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  THE SEA RAIDERS

  I

  Until the extraordinary affair at Sidmouth, the peculiar species_Haploteuthis ferox_ was known to science only generically, on thestrength of a half-digested tentacle obtained near the Azores, and adecaying body pecked by birds and nibbled by fish, found early in 1896by Mr. Jennings, near Land's End.

  In no department of zoological science, indeed, are we quite so much inthe dark as with regard to the deep-sea cephalopods. A mere accident,for instance, it was that led to the Prince of Monaco's discoveryof nearly a dozen new forms in the summer of 1895, a discovery inwhich the before-mentioned tentacle was included. It chanced thata cachalot was killed off Terceira by some sperm whalers, and inits last struggles charged almost to the Prince's yacht, missed it,rolled under, and died within twenty yards of his rudder. And in itsagony it threw up a number of large objects, which the Prince, dimlyperceiving they were strange and important, was, by a happy expedient,able to secure before they sank. He set his screws in motion, andkept them circling in the vortices thus created until a boat couldbe lowered. And these specimens were whole cephalopods and fragmentsof cephalopods, some of gigantic proportions, and almost all of themunknown to science!

  It would seem, indeed, that these large and agile creatures, livingin the middle depths of the sea, must, to a large extent, for everremain unknown to us, since under water they are too nimble for nets,and it is only by such rare unlooked-for accidents that specimenscan be obtained. In the case of _Haploteuthis ferox_, for instance,we are still altogether ignorant of its habitat, as ignorant as weare of the breeding-ground of the herring or the sea-ways of thesalmon. And zoologists are altogether at a loss to account for itssudden appearance on our coast. Possibly it was the stress of a hungermigration that drove it hither out of the deep. But it will be,perhaps, better to avoid necessarily inconclusive discussion, and toproceed at once with our narrative.

  The first human being to set eyes upon a living _Haploteuthis_--thefirst human being to survive, that is, for there can be little doubtnow that the wave of bathing fatalities and boating accidents thattravelled along the coast of Cornwall and Devon in early May was dueto this cause--was a retired tea-dealer of the name of Fison, who wasstopping at a Sidmouth boarding-house. It was in the afternoon, and hewas walking along the cliff path between Sidmouth and Ladram Bay. Thecliffs in this direction are very high, but down the red face of themin one place a kind of ladder staircase has been made. He was nearthis when his attention was attracted by what at first he thought tobe a cluster of birds struggling over a fragment of food that caughtthe sunlight, and glistened pinkish-white. The tide was right out, andthis object was not only far below him, but remote across a broad wasteof rock reefs covered with dark seaweed and interspersed with silveryshining tidal pools. And he was, moreover, dazzled by the brightness ofthe further water.

  In a minute, regarding this again, he perceived that his judgment wasin fault, for over this struggle circled a number of birds, jackdawsand gulls for the most part, the latter gleaming blindingly when thesunlight smote their wings, and they seemed minute in comparison withit. And his curiosity was, perhaps, aroused all the more stronglybecause of his first insufficient explanations.

  As he had nothing better to do than amuse himself, he decided to makethis object, whatever it was, the goal of his afternoon walk, insteadof Ladram Bay, conceiving it might perhaps be a great fish of somesort, stranded by some chance, and flapping about in its distress. Andso he hurried down the long steep ladder, stopping at intervals ofthirty feet or so to take breath and scan the mysterious movement.

  At the foot of the cliff he was, of course, nearer his object thanhe had been; but, on the other hand, it now came up against theincandescent sky, beneath the sun, so as to seem dark and indistinct.Whatever was pinkish of it was now hidden by a skerry of weedyboulders. But he perceived that it was made up of seven rounded bodies,distinct or connected, and that the birds kept up a constant croakingand screaming, but seemed afraid to approach it too closely.

