‘THE GREAT SEA SERPENT.’

THE question of varieties and of constriction brings us to ‘The Great Sea Serpent;’ for, putting all the evidence together, if the creature exist at all he must be a constrictor.

I do not intend to trouble my readers with the detailed history of this great unknown, for his literature would more than exceed the limits of this whole volume. Those who are sufficiently interested in him will find ample reading in most of the encyclopedias, which again refer us to various books in which he has figured from his first supposed appearance in modern times.

Ever and again, when a new ‘sea monster’ has been reported, the newspapers take up the theme, and often give a resumÉ of its history, from Bishop Pontoppidan’s down to the most recent specimen. References to the most important of the journalistic authorities usually accompany the more detailed accounts; but among them an excellent abridgement of ‘sea serpent’ literature, which appeared in the Illustrated London News of October 1848, is worth studying. Another of interest was in the Echo of January 15, 1877. In Silliman’s Journal of Science, 1835, was also an excellent paper. One of the best digests is that given by P. H. Gosse, in his Romance of Natural History, of the ed. 1860. This author, after weighing all the published evidence both from ordinary and scientific sources, and presenting it in a well-arranged and lucid form, sums up as follows:—

‘In conclusion, I express my own confident persuasion that there exists some oceanic animal of immense proportions, which has not yet been received into the category of scientific zoology; and my strong opinion that it possesses close affinities with the fossil enaliosauria of the lias.’

Having respect for the opinion of so thoughtful a writer, and further encouraged by the fact that some of our most eminent physiologists have not thought it beneath them to give their attention to the various serpentine appearances which from time to time are seen at sea, and that the majority of them believe in the possibility of an unknown marine reptile, let us accept this idea as the basis of an endeavour to lay before my readers another summing up of evidence gathered from the still more recent writings on ‘The Great Sea Serpent’ of modern times.

Those who have honoured this book with attentive perusal thus far, will have become initiated in certain ophidian manners, actions, and appearances which would enable them at once to identify a snake were they to have a complete view of one. But to those who are not familiar with such peculiarities, and possess only a vague idea of the ophidian form, many a merely elongated outline at sea may be, and has been, set down as a ‘serpent,’ which on closer inspection, or by the light of science, has proved something entirely different. Ribbon-fish, strings of porpoises and other cetaceans, long lines of sea-birds on the surface of the waves, even logs of drifting wood or bamboo, with bunches of seaweed doing service as ‘manes’ or ‘fins,’ have in turn, and by the aid of the imagination, been dubbed ‘the sea serpent’ again and again. These may be dismissed by the mere mention of a few such as examples. For instance, in Nature, vol. xviii., 1878, Dr. Dean describes a reported ‘sea serpent,’ which resolved itself into a flight of birds. E. H. Pringle describes the serpentine appearance of a bamboo swaying up and down, which at a distance had deceived the beholders into the idea of the sea serpent; others explained that long lines of birds or of sea-weeds had again similarly deceived sailors. In Land and Water, Sept. 22, 1877, we read that the crew of the barque Aberfoyle, off the coast of Scotland, thought they really had got one this time, and approaching the ‘monster,’ lowered and manned a boat, and seized a harpoon to ‘catch’ the singularly passive creature, which proved to be a mass of ‘a sort of jelly-fish description,’ some of which they bottled and corked down air-tight; but, alas! it ‘deliquesced’!

Again, in Nature, Feb. 10, 1881, an imaginary sea serpent seen from the City of Baltimore (a ship in which the present writer crossed the Atlantic, though unfortunately not on that voyage) was pronounced to be a species of whale, the Zeuglodontia.

One more out of scores of similar reports, which go to show that if some unknown marine animal of a longish form is caught, those who have anything to do with it immediately label it ‘the sea serpent.’ In Land and Water, Aug. 24, 1878, Mr. Frank Buckland published a communication from an Australian correspondent, regarding a ‘most remarkable fish,’ of nearly fifteen feet long, and eight inches in diameter at the thickest part. It has ‘no scales,’ but ‘a skin like polished silver,’ is of a tapering form, has a very queer mouth, a ‘mane’ on the neck, and ‘two feelers under the chin, thirty-two inches long.’ And this unsnake-like thing was taken to the Mechanics’ Institute of that town, and unhesitatingly. labelled ‘Sea Serpent!’ Dr. Buckland suggested that it was a ribbon fish.

