2016년 8월 1일 월요일

Glimpses of Ocean Life 33

Glimpses of Ocean Life 33


On closely examining the spot pointed out, and turning over some fronds
of Dulse, we came upon a small fleshy ball of a dark brown colour,
from which there still issued a fluid of vivid crimson hue. Having
placed this strange object in a bottle, I soon pronounced it to be an
Aplysia, with whose full-length portrait, as represented in books, I
had previously been made acquainted.
 
The power which this animal possesses, under irritation, of spurting
out a peculiar secretion, I also remembered to have seen mentioned by
several writers on natural history.
 
Although generally believed to be gentle and perfectly harmless, yet,
as Professor Forbes observes, few molluscs have had a worse character
than the Aplysiæ. From very ancient times they have been regarded with
horror and suspicion; and many writers on natural history, conversant
with them only through the silly stories of ignorant fishermen,
have combined to hold them up as objects of detestation. To touch
them, according to European prejudices, was sufficient to generate
disease in the foolhardy experimenter; while Asiatics, reversing
the consequences, maintained, perhaps with greater truth, that they
met with instantaneous death when handled by man. Physicians wrote
treatises on the effects of their poison, and discussed the remedies
best adapted to neutralize it. Conspirators brewed nauseous beverages
from their slimy bodies, and administered the potion confident of its
deadly powers. Every nation in the world on whose shores the poor
Sea-Hares crawled, accorded to them the attributes of ferocity and
malignant virulence, although there never appears to have been the
slightest foundation for a belief in their crimes.
 
A specimen of the Aplysia that I had in my tank deposited a stringy
coil of spawn, which closely resembled that of the Eolis, with the
exception that the eggs, instead of being white, were of a reddish
tint.
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXII.
 
Serpulæ and Sabellæ.
 
 
 
 
[Illustration:
 
1, 2 SEA-URCHIN'S TEETH (Two illustrations.)
3 COMMON SEA CUCUMBER
4 COMMON RAZOR-SHELL
5 COMMON SERPULÆ, attached to a piece of stone.]
 
 
 
 
XXII.
 
 
With the exception of the Balani (Acorn-Barnacles), perhaps the most
common objects to be met with at the sea-shore are the Serpulæ.
Scarcely a rock, or shell, or bit of old china, or piece of wood, or
rusty nail, lying near low-water mark, but is encrusted with colonies
of these animals. I have a small twig of a tree by me, so thickly
coated with Serpulæ as to obscure all signs of its ligneous character,
except at each end. A shell also exhibits the same phenomenon, and
well-nigh defies the most skilful observer to define its original form
with any degree of certainty.
 
The shelly tubes of these animals are built in the form of serpents,
or twisted funnels, of a milk-white colour. Although so extremely
hard, these tubes are formed solely by an exudation from the body
of the animal--a simple marine worm. Unlike its erratic friend, the
earth-worm, the Serpula is sedentary in its habits, and at no time does
it ever leave its dwelling.
 
The delicate, but brilliant feathery plume--the only portion of the
animal ever visible--constitutes the principal mechanism by means of
which the Serpula constructs its calcareous tube.
 
A most wonderful instance of how mighty are the works which these
insignificant creatures form when congregated together in vast numbers,
and how useful such labours may sometimes be to mankind, is narrated by
Dr. Darwin in his 'Voyage of the Beagle.'
 
Being delayed by adverse winds, this gentleman made a stay at
Pernambuco, a large city on the coast of Brazil, and the most curious
object that he saw there was the reef that formed the harbour. 'I
doubt,' to use his own words, 'whether in the whole world any other
natural structure has so artificial an appearance. It runs for a length
of several miles in an absolutely straight line, and parallel to, and
not far distant from the shore. It varies in width from thirty to
sixty yards, and its surface is level and smooth; it is composed of
obscurely stratified hard sandstone. At high water the waves break over
it; at low water its summit is left dry, and it might then be mistaken
for a breakwater erected by Cyclopean workmen. On this coast the
currents of the sea tend to throw up in front of the land long spits
and bars of loose sand, and on one of these the town of Pernambuco
stands. In former times a long spit of this nature seems to have become
consolidated by the percolation of calcareous matter, and afterwards
to have been gradually upheaved, the outer and loose parts during the
process having been worn away by the action of the sea, and the solid
nucleus left as we now see it. Although night and day the waves of
the open Atlantic, turbid with sediment, are driven against the steep
outside edges of this wall of stone, yet the oldest pilots know of no
tradition of any change in its appearance. This durability is by far
the most curious fact in its history; _it is due to a tough layer, a
few inches thick, of calcareous matter, wholly formed by the successive
growth and death of the small shells of Serpulæ, together with some
few Barnacles_, &c. These insignificant organic beings, especially
the Serpulæ, have done good service to the people of Pernambuco, for
without their protective aid the bar of sandstone would inevitably have
been long ago worn away, and without the bar there would have been no
harbour,'
 