  Mr. Fison, torn by curiosity, began picking his way across thewave-worn rocks, and, finding the wet seaweed that covered them thicklyrendered them extremely slippery, he stopped, removed his shoes andsocks, and coiled his trousers above his knees. His object was, ofcourse, merely to avoid stumbling into the rocky pools about him, andperhaps he was rather glad, as all men are, of an excuse to resume,even for a moment, the sensations of his boyhood. At anyrate, it is tothis, no doubt, that he owes his life.

  He approached his mark with all the assurance which the absolutesecurity of this country against all forms of animal life gives itsinhabitants. The round bodies moved to and fro, but it was only when hesurmounted the skerry of boulders I have mentioned that he realised thehorrible nature of the discovery. It came upon him with some suddenness.

  The rounded bodies fell apart as he came into sight over the ridge,and displayed the pinkish object to be the partially devoured body ofa human being, but whether of a man or woman he was unable to say.And the rounded bodies were new and ghastly-looking creatures, inshape somewhat resembling an octopus, and with huge and very long andflexible tentacles, coiled copiously on the ground. The skin had aglistening texture, unpleasant to see, like shiny leather. The downwardbend of the tentacle-surrounded mouth, the curious excrescence at thebend, the tentacles, and the large intelligent eyes, gave the creaturesa grotesque suggestion of a face. They were the size of a fair-sizedswine about the body, and the tentacles seemed to him to be many feetin length. There were, he thinks, seven or eight at least of thecreatures. Twenty yards beyond them, amid the surf of the now returningtide, two others were emerging from the sea.

  Their bodies lay flatly on the rocks, and their eyes regarded him withevil interest; but it does not appear that Mr. Fison was afraid, orthat he realised that he was in any danger. Possibly his confidenceis to be ascribed to the limpness of their attitudes. But he washorrified, of course, and intensely excited and indignant at suchrevolting creatures preying upon human flesh. He thought they hadchanced upon a drowned body. He shouted to them, with the idea ofdriving them off, and, finding they did not budge, cast about him,picked up a big rounded lump of rock, and flung it at one.

  And then, slowly uncoiling their tentacles, they all began movingtowards him--creeping at first deliberately, and making a soft purringsound to each other.

  In a moment Mr. Fison realised that he was in danger. He shouted again,threw both his boots, and started off, with a leap, forthwith. Twentyyards off he stopped and faced about, judging them slow, and behold!the tentacles of their leader were already pouring over the rockyridge on which he had just been standing!

  At that he shouted again, but this time not threatening, but a cryof dismay, and began jumping, striding, slipping, wading across theuneven expanse between him and the beach. The tall red cliffs seemedsuddenly at a vast distance, and he saw, as though they were creaturesin another world, two minute workmen engaged in the repair of theladder-way, and little suspecting the race for life that was beginningbelow them. At one time he could hear the creatures splashing in thepools not a dozen feet behind him, and once he slipped and almost fell.

  They chased him to the very foot of the cliffs, and desisted only whenhe had been joined by the workmen at the foot of the ladder-way up thecliff. All three of the men pelted them with stones for a time, andthen hurried to the cliff top and along the path towards Sidmouth, tosecure assistance and a boat, and to rescue the desecrated body fromthe clutches of these abominable creatures.

  II

  And, as if he had not already been in sufficient peril that day, Mr.Fison went with the boat to point out the exact spot of his adventure.

  As the tide was down, it required a considerable detour to reach thespot, and when at last they came off the ladder-way, the mangled bodyhad disappeared. The water was now running in, submerging first oneslab of slimy rock and then another, and the four men in the boat--theworkmen, that is, the boatman, and Mr. Fison--now turned theirattention fr
om the bearings off shore to the water beneath the keel.

