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The Visualization of Spatial
Social Structure
WILEY SERIES IN COMPUTATIONAL AND QUANTITATIVE SOCIAL
SCIENCE

Embracing a spectrum from theoretical foundations to real world applications, the

Wiley Series in Computational and Quantitative Social Science (CQSS) publishes
titles ranging from high level student texts, explanation and dissemination of
technology and good practice, through to interesting and important research that
is immediately relevant to social/scientific development or practice.
The Visualization of Spatial
Social Structure

Daniel Dorling
Department of Geography, University of Sheffield, UK

A John Wiley & Sons, Ltd., Publication

This edition first published 2012
 2012 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd

Registered office
John Wiley & Sons Ltd, The Atrium, Southern Gate, Chichester, West Sussex, PO19 8SQ, United Kingdom

For details of our global editorial offices, for customer services and for information about how to apply for
permission to reuse the copyright material in this book please see our website at www.wiley.com.
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as
permitted by the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher.

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be available in electronic books.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand
names and product names used in this book are trade names, service marks, trademarks or registered
trademarks of their respective owners. The publisher is not associated with any product or vendor mentioned
in this book. This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the
subject matter covered. It is sold on the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering
professional services. If professional advice or other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent
professional should be sought.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dorling, Daniel.
The visualization of spatial social structure / Daniel Dorling.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-119-96293-9 (cloth)
1. Human geography–Great Britain. 2. Cartography–Methodology. 3. Cartography–Philosophy. I. Title.
GF551.D674 2005
304.2072’8–dc23
2012009924

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-119-96293-9

Typeset in 10/12pt Times by Laserwords Private Limited, Chennai, India

To Benjamin Dorling (1971–1989)
Contents

List of figures xi

List of text boxes xxi

Preface xxiii

Introduction: Human cartography xxxv

1 Envisioning information 1
1.1 Visual thinking 1
1.2 Pictures over time 4
1.3 Beyond illustration 11
1.4 Texture and colour 13
1.5 Perspective and detail 16
1.6 Pattern and illusion 20
1.7 From mind to mind 24

2 People, spaces and places 31

2.1 Which people? 31
2.2 Why study places? 34
2.3 What are spaces? 40
2.4 Drawing lines 41
2.5 Picturing points 50
2.6 Population space 52
2.7 Adding time 56

3 Artificial reality 59
3.1 Imagining reality 59
3.2 Abstract spaces 60
3.3 Area cartograms 66
3.4 The nature of space 69
3.5 Producing illusions 77
3.6 Population space 81
3.7 Stretching spacetime 85
viii CONTENTS
4 Honeycomb structure 95
4.1 Viewing society 95
4.2 Who the people are 97
4.3 Disparate origins 106
4.4 Lost opportunities 109
4.5 Work, industry and home 114
4.6 How people vote 120
4.7 The social landscape 123

5 Transforming the mosaic 131

5.1 Still images of change 131
5.2 Forming the structure 132
5.3 Structure transformed 136
5.4 Variable employment 138
5.5 House price inflation 143
5.6 Reshaping votes 148
5.7 Erosion and deposition 159

6 Cobweb of flows 167

6.1 What flow is 167
6.2 What flows there are 168
6.3 Unravelling the tangles 171
6.4 Drawing the vortices 177
6.5 Commuting chaos 184
6.6 Migration networks 185
6.7 A space of flows 194

7 On the surface 199

7.1 2D vision, 3D world 199
7.2 Surface definition 202
7.3 Depth cues 209
7.4 Landscape painting 210
7.5 Surface geometry 213
7.6 Travel time surface 220
7.7 Surface value 222

8 The wood and the trees 225

8.1 Sculptured characters 225
8.2 Circles, pies and rings 227
8.3 Bars and pyramids 230
8.4 Flocks of arrows 237
8.5 Trees and castles 238
8.6 Crowds of faces 239
8.7 Information overload 243
 CONTENTS ix
9 Volume visualization 251
9.1 The third dimension 251
9.2 Spaces, times and places 252
9.3 Spacetime continuum 259
9.4 Three-dimensional graphs 262
9.5 Flows through time 275
9.6 Volume rendering 279
9.7 Interactive visualization 280

10 Conclusion: Another geography 283

Endnote 297

Acknowledgements 299

Appendix: Drawing faces 301

References 305

Author Index 317

Subject Index 321

Note. The original thesis from which this book was derived had a further
six appendices and a larger bibliography. Some can be found at www.
dannydorling.org.
Appendix A: Circular Cartogram Algorithm
Appendix B: Parliamentary Constituencies 1955–1987 Continuity
Appendix C: Parliamentary Constituencies 1955–1987 Results
Appendix D: Average Housing Price by Constituency 1983–1989
Appendix E: Scottish Ward to Postcode Sector Look-up Table
Appendix F: Local Government Wards, 1981 and 1987
List of figures

