NOTES ON THE
NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BELL ROCK
_Edinburgh: Printed by George Waterston & Sons_
FOR
DAVID DOUGLAS
LONDON, SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, AND CO., LIMITED
CAMBRIDGE, MACMILLAN AND BOWES
GLASGOW, JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS
NOTES ON THE
NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BELL ROCK
BY J. M. CAMPBELL
WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY JAMES MURDOCH
LATE SECRETARY TO THE BOARD OF NORTHERN LIGHTHOUSES
[Illustration]
EDINBURGH: DAVID DOUGLAS, CASTLE STREET
1904
PREFACE.
These desultory notes were originally undertaken at the instigation of
an invalid friend, desirous of a closer acquaintance with our lonely
environments.
At the termination of a nine years’ residence on the Rock, I have been
advised to publish them in book form, and being fortunate in securing
the services of a generous publisher, they are now collected from the
columns of the local press and issued in this form in the hope that
they may interest the general reader.
I have to thank the Editors of _The Arbroath Guide_ and _Chambers’s
Journal_ for their courtesy.
J. M. CAMPBELL,
_Assistant Lightkeeper_.
BELL ROCK LIGHTHOUSE,
_May 1904_.
INTRODUCTION.
In consequence probably of my connection of more than fifty years
with the Northern Lighthouse Board, and of the almost equally long
service of my father, I have been requested, and with much diffidence
have complied with the request, to write, by way of Introduction to
these very interesting and instructive “Notes from the Bell Rock,” a
few words regarding Lighthouses, and a short account of the Northern
Lighthouse Service and its Lightkeepers. My love for that service,
and the esteem I have for those responsible and patient watchmen of
the night, whose duty it is to keep their lights burning to guard
the mariner from some of the dangers to which he is exposed, and to
guide him on his way over the vasty deep, may possibly enable me to
say something to interest readers of the Notes in a service whose
appropriate motto is “IN SALUTEM OMNIUM.”
The origin, as well as the early history, of lighthouses is involved in
much obscurity, although we learn from ancient writers that lights of
some sort, or beacon fires, were used for guiding vessels or warning
them of danger at least three hundred years before the Christian era.
The Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharos of Alexandria are those that
we first read of, but very little authentic information is to be got
regarding them. At a much later date we know that sea lights for such
purposes were produced by the burning of wood and coal in chauffers on
coasts where they could be well seen. One such beacon fire was shown
from a tower on the Isle of May, at the entrance to the Firth of Forth,
from the year 1635 till 1816, when the present lighthouse was built,
and is supposed to have been the first sea light on the coast of
Scotland. It is not unlikely, however, that long before that date some
of the most dangerous parts of the Mediterranean were lighted in a like
primitive manner.
The first lighthouse of any note of which we have authentic record
is the Tour de Corduan, near the mouth of the river Garonne, in the
south-west of France, which was founded in 1584, but not completed
and lighted till 1610. On account of the style and grandeur of its
architecture, it was long regarded as one of the wonders of the world,
the Pharos of Alexandria having been regarded as another. Its lightroom
was originally constructed for the combustion of wood in a kind of
chauffer raised six feet above the floor of the lantern; but it has
undergone many alterations and improvements since then, to bring it
into keeping with the progressing and modern system of lighthouse
illumination, which has made great strides during the last half-century.
Winstanley’s wooden structure to mark the Eddystone Rock off Plymouth
was probably the next work of importance in lighthouse building. It was
lighted in 1698, but washed away in a storm about five years afterwards
when Winstanley, who had gone there with some workmen to execute
certain repairs, and the lightkeepers all perished. A subsequent
lighthouse, also of wood, on the Eddystone, was accidentally burned
down about fifty years later, after which Smeaton’s structure of stone
was placed on it. This building stood until a few years ago, when it
was seen the sea was making such serious inroads on the rock on which
it was founded, that it was deemed advisable to take it down and have
another built on a different part of the reef. The success of Smeaton’s
lighthouse having been assured, attention was directed at the beginning
of last century to the Bell Rock, which was a source of great danger
to vessels navigating the East Coast of Scotland, and particularly to
those sailing to or from the Firths of Forth and Tay, many of them
being lost on it.
The Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses accordingly resolved to erect
a lighthouse there, somewhat after the model of Smeaton’s Eddystone,
but the work proved to be a much more difficult and arduous undertaking
owing to the Rock being always covered by the sea, except for a short
time at low water, whereas the Eddystone was never altogether covered,
even at high water. The Bell Rock is a low flat lying reef, the surface
of which becomes uncovered to any extent only at low water of spring
tides, but on which at high water there is a depth of from twelve to
sixteen feet. Its extent is about 1400 or 1500 feet in length, with a
breadth of about 300 feet. In olden times it was known as the Inchcape
Rock. Tradition has it that at one time an Abbot of Aberbrothock being
impressed with its danger, and anxious to avert to some extent, if
possible, the loss of life which often occurred on it by shipwrecks,
moored thereon a buoy or log of wood, having a bell attached to it,
which the action of the sea tolled continuously, thus giving warning
of danger. It afterwards became known as the Bell Rock. Tradition also
says that a pirate known as Ralph the Rover, who frequented these seas,
finding that the bell interfered with his nefarious occupation, removed
it. Retribution, however, was not long of overtaking him, for it is
said that his vessel shortly afterwards struck on the reef and was lost
with all on board. Southey’s graphic ballad, descriptive of the legend,
entitled “Sir Ralph the Rover,” is so well known that it is quite
unnecessary to do more than refer to it here.
The sanction of Government having to be procured before the erection of
the lighthouse could be proceeded with, considerable time was occupied
with the necessary negotiations, but in 1807, Mr Robert Stevenson,
the Engineer to the Northern Lighthouse Board, was allowed to
commence operations, and after encountering and overcoming innumerable
difficulties by his indomitable skill, energy, and perseverance, he at
last completed the work, and had a light shown from it on 1st February
1811. It is very satisfactory to be able to state as testifying to the
excellency of the materials used in its construction, as well as to
the careful and well devised scheme and execution of the workmanship,
that the tower as yet shows no symptoms of decay, and stands as strong
to-day as when newly erected.
In a highly interesting lecture which the writer of the Notes delivered
at Arbroath, about a year ago, he thus described the lightroom and
lighting apparatus, which had just been renewed, not on account of tear
and wear, but to bring it up to present day standard:--
“In the centre of the floor stands the revolving machinery enclosed
in a heavy metal case, upon which the huge lens, with its supporting
carriage, revolves. The lens itself--a marvel of the glassmaker’s
art--is the production of a French firm. Imagine a huge saucer, twelve
feet in diameter, composed of twenty concentric prisms of purest glass,
each with a diameter almost as much as a man may enclose with both
hands, terminating centrally in a sixteen inch plano-convex lens or
bull’s-eye. Suppose the rim of this saucer to the extent of four prisms
be turned sharply inwards, the whole set vertically on edge--convexity
outwards--and a vertical section--in which the bull’s-eye and three
adjoining prisms are alone intact--projected a foot further forward,
one may gain some idea of that particular portion of the lens allotted
to the red flash, the colour of which is attained by means of sheets of
red glass attached inside the central section and on the outside of the
adjoining wings. On the opposite side of the lens, and in a line with
the central red section, is a similar section--minus the adjoining
wings and the red media--through which the white flash is transmitted.
Both flashes are intended to equal each other in intensity, which
accounts for the much smaller portion of the lens allotted to the
white. A belt of horizontal prisms, three feet wide, connects the
wings of the red section with the white on either side, and reflects
the rays of light equally to both sections. Stooping underneath this
belt, access is obtained to a fixed circular platform in the interior
of the lens. In the centre of this platform, upon an iron pedestal, is
placed the source of illumination, a large six-wick lamp. Between this
platform and the top of the machine case, the circular carriage upon
which the superstructure of the lens is erected revolves upon twelve
five-inch steel rollers travelling upon a circular metal pathway.
Attached to the under side of this carriage is a heavy gun-metal
ring, six feet in diameter, toothed on its inner circumference, which
engages with a horizontal pinion wheel rising from the corner of the
machine case, and through which the driving power is transmitted. The
machine--an exaggerated form of clockwork--is driven by a weight of
400 lbs. travelling in the centre of the spiral stair on the first
flat. The speed of the machine is regulated by adjustable fans; and a
speed indicator, furnished with an alarm bell, intimates the periods of
winding--an operation necessitating two minutes’ stiff winding every
half-hour. The entire lens, with its supporting carriage, is estimated
to weigh about six tons. The lamp, as I have already stated, is placed
upon an iron pedestal in the centre of the platform, or service table,
as it is called, in the interior of the lens. It is fitted with what
is known as the stepped Doty burner, and carries six concentric wicks,
each slightly elevated above the other towards the centre. The burner
is six inches in diameter, and consumes paraffin oil at the rate of
eighteen gills per hour. To maintain this supply, a forty gallon tank
of polished brass is placed on the lightroom floor; and a small force
pump, with triple plungers, working in conjunction with the revolving
machine, maintains a constant supply of oil, which is kept cool by
circulating within an inch of the burning edge of the wicks, the
surplus oil returning to the pump-tank. The flash, on being transmitted
through the lens, is reckoned to be equal to 60,000 candles; and the
characteristic of the light--a red and white flash alternately every
half-minute--visible twenty miles distant.”
