DWELLERS OF THE SURF 117 



They reminded me of the racetrack touts who also wore check- 

 ered raiment and who, Hke these surf crabs, subsisted by grab- 

 bing things on the run. Theirs was a Kfe of dash and abandon, 

 a series of intermittent scuttHngs between the breakings of the 

 waves. These crabs were the most nervous creatures I have 

 ever seen. Only by lying utterly motionless could I induce them 

 to approach me at all. Then they would creep close, eyeing me 

 narrowly with glistening eyes mounted on a pair of stalks, 

 watching timidly for the slightest movement, sidling forward 

 cautiously, dashing back a few feet and then inching forward 

 again, ever on the alert. Once I allowed a full dozen to collect 

 about the borders of the pool where they began feeding on 

 microscopic tid-bits which they lifted daintily to their mouths, 

 which, by the way, worked sideways instead of up and down. 

 Suddenly I raised my head. Instantly the rocks became alive 

 with racing streaking forms. They moved so fast that their legs 

 were barely visible and some of those near the top of the cliff 

 threw themselves heedlessly into the open air and into the roar- 

 ing surface of an incoming comber. There was no thought or 

 consideration of what lay beneath, their only reaction was to 

 be away. 



For a long twenty minutes the rocks were empty of life, 

 then from between the crevices they cautiously began to 

 emerge once more. Those that had flung themselves into the 

 foam came sidling out of the surf, dripping and unharmed by 

 the experience. They resisted the deluge by grasping the seamed 

 rocks tightly in their sharp claws and dropping close to the 

 boulders so the water could not get underneath them and tear 

 them away. Their stalked eyes made it possible for them to see 

 in an arc of almost 360 degrees- the waves never caught them 

 napping. At the precise moment when the water struck they 

 flattened out until it was passed, then raised again and moved 



