CHAPTER IX
A TUSSLE WITH THE MONARCH OF THE SEA
In spite of his interest in the pearl work, Colin began to feel thestrain of the steady and persistent grind required from him by Dr.Edelstein, who himself seemed absolutely untiring. At the beginning ofJuly, moreover, the weather turned wet, and the rain poured downsteadily, not heavily, but soaking the ground thoroughly. For a week orso no notice was taken of the rain, other than the discomfort it caused,but one day Colin overheard one of the head workers saying to thesuperintendent:
"It looks as though we might have trouble unless there's a let-up to therain soon!"
"I'm afraid of it," was the reply, and the grave tone of the answersurprised Colin; "and I hear that it's raining in torrents in Montana."
"We're safe enough, I suppose," was the comment.
"Yes," the superintendent answered, "but hundreds of other people arenot. Floods always catch some of them."
This was an idea that had not occurred to Colin. The word "flood" calledup a host of graphic ideas, and a flood on the Mississippi, the largestriver in the world flowing through a populated country, seemed a seriousmatter. He spoke of it to his friend of the paddlefish investigation.
"Yes," the other answered, "there have been many scores of lives lostand many millions of dollars swept away on the 'Father of Waters,' and Idoubt if the time will ever come when the flood danger will be at anend. Remember that the Mississippi River Valley is the only water outletfor two-thirds of the entire United States."
"It's protected by levees, too, isn't it?" Colin queried. "At least,during the flood on the Mississippi, you always hear of the leveesbreaking or just going to break."
"They give way very seldom now," his chief replied, "and that meanswonderful engineering, for there are sixteen hundred miles of levee, theriver banks being built up clear from Illinois to the Gulf."
"Then where are the floods one hears of so often?"
"There are bad floods on the Ohio," was the reply, "and there is alwaysdanger when a flood tide comes down the Mississippi. You see, if part ofa levee does give way, or as they say, if a 'crevasse' comes, thousandsof square miles are inundated, hundreds of people made homeless, and theproperty loss is incalculable. All the land around the lower part of theMississippi is just a flood plain which used to be covered with waterevery year. That land has been rescued from the river just as Hollandhas been rescued from the sea."
"Then there is danger every year?"
"There is always danger," was the reply, "and the levees are carefullypatrolled. But during the high water of early summer there is moredanger, and a week's rain means trouble. We're going to have a bad floodthis year unless the rain stops soon."
"But the river isn't rising?"
"Not yet. Why should it? It isn't the water that flows directly into theMississippi, but that which floods the tributaries that causes disaster.From the Rocky Mountains on the one side to the Alleghanies on theother, and from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada--nearly every drop of rainthat isn't evaporated or used by plants has to be carried to the sea bythe Mississippi."
"It seems like a big job for one river bed," Colin agreed. "But how canit be made safer?"
"The way is easy," was the answer, "but costly. If big reservoirs arebuilt on all the headwater streams so that--no matter what the rainfallmay be--only a constant amount is allowed to flow out of thesereservoirs, then floods will be avoided, there will be plenty of waterfor irrigation, and a steady depth of water in the channel will extendnavigation that is now stopped during low-water periods. Besides which,it will make the Mississippi fish question a great deal easier."
"I don't quite see what it has to do with the fish!" the boy said.
"Supposing five thousand square miles of land are flooded. When thewater goes down, at least half that amount of land is still flooded,though no longer connected with the river, but forming shallow lakes andpools. These are all full of fish. As the pools dry up, everything thatis in them dies, and millions of food fish are lost."
"But how can we stop that?"
"The Bureau of Fisheries does a great deal to stop it," was the answer,"and if this rain holds--though we are all praying that itwon't--you'll probably have a chance to see. The Bureau seines as manyas it can of those bayous and pools and lakes to save the fish andreturn them to the river. If a couple of men can save several thousandfish a day, isn't that worth while? Think of a farmer who could get athousand bushels of wheat in a day! And that's about the proportion offood value."
"Well," said Colin, as he was leaving the laboratory to take up anotherpiece of work he had been told to do, "I don't want a flood to come, ofcourse, but if there is one, I'd like to have a chance to see how theBureau handles that sort of fish rescue work."
The reports the next morning were no more encouraging,--the WeatherBureau reporting heavy rain in Montana and the Milk River in flood.Fortunately the weather was fine in the eastern States, but a flood onthe Milk River usually means a Missouri River flood, and that takes innearly two-fifths of the Mississippi basin. Around the Iowa station therain still poured heavily. By the end of the week more hopeful reportscame from the west. As the southwest had escaped entirely no serioustrouble was expected, but in the region near the laboratory the rainwas coming down in torrents and the Wapsipinicon and Cedar Rivers wereoverflowing their banks.
CLIMBING UP THE WHEEL.
Device used on the lower Mississippi to haul in big nets for theSpoonbills.
_By permission of Dr. Louis Hussakoff._]
BIGGEST FRESH-WATER FISH IN AMERICA.
Pulling out the source of domestic caviare, the Spoonbill.
_By permission of Dr. Louis Hussakoff._]
The neighboring stations at Bellevue, Iowa, and North MacGregor, Iowa,were reported to be preparing for collecting black bass, crappies,sun-fishes, yellow perch, pike, buffalo-fish, and catfish as soon as thewater should recede and leave the fish stranded in lakes and pools. OneSunday, Colin took the power-boat up the river and had a chat with themen at Bellevue regarding the nature of the work. He found that theflood dangers were small above the junction of the Missouri andMississippi Rivers, and when an opportunity arrived to do some fishcollection in the overflows, the boy thanked the superintendent of thestation, and said he would rather keep to the mussel work. This, a dayor two later, came to the notice of Dr. Edelstein.
