Glimpses of Ocean Life 22

Glimpses of Ocean Life 22

I have lately seen a specimen of _T. littoralis_ which a friend of

mine was so fortunate as to capture. The tube of the animal, instead

of being in its usual position, was situated in a pool, and offered a

most rare prize to its discoverer, it being the only one he had ever

caught. The tube, being of great length, was cut down to about six

inches and transferred to a shallow glass tank, in which was introduced

some pounded shells. The beautiful Annelid soon made itself at home,

and commenced to repair the damage done to its habitation by collecting

these particles, by means of its tentacula, which were thrown out to an

extraordinary distance in all directions.

 

The result of the animal's labours was soon apparent by a most amusing

white patch being added to each end of its dark tube.

 

As soon as this operation was completed _mon ami_ carefully tore up

the patched garment, and ejected the defenceless Terebella into the

vessel, wherein was placed a piece of glass tube that measured an

inch in length. Strange to state, the animal instantly crept into

this object, and soon made itself quite at home and comfortable. When

the building materials were placed near, they were collected and

_attached to each end of the glass cylinder_ by the little architect,

who doubtless was the first of its 'family' who could boast of such a

noble mansion,--which ultimately assumed a very remarkable aspect from

the variously-coloured 'mortar' that was employed in its construction.

Above and below the transparent centre came patches of red, white, and

blue material, composed respectively of broken tile, pounded shells,

and coloured glass. Such a 'concourse of atoms' was surely never before

combined, either 'fortuitously' or otherwise, in the construction of so

common an object as the tube of an Annelid.

 

The branchiæ of the above mentioned specimen presented a most exquisite

appearance, resembling the perfect skeleton of a leaf, supposing that

to be dyed a brilliant crimson colour, and made to exhibit incessant

life-like motion even in its most delicate and minute ramifications.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII.

 

Acalephæ.

 

(MEDUSÆ, OR JELLY-FISH.)

 

 

'And now your view upon the ocean turn,

And there the splendour of the waves discern;

Cast but a stone, or strike them with an oar,

And you shall flames within the deep explore;

Or scoop the stream phosphoric as you stand,

And the cold flames shall flash along your hand,

When lost in wonder, you shall walk and gaze

On weeds that sparkle, and on waves that blaze.'

 

 

 

 

XIII.

 

 

There are certain narrow-minded persons who raise objections to men

of science prying into the secrets of nature, and profanely, as they

think, attempting to explain the design and purpose of the great

Creator.

 

But to the intelligent and right thinking man, no employment could

be found more elevating or ennobling than this; and whether he be a

fellow-worker himself, or merely an approving observer of the labours

of others, still he feels, and conscientiously believes in the words of

Milton, that--

 

"The desire which tends to know

The works of God, thereby to glorify

The great Workmaster, leads to no excess

That merits blame, but rather merits praise

The more it seems excess."

 

When such a one contemplates the atmosphere, for instance, with its

'wonderful phenomena of clouds, rain, and sunshine, that alternately

shield, moisten, and warm the face of the earth, he feels awed by the

grandeur of the exquisite system of machinery by which such beautiful

results are accomplished. To him also the sea, with its physical

geography, becomes as the main-spring of a watch; its waters, and its

currents, and its salts, and its inhabitants with their adaptations,

as balance wheels, cogs, and pinions, and jewels. Thus he perceives

that they too are according to design; that they are the __EXPRESSION__ of

one thought, a unity with harmonies, which one intelligence only could

utter.' To his eye all created things possess an interest doubly great,

not only from their marvellous structure, but from the mission they are

destined to fulfil in this lower world.

 

What peculiar mission the Acalephæ (which we are now about to consider)

were destined to fulfil it has long puzzled men of science to explain.

Nor can this be wondered at, when we remember the amazing number of

these creatures, and also the extreme delicacy of their structure.

Some indeed appear almost as if they were formed by the sportive

combination of air and water, as if the sea-breeze ruffling the face of

ocean caused bubbles innumerable to arise, which becoming mysteriously

endowed with life, thenceforth existed as Medusæ.

 

They have, indeed, frequently been spoken of as 'animated sea-water,'

or 'living jelly.' These __EXPRESSION__s seem most appropriate when we

remember, that if one of these creatures be placed upon a plate of

glass, and allowed to remain exposed to the sun's rays, the only

thing that will remain to testify to the existence of this singularly

graceful object is a thin film, that a stroke of the sponge or finger

will remove in an instant.