Thus, we may repeat that it is almost impossible for an unscientific person even to see, far less to describe, unfamiliar living forms in a manner that would prove sound data for zoologists to decide upon.

In a rather detailed communication to Land and Water on this subject, by Dr. Andrew Wilson, September 15, 1877, he also reminds us how easily and frequently we may trace supposed resemblances to animals or faces, where none can possibly exist; as, for instance, ‘in the gnarled trunks and branches of trees.’ Much more true resemblances to serpentine forms are really seen at sea; as, for example, those ‘floating trunks and roots of trees serving as a nucleus, around which sea-weed has collected.’ In one instance, as Dr. Wilson relates, some such object, seen from the deck of a yacht, was so deceptive even to intelligent men who scrutinized it through the telescope, that the course of the ship was changed on purpose to inspect it closely. Dr. Wilson regrets the unfortunate discredit which has been cast upon all sea-serpent stories through such erroneous observations, causing even the more trustworthy accounts to be received with almost universal ridicule, and as already observed in the opening of chap. xiii., almost to the ignoring of the true sea snakes, which are too often included among the mythical.

Briefly to enumerate some of those which appear to have recently had the chiefest claims to attention as really living creatures, otherwise than flights of birds or shoals of fish, but making due allowance for unscientific observations, and vague or exaggerated representations, we find that gigantic marine animals were observed as follows:—

In the above list we are struck by the fact that the coast of Norway and the northern seas during the hottest weather are the favourite playgrounds of these gigantic marine animals, though as for the ‘600’ feet, we must first be assured of Norwegian measurement before forming any estimate beyond that the creatures were doubtless of great length. ‘Witnesses of unimpeachable character’ have produced so much trustworthy evidence as far as Norway is concerned, that no doubt any longer exists there as to ‘the’ or a ‘marine animal’ of enormous length. ‘There is scarcely a sailor who has not seen one,’ it has been broadly stated; and Norwegians wonder that English naturalists are so sceptical on the subject.

Of still more marvellous proportions was the one seen off the American coast in 1819, and which is vaguely described as from 80 to 250 yards! That outdoes Norway altogether; but then, of course, an American sea serpent would exceed all others.

Next to the Norwegian, the American coast was at one time so favoured by strange marine ‘monsters,’ that they were commonly reported as ‘the American sea serpent.’ Excepting these northern Atlantic visitants, others have been observed mostly in the eastern seas, rarely in the south.

This has given rise to the question, ‘How is it that they are seen almost exclusively in the north?’ One reason may be that there are more persons to see them, and because marine traffic is far greater in the north than in similar southern latitudes; and another reason may be, that the rocky coasts of both continents in those latitudes may afford congenial retreats for mammoth marine reptiles. We have seen that reptiles exist for a very long period without breathing, and even without air; as, for instance, those encased in baked mud in the tropics, and those frozen up or bottled up tight and hermetically sealed, as the examples given in preceding chapters.

From long observation of ophidian habits, I venture to offer certain suggestions in addition to published opinions; and I may remind my readers that as all reptiles undergo a species of hibernation, we may reasonably conclude that these huge marine ones form no exception to the rule. They may lie for months dormant in the deep recesses of the ocean, and reappear during the long days and hot weather like their land relatives. It seems strange that so far from this having been taken into consideration, it has become the fashion to ridicule the ‘reappearance of the great sea serpent’ at the very time when all other reptiles reappear as a matter of course. Long days are more favourable for observations, and probably log-books record many other creatures, whether mammal, bird, or fish, seen during the summer and not in other seasons, as well as ‘sea serpents.’ Not because this is the slack time of journalists, therefore, who are supposed to be at their wits’ end for subjects, but simply because ships coming home at this time bring reports of their summer observations.

It is much to be regretted that these reports have come to be associated with ‘the gigantic gooseberry,’ and such seasonable wonders, because the door to investigation is thus closed. It is also, to be regretted that many hoaxes have undeniably been committed to print, really to fill up newspaper columns, and feed a love of the marvellous. Professor Owen’s words may well be repeated here, ‘It is far harder to establish a truth than to kill an untruth.’

