI.

SOME MINOR CRUSTACEANS.


Besides the crabs and shrimps already enumerated there are to be found
upon our shores a great variety of smaller species of Crustacea,
representing widely differing tribes and orders. We cannot fill a phial
with water from a rock-pool without getting a number of specimens
of the crystal-cased water-fleas (_Entomostraca_), of which we are
probably already acquainted through several well-known fresh-water
forms. We cannot pull up a tuft of fine weed from the same pool but
we shall find on putting it into a tumbler of water that it harbours
a multitude of Crustaceans much larger than the water-fleas; and so
when we place in our aquarium a rough bit of rock, because it is the
resting-place of a tube-worm, an acorn-shell, or a patch of polyzoa, we
shall find it is also occupied by little shrimp-like, or woodlouse-like
creatures. There is every probability, too, that we shall get with
these the minute larval forms of crabs and lobsters. It is a delight
to introduce them in this way, and to be constantly making the
acquaintance of unsuspected inmates of an aquarium that perhaps only
holds a couple of quarts of water.

Of course, there is no difficulty in collecting these smaller species
of set purpose, any more than there is in looking for anemones and
sponges; but whether the shore-naturalist seeks them or not, he is
bound to get a large variety.

The majority of these will be species of the two important sub-orders,
Isopoda and Amphipoda, and one of the most conspicuous, because
largest, of them is the Sea Slater (_Ligia oceanica_), represented in
our next illustration. It will be found crawling up the perpendicular
faces of rocks about half-tide mark; and the finder will not need to
have explained to him the fact that it is related to the terrestrial
Woodlouse or Slater of our hedgebanks. The whole tribe have the
respiratory apparatus adapted for breathing air, but they appear to
require a damp atmosphere.

[Illustration: SEA SLATER.]

Among the fringing weeds of the rocks there will be found great numbers
of a lively creature of somewhat similar build to the _Ligia_, but very
narrow (oblong-ovate is the technical description), and without the
terminal appendages (_uropods_) of that creature. It varies in colour
from pale brown to a dark brown, perhaps mottled with black. There are
several British species, but the common shore-haunting kind is _Idotea
marina_. Its great variation has caused it to be called by at least a
dozen names.

In turning over any organic remains above the reach of the waves,
we shall uncover swarms of the Shore-hopper (_Orchestia littorea_),
distinguished from the similar Sand-hopper (_Talitrus locusta_) by its
more compressed body, and by having both the first and second pairs of
feet clawed, whereas in _Talitrus_ the second pair are not clawed.

Among the dried up, black-looking foliage of _Lichina pygmæa_,
which grows on the rocks that are covered only for a short time at
high-water, will be found the queer Isopod, _Campecopea hirsuta_, which
seems to mimic the plant that shelters it. They curl up tightly into a
ball, and roll about if dislodged. The projections at the end of the
body (_uropods_) help their resemblance to the _Lichina_. This species
must not be confounded with the similar and allied _Næsa bidentata_,
which has the sixth segment of the trunk much larger than the others,
and produced backwards in the _two teeth_-like processes, which
suggested its Latin name.

If one is so fortunate as to get access to the rocks at the equinoctial
low tides, which are lower than the ordinary fortnightly “springs,”
he will see rocks covered with a muddy felt, much of which appears
to be the work of marine worms, who live in it. A portion of this
coating should be rapidly prised off with the putty-knife, and put
into a bottle of sea-water by itself. At the same time look for a
dirty-looking slaty rock, at the same level, and take off the upper
flakes, with their investing crust of acorn-shells, corallines,
zoophytes, etc. On this will almost certainly be found the absurd
acrobat or contortionist, the Skeleton-shrimp (_Caprella linearis_),
sprawling about, his walking feet on the extreme segments of an
extremely long and thread-like body. Here will, in all probability,
also be found a Crustacean with a body not more than half an inch
long, but looking much longer by reason of an enormous development of
its outer antennæ, which it flourishes about as though they were long
arms. The chief use it makes of these is as flails to thresh out its
prey, certain marine worms that inhabit the mud-felt to which we have
referred. By repeated heavy beatings on the mud with these antennæ, the
worms are induced to come outside their burrows to see what danger is
threatening them, and find out only too quickly.

The first time I saw this remarkable creature, I was greatly moved
to mirth. I had wrested a flake of rock from a huge mass that was
ordinarily covered at low-water, but which now at the equinox reared
its head high above the waves, and exposed treasures in the shape
of the Globehorn and the Rosy Anemones. _Corynactis_ was growing at
the edge of this flake, which was placed near the glass of a small
aquarium, where it could be easily scanned with a lens. A few hours
later I took a glance at my Globehorns, and was astonished to witness
the activity and vigour of the varied colony that was settled on these
few square inches of stone. Several acorn-shells were in “full swing,”
a tube-worm (_Sabella_) had put out its plumes from the mouth of its
tube, a patch of polyzoa exhibited its crowns of prismatic tentacles,
a couple of _Caprellæ_ were sprawling around in an inebriated fashion,
whilst near one corner was the figure that chiefly attracted my
attention. _Corophium longicorne_ was standing erect in a mud-pulpit,
above the walls of which he was flourishing his arm-like antennæ as
he--a Crustacean St. Anthony--harangued the other members of the
community who appeared to be paying great attention to his discourse.
I felt that if I could but restrain my laughter, I should hear the
“thirdly, my brethren beloved,” and the telling sentence he emphasised
by a hearty smack on the pulpit; the ridiculous _Caprellæ_ profoundly
bowing in assent to his postulates all the time.




CHAPTER XII.

BARNACLES AND ACORN-SHELLS.


Occasionally in strolling along a beach after a storm we shall
encounter some wreckage that came ashore with the last wave of the
incoming tide, and so failed to be washed off again. It may be a spar,
a rudder, a stern-board with a name upon it that tells a tale of a
vessel that has gone down. It may come in clean, with the splintered
wood looking as though just smashed, and we may judge from such
appearances how long it is since the catastrophe happened. On the other
hand, it may bear evidence of having floated in the sea for a long
period before getting into a current running coastwards. Such evidence
will consist in the wood being heavily soaked with water, or in its
surface being covered with hundreds of writhing snake-like creatures
with pale blue heads. We have met under such circumstances, with balks
of timber with scarcely an inch of their surface not covered with this
foreign growth; with casks on which they grew all round the edges of
the heads and the hoops.

A few months ago there drifted into our “porth” a small keg-buoy with
a long thick hawser attached, and the submerged half of the buoy had
a fine crop of the writhing things hanging from it, whilst they hung
from the rope in clusters a few inches apart. The finder very kindly
hauled it upon the rocks, and coiled the hawser round it that I might
photograph the entire lot. As it lay there in the autumn sunshine it
looked a very pretty group, and I regret that the camera would not
reproduce the snaky movements, nor the fine colouring.

Now the creature is no other than the Ship-Barnacle (_Lepas
anatifera_), one of the chief obstacles to speed in the old days of
“the wooden walls of England.” When a ship had made an ocean voyage
it was necessary to dock her and scrape off the enormous quantities
of Barnacles that not merely added to her weight, but offered strong
opposition to her passage through the waters. To-day, what with steel
vessels and patent anti-fouling compositions with which to paint the
ship’s bottom, the poor Barnacles find their world much narrower than
formerly, and with fewer openings for the enterprise of their race.
Should you come across such a barnacle-ridden waif of the sea, consider
it carefully. You shall find in it matter of interest, and, in addition
to its provision of something for your imagination to play round, in
your efforts to get a clue to the vessel of which the wreckage once
formed part, the life-story of the Barnacle itself is a romance.

[Illustration: SHIP-BARNACLE.]

Before we attempt to tell this story briefly, let us look at one of
the specimens before us. The long and evidently muscular neck ends in
a composite shell, which is seen to be composed of four portions, or
valves hinged together, opening in front, and strengthened at the back
by a fifth valve, a long, narrow, and curved piece. At short intervals
the two halves into which this “shell” is obviously divided part in
front, and out comes a mass of coiled up, slender, and hairy processes
which separate and uncoil as though attempting to catch some invisible
body, then coil up again and withdraw as though they had really caught
it and meant to keep it. Now this is the principal, one might almost
say the sole occupation of their adult lives, but writhing is another
to which they pay some attention. Probably it may strike you as a
monotonous, perhaps senseless way of spending one’s days; but it is
quite evident, from the great numbers of Barnacles crowded within a few
square feet, and all looking prosperous, that it is a paying game.

It must be remembered that however clear and crystalline the sea-water
appears, there is really great truth in the remark of the scientific
luminary, who said that the sea was a kind of thin soup or broth,
holding enormous quantities of animal and vegetable matter in solution,
most of it invisible to the unassisted vision. Whoever possesses a
retentive hand like that of the Barnacle, has only to spread the palms
and fingers wide, then close them tightly, to have _something_ enclosed
therein. Such is the Barnacle’s experience; and it is by the mere
opening and shutting of his hand that he gets a good living. Strictly
speaking, this hand is _not_ his hand, but a number of feet and hands
which correspond with the limbs of the crabs, lobsters, and shrimps.

Strange as the assertion may sound, unlike as the creatures appear, the
Barnacles belong to the same great class (Crustacea) as the animals
described in the last two chapters, though they are partly separated
from them and put into an order (Cirripedia) by themselves. No wonder
if you hesitate to accept this statement as a fact; you are in good
company, for no less a naturalist than the great Cuvier failed to see
the relationship.

That this order is an important one will appear when it is stated
that the great Charles Darwin wrote an important work in two volumes,
devoted to the “recent” Cirripedes, and two other volumes on the
“fossil” species of the order.

These Cirripedes are divided into two main groups--the pedunculated or
stalked Cirripedes, represented by the lively Barnacles before us, and
the sessile or stalkless Cirripedes, of which the familiar Acorn-shell
of the littoral rocks are the examples.

Now these two groups may strike you as having little in common, and
yet their early history is practically identical, one group with the
other. Longfellow was quite right when he stated that “things are
not what they seem,” at least, they are not _always_ what they seem;
conversely, they do not always seem what they are. We must not be
content with taking a couple of creatures at one particular stage in
their existence, and say these organisms differ so widely from each
other that we must put them into equally widely separated classes or
groups; we must try to find out and compare all the stages in their
life-histories, before we can talk of separating or bringing together,
except in the most temporary fashion, there to be kept, as it were,
in quarantine until we have found out what we wish to know concerning
their antecedents.

No one, until he had evidence of the successive stages in the life
of a butterfly, would dream of putting such dissimilar things as a
caterpillar and a butterfly into the same order; yet their wonderful
course of development was long ago traced out, and it is within the
power of any person to check off the whole progress from the batch of
elegant eggs laid on a cabbage leaf, through the ravenous worm-like
caterpillar stage, and the apparently inanimate chrysalis to the
beautiful white butterfly that can take no solid food, and which by
depositing another batch of exactly similar eggs, completes the cycle,
and so assures us we have made no mistakes in our observations.

In a like manner we can watch the series of stages, utterly unlike
each other, through which a crab, a lobster, a shrimp or a Barnacle
passes before it attains the adult condition; and when we find the
early forms of the Barnacle agreeing in a very curious way with stages
in the life-history of typical Crustaceans, we are perfectly justified
in grouping them in the same class of animal life. We have, in fact,
pierced through the disguise with which some of the adult forms have
sought to hide their identity, and have found out their true characters.

It must be confessed that the course of development in some of these
creatures partakes of the character of what has been termed “an
Irishman’s rise.” In the case of the caterpillar and the butterfly,
everybody recognises that development is progress, that the butterfly
is a higher being than the caterpillar. But in others development
spells retrogression. Such is undoubtedly the case with the Cirripedes,
and with certain crustaceans which lead the life of parasites. The
course of development in the Barnacles and Acorn-shells has been very
succinctly stated by Darwin.

“The larvæ in the first stage have three pairs of locomotive organs,
a simple single eye, and a probosciformed mouth, with which they
feed largely, for they increase much in size. In the second stage,
answering to the chrysalis stage of butterflies, they have six pairs
of beautifully constructed natatory legs, a pair of magnificent
compound eyes, and extremely complex antennæ; but they have a closed
and imperfect mouth, and cannot feed: their function at this stage is
to search out by their well-developed organs of sense, and to reach
by their active powers of swimming, a proper place on which to become
attached and to undergo their final metamorphosis. When this is
completed they are fixed for life: their legs are now converted into
prehensile organs; they again obtain a well-constructed mouth; but they
have no antennæ, and their two eyes are now re-converted into a minute,
single, simple eye-spot. In this last and complete state, Cirripedes
may be considered as either more highly or more lowly organized than
they were in the larval condition. But in some genera the larvæ become
developed into hermaphrodites, having the ordinary structure, and
into what I have called complemental males; and in the latter the
development has assuredly been retrograde, for the male is a mere sack,
which lives for a short time, and is destitute of mouth, stomach, and
every other organ of importance, excepting those for reproduction.”

In this early condition these Cirripedes much resembled the minute
so-called water-fleas that swarm in our fresh-water ponds and streams,
and when upon the point of their last change they laid their heads down
upon the spot selected for their future station in life. Then a natural
marine glue, that sets under water, exuded from their antennæ, and they
became fixtures, head downwards. The two valves of their old shells
were thrown off, and the new ones, largely composed of carbonate of
lime, grew up from the base.

Some of the Barnacles on our buoy are apparently dead, and one of these
we can take to pieces. Taking off one half of the compound shell, we
find the creature attached to the floor of the chamber, evidently on
its back. From the upper end there arise the twelve limbs, six on each
side, and each one dividing into two branches, each branch a beautiful
feather with a wonderfully jointed, supple, purple-black stem, closely
fringed with purple hairs. It is from this plume-like cluster of
curling limbs that the order obtains its name (Latin, _cirrus_, a
curled lock of hair, and _pes_, a foot = curl-footed).

When the shell opens and the trunk which supports all these limbs is
thrust forward, each branch separates from its fellows and becomes
almost straight, spreading out its hairs as widely as possible. Thus
extended, the entire plume of feathers sweeps through a limited space
of water, and many minute creatures are entangled in its hairs, and so
brought into the currents that flow towards the Barnacle’s mouth.

Huxley has described the Barnacle as standing on its head and kicking
food into its mouth; but we question whether this partakes of his usual
accuracy of description. So far as we have been able to make out the
process, the food particles are strained off from the sea-water by this
exquisite net, and brought, not kicked to the mouth.

It is to this plume of feathers that the Barnacle owes its specific
name, _anatifera_ = goose-bearing. It was formerly thought to be a
vegetable production, whose fruit, when ripe, gaped open, and dropped
out an embryo bird, which fell into the water and developed into a
Bernicle Goose. Gerarde, three centuries ago, wrote a wonderful and
circumstantial account of the whole business, which he declared he
had seen with his own eyes; and every writer of popular works on the
sea since then has seen fit to reproduce his account as one of the
curiosities of natural history. I have no intention of doing so, for it
is time it had a little rest after being so hard worked. For a similar
reason I have in this book utterly ignored Montgomery’s “Pelican
Island;” and the equally hackneyed quotations from Southey, Crabbe, and
Coleridge, that have been a boon to some of my predecessors in filling
their pages, I have also put upon a retired list.

Cirripedes, not being so completely boxed up as the majority of
crustaceans, can enlarge their dwellings by additions to the edges of
the shells, and therefore do not need to throw off the entire envelope
from time to time. But it is difficult to entirely get rid of racial
characteristics, even when there is no special need to retain them; and
so we find the Cirripedes casting the skins of their bodies from time
to time, though the limy shell is made to serve for all their life.

There is a smaller species of Necked Barnacle (_Scalpellum vulgare_),
the shelly portion of which, seen edgeways, looks like a penknife,
whence the Latin name. It is usually found growing among corallines; it
is figured in accompanying group.

[Illustration:

  PYRGOMA.      SCALPELLUM.      PORCATE BARNACLE.

        ACORN-SHELL.
]

There is a peculiar little Barnacle called _Pyrgoma anglicum_, which
is parasitical upon the pretty Devonshire Cup-coral (_Caryophyllia
smithii_). It is shown on the coral in the upper left-hand side of our
illustration above, and may be looked for in any of the localities
where this coral occurs. It attaches itself to the outer edge of the
plates of the corallum.

Let us turn now to the more familiar Acorn-shells (_Balanus
balanoides_) that crust the rocks between tide-marks. We might have
used the expression “too-familiar,” for whoever has had to put a
bare foot upon them in bathing or swimming from the rocks, will have
had cause for remembering their sharp edges. It is not easy to keep
the Ship-barnacle in an aquarium; but a flake of rock, or a disused
limpet shell, crusted with _Balanus_, is conveniently kept in a glass
of sea-water, and will long continue at once a thing of beauty and
a wonder to friends who are ignorant of natural history. These are
sessile Cirripedes, that is, they have no stalks upon which to writhe,
but _sit_ directly upon the rock.

If we scrape one of these Acorn-shells off the rock with our useful
putty-knife, we shall find that it has a thin base of shelly matter
upon which it reposes much as the Ship-barnacle does upon the floor
of its shelly chamber. But it will be seen that the sloping outer
walls of the Acorn-shell are firmly cemented together, and allow of no
movement; the top, however, is open, but the animal within is protected
by an interior door of four pieces, that opens in the middle like the
cellar flaps seen in connection with business basements. These doors
“butt” together accurately, and open easily by pressure from inside.
Then out comes a more beautiful and delicate “hand” even than that
of the Barnacle, for this is so fine and transparent that it looks a
thing of spun glass. There is the same movement as in the Barnacle,
the everlasting grasping at something, the opening and shutting of
the cellar flaps. Its earlier history is also similar to that of its
stalked relation. There is a larger species of Acorn-shell known as
the Porcate Barnacle (_Balanus porcatus_), the name having relation to
the form of the conical shell; porcate signifying that it has ridges
between the furrows that mark its outside. Other species, smaller, some
almost flat, will be found on some parts of our coast, but we would
refer our readers to Mr. Darwin’s work[5] for the further study of the
Cirripedes.

[5] A Monograph of the Cirripedia, 2 vols. Ray Society.




CHAPTER XIII.

“SHELL-FISH.”


One of the greatest hindrances to the unscientific, in the way of a
proper understanding of the true nature and relative position of many
forms of life, is to be found in our misuse of words--our poverty of
language, which compels us to make one word serve for quite dissimilar
and unrelated things. This unfortunate term, “Shell-fish,” which we
have felt compelled to put at the head of this chapter, in place of
the more accurate “Bivalve Mollusks,” is a case in point. I really
want a name that only includes these; but in order to be strictly
popular in my chapter-heads, I must use this very general term. Just
now I turned to a popular and portable dictionary to see what was a
familiar definition of the compound, and I read there, “Shell-fish,
testaceous mollusks,” but even for a popular explanation that does not
go far enough, for Shell-fish also includes crabs and lobsters, which
are not mollusks, but crustaceans. I daresay, too, that in a fishery
suit, if it served their purpose, lawyers would show plainly that it
embraced tortoises and turtles, which are chelonian reptiles. We are
all aware that in popular and legal language everything that comes out
of the sea is a fish, excepting the coral-polyp which everybody, except
naturalists, knows is an insect!

What I really wish to make clear, after this little growl, is that the
present chapter will deal only with such creatures as are (like oysters
and cockles) sandwiched or boxed between two valves or half-shells, and
will not even glance at those mollusks that are contented with a shell
all in one piece; these are relegated to the next chapter.

[Illustration:
  SPINY COCKLE.      BANDED VENUS.
]

The Mollusca that actually live between tide-marks, though numerous as
individuals, do not represent many species; but those of which we may
find the recently-vacated shells, thrown up by the tide from greater
depths, will total up to a considerable number. The bivalves must be
sought for on sandy beaches and mud flats, especially at the mouths of
rivers. Most of them are burrowers, excavating a way by means of the
powerful foot with which they are provided. This instrument is well
seen in the Razor-shells (_Solen_), or the Cockles (_Cardium_), where
it reaches extraordinary development. Even where the animal lives far
beyond our limits in deep water we can, by a little thought, get some
notion of their habits by examining the empty shells that are cast
up within the littoral zone by heavy seas. Those that are fresh and
clean externally, though without any signs of wear from long washing
among the shingle, may be safely regarded as burrowers that habitually
lie beneath the sand or mud. These, too, will be found to have both
_valves_ of the shell almost, if not quite, equal in size and shape;
whilst those which, like the Oyster and the Scallop, lie upon the
sea-bottom, have very unequal valves, the under one being deeper and
concave, whilst the upper valve is flat and more brightly coloured, to
harmonise with its surroundings. Often, too, this exposed upper valve
will be crusted with acorn-shells, _Serpulæ_, _Sertulariæ_, or seaweeds.

It may prevent confusion further on if we now say a few words by way
of defining the parts of a bivalve shell, its latitude and longitude,
and its relation to the animal whose vital activities produced the
valves. The Spiny Cockle, or Red Nose (_Cardium aculeatum_) of our
illustration, is on its back. If we were to take it, or any other
bivalve shell, and turn it the other way, so that the hinge connecting
the two valves was uppermost, we should have it in the natural position.

A bivalve mollusk is an inferior creature to a limpet or a winkle,
because these have heads with eyes, but the bivalve has not. In the
larval condition it has eyes, but by a retrograde movement like that of
the cirripedes, it gets rid of these as useless in the life it is to
live henceforth. But in spite of its want of a head, we know which is
its anterior and its posterior end, its dorsal and its ventral surface;
and with our knowledge of the relation of animal and shell, we are not
troubled to open the valve to look at the creature, when we wish to
describe the parts of a shell. It will be noticed that each valve curls
over near the hinge and takes a form not greatly unlike a beak. This
is more strongly marked in some species than in others; anyhow, it is
popularly known as the beak, though it is technically distinguished as
the _umbone_, or boss.

If these beaks have the slightest tendency to either end of the shell,
it will be to the front, where we should expect the creature’s head to
be, if it had one. This point made clear, by reference to the shell we
have just picked up, we can say which is the right and which the left
valve. The valves are hinged by a band of a substance that looks much
like catgut. It is elastic in character, and is always pulling at both
valves, so that the natural tendency of the shell is to gape open. But
inside the shell there are, in most bivalves, two much more powerful
bands of muscular fibres (the oyster has but one), which, by their
tension, can slowly or suddenly bring the edges of both valves closely
and tightly together, and hold them so for an indefinite period. You
can see the marks where these muscles were attached, one at each end of
the valve. Between these two marks (“muscular impressions”) there runs
a colourless line marking the area to which the _mantle_ was attached
(“pallial impression”), but this line is often interrupted, towards the
hinder end of the shell, by a bay or sinus (the “pallial sinus”).

The mantle is a delicate membrane on each side of the mollusk’s body,
which has the power of forming the shell, to which it is attached save
at the margins. The “pallial sinus” is caused by the syphons which
are protruded at that end of the shell. At the other end, as shown
in the figure of the Banded Venus, is the “foot.” The “syphons” are
two delicate tubes, and if you were to put a living Venus, or other
syphon-bearing mollusk into a glass of clear sea-water, and drop
a little finely-divided indigo, or other colouring matter, in the
immediate neighbourhood of these syphons, you would observe a stream
of the minute colour-particles rushing into one of these tubes, and
a stream of clear water issuing from the other. The inflowing stream
passes between the leaf-like gills, or respiratory organs (“branchiæ”),
where it is effectually strained, all solid matter being retained and
passed on to the stomach, whilst the filtered water passes out through
the second syphon. The length and form of these syphons differ in
distinct species, but each kind is pretty true to its own type, and,
consequently, the impression that it makes on the interior of the
shell, taken in conjunction with the muscular and pallial impressions
and the hinge-teeth, are a certain guide to the discrimination of
species.

These are matters that are essential to one’s knowledge of the
mollusca, and they must be learnt; but the few species we shall be
able to mention in this chapter will be indicated more by their
external shape, marks, and colouring. When so identified, the reader
should strengthen his knowledge by a practical study of these internal
impressions, and the characters of hinge and teeth.

This Spiny Cockle, or Red Nose (_Cardium aculeatum_), is not the
Vulgar Cockle (_C. edule_), although it is much sought for food on
its native Devonshire coasts. It is a very much larger species than
the last-named, and gets its name of Red Nose from the brilliant hue
of its long strong foot, which is at once a burrowing instrument and
a leaping pole. By pushing its pointed end down into the sand, and
then bending it into a hook, it can, by contracting the foot, pull the
thick prickly shell down after it. On the other hand, by pressing its
bent tip against some unyielding substance, it can use it as a spring,
which shall suddenly send the shell flying through the water to some
considerable distance. The Spiny Cockle is a creature of clean, sandy
beaches, where it may be found at low-water, but only on the Devonshire
coast.

The Common Cockle (_C. edule_) is very much smaller, its shell free
from prickles, and marked merely with bold rounded ridges. It is more
likely to be found where the sands are not wholly of sand, but contain
a liberal admixture of mud. On some of our coasts it is exceedingly
abundant, and in times of famine has saved populations from starvation.
It is certainly on record that the people of the Isle of Barra, in the
Hebrides, have been thus preserved many years ago, when all the people
sought the Cockle on the great expanse of sands at the northern end of
the island. “It was computed that for a couple of summers, at the time
alluded to, no less than from one to two hundred horse-loads were taken
at low-water, every day of the spring-tides, during the months of May,
June, July, and August.”

The Cockles have gained their name of _Cardium_ and Cardiaceæ from
the fact that if the shell is viewed “end on”--the curving beaks,
of course, uppermost--it will present the conventional heart-shape
(_Kardia_, Greek--heart). Some nearly allied genera, exhibit a similar
form, but narrower, and therefore not so suggestive of hearts; but
the Heart Cockle (_Isocardia cor_) is more truly heart-shaped than
the Cockles of the genus _Cardium_. It is about three inches across
its longest diameter, very thick and heavy, and the beaks are so
greatly curled that no one will be disposed to quarrel with the name,
either of the genus or the species. It is a deep-water species, but in
suitable localities the empty shell may be found washed in by gales.
It is chiefly found on the west coast, and it is probable that its
headquarters, in British waters, is around the Isle of Man.

Several of our most familiar bivalves are not very distantly related to
the heart shells. There are, for instance, the Venus shells of which we
have already given a figure of one species, the Banded Venus (_Venus
fasciata_). It is a solid, heavy little shell, of some shade of brown,
with broad bands of a lighter hue radiating from the beak. A series of
strong ridges run parallel with the margins, or, as usually expressed,
the ridges are concentric. The various species of the genus inhabit
sand and gravel from low-water mark to a hundred and forty fathoms. The
animal must be obtained by the dredge, but the empty shells are thrown
up freely after storms. A much larger species is:--

The Warted Venus (_V. verrucosa_), a drab-coloured shell, with very
rough and unequal ridges. In some specimens these ridges are so broken
by radiating lines, that the ornamentation has the appearance of being
warty. The various species of Venus have three strong hinge-teeth on
each valve, and the inner edge, though at first sight smooth, is very
finely “milled.”

[Illustration: SMOOTH VENUS.]

