THE REPTILES OF THE OCEAN.

There was a time when the reptiles were the monarchs of the sea, when the ocean swarmed with gigantic saurians, tyrants of the fishes, combining the swiftness of the dolphin with the rapacity of the crocodile. Had those monsters of the deep been endowed with human intelligence, they would most likely also, with human arrogance, have boasted of an eternal sway. For where in the whole ocean was the enemy that could cope with them? Did not all beings flee wherever they appeared? and did not the inexhaustible sea promise them an everlasting supply of food?

But in spite of their colossal power, the saurians, like all created beings, have been forced to succumb to time.

Centuries and centuries passed on, the sea and air gradually changed, the temperature of the elements no longer remained the same, and thus by degrees a new ocean and a new atmosphere were formed, uncongenial to the nature of those huge reptiles. Thus they have been effaced from the roll of living things, and some petrified remains alone bear testimony to their former existence.

The most powerful saurians of the present day—the crocodile the gavial and the alligator—have left to the dolphins, the sharks, and other monstrous or swiftly-swimming cetaceans and fishes the dominion of the seas, and now merely infest the rivers and swamps of the tropical zone. The lizards also have long since retired from the scene where they once abounded, and the ocean at present harbours no other reptiles in its bosom than turtles and sea-snakes.

Most of the animals belonging to this class are either dangerous or of a disgusting appearance. Few creatures are objects of such universal abhorrence as the crocodile—the very type of brutal cold-blooded ferocity; as the venomous snake—the emblem of perfidy and ingratitude; or as the loathsome, but innocent toad, to which, on account of its ugliness, noxious properties have been ascribed which the poor animal does not possess. The frogs, lizards, and turtles alone seem to have escaped this general detestation, either from their more active habits, or their well-known harmlessness, or their various utility to man.

The anatomy of the turtle offers many points of interest; its vertebrÆ, ribs, and breast-bone growing together so as to form a bony envelope round the whole animal. This harness is covered by the skin, which in its turn is bedecked with large scales, while all the muscles and other soft parts are enclosed in the inner cavity. Only the head, feet, and tail protrude through openings between the upper and under carapace, and these can, by the land tortoises at least, be withdrawn entirely under the former. This is the only protection which Nature has afforded these animals against their enemies, for they have neither swiftness of flight, nor any offensive weapon at their command. But as soon as anything suspicious approaches, they conceal themselves under their massive cover, and oppose to every attack by tooth or nail the passive resistance of an impenetrable shield. Most of their enemies find it, besides, no easy task to turn them on their back, as many species attain a very considerable weight, so that their mere bulk constitutes a good defence. It might be supposed that this protection could only avail for a short time, as the want of air must soon force the animal to stretch its head out of its hiding-place, and this indeed would be the case, if kind Nature had not taken her measures against this emergency, by giving the creature a cold blood, so that it can remain a very long time without breathing; long enough, at least, to tire the patience of the most obstinate foe.

But how comes it, the reader may ask, that respiration, which pours a warm current through our veins, fails in raising the temperature of the turtle's blood?

Without entering into a lengthened description of the human heart, I shall merely observe that it consists of two halves (each half being again subdivided into two separate chambers), and that the right half, which receives venous blood and pours it into the lungs, is completely separated by a partition from the left half, which receives arterial or aËrated blood from the lungs, and propels it into every part of the body. Thus the two different kinds of blood are completely separated, so that an unmixed venous blood flows into the lungs, where it is converted by the oxygen of the air into arterial blood. But this connection, like most chemical processes, takes place under an evolution of heat, which is so considerable that our internal temperature constantly maintains itself at the height of 98° F.

But the turtle's heart is differently formed, consisting, as the annexed theoretic representation shows, of but one ventricle and two auricles, so that a mixed, or only half aËrated blood circulates throughout the body, which naturally produces a torpidity of the whole vital process. Besides, the lungs of the reptiles are incapable of aËrating so great a quantity of blood as ours, as their cells are much larger, thus offering less surface to the action of the air; and finally, the ribs of the turtles being immovable, they are incapable of extending the lungs, so that the animal is absolutely obliged to swallow the necessary supply of air, and to pump it, as it were, into the lungs, by contracting the muscles of the throat. Thus we see that every precaution has been taken to reduce respiration to a low standard, and prevent the evolution of heat. With this indolence of its cold-blooded circulation, the whole nature of the animal is in harmony; the bluntness of its senses, its want of intelligence, its slow movements, and its long endurance of hunger, thirst, and want of air. It leads but a drowsy dream-like existence, and yet, we may be sure, it is far from unhappy, for all its functions and organs agree perfectly one with the other, and when concord reigns, enjoyment of some kind must exist.