Nothing whatever appears to be known relative to the mode of
reproduction of these Annelids. I have paid much attention to the
subject, but as yet have not gained any positive information regarding
it. The only fact which I consider worthy of being chronicled is the
following: On one occasion, when quite a novice in Marine Zoology,
while observing a beautiful group of Serpulæ seated on a stone, I saw
issuing from out one of the tubes a kind of very fine dust, of a rich
crimson hue, which continued to arise for nearly an hour in spite of
repeated efforts to disperse it by aid of a camel-hair pencil. At first
I believed the 'dust' to be the 'remains' of a deceased serpula, but
afterwards found that such was not the case, the annelid being alive
and healthy. Never having seen the phenomenon since, it has been a
great source of regret to me that I did not endeavour to discover what
the dust was composed of; but have little doubt that the microscope
would have shown it to be, in reality, the ova of the Serpula.
 
Another class of Annelidans, termed Sabellæ, like the Serpulæ, also
build habitations for themselves, but not of the same materials.
Instead of being white, the tubes of the first mentioned animals are
brown in colour, and composed of minute granules of sand, or small
shells, and lined internally with a gelatinous substance exuded from
the body of the worm. On the interior of the oyster and other shells,
and even in univalves occupied by the Lobster Crab, various tubes of
Sabellæ may often be seen. They are, however, generally discovered
congregated together, forming a kind of honeycomb mass in the fissures
of rocks, or against the sides of rock-pools, or on the surface of
small stones, &c.
 
A mass of Sabellæ tubes forms by no means an inappropriate or
unpleasant object for the tank, as the animals are hardy, and will
live for many months if the water be kept pure. Moreover, while in
confinement, they do not live in luxurious indolence, but ever seem
to be busy in the exercise of their architectural propensities, making
alterations, repairing damages, or otherwise 'sorting' their tubiculous
habitations.
 
'The tubes of the Sabellæ,' says Dr. Williams, 'are soft, flexible,
and muddy. Slimy mucus furnished by the integumentary glands of the
body is the mortar or cement, fine sand molecules are the "stones" or
solid material of the architecture. In the Sabellæ the lime of which
the tubes are built is held in solution in the mucus provided by the
cutaneous glands. It is adjusted in the fluid form, and moulded by
appropriate tools into the required shape. It then _solidifies, too,
under water_, like the "Aberthaw lime." The tube of the Sabellæ fits
closely round the body of the worm; it is slightly elastic, and the
interior is smooth.'
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIII.
 
The Solen, or Razor-Fish
 
 
'His mansion he extends,
So well concealed beneath the crumbling sands.'
 
 
 
 
XXIII.
 
 
Few people who are in the habit of visiting the sea-shore but must have
noticed the empty shells of the animal about to be described. I allude
to the Solen, or Razor-Shell, commonly so called from its resemblance
to the handle attached to a barber's scythe.
 
This bivalve, improbable as the statement will appear to the
uninitiated, is one of the most efficient burrowers to be met with on
our shores.
 
By means of its fleshy foot it digs a hole in the mud or sand.
Sometimes it retreats from the surface to a distance of several feet,
but generally remains sufficiently near to allow its short, fringed
siphons to project above the sand.
 
In walking along the beach, left bare by the receding tide, the
pedestrian may often perceive little jets of water thrown up at his
approach. These jets proceed from the Razor-Fish in question. Although
we may be several yards from his burrow, his sense of feeling is so
acute, that the faintest vibration of the earth around causes the
creature to retire alarmed within his dwelling.
 
In many places the Solen is much sought after by the poor, who esteem
it a great luxury. In foreign countries--Japan, for example--it is so
highly prized that we are told, 'by express order of the prince of that
country, it is forbid to fish them until a sufficient quantity hath
been provided for the emperor's table.'
 
The Irish people, when they go out to catch the Solen siliqua, have
an appropriate song and chorus which they sing, but whether to amuse
themselves or charm the fish 'this deponent sayeth not,' for very
obvious reasons. In general, I should think the less noise the more
likelihood of success to those endeavouring to capture this animal.

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