The Beauties of Nature, and the Wonders of the World We Live In Part 18

The Sea is outside time. A thousand, ten thousand, or a million years ago it must have looked just as it does now, and as it will ages hence.

With the land this is not so. The mountains and hills, rivers and valleys, animals and plants are continually changing: but the Sea is always the same,

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same Year after year.

Directly we see the coast, or even a s.h.i.+p, the case is altered. Boats may remain the same for centuries, but s.h.i.+ps are continually being changed. The wooden walls of old England are things of the past, and the ironclads of to-day will soon be themselves improved off the face of the ocean.

The great characteristic of Lakes is peace, that of the Sea is energy, somewhat restless, perhaps, but still movement without fatigue.

The Earth lies quiet like a child asleep, The deep heart of the Heaven is calm and still, Must thou alone a restless vigil keep, And with thy sobbing all the silence fill.[59]

A Lake in a storm rather gives us the impression of a beautiful Water Spirit tormented by some Evil Demon; but a storm at Sea is one of the grandest manifestations of Nature.

Yet more; the billows and the depths have more; High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast; They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle thunders will not break their rest.

Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave; Give back the true and brave.[60]

The most vivid description of a storm at sea is, I think, the following pa.s.sage from Ruskin's _Modern Painters_:

"Few people, comparatively, have ever seen the effect on the sea of a powerful gale continued without intermission for three or four days and nights; and to those who have not, I believe it must be unimaginable, not from the mere force or size of the surge, but from the complete annihilation of the limit between sea and air. The water from its prolonged agitation is beaten, not into mere creaming foam, but into ma.s.ses of acc.u.mulated yeast, which hangs in ropes and wreaths from wave to wave, and, where one curls over to break, form a festoon like a drapery from its edge; these are taken up by the wind, not in dissipating dust, but bodily, in writhing, hanging, coiling ma.s.ses, which make the air white and thick as with snow, only the flakes are a foot or two long each: the surges themselves are full of foam in their very bodies underneath, making them white all through, as the water is under a great cataract; and their ma.s.ses, being thus half water and half air, are torn to pieces by the wind whenever they rise, and carried away in roaring smoke, which chokes and strangles like actual water.

Add to this, that when the air has been exhausted of its moisture by long rain, the spray of the sea is caught by it as described above, and covers its surface not merely with the smoke of finely divided water, but with boiling mist; imagine also the low rain-clouds brought down to the very level of the sea, as I have often seen them, whirling and flying in rags and fragments from wave to wave; and finally, conceive the surges themselves in their utmost pitch of power, velocity, vastness, and madness, lifting themselves in precipices and peaks, furrowed with their whirl of ascent, through all this chaos, and you will understand that there is indeed no distinction left between the sea and air; that no object, nor horizon, nor any landmark or natural evidence of position is left; and the heaven is all spray, and the ocean all cloud, and that you can see no further in any direction than you see through a cataract."

SEA LIFE

The Sea teems with life. The Great Sea Serpent is, indeed, as much a myth as the Kraken of Pontoppidan, but other monsters, scarcely less marvellous, are actual realities. The Giant Cuttle Fish of Newfoundland, though the body is comparatively small, may measure 60 feet from the tip of one arm to that of another. The Whalebone Whale reaches a length of over 70 feet, but is timid and inoffensive. The Cachalot or Sperm Whale, which almost alone among animals roams over the whole ocean, is as large, and much more formidable. It is armed with powerful teeth, and is said to feed mainly on Cuttle Fish, but sometimes on true fishes, or even Seals. When wounded it often attacks boats, and its companions do not hesitate to come to the rescue. In one case, indeed, an American s.h.i.+p was actually attacked, stove in, and sunk by a gigantic male Cachalot.

The Great Roqual is still more formidable, and has been said to attain a length of 120 feet, but this is probably an exaggeration. So far as we know, the largest species of all is Simmond's Whale, which reaches a maximum of 85 to 90 feet.