The turtles are distinguished from the land tortoises particularly by their large and long fin-shaped feet, and also by a longer tail, which serves them as a rudder. They have no teeth, but the horny upper jaw closes over the lower like the lid of a box, thus serving them as excellent shears, either for crushing shells or dividing the tough fibres of the sea-grass.

They are at home in all the warmer seas, but sometimes they are carried by oceanic streams far away from their accustomed haunts. Thus, in the year 1752, a Green turtle, six feet long, and weighing 900 pounds, stranded near Dieppe; and in 1778 another, seven feet long, on the coast of Languedoc. One taken on the coast of Cornwall in July, 1756, measured from the tip of the nose to the end of the shell, six feet nine inches, and the weight was supposed to be nearly 800 pounds. These few examples show us that the turtles rank among the larger inhabitants of the ocean, although they are far from attaining the fabulous proportions assigned to them by Pliny (who makes the Indians use their shells as boats or roofs), or the enormous size of some colossal extinct species, such as the fossil tortoise from the Siwala hills, preserved in the East Indian Museum, which measures twelve feet in length. They live almost constantly at sea, partly on shell-fish, like the fierce Loggerhead turtle (Testudo Caretta), partly on sea-grass, like the Green turtle (T. Midas), and only go on shore during the warmest months of the year, for the purpose of laying their eggs.

"We followed the monotonous sea-coast," says Prince Maximilian of Neuwied, in his interesting "Travels through the Brazils;" "our two soldiers, a Negro and an Indian, frequently stopping to dig turtle-eggs out of the sand, which, boiled in sea-water, used to form our evening repast. Once, while they were busy gathering drift-wood for cooking, we found at a small distance from our fire an enormous turtle busy laying her eggs. We could not possibly have met with anything more agreeable; the creature seemed to have crawled there for the express purpose of providing for our supper. Our presence did not discompose her in the least; she allowed herself to be touched, and even raised from the ground, for which purpose four men were required. During our loud deliberations on her future fate, she gave no other sign of uneasiness than a blowing sound, and continued to work slowly with her hind fins, throwing up the earth at regular intervals.

"One of the soldiers stretched himself out at full length on the ground near the purveyor of our kitchen, inserted his arm into the earth-hole, and threw out the eggs as they were laid by the turtle. In this manner above a hundred were collected in about ten minutes. A council was now held as to the means of adding the beast to our collection, but as it would have required an additional mule for the transport, we gave it its life. These colossal turtles—Midas, Coriacea, and Caretta—especially choose these desert coasts for the laying of their eggs. They emerge from the sea in the dusk of evening, and then crawl back again into the water one or two hours after the setting of the sun. Thus also the friendly turtle, which had so abundantly provided for our wants, disappeared after a short time; we found the large hole filled up, and a broad trace in the sand showed that the animal had again retreated to its favourite element. The Midas is said to lay from ten to twelve dozen, and the Coriacea from eighteen to twenty dozen eggs at once."

The wild sand coast of Bantam (Java) is annually frequented by a large number of turtles. They are often obliged to creep over nearly a quarter of a mile of the beach, before finding at the foot of the sand-dunes a dry and loose soil fit for their purpose; and on this journey, which for them is a very long one, they have many dangers to encounter. Hundreds of their skeletons lie scattered about the strand, many of them five feet long, and three feet broad; some bleached and cleaned by time, others still half filled with putrid intestines, and others, again, quite fresh and bleeding. High in the air a number of birds of prey wheel about, scared by the traveller's approach. Here is the place where the turtles are attacked by the wild dogs. In packs of from twenty to fifty, the growling rabble assails the poor sea-animal at every accessible point, gnaws and tugs at the feet and at the head, and succeeds by united efforts in turning the huge creature upon its back. Then the abdominal scales are torn off, and the ravenous dogs hold a bloody meal on the flesh, intestines, and eggs of their defenceless prey. Sometimes, however, the turtle escapes their rage, and dragging its lacerating tormentors along with it, succeeds in regaining the friendly sea. Nor do the dogs always enjoy an undisturbed repast. Often during the night, the "lord of the wilderness," the royal tiger, bursts out of the forest, pauses for a moment, casts a glance over the strand, approaches slowly, and then with one bound, accompanied by a terrific roar, springs among the dogs, scattering the howling band like chaff before the wind. And now it is the tiger's turn to feast, but even he, though rarely, is sometimes disturbed by man. Thus, on this lonely, melancholy coast, wild dogs and tigers wage an unequal war with the inhabitants of the ocean.