"I haf observed," his chief said, "that you haf been taking much moreinterest lately in your work. Why is it?"
"I have been trying to do a little investigating on my own account,"Colin said confusedly, "and there's a lot of fun in working things outall by yourself."
"Haf you any objegtions to telling me what you haf been gonsidering?"
"Not at all, sir," Colin answered. "I'd be glad to show you, if you'dcare to see. I've been trying to find out the cause of the difference inthe secretions of the mussels that have very bright pearly shells andthose that are dull. But I haven't got very far along yet."
"Fery good subject," was the reply; "let me see your notebooks."
Colin brought him a number of small notebooks filled with records ofexperiments that he had been doing in the evenings, and over some ofthem the gem expert smiled.
"You haf done a great deal of unnecessary work," he said, "work that Igould haf told you had no bearing on the results, but it isn't timewasted at all, for you will haf learned more that way than if I had toldyou. And you haf two series of eggsperiments that are very useful. Ifyou only had time to make the series gomplete, the information would beof value to the Bureau."
"Would you include them in your report, sir, if I completed the series?"
His chief leaned back in his chair.
"Seriously," he said, "I think your eggsperiments on the garacter ofthe secretions are very interesting. You don't know as much organicgemistry as you should, but if you will take a few suggestions from me,I think your work would be worth publigation."
"You mean in your article?" asked Colin.
"My article! You mean that I should write it up?"
"Why not?"
"But I don't know enough!"
"If we all waited until we thought we knew enough about a subject," thescientist answered, "there never yet would haf been a line written.Don't gif any opinions, Golin, for they will not be worth much, nor anygonglusions, because you hafn't reached any. But make a simple statementof what was the problem you had, how you went about it, and the resultsof your eggsperiments so far. Remember, too," he added, "that a negativeresult is often of just as much value as a positive, for it solves theproblem to the eggstent of eliminating that partigular fagtor."
"And you really think I should write it up, Dr. Edelstein?"
"Of gourse."
"But would the Bureau take it?"
"That is for the Gommissioner to say, and he would decide on its merits.If it is not too long--just two or three pages, perhaps, I feel sure hewould aggsept it. If you like I will go over the manuscript and adviseyou about it."
"Would you really do that for me?" asked Colin.
"Very gladly," was the reply; "but you will need a series almost twiceas large as you haf now in order to make it of any value."
"Indeed I'll complete the series, Dr. Edelstein," Colin said. "I'll workat it every minute of spare time I can get."
From that moment time seemed to Colin all too short--the days appearedto fly. He was up long before breakfast getting out specimens both forhimself and his chief and till late in the evening he would sit over hismicroscope working out the details of his experiments. The expert, whohad realized earlier in the summer that Colin was restless, now saw thatthe reason was that none of the work he had been given to do possessedan individual note, and perceiving--as did every one--the enthusiasticnature of the lad, he helped him in every way possible. Thus it cameabout that before the day set for the reopening of college, Colin hadfinished the series of experiments which had been thought necessary, andhad sent the manuscript of his article to Washington. And in the veryfirst batch of letters that he received on his arrival at college wasone from the Commissioner accepting his report and promising publicationin the Bulletin.
Colin ever afterward declared that this was a great stimulus during hiscollege work. He had done well the first year, but his late trainingunder Dr. Edelstein and the spur of research had taught him how toconcentrate upon his studies. He did not neglect the out-of-doors life,however, and he still had the swimming championship to defend, but everyminute that he was not actively at play he was hard at work. Idleminutes were scarce. Nor did he fail of his reward. Just before thespring examination he received a letter from the Bureau of Fisheriestelling him that his application for the next summer had been acceptedand assigning him to duty at Woods Hole, the station where he had longdesired to be.
Immediately after the close of the college year, and a few weeks spentat home, Colin betook himself to Washington, where he received thenecessary credentials. As still a week intervened before the time ofthe opening of the laboratory, he spent several days in New York,visiting the American Museum daily and assisting his friend, Mr.Collier, with whom he had gone to Bermuda. The sea-garden exhibits wereall completed and were among the museum's most popular cases, and thecurator was engaged in preparing some exquisite models of theRadiolaria, those magical creatures of the sea, which are so small thatthey can be seen only with a powerful microscope, but which look likeliving snow-crystals, although a thousand times more beautiful. Somewere already installed in the museum, but a large series was planned.
On his arrival at Woods Hole, Colin found work in the hatchery divisionof the station almost at an end. Hundreds of millions of cod, pollock,haddock, and flatfish fry had been hatched from eggs and planted infavorable places for their further development, and tens of millions oflobster fry as well. A few of the hatching troughs were in use, but mostof them had been emptied and prepared for the work of the biologicaldepartment of the Bureau, to which the station was given over during thesummer months.
Colin found that he was not unknown to the director, who, beingespecially interested in mollusks, had read the lad's paper on themussel-shells. Accordingly he was quite heartily welcomed and set rightat work.
"You will take charge of the fish-trap crew, Dare," he was informed, thedirector's quick, snappy eye taking in the lad. "I suppose you knowenough about fish to tell the various species apart?"
