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The primitive idea of the ocean was that it was a vast desert, and a strange disbelief in its being inhabited by more than the very few forms that everybody was compelled to recognize persisted up to quite modern times among those who should have known better. Pliny boldly asserted, for example, that nothing remained in the Mediterranean Sea unknown to him after he had made a list of 176 marine animals! But now we know that the sea teems with living beings as densely as do the fresh waters or the air. In it began the life of the globe, for the fossil records of the rocks show that the first animals lived in the ocean, and that ages passed before any of them began to people the newly formed lands and breathe the atmosphere instead of the air in the water; and, abundant as oceanic life now is, the paleozoic seas held immensely greater hordes, of which many forms were giants as compared with those of our day. Some of the old straight chambered shells were twelve feet long; and I have seen fossil ammonites, extinct relatives of our coiled pearly nautilus, which when alive must have been too heavy for a man to lift. The fishes, too, could tell great stories of the glory of their ancestors in size and strength and numbers. Some of them wore solid coats of mail upon their heads, and could do battle even with the huge swimming reptiles that were the dreaded tyrants of the Mesozoic deep.

Life in the ocean in those old geologic days was a long guerrilla warfare—every animal guarding against attack, and at the same time watching sharply for an opportunity to seize and prey upon some weaker companion. As for the foraminifers and other microscopic creatures, they were countless, and their skeletons, singly invisible, have by accumulation built up great masses of rock, like the chalk-beds of England and France.

Though lessened in numbers and reduced in size, because the land has gradually won over to its side many sorts of animals which in former ages were exclusively confined to the water, and for other reasons, the sea still holds its share of every “branch” and “class” (except birds, and it may almost claim some of them, such as the albatross, penguins, and petrels), and a majority of the “orders” of animal life. Glance at the catalogue: Foraminifers, sponges, and polyps are chiefly confined to salt water; starfishes, urchins (or sea-eggs), and the like, wholly so: mollusks (next higher) are principally oceanic, and the majority of the crabs inhabit salt water. Among the last-named one species, the common horse-foot (Limulus) of our shores, remains as the solitary representative of that immense and varied group, the trilobites, which so crowded the Paleozoic sea-bottom that some rocks—for instance, the limestones of Iowa—are packed almost as full of their fossils as is a raisin-box of raisins.

None of the insects is truly marine, yet some of them are seafaring, truly, for they spend their lives on drifting sea-wrack, or on beaches just out of reach of the tides; but most of the true worms are dwellers in the mud of sea-shores and sea-bottoms. No one knows of any land fishes; but I need not tell you that fishes throng in the fresh waters as well as in the salt, and that many species inhabit both at different seasons.

In respect to the reptiles, of which the ancient oceans contained gigantic and horrid types, I do not know any now that are truly oceanic except the turtles, if you leave out the “sea-serpent,” of which we hear so many wonderful and not quite satisfactory tales. You will hear of “sea-snakes” in the East Indies, but they are only certain kinds of serpents which swim well, and pass the most of their time in the salt water, as several species of our own country do in the rivers and ponds; all the oriental sea-snakes are venomous.

It is in this manner, too, that we may count certain birds, such as the petrels, auks, penguins, albatrosses, frigate-birds, and their kin, as belonging to the ocean. They spend all their life flying over the waves, seeking their food there, and some of them rarely go ashore, except to lay their eggs and hatch their young on remote rocks, resting and sleeping on the billows, when not busy at their hunting. In the highest rank of all, however, the mammals, several families are natives of the “great deep”—the whales, dolphins, and porpoises, the seals and walruses, and the manatees and dugongs. But all these must come to the surface to breathe, not having gills like fishes, but true lungs.

As it is only within the last thirty years that machinery suitable for deep-sea dredging has been invented, so it is only lately that we have been able to learn much as to the population of the ocean beneath the surface layer and marginal shallows. Now by means of beam-trawls, dredges, tangle-bars, etc., worked by steam-machinery on shipboard, naturalists may scrape up the bottom-ooze and obtain living objects or their bony relics at the depth of even 3000 to 4000 fathoms or more than four miles, for living beings are found in these profound abysses. Many scientific expeditions, such as those of the English exploring steamer Challenger, about 1874, have carried out these dredging investigations, and the United States Fish Commission possesses the large, specially built, sea-going Albatross, provided with all the necessary apparatus for deep-sea exploration. By means of these and other vessels an enormous amount of study—all useful in ascertaining the habits and methods of reproduction of food-fishes—has been carried on by American marine naturalists.