One more little matter is also to be seriously deplored; and this is the unscientific habit of calling all these unfamiliar animals ‘monsters,’ a word signifying truly a monstrosity, a creature with two heads, a beast with five or six legs instead of four, or other such malformations. These are truly monsters, and to use the term otherwise only creates mistaken impressions. Inadvertently even scientific men fall into this habit; naturalists and well-known authorities are seen in print to talk of these sea ‘monsters,’ but who in the same page denounce exaggerated expressions.

In Land and Water of September 8, 1877, several of our distinguished naturalists contributed papers on the evidence of the officers of the royal yacht Osborne, relative to a large marine animal seen off Sicily on June 3 of that year. Professor Owen also acceded to an earnest request to add a few words on the subject, and it was noticeable that more than once in his few pithy lines this eminent authority delicately hinted at the mistake of calling animals ‘monsters’ without just reason for so doing: ‘The phenomena were not necessarily caused by a monster,’ he writes; ‘and the words ... denote rather a cetacean than a monster.’ Again, ‘There are no grounds for calling it a monster.’

On the occasion referred to, the official reports of the animal seen were sent to the Admiralty; and the Right Hon. R. A. Cross, then Secretary of State for the Home Department, requested the opinion of Mr. Frank Buckland on the matter, the result being a full account given to the readers of Land and Water, to which Mr. F. Buckland was so popular a contributor. In addition to Owen’s valued opinion, the public were favoured with able papers by Mr. A. D. Bartlett, of the Zoological Gardens, Captain David Gray, of the whaling ship Eclipse, Mr. Henry Lee, and Frank Buckland himself.

From the discrepancies in the records of the four officers, and the sketches of nothing in nature which accompanied those records, not one of those able writers ventured an assertion as to what the strange animal could possibly be. The captain—Commander Pearson—‘saw the fish through a telescope;’ a ‘seal-shaped head of immense size, large flappers, and part of a huge body.’

Lieutenant Haynes saw ‘a ridge of fins above the surface of the water, extending about thirty feet, and varying from five to six feet in height.’ Through the telescope he saw ‘a head, two flappers, and about thirty feet of an animal’s shoulder; the shoulder was about fifteen feet across.’ The animal propelled itself by its two ‘fins.’

Mr. Douglas M. Forsyth saw ‘a huge monster, having a head about fifteen to twenty feet in length.’ The part of the body not in the water ‘was certainly not under forty-five or fifty feet in length.’

Mr. Moore, the engineer, observed ‘an uneven ridge of what appeared to be the fins of a fish above the surface of the water, varying in height, and as near as he could judge, from seven to eight feet above the water, and extending about forty feet along the surface.’

Though we are not able to say what this strange animal really was, we can positively affirm what it was not. A snake has neither fins, flippers, flappers, nor ‘shoulders fifteen feet broad;’ therefore this assuredly was no ‘sea serpent.’ Nor would it be introduced here, excepting as inviting further comment on its mysterious existence.

And curious enough it is to remark the persistence with which all these anomalies are announced as ‘the sea serpent,’ as if the sea produced but one solitary specimen, which is now the shape of a ‘turtle;’ next of a ‘frog,’ with ‘one hundred and fifty feet of tail;’ then a creature with ‘fins’ and a ‘mane,’ ‘flippers’ and ‘flappers’ and ‘ridges of fins.’ All these appendages are one after the other described, and yet as belonging to a ‘serpent,’ which has no such appendages.

A few of the recorders do really describe something more of the true ophidian, and those who do this, not being familiar with ophidian manners, are more useful as witnesses than those who at once report a ‘serpent,’ and afterwards proceed unknowingly to disprove their own words.

Among the more noteworthy, the following account, copied from the Liverpool papers at the time, is worth considering:—

In the above descriptions there is no mention of fins, flippers, or mane, but simply the manners of a huge constrictor, with the head and the tail free, and the middle portion of its body engaged in crushing the prey, a process which may at any time be seen in a captive constrictor seizing its food. The ‘whirling its victim’ was, no doubt, in the struggle between the two, the whale using its powerful efforts to escape, but being overcome at last. Nor in comparison with the size of the described serpent would a whale be impracticably large.