"I'm not sure, sir," said the boy, "but I think I know most of thecommon kinds. That is, theoretically, Mr. Prelatt, through studyingthem. I have never done any fishing of consequence off the New Englandcoast."
"You can haul the trap at slack water this afternoon," the directorsaid. "I will ask Mr. Wadreds to go with you. He knows every kind offish that swims and more about each one than three or four of the restof us put together."
"What will be my duties, sir?" asked Colin. "I don't want to troubleyou, but if I am to take charge of the crew I ought to know what I haveto do."
"The trap is to be hauled daily," was the reply, "except when the wateris very rough. You will be given a list of the needs of the laboratoryfor experimental purposes, and as far as possible, you will fill thoseneeds. Sometimes you may have to assist in the collecting trip besides,as for green sea-urchins and the like; or perhaps you may have to draw aseine for silversides and small fish. Sometimes you may be needed tohaul some of the lobster pots, because we shall have two men at leastdoing research work on lobsters. Again, you may have to get mussels forsome work that is being done on shellfish for food. There will be twoother students working with you in maintaining the supply of specimenmaterial, under the direction of the head collector."
"Very well, Mr. Prelatt," the boy replied, "I'll see that things arekept up as far as possible. Am I to come to you for information as towhere to go for special fish and so forth?"
"Mr. Wadreds knows more about that than I do," the director said; "hecan usually tell you just where to find anything you're after. You'llsoon find it easy, because collecting narrows down to a few species. TheM. B. L. boat does collecting, too, and sometimes each party is able tohelp the other."
"What is the M. B. L., sir?" asked Colin.
"The Marine Biological Laboratory," was the reply, "which owns all theland on the other side of the street, just as we do on this. It is asummer college supported by a number of leading universities, to whichgraduate students come for courses in biology and marine life. There issome research work done also, and at the present moment ProfessorJacques Loeb is doing some wonderful work over there on fishhybridization. We are entirely distinct organizations, one being asummer school and the other being a government marine hatchery with abiological laboratory attached. They have their own boats and we haveours, but we grant them the privilege of using our wharves, and there isa great deal of friendly cooperation between the two."
"You spoke of sea-mussels, sir," suggested Colin.
"Well?"
"I was wondering, Mr. Prelatt, whether I would have any time aside fromthe fish-traps and the collecting, and if so, if I might work with theman who is going to take that up."
The director shook his head.
"No," he answered, "there are two men working on that subject together.Besides which, you will have but very little time, at least for a coupleof weeks. Then, if you feel that you would like some research work, I'lltell you what I want done."
Colin soon found that the demands upon him by the chief of thecollecting staff not only were very heavy, but that they requiredconsiderable ingenuity. Frequently he would be asked for starfish and itwould be necessary to go to a well-known shoal at some little distance,perhaps in the _Phalarope_ or other of the government boats. There theywould dredge with 'tangles,' a tangle being an iron frame with yards andyards of cotton waste dragging behind in which the spines of sea-urchinsand the rough convolutions of starfish easily become entangled.Occasionally more distant trips, such as those to the Gulf Stream, wouldbe made on the _
Fish Hawk_, the largest of the Bureau's boats, namedlike all the others, after sea birds.
The hauling of the fish-trap, usually done in boats from the _BlueWing_, never palled in interest. Every day the visit to the trap had theexpectant thrill the miner finds when prospecting in a new stream. Therewas always the excitement of possibly finding new species, true goldto the scientist.
THE _BLUE WING_ AT THE GOVERNMENT FISH TRAP, WOODS HOLE.
_Photograph by C. R. W._]
"I've found at least three new species," said Mr. Wadreds to him oneday, "right out of the same trap you're haulin'. And sometimes, whenthere has been a long-continued storm and the wind's settin' in from thesoutheast, the traps have jest had numbers o' tropical fish."
"Why should the wind bring the fish?" asked Colin.
"They come up with the weed, lad," was the old collector's reply. "Whena storm rises the big masses o' gulf weed are broken up an' drift on thesurface before the wind. A great many semi-tropical fish live on theweed an' the little creatures that make their homes in it, an' so theycome followin' it away up here. Then we find them in the traps and byseinin'. We've caught butterfly fish an' parrot fish in the seines uphere several times."
"We get menhaden in the trap principally now," the boy said; "why aren'tthey used for food? They look all right. Are they poisonous, orsomething?"
"Oily," was the reply; "an Eskimo might like 'em, but no one else. Butthe menhaden fishery is valuable just the same, for there's more oiland better oil got every year from menhaden than there is whale oil.Nearly all fish manure is menhaden, too. But they're not a food fish."
"Nor are dogfish," said Colin, "but I see that the M. B. L. mess tablehas them once in a while. We get lots of mackerel and other varietiesthat are good eating. I wonder why they eat dogfish?"
"Partly to try it out," the collector said. "A dogfish is a shark, asyou know, and mos' people don't like the idea of eatin' any kind o'shark. But it is a waste to have a good article o' food entirelyneglected by the public an' so the Bureau and the M. B. L. have triedusin' dogfish on the table as an experiment to get an idea of its valueas food."
"It tastes all right, too," said the boy. "I had some yesterday."
"O' course it does, but the name is against it. Both dogfish and catfishare good eatin', but there is a prejudice against 'em, because peopledon't eat cats an' dogs. But they have been canned an' sold undervarious names, such as 'ocean whitefish,' 'Japanese halibut,' an' 'seabass.'"
