In one of the most charming chapters of that truly charming book, Gilbert White’s “Natural History of Selborne,” the gentle author tells of some strange instances of among the of the farmyard, a for companionship that brought into intimate acquaintanceship such widely differing animals as a horse and a hen, a doe and some cattle. This, as a proof that loneliness is an abnormal condition of life even among the intelligences of creation, “gives to think,” as our neighbours say; but probably few people would imagine that the same desire for society obtains even among the inhabitants of the deep and wide sea.  
I do not now speak of such fish as compose the great shoals that beneficently visit the shallower waters washing countries, from whose innumerable multitudes whole nations may be fed without making any in their infinite numbers; but of those more and widely species that are to be found near the sea-surface all over the ocean. In the ordinary routine of modern passenger traffic no observation of these truly deep-sea fish is possible, for, in the first place, the breathless panting of the fills them with of the swiftly- monster whose approach it ; and in the next,[80] the would-be observer has no time to catch even a glimpse of the inhabitants of that world beneath him with, perhaps, the exception of a rapidly-passing school of or the hurried vision of a sea-shouldering whale.
 
No, for the deliberate observation necessary in order to know something of the sea-people a sailing-ship must be chosen, the slower the better, one wherein may be felt to its fullest extent by the mindless, sightless passenger the “intolerable of a long voyage.” In such a ship as this the student of natural history, provided he be not responsible to stern owners for the length of his passage, will welcome with great delight the solemn of the calm, when the windless above him is filled with perfect peace, and the shining circle upon which he floats is like the pupil of God’s eye. Then, leaning over the taffrail, looking earnestly down into the crystalline blue, you may see the bottom of the ship without visible support as if in a sky of deeper blue and more atmosphere. The life that has already attached itself to the is all busy living. Barnacles with their long, feet-stalks waving in imperceptible motion, are expanding from between their shells delicate fringes of brown, that, all eyes to see and hands to hold, allow nothing that can feed them to pass them by. And as they themselves inward with the supplies they have from the apparently barren water, you can fancy that the pearly whiteness of the shells gleams with a brighter as of satisfaction. The dull-hued[81] limpets, like pustules breaking out upon the ship’s , may also be discerned, but less easily, because they have such a neutral , and love to nestle amongst a of dank, deep-green sea-moss, that, except where the light from above breaks down upon it, looks almost black.
 
But a little patient watching will reveal a set of tiny arms forth- from the irregular opening in the of each limpet-cone. They, too, are busy continually, arresting every , invisible to feeble human sight, that comes within their reach, and passing it within for the up-keep of the compact, self-contained residence. And there, can it be possible, at all this distance from land? It is not only possible but undeniable that there is a , an , little tangle of claws surrounding a disc about the size of a shilling. He strolls about in fashion, but making a track at all sorts of angles, among the living , skirting each barnacle or limpet with a ludicrous air of contempt, as it seems. You can almost imagine him saying: “I never saw such a lot of dead-an’-alive in my life. Say! how d’you like stoppin’ in the same old spot for ever an’ ever?” But, to his rudeness, the busy creatures never cease their one set of movements, ignoring his very existence. You cannot help but wonder what becomes of that little crab when the ship begins to move, for you know that he can’t possibly hold on against the tremendous brushing past of the water. He isn’t built for that.
 
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The other , whether animal or vegetable, have, you notice, been busy for who shall say how long adapting themselves to every condition of their dependent life, so that now, whatever motion be made by the ship, they present to the onrush of the water just the right angle of surface that will allow it to slip over them easily, while at the same time they are always in a position to contributions. There is a puzzling lead-coloured along the near the keel to which your eye returns again and again, for although it will persist in looking like a place whence a strip of sheathing has been torn, there is yet a suggestion of quivering life about it which is certainly not the tremulous outline given to every inanimate object under water. Suddenly your doubts are set at rest—the mystery is solved. The has cast over the side some fragments of food that settle slowly , turning over and over as they sink and the light at every point, so that they sparkle like . As they pass the almost motionless keel the leaden-looking streak suddenly detaches itself, and, almost startlingly revealed as a fish, and swallows those one after the other. You fetch a few more fragments, and, dropping them one by one, your new acquaintance nearer the surface, so that you may admire the easy grace of every movement, and study at your leisure the result of this creature’s development along certain lines of inventiveness.
 