It appears that as you go further and further from shore, and into deeper and deeper water, the fewer animals and plants are obtained, and that very few species indeed which live along shore are to be found also at a depth greater than about 100 fathoms.

Almost all animals, moreover, have a limited distribution in the sea, as is the case among those on land, though we cannot always, or perhaps often, say why the limits we find should exist; one sort of crab, or mollusk, or polyp, appearing here and another different one exclusively there, when the conditions seem to us very similar, and no barrier is perceptible. It is not easy to explain why a certain sort of cowry, for example, should be found only along a particular strip of coast, when nothing that we can see prevents its extending its range much further. It is believed that the temperature of the water is the chief fact which sets these invisible boundaries to the wanderings of animals living near the surface, only a few of which are very wide-spread in their distribution. The direction and character of the ocean currents have much to do with the geographic distribution of oceanic life, as has been mentioned in Chapter II (page 25).

Now in deep-sea life the case is different. Here temperature cannot be of so much account, since only a short distance down, the water becomes almost as cold as ice, and preserves this uniform chill all around the globe. The life found at a great depth, too, is very wide-spread, instead of restricted in its range, often occurring in two or more ocean basins; but here the restriction is an up-and-down one, rather than horizontal, and the secret is found in the word pressure. Few animals are able to live both in the shallows and under the enormous weight of sea water three or four miles deep.

This has recently (1897) been summed up very clearly by Prof. Arthur P. Crouch, in an article in “The Nineteenth Century,” from which it will be worth while to quote a paragraph or two:

One of the most striking examples of this vertical distribution, which forms layers of animal life, as it were, in the ocean from the abysses to the shallows, is shown by the coral-reefs. The foundations of these polyp-built barriers or islands are laid by the millions of minute individuals of one solid, heavy kind of coral which can flourish only in pretty deep water. When these have reached their highest growth they cease to propagate there, and a second kind comes and colonizes upon the summit of this massive foundation and carries the work a little farther up. Then these die off, and a third kind plants itself upon their remains and carries the structure to the top, near the surface of the sea, where many surface-corals, corallines, and various other limy and flinty plants and animals help to erect a dry reef, upon which land vegetation can find a root-hold, and where, after a while, men may dwell. When these coral-built islands are ring-shaped they are called atolls, and are believed to be living crowns about the summits of submerged mountains.

Men make use of something in nearly every branch of ocean life, from humblest to highest. The lowest of all, as I have already said, are the foraminifers; it is their skeletons which make up our common chalk. A close ally of theirs is the sponge, of which a dozen or so varieties are sold in the shops. Sponges come chiefly from the Mediterranean, the Persian and Ceylonese waters of the Indian Ocean, and from the Gulf coast of Florida. In the Old World they are obtained chiefly by diving. Men who are trained from boyhood to this work go out to the sponge-ground in boats on fine days. Fastening a netting-bag about their waists, and taking a heavy stone in their hands, they dive head-foremost to the bottom,—often twelve or fifteen fathoms below,—tear the sponges from the rocks, and rise with a bagful, to be dragged almost utterly exhausted into their boat, often fainting immediately after. This requires them to hold their breath under the water for two minutes or more; but none but the most expert can do that, and a diver does not live long. In Florida, however, the sponge-gatherers do not dive, but go in ships to where the sponges grow, and then cruise about in small boats, each of which contains two men: one steers, while the other leans over the side searching the bottom. In order to see it plainly, he has what he calls a “water-glass”—a common wooden pail the bottom of which is glass. Pressing this down into the water a few inches, he thrusts in his face, and can then perceive everything on the bottom with great distinctness. When he sees a sponge he thrusts down a long, stout pole, on the end of which is a double hook, like a small pitchfork, set at right angles to the handle, and drags up the captive.

The sponges, having been obtained, must be put through long operations of rotting, beating, rinsing, drying, and bleaching before their skeletons—the serviceable part—are fit for use. Only a few, however, out of the large number of species of sponges have any commercial value.

The limy skeletons of the coral polyps form what we term “corals.” The round white ones and the variously branching ones may come from any one of several parts of the equatorial half of the globe, and are of value chiefly as mantel ornaments. The red coral of which necklaces and other bits of jewelry are made, especially at Naples, is procured by divers about the shores of Sicily and Sardinia, and its gathering, cutting and mounting into ornaments, form a flourishing industry in southern Italy.

