Within the Deep - R. Cadwallader Smith
WITHIN THE DEEP
By R. CADWALLADER SMITH
WITH EIGHT COLOURED PLATES AND MANY BLACK-AND-WHITE ILLUSTRATIONS
_CASSELL'S "EYES AND NO EYES" SERIES_ _BOOK VIII_
CONTENTS
LESSON
I. FISH FOR BREAKFAST
II. THE STORY OF THE FLAT FISH
III. SEALS
IV. SOME STRANGE NURSERIES
V. THE OGRE OF THE DEEP
VI. THE WHALE
VII. TIGERS OF THE SEA
VIII. THE DANGERS OF THE DEEP
IX. THE FISH OF OUR ROCK-POOLS
X. SOME CURIOUS FISHES
XI. THE GARDEN OF THE SEA
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
COLOURED PLATES
THE HERRING FLEET AT WORK IN THE NORTH SEA
THE SEA-ELEPHANT
CORALS OF MANY KINDS
WHALING!
A CORAL REEF
FISHES (No. 1)
FISHES (No. 2)
A GARDEN IN THE SEA
CASSELL'S
"EYES AND NO EYES"
Eighth Book
WITHIN THE DEEP
LESSON I
FISH FOR BREAKFAST
Of all the fish in the wide ocean world, the Herring deserves to be
called the king. He gives work to thousands of people, and food to
millions. Many towns exist because of him; if he failed to visit our
seas, these big towns would shrink to tiny villages.
There are several interesting kinds of Herring, but we will first look
at the one we know so well, which is such good food, either fresh or as
dried "kipper" or "bloater."
The Herring loves to swim in a _shoal_. From the time he leaves the egg,
during his babyhood, and all through his life, he explores the sea with
thousands of other Herrings crowded round him. His name is from a
foreign word--_heer_ or _herr_, an _army_. His enemies--ourselves among
them--find this habit of his a good one. It makes him such easy prey.
Here is a dense shoal of fish, moving slowly along near the surface. To
catch some is quite easy. The Dolphin, or Shark, or other large
fish-hunter, merely has to rush into their ranks with wide-open mouth.
Hordes of Dog-fish feast on the edges of the shoal. And Gannets,
Cormorants, Gulls and other sea-birds can take their fill with ease.
The Herring shoal is a banquet at which the fish-eating sea creatures
feed heartily, and man comes along, to spread his nets in the path of
the shoal. But what matter a few million Herrings when the sea is packed
with billions more! In the North Sea, one shoal was seen which was over
four miles long and two miles wide. In such a mass there would be, at
the very least, twenty thousand million Herring; and this shoal was but
one out of many thousand shoals. One might as well try to count the
grains of sand on the shore as the Herrings in the wide ocean.
These huge shoals do not stay long in one part of the sea. They make
journeys of many miles, each shoal seeming to keep to itself. Like every
other creature, the Herring goes where his food is. What food does he
find? He swallows the small life of the sea, tiny transparent things
like baby shrimps, prawns, crabs, and so on, which swarm even in the
cold water which the Herring loves.
They are good juicy food, these little mites, and very plentiful; so no
wonder the Herring becomes plump. He eats greedily of this good food.
For instance, a young Herring, picked up on the beach at Yarmouth, was
found to contain no less than one hundred and forty-three small shrimps.
Not a bad dinner for a fish the length of this page! The ocean teems
with small creatures; even the huge Greenland Whale feeds on them, and
the Herring seems to live on little else.
Well, the shoals of Herring begin to move from their feeding place in
the deeps, and come nearer the coast. As they get to shallower water
they are crowded together near the surface. Where are they going, and
why?
Perhaps you can guess--they seek warmer, shallower water, in which to
lay their eggs. Now is the time for the fisherman! If the Herring kept
to the deep they would be quite safe--and we should have no nice plump
Herrings on our breakfast tables! Yes, now is the time to spread out
miles of nets in the path of this living mass of silvery fish. They are
in fine condition, well fed, and ready to lay their eggs.
They are moving slowly but surely towards the right place where those
eggs should be laid. What guides them? Why do they go _this_ way and not
_that_ in the vast ocean? We do not really know what guides them; so we
say that they obey a wonderful, unfailing guide--"instinct."
Of course you have seen and tasted the "hard" roe of a Herring; but I do
not suppose you have ever troubled to count all those little round eggs.
Each roe contains some thirty thousand of them! What a huge number of
young ones for one Herring! Still, this is not a large family, as fish
families go. The Cod lays about nine million eggs!
At last the Herrings reach the breeding grounds that they sought, and
the eggs are laid. The eggs of most sea-fish just drift on the surface
of the ocean, at the mercy of their enemies, and washing here and there
as the current sends them. The Herring's eggs sink to the bottom and,
being rather sticky, adhere wherever they fall.
There they lie in masses, on the bed of the sea, and then guests of all
kinds hasten to enjoy such a rare feast of eggs, laid ready for them.
One of the first guests is the Haddock. He comes in his thousands,
greedy for his part of the good food; but, knowing this, the fishermen
also hasten to the spot, and the Haddock pays dearly for his love of
Herring eggs.