P.1 Born in England, Scotland or Wales – Britain 1981 (four levels

each), ward map xxiv
P.2 Born in England, Scotland or Wales – Britain 1981 (four levels
each), ED cartogram xxv
P.3 Change of residence in England and Wales 1980/81, 32 % sample
ward level map xxviii
P.4 Change of residence in England and Wales 1980/81, 32 % sample
ward level cartogram xxix
P.5 Childhood leukaemia in the North of England 1960s to 1980s,
selection, eight maps xxx
P.6 Childhood leukaemia in the North of England 1960s to 1980s,
selection, eight cartograms xxxi
P.7 Employment by occupation, sex and, if part-time, Britain (England,
Scotland and Wales combined), 1981–1984–1987, five pyramid
glyphs xxxii
P.8 House prices by house size, type and amenities nationally in
Britain 1983–1989, fourteen tree glyphs xxxiii
I.1 Two images from the Mandelbrot set of infinite complexity xxxvi
I.2 Land use Northern Britain 1980s (nine categories), 1 km squares,
digital map xxxvii
I.3 Change of residence in England and Wales, 1980/81, 5.2 % sample
ward level cartogram xxxix
I.4 Voting in general elections in Northern Britain, 1955–1987
(proportions), eleven constituency cartograms xl
I.5 Voting in general elections in Southern Britain, 1955–1987
(proportions), eleven constituency cartograms xli
I.6 Counties and major cities, Britain 1981. Early computer generated
continuous population cartogram xliv
I.7 Voting in the British general election 1987, constituency voting
triangle xlv
xii LIST OF FIGURES
I.8 Voting swings in British general elections 1979–1983–1987, three
voting triangles xlvi
I.9 Unemployment rates in Britain 1978–1990 (grey scale), composite
Amalgamated Office Area cartogram xlviii
1.1 1980s animation with conventional polygon shading on a
microcomputer, eighteen selected stills 2
1.2 1980s animation using ray-tracing on a microcomputer, eighteen
selected stills 3
1.3 Ray-traced surfaces of the Mandelbrot and Julia sets, six images 5
1.4 Visualizing Fourier transforms. The art in the science, twenty-one
images 6
1.5 Computer generated coloured maze shown in a low resolution,
information rich image 8
1.6 Zooming down on the Mandelbrot set, fourteen images 9
1.7 Age, gender, birth place and employment in London, 1971–1981
(two levels each), eight ED cartograms 12
1.8 Colour schemes for three independent or partly related variables:
cube, circle and triangle 15
1.9 Children, elderly, females and immigrants in London 1981 (four
levels each), three ED cartograms 17
1.10 Born in parts of Britain, Ireland, Africa or Asia in London 1981
(four levels each), three ED cartograms 18
1.11 Employment, job status and graduates in London 1981 (four levels
each), three ED cartograms 19
1.12 Broad occupational groups in Britain 1987 (dominant levels), ward
cartogram 21
1.13 Change in occupational groups in Britain 1984–1987 (maximum
job gains), ward cartogram 22
1.14 Change in occupational groups in Britain 1984–1987 (maximum
job losses), ward cartogram 23
1.15 Occupations, hours and gender, Britain 1987 constituency (with
voting), pyramid glyph cartogram 26
1.16 Occupations, hours and gender, Britain 1987 constituency, pyramid
glyph cartogram 27
1.17 Voting swings in Northern Britain 1955–1987 (proportions), eleven
constituency arrow glyph cartograms 28
 LIST OF FIGURES xiii
1.18 Voting swings in Southern Britain 1955–1987 (proportions), eleven
constituency arrow glyph cartograms 29
2.1 General election results in Britain 1981, prototype named
Parliamentary seat cartogram 33
2.2 Named Parliamentary Constituency population cartogram 35
2.3 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 17 named Level II
European Regions map 36
2.4 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 64 named
Counties and Scottish Regions map 37
2.5 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 97 named Family
Practitioner Areas map 39
2.6 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 116 named Local
Education Authorities map 42
2.7 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 136 named
‘Functional Cities’ map 43
2.8 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 280 named Local
Labour Market Areas map 44
2.9 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 322 named
Travel-to-Work Areas map 45
2.10 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 459 named Local
Government Districts map 48
2.11 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 633 named
Parliamentary Constituencies map 49
2.12 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), 852 named
Amalgamated Office Areas map 51
2.13 Postcode Areas, 121 coloured at random, map 53
2.14 Postcode Districts, 2649 coloured at random, map 54
2.15 Postcode Sectors, 8604 coloured at random, map 55
3.1 Counties and major cities in Britain map and three continuous area
cartograms 61
3.2 Named Counties in Britain showing connections that maintain ward
continuity, map 62
3.3 The evolution of a population cartogram, Britain, county cartogram 64
3.4 Arrows representing topology, Britain, county cartogram 65
3.5 Local Authority Districts numbered for identification, map 68
xiv LIST OF FIGURES
3.6 Local Authority Districts, alphabetical indexed list 70
3.7 Local Authority Districts numbered for identification, cartogram 71
3.8 Parliamentary Constituencies numbered for identification, map 72
3.9 Parliamentary Constituencies, alphabetical indexed list 74
3.10 Parliamentary Constituencies numbered for identification, cartogram 75
3.11 Census wards and Scottish part postcode sectors (10 444), Britain
1981, ward cartogram 76
3.12 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), ward map 78
3.13 Unemployment rate in Britain 1981 (grey scale), ward cartogram 79
3.14 Named Counties and Scottish Regions (individually shaded), map 82
3.15 Counties and Scottish Regions (with the same shades) on ED
cartogram 83
3.16 County boundaries and named towns on ED cartogram 84
3.17 Railways. The British mainland rail network, map 86
3.18 Railways. The British mainland rail network on ED cartogram 87
3.19 Roads. The British primary road network, map 88
3.20 Roads. The British primary road network on ED cartogram 89
3.21 Grids. Equal population grid Britain 1981, map 90
3.22 Grids. The National Grid Squares in Britain 1981 on ED cartogram 91
4.1 Population change in Britain 1971–1981 (two levels), ED cartogram 96
4.2 Gender in Britain 1981 (two levels), ED cartogram 99
4.3 Young and old in Britain 1981 (two levels each), ED cartogram 101
4.4 Young, old and females in Britain 1981 (two levels each), ED
cartogram 102
4.5 Young, old and females in Britain 1971 (two levels each), ED
cartogram 103
4.6 Young, old and females, change 1971–1981 (two levels each), ED
cartogram 104
4.7 Irish born in Britain 1981 (two levels), ED cartogram 105
4.8 Born in England, Scotland or Wales – Britain 1981 (two levels
each), ED cartogram 107
 LIST OF FIGURES xv
4.9 Born in Britain, Eire or Northern Ireland – Britain 1981 (four levels
each), ED cartogram 108
4.10 Born in Africa, Ireland or Asia – Britain 1981 (four levels each),
ED cartogram 110
4.11 Unemployed, working or inactive – Britain 1981 (four levels each),
ED cartogram 112
4.12 Unemployed, working or inactive – Britain 1981 (four levels each),
ward map 113
4.13 Professional, intermediate or supervised jobs – Britain 1981 (four
levels each), ED cartogram 116
4.14 Professional, intermediate or supervised jobs – Britain 1981 (four
levels each), ward map 117
4.15 House prices in Britain 1983 (grey scale), ward cartogram 121
4.16 Voting in the British general election 1987 (proportions),
constituency cartogram 124
4.17 Voting in the British general election 1987 (proportions),
constituency map 125
4.18 Voting in the British general election 1987, first placed parties,
constituency cartogram 126
4.19 Voting in the British general election 1987, second placed parties,
constituency cartogram 127
4.20 Voting in the British general election 1987, nonvoting (grey scale),