  At first they could see little below them, save a dark jungle oflaminaria, with an occasional darting fish. Their minds were seton adventure, and they expressed their disappointment freely. Butpresently they saw one of the monsters swimming through the waterseaward, with a curious rolling motion that suggested to Mr. Fisonthe spinning roll of a captive balloon. Almost immediately after,the waving streamers of laminaria were extraordinarily perturbed,parted for a moment, and three of these beasts became darkly visible,struggling for what was probably some fragment of the drowned man. Ina moment the copious olive-green ribbons had poured again over thiswrithing group.

  At that all four men, greatly excited, began beating the water withoars and shouting, and immediately they saw a tumultuous movement amongthe weeds. They desisted to see more clearly, and as soon as the waterwas smooth, they saw, as it seemed to them, the whole sea bottom amongthe weeds set with eyes.

  "Ugly swine!" cried one of the men. "Why, there's dozens!"

  And forthwith the things began to rise through the water about them.Mr. Fison has since described to the writer this startling eruptionout of the waving laminaria meadows. To him it seemed to occupy aconsiderable time, but it is probable that really it was an affair ofa few seconds only. For a time nothing but eyes, and then he speaks oftentacles streaming out and parting the weed fronds this way and that.Then these things, growing larger, until at last the bottom was hiddenby their intercoiling forms, and the tips of tentacles rose darkly hereand there into the air above the swell of the waters.

  One came up boldly to the side of the boat, and, clinging to this withthree of its sucker-set tentacles, threw four others over the gunwale,as if with an intention either of oversetting the boat or of clamberinginto it. Mr. Fison at once caught up the boathook, and, jabbingfuriously at the soft tentacles, forced it to desist. He was struck inthe back and almost pitched overboard by the boatman, who was using hisoar to resist a similar attack on the other side of the boat. But thetentacles on either side at once relaxed their hold at this, slid outof sight, and splashed into the water.

  "We'd better get out of this," said Mr. Fison, who was tremblingviolently. He went to the tiller, while the boatman and one of theworkmen seated themselves and began rowing. The other workman stoodup in the fore part of the boat, with the boathook, ready to strikeany more tentacles that might appear. Nothing else seems to have beensaid. Mr. Fison had expressed the common feeling beyond amendment.In a hushed, scared mood, with faces white and drawn, they set aboutescaping from the position into which they had so recklessly blundered.

  But the oars had scarcely dropped into the water before dark, tapering,serpentine ropes had bound them, and were about the rudder; andcreeping up the sides of the boat with a looping motion came thesuckers again. The men gripped their oars and pulled, but it was liketrying to move a boat in a floating raft of weeds. "Help here!" criedthe boatman, and Mr. Fison and the second workman rushed to help lug atthe oar.

  Then the man with the boathook--his name was Ewan, or Ewen--sprang upwith a curse, and began striking downward over the side, as far as hecould reach, at the bank of tentacles that now clustered along theboat's bottom. And, at the same time, the two rowers stood up to geta better purchase for the recovery of their oars. The boatman handedhis to Mr. Fison, who lugged desperately, and, meanwhile, the boatmanopened a big clasp-knife, and, leaning over the side of the boat, beganhacking at the spiring arms upon the oar shaft.

  Mr. Fison, staggering with the quivering rocking of the boat, his teethset, his breath coming short, and the veins starting on his hands ashe pulled at his oar, suddenly cast his eyes seaward. And there, notfifty yards off, across the long rollers of the incoming tide, was alarge boat standing in towards them, with three women and a littlechild in it. A boatman was rowing, and a little man in a pink-ribbonedstraw hat and whites stood in the stern, hailing them. For a moment, ofcourse, Mr. Fison thought of help, and then he thought of the child.He abandoned his oar forthwith, threw up his arms in a frantic gesture,and screamed to the party in the boat to keep away "for God's sake!"It says much for the modesty and courage of Mr. Fison that he does notseem to be aware that there was any quality of heroism in his action atthis juncture. The oar he had abandoned was at once drawn under, andpresently reappeared floating about twenty yards away.