In former times Whales were frequent on our coasts, so that, as Bishop Pontoppidan said, the sea sometimes appeared as if covered with smoking chimneys, but they have been gradually driven further and further north, and are still becoming rarer. As they retreated man followed, and to them we owe much of our progress in geography. Is it not, however, worth considering whether they might not also be allowed a "truce of G.o.d,"

whether some part of the ocean might not be allotted to them where they might be allowed to breed in peace? As a mere mercantile arrangement the maritime nations would probably find this very remunerative. The reckless slaughter of Whales, Sea Elephants, Seals, and other marine animals is a sad blot, not only on the character, but on the common sense, of man.

The monsters of the ocean require large quant.i.ties of food, but they are supplied abundantly. Scoresby mentions cases in which the sea was for miles tinged of an olive green by a species of Medusa. He calculates that in a cubic mile there must have been 23,888,000,000,000,000, and though no doubt the living ma.s.s did not reach to any great depth, still, as he sailed through water thus discoloured for many miles, the number must have been almost incalculable.

This is, moreover, no rare or exceptional case. Navigators often sail for leagues through shoals of creatures, which alter the whole colour of the sea, and actually change it, as Reclus says, into "une ma.s.se animee."

Still, though the whole ocean teems with life, both animals and plants are most abundant near the coast. Air-breathing animals, whether mammals or insects, are naturally not well adapted to live far from dry land.

Even Seals, though some of them make remarkable migrations, remain habitually near the sh.o.r.e. Whales alone are specially modified so as to make the wide ocean their home. Of birds the greatest wanderer is the Albatross, which has such powers of flight that it is said even to sleep on the wing.

Many Pelagic animals--Jelly-fishes, Molluscs, Cuttle-fishes, Worms, Crustacea, and some true fishes--are remarkable for having become perfectly transparent; their sh.e.l.ls, muscles, and even their blood have lost all colour, or even undergone the further modification of having become blue, often with beautiful opalescent reflections. This obviously renders them less visible, and less liable to danger.

The sea-sh.o.r.e, wherever a firm hold can be obtained, is covered with Sea-weeds, which fall roughly into two main divisions, olive-green and red, the latter colour having a special relation to light. These Sea-weeds afford food and shelter to innumerable animals.

The clear rocky pools left by the retiring tide are richly clothed with green sea-weeds, while against the sides are tufts of beautiful filmy red algae, interspersed with Sea-anemones,--white, creamy, pink, yellow, purple, with a coronet of blue beads, and of many mixed colours; Sponges, Corallines, Starfish, Limpets, Barnacles, and other sh.e.l.l-fish; feathery Zoophytes and Annelides expand their pink or white disks, while here and there a Crab scuttles across; little Fish or Shrimps timidly come out from crevices in the rocks, or from among the fronds of the sea-weeds, or hastily dart from shelter to shelter; each little pool is, in fact, a miniature ocean in itself, and the longer one looks the more and more one will see.

The dark green and brown sea-weeds do not live beyond a few--say about 15--fathoms in depth. Below them occur delicate scarlet species, with Corallines and a different set of sh.e.l.ls, Sea-urchins, etc. Down to about 100 fathoms the animals and plants are still numerous and varied.

But they gradually diminish in numbers, and are replaced by new forms.

To appreciate fully the extreme loveliness of marine animals they must be seen alive. "A tuft of Sertularia, laden with white, or brilliantly tinted Polypites," says Hincks, "like blossoms on some tropical tree, is a perfect marvel of beauty. The unfolding of a ma.s.s of Plumularia, taken from amongst the miscellaneous contents of the dredge, and thrown into a bottle of clear sea-water, is a sight which, once seen, no dredger will forget. A tree of Campanularia, when each one of its thousand transparent calycles--itself a study of form--is crowned by a circlet of beaded arms, drooping over its margin like the petals of a flower, offers a rare combination of the elements of beauty.

"The rocky wall of some deep tidal pool, thickly studded with the long and slender stems of Tubularia, surmounted by the bright rose-coloured heads, is like the gay parterre of a garden. Equally beautiful is the dense growth of Campanularia, covering (as I have seen it in Plymouth Sound) large tracts of the rock, its delicate shoots swaying to and fro with each movement of the water, like trees in a storm, or the colony of Obelia on the waving frond of the tangle looking almost ethereal in its grace, transparency, and delicacy, as seen against the coa.r.s.e dark surface that supports it."

