No writer, it seems to us, has reasoned on these atolls more comprehensively than the author of the "Origin of Species." "The earlier voyagers," he says, "fancied that the coral-building animals instinctively built up their great corals to afford themselves protection in the inner parts; but so far is this from the truth, that those massive kinds, to whose growth on the exposed outer shores the very existence of the reef depends, cannot live within the lagoon, where other delicately-branching kinds flourish. Moreover, in this view, many species of distinct genera and families are supposed to combine for one end; and of such a combination not a single instance can be found in the whole of nature. The theory that has been most generally received is, that atolls are based on submarine craters, but when the form and size of some of them are considered, this idea loses its plausible character. Thus, the Suadiva atoll is forty-four geographical miles in diameter in one line by thirty-four in another; Rimsky is fifty-four by twenty miles across; Bow atoll is thirty miles long, and, on an average, six miles broad. This theory, moreover, is totally inapplicable to the Northern Maldivian atolls in the Indian Ocean, one of which is eighty-eight miles in length, and between ten and twenty in breadth."
The various theories which had been propounded failing to explain the existence of the coral islands, Mr. Darwin was led to reconsider the whole subject. Numerous soundings taken all round the Cocos atoll showed that at ten fathoms the prepared tallow in the hollow of the sounding rod came up perfectly clean, and marked with the impression of living polyps. As the depth increased, these impressions became less numerous, but adhering particles of sand succeed, until it was evident that the bottom consisted of smooth sand. From these observations, it was obvious to him that the utmost depth at which the coral polyps can construct reefs is between twenty and thirty fathoms. Now, there are enormous areas in the Indian Ocean in which every island is a coral formation raised to the height to which the waves can throw up fragments and the winds pile up sand; and the only theory which seems to account for all the circumstances embraced, is that of the subsidence of vast regions in this ocean. "As mountain after mountain and island after island slowly sunk beneath the water," he says, "fresh bases would be successively afforded for the growth of the corals. I venture to defy any one to explain in any other manner how it is possible that numerous islands should be distributed throughout vast areas, all the islands being low, all built of coral absolutely requiring a foundation within a limited depth below the surface."
The Porites, according to Mr. Darwin, form the most elevated deposits of those which are situated nearer the level of the water: Millepora complanata also enters into the formation of the upper banks. Various other branched corals present themselves in great numbers in the cavities left by the Porites and Millepora crossing each other. It is difficult to identify species occupying themselves in the deeper parts, but, according to Darwin, the lower parts of the reefs are occupied by polyps of the same species as in the upper parts; at the depth of eighteen fathoms and upwards, the bottom consists alternately of sand and corals. The total breadth of the circular reef or ring which constitutes the atoll of the Keeling or Cocos Island varies from two hundred to five hundred yards in breadth. Some little parasitic isles form themselves upon the reefs, at two or three hundred yards from their exterior edge, by the accumulation of the fragments thrown up here during great storms. They rise from two to three yards above the sea level, and consist of shells, corals, and sea urchins, the whole consolidated into hard and solid rock.
Mr. Darwin's description of a kind of Sea-pen, Virgularia Patagonia, throws some curious light on the habits of these creatures. "This zoophyte consists of a thin, straight, fleshy stem, with alternate rows of polypi on each side, and surrounding an elastic stony axis, varying in length from eight inches to two feet. The stem at one extremity is truncate, but at the other is terminated by a vermiform fleshy appendage. The stony axis, which gives strength to the stem, may be traced at the extremity into a mere vessel filled with granular matter. At low water, hundreds of these zoophytes might be seen projecting like stubble, with the truncate end upwards, a few inches above the surface of the muddy sand. When touched or pulled, they suddenly drew themselves in with force, so as nearly, or quite, to disappear. By this action, the highly elastic axis must be bent at the lower extremity, where it is naturally slightly curved; and I imagine it is by this elasticity alone that the zoophyte is enabled to rise again through the mud. Each polyp, though closely united to its brethren, has a distinct mouth, body, and tentacula. Of these polyps, in a large specimen there must be many thousands, yet we see that they act by one movement. They have also one central axis connected with a system of obscure circulation, and the ova are produced in an organ distinct from the separate individuals. For," adds Mr. Darwin, in a note, "the cavities leading from the fleshy compartments of the extremity were filled with a yellow pulpy matter which, under a microscope, consisted of rounded semi-transparent grains aggregated together into particles of various sizes. All such particles, as well as separate grains, possessed the power of rapid motion, generally revolving round different axes, but sometimes progressive."
