Read Ebook: Within the Deep Cassell's Eyes and No Eyes Series Book VIII. by Smith R Cadwallader

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Ebook has 206 lines and 17266 words, and 5 pages

When the flat fish are disturbed, they rise a foot or two from the sea floor, and are then swept into the gaping mouth of the deadly trawl. Once in, there is no escape. There they remain, pressed together, until the net is hauled up and emptied.

EXERCISES

SEALS

There are many different kinds of Seal; the family is a large one, but all have one thing in common--the fish-like body, with toes joined together by a web. Anyone who has seen the diving power of a Seal, and its wonderful way in the water, will agree that the "flippers" of the Seal are as useful as the fins of the fish.

In fact, the flipper beats the fin, for the Seal earns his dinner by chasing and catching fish. He slips through the water with perfect ease, and seizes the darting fish in their own home. The Seal is nearly always hungry, but so wonderfully quick that his hunting is made easy for him.

It is quite another matter on land, where his best pace is a waddle and a shuffle; but his life is in the wide sea, where he can feed and sleep as easily as other mammals can on land.

Seals are easily tamed, and soon become fond of their owners. Some fishermen once caught a baby Seal, which they gave to a boy, knowing his love of animals. The strange baby soon made itself at home, and loved to lie in the warmth of the kitchen fire. It knew the voice of its young master, and would follow him like a dog.

The older it grew, the more milk and fish it needed each day. At last, this food was not to be easily obtained, and so the boy had to get rid of his pet. He rowed out to sea, taking the Seal, and let it free in the ocean to fend for itself; but the Seal would not leave him; it swam swiftly round the boat, calling pitifully. Needless to say, it was taken back again, and well cared for.

Seals have even been trained to catch fish for their owners. Being docile by nature, and having larger brains than most animals, they can be taught. Perhaps you have seen Sea-lions performing surprising tricks, showing clearly how intelligent these fish-like creatures really are. The Sea-lions at the London "Zoo" are not specially trained. But they are clever enough to teach themselves, especially when rewarded by a few extra fish. They know well the voice of their keeper, and clap with their flippers to let him know that feeding--time is near; and in many other amusing ways they prove their intelligence.

You have noticed, perhaps, that these Sea-lions can shuffle along on their hind flippers, which are turned forward under the body. The real Seals, however, cannot do this. Their hind limbs, so wonderful in the water, are merely dragged behind the body on land. "Sealskin" should be called "Sea-lion-skin," to be exact; for it is the Sea-lions, not the true Seals, which men kill and rob of their lovely warm coats.

The giant of the Seal family is the Sea-elephant; a big lumbering fellow, with a most peculiar nose. Of course this gives him his name, though it is not much like the trunk of the real elephant. It is just the baggy skin of his nose, a foot long, which hangs down past his mouth.

When the Sea-elephant is angry or excited, this loose nose of his becomes filled with air, and bulges out. Our coloured picture shows you Mr. Sea-elephant, full grown; his wife and children have ordinary seal noses. Perhaps we should say wives, not wife, for he has many.

The Sea-elephants go to wild, lonely islands, and there make their nurseries. Year after year tens of thousands of the big Seals gather, to fight and to rear their young. The clumsy great father Sea-elephants fight terrible battles; and at this time always seem to be in a very bad temper, tearing each other with their tusk-like teeth. Their roaring can be heard far out at sea; but the lady Seals take no part in these combats.

Nature gave this coat to the Seal to protect him from the cold, but it has caused his destruction! For these animals were killed by the hundred thousand. Worse than this, they were killed in the most cruel manner. Laws have now been made to help protect the poor fur Seal from its merciless hunters. It lives in cold seas where its deep rich coat is a splendid protection. No finer fur is there for keeping out cold and wet; and the skilful furrier can make it into soft garments of great value.

The habits of these Seals are strange indeed. For nine or ten months of the year they wander freely over the open seas. They dive for their food, and sleep calmly amidst the restless heaving of the ocean. This is the happy life of the Seal, though enemies--Sharks, Killer Whales or Grampuses--sometimes snap him up as he sleeps.

Then, in the springtime, there comes a change. The Seals leave the open sea and take to the land. They go to their special breeding-places, or "rookeries," as they are called. The big "old man" Seals arrive first, and haul themselves on shore. Each chooses a spot for himself among the rocks. He then settles down to defend it; for more and more "old man" Seals come, all eager to own the best places. The roaring and fighting go on day and night. The gentle Seal is now a savage beast, covered with wounds.

Then the soft-eyed female Seals come ashore. Now the thing is, for each big male Seal to claim as many lady Seals as he can. More fighting, roaring and tearing occur now, in which the lady Seals are banged about like footballs. The strongest "old man" drags the female Seal away in his teeth, and plumps her down in his special part of the beach. Along comes another big Seal to take her away, and the fight begins again.