constituency cartogram 128
4.21 Voting in the British local elections 1987–1988–1990 (proportions),
ward cartogram 129
5.1 Born in England, Scotland or Wales – change in Britain 1971–1981
(four levels each), ED cartogram 134
5.2 Born in Africa, Ireland or Asia – change in Britain 1971–1981
(four levels each), ED cartogram 139
5.3 Born in Africa, Ireland or Asia – change in Britain 1971–1981 (two
levels each), ED cartogram 140
5.4 Unemployed, working or inactive – change in Britain 1971–1981
(four levels each), ED cartogram 142
5.5 Unemployment rates in Britain 1978–1990 (grey scale), twelve
Amalgamated Office Area cartograms 144
xvi LIST OF FIGURES
5.6 Unemployment rates in Britain 1978–1990 (grey scale), twelve
county cartograms 145
5.7 Professional, intermediate or supervised jobs, change in Britain
1971/81, ED cartogram 146
5.8 House price inflation in Britain 1983/84 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 147
5.9 House price inflation in Britain 1984/85 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 149
5.10 House price inflation in Britain 1985/86 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 150
5.11 House price inflation in Britain 1986/87 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 151
5.12 House price inflation in Britain 1987/88 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 152
5.13 House price inflation in Britain 1988/89 (grey scale), ward
cartogram 153
5.14 House prices in Britain 1989 (grey scale), ward cartogram 154
5.15 Voting in the British General Election 1987, seats lost and won,
constituency cartogram 156
5.16 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, seats lost and
won, eleven constituency cartograms 157
5.17 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, eleven
constituency cartograms 158
5.18 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, first placed
party, eleven constituency cartograms 160
5.19 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, second placed
party, eleven constituency cartograms 161
5.20 Voting in the British General Election 1987, swings, constituency
arrow glyph cartogram 162
5.21 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, swings, ten
constituency arrow glyph cartograms 163
5.22 Voting in the British General Elections 1955–1987, nonvoting (grey
scale), eleven constituency cartograms 164
6.1 Change of residence between all European Regions in Britain 1976,
ordered flows 169
 LIST OF FIGURES xvii
6.2 Change of residence between Regions in Britain 1976. Attempts at
coping with the complexity 170
6.3 Journey to work flows of over 1000 people between wards, map 172
6.4 Journey to work flows of over 700 people between wards, map 173
6.5 Journey to work flows of over 200 people between wards, map 175
6.6 Journey to work flows of over 100 people between wards, map 176
6.7 Daily Commuting between wards, 31.7 % of all flows shown,
England and Wales, map 178
6.8 Daily Commuting between wards, 31.7 % of all flows shown,
England and Wales, cartogram 179
6.9 Daily Commuting between wards, 43.6 % of all flows shown,
England and Wales, cartogram 180
6.10 Daily Commuting between wards, 56.5 % of all flows shown,
England and Wales, cartogram 181
6.11 Daily Commuting from wards, 50 % of all flows shown, England
and Wales, map 186
6.12 Daily Commuting from wards, 50 % of all flows shown, England
and Wales, cartogram 187
6.13 Daily Commuting as a proportion of destination employees,
England and Wales, cartogram 188
6.14 Daily Commuting as a proportion of destination residents, England
and Wales, cartogram 189
6.15 Daily Commuting from wards, 50 % shown with job status, England
and Wales, map 190
6.16 Daily Commuting from wards, 50 % shown with job status, England
and Wales, cartogram 191
6.17 Change of residence between family practitioner areas in Britain
1975–1976, FPC level cartogram 193
6.18 Change of residence between wards with job status, England and
Wales, 1980/81, map 196
6.19 Change of residence between wards with job status, England and
Wales, 1980/81, cartogram 197
7.1 Contours and colour used to depict surface height 200
7.2 Contours without colour used to depict surface height 201
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fur a dhreadful long while, it seemed, until at lasht, whin I wuz ready t’
die from sheer weariness an’ fright, I hearrd me dear mother’s sweet
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neshtlin’ into its mother’s feathers in the snuggest of nests. I didn’t go
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in glory. An’ thin I woke up wid a big, tearin’ ache all over me poor
owld broken-up body. But bad as that wuz, ’twuz just nothin’ at all to
the gnawin’ ache at me hearrt.”
Silence wrapped us round again, for who among us could find any
words to apply to such a story as that? And it affected us all the more
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uncomplaining humour. Not another word was spoken by any one until
the sharp strokes on the little bell aft cleft the still air, and, in
immediate response, one rose and smote the big bell hanging at the
break of the forecastle four double blows, ushering in the first watch of
the night. The watch on deck relieved wheel and look-out, and we who
were fortunate enough to have the “eight hours in,” lost no time in
seeking our respective bunks, since in those stern latitudes we might
expect a sudden call at any moment. We had hardly been asleep five
minutes, it seemed, when a hoarse cry came pealing in through the
fo’c’sle door of “All hands on deck! Shorten sail!” And as we all started
wide awake, we heard the furious voice of the southern tempest
tearing up the face of the deep, and felt the massive fabric beneath our
feet leaping and straining under the tremendous strain of her great
breadths of canvas, that we had left hanging so idly at eight bells.
Out into the black night we hurried, meeting the waiting mate at
the foremast, and answering his first order of “man the fore tops’ls
downhaul” with the usual repetition of his words. Weird cries arose as
we hauled with all our strength on the downhauls and spilling lines,
while overhead we could hear, even above the roar of the storm, the
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Then, with a hissing, spiteful snarl, came snow and sleet, lashing us
like shotted whips, and making the darkness more profound because of
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ice. But, after much stumbling and struggling, we got the four huge
tops’ls down, and, without waiting for the order, started aloft to furl,
the pitiful incapacity of our numbers most glaringly apparent. The
pressure of the wind was so great that it was no easy matter to get
aloft, but clinging like cats, we presently found ourselves (six of the
port watch) on the fore topsailyard.
The first thing evident was that the great sail was very slightly
subdued by the gear; it hovered above the yard like a white balloon,
making it both difficult and dangerous to get out along the spar. The
storm scourged us pitilessly, the great round of the sail resisted all our
attempts to “fist” it, and we seemed as helpless as children. Some bold
spirits clutched the lifts, and, swinging above the sail, tried to stamp a
hollow into it with their feet; but against the increasing fury of the
tempest we seemed to be utterly impotent. We were so widely
separated, too, that each man appeared to be essaying a giant’s task
single-handed, and that horrible sense of fast-oozing strength was
paralyzing us. Feeling left our hands; we smote them savagely against
that unbending sail without sensation, and still we seemed no nearer
the conclusion of our task. But suddenly the ship gave a great lurch to
windward, and just for one moment the hitherto unyielding curve of
the sail quivered. In that instant every fist had clutched a fold, and with
a flash of energy we strained every sinew to conquer our enemy.