The finest of these shells is the large, heavy Smooth Venus (_Cytherea
chione_). It is a deep-water species, found chiefly on the southern
and western coasts, where, in spite of its great weight, it is
frequently washed up after storms. It is wonderfully smooth, inside
and out; even the lines of growth are not high enough or sharp enough
to take off this smoothness of the outside, which is coloured of
a pale pinkish-brown tint marked by concentric lines of a lighter
hue, and by much darker radiating bands. It is all very simple, but
very effective. The inside is coated with white, and the muscular
and pallial impressions are very strongly marked, though in no way
interfering with the general plan of entire smoothness. The edges,
too, are rounded and as smooth as the edge of a tea-cup. It is three
and a half inches across the longest diameter of the shell, and its
circumference, at right angles to the last measurement, is eight
inches. The hinge-ligament is an inch long, and the teeth are very
strong and prominent.

It is by no means a common shell outside the districts mentioned, but
I have frequently found it on sandy shores in Cornwall, thrown up by
storms, with the living animal still within. I believe most of the
entire shells found on beaches have been thrown up whilst the animal
is still in possession, and evidence upon this point may be obtained
by examining the ends of the shells. It will be found that those which
came to the surface with the animal are more or less chipped at the
ends, where a Puffin, or other sea-bird, has cracked off a portion to
enable it to prize the valves open; additional evidence will be found
in portions of the muscular bands still adhering to the valves.

[Illustration: RAYED ARTEMIS.]

On the same sand and pebble beaches we shall find in greater plenty
another of the Venus shells, the Rayed Artemis (_Artemis exoleta_).
We presume that Linnæus, in giving this species its name of _exoleta_
(Latin, worn-out), was struck by the fact that however fresh a specimen
may be, it has the appearance of having been knocking about with sand
and shingle for some time. The shells are white, with variable rays of
pinky-brown (sometimes entirely absent), and finely and evenly marked
with concentric grooves. In proportion to its size, it is a very thick
shell; very round in outline, except that a piece appears to have been
nicked out of the edge in front of the beak. When the shell is closed,
these marks on the two valves, coming together, form a heart-shaped
depression of a brown tint, and called the _lunule_.

The lunule is not peculiar to this species, but is shared by a large
number of bivalves. It is well-marked in the Smooth Venus, but
not so completely heart-shaped as in the Rayed Artemis. There is
a finely-developed set of hinge-teeth, and the pallial impression
is deeply sunk. A closely allied species, the Smooth Artemis (_A.
lincta_), is smaller, not banded, and the concentric ridges are finer
and less perceptible. It is this peculiar type of smoothness that
suggested the specific name of _lincta_ (Latin, sucked), its appearance
being as though a specimen of _exoleta_ had been sucked until smooth.
Both these have a hatchet-shaped foot for digging into the sand.
Great quantities of this bivalve are washed up in winter, and I have
frequently come across a piece of rock protruding through the sand,
around which there were dozens of these shells, broken or chipped,
giving evidence, from their fresh muscles, that they had but recently
been destroyed. It has reminded me of the favourite stone under the
hedge, whereto the Thrush brings her snails to be hammered until the
shell yields up its luscious contents. Artemis has met with a fate
similar to that of the hedgerow snails, for her fortress has been
broken by gulls, puffins, or even by ravens when winter has taught them
not to be too particular about their food.

[Illustration: CROSS-CUT CARPET-SHELL.]

There is a group of Venus shells whose exterior is ornamented with
concentric and rayed rounded ridges, in some cases strong, though
regular and even, whilst in others they are but slightly perceptible;
but their place is, to some extent, taken by colour. They bear the
generic name of _Tapes_ (Latin, tapestry) which is exceedingly
appropriate, for the patterns of some species is very suggestive
of tapestry and carpet. Especially is this so with the Cross-cut
Carpet-shell (_Tapes decussata_), whose exterior looks like the back
of a piece of tapestry carpet, both in texture and colour. The latter
is of a nondescript drab, with occasional tinges of red and stain-like
smears of bluish-grey. The ridges radiate from the beak, and they are
nicely rounded, but their lines are by no means straight. They are cut
across by fine concentric incised lines, which, with the grooves beside
each rayed ridge, produce the cross-cut, or _decussate_ appearance
which suggested the name. The interior is dull white, like the surface
of an enamelled card, the muscular and pallial impressions polished,
and consequently very obvious.

The Virgin’s Carpet-shell (_T. virginea_) is smaller, the exterior
very smooth, the ornamentation taking the form of shallow concentric
lines. The colouration is a mottling of salmon-pink, with little specks
of white showing through, and irregularly shaped spots of dark brown
sprinkled sparingly over all. Viewed not too closely, it will be seen
that the whole surface is divided between about six broad rays of
lighter and darker tints. The interior is white and glossy, deepening
to pink or yellow towards the beak and hinge.

The Golden Carpet-shell (_Tapes aurea_) is similar, but some shade of
yellow takes the place of the pink in the last-mentioned species.

The Pullet Carpet-shell (_T. pullastra_) is broader from the hinge to
the edge of the shell, in proportion to its length at right angles
with that measurement. Its name, _pullastra_ (Latin, a pullet), has
evidently a relation to its colouring, which is similar to that of
_virginea_, though darker. If the two are compared it will be found
there is a further difference in the fact that whilst _virginea_ can
scarcely be said to have any radiate-grooves, _pullastra_ is covered
with them; but they are not appreciable to the sense of touch, and
scarcely so to ordinary eyesight, unless special attention is drawn to
them--they are so exceedingly finely cut. Inside, the shell is white,
that part lying between the impressions and the hinge being dull like
the whole interior of _decussata_; but the impressions and the outer
margin are polished.

The Tapes animals spin a byssus like the Mussel; they burrow in the
sand at low-water with their thick fleshy foot, or spin up to the roots
of _Laminaria_ and other seaweeds among the low-water rocks. Around
the shores of the European continent they are used as food, but do not
appear to be so utilised in Britain.

The Scallops are familiar to all in a general way, from the frequency
with which one species occurs on the fishmongers’ slabs. This is the
largest British species, and is generally distinguished as the Common
Scallop, Quin or Queen (_Pecten opercularis_), a deep-water species,
whose valves are frequently washed up on the beach. They occur in beds,
but are not fixed like the Oyster; on the contrary, by the sudden
closing of their valves and the consequent rapid expulsion of water,
the shell shoots hinge foremost through the water to some considerable
distance. The young ones can attach themselves by a byssus to the
rocks, as is done by the Mussels, Carpet Shells, and others. It is
a peculiarity of the Pectens that they have a pair of “ears” to the
shell, the edges of which afford a good foundation for the hinge
ligament, whilst in lieu of hinge-teeth to keep the valves firmly
together when closed by the muscles, the corrugations of the valves
extend right to the margins, and the ridges of the right valve fit into
the furrows of the left valve and _vice versâ_. It will be noticed
that these ears are not a good pair--one is always larger than the
other, and the smaller one is popularly supposed to have been broken;
that, however, is a mistake, the Pectens are built that way. The most
prominent ear is always the front one, and below that of the right
valve there is a notch where the byssal threads issue. In the Common
Pecten these ears are much more nearly equal than in the others, whilst
in _P. varius_ there is a great contrast in the size and shape of the
two, and in _P. tigrinus_ one is almost absent altogether.

[Illustration: COMMON SCALLOPS.]

The Common Pecten is sometimes dredged for, but as a rule it is
avoided by the fishermen, on account of the risk to their nets and the
small price realised for the mollusks after they have caught them. It
will be noted more conspicuously in this species, on account of its
size, that the right valve, which is the lower one when the creature is
lying on its bed, is far more convex than the left or upper one. It is
exceedingly variable in colour.

[Illustration: SCALLOP HUNG UP.]

The Variable Pecten (_P. varius_) carries out its name to the letter,
for out of a score one could scarcely find two that agreed in colour
and the disposition of the markings. Their usual tint will be found
among the red series of the chromatic scale; sometimes almost white
with dark red blotches, at other times dark red-brown with faintly
perceived cloudings of a still darker hue. The exterior is ornamented
by about twenty-eight bold ridges radiating from the sharp beak, and
each of these, as it approaches towards the other edge of the shell,
gives off irregular spiny processes. There is a rare variety of this
almost entirely white. _P. varius_ is not content with using its byssus
only in the days of its youth, but continues to do so, even when at
full age; it may sometimes be found thus hung up to a rock, as shown in
our illustration, or attached to the roots of _Laminaria_.

A live Scallop of any species, in a glass vessel of sea-water, is
a beautiful object. It will soon open its valves and exhibit the
richly-frilled edges of its brightly-coloured mantle; this organ, in
fact, has a double margin, the inner of the two finely fringed, and at
its base a row of eye-like beads.

When prying curiously about the rocks at low-water, under the scrub of
weeds and corallines, we are sure to discover little flat pearly shells
which we shall almost as surely decide to be young oysters. They are a
kind of oyster, though not edible oysters of the genus _Ostrea_, but
Saddle Oysters, of the genus _Anomia_ (_A. ephippium_). Although they
appear to be firmly cemented to the rock by the lower (right) valve,
this is not really so. The thin blade of a penknife gently pushed
beneath will move it off with the merest touch, for instead of being
fixed by its whole under surface, it is merely attached by a muscular
plug that passes through a comparatively large oval hole in the under
shell, near the hinge, and sticks like a sucker to the rock. As it
grows older it will probably alter its form, to adapt itself to things
it comes in contact with, as its diameter increases. Small specimens,
not so large as a threepenny-bit, usually have a colony of much younger
individuals located on their upper shell.

Odd specimens of the Common Mussel (_Mytilus edulis_) will be found
among the roots of weeds on the low-water rocks, but to obtain them
in quantity one must go to a mud-bank, as at the mouth of a river; or
they may be found clinging in masses to the wooden piles of piers and
breakwaters by means of their byssus-threads. The first thing a mussel
does on being placed in an aquarium is to attach itself to the side by
this means. Possibly he will wander a little, by means of his foot,
to make sure of the right spot upon which to cast anchor, but having
settled that point and found that he has made the right choice, there
he will remain.

A mussel is the best of all bivalves for aquarium life. It is true
he is not very lively, and does not flit through the water like the
young Scallops. He is anchored, and there he stays, simply opening his
shell a little way and putting out the frilled edges of his mantle,
with their openings for the inward and outward currents--the inward
bringing both oxygen and food, the outward carrying off carbonic acid
gas and other waste.

The large, thick, coarse-looking mussel shells we occasionally find
on the sands, measuring five or six inches in length, belong to a
different genus, and are called Horse Mussels (_Modiola modiolus_).
The valves in question may not have come far, for the species occurs
in sand and mud as near as low-water. But it will not be found moored
to rocks and weeds by its byssus; instead, it burrows and weaves its
enormous byssus into a nest with sand and gravel mixed up with the
threads. They are said to be coarse and unpleasant tasting, so that
they are not used as food, and hence the name, Horse-mussel; the
prefix, horse or dog, before a popular name for animals or plants,
denoting its worthlessness as food, the sole criterion of worth to the
popular imagination being found in the answer to the query, “Is it good
to eat?”

[Illustration: COMB-SHELL.]

A very handsome shell, as well as a common one, is the Comb-shell
(_Pectunculus glycimeris_), whose thick round valves may be found
rolling on the beach, where they have been washed up from the
zoophyte ground in deep water. It is very variable in its markings,
and yet there is so strong a family likeness running through all
its variations, that there is not the slightest difficulty in its
identification. To the touch the exterior is quite smooth, though not
glossy, but examined with a lens it will be found to be covered with
very fine and regular lines running from the beak to the opposite
edges. So fine and close-set are these, that a line an inch long,
drawn across them at right angles, will cross about ninety of them.
The valves are more or less covered with a colouring of rusty red,
relieved by numerous long sharp wedges of white. These are on parts or
the whole of the shell, sometimes so plentiful that there is no room
for solid masses of the red colour, and it only shows in zigzag lines.
It is difficult to get two shells that at all agree in the distribution
of white and red, and even the two valves of the same shell will
differ widely in this respect. The interior, also, exhibits characters
sufficiently striking to prevent its mis-identification. There is a
broad flange below the hinge, whereon are cut about twenty teeth, in
two series. Immediately below the ligament is a smooth space, clear of
teeth, but these are arranged in a row of about ten on each side of
this space. As the shell grows the flange lengthens, and more teeth are
added to the ends of the rows farthest from the beak; but those nearest
the smooth central space are being rubbed down or absorbed at the same
rate, so that the net increase is about _nil_. The free edge of the
valves, internally, has a series of raised marks, like the tips of the
teeth of a comb, and it is from these the creature gets its name. The
pallial impression is much deeper than those of the muscles at each end
of it, and it is uninterrupted by any sinus. This shell is about two
inches in length.

We must not omit to mention a group of shells that are fairly common
upon many shores, and are usually found among the bucketful the
children have collected.

[Illustration: RAYED TROUGH-SHELL.]

First of these is the bold Rayed Trough-shell (_Mactra stultorum_),
more plentiful in the north than the south of Britain. The various
species of Mactra are inhabitants of sand in deep water, but their
shells are freely cast up on the shore. These are smooth, except that
the annual periods of rest from shell-making is plainly marked in deep
concentric grooves. Like that of the Spiny Cockle, the foot of Mactra
can be extended and used like a finger, and also as a leaping pole.
They are destroyed in great numbers by star-fish, and many empty valves
may be found with the clean round boring that shows the animal fell a
victim to the whelk. _M. stultorum_ is usually coloured some shade of
brown, with a number of white bands radiating from the beak. The hinge
arrangements in this genus are worthy of note, as indeed they are in
all the genera, and must be carefully studied by anybody who wishes to
have anything more than the merest superficial knowledge of conchology.

In the Trough-shells the ligament of the hinge is short and thick,
and contained in a spoon-like cavity in each valve. Immediately in
front of it there are two shelly teeth, joined above in the form of a
Ʌ, and from each side of the beak there runs off a strong ridge-like
tooth, the surface of which is “milled” like the edge of a shilling
or a sovereign. The Elliptic Trough-shell (_M. elliptica_) is not so
triangular as _M. stultorum_, and is without the white rays. The Cut
Trough-shell (_M. truncata_) might be appropriately styled the hatchet
shell, for its truncated ends give it a very close likeness to the head
of a hatchet.

Related to the Trough-shells are the Otter-shells (_Lutraria_), of
which we have two species. They burrow in the mud and sands, of
estuaries especially, and are found from low-water to about twelve
fathoms. Having found a complete, though empty, shell, you will be
surprised to discover that it will not close properly, and you not
unnaturally suppose that you have got hold of a malformed specimen,
whose shell has got a twist somehow. That, however, would be a mistake,
as you would find when other specimens came in your way, and you found
they all had the same objection to closing at the ends. From one end,
when the creature is alive, protrude its united syphons, large and
thick; and from the other end is thrust out the useful “foot,” with
which its burrowing is effected. Where you happen to find the usually
broken valves of the Otter-shells, it is worth while to dig in the
muddiest spots thereabout at extreme low-water, and you will probably
be rewarded with perfect specimens, and have the greater satisfaction
of seeing the living creature within.

Then there are the Tellen-shells (_Tellina_), a bright and
delicate-looking group, with shells that appear as though they had
been subjected to considerable pressure. They are finely grooved with
concentric lines, and decorated with broad bands of pink. One of the
most plentiful of these is the Thick Tellen (_Tellina crassa_), in
which the pink bands radiate from the beak across the shell. Thick is
a comparative term, and is so used here, for the shell, as compared
with a _Mactra_, for instance, would be considered rather thin; but in
contrast with other Tellens, it is solid and substantial. The interior
is delicately tinted with pink or orange. The pallial sinus is large
and rounded. The Fragile Tellen (_T. tenuis_) has thin shells that
are very easily broken. Its surface is very smooth, of an orange tint
marked with bands of pink and white. There are half-a-dozen other
British species. The Tellens burrow slightly in sandy mud, frequently
in shallow water. They may be dug for on a suitable beach between
tide-marks, though their range extends to about fifty fathoms.

Somewhat similar to the Tellens in their delicacy and style of ornament
are the Sunset-shells (_Psammobia_), so called on account of the
crimson patch around the beak, from which rays of a similar hue run off
to the margin. If the shell is so placed before you that the beak is
downwards, these rays suggest the far-reaching rays from the sun that
streak all the western sky, when Sol dips below the horizon for the
night. There are four British species. The two ends of the shell are
nearly equally rounded, but in an allied genus--

The Wedge-shells (_Donax_), the hinder end is much more acute than
the front, so that their popular name is very suitable. They have a
suggestion of sunset rays, too, but not so strong or so symmetrical as
in _Psammobia_. The most familiar species is the Common Wedge-shell
(_Donax anatinus_), which may easily be distinguished from the others
by the milling of the interior edge of the valves. The Polished Wedge
(_D. politus_) may be equally well separated by its superior gloss, and
by a white band which runs backward from the beak.

Then there are the familiar Razor-shells (_Solen_) that must be dug
out of the sand at low-water; and quick work you will find it, if
you succeed in catching any specimens. Very good examples may often
be picked up on a wide sandy beach, but minus the animal. They are
sought for food, and the professional catchers are very expert in their
movements--they need to be, or the business would not pay a dividend.
Everybody knows the razor-handle-like shells of _Solen siliqua_,
if they have no acquaintance with the animal. They are flattened
cylinders, widely open at each end for the extrusion of the foot and
the syphons. The hinge is near the front extremity of the shell, the
ligament in a full-grown specimen measuring an inch and a half. There
are two teeth in each valve, though some have three in the left; but
it is difficult to pick up empty shells in which the teeth are intact.
The Razors spend all their lives buried vertically in the sand. When
the sands are covered by water they rise to the mouth of their burrow
and protrude the syphons, but those that are situated so far in shore
as to be uncovered at low-water, then plunge in to a depth of a foot or
two. They never leave their burrows, except on compulsion, in the shape
of the salt and spade of their enemy, the fisherman. The species, with
a very straight margin to its shell, is the Pod Razor (_S. siliqua_)
which attains a length of eight inches; that with a distinctly curved
outline is the Sabre Razor (_S. ensis_).

[Illustration:
  RED-NOSED BORER. PIDDOCK.
]

A brief glance at some borers and excavators must suffice to close
this long chapter. The small, upper figure in accompanying plate is
the Red-nosed Borer (_Saxicava rugosa_), a species that largely helps
the sea in its ceaseless attacks upon the coast line. It is the office
of the Borer to excavate cells in the face of the rock, and as it is
never solitary in its work, but attacks a rock in “gangs,” as a human
excavator would put it, the result is the complete honey-combing of
the surface. They may often be found free in crevices of the rocks
and about the roots of seaweeds--that Alsatia for a very varied
population. The shell has a distorted look about it, and the valves
will not fit properly, the ends gaping to allow the foot and the
syphons free play. It is very variable, however, and consequently has
been a splendid subject for the variety-mongers and species-splitters,
who have manufactured quite a long list of species and genera out
of it. It changes a good deal at different periods of its life,
and thus affords opportunities for careful descriptions made from
isolated specimens utterly disagreeing with each other; therefore,
the individuals described must belong to different species! In its
early state the shell is symmetrical, and has two minute teeth in each
valve; but before it has reached maturity it has lost its claim to be
considered graceful or symmetrical, and has either worn its milk-teeth
out or abandoned them as useless. The shell is covered with ridges and
wrinkles, and it is by their help that it carves out its chamber in the
rock. Sometimes on turning aside a curtain of weeds from a rock-face
you will see a large number of crimson points, which, however,
instantly disappear if they have been ever so lightly touched by the
weeds. These are the ends of the borers’ syphons, protruded from their
ventilation holes; they are united almost to their extremities, and
present the appearance shown in our figure.

The Piddock, or Finger Pholas (_Pholas dactylus_), is a much larger
species with some difference of structure. Its pure white shell, though
thin and fragile, is covered in front with rasp-like ridges, and by
means of it the chambers and tunnels of the rock are bored. Holding
to the rock with the clear crystalline foot, the Pholas gives its
shell a swing half way round in one direction, then a swing back, and
so by alternate half-revolutions, the rasping of the shell gradually
excavates a chamber sufficiently large to shelter it, communication
with the outer world being maintained by the large syphons. So far
there is no very great difference between the Pholas and the Saxicava;
but the Pholas is peculiar in that it possesses neither ligament
nor hinge, and in addition to the orthodox two valves, it has some
additional ones. The hinge-plates are reflected back over the beaks,
and a powerful muscle is attached thereto to keep the ordinary valves
together. Above these, and to protect this muscle, are two short
accessory valves, and a third, which is long, and extends back over
the dorsal edges of the big valves. In other species of Pholas these
arrangements give scope for variation.

And now it is time we gave some thought to the one-valved and valveless
mollusks of the shore.




CHAPTER XIV.

SEA-SNAILS AND SEA-SLUGS.


Mollusks that have their shell all in one piece are technically known
as the Gasteropoda, or belly-footed creatures; but for our purpose the
term sea-snail will serve admirably, for it is a popular term that
will not cause misunderstandings, as many popular general terms do.
The sea-snails, as living creatures, are more amenable to study by
the shore-naturalist, than is the case with the bivalves; and every
rock, whether it be thickly clothed with weeds, or bare and exposed
to the full fury of the waves, will provide us with specimens. It is
true, that all visitors to the sea-shore are well acquainted with the
most plentiful of these--the periwinkle, the purple, and the limpet.
But though they are familiar with the forms and names of such common
objects, there may be among my readers some to whom the principal facts
in the economy and structure of these species may be new or interesting.

[Illustration:
  LIMPETS.      PURPLES.
]

I fear, that in popular estimation, there is but one kind of Limpet.
As a matter of greater exactitude, I may say that eight or nine
species may be found on our shores; and we may find some points of
interest even in the too common species (_Patella vulgata_). Only
those perhaps who have been badly in want of bait for a little fishing
have troubled to see what is beneath the conical shell; but the shell
itself is worthy of a little attention. What could be better adapted
for the animal’s mode of life than this? The Limpet is not a deep-water
mollusk, but lives between tide-marks, where it receives the full force
of the waves as they beat and hammer the rocks in stormy weather.
But the Limpet has a broad foot, which exudes a thick glue, whereby
it sticks tightly to the rock. Then his muscles are powerful, and by
their aid he pulls his conical roof well down till its edges fit into
the little pit he has sunk in the rock-surface, and thus ensconced he
can defy the hardest gale that may chance to blow and the heaviest
water-hammers that the sea uses against the land. The Limpet is
typical of the Briton, alike in his tenacity of purpose and his love
of privacy. But with all his exclusiveness John Bull likes to open his
doors and windows wide to let in the air, and we shall find the Limpet
resembling him in this detail; for if you seek him when the tide is
out, you may surprise him with his roof so lifted up that the edges are
a quarter of an inch away from the rock. Then is the time to take him
unawares, and force his foot from its firm hold. Having secured him, we
are at liberty to inspect the owner of this strange house, but we can
best do this by placing him in our clear glass bottle, and letting him
crawl up the side.

That which is known as the mollusk’s “foot” has no relationship with
the feet of vertebrate animals, the name being suggested by the similar
use to which dissimilar organs are put. We have already explained that
the term gasteropod signifies “belly-foot,” and if we were to cut
through the “foot” of the Limpet, we should find that it is indeed its
belly, for it contains the principal portion of its viscera. We are not
going into the anatomy of the mollusca, just now, but will confine our
attention to its exterior. It has now begun to climb up the glass, and
we can see that the foot is spread out so that it occupies the greater
portion of the area covered by the shell. At the fore part it has a
distinct head, with a pair of tentacles, ditto eyes, and a very evident
mouth, for the Limpet’s principal occupation appears to be to lick the
surface upon which it is gliding. Around the foot and the head there
runs a frill which is really the creature’s breathing apparatus, and
between that and the shell there is, of course, the mantle by which the
shell was secreted, and is enlarged as occasion requires. The Limpet is
now in rapid motion, and we can see that it progresses in exactly the
same fashion as do the garden snails and slugs, that is, by a series
of muscular contractions, evidenced by the constant ripple along the
surface of the foot. The foot exudes a very tenacious slime, which
enables it to obtain perfect contact with the surface over which it is
gliding, or upon which it is resting. It is perfectly astonishing how
much nonsense is still written in books upon this subject by persons
who ought to know better, and who could easily test the correctness
of their views by occasionally studying Nature, instead of relying
so much upon academical teaching, and that of an antique character.
Their statement is, that the Limpet holds on so tightly by creating a
vacuum, some say under the foot, others under the shell. So ancient an
authority as Reaumur disproved these notions. He tested the matter by
cutting a Limpet in two, shell and all. According to the teaching of
the vacuumites, the animal’s hold should then have loosened; but no,
the two portions still adhered to their base. Anyone by observation
can testify to the truth of Reaumur’s explanation; there is the same
powerful hold in the foot of a garden snail on a damp surface, but in
that case it does not seem so great, because his shell affords a better
hold for the experimenter. The annoying feature of the Limpet is the
shape of his shell, which prevents our taking hold of it. Where the
surface of the rock is friable, as some of our Cornish Killas rocks,
and the chalk rocks of the Kentish coast, the Limpet’s foot, when
forcibly pulled up, brings with it particles of the surface, which have
separated from the parent rock more easily than from the glue of the
mollusk’s foot.

A wonderful thing about the Limpet is its power to sink a shallow pit
in the surface of the rock, corresponding to the shape of the shell;
and this, of course, has led to much theorising to explain how it is
accomplished. Patent solvents secreted by the animal, the carbonic
acid gas given off from the breathing apparatus (which strangely does
not destroy its own shell!), and so on. A little study of Nature would
show that the wonderful organ which enables them to scrape away the
surface in long zigzag lines, as they crop the minute vegetation,
would be equally effective if applied to the spot upon which they
prefer to roost, and to which they habitually return after their
pastoral wanderings. The action of this tongue on the rocks can be very
distinctly _heard_ on the shore, though possibly not in the library or
the museum, where only the empty shells are admitted. It is worth while
dissecting a Limpet, and getting out this remarkable tongue, which is a
ribbon-shaped organ, closely studded with minute hooks of flint, to the
number of nearly 2,000. A similar _lingual ribbon_, as it is termed,
will be found in most of the Gasteropods.

I have dealt at such length with the Limpet, because its structure will
enable us to understand the other mollusks we have to mention, widely
as they may appear to differ in the forms of their bodies and shells.
The Limpet’s shell is a low cone, and the shell of a Whelk is a greatly
elongated cone, coiled spirally upon itself; the animal adapting itself
to that form.

[Illustration:
  SMOOTH LIMPET.       SMOOTH LIMPET, THICK VARIETY.
]

In addition to the Common Limpet (_Patella vulgata_) we have the Smooth
Limpet (_Patella pellucida_), which must be sought at low-water on
the borders of the laminarian zone. It feeds upon the Great Oar-weed,
and a peculiar variation will be found between the specimens feeding
on the smooth flat fronds and those feeding on the great stems. The
shell of the first is coloured a pale brown, pellucid as its specific
name suggests, the apex set very far forwards, and from it there start
backwards from three to six exceedingly fine radiating lines of a
dazzling brilliant blue. The specimens that live upon the Oar-weed’s
stems look entirely different, for the shell becomes thickened,
and consequently much more opaque, and its shape alters to enable
it to sit close on a rounded surface. It was formerly considered a
distinct species, and was named _Patella lævis_. So, too, the little
Tortoise-shell Limpet (_Acmæa testudinalis_), changes its form when
feeding upon the leaves of the Grass-wrack (_Zostera marina_), and has
then had the name of _Acmæa alvea_ bestowed upon it.