Only a few out of each thousand eggs will escape their enemies, and the
baby Herrings, which hatch in about a fortnight, run many dangers; thus,
in the end, the huge family of Mrs. Herring is reduced to a small one.
Even so, there are countless numbers of the tiny fish. They soon grow
shining scales, like those of their parents, and move towards the coast.
It is a pretty sight, these little silvery Herrings playing in the
shallow water. Millions of them dart about and flash in the sunshine,
during the summer months, round our coasts. Sea-birds and other enemies
hover round, to feast on the tiny fish. Great numbers of these baby
Herrings are caught and sold as "Whitebait."
The older Herrings, having laid their eggs, leave the shallows, and make
their way into deep water. They are no longer nice to eat, and the
Herring harvest is over until the following season.
In our talk on flat-fish we shall notice how they are caught, near the
bed of the sea, in the _trawl-net_. Now this net is of no use for the
capture of Herrings. They swim in the open water, near the surface, and
so another kind of trap, the _drift-net_, is used.
Hundreds of vessels sail from our fishing ports when King Herring is
about. Each vessel carries a number of drift-nets. These nets are to be
let down like a hanging wall, in the path of the shoal, at night. Corks
or bladders are fastened to the upper edge of the nets. Of course they
are all mended and made ready before the vessels reach the fishing
grounds. It is not easy to know where to shoot the nets; all the skill
and knowledge of the fisherman are needed to locate the shoals, and,
without this knowledge, he would come home with an empty vessel. Even as
it is, he sometimes catches no more fish than would fill his hat.
A sharp look-out is kept. An oily gleam in the sea tells the knowing
fisherman that the shoal is there; or he may see a Gull swoop down and
carry off a Herring. Then the nets are put out in the path of the shoal.
A big fleet of fishing vessels may let down a thousand miles of nets!
The Herrings, not seeing the fine wall of net, swim into it. Now the
openings in the net--the meshes--are one inch across, just wide enough
for the Herring to poke his head through. Once through, he is caught.
His gill-covers prevent him from drawing back again. Thousands of other
Herrings are held tight, all around him, and the rest of the shoal
scatters for the time being.
When the nets are hauled in, the fisherman beholds a mighty catch, a
sight to repay him for all his trouble. On being taken from its watery
home each Herring is dead almost at once--"as dead as a Herring."
Then comes the race to the market. Once in port, the vessels are rapidly
emptied. Hundreds of thousands of shining, silvery bodies are piled on
the quays--a sight worth seeing! An army of packers gets to work; and
the fresh fish are soon on the rail, speeding to the great fish markets,
on the way to your breakfast table.
The story of the Herring fishery is one of deep interest, and of great
importance. Millions of Herrings are caught every year, forming a cheap
and good food. Yet there are uncountable numbers left; and there is not
the least danger that our nets can ever empty the sea of this wonderful
little fish.
The Herring has several smaller relatives, all of them being excellent
food for us. The Pilchard is one of them; the Sardine is merely a young
Pilchard. Countless myriads of Pilchards visit the Cornish coast;
strangely enough, they frequent only this corner of our seas.
Another cousin of the Herring, the Sprat, is also a fine food, and so
cheap that poor people can enjoy it. Baby Herrings and baby Sprats are
caught in great quantity, and sold under the name of "Whitebait." It was
thought, at one time, that the Whitebait was another kind of fish; but
Whitebait are really the Herring and Sprat in their baby state.
EXERCISES
1. Name several enemies of the Herring. 2. Describe the eggs of the
Herring, and where they are laid. 3. What is a "drift-net," and how is
it used? 4. What is a Sardine? What is a "Whitebait?"
LESSON II
THE STORY OF THE FLAT FISH
You see fish of many shapes and sizes in the fishmonger's shop; they can
be divided into two kinds--round fish and flat fish. Cod, Herring,
Mackerel and Salmon are round fish. The flat fish are Plaice, Turbot,
Brill, Halibut, Sole, Dab and Flounder.
Most people know the taste, as well as the look, of a Plaice; but few
know much about its life in the ocean. Indeed, there are secrets in the
life of this fish, and many other fish too, which still puzzle us.
Put a Salmon and a Plaice side by side, and it is plain that they live
in very different ways. One is made to dart like an arrow, the other to
lie flat. One is the shape of a torpedo, the other is flat like a raft.
The shape and colour of the Plaice tell their own story of a life on the
sandy, pebbly bed of the sea. And look at the eyes! Both are on the
upper side of the head! What could be better for a fish that lies flat
on the ocean floor?
The Plaice is the best known of these flat fish, so we will try to find
how its life is spent in the deep sea.
Have you ever watched those little sailing-vessels which go a-shrimping?
They carry a large net--a shrimp-trawl, it is called--which is drawn
over the sandy home of the Shrimp. When the trawl is hauled up it may
contain not only Shrimps, but the other dwellers in sandy places. Among
these, sad to say, is often a mass of baby Plaice and other flat fish.