The cold-blooded turtle is obliged to confide the hatching of her eggs to the sun, which generally accomplishes the task in three weeks. On creeping out of the egg, the young, even those of the largest species, are not larger than half-a-crown and of a white colour. Unprotected by a parent's tenderness, the poor little creatures seem only to be born for immediate death. Their first instinctive movements are towards the element for which they are destined; slowly they drag themselves towards the water, but the sea meets them with a rough embrace, and the unmerciful waves generally throw them back again upon the shore. Here they are attacked by great sea-birds, storks and herons, against which, in spite of their smallness, they make feeble efforts of defence, or by still more powerful beasts of prey; and thus the greater part of the unfortunate brood is destroyed at its very first entrance into life; while those which reach the sea, are generally devoured by sharks and other sharp-toothed fishes. It is therefore not in vain that the turtle lays four or five hundred eggs in the course of a single summer, for were she less fruitful, the race would long since have been extinguished.

I need hardly mention, that the flesh of the green turtle is everywhere esteemed as a first-rate delicacy. The king of the Manga Reva Islands in the South Sea keeps them in a pen for the wants of his table; and the London alderman is said to know no greater enjoyment than swallowing a basin of turtle soup. Hence it is no wonder that the mariner, tired of salt-beef and dried peas, persecutes them on all the coasts of the tropical seas, wherever solitude, a flat beach, and a favourable season promise to reward his trouble.

Bernardin de St. Pierre gives us the following picturesque description of turtle-catching on Ascension Island;—"Fire-wood, a kettle, and the great boat-sail were landed, and the sailors lay down to sleep, as the turtles do not emerge from the sea before night-fall. The moon rose above the horizon and illumined the solitude, but her light, which adds new charms to a friendly prospect, rendered this desolate scene more dreary still. We were at the foot of a black hillock, on whose summit mariners had planted a great cross. Before us lay the plain, covered with innumerable blocks of black lava, whose crests, whitened by the drippings of the sea-birds, glistened in the moonbeam. These pallid heads on dark bodies, some of which were upright, and others reclined, appeared to us like phantoms hovering over tombs. The greatest stillness reigned over this desolate earth, interrupted only from time to time by the breaking of a wave, or the shriek of a sea-bird. We went to the great bay to await the arrival of the turtles, and there we lay flat upon the sand in the deepest silence, as the least noise frightens the turtles, and causes them to withdraw. At last we saw three of them rising out of the water, and slowly creeping on shore, like black masses. We immediately ran up to the first, but our impatience caused it to drop immediately again into the sea, where it escaped our pursuit. The second, which had already advanced too far, was unable to retreat; we turned it on its back. In this way we caught about fifty turtles, some of which weighed five hundred pounds. Next morning, at ten, the boat came to fetch the produce of our nocturnal sport. This work occupied us the whole day, and in the evening the superfluous turtles were restored to the sea. If suffered to remain a long time on their back, their eyes become blood-red, and start out of their sockets. We found several on the strand that had been allowed to perish in this position, a cruel negligence, of which thoughtless sailors are but too often guilty."

In the sea, also, the turtles are pursued by man. In the clear West Indian waters, where they are frequently seen at great depths, feeding on the sea-grass meadows, divers plunge after them and raise them to the surface. Sometimes they are harpooned, or even caught sleeping on the waters.

The ancient Romans, who spent such extravagant sums upon dishes repugnant to our taste, seem to have had but little relish for turtle flesh, which otherwise the conquerors of the world might easily have obtained from the Red Sea; for though we read that Vitellius feasted upon the brains of pheasants, and the tongues of nightingales, it is nowhere mentioned, that he ever, like the Lord Mayor of London, set seven hundred tureens of turtle soup before his guests.

On the other hand, they made a very extensive use of tortoise-shell, the produce of the Hawk's-bill turtle (Testudo imbricata) a native both of the American and Asiatic seas, and sometimes, but more rarely, met with in the Mediterranean. The flesh of the animal is not held in any estimation as a food, but the plates of the shell being thicker, stronger, and cleaner than those of any other species, render it of great importance as an article of trade.

