The sea is the very fountain and reservoir of the life of this globe. As the heart is to man and his fellow vertebrates, so is the ocean to the world. It is the centre of the circulatory system; and that system means the life, the health, the sustenance of the body through which it sends its fluids. With the destruction of the heart the human life must cease; and with the annihilation of the sea, could such a thing be possible, all life on the globe must come to an end. We know it is the source of all our vitalizing showers, of every fertilizing stream, of every commerce-laden river. The sun and the winds distil its waters, and carry the sponge-like clouds over the lands, to drop their moisture in rain and mist and snow, making vegetation possible, and giving man two-thirds of his entire substance; for there are ninety-eight pounds of water in the man of ten stone!

The ocean does almost everything for man. Consider this statement well, and you will be astounded at the way in which we are everywhere dependent, directly or indirectly, upon the sea as the great reservoir of the world’s water, and as the manufacturer, by means of its myriads of living contents, of new and useful material from the old and worn-out rubbish, the very refuse and filth, that we daily pour into it. In fact, one of the principal occupations of civilised man may be said to consist in making clean water dirty; and one of the greatest operations of Nature is to make the dirty water clean and pure again. Like the man in the fairy story, the sea gives us new lamps for our old battered and bruised ones; and it is mainly enabled to do this by reason of its immensity and the enormous variety of its population, each able to turn some portion of our rubbish to account. According to the most recent estimates, the cubical contents of the ocean is fourteen times greater than the bulk of the land, and this means that the whole of the land could be lost in the oceans. Not only so, but if all the continents and all the islands were dumped down into the Atlantic, there would still be two-thirds of that great ocean quite clear, and the whole of the other oceans would be undisturbed. It is calculated that the entire surface of the globe is 188 millions of square miles, and of this, the small portion of 51 millions of square miles represents the land surface, whilst the Pacific Ocean alone has a surface area of 67 millions of square miles.

It is no wonder that the immensity and mystery of the sea have always exercised a fascination over man. Emerson declares that “the Scandinavians in our race still hear in every age the murmurs of their mother, the ocean;” but he need not thus have limited the thought—in this respect, at least, we are all Vikings, and the murmurs of our mother still draw us to her side. Whether we be Scandinavians or Celts, the sea has power to bring us to her to-day as strong as ever it had over our forefathers, who found in the seas that lap our little isles the secret of national liberty, wealth, and power, such as no other country has ever enjoyed. What a part the sea has played in the making of the great Anglo-Saxon race! It is but meet that we should try to understand something of that great heart of Nature; and for years we have been sending expeditions here and there to sound its depths, and collect facts that shall one day enable us to know it thoroughly. We cannot all undertake, or accompany, such expeditions, and must, therefore, be content to read with delight of their results; but great numbers of us make our annual pilgrimage to the sea-shore, and, if we will, may learn much of its wonders and beauties without running into danger, experiencing the discomfort of sea-sickness, or risking more than the wetting of a foot.

In the present volume it is the author’s desire to act as a friendly go-between, introducing the unscientific seaside visitor to a large number of the wonderful and interesting creatures of the rocks, the sands, and the shingle beach. Some may think this a work of supererogation, for already many volumes have been issued with a similar object. It is true that there are a number of manuals upon the wonders and the common objects of the shore, but the best are out-of-date or out-of-print, and the recent ones are such shocking examples of bookmaking without much knowledge of the subject in hand, that the practical ’long-shore naturalist smiles and writhes alternately as he turns their pages. Whatever else the present effort may lack, I claim for it this merit, that it has been written in close contact with the things it describes—not only of cabinet specimens, but of the living creatures under natural conditions. There is not a line in the whole volume that has not been written within a few yards of, and in full view of the rocks where the waves forever break, sometimes gently with a low murmuring, almost a whisper; at other times rearing their white crests a mile away, then sweeping across the bay, flinging their malachite curves upon the rocks with giant force and thunderous roar, whilst the foam flakes flying high tap softly at my window.

As far as possible I have dealt with the fauna of the rocky shore separately from that of the sands or the shingly beach, but it must be understood that in Nature there is a good deal of overlapping. It will also be no surprise to the reader that the rocky shore bulks more largely in these pages than sand or shingle; the rocks with their cracks and caves and pools affording protection to many delicate organisms against the fury of the waves. Naturalists have marked off the sea-bed into a series of zones, an arrangement which may seem somewhat arbitrary, but which is found very useful in practice. The first or highest of these zones is known as the Littoral zone (Latin, litoralis, the shore), and includes all the shore, be it rocks, sand, shingle, or mud, that lies between the highest and the lowest of spring-tide marks. Next to this comes the Laminarian zone, so-called because between very low tide and a depth of about fifteen fathoms of water, the Laminaria digitata, or Oar-weed, grows profusely over the rocky ground, and forms a splendid cover for the luxuriant animal life that haunts it. Our district is the Littoral zone, and the Laminarian zone forms our seaward boundary, which we cannot cross, for its exploration needs the use of boat and dredge. It is a very tempting province to enter, for it contains the oyster-banks, and many interesting forms of life.

