In the Eastern Seas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

There was a stiffish breeze, which had created a little sea; and it seemed doubtful, although Mr Sedgwick was a good shot, whether he would be steady enough to hit one of the birds he so much desired. We pulled on, however, keeping as close as we could venture under the cliff, so as to be concealed from their sight till we got near them. Roger Trew took the two oars, while I sat at the helm to steer the boat more steadily. My uncle stood up, rifle in hand, eagerly waiting till we got within range of the birds. However, they were so eagerly engaged in preparing the homes for their future young that they scarcely appeared to notice our approach, but kept flying about round the cliff as they had done the day before when we first saw them. At length one of the magnificent birds came within range of my uncle’s rifle. Though his nerves were as well strung as those of most men, I fancied his hands trembled in his eagerness to obtain his prize. He recovered himself, however, in a moment, and, balancing his feet at the bottom of the tossing boat, fired. An instant afterwards a vast mass began to descend, at first slowly, then it passed rapidly through the air like a huge piece of snow cast before an avalanche, and down it came with a loud thud into the water.

“Pull! pull!” he cried; and Roger Trew exerting his arms, we were soon up to the bird. It was still alive, though unable to impel itself through the water or to rise. It stretched out its beak towards us, but all power had gone; and as my uncle eagerly seized it, and drew it into the boat, it ceased to struggle. The shot had alarmed the other birds, some of whom were seen to soar high up into the air. Up, up they went, till they became mere specks in the blue sky, then disappeared altogether. Others, however, retained their position round the rock, flying about in a startled manner, apparently unable to ascertain the cause of the loud sound they had heard. Meantime Mr Sedgwick again loaded, and a second bird was brought down. He offered a great deal more resistance, but a blow from Roger Trew’s oar quickly settled him. My uncle was highly delighted with his success. The second shot had put all the birds to flight, and it did not appear likely that a third would be killed. We therefore put the boat’s head round, and pulled along the shore homewards.

On our way back Mr Sedgwick expatiated on the powers and beauty of the frigate-bird. “See,” he observed, “these feathers are not of that coarse and downy texture peculiar to aquatic birds; indeed, its graceful form and all the internal arrangements seem especially adapted—I was almost going to say for eternal flight. See these wings, twelve feet from tip to tip. Observe this forked tail, these short legs, the thighs not more than an inch in length. Unless perched on some rocky pinnacle, it is unable to take flight. Neither, you will observe, is it adapted for living on the waves. See its feet; they are unlike those of water-fowl, being but partially webbed. Now, when I come to show you the interior of the creature, you will see with what surprising arrangements it is furnished for flight without fatigue in the loftiest regions of the air, where it can even sleep without the danger of descending. See beneath its throat this large pouch; it communicates with the lungs, and also with the hollow and wonderfully light bone-work of its skeleton. When it wishes, therefore, to rest in air, it first spreads out its mighty wings, which are almost sufficient to float its light body. It then fills its enormous pouch with air, from whence it is forced into all its bones, and even into the cavities between the flesh and the skin. Now this air enters cold, but in a short time, from the heat of the bird’s circulation, which is greater than that of other animals, it becomes rarified, and will consequently swell out both the pouch and every cavity I have spoken of, thus giving the bird a wonderful buoyancy, even in the highest regions of the atmosphere. We saw how high those birds went just now, but they probably have gone far higher. In the same way, when the weather is stormy near the earth, the frigate-bird rises into the higher and calmer regions, where, with outspread wing, it remains suspended, motionless, and at rest. There it might remain for days together, unless compelled by hunger to descend. When this is the case, it expels the rarified air from its body and pouch, and drops swiftly towards the ocean. It never, however, dives, or even swims, but as it comes within a few feet of the waves, it instantly brings itself to a stop, and skimming along, catches the flying-fish with its hawk-like bill or talons, holding its neck and feet in a horizontal direction, striking the upper column of air with its wings, and then raising and closing them against each other above its back.”

On seeing this wonderful bird I could easily believe the accounts my uncle gave me. I remembered, when on board the Bussorah Merchant, seeing some tropic birds, which, like the frigate-bird, can ascend to a vast height. One appeared out of the blue sky, when, descending suddenly towards the ship like a falling star, it checked its course, and hovering for a while over our masts, darted away with its two long projecting tail-feathers streaming in the air towards a shoal of flying-fish, which had just then risen from the water. It caught one, and again ascended in the most graceful way towards the blue heavens, to enjoy its repast.

The Chinese, my uncle told me, train the common cormorant to fish for them, the birds being taught to return with their prey to the boat in which their master sits, when they receive a small fish as their reward. As, however, the bird might help itself, and refuse to work for an employer, the cunning Chinese fastens a band round its throat sufficiently tight to prevent it from swallowing the fish, but not to impede its free action in other respects. The hungry bird, therefore, very gladly returns to the boat to have this inconvenient appendage removed, in order that it may enjoy its limited repast, considering that “half a loaf is better than no bread.” My uncle showed me on our return a sketch, which will explain the mode of proceeding even better than my verbal description.

We were still talking of these wonderful birds, when we came near where we had placed our lobster-pots. They must have been on the edge of the bank, for we found that two or three had been carried away into deep water. However, we caught sight of their floats at some distance. Having drawn up the first we put down, several of which had large lobsters, or fish and crabs, with various other creatures in them, we pulled away to recover the rest. Two were empty.

“I suppose it is scarcely worth while hauling up the other one,” I observed.

“We shall lose it if we do not, though there is no great chance of it having anything within it,” answered Roger Trew.

However, as we began to haul it up, we discovered by the feel that it had something in it. As we got it up to the side, Roger Trew remarked that it was after all only a squid, probably, or some nasty creature of that sort.

“Haul it in! haul it in, and let me look at it!” exclaimed Mr Sedgwick.