"Carvilius Pollio," says Pliny, "a man of great invention in matters pertaining to luxury, was the first who cut the plates of the tortoise for veneering or inlaying." The Romans imported large quantities of this precious article from Egypt, and under the reign of Augustus, the wealthy patricians used even to inlay the doors and columns of their palaces with it. When Alexandria was taken by Julius CÆsar, the warehouses were so full of tortoise-shell that the conqueror proposed to make it the principal ornament of his triumph.

The use of tortoise-shell for the decoration of houses and furniture is long since out of fashion, but it is still in great request for the making of combs and boxes. By steeping it in boiling water it softens, and may then, by a strong pressure, be moulded into any form. When a considerable extent of surface is required, different pieces must be joined together. This is done by scraping thin the edges of the pieces to be united, and laying them over each other while they are in the heated and softened state; strong pressure being then applied, they become completely agglutinated. It is in this way that gold, silver, and other metals for different ornaments are made to adhere to tortoise-shell.

When, at the beginning of the chapter, I mentioned that the lizards had entirely forsaken the ocean, I forgot that the Galapagos Islands in the South Sea, right under the Equator, exclusively possess a maritime animal of this kind, which, from its being the sole existing representative, or dwindled descendant of the giant oceanic saurians of yore, is far too interesting to be passed unnoticed. This lizard is extremely common on all the islands throughout the Archipelago. It lives exclusively on the rocky sea-beaches, and is never found,—at least Mr. Darwin never saw one,—even ten yards inshore. It is a hideous-looking creature, of a dirty black colour, stupid and sluggish in its movements. The usual length of a full-grown one is about a yard, but there are some even four feet long. These lizards were occasionally seen some hundred yards from the shore, swimming about; and Captain Collnett, in his "Voyage," says they go out to sea in shoals to fish. With respect to the object, Mr. Darwin believes he is mistaken; but the fact, stated on such good authority, cannot be doubted. When in the water the animal swims with perfect ease and quickness by a serpentine movement of its body and flattened tail; the legs, during this time, being motionless and closely collapsed on its sides. A seaman of the "Beagle" sank one with a heavy weight attached to it, thinking thus to kill it directly; but when an hour afterwards he drew up the line the lizard was quite active. Their limbs and strong claws are admirably adapted for crawling over the rugged and fissured masses of lava, which every where form the coast. In such situations a group of six or seven of these hideous reptiles may oftentimes be seen on the black rocks, a few feet above the surf, basking in the sun with outstretched legs.

Mr. Darwin opened the stomach of several, and in each case found it largely distended with minced sea-weed, of a kind growing at the bottom of the sea, at some little distance from the coast. The nature of this lizard's food, as well as the structure of its tail, and the certain fact of its having been seen voluntarily swimming out at sea, absolutely prove its aquatic habits; yet there is in this respect one strange anomaly, namely, that when frightened it will not enter the water. From this cause it is easy to drive these lizards down to any little point overhanging the sea, where they will sooner allow a person to catch hold of their tail than jump into the water. They do not seem to have any notion of biting; but when much frightened they squirt a drop of fluid from each nostril. One day Mr. Darwin carried one to a deep pool left by the retiring tide, and threw it in several times as far as he was able. It invariably returned in a direct line to the spot where he stood. It swam near the bottom with a very graceful and rapid movement, and occasionally aided itself over the uneven ground with its feet. As soon as it arrived near the margin, but still being under water, it either tried to conceal itself in the tufts of sea-weed, or it entered some crevice. As soon as it thought the danger was past, it crawled out on the dry rocks and shuffled away as quickly as it could. Mr. Darwin several times caught this same lizard by driving it down to a point, and, though possessed of such perfect powers of diving and swimming, nothing could induce it to enter the water; and as often as he threw it in, it returned in the manner above described.

Perhaps this singular piece of apparent stupidity may be accounted for by the circumstance that this reptile has no enemy whatever on shore, whereas at sea it must often fall a prey to the numerous sharks. Hence, probably urged by a fixed and hereditary instinct that the shore is its place of safety, whatever the emergency may be, it there takes refuge. On a comparison of this singular animal with the true iguanas, the most striking and important discrepancy is in the form of the head. Instead of the long pointed narrow muzzle of those species, we have here a short obtusely truncated head, not so long as it is broad; the mouth consequently is capable of being opened to only a very small extent. From this circumstance, and from the crest on its head, it has received the Latin name of Amblyrhynchus cristatus.