A description of the work of renewal of the lighting apparatus and the
erection of a new and enlarged lantern to hold it on the top of the
tower, is also given in the Notes; and no further reference to it is
needed than to say that the light, which has the same characteristic as
before, is now, by means of the new apparatus, made much stronger and
more brilliant.
Such an erection as this lighthouse--standing, as it were, a pillar in
the ocean, with a stormy sea raging round it--may surely be described
as one of the noblest and most wonderful works of man. As no ship has
been wrecked on the Rock since the light was first exhibited, it is
incalculable how many valuable lives may have been saved by it. Sir
Walter Scott, on the occasion of his visiting the Bell Rock as the
guest of the Commissioners on their annual tour of inspection in 1814,
gave beautiful expression to his feelings in the following appropriate
lines, which he wrote in the Lighthouse Album:--
PHAROS LOQUITUR.
Far in the bosom of the deep,
O’er these wild shelves my watch I keep,
A ruddy gem of changeful light
Bound on the dusky brow of night;
The seaman bids my lustre hail
And scorns to strike his timorous sail.
The Eddystone and the Bell Rock Lighthouses having been, as it were,
the forerunners of the class of lighthouse that required to be built
on rocks exposed to the full fetch of heavy seas, many more of the
same sort have since been erected off the coasts of Great Britain and
Ireland. That of Skerryvore, which is situated in the Atlantic, west of
the Island of Tiree in Argyllshire, is regarded as probably the finest
specimen of lighthouse architecture in the world. This lighthouse was
the creation of Alan Stevenson, who succeeded his father, Robert, as
Engineer to the Northern Lighthouse Board, and it is interesting to
know that the designing and engineering of the Northern Lighthouses has
now been in the hands of the Stevenson family for more than a hundred
years, Mr David Alan Stevenson, one of the grandsons of Robert, now
holding the position of Engineer to the Board. But the family is not
altogether indebted to lighthouse engineering for its fame, as the late
talented and lamented writer and novelist, Robert Louis Stevenson, who
made a world-wide name for himself, was another grandson of the Bell
Rock Engineer.
It is not necessary to say more about lighthouses, but I considered
it desirable to give a short description of one or two of the most
notable, including that of the Bell Rock, in which these Notes were
written, to show from what limited sources a man of intelligence and
keen observation can procure subjects of surpassing interest to engage
his attention, as well as to instruct and amuse others.
The Lighthouse Authorities of the United Kingdom are the Trinity
House for England, the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses for
Scotland, and the Commissioners of Irish Lights for Ireland. The
Trinity House exerts a certain control over the Scottish and Irish
Boards, particularly as to the site and character of lights proposed
by them, and the Board of Trade holds the financial control of all
three. The Boards are not all similarly constituted, the members of
the Trinity House being mostly men of nautical knowledge, while those
composing the Irish Board are mostly connected with the Corporation
of Dublin. The Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses are the Lord
Advocate and the Solicitor-General for Scotland, the Lord Provosts of
Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, and Dundee; the Provosts of Greenock,
Inverness, Campbeltown, and Leith; the eldest Bailies of Edinburgh and
Glasgow--and the Sheriffs of the maritime counties of Scotland. The
origin of the Board dates from 1786, and it was incorporated by an Act
of Parliament passed in 1798. The primary and general object of the
three Boards is the erection and maintenance of lighthouses and other
sea marks, such as beacons and buoys, for the security of navigation
and the saving of life and property. The funds for these objects are
got by levying tolls on shipping.
In 1815 the Northern Lighthouse Commissioners acquired the right to
erect lighthouses on the Isle of Man, which since then has been under
their jurisdiction.
