Turtle Turning 1 25 



the moonbeams like a silver shield, emerge from the 

 waves. The excitement becomes intense ; one feels 

 one's muscles crawling, as it were, so eager are we to 

 pounce upon our prey. But we must not, yet. The 

 first arrivals have fallen to digging and surrounding 

 themselves with a halo of fine sand, and others are 

 coming every few minutes, on the same errand bent. 

 At last, when the long stretch of beach is fairly covered 

 with the toiling Chelones, each in her own pit, labouring 

 to make the receptacle sufficiently deep for all the eggs 

 she has brought, our chief gives the signal, and, like 

 a band of brigands, we all rush forth between the Turtle 

 and the sea, and halting one by one at the pits, strive to 

 turn the Turtle over by a dexterous twisting of the 

 hind flippers. Sometimes, and that not seldom, we 

 get hold of a Turtle that it would take three men to 

 turn over, and, holding on frantically, we are dragged 

 down through the blinding sand to the sea marge, 

 where we must let go or be drowned. Presently the 

 captmred turtle, lying with feebly waving flippers on 

 their backs quite helpless, are towed by ropes attached 

 to them to our reservoirs or ponds, where they await 

 shipment to London. And from thenceforward, until 

 the chef draws his knife across their leathery throats, 

 the Turtle fasts. Never has he been known to eat in 

 captivity. 



One point more in connexion with the Turtle before 

 we close this aU-too-brief memoir. It is his amazing 

 vitality. Most of the deep-sea folk possess this quality 

 of tenacious hold on life in a high degree, but none, as 

 far as I know, to nearly the same extent as the Turtle. 

 Without endorsing any such foolish remark as that 

 ' they cannot die until the setting of the sun,' I can 

 truly say that I have seen the flesh cleared out of a 

 turtle-shell and hung upon a tree, where for hours the 



