OF THE SOUTH SEAS 367 



enemies in the troughs and holes of the coral floor. 

 With my small spears I pried out dozens of them, Mao, 

 starfish, clams, oysters, furbelowed clams, sea-urchins, 

 and sponges. The mao is the turbo, the queer gastro- 

 pod sold in the market in Papeete. He lives in a beau- 

 tiful spiral shell, and has attached to him a round piece 

 of polished shell, blue, green, brown, or yellow, which he 

 puts aside when he wishes to feed on the morsels pass- 

 ing his door, and pulls shut when he wants privacy. He 

 fits himself tightly into a hollow in the reef and dozes 

 away the hours behind his shield, but ready to open it 

 instantly at the perception of his favorite food. The 

 mao was wedged in the recess so cleverly that it was 

 difficult to extract him by my hand alone. His portal 

 I kept after eating him raw or cooked, to have set in 

 silver as an exquisite souvenir of my visit. These jewels 

 studded the drinking cups from which the Vikings drank 

 "Skoal to the Northland!" 



The starfish were magnificent, of many colors, and 

 one with fifteen arms covered with sharp, gray spines, 

 and underneath pale yellow, fleshy feelers with suckers 

 like a sea-anemone. These were as pliant as rubber in 

 the water, but, when long out, as hard as stone. The 

 sea-urchins were of many kinds, some with large spikes, 

 as firm as rock, and others almost as brittle as glass, 

 their needles, half a dozen inches long and sharp, dan- 

 gerous to step on even with my rubber-soled, canvas 

 shoes. All hues were these urchins, blood-red and heav- 

 enly blue, almost black, and as white as snow, the last 

 with a double-star etched upon his shell. Others were 

 round like blow-fish, with their spickles at every angle, 

 menacing in look. 



