CHAPTER I

ON A NORWEGIAN FIORD

THE splendour of our Sussex Weald, with its shady forests and lovely gardens, around which rise the majestic Downs sweeping in long graceful curves marked by the history of our race, has charmed me during these sunny days of June. The orchids, the water-lilies, the engaging and quaintly named "petty whin," and the pink rattle are joined with the tall foxgloves and elder-blossoms in my memory. And for some reason--perhaps it is the heat--I am set thinking of very different scenes--the great, cool fiords of Norway, with their rocky islets and huge, bare mountain-tops, where many years ago I had the "time of my life" in exploring with the naturalist's dredge the coral-grown sea-bottom 1000 and even 2000 feet in a straight line below the little boat in which I and my companion and three Norwegian boatmen floated on the dark purple waves.

To let a dredge--an oblong iron frame some three feet long, to the edges of which a bag of strong netting is laced, whilst the frame is hung to a rope by a mystical triangle--sink from the side of a boat and scrape the surface of the ocean-floor far below for some ten or twenty minutes, and then to haul it up again and see what living wonders the unseen world has sent you, is, in my opinion, the most exciting and delightful sport in which a naturalist can indulge. There are difficulties and drawbacks connected with it. You cannot, in a small boat and without expenditure of large sums on a steam yacht and crew, reach from our coast--with rare exceptions in the north-west--with a fair prospect of returning in safety, those waters which are 100 fathoms deep. And it is precisely in such depths that the most interesting "hauls" are to be expected. I had had in former days to be content with 10 fathoms in the North Sea and 30 to 40 off the Channel Islands.

Then there is the question of sea-sickness. Nothing is so favourable to that diversion as slowly towing a dredge. I used to take the chance of being ill, and often suffered that for which no other joy than the hauling in of a rich dredgeful of rare sea creatures could possibly compensate, or induce me to take the risk (as I did again and again). I remember lying very ill on the deck of a slowly lurching "lugger" in a heaving sea off Guernsey, when the dredge came up, and as its contents were turned out near me, a semi-transparent, oblong, flattened thing like a small paper-knife began to hop about on the boards. It was the first specimen I ever saw alive of the "lancelet" (Amphioxus), that strange, fish-like little creature, the lowest of vertebrates. I recognized him and immediately felt restored to well-being, seized the young stranger, and placed him in a special glass jar of clear sea-water. A few years later the fishermen at Naples would bring me, without any trouble to myself, twenty or more any day of the week ("cimbarella" they called them), and I not only have helped to make out the cimbarella's anatomy, but also to discover the history of the extraordinary changes it undergoes as it grows from the egg. I sent my pupil Dr. Willey, now professor in Montreal, one summer to a nearly closed sea-lake, the "pantano" of Faro, near Messina, where the lancelet breeds. He brought home hundreds of minute young in various stages, and again later made a second visit to that remote sea-lake in order to complete our knowledge of their growth and structure by observation on the spot.

The advantage of the Norwegian fiords for a naturalist who loves to "dredge" is that at many parts of the coast you can sail into water of 200 fathoms depth and more, within three minutes from the rocky shore; and, secondly, that the great passage between the islands and the mainland is, to a very large extent, protected from those movements of the surface which cause such torture to many innocent people who venture on the sea in boats! Accordingly, in 1882, when I heard from the greatest naturalist-dredger of his day--the Rev. Canon Norman, of Durham--that he knew a farmhouse at Lervik, on the island of Stordö, near the mouth of the Hardanger Fiord, between Bergen and Stavanger--where one could stay, and where a boat could be hired for a couple of months--I determined to go there. I was confirmed in my purpose by the fact that Canon Norman had obtained in his dredge, at a spot near Lervik, which he marked for me on the large-scale official map of the region, a very curious little polyp-like animal, attached to and branching on the stems of the white coral which one dredges there at the depth of 150 fathoms. The little animal in quest of which I went, though other wonderful things were to be expected also, had been dredged originally by Dr. Norman off the Shetland Islands, and described by Professor Allman, of Edinburgh. But they had not examined it in the living state with the microscope, and though they showed that it was quite unlike other polyps, yet there was obvious need for further examination of it. I hoped to obtain its eggs and to watch its early growth. The name given to it by Allman was "Rhabdopleura," meaning "rod-walled," alluding to a rod-like cord which runs along the inside of the delicate branching tube (only the one-twentieth of an inch wide), which the little animal constructs and inhabits.