It is a Remora, or “sucker,” a species of shark that never exceed a dozen pounds in weight. Having[83] all the shark’s usual qualities of slothfulness, , and , it is prevented from becoming also by its limitations of size and the feebleness of its teeth. And as it would be hopeless for it to attempt to upon other fish while they are alive, from its lack of the speed as well as from the of fish of small size in the deep waters which are its abiding-place, it has developed a parasitic habit, which saves it a whole world of trouble by insuring its protection, economising , and keeping it in the midst of a food-supply. All these objects are in the simplest manner possible, aided by an unfailing instinct guiding the creature in its selection of an involuntary host.
 
On the top of its head, which is flat, it has developed an arrangement which has, perhaps, the most artificial appearance of anything found in Nature. It is in plan an oblong oval, with a line running along its middle, to which other diagonal lines, perfectly parallel to each other, extend from the outer edge. The whole thing is like the non-slipping tread moulded upon the soles of many lawn-tennis shoes. This strangely patterned contrivance is really an of such strength that, when by its means the fish is holding on to any plane surface, it is impossible to drag the body away, except by almost tearing the fish in half. Yet by the of some simple muscles the fish can release its body instantly, or as instantly re-attach itself. Of course, it always adheres to its host with its head pointing in the same direction as the host[84] usually travels, because in that manner the pressure of the water assists the grip of the sucker and keeps the whole body lying flatly close to whatever is carrying it along. In this position it can perform all the natural functions. Its wide mouth ; its eyes, set one on either side of its head, take in a most comprehensive view of the , so that nothing having the appearance of can pass that way without being seen and, if the speed of its host admits, immediately investigated. Thus its sociability is obviously of the most selfish kind. It sticketh closer than a brother, but affection for its protecting companion forms no part of its programme. Its number is, emphatically, One.
 
I have used the word “host” , because the remora does not by any means limit its company to ships. It is exceedingly fond of attaching itself to the body of a whale, and also to some of the larger sharks. Indeed, it goes a step further than outward attachment in the latter case, because well-authenticated instances are recorded where several suckers have been found clinging to a huge shark’s palate. This is another stage on the way to perfect , because under such circumstances these daring needed not to detach themselves any more. They had only to sufficient food for their wants on its way from the front door to the interior departments. I have also seen them clinging to the of a whale, but that jaw was not in working order. It was at right angles to the body, and afforded harbourage to a most comprehensive collection of parasites, barnacles especially, giving the front of that whale an appearance utterly unlike anything with life.
 
But John Chinaman has outwitted the superlatively lazy remora. By what one must regard as a triumph of he has succeeded in converting the very means whereby this born-tired fish usually escapes all necessity for energy into an instrument for obtaining gain for other people. The mode is as follows: First catch your remora. No difficulty here. A hook and line of the simplest, a bait of almost anything that looks eatable lowered by the side of a ship, and if there be a sucker hidden there he will be after the instantly. The only skill necessary is to haul him up swiftly when he bites, because if he be allowed to get hold of the ship again you may pull the hook out of his , but you will not succeed in detaching him. Having caught a remora, the fisherman fastens a ring closely round its body, just at its smallest part before the spread of the tail. To this he attaches a long, fine, and strong line. He then departs for the turtle grounds with his prisoner. Arriving there he confines himself to keeping the remora away from the bottom of his boat by means of a bamboo. Of course the captive gets very tired, and no turtle can pass within range of him without his hanging on to that turtle for a rest. The moment he does so the turtle’s fate is sealed. Struggle how he may, he cannot shake loose the grip of the sucker, and the yellow man in the sampan has only to haul in upon the line to bring that turtle within range of his hands and lift him into the boat. And this[86] ingenious utilisation of the sucker’s well-known has also commended itself to the semi-barbarous fishermen of the East African , who are not otherwise notable for either ingenuity or enterprise.
 