* * * * *
Tugging like a madman to get the sail spilled, I glanced sideways,
and saw to my horror, by a jagged flash of lightning, the rugged face of
M’Ginty.
 He gasped “In manus tuas, Domine,” and fell.

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gloom above him, gasping, “In manus tuas, Domine——” and fell. Far
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 THE LAST STAND OF THE
DECAPODS
Probably few of the thinking inhabitants of dry land, with all their
craving for tales of the marvellous, the gloomy, and the gigantic,
have in these later centuries of the world’s history given much
thought to the conditions of constant warfare existing beneath the
surface of the ocean. As readers of ancient classics well know, the
fathers of literature gave much attention to the vast, awe-inspiring
inhabitants of the sea, investing and embellishing the few fragments
of fact concerning them which were available with a thousand
fantastic inventions of their own naïve imaginations, until there
emerged, chief and ruler of them all, the Kraken, Leviathan, or
whatever other local name was considered to best convey in one
word their accumulated ideas of terror. In lesser degree, but still
worthy compeers of the fire-breathing dragon and sky-darkening
“Rukh” of earth and sky, a worthy host of attendant sea-monsters
were conjured up, until, apart from the terror of loneliness, of
irresistible fury and instability that the sea presented to primitive
peoples, the awful nature of its supposed inhabitants made the
contemplation of an ocean journey sufficient to appal the stoutest
heart. A better understanding of this aspect of the sea to early
voyagers may be obtained from some of the artistic efforts of those
days than anything else. There you shall see gigantic creatures with
human faces, teeth like foot-long wedges, armour-plated bodies, and
massive feet fitted with claws like scythe-blades, calmly issuing from
the waves to prey upon the dwellers on the margin, or devouring
with much apparent enjoyment ships with their crews, as a child
crunches a stick of barley-sugar. Even such innocent-looking animals
as the seals were distorted and decorated until the contemplation of
their counterfeit presentment is sufficient to give a healthy man the
nightmare, while such monsters as really were so terrible of aspect
that they could hardly be “improved” upon were increased in size
until they resembled islands whereon whole tribes might live. To
these chimæras were credited all natural phenomena such as
waterspouts, whirlpools, and the upheaval of submarine volcanoes.
Some imaginative people went even farther than that by attributing
the support of the whole earth to a vast sea-monster; while others,
like the ancient Jews, fondly pictured Leviathan awaiting in the
solitude and gloom of ocean’s depths the glad day of Israel’s
reunion, when the mountain ranges of his flesh would be ready to
furnish forth the family feast for all the myriads of Abraham’s
children.
Surely we may pause awhile to contemplate the overmastering
courage of the earliest seafarers, who, in spite of all these terrors,
unappalled by the comparison between their tiny shallops and the
mighty waves that towered above them, set boldly out from shore
into the unknown, obeying that deeply rooted instinct of migration
which has peopled every habitable part of the earth’s surface. Those
who remember their childhood’s dread of the dark, with its possible
population of bogeys, who have ever been lost in early youth in
some lonely place, can have some dim conception, though only a
dim one, after all, of the inward battle these ancients fought and
won, until it became possible for the epigram to be written in utmost
truth—
“The seas but join the nations they divide.”
But, after all, we are not now concerned with the warlike doings
of men. It is with the actualities of submarine struggle we wish to
deal—those wars without an armistice, where to be defeated is to be
devoured, and from the sea-shouldering whale down to the smallest
sea-insect every living thing is carnivorous, dependent directly upon
the flesh of its neighbours for its own life, and incapable of altruism
in any form whatever, except among certain of the mammalia and
the sharks. In dealing with the more heroic phases of this unending
warfare, then, it must be said, once for all, that the ancient writers
had a great deal of reason on their side. They distorted and
exaggerated, of course, as all children do, but they did not
disbelieve. But moderns, rushing to the opposite extreme, have
neglected the marvels of the sea by the simple process of
disbelieving in them, except in the case of the sea-serpent, that
myth which seems bound to persist for ever and ever. Only of late
years have the savants of the world allowed themselves to be
convinced of the existence of a far more wondrous monster than the
sea-serpent (if that “loathly worm” were a reality), the original
Kraken of old-world legends. Hugest of all the mollusca, whose
prevailing characteristics are ugliness, ferocity, and unappeasable
hunger, he has lately asserted himself so firmly that current
imaginative literature bristles with allusions to him, albeit oftentimes
in situations where he could by no possibility be found. No matter,
he has supplied a long-felt want; but the curious fact remains that
he is not a discovery, but a re-appearance. The gigantic cuttle-fish of
actual, indisputable fact is, in all respects except size, the Kraken;
and any faithful representation of him will justify the assertion that
no imagination could add anything to the terror-breeding
potentialities of his aspect. That is so, even when he is viewed by
the light of day in the helplessness of death or disabling sickness, or
in the invincible grip of his only conqueror. In his proper realm,
crouching far below the surface of the sea in some coral cave or
labyrinth of rocks, he must present a sight so awful that the
imagination recoils before it. For consider him but a little. He
possesses a cylindrical body reaching in the largest specimens yet
recorded as having been seen, a length of between sixty and
seventy feet, with an average girth of half that amount. That is to
say, considerably larger than a Pullman railway-car. Now, this
immense mass is of boneless gelatinous matter capable of much
greater distension than a snake; so that in the improbable event of
his obtaining an extra-abundant supply of food, it is competent to
swell to the occasion and still give the flood of digestive juices that it
secretes full opportunity to dispose of the burden with almost
incredible rapidity. Now, the apex of this mighty cylinder—I had
almost said “tail,” but remembered that it would give a wrong
impression, since it is the part of the monster that always comes first
when he is moving from place to place, is conical, that is to say, it
tapers off to a blunt point something like a whitehead torpedo. Near
this apex there is a broad fin-like arrangement looking much like the
body of a skate without its tail, which, however, is used strictly for
steering purposes only. So far there is nothing particularly striking
about the appearance of this mighty cylinder except in colour. This
characteristic varies in different individuals, but is always reminiscent
of the hues of a very light-coloured leopard; that is to say, the
ground is of a livid greenish white, while the detail is in splashes and
spots of lurid red and yellow, with an occasional nimbus of pale blue
around these deeper markings. But it is the head of the monster that
appals. Nature would seem in the construction of this greatest of all
molluscs to have combined every weapon of offence possessed by
the rest of the animal kingdom in one amazing arsenal, disposing
them in such a manner that not only are they capable of terrific
destruction, but their appearance defies adequate description.
The trunk at the head end is sheath-like, its terminating edges
forming a sort of collar around the vast cable of muscles without a
fragment of bone which connects it with the head. Through a large
opening within this collar is pumped a jet of water, the pressure of
which upon the surrounding sea is sufficiently great to drive the
whole bulk of the creature, weighing perhaps sixty or seventy tons,
backwards through the water, at the rate of sixteen to twenty miles
per hour, not in steady progression, of course, but by successive
leaps. At will, this propelling jet is deeply stained with sepia, a dark-
brown inky fluid, which, mingling with the encompassing sea, fills all
the neighbourhood of the monster with a gloom so deep that
nothing, save one of its own species, can see either to fight or
whither to fly. The head itself is of proportionate size. It is rounded
underneath, and of much lighter hue than the trunk. On either side
of it is set an eye, of such dimensions that the mere statement of
them sounds like the efforts of one of those grand old mediæval
romancers, whose sole object was to make their reader’s flesh
creep. It is perfectly safe to say that even in proportion to size, no
other known creature has such organs of vision as the cuttle-fish, for
the pupils of such an one as I am now describing are fully two feet
in diameter. They are perfectly black, with a dead white rim, and
cannot be closed. No doubt their enormous size is for the purpose of
enabling their possessor to discern what is going on amidst the thick
darkness that he himself has raised, so that while all other
organisms are groping blindly in the gloom, he may work his will
among them. Then come the weapons which give the cuttle-fish its
power of destruction, the arms or tentacles. These are not eight in
number, as in the octopus, an ugly beast enough and spiteful withal,
but a babe of innocence compared with our present subject. Every
schoolboy should know that octopus signifies an eight-armed or
eight-footed creature, and yet in nine cases out of ten where writers
of fiction and would-be teachers of fact are describing the deadly
doings of the gigantic cuttle-fish they call him an octopus; whereas