Meanwhile, the younger Seals keep out of the way. Strange to say, the fighting Seals take no food at all, though they are on the beach for several weeks. A few stones is all they eat, though at other times they devour numbers of fish at every meal.

EXERCISES

LESSON IV

SOME STRANGE NURSERIES

As a rule, nests or nurseries are unknown in the world of fishes. They lay their eggs and leave them; and the young ones have to fight their own battles, in a sea full of fierce and hungry enemies. Indeed, it often happens that a parent fish is eager to make a meal of its own children!

The Codfish lays about nine million eggs! You would hardly expect the female Codfish to make a nursery for such a family! She would be much worse off than the "old woman who lived in a shoe." As a matter of fact, the eggs are laid in the open sea; and the Cod shows no interest in them, but leaves them to become food for many a roving enemy.

Those cousins of the Shark,--the Skate and the Dog-fish,--are more careful of their eggs. Have you ever found their empty eggs on the sea shore? Children call them "mermaids' purses." But they are more like little horny pillow-cases than purses.

The Skate's egg is much the same, only there is no tendril, but a curved hook at each corner. These hooks, of course, serve as anchors to hold the egg: no doubt they catch in weeds and stones. One fish, you see, ties her eggs with strings, the other uses anchors. These large "purse eggs" are like cradles, and the baby Skates do not slip out of them until they are quite ready to look after themselves in the ocean.

There are fish in the sea which take great pains to save their eggs and babies from harm; they will even defend them at the risk of their own lives. Of course these careful parents do not have huge families, like the Cod. No; the fish that care for their young have small families, but the babies have a much better chance of living than the baby Cod. It is one of Nature's wise laws.

Our common Stickleback--"Tiddler," or "Red-throat," as boys call him--builds a nest in ponds. He has a seaside cousin, the fifteen-spined Stickleback, who is also a nest-builder. This little fish is fairly common round our coasts, living in weedy pools by the shore, where it devours any small creature unlucky enough to come near. It is about six inches long, this sea Stickleback, with a long snout, and its body is very thin near the tail.

To build his nest, this little fish chooses a quiet corner, then gathers pieces of green and purple seaweed. He takes the pieces in his mouth, pushing them about until the shape is to his liking. Having got his nursery to the right size and shape, the little builder next fastens it together. How can he do this? What mortar can he find in the sea? It is quite simple. He uses threads, which come from his own body. He swims round the nest, again and again; and, each time, a thread is spun, binding the clump of weed into a safe, tight nest for the eggs. When the task is done there is a weed-nursery about the size of your fist. Now all is ready for the eggs to be laid by the female Stickleback. You would expect them to be kept in a hole amid the nest, would you not? Instead of that, they are tucked a few here, a few there, in the weed.

Then the father Stickleback mounts guard. Woe betide any small fish looking for a dinner of Stickleback eggs! The gallant little sentry will rush at him, with spines as stiff as fixed bayonets, ready to do battle to the death. When the young are hatched out he still keeps guard. They are not allowed out of the nursery for some time. The watchful parent forces them back if they try to wander out into the perils of the shore-pool.

Let us look at another nest-builder--the Sand Goby, or Spotted Goby, He is common enough in the pools at low tide, but not easy to find. You can look at him, yet not see him! For he takes the same colour as the rocks and sands of his home. Amid the glinting lights and shadows of his rock-pool, with a background of sand, rock, and weed, this little fish is nearly invisible. Of course it is a dodge, and a useful one, to escape the eye of the enemy!

Perhaps you will not think the Spotted Goby so clever at nest-building as the Stickleback. He likes to use a "ready-made" house, whereas the Stickleback finds his own "bricks and mortar." In the pools of the shore there is no lack of houses to let, the empty homes of shell-fish are there in plenty. So the little Goby, when nesting time comes, hunts round for the empty shell of a Cockle lying with its hollow side to the sand.

This shell is to be used as the roof for the nursery. The Goby's next task is to make a hole beneath the shell. He sets to work and, by scooping out the sand, makes a hole about as large as a marble. To keep the sand from tumbling in, he smears the hole with slime, which soon binds hard like mortar. Now the nursery is nearly ready; but a passage-way is made, passing under the edge of the shell, and then, to make things quite safe, the whole roof is covered with sand: it then looks more like a bump in the sand than a fish-nursery.

The female Goby enters the nest, and leaves her eggs in it; and then the little father fish is left in charge. He rests on the sand, near the entrance. When the little ones appear, he seems to think he has done his duty. So away, he swims, not staying, like the father Stickleback, to guard the youngsters. Again we see that the father, and not the mother, is the builder and nurse.

