The Sea-Elephant (Cystophora proboscidea) deserves his name, not only from his immense size, attaining a length of twenty, twenty-five, or even thirty feet, but also from the singular structure of his elongated nostrils, which hang down when he is in a state of repose, but swell out to a foot-long proboscis when he is enraged. Then the beast has a most formidable appearance, which, along with its gaping jaws and dreadful roar, might strike terror into the boldest huntsman. But total helplessness and weakness conceal themselves behind this terrible mask, for a single blow upon the snout with a club suffices to fell the giant. Between 35° and 55° S. lat. is the home of the sea-elephant, where he frequents desert islands and uninhabited coasts. But even here, as I have already mentioned, he could not escape the rapacity of man, for his tough hide and the thick layer of blubber beneath were too tempting to remain unnoticed.
The Hooded Seal of the northern seas, (Cystophora borealis,) enjoys the same faculty of inflating a folding, skinny crest extending on each side from the snout to the eyes. But in spite of the menacing appearance of these wind-bags, the seal fisher knocks him on the head, draws, without ceremony, his skin over his ears, and throws his blubber into the oil-kettle.
The Otarias, or seals furnished with an external ear, and whose longer and more developed feet allow them to move more freely on land, rank in point of organisation at the head of the whole tribe. The most important and valuable of all is the Sea-Bear (Arctocephalus ursinus), of which there are probably two species; the one inhabiting the Antarctic seas, while the other roams about the coasts and islands of the Northern Pacific, and selects St. Paul, one of the Pribilow group in Behring's Sea, as its favourite summer haunt. The fine-haired, black, curly skin of the younger animals, of from four months to one year old, is particularly esteemed, so as to be classed among the finer furs which find a ready sale in the Chinese market, and serve to decorate the persons of the higher rank of mandarins. The chase, which on the latter island was formerly a promiscuous massacre, is now reduced to the slaughter of a limited number of victims. It begins in the latter part of September, on a cold foggy day when the wind blows from the side where the animals are assembled on the rocky shore. The boldest huntsmen, accustomed to clamber over stones and cliffs, open the way; then follow their less experienced comrades, and the chief personage of the band comes last, to be the better able to direct and survey the movements of his men, who are all armed with clubs. The main object is to cut off the herd as quickly as possible from the sea. All the grown-up males and females are spared, but the younger animals are all driven landwards, sometimes to the distance of a couple of miles, and then partly clubbed to death. Those which are only four months old are doomed without exception; while of the others only a certain number of the males are killed, and the females allowed to return again to the coast, when they soon betake themselves to the water. For several days after the massacre, the bereaved mothers swim about the island, seeking and loudly wailing for their young.
From the 5th of October, St. Paul is gradually deserted by the sea bears, who then migrate to the south, and reappear towards the end of April,—the males arriving first. Each seeks the same spot on the shore which he occupied during the preceding year, and lies down among the large stone blocks with which the flat beach is covered. About the middle of May the far more numerous females begin to make their appearance, and Otarian life takes full possession of the strand. The full-grown sea-bear is from eight to nine feet long, measures five in girth, and acquires a weight of from eight to nine hundred pounds. He owes his name to his shaggy blackish fur, and not to his disposition, which is far from being cruel or savage. He indulges in polygamy like a Turk or a Mormon, and has often as many as fifty wives. The young are generally lively, fond of play and fight. When one of them has thrown another down, the father approaches with a growl, caresses the victor, tries to overturn him, and shows increasing fondness the better he defends himself. Lazy and listless youngsters are objects of his dislike, and these hang generally about their mother. The male is very much attached to his wives, but treats them with all the severity of an oriental despot. When a mother neglects to carry away her young, and allows it to be taken, she is made to feel his anger. He seizes her with his teeth, and strikes her several times, not over gently, against a cliff. As soon as she recovers from the stunning effects of these blows, she approaches her lord in the most humble attitudes, crawls to his feet, caresses him, and even sheds tears, as Steller, the companion of Behring's second voyage, informs us. Meanwhile the male crawls about to and fro, gnashes his teeth, rolls his eyes, and throws his head from side to side. But when he sees that his young is irrevocably lost, he then, like the mother, begins to cry so bitterly, that the tears trickle down upon his breast. In his old age the ursine seal is abandoned by his wives, and spends the remainder of his life in solitude, fasting, and sleeping; an indolence from which he can only be roused by the intrusion of another animal, when a tremendous battle is the consequence. Though extremely irascible, the sea-bears are lovers of fair play, so that when two are fighting, the others form a ring, and remain spectators until the contest is decided. Then, however, they take the part of the weaker, which so enrages the victor that he immediately attacks the peace-makers. These in turn fall out, the dreadful roaring attracts new witnesses, and the whole ends, like an Irish wedding, with a general fight.
Ursine seals are also found in the southern hemisphere, on desert coasts analogous to their residences in the north. Common seals and sea-otters stand in great awe of these animals, and shun their haunts. They again are in equal fear of the Leonine seals, and do not care to begin a quarrel in their presence, dreading the intervention of such formidable arbitrators, who likewise possess the first place on the shore.
Steller's Sea-Lion, (Otaria Stelleri,) is about as large again as the sea-bear, but its tawny hide, covered with short bristles, is without value in the fur trade. To the Aleut, however, the animal is of great use, for he covers his boat with its skin, makes his water-tight kamleika with its intestines, the soles of his shoes with the webs of its feet, ornaments his cap with its long beard hair, and feasts upon its flesh. On all the coasts and islands of the Pacific this sea-lion is found, from 61° N. lat. to unknown southern limits, but nowhere in such numbers as on the Pribilow Island, St. George, where its countless herds afford a wonderful spectacle. The shapeless gigantic fat and flesh-masses, awkward and unwieldy on land, cover, as far as the eye can reach, a broad, rocky, naked strand-belt, blackened with oil. The sea-birds occupy the empty places between the herds of the sea-lions, and fly fearlessly before the gaping jaws of the huge monsters, without caring about their hideous bellowing. In countless numbers they build their nests in the caves of the surf-beaten cliffs, and among the large boulders on the shore, whose tops are whitened with their dung. A thick fog generally spreads over the desolate scene, and the hollow roaring of the breakers unites, with the screaming of the birds and the bellowing of the sea-lions, to form a wild and melancholy concert.
Steller's sea-lion is furnished only with an erect and curly hair-tuft at his neck, while a complete mane flows round the breast of the sea-lion of the southern hemisphere, (Otaria jubata). The remainder of the body is covered with short smooth hairs, or bristles. The sea-lioness has no mane, and is darker than the male. The fore-fins have the appearance of large pieces of black tough leather, showing, instead of nails, slight horny elevations; the hind-fins, which are likewise black, have a closer resemblance to feet, and the five toes are furnished with small nails. A formidable-looking beast, eleven feet long! and well may the naturalist start, when, walking through the high tussack grass of the Falkland Islands, he suddenly stumbles over a huge sea-lion, stretched along the ground, and blocking up his path.
Walrus, or Morse.