There are other forms of Limpets (though not species of Patellidæ)
to which we wish to refer, but we are getting far away from our
illustration of the Purple (_Purpura lapillus_), on page 208, to which
we must now hark back. The Purple is often known as the Dog Winkle.
It abounds upon the rocks between tide-marks, whence it may be picked
without the formalities necessary in the case of the Limpet. It comes
off easily, for its foot is small, but the moment it is disengaged from
the rock it retires into its shell and closes its door. Now apart from
the difference in the shape of the shell, here is another departure
from molluskan arrangements as illustrated by the Limpet. It is called
an _operculum_ (Latin, a cover or stopper), and is so attached to
the foot, that when the Purple withdraws from public view this comes
last, and fits the mouth of the shell so accurately that there is no
getting inside. In this case it is a horny oval disk, but in some
species it is strengthened by the deposit of layers of shelly matter
until it becomes of considerable thickness and quite stony. If we mark
our disapproval of the Purple’s lack of courtesy in slamming his door
in our face, by pushing against his door, he retaliates by exuding
a purple fluid, which is said to permanently dye fabrics a similar
hue. The Purple is not a vegetarian like the Limpet. His mouth forms
a fleshy proboscis, which contains a marvellous boring apparatus--the
modified tongue. Often you may pick up bivalve shells on the beach,
of which one has been pierced with a very clean and smooth round hole
near the beak. If you did not know otherwise, you might suppose that
this was the work of a person who desired to make a shell-necklace or
other ornament, and had bored this hole with the greatest of care,
and then had unfortunately dropped it on the beach. The truth is,
it is the work of the Purple, or some other carnivorous sea-snail.
He has the reputation of being very destructive to mussel beds, by
boring these workmanlike holes in their shells, and literally eating
the poor mussel out of house and home. That is the style in which
the Purple gets his living; but he has a Nemesis in the shape of the
Star-fish, and I have seen one Star-fish eating or digesting three
Purples at once. It is a case of “diamond cut diamond,” for you would
think a Mussel or a Limpet would be safe enough with the shell closed
down, and so you might suppose the Purple’s operculum would shield
him from the Star-fish; but as I have already described in an earlier
chapter, the Star-fish knows well how to deal with obstinate victims
who won’t show their noses outside the door when their enemy calls--he
digests them first, and swallows them afterwards. Here is a complete
reversal of the Shakespearean motto, “May good digestion wait on
appetite;” to be complimentary to the Star-fish we should say, “May
appetite on good digestion wait!” In the bottom left-hand corner of
the purple-and-limpet illustration, is a baker’s dozen of nine-pins:
they are the egg-cases of the Purple, which may be found in larger or
smaller patches on any rock where these mollusks abound.

[Illustration: NETTED DOG-WHELK.]

Among the weeds on the rocks we are sure to find the Netted Dog-whelk
(_Nassa reticulata_), with a rather dirty-looking shell. It is covered
with broad grooves crossed by fine lines at right angles, producing the
appearance of network, which gives it the distinctive name, netted.
Its scientific name also is suggested by the same appearance, for
_Nassa_ is Latin for a special kind of fishing-net. Like the Purple,
the Dog-whelk is carnivorous. There is a prettier species, with a thick
lip, called _Nassa incrassata_.

The true Whelk (_Buccinum undatum_) only comes within our province in
the shape of empty shells cast up on the beach, for its range is from
low-water to a hundred fathoms. In deep water it is very plentiful,
and fishermen who want it for bait, let down baskets containing pieces
of fish, which attract a large number to their doom. Their remarkable
clusters of egg-nests are frequently washed ashore with seaweeds; each
capsule in the bunch contains about half-a-dozen eggs. The shell of
the Whelk, rubbed down on a smooth slab of stone, affords an admirable
vertical section illustrating the structure of gasteropods.

[Illustration: RED WHELK.]

The Red Whelk is the _Fusus antiquus_, so-called because it abounds
in a fossil condition in the Red Crag of Essex, where also occurs a
reversed form--that is, with the spire coiled the contrary way, and
hence called _Fusus contrarius_. In Scotland it is the Buckie, or
the Roaring Buckie, for this is the shell in which the roar of the
sea resides. It is more esteemed than the Common Whelk as food by
the poorer population of Scotland. It occurs, like _Buccinum_, from
low-water to a hundred fathoms.

There is a fairly common shell, similar in size and general form to
the Purple, but bristling all over with flattened recurved hooks, in
clusters of threes. It is generally known as the Sting-winkle (_Murex
erinaceus_), one of a genus from which the celebrated purple dye of
ancient Tyre was obtained. Its familiar name it owes to its sharing in
the hideous crime of destroying edible species for the sole purpose of
gratifying its own base appetite. The fishermen have actually noticed
it in the act, and seeing the peculiar boring apparatus at work, have
thought this a sting. It is far worse than that, for a sting may be
survived, but no mollusk, I believe, gets over the attack of the boring
tongue, which changes its function when the boring is finished, and
becomes an instrument for tearing and masticating its victim’s flesh.

The exotic representatives of the great Cone-family of shells are
familiar and admired objects in collections as well as on nick-nack
tables in the drawing-room. We have no native species of the genus
_Conus_ but we have a number of representatives of the _family_ in the
Pleurotomas and Mangelias, though they do not approach very closely
to the typical form of a Cone-shell, with which we commonly associate
the spotted Cone (_Conus marmoreus_) of Chinese seas. The Seven-ribbed
Conelet (_Mangelia septangularis_) is like a tiny Buckie-shell--it is
but half an inch long--with bold longitudinal ribs, of which you can
count seven in one revolution of the shell. The shell is thick, of a
dull pinkish hue, and unprovided with an operculum. The outer lip is
notched where it joins the previous whorl. There are several British
species.

[Illustration: COWRY.]

One of the most charming of our native shells is the little Cowry
(_Cypræa europea_), which is so plentiful on most of our shores. Most
of us who have visited the sea-shore in childhood have had the delight
of hunting for this shell, empty and clean, among the ingredients of a
fine beach; but probably some of those who are most familiar with it
as an empty shell would scarcely recognise it for the same species if
they saw the living Cowry gliding along with his shell on his back. He
carries a pair of tentacles, with eyes at their base, and the long
curved tubular tongue ready for service; but the most singular feature
is that his mantle is used not merely to clothe the delicate body,
but a portion of it comes outside, and closely wraps the greater part
of the shell. In its younger days it had not its present beautifully
arched lip, which almost closes up the doorway of the shell, and
leaves but a narrow slit, delicately denticulated, to allow the foot
and mantle to pass through. Before maturity it had a wide mouth, with
a sharp thin edge to the outer lip, but that, you see, has now grown
over towards the inner lip. The colour of the shell may be described
as a flesh-tint on the upper surface, varying in intensity to both
lighter and darker. Many specimens bear on the crown of the shell three
ill-defined blotches of a very dark brown. The under surface is white.
The whole shell is ornamented by very regularly disposed transverse
ribs, which are rounded and polished.

There are several other cowry-like shells to be found generally
distributed, but by no means so plentifully on our coasts. One of these
is the Smooth Margin-shell (_Erato lævis_), smaller than the Cowry, and
with the lip curved outward, instead of inward as in the Cowry: it has
thus an external margin, whence the name. It is white and exquisitely
smooth. The animal is very similar to _Cypræa_, and it envelops its
shell in the same fashion. Of similar habit is the Poached Egg (_Ovula
patula_), though the shell is very different. The mouth of the shell
gapes widely, and the lip is thin and sharp. Its colour is white with a
pink tinge, and its appearance is so suggestive of its name that there
is little likelihood of mis-identification. It is a South Coast form.

A solid-looking shell, with a highly-polished surface, over which three
lines of arrow-heads are chasing each other, a perforation of the shell
just outside the inner lip, a fairly wide mouth, closed when at rest by
an operculum: these are the principal features of the Necklace Natica,
so-called because it deposits a large number of eggs, so agglutinated
into a broad spiral band, that the whole has been likened to a
necklace. So it is called _Natica monilifera_, and _monilifera_ means
necklace-bearing. The animal is an odd creature, whose mantle laps
partly over the shell, and the large foot is furnished in front with
a broad fold, which is turned back as a protection to the head. It is
herbivorous, and crops the seaweeds on sandy and gravelly shores, from
low-water to about ninety fathoms.

There is a very thin, ear-shaped shell, clear and fragile, known as
_Lamellaria perspicua_. It is not sufficiently capacious to accommodate
the whole of the animal, so parts of it have to remain permanently
outside; the mantle, for instance, cannot be withdrawn, and it folds
over, completely wrapping up the shell and hiding it from view. It is
an awkward thing to have your house so small that you cannot get right
inside, because in the sea there are so many hungry creatures always
roving about, and snapping up any delicate morsel that is unprotected;
and even some that are protected get swallowed up in like manner. But
_Lamellaria_ has learned how to make up to some extent for Nature’s
stinginess in the matter of shell-stuff. About a quarter of a century
since, Giard showed that _Lamellaria_ was to be found in association
with compound ascidians, a group to which we shall call attention in a
later chapter. Quite recently[6] Prof. W. A. Herdman, Director of the
Port Erin Biological Station, added greatly to the interest of Giard’s
observation by one of his own, which shall be given in his own words:--

[6] “Conchologist,” 1893.

“_Lamellaria perspicua_ is not uncommon round the south end of the Isle
of Man, and is frequently found under the circumstances described by
Giard; but I met lately with such a marked case on the shore near the
Biological Station at Port Erin, that it seems worthy of being placed
on record. The mollusc was on a colony of _Leptoclinum maculatum_, in
which it had eaten a large hole. It lay in this cavity so as to be
flush with the general surface; and its dorsal integument was not only
whitish with small darker marks which exactly reproduced the appearance
of the _Leptoclinum_ surface with the ascidiozooids scattered over it,
but there were also two larger elliptical clear marks which looked like
the large common cloacal apertures of the Ascidian colony. I did not
notice the _Lamellaria_ until I had accidentally partly dislodged it
in detaching the _Leptoclinum_ from a stone. I then pointed it out to
a couple of naturalists who were with me, and we were all much struck
with the difficulty in detecting it when _in situ_ on the Ascidian.

[Illustration: HORN-SHELL.]

“This is clearly a good case of protective colouring. Presumably the
_Lamellaria_ escapes the observation of its enemies through being
mistaken for a part of the _Leptoclinum_ colony; and the _Leptoclinum_
being crowded like a sponge with minute sharp-pointed spicules is,
I suppose, avoided as inedible (if not actually noxious through
some peculiar smell or taste) by carnivorous animals which might
devour such things as the soft unprotected mollusc. But the presence
of the spicules evidently does not protect the _Leptoclinum_ from
_Lamellaria_, so that we have, if the above interpretation is correct,
the curious result that the _Lamellaria_ profits by a protective
characteristic of the _Leptoclinum_ for which it has itself no respect,
or to put it another way, the _Leptoclinum_ is protected against
enemies to some extent for the benefit of the _Lamellaria_ which preys
upon its vitals.”

Since the publication of Prof. Herdman’s note, I have frequently found
_Lamellaria_ on the undersides of large stones at low-water on the
Cornish coast. I have always found it on _Leptoclinum gelatinosum_, and
can quite endorse his remark as to the difficulty of distinguishing
it. On one occasion I found no less than four specimens feeding upon
one patch of the ascidians, and pointed them out to a friend, who,
however, failed to see them until they were absolutely touched by my
finger. The shell is exceedingly delicate, and in the hands of most
persons would be hopelessly ruined at the first touch. The ordinary
methods adopted by conchologists for getting the animal from the
shell will not answer in this case; but I have a plan which succeeds
admirably. I give a specimen of _Lamellaria_ to an anemone of refined
tastes, who will deal with it carefully. _Bunodes verrucosa_ is my
favourite assistant, and he returns the shell clean and sound in a day
or two.

There are several species of Spire-shells (_Rissoa_) to be found
feeding in great numbers on Grass-wrack and Sea lettuce, and we shall
also find the empty shells in the sand. There are, however, other
forms that may be confused with them and with each other, that are
very plentiful in sand. These are the comparatively large Turret-shell
(_Turritella communis_), which is ornamented with spiral ridges, each
one running continuously from the apex to the mouth. In the Ruddy
Pyramid (_Chemnitzia rufescens_), which is much smaller, but of similar
form, the ridges run _across_ instead of _along_ the whorls, whilst in
the Horn-shell (_Cerithium reticulatum_), a similar effect is obtained
by several rows of very regularly arranged round dots in high relief.
A more distinct member of the family of Cerites is to be found in the
well-known Pelican’s-foot or Spout-shell (_Aporrhais pes-pelicani_), in
which the whorls are boldly tuberculated. When the shell has grown to
its full length, its annual stages of growth take a somewhat different
direction, and spread out in expansive lobes and corrugations until it
bears a fanciful resemblance in outline to the foot of the pelican. The
shell is about an inch and a half in length, and very thick. The animal
is carnivorous.

[Illustration: PELICAN’S-FOOT.]

Delicate specimens of the well-known Wentletraps (_Scalaria_) may
be found among fine sands. They are readily known by their dazzling
whiteness, the nearly round and flat-lipped mouth, and the bold curved
ridges that stand out across the whorls like cogs on a wheel. To this
genus belongs the Precious Wentletrap (_S. pretiosa_), from China, for
a single specimen of which as much as forty guineas has been paid. This
was in the days when shell-collecting without any scientific object
in view was a mania with some wealthy people; just as we have had the
tulip-mania, and now have the orchid-mania affecting persons who are
impelled by fashion rather than a love of knowledge or the beautiful in
Nature.

However we may be inclined to pass over the Periwinkle (_Littorina
littorea_) as a species too common to need any attention, it is bound
to thrust itself upon our vision at every turn among the rocks, where
it swarms. It appears strange that whilst this species is so largely
eaten by the poorer classes in towns as a “relish” for tea, the allied
and almost equally common species, _L. rudis_, should be let severely
alone. But the explanation is probably to be found in the fact that
whereas _littorea_ deposits her eggs in the ordinary way, _rudis_
retains hers until they have hatched out. Now seeing that the Winkles
of both species develop their hard stony shells before they hatch, it
would be impossible to eat _L. rudis_ without the great inconvenience
of having these hard gritty infants damaging one’s teeth. The smaller
red, or bright yellow shell, that may be found in abundance on the
rocks and weeds between tide-marks, is _Littorina littoralis_.

The seeker for shells on a sandy shore must do as the children
do--throw himself prone upon the beach, and hunt thoroughly, inch by
inch, examining the topmost layer first, then lightly scraping it off
and bringing fresh treasures to light. In this manner he will certainly
turn up the exquisite little Pheasant shells (_Phasianella pullus_),
that have the misfortune to be so small, or they would be greatly
esteemed for their rich colouring. They are very smooth, and of a white
or pale yellow hue, but so thickly covered with fine crimson lines
that at first sight this appears to be the colour of the shell. These
lines run parallel with each other, but with many curves, some flowing
gently, others short and acute. These lines vary much in thickness
throughout their length, here being very fine, there thickening
gradually and thinning off again. The shells are less than a quarter
of an inch in length, and the mouth is closed with an operculum. The
animal has the peculiar habit of moving first one half, then the other,
of its foot in progressing.

[Illustration: THE COMMON TOP.]

One of the handsomest of our common rock-shells is the so-called Common
Top (_Trochus zizyphinus_), though it is scarcely as plentiful as the
much smaller Grey Top (_Trochus cinereus_). It is pyramidal in form,
with an almost flat, broad base; the mouth closed by a spiral, horny
operculum. In some species there is an umbilicus, in others it is
wanting. The animal has two small fringed lobes between the tentacles,
and similarly fringed lappets to the neck. The sides, too, are lobed,
and several tentacle-like processes are given off from them.

The Grey Top (_T. cinereus_) is variable in colour. Usually it is
a dull yellowish grey, with inconspicuous dark zigzag marks upon
it; sometimes the ground colour is pinkish-white, with decided pink
markings, which present a checkered appearance. There is a deep and
wide umbilicus. In _Trochus zizyphinus_ there is no umbilicus, and in
the large Painted Top (_T. magus_), again, there is a very wide one.
This last-mentioned species lacks the smoothness of outline exhibited
by the other two, its whorls being more boldly ridged at their
junctions (_suture_). The animal has the head-lobes largely developed,
and it is brilliantly and variously coloured; hence its name. The Tops
are vegetable feeders.

[Illustration:
  VIOLET-SHELL.      RAFT OF VIOLET-SHELL.
]

On our South-western shores, when strong winds have blown from the S.W.
for days together, there are borne to us on the waves, and wrecked
upon our beaches, singular sea-snails from the mid-Atlantic. There the
Violet-shells (_Janthina_) float in myriads, and consume the still more
plentiful “Sallee-man” (_Velella_), a Jelly-fish we have mentioned
in a previous chapter. There are many singular features about this
_Janthina_. Like a shipwrecked mariner, it constructs a raft, secreting
glutinous material from the foot, in the form of many air-chambers
cemented together, and bearing beneath a large number of egg-capsules.
The shell is of somewhat similar shape to that of the Tops, but with
a much larger mouth. Its material, too, is so thin it can almost be
seen through; and on the upper part it is white, whilst beneath it is
coloured violet, whence its names. The animal has its head produced
into a thick muzzle, with a pair of tentacles and a pair of eye-stalks,
_but no eyes_. The breathing organs are two plume-like gills which
protrude from the shell.

[Illustration: SLIT LIMPET.]

We must return now to certain limpet-like forms, of which one, the
Keyhole Limpet (_Fissurella græca_), might be easily passed by as a
Common Limpet that has got damaged. In form and appearance the shell
is not unlike the common kind; the peculiarity consists in a short and
narrow slit at the summit, which has suggested the name. As a living
mollusk it must be sought in the laminarian zone, but the empty shells
are to be found between tide-marks. A smaller, but not very dissimilar
shell, has the keyhole not on the apex, but a little in advance of it.
This is the Perforated Limpet (_Puncturella noachina_). It is rarer
than the last, and is to be sought on the North coasts, where it lives
below the twenty-fathom line.

Yet another species is depicted in this cut. It is the Slit Limpet
(_Emarginula reticulata_), in which the notch or slit is in the fore
edge of the white shell; length of slit variable. Internally the shell
is thickened near the notch, and outside it is deeply grooved, so that
strong ribs radiate from the summit, and are themselves partly cut up
by lighter grooves transversely to the others. It comes up to low-water
mark, so may be taken alive from the shore. There is a second British
species, the Rosy Slit Limpet (_E. rosea_), much smaller, and sometimes
with the slit rosy, but this is not a reliable character.

On our Southern shores may be found--frequently on oysters--a shell
that may be said to be the highest development of the limpet type. Seen
from the point of view taken for our illustration, there is a long
gentle curve from the mouth to the beak, which is spirally twisted. The
general effect is to remind one of the conventional representations
of the Cap of Liberty. Owing to this cap-like form, it is known as
the Hungarian Cap, and the Torbay Bonnet (_Pileopsis hungaricus_). In
colour it varies from brown to an indefinite dirty-white hue.

[Illustration:
  HUNGARIAN CAP.      TUSK-SHELL.
]

The miniature elephant’s tusks represented in the illustration with
the Hungarian Cap are really shells, called Tusk or Tooth-shells
(_Dentalium_). They are represented of the natural size. The shell is
open at each end, and is tenanted by a strange little animal who is
attached to it near the small end. The Dentalium is not a very highly
developed creature, for though it has a head, it is quite a rudimentary
one, without eyes. But though it lacks eyes, it has a mouth, surrounded
by eight tentacles and into this go foraminifera and other minute
creatures it picks up on the sands and mud in deep water. We have two
British species, of which we may occasionally find the empty shells
washed up on the sands. Of these the Elephant’s-tusk (_Dentalium
entalis_) is very smooth and quite white throughout; whereas the
Grooved-tusk (_D. tarentinum_) is delicately grooved at the larger or
fore end, and tinged with pink at the small end.

[Illustration: SMOOTH MAIL-SHELL.]

In chipping off fragments of rock at low-water, upon which anemones
and other specimens are sitting, you may often get more than you
had thought, for sometimes when the piece of rock is placed in an
aquarium, other creatures will make their appearance, which were
unobserved before, owing to their colour, and the closeness with
which they attach themselves. One of these is the Bristly Mail-shell
(_Chiton fascicularis_), distinguished from other British species
by the possession of little bunches of short bristles, which are
arranged along the shell-border opposite each plate of mail. There is
considerable resemblance between these creatures and limpets, though
there are also important differences. Instead of the shell being in
one piece, it is composed of eight transverse plates, which overlap
at their edges, and allow it to be rolled up like a woodlouse. Each
plate is attached to the mantle by its front margin, and the mantle
forms a narrow border all round the shell. The animal, like the limpet,
has a broad foot upon which it creeps, mostly at night, so far as my
observations of _C. fascicularis_ go. Its head chiefly consists of its
mouth and jaws, eyes and tentacles being dispensed with as unnecessary
to its manner of life. The breathing organs are similar to those of the
limpet, but are arranged round the posterior end of the body only. The
shell is very flexible in all directions, so that the animal is not
constrained, like the limpet, to return to the same roosting spot each
time it wishes to rest.

There are a number of British species; the one figured is known as the
Smooth Mail-shell (_C. lævis_). It has a glossy shell of a reddish hue,
with a central ridge. The largest of the native forms is the Marbled
Mail-shell (_C. marmoreus_), whose delicately sculptured shell is
further ornamented with a mottling of browns and yellows. It is about
an inch and a quarter in length. The British species is almost as long,
but of much more slender proportions. The most plentiful form is the
Grey Mail-shell (_C. cinereus_), which does not greatly exceed half an
inch in length. It is not entirely grey, though this is the prevailing
tint, but there are delicate mottlings and streaks of many colours upon
it.

We now reach what we may very fitly term the Sea-slugs, for they
are creatures that externally have considerable resemblance to the
land-slugs, though structurally they are very different, and they are
far removed from each other in classification. The land-slugs (_Limax_)
carry a little shell embedded in their back, and their breathing organs
are internal; the Sea-slugs are entirely shell-less, except in the
embryo-stage, and their breathing apparatus is always exposed, and
situated on the back or sides. In consequence of this characteristic,
the Sea-slugs, as a group or section of the Gasteropods, are called
the Nudibranchiata, or naked-gilled mollusca. They are plentiful on
rocky coasts, where they range from half-tide to a great depth. The
best plan is to seek for them at low spring-tides, turning over stones
at the edge of the laminarian zone, when the slugs will be found at
rest on the under surfaces, in a more or less collapsed condition. They
will readily respond, however, to the attention paid them by putting
them in the calm clear water of our collecting bottles, and extending
their tentacles and branchial plumes, will explore their new quarters.
One of the most striking of these sea-slugs is the Sea Lemon (_Doris
tuberculata_), which is about three inches in length, broad, and with
the upper surface thickly studded with tubercles; this, in conjunction
with its colour, gives it a very close likeness to the half of a lemon
adhering to the rocks. As will be seen in the illustration, there are
two tentacles, and these are retractile within special cavities. The
branchial plumes are arranged in a crown-like circle in the middle
of the back, but near to the posterior end; and these also can be
withdrawn at the creature’s will. There are several British species,
some of them very small, and they range from low-water to twenty-five
fathoms, feeding upon zoophytes, sponges, anemones, and their own kind.

[Illustration: SEA LEMON.]

_Doris johnstoni_ is a smaller species than _tuberculata_, but
is worthy of attention on account of a certain resemblance to
_Lamellaria_. It is “got up” to mimic a sponge. There are no tubercles
on its surface, which is very finely roughed, so that it is sponge-like
to the touch. In colour it is creamy, wonderfully speckled with larger
and smaller spots of pale brown, that produce the effect of the porous
surface of a sponge, and the large spots are touched up with a darker
brown, to give depth to these false pores. When it is explained that
_D. johnstoni_ feeds on sponges like _Halichondria panicea_, this
colouring is easily understood, but its marvellous nature is not
lessened.

Some species of allied genera are quite remarkable, one might almost
say eccentric, in their ornamentation. _Ægirus punctilucens_, a species
found between tide-marks, is elaborately covered with large tubercles
and shining points; the branchial tufts assuming quite a tree-like
growth in miniature, around the orifice, which is placed further
forward than in _Doris_.

[Illustration: CROWNED EOLIS.]

The Crowned Eolis (_Eolis coronata_) has a slender body, long slender
tentacles, that cannot be withdrawn, and the back is covered with long
papillæ, gathered into a dozen spreading bunches. The two _erect_
tentacles behind the long pointed pair, if examined with a lens, will
be found to be beautifully ornamented by a series of annular plates.
It may be sought among the rocks at low-water, feeding chiefly on
the sertularian zoophytes. It is an active species, gliding over the
rocks, or swimming at the surface with its back downwards. They are
constantly waving their tentacles and moving their papillæ, from which
they exude a milky fluid when irritated, and even throw them off, as
a crab “shoots” his lesser limbs under similar circumstances. If kept
in an aquarium without suitable food, they become cannibals. _Eolis
papillosa_ is a similar species, the upper surface almost completely
covered with papillæ. It will be found under stones at low-water,
feeding on _Botrylli_ and other ascidians. If on a white species, it
will be wholly white, for like _Lamellaria_ and _Doris_, it goes in for
protective colouring. Introduce a specimen from a white ascidian into a
vessel containing, say, a crimson or brown Beadlet Anemone, and after a
few hours you will find the Anemone has disappeared, whilst the Eolis
has changed to the colour that the Beadlet was of. The papillæ of the
Eolis are really continuations of its digestive apparatus, and by this
simple arrangement a protective harmony is set up as often as it may
change its diet. Scientifically these papillæ are termed _cerata_.

[Illustration: SEA-HARE.]

[Illustration: SEA-HARE, FRONT VIEW.]

The last of our Sea-slugs does not belong to the Nudibranchiata,
for its branchiæ are concealed, and it possesses a shell--a thin,
flexible, translucent, convex plate, that covers the branchial plume,
and is itself covered by the mantle. My first Sea-Hare (_Aplysia
depilans_), was taken in ignorance. A hurried glance at a globular mass
of purple-brown jelly, among some small weeds, as I was hunting for
anemones, assured me I had something new to me, and I put it down at
the moment as a colony of compound ascidians; but on putting it into an
aquarium, I saw my mistake at once. The bundle unrolled, and some loose
wraps, shaking themselves out, resolved themselves into tentacles and
marginal lobes. The foot lengthened out, and I saw the creature had a
distinct neck, with a broad muzzle between the first pair of tentacles.
The second pair were folded, so as to present a strong suggestion
of the ears of a hare, and this is precisely the idea suggested to
fishermen in many countries, by whom the _Aplysia_ was first called
Sea-hare, or _Lepus marinus_. When it is viewed from the front, as in
the smaller illustration, the illusion is strengthened. It has the
habit of pouring out a violet fluid from the edge of the mantle when
handled, which is probably intended, like the Sepia’s ink, to produce a
cloud, under cover on which the Sea-hare can safely retreat. In other
days, this fluid was regarded with horror as a poison, and an indelible
stain. From this last notion the creature got its name, _Aplysia_,
which is from two Greek words, meaning unwashable, filthy. Its second
name, _depilans_, is also reminiscent of those old notions, for it was
thought that mere contact with the dreaded creature would cause the
hair to fall off. The Sea-hare of the present generation, however, is
quite harmless, as I can testify, whatever may have been the real or
assumed character of his ancestors.




CHAPTER XV.

CUTTLES.


The old trouble about a name crops up again. We have had to endure
star-fish, jelly-fish, shell-fish, and now there remains cuttle--no, we
will not say cuttle-_fish_. My neighbours, the brave Cornish fishermen,
do not say the word, neither will I. With them it is “cuddle,” with me
it shall be Cuttle, Squid, Octopus, and so forth.

