A Year at the Shore

by Philip Henry Gosse

A little silvery fish wriggles from the mass, and, by a few lateral vibrations, in an instant buries himself in the soft wet sand, all but the upper surface of his head and back. Our attention is drawn towards this object; but our friend the shrimper shouts rather abruptly a note of warning. “Mind what ye be ’bout! that ’ere’s pison! He’s a sting-bull, he is.” Thus armed, we use caution in our approaches, and look well before we touch. As we see it now, it certainly presents a noteworthy appearance. A large head, with a wide mouth opening at very upward angles; two staring eyes, set in the crown so as to look upward instead of sideways, and intently watching our intentions; a short fin on the back, of which the membrane is of the deepest velvet black, and the rays, which are stout sharp spines, are white; these rays are now stretched to the utmost, like a fan widely expanded, so as to offer the threatening points in all directions to a foe;—these are all the features we can discern, except a narrow line of olive presently lost in the sand, which marks the buried body.

WEEVER.

In spite of the good man’s earnest warnings to have nothing to do with so venomous a creature, we must contrive to take possession of it for study at home; and by the aid of our hand-net we find no difficulty in lifting it and transferring it, an unwilling guest, to a glass jar of sea-water. We now discern it more fully and distinctly; though it manifests its indignation at this tyrannical suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, by flouncing around the glass, and scattering the water hither and thither. This wrath, however, gradually subsides, and our captive philosophically makes up his mind to his fate.

It is the Lesser Weever;[58] a name corrupted from the French, who call it Vive, from the length of time which the fish will live out of its native element. It also bears the names of sting-fish, sting-bull, and sea-cat, among English fishermen; on the shores of the Mediterranean it bears the title of spider, and the ancient Romans called it sea-dragon. The specific names,—vipera and draco, viper and dragon—which are appropriated to this species and another which is nearly allied to it, make up an extensive list of aliases, all combining to give this pretty little fish a thoroughly bad reputation. All these titles point to a habit and a power possessed by it of inflicting severe wounds, which without doubt are of a highly inflammatory character, and are slow and difficult to cure. These are effected by the rays of the first dorsal fin, which, as we have just seen, are erected and spread in a way which indicates a perfect consciousness of their power, and by certain spines, long and acute, set on the gill-covers, one on each, pointing backward. These all are of needle-like sharpness, and are wielded most effectively. Yarrell tells us that if trod upon, or only touched, while on the watch, nearly buried in the sand at the bottom of the water, it strikes with force either upwards or sideways; and Pennant says that he had seen it direct its blows with as much judgment as a fighting cock. Fishermen hold it in great dread; and the name of sting-bull is said to be due to its power of piercing even the proverbial thickness of a bull’s hide.

Plate 13.
P. H. GOSSE, del. LEIGHTON, BROS.
FIFTEEN-SPINED STICKLEBACK. LESSER WEEVER.

VENOM OF ITS SPINES.

Cuvier considers the imputation of venom to the wounds made by the Weever as a popular error. He says, “They cannot inject into the wounds they inflict with their spines any poisonous substance, properly so called; but, as these spines are very strong and sharp-pointed, and can no doubt pierce the flesh to a considerable depth, these wounds, like all others of the same description, may produce dangerous consequences if care is not taken to enlarge them, and to allow the blood to flow; this perhaps, is the most certain, as the simplest remedy, and much preferable to the boasted applications of the ancients.”