Before we dismiss the remora to his beloved rest again it is of notice that he himself gives unwilling hospitality to another creature. It is a little , rather like an exaggerated woodlouse, but without the same power of curling itself into a ball. It is of a pearly white colour, very in its movements, but with tenacious hooks upon its many legs it holds on securely to the inside of the sucker’s mouth near the gill-slits, being there provided with all the needs of its existence, without the slightest effort of its own. Its chief interest to lies in its strange to the fossil trilobites so scattered among various geological .
 
But while you have been watching the remora a visitor from the vast openness around has arrived, as if glad of the society afforded by the ship. Yet in this case the idea seems a fond , because the new-comer is only a “jelly-fish,” or “Medusa.” It is really an abuse of language to use the word “fish” in connection with such an almost impalpable as the Medusa, because while a fish is an animal high up the scale of the vertebrata, a Medusa is almost at the bottom of the list of created things. When floating in the sea it is an exceedingly pretty object, with its clear, mushroom-shaped disc uppermost, and long fringe of feathery , sometimes delicately coloured, waving beneath with each of the whole mass. It has no power of independent , no—but, there, it is not easy to say what it has got, since if you haul one up in a bucket and lay it on deck in the sun, it will melt away, leaving not a trace behind except two or three tiny morsels of foreign matter which did not belong to its organism at all. Yet if one of these masses of jelly comes into contact with your bare skin it stings like a , for it , in some mysterious way, an fluid that serves it instead of many organs by further advanced creatures. As the present subject passes beneath your gaze you notice quite a little cluster of tiny fish smaller even than full-grown tittlebats, perhaps a dozen or so, who look strangely forlorn in the middle of the ocean. It may be that this sense of loneliness leads them to seek the shelter of something larger than themselves, something which will be a sort of rallying-point in such a wide world of waters.
 
Perhaps the lovely streamers have aroused their curiosity, but, whatever the , you see the little group, round the Medusa, popping in and out from the edge of the disc, through which you can plainly see them as they pass beneath. It is quite pretty to watch those innocent games of the sportive little fish, but presently you notice that one of them doesn’t play any more. He is among those elegant fringes and hangs like a little silver streak, brightening and fading as it is turned by the movement of the Medusa. And if[88] you could watch it long enough you would see it gradually disappear, absorbed into the jelly-like substance by the by the Medusa for that purpose. Still unconscious of their companion’s fate, the other little victims continue to play in that neighbourhood, voluntarily supplying the needs of an organism immeasurably beneath them in the sum-total of all those details that go to make up conscious life.
 
Closely gathered about the rudder and stern-post is another group of larger fish, the several individuals being from 4 in. to 8 in. long, and most elegant in shape and colour. They evidently seek the ship for protection, for they scarcely ever leave her vicinity for more than 2 ft. or 3 ft. If one of them does away that distance after some, to you, imperceptible morsel of food, it is back again in a flash, sidling up to her sheathing closer than ever, as if dreadfully alarmed at its own . A small hook baited with a fragment of meat will enable you to catch one if only you can get it to fall close enough to the rudder—no easy matter, because of the great overhang of the stern. In the old-fashioned ships, where the rudder-head moved in a huge cavity called the rudder-trunk, I have often caught them by dropping my hook down there, and very sweet-eating little fish they were. Sailors call them “rudder-fish,” a trivial name from their well-known habit, but they are really a species of “caranx,” and to the mackerel tribe, which has so many representatives among deep-water fish. They are, perhaps, the most sociable of all the fish that visit a ship far out at sea; but they present the same problem that the crab did a little while ago: What becomes of them when a breeze springs up and the vessel puts on speed?
 
I have often watched them at the beginning of a breeze, swimming along by the side of the stern-post, so as to be clear of the raised by the rudder; but it was always evident that a rate of over three knots would leave them astern very soon. Not less curious is the as to whence they come so . There seems to be very few of them, ye............