The term Gasteropoda has been explained as comprising those mollusks
whose belly is also their locomotive base, so it will be easy to show
that the class Cephalopoda consists of those mollusks whose feet
(_tentacles_) are ranged round their head (Greek, _Kephale_, head, and
_poda_, feet). They are the most highly developed of all the mollusca,
and consequently come nearest to the back-boned animals (_vertebrata_).
In them we find the first form of a skull, for the nervous system is
more concentrated, and the brain has a cartilaginous covering. The head
is distinct, and there are two large and prominent though stalkless
eyes. The jaws are powerful, and these work in a similar manner to the
bill of a bird. There is a thick, fleshy tongue partly covered with
hooks for tearing flesh. The round or elongated body has usually a flap
on each side, which serve the office of fins. The respiratory apparatus
consists of two plume-like gills, enclosed in a large branchial cavity,
communicating with the outer waters by a siphon or funnel. They also
possess a bag of reliable black ink, of so readily soluble and miscible
a character that a little ejected through a special duct will raise
a dense cloud in the water with great rapidity, and under its cover
the cuttle can quickly disappear. The tentacles number eight in some
species, ten in others, and they are studded with a great number
of suckers, which appear to be set to work almost automatically on
coming into contact with any animal substance, to which they adhere so
perfectly that, unless the will of the animal interposes to release
their hold, it is easier to tear off the tentacle from the cuttle’s
body than to separate it from its victim.

[Illustration: OCTOPUS.]

The Cuttles cannot strictly be called shore creatures, but they are
very active, and come into every zone, the littoral as well as others;
and though we are not very likely to come across the animal itself, we
are sure to find Cuttle-“bones” upon the beach, and bunches of their
eggs. In our investigations of the rocks at low water, we may perchance
come across a specimen of the Octopus, hiding in its hole under the
weeds, or beneath a big stone we have just overturned. Occasionally,
too, it may be found in a pool that is covered by a fathom or so of
water at ordinary low tides. On being discovered, it immediately, and
with considerable force, ejects a stream of water through its syphon
from the branchial chamber, and by the recoil is sent backward through
the water. As it does so we can see the play of colour over its body,
showing that the pigment-cells are ever ready to accommodate themselves
to the surroundings, that the Cuttle’s skin may imitate them. It is not
very likely to discharge its inky cloud, for _Octopus vulgaris_ is not
so ready as other species to empty its ink-bag, and the ink is of a
thicker, less soluble nature.

The principal food of the Octopus appears to be the smaller crustacea,
and their hunting period after sunset. This is the reason why so common
an animal is so little seen. The shell is represented in the Octopus
by two short rods of shelly matter embedded in the mantle. The body is
like a round-bottomed bag, there being no side expansions (so-called
_fins_), and the arms are connected by a web at their base, the suckers
in two rows. The eyes fixed and staring.

Much more in evidence as a shore animal is the Sepia, the true Cuttle
(_Sepia officinalis_), which lives in shallow water, and whose
egg-clusters and broad internal shell we frequently encounter on the
beach. The Octopus has but eight arms all told; the Sepia is adorned
with other two, but these are different from the eight, and may be more
correctly distinguished as tentacles. They are much longer than the
Sepia’s body, very narrow, and without suckers, except near their free
ends, where they expand considerably. The outline of the body, apart
from the head and arms, is like that of a shield with pointed base.
There are narrow expansions right along the sides, serving as fins, the
suckers are stalked, and the large eyes are moveable in their sockets.
There are four rows of suckers on each arm, and the arms are short. The
shell is the familiar “Cuttle-bone” sold by bird dealers, to provide
imprisoned songsters with the necessary lime, and by chemists to be
pounded and used as a dentifrice. These shells are familiar to all, and
need not be described. They are exceedingly light for their size, one
of average proportions(7¼ by 2½ inches) weighing less than one ounce.
This is the average of the large shells one finds upon the beach, but a
full-sized one would be about ten inches in length. It is technically
known as the _sepiostaire_, but “Cuttle-shell” (not “bone”) is good
enough for common use. It should be observed that this shell serves as
a complete shield for the back of the Sepia, it being merely covered by
the mantle, to which, however, it is not attached. Besides its value as
a shield to the Sepia, it is also useful as a float, for the Sepia is
an active swimming creature, not a crawler on the sea-bottom like the
Octopus.

[Illustration: SEPIA.]

The Sepia’s ink-bag must not be forgotten; you are not likely to
forget it if you capture a Cuttle. On one occasion when I had been out
in the sean-boat capturing mackerel, I saw several Sepias swimming
about among the imprisoned fish, and a couple of these contrived to
be dipped up in the tucking mound, and cast into the boat with the
fish. One of these I claimed as part of my share, but when we landed
the creature was in such a mess with his own spilt ink that I essayed
to wash him in a pool. I soon tired of that, for the more I washed,
the more freely the ink was poured out. The Sepia sometimes visits the
fish-nets and seans in shoals, and does great damage to the catch; but
fish are equally fond of Sepia, and if you can get hold of a couple
of these, or of Squid, on starting for a fishing excursion, to cut up
for bait, you will scarcely want anything better. The Sepia’s eggs, in
clusters not unlike bunches of grapes, are frequently cast up on the
shore by storms, and there is no great difficulty in hatching out such
of the eggs as have not been injured by the buffeting against rocks
and shingle they have experienced. The young Cuttle is a miniature
_replica_ of its parent, and conducts itself as “a chip of the old
block.”

[Illustration: SQUID (_loligo_).]

The Squid (_Loligo vulgaris_) is a much longer and narrower species of
Cuttle, similar to the Sepia in its head parts, but the arms have but
two rows of suckers on each, though the clubbed ends of the tentacles
have four rows. The fins are short and angular, placed at the hinder
end of the body, which runs off to a long sharp point behind them. The
shell is not a broad expansion like that of Sepia, but more like a
pen with a long holder or shaft in front of it. Whilst the Squids are
splendid swimmers, they also crawl, head downwards. This is the species
that is chiefly sought for bait, and vast numbers are used in the
Newfoundland Cod-fishery.

There are a number of species of Cephalopods to be caught off our
coasts, but the only other that we are likely to find any trace of
upon the shore is the Little Cuttle (_Sepiola rondeletii_), whose body
is short, with rounded side fins, contracted at their base, and whose
entire length is only a couple of inches. The suckers are in two rows
on the arms, and in four rows on the tentacles; in this respect it
agrees with _Loligo_, to which it is much more nearly related than to
_Sepia_. It is a very active swimmer, and it has a small pen similar to
that of _Loligo_.




CHAPTER XVI.

SEA SQUIRTS.


The other day I was down in our porth when some of the fishermen of the
village came in after hauling their trammels. There had been a “good
bit of sea” running during the night, and the trammel had got fairly
filled with weed, so that it was necessary to bring it ashore to clean
it. If the naturalist is about when this happens, he stands a chance
of obtaining some deep-water specimens of interest to him. My eye fell
upon several masses of a clear greenish-white jelly, pear-shaped, and
firm to the touch. I knew what they were, but always anxious to get
local names for natural objects where they exist, I asked the fisherman
what they were. “Oh, I dare say you know, sir; but we always call
_they_ congealed water. Isn’t that right?” I admitted that they were
composed almost entirely of water, but denied that it was congealed.
It would be better, I added, to speak of it as a living leather bottle
full of water--and other things.

“What was it?”

Popularly speaking, it was a Sea Squirt. A naturalist would speak of
it as a simple _Ascidian_--_A. mentula_, to wit; and on being further
pressed, might tell you that the Ascidiaceæ constitute an order of the
Tunicata, which is now included among Vertebrate animals, though no
Tunicate possesses a backbone.

Our description of it as a leather bottle is more to the point, and
equally scientific, for the naturalist who bestowed the name Ascidian
upon this remarkable group of animals got that name from the Greek word
_askos_, a leathern bottle.

[Illustration:
  A. ASCIDIA VIRGINEA.

  B. CYNTHIA QUADRANGULARIS.
]

Look at these diagrams: they represent two common forms of Ascidians,
and it will be noted that they have a general agreement in shape with
the large specimens of _A. mentula_ we were looking at just now. Like
that, these have each two necks, though those of _mentula_ were closed,
and these are open at their mouths. If we had these in a glass vessel,
but still attached to pieces of the rock upon which they grew, we
should be able to see why one bottle need have two necks. If we were
then to drop a little finely-divided colour-powder such as indigo,
into the water, we should see two currents were in operation, one
flowing to the animal, the other proceeding from it. The first would
be flowing to the neck marked _a_ in the figures, and the second would
be issuing from the mouth of _b_. Naturally, we should at once suppose
that by means of some internal mechanism and system of valves, the same
current that was being induced at _a_, was being continued through the
creature’s body, and pumped out at _b_. Our supposition would be proved
correct by the fact that the colour grains streaming in were also
streaming out. But what happens to them between entering and departing
we cannot clearly see.

By the aid of another diagram (next page) we may get a better notion
of the Ascidian’s internal arrangements than by gazing through its
integuments. Here are all its parts marked with a letter as a guide to
its anatomy. It is a matter of astonishment to many fairly intelligent
people, to find that such soft creatures as Sea-squirts, Jelly-fishes,
Slugs and Caterpillars, are provided with a more or less intricate
machinery for carrying out all the functions of life. But so it is;
and here is the typical plan of arrangements inside our Ascidian. Here
the necks of the bottle are marked _a_ and _n_ respectively, and _a_,
by which the current of water flows in, is called the oral orifice.
Just inside is a series of tentacles (_b_), and below these we are in
the branchial chamber (_c_), where the great work of supplying the
blood with oxygen is carried on. The walls consist of a lattice-work of
blood-vessels, through whose tissues the blood takes up the molecules
of the life-supporting gas. Below this chamber the gullet opens and
is continued into the stomach (_g_), and beyond it is the intestine
(_h_), which in turn opens out through the anus (_l_) into another
roomy chamber, the _atrium_ (_m_) or atrial chamber, with its external
opening (_n_). _O_ is a ganglion or small brain, and _f_ indicates the
heart.

[Illustration: DIAGRAMMATIC SECTION OF AN ASCIDIAN.]

Now in order to get a correct idea of the Tunicates--as the group
in which the Ascidians are included is called--I wish you to note
the figures _d_ and _e_ in the same diagram. You will see that they
indicate two separate envelopes. The outer of these, represented by
the thick dark line, is of a tough, leathery nature, and is much
akin to vegetable cellulose in its character--a fact that caused
some little commotion in scientific circles years ago, when it was
first satisfactorily made out, for prior to that date cellulose was
considered to be purely a vegetable product. This outer coat is known
as the _tunic_, or test, and from the fact that all the species are
enclosed in such a tunic, the group gets its name Tunicata. The inner
coat represented in the diagram by the clear space between the thick
and thin marginal lines, is of a more delicate, more animal nature:
it is composed of soft though powerful muscular tissue, and by its
contraction the water, which always fills the interior of this “leather
bottle,” can be violently spurted forth--a phenomenon which has brought
upon these creatures the name of Sea-squirts. This muscular coat is
known as the _mantle_.

[Illustration: ORANGE-SPOTTED SQUIRT (_Cynthia aggregata_).]

The Ascidian has no proper system of blood-vessels, as we are generally
acquainted with them in higher animals. The blood flows about the
general body cavity, and is not confined to narrow channels as in
our arteries and veins. There is a heart, it is true, but one of the
simplest character, without any elaborate system of ventricles and
auricles, with their regulating valves. The Ascidian’s heart is simply
a tube open at each end, and by its steady pulsation--that is, its
alternate contraction and expansion, it sets the blood flowing to the
blood-vessels that line the walls of the branchial cavity, where it
absorbs oxygen from the continuous flow of fresh sea-water that passes
through it. When this end has been attained, a curious and unique
“reversal of the engine” takes place: there is such an opposite action
of the heart, that all this vivified blood is withdrawn from the
neighbourhood of the branchial chamber and sent flowing to remote parts
of the body.

[Illustration: _Ascidia mentula._

CURRANT-SQUIRTER

(_Styela Grossularia_).]

The flow of water through the branchial chamber is kept up by the
regular and unceasing lashing of eye-lash-like _cilia_, with which the
blood-vessels are fringed. This constant inflow at the oral orifice
forces the water through to the atrial chamber, from which it is pumped
out by the contraction of the mantle. Minute particles of matter that
serve as food are also brought in by the current, and find their way
into special grooves for their reception and digestion. The other
arrangements of the creature are equally simple. The nervous ganglion,
to which we have made reference, is its only brain, and it has no
proper eyes, only some pigment granules near the tentacles appear to be
sensitive to light.

Most of the Ascidians inhabit deeper water than comes within our range,
but we shall find specimens at low-water attached to stones and the
roots of seaweeds. We may even find specimens of _Ascidia mentula_ in
rock-pools, and others we shall discover on smaller stones and shells
that have washed in on sandy shores from greater depths. Among such
will be the Quadrangular-squirter (_Cynthia quadrangularis_), so-called
on account of the squareness of its apertures; and the Currant-squirter
(_Styela grossularia_), a very common form on dead shells, which gets
its name partly from its colour and partly from its form when it has
closed both apertures and become more rounded.

[Illustration: CLAVELINA.]

But there are many other forms of Tunicates that haunt our shores
either in deep water or upon the vegetation of the lower rocks. There
are some of more slender, more elongated form that live together in
bunches, their bases being connected by a kind of running rootstock,
which has the power to produce young individuals by budding from it.
This form is known as _Clavelina lepadiformis_, and is only about an
inch in height, of the form shown in the annexed diagram. In the
figure the reference letters are of the following signification: _a_,
branchial apertures; _b_, atrial apertures; _c_, young individuals
arising from the runners _s_.

[Illustration: SALPA MAXIMA.]

From this form it is an easy transition to the Ascidians known as
_Salpæ_. These have the branchial aperture (_b_) at one end, and the
atrial opening (_a_) at the other. In the figure the heart is shown at
_e_, and the branchial chamber at _d_. These _Salpæ_ are both solitary
and compound Ascidians, for it is a singular fact that the solitary
form as here shown produces buds which develop into a connected series
or chain of individuals. These, in turn, instead of reproducing the
species, in a similar manner produce eggs, each of which gives rise to
a solitary individual. In our figure of _Salpa maxima_, the letters _c_
indicate the points of attachment of the Salpa colony; and the next
figure represents a portion of the Salpa-chain.

[Illustration: PART OF A CHAIN OF SALPÆ.]

Frequently, in gazing down the sides of a still, deep rock-pool, we
shall observe a coating of dark grey jelly, in patches as big as one’s
hand, and on carefully taking off an inch or two of this, and examining
it with the lens, or a low power of the microscope, we shall observe a
number of elegantly-formed jars to be set in the jelly, and as we look
their mouths and necks are raised above the surface of the jelly and
opened. These are the branchial apertures of a colony of Ascidians
(_Leptoclinum gelatinosum_), and if we search around the mass we shall
shortly find a cone-shaped opening in the clear jelly, through which
a current of water flows. This is the common atrial chamber of the
whole colony. The clear jelly is the common outer tunic of the whole
community.

On the walls of overhanging rocks, at low-water, many fleshy clusters,
like pale-coloured strawberries will be found, of firm gelatinous
material, with a clear jelly envelope, through which the crimson dots
of the contained squirts may be seen. One form has a thick trunk, with
but slightly enlarged head, and consisting of a number of groups of
squirts: this is _Aplidium_; it has no common aperture. A more globose
head on a shorter stalk has a distinctly marked common opening: this
is _Polyclinum_. _Amaroecium_ has a corrugated exterior, and is more
cylindrical in form.

[Illustration: BOTRYLLUS.]

Other species will meet us of more symmetrical form, on flat weeds,
smooth stones, and under the overhanging brows of the large rocks
at low-water. These are of varied tints according to species, but
each with a starry pattern worked in with little purple or yellow
Ascidians. It looks as though six or seven of these had agreed to live
together for company’s sake and for economy; and here we find them set
in the jelly, and radiating from a central aperture, the common atrial
opening of the colony.

[Illustration: BOTRYLLUS VIOLACEUS.]

Here is a figure showing part of a patch of _Botryllus violaceus_, such
as you may find abundant on the rocks. _C_ shows the combined tunic
of the colony, _a_ the branchial openings, and _b_ the common atrium.
The general verdict on a patch of Botryllus would probably be that it
was some low form of sea-plant, for a naked-eye view of it reveals
no evidence of animal processes; yet, in spite of its vegetative
condition, this--in common with other Tunicates--is held to approach
nearest to the great back-boned races, the aristocracy of animal life.

But it is a sad story of missed opportunities and consequent
degeneration that the Tunicates have to tell of their race. Some
evolutionists hold that in the primeval Ascidian we must look for the
progenitor of the vertebrates. We know what the primeval Ascidian was
like, for the form is retained, according to a natural law, in the
larval stage of its present-day representatives. Roughly speaking, it
was like a tadpole, with a broad head-and-trunk combined, and a very
long, narrow tail, by the lashing of which from side to side it made
way through the waters, much as the boatman gets along by sculling
from the stern. At the front there was a rudimentary mouth with three
suckers, an optic organ, with a retina, lens, cornea, and so forth; an
auditory organ; the promise of a well-formed brain and nervous system;
and a rod in the tail might be developed into that backbone which is
the distinguishing mark of all the birds, beasts, fishes, reptiles, and
man himself.

[Illustration: LARVA OF A TUNICATE.]

Some of the primeval squirt-larvæ are supposed to have cultivated these
possibilities, and the grand vertebrate division of the animal kingdom
is said to be the result; but others went in for the _status quo_ and
inglorious ease. No developments for us, said they. They may even be
supposed to have anticipated the prayer formerly taught to rural school
children:

                “God bless the squire and his relations,
                  And keep us in our proper stations.”

Then they gave up wandering at random through the waters, and settled
down to a quiet and retired life on a piece of rock at the root of a
branching weed. Taking hold with their suckers, they soon discovered
that tails and sense organs were of no use to those who had forsworn
wandering, so they threw them off, and gradually assumed the wine-skin
shape that has ever since been the ruling fashion among Ascidians. All
that remains of the tail is a few fatty cells in the posterior part
of the trunk. The suckers by which it was attached disappear, and the
test grows over surrounding objects; the auditory organ disappears,
the eye retrogrades into a mere pigment spot, and the nervous system
degenerates into the solitary ganglion to which we have already
referred. It will thus be seen that the life-history of the Tunicates
is a dismal story of degeneration instead of development; but it is
none the less interesting on that account.




CHAPTER XVII.

SHORE FISHES.


We have no intention of attempting to give in this little book an
account of British marine fishes. That is a task that needs several
volumes for its accomplishment. But without going from the shore we may
make acquaintance with a considerable number of fishes. Where trawlers
come in we may, of course, see fish of all sorts, but as in most cases
the trawlers put in with their catch to the nearest market-port, we
shall take no account of this method of increasing our knowledge. From
time to time the local fishermen get strange things in their trammels,
such as enormous angler-fishes; one day one of our fishermen got a
porpoise in this way, and brought it ashore for my special benefit. But
these things also I shall treat as outside our bounds, which includes
only the fish we can find in the rock-pools, or under stones at
low-water, or can catch from the fringing rocks as they haunt the weedy
jungles of such places.

To begin, let us take some fair-sized rock-pool, between tide-marks;
one with irregular walls overgrown with green and purple weeds, and
pinkish coralline--with miniature caverns and clefts in the walls,
and a heavy stone or two at the bottom. In such a pool--and we know
hundreds such--we shall not fail for several examples of fish, though
we are not likely to find all the species here named in one and the
same pool. Three or four species of fish at the most is what we may
expect from one pool; but in several basins within a few yards of each
other we may get a greater variety.

In all probability the first species we shall see in the pool is the
Smooth Blenny or Shanny (_Blennius pholis_), which the boys in my
neighbourhood (South Cornwall) call Janny, and in other districts it
is the Mulligranoc. It is a true rock-fish, never venturing into very
deep water, and preferring those pools between tide-marks where it can
find convenient shelter in holes, or if so inclined can climb out and
pass a few hours under the moist weeds which the ebbing tide has left
uncovered. But it is never many inches from the water, and on the least
sign of alarm it is in the pool and invisible.

[Illustration: SHANNY.]

In many respects it is a clumsy, heavy fish, but its quick intelligence
makes up for defects of form--and we may add, makes it an interesting
fish to keep in a shallow pan with a few stones. You must have the
stones if you would have the Shanny comfortable, for he is strongly
averse to too much publicity. He likes to see and not be seen; and his
favourite attitude, so far as I have observed a number of specimens in
confinement, is on his side under a stone, with the head just peeping
out. In this position he appears to have one eye on the floor of
the tank, the other on the surface of the water. Look at him and he
follows your every movement with one eye. In this position he reminds
me strongly of a dog; indeed, in certain aspects of his profile his
head much resembles that of a dog. He acts like a dog, too, when he has
taken a limpet unawares, and has wrested it from the rock. This is not
an easy thing for a fish to do, and you might almost as well speak of
taking a limpet off-guard as of catching a weasel asleep. But for some
reason--perhaps to thoroughly ventilate his shell, or for the submarine
equivalent for ventilation--the limpet occasionally lifts his shell so
that there is about an eighth of an inch clear space between the edges
of his shell and the rock. He still retains his hold by means of his
powerful sucker-foot, but the wily Shanny, creeping silently up seizes
the shell in his strong lips, and before the limpet can exercise his
muscular powers by pulling down the shell and pinching the shanny’s
lower jaw, the fish, with a shake of his head, has wrested it off
the rock. He carries it about for some time, biting at the flesh and
gradually reducing it in quantity.

Each Shanny occupies his own private corner or crevice of the pool
and shuns the company of his fellows. In this matter he appears to
be a very morose fish, and further he resents anything in the way of
a friendly call. Should the Shanny, who lives in the grotto about
half way along the southern side of the pool, seek to call upon his
neighbour who lives in that delightful retreat at the bottom of
the west end, the latter will rush out at him like a mad bull and
effectually put the visitor to the rout.

In every pool there are a number of juvenile Shannies of various ages
and sizes, but of these the adults do not appear to take much notice.
One of the most noteworthy things about the Shanny--shared I admit
with many other fish, but still worthy of observation--is the rapidity
with which he can make himself practically invisible. It is not easy
to describe the Shanny’s coloration and markings, because it varies
so much in different individuals, and even in the same individual at
different times; but it may be said to be a mottling of greenish-grey
or brown marks, of which the strongest elements are a series of dark
broad stripes, running from the back to about half way down the sides.
The whole of the upper surfaces are liberally sprinkled with small
black or grey dots, and larger ones are scattered over the dorsal fin,
which is continuous from above the gills right along almost to the
tail, which is similarly spotted. There are very few spots on the long
anal fin which is hidden when the fish is resting; but the expansive
oval pectoral fins, which are often spread out widely, have the rays
well-spotted.

You lift up a big stone from the bottom of a pool and out rushes a big
Shanny, causing a great commotion in the water. He makes for a narrow
cleft where there does not seem to be nearly sufficient room for so
big a fish as he; but he has vanished. Knowing where he disappeared
you rout him out again, and once more he frantically flies round and
round the pool, perhaps leaping right out of the water into a tuft of
overhanging _Fucus serratus_. But as likely as not, after dodging about
for two or three turns and splashing the water about, he will quietly
drop to the coralline-covered floor right under your eyes, and you
cannot see him. So admirably does the indefinite marking of his upper
surface harmonise with the coralline and other matters, that he has
become as invisible as a nightjar on the moorland, or as certain moths
on lichen-covered tree-trunks. It will do you no harm to carefully
scrutinise every millimetre of the pool’s floor until you have detected
the Shanny’s whereabouts, but probably you will be assisted in this by
the Shanny himself, who, observing your quietness, will imagine all
danger is past and make a move.

Juvenile Shannies, though as ready to rush into cover as their elders,
are endowed with considerable curiosity; and if in early summer you
come upon a dozen of them sporting about a rock-pool, and will lie down
with your head and shoulders over the water, you will find that their
inquisitiveness is greater than their fear. One after another will come
from his retreat among the weeds and look up at you, rolling his little
eyes knowingly. Then they will creep up the sides of the pool, using
their ventral fins as feet, until their muzzles are out of water. Dip
in the tip of a finger, and they all vanish for a moment; then out
they come again, and slowly approach until they reach your finger; they
attempt to bite it, but their mouths are as yet too small, and then
rush off again. So you may keep them employed for some time, and it
will not be many minutes before several prawns join in the fun. This
may read like an ordinary “fish-story,” but it is a fact that may be
verified by any visitor to a rocky shore.

Next to the Shanny we shall probably find the most reliable fish as
a pool _habitué_ is the Father Lasher, Horny Cobbler, or Sting-fish
(_Cottus scorpio_). Put but the point of a stick in the pool where
the Father Lasher has his retreat under a stone, or drop a winkle
or a pebble in; in an instant he is out with open mouth ready to
swallow anything not too large for his very capacious maw. His
singular name appears to have been given to him on account of his
pugnacity and the villainous expression of his countenance, which
are supposed to belong to a creature who would not hesitate to give
his own parent a thrashing. My own opinion, based upon considerable
personal acquaintance with the Father Lasher is, that he is not
nearly so villainous as he looks. His case is similar to that of the
bull-dog, whose face is no index to the qualities of heart I am told he
possesses. The artists have not been fortunate in depicting the Father
Lasher, and I am not greatly surprised, for even the camera fails to
give a correct and life-like impression of him, which depends not alone
upon curves and lines, but upon colour also.

In some respects he resembles the Shanny in build, but is much broader
across the head and shoulders. He has the same wealth of fins, though
the dorsal fins are not continuous as in the Shanny, and the fin rays
though stout are soft. There is an inclination towards the tadpole
form, especially on the underside, and this tendency is exaggerated
by the fish puffing out his gills and sticking out his pectoral fins
when threatened or alarmed--or when he wishes to inspire with awe.
Just behind each eye and at the top of each gill-cover he has a
bony spine, with smaller ones all over his head, and the inflation of
his jaws and gills is for the purpose of forcing these out. Whether
he makes any use of them in actual warfare I am unable to state, but
they certainly add to his ferocious aspect, and in that way may protect
him from many assaults. The more barbarous of the coast-boys delight
in fixing corks to these spines, and setting Father Lasher free, get
amusement out of his vain efforts to seek his hole at the bottom of the
pool.

The Father Lasher’s colouring is a confusion of bands and circles
and spots; of browns and greens and greys; a serviceable coat that
harmonises well with all its surroundings, and one that is capable of
adaptation when the fish moves from a bare rock basin to one that has a
coralline lining. It can change from dark to light, or _vice versâ_. I
have had them almost white by keeping them in a white porcelain dish.
The underside is delicate yellow, or pearly white, or iridescent green
with darker mottlings.

