XIII.
THE SEA RAIDERS.
I.
Until the extraordinary affair at Sidmouth, the peculiar species_Haploteuthis ferox_ was known to science only generically, on thestrength of a half-digested tentacle obtained near the Azores, and adecaying body pecked by birds and nibbled by fish, found early in 1896 byMr. Jennings, near Land's End.
In no department of zoological science, indeed, are we quite so much inthe dark as with regard to the deep-sea cephalopods. A mere accident, forinstance, it was that led to the Prince of Monaco's discovery of nearly adozen new forms in the summer of 1895, a discovery in which thebefore-mentioned tentacle was included. It chanced that a cachalot waskilled off Terceira by some sperm whalers, and in its last strugglescharged almost to the Prince's yacht, missed it, rolled under, and diedwithin twenty yards of his rudder. And in its agony it threw up a numberof large objects, which the Prince, dimly perceiving they were strange andimportant, was, by a happy expedient, able to secure before they sank. Heset his screws in motion, and kept them circling in the vortices thuscreated until a boat could be lowered. And these specimens were wholecephalopods and fragments of cephalopods, some of gigantic proportions,and almost all of them unknown to science!
It would seem, indeed, that these large and agile creatures, living in themiddle depths of the sea, must, to a large extent, for ever remain unknownto us, since under water they are too nimble for nets, and it is only bysuch rare, unlooked-for accidents that specimens can be obtained. In thecase of _Haploteuthis ferox_, for instance, we are still altogetherignorant of its habitat, as ignorant as we are of the breeding-ground ofthe herring or the sea-ways of the salmon. And zoologists are altogetherat a loss to account for its sudden appearance on our coast. Possibly itwas the stress of a hunger migration that drove it hither out of the deep.But it will be, perhaps, better to avoid necessarily inconclusivediscussion, and to proceed at once with our narrative.
The first human being to set eyes upon a living _Haploteuthis_--thefirst human being to survive, that is, for there can be little doubt nowthat the wave of bathing fatalities and boating accidents that travelledalong the coast of Cornwall and Devon in early May was due to thiscause--was a retired tea-dealer of the name of Fison, who was stopping ata Sidmouth boarding-house. It was in the afternoon, and he was walkingalong the cliff path between Sidmouth and Ladram Bay. The cliffs in thisdirection are very high, but down the red face of them in one place a kindof ladder staircase has been made. He was near this when his attention wasattracted by what at first he thought to be a cluster of birds strugglingover a fragment of food that caught the sunlight, and glistenedpinkish-white. The tide was right out, and this object was not only farbelow him, but remote across a broad waste of rock reefs covered withdark seaweed and interspersed with silvery shining tidal pools. And hewas, moreover, dazzled by the brightness of the further water.
In a minute, regarding this again, he perceived that his judgment was infault, for over this struggle circled a number of birds, jackdaws andgulls for the most part, the latter gleaming blindingly when the sunlightsmote their wings, and they seemed minute in comparison with it. And hiscuriosity was, perhaps, aroused all the more strongly because of his firstinsufficient explanations.
As he had nothing better to do than amuse himself, he decided to make thisobject, whatever it was, the goal of his afternoon walk, instead of LadramBay, conceiving it might perhaps be a great fish of some sort, stranded bysome chance, and flapping about in its distress. And so he hurried downthe long steep ladder, stopping at intervals of thirty feet or so to takebreath and scan the mysterious movement.
At the foot of the cliff he was, of course, nearer his object than he hadbeen; but, on the other hand, it now came up against the incandescent sky,beneath the sun, so as to seem dark and indistinct. Whatever was pinkishof it was now hidden by a skerry of weedy boulders. But he perceived thatit was made up of seven rounded bodies distinct or connected, and that thebirds kept up a constant croaking and screaming, but seemed afraid toapproach it too closely.