Rising in the zoÖlogical scale to starfishes and sea-urchins, I can only say that the starfishes interest oystermen because they prey upon their oysters, and the former often do enormous damage to planted beds, especially in Long Island Sound. In the old days it was thought that medicines made out of the “stars” and the “sea-eggs” were very potent in certain diseases. The trepang—some one of several sorts of holothurian, an elongated creature related to the starfish, and covered with a prickly, leathery hide, so that it looks like a sort of sea-cucumber—which is dried and eaten by the Chinese and Malayans, belongs here too; considerable quantities of these queer food-creatures are gathered by the Chinese along the coasts of Mexico, Southern California and the outlying islands, and are sold in San Francisco mainly for export to Asia. The sea-urchin itself is eagerly sought as food by the Indians of the American northwest coast.

Coming to crustaceans—do we not eat crabs gladly, from the “shedder” to the huge lobster? On the coast of Maine whole villages of sea-side people get their support almost wholly by catching lobsters and canning them to send abroad. In Virginia and North Carolina, at certain seasons, hundreds of men are engaged in catching and shipping crabs for market, and in Louisiana large factories are devoted to canning shrimps, which are also extensively used as food in the Old World, where they are cooked by parching or boiling, and sold by peddlers in the streets.

This brings us to the mollusks, in our glance at the useful animals of the ocean; and to prove their importance, it is enough to remind the reader that these include the “shell-fish” of our coasts—the oyster, clam, mussel, scallop, cockle, and all the rest—not a few!

I found by my long study of the subject, when, in 1879 and 1880, I was gathering statistics of the United States shell-fisheries for the United States Fish Commission and the Tenth Census, that at that time there were taken from our waters, of oysters alone, almost 23,000,000 bushels each year, worth to the oystermen about $13,500,000. During the twenty years that have elapsed since that investigation—the figures of which you may obtain in full in my Report to the Tenth Census upon the Oyster Industries—these amounts have largely increased.

This business employs over 100,000 persons in this country alone; and oysters, clams, and other shell-fish are gathered all round the globe, forming one of the most important of all natural supplies of food. In the most thickly populated parts of the world the natural supply of oysters long ago ceased to suffice for the demand, and artificial propagation and cultivation were resorted to and now prevail on both sides of the North Atlantic, and to a less degree elsewhere.

The Romans, away back in the days of Horace, raised oysters in ponds along the Italian coast, and Eastern nations preserved the custom during the middle ages, when Europe was doing little except quarreling and making pretty pictures on parchment. More recently the French of the Channel coast took it up, and the English followed, finding that their natural oyster and mussel beds were becoming exhausted. The same fate has overtaken our oyster-beds everywhere north of the Chesapeake, and largely there; so that now nearly all the oysters brought to market are those which have been raised upon private planted beds, which men own or lease and attend to as they do to estates on shore; indeed, it is common to speak of such under-water estates as “farms.”

An oyster-farm may be conducted in two ways. One is to place upon a certain space of bottom, in some shallow bay, as many young oysters as it will conveniently hold. These young oysters, generally hardly bigger than your thumb-nail, are dredged in summer from certain reefs in deep water, where the oysters are never allowed to grow to full size; and to a large extent they are brought northward by the ship-load from Maryland and Virginia, which have more “seed,” as it is called, than they need for their own planting. These young oysters, protected from harm, and having plenty of space to grow, come to a proper size for market in about three years, and are then gathered by their owners and sold.

Another method is to spread old shells, pebbles, etc., on the bottom, to which the floating eggs emitted by adult oysters in the neighborhood adhere. The thick “catch” of infant mollusks hatched from these captive eggs is then taken up and respread in a more scattered way upon new ground, and is allowed to grow to maturity. The oysters raised by either of these methods are of better appearance and taste, as a rule, than those that grow naturally, because each has room enough to perfect its proportions.

Mussels, clams of many varieties, and even sponges and peak-shells, are also cultivated to some extent, each according to the plan its natural habits make advisable. In this way certain great areas of favorable ocean-bottom have become as valuable as the neighboring shore-land, or even far more so, if you compare, acre for acre, the yield of the crops below with those above the water-line.

But mollusks are useful in many other ways than as human food. As they are known to be the principal food of several valuable fishes, enormous quantities are devoted to baiting hooks in both hand-lining and trawling for cod and similar commercial species. The quaint squids are mollusks, and these are especially useful for bait in certain places and seasons, and are taken in the North Atlantic in vast numbers for that purpose.