I sent a chest containing glass jars, microscopes, books, chemicals, etc., and my dredge, as well as a large windlass, on which was coiled 600 fathoms of rope, by sea to Lervik, and started in early July, with my assistant, Dr. Bourne (afterwards Director of Education in the Madras Presidency), overland, via Copenhagen, for Christiania. Thence we drove in "carioles" across Norway to Laerdalsören, on the west coast, making acquaintance with the magnificent waters--rivers, lakes, and cascades--of that pine-grown land. After visiting the Naerodal and the glaciers which descend from the mountains into the sea on the Fjaerlands Fiord, we took steamer to Lervik, and were welcomed at our farmhouse by its owner, the sister of the member of Parliament for the surrounding region (about four times the area of Yorkshire), whose son secured for me a fair-sized sailing boat, and with two other men of Lervik engaged as my crew for six weeks.

After a day or two we had everything in order, and at seven o'clock one morning sailed out of the harbour to make our first cast of the dredge. The mouth of the harbour of Lervik is 40 fathoms deep, and the great north-bound steamers enter it and come alongside the rocks on which the village stands. Outside the harbour the depth increases precipitously to 200 fathoms. We sailed about 10 miles along the fiord, and determined precisely the spot indicated by Dr. Norman on the map, and here we lowered our dredge. We had fixed around the mouth of the dredge long tassels of hemp fibre, since on rocky ground, such as we were now dredging, one cannot expect much to be "scooped up" by the slowly travelling dredge as it passes over the bottom, whilst the threads of the hemp, on the contrary, entangle and hold all sorts of objects with which they come into contact. We were 1000 feet from the bottom, and our dredge took a good five minutes to sink as we paid out the rope from the winch in the stern of our boat. When it reached the bottom we let out another 2000 feet of rope, and then very slowly towed the dredge for about a quarter of an hour. Then the laborious task commenced of winding it up again, two men turning the handles of the winch for a quarter of an hour. At last the dredge could be seen through the clear water, and soon was at the surface and lifted into the boat. The hempen tangles were crowded with masses of living and dead white coral (Fig. 3), star-fishes, worms, and bits of stone covered with brilliant-coloured sponges, Terebratulæ (a deep-water, peculiar shellfish, the lamp-shell), and other animals. There were only a few fragments of coral in the bag of the dredge.

We filled glass jars with sea water and placed the bits of coral in them, and I eagerly examined them for the creeper-like "Rhabdopleura." There, sure enough, it was on several of the dead stems of coral, and we sailed back to Lervik with our booty in order to examine it at leisure with the microscope whilst still fresh and living. In our temporary laboratory at the farmhouse the little polyp which it had been my chief object to study, issued slowly from its delicate tubes when placed in a shallow trough of sea-water beneath the microscope. I was able on that day, and many others subsequently--with renewed supplies from the depths of the fiord--to make coloured drawings of it, and to find out a great deal of interest to zoologists about its structure. The minute thing (Fig. 2) was spotted with orange and black like a leopard, and had a plume of tentacles on each side of its mouth, which was overhung by a mobile disk--the organ by means of which it creeps slowly out of its tube, and also by which the transparent rings which form the tube are secreted and added one by one to the tube's mouth, so as to increase its length. The creature within the tree-like branching system of tubes (Fig. 1) is also tree-like and branching, fifty or more polyp-like individuals terminating its branches and issuing each from one of the upstanding terminal branches of the tube system. I was able to determine the "law" of its budding and branching, and I also found the testis full of spermatozoa in several of the polyps, but I failed to find eggs. I believe that we were too late in the season for them; and they are still unknown.