 

The most satisfactory explanation that has been offered as to the use

and purpose of the Medusæ is, that _they serve as the principal food of

whales and other Cetacea_. To these marine monsters--frequently found

from 70 to 110 feet long--we can imagine a few hundreds of jelly-fish

would be considered a small meal. The supply, however, is ever equal to

the demand, as we shall see hereafter.

 

I may here be permitted to explain that, in most large fishes, the

jaws are completely filled with formidable teeth, as in the shark,

for instance. This rapacious monster--which has been aptly termed the

tiger of the sea by us, and which the French, in allusion to the deadly

character of its habits, have named Requin, or Requiem, the rest or

stillness of death--possesses a most marvellous dental apparatus.

 

Its teeth are not, as might be supposed, fixed in sockets, but attached

to a cartilaginous membrane. The teeth, in fact, are placed one

behind the other in a series of rows; the first of which, composed of

triangular cutting teeth, stands erect and ready for use. But as the

membrane continues to grow and advance forward, it slowly perishes,

and the teeth drop off, their place being taken by the next row which

formerly stood second. These, in the course of time, are succeeded by

a third series, which are again followed by others.

 

Now, whales possess no such weapons. Their enormous mouths are not

filled with 'tusks or grinders, but fitted instead with vast numbers of

oblique laminæ of a softer substance, usually denominated whalebone,

which is admirably adapted for the crushing and masticating of soft

bodies.'

 

To give an idea of the amazing extent of the harvests of 'whale food,'

as the Medusæ are termed, that abound in various parts of the ocean,

we need only quote the evidence of various navigators on the subject.

One (Lieut. Maury), for example, states, that on the coast of Florida

he met with a shoal of these animals, that covered the sea for many

leagues, through which his vessel, bound for England, was five or six

days in passing. The most singular part of the story is that, on his

return some sixty days after, he fell in with the same shoal off the

Western Islands, and here again he was three or four days in getting

clear of them.

 

The Western Islands here mentioned are, it seems, the great resort for

whales; and 'at first there is something curious to us in the idea

that the Gulf of Mexico is the harvest field, and the Gulf Stream

the gleaner which collects the fruitage planted there, and conveys

it thousands of miles off to the living whales at sea. But, perhaps,

perfectly in unison is it with the kind and providential care of that

great, good Being who feeds the young ravens when they cry, and caters

for the sparrow.'

 

But Dr. Scoresby, in his work on the Arctic Regions, by aid of figures

conveys the most vivid idea of the myriads of these creatures that

float in the bosom of the ocean. This writer discovered that the

olive-green colour of the waters of the Greenland sea was caused by the

multitudes of jelly-fish contained therein. On examination he found

that 'they were about one-fourth of an inch asunder. In this proportion

a cubic inch of water must contain 64; a cubic foot, 110,592; a cubic

fathom, 23,887,872; and a cubical mile, 23,888,000,000,000,000! From

soundings made in the situation where these animals were found, it

is probable the sea is upwards of a mile in depth; but whether these

substances occupy the whole depth is uncertain. Provided, however, the

depth which they extend be but 250 fathoms, the above immense number

of one species may occur in a space of two miles square. It may give

a better conception of the amount of Medusæ in this extent, if we

calculate the length of time that would be requisite with a certain

number of persons for counting this number. Allowing that one person

could count 1,000,000 in seven days, which is barely possible, it would

have required that 80,000 persons should have started at the creation

of the world to complete the enumeration at the present time! What a

prodigious idea this fact gives of the immensity of creation, and of

the bounty of Divine Providence, in furnishing such a profusion of life

in a region so remote from the habitations of man. But if the number of

animals be so great in a space of two miles square, what must be the

amount requisite for the discolouration of the sea through an extent of

perhaps 20,000, or 30,000 square miles.'

 

These creatures may be appropriately termed the glow-worms of the

ocean, for it is to them that the phosphorescence of the sea is mainly

attributable.

 

Sir Walter Scott, in his poem of the 'Lord of the Isles,' thus alludes

to this phenomenon:--

 

'Awaked before the rushing prow,

The mimic fires of ocean glow.

Those lightnings of the wave.

Wild sparkles crest the broken tides,

And, flashing round the vessel's sides,

With elfish lustre lave;

While far behind their livid light

To the dark billows of the night

A gloomy splendour gave.'