"They have a vicious look, though!"
"They are vicious," was the reply, "but you mustn't believe all youhear. Why, at the last International Fishery Congress a speaker told ofa plague o' dogfish which not only attacked lobsters, but swallowed potsan' all."
Colin looked incredulously at his friend.
"That's the story," the other said; "you don't have to believe it. Idon't."
"But after all, a dogfish is a shark, and aren't sharks the most viciouscreatures o' the sea?"
"I shouldn't say so," the old collector answered. "I reckon the moray isreally more vicious. He's always huntin' trouble. A shark is alwayshungry, that's all. Fishes have different kinds o' tempers, you know,an' often it's the smallest creature that's the meanest."
"Common fishes?"
"There isn't anythin' that swims that's meaner than a 'mad-Tom,' an'they're frequent in all the rivers o' the middle west an' south. A'mad-Tom,'" he continued in answer to the boy's questioning look, "is asmall catfish with spines. Most boys in riverside villages have theirhands all cut up by 'mad-Toms.' O' course there are scorpion-fish an'toad-fishes in tropical waters, an' their poison will cripple a man fora while, but there's no fish that's fatal."
"I thought there were lots of poisonous things in the water," Colinsaid, "jellyfish and other things like that."
"Well," replied the collector, "a jellyfish can be tolerable poisonous.The Portuguese man-o'-war, pretty enough to look at when it floats onthe water, with long streamers o' purple threads flowin' out behind, isthe only thing that I ever heard of that killed a man."
"A jellyfish? How?"
"It was all his own fault," was the reply. "It was down in the Bahamas,off Nassau, as I remember. The sea was just alive with jellyfish, an'this young fellow that I'm tellin' about, he swam around a good deal an'once or twice had run into a jellyfish without gettin' stung. There'sonly some o' them that sting."
"I thought all of them did a little?"
"No, only a few. Well, this chap knew enough, I reckon, to keep awayfrom a Portuguese man-o'-war usually, but either he had got reckless ordidn't think of it. Some of his friends shouted out to him to take care,but he laughed back, tellin' them they were foolish to believe oldstories, and to show that he didn't care, in a spirit o' 'dare' he divedplumb under the jellyfish. But he misjudged his distance an' came upclean in the middle of it an' the stingin' hairs just closed all over onhim."
"There are hundreds of them, too, aren't there?"
"Thousands of stingin' filaments in some o' them. He gave one wildscream an' went down. When he came up and his friends were able to grasphim he was paralyzed as though he had suffered an electric shock, an'before they could get him to shore his body had broken out in a violentrash. The doctors couldn't do anythin' for him an' he died three dayslater."
"Have you ever been stung?"
"I know enough to keep away from a jellyfish," was the blunt rejoinder;"but I had a nasty time with a torpedo once."
"The electric ray?" queried Colin. "That fish that looks like a smallsea vampire only it hasn't a whip-like tail?"
"That's it," said the older man. "It was when I was just a youngster, Iwas haulin' in a net, when my feet slipped from under an' I wentheadlong into the middle o' the net, and a torpedo landed on the backo' my neck. I reckon he must have shocked the spinal cord or somethingbecause I was fair paralyzed for an hour or two. You're sure to get oneyourself," he continued, "because they use torpedoes for research work agood deal, but a shock in the hand or on the arm passes away in a fewminutes, so that you don't need to worry about that. The electriceels--which are not eels at all, though they look like it--are the worstof all, but since they live only in South American rivers, I supposethey won't bother you much."
"As long as I don't find any in the fish-trap," said Colin, laughing, asMr. Wadreds nodded and went on his way, "I won't mind, and I'd just assoon not have to handle any dogfish that swallow lobster-pots as ahabit, but if I do I'll come to you for help."
All in all, Colin thought Woods Hole the most interesting place in whichhe had ever been. Unlike other summer resorts, a spirit of earnest vigorpervaded the little settlement. The houses nestled in the wooded lowhills behind the town, and though so near the sea, flowers could be madeto grow luxuriantly, as a famous and beautiful rose garden bore witness.To the southeast, over a spit of land that was little wider than acauseway, the road ran to the Marine Biological Laboratory and theBureau of Fisheries station, holding their commanding positionsoverlooking the harbor. The great government pier smacked of the stormysea, for it was used also by the Lighthouse Service and huge red buoyslay in dozens on it awaiting their hour to warn the tempest-drivenmariner of the perils that lay below them.
Nearer in, where the pier was severed from the shore, the opening beingcrossed by a short swing bridge, was a small inclosed inner harbor wherelay the launches and boats of the two laboratories. Upon the shoreitself was a stone-walled tank, set between the Residence building andthe Laboratory proper, and therein large fish which had been caught intraps or elsewhere, and which were too big for the indoor tanks, flittedas dark shadows within the pool. Smaller fish were in the Aquarium inthe first floor of the laboratory opposite the wide space where stoodthe serried rows of hatching troughs.
