Finally, there is in our own national collection, preserved in spirit in a tall glass jar, a single arm of a huge cephalopod, which, by the kindness and courtesy of the officers of the department, I was permitted to examine and measure when I first described it, in May, 1873. It is 9 feet long, and 12 inches in circumference at the base, tapering gradually to a fine point. It has about 300 suckers, pedunculated, or set on tubular footstalks, placed alternately in two rows, and having serrated, horny rings, but no hooks; the diameter of the largest of these rings is half an inch; the smallest is not larger than a pin's head. This is one of the eight shorter, or pedal, and not one of the long, or tentacular, arms of the calamary to which it belonged. The relative length of the arms to that of the body and tentacles varies in different genera of the Teuthidæ, and it is not impossible that this may be the case even in individuals of the same species. But, judging from the proportions of known examples, I estimate the length of the tentacles at 36 feet, and that of the body at from 10 to 11 feet: total length 47 feet. The beak would probably have been about 5 inches long from hinge socket to point, and the diameter of the largest suckers of the tentacles about 1 inch. So much for De Montfort's "suckers as big as saucepan-lids." From a well defined fold of skin which spreads out from each margin of that surface of the arm over which the suckers are situated, Professor Owen has given to this calamary the generic name of Plectoteuthis, with the specific title of grandis to indicate its enormous size. No history relating to this interesting specimen has been preserved. No one knows its origin, nor when it was received, but Dr. Gray told me that he believed it came from the east coast of South America. It has, however, long formed part of the stores of the British Museum, and, although previously open to public view, was more recently for many years kept in the basement chambers of the old building in Bloomsbury, which were irreverently called by the initiated "the spirit vaults and bottle department," because fishes, mollusca, &c., preserved in spirits were there deposited. I hope the public will have greater facility of access to it in the new Museum.
Here, then, in our midst, and to be seen by all who ask permission to inspect it, is, and has long been, a limb of a great cephalopod capable of upsetting a boat, or of hauling a man out of her, or of clutching one engaged in scraping a ship's side, and dragging him under water, as described by the old master-mariner Magnus Dens. The tough, supple tentacles, shot forth with lightning rapidity, would be long enough to reach him at a distance of a dozen yards, and strong enough to drag him within the grasp of the eight shorter arms, a helpless victim to the mandibles of a beak sufficiently powerful to tear him in pieces and crush some of his smaller bones. For, once within that dreadful embrace, his escape, unaided, would be impossible. The clinging power of this Plectoteuthis is so enormously augmented by the additional surface given by the expanded folds to the under side of the arms, that I doubt if even one of the smaller whales, such as the "White Whale," or the "Pilot Whale," could extricate itself from their combined hold, if those eight supple, clammy, adhesive arms, each 9 feet long, and 5 inches in diameter at the base on the flat under surface, and armed with a battery of 2400 suckers, were once fairly lapped around it.
Ought it to surprise us, then, that an uneducated seafaring population, such as the fishermen of Fridrichstad, mentioned by Pontoppidan, absolutely ignorant of the habits and affinities, and even unacquainted with the real external form of such a creature, should exaggerate its dimensions and invest it with mystery? All that they knew of it was that whilst their friends and neighbours, whom we will call Eric Paulsen, Hans Ohlsen, and Olaf Bruhn were out fishing one calm day, a shapeless "something" rose just above the surface of the tranquil sea not far from their boat. They could see that there was much more of its bulk under water, but how far it extended they could not ascertain. Mistrusting its appearance, and with foreboding of danger, they were about to get up their anchor, when, suddenly, from thirty feet away, a rope was shot on board which fastened itself on Hans; he was dragged from amongst them towards the strange floating mass; there was a commotion; from the foaming sea upreared themselves, as it seemed to Eric and Olaf, several writhing serpents, which twined themselves around Hans; and as they gazed, helpless, in horror and bewilderment, the monster sank, and with a mighty swirl the waters closed for ever over their unfortunate companion. The men would naturally hasten home, and describe the dreadful incident—their imagination excited by its mysterious nature; the tale would spread through the district, losing nothing by repetition, and within a week the fabled Kraken would be the result.
The existence, in almost every sea, of calamaries capable of playing their part in such a scene has been fully proved, and this vexed question of marine zoology set at rest for ever. The "much greater light on this subject," which, as Pontoppidan sagaciously foresaw, was "reserved for posterity," has been thrown upon it by the discoveries of the last few years; and the "further experience which is always the best instructor," and which he correctly anticipated would be possessed by the "future writers," to whom he bequeathed the completion of his "sketch," has been obtained. Viewed by their aid, and seen in the clearer atmosphere of our present knowledge, the great sea-monster which loomed so indefinitely vast in the mist of ignorance and superstition, stands revealed in its true form and proportions—its magnitude reduced, its outline distinct, and its mystery gone—and we recognise in the supposed Kraken, as the Norwegian bishop rightly conjectured that we should, an animal "of the Polypus (or cuttle) kind, and amongst the largest inhabitants of the ocean."
THE GREAT SEA SERPENT.
The belief in the existence of sea-serpents of formidable dimensions is of great antiquity. Aristotle, writing about B.C. 340, says[ [22] ]:—"The serpents of Libya are of an enormous size. Navigators along that coast report having seen a great quantity of bones of oxen, which they believe, without doubt, to have been devoured by the serpents. These serpents pursued them when they left the shore, and upset one of their triremes"—a vessel of a large class, having three banks of oars.
Pliny tells us[ [23] ] that a squadron sent by Alexander the Great on a voyage of discovery, under the command of Onesicritus and Nearchus, encountered, in the neighbourhood of some islands in the Persian Gulf, sea-serpents thirty feet long, which filled the fleet with terror.
Valerius Maximus,[ [24] ] quoting Livy, describes the alarm into which, during the Punic wars, the Romans, under Attilius Regulus (who was afterwards so cruelly put to death by the Carthaginians), were thrown by an aquatic, though not marine, serpent which had its lair on the banks of the Bagrados, near Ithaca. It is said to have swallowed many of the soldiers, after crushing them in its folds, and to have kept the army from crossing the river, till at length, being invulnerable by ordinary weapons, it was destroyed by heavy stones hurled by balistas, catapults, and other military engines used in those days for casting heavy missiles, and battering the walls of fortified towns. According to the historian, the annoyance caused by it to the army did not cease with its death, for the water was polluted with its gore, and the air with the noxious fumes from its corrupted carcase, to such a degree that the Romans were obliged to remove their camp. They, however secured the animal's skin and skull, which were preserved in a temple at Rome till the time of the Numantine war. This combat has been described, to the same effect, by Florus (lib. ii.), Seneca (litt. 82), Silvius Italicus (l. vi.), Aulus Gellius (lib. vi., cap. 3), Orosius, Zonaras, &c., and is referred to by Pliny (lib. viii., cap. 14) as an incident known to every one. Diodorus Siculus also tells of a great serpent, sixty feet long, which lived chiefly in the water, but landed at frequent intervals to devour the cattle in its neighbourhood. A party was collected to capture it; but their first attempt failed, and the monster killed twenty of them. It was afterwards taken in a strong net, carried alive to Alexandria, and presented to King Ptolemy II., the founder of the Alexandrian Library and Museum, who was a great collector of zoological and other curiosities. This snake was probably one of the great boas.
The "Serpens marinus" is figured and referred to by many other writers, but as they evidently allude to the Conger and the Murena, we will pass over their descriptions.