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Mare Nostrum (Our Sea) by Vicente Blasco Ibanez

V >> Vicente Blasco Ibanez >> Mare Nostrum (Our Sea)




All the abyssal beings have their organs of sight enormously developed
in order to catch even the weakest rays of light. Many have enormous,
protruding eyes. Others have them detached from the body at the end of
two cylindrical tentacles like telescopes.

Those that are blind and do not throw out any radiance are compensated
for this inferiority by the development of the tactile organs. Their
antennae and swimming organs are immeasurably prolonged in the
darkness. The filaments of their body, long hairs rich in nerve
terminals, can distinguish instantaneously the appetizing prey, or the
enemy lying in wait.

The abyssal deeps have two floors or roofs. In the highest, is the
so-called neritic zone,--the oceanic surface, diaphanous and luminous,
far from any coast. Next is seen the pelagic zone, much deeper, in
which reside the fishes of incessant motion, capable of living without
reposing on the bottom.

The corpses of the neritic animals and of those that swim between the
two waters are the direct or indirect sustenance of the abyssal fauna.
These beings with weak dental equipment and sluggish speed, badly armed
for the conquest of living prey, nourish themselves with the dropping
of this rain of alimentary material. The great swimmers, supplied with
formidable mandibles and immense and elastic stomachs, prefer the
fortunes of war, the pursuit of living prey, and devour,--as the
carnivorous devour the herbivorous on land,--all the little feeders on
debris and _plancton_. This word of recent scientific invention
presented to Captain Ferragut's mind the most humble and interesting of
the oceanic inhabitants. The _plancton_ is the life that floats in
loose clusters or forming cloud-like groups across the neritic surface,
even descending to the abyssal depths.

Wherever the _plancton_ goes, there is living animation, grouping
itself in closely packed colonies. The purest and most translucent salt
water shows under certain luminous rays a multitude of little bodies as
restless as the dust motes that dance in shafts of sunlight. These
transparent beings mingled with microscopic algae and embryonic
mucosities are the _plancton_. In its dense mass, scarcely visible to
the human eye, float the _siphonoforas_, garlands of entities united by
a transparent thread as fragile, delicate and luminous as Bohemian
crystal. Other equally subtle organisms have the form of little glass
torpedoes. The sum of all the albuminous materials floating on the sea
are condensed in these nutrient clouds to which are added the
secretions of living animals, the remnants of cadavers, the bodies
brought down by the rivers, and the nourishing fragments from the
meadows of algae.

When the _plancton_, either by chance or following some mysterious
attraction, accumulates on some determined point of the shore, the
waters boil with fishes of an astonishing fertility. The seaside towns
increase in number, the sea is filled with sails, the tables are more
opulent, industries are established, factories are opened and money
circulates along the coast, attracted thither from the interior by the
commerce in fresh and dried fish.

If the _plancton_ capriciously withdraws itself, floating toward
another shore, the marine herds emigrate behind these living meadows,
and the blue plain remains as empty as a desert accursed. The fleets of
fishing boats are placed high and dry on the beach, the shops are
closed, the stewpot is no longer steaming, the horses of the
gendarmerie charge against protesting and famine stricken crowds, the
Opposition howls in the Chambers, and the newspapers make the
Government responsible for everything.

This animal and vegetable dust nourishes the most numerous species
which, in their turn, serve as pasture for the great swimmers armed
with teeth.

The whales, most bulky of all the oceanic inhabitants, close this
destructive cycle, since they devour each other in order to live. The
Pacific giant, without teeth, supplies his organism with _plancton_
alone, absorbing it by the ton; that imperceptible and crystalline
manna nourishes his body (looking like an overturned belfry), and makes
purple, fatty rivers of warm blood circulate under its oily skin.

The transparency of the beings in the _plancton_ recalled to Ferragut's
memory the marvelous colorings of the inhabitants of the sea, adjusted
exactly to their needs of preservation. The species that live on the
surface have, as a general rule, a blue back and silver belly. In this
way it is possible for them to escape the sight of their enemies; seen
from the shadows of the depths, they are confounded with the white and
luminous color of the surface. The sardines that swim in shoals are
able to pass unnoticed, thanks to their backs blue as the water, thus
escaping the fish and the birds which are hunting them.