he is nothing of the kind, for, in addition to the eight arms which the
octopus possesses, the cuttle-fish flaunts two, each of which is
double the length of the eight, making him a decapod. This
confusion is the more unpardonable, because even the most ancient
of scribes always spoke of this mollusc as the “ten-armed one,” while
a reference to any standard work on Natural History will show even
the humbler cuttle-fish with their full complement of arms—that is,
ten. But this is digression.
Our friend has, then, ten arms springing from the crown of his
head, of which eight are forty feet in length, and two are seventy to
eighty. The eight each taper outward from the head, from the
thickness of a stout man’s body at the base to the slenderness of a
whip-lash at the end. On their inner sides they are studded with
saucer-like hollows, each of which has a fringe of curving claws set
just within its rim. So that in addition to their power of holding on to
anything they touch by a suction so severe that it would strip flesh
from bone, these cruel claws, large as those of a full-grown tiger’s,
get to work upon the subject being held, lacerating and tearing until
the quivering body yields up its innermost secrets. Each of these
destroying, serpent-like arms is also gifted with an almost
independent power of volition. Whatever it touches it holds with an
unreleasable grip, but with wonderful celerity it brings its prey
inwards to where, in the centre of all those infernal purveyors lies a
black chasm, whose edges are shaped like the upper and lower
mandibles of a parrot, and these complete the work so well begun.
The outliers, those two far-reaching tentacles, unlike the busy eight,
are comparatively slender from their bases to near (within two feet
or so of) their ends. There they expand into broad paddle-like
masses, thickly studded with acetabulæ, those holding sucking-discs
that garnish the inner arms for their entire length. So, thus armed,
this nightmare monstrosity crouches in the darkling depths of ocean,
like some unimaginable web, whereof every line is alive to hold and
tear. Its digestion is like a furnace of dissolution, needing a continual
inflow of flesh, and nothing living that inhabits the sea comes amiss
to its never-satisfied cravings. It is very near the apex of the pyramid
of interdependence into which sea-life is built, but not quite. For at
the summit is the sperm whale, the monarch of all seas, whom man
alone is capable of meeting in fair fight and overcoming.
The head of the sperm whale is of heroic size, being in bulk
quite one-third of the entire body, but in addition to its size it has
characteristics that fit it peculiarly to compete with such a dangerous
monster as the gigantic decapod. Imagine a solid block of crude
indiarubber, between twenty and thirty feet in length, and eight feet
through, in shape not at all unlike a railway-carriage, but perfectly
smooth in surface. Fit this mass beneath with a movable shaft of
solid bone, twenty feet in length, studded with teeth, each
protruding nine inches, and resembling the points of an elephant’s
tusks. You will then have a fairly complete notion of the equipment
with which the ocean monarch goes into battle against the Kraken.
And behind it lies the warm blood of the mammal, the massive
framework of bone belonging to the highly developed vertebrate
animal, governed by a brain impelled by irresistible instinct to seek
its sustenance where alone it can be found in sufficiently satisfying
bulk. And there for you are the outlines of the highest form of
animal warfare existing within our ken, a conflict of Titans, to which
a combat between elephants and rhinoceri in the jungle is but as the
play of schoolboys compared with the gladiatorial combats of
Ancient Rome.
This somewhat lengthy preamble is necessary in order to clear
the way for an account of the proceedings leading up to the final
subjugation of the huge molluscs of the elder slime to the needs of
the great vertebrates like the whales, who were gradually emerging
into a higher development, and, finding new wants oppressing them,
had to obey the universal law, and fight for the satisfaction of their
urgent needs. Fortunately, the period with which we have to deal
was before chronology, so that we are not hampered by dates; and,
as the disposition of sea and land, except in its main features, was
altogether different to what we have long been accustomed to
regard as the always-existing geographical order of things, we need
not be greatly troubled by place considerations either. What must be
considered as the first beginning of the long struggle occurred when
some predecessors of the present sperm whales, wandering through
the vast morasses and among the sombre forests of that earlier
world, were compelled to recognize that the conditions of shore life
were rapidly becoming too onerous for them. Their immensely
weighty bodies, lumbering slowly as a seal over the rugged land
surface, handicapped them more and more in the universal business
of life, the procuring of food. Not only so, but as by reason of their
slowness they were confined for hunting-grounds to a very limited
area, the slower organism upon which their vast appetites were fed
grew scarcer and scarcer, in spite of the fecundity of that prolific
time. And in proportion as they found it more and more difficult to
get a living, so did their enemies grow more numerous and bolder.
Vast dragon-like shapes, clad in complete armour that clanged as
the wide-spreading bat-wings bore them swiftly through the air,
descended upon the sluggish whales, and with horrid rending by
awful shear-shaped jaws, plentifully furnished with foot-long teeth,
speedily stripped from their gigantic bodies the masses of succulent
flesh. Other enemies, weird of shape and swift of motion although
confined to the earth, fastened also upon the easily attainable prey
that provided flesh in such bountiful abundance, and was unable to
fight or flee.
Well was it, then, for the whales that, living always near the sea,
they had formed aquatic habits, finding in the limpid element a
medium wherein their huge bulk was rather a help than a hindrance
to them. Gradually they grew to use the land less and less as they
became more and more accustomed to the food provided in plenty
by the inexhaustible ocean. Continual practice enabled them to
husband the supplies of air which they took in on the surface for use
beneath the waves; and, better still, they found that whereas they
had been victims to many a monster on land whose proportions and
potentialities seemed far inferior to their own, here in their new
element they were supreme, nothing living but fled from before
them. But presently a strange thing befell them. As they grew less
and less inclined to use the dry land, they found that their powers of
locomotion thereon gradually became less and less also, until at last
their hind legs dwindled away and disappeared. Their vast and far-
reaching tails lost their length, and their bones spread out laterally
into flexible fans of toughest gristle, with which they could propel
themselves through the waves at speeds to which their swiftest
progress upon land had been but a snail’s crawl. Also their fore legs
grew shorter and wider, and the separation of the toes disappeared,
until all that was left of these once ponderous supports were elegant
fan-like flippers of gristle, of not the slightest use for propulsion, but
merely acting as steadying-vanes to keep the whole great structure
in its proper position according to the will of the owner. All these
radical physical changes, however, had not affected the real
classification of the whales. They were still mammals, still retained in
the element which was now entirely their habitat the high
organization belonging to the great carnivora of the land. Therefore
it took them no long period of time to realize that in the ocean they
would be paramount, that with the tremendous facilities for rapid
movement afforded them by their new habitat they were able to
maintain that supremacy against all comers, unless their formidable
armed jaws should also become modified by degeneration into some
such harmless cavities for absorbing food as are possessed by their
distant relatives, the mysticetæ, or toothless whales.
With a view to avoiding any such disaster, they made good use
of their jaws, having been taught by experience that the simple but
effectual penalty for the neglect of any function, whether physical or
mental, was the disappearance of the organs where such functions
had been performed. But their energetic use of teeth and jaws had a
result entirely unforeseen by them. Gradually the prey they sought,
the larger fish and smaller sea-mammals, disappeared from the
shallow seas adjacent to the land, from whence the whales had
been driven; and in order to satisfy the demands of their huge
stomachs, they were fain to follow their prey into deeper and deeper
waters, meeting as they went with other and stranger denizens of
those mysterious depths, until at last the sperm whale met the
Kraken. There in his native gloom, vast, formless, and insatiable,
brooded the awful Thing. Spread like a living net whereof every
mesh was armed, sensitive and lethal, this fantastic complication of
horrors took toll of all the sea-folk, needing not to pursue its prey,
needing only to lie still, devour, and grow. Sometimes, moved by
mysterious impulses, one of these chimæras would rise to the sea-
surface and bask in the beams of the offended sun, poisoning the
surrounding air with its charnel-house odours, and occasionally
finding within the never-resting nervous clutching of its tentacles
some specimens of the highest, latest product of creation, man
himself. Ages of such experiences as these had left the Kraken
defenceless as to his body. The absence of any necessity for exertion
had arrested the development of a backbone; the inability of any of
the sea-people to retaliate upon their sateless foe had made him