Here were many most interesting fish--among them that constant delightof the landsman, the puffer, which, when disturbed, rapidly inflatesitself, rising to the surface of the water until it becomes apparentlyso large a mouthful that its would-be devourer is fooled into believ
ingthe morsel too big to swallow. Then, the danger removed, the pufferreleases the gulped-down water and swims away. Here also were strangefish, like the eighteen-spined sculpin and the sea-robin, walking overthe bottom on three free rays of each of the pectoral fins. Upon the topstory of the same building were preserved in a rough museum variousother strange forms, not all from Woods Hole waters; the remora, orsucking fish, that fastens on sharks and becomes a constant passengerenjoying a free ride, specimens of which were often in the Aquarium; thedeal-fish, which alone among its tribe has a long slim fin projectingupwards from the tail almost at right angles to it; the blenny, whosefacial expression has caused it to be known as the sarcastic blenny; thegraceful sea-horse, who swings on seaweed with a prehensile tail likethat of a monkey--and the male of which hatches the eggs instead of themother, and not the least extraordinary, the three-cornered trunk-fishwhose front view is the most unfishlike apparition possible. These andhundreds of others Colin learned to know from the collections.
It was with great delight that Colin heard of the presence of hisfriend Mr. Collier, who was working on the plans for a model of Bryozoa,and who had with him his staff of glass-workers and modelers. The boyfound it hard to tear himself away from this laboratory and struck upquite a friendship with a Japanese colorist on the staff. Also, he wasfortunate in meeting and knowing Mr. Cavalier, the artist of animallife, and from him the boy learned a great deal of the picturesque andaesthetic elements of the life which he painted and modeled with suchsurpassing skill. Scores of other workers, writers, and scientists ofall kinds had rooms in the wonderfully interesting workshops of WoodsHole.
HATCHERY AND LABORATORY BUILDING, WOODS HOLE.
_Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]
RESIDENCE AND FISHERIES BUREAU HEADQUARTERS, WOODS HOLE.
_Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]
Beyond the laboratory building was the wharf to which the two steamyachts attached respectively to the station and the M. B. L. were tiedup. Beyond that again was a second pier, that of the Revenue Cutterservice, where lay, with banked fires, one of the guardians of Americanseas, a man ever on duty at the wireless receiver. Beyond the pier theland curved to the point opposite the Elizabeth Islands, while in thenarrow strait or 'hole' between, the tide for all Buzzards Bay surgedout or in as the ebb and flow compelled.
As captain of the fish-trap crew and active in collection, Colin had therun of both laboratories and the day always seemed too short for him.Every investigator's work was a matter of personal interest to him andhe talked 'research' all the day long, though too tired to dream of itat night. Nor did he forget his swimming, and at the beach in BuzzardsBay he swam a mile or so each day, the admiration and the envy of allthe M. B. L. students. But Colin speedily won their friendship, for henever hesitated to help other swimmers in every way he could, eventeaching little tricks of style that were all his own and which had gonefar to win him his championship.
As Director Prelatt had promised, Colin was given an opportunity to keepsome research work in hand, although he found--as had beenforetold--that he had but little time for it. The director was engagedupon a most interesting and important investigation, which, like allthose that were in progress at the laboratory, had a strong economicvalue. This was the study of the life history of the whelk.
"At first sight," the director said to him, when explaining the problem,"it does not seem as though the biology of a sea-snail were a matter ofmuch importance to the country, but as a matter of fact, to a greatextent the oyster industry--which reaches millions of dollars annuallyand gives employment as well as food to thousands of people--dependsupon that very thing."
"Just how, Mr. Prelatt?" inquired Colin.
"All creatures have their own special enemies," the director answered;"and everything is so equally balanced that there are enough oystersborn to keep up the supply in spite of the attacks of the whelk, oroyster-drill as it is termed. When man comes on the scene, however, andcommences to dredge the oysters, the combination of the market and thedrill together is too much for the oyster-beds and they soon becomedepleted."
"That's the way it is with fish, too!"
"With everything," was the assenting answer. "Now there are two ways toovercome this condition. One is the way in which we handle the samequestion with fish--by artificially hatching millions more eggs everyyear than would have been hatched during a state of nature. The other isby attacking the enemy of the oyster and thus enlarging the chances ofthose that hatch naturally. The latter we can't do with fish."
"Why not, sir?"
"Because the enemies of fish are numerous and free-swimming," was theanswer, "and also because fish produce an enormous amount of eggs.Oysters do also, but fertilization is so largely a matter of chance thatbut a few of the tens of thousands of eggs ever really have a chance tobecome young oysters. You can help that in two ways, one by preparingthe ground so that everything is made easy for the young oysters to havea chance, the other by thinning them out or transplanting the youngoysters or 'spat' as they are called, improving and enlarging the beds."
"That ought to help settle it, I should think."
"It is not enough. Enemies also must be kept at bay."
"I should think the oyster, in its tough shell, would be practicallyfree from enemies," remarked Colin.
"On the contrary, it has a large number. A great many kinds of fish,such as skates, for example, will eat oysters, and many owners ofoyster-beds have surrounded their holdings with an actual stockade ofstakes."
"Like the pioneers had against the Indians?"
"Just the same," assented the director. "Drum-fish are hostile on theAtlantic coast, and on the Pacific a very substantial stockade isrequired against the invasion of sting-rays. More destructive still arethe starfish."
Colin stared at the director in surprise.
"Starfish!" he said, "those little starfish? Why, they're soft and theyhaven't any teeth or anything to crush an oyster shell with."
"They're small and they're soft and they haven't any teeth at all," saidthe director, "but starfish cost the oyster industry at least fivemillion dollars a year."
"But how?" queried Colin; "I don't see how they can work it."
"What is a starfish?"
The boy thought for a moment.
"It's an echinoderm," he said, "generally with five arms, that livesonly in the sea, has a simple stomach, and feeds on the minute organismsin the water."
