CHAPTER IV. 



ON THE SUBJECT OF TURTLES. 



On the subject of turtles, the " laird " more than once 

 held forth for my benefit as we sat on the verandah, and 

 I am sorry enough that the notes hurriedly jotted down, 

 as the result of our conversations, are so meagre. 



Considering the high price that is paid for the flesh 

 of the green turtle — ^how dearly we love to consume it 

 as soup, when we get the chance — and what an immense 

 number of pretty things are made from the shell of the 

 hawksbill turtle, it is surprising how very ignorant we 

 are still of the ways and habits of these well-known 

 reptiles. As a matter of fact, comparatively very little 

 is kno\vTi of them. There is a great gap in their life- 

 history. The female comes ashore to lay her eggs, as 

 every schoolboy knows, and famished shipwrecked sailors, 

 from times immemorial, have rushed towards her with 

 convenient poles to turn her over on her back. With a 

 confiding trust in Providence for the future development 

 of their eggs (somewhat suggesting the methods pursued 

 by the ultra-fashionable modem lady in respect of her 

 nursery), those lady turtles which have escaped capture 

 during their brief sojourn ashore put out to sea again 

 and are no more seen. In the course of time we know 

 that these eggs hatch, baby turtles scramble and wriggle 

 through the deep layers of sand which have covered their 

 nursery, and all with one accord rush helter skelter down 

 the sun-baked slopes of sand to their foster-nurse— the 

 wide, open sea, which is waiting there to do her best for 

 them and to mother them. 



