178 THE INITABITANTS OF TIE SEA. 
The wild sand ccast of Pantam (Java) is annually frequented 
by a large number of turtles. They are often obliged to creep 
over nearly a quarter of a mile of the beach, before finding at 
the foot of the sand-dunes a dry and loose soil fit for their pur- 
pose ; and on this journey, which for them is a very long one, they 
have many dangers to encounter. Hundreds of their skeletons 
lie scattered about the strand, many of them five feet long, and 
three feet broad ; some bleached and cleaned by time, others still 
half filled with putrid intestines, and others, again, quite fresh 
and bleeding. High in the air a number of birds of prey wheel 
about, scared by the traveller’s approach. Here is the place 
where the turtles are attacked by the wild dogs. In packs of 
from twenty to fifty, the growling rabble assails the poor sea- 
unimal at every accessible point, gnaws and tugs at the feet and 
at the head, and succeeds by united efforts in turning the huge 
creature upon its back. Then the abdominal scales are torn off, 
and the ravenous dogs hold a bloody meal on the flesh, intestines, 
and eggs of their defenceless prey. Sometimes, however, the 
turtle escapes their rage, and dragging its lacerating tormentors 
along with it, succeeds in regaining the friendly sea. Nor 
do the dogs always enjoy an undisturbed repast. Often 
during the night, the “lord of the wilderness,” the royal tiger, 
bursts out of the forest, pauses for a moment, casts a glance over 
the strand, approaches slowly, and then with one bound, accom- 
panied by a terrific roar, springs among the dogs, scattering 
the howling band like chaff before the wind. And now it is 
the tiger’s turn to feast, but even he, though rarely, is sometimes 
disturbed by man. Thus, on this lonely, melancholy coast, wild 
dogs and tigers wage an unequal war with the inhabitants of the 
ocean. 
The cold-blooded turtle is obliged to confide the hatching of 
hereggs to the sun, which generally accomplishes the task in three 
weeks, On creeping out of the egg, the young, even those of 
tlie largest species, are not larger than half-a-crown and of a 
white colour. Unprotected by a parent’s tenderness, the poor 
little creatures seem only to be born for immediate death. Their 
first instinctive movements are towards the element for which 
they are destined; slowly they drag themselves towards the 
water, but the sea meets them with a rough embrace, and the 