[Illustration:
  FATHER LASHER.      WORM PIPE-FISH.
]

In his native pool the Father Lasher likes to take up his quarters
under a stone at the bottom, from which he can suddenly rush out at
anything he sees move across his field of vision. He does not wait to
see what it is; sufficient that it moves. Satisfied that movement is a
sign of life, he secures it in his cavern-like mouth, and then finds
out whether it is a palatable morsel or not; if not, it is summarily
ejected and, as he thinks, no harm is done. An angler who simply
desires sport can get it in a pool where lives a Father Lasher. Drop
down a baited hook, and it will soon be seized by him, but, as he
immediately retires to his den to chew it over, you may pull and pull
before you get him out. Probably you will lose several hooks before
you secure your fish. He is not at all a bad subject for an aquarium
proportioned to his size, and he soon becomes quite affable, allowing
himself to be taken out to exhibit the beautiful marbling of his
underside to friends. For this purpose I have held him gently with my
finger and thumb behind his pectoral fins, when he would obligingly
open his enormous mouth to show how well the jaws and palate are
furnished with teeth. When fully grown he attains a length of five or
six inches.

Our illustration on page 251 contains a portrait of the long and
slender Worm Pipe-fish (_Syngnathus lumbriciformis_), besides that
of the Father Lasher. A more striking contrast could not be desired
between fishes of the same length, for the Father Lasher is thick and
spiny, whilst the Worm Pipe-fish almost comes within the definition of
a line, “length without breadth,” and in addition he is as smooth as an
eel, though of harder exterior. This little fellow might more easily
pass muster as a worm than as a fish. It will more frequently be found
under stones at low-water, but occasionally we shall find it in the
pool twining S-shaped round some seaweed.

The peculiarity of the pipe-fishes, of which we have several native
species, is to have these long tapering bodies, with the snout drawn
out into the form of a beak, but which instead of separating into two
mandibles, opens only at the extremity with a little mouth. Another
distinguishing feature is found in the gills: instead of these being
a series of crimson frills covered by a large plate, fixed only by a
small portion of its edge, and freely opening to allow the passage of
water to and from them, their blood-vessels are gathered into little
tufts which are arranged in pairs. These are all covered in by a bony
plate that is fixed all round, with the exception of a small opening
near the top edge. Then instead of the body being covered with scales
as in many, or most, fishes, these are encased in large plates of mail.
In the male of our Greater Pipe-fish or Greater Sea Adder (_S. acus_),
there is another remarkable item in the shape of a marsupial pouch
of the same practical value as that of the Kangaroo, into which the
female transfers her eggs, and where they not only remain until they
are hatched, but the young fish also use it as a shelter for a time,
coming home unfailingly to roost. This is a fish that may be taken
freely among the weeds of bays and harbours, and as it reaches a length
of from twelve to fifteen inches, it is a giant compared with the
little Worm Pipe-fish.

The Worm Pipe-fish has no fins except that along the back (_dorsal_),
and its tail-fin is almost non-existent; it can, however, be found by
looking for it. It has no marsupial pouch, but the female contrives to
transfer her eggs to the abdomen of the male, where each sinks into a
little pit in which it is held until hatched. How this is accomplished
I have not observed; but as I have found the strings of ova
independently in my aquaria, I should suppose the male presses his body
upon them until they adhere. These eggs are one millimetre in diameter,
amber-coloured, and opalescent. They are firmly attached together in
rows of twos or threes, and these rows in circular strings. They are
firm to the touch and not at all adhesive, so the glutinous matter,
necessary for their adhesion to the male, must be contributed by that
parent. It is interesting to note that when these tiny creatures leave
the egg the tail has a proper broad fin at its extremity and extending
along both the back and underside. It has also pectoral fins; but all
these except a part of that along the back become absorbed, or are
otherwise got rid of as the fish grows and becomes more worm-like.
So smooth and round is this species that it presents little evidence
of being clothed in plates instead of scales, until one looks very
closely, when the outlines of each plate will be found indicated.

If the Worm Pipe-fish be captured with care, and soon transferred
to the aquarium, it will be found quite a hardy and interesting
inhabitant. Of course, its comfort must be studied, and to this end you
must provide a flat stone, so propped up that it is very close to the
bottom of the tank, yet with sufficient space beneath for the Pipe-fish
to wriggle about. I write these notes with such an arrangement before
me, and as I look down through the shallow water I see five slender
cylinders protruding like the barrels of tiny rifles from an ambuscade.
Couch makes the extraordinary statement that, “observation seems to
show that it is not able to raise itself above the ground, on which
it creeps in its endeavours to escape being caught, with a serpentine
motion much like that of a slow-worm.” Observation in my case serves to
controvert Couch. It certainly prefers to remain under stones, and it
is not constructed as a constant swimmer; but it does swim for short
lengths in its pursuit of minute crustaceans, and can be very active
when it pleases.

There are other blennies in the pool besides that one called the Smooth
Blenny or Shanny, and among those that we fancy are young Shannies we
may chance to find Montagu’s Blenny (_Blennius galerita_), a species
easily distinguished by a crimson crest with fringed edges, which it
erects on its head just above the eyes. Its tail and its pectoral
fins, too, are tinged with crimson. Another Blenny, though by no means
so likely to be found generally distributed along the coast is the
striking Butterfly Blenny (_Blennius ocellaris_). It is much like the
Shanny, but with larger and more rounded pectoral fins, and a much
higher dorsal fin. This fin is the feature that at once enables us to
identify the Butterfly among Blennies. It is often divided by one or
two depressions, so that it appears to be two or three fins; but the
important sign is a large deep blue spot surrounded by a light ring
over the centre of the body. This eye-spot gives it the specific name
_ocellaris_. It should also be noted that the first ray of this dorsal
fin is considerably longer than the membranous portion of the fin. The
colour of the fish is olive mottled with brown, but of course it varies
considerably like the species we have already described. Ocellaris has
two little crests upon its head similar to Montagu’s Blenny, and the
Tompot as afterwards mentioned.

In the illustration of the Butterfly Blenny there is a portrait of
a little rock-fish, one of the numerous tribe of Gobies. Several of
them occur in the pools, among them the Rock Goby (_Gobius niger_), or
Black Goby, as he is more often but inappropriately named, for he can
scarcely be said to have any permanent colour when his hues constantly
change as he changes his surroundings. Living among rocks he is more
often brown than black, with lighter and darker mottlings according to
circumstances.

[Illustration:
  LITTLE GOBY.      BUTTERFLY BLENNY.
]

The reader is advised to make himself acquainted with the names of the
various fins, and to count the rays in each, for these vary with the
species, and are often used in describing and identifying species. We
have introduced the names of these already, but we think it would be
an advantage to repeat them here, and then to use them throughout the
remainder of this chapter.

  The Dorsal fin is on the back; if more than one they are first
  dorsal and second dorsal.

  The Pectoral fins are a pair having their origin just behind the
  gills.

  The Ventral fins are a pair on the belly, behind and below the
  pectorals.

  The Anal fin is single, in the middle line of the underside
  between the vent and the tail.

  The Caudal fin is the termination of the tail, and the form of
  this is very important.

The Rock Goby has two dorsals, the first with six rays decreasing in
length as they get further from the head; the second with fifteen rays
of equal length. The pectorals are rounded behind; so are the ventrals,
which are united by a membrane. The anal fin is just under the second
dorsal, if we reckon from the tail forwards, but the second dorsal is
longer than the anal. The space between the dorsal and anal fins is
occupied by eleven or twelve lines of scales. Full-grown specimens vary
from six to nine inches in length.

The species figured in our illustration (page 257) is the Little
Goby (_G. minutus_), a fish from two to three inches in length, of
a yellowish ground colour minutely stippled with brown, its sides
alternately streaked with long and short dark stripes. Dorsal fins two,
the first rounded, narrow from back to front; the second wide from back
to front, and with slightly concave outline. It appears to be more at
home on the sandy than the rocky shore.

In pools that are lavishly decorated with hanging weeds we may find a
number of pretty fishes of a clear green or a rich brown colour. They
are the young of the Corkwing Wrasse, or Rath, as Cornish fishermen
term it (_Crenilabrus melops_), a species that grows only to a length
of six or seven inches. The Wrasses proper (_Labrus_), of which we
shall have something to say directly, are distinguished by the oblong
form of body, by having the gill-covers laid over with scales, and
by the long dorsal fin spread partly over spines and partly over
soft rays. The spiny portion is the three-fifths nearest the head, the
remainder being supported by soft rays. Other characters are thick,
fleshy lips and protruding teeth. The Corkwing is included in the genus
Crenilabrus, which is separated from Labrus on account of the margin of
the first plate of the gill-covers being toothed.

[Illustration: CORKWING WRASSE.]

In general the colouring of the Corkwing Wrasse is brown above, nicely
merging into green on the sides; the gill-covers ornamented with
stripes of red and green. But as we have already indicated, individuals
vary much in colour. From immediately behind the head there runs
parallel with the outline of the back a dark line (the _lateral line_),
which terminates in a well-defined round black spot close to the tail.
We must not look for large specimens, nor for the larger species of
Wrasse, in the pools; but if we get on the edge of the rocks when the
tide is coming in we are almost sure to see some of considerable size
gliding in and out the waving fronds of the rock weeds. They are easily
taken on a line cast from the rocks at this time, the hook being baited
with pilchard or a piece of shore crab. Many are caught in this way for
sport, and then handed over to the crabbers as bait for their pots. For
this purpose they are much appreciated, and special pots are put down
to capture “rath” for bait.

One of the commonest species is the Ballan Wrasse (_Labrus maculatus_),
which is _the_ Wrasse. The ground colour is usually some variation upon
golden orange, and many of the scales have a large pale spot which
earns for the species the name _maculatus_. The spines in the dorsal
fin are twenty, and the soft rays ten or eleven. Certain forms are
known as the Green Wrasse and the Comber Wrasse, under the impression
they are distinct species, whereas they are really colour varieties of
the Ballan Wrasse. The length varies in adults from fifteen inches to
two feet, with a weight of eight or ten pounds.

The Cook or Cuckoo Wrasse (_Labrus mixtus_) is another common kind,
not so large as the Ballan, but more striking in its vivid colouring.
This varies from yellow to red as a ground tint, with two roughly
parallel purple or bright blue thick lines running from above the eye
nearly to the tail. The large eye is crimson with a purple ring round
it, from which run off three short bands of blue or purple across the
gill-covers. All the fins red, the fore part of the dorsal suffused
with blue; a triangular patch of blue also on the upper and lower parts
of the tail. The dorsal fin has eighteen spines and thirteen soft rays.

Should we desire to see the life of the rocks without troubling to
obtain “specimens,” it is a good plan to repair at low tide to the edge
of a drang, and, selecting a station where we shall have a high rock
in front of us and a channel between ourselves and that, wait until
the tide turns. At first there is nothing but the rough floor of the
drang, with stones and rocks of all sorts and sizes scattered untidily
over it. The great broad, leathery fronds of oarweed and the smaller
fronds of bladder wrack and knotted wrack hang over the rocks in great
shaggy masses, and here and there, as though in utter collapse, are
the flaccid forms of the green and drab Opelet Anemone. But as we are
taking stock of the surroundings, there comes a ripple of water along
the deeper ruts and pools of the drang. Silently it streams along
filling the holes, and then gradually spreading right across the stony
floor, and creeping up and up the rocks until there is an inch or more
of it. Then what a change ensues. The free ends of the weeds float
in the stream, the smaller weeds on the bottom pick themselves up,
and shapeless masses become forms of elegance and beautiful colour.
What a few minutes ago looked like the “abomination of desolation,”
is now full of life. The waters are teeming with forms that seem to
rise out of the ground. Certainly they did not--many of them--come in
with the tide. No, they were hidden in holes, under stones, under the
limp weeds, and in crevices of the rock. Here they come. Prawns in
shoals, little Wrasse and big ones, the long lithe forms of Gunnel and
Rockling, the attenuated Fifteen-spined Stickleback, the Weever, and
many another. Our attention is taken by a waving black form near at
hand, and for a few minutes we are at a loss to make out what it can
be. It appears to be a plant of strange nature, for it is evidently
rooted at the bottom. And then a suspicion arises that the swaying
and waving of the ribbon is not entirely caused by the influx of the
tide, but we have not decided what it is, when up it comes with a
green shore crab at the other end of it. It is a small Conger that has
been struggling to bring into the light of day this crab, which it had
tracked to his hole in the bottom. In such a position the crab had
evidently something to cling to, but the Conger had fixed his teeth in
the crab, and it was only a question of time when the crab should be
unable longer to hold out. The Conger is rapidly off to his own special
haunt, there to eat the crab in peace.

The Conger Eel (_Conger vulgaris_) is for its size among the most
powerful of our fishes. The largest specimens, of course, are taken in
deep water, but individuals of considerable size are taken from the
rocks, where they have their retreats in little caverns beneath the
broad fronds of _Laminaria_. Jonathan Couch remarked that he had a note
of a Conger that had been taken weighing one hundred and four pounds,
and of another measuring seven feet two inches which weighed ninety
pounds. Even much smaller monsters than this have to be treated with
caution when caught, the fishermen usually striking them a smart blow
on the tail to disable them and so prevent much mischief. The upper jaw
of the Conger projects over the lower one, which is the reverse of what
obtains among the true eels (_Anguilla_); the dorsal fin, too, begins
much nearer, and as in the eels combines with the ventral fin to form
the tail.

When on the floor of the emptied drang turning stones and lifting weeds
aside, we shall probably hear a great splashing in the shallow pool
behind us, and turning quickly see the waters in commotion, but fail
to detect the cause. But we know from former experience that it is
either a Tompot, a Gunnel, or large Rockling. Fixing our eyes upon a
large stone towards which the surface ripples are setting, we advance
towards it and turn it over. “There he is! quick!” But no; he is as
slippery as butter and glides rapidly through our hands, though not so
quickly but that we could identify him as the Gunnel or Butterfish. We
set out after him again, and rout him out of the corner into which he
had retired in fancied safety. Next time he attempts to shelter under
a stone where there is a cavity only large enough to accommodate his
head and shoulders, but ostrich like, he thinks he is wholly concealed.
Keeping our shrimp-net close up, we seize him just behind the head,
but with a rapid turn his head is withdrawn from the hole and his body
glides through our hand again, and he rushes headlong into the net.
Safe this time, and soon he is transferred to the glass jam-jar where
we can admire his lithe form.

[Illustration: GUNNEL.]

The Gunnel (_Centronotus gunnellus_) looks as though by continually
pushing his way through narrow crevices in the rocks, he had become
laterally flattened. Were he a little rounded we might say his shape
was eel-like, for he is very long, and his dorsal fin stretches from
above the pectoral fin along to the root of the tail. On the lower side
the anal fin similarly extends to the tail, but neither of them merge
into the tail-fin as in the Conger. The colour is a yellowish-brown,
darker on the upper side, which is slightly mottled. Pectoral fins
yellowish. Close up to the dorsal fin on each side of the back is a
series of from eight to twelve--usually nine--very dark round spots,
each encircled with pale brown. The head tapers gently from the dorsal
fin to the small, equal jaws. It is generally known as Butterfish, and
anyone who has undertaken to capture one with his hands alone will
appreciate the fitness of the name, for it is so slippery that it might
have been freshly greased.

Other local names for it are Swordick, in allusion to its sword-shape;
and Nine-eyes, suggested by the ocelli on its back. The name by which
it is best known in books is the Gunnel, which originated in a singular
manner, according to Couch. It appears that John Ray, the celebrated
naturalist, made his acquaintance with this fish on the Cornish coast,
where it is common, and applied to a native for its name. The native
was probably a fisherman, one of a class that takes little account of
the inhabitants of the deep unless they are marketable sorts. He knew
no more about it than John Ray did, but casting around for some analogy
in the shape of the fish, he answered, “It looks like a gunwale”
(pronounced “gunnel”). He thought it resembled the gunwale of a boat;
but Ray naturally took “gunnel” to be the local name for the fish,
and so he inscribed it in his book, and Gunnel has been the English
book-name ever since, and has also been Latinized into _gunnellus_ to
form a scientific name.

To those who are satisfied with a cursory glance at natural objects as
they flash by in life, the Rocklings might pass for Gunnels, and the
Gunnel for a Rockling. The Rocklings’ colour, though more ruddy and
deeper, and their general form though much rounder, are sufficiently
similar to warrant the superficial observer in classing them together.
Their habitat, too, is much the same as the Gunnel’s; and if we go down
at low-water to the edge of the tide, and turn over the large flat
stones that are there, we shall be sure to find a few Rocklings of
various sizes--some a foot or more in length.

Our turning over of the stone is the signal for an excited rush, and a
splashing up of the water as the Rockling dashes from stone to stone,
from hole to hole. After having let him slip through our fingers, or
over our hands, several times, we corner him at last, and transfer
him to a large bottle in spite of his slipperiness. He proves to be
the Five-bearded Rockling (_Motella mustela_), as we see at once by
the four barbs on the upper jaw and the solitary one beneath. These
are really sufficient for identification purposes, for no other of
our shore-haunting fishes is decorated in precisely the same manner.
However, we will briefly indicate the appearance of the fish. The
dorsal fin commences at about one-third of the Rockling’s length,
reckoning from the front, and continues close up to the tail. The
anal fin starts a little beyond the vent and continues near to the
tail below. Pectorals rounded; ventral long and pointed. Just before
the beginning of the dorsal fin there is a long, narrow, and delicate
membrane that looks like another dorsal fin, but is not. Of the barbs
from which the fish gets its distinctive name, two are directed
forwards and upwards, two forwards and outwards, whilst the fifth goes
forwards and downwards.

[Illustration: THREE-BEARDED ROCKLING.]

The Three-bearded Rockling (_Motella vulgaris_) is very like the
last-named species, but has only one pair of barbs on the upper jaw,
and a single one on the lower. Mr. R. Quiller Couch discovered that one
or other of the Rocklings, probably all three--for there is another
species, the Four-bearded (_Motella cimbria_)--build a kind of nest by
jamming fragments of coralline into a cranny, and depositing their eggs
in the mass as the work proceeds.

From one nest-building fish to another is a very easy transition.

The Fifteen-spined Stickleback (_Gasterosteus spinachia_) has long
been famed to be a capital builder of nests. It is at low tide we are
most likely to find this fish, though it does occasionally occur in
the rock-pools higher up. We may be inclined at first sight, previous
to capturing it, to regard it as one of the Pipe-fishes, already
described; but its short and broad dorsal and ventral fins and its
deeply-cut jaws should be sufficient to at once identify it, especially
if an eye is turned to the threatening array of fifteen short stout
spines that arm the back in front of the dorsal fin. Its colour varies
from green to brown; in fact, the one individual changes in hue at
times. It is much larger than its familiar three-spined relative of
fresh-water streams and ponds, and usually attains a length of six
inches. The lower jaw is longer than the upper, and both are furnished
with teeth. By means of a mucus thread they are able to produce, they
weave and bind together some of the softer and more delicate seaweeds,
giving solidity by working in a few branching corallines, until they
have elaborated a large pear-shaped mass, as big as a man’s fist. In
this the eggs are deposited, and thereafter are watched assiduously
by the male parent, who will brook no interference, but will fiercely
attack any would-be spoiler of his nursery.

[Illustration:
  FIFTEEN-SPINED STICKLEBACK.      LESSER WEEVER.
]

Beneath the illustration of the Stickleback on page 267, there is
represented the fore-portion of the Lesser Weever (_Trachinus vipera_).
It is not strictly a shore fish, but it has the habit, shared by a
larger relative, the Greater Weever (_T. draco_), of half-burying
itself in sand and getting left dry by the ebbing tide. It _may_,
therefore, be found by one of my readers in one of those spits of
sand that occur between the rocks, and it is mentioned here, for the
sake of warning. It must not be caught in the hands like a Shanny or
Gunnel, for on the gill-covers of each side there is a long, hard, and
sharp spine, which the fish knows how to use with such effect that
whoever handles the Weever is likely to have a badly-injured hand.
Terrible stories are told by fishermen of its effects, much of which
are exaggerations; there is sufficient solid basis, however, to make
Weevers undesirable acquisitions, unless we require them for museum
specimens.

There is a glorious, or perhaps I should say a glorified, Blenny to be
obtained sometimes at low spring-tides. It is vulgarly known as the
Tompot, but it has also a literary name (by which I mean a term used
only in books) borrowed from the Italian, namely, Gattorugine; and its
scientific pseudonym is _Blennius gattorugine_. Its colouring is very
similar to that of the Rocklings, except that it is more finely mottled
and dotted. It has the general build and facial expression of the
Shanny, with the crest of Montagu’s Blenny. Its cheeks are full, its
lips thick, eyes large and prominent. The dorsal fin begins immediately
behind the head and continues right along the back to the rounded tail.
The anal fin is continuous from the vent to the tail; the pectorals
rounded, with fleshy rays, and the ventral reduced each to two
fleshy processes with which it feels its way, as do other species of
_Blennius_. It is frequently caught in crab-pots, whither it has gone
for the bait, but it is in turn skewered up as bait when the crabber
hauls and resets his pots. It grows to about nine inches in length.
Being scaleless, like most of the rock-fishes, it is exceedingly
difficult to catch with the hands.

[Illustration: TWO-SPOTTED SUCKER.]

The last of the rock-fishes to which we propose to call attention
are the Suckers (_Liparis_), which must be looked for under stones
at low-water. One of these is the pretty little fish represented in
our illustration, and known as the Two-spotted Sucker (_Lepadogaster
bimaculatus_), a species that rarely exceeds a couple of inches in
length. Its head is broad and flat, the snout sharp, and the tail
rounded. The lower jaw is shorter and narrower than the upper; and
the dorsal and anal fins are both remarkably short, each consisting
only of a few rays (five to seven) with the connecting membrane. They
are placed very far back, though widely separated from the tail.
On the underside at the broadest part of the body there is a sucking
organ, consisting of a double disk united to the pectoral and ventral
fins, and by means of which it quickly attaches itself to stones and
other objects. The general colour is orange mottled with red; but
specimens have been taken of a light brown, dotted with blue. There is
a beautiful eye-like spot on each side, a little behind the pectoral
fin; and it is to the pair of these that the species owes its name.
It should, however, be added, that specimens taken on the shore are
frequently deficient in this ornamental marking. It has a trick when at
rest--and these Suckers appear to be always at rest--of throwing the
hinder portion of the body round until the tail and the pectoral fin
nearly touch.

A much larger species is the Cornish Sucker (_Lepadogaster gouani_),
so called because it was first obtained from the Cornish coast. It is
about four inches in length, of a purple or crimson tint, the under
parts more inclined to pale red. Behind the eyes are two dark spots
in paler rings, and with blue centres. Near the nostrils on each side
are two branched thread-like processes, but of very brief length. The
dorsal fin quite occupies the hinder third of the Sucker’s back, and
with the shorter anal fin runs right up to the tail.

[Illustration: MONTAGU’S SUCKER.]

Montagu’s Sucker (_Liparis montagui_) belongs to another genus. It is
so soft and delicate that certain yellow specimens I find attached to
stones just below my study windows, look as though modelled in butter,
like young Canova’s butter lion. But Couch says its general colour is
chestnut-brown, lighter beneath. The head is broad and flat, the cheeks
chubby, the eyes small. The dorsal fin, which is marked with irregular
dusky clouds, has its fore-end just above the pectorals; it is there
very slight, but a quarter of an inch further back it gently rises to
its full height and continues with equal depth to the tail. The anal
fin is about one-third shorter than the dorsal, the curtailment being
at the fore-end. The tail and some of the fin-rays are prettily dotted
with black. Like the Two-spotted Sucker it reposes with its tail beside
its head.

[Illustration: TOPKNOT.]

And now for a short time we will leave these rocks, and step across
to the sandy shore that spreads for a little distance round this
segment of the bay. We shall not find much animal life there, except
what has been washed in with the loose weeds and rubbish. You see from
the absence of rocks there is no protection, and no firm basis in
the ever-shifting sands for one to make a home. It is only burrowing
molluscs, a crab or two, and two or three fishes that we may expect to
find. Occasionally, where the water is very clear, we may see small
flat-fish swimming in their strange but elegant fashion, and when
wading we may chance to put a bare foot on one that is resting on the
sand, where they are invisible. Among these may be the little Topknot
(_Rhombus punctatus_) of our figure, and the Flounder (_Pleuronectes
flesus_).

[Illustration: LESSER LAUNCE OR SAND-EEL.]

It is a common error to refer to the coloured upper surface of all
flat-fishes as the back; but they are not _de_pressed, they are
_com_pressed, as the position of the fins and gills should teach us.
When quite young their eyes were situated one on each side of the
dorsal line, but from their habit of resting always on one side at the
bottom of the sea, the eye that is below gradually comes to the other
side, so that in the adult flat-fish the pair are close together. The
Skates and Rays, on the other hand, have been flattened from above;
the mouth is underneath, where also are the gill openings, whilst
the eyes, at a proportionate distance from each other, are placed
symmetrically on the upper side.

If we take a trowel or spade we may succeed in digging up some
specimens of the Lesser Launce (_Ammodytes tobianus_), often
incorrectly termed the Sand-eel. He who would catch this beautiful
little fish must be very quick, for if, on being dug out, it is allowed
again to touch the sand, it will disappear with such speed as makes it
well nigh impossible to overtake it again. Couch says it rarely goes
from the sandy shores far into deep water. It swims in small schools in
the quiet waters of bays and harbours where it may be seen in summer
to be chased by mackerel and other fishes. It will be observed in the
accompanying figure that the lower jaw is longer than the upper, and
when the mouth is closed, the fleshy pointed edge of the under jaw
furnishes a valuable instrument for piercing the soft sand when the
Launce is thus beset by enemies. The outline of the fish is so evenly,
gently tapering that there are no elevations that can offer resistance
to its rapid progress through the sand. It has a clean, keen look,
as though the sand had been used for scouring and sharpening it. The
pectoral fins are long and narrow, but there are no ventral fins. The
dorsal fin extends almost from the pectorals to the tail at one height
throughout, and the same description applies to the anal fin in its
course from the vent to near the tail.




CHAPTER XVIII.

BIRDS OF THE SEA-SHORE.


One of the greatest charms of the sea-shore to the majority of visitors
is afforded by the marine birds in their varied occupations of flying,
swimming, diving, and walking. In these beautiful creatures the British
coasts are rich, even when we exclude (as we propose to do from this
chapter) the many species that frequent the mud flats of estuaries in
preference to the rocks and sands of the sea-coast proper. Strange
as it may at first sight seem, the sea-sands are in the hard weather
of winter the resort of multitudes of small birds from inland woods
and commons, which here seek their sustenance at the very time when
hunger induces the gulls to follow the plough and to penetrate far up
the rivers--even to such uncongenial places as London itself, where,
however, they are sure of a cordial welcome and a plentiful repast.
Then is the season for the starlings and the thrushes to take their
sea-change, and I have seen them in winter in great crowds upon the
sands, hobnobbing and competing with rooks, redbreasts, lapwings, and
finches of many kinds, for the odds and ends brought in by every wave,
and for the smaller mollusks, the marine worms and minor crustaceans
that the shore affords to the quick-eyed and the patient seeker.

But our business just now is more with those birds to whom the shore
and the adjacent waters are their every-day hunting-grounds, the place
where many of them lay their eggs and rear their young. One of the most
constant of these is the Rock Pipit (_Anthus obscurus_), whose happy
chirrup and light-hearted springy flight from sand to rock, or rock
to rock, are every day and all the year round features of the shore
on certain parts of our coast. In other places it is only seen at the
period of migration or in the winter months. It is a larger and darker
bird than the well-known Meadow Pipit (_A. pratensis_), and its hind
claw is more curved and not so long. The bill is black, with a little
yellow at its base, and the tail dark.