Mr. Fison, torn by curiosity, began picking his way across the wave-wornrocks, and finding the wet seaweed that covered them thickly rendered themextremely slippery, he stopped, removed his shoes and socks, and rolledhis trousers above his knees. His object was, of course, merely to avoidstumbling into the rocky pools about him, and perhaps he was rather glad,as all men are, of an excuse to resume, even for a moment, the sensationsof his boyhood. At any rate, it is to this, no doubt, that he owes hislife.
He approached his mark with all the assurance which the absolute securityof this country against all forms of animal life gives its inhabitants.The round bodies moved to and fro, but it was only when he surmounted theskerry of boulders I have mentioned that he realised the horrible natureof the discovery. It came upon him with some suddenness.
The rounded bodies fell apart as he came into sight over the ridge, anddisplayed the pinkish object to be the partially devoured body of a humanbeing, but whether of a man or woman he was unable to say. And the roundedbodies were new and ghastly-looking creatures, in shape somewhatresembling an octopus, with huge and very long and flexible tentacles,coiled copiously on the ground. The skin had a glistening texture,unpleasant to see, like shiny leather. The downward bend of thetentacle-surrounded mouth, the curious excrescence at the bend, thetentacles, and the large intelligent eyes, gave the creatures a grotesquesuggestion of a face. They were the size of a fair-sized swine about thebody, and the tentacles seemed to him to be many feet in length. Therewere, he thinks, seven or eight at least of the creatures. Twenty yardsbeyond them, amid the surf of the now returning tide, two others wereemerging from the sea.
Their bodies lay flatly on the rocks, and their eyes regarded him withevil interest; but it does not appear that Mr. Fison was afraid, or thathe realised that he was in any danger. Possibly his confidence is to beascribed to the limpness of their attitudes. But he was horrified, ofcourse, and intensely excited and indignant, at such revolting creaturespreying upon human flesh. He thought they had chanced upon a drowned body.He shouted to them, with the idea of driving them off, and finding theydid not budge, cast about him, picked up a big rounded lump of rock, andflung it at one.
And then, slowly uncoiling their tentacles, they all began moving towardshim--creeping at first deliberately, and making a soft purring sound toeach other.
In a moment Mr. Fison realised that he was in danger. He shouted again,threw both his boots, and started off, with a leap, forthwith. Twentyyards off he stopped and faced about, judging them slow, and behold! thetentacles of their leader were already pouring over the rocky ridge onwhich he had just been standing!
At that he shouted again, but this time not threatening, but a cry ofdismay, and began jumping, striding, slipping, wading across the unevenexpanse between him and the beach. The tall red cliffs seemed suddenly ata vast distance, and he saw, as though they were creatures in anotherworld, two minute workmen engaged in the repair of the ladder-way, andlittle suspecting the race for life that was beginning below them. At onetime he could hear the creatures splashing in the pools not a dozen feetbehind him, and once he slipped and almost fell.
They chased him to the very foot of the cliffs, and desisted only when hehad been joined by the workmen at the foot of the ladder-way up the cliff.All three of the men pelted them with stones for a time, and then hurriedto the cliff top and along the path towards Sidmouth, to secure assistanceand a boat, and to rescue the desecrated body from the clutches of theseabominable creatures.
II.
And, as if he had not already been in sufficient peril that day, Mr. Fisonwent with the boat to point out the exact spot of his adventure.
As the tide was down, it required a considerable detour to reach the spot,and when at last they came off the ladder-way, the mangled body haddisappeared. The water was now running in, submerging first one slab ofslimy rock and then another, and the four men in the boat--the workmen,that is, the boatman, and Mr. Fiso
n--now turned their attention from thebearings off shore to the water beneath the keel.