The shells of mollusks are applied to a surprising variety of purposes, from paving roads to making shirt-studs, while their natural beauty has suggested their utilization as ornaments in a hundred ways. We cut them up by the million into buttons and various small objects, such as parasol handles, and polish and fashion them into all sorts of knickknacks, thus giving employment to thousands of persons. Many ship-loads of shells are brought to New York from the West Indies every year for such purposes. I need not dwell upon this, but turn to the interesting subject of pearls.

Mother-of-pearl is the bright inside surface, or nacre, of the large oyster that gives us pearls, which are themselves composed of the same substance formed in a nodule around some intruding substance, like a grain of sand, which irritates the mollusk’s skin until it is made smooth and comfortable by this iridescent coating.

Bivalves yielding this beautiful substance exist in various parts of the world; but in America the only fishery for the pearl-oyster is in the Gulf of California, and that is by no means as productive as it used to be. The season for pearl-fishing on the Pacific coast of Mexico is from June to December, but the diving can be done only in good weather, and for about three hours at the time of low water, since the tide there rises twenty feet, which would make a large dive of itself; and, besides, the currents are troublesome during high water.

At the right hour the Mexicans go out in their canoes, one man of the four or five in each canoe paddling, while the rest scrutinize the bottom. It may be rocky and weed-grown, but the water is clear, and their practised eyes detect a single round oyster where you or I certainly would overlook a dozen of them. Then down a man goes and brings up his prize, with perhaps some additional ones. Sixty or eighty feet is not too deep for these adventurous divers, who will stay a whole minute upon the bottom. No food is eaten by these men on the day they dive until their labor has been done.

Western Australia is another fruitful field for pearl-oysters, and until a few years ago they were taken there by native blackfellows, diving without weights or any other assistance in any water not more than ten fathoms deep. The inshore shallows have now been so cleared of shells that the only profitable industry is to go down in deep water in diving-dress and make a thorough clean-up of each “patch” where the shells seem numerous.

The divers find it an interesting and curious world where they work, but one full of fright and peril. Some men who attempt it are so unnerved that they will never make a second descent. None can endure the practice long without ill health resulting; and the native Australians will never enter a diver’s dress, declining to go down where it is too deep to dive naked.

As for the dangers, drowning by some accident to the apparatus, or through the stupidity of the boatmen above, is only one of them. The warm waters in which these men work are the home of the largest and most deadly sharks, and of various other submarine creatures one would rather not meet in their own element. Of them all the sharks are most to be dreaded, especially by the naked men. As a rule, however, they are easily frightened away, or can be avoided by the clever swimmer, who quickly stirs up the mud of the bottom, and rises in the fog before the dull shark discovers that he has gone. East Indians are said to fight sharks quite fearlessly, stabbing them with a knife as they roll over preparatory to a close attack. I have read a story to the effect that formerly the Mexican Indian divers on our western coast used to take down with them a stick of hard wood about two feet long and sharpened at both ends. When a shark was encountered from which they could not readily escape, they would snatch this weapon from their belts, grasp it in the middle, and thrust it dexterously crosswise into the widely distended mouth of the monster, opened to seize them. To shut down his jaws upon such a skewer would undoubtedly discomfit a shark or anything else; but when one thinks of the time, nerve, and sure aim it would require to accomplish this feat, he begins to doubt whether it really ever was tried. I advise you, therefore, to prove the story better than I have been able to do, before you pin all your faith to it.

An Australian pearl-diver, writing about this matter in “The Century” magazine a few years ago, assures us that a fifteen-foot shark, magnified by the water, and making a bee-line for one, is sufficient to make the stoutest heart quake, in spite of the assertion that sharks have never been known to attack a man in a rubber diving-dress. He adds:

All the oysters when brought ashore are opened in vats of water, and carefully examined for the pearls they may contain half embedded in their mantles; but very few reward the diver with gems worth selling separately or otherwise than by weight as “seed” pearls. Many divers, therefore, do not themselves take the trouble of opening what they catch, but sell them unopened at a few cents a dozen, preferring the small and steady assured income to the chances of failure or a fortune.

The round, flat, beautiful shells are saved, and their sale (for mother-of-pearl work) brings nearly as much money into the pearl-fishing communities in the course of a season as is derived from the pearls themselves.

What beauty, as well as usefulness, have shells! And how wide is the science (conchology) that deals with them, and tells us not only their structure and manner of life, but interprets the part which their extraordinary forms, ornaments, colors, and appendages play in their “struggle for existence” down in that populous green under-world of the waters!

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