It prefers a spot where the cliffs are not too precipitous, or where
they exhibit sloping terraces grown with thrift and samphire, in which
the Rock Pipit may find a suitable little cave for its nest, with a
beetling brow in the shape of an overhanging piece of rock to protect
it from the rain. There it will make its nest of grass, hair-lined, and
deposit in it the five pretty green-grey eggs with evenly distributed
reddish-brown specks. I have often sat on Cornish rocks and watched the
Rock Pipit on the shore below, running along the lines of washed-in
weeds, and evidently picking out small mollusks and shore-hoppers; I
have found its nest also in the hollows of steep cliffs difficult of
access.

The Chough (_Pyrrhocorax graculus_) was at one time a common bird in
England, but it is now restricted to Ireland, the Isle of Man, parts
of Wales, and south-west England. Cornwall was formerly regarded as
its headquarters, and it was variously known as the Cornish Chough,
Cornish Daw, Cornwall Kae, Market-jew Crow, as well as by other names
not connected particularly with the Duchy; but so great have been the
onslaughts upon it that the Cornwall County Council has had to get the
Home Secretary to declare it a protected species, with a price upon the
head of the miscreant who dares to take its eggs in the Western Duchy.
Its plumage is black, with purple and green reflections, and its bill
and legs bright red. It fortunately nests in difficult places in high
cliffs, where it makes the nest which Yarrell describes as built of
“sticks lined with wool and hair,” in which it lays “four or five eggs
of a yellowish-white colour, spotted with ash-grey and light brown.”

The Jackdaw (_Corvus monedula_) often builds in holes in high cliffs.
We have found its nest far inside a rabbit hole that was probably
never intended by the rabbit as a means of entrance to or exit from
his burrow, but as a secluded place whence he could look out upon
the blue sea hundreds of feet below. But the rabbit had probably
been evicted, or had fallen a prey to the ravens that built hard by,
and the Jackdaw had taken possession. I knew the nest was there from
watching the excursions of the old birds, but it was only by lying
along a dangerously narrow ledge and pushing my arm in, right up to
the shoulder, that I could feel the nest and count the heads of the
five young Jacks. The nest of the Raven (_Corvus corax_) was in a hole
so high up the perfectly straight face of the rock, that its entrance
could only be reached by a person swung from the cliff fifty feet
above it. All one could do was to watch the young birds fly out in a
batch and hear the parental croaking that was evidently intended as
approbation of their progress.

[Illustration: SHAG.]

But to get to the distinctly maritime species, and first those of the
Pelican family. We have two native species of Cormorant, the Common
Cormorant (_Phalacrocorax carbo_) and the Shag (_P. graculus_). The
Common Cormorant, Great Black Cormorant, Cole Goose, or Skart, as it is
variously styled in different localities, is a bird of the rock-bound
coast, where there are detached masses of rock forming little islets,
and where the face of the high cliffs is broken into narrow ledges.
Such a coast will have at distances of a few miles its Shag-rocks
and Shag-stones, which are well-marked by an abundant coating of
white-wash. These are the resting-places whither the Cormorant and
Shag repair to eat and digest the fish they have just captured, two or
three miles further along the coast it may be. Similarly you may always
tell the situation of their nests on the high ledges of the cliffs,
though from the shore no part of the nest itself may be seen: but the
streaks of white-wash splashed far down the precipice have only to be
followed upward with the eye, and they will be seen to end just below
a narrow shelf. Upon that shelf the rough nest is placed, and in it
lie the four or five bluish-green eggs that afterwards become coated
with a white crust. The colouring of the adult is more or less green,
with patches of white on the neck and the outer part of the thighs. In
winter these white patches become less conspicuous, and the green of
its upper parts changes to a rusty black.

The Shag, Green Cormorant, Crested Cormorant, or Crested Shag, may be
distinguished from the other species by its entire green colour and its
smaller size. This difference in measurements, etc., may be put into a
readily-seen form thus:--

                       BILL         WING    TAIL FEATHERS     EGGS
  _P. carbo._      4½ to 5 ins.   14½ ins.       14          4 to 6
  _P. graculus_         3½ ins.   10  ins.       12          3 to 5

The two species are very similar in their habits, watching for fish
from their favourite rock, and when their prey is seen diving after it.
Sometimes they skim the waters and suddenly dive in after fish seen
through the water.

[Illustration: SOLAN GOOSE.]

Our other British Pelican is the Gannet or Solan Goose (_Sula
bassana_), whose breeding-places are restricted to certain islets
off the north-western coasts, such as the Bass Rock, Ailsa Craig,
and some of the jutting headlands of the Hebrides, where they build
extensive nests of dry grass, seaweed, and anything else that happens
to be handy when they are building. On this they lay their solitary
white egg, which must be described as small in proportion to the bird,
and ridiculously small compared with the nest. Great numbers gather
at their favourite breeding-places in the spring, and they are then
said to be very tame. In autumn these great assemblages, with the new
generation they have reared, break up, and the individuals distribute
themselves widely over the seas, where they follow at a height the
shoals of fish, suddenly diving straight to the mark and capturing the
fish selected for their prey.

The Common Grey Heron, or Hern (_Ardea cinerea_), though not usually
reckoned among maritime birds, is frequent on our shores, and may often
be seen to fly along, then settle with his feet in the water beside
some grey rock where he is all but invisible, and watch for fish and
other marine creatures.

[Illustration: OYSTER CATCHER.]

The ill-named Oyster Catcher (_Hæmatopus ostralegus_) is well
distributed along our shores, and it is no uncommon thing to hear its
loud and shrill rattling pipes, and turning at the sound, to see its
elegant form perched on a rock that is surrounded by water. In such a
prominent position its black and white plumage, its red legs, and long
red beak render it very conspicuous. I do not think it catches many
oysters, unless they be the fragile Saddle-oysters (_Anomia_) from the
rocks. The oyster of commerce and gastronomy (_Ostrea_) has too thick
and large a shell for it, though its bill is a strong one and capable
of breaking into the strongholds of small cockles, mussels, and Venus
shells. So far as the coast is concerned it selects sandy shores for
its breeding-places, where it may be seen running quickly up and down
at the very edge of the water. It makes no nest, merely selecting the
slight shelter of a tuft of grass on the higher, drier part of the
sands, and there it lays its three or four clay-coloured eggs, spotted,
blotched, and streaked with dark brown, and arranged with their narrow
ends close together. If there are four eggs in the clutch they will be
arranged cross-wise.

The Purple Sandpiper (_Tringa striata_) must not be looked for by
the summer visitor, for it only comes to these shores when it has
donned its winter dress. The same may be said of the Knot (_Tringa
canutus_), which is sometimes confused with the Purple Sandpiper, but
they may be readily distinguished in winter dress by examining the
upper tail-coverts. In _T. striata_ these are quite black, but in _T.
canutus_ they are white barred with black.

The Sanderling (_Calidris arenaria_) is plentiful in spring and autumn,
on the wet sands and adjacent rocks; its whitish underside showing
distinctly. The Redshank (_Totanus calidris_) is also common on many of
our shores; its winter plumage is uniformly grey above, white beneath;
but in spring this changes to brown, spotted and barred with black on
the upper parts, and the white of the lower surfaces becomes greatly
modified by the many streaks and spots of dark brown.

The Curlew (_Numenius arquata_) in its seasonal migrations has usually
some representatives upon the coast, though it is in the winter that
they are most commonly seen there, especially in the south, where they
spend the winter in flocks. The Whimbrel (_Numenius phæopus_), which
is a smaller Curlew, is often found on the same shores in winter and
spring. It may be distinguished not merely by the smaller stature, but
by a difference in the colour and markings of the head. In the Curlew
this has a light brown crown streaked with black, whereas in the
Whimbrel the same part is dark brown, with a pale buff stripe dividing
the brown into two equal portions.

The Terns (_Sterna_) have been well-named Sea-swallows, and a flock of
them flying, wheeling, and doubling, over the waters, presents a very
close resemblance of movement to that of the real Swallow. Several
species haunt our shores, some coming here to breed. Among these may be
noted the Sandwich Tern (_Sterna cantiaca_), the largest of the genus
that breeds here, which has a yellow-tipped black bill; the Common
Tern (_S. fluviatilis_), which has a _red_ bill, the tip of the upper
mandible only being black, and that not a very good black; and the
Little Tern (_S. minuta_) with a _yellow_ bill, black-tipped, and a
white forehead.

The Gulls (_Larus_) are, of course, abundant, and much time may be
pleasantly spent sitting near the edge of a grassy cliff, or some
distance up its face, and watching the flight of the gulls below,
sometimes rapidly as though time and tide wait for no gull; at other
times with an easy undulating motion as though it were not necessary
to hurry about anything, and scarcely necessary to move a wing when
sailing on a pair outstretched is so easy a matter. But the visitor
is often puzzled to make out the difference between those he commonly
sees, and this is never an easy task to a naturalist until he has spent
much time with them and made himself acquainted with the colour changes
of the birds from youth to adult age.

Below I am attempting to tabulate the most striking differences between
several species, taking in each case the adult plumage.

  +---------+-----+-------+--------------+------+--------+-----------+
  |         |HEAD | BILL  |  PRIMARIES   | BACK |  LEGS  |   FEET    |
  |         +-----+-------+--------------+------+--------+-----------+
  |Black-   |Dark |Red    |White, the    |Pearly|Red     |Red        |
  |headed   |brown|       |fore-edge     |grey  |        |           |
  |Gull     |     |       |of the first  |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |black; hinder |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |edges and tips|      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |of all black  |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |Common   |White|Yellow,|Black, spotted|Bluish|Lead    |With well- |
  |Gull     |     |dusky  |with white    |grey  |grey    |developed  |
  |         |     |at base|near tips     |      |        |hind toe   |
  |         |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |Herring  |White|Yellow |Black, tipped |Ash   |Flesh   |Pale flesh |
  |Gull     |     |       |with white    |grey  |coloured|coloured   |
  |         |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |Lesser   |White|Yellow |Ditto         |Dark  |Yellow  |Yellow     |
  |Black-   |     |       |              |grey  |        |           |
  |backed   |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |Greater  |Pure |Yellow |Black, tipped |Pure  |Flesh   |Flesh      |
  |Black-   |white|       |and barred    |black |coloured|coloured   |
  |backed   |     |       |with white    |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |              |      |        |           |
  |Kittiwake|Pure |Dull   |1st outer web |Pearl |Dark    |Hind toe   |
  | Gull    |white|clouded|black, others |grey  |lead    |undeveloped|
  |         |     |yellow |pearl grey    |      |coloured|           |
  |         |     |       |tipped        |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |with black;   |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |tips of 4th   |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |and 5th       |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |spotted with  |      |        |           |
  |         |     |       |white         |      |        |           |
  +---------+-----+-------+--------------+------+--------+-----------+

[Illustration: RAZORBILL.]

The Razorbill and the Guillemot are common birds on most of our coasts
where there are cliffs, but we shall see them chiefly as swimming and
diving birds as we walk along the shore. The Razorbill (_Alca torda_)
when swimming carries its tail parts higher out of the water than
the Guillemot (_Uria troile_), and is further distinguished by the
high compressed bill with white transverse stripes, the white stripe
from the bill to the eye, and the dark brown throat. The Guillemot
has a long, straight, pointed beak, white throat crossed by a greyish
cravat, continued from the mottled black and white of the back of the
head and neck. It is too common as a dead, sodden-plumaged bird in the
rock-pools after winter storms, which prevent it fishing, and starve it
to death. The legs and feet are greyish, the webs black.

The Black Guillemot (_Uria grylle_) breeds on cliffs in Scotland,
Ireland, and Man, but in winter also visits the south and south-west
coasts. Its summer dress is wholly black, save for a patch of white on
the coverts, but in winter the black is all replaced by white and very
pale grey. The legs and feet differ, too, from those of _U. troile_ in
being vermilion in the present species.

[Illustration: PUFFIN.]

The Puffin (_Fratercula arctica_) is identified readily, wherever seen,
by its conspicuous compressed orange beak of great depth from top to
bottom. This gives it a humorous aspect that belongs to itself alone;
but it is useful to it also, for it makes a very efficient cracking
instrument wherewith certain of the thinner shelled bivalves may be
utilised for the Puffin’s food. It is a great diver, and sometimes the
habit is its ruin. I have a fine specimen that was drowned by running
its head into the mesh of a mackerel-net, and failing to extricate
itself in time to prevent death by drowning. Young specimens are
sometimes blown in exhausted during winter gales. Many other birds are
similarly overcome.

The pretty little Storm Petrel, or Mother Carey’s Chicken (_Procellaria
pelagica_), whose stuffed body is before me as I write, was blown in
early in November, 1895. I tried to restore it to vigour, but it was
too far exhausted to take food, and this appears to be the common
condition of those that are blown in. On the same day many Gulls,
Guillemots, and Shags were washing into our “porth,” and several of
these were cared for, restored to health, and given their liberty a few
days later.

The Great Northern Diver (_Colymbus glacialis_) and the Fulmar
(_Fulmarus glacialis_) are also winter visitants to most of our shores.
It is thought the Diver may breed on some of our extreme northern
islands, but there appears to be no evidence that it does so. It is a
regular visitor to the Cornish coasts in winter, and it is well worth
watching from some rocky headland. It is large and powerful, and excels
not merely as a proficient diver with plenty of “staying power,” but is
a vigorous swimmer, and a very capable flier. It is a pity those who
see it are not more content with the sight, instead of being possessed
with the desire to get a gun and shoot it. One would like to see it
more often alive, and less frequently adorning the halls of country
houses near the coast.

The Fulmar is not of such general occurrence as the Diver, except
in the far north--St. Kilda, Orkney and Shetland. St. Kilda is
its breeding-place, and they are merely stragglers that put in an
appearance during winter on more southern shores. The hooked-bill and
tubular nostrils distinguish it from the gulls at a glance.

The Manx Shearwater (_Puffinus anglorum_) breeds on islands all down
the western coast as far south as Scilly; it is therefore a more
frequent visitor to our southern and western coasts, especially before
and after it is engaged on the important work of hatching and rearing
its solitary chick.




CHAPTER XIX.

SEAWEEDS.


It is to the rocky shore we must first turn our steps, if we desire to
obtain a wide acquaintance with the British Seaweeds: that is the grand
hunting ground for the Phycologist. In the rock-pools he will find very
many of the smaller species, and thickly coating the fringing rocks
are the larger, tough and leathery species of _Fucus_ and _Laminaria_,
forming at once a breakwater that largely destroys the force of heavy
seas, and a splendid cover for the soft-bodied creatures that swarm on
the rock-surface, and feed on the plants that protect them from the
fury of the waves. The ancients called them _inutiles algæ_, but in
the ocean’s ceaseless warfare with the land, the greatest obstacle the
former has to encounter is the network shield of seaweed, that breaks
the force of its heaviest blows. This is an utilitarian characteristic
of the seaweeds, for which Britons, at least, should be thankful, quite
apart from their minor importance as sources of food, physic, fodder,
and manure, and their æsthetic qualities.

The whole class of Seaweeds, with the solitary exception of the
Grass-wrack (_Zostera maritima_) belong to the flowerless division of
plant-life, and to that section called Algæ. They are plants of simple
organization, being innocent of wood or other complicated tissue; the
whole plant being made up of cells, though in the higher families
there is an approach to the formation of vessels and tissues. They are
absolutely without roots, though the larger species are attached to
rocks or other algæ, by what appears to be a root. This organ, however,
does not penetrate into the substance to which it is attached, but is
a mere sucker, sticking tightly to the surface, and taking no part in
the absorption of food for the plant, which is effected by the entire
general surface of the frond from the surrounding waters, in which it
floats in a more or less erect attitude, but yielding to every movement
of the sea.

The seaweeds are all reproduced by spores, but the structure and
production of these differ in the different groups, some being asexual,
and others the result of a distinct sexual process. To this matter we
shall give further attention by and by.

[Illustration: CHANNELLED WRACK.]

The most striking seaweeds owing to their size and abundance are those
comprised in the _Fucaceæ_, all the species of which are olive-brown
in colour. There are four species of Fucus which are very abundant on
our shores, as well as representatives of other genera included in
the family. On the highest of the rocks, that only become covered by
high spring-tides, and are only washed by rough seas, there grows in
abundance a little leathery plant called the Channelled Wrack (_Fucus
canaliculatus_). During the greater part of its existence it is dry and
shrivelled and of black hue, but when covered by the tide it absorbs
the water, and becomes soft, with an olive-brown tint. The frond is
much branched, the segments long and narrow, the edges being turned
in so that on one side they appear to be deeply channelled. It is
the smallest of our species of _Fucus_, and is readily distinguished
from its congeners, not only by its size, but by the channel-like
folding, the absence of air bladders, and the lack of a mid-rib. At
the extremity of some of its fronds there are irregular warty pod-like
organs of a dark orange tint. These are known as the _receptacles_,
and they contain the elements necessary for the production of spores,
whereby the plant is reproduced. In one plant these elements will be
all male (_antherids_), in another all female (_oogones_). If you will
examine one of these club-shaped orange organs with your pocket lens,
you will observe that its surface is pitted with a considerable number
of round pores, and if you cut across the whole body just on the edge
of one of these pores, you will find it communicates with a globular
cell in the substance of the receptacle. These cells are known as
_conceptacles_, and their number corresponds to that of the pores.
Their walls are clothed with a felt-work of threads, upon which are
borne, in the male conceptacles, minute egg-shaped cells (_antherids_),
which ultimately burst, and set free thirty-two or sixty-four
tadpole-like bodies (_antherozoids_), each with two tail-like threads
(_cilia_) attached to the under part. By the lashing of these organs
they make their way out through the pore of the receptacle into the sea.

With the development of the antherozoids, a similar activity has taken
place in the female conceptacles, where bodies approaching more to an
ellipsoidal or spherical form (_oogones_) have appeared, and their
contents have broken up into two, four, or eight smaller bodies (the
_oospheres_). On their escape into the water, they are each surrounded
by a number of the antherozoids, which pierce the substance of the
oosphere, become absorbed in it, and so fertilise it. Development then
commences in the oosphere, and it gives rise to a new _Fucus_ plant.
This form of reproduction is by no means common to the whole class of
seaweeds; on the contrary, there are many important variations of it,
which for want of space we shall be unable to refer to in detail. This
is the highest type of reproduction in the Algæ.

The Channelled Wrack never exceeds a few inches in length, but another
species, which agrees with it to the extent of possessing no mid-rib,
varies from two to six feet. This is the Knotted Wrack (_Fucus
nodosus_), which may be at once identified by the possession of
solitary bladders in the centre of its rib-less frond, and producing
a very gouty appearance at intervals. These are air-cells, sometimes
measuring two inches, which give buoyancy to the plant. Above the
bladders the frond divides, and from these branches (but not at their
extremities, as in the Channelled Wrack) the pear-shaped reproductive
organs are produced.

[Illustration: BLADDER WRACK.]

Another Wrack that possesses these vesicles, is the so-called Bladder
Wrack or Black Tang (_Fucus vesiculosus_), though there is little
danger of confusing the two species. The Bladder Wrack has a much
broader, flatter frond than the Knotted Wrack, and a very distinct
mid-rib. The bladders, too, are smaller, and instead of being solitary,
are arranged in groups on each side of the mid-rib. The plant is about
two feet in length, and exceedingly plentiful.

[Illustration: SAW-EDGED WRACK.]

Very similar, and equally plentiful, is the Saw-edged Wrack (_Fucus
serratus_), with flat, branched fronds and mid-rib, the branches much
broader than in Bladder Wrack, and the edges cut into bold, sharp,
distant teeth. Its usual length is from two to three feet, but it may
occur as long as five or six feet. The width of frond also varies, for
it may be anything between half an inch and two inches. Where the
frond branches the mid-rib becomes thicker and bolder. It is quite
innocent of bladders. The name of the genus is founded upon the word
_Phukos_, which is the Greek name for a seaweed.

[Illustration: POD-WEED.]

Almost equally plentiful with those species of _Fucus_ we have
named, is the Pod-weed (_Halidrys siliquosa_), with long attenuated
compressed fronds, four or five feet in length, much branched, most of
the branches being exceeding short, but others ending in air vessels.
These are ribbed transversely, and bear a very close likeness to the
seed-pods of the furze. They run out to a narrow point at the free end,
and are divided into small air-chambers within. But there are other
pods that contain the reproductive elements, and these may be known by
the pores by which their surfaces are perforated. The name _Halidrys_,
signifies sea oak (Greek, _Hals_, the sea, and _drus_, oak), but
the why and wherefore of the name are not easily determined. If the
abundant pod-like vessels are kept in mind, there is no difficulty in
knowing this species the first time it is seen.

At low-water, you will often find, attached to the rocks, a shallow
horny cup, or button, of olive hue, about the size of a penny. This is
the Sea-thongs (_Himanthalia lorea_), which gets its name from a very
long, branched, strap-like growth from the centre of the cup. The cup
is the frond--the plant proper--and the extraordinary straps, which may
be half an inch wide and twenty feet long, are merely the receptacles
containing the reproductive organs, which open by pores all over their
surfaces. The receptacles are not produced until the second year of
the plant’s life, so that many examples will be met consisting of the
cup-like frond only. It is a local plant, and not therefore to be found
on all parts of the coast.

In the lower series of tide-pools, a tufted weed attracts the sight
by reason of its brilliant iridescence, which often causes it to be
plucked from its native pool, only to be thrown back again, for on
emergence from the water all the beautiful play of colour has gone.
It does not appear to have any common name, but to give it a chance
of being popularly known, let us call it the Rainbow Bladder-weed
(_Cystoseira ericoides_). The many branches of its frond are full of
little bladders, whence its scientific name (_Kystos_, a bladder;
_seira_, a cord), and it gets its specific title of _ericoides_ from
its habit somewhat resembling that of the Heath-plant (_Erica_). A
tuft pulled up and carefully overhauled will afford the zoologist a
number of diverse forms of life. Several species of crustacea make it
their home, and the leaf-worms hide themselves in the centre of the
little bush. Mollusks, sponges, and ascidians are there also, and the
description of the animal inhabitants of such a tuft would make a fair
chapter.

All the species of seaweeds to which we have already referred, are
members of the class Fucaceæ. We have now to take a glance at other
brown and olive weeds, some of which are the giants of the tribe, but
which belong properly to the deeper waters, though every gale will
make us well acquainted with their forms heaped up upon the shore. In
this class--known to botanists as the Phæosporeæ--the reproduction is
generally of a lower type than in those we have been considering. In
the majority of forms there is no sexual process, the species being
reproduced, as a rule, by zoospores, which are somewhat similar to
the antherozoids of _Fucus_. They are produced in special cells, the
contents of which break up into a number of these zoospores, which
escape through a pore, and germinate.

Getting down into a drang at extreme low spring-tide, we shall find
the rocks to seaward covered with Tangle (_Laminaria digitata_), whose
huge round stems clasp the rocks with their claw-like false roots.
The leafy portion is broad, of a pale olive-brown, and slit up into
several sections, so that the whole frond has a rough resemblance
to the diverging fingers of a huge hand: hence its name, _digitata_
(having fingers). The substance of the frond is thick and leathery. A
species with undivided glossy narrower fronds, puckered and frilled,
is the Sugar Tangle (_Laminaria saccharina_), so-called because, when
drying, it produces on its surface a white powder of a sweet taste,
called _mannite_, or manna. This substance can also be obtained from
the cells by maceration. Subsequent evaporation of the brew results in
a deposit of crystals. This is the species that inland trippers carry
away on their visit to the coast to act as a hygrometer, hanging it on
a nail, and feeling it from time to time to find if it is dry and hard,
or moist and pliable, for its cells readily absorb moisture from the
atmosphere, and as readily part with it when the air is again dry and
clear.

A third species is called the Sea Furbelows (_L. bulbosa_), and it may
often be found washed up in great heaps after a storm. It springs from
a great hollow sphere, which is perforated, and thus affords a home for
many creatures. This so-called bulb is sometimes a foot across, and
from its stem there is a great expanse of thin leather split up into
many broad ribbons. These three species, with the larger _Fuci_, are
largely used by farmers near rocky coasts for manuring their fields,
and in former days, more widely than now, they were employed in the
manufacture of “kelp” and iodine. These Laminarians have the curious
habit of casting off the _lamina_ or blade of the frond each year, by
a constriction above the stem, whence a new one grows. This, too, it
should be stated, is the growing point, the blade increasing in length
by additions near the stem, instead of by the lengthening of the free
end. The spores are produced in large patches upon the surface of the
frond.

The Badderlocks or Murlins (_Alaria esculenta_) of our northern coasts,
belongs to this group, but is distinguished from the _Laminaria_ by
the possession of a mid-rib or central nerve. The stem is short and
cylindrical, and the blade of the frond ranges from three to twenty
feet in length, usually much torn by the waves. There are a number
of finger-like receptacles given off by the stem, and in the outer
coats of these are the conceptacles bearing the spores. The plant is
used as food by the poorer classes resident on the shores where it
is plentiful, and is eaten raw, when it is said to be the best of
our esculent seaweeds; the parts preferred are the mid-rib and the
receptacles. “Badderlocks” is a corruption of Balder’s locks, the split
fronds being likened to the locks of the Scandinavian hero Balder, to
whom all plants except mistletoe swore fealty.

To this class also belongs the slender and very extensive Sea Lace
(_Chorda filum_), which consists of a rounded frond, hollow, and
without branches. It is remarkable how tenacious the thong-like, slimy
fronds are, and it is not difficult to imagine the difficulties of a
swimmer who should have to force his way through a bed of them. The
tubular interior is divided up into a number of cells by transverse
partitions; and the spores are embedded in the outer surface. It
prefers a sandy or muddy bottom in creeks and harbours, and in such
places it grows in dense patches, the fronds attaining a length of from
twenty to forty feet. The free end is constantly dying off, but the
plant increases by growth at the lower end, just above the false roots.

The Fennel-leaved Netweed (_Dictyosiphon fœniculaceus_) is abundant in
rock-pools all round our coast. As its name implies, the frond is much
branched and thread-like. It is a light olive in colour, and grows in
tufts on stones and larger weeds. The arrangement of the cells in the
walls of the frond produce a net-like appearance.

Everyone knows the thin flat transparent fronds of Sea Lettuce (_Ulva
latissima_), which grows everywhere on the coasts, its margins
crisped, folded, torn, or otherwise diversified by Nature, or the many
things that feed upon it. It is mentioned out of its place here,
in order that we may bring into its proper order a plant that is
frequently taken as a mere aberration of the _Ulva_. This weed is the
_Asperococcus turneri_, a hollow green bladder on a short stalk, and
rough with the spore-bearing organs. It is commonly found adhering to
stones between tide-marks.

[Illustration: PEACOCK’S TAIL.]

One of the most beautiful of our seaweeds is known as the
Peacock’s Tail (_Padina pavonia_). It is really a tropical species, but
its range of distribution extends to our most southern shores, and,
strange to say, without suffering any deterioration in its brilliance
of hue or its stature. From a very narrow base the frond gradually
expands to a broad fan-shape, and the edges are curled in so that it
assumes a cup-shape. But the chief beauty of the plant is given by
a number of concentric lines and bands. Several of these bands are
white, as though they had been chalked: their colour is in fact due to
a chalky powder, _calcium carbonate_, which is secreted by the plant.
Many of the lines are formed by a fringe of glistening hairs, which
reflect the light and break it up into all the colours of the spectrum,
and a more distinct fringe decorates the upper margin of the frond.
Reproduction takes place by the formation of large spores, which are
found in heaps between the zones. These are known as _tetraspores_,
because the contents break up into four smaller spores. Sometimes this
weed is what botanists term _proliferous_, that is, it produces new
plants upon its frond. Like all those showing iridescence, it is a
much more beautiful species in the water than in the herbarium; though
it is not without beauty there, and it is a prize eagerly sought by
collectors.