He who would see the most that the shore has to exhibit to him, must consult the local tide-table, and the table of the moon’s changes. If his stay at the seaside is to be brief, he must endeavour to let the date of his start be governed by lunar considerations. Many business men cannot get away for more than a fortnight, and if any such should wish to make the best use of his time in connection with natural history, we should advise him to begin his holiday at the period of the moon’s first or third quarter. He will thus arrive at the time of neap-tides; that is, when high-water is low, and low-water not much lower—when, in a word, there is the least difference between high and low water. The local weekly newspaper will in all probability contain the times of high-water for every day in the coming week. If not, he must find out on his first day at what hour low-water is reached, and for at least an hour before that time he must be on the shore with basket of wide-mouthed bottles—glass jam-jars are the best, for they are easily obtained everywhere, and should an accident happen to one through collision with a rock, no great harm is done. Now bear in mind that the time of low- or high-water will be about forty-five minutes later to-morrow than it was to-day, and the same number of minutes must be added on each day to give the correct time for your visit to the shore. Arrived there, it is best to keep close to the ebbing tide, and as it goes further and further back, to turn over the stones and weeds that have just been left by it. In this way you will get acquainted with the best manner of proceeding, according to the peculiarities of the special bit of coast you are on, so that when, a week after your arrival, there comes the spring-tides, you will be able to make far better use of your opportunities than if you had arrived in the locality just at the period of spring-tides.

The lowest tide is the third after New and Full Moon. Then the water goes out to a great distance, and if on a rocky shore you will be able just to step over the border among the Laminaria, and hunt for specimens on its roots and under its long broad fronds. If you really desire to see and find as much as possible with the greatest amount of comfort, then pay attention to your dress before seeking the shore. You should don an old suit of clothes that has become too shabby for ordinary wear. If it is a bicycling outfit, so much the better, for the knickerbockers will be more handy for wading. There is, of course, no necessity for wading, but often it will be found that a “likely” looking rock is cut off from us by a few feet of shallow water, too wide to jump. In such a case wading pays. But it is really best to make up the mind to wade. Take with you an old pair of shoes, and above high-water mark you will find some safe place in the rocks for depositing your walking-shoes, socks, and such other articles of clothing as you wish to doff. Put the old shoes on your naked feet, and roll up your trousers or knickerbockers as high as they will go. You thus run little risk of getting your clothes wet, and your feet will be protected from the sharp edges of newly-fractured rocks and broken shells, or even from the nip of a too-familiar crab. Should the idea of old clothes be an objectionable one to you, and you have a preference for something appropriate, I would strongly advise a good knitted Jersey, worn without a coat—at least when the collecting ground is reached. Such a garment is warm without being heavy, and is a protection against the changes of temperature that frequently take place by the sea; there are no tails to get wet when you sit or kneel on low rocks, and no pockets out of which things can fall when you stoop. For the head a cloth cap is best; whilst at work wear it with the peak behind, otherwise when you peer closely into a pool it will get wet.

If you visit the village shop or store you can buy for a few pence one of the handy open chip baskets with handle across the middle, that are so much used for gardening purposes. In this you can store your glass-jars, and have them always handy without any lid to open, and can find room for seaweeds, shells, etc. If you are going to the sands you should carry a garden trowel; if to the rocks, a good strong putty knife with straight edge. You will find in most cases this will do instead of the more cumbersome cold-chisel and hammer that you may have to use on special occasions. With it you can separate the upper flake of a slaty rock upon which are desired specimens, by driving the knife in at the edge. For getting anemones off rocks you will find this knife very valuable. In such situations the anemone’s base usually rests upon a crust of old acorn-shells, sponge, coralline, or other foreign growth on the rock. The edge of the knife should be driven through this crust at a little distance from the desired specimen, and then pushed firmly towards and under it. It will come off with its base—the most delicate part of an anemone—uninjured and undisturbed, so that when placed in an aquarium it will spontaneously glide off the crumbling rubbish and obtain a firmer footing.