Tiny little fellows they are, some hardly as large as a postage stamp.
They are thrown aside, being of no use to the fisherman.
Now these babies are quite flat, darkish on the upper side, white on the
other side, like the Plaice you see in the shop. They are not such new
babies after all. Though such wee mites, it is more than six weeks since
they left the egg; and, in that time, they have passed through wonderful
changes, as you will see.
Plaice lay a great many eggs, which float about in the sea. Most are
gobbled up by those sea-creatures--and they are many--who love fish-eggs
for dinner. From each remaining egg a baby Plaice escapes. At first it
floats upside down at the surface of the sea, and eats nothing at all.
Then it rights itself, and begins to swallow the tiny creatures which
swarm in sea-water.
Strange to tell, this baby Plaice is not a bit like its mother. It is
not a flat fish now, but a "round" fish. It has one eye on each side of
its head, and you would expect it to grow up like any other round fish.
For about a month this small, transparent youngster hardly alters. Then
it grows deeper in the body, and begins to swim near the bottom of the
sea. At last it lies on one side, and its life as a "round" fish is
over.
A fish lying thus on its side would have one eye buried in the sand, and
quite useless, would it not? But our young Plaice is changing its
appearance very quickly. Its head is growing rather "lopsided." The eye
next the sand is, little by little, brought round to the upper side,
until it looks up instead of down. Its mouth gets a queer one-sided
look, owing to the twisting of the bones in the head.
Many people think that the dark upper part of a flat fish is the back,
and the white under part is the stomach. We have seen, however, that
this is not so, for _flat fish lie on one side_.
For the rest of its life the Plaice will remain flat, with two eyes
looking up, and a twisted head. But its colour alters. The side on which
it lies is white; the upper side becomes brown and speckled, dotted over
with red marks. This is a good disguise. Its enemies cannot distinguish
the Plaice from the pebbles and sand around it. They might swim over it,
and yet not see the thin, flat, brownish body pressed down on the bed of
the sea.
Also, these flat fish have a wonderful way of changing colour. Put them
on light sand, and they become lightish. Put them on dark sand and
pebbles, and they soon match it by becoming brown and mottled. This is a
most useful dodge where so many enemies abound, all swifter in the water
than the slow-swimming flat fish.
If you look for flat fish in an aquarium, you will not easily see them.
Now and again one will swim up, with a wavy motion of its body. On
settling again, it shuffles and flaps about, works itself into the sand,
hiding its edges well under, and then, hey presto! it is gone! If the
flat fish are so hard to find in a tank, you may be sure it would be
impossible to find them on the sea bed. They are poor swimmers, but
perfect hiders.
As far as we can tell, they feed on other living creatures. The ocean
floor is a huge dining table for them, where they find very mixed
dinners. They eat small fish, sand-worms, shell-fish, Shrimps and young
Crabs. The Plaice has strong, blunt teeth in its throat, and is well
able to grind up the shells of Cockles and other molluscs, swallowing
the juicy contents.
Now we have seen that the Plaice is first a floating egg, and then a
tiny transparent "round" fish. It sinks to the sea bed, lies on one
side, and becomes a flat fish like its parents.
These little baby flat fish, not much larger than your thumb-nail, crowd
in the shallow, sandy parts of the sea near the coast. There they often
end their lives in the shrimp-trawl, as we have already noticed.
After leaving this "infants' school" the Plaice, and other small flat
fish, go to deeper water. There they feed and grow fat. Our fishermen
know where to find them. Indeed, these special fishing grounds are so
well known that flat fish are scarcer than they used to be. Some kinds
are much too dear ever to be seen on the poor man's table.
There is a special net for catching flat fish, called a _trawl_. This is
a large net, dragged over the bed of the sea by ropes, or steel wire,
attached to the sailing vessel or steam trawler. The net is kept open
under water by means of beams or boards.
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
1. Give the names of five kinds of flat fish. 2. How does the Plaice
escape its enemies in the sea? 3. What is the food of the Plaice? 4. How
are flat fish usually caught for the market?
LESSON III
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.
[Illustration: THE SEA-ELEPHANT]
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.
[Illustration: SEA-LION]
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.
[Illustration: A COMMON SEAL]
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.
We have no room in this lesson to look at all the other kinds of Seals,
Sea-lions, Sea-bears and Walrus. As we have already noticed, the
sealskin sold in shops is really the skin of a Sea-lion. Sometimes these
are called _Eared Seals_, for they possess little ears, while the real
Seals have only small holes in the side of the head for ears. Again,
there are some Eared Seals whose fur is of no use to us, for it lacks
the deep under-fur of the fur Seals.
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
1. How could you tell the Sea-lion from the real Seal? 2. Where are the
Seal "rookeries"? What happens there in the springtime? 3. Why is the
Sea-elephant so named?
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.
When first laid, the Dog-fish's egg has a very long string or _tendril_
at each corner. As the fish lays the egg, she winds these tendrils round
and round a sea-plant; thus the egg is fixed firmly until the young one
is ready to escape from within (_see_ p. 49).
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.