WATER, in which you or I would speedily die, is the element in which life most abounds: and what is perhaps most remarkable, is the fact that that life is animal rather than vegetable life.
In the last chapter I told you of the sponge, very like a vegetable, but really a living animal. One of its chief peculiarities is, that once fixed, it is ever after immovable. I have now to tell you of a vast mass of living creatures in the deep sea, that, unlike the sponge, have no resting place—floating about on the waves, wherever the winds or the currents may drift them.
All my young friends, who have played on the sea shore, have seen specimens of these wonderful creatures. You may have passed them by, even avoided them as nasty looking things; and, left on the dry beach, so they are. Floating in the ocean, they are amongst its rarest beauties. Out of water they look like slimy dirty jelly; suspended in it, they are like a piece of gause, or an azure bell, terminating in delicate silvery garlands. They are small, about the size of the hand, but singularly pretty, of soft light shades. They float like a bell, an umbrel'a, or better still, a mushroom, the stalk of which has been divided into shreds, long thread like fantastic appendages, which hang down like the drooping branches of the weeping willow.
These beautiful things are called Medusae, and our engraving will help you to understand their appearance far better than any description I can give. They are found in every part of the ocean; in the icy waters of Greenland and Iceland; they multiply under the hot suns of the Equator and they flourish in the frozen waters of the South. Their variety is endless. They have of all animals the least solid substance, their bodies being little else than water—a sea water jelly. Yet they supply a large portion of the food of the whales which haunt around the Hebrides, being transported there in innumerable swarms from the coasts of the Atlantic.
The Medusae are furnished with a mouth, which is in constant occupation; they are very voracious, and snap up their prey in a moment. If its prey be too strong for a conflict, the Medusa& holds fast, remains motionless, waits till fatigue has killed its victim, when it swallows it in all security.
From this watery little creature floating about in all its delicate beauty, I will now turn to another great family of the deep, wonderfully different in all respects, but with which you are much more familiar. I mean the tribe of the common eating oysters. First, however, a word as to that wonderful shell-fish, the pearl oyster, which you know supplies not only all the rich pearls, but that beautiful pearly substance which lines our ornamental cabinets, and which is commonly called mother-of-pearl. That substance is also called nacre, and, in fact, is the same material as the pearl itself; only nacre lines the whole of the shell, while the pearl is found in the shell, or on the body of the fish inside. The origin of the pearl is deeply interesting. Some little substance gets inside the shell, an egg of a fish, or a, grain of sand, which, if left, would prove a constant annoyance to the fish, perhaps its death. To prevent this mischief, the fish throws out around this foreign substance layers of this precious matter, which in time forms a costly pearl.
Can any of my young friends find a lesson in this remarkable action of the pearl oyster? Have you got anything about you that is disagreeable; any bad temper, or sinful tendency, that is constantly working mischief? Yes, I know that is so with every one. Let me ask you, have you ever found out any plan by which that can not only be made harmless, but the sense of having such an evil thing about you can become a real blessing both to you and others? Ah, if you are saved, and will learn of the Lord Jesus, He will teach you how this wonderful change can be brought about. His grace can so work, that these evil things shall not only be hidden, but in their place shall spring up, beautiful graces—pearls far more precious than any ever yet found in the oyster.
To fish for these pearl oysters, gives employment to great numbers of people. They are found nearly all over the world, but chiefly in the Bay of Bengal, Ceylon, and other parts of the Indian Ocean. The divers descend from fifty to seventy feet, and they will remain under water from thirty to eighty seconds, but seldom more than thirty. Each boat's crew consists of twenty men and a negro. Ten of them are divers, who go down five at a time. When about to descend, the diver fixes a heavy stone to his foot, weighing over fifty pounds, Having reached the bottom, he throws himself on his face and begins to gather all the shells within his reach, and places them in a net. When wishing to ascend, he pulls a signal cord, and is drawn up with all possible speed. A good diver will repeat this operation as many as fifteen and twenty times. The labor is extremely severe, and sometimes on reaching the boat, water, mingled with blood, will be discharged from the mouth, nose, and ears. In some seas divers are exposed to great danger from ravenous sharks, which lie in wait, and frequently devour them.