Living in the abysses where the light never penetrates, the pelagic
animals are not obliged to be transparent or blue like the neritic
beings on the surface. Some are opaque and colorless, others, bronzed
and black; most of them are clad in somber hues, whose splendor is the
despair of the artist's brush, incapable of imitating them. A
magnificent red seems to be the base of this color scheme, fading
gradually to pale pink, violet, amber, even losing itself in the milky
iris of the pearls and in the opalescence of the mother-of-pearl of the
mollusks. The eyes of certain fish placed at the end of jaw bones
separated from the body, sparkle like diamonds in the ends of a double
pin. The protruding glands, the warts, the curving backs, take on the
colorings of jewelry.

But the precious stones of earth are dead minerals that need rays of
light in order to emit the slightest flash. The animated gems of the
ocean--fishes and corals--sparkle with their own colors that are a
reflex of their vitality. Their green, their rose color, their intense
yellow, their metallic iridescence, all their liquid tints are
eternally glazed by a moist varnish which cannot exist in the
atmospheric world.

Some of these beings are capable of a marvelous power of mimicry that
makes them identify themselves with inanimate objects, or in a few
moments run through every gamut of color. Some of great nervous
activity, make themselves absolutely immovable and contract, filling
themselves with wrinkles, taking on the dark tone of the rocks. Others
in moments of irritation or amorous fever, cover themselves with
streaks of light and tremulous spots, different colored clouds passing
over their epidermis with every thrill. The cuttlefish and ink fish,
upon perceiving that they are pursued, enwrap themselves in a cloud of
invisibility, just as did the enchanters of old in the books of
chivalry, darkening the water with the ink stored in their glands.

Ferragut continued to pass slowly along the Aquarium between the two
rows of vertical tanks,--stone cases with thick glass that permitted
full view of the interior. The clear and shining walls that received
the fire of the sun through their upper part, spread a green reflection
over the shadows of the corridors. As they made the rounds, the
visitors took on a livid paleness, as though they were marching through
a submarine defile.

The tranquil water within the tanks was scarcely visible. Behind the
thick glass there appeared to exist only a marvelous atmosphere, an air
of dreamland in which drifted up and down various floating beings of
many colors. The bubbles of their respiration was the only thing that
announced the presence of the liquid. In the upper part of these
aquatic cages, the luminous atmosphere vibrated under a continual spray
of transparent dust,--the sea water with air injected into it that was
renewing the conditions of existence for these guests of the Aquarium.

Seeing these revivifying streams, the captain admired the nourishing
force of the blue water upon which he had passed almost all his life.

Earth lost its pride when compared with the aquatic immensity. In the
ocean had appeared the first manifestations of life, continuing then
its evolutionary cycle over the mountains which had also come up from
its depths. If the earth was the mother of man, the sea was his
grandmother.

The number of terrestrial animals is most insignificant compared with
the maritime ones. Upon the earth's surface (much smaller than the
ocean) the beings occupy only the surface of the soil, and an
atmospheric canopy of a certain number of meters. The birds and insects
seldom go beyond this in their flights. In the sea, the animals are
dispersed over all its levels, through many miles of depth multiplied
by thousands and thousands of longitudinal leagues. Infinite quantities
of creatures, whose number it is impossible to calculate, swim
incessantly in all the strata of its waters. Land is a surface, a
plane; the sea is a volume.

The immense aquatic mass, three times more salty than at the beginning
of the planet, because of a millennarian evaporation that has
diminished the liquid without absorbing its components, retains mixed
with its chlorides, copper, nickel, iron, zinc, lead, and even gold,
from the metallic veins that planetary upheaval deposits upon the
oceanic bottom; compared with this mass, the veins of mountains with
their golden sands deposited by the rivers are but insignificant
tentacles.

Silver also is dissolved in its waters. Ferragut knew by certain
calculations that with the silver floating in the ocean could be
erected pyramids more enormous than those in Egypt.

The men who once had thought of exploiting these mineral riches had
given up the visionary idea because the minerals were too diluted and
it would be impossible to make use of them. The oceanic beings know
better how to recognize their presence, letting them filter through
their bodies for the renovation and coloration of their organs. The
copper accumulates in their blood; the gold and silver are discovered
in the texture of the animal-plants; the phosphorus is absorbed by the
sponges; the lead and the zinc by species of algae.