In olden times, many lighthouses in England and Ireland were the
property of private individuals, who had the power of charging dues
for their erection and maintenance; but the Isle of May light was
the only one of that kind in Scotland, and it became the property of
the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses by purchase in 1814. The
tolls or dues have long been collected for the different Boards by
the Collectors of Customs at the various ports, and are now paid into
what is called the “General Lighthouse Fund,” which is held by the
Board of Trade, and on which the Lighthouse Boards draw according to
their requirements. Sixty years ago this tax, as it may be called,
on shipping varied as regarded different lighthouses from a farthing
to one-penny-halfpenny per ton for each light passed, the rates on
over-sea voyages being generally double those for coasting voyages;
but since then they have frequently been reduced, both in amount and
in incidence. Ships of the Navy and all lighthouse vessels are, of
course, exempt from such dues. On 1st April 1899, an alteration was
made by which vessels were no longer charged a rate per ton for each
light passed, but a rate per ton per voyage, and in some cases a rate
per vessel; and a deduction was made when a number of similar voyages
took place during the year. Very recently, a further reduction has been
granted by an abatement of twelve-and-a-half per cent. on the total.
This, of course, is all paid by the shipowners, who have long been,
and still are, discontented at being charged for light dues at all,
their contention being that all the expenditure necessary for erecting
and maintaining lighthouses and other sea marks should be paid out
of the Imperial taxation of the country. They also now desire to be
represented on the three Boards, and have a share in the management.
I, who have seen half-a-century’s administration by the Commissioners
of Northern Lighthouses, may be allowed to express an opinion that it
would be very difficult to construct a Board to do its work better than
the Northern Lighthouse Board. The Commissioners require no eulogy from
me; but I cannot imagine any other body of men, be they scientific or
unscientific, nautical or commercial, paid or unpaid--and be it noted
that the Commissioners are all unpaid--taking more interest in their
work, or devoting more time and attention to it. The introduction of
shipowners, who may have conflicting interests to serve in the lighting
of different parts of the coast, might introduce an element of discord
from which the present Board, so far as I am aware, has always been
exempt.
The staff of the Board consists of an Engineer and a Secretary, who
also acts as General Manager, with an accountant, examiner of accounts,
and five clerks. Then there is a superintending staff, consisting of a
superintendent, with an assistant, and three district superintendents.
Four small steamers, the property of the Board, deliver stores and oil,
and fill with gas the lighted beacons and buoys, as well as relieve
the keepers at some of the rock lighthouses. A number of boats also
attend certain island and remote stations. There are more than 200
lightkeepers attached to about 80 lights, most of these lights being
attended by two keepers, one acting as principal and the other as
assistant. At rock and fog signal stations, however, there are three
or four keepers, according to requirement; such lighthouses as the
Bell Rock, Skerryvore, and several others of that class having four.
At the Isle of May, which is an electric light station, there is an
engineer in charge, with six assistants. Besides these, there are also
a number of small beacon and subsidiary lights which do not require
the personal attendance of lightkeepers. In the early part of last
century lightkeepers were mostly chosen from the seafaring class, or
from men who resided in the district in which a lighthouse was placed,
and age was considered no detriment so long as they were able-bodied
and of good character. The Scottish Board never employed women as
lightkeepers, but not very long ago it was customary in certain
cases for lightkeepers’ wives to act in this capacity in Ireland. As
lighthouses increased in number, applications to fill the post of
lightkeepers also became more numerous, and now it is almost essential
that an applicant, in order to get his name placed on the expectant
list, should be either a mechanic or a seaman. Before receiving an
appointment he has also to undergo a period of probation at one or two
lighthouses, where he gets instruction in his duties. There is now so
much delicate and expensive machinery in lightrooms that those placed
in charge should not only have skill to keep it in good working order,
but be able to execute slight repairs should accidents occur. It is
also found that seamen are most suitable for rock or island stations,
where there is much boating or landing of stores and provisions, their
early training and familiarity with the sea giving expertness to
their movements and a confidence which few landsmen can ever acquire.
There is now an age limit for entrance to the service, consequently
all are young when first appointed, and before getting an appointment
require to pass an examination in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and
give evidence of general intelligence. They must also pass a medical
examination to prove that they are free from physical defects and have
a sound constitution, and freedom from colour blindness. At sixty years
of age they may retire, and at sixty-five they must do so, pensions
being awarded them according to their period of service. The day
duties are light, except during spells of fog, when at those stations
where there are fog signals, and the sirens require to be continually
sounded, close attention must be given to the engines and machinery
connected with them. The night duties are divided into watches similar
to those adopted on board ships. Lightkeepers are not allowed to
read, write, or work while on watch in the lightroom, as duty there
requires all the attention they can give to keep the lights burning
brightly, and at revolving lights to watch and wind up the machinery
periodically. Then during certain states of the atmosphere the glass of
the lantern requires cleaning, more especially when snow is falling on
it and obscuring the light. A graphic description of this operation at
the Bell Rock is given in the Notes.