neglect any of those precautions that weaker organisms had
provided themselves with, and even the cloud of sepia with which all
the race were provided, and which often assisted the innocent and
weaker members of the same great family to escape, was only used
by these masters of the sea to hide their monstrous lures from their
prey.
 Thus on a momentous day a ravenous sperm whale, hunting
eagerly for wherewithal to satisfy his craving, suddenly found himself
encircled by many long, cable-like arms. They clung, they tore, they
sucked. But whenever a stray end of them flung itself across the
bristling parapet of the whale’s lower jaw it was promptly bitten off,
and a portion having found its way down into the craving stomach of
the big mammal, it was welcomed as good beyond all other food yet
encountered. Once this had been realized, what had originally been
an accidental entrapping changed itself into a vigorous onslaught
and banquet. True, the darkness fought for the mollusc, but that
advantage was small compared with the feeling of incompetence, of
inability to make any impression upon this mighty impervious mass
that was moving as freely amid the clinging embarrassments of
those hitherto invincible arms as if they were only fronds of
seaweed. And then the foul mass of the Kraken found itself, contrary
to all previous experience, rising involuntarily, being compelled to
leave its infernal shades, and, without any previous preparation for
such a change of pressure, to visit the upper air. The fact was that
the whale, finding its stock of air exhausted, had put forth a
supreme effort to rise, and found that, although unable to free
himself from those enormous cables, he was actually competent to
raise the whole mass. What an upheaval! Even the birds that, allured
by the strong carrion scent, were assembling in their thousands, fled
away from that appalling vision, their wild screams of affright filling
the air with lamentation. The tormented sea foamed and boiled in
wide-spreading whirls, its deep sweet blue changed into an
unhealthy nondescript tint of muddy yellow as the wide expanse of
the Kraken’s body yielded up its corrupt fluids, and the healthful
breeze did its best to disperse the bad smells that rose from the ugly
mass. Then the whale, having renewed his store of air, settled down
seriously to the demolition of his prize. Length after length of
tentacle was torn away from the central crown and swallowed,
gliding down the abysmal throat of the gratified mammal in snaky
convolutions until even that great store-room would contain no
more. The vanquished Kraken lay helplessly rolling upon the wave
while its conqueror in satisfied ease lolled near, watching with good-
humoured complacency the puny assault made upon that island of
gelatinous flesh by the multitude of smaller hungry things. The birds
returned, reassured, and added by their clamour to the strangeness
of the scene, where the tribes of air and sea, self-bidden to the
enormous banquet, were making full use of their exceptional
privilege. So the great feast continued while the red sun went down
and the white moon rose in placid beauty. Yet for all the combined
assaults of those hungry multitudes the tenacious life of that largest
of living things lay so deeply seated that when the rested whale
resumed his attentions he found the body of his late antagonist still
quivering under the attack of his tremendous jaws. But its
proportions were so immense that his utmost efforts left store
sufficient for at least a dozen of his companions, had they been
there, to have satisfied their hunger upon. And, satisfied at last, he
turned away, allowing the smaller fry, who had waited his pleasure
most respectfully, to close in again and finish the work he had so
well begun.
Now, this was a momentous discovery indeed, for the sperm
whales had experienced, even when fish and seals were plentiful,
great difficulty in procuring sufficient food at one time for a full meal,
and the problem of how to provide for themselves as they grew and
multiplied had become increasingly hard to solve. Therefore this
discovery filled the fortunate pioneer with triumph, for his high
instincts told him that he had struck a new source of supply that
promised to be inexhaustible. So, in the manner common to his
people, he wasted no time in convening a gathering of them as large
as could be collected. Far over the placid surface of that quiet sea
lay gently rocking a multitude of vast black bodies, all expectant, all
awaiting the momentous declaration presently to be made. The
epoch-making news circulated among them in perfect silence, for to
them has from the earliest times been known the secret that is only
just beginning to glimmer upon the verge of human intelligence, the
ability to communicate with one another without the aid of speech,
sight, or touch—a kind of thought transference, if such an idea as
animal thought may be held allowable. And having thus learned of
the treasures held in trust for them by the deep waters, they
separated and went, some alone and some in compact parties of a
dozen or so, upon their rejoicing way.
But among the slimy hosts of the gigantic Mollusca there was
raging a sensation unknown before—a feeling of terror, of insecurity
born of the knowledge that at last there had appeared among them
a being proof against the utmost pressure of their awful arms, who
was too great to be devoured, who, on the other hand, had evinced
a greedy partiality for devouring them. How this information became
common property among them it is impossible to say, since they
dwelt alone, each in his own particular lair, rigidly respected by one
another, because any intrusion upon another’s domains was
invariably followed by the absorption of either the intruder or the
intruded upon by the stronger of the two. This, although not
intended by them, had the effect of vastly heightening the fear with
which they were regarded by the smaller sea-folk, for they took to a
restless prowling along the sea-bed, enwreathing themselves about
the mighty bases of the islands, and invading cool coral caverns
where their baleful presence had been till then unknown. Never
before had there been such a panic among the multitudinous sea-
populations. What could this new portent signify? Were the
foundations of the great deep again about to be broken up, and the
sea-bed heaved upward to replace the tops of the towering
mountains on dry land? There was no reply, for there were none that
could answer questions like these.
Still the fear-smitten decapods wandered, seeking seclusion from
the coming enemy, and finding none to their mind. Still the crowds
of their victims rushed blindly from shoal to shoal, plunging into
depths unfitted for them, or rising into shallows where their natural
food was not. And the whole sea was troubled, until at last there
appeared, grim and vast, the advance-guard of the sperm whales,
and hurled itself with joyful anticipation upon the shrinking
convolutions of those hideous monsters that had so long dominated
the dark places of the sea. For the whales it was a time of feasting
hitherto without parallel. Without any fear, uncaring to take even the
most elementary precautions against a defeat which they felt to be
an impossible contingency, they sought out and devoured one after
another of these vast uglinesses, already looked upon by them as
their natural provision, their store of food accumulated of purpose
against their coming. Occasionally, it is true, some rash youngster,
full of pride, and rejoicing in his pre-eminence over all life in the
depths, would hurl himself into a smoky network of far-spreading
tentacles which would wrap him round so completely that his jaws
were fast bound together, his flukes would vainly essay to propel him
any whither, and he would presently perish miserably, his cable-like
sinews falling slackly and his lungs suffused with crimson brine. Even
then, the advantage gained by the triumphant Kraken was a barren
one, for in every case the bulk of the victim was too great, his body
too firm in its build, for the victor, despite his utmost efforts, to
succeed in devouring his prize. So that the disappointed Kraken had
perforce to witness the gradual disappearance of his lawful prize
beneath the united efforts of myriads of tiny sea-scavengers, secure
in their insignificance against any attack from him, and await with
tremor extending to the remotest extremity of every tentacle, the
retribution that he felt sure would speedily follow.
This desultory warfare was waged for long, until, driven by
despair to a community of interest unknown before, the Krakens
gradually sought one another out with but a single idea—that of
combining against the new enemy; for, knowing to what an immense
size their kind could attain in the remoter fastnesses of ocean, they
could not yet bring themselves to believe that they were to become
the helpless prey of these new-comers, visitors of yesterday, coming
from the cramped acreage of the land into the limitless fields of
ocean, and invading the immemorial freeholds of its hitherto
unassailable sovereigns. From the remotest recesses of the ocean
they came, that grisly gathering—came in ever-increasing hosts,
their silent progress spreading unprecedented dismay among the
fairer inhabitants of the sea. Figure to yourselves, if you can, the
advance of this terrible host. But the effort is vain. Not even Martin,
that frenzied delineator of the frightful halls of hell, the scenes of the
Apocalypse, and the agonies of the Deluge, could have done justice
to the terrors of such a scene. Only dimly can we imagine what must
have been the appearance of those vast masses of writhing flesh, as
through the palely gleaming phosphorescence of the depths they
sped backwards in leaps of a hundred fathoms each, their terrible
arms, close-clustered together, streaming behind like Medusa’s hair
magnified ten thousand times in size, and with each snaky tress
bearing a thousand mouths instead of one.
So they converged upon the place of meeting, an area of the