Every oceanic creature is able to extract from the water the residuum
from certain metals dissolved into particles so incalculably tiny that
no chemical process could ever capture them. The carbonates of lime
deposited by the rivers or dragged from the coast serve innumerable
species for the construction of their coverings, skeletons, and spiral
shells. The corals, filtering the water across their flabby and mucous
bodies, solidify their hard skeletons so that they may finally be
converted into habitable islands.

The beings of disconcerting diversity that were floating, diving, or
wiggling around Ferragut were no more than oceanic water. The fish were
water made into flesh; the slimy, mucilaginous animals were water in a
gelatinous state; the crustaceans and the polypi were water turned to
stone.

In one of the tanks he saw a landscape which appeared like that of
another planet, grandiose yet at the same time reduced, like a woods
seen in a diorama. It was a palm grove, surging up between the rocks,
but the rocks were only pebbles, and the palm trees,--annelides of the
sea,--were simply worms holding themselves in upright immovability.

They kept their ringed bodies within a leathern tube that formed their
protective case, and from this rectilinear, marble-colored trunk sent
forth, like a spout of branches, the constantly moving tentacles which
served them as organs for breathing and eating.

Endowed with rare sensitiveness, it was enough for a cloud to pass
before the sun to make them shrink quickly within these tubes, deprived
of their showy capitals, like beheaded palm trees. Then, slowly and
prudently the animated pincers would come protruding again through the
opening of their cylindrical scabbards, floating in the water with
anxious hope. All these trees and flower-animals developed a mechanical
voracity whenever a microscopic victim fell under the power of their
tentacles; then the soft clusters of branches would contract, close,
drawing in their prey, and the worm, withdrawing into the lowest part
of the slender tower secreted by himself, would digest his conquest.

The other tanks then attracted the attention of the sailor.

Slipping over the stones, introducing themselves into their caverns,
drowsing, half buried in the sand,--all the varied and tumultuous
species of crustaceans were moving their cutting and tentacular
grinders and making their Japanese armor gleam: some of their frames
were red--almost black--as though guarding the dry blood of a remote
combat; others were of a scarlet freshness as though reflecting the
first fires of the flaming dawn.

The largest of the lobsters (the _homard_, the sovereign of the tables
of the rich) was resting upon the scissors of its front claws, as
powerful as an arm, or a double battle-axe. The spiny lobster was
leaping with agility over the peaks, by means of the hooks on its
claws, its weapons of war and nutrition. Its nearest relative, the
cricket of the sea, a dull and heavy animal, was sulking in the corners
covered with mire and with sea weed, in an immovability that made it
easily confounded with the stones. Around these giants, like a
democracy accustomed to endure from time to time the attack of the
strong, crayfish and shrimps were swimming in shoals. Their movements
were free and graceful, and their sensitiveness so acute that the
slightest agitation made them start, taking tremendous springs.

Ulysses kept thinking of the slavery that Nature had imposed upon these
animals, giving them their beautiful, defensive envelopment.

They were born armored and their development obliged them repeatedly to
change their form of arms. They sloughed their skins like reptiles, but
on account of their cylindrical shape were able to perform this
operation with the facility of a leg that abandons its stocking. When
it begins to crack, the crustaceans have to withdraw from out their
cuirass the multiple mechanism of their members and appendages,--claws,
antennae and the great pincers,--a slow and dangerous operation in
which many perish, lacerated by their own efforts. Then, naked and
disarmed, they have to wait until a new skin forms that in time is also
converted into a coat of mail,--all this in the midst of a hostile
environment, surrounded with greedy beasts, large and small, attracted
by their rich flesh,--and with no other defense than that of keeping
themselves in hiding.

Among the swarm of small crustaceans moving around on the sandy bottom,
hunting, eating, or fighting with a ferocious entanglement of claws,
the onlookers always search for a bizarre and extravagant little
creature, the _paguro_, nicknamed "Bernard, the Hermit." It is a snail
that advances upright as a tower, upon crab claws, yet having as a
crown the long hair of a sea-anemone.