The lives of all lightkeepers are insured, and much is done to make
their position and that of their families a comfortable one. They have
a liberal allowance of holidays; and, if sickness overtakes them or
any member of their families, medical attendance and medicines are
furnished by the Board practically free. Comfortable dwelling-houses,
with a certain amount of furniture, are supplied to all of them,
with uniform clothing, bedding, cooking utensils, coal, and oil for
lighting purposes. When men are doing duty on rock lighthouses, their
food and all their wants are, as a matter of course, supplied. At
stations remote from schools, a boarding allowance is given to enable
lightkeepers to get their children boarded and educated elsewhere. Nor
must I omit to mention that all are liberally supplied with illustrated
and other newspapers, monthly periodicals, and books of useful and
general literature. Lightkeepers and their families at most island
stations have also means afforded them for occasional attendance on
Divine ordinances. They have time to indulge in hobbies, such as
handicraft of various kinds, from the making and mending of shoes to
the construction of beautiful models of lighthouses and ships, or, like
that of the writer of the Notes, the studying of the natural history of
the objects around them. I knew one who, on the eve of his retirement,
built for himself a small boat of plate iron, in which he afterwards
used to go fishing.
The lights shown from lighthouses have all special characteristics--such
as fixed, flashing, or a variation in colour--to distinguish them
from each other, and to enable the mariner when he sights them to
know exactly off what part of the coast he is. Unfortunately, this
does not always prevent shipwrecks occurring; for, although he should
not do so, sometimes the mariner mistakes his light, and runs into
danger instead of out of it; or fog may render a light invisible;
or a storm may drive a vessel on a lee shore in spite of any light.
It might be said that wrecks should never occur from the first of
these causes, viz., a mariner mistaking his light; but sailors are
sometimes careless, like other people, and only learn their lesson
when too late. It is different, however, when a master or officer has
been storm tossed, probably for many days and nights, without seeing
the sun or stars to give him an idea of his whereabouts. Suddenly the
fog lifts a little and he sees a gleam of light which, in the anxious
state of his mind, he supposes to be one which he thinks he ought to
be approaching, and then taking, as he supposes, his correct course,
runs on the rocks. Such a case occurred about five years ago, when the
s.s. _Labrador_, bound from Halifax, Nova Scotia, to Liverpool, was
lost on the Skerryvore reef. The captain had not been able for many
days to take an observation owing to fog, and the tide had evidently
carried him further to the north than he reckoned on, when suddenly
the light of Skerryvore appeared, and mistaking it for a light on the
north coast of Ireland, he unfortunately altered his course, with the
result that the ship ran on a portion of the Skerryvore reef and became
a total wreck. Fortunately, all on board were saved. Two boat-loads
of crew and passengers were picked up by a steamer and landed on the
Island of Mull; while another boat, containing the remainder, eighteen
in all, reached the rock where the lighthouse stood, and, assisted by
the lightkeepers, landed and found shelter there, and had all their
wants attended to till the lighthouse steamer _Hesperus_ went to their
assistance and took them to Oban. Many acts of heroism since that
of Grace Darling have been performed by lightkeepers in saving life
from shipwreck, and have been suitably acknowledged by the Lifeboat
Institution or Humane Society. A short time ago, two daughters of the
principal lightkeeper at Kyleakin, observed a sailing boat struck by a
squall off the lighthouse, and its occupants (two men) thrown into the
water. The tide was running fast, and as there was no time to lose,
they rushed down to the shore, and, getting into a boat, rowed out
to where they saw one man struggling in the water, and, after taking
him on board, rowed after the upturned boat, which had the other man
clinging to it, and saved him also.
In closing my short Introduction I cannot do better than refer to
a visit paid to the Bell Rock Lighthouse by some fifty members of
the British Association in 1850, and give a few quotations from a
speech made by Dr Robinson, of Armagh, at a general meeting of that
Association held in Edinburgh shortly afterwards, when he moved a
vote of thanks to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses for their
courtesy in conveying the party and showing them over the Lighthouse.
He said he had been led to an object which, almost from the days of his
childhood, engrossed his attention, and which he had ever regarded as
one of the wonders of the world.