Some of the anemones and other fixed objects in the rock-pools you will find are in too great a depth of water to be got at with ease or comfort; but by using one of your bottles as a baler you can rapidly reduce the level of the water to a working height. I have in this way almost completely emptied a deep and narrow rock basin, where there was no play for the arms. You need have no scruples about destroying a natural aquarium by so doing, for the rising tide will soon put that matter right again. Where I have had to reduce the water in a large pool that would have taken a long time to bale out in this fashion, I have taken down a portable garden pump with splendid results.

In working a “drang” or rock gulley at low-water, pay special attention to the lower part of the perpendicular rock-walls, that are most protected from the full force of the waves in stormy weather. Where such a fissure runs parallel with the cliffs, the most productive wall will be that which faces the cliffs, for it is easy to see that in heavy seas this is the part that is protected from the sledge-hammer force of the waves and the big stones with which they batter and bombard the land; therefore, it is the part where soft and delicate organisms have the best chance of flourishing. It will be well also to carefully scrutinise the opposite wall, but when there is only a brief time at disposal devote it to the one we have indicated as the best.

Should you desire to obtain specimens for preservation in the cabinet instead of the aquarium, then you must take a jar of fresh water, which should be of a distinctive shape or material, to prevent mistakes. Most of the marine creatures are killed by immersion in fresh-water, which has the advantage of not altering their colours, as spirit does in too many cases—notably among the Crustacea. A few of the corked glass tubes that most naturalists use, will be found handy for minute specimens, which are liable to be overlooked if put into the general collecting jars with larger creatures. Overcrowding of the live stock must be avoided, or all will be dead or dying before your collecting is well through.

For small fish, shrimps, and other swimming creatures, you will require a small net, or rather two nets, for one that is suitable for catching the small and delicate forms one finds in the rock-pools or swimming near the surface of a smooth sea, will not be strong enough for drawing through the rough weeds. The one should be of fine muslin to retain minute forms; the other should be really a “net,” of the very smallest mesh possible.

On the rocky shore you will find the greatest abundance and variety of the marine algæ or seaweeds, most of the crustaceans, nearly all the anemones of the littoral zone, a number of species of fishes, many of the tube-worms, the sponges, the tunicates, and such molluscan forms as the periwinkle family, the limpets, dog-whelk, tops, slit limpet, smooth limpet, cowry, and sea lemon. On the sandy beaches you will find only such seaweeds as have been washed in by the waves, shrimps, the masked crab and the angled crab, launce or sand-eel, the razor-shell, cockle, tellen-shells, horn-shells, the natica, and other shells.

On the shingle beach little will be found besides empty shells and heaps of more or less damaged seaweeds, which, however, are well worth examining, for occasionally one may find uncommon kinds there, and among them specimens of animal life. But it is to the rocky shore we advise our readers to give most attention. The rocks, their pools and crannies, will engross the attention more, and the harvest will be greater. By a little local study it will be found that certain winds will cause the heaping up of certain shells on one particular part of a beach, whilst other winds bring other things to the same or different parts. This knowledge acquired, you will put it to practical use by finding out what was the direction of that stiff gale that blew last night, and then bending your steps in a particular direction, you will be able to take your pick of the shells before the hinges have become broken and the valves separated. There are many species of mollusca whose shells you will only acquire in this way, unless you are able to go dredging, and thus get up the living creature from the sea-bottom. All such shells, though they may look perfectly clean, should be carefully washed in fresh water, to get rid of the salt, that would otherwise hang about them, and prevent them becoming absolutely dry, as cabinet specimens should be.

Probably, after you have really seen something of the exceeding beauty of the rock-pools and the little marine caverns, you will be fired with the ambition to start a small marine aquarium when you return to your own home. You really ought to be filled with this desire a month or so before you seek the shore, so that you might provide a suitable vessel or vessels, and allow the sea-water to settle down and the contained germs of vegetation to start into active life, and so be ready to support animal life. We will suppose you have made some provision of this sort before leaving home, and now desire a suitable selection of creatures to fill it. My advice is, be modest in scheming, and for a first experiment start with creatures that consume very little oxygen—you cannot have better subjects than the anemones. These should be conveyed not in water, but each specimen wrapped lightly and separately in soft weed, and the whole packed in more weed in a light wooden box. The pools should be searched for a rough, uneven piece of rock, upon which small green weeds are growing, and this should also be placed in your aquarium as a suitable base for the anemones. Most marine animals travel better in weed than in water, which rapidly becomes foul in travelling, and destroys all that have been entrusted to it.