This comical apparition is composed of three distinct animals one upon
the other--or, rather, of two living beings carrying a bier between
them. The _paguro_ crab is born with the lower part of his case
unprotected,--a most excellent tid-bit, tender and savory for hungry
fishes. The necessity for defending himself makes him seek a snail
shell in order to protect the weak part of his organism. If he
encounters an empty dwelling of this class, he appropriates it. If not,
he eats the inhabitant, introducing his posterior armed with two hooked
claws into its mother-of-pearl refuge.

But these defensive precautions are not sufficient for the weak
_paguro_. In order to live he needs rather to put himself on the
offensive, to inspire respect in devouring monsters, especially in the
octopi that are seeking as prey his trunk and hairy claws, exposed to
locomotion outside his tower.

In course of time a sea-anemone comes along and attaches itself to the
calcareous peak, the number often amounting to five or six, although
there is no bodily relation between the _paguro_ and the organisms on
top. They are simply partners with a reciprocal interest. The
animal-plants sting like nettles; all the monsters without a shell flee
from the poison of their tingling organs, and the fragments of their
hair burn like pins of fire. In this manner the humble _paguro_,
carrying upon his back his tower crowned with formidable batteries,
inspires terror in the gigantic beasts of the deep. The anemones on
their part are grateful to him for being thus able to pass incessantly
from one side to the other, coming in contact with every class of
animals. In this way, they can eat with greater facility than their
sisters fixed on the rocks; for they do not have to wait, as the others
must, until food drifts casually to their tentacles. Besides this,
there is always floating on top some of the remains of the booty that
the crafty crab in his wandering impunity has gathered below.

Ferragut, on passing from one tank to the other, mentally established
the gradation of the fauna from the primitive protoplast to the perfect
organism.

The sponges of the Mediterranean swam as soon as they were born, when
they were like pin-heads, with vibratory movements. Then they remained
immovable, the water filtering through the cracks and crannies of their
texture, protecting their delicate flesh with a bristling of
spikes,--sharp limestone needles with which they pierced the passing
fishes and rendered them immovable, availing themselves of the
nourishment of their putrefying remains.

The nettles of the sea spread out their stinging threads by the
thousands, discharging a venom that stupefies the victim and makes him
fall into their corolla. With unlimited voracity, and fastened to the
rocks, they overpower fish much larger than they, and at the first hint
of danger shrink together in such a way that it is very difficult to
see them. The sea-plumes lie flabby and dark as dead animals, until
absorbing water, they suddenly rear themselves up, transparent and full
of leaves. Thus they go from one side to the other, with the lightness
of a feather, or, burrowing in the sand, send forth a phosphoric glow.
The belles of the sea, the elegant Medusae, open out the floating
circle of their fragile beauty. They are transparent fungi, open
umbrellas of glass that advance by means of their contractions. From
the inner center of their dome hangs a tube equally transparent and
gelatinous,--the mouth of the animal. Long filaments depend from the
edges of their circular forms, sensitive tentacles that at the same
time maintain their floating equilibrium.

These fragile beings, that appear to belong to an enchanted fauna,
white as rock crystal with soft borders of rose color or violet, sting
like nettles and defend themselves by their fiery touch. Some subtle
and colorless parasols were living here in the tank under the
protection of a second enclosure of crystal, and their mucous mistiness
scarcely showed itself within this bell-shaped glass except as a pale
line of blue vapor.

Below these transparent and ethereal forms that burn whatever they
touch, venturing to capture prey much larger than themselves, were
grouped as in gardens the so-called "flower of blood," the red coral,
and especially the star-fish, forming with their corolla an
orange-colored ring.

The captain had seen these stony vegetations, like submerged groves, in
the depths of the Dead Sea and also in the southern seas. He had sailed
over them under the illusion that through the bluish depths of the
ocean were circulating broad rivers of blood.

The _oseznos_ (bear-cubs) and the star-fish were slowly waving the
forms that had given rise to their names, secreting poisons in order to
paralyze their victims, contracting themselves until they formed a ball
of lances that grasped their prey in a deadly embrace or cut it with
the bony knives of their radiating body. The iris of the sea balanced
themselves on end, moving their members as though they were petals.

Upon the fine sandy depths or attached to the rocks, the mollusks lived
in the protection of their shells.