“When I visited that marvellous, beautiful structure, rising up in
its strength and loneliness out of the deep, I found that though the
sea was calm and the wind was still, yet there was quite enough of
danger in the enterprise of approaching it. Under these circumstances
it enabled the mind to call up for itself the terrors which must in
former years have beset those who were unhappily entangled in that
wilderness of rocks, which that noble structure now crowns as a
beacon.... It was impossible not to feel admiration for the beneficent
courage and the mechanical skill of the late distinguished engineer,
Robert Stevenson.... When I thought of the extraordinary resources,
both of wealth and talent, that must have been accumulated to overcome
such a tremendous difficulty, I naturally looked to the nature of
the power by which such marvels had been achieved, and I found not a
mere unenlightened body of what are called practical men, of persons
who followed the road of experience, going always into the same old
track, and incapable of availing themselves of the progress of the
age to perfect their feeble endeavours. I found I was among men who
were able to teach me in many important facts regarding which I had
in vain sought for information for years, and which I learned in
that excursion.... When I was led to ask the question, Who are the
controllers of this admirable system? I learned with surprise that
the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses are not a set of salaried
functionaries, whose professional habits might have led them to
interest themselves in these pursuits, but a body of lawyers and
municipal magistrates.”
Dr Robinson’s appreciation of the Commissioners in the important
services they render to the shipping interests is, I am sure, shared
and endorsed by all who know or have known the Commissioners of any
period.
J. M.
EDINBURGH, _August 1904_.
NOTES
ON
THE NATURAL HISTORY
OF
THE BELL ROCK.
_APRIL 1901._
I wonder how many people have had the pleasure of a trip to the Bell
Rock Lighthouse. I don’t mean the customary trip per summer steamer,
which keeps at a very respectable distance, and gives one but a faint
idea of what the building is really like; but those who have made a
landing on the Rock, and spent an hour or two in admiring the ingenuity
and skill displayed in the erection of this noble structure, which has
so bravely stood the test of almost a century’s storms. It is not my
intention to enter into a detailed description of the Lighthouse, but
merely to jot down in haphazard fashion any little items which may
serve to interest or amuse the general reader. The usual signs which
to the landsman’s eye chronicle the passing seasons are here unknown;
but to us, the fish, shell fish, marine plants, migratory birds, etc.,
constitute an endless calendar. Early this month the flocks of eider
and long-tailed ducks, which have been in close attendance since
September, have gone housekeeping, and one belated pair of eiders alone
remain, evidently as undecided as some of their human contemporaries
about taking the important step. The gulls, which have been levying
blackmail from the ducks all winter, have almost all disappeared,
and we miss their raucous voices at our door, contending for the
after-dinner scraps. One would scarcely credit the swallowing capacity
of these omnivorous birds. A piece of ham skin, nine inches long and
three inches broad, and about the consistency of sole leather, was
greedily bolted by a blackback without apparent effort. These birds,
though not classed as divers, I have frequently seen go completely
under water to recover a sinking tit-bit. I had an interesting view
from the balcony the other morning of a seal which was breakfasting off
a full-sized cod which he had just captured. Seizing the fish by the
shoulders in his teeth, and pushing it from him with his fore flippers
he tore off a great strip clear to the tail. Elevating his head in the
air, he gulped it over. Diving after the disappearing fish, he quickly
had it on the surface again, and the pushing and tearing repeated till
there was nothing left but the head and backbone. A couple of gulls
kept circling and screaming over him, picking up any strayed pieces
which came their way, but he took good care their share was small,
and kept a wary eye on their movements, evidently suspecting they had
designs on the fish itself. They, in turn, I noticed, always kept their
wings elevated when resting for a moment on the water awaiting his
reappearance with the fish, prepared to shoot into the air should he
attempt to rush at them.
The white whelk, whose numbers here are legion, are now making their
appearance from their winter quarters, where, in sheltered nooks and
crannies, they have successfully resisted the winter’s gales. Unlike
some of their species, which subsist solely on marine plants, they
are not vegetarians, but, spreading themselves over the Rock like a
devastating army, they devour all animal matter they come across.
