Submarine Forests 419 



do not think ever grow to any size. I certainly do 

 not suggest that the edible crab of our coasts breeds 

 there, and makes the long journey through mid- 

 ocean to get to where he may become of use to man. 

 Especially, as the crab cannot swim through the water 

 horizontally like other Crustacea, he must have a place 

 of some stability to walk upon, whether it be the 

 bottom of the sea, or a frond of weed, or the planks 

 of a derelict. No, I feel sure that the small crabs of 

 the Gulfweed are a small species, and do not grow 

 larger than, say, three inches across the carapace. 

 It is the breeding place of the marvellous flying-fish, 

 whose ova closely simulate its berries. It also affords 

 a spawning ground for those fish such as the dolphin, 

 which are the flying-fishes' fiercest enemies. 



But as most of this has already been said in the 

 course of preceding chapters I will pass on, albeit 

 reluctantly, from the wonderful floating weed of the 

 North Atlantic to the gigantic * Kelp,' as sailors 

 insist upon calling it, of the South Seas. Round 

 many of those isolated mountain peaks rising from the 

 lonely ocean plateaux two or three thousand fathoms 

 beneath, piercing the troubled surface of the almost 

 equally lonely sea, and towering another thousand 

 fathoms into the air there grows an extraordinary 

 plant. Its leaves grow to a length of six feet and 

 a width of a foot, being in colour and consistency 

 like wet leather. Their stems, as thick as a stout 

 man's arm, grow to lengths unknown, but certainly 

 over a hundred feet, grow up from the rocks beneath 

 until they reach the surface, a veritable submarine 

 forest whose limits are sharply defined by the 

 depths from which the plant can reach the water- 

 surface. 



All around an island such a forest will grow to a 