It is said that the fisheries of the Bay of Bengal, those on the Chinese coast, of Japan, and of the Indian Archipelago, realize near a million of money-per annum. Some of these pearls, in ancient and modern times, have been sold for almost fabulous sums of money. It is said the Shah of Persia once purchased one for £180,000.
But the common eating oyster is one of the great wonders of the ocean. Its construction, mode of life, reproduction, and the enormous traffic to which it gives rise, are all most interesting subjects. As you all know the oyster is composed of two valves, united by a hinge, a muscle which hermetically closes the shell upon the animal. The oyster has no power of locomotion, but is always found attached to some hard substance. When opened, the oyster seems a flattened, shapeless creature, but a little examination shows that its organization is delicate and wonderful. This, however, I will pass over, and come at once to its history, beginning with its mode of reproduction. The eggs, or ova, are yellowish in color, and exist in prodigious numbers. Oysters are not male and female like most animals, but it is said that each oyster is capable of producing two millions of eggs. In spite of this most ample provision, we hear that oysters are getting scarcer each year, and of late the price to the consumers has greatly increased. The spawning season is usually from the month of June to the end of September. The eggs are not cast off like the spawn of most fish, but remain a certain time in the folds of the parent, till the young are able to take care of themselves. This casting off their young is said to be a most curious sight. A living mass is seen to exhale from the oyster bed. The microscope reveals each one of these millions of oysters to have a perfect shell, and in every way able to do without maternal protection. The waves soon scatter them far and wide.
The first aim of the young oyster is to find some substance to which it can attach itself. Its dangers at once begin. Currents may drive it out to sea, or it may at once be smothered in a mud bank. It has innumerable enemies, who find rich and delicate food in this vast mass of living substance, and who are always on the watch as soon as the appointed time arrives, and by whom a very large proportion of the young fish are immediately destroyed.
Once attached, the oyster grows rapidly. At first a strong microscope is needed to discover it. In one month it is as large as a pea; in one year it is near two inches long, but it is some years before it is fit for the table.
But you must not suppose that all the oysters are simply fished out of the sea and brought to the market. There is great labor and expense in what is called breeding oysters, and you will find much pleasure in obtaining a suitable book and reading about the whole process. Along all the coasts of Europe an immense number of artificial beds, or parks as they are called, have been formed for this purpose. And this is no new thing, for history tells us of a man named Sergius Orata, who lived five hundred years before the Christian era, who cultivated the production of oysters in this way. The plan is to provide a quiet place; cover the bottom with stones, or shells, or drive down piles, and interlace them with brush-wood, anything that will prevent the young fish from being driven away by the tides, or destroyed by their natural enemies, and to provide a substance to which they can adhere the moment they are sent forth from the parent oyster. Large quantities of young oysters, fished from the natural beds, are then placed in these parks, where they will breed and fatten rapidly, and where great care and attention are bestowed upon them.
Our engraving will give you a good idea of the way in which dredging for oysters is performed. This is carried on in the estuary of the Thames, by the Whitstable and Colne boats, and in many other places on all our coasts. Each boat is provided with four or five dredges, resembling in shape a common clasp purse. They are formed of net work, with a strong iron frame. When the boat is over the oyster bed, the dredges are let down and drawn along, the heavy iron frame scraping in the oysters from the bottom. By far the larger proportion of market oysters are now procured from the many parks, and are artificially reared. Their flavor is much superior, and they are much more valuable than those produced in a natural way.
The poor oyster, however, has a hard time of it from beginning to end. It is first dragged violently from its own element; then placed in water filled with horrid green matter to color it. The poor creature is a second time fished up, piled in heaps with scarce water enough to keep it alive. Shut up in an obscure narrow basket, it is heaped up on the pavement as inert lifeless merchandise. By a long railway ride its existence, or what little is left, is almost shaken out of it. It is then thrown into the street at the door of some oyster shop. Now comes the moment of its sad fate. It has scarcely been pitched into a tub, when it is seized by the pitiless dealer, ruthlessly opened by a large knife, severed from its shell, tearing mercilessly its fine membranes, sent off to the table of a devouring customer, powdered with pungent pepper, its still bleeding wounds saturated with strong vinegar, and last of all, seized by a three-pronged fork, it is thrown into his mouth, and while still living and palpitating, it is cut, crushed, and ground to an inanimate mass.
Such is the history of the poor oyster, though it be one of the wonders of the deep.