sea-bed nowhere more than 500 fathoms in depth, from whose
rugged floor rose irregularly stupendous columnar masses of lava
hurled upwards by the cosmic forces below in a state of
incandescence and solidified as they rose, assuming many fantastic
shapes, and affording perfect harbourage to such dire scourges of
the sea as were now making the place their rendezvous. For,
strangely enough, this marvellous portion of the submarine world
was more densely peopled with an infinite variety of sea-folk than
any other; its tepid waters seemed to bring forth abundantly of all
kinds of fish, crustacea, and creeping things. Sharks in all their
fearsome varieties prowled greasily about, scenting for dead things
whereon to gorge, shell-fish from the infinitesimal globigerina up to
the gigantic clam whose shells were a yard each in diameter; crabs,
lobsters, and other freakish varieties of crustacea of a size and
ugliness unknown to day lurked in every crevice, while about and
among all these scavengers flitted the happy, lovely fish in myriads
of glorious hues matching the tender shades of the coral groves that
sprang from the summits of those sombre lava columns beneath.
Hitherto this happy hunting-ground had not been invaded by the
sea-mammals. None of the air-breathing inhabitants of the ocean
had ventured into its gloomy depths, or sought their prey among the
blazing shallows of the surface-reefs, although no more favourable
place for their exertions could possibly have been selected over all
the wide sea. It had long been a favourite haunt of the Kraken, for
whom it was, as aforesaid, an ideal spot, but now it was to witness a
sight unparalleled in ocean history. Heralded by an amazing series of
under-waves, the gathering of monsters drew near. They numbered
many thousands, and no one in all their hosts was of lesser
magnitude than sixty feet long by thirty in girth of body alone. From
that size they increased until some—the acknowledged leaders—
discovered themselves like islands, their cylindrical carcases huge as
that of an ocean liner, and their tentacles capable of overspreading
an entire village.
In concentric rings they assembled, all heads pointing outward,
the mightiest within, and four clear avenues through the circles left
for coming and going. Contrary to custom, but by mutual consent,
all the tentacles lay closely arranged in parallel lines, not outspread
to every quarter of the compass, and all a-work. They looked,
indeed, in their inertia and silence, like nothing so much as an
incalculable number of dead squid of enormous size neatly laid out
at the whim of some giant’s fancy. Yet communication between them
was active; a subtle interchange of experiences and plans went
briskly on through the medium of the mobile element around them.
The elder and mightier were full of disdain at the reports they were
furnished with, utterly incredulous as to the ability of any created
thing to injure them, and, as the time wore on, an occasional tremor
was distinctly noticeable through the whole length of their tentacles,
which boded no good to their smaller brethren. Doubtless but little
longer was needed for the development of a great absorption of the
weaker by the stronger, only that, darting into their midst like a
lightning streak, came a messenger squid, bearing the news that a
school of sperm whales, numbering at least ten thousand, were
coming at top-speed direct for their place of meeting. Instantly to
the farthest confines of that mighty gathering the message radiated,
and as if by one movement there uprose from the sea-bed so dense
a cloud of sepia that for many miles around the clear blue of the
ocean became turbid, stagnant, and foul. Even the birds that
hovered over those dark-brown waves took fright at this terrible
phenomenon, to them utterly incomprehensible, and with discordant
shrieks they fled in search of sweeter air and cleaner sea. But below
the surface under cover of this thickest darkness there was the
silence of death.
Twenty miles away, under the bright sunshine, an advance-guard
of about a hundred sperm whales came rushing on. Line abreast,
their bushy breath rising like the regular steam-jets from a row of
engines, they dashed aside the welcoming wavelets, every sense
alert, and full of eagerness for the consummation of their desires.
Such had been their despatch that throughout the long journey of
500 leagues they had not once stayed for food, so that they were
ravenous with hunger as well as full of fight. They passed, and
before the foaming of their swift passage had ceased, the main
body, spread over a space of thirty miles, came following on, the
roar of their multitudinous march sounding like the voice of many
waters. Suddenly the advance-guard, with stately elevation of the
broad fans of their flukes, disappeared, and by one impulse the main
body followed them. Down into the depths they bore, noting with
dignified wonder the absence of all the usual inhabitants of the
deep, until, with a thrill of joyful anticipation which set all their
masses of muscle a-quiver, they recognized the scent of the prey. No
thought of organized resistance presented itself; without a halt, or
even the faintest slackening of their great rush, they plunged
forward into the abysmal gloom; down, down withal into that
wilderness of waiting devils. And so, in darkness and silence like that
of the beginning of things, this great battle was joined. Whale after
whale succumbed, anchored to the bottom by such bewildering
entanglements, such enlacement of tentacles, that their vast
strength was helpless to free them; their jaws were bound hard
together, and even the wide sweep of their flukes gat no hold upon
the slimy water. But the Decapods were in evil case. Assailed from
above while their groping arms writhed about below, they found
themselves more often locked in unreleasable hold of their fellows
than they did of their enemies. And the quick-shearing jaws of those
enemies shredded them into fragments, made nought of their bulk,
revelled and frolicked among them, slaying, devouring, exulting.
Again and again the triumphant mammals drew off for air and from
satiety, went and lolled upon the sleek oily surface, in water now so
thick that the fiercest hurricane that ever blew would have failed to
raise a wave thereon.
So through a day and a night the slaying ceased not, except for
these brief interludes, until those of the Decapods left alive had
disentangled themselves from the débris of their late associates and
returned with what speed they might to depths and crannies, where
they fondly hoped their ravenous enemies could never come. They
bore with them the certain knowledge that from henceforth they
were no longer lords of the sea, that instead of being, as hitherto,
devourers of all things living that crossed the radius of their
outspread toils, they were now and for all time to be the prey of a
nobler race of creatures, a higher order of being, and that at last
they had taken their rightful position as creatures of usefulness in
the vast economy of Creation.
 THE SIAMESE LOCK
Even in these prosaic days of palatial passenger steamers,
running upon lines from port to port almost as definite as railway
metals, and keeping time with far more regularity than some railway
trains that it would be easy to name, there are many eddies and
backwaters of commerce still remaining where the romance of sea-
traffic retains all the old pre-eminence, and events occur daily that
are stranger than any fiction.
Notably is this the case on the Chinese coast, in whose
innumerable creeks and bays there is a never-ceasing ebb and flow
of queer craft, manned by a still queerer assortment of Eastern
seafarers. And if it were not for that strange Lingua Franca of the Far
East, to which our marvellous language lends itself with that ready
adaptability which makes it one of the most widely-spoken in the
world, the difficulties awaiting the white man who is called upon to
rule over one of those motley crews would be well-nigh insuperable.
As it is, men of our race who spend any length of time “knocking
about” in Eastern seas always acquire an amazing mélange of
tongues, which they themselves are totally unable to assign to their
several sources of origin, even if they ever were to seriously
undertake such a task. Needless, perhaps, to say that they have
always something more important on hand than that. At least I had
when, after a much longer spell ashore in Bangkok than I cared for, I
one day prevailed upon a sturdy German skipper to ship me as mate
of the little barque he commanded. She flew the Siamese flag, and
belonged, as far as I was ever able to ascertain, to a Chinese firm in
the humid Siamese capital, a sedate, taciturn trio of Celestials, who
found it well worth their while to have Europeans in charge of her,
even though they had to pay a long price for their services. My
predecessor had been a “towny” of the skipper’s, a Norddeutscher
from Rostock, who, with the second mate, a huge Dane, had been
with the skipper in the same vessel for over two years. On the last
voyage, however, during his watch on deck, while off the Paracels,
he had silently disappeared, nor was the faintest inkling of his fate
obtainable. When the skipper told me this in guttural German-
English, I fancied he looked as if his air of indifference was slightly
overdone, but the fancy did not linger—I was too busy surmising by
what one of the many possible avenues that hapless mate had
strolled out of existence. I was glad, if the suggestion of gladness
over such a grim business be admissible, to have even this scanty
information, since any temptation to taking my position at all
carelessly was thereby effectually removed. Before coming on board
I invested a large portion of my advance in two beautiful six-
shooters and a good supply of ammunition, asking no questions of
the joss-like Chinaman I bought them from as to how he became
possessed of two U. S. Navy weapons and cartridges to match. I
had, besides, a frightfully dangerous looking little kris, only about
