While I stood, the Patella made a sudden movement of its shell—so sudden, indeed, as to startle its companion, who quickly put out his claws to save himself from falling. Unfortunately, in his spasmodic gesture he allowed the tip of one of his claws to intrude under the edge of the conical canopy, thus, in fact, pricking the fleshy 'mantle' of the animal within, who instantly, of course, glued itself to the glass with immoveable firmness. I suppose the same thing must have frequently occurred without my knowledge, for after a lapse of several days the Pagurus and his bearer were still in the same spot. I felt a growing alarm for the continued health of the Hermit-Crab, from the fact of its being poised so directly over the ever-expanded tentacles of a large Anemone. To prevent any mishap, I went to lift his crabship, with a view of transferring him to a place of safety, when, no sooner did he perceive the advancing forceps, than he rushed into his shell with a sudden and audible 'click,' forgetting for the moment that he stood on such ticklish ground. The consequence was that, seeking to avoid Scylla, he fell into Charybdis. In other words, he dropped plump upon the well-gummed tenter-hooks of the Crassicornis, which instantly closed and engulphed its prize. In vain did I endeavour with all speed to pick out the devoted Pagurus. The more I tried, the more firmly did the Actinia hold him in its convulsive grasp.
With extremely few exceptions, the Hermit-Crabs are always found to be a prying, prowling, curious class of animals, and are ever, like the husband of the fair Lady Jane—
'Poking their nose (?) into this thing and that.'
They will turn over each shell and pebble that comes in their way, and examine it with profound attention, or industriously climb up and roll down hillocks and trees in the shape of small rocks and sea-weeds, much to their danger.
I once possessed a Hermit-Crab, whose voracious movements afforded considerable amusement to myself and my friends. My Diogenes—or, as the Cockney news-boys used to pronounce the now extinct comic periodical, Dodgenes—on a certain occasion had climbed up a segmentally cut frond of Irish Moss. On reaching the topmost point, his weight became too great for the weed to bear; so, finding he was losing his equilibrium, in great alarm he made a clutch at the first object that stood near, in order to save him from falling.
A mussel was moored hard by, to the side of the vase by means of its silken byssus threads, and upon this friendly bivalve the Pagurus leaped by aid of his long taper legs. Unluckily the shell of the Mytilus was open, and the crab unwittingly thrusting his toe within the aperture, the intruding object was of course instantly gripped by the mollusc. This accident put him in a terrible fright. His gestures were most excited, and no wonder. Let the reader fancy himself hanging on to a window sill, at a height say of twenty feet from the ground, with the sash-frame fixed on his hand, and a huge iron foot-bath, or some such object, attached to the lower part of his body, and he will have a tolerably correct idea of the painful position of our crustacean friend.
After curling and uncurling his tail, and trying several times in vain to throw his tub upon the valve of the mussel, he released hold of his encumbrance, and allowed it to drop. Although still hanging, he had no difficulty in rolling up his 'continuation,' and elevating his body to the walls of his prison. Once again upon solid ground, he laboured hard to get his leg free. But unsuccessful in his efforts, he adopted another course, and snapped it off in a rage.
Scarcely, however, was the act of mutilation finished, when the stupid animal apparently seemed anxious to recover his lost toe, (which I may mention, had in reality fallen down among the pebbles).
After scraping, then resting, and scraping again, many successive times, he at last succeeded in diving the points of his largest claw into the chasm formed by the gaping mollusc. Of course, the member was held as if by a powerful vice. Very soon his courage deserted him, and he seemed to wait and weep despairingly for fate to release him from the sad predicament into which he had foolishly fallen. Alas! he little knew the singular part that fickle fortune had doomed him to play,—to become, if I may so term it, a kind of Prometheus in the tank.
My pack of fishes, having been on short rations for several days, had become exceedingly ravenous, and consequently were keeping a sharp look-out for scraps. Hence their intense delight on catching sight of the devoted 'Dodgenes' can readily be imagined. Such a delicious morceau was perfectly irresistible:—