That very strange creature, the Pipe-fish, has the most peculiar nursery of all. He uses no building material! No made-up nest of weed or sand for him! No, he prefers to carry his eggs in his pocket. To be more exact, there is a small pouch under his body, and there the eggs are kept until they hatch. Meanwhile, the Pipe-fish goes about his affairs in the pool as if nothing particular had happened. You will see more about this funny little fish when we come to our lesson on "The Fish of our Rock-pools."

EXERCISES

LESSON V

THE OGRE OF THE DEEP

The ogre of the fairy-tale is bad enough, but, for evil looks, the Octopus is worse still. With his tough, brownish skin, knobbed like the toad's back, his large staring eyes, his parrot's beak, and ugly bag of a body, the Octopus is a horrid-looking creature. Add to this eight long arms twisting and writhing like snakes, and you have an idea of the most hideous inhabitant of the deep.

Then, like the ogre, the Octopus lives in a cave, and goes forth at night to claim his victims. He tears them to pieces, and returns to his dark cavern when daylight comes.

The feet--or arms, or tentacles, as they are called--are joined at their base by a skin. It makes a sort of webbing. In the centre of this is a horny beak, usually of a brownish colour. It is just like a parrot's beak, only of thinner and lighter stuff. There are two parts to it, the top one curving down over the lower one. Behind this beaked mouth is a hard, rasping tongue. On each side of the head is a big, staring eye; and behind the ugly head is the ugly body, like a bag.

Having no armour to protect him, and no shelly home like that of the snail, the Octopus is an easy prey to large fish, Seals and Whales. So this trick of shooting backwards, hidden in a cloud of ink, must be of great use. Soldiers and sailors use clouds of smoke to baffle their enemy in battle. The Octopus uses clouds of ink.

Sharks, Conger Eels, and Whales are able to fight the Octopus and eat his soft body; but small fish and Crabs keep away from the ogre if they can. This is not easy, for he hides away under rocks, watching with his great eyes for passing prey. If anything comes near enough, out flicks a long, tapering, snaky arm, and holds the victim tight.

Down the inside of each arm are nearly three hundred round suckers. Each one acts like those leather suckers with which boys sometimes play. Once fixed, it is nearly impossible to unloose them, without chopping or tearing the arm to pieces. First one and then another sucker takes hold, and the wretched victim is drawn up to the ogre's beak, with no chance of escape.

When one sees the grasping power of even a small Octopus, it is easy to believe that a large one would be a dangerous enemy. The strongest swimmer would stand no chance: those clinging arms could hold two or three men under water.

Luckily, the Octopus has no wish to attack people. It is not fierce. But to the Crabs it must seem an awful ogre. I once watched an Octopus on the lookout for food. It had its lair between two rocks, its twining arms showing outside, its eyes and body in the shadow. Along came a Crab, scuttling near the rocks. He spied the ogre, at once stopping and raising his claws as Crabs do, like a boxer ready to fight. The Crab having strong pincers, and a good suit of armour, I expected to see him fight for life. But no! Like poor Bunny chased by the dreaded Stoat, the Crab gave in as soon as the ogre flicked him with an arm. The suckers gripped him fast and, still holding up his claws, he was drawn into the den of his dreadful enemy.

Although armed with a beak, the Octopus seems not to use it against the Crab. He prefers to pull the poor Crab to pieces with his strong arms, and then to pick up the crab-meat with the hooked beak. When full-fed, he retires to his den; he sometimes pulls shells and stones over the entrance, and rests within until hungry.

In this strange order of molluscs there are dwarfs and giants. One kind is never more than two inches long, others are vast monsters. The Octopus is big enough and ugly enough to make one shudder to see him, but the real ogre of the deep is the Giant Cuttle-fish, beside which the Octopus is a tiny mite.

These Giant Cuttles have ten arms, two of them being very long. The Octopus's body is round, like that of a fat spider, while the Cuttle has a long body. The Cuttle has many sharp claws on its arms, besides numbers of big, strong suckers. It holds and tears its prey at the same time. Its staring eyes are like big black lanterns on each side of the head. The head twists this way and that, so that nothing escapes the glare of those horrible eyes.

Lurking in the dark depths of the sea, these Giant Cuttles wait for large fish, Crabs, or even their own relations, to come near. Like hideous, gigantic Spiders, they are the terror of the ocean caverns. They are so large that they have few enemies to fear. Indeed, it is surprising that any animal dares to attack such a monster, but that other giant, the Sperm Whale, dives deep to the home of the Cuttles, purposely to attack and eat them.

Although the Octopus and the Cuttle are related to the Snail and Whelk, they have no shell. Their bodies are naked. Neither do they grow a backbone, or skeleton; but, inside the body, the Cuttle has a plate of chalk, which you may find on the shore. Some kinds have a long strip of transparent substance, like a large feather. Fishermen use the smaller kinds of Cuttle as bait. You will find it quite easy to cut out the "beaks" and "bone" for yourself, or the fishermen will not mind saving them for you.

EXERCISES

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