The description of the Island of Cocos or Keeling is as follows:—"The ring-formed reef of the lagoon island is surmounted, in the greater part of its length, by linear islets. On the northern, or leeward side, there is an opening through which vessels can pass to the anchorage within. On entering, the scene was very curious, and rather pretty; its beauty, however, entirely depended on the brilliancy of the surrounding colours. The shallow, clear, and still water of the lagoon, resting in its greater part on white sand, is, when illumined by a vertical sun, of the most vivid green. This brilliant expanse, several miles in width, is on all sides divided, either by a line of snow-white breakers from the dark heaving waters of the ocean, or from the blue vault of heaven by the strips of land crowned by the level tops of the cocoa-nut tree. As a white cloud here and there affords a pleasing contrast to the azure sky, so in the lagoon bands of living coral darken the emerald-green water.
"The next morning I went ashore on Direction Island. The strip of dry land is only a few hundred yards in width; on the lagoon side there was a white calcareous beach, the radiation from which, under this sultry climate, was very oppressive. On the outer coast, a solid broad flat of coral rock served to break the violence of the open sea. Excepting near the lagoon, where there is some sand, the land is entirely composed of rounded fragments of coral. In such a loose, dry, stony soil, the climate of the intertropical regions alone could produce so vigorous a vegetation. On some of the smaller islets, nothing could be more elegant than the manner in which the young and full-grown cocoa-nut trees, without destroying each other's symmetry, were mingled into one wood. A beach of glittering white sand formed a border to those fairy spots.
"The natural history of these islands, from its very paucity, possesses peculiar interest. The cocoa-nut tree, at the first glance, seems to compose the whole wood; there are, however, five or six other trees. One of these grows to a very large size, but, from the extreme softness of its wood, it is useless; another sort affords excellent timber for shipbuilding. Besides the trees, the number of plants is exceedingly limited, and consist of insignificant weeds. In my collection, which includes, I believe, nearly the perfect Flora, there are twenty species, without reckoning a moss, lichen, and fungus. To this number two trees must be added, one of which was not in flower, and the other I only heard of. The latter is a solitary tree of its kind, and grows near the beach, where, without doubt, the one seed was thrown up by the waves.
"The next day I employed myself in examining the very interesting yet simple structure and origin of these islands. The water being unusually smooth, I waded over the flat of dead rock as far as the living mounds of coral, on which the swell of the open sea breaks. In some of the gulleys and hollows there were beautiful green and other coloured fishes, and the forms and tints of many of the zoophytes were admirable. It is excusable to grow enthusiastic over the infinite number of organic beings with which the sea of the Tropics, so prodigal of life, teems; yet I must confess, I think those naturalists who have described in well-known words the submarine grottoes, decked with a thousand beauties, have indulged in rather exuberant language.
"I accompanied Captain Fitzroy to an island at the head of the lagoon; the channel was exceedingly intricate, winding through fields of delicately-branched corals. At the head of the lagoon we crossed a narrow islet, and found a great surf breaking on the windward coast. I can hardly explain the reason, but there is, to my mind, much grandeur in the view of the outer shores of these lagoon islands. There is a simplicity in the barrier-like beach, the margin of green bushes and tall cocoa-nuts, the solid flat of dead coral-rock, strewed here and there with great loose fragments, and the line of furious breakers, all rounding away towards either hand. The ocean, throwing its waters over the broad reef, appears an invincible, all-powerful enemy; yet we see it resisted and even conquered by means which at first seem most weak and inefficient. It is not that the ocean spares the rock of coral; the great fragments scattered over the reef, and heaped on the beach whence the tall cocoa-nut springs, plainly bespeak the unrelenting power of the waves. Nor are any periods of repose granted; the long swell caused by the gentle but steady action of the trade-winds, always blowing in one direction over a wide area, causes breakers almost equalling in force those during a gale of wind in the temperate regions, and which never cease to rage. It is impossible to behold these waves without feeling a conviction that an island, though built of the hardest rocks—let it be porphyry, granite, or quartz—would ultimately yield and be demolished by such an irresistible power. Yet these low, insignificant coral islets stand, and are victorious; for here another power, as an antagonist, takes part in the contest. The organic forces separate the atoms of carbonate of lime, one by one, from the foaming breakers, and unite them into a symmetrical structure. Let the hurricane tear up its thousand huge fragments, yet what will that tell against the accumulated labour of myriads of architects at work night and day, month after month? Thus do we see the soft and gelatinous body of a polyp, through the agency of the vital laws, conquering the great mechanical power of the waves of an ocean which neither the art of man nor the inanimate works of Nature could successfully resist."