Again, in the next one seen, the true serpent motion is unintentionally exhibited in the ‘shooting itself along the surface, the head and neck being several feet out of water.’ Snakes continually advance with their heads elevated; and their rapid, darting movements are well expressed by ‘shooting.’

‘A few minutes after, it was seen elevated some sixty feet perpendicularly in the air.’ Sixty feet at a guess. Unless some mast, the precise height of which was known, or some other perpendicular object were in close proximity, it would be exceedingly difficult to estimate the height. To an unaccustomed eye even twenty or thirty feet of snake suddenly darting upright from the waves would be a startling and bewildering spectacle; yet we know that land snakes raise themselves in this manner one-third, one-half, or for a moment even more than that; ‘stand erect,’ some physiologists have stated (see p. 181); so again, unintentionally, and by those not likely to be familiar with ophidian capabilities, is a natural action described.

In several other instances, the animal seen has raised its head many feet, and ‘let it down suddenly;’ exactly what land snakes do.

The one seen from on board H.M.S. DÆdalus in 1848 is considered one of the most circumstantially recorded evidences of some really existing serpentine animal within the memory of many still living. It was much commented upon in the journals of that year, and claims a passing mention here.

Captain M’QuhÆ, who commanded the DÆdalus, in an official report to the Admiralty, gave the date of the ‘monster’s’ appearance as August 6, 1848, and its exact locality in the afternoon of that day as lat. 24° 44’ S., and long. 9° 22’ E., which would be somewhere between the Cape of Good Hope and St. Helena. In his own mind the captain had no doubt whatever as to the nature of the animal, which he simply reported as an ‘enormous serpent, with head and shoulders kept about four feet constantly above the surface of the sea; and as nearly as we could approximate, by comparing it with the length of what our main-topsail yard would show in the water, there was, at the very least, sixty feet of the animal À fleur d’eau, no portion of which was, to our perception, used in propelling it through the water, either by vertical or horizontal undulations. There seemed to be as much as thirty to forty feet of tail as well.’ The animal passed the ship ‘rapidly, but so close under our lee-quarter, that, had it been a man of my acquaintance, I should easily have recognised his features with the naked eye.’ The size of the creature is given as about fifteen or sixteen inches diameter in the neck ‘behind the head, which was, without doubt, that of a snake.’ No fins were seen, but ‘something like the mane of a horse, or rather a bunch of seaweed washing about its back.’ Its progress was about fifteen miles an hour, and it remained twenty minutes in sight.

Lieutenant Drummond, also of the DÆdalus, reported what he saw, and from his log-book, while the captain’s was from memory. The lieutenant thought he saw ‘a back fin ten feet long, and also a tail fin.’ The head was ‘rather raised, and occasionally dipping, and gave him the idea of that of a large eel.’

Without being an ophiologist, Captain M’QuhÆ also unintentionally describes a creature of ophidian habits and proportions. He inadvertently says ‘shoulders,’ when, as my readers know, a snake has anatomically no shoulders, any more than ‘neck.’ But for all that, the raised head, and the absence of any striking movements in the part visible, are the manners of a serpent in the water, when propelled by its tail, which would be out of sight; and the captain simply describing what he saw, but giving no name, those acquainted with herpetology would at once decide that he described a long-necked and slender reptile of some sort, perhaps some enormous saurian, whose feet were under water, if not a serpent.

There were many learned discussions concerning this creature, and for these I refer my reader to the journals and scientific publications of the time. No one doubted the fact that some strange animal was seen, but the wisest refrained from giving it a name. Very similar was the verdict on the more recent object seen from the Osborne in 1877; but in those thirty intervening years a vast stride had been made in zoological knowledge; and in the very able papers written on this later phenomenon, we now find a general disposition to accept the fact that there are gigantic forms of marine animals existing, that have not as yet been scientifically described and received into systematic zoology.

Mr. A. D. Bartlett, in the discussion already alluded to, after dispassionately reviewing and criticizing the evidence of H.M.’s officers, thus concludes:—

It was gratifying to me to find my own ideas of hibernation thus supported, the above allusion to the probability of temporary repose in marine reptiles being the first I had met with.