nine inches long altogether, but inlaid with gold, and tempered so
that it would almost stab into iron. I picked it up on the beach at
Hai-phong six months before, but had only thought of it as a
handsome curio until now.
Thus armed, but with all my weapons well out of sight, I got
aboard, determined to take no more chances than I could help, and
to grow eyes in the back of my head if possible. The old man
received me as cordially as he was able—which isn’t saying very
much—introduced me to Mr. Boyesen, the second mate, and
proposed a glass of schnapps and a cheroot while we talked over
business. I was by no means averse to this, for I wanted to be on
good terms with my skipper, and I also had a strong desire upon me
to know more about the kind of trade we were likely to be engaged
in, for I didn’t even know what the cargo was, or what port she was
bound to—the only information the skipper gave me when I shipped
being that she was going “up the coast,” and this state of complete
ignorance was not at all comfortable. I hate mystery, especially
aboard ship—it takes away my appetite; and when a sailor’s off his
feed he isn’t much good at his work. But my expectations were
cruelly dashed, for, instead of becoming confidential, Captain Klenck
gave me very clearly to understand that no one on board the
Phrabayat—“der Frau” he called her—but himself ever knew what
was the nature of the trade she was engaged in or what port she
was bound to. More than that, he told me very plainly that he alone
kept the reckoning; the second mate and myself had only to carry
out his instructions as to courses, etc., and that so long as we kept
her going through our respective watches as he desired, he was
prepared to take all the risk. And all the time he was unloading this
stupefying intelligence upon me, he kept his beady eyes on mine as
if he would read through my skull the nature of my thoughts. Had he
been able so to do, they would have afforded him little satisfaction,
for they were in such a ferment that I “wanted out,” as the Scotch
say, to cool down a bit. I wanted badly to get away from Bangkok,
but I would have given all I had to be ashore there again and well
clear of the berth I had thought myself so lucky to get a day or two
ago. But that was out of the question. The old man helped himself
to another bosun’s nip of square-face, and, rising as he shipped it,
said—
“Ve ked her onder vay mit vonce, Meesder Fawn, und mindt ju
keeb dose verdammt schwein coin shtrong. Dey vants so mooch
boot as dey can get, der schelm.”
Glad of any chance of action to divert my mind, I answered
cheerily, “Ay, ay, sir!” and, striding out of the cabin, I shouted, “Man
the windlass!” forgetting for the moment that I was not on board
one of my own country’s ships, free from mysteries of any kind. My
mistake was soon rectified, and for the next hour or so I kept as
busy as I knew how, getting the anchor and making sail. The black,
olive, and yellow sailors worked splendidly, being bossed by a
“serang” or “bosun” of herculean build and undiscoverable
nationality. I think he must have been a Dyak. Now, it has always
been my practice in dealing with natives of any tropical country to
treat them as men, and not, as too many Europeans do to their loss,
behave towards them as if they were unreasoning animals. I have
always found a cheery word and a smile go a long way, especially
with negroes, wherever they hail from—and, goodness knows,
unless you are liverish, it is just as easy to look pleasant as glum. At
any rate, whether that was the cause or not, the work went on
greased wheels that forenoon, and I felt that if they were all the
colours the human race can show, I couldn’t wish for a smarter or
more willing crowd. When she was fairly under way and slipping
down to the bar at a good rate, I went aft for instructions, finding
the old man looking but sourly as he conned her down stream.
Before I had time to say anything he opened up with—
“Bei Gott, Meesder Fawn, ju haf to do diffrunt mit dese crout ef
ju vaunts to keep my schip coin. I tondt vant ter begin ter find fault,
but I ain’t coin to haf no nicker-cottlin abordt de Frau. Ju dake id
from me.”
This riled me badly, for I knew no men could have worked
smarter or more willingly than ours had, so I replied quietly, “Every
man knows his work and does it, Cap’n Klenck. I know mine, and I’ll
do it, but I must do it my own way, or not at all. If you’ve got any
fault to find, find it, but don’t expect me to spoil a decent crew and
chance getting a kris between my brisket bones in the bargain.”
He gave me one look, and his eyes were like those of a dead
fish. Then he walked away, leaving me standing simmering with
rage. But no more was said, and at dinner he seemed as if he had
forgotten the circumstance. And I, like a fool, thought he had, for
the wish was ever father to the thought with me, especially in a case
of this kind, where what little comfort I hoped to enjoy was entirely
dependent upon the skipper. He, astuteness itself, gave no sign of
his feelings towards me, being as civil as he was able in all our
business relations; but beyond those he erected a barrier between
us, all the more impassable because indefinite. Thrown thus upon
my own resources, I tried to cultivate an acquaintance with Mr.
Boyesen; but here again I was baffled, for he was the greatest
enigma of all. I never knew a man possessing the power of speech
who was able to get along with less use of that essentially human
faculty. He was more like a machine than a man, seeming to be
incapable of exhibiting any of the passions or affections of humanity.
I have seen him grasp a Siamese sailor by the belt and hurl him
along the deck as if he were a mere bundle of rags; but for any
expression of anger in his pale blue eyes or flush upon his broad
face, he might as well have been a figure-head. So that after a brief
struggle with his immobility I gave up the attempt to make a
companion of him, coming to the conclusion that he was in some
way mentally deficient.
Thus I was perforce driven to study my crew more than I
perhaps should have done, particularly the neat-handed, velvet-
footed Chinese steward, Ah Toy, who, although at ordinary times
quite as expressionless as the majority of his countrymen, generally
developed a quaint contortion of his yellow visage for me, which, if
not a smile, was undoubtedly meant for one. We were the best of
friends; so great, indeed, that whenever I heard the old man beating
him—that is, about once a day—I felt the greatest difficulty in
restraining myself from interference. I was comforted, however, by
noticing that Ah Toy seemed to heed these whackings no more than
as if he had been made of rubber; he never uttered a cry or did
anything but go on with his work as if nothing had happened. I had
eight men in my watch: two Chinese, four Siamese, one Tagal, and a
Malay; a queer medley enough, but all very willing and apparently
contented. For some little time I was hard put to it to gain their
confidence, their attitude being that of men prepared to meet with
ill-treatment and to take the earliest opportunity of resenting it
(although they accepted hearty blows from the Serang’s colt with
the greatest good nature). But gradually this sullen, watchful
demeanour wore off, and they became as cheerful a lot of fellows as
I could wish, ready to anticipate my wishes if they could, and as
anxious to understand me as I certainly was them. This state of
things was so far satisfactory that the time, which had at first hung
very heavily, now began to pass pleasantly and quickly, although I
slept, as the saying is, with one eye open, for fear of some
development of hostility on the skipper’s part. Because, in spite of
my belief that he meant me no ill, having, indeed, no reason to do
so as far as I knew, I could not rid myself of an uneasy feeling in my
mind that all was not as it should be with him.
We had wonderfully fine weather, it being the N.E. monsoon, but
made very slow progress, the vessel being not only a dull sailer at
the best of times, but much hindered by the head wind. This tried
my patience on account of my anxiety to get some inkling of our
position, which the old man kept as profound a secret as if millions
depended upon no one knowing it but himself. And although we
sighted land occasionally, I was not sufficiently well up in China
coast navigation to do more than guess at the position of the ship.
At last, when we had been a fortnight out, I was awakened suddenly
in my watch below one night by the sound of strange voices
alongside. I sprang out of my bunk in the dark, striking my head
against the door, which I always left open, but which was now
closed and locked. I felt as I should imagine a rat feels in a trap. But
the first thrill of fear soon gave place to indignation at my treatment,
and, after striking a light, I set my back against the door and strove
with all my might to burst it open. Failing in the attempt, I
remembered my little bag of tools, and in a few seconds had a
screw-driver at work, which not only released me, but spoiled the
lock for any future use. Of course, my revolvers were about me; I
always carried them. Still hot with anger, I marched on deck to find
the ship hove-to, a couple of junks alongside, the hatches off, and a
rapid exchange of cargo going on. Silence and haste were evidently
the mots d’ordre, but, besides, the workers were the smartest I had
ever seen; they handled the stuff, cases, bags, and bales of all sorts
and sizes, with a celerity that was almost magical. I stood looking on
like a fool for quite two or three minutes, in which every detail of the
strange scene became indelibly stamped upon my brain. The brilliant
flood of moonlight paling all the adjacent stars, the wide silvern path
of the moon on the dark water broken by a glistening sand-bank
over which the sullen swell broke with an occasional hollow moan,
every item in the arrangement of the sails, and the gliding figures on
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