Armed with a strong muscular proboscis, containing within itself
the necessary boring apparatus, and which consists of a cylindrical
implement, the extremity of which forms the mouth of the animal, and
is surrounded by two strong muscular lips, enclosing a tongue, armed
with spines, they are able, by the joint action of tongue and lips, to
perforate the hardest shells. Fixing itself on the defenceless mussel,
the boring operation is carried on through the furrow on the one side
of the rim of the whelk, and a neat cylindrical orifice, no bigger
than a pinhole, is eventually made in the mussel shell, through which
the tongue is thrust and the contents gradually extracted. Two years
ago the Rock was literally covered with patches of immature mussels,
but is now completely denuded by these rapacious hordes. Some seasons
the mussel spawn is pretty much in evidence here, but they never
come to maturity; the white whelk takes care of that; but apart from
that cause, it is doubtful if they could manage to subsist in such a
boisterous situation. The workmen, while employed here in the building
of the Lighthouse, in order to regale themselves with a fresh diet
occasionally, made the experiment of transplanting mussels from the
shore, but without success. The white whelk was evidently considered
the chief offender, as barrels of them were collected and destroyed
without any appreciable diminution of their numbers. The attempt was
ultimately abandoned in disgust.
“All is not gold that glitters,” neither does every whelk shell enclose
its legitimate owner. Pick up that one which moves with such unusual
speed through this shallow pool, and you will find a pair of lobster
like claws dangling from its mouth. Gently crack the shell--for you
will find it next to impossible to extract him alive otherwise--and
you will see, what one may be pardoned for supposing, a miniature
lobster, but which in reality belongs to another distinct species,
namely, the hermit crab. Whether he has obtained occupancy by force
of arms or merely through decease of the original tenant is a moot
point, but the first supposition is highly probable, as he is a most
belligerent little customer. An amusing sight may be witnessed by
placing several of them, deprived of the shells, in an ordinary soup
plate, with a little sea water and some empty shells--fewer shells than
crabs. The fighting and struggling to secure houses is ludicrous in the
extreme. One may be seen almost successful in mooring himself within
a shell--which, by the way, is effected by means of the shelly plates
at the extremity of his soft, twisted tail--when another seizes him by
the nape of the neck, as it were, and he is dragged reluctantly forth.
The evictor still holds him struggling at claw’s length, and not until
he himself is safely ensconced does he relinquish his grasp. Others,
again, may be seen prospecting the interior of a shell. Extended at
full length on the top of the shell, with their claws groping within,
one is forcibly reminded of a person “guddling” for trout. Should there
be any portion of the original whelk remaining in the shell, this,
after repeated tuggings, is cleared out. The tail is then inserted, and
the whole body withdrawn into the shell, providing it is large enough;
if not, he stands a bad chance of being evicted by the next pugnacious
house-hunter.
_MAY 1901._
Flowery May! Well, not exactly. To us here this month generally spells
fish, and is looked forward to as a pleasant change from the usual
regime. It may probably surprise many to learn that though planted
here, right in the centre of the fishing grounds, our table for the
greater part of the year is “fishless”; for, unlike Mahomet and the
mountain, the fish must come to us, even to our very door--for from
our doorway the most of our fish are caught, save an occasional one
taken with rod and line from the deep pools left on the Rock by the
receding tide. The catching of fish from one’s doorstep will be easily
understood when it is known that a stumble from our door at full
tide means a sheer fall of fifteen feet into two or three fathoms of
water. A stay fixed in the doorway, with its outer end attached to the
landing-slip fifty feet from the tower, carries a weighted pulley, to
which is attached the fishing line, while pending from the pulley is
the snid and hook. The pulley is carried to the extremity of the stay
by its own momentum, and is hauled back by means of the fishing line.
The most of our fly-fishing is carried on with this apparatus, our
largest catches being generally in the fall and consisting principally
of poddlies, with an occasional lithe or cod. Strangers often ask why
we do not keep a boat here; it might almost as reasonably be asked
why we don’t keep a cow. Simply because we have not the necessary
accommodation--that is, unless one could be devised with the properties
of a limpet, and be none the worse for several hours’ immersion every
tide. Besides, our Commissioners have decreed that it would not be
advisable, as the temptation to wander might end in our being cast
away, and the possible result of the Rock being left even for one
night without its customary warning light might be too horrible to
contemplate.