"There you're wrong," said the director. "It lives only in the sea,that's right enough, but you haven't proper regard for a starfish'spowers of digestion. It feeds on mussels, oysters and other shellfish.Can it swim?"
"I don't think so, sir," said Colin, after a moment's thought, "itcrawls."
"How?"
"I don't know, Mr. Prelatt."
"By thousands of sucker-like feet on the under side of it," he was told."So you see it can crawl to and over an oyster-bed."
"But even so, wouldn't an oyster shut tight at the approach of danger?"suggested Colin.
"That doesn't make any difference to the starfish," was the reply,"he'll open the oyster."
"How, sir?"
"What keeps an oyster closed?"
"The muscle, sir, because when it is dead it flies open."
"Very good. Do muscles grow tired?"
"Mine do," said Colin, smiling, "and I suppose the muscles of oystersare the same way."
"Exactly. Now what happens is this. The starfish crawls along until hefinds an oyster which he thinks will suit his taste. As he crawls nearor on it, the oyster closes up tight. The starfish--taking plenty oftime--fastens himself to the shell, having two of his 'arms' on oneshell and the suckers of the other three 'arms' attached to the othershell. Then the starfish starts to pull."
"But isn't the oyster stronger?"
"Much stronger," agreed the director, "but the starfish doesn't knowenough to quit. The pull he exerts is not so powerful but it isrelentless and unceasing and no oyster mus
cle can resist it for morethan a few hours. Presently the shell gapes open. The starfish lumbersover and commences to feed, other starfish often coming to enjoy thefeast."
"And are there starfish enough to injure the beds?"
"Myriads of them. A starfish is not easy to kill, moreover, because ifany of the arms are cut off he will grow a new one."
"How do the oystermen fight them?"
"By catching them in tangles. The snarled cotton waste does no harm tothe oyster, but, as it is pulled over the bed, picks up hundreds ofstarfish and sea-urchins. Up-to-date vessels engaged in that work have avat of boiling water on deck, into which the tangle is plunged when itis pulled up from the bottom. This kills the starfish and is a greatgain over the old system of picking them out of the tangle by hand.
"But the worst of all the oyster's enemies," the director continued,"and the one on which I am working, is the oyster-drill. At least eightyper cent of the possible oyster crop is destroyed by this sea-snail.This creature, usually about half an inch long, crawls on anoyster--usually a young one--and with a rasp-like tongue files a hole inthe shell, through which it sucks the juices out of the oyster. The onlything that keeps the oyster-drill in check at all is that as soon as itis big enough for a younger drill to climb on its shell, it is apt tosuffer the same fate. It is a case of reversed cannibalism, the strongerfalling to the weaker."
"What can be done to stop it?"
"Nothing so far," said the director; "that is my chosen problem. Becausethe drill prefers the thin-shelled mussel to the thicker-shelled oysterit has been suggested that mussels should be planted outsideoyster-beds, so that the drills would stay there. But the cure would beworse than the disease, for the mussels would spread over the oyster-bedand the drills with them, since they would have so excellent a breedingground. No, the problem is still unsolved, and the people of the UnitedStates are looking to the Bureau of Fisheries to solve it. The Bureauhas given it to me. That's the fascination of this work, that on yourown toil and your own skill and ingenuity a factor of world-wideimportance may depend."
"Perhaps----"
"What is it, Colin?"
"It just occurred to me, sir," the boy answered, "that perhaps someparasite which would prey on the drill might be found."
"It might--but I have as yet found none."
"Or perhaps," Colin again suggested, "some chemical which would unitewith lime might be put into the water so that the oyster shell might bepoisonous to the drill, but not for food, because we eat the oyster andnot the shell."
The director laughed.
"That suggestion is new, at least," he said, "but I don't think it wouldwork because this is a marine question and the water changescontinuously. There must be some solution, there's always a way of doingeverything, and some one will find it out. I'm going to stick at it tillI do, that is, when I'm not engaged on other Bureau work. But I'm alwaysglad of suggestions, and when you can help me in any way I'll let youknow."
"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Prelatt," Colin answered; "I'll be glad todo anything I can."
The boy had a fertile brain, and, before a week had passed by, a line ofexperiment suggested itself to him in connection with the oyster-drillproblem and he explained it to the director.
"To work that out properly would take several years!" the latter saidtentatively.
"I thought it would," said Colin, "but perhaps some one else could carryit on, and the work ought to be done, anyway."
"You have the right idea," the director replied; "it's the problem, notthe man who solves it. Now," he continued, "I have a surprise for you.Dr. Jimson, who has been working on swordfish for some time, is anxiousto try and capture a large specimen and is going out with a swordfishsloop next week. I can probably arrange for the trap to be looked after,if you are off for a day or two. Do you want to go?"
"Indeed I do," said Colin. "Mr. Wadreds was telling me some stories justthe other day about swordfish-catching."
"I suppose he told you the famous story of the swordfish which charged avessel and drove its sword through 'copper sheathing, an inch boardunder-sheathing, a three-inch plank of hard wood, the solid white oaktimber twelve inches thick, then through another two and a half-inchhard-oak ceiling, and lastly penetrated the head of an oil cask, whereit stuck, not a drop of the oil having escaped?'"
WHAT SHALL WE GET THIS TIME?
_Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]
HERE'S A NEW ONE, BOYS!