At first they could see little below them, save a dark jungle oflaminaria, with an occasional darting fish. Their minds were set onadventure, and they expressed their disappointment freely. But presentlythey saw one of the monsters swimming through the water seaward, with acurious rolling motion that suggested to Mr. Fison the spinning roll of acaptive balloon. Almost immediately after, the waving streamers oflaminaria were extraordinarily perturbed, parted for a moment, and threeof these beasts became darkly visible, struggling for what was probablysome fragment of the drowned man. In a moment the copious olive-greenribbons had poured again over this writhing group.
At that all four men, greatly excited, began beating the water with oarsand shouting, and immediately they saw a tumultuous movement among theweeds. They desisted to see more clearly, and as soon as the water wassmooth, they saw, as it seemed to them, the whole sea bottom among theweeds set with eyes.
"Ugly swine!" cried one of the men. "Why, there's dozens!"
And forthwith the things began to rise through the water about them. Mr.Fison has since described to the writer this startling eruption out of thewaving laminaria meadows. To him it seemed to occupy a considerable time,but it is probable that really it was an affair of a few seconds only. Fora time nothing but eyes, and then he speaks of tentacles streaming out andparting the weed fronds this way and that. Then these things, growinglarger, until at last the bottom was hidden by their intercoiling forms,and the tips of tentacles rose darkly here and there into the air abovethe swell of the waters.
One came up boldly to the side of the boat, and clinging to this withthree of its sucker-set tentacles, threw four others over the gunwale, asif with an intention either of oversetting the boat or of clambering intoit. Mr. Fison at once caught up the boat-hook, and, jabbing furiously atthe soft tentacles, forced it to desist. He was struck in the back andalmost pitched overboard by the boatman, who was using his oar to resist asimilar attack on the other side of the boat. But the tentacles on eitherside at once relaxed their hold, slid out of sight, and splashed into thewater.
"We'd better get out of this," said Mr. Fison, who was tremblingviolently. He went to the tiller, while the boatman and one of the workmenseated themselves and began rowing. The other workman stood up in the forepart of the boat, with the boat-hook, ready to strike any more tentaclesthat might appear. Nothing else seems to have been said. Mr. Fison hadexpressed the common feeling beyond amendment. In a hushed, scared mood,with faces white and drawn, they set about escaping from the position intowhich they had so recklessly blundered.
But the oars had scarcely dropped into the water before dark, tapering,serpentine ropes had bound them, and were about the rudder; and creepingup the sides of the boat with a looping motion came the suckers again. Themen gripped their oars and pulled, but it was like trying to move a boatin a floating raft of weeds. "Help here!" cried the boatman, and Mr. Fisonand the second workman rushed to help lug at the oar.
Then the man with the boat-hook--his name was Ewan, or Ewen--sprang upwith a curse and began striking downward over the side, as far as he couldreach, at the bank of tentacles that now clustered along the boat'sbottom. And, at the same time, the two rowers stood up to get a betterpurchase for the recovery of their oars. The boatman handed his to Mr.Fison, who lugged desperately, and, meanwhile, the boatman opened a bigclasp-knife, and leaning over the side of the boat, began hacking at thespiring arms upon the oar shaft.
Mr. Fison, staggering with the quivering rocking of the boat, his teethset, his breath coming short, and the veins starting on his hands as hepulled at his oar, suddenly cast his eyes seaward. And there, not fiftyyards off, across the long rollers of the incoming tide, was a large boatstanding in towards them, with three women and a little child in it. Aboatman was rowing, and a little man in a pink-ribboned straw hat andwhites stood in the stern hailing them. For a moment, of course, Mr. Fisonthought of help, and then he thought of the child. He abandoned his oarforthwith, threw up his arms in a frantic gesture, and screamed to theparty in the boat to keep away "for God's sake!" It says much for themodesty and courage of Mr. Fison that he does not seem to be aware thatthere was any quality of heroism in his action at this juncture. The oarhe had abandoned was at once drawn under, and presently reappearedfloating about twenty yards away.