  At the same moment Mr. Fison felt the boat under him lurch violently,and a hoarse scream, a prolonged cry of terror from Hill, the boatman,caused him to forget the party of excursionists altogether. He turned,and saw Hill crouching by the forward rowlock, his face convulsed withterror, and his right arm over the side and drawn tightly down. He gavenow a succession of short, sharp cries, "Oh! oh! oh!--oh!" Mr. Fisonbelieves that he must have been hacking at the tentacles below thewater-line, and have been grasped by them, but, of course, it is quiteimpossible to say now certainly what had happened. The boat was heelingover, so that the gunwale was within ten inches of the water, and bothEwan and the other labourer were striking down into the water, with oarand boathook, on either side of Hill's arm. Mr. Fison instinctivelyplaced himself to counterpoise them.

  Then Hill, who was a burly, powerful man, made a strenuous effort, androse almost to a standing position. He lifted his arm, indeed, cleanout of the water. Hanging to it was a complicated tangle of brownropes; and the eyes of one of the brutes that had hold of him, glaringstraight and resolute, showed momentarily above the surface. The boatheeled more and more, and the green-brown water came pouring in acascade over the side. Then Hill slipped and fell with his ribs acrossthe side, and his arm and the mass of tentacles about it splashed backinto the water. He rolled over; his boot kicked Mr. Fison's knee asthat gentleman rushed forward to seize him, and in another moment freshtentacles had whipped about his waist and neck, and after a brief,convulsive struggle, in which the boat was nearly capsized, Hill waslugged overboard. The boat righted with a violent jerk that all butsent Mr. Fison over the other side, and hid the struggle in the waterfrom his eyes.

  He stood staggering to recover his balance for a moment, and as hedid so, he became aware that the struggle and the inflowing tide hadcarried them close upon the weedy rocks again. Not four yards off atable of rock still rose in rhythmic movements above the in-wash of thetide. In a moment Mr. Fison seized the oar from Ewan, gave one vigorousstroke, then, dropping it, ran to the bows and leapt. He felt his feetslide over the rock, and, by a frantic effort, leapt again towards afurther mass. He stumbled over this, came to his knees, and rose again.

  "Look out!" cried someone, and a large drab body struck him. He wasknocked flat into a tidal pool by one of the workmen, and as he wentdown he heard smothered, choking cries, that he believed at the timecame from Hill. Then he found himself marvelling at the shrillness andvariety of Hill's voice. Someone jumped over him, and a curving rushof foamy water poured over him, and passed. He scrambled to his feetdripping, and, without looking seaward, ran as fast as his terror wouldlet him shoreward. Before him, over the flat space of scattered rocks,stumbled the two workmen--one a dozen yards in front of the other.

  He looked over his shoulder at last, and, seeing that he was notpursued, faced about. He was astonished. From the moment of the risingof the cephalopods out of the water, he had been acting too swiftlyto fully comprehend his actions. Now it seemed to him as if he hadsuddenly jumped out of an evil dream.

  For there were the sky, cloudless and blazing with the afternoon sun,the sea weltering under its pitiless brightness, the soft creamy foamof the breaking water, and the low, long, dark ridges of rock. Therighted boat floated, rising and falling gently on the swell abouta dozen yards from shore. Hill and the monsters, all the stress andtumult of that fierce fight for life, had vanished as though they hadnever been.

  Mr. Fison's heart was beating violently; he was throbbing to thefinger-tips, and his breath came deep.

  There was something missing. For some seconds he could not thinkclearly enough what this might be. Sun, sky, sea, r
ocks--what was it?Then he remembered the boatload of excursionists. It had vanished.He wondered whether he had imagined it. He turned, and saw the twoworkmen standing side by side under the projecting masses of the tallpink cliffs. He hesitated whether he should make one last attemptto save the man Hill. His physical excitement seemed to desert himsuddenly, and leave him aimless and helpless. He turned shoreward,stumbling and wading towards his two companions.