Mr. Henry Lee, in the same issue, reminds us that the existence of gigantic cuttle-fish was popularly disbelieved until within the past five or six years, during which period several specimens—some of them fifty feet in total length—have been taken, and all doubts upon the subject have been removed. He argues, also, that during the deep-sea dredgings of H.M. ships Lightning, Porcupine, and Challenger, many new species of mollusca, supposed to have been extinct ever since the Chalk epoch, were brought to light, and that there were brought up by the deep-sea trawlings from great depths fishes of unknown species, which could not exist near the surface owing to the distension and rupture of their air-bladder when removed from the pressure of deep water.

Forcibly suggestive are such facts of still further undiscovered denizens of the deep! And as to what they are, fish, mammal, or reptile, or a compound of either two or all three of these, why doubt any possibility when we know that on land are similarly complicated organisms which so lately have perplexed our most able physiologists? Take, for example, that curious anomaly, the mud-fish of the Gambia, Lepidosiren, referred to in the last chapter, and which, to look at, is as much like a lizard as a fish, with its four singular appendages where either legs or fins might be. Again, we have that paradox in nature—bird, reptile, and quadruped combined—in the Australian Platypus, a semi-aquatic animal. ‘These two fresh-water animals are,’ says Darwin, ‘among the most anomalous forms now found in the world; and like fossils, they connect, to a certain extent, orders at present widely sundered in the natural scale.’[76] Other equally remarkable links between the various groups might be cited to prepare us for any marine anomalies which may hereafter surprise us. Taking into consideration, also, that many of our smaller aquatic animals have their representatives on a huge scale in the ocean, why should there not be gigantic ophidian forms to correspond with the terrestrial pythons and anacondas? As in point of size salt-water fishes exceed those of our rivers, and as the enormous marine mammalia exceed those on land, we might the rather wonder if there were not one ‘great sea serpent,’ but many unsuspected species of reptiles, compound ophiosaurians, or saurophidians, or who shall say what, in those inaccessible depths.

‘How is it none have ever been captured?’ it is asked. In reply, Has any one ever captured a swiftly-retreating land snake escaping pursuit? Who can overtake or circumvent it when in its tropical vigour? And how vastly must the powers and swiftness of those immense pelagians exceed the kinds with which we are familiar! ‘Then, Why have no bones been found?’ Mr. Bartlett’s reason is one of those assigned, and in addition I may suggest that the love of locality, so strong in land reptiles, may also exist in marine ones, which probably retire to the recesses of their submarine habitats to die.

‘How is it none have ever been killed?’ Well! A cannon ball on the instant, and not much less, would be required to ‘kill it on the spot,’ as some have sagely recommended.

Mr. Henry Lee, among others, does not regard capture as impossible and in support of my own speculations—more correctly speaking imagination, perhaps—I give the concluding words of his paper:—

‘I therefore think it by no means impossible—first, that there may be gigantic marine animals unknown to science having their ordinary habitat in the great depths of the sea, only occasionally coming to the surface, and perhaps avoiding habitually the light of day; and, second, that there may still exist, though supposed to have been long extinct, some of the old sea reptiles whose fossil remains tell of their magnitude and habits, or others of species unknown even to palÆontologists.

‘The evidence is, to my mind, conclusive that enormous animals, with which zoologists are at present unacquainted, exist in the “great and wide sea,” and I look forward hopefully to the capture of one or more of them, and the settlement of this vexed question.’

I cannot conclude this chapter without further reference to one other of our very popular physiologists, Dr. Andrew Wilson. The week following that in which Owen, Captain Gray, and Messrs. Lee, Buckland, and Bartlett contributed their opinions to Land and Water, September 8, 1877, Dr. Wilson also favoured its readers with two closely written pages on ‘The Sea Serpent of Science.’ Some of his introductory words have been already quoted. He then presents the claims to attention which these various ‘sea monsters’ offer, as reported by thoroughly trustworthy witnesses, suggesting that the idea of a ‘serpent’ is too restricted.