It is worthy of note that fresh-water Algæ are, with very few
exceptions, green, whilst few of the marine species are truly green;
brown and olive, and red, are the prevailing hues. The green marine
weeds are nearly all found in shallow water. Of course, they all
possess the green colouring matter called _chlorophyll_, but in the
deep-water species, according to Murray and Bennett, “it appears to
be essential ... that the green colour of the chlorophyll should be
masked by a coloured pigment, red in the case of the Florideæ, brown
in those of the Phæosporeæ and Fucaceæ.” It is from these latter
classes our examples have been already drawn; we must now give a turn
to the Florideæ, which contains many of the most popularly sought
species, because they are often so charmingly tinted and so delicate in
structure.

It must not be supposed from the foregoing remarks that the whole of
this class are red weeds; the majority are not only red but brilliant
red; whilst others are purple, brown, yellowish, or dirty-white. They
are chiefly small weeds, but they make up for the want of stature in
their delicacy of texture and fineness of division.

A very beautiful genus of delicate red and purple weeds, chiefly
growing upon the larger and coarser kinds, is called _Callithamnion_
(Greek, _Kalli_, beautiful, and _thamnos_, shrub). Some attain the
length of half a foot, but most of them are much smaller. They require
careful examination with lens or microscope to decide the species, and
oftentimes in order to distinguish them from other finely branched
red weeds. For their proper discrimination we advise reference to
a book devoted exclusively to Seaweeds, such as Landsborough’s,
Gray’s, or the splendid “Phycologia Britannica” of Harvey. The general
characters of the genus are: frond branched, often pinnate, consisting
of jointed threads, with tetraspores scattered along the branches.

Other small red seaweeds will be found, representing several
genera, but they require the assistance of coloured figures to make
descriptions interesting and useful. There is the silky _Ptilota_,
with finely divided fronds, consisting of cells alternately filled
with a pink and a transparent fluid; the rosy red _Griffithsia_, with
thread-like fronds and clear transparent joints; the forking threads
of _Ceramium_, their tips curled in towards each other; the exquisite
_Plocamium_, with its flat crimson, hair-like branches, toothed on one
side only.

The Coralline (_Corallina officinalis_) grows in every pool, and its
stony-coated joints are well-known, though it is a shock to some
persons to find it classed among plants, when they had long imagined
it to be related to the corals of which necklaces and islands are
constructed. There are, in fact, several genera whose members secrete
carbonate of lime, and so hide their vegetable character. The coralline
was, however, once soft and flexible. _Melobesia_ is equally stony,
but grows in thin horizontal pink and purple plates or solid masses.
A little weak muriatic acid will soon dissolve the lime, and reveal
its true character. _Jania_ somewhat resembles _Corallina_, but its
branches are exceedingly slender, and much shorter than _Corallina_.

Among the larger red weeds that will attract attention at low-water, is
the coarse textured _Halymenia ligulata_, of dark crimson hue, whose
strap-shaped fronds support other straps by very slender attachments.
It is closely related to _Rhodymenia palmata_, a very common red
seaweed, that is eaten in Scotland, Ireland, and on the West coast
of England, under the name of Dulse or Dillisk, though it is said to
be a not very desirable food when anything else is to be obtained.
Its fronds are roughly fan-shaped, consisting of a great number of
radiating ribbon-like lobes, of a purple colour. Its texture is like
that of parchment. It will be found parasitic upon the stems of _Fucus_
and _Laminaria_, at very low-water. A more slender and ragged, thin
textured species is _Rhodymenia jubata_ with irregular outgrowths all
along its edge, some of these fringes developing into long lobes.
Another species that is also eaten as Dulse is the _Iridea edulis_,
which glitters with bluish iridescence when immersed. It has fronds
about six or seven inches long, expanding into a broad oval at the free
end, and thinning off to a wedge-shape at the base. It is represented
in the illustration of the Prawn, on page 163.

The Pepper Dulse (_Laurencia pinnatifida_) is a much smaller species,
that grows abundantly in the pools and the rocks around them, standing
the repeated scorching-up when the tide withdraws, as well as does
the Channelled Fucus, its companion. It roughly resembles a miniature
Polypody fern, but of a purple colour.

[Illustration: CHONDRUS CRISPUS.]

Another edible weed is the well-known Irish Moss or Carrageen
(_Chondrus crispus_), which was in such favour years ago as an
invalid’s food. It is well shown in the illustration, but is subject
to great variation, especially as regards colour, ranging from
greenish-white, and yellow, to a dull purple. In some of its forms
it closely resembles _Gigartina mamillosa_, to which it is not very
distantly related, and the danger of confusing the two is increased by
_Gigartina_ often growing amongst _Chondrus_. The tips of _Gigartina’s_
frond, however, are usually broader than those of _Chondrus_, and
the frond is rough, with little tubercles like grape-stones (Greek,
_gigarton_), which contain the spores. The usually purplish fronds will
be found, on cutting them across, to be not solid, as they appear, but
composed of delicate threads, in a firm clear jelly.

A pretty little red weed, that is abundant in the rock-pools, growing
upon other weeds, is the _Chylocladia parvula_, which has swollen,
cactus-like ovate joints, of a clear red, appearing as though they were
skins filled with liquid. It is allied to _Plocamium_ and _Rhodymenia_.

[Illustration: ASH-LEAVED SEA-WEED.]

The most striking of all these red-spored algæ, at least, so far as
the British flora is concerned, is the (for a seaweed) extraordinary
Ash-leaved Seaweed (_Wormskioldia sanguinea_), whose frond has a
distinct leaf-like form, with a mid-rib and branching nervures. Its
texture is so very thin, that in spite of its beautiful rosy tint, if a
specimen were laid upon this page, the print could be read through it.
Its margins are more lax than the mid-rib, so that when mounted for the
herbarium, the edges show many foldings over. The plant was formerly
placed in the genus _Delesseria_, but is now separated on account of
important differences in the matter of propagation. In this species
minute leaf-like organs spring from the mid-rib, and may be taken for
young plants springing from the parent, but these are really the bodies
that bear the spores.

The Winged Delesseria (_Delesseria alata_) is a finely and intricately
branched plant, of a rich dark crimson colour, with a suggestion of a
mid-rib, along each side of which is a narrow expanse of thin membrane,
the “wings” of its popular and technical names. It occurs in thick
tufts on the stems of _Laminaria digitata_.

My space is getting rapidly used up, though I have only been able to
mention a few of our fairly common seaweeds. There are still two or
three that I must mention. One of these is an exceedingly pretty little
form, which would be very like a soft feather that has been cast by
one of the greener varieties of the canary-bird, if it were not so
vividly green. The weed is called _Bryopsis plumosa_. It will be found
growing on the shaded walls of deep pools, and if the eye is placed
just over the edge of the pool, the Bryopsis will be found growing at
right angles with the wall, and looking so very feathery that it will
be identified at once.

Another green weed that should be mentioned is the _Enteromorpha
compressa_, of the same texture as the Sea Lettuce (_Ulva_), already
mentioned, but forming a narrow tube of rugged shape, that is
ordinarily collapsed, but sometimes inflated with oxygen gas. It is
represented in the illustration of the Sand Launce on page 275. A
tuft growing on a stone or limpet-shell, is a valuable addition to
the aquarium, for it will continue to grow, and many of the animal
inhabitants will find their food in it. Crustaceans, fishes, and
mollusks are all fond of it.

The reader who has patiently accompanied me thus far, will probably
make up his mind to preserve some of these beautiful weeds, and I
should strengthen any such intention; but let me advise that some care
be expended upon the work. Select your specimens with care, and be not
satisfied until you have, by patient seeking and overhauling, secured
fairly perfect examples with, as far as possible, the fruiting organs.
These must be carefully laid out, and gently pressed between sheets of
absorbent paper, just as in the case of flowering plants. But it should
be always remembered that the specimens as taken from the sea are more
or less coated with salt, and will never thoroughly dry until this is
removed. The first care then should be to well rinse them in clear soft
water, a few specimens at a time, to avoid leaving any for long in the
fresh water, which rapidly destroys certain species if they are left
in it for more than half an hour. Lay them out in as natural a manner
as possible, separating the delicate divisions of the frond with a
camel-hair brush. When thoroughly dry and hard, mount specimens of one
species only on the same sheet of paper, and neatly write the name of
species near the bottom left-hand corner, and near the opposite margin,
the place where, and the date when, collected.




CHAPTER XX.

FLOWERS OF THE SHORE AND CLIFFS.


Just as in walking along the shore we have on one hand a region
inhabited by specialised races of animal and plant-life altogether
different from those of the land, so also on the landward side we have
flowering plants distinct in most cases from those found but a short
distance inland. Strictly speaking, the stretch of shore, whether it be
shingle, sand, or rocks, does not form a barrier separating sea plants
from those of the land, for the terrestrial and the submarine overlap
through the medium of the frondose lichen, _Lichina pygmæa_, which,
belonging to a terrestrial group, spends half its day in the water
and the other half exposed to the atmosphere. The pretty Sea-Milkwort
(_Glaux maritima_) takes up the connecting thread on the land side,
and establishes its roots and woody base jammed in the crevices of
rocks, where they must absorb more salt water than fresh, and at times
it must be entirely covered by the sea. That this salt is thoroughly
congenial to its nature we may gather from the fact that the only
inland localities where _Glaux_ grows are the salt-producing districts.
It attains to only a few inches in height, and its small, smooth,
stalkless, glaucous leaves are thickened like many other shore plants,
and dotted all over with minute pits. The flowers are devoid of petals,
but the bell-shaped calyx is coloured of a flesh-tint, and sprinkled
with very small dots of crimson. Its flowering period is from May to
August.

In similar situations grows the beautiful little Sandwort Spurrey
(_Spergularia rubra_), with many slender compressed, ruddy stems
radiating from a woody rootstock; the leaves slender, awl-shaped,
unequal in size. Petals fine, bright rosy; anthers yellow. Flowers June
to September.

Like conditions of life often produce similar effects on different
organisms. Growing close to the Sea-Milkwort, just above high-water
mark, and continuing thence some distance up the cliffs, is the
Samphire (_Crithmum maritimum_), with similar woody rootstock similarly
wedged in rock-crevices, and with all its parts thickened. The glaucous
leaves are cut up into cylindrical fleshy segments, and the yellow
flowers are borne in clusters, the fleshy stalks of the individual
blossoms radiating from a common centre like the ribs of an umbrella.
It may be unnecessary to explain that this type of flower-cluster is
characteristic of the Natural Order Umbelliferæ, to which the Samphire
belongs, and that it is to the same order that such well-known plants
as carrot, hogweed, fool’s-parsley, and celery belong. Samphire is much
sought for pickling, and this has led to its extermination on many
parts of the coast. It flowers from June to September.

Fennel (_Fœniculum officinale_) is another seaside umbellifer, and
its tall, straight, and polished stems may be found growing up the
face of the cliffs, the much-divided feathery leaves producing a green
cloud-like effect. The same glaucous tint characterises the whole
plant, except that the flowers are yellow. July and August are the
months in which it may be found in blossom.

One other umbelliferous plant that is strictly confined to the shore
is the so-called Sea-Holly (_Eryngium maritimum_), though this must be
sought not on the rocky cliffs, but on sandy shores. Its dense heads
of pale-bluish flowers without a stalk nestle close to the broad and
spiny-edged glaucous leaves (glaucous again), that bear a wonderful
_primâ facie_ resemblance to those of the unrelated holly-tree. It
flowers in July and August, but the plant is easily recognised out of
its flowering season by means of the bold leaves.

But the glory of cliff vegetation to my mind is the beautiful
Thrift or Sea-Pink (_Armeria maritima_), whose tufts of thick,
narrow, grass-like leaves extend from the wave-washed rocks right
up the cliff-side, and over the stony hedges at the top. It flowers
sparingly all the year round--I have gathered it within a few days of
Christmas--but the brilliant display is in April and May, when every
clump supports many long-stalked, half-round heads of the rosy flowers,
that make so beautiful a setting for the nests of the cliff-building
birds. Thrift is not absolutely peculiar to the coast, for it is found
also on high mountains; in the Scottish Highlands it occurs at an
altitude of nearly four thousand feet above the sea. There is a larger
and more rigid species (_A. plantaginea_) that grows on sandy banks in
Jersey.

A relation of the Sea-Pink is the Sea-Lavender (_Statice limonium_),
which grows where sand and mud are more abundant than rocks, and in
some places covers the sand-hills with a growth not unlike that of the
heather on inland sand-hills, and at a distance the purplish flowers
are very suggestive of heather in such a situation. They are not
gathered into a compact head as in Thrift, but are scattered along a
branching spray. It has a creeping rootstock of a woody character,
from which all the leaves spring directly. These are oval in general
outline, running off to a point at the upper end. It flowers from July
to November.

On the sandy shore where grows the Sea-Lavender there will, in all
probability, also be seen a bold-leaved plant, with large, golden
yellow flowers, which the tyro in botany will notice at a glance has
some sort of relationship with the familiar Eschscholtzia of the
garden. It is the Yellow Horned Poppy (_Glaucium luteum_), and the
above-mentioned tyro will say that this time the glaucous hue of
the leaves (from which this species and _Glaux_ both derive their
scientific names) is not wholly due to its seaside habit, for the same
hue is characteristic of Eschscholtzia and the Opium Poppy (_Papaver
somniferum_), which are cultivated flowers. Quite so, but probably
their original home may be near the sea, though the texture of their
leaves is not so fleshy as in our maritime plants of glaucous hue.
The bold, rough leaves make the plant conspicuous even in winter. The
name of Horned Poppy is suggested by the form of the seed vessel,
which is similar to that of Eschscholtzia, but thicker. It is a
prominent feature of the flower--which loses its petals after one day’s
blossoming--but they ultimately extend to a foot in length. The flowers
may be found from June till October.

Saltwort (_Salsola kali_) is also a plant of the sandy shore, with
rigid brittle stems, striped and bristly, and fleshy, glaucous leaves,
nearly cylindrical in shape, with spiny points. At their base the
leaves become broader and partially clasp the stem. The little flowers
are leafless, borne in the axils of the leaves, and to be seen only
in July and August. This is one of several plants that were formerly
burned to make Barilla, an impure carbonate of soda, much used in
the manufacture of soap and glass, before the discovery of the cheap
production of soda from common salt.

If my friend the reader is acquainted with the beautiful white-flowered
Bladder Campion (_Silene cucubalus_), of inland hedgebanks, and
he should chance to come upon the nearly allied Sea-Campion (_S.
maritima_), he will think he has the old familiar plant, so closely
are the two related; but a comparison will convince him there are
differences. For instance, the stems of _maritima_ are shorter and less
erect than those of _cucubalus_. The flower-cluster (_panicle_) is in
_cucubalus_ many-flowered; in _maritima_ the flowers vary only between
one and four in a cluster, and their petals are not so deeply cleft.
The two scales that are obvious at the base of the broad part of the
petal in _maritima_, are very obscure in _cucubalus_. _Maritima_, too,
has smaller leaves and larger flowers, and the scales (_bracts_) below
the flowers, which are dry and semi-transparent in _cucubalus_, are
here more fleshy. It flowers from June to September.

Everybody is well acquainted with the pretty Field Convolvulus, or
Small Bindweed (_Convolvulus arvensis_), and as they have just seen
it growing in abundance in the fields they passed through on the way
to the shore, they may reasonably conclude that these larger, more
richly-tinted blossoms that grow on the sandy shore, are simply more
luxuriant examples of the same species. In reality they are produced
by a distinct kind, the Sea-Convolvulus (_C. soldanella_), which
differs from the common kind in the fact that clasping the base of the
flower and covering the sepals, there are two large leaf-like bracts,
whereas in _arvensis_ these are small and placed at some distance below
the sepals. The leaves are fleshy, broader than long, the stems are
shorter, seldom more than a foot in length, and very rarely do they
twine around anything. The flowers, as we have said, are larger and
more richly coloured, only one on a stalk, whilst the common sort have
usually from two to four.

The Sea-Rocket (_Cakile maritima_) is abundant on most sandy shores.
It is a large succulent plant, about two feet in height, with
zigzag branches, and smooth, fleshy, glaucous leaves; flowers with
four purplish white petals, arranged cross-wise. The flowers are
succeeded by large succulent pods, that are divided into two by a
cross-partition; each chamber contains a solitary seed. It is this pod
that is most likely to arrest attention. It flowers in June and July.

Wall Pennywort, or Navelwort (_Cotyledon umbilicus_), is an abundant
weed in the rocks and walls of the west coast, but travels no further
east than to Kent. Its tuberous rootstock is wedged into the crevices
of the rocks and cliffs, or between the flakes of which stone dykes
are built. The leaf, as the name suggests, is round, with the stalk in
the centre; it is also thick and fleshy, the severity of the margin
taken off by a series of low, rounded teeth. Some of these leaves are
large--as much as three inches across. When the flowering stalk makes
its appearance, another type of leaf comes with it--spoon-shaped. The
flower-stalks bear drooping cylindrical flowers, greenish-white in
hue, densely crowded, and all hanging downwards. It is a very striking
ornament of the places where it is common, especially from June to
August, when it flowers.

In company with the Navelwort, on rocks and walls, will be found one,
if not two, species of Stonecrop (_Sedum_). One of these, the common
Yellow Stonecrop or Wall Pepper (_Sedum acre_), is too well-known to
need describing. The other is the White Stonecrop (_Sedum anglicum_),
of similar habit, but with the inevitable glaucous leaves (those of _S.
acre_ are _not_ glaucous, but bright green); though sometimes these
take on a reddish hue. The flowers are more star-like than those of
_S. acre_, and of a whitish or pinkish colour--in evidence from May to
August.

I do not pretend to furnish an exhaustive list of the plants of the
sea-shore: that properly treated would make a volume by itself. Such
as I have mentioned belong almost solely to a habitat where they can
receive the salt spray upon their leaves. Mention should also be made
of the Sea-Spleenwort (_Asplenium marinum_), among ferns, that loves to
grow over the entrance to a sea-cave, there hanging down its boldly-cut
and well-varnished dark green fronds, well out of reach. Then there is
a distinctly marine _Carex_, the Sea-Sedge (_Carex arenaria_), which
shares with Marram-grass (_Ammophila arenaria_), the work of binding
the sands together with its thick, creeping rootstock.

But the seaside visitor, with botanical tastes, will find the shores
abundant in vegetation generally, and he must have recourse to a
special handbook to help in their discrimination.

Were it not for fear of laying himself open to a charge of presumption,
egoism, favouritism, and a few other isms, the author would, in this
connection, recommend his own “Wayside and Woodland Blossoms,” Second
Series,[7] which includes many of the maritime flowers.

[7] Frederick Warne and Co.




CLASSIFIED INDEX

TO

_Species mentioned in the foregoing pages_.


  ANIMAL KINGDOM.


  Sub-kingdom--=Protozoa=.

    Class _LOBOSA_--
      Amæba, 21

    Class _RETICULARIA_--
      Textularia variabilis, 22
      Cristellaria subarcuatula, 22
      Polymorphina lactea, 22
      Globigerina sp., 23
      Rotalina, 23
      Nonionina, 23
      Polystomella, 23

    Class _RADIOLARIA_--
      Podocyrtis schomburghii, 23

    Class _RHYNCO-FLAGELLATA_--
      Noctiluca miliaris, 25


  Sub-kingdom--=Parazoa (Spongiæ)=.

    Class _CALCAREA_--
      Grantia compressa, 34;
        G. ciliata, 35

    Class _SILICISPONGIA_--
      Halichondria panicea, 31, 34;
        H. incrustans, 34;
        sanguinea, 34
      Chalina oculata, 35


  Sub-kingdom--=Cœlenterata=.

    Class _HYDROZOA_--
      Haliclystus octoradiatus, 44
      Cyanea capillata, 50;
        C. chrysaora, 55;
        C. arctica, 62
      Aurelia aurita, 53
      Sarsia tubulosa, 57
      Coryne pusilla, 42
      Clava-turris multicornis, 42, 55
      Plumularia cornucopiæ, 41, 43
      Salacia abietina, 40
      Thuiaria thuja, 41
      Antennularia antennina, 44
      Calycella fastigiata, 40;
        C. syringa, 44
      Sertularia pumila, 39;
        S. fusca, 40;
        S. tricuspidata, 40
      Diphasia alata, 40;
        D. pinnata, 40
      Aglaophenia tubulifera, 40
      Campanularia johnstoni, 41
      Thaumantias sp., 55
      Æquorea forbesiana, 59
      Physalia pelagica, 56
      Velella scaphoidea, 59

    Class _ACTINOZOA_--
      Actinia equina, 64
      Sagartia rosea, 68;
        S. pallida, 69;
        S. nivea, 69;
        S. venusta, 70;
        S. miniata, 72
      Cylista undata, 70;
        C. viduata, 71
      Anemonia sulcata, 74
      Bunodes ballii, 77;
        B. verrucosa, 76
      Urticina felina, 78
      Corynactis viridis, 79
      Metridium senilis, 79
      Cribrina effoeta, 80
      Adamsia palliata, 80, 147
      Pleurobrachia pileus, 59


  Sub-kingdom--=Echinozoa=.

    Class _ECHINOIDEA_--
      Echinus esculentus, 100;
        E. miliaris, 100
      Strongylocentrus lividus, 102

    Class _ASTEROIDEA_--
      Uraster rubens, 86;
        U. glacialis, 90
      Cribella oculata, 90
      Solaster papposa, 91
      Asterina gibbosa, 92

    Class _OPHIUROIDEA_--
      Ophiocoma neglecta, 92;
        O. granulata, 96;
        O. brachiata, 97
      Ophiothrix rosula, 96

    Class _CRINOIDEA_--
      Comatula rosacea, 98

    Class _HOLOTHUROIDEA_--
      Cucumaria pentactes, 105


  Sub-kingdom--=Annullosa=: Division Scolecida.

    Class _PLATYHELMINTHES_--
      Planaria nigra, 123
      Eurylepta vittata, 123
      Astemma rufifrons, 123
      Tetrastemma quadrioculatum, 124
      Polystemma roseum, 124
      Lineus marinus, 124

  Division Anarthropoda.

    Class _ANNELIDA_--
      Serpula contortuplicata, 112;
        S. triquetra, 113;
        S. vermicularis, 113
      Sabella alveolaria, 108, 112;
        S. bombyx, 111;
        S. tubularia, 112
      Spirorbis communis, 114
      Terebella figulus, 115;
        T. littoralis, 115
      Arenicola piscatorum, 114
      Nereis pelagica, 114, 117
      Cirratulus borealis, 115
      Nephthys margaritacea, 117
      Phyllodoce lamelligera, 117;
        P. viridis, 118
      Eunice sanguinea, 118
      Polynoe squamata, 121;
        P. cirrata, 121
      Aphrodita aculeata, 121

  Division Arthropoda.

    Class _CRUSTACEA_--
      Sub-class Cirripedia--
        Lepas anatifera, 177
        Scalpellum vulgare, 183
        Balanus balanoides, 183;
          B. porcatus, 184
        Pyrgoma anglicum, 183

      Sub-class Malacostraca--
        Talitrus locusta, 173
        Orchestia littorea, 173
        Caprella linearis, 174
        Corophium longicorne, 175
        Ligia oceanica, 172
        Idotea marina, 173
        Campecopea hirsuta, 174
        Næsa bidentata, 174
        Mysis flexuosus, 169
        Leander serratus, 160;
          L. squilla, 165;
          L. fabricii, 165
        Pandalus montagui, 166
        Hippolyte varians, 166
        Crangon vulgaris, 167
        Astacus gammarus, 152
        Palinurus vulgaris, 152
        Upogebia stellata, 171
        Callianassa subterranea, 170
        Galathea squamifera, 150;
          G. nexa, 151;
          G. dispersa, 151;
          G. intermedia, 151;
          G. strigosa, 151
        Porcellana platycheles, 147;
          P. longicornis, 149
        Eupagurus bernhardus, 144;
          E. prideaux, 144
        Maia squinado, 152
        Gonoplax rhomboides, 156
        Corystes cassivelaunus, 155
        Portunus puber, 140
        Carcinus mænas, 139
        Pilumnus hirtellus, 138
        Xantho incisus, 137;
          X. hydrophilus, 137
        Cancer pagurus, 131


  Sub-kingdom--=Mollusca=.

    Class _GASTROPODA_--
      Fissurella græca, 223
      Emarginula reticulata, 223;
        E. rosea, 223
      Patella vulgata, 207
      Patella pellucida, 211;
        P. lævis, 211
      Acmæa testudinalis, 211
      Phasianella pullus, 221
      Trochus cinereus, 221;
        T. magus, 222;
        T. zizyphinus, 221
      Scalaria communis, 219
      Janthina fragilis, 222
      Cerithium reticulatum, 219
      Turritella communis, 219
      Natica monilifera, 216
      Pileopsis (or Capulus) hungaricus, 223
      Littorina littoralis, 220;
        L. littorea, 220;
        L. rudis, 220
      Rissoa ulvæ, 219
      Aporrhais pes-pelicani, 219
      Cypræa europea, 215
      Ovula patula, 216
      Erato lævis, 216
      Murex erinaceus, 214
      Fusus antiquus, 214;
        F. contrarius, 214
      Buccinum undatum, 213
      Nassa incrassata, 213
      Purpura lapillus, 212
      Aplysia depilans, 229
      Doris johnstoni, 227;
        D. tuberculata, 227
      Eolis coronata, 227;
        E. papillosa, 228

    Class _SCAPHOPODA_--
      Dentalium entalis, 224;
        D. tarentinum, 224

    Class _CEPHALOPODA_--
      Sepia officinalis, 233
      Loligo vulgaris, 235
      Sepiola rondeletii, 235
      Octopus vulgaris, 232

    Class _LAMELLIBRANCHIA_--
      Pectunculus glycimeris, 198
      Isocardia cor, 190
      Cardium aculeatum, 187;
        C. edule, 189
      Tapes aurea, 194;
        T. decussata, 193;
        T. pullastra, 194;
        T. virginea, 194
      Cytherea chione, 191
      Venus fasciata, 190;
        V. verrucosa, 190
      Psammobia sp, 201
      Tellina crassa, 201;
        T. tenuis, 201
      Donax anatinus, 201;
        D. politus, 201
      Mactra elliptica, 200;
        M. stultorum, 199;
        M. truncata, 200
      Lutraria sp, 200
      Saxicava rugosa, 202
      Solen ensis, 202;
        S. siliqua, 202
      Pholas dactylus, 205
      Mytilus edulis, 197
      Modiola modiolus, 198
      Anomia ephippium, 197
      Pecten opercularis, 194;
        P. tigrinus, 195;
        P. varius, 196


  Sub-kingdom--=Gephyræa=.

    Class _SIPUNCULOIDEA_--
      Sipunculus punctatissima, 106

    Class _POLYZOA_--
      Crisea eburnea, 47
      Scrupocellaria reptans, 47
      Bugula avicularia, 47
      Flustra foliacea, 47
      Membranipora pilosa, 47


  Sub-kingdom--=Vertebrata=.