The veteran collector of the Woods Hole Station is seen in theforeground of both pictures.
_Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]
"Yes, Mr. Prelatt," Colin answered, "and if he hadn't told me that therecord was authentic and that the sword and section of timber had beenin the National Museum, I might have doubted it."
"They're enormously powerful, one of the best boatmen I ever knew waskilled by a swordfish," said the director.
"How was that, sir?"
"He had harpooned the swordfish and had gone out in the small boat tolance it, when the huge fish dived under the craft and shot up from thebottom like a rocket, his sword going through the timbers as though theywere paper and striking the boatman with such force that he was killedalmost instantly. Boats used often to be sunk by the rushes of aswordfish, but nowadays the greater part of the work is done directlyfrom the deck of a schooner. No amount of changes, however, can take allthe excitement out of a swordfish capture."
"Will they attack a boat unprovoked?"
"There are lots of cases in which they are supposed to have done so,"the director replied, "but I think any such instances were probablyswordfish who had been wounded--but not fatally. You knew that theswordfish was the Monarch of all the Fish?"
"No," Colin answered, "I didn't."
"He was so elected at one of the meetings of the International Congressof Fisheries," said the director, smiling. "We were waiting for thechairman or the speaker or somebody and in casual conversation the queryarose as to who was the real master of the seas, in the same way thatthe lion is regarded as the King of Beasts."
"And the swordfish got the award?"
"After quite a little debate. Plenty of people had their own favorites,the white shark and the killer whale among others, but when it came to asort of informal vote, the swordfish was chosen almost unanimously."
"I shall be glad to pay my respects to His Majesty," answered Colin witha laugh, as the director wheeled his chair to his desk, "and I'm ever somuch obliged for the opportunity."
The next morning, after having hauled the trap, Colin jumped aboard the_Phalarope_, which was going to New Bedford for supplies for thestation, and which was to take him there to join Dr. Jimson on aswordfish schooner. A large portion of the surface of Buzzards Bay wasdotted with billets of wood, about six inches thick and painted in allmanner of colors. Some were red, some white, some black, some yellow andblue, some striped in all manner of gaudy hues.
"I've been wondering," said Colin, as he stood in the pilot housechatting to the captain of the little steamer, "what all those sticks inthe water are?"
The captain took his pipe out of his mouth to stare at him in surprise,as he turned the wheel a spoke or two.
"Don't you know that?" he said. "Those are lobster-pot buoys."
"You mean there's a lobster-pot attached to every one of those?"
"Yes, of course."
"But there are thousands of them! Why, right now, I can probably seeforty or fifty, and they're not so awfully easy to catch sight of with alittle sea running. And why are they painted all different colors?"
"Different owners," was the reply, "every man has his own color. Everyday, or every other day at least, he sails out to the grounds--some of'em now have motor-boats--and makes a round of his pots. A chap whosebuoy is yellow has perhaps a hundred or two yellow buoys scattered aboutthe harbor."
"That sounds like work," said Colin.
"It's hard work," was the reply. "A lobster-pot is weighted with bricksand it's a h
eavy load to pull up in a boat. It's an awkward thing tohandle, too. Then a lobsterman has to rebait his traps, and as he doesthat with rotten fish, it's not a sweet job. And he can only bring inlobsters over a certain size; anything less than nine and a half inchesin length he has to throw back. Sometimes it'll happen that the trapsare full of lobsters that are too short or too small, 'shorts' they call'em, and his day's work won't bring him in much. There's a living in it,but that's about all."
Finding that the captain of the _Phalarope_ knew the lobster businesswell, as do most men who are natives of the region, Colin kept him busyanswering questions until they ran into New Bedford. As the old centerof the whaling industry, the harbor had a great interest for Colin, butthere was but one of the whaling ships in at the time, and the ancientfisher-town atmosphere was greatly marred by extensive cotton mills thathad been built along the river, just below where the whaling piers usedto be. The swordfish schooners were at the pier, however, large as life,and Colin felt quite a thrill of excitement as he stepped aboard thelittle vessel on which he was to live for the next couple of days, andsaw the narrow dark bunks in the entirely airless cabin in which fourmen were to sleep. Dr. Jimson and Colin practically were going asmembers of the crew, the two men, whose places they were taking, stayinghome from the trip.
Long before sunrise the following morning they were up, and by daybreakthe schooner was standing out of the harbor for Block Island, one of thefamous haunts of the swordfish. Colin, who had good eyesight, and whowas always eager to be up and doing, volunteered to go to thecrow's-nest and keep a lookout for the dorsal fin of a swordfish, which,he was told, could be seen a couple of miles away. There was noadvantage in going aloft, however, until toward noon, when, the waterbeing still, the swordfish come up to sun themselves.
Once Colin was quite sure that he saw a swordfish, but just as he wasabout to shout, there flashed across his mind a sentence that he hadread somewhere of the likelihood of confusing a shark's fin with that ofa swordfish, and soon he was able to make out that it was a shark. As itgrew toward noon and the sun's rays beat directly on him, Colin began torealize that sitting on a scantling two inches by four at the top of aschooner's mast in a bobbing sea, under a broiling sun, was a long wayfrom being a soft snap, but he would have scorned to make a complaint.He was more than glad, though, when the cook hailed all hands to dinner,and one of the sailors went to the crow's-nest.
At dinner Colin turned the conversation to swordfish and their ways.
"There's one thing I don't quite understand, Dr. Jimson," he asked, "isa spear-fish the same as a swordfish, only that the weapon is shorter?"