  He looked back again, and there were now two boats floating, and theone farthest out at sea pitched clumsily, bottom upward.

  III

  So it was _Haploteuthis ferox_ made its appearance upon the Devonshirecoast. So far, this has been its most serious aggression. Mr. Fison'saccount, taken together with the wave of boating and bathing casualtiesto which I have already alluded, and the absence of fish from theCornish coasts that year, points clearly to a shoal of these voraciousdeep-sea monsters prowling slowly along the sub-tidal coastline.Hunger migration has, I know, been suggested as the force that drovethem hither; but, for my own part, I prefer to believe the alternativetheory of Hemsley. Hemsley holds that a pack or shoal of thesecreatures may have become enamoured of human flesh by the accident ofa foundered ship sinking among them, and have wandered in search of itout of their accustomed zone; first waylaying and following ships, andso coming to our shores in the wake of the Atlantic traffic. But todiscuss Hemsley's cogent and admirably-stated arguments would be outof place here.

  It would seem that the appetites of the shoal were satisfied by thecatch of eleven people--for so far as can be ascertained, there wereten people in the second boat, and certainly these creatures gaveno further signs of their presence off Sidmouth that day. The coastbetween Seaton and Budleigh Salterton was patrolled all that eveningand night by four Preventive Service boats, the men in which were armedwith harpoons and cutlasses, and as the evening advanced, a numberof more or less similarly equipped expeditions, organised by privateindividuals, joined them. Mr. Fison took no part in any of theseexpeditions.

  About midnight excited hails were heard from a boat about a couple ofmiles out at sea to the south-east of Sidmouth, and a lantern was seenwaving in a strange manner to and fro and up and down. The nearer boatsat once hurried towards the alarm. The venturesome occupants of theboat, a seaman, a curate, and two schoolboys, had actually seen themonsters passing under their boat. The creatures, it seems, like mostdeep-sea organisms, were phosphorescent, and they had been floating,five fathoms deep or so, like creatures of moonshine through theblackness of the water, their tentacles retracted and as if asleep,rolling over and over, and moving slowly in a wedge-like formationtowards the south-east.

  These people told their story in gesticulated fragments, as first oneboat drew alongside and then another. At last there was a little fleetof eight or nine boats collected together, and from them a tumult,like the chatter of a marketplace, rose into the stillness of thenight. There was little or no disposition to pursue the shoal, thepeople had neither weapons nor experience for such a dubious chase,and presently--even with a certain relief, it may be--the boats turnedshoreward.

  And now to tell what is perhaps the most astonishing fact in this wholeastonishing raid. We have not the slightest knowledge of the subsequentmovements of the shoal, although the whole south-west coast was nowalert for it. But it may, perhaps, be significant that a cachalotwas stranded off Sark on June 3. Two weeks and three days after thisSidmouth affair, a living _Haploteuthis_ came ashore on Calais sands.It was alive, because several witnesses saw its tentacles moving in aconvulsive way. But it is probable that it was dying. A gentleman namedPouchet obtained a rifle and shot it.

  That was the last appearance of a living _Haploteuthis_. No otherswere seen on the French coast. On the 15th of June a dead body, almostcomplete, was washed ashore near Torquay, and a few days later a boatfrom the Marine Biological station, engaged in dredging off Plymouth,picked up a rotting specimen, slashed deeply with a cutlass wound. Howthe former specimen had come by its death it is impossible to say. Andon the last day of June, Mr. Egbert Caine, an artist, bathing nearNewlyn, threw up his arms, shrieked, and was drawn under. A friendbathing with him made no attempt to save him, but swam at once forthe shore. This is the last fact to tell of this extraordinary raidfrom the deeper sea. Whether it is really the last of these horriblecreatures it is, as yet, premature to say. But it is believed, andcertainly it is to be hoped, that they have returned now, and returnedfor good, to the sunless depths of the middle seas, out of which theyhave so strangely and so mysteriously arisen.