Pleuronectes digrammus (Günther, Brit. Mus. Catalogue, ‘Fishes,’), the Two-lined Flounder (Nov. Spec.).—Sp. Ch.: The height of the body rather less than one-third of the entire length, the length of the head two-ninths, and that of the caudal two-thirteenths; snout with the lower jaw prominent, equal in length to the diameter of the eye, which is nearly one-fifth of that of the head; maxillary as long as the eye; the upper jaw with a series of twenty-eight small truncated teeth on the blind side, those of the other side being few in number and very small; eyes separated by a very narrow, naked, bony ridge; scales small but conspicuous; lateral line, with a very slight curve above the pectoral; a second series of pores commences above the eye, and follows the dorsal profile to the twenty-sixth dorsal ray, where it terminates; dorsal and anal rays quite smooth—the dorsal commences above the anterior third of the orbit, and terminates at a distance from the caudal nearly equal to the depth of the free portion of the tail; anal spine prominent—the longest dorsal rays are somewhat behind the middle of the fin, rather shorter than the pectoral, and half as long as the head; uniform brownish; length, eight inches. I obtained this new species of flounder in Mackenzie’s Arm, a tidal inlet continuous with Victoria Harbour.
Pleuronichthys guttulatus (Gerard, in Proc. Acad., Nat. Sc. Philadel., 1856, p. 137, and U. S. Pacif. R. R. Expd., ‘Fishes,’ p. 152).—Sp. Ch.: The height of the body is somewhat more than one-half of the total length (with the caudal), the length of the head one-fourth, and that of the caudal one-fifth. The interorbital space is exceedingly narrow, and raised ridgelike; snout very blunt and short; mouth small, with the jaws even. The dorsal commences above the anterior part of the orbit, and terminates at a short distance from the caudal; its longest rays are on and behind the middle of the fin. Scales, very small, cycloid. The lateral line is slightly arched above the pectoral; a similar series of pores runs from the upper eye, along the base of the dorsal fin, to about the middle of the length. There is a connecting branch between both lines, across the occipital region. Colour greyish, densely dotted with black and white spots. Common at Vancouver Island and San Francisco. For further description of species, vide Appendix, vol. ii.
CHAPTER VI.
HALIBUT FISHING—DOGFISH—A TRIP TO FORT RUPERT—RANSOMING A SLAVE—A PROMENADE WITH A REDSKIN—BAGGING A CHIEF’S HEAD—QUEEN CHARLOTTE’S ISLANDERS AT NANAIMO.
Halibut.—The Halibut, a giant amongst flat-fishes, is taken by the Indians on the western side of Vancouver Island; a veritable ground-feeder, frequenting deep-sea sandbanks, and devouring anything and everything that comes within reach of his terrible mouth. The halibut, at Vancouver Island, attains to an immense size, 300 lbs. being no unfrequent weight.
The Indians are most skilful in securing this leviathan of the deep, as I had an opportunity of seeing, when visiting the northern end of the island. Picture to yourselves an Indian village, built on a plateau overlooking an open roadstead; a crowd of Indians on the shingly beach, watching the departure of a large canoe, manned by four savages, awaiting my arrival. This being a special occasion, they were more elaborately painted than usual. A brief description of one will serve to portray the other three. Tailors are entirely unknown in the land of the redskin; a small piece of blanket or fur, tied round the waist, constitutes the court, evening, and morning costume of both chief and subject.
My crew were kilted with pieces of scarlet blanket. Imagine, if you can, a dark swarthy copper-coloured figure leaning on a canoe-paddle, his jet-black hair hanging down nearly to the middle of his back, the front hair being clipped close in a straight line across the forehead. Neither beard, whisker, nor moustache ever adorns the face of the redskin, the hair being tweezered out by squaws in early life, and thus destroyed. A line of vermilion extends from the centre of the forehead to the tip of the nose, and from this ‘trunk line’ others radiate over and under the eyes and across the cheeks. Between these red lines white and blue streaks alternately fill the interstices. A similar pattern ornaments chest, arms, and back, the frescoing being artistically arranged to give apparent width to the chest; the legs and feet are naked. A ‘fire-bag,’ made from the skin of the medicine-otter, elaborately decorated with beads, scarlet cloth, bells, and brass buttons, slung round the neck by a broad belt of wampum, completed the costume of my coxswain.
The canoe was what is commonly called a ‘dug-out,’ that is, made from a solid log of wood. Coiled round the sharp bow of the canoe, like a huge snake, was a strong line about sixty fathoms in length, made from the inner bark of the cypress, neatly twisted. Lying along each side, extending far beyond both bow and stern, were two light spear-hafts, about sixty feet long; whilst stowed away in the bow were a dozen shorter spears, one end being barbed, the other constructed to fit on the longer spear, but so contrived that the spearman can readily detach it by a skilful jerk. Tied lightly to the centre of each of the smaller spears was a bladder made from sealskin, blown full of air, the line attaching it being about three fathoms in length.
I had hardly completed my investigation of the canoe, its crew, and contents, when, to my intense astonishment, the four Indians lifted me, as they would a bale of fur, or a barrel of pork, and without a word deposited me in the bottom of the canoe, where I was enjoined to sit, much in the same position enforced on a culprit in the parish stocks. I may mention, incidentally, that a canoe is not half as enjoyable as poets and novelists, who are prone to draw imaginary sketches, would lead the uninitiated to believe. It would be impossible to trust oneself in a more uncomfortable, dangerous, damp, disagreeable kind of boat—generally designated a ‘fairy barque,’ that ‘rides, dances, glides, threads its silvery course over seas and lakes, or, arrow-like, shoots foaming rapids.’ All a miserable delusion and a myth! Getting in (unless lifted, as I was, bodily, like baggage) is to any but an Indian a dangerous and difficult process; the least preponderance of weight to either side, and out you tumble into the water to a certainty. Again, lowering oneself into the bottom is quite as bad, if not worse, requiring extreme care to keep an even balance, and a flexibility of back and limb seldom possessed by any save tumblers and tightrope-dancers. Down safely, then, as I have said, you are compelled to sit in a most painful position, and the least attempt to alter it generally results in a sudden heeling-over of the canoe, when you find yourself sitting in a foot of cold water.