Few things are more beautiful than to look down from a boat into transparent water. At the bottom wave graceful sea-weeds, brown, green, or rose-coloured, and of most varied forms; on them and on the sands or rocks rest starfishes, mollusca, crustaceans, Sea-anemones, and innumerable other animals of strange forms and varied colours; in the clear water float or dart about endless creatures; true fishes, many of them brilliantly coloured; Cuttle-fishes like bad dreams; Lobsters and Crabs with graceful, transparent Shrimps; Worms swimming about like living ribbons, some with thousands of coloured eyes, and Medusae like living gla.s.s of the richest and softest hues, or glittering in the suns.h.i.+ne with all the colours of the rainbow.

And on calm, cool nights how often have I stood on the deck of a s.h.i.+p watching with wonder and awe the stars overhead, and the sea-fire below, especially in the foaming, silvery wake of the vessel, where often suddenly appear globes of soft and lambent light, given out perhaps from the surface of some large Medusa.

"A beautiful white cloud of foam," says Coleridge, "at momently intervals coursed by the side of the vessel with a roar, and little stars of flame danced and sparkled and went out in it; and every now and then light detachments of this white cloud-like foam darted off from the vessel's side, each with its own small constellation, over the sea, and scoured out of sight like a Tartar troop over a wilderness."

Fish also are sometimes luminous. The Sun-fish has been seen to glow like a white-hot cannon-ball, and in one species of Shark (Squalus fulgens) the whole surface sometimes gives out a greenish lurid light which makes it a most ghastly object, like some great ravenous spectre.

THE OCEAN DEPTHS

The Land bears a rich harvest of life, but only at the surface. The Ocean, on the contrary, though more richly peopled in its upper layers, which swarm with such innumerable mult.i.tudes of living creatures that they are, so to say, almost themselves alive--teems throughout with living beings.

The deepest abysses have a fauna of their own, which makes up for the comparative scantiness of its numbers, by the peculiarity and interest of their forms and organisation. The middle waters are the home of various Fishes, Medusae, and animalcules, while the upper layers swarm with an inexhaustible variety of living creatures.

It used to be supposed that the depths of the Ocean were dest.i.tute of animal life, but recent researches, and especially those made during our great national expedition in the "Challenger," have shown that this is not the case, but that the Ocean depths have a wonderful and peculiar life of their own. Fish have been dredged up even from a depth of 2750 fathoms.

The conditions of life in the Ocean depths are very peculiar. The light of the sun cannot penetrate beyond about two hundred fathoms; deeper than this complete darkness prevails. Hence in many species the eyes have more or less completely disappeared.

Sir Wyville Thomson mentions a kind of Crab (Ethusa granulata), which when living near the surface has well developed eyes; in deeper water, 100 to 400 fathoms, eyestalks are present, but the animal is apparently blind, the eyes themselves being absent; while in specimens from a depth of 500-700 fathoms the eyestalks themselves have lost their special character, and have become fixed, their terminations being combined into a strong, pointed beak.

In other deep sea creatures, on the contrary, the eyes gradually become more and more developed, so that while in some species the eyes gradually dwindle, in others they become unusually large.

Many of the latter species may be said to be a light to themselves, being provided with a larger or smaller number of curious luminous organs. The deep sea fish are either silvery, pink, or in many cases black, sometimes relieved with scarlet, and when the luminous organs flash out must present a very remarkable appearance.

We have still much to learn as to the structure and functions of these organs, but there are cases in which their use can be surmised with some probability. The light is evidently under the will of the fish.[61] It is easy to imagine a Photichthys (Light Fish) swimming in the black depths of the Ocean, suddenly flas.h.i.+ng out light from its luminous organs, and thus bringing into view any prey which may be near; while, if danger is disclosed, the light is again at once extinguished. It may be observed that the largest of these organs is in this species situated just under the eye, so that the fish is actually provided with a bull's eye lantern. In other cases the light may rather serve as a defence, some having, as, for instance, in the genus Scopelus, a pair of large ones in the tail, so that "a strong ray of light shot forth from the stern-chaser may dazzle and frighten an enemy."