    Class _TUNICATA_--
      Clavelina lepadiformis, 241
      Ascidia mentula, 236;
        A. virginea, 237
      Cynthia aggregata, 239;
        C. quadrangularis, 241
      Styela grossularia, 240
      Botryllus violaceus, 244
      Leptoclinum gelatinosum, 218, 243;
        L. maculatum, 217
      Polyclinum, 243
      Aplidium, 243
      Amaroecium, 243
      Salpa maxima, 242

    Class _PISCES_--
      Syngnathus acus, 254;
        S. lumbriciformis, 254
      Conger vulgaris, 263
      Liparis montagui, 273
      Lepadogaster bimaculatus, 270;
        L gouani, 273
      Ammodytes tobianus, 276
      Motella cimbria, 266;
        M. mustela, 266;
        M. vulgaris, 266
      Rhombus punctatus, 275
      Pleuronectes flesus, 275
      Labrus maculatus, 261;
        L. mixtus, 262
      Crenilabrus melops, 258
      Centronotus gunnellus, 264.
      Gasterosteus spinachia, 269.
      Cottus scorpio, 250
      Trachinus draco, 269;
        T. vipera, 269
      Gobius minutus, 258;
        G. niger, 257
      Blennius galerita, 256;
        B. gattorugine, 270;
        B. ocellaris, 256;
        B. pholis, 247

    Class _AVES_--
      Alca torda 285
      Uria grylle, 285;
        U. troile, 285
      Colymbus glacialis, 286
      Phalacrocorax carbo, 279;
        P. graculus, 279
      Sula bassana, 280
      Sterna cantiaca, 283;
        S. fluviatilis, 283;
        S. minutus, 283
      Larus sp. 283
      Procellaria pelagica, 286
      Fulmar us glacialis, 286
      Puffinus anglorum. 287
      Tringa canutus, 282;
        T. striata, 282
      Calidris arenaria, 282
      Hæmatopus ostralegus, 281
      Ardea cinerea, 281
      Corvus corax, 279;
        C. monedula, 279
      Pyrrhocorax graculus, 278
      Anthus obscurus, 277


  VEGETABLE KINGDOM.


  Sub-kingdom--=Cryptogamia=--=Thallophyta=.

    Class _FLORIDEÆ_--
      Callithamnion, 297
      Griffithsia corallina, 298
      Ptilota, 298
      Ceramium, 298
      Corallina officinalis, 298
      Melobesia, 298
      Halymenia ligulata, 298
      Chondrus crispus, 299
      Gigartina mamillosa, 299
      Rhodymenia jubata, 299;
        R. palmata, 298
      Chylocladia parvula, 300
      Plocamium coccineum, 298
      Delesseria alata, 300
      Laurencia pinnatifida, 299
      Ulva latissima, 295
      Enteromorpha compressa, 301

    Class _FUCACEÆ_--
      Himanthalia lorea, 292
      Halidrys siliquosa, 292
      Fucus canaliculatus, 289;
        F. nodosus, 290;
        F. serratus, 291;
        F. vesiculosus, 291
      Cystoseira ericoides, 293

    Class _PHÆOSPOREÆ_--
      Alaria esculenta, 294
      Laminaria bulbosa, 294;
        L. digitata, 293;
        L. saccharina, 294
      Chorda filum, 295
      Dictyosiphon fœniculaceus, 295
      Asperococcus turneri, 296
      Padina pavonia, 296

    Class _MULTINUCLEATÆ_--
      Bryopsis plumosa, 301

    Vasculares. Class _FILICINEÆ_--
      Asplenium marinum, 308


  Sub-kingdom--=Phanerogramia=.

    Class _DICOTYLEDONES_--
      Glaucium luteum, 305
      Cakile maritima, 307
      Silene maritima, 306
      Spergularia rubra, 303
      Cotyledon umbilicus, 307
      Sedum acre, 308;
        S. anglicum, 308
      Eryngium maritimum, 304
      Fœniculum officinale 304
      Crithmum maritimum, 304
      Armeria vulgaris (maritima), 305;
        A. plantaginea, 305
      Statice limonium, 305
      Glaux maritima, 303
      Convolvulus soldanella, 307
      Salsola kali, 306

    Class _MONOCOTYLEDONES_--
      Carex arenaria, 308
      Ammophila arenaria, 308




INDEX.

(The _popular_ names are printed in _italics_.)


  Acmæa alvea, 211

  ---- testudinalis, 211

  _Acorn-shells_, 179

  Actinia equina, 64, 65

  Adamsia palliata, 80, 147

  Ægirus punctilucens, 227

  Æquorea forbesiana, 59

  _Æsop Prawn_, 166

  Aglaophenia tubulifera, 40

  Alaria esculenta, 294

  Alca torda, 285

  Amæba, 21

  Amaroecium, 243

  Ammodytes tobianus, 276

  Ammophila arenaria, 308

  Amphipoda, 172

  _Anemones, Sea_, 64

  Anemonia sulcata, 64, 74

  _Angular-Crab_, 156

  Anomia ephippium, 197

  Antennularia antennina, 44

  Anthus obscurus, 277

  Aphrodita aculeata, 121

  Aplidium, 243

  Aporrhais pes-pelicani, 219

  Aplysia depilans, 229

  _Aquarium hints_, 84

  Ardea cinerea, 281

  Arenicola piscatorum, 114

  _Aristotle’s Lantern_, 101

  Armeria maritima, 305

  A. plantaginea, 305

  Artemis exoleta, 192

  Ascidia mentula, 236

  A. virginea, 237

  _Ash-leaf Seaweed_, 300

  Asperococcus turneri, 296

  Asplenium marinum, 308

  Astemma rufifrons, 123

  Asterina gibbosa, 92

  Aurelia aurita, 54

  _Badderlocks_, 294

  Balanus balanoides, 183

  ---- porcatus, 184

  _Banded Flat-worm_, 123

  _Banded Venus_, 190

  _Barnacle_, 177

  ---- _Necked_, 183

  _Beadlet_, 64

  _Beautiful Queen Shrimp_, 170

  _Bennett Dr., on_ Physalia, 57

  _Beröe_, 60

  Bipinnaria asterigera, 90

  _Bird’s-head Coralline_, 47

  _Birds of the Shore_, 277

  _Black Goby_, 257

  _Black Planarian_, 123

  _Black Tang_, 291

  _Bladder wrack_, 291

  _Blennies_, 247, 256

  Blennius galerita, 256

  ---- gattorugine, 270

  ---- ocellaris, 256

  Blennius pholis, 247

  _Boring Sponge_, 35

  Botryllus violaceus, 244

  _Bristly Marl Shell_, 225

  _Brittle-star_, 92

  _Broad-claw_, 147

  Bryopsis plumosa, 301

  Buccinum undatum, 80, 213

  Bunodes ballii, 77

  ---- verrucosa, 64, 76

  _Butterfly Blenny_, 256

  Cakile maritima, 307

  Calidris arenaria, 282

  Callianassa subterranea, 170

  Callithamnion, 297

  Calycella fastigiata, 40

  ---- syringa, 44

  Calycles, 39

  Campanularia, 41

  Campecopea hirsuta, 174

  Cancer pagurus, 131

  Caprella linearis, 174

  Carcinus mænas, 139

  Cardium aculeatum, 187

  ---- edule, 189

  Carex arenaria, 308

  _Carpet Shells_, 193, 194

  _Carrageen_, 299

  _Cave-dweller_, 70

  Centronotus gunnellus, 264

  Cephalopoda, 231

  Ceramium, 298

  Cereus pedunculatus, 64, 71

  Cerithium reticulatum, 219

  _Chameleon Shrimp_, 169

  _Channelled Wrack_, 289

  Chemnitzia rufescens, 219

  Chiton cinereus, 225

  ---- fascicularis, 225

  ---- lævis, 225

  ---- marmoreus, 225

  Chondrus crispus, 299

  Chorda filum, 295

  _Chough_, 278

  Chylocladia parvula, 300

  Cirratulus borealis, 116

  Cirripedes, 176

  Clava multicornis, 42

  Clavelina lepadiformis, 241

  Cliona celata, 35

  _Cloaklet Anemone_, 147, 180

  _Cockles_, 186, 187

  Colymbus glacialis, 286

  Comatula rosacea, 98

  _Comb-shell_, 198

  _Commensalism_, 80

  _Conelet_, 215

  _Conger Eel_, 263

  Conger vulgaris, 263

  Convolvulus soldanella, 307

  _Cook_, 262

  Corallina officinalis, 298

  _Coralline_, 298

  _Corkwing Wrasse_, 258

  _Cormorants_, 279

  Corophium longicorne, 175

  Corvus corax, 279

  C. monedula, 279

  Corynactis viridis, 65, 79, 175

  Coryne pusilla, 42

  Corystes cassivelaunus, 155

  Cottus scorpio, 250

  Cotyledon umbilicus, 307

  _Cowry_, 215

  _Crabs_, 130

  Crangon vulgaris, 167

  _Creeping Coralline_, 47

  Crenilabrus melops, 258

  Cribella oculata, 90

  Cribrina effoeta, 80

  Crisea eburnea, 47

  Cristellaria, 22

  Crithmum maritimum, 304

  _Cross-cut Carpet-shell_, 193

  _Cross-fish_, 86

  _Crumb-of-bread Sponge_, 34

  _Cuckoo Wrasse_, 262

  Cucumaria pentactes, 105

  _Cup Shrimp_, 166

  _Curlew_, 280

  _Currant-squirter_, 241

  _Cuttles_, 231

  _Cut Trough-shell_, 200

  Cyanea arctica, 62

  ---- capillata, 50, 55

  ---- chrysaora, 55

  Cylista undata, 70

  ---- viduata, 65, 72

  Cynthia aggregata, 239

  ---- quadrangularis, 237, 241

  Cypræa europea, 215

  Cystoseira ericoides, 293

  Cytherea chione, 191

  _Dahlia Wartlet_, 78

  _Daisy Anemone_, 71

  _Darwin C., on Barnacles_, 180

  Delesseria alata, 300

  Dentalina, 23

  Dentalium entalis, 224

  ---- tarentinum, 224

  _Devil Crabs_, 136

  Dictyosiphon fœniculaceus, 295

  Difflugia, 22

  Diphasia alata, 40

  ---- pinnata, 40

  Donax anatinus, 201

  ---- politus, 201

  Doris johnstoni, 227

  ---- tuberculata, 227

  _Dotted Siphon-worm_, 106

  Echinus esculentus, 102

  ---- miliaris, 102

  _Elliptic Trough-shell_, 200

  Emarginula reticulata, 223

  ---- rosea, 223

  Enteromorpha compressa, 301

  Entomostraca, 172

  Entosolenia, 23

  Eolis coronata, 227

  ---- papillosa, 228

  _Equipment for Shore-hunting_, 15

  Erato lævis, 216

  Eryngium maritimum, 304

  Eunice sanguinea, 118

  Eupagurus bernhardus, 80, 144

  Eupagurus prideaux, 80, 144

  Eurylepta vittata, 123

  _Eyed Cribella_, 90

  _Father Lasher_, 250

  _Feather-Star_, 98

  _Fennel_, 304

  _Fennel-leaved Netweed_, 295

  _Fifteen-spined Stickleback_, 269

  _Finger Pholas_, 202

  Fissurella græca, 223

  _Five-bearded Rockling_, 266

  _Five-fingers_, 86

  _Flounder_, 275

  _Flowers of the Shore_, 303

  Flustra foliacea, 46

  Fœniculum officinale, 304

  _Foliaceous Coralline_, 47

  _Food for Anemones_, 83

  Foraminifera, 21, 22

  _Forbes E., on the Hairy Stinger_, 50

  ---- on _Brittle-star_, 96

  _Four-bearded Rockling_, 266

  _Fragile Tellen_, 201

  Fratercula arctica, 285

  Fucus canaliculatus, 289

  ---- nodosus, 290

  ---- serratus, 291

  ---- vesiculosus, 291

  _Fulmar_, 286

  Fulmarus glacialis, 286

  Fusus antiquus, 80, 214

  ---- contrarius, 214

  _Gabrick_, 152

  Galathea dispersa, 152

  ---- nexa, 152

  ---- squamifera, 150

  ---- strigosa, 151

  _Gannet_, 280

  Gasterosteus spinachia, 269

  _Gattorugine_, 270

  _Gem Pimplet_, 64, 76

  _Gibbous Starlet_, 92

  Gigartina mamillosa, 299

  Glaucium luteum, 305

  Glaux maritima, 303

  _Globe Beröe_, 59

  _Globehorn_, 65, 79

  Globigerina, 23

  _Gobies_, 257, 258

  Gobius minutus, 258

  ---- niger, 257

  _Golden Carpet-shell_, 194

  Gonoplax rhomboides, 156

  _Gosse on Star-fish larvæ_, 97

  Grantia ciliata, 35

  ---- compressa, 35

  _Granulate Brittle-star_, 95

  _Grass-Wrack_, 288

  _Great Crab_, 132

  _Great Northern Diver_, 286

  _Green Crab_, 139

  _Grey Heron_, 281

  Griffithsia, 298

  _Guillemots_, 285

  _Gulls_, 283, 284

  _Gunnel_, 264

  Hæmatopus ostralegus, 281

  _Hairy Porcelain Crab_, 147

  _Hairy Stinger_, 50, 55

  Halichondria incrustans, 34

  ---- panicea, 31

  ---- sanguinea, 34

  Haliclystus octoradiatus, 44

  Halidrys siliquosa, 292

  Halymenia ligulata, 298

  _Heart Cockle_, 190

  _Herdman Prof. on_ Lamellaria, 217

  _Hermit-crabs_, 142

  _Heron_, 281

  Himanthalia lorea, 292

  Hippolyte varians, 166

  _Horn-shell_, 219

  _Horny Cobbler_, 250

  _Horse-mussel_, 198

  _Hungarian Cap_, 223

  Hydra tuba, 52

  _Hydroid zoophytes_, 38

  Idotea marina, 173

  Iridea edulis, 299

  _Irish Moss_, 299

  Isocardia cor, 190

  Isopoda, 172

  Jania, 298

  Janthina, 222

  _Jelly-fishes_, 49

  _Keyhole Limpet_, 223

  _Knot_, 282

  _Knotted Wrack_, 290

  Labrus maculatus, 261

  ---- mixtus, 262

  Lamellaria perspicua, 217

  Laminaria bulbosa, 294

  ---- digitata, 14, 293

  ---- saccharina, 294

  _Laminarian Zone_, 14

  _Lantern of Aristotle_, 101

  Larus, 283

  Laurencia pinnatifida, 299

  _Leaf-worms_, 116

  Leander fabricii, 165

  ---- serratus, 160

  ---- squilla, 165

  Lepadogaster bimaculatus, 270

  ---- gouani, 273

  Lepas anatifera, 177

  Leptoclinum gelatinosum, 218, 243

  ---- maculatum, 217

  _Lesser Launce_, 276

  Lichina pygmæa, 173, 303

  Ligia oceanica, 172

  _Limpets_, 207, 211, 223

  Lineus marinus, 124

  Liparis montagui, 273

  _Littoral Zone_, 14

  Littorina littoralis, 220

  ---- littorea, 220

  ---- rudis, 220

  Loligo vulgaris, 235

  _Long-armed Brittle-star_, 97

  _Long worm_, 124

  _Lug-worm_, 114

  Lutraria, 200

  Mactra elliptica, 200

  ---- stultorum, 199

  ---- truncata, 200

  Maia squinado, 152

  _Mail-shells_, 225

  Mangelia septangularis, 215

  _Many-eyed Red-worm_, 124

  _Manx Shearwater_, 287

  _Margin-shell_, 216

  _Marigold_, 54

  _Marine polyzoa_, 45

  _Marram-grass_, 308

  _Masked-crab_, 155

  Megalopa, 133

  Melobesia, 298

  Membranipora pilosa, 47

  Metridium senilis, 65, 79

  Microciona carnosa, 34

  Modiola modiolus, 198

  Mollusca, 185

  _Montagu’s Blenny_, 256

  Motella cimbria, 266

  ---- mustela, 266

  ---- vulgaris, 266

  _Mother Carey’s Chicken_, 286

  Murex erinaceus, 214

  _Murlins_, 294

  _Mussel_, 197

  Mysis flexuosus, 169

  Mytilus edulis, 197

  Nacella (Patella) pellucida, 211

  Næsa bidentata, 174

  Nassa incrassata, 213

  Natica monilifera, 217

  _Necked Barnacle_, 183

  _Necklace Natica_, 216

  Nemertes borlasii, 124

  Nephthys margaritacea, 117

  Nereis pelagica, 114, 117

  _Netted Dog-whelk_, 213

  Noctiluca miliaris, 25

  Nonionina, 23

  _Northern Diver_, 286

  Numenius arquata, 282

  ---- phæopus, 282

  Octopus vulgaris, 232

  _Opelet_, 74

  Ophiocoma brachiata, 97

  ---- granulata, 96

  ---- neglecta, 92

  Ophiothrix rosula, 96

  _Opossum Shrimp_, 169

  _Orange-disk Anemone_, 70

  Orchestia littorea, 173

  _Otter-shells_, 200

  Ovula patula, 216

  _Owen Sir Rich., on_ Medusa, 62

  _Oyster Catcher_, 281

  Padina pavonia, 296

  _Pallid Anemone_, 69

  Pandalus montagui, 166

  _Parasite Anemone_, 80

  Patella lævis, 211

  ---- pellucida, 211

  ---- vulgata, 207

  _Peacock’s Tail_, 296

  _Pearly Nereis_, 117

  Pecten opercularis, 194

  ---- tigrinus, 195

  ---- varius, 196

  Pectunculus glycimeris, 198

  _Pelican’s-foot_, 219

  Pentacrinus europæus, 99

  _Pepper Dulse_, 219

  _Perforated Limpet_, 223

  _Periwinkles_, 220

  _Petrel_, 286

  Phalacrocorax carbo, 279

  ---- graculus, 279

  Phasianella pullus, 221

  Pholas dactylus, 205

  _Pheasant-shell_, 221

  Phyllodoce lamelligera, 117

  ---- viridis, 118

  Physalia pelagica, 56

  _Piddock_, 205

  Pileopsis hungaricus, 223

  Pilumnus hirtellus, 138

  _Pipe-fishes_, 254

  Planarians, 122

  Planaria nigra, 123

  Planula, 55

  Pleurobrachia pileus, 59

  Pleuronectes flesus, 275

  Plocamium coccineum, 298

  _Plumelet_, 64, 79

  Plumularia cornucopiæ, 43

  Plumulariæ, 41

  _Poached Egg-shell_, 216

  _Pod-weed_, 292

  Polycistina, 23

  Polyclinum, 243

  Polymorphina, 22

  Polynoe cirrata, 121

  ---- squamata, 121

  Polypite, 53

  Polystemma roseum, 124

  Polystomella, 23

  Polyzoa, 45

  Porcellana longicornis, 149

  ---- platycheles, 147

  _Portuguese Man o’ war_, 56

  Portunus puber, 140

  _Prawn_, 160

  ---- _Æsop_, 166

  ---- _Varying_, 166

  Procellaria pelagica, 286

  Psammobia, 201

  Ptilota, 298

  _Puffin_, 285

  Puffinus anglorum, 287

  _Pullet Carpet-shell_, 194

  Puncturella noachina, 223

  _Purple_, 212

  _Purple-tipped Urchin_, 100

  _Purple Urchin_, 102

  Purpura lapillus, 212

  Pyrgoma anglicum, 183

  Pyrrhocorax graculus, 278

  _Quatrefages M., on_ Eunice, 218

  _Quin_, 194

  _Rainbow Bladder-weed_, 293

  _Rainbow Leaf-worm_, 117

  _Rastegna_, 75

  _Rayed Artemis_, 192

  _Rayed Trough-shell_, 199

  _Razorbill_, 285

  _Razor-shells_, 186, 202

  _Red-faced Blind-worm_, 123

  _Red-nosed Borer_, 202

  _Redshank_, 282

  _Red-shrimp_, 166

  _Red-specked Pimplet_, 77

  _Red Whelk_, 214

  Rhodymenia jubata, 299

  ---- palmata, 298

  Rhombus punctatus, 275

  Rissoa ulvæ, 219

  _Rock Goby_, 258

  _Rock Pipit_, 277

  _Rosy Anemone_, 65, 68

  Rotalina, 23

  _Ruddy Pyramid-shell_, 219

  Sabella alveolaria, 108

  ---- bombyx, 111

  ---- tubularia, 112

  _Saddle-oyster_, 197

  Sagartia miniata, 72

  ---- nivea, 69

  ---- pallida, 69

  ---- rosea, 65, 68

  ---- venusta, 70

  Salacia abietina, 40

  _Sallee-man_, 59

  Salpa maxima, 242

  _Saltwort_, 306

  _Samphire_, 304

  _Sanderling_, 282

  _Sandpiper_, 282

  _Sand Mason_, 115

  _Sand-worm_, 114

  _Sandwich Tern_, 283

  _Sandwort Spurrey_, 303

  _Sanguine Eunice_, 118

  Sarsia tubulosa, 57

  _Saw-edged Wrack_, 291

  Saxicava rugosa, 202

  Scalaria, 219

  _Scallops_, 194

  Scalpellum vulgare, 183

  _Scarlet-fringed Anemone_, 72

  _Scarlet Serpula_, 112

  Scrupocellaria reptans, 47

  _Sea: extent and importance_, 11

  ---- _Adder_, 254

  ---- _Anemones_, 64

  ---- _Campion_, 306

  ---- _Convolvulus_, 307

  ---- _Cucumber_, 102

  ---- _Furbelows_, 294

  ---- _Gooseberry_, 59

  ---- _Hare_, 230

  ---- _Holly_, 304

  ---- _Jellies_, 49

  ---- _Lace_, 295

  ---- _Lavender_, 305

  ---- _Lemon_, 227

  ---- _Lettuce_, 295

  ---- _Mat_, 46

  ---- _Milkwort_, 303

  ---- _Mouse_, 121

  ---- _Nettles_, 50

  ---- _Night-light_, 25

  ---- _Oak Coralline_, 39

  ---- _Pink_, 305

  ---- _Rocket_, 307

  ---- _Sedge_, 308

  ---- _Slater_, 172

  ---- _Slugs_, 226

  ---- _Spleenwort_, 308

  ---- _Squirts_, 236

  ---- _Stars_, 86

  ---- _Swallows_, 283

  ---- _Thongs_, 292

  ---- _Urchins_, 86, 100

  ---- _Weeds_, 288

  ---- _Worms_, 107

  Sedum acre, 308

  ---- anglicum, 308

  Sepia officinalis, 233

  Sepiola rondeletii, 235

  Serpula contortuplicata, 112

  Serpula triquetra, 113

  ---- vermicularis, 113

  Sertularia pumila, 39

  ---- fusca, 40

  _Shag_, 279

  _Shanny_, 247

  _Shell-binder_, 115

  _Ship-barnacle_, 177

  _Shore Crab_, 139

  _Shore Fishes_, 246

  _Shore-hunting_, 16

  _Shore-zones_, 14

  Silene maritima, 306

  _Silkworm Sabella_, 112

  Sipunculus punctatissima, 106

  _Skeleton-shrimp_, 174

  _Slit Limpet_, 223

  _Smooth Artemis_, 192

  _Smooth Limpet_, 211

  _Smooth Venus_, 191

  _Snake-locked Anemone_, 65

  _Snowy Anemone_, 69

  _Solan Goose_, 280

  Solaster papposa, 91

  Solen ensis, 202

  ---- siliqua, 202

  Spergularia rubra, 303

  _Spiny Cockle_, 187

  _Spire-shells_, 219

  Spirorbis communis, 113

  _Sponges_, 28

  _Squat-lobsters_, 150

  _Squid_, 235

  _Star-fish_, 86

  _Starlet_, 92

  Statice limonium, 305

  _Stebbing T. R., on Limbs of Crabs_, 132

  Sterna cantiaca, 283

  ---- fluviatilis, 283

  ---- minuta, 283

  _Stickleback, Fifteen-spined_, 269

  _Sting-fish_, 250

  _Sting-winkle_, 214

  Strongylocentrus lividus, 102

  Styela grossularia, 240

  _Sugar Tangle_, 294

  Sula bassana, 280

  _Sunset-shells_, 201

  _Sun Star_, 91

  Syngnathus acus, 254

  ---- lumbriciformis, 254

  Talitrus locusta, 173

  _Tangle_, 293

  Tapes aurea, 194

  ---- decussata, 193

  ---- pullastra, 194

  ---- virginea, 194

  _Tellen-shells_, 201

  Tellina crassa, 201

  ---- tenuis, 201

  Terebella figulus, 115

  ---- littoralis, 115

  _Terns_, 283

  Tetrastemma quadrioculatum, 124

  Textularia variabilis, 22

  Thaumantias, 55

  _Thomson, Sir Wyville, on_ Comatula, 99

  _Thrift_, 305

  Thuiaria thuja, 41

  _Tides_, 14

  _Tompot_, 270

  _Tooth-shells_, 224

  _Topknot_, 275

  _Top-shells_, 221

  _Torbay Bonnet_, 223

  _Tortoise-shell Limpet_, 211

  Totanus calidris, 282

  Trachinus draco, 269

  ---- vipera, 269

  Tringa canutus, 282

  ---- striata, 282

  Trochus cinereus, 221

  ---- magus, 222

  ---- zizyphinus, 221

  _Trough-shells_, 199

  _Trumpet Sabella_, 112

  _Tube-mouthed Sarsia_, 57

  Tunicata, 236

  Turbellaria, 122

  Turris digitalis, 55

  Turritella communis, 219

  _Turret-shells_, 219

  _Tusk-shells_, 224

  Ulva latissima, 295

  Upogebia stellata, 171

  Uraster glacialis, 86

  ---- rubens, 86

  Uria grylle, 285

  ----troile, 285

  Urticina felina, 78

  _Varying Prawn_, 166

  Velella scaphoidea, 59

  _Velvet Fiddler-crab_, 140

  Venus fasciata, 190

  ---- verrucosa, 191

  _Violet-shell_, 222

  _Virgin’s Carpet-shell_, 193

  _Wall Pennywort_, 307

  _Wall Pepper_, 308

  _Warted Venus_, 190

  _Wedge-shells_, 201

  _Weevers_, 269

  _Wentletrap_, 219

  _Whelks_, 214

  _Whimbrel_, 282

  _White Stonecrop_, 308

  _Wilfry_, 114

  _Winged Delesseria_, 300

  _Wood J. G., on Hairy Stinger_, 51

  _Worm Pipe-fish_, 254

  Wormskioldia sanguinea, 300

  _Wrasse_, 258

  Xanthellæ, 24

  Xantho hydrophilus, 137

  ---- incisus, 137

  _Yellow Horned Poppy_, 305

  “_Zebedees_”, 136

  Zoaria, 45

  Zoea taurus, 133

  Zoophytes, 37

  Zostera marina, 288


Transcriber’s Notes.

Italic text is indicated with _underscores_, bold text with =equals=.
Small/mixed capitals have been replaced with ALL CAPITALS.

Evident typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
silently. Inconsistent use of italics in the Index likewise.

Inconsistent/spelling hyphenation has been normalised.

The author’s use of the form “amæba” and its variants has been
retained. Likewise both “mollusc” and “mollusk”.

Two references to Ianthina on page 222 have been corrected to
Janthina, and the index amended accordingly. Neither of the two
indexes has otherwise been checked for correct alphabetization or
page references.

Footnotes are placed immediately after the paragraph in which they are
referenced.

Some illustrations have been moved between paragraphs or to a more
relevant position in the text.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77774 ***