One of the most interesting deep-sea creatures discovered by the "Challenger" proved to be closely allied to our little Rhabdopleura, and received the name "Cephalodiscus." Several species of this second kind have been discovered in the last twenty years in the deep sea, and the largest and most remarkable in some respects was one which "jumped to my eyes" among the booty of marine dredgings sent home from the Antarctic expedition of the "Discovery" by Captain Scott, when I unpacked the cases containing these marine treasures, in the basement of the Natural History Museum. I published a photograph of it in the "Proceedings of the Royal Society," and named it "Cephalodiscus nigrescens." But nothing more of importance has, as yet, been brought to light as to "Rhabdopleura."

Our rule at Lervik was to go out dredging from seven to twelve, and work at the material with microscope and pencil for some three or four hours after lunch. Of all the many beautiful things we dredged, the most striking were the various kinds of corals, the large, glass-like shrimps, the strange apple-green worm Hamingia (actually known previously by two specimens only), and the large, disc-like and branched, sand-covered or sausage-like Protozoa (from a shelly bottom of 200 fathoms depth). My friend Dr. Norman joined me at Lervik after I had been there for a month, and showed his extraordinary skill in choosing the most favourable spots for sinking the dredge and in pouncing on interesting specimens as we sorted the contents of the dredge (when we had been on a soft bottom) by passing them through the sieves, specially provided for naturalists' use, as we gently rocked on the dark surface of the clear, deep water, many miles from our island. The colours and light of that region are wonderful--the mountains of a yellow tint, far paler than the purple sea, whilst the rocky islands are fringed with seaweed of rich orange-brown colour, and clothed with grass and innumerable flowers.

The white coral of two kinds (Lophohelia and Amphihelia) is accompanied by beautiful purple and salmon-coloured softer kinds of coral (Alcyonarians), known as Primnoa, and by the gigantic Paragorgia. On one occasion our dredge became fast. For long nothing would move it, and we feared we should have to cut it and lose some 300 fathoms of rope. At last the efforts of four men at the oars set it free, and we wound it in. As the dredge came up we found entangled in the rope an enormous tree-like growth, as thick as a man's arm, seven feet long, and spreading out into branches, the whole of a pale vermilion colour (like pink lacquer)--a magnificent sight! It was a branch of the great tree-coral of these waters--the Paragorgia--and we preserved many pieces of it in alcohol and dried the rest. But the gorgeous colour could not be retained.

One day the green worm, Hamingia (named after a Norwegian hero--Haming) was dredged by us at the mouth of Lervik Harbour, in 40 fathoms. A somewhat similar worm lives in holes in the limestone rocks of the Mediterranean, and is named Bonellia (after the Italian naturalist, Bonelli). All the specimens of this Mediterranean worm, which is as large as a big walnut, and has a trunk, or proboscis, a foot long, were found to be females. The male was unknown until my friend the late Alexander Kowalewsky, the most remarkable of Russian zoologists, discovered that it is a tiny threadlike green creature, no bigger than the letter "i" on this page. Three or four are found crawling about on the body of the large female. I found the same diminutive kind of male crawling on my Norwegian Hamingia, at Lervik, and published a drawing and description of him. I was also able to show that, unlike Bonellia, the Norwegian worm has red blood-corpuscles, like those of a frog, and impregnated with hæmoglobin, the same oxygen-carrying substance which colours our own blood-corpuscles. The identity of the worm's hæmoglobin with that in our own blood was proved by its causing two dark bands of absorption in the solar spectrum when light was passed through it and then through the spectroscope--dark bands exactly the same in position and intensity as those caused by the red substance of my own blood and changing into one single band intermediate in position between the two--when deprived by an appropriate chemical of the oxygen loosely combined with it.

Of many other things we caught and many other delights of that long-past summer on the Norwegian fiords, of the great waterfalls, the vast forests, the delightful swimming in the sea, the trout-fishing, and the very trying food approved and provided for us by the natives, I must not now tell. My hope is that I may have enabled my readers to understand some of the enjoyment open to the marine zoologist, even when he dispenses with the aid of a big steamship, and modestly pursues his quarry in a sportsmanlike spirit.