In other cases they appear to serve as lures. The "Sea-devil" or "Angler" of our coasts has on its head three long, very flexible, reddish filaments, while all round its head are fringed appendages, closely resembling fronds of sea-weed. The fish conceals itself at the bottom, in the sand or among sea-weed, and dangles the long filaments in front of its mouth. Little fishes, taking these filaments for worms, unsuspectingly approach, and thus fall victims.

Several species of the same family live at great depths, and have very similar habits. A mere red filament would be invisible in the dark and therefore useless. They have, however, developed a luminous organ, a living "glow-lamp," at the end of the filament, which doubtless proves a very effective lure.

In the great depths, however, fish are comparatively rare. Nor are Molluscs much more abundant. Sea-urchins, Sea Slugs, and Starfish are more numerous, and on one occasion 20,000 specimens of an Echinus were brought up at a single haul. True corals are rare, nor are Hydrozoa frequent, though a giant species, allied to the little Hydra of our ponds but upwards of 6 feet in height, has more than once been met with. Sponges are numerous, and often very beautiful. The now well known Euplectella, "Venus's Flower-basket," resembles an exquisitely delicate fabric woven in spun silk; it is in the form of a gracefully curved tube, expanding slightly upwards and ending in an elegant frill. The wall is formed of parallel bands of gla.s.sy siliceous fibres, crossed by others at right angles, so as to form a square meshed net. These sponges are anch.o.r.ed on the fine ooze by wisps of gla.s.sy filaments, which often attain a considerable length. Many of these beautiful organisms, moreover, glow when alive with a soft diffused light, flickering and sparkling at every touch. What would one not give to be able to wander a while in these wonderful regions!

It is curious that no plants, so far as we know, grow in the depths of the Ocean, or, indeed, as far as our present information goes, at a greater depth than about 100 fathoms.

As regards the nature of the bottom itself, it is in the neighbourhood of land mainly composed of materials, brought down by rivers or washed from the sh.o.r.e, coa.r.s.er near the coast, and tending to become finer and finer as the distance increases and the water deepens. The bed of the Atlantic from 400 to 2000 fathoms is covered with an ooze, or very fine chalky deposit, consisting to a great extent of minute and more or less broken sh.e.l.ls, especially those of Globigerina. At still greater depths the carbonate of lime gradually disappears, and the bottom consists of fine red clay, with numerous minute particles, some of volcanic, some of meteoric, origin, fragments of shooting stars, over 100,000,000 of which are said to strike the surface of our earth every year. How slow the process of deposition must be, may be inferred from the fact that the trawl sometimes brings up many teeth of Sharks and ear-bones of Whales (in one case no less than 600 teeth and 100 ear-bones), often semi-fossil, and which from their great density had remained intact for ages, long after all the softer parts had perished and disappeared.

The greatest depth of the Ocean appears to coincide roughly with the greatest height of the mountains. There are indeed cases recorded in which it is said that "no bottom" was found even at 39,000 feet. It is, however, by no means easy to sound at such great depths, and it is now generally considered that these earlier observations are untrustworthy.

The greatest depth known in the Atlantic is 3875 fathoms--a little to the north of the Virgin Islands, but the soundings as yet made in the deeper parts of the Ocean are few in number, and it is not to be supposed that the greatest depth has yet been ascertained.

CORAL ISLANDS

In many parts of the world the geography itself has been modified by the enormous development of animal life. Most islands fall into one of three princ.i.p.al categories:

Firstly, Those which are in reality a part of the continent near which they lie, being connected by comparatively shallow water, and standing to the continent somewhat in the relation of planets to the sun; as, for instance, the Cape de Verde Islands to Africa, Ceylon to India, or Tasmania to Australia.

Secondly, Volcanic islands; and