The necessity of giving themselves up to sleep with relative security,
without fear of the general rapacity which is the oceanic law, is a
matter of concern to all of these marine beings, making them
constructive and inventive. The crustaceans live within their shells or
take advantage of ready-made refuges of limestone, expelling their
former owners; the animal-plants exhale toxins; the _planctonic_
beings, transparent and gelatinous, burn like a crystal exposed to
fire; some organisms apparently weak and flabby, have in their tails
the force of a carpenter's bit, perforating the rock sufficiently to
create a cavern of refuge in its hard interior.... And the timid
mollusks, trembling and succulent pulp, have fabricated for their
protection the strong shields of their valves,--two concave walls that
on opening form their door, and on closing, their house.

A bit of flesh protrudes outside these shells, like a white tongue. In
some it takes the form of a sole, and serves as a foot, the mollusk
marching with his dwelling upon the back of this unique support. In
others it is a swimmer, and the shell, opening and shutting its valves
like a propelling mouth, ascends in a straight line to the surface,
falling afterwards with the two shields closed.

These herbivorous fresh-water animals live by drinking in the
light,--feeling the necessity of the surface waters or the shallow
depths with their limpid glades--and this light, spreading over the
white interior of their dwelling, decorates it with all the fleeting
colors of the iris, giving to the limestone the mysterious shimmer of
mother-of-pearl.

Ulysses admired the odd forms of their winding passageways. They were
like the palaces of the Orient, dark and forbidding on the outside,
glistening within like a lake of pearl. Some received their terrestrial
names because of the special form of their shell--the rabbit, the
helmet, triton's horn, the cask, the Mediterranean parasol.

They were grazing with bucolic tranquillity on the maritime pasture
lands, contemplated from afar by the mussels, the oysters, and other
bi-valves, attached to the rocks by a hard and horny hank of silk that
enwrapped their enclosures. Some of these shells, called hams,--clams
of great size, with valves in the form of a club,--had fixed themselves
upright in the mire, giving the appearance of a submerged Celtic camp,
with a succession of obelisks swallowed up by the depths of the sea.

The one called the date-shell can, assisted by its liquid acid, pierce
the hardest stone with its cylindrical gimlet. The columns of Hellenic
temples, submerged in the Gulf of Naples and brought to light by an
earthquake, are bored from one end to the other by this diminutive
perforator.

Cries of surprise and nervous laughter suddenly reached Ferragut. They
came from that part of the Aquarium where the fish tanks were. In the
corridor was a little trough of water and at the bottom a kind of rag,
flabby and gray, with black rings on the back. This animal always
attracted the immediate curiosity of the visitors. Everybody would ask
for it.

Groups of countrymen, city families preceded by their offspring, pairs
of soldiers, all might be seen consulting before it and experimenting,
advancing their hands over the trough with a certain hesitation.
Finally they would touch the living rag at the bottom,--the gelatinous
flesh of the fish-torpedo,--receiving a series of electric shocks which
quickly made them loosen their prey, laughing and raising the other
hand to their jerking arms.

Ulysses on reaching the fish tanks had the sensation of a traveler who,
after having lived among inferior humanity, encounters beings that are
almost of his own race.

There was the oceanic aristocracy, the fish free as the sea, swift,
undulating and slippery, like the waves. They all had accompanied him
for many years, appearing in the transparencies opened by the prow of
his vessel.

They were vigorous and therefore had no neck,--the most fragile and
delicate portion of terrestrial organism,--making them more like the
bull, the elephant and all the battering animals. They needed to be
light, and in order to be so had dispensed with the rigid and hard
shell of the crustacean that prevents motion, preferring the coat of
mail covered with scales, which expands and contracts, yields to the
blow but is not injured. They wished to be free, and their body, like
that of the ancient wrestlers, was covered with a slippery oil, the
oceanic mucus that becomes volatilized at the slightest pressure.

The freest animals on earth cannot be compared with them. The birds
need to perch and to rest during their sleep, but the fish continue
floating around and moving from place to place while asleep. The entire
world belongs to them. Wherever there is a mass of water,--ocean, river
or lake, in whatever altitude or latitude, a mountain peak lost in the
clouds, a valley boiling like a whirlpool, a sparkling and tropical sea
with a forest of colors in its bosoms, or a polar sea encrusted with
ice and people, with sea-lions and white bears,--there the fish always
appears.