At the same moment Mr. Fison felt the boat under him lurch violently, anda hoarse scream, a prolonged cry of terror from Hill, the boatman, causedhim to forget the party of excursionists altogether. He turned, and sawHill crouching by the forward row-lock, his face convulsed with terror,and his right arm over the side and drawn tightly down. He gave now asuccession of short, sharp cries, "Oh! oh! oh!--oh!" Mr. Fison believesthat he must have been hacking at the tentacles below the water-line, andhave been grasped by them, but, of course, it is quite impossible to saynow certainly what had happened. The boat was heeling over, so that thegunwale was within ten inches of the water, and both Ewan and the otherlabourer were striking down into the water, with oar and boat-hook, oneither side of Hill's arm. Mr. Fison instinctively placed himself tocounterpoise them.
Then Hill, who was a burly, powerful man, made a strenuous effort, androse almost to a standing position. He lifted his arm, indeed, clean outof the water. Hanging to it was a complicated tangle of brown ropes, andthe eyes of one of the brutes that had hold of him, glaring straight andresolute, showed momentarily above the surface. The boat heeled more andmore, and the green-brown water came pouring in a cascade over the side.Then Hill slipped and fell with his ribs across the side, and his arm andthe mass of tentacles about it splashed back into the water. He rolledover; his boot kicked Mr. Fison's knee as that gentleman rushed forward toseize him, and in another moment fresh tentacles had whipped about hiswaist and neck, and after a brief, convulsive struggle, in which the boatwas nearly capsized, Hill was lugged overboard. The boat righted with aviolent jerk that all but sent Mr. Fison over the other side, and hid thestruggle in the water from his eyes.
He stood staggering to recover his balance for a moment, and as he did sohe became aware that the struggle and the inflowing tide had carried themclose upon the weedy rocks again. Not four yards off a table of rock stillrose in rhythmic movements above the in-wash of the tide. In a moment Mr.Fison seized the oar from Ewan, gave one vigorous stroke, then droppingit, ran to the bows and leapt. He felt his feet slide over the rock, and,by a frantic effort, leapt again towards a further mass. He stumbled overthis, came to his knees, and rose again.
"Look out!" cried someone, and a large drab body struck him. He wasknocked flat into a tidal pool by one of the workmen, and as he went downhe heard smothered, choking cries, that he believed at the time came fromHill. Then he found himself marvelling at the shrillness and variety ofHill's voice. Someone jumped over him, and a curving rush of foamy waterpoured over him, and passed. He scrambled to his feet dripping, andwithout looking seaward, ran as fast as his terror would let himshoreward. Before him, over the flat space of scattered rocks, stumbledthe two work-men--one a dozen yards in front of the other.
He looked over his shoulder at last, and seeing that he was not pursued,faced about. He was astonished. From the moment of the rising of thecephalopods out of the water he had been acting too swiftly to fullycomprehend his actions. Now it seemed to him as if he had suddenly jumpedout of an evil dream.
For there were the sky, cloudless and blazing with the afternoon sun, thesea weltering under its pitiless brightness, the soft creamy foam of thebreaking water, and the low, long, dark ridges of rock. The righted boatfloated, rising and falling gently on the swell about a dozen yards fromshore. Hill and the monsters, all the stress and tumult of that fiercefight for life, had vanished as though they had never been.
Mr. Fison's heart was beating violently; he was throbbing to thefinger-tips, and his breath came deep.
There was something missing. For some seconds he could not think clearlyenough what this mi
ght be. Sun, sky, sea, rocks--what was it? Then heremembered the boat-load of excursionists. It had vanished. He wonderedwhether he had imagined it. He turned, and saw the two workmen standingside by side under the projecting masses of the tall pink cliffs. Hehesitated whether he should make one last attempt to save the man Hill.His physical excitement seemed to desert him suddenly, and leave himaimless and helpless. He turned shoreward, stumbling and wading towardshis two companions.
He looked back again, and there were now two boats floating, and the onefarthest out at sea pitched clumsily, bottom upward.