"Not at all," was the reply, "the spear-fish is a variety of the greatsailfish, which you see in West Indian waters six or seven feet long,with a huge dorsal fin, blue with black spots, looming above the waterlike the sail of a strange craft. But the real difference is in thespear or sword. In the case of the spear-fish it is bony, being aprolongation of the skull; in the case of the swordfish it is horny, andhorns, as you probably know, are formations of skin rather than bone.Now the narwhal's tusk," he continued, "is again an entirely differentthing."
"That's a tooth, isn't it?"
"Yes," was the reply, "it seems to be the mark of the male narwhal.Sometimes a narwhal has two tusks, but generally only one--on the leftside. The females have none at all. You know the unicorn is alwaysrepresented with a narwhal's tusk? One of the early travelers, Sir Johnde Mandeville or Marco Polo, I forget which, brought back a narwhal'stusk which, he had been told, had been taken from a kind of horse. Ireally suppose that the native who sold it believed it was from somespecies of antelope. But to this day the arms of Great Britain show ahorse having a fish's tooth sticking out from his forehead like animpossible horn."
"Way-o!" suddenly came the cry from the masthead.
"Where away?" called the captain, jumping up and looking around.
"Three points on the starboard bow, sir," answered the sailor, pointinghis finger.
"That's right enough. You're in luck, Dr. Jimson," he added, turning tohis passengers, "you won't have had long to wait if we catch this onefor you."
The captain walked aft, saw that everything was clear on deck, thenstepped forward and walked out on the bowsprit to the 'pulpit,' thecharacteristic feature of a swordfish schooner. This was a smallcircular platform about three feet across, built at the end of thebowsprit, with a rail waist high around it and a small swinging seat.Triced up to the jib stay was the long harpoon with its head, known asthe 'lily-iron.'
The schooner, having the wind abeam, danced smartly over the wavestoward the long lithe fin, gliding swiftly through the water. Thecaptain, standing like a statue, waited until the craft was within tenfeet of the unconscious swordfish, then thrust downward with all hismight. It was a thrust--not a throw--and the muscular strength behindthe blow caused the steel to pierce the thick skin of the swordfish. Atthe same instant the keg around which the line had been wound was thrownoverboard, and the water flew up like a fine jet from the rapidrevolutions of the barrel as the swordfish sped away with the line.
"How in the world are you going to haul him in now?" asked Colin, whenhe saw the keg thrown overboard.
"Did you think we pulled him in, same as you would a cod?" asked thecaptain.
"Why not?"
"Too much chance of sinking the schooner!" was the reply. "That isn'tthe way to get a swordfish."
As soon as the line on the barrel became unwound, it tightened with ajerk and the barrel disappeared under the surface. But the resistancethat the barrel full of air at the end of the long line gave was greatand even the powerful swordfish could not tow it for long. In a fewminutes he slackened his speed and the barrel bobbed to the surface. Butthe swordfish was still traveling like a railroad train, in shortrushes, however, here and there.
"See him charge it!" cried Colin.
There was a swirl of water and with a speed which seemed incredible thehuge body launched itself at the barrel. But there was no resistance,the keg revolved as the sword struck it, and the swordfish shot into theair. Again and again he charged, and Colin realized what danger laybehind that ton and a half of muscle backed by a power that could drivesuch a weight at sixty miles an hour through the water.
Again the Monarch of the Sea shot away, towing the barrel, but it was adisheartening drag, even upon the magnificent strength of the greatswordfish. Little by little the rushes became shorter, the spurts lessfrequent, as exhaustion and loss of blood began to tell. The captainordered out the boat and, at his earnest appeal, Colin was allowed togo.
"You're light," the captain of the schooner said, as he picked up alance not unlike a whale lance, "and we don't want much weight in theboat because it might pull the barb out of the fish if he starts torun."
"This reminds me," said the boy, "of the time I was spearing whales inthe Behring Sea," and he recounted the adventure briefly as they pulledtoward the swordfish. The Monarch of the Sea, who had never had achance to show his powers, being handicapped by the barrel dragging backhis every movement, caught sight of the boat. He did not wait to beattacked, but rushed with renewed fury at this new foe. The captain,apparently unmoved, waited until the fish rose at the boat and then hethrust in the lance with all his strength. The force acting against bothfish and boat drove the latter sideways a foot or more, so that thegiant rose in the air not two feet from the gunwale of the boat, thespray stinging like fine rain as the wind of his leap whistled by.
CATCHING SWORDFISH WITH ROD AND REEL.
Dangerous method of capturing the monarch of the sea, used only byexpert anglers.
_By permission of Mr. Chas. Fredk. Holder._]
"He'll charge again in a minute," the captain said quietly, "look outalways for the second rush."
The words were scarcely out of his lips when the fin appeared. Onceagain, as before, that great mass of dynamic energy hurled itself at theboat, but twenty yards away there came a sudden check and the swordfishdived. A second passed--so l
ong that it seemed like a minute, whileColin waited shiveringly to hear the crashing of the timbers and to seethat fearful weapon flash up between them, but as silently as a shadowthe lithe gray fighting machine shot up from the deep a yard or twoastern of the boat and, falling limply, turned on his side, dead.
The captain smiled.
"If he had lived about a half a second longer," he said, "I reckon thisboat would be on its way to the bottom now."
Boy With the U. S. Fisheries Page 10