38. CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The night following our abandonment of the Parki, was
made memorable by a remarkable spectacle.
Slumbering in the bottom of the boat, Jarl and I were
suddenly awakened by Samoa. Starting, we beheld the
ocean of a pallid white color, corruscating all over with
tiny golden sparkles. But the pervading hue of the water
cast a cadaverous gleam upon the boat, so that we looked
to each other like ghosts. For many rods astern our wake
was revealed in a line of rushing illuminated foam; while
here and there beneath the surface, the tracks of sharks
were denoted by vivid, greenish trails, crossing and recrossing
each other in every direction. Farther away, and distributed
in clusters, floated on the sea, like constellations in
the heavens, innumerable Medusæ, a species of small, round,
refulgent fish, only to be met with in the South Seas and
the Indian Ocean.
Suddenly, as we gazed, there shot high into the air a
bushy jet of flashes, accompanied by the unmistakable
deep breathing sound of a sperm whale. Soon, the sea all
round us spouted in fountains of fire; and vast forms,
emitting a glare from their flanks, and ever and anon raising
their heads above water, and shaking off the sparkles,
showed where an immense shoal of Cachalots had risen
from below to sport in these phosphorescent billows.
The vapor jetted forth was far more radiant than any
portion of the sea; ascribable perhaps to the originally
luminous fluid contracting still more brilliancy from its passage
through the spouting canal of the whales.
We were in great fear, lest without any vicious intention
the Leviathans might destroy us, by coming into close
contact with our boat. We would have shunned them;
but they were all round and round us. Nevertheless we
were safe; for as we parted the pallid brine, the peculiar
irradiation which shot from about our keel seemed to deter
them. Apparently discovering us of a sudden, many of
them plunged headlong down into the water, tossing their
fiery tails high into the air, and leaving the sea still more
sparkling from the violent surging of their descent.
Their general course seemed the same as our own; to
the westward. To remove from them, we at last out oars,
and pulled toward the north. So doing, we were steadily
pursued by a solitary whale, that must have taken our
Chamois for a kindred fish. Spite of all our efforts, he
drew nearer and nearer; at length rubbing his fiery flank
against the Chamois' gunwale, here and there leaving long
strips of the glossy transparent substance which thin as
gossamer invests the body of the Cachalot.
In terror at a sight so new, Samoa shrank. But Jarl
and I, more used to the intimate companionship of the
whales, pushed the boat away from it with our oars: a
thing often done in the fishery.
The close vicinity of the whale revived in the so long
astute Skyeman all the enthusiasm of his daring vocation.
However quiet by nature, a thorough-bred whaleman betrays
no little excitement in sight of his game. And it
required some persuasion to prevent Jarl from darting his
harpoon: insanity under present circumstances; and of
course without object. But “Oh! for a dart,” cried my
Viking. And “Where's now our old ship?” he added
reminiscently.
But to my great joy the monster at last departed; rejoining
the shoal, whose lofty spoutings of flame were still
visible upon the distant line of the horizon; showing there,
like the fitful starts of the Aurora Borealis.
The sea retained its luminosity for about three hours; at
the expiration of half that period beginning to fade; and
excepting occasional faint illuminations consequent upon the
rapid darting of fish under water, the phenomenon at last
wholly disappeared.
Heretofore, I had beheld several exhibitions of marine
phosphorescence, both in the Atlantic and Pacific.
But nothing in comparison with what was seen that night.
In the Atlantic, there is very seldom any portion of the
ocean luminous, except the crests of the waves; and these
mostly appear so during wet, murky weather. Whereas,
in the Pacific, all instances of the sort, previously coming
under my notice, had been marked by patches of greenish
light, unattended with any pallidness of sea. Save twice
on the coast of Peru, where I was summoned from my
hammock to the alarming midnight cry of “All hands
ahoy! tack ship!” And rushing on deck, beheld the sea
white as a shroud; for which reason it was feared we were
on soundings.
Now, sailors love marvels, and love to repeat them. And
from many an old shipmate I have heard various sage opinings,
concerning the phenomenon in question. Dismissing,
as destitute of sound philosophic probability, the extravagant
notion of one of my nautical friends—no less a philosopher
than my Viking himself—namely: that the phosphoresence
of the sea is caused by a commotion among the mermaids,
whose golden locks, all torn and disheveled, do irradiate the
waters at such times; I proceed to record more reliable
theories.
Faraday might, perhaps, impute the phenomenon to a
peculiarly electrical condition of the atmosphere; and to that
solely. But herein, my scientific friend would be stoutly contradicted
by many intelligent seamen, who, in part, impute it
to the presence of large quantities of putrescent animal matter,
with which the sea is well known to abound.
And it would seem not unreasonable to suppose, that it is
by this means that the fluid itself becomes charged with the
luminous principle. Draw a bucket of water from the phosphorescent
ocean, and it still retains traces of fire; but,
standing awhile, this soon subsides. Now pour it along the
deck, and it is a stream of flame; caused by its renewed
agitation. Empty the bucket, and for a space sparkles cling
to it tenaciously; and every stave seems ignited.
But after all, this seeming ignition of the sea can not be
wholly produced by dead matter therein. There are many
living fish, phosphorescent; and, under certain conditions,
by a rapid throwing off of luminous particles must largely
contribute to the result. Not to particularize this circumstance
as true of divers species of sharks, cuttle-fish, and
many others of the larger varieties of the finny tribes; the
myriads of microscopic mollusca, well known to swarm off
soundings, might alone be deemed almost sufficient to kindle
a fire in the brine.
But these are only surmises; likely, but uncertain.
After science comes sentiment.
A French naturalist maintains, that the nocturnal radiance
of the fire-fly is purposely intended as an attraction to
the opposite sex; that the artful insect illuminates its body for
a beacon to love. Thus: perched upon the edge of a leaf,
and waiting the approach of her Leander, who comes buffeting
with his wings the aroma of the flowers, some insect
Hero may show a torch to her gossamer gallant.
But alas, thrice alas, for the poor little fire-fish of the
sea, whose radiance but reveals them to their foes, and lights
the way to their destruction.