Notwithstanding much already said, the opinion of Dr. Wilson will be valued by many of my readers, and I therefore give portions in his own words:—

‘As far as I have been able to ascertain, zoologists and other writers on this subject have never made allowance for the abnormal and huge development of ordinary marine animals. My own convictions on this matter find in these the most reasonable and likely explanation of the personality of the sea serpent, and also the reconciliation of such discrepancies as the various narratives may be shown to evince.... I think we may build up a most reasonable case both for their existence and for the explanation of their true nature, by taking into account the fact that the term “sea serpent,” as ordinarily employed, must be extended to include other forms of vertebrate animals which possess elongated bodies: and that cases of the abnormally large development of ordinary serpents and of serpent-like animals will reasonably account for the occurrence of the animals popularly named “sea serpents.” ...

‘Whilst to my mind the only feasible explanation of the narrative of the crew of the Pauline must be founded on the idea that the animals observed by them were gigantic snakes, the habits of the animals in attacking the whales evidently point to a close correspondence with those of terrestrial serpents of large size, such as the boas and pythons; whilst the fact of the animals being described in the various narratives as swimming with the head out of the water would seem to indicate that, like all reptiles, they were air-breathers, and required to come more or less frequently to the surface for the purpose of respiration.’

Apology is due to so eminent a physiologist for having first given expression to my own opinion on the Pauline serpent, though in tardily quoting a high authority I may risk suspicion of plagiarism. I must be permitted to explain, therefore, that on seeing the subject ventilated in Land and Water (to which I had for some years been a contributor on ophidian matters), I also, though uninvited, prepared a paper on ‘the sea serpent.’ In a letter to the Editors, I even presumed to criticise part of what had lately appeared, enclosing MS. with yet more.

In reply, I was informed that the subject would not be continued or ‘re-opened,’ and my returned MS. is still before me, much of it now for the first time being presented to the public. To proceed with Dr. Wilson:—

‘The most important feature in my theory, ... and that which really constitutes the strong point of this explanation, is the probability of the development of a huge or gigantic size of ordinary marine serpents....

‘Is there anything more improbable, I ask, in the idea of a gigantic development of an ordinary marine snake into a veritable giant of its race; or, for that matter, in the existence of distinct species of monster sea serpents, than in the production of huge cuttle-fishes, which, until within the past few years, remained unknown to the foremost pioneers of science? In the idea of the gigantic developments of snakes or snake-like animals, be they fishes or reptiles, I hold we have at least a feasible and rational explanation of the primary fact of the actual existence of such organisms.’

In a most interesting lecture on ‘Zoological Myths,’ delivered at St. George’s Hall, January 2, 1881, Dr. Andrew Wilson again laid much stress on the ‘gigantic development of an ordinary marine snake into’ one of those amazing individuals which, say, at the very least, are over a hundred feet in length!

How long would the poison fang of such a reptile be? How many ounces of venom would its glands contain? Or does the Dr. wish us to understand that as the vertebrÆ of a Hydrophis has gradually developed into the complicated structure of a constrictor, so has the poison-fang become gradually obsolete? Appalling, indeed, would it be were those enormous developments armed with poison-fangs! Monarchs of the deep they truly would be. Happily, venomous serpents are restricted in their size; but an interesting speculation has been opened in the above theory of abnormal development, and I trust it may be followed up by abler reasoners than the present humble writer. In the previous chapter the distinguishing characteristics of the true marine snakes were described, and I feel more disposed to agree with Dr. Andrew Wilson when he says, ‘or for the matter of that, in the existence of distinct species of monster sea serpents,’ than in the development of a small venomous one into an amazing constrictor. Except the ‘monster.’ Why should not the gigantic forms be perfect in themselves, with an inherited anatomical structure? In volume xviii. of Nature, 1878, Dr. Andrew Wilson again discusses the sea serpent, and thus concludes:’ ... and as a firm believer from the standpoint of zoology that the large development of the marine ophidians of warmer seas offers the true explanation of the sea-serpent mystery.’

Their physical constitution, then, as well as structure, must have very much changed to enable them to exist so far from the tropics.

And still there are the creatures with flippers, and flappers, and fins to decide upon. And then the gigantic salamander with a hundred and fifty feet of tail! But these not being ophidians, and certainly not ‘sea serpents,’ must not intrude themselves here.

In their enormous development alone the supporters of Darwin may justly exult, for surely in them we shall see ‘the survival of the fittest.’