The serpent race, which thrives so abundantly in the tropical forests and morasses, has also its marine representatives in the Indian and Pacific Oceans, where more than fifty species of Hydrophis, Pelamys, and Chersydra have been found. They are distinguished from their terrestrial relations by the flattened form of their tail, the planes of which being directed vertically give it the properties of a powerful oar, in striking the water by lateral oscillations. These sea-snakes always appear to prefer calms, swimming on the still surface in an undulating manner, never raising the head much from the surface, or vaulting out of the water. They dive with facility on the approach of danger, but do not appear to be particularly timid.

The Pelamys bicolor is very common from India to Otaheite. In the seas of Mindoro and Sooloo, Mr. Adams saw thousands swimming on the top of the water, especially in eddies and tide-ways where the ripple collects numerous fish and medusÆ, which principally constitute their prey. Their tongue is white and forked, differing in respect of its colour from the tongue of other snakes, which is generally black. The water-snakes, which are frequently beautifully banded, and as thick as a man's leg, are said to be highly venomous. Captain Cook, in one of his voyages, "saw abundance of water-snakes, one of which was coming up the side of our ship, and our men beat it off. The Spaniards affirm there is no cure for such as are bit by them; and one of our blacks happened to fall under that misfortune, and died notwithstanding the utmost care was taken by our surgeons to recover him."

Such are the real sea-snakes as they are met with by ordinary travellers, while the great sea-serpent, which from time to time dives up in the columns of the newspapers, must, until better evidence be brought forward for its existence, be banished to those dim regions peopled by unicorns, griffins, krakens, and tailed men.

Olaus Magnus, it is true, speaks of the great sea-snake as if it made its daily appearance on the Norwegian coast. According to him, it inhabits the rocky caves near Bergen, and wanders forth at night, particularly by moonshine, to commit its depredations by sea and land; as calves and pigs seem to suit its appetite as well as fishes and lobsters. The body is covered with scales, a long mane flows along the neck, and the head, furnished with two glistening eyes, rises like a mast out of the water. It often attacks ships, and picks up seamen from the deck. This description may serve as an example of the boldness with which authors have sometimes asserted the most extravagant things.

The Greenland missionary Egede tells us in his Journal, that "on the 6th of July, 1734, there appeared a very large and frightful sea-monster, which raised itself so high out of the water that its head reached above our main-top. It had a long sharp snout, very broad flappers, and spouted water like a whale. The body seemed to be covered with scales, the skin was uneven and wrinkled, and the lower part was formed like a snake. After some time the creature plunged backwards into the water, and then turned its tail up above the surface, a whole ship-length from the head."

It is hard to disbelieve so pious and excellent a man, whose excited fancy no doubt gave extraordinary forms and dimensions to some commoner sea-animal of large size; but the testimony of a Scoresby, who during his frequent Arctic voyages never saw anything of the kind, would have been more convincing.

If to this account of Egede be added the reports of some other northern divines, such as Pontoppidan, the missionary Nicholas GrÆmius, and Maclean, who either pretend to have actually seen the monster or write about it from hearsay—and the testimony of a few seamen, among others of Captain M'Quhae of the DÆdalus, who, on the 6th of August, 1848, saw a sea-snake on his homeward voyage from the East Indies; we have all the evidence extant in favour of the existence of the monstrous animal.

In opposition to these testimonies, incredulous naturalists beg to remark, that no museum possesses a single bone of the huge snake, and that its body has nowhere been found swimming on the ocean or cast ashore. They therefore agree with Professor Owen in regarding the negative evidence, from the utter absence of any recent remains, as stronger against their actual existence than the positive statements which have hitherto weighed with the public mind in favour of their reality; and believe that a larger body of evidence from eye-witnesses might be got together in proof of the reality of ghosts than in proof of the existence of the great sea-serpent.

The plain truth seems to be that lines of rolling porpoises, resembling a long string of buoys, first gave origin to the marvellous stories of the fabulous monster. For, keeping in close single file, and progressing rapidly along the calm surface of the water by a succession of leaps or demivaults forward, part only of their uncouth forms appears to the eye, so as to resemble the undulatory motions of one large serpentiform animal.