_Cyclopterus lumpus_ is again with us. This is not a new form of
the plague, but merely the technical term for the fish called the
lump-sucker, better known on the East Coast as the paidle-cock and
paidle-hen. Early this month they annually visit the Rock to deposit
their ova. This the hen does in some convenient angle of the Rock,
often so ill-judged as to expose the nest at low water. The ova is
cemented into a compact mass, and adheres to the Rock by means of a
gelatinous envelope surrounding each egg. This operation performed, the
hen evidently considers her share of the contract as finished, as she
immediately clears out to deep water, leaving the cock to mount guard
over the nest. This duty he faithfully performs, as he is always to be
seen with his nose close up to the ova, and never seems to leave it for
a moment. I have frequently taken them away from the nest and placed
them in a different part of the pool, but they invariably returned to
their post. A stick or other substance intruded in the vicinity of
the nursery is viciously snapped at. The ova seems to be considered a
desirable dainty by other fishes, as the stomachs of the cod caught by
us bear indisputable evidence of the cock’s inefficiency as guardian of
his embryonic progeny. The hen is about eighteen inches long, and of a
somewhat repulsive appearance. The cock is about half this size, and
more attractive, being brilliantly coloured, combining various shades
of blue, purple, and rich orange. A broad sucking disc between the
pectoral fins enables the fish to moor itself to the rock and maintain
an upright position. The dorsal ridge somewhat resembles a cock’s comb,
and is probably the origin of the name paidle-cock.
“Treasure-trove--Discovery of Specie on the Bell Rock.” There is a
heading for a sensational article, recalling visions of that fictitious
personage Ralph the Rover and his ill-gotten wealth. Well, many a yarn
is built on a less slender foundation. Here are the facts:--The specie
did not consist of Spanish dollars stacked in massive oaken coffers,
but of a similar metal enclosed in a far more ingenious receptacle,
simply a shilling in a live mussel. The shilling appeared as crisp as
if newly struck, and bore the date 1839. It had turned a dark brown
colour and had some filaments of the byssus or “beard” of the mussel
adhering to it. The mussel was one of a quantity taken from underneath
Granton Pier, and was being opened here for bait purposes when the
“discovery” was made.
On the evening of the 20th inst. we had a grand view of a flotilla of
torpedo destroyers steaming south. Although the sea was comparatively
calm, they appeared to be making heavy weather of it; they literally
“shovelled” the sea over themselves, and the steersmen, being placed
further forward than in ordinary vessels, were being continually
drenched. The terrific speed and the flames spurting from their short,
stumpy funnels suggested the idea of their being on an errand of life
and death rather than on a peaceful tour.
We have just completed a small aquarium, by means of which we hope to
become better acquainted with the more minute organisms with which
the Rock at this season of the year teems. Apart from the study
of man himself, what can be more interesting than to be an actual
eye-witness of the gradual evolution of the different forms in the
great life-scheme of the Creator, from the simple nucleated speck of
protoplasm (_amœba_), which multiplies by simple division, to the more
complex structure of the members of the vertebrate kingdom?
_JUNE 1901._
A heavy, pounding, nor’-east swell in the early part of this month has
almost denuded the higher portions of the Rock of the young vegetation,
the tangles being as cleanly cut as if by a reaper. The paidle-cocks’
nests also suffered, as not a vestige of them was left. Several cocks
have been seen wandering aimlessly about, their occupation evidently
gone.
On the afternoon of the 14th we had a heavy shower of hail, accompanied
with loud peals of thunder; but on the whole the month has been fairly
good. At high water on several days the Rock was literally black with
poddlies feeding on young sand eels, half-a-dozen terns and several
small gulls joining in the feast, while a number of gannets kept
wheeling and diving in the vicinity, evidently picking up a decent
living. The continual splashing of the fish in pursuit of their prey
could be distinctly heard by us through our open window while lying in
bed. Strange to say, our efforts to “take in” a few of them met with
but little success; probably the sufficiency of eels was the cause of
their ignoring our questionable lure. The few that we caught were choke
full of eels, several of which were disgorged in our doorway still
alive.
On the 4th of the month we had a visit from a carrier pigeon, which
had evidently strayed in the haze. It carried no message, but was
stamped on the wing, and had a numbered rubber ring on its leg. After
feeding, it was liberated next morning, with a message attached. We
occasionally have similar visitors. Last year one of them landed home
in Warwickshire--the owner thanking us and enclosing a consideration
for our kindness to the bird.
“There’s nothing new under the sun.” This much quoted aphorism was
forcibly suggested to our minds the other day while collecting
specimens for our aquarium. In the first instance, a spider-crab,
which, when stranded high and dry, appeared but an unsightly mass of
tangled seaweed, when placed in the aquarium assumed all the beauties
of a verdant grove. From every available point on the upper surface of
his mossy-covered shell beautiful variegated plants streamed and waved
their delicately-feathered fronds. Conspicuous amongst this luxurious
growth were specimens of the corallines or sea-firs, which a casual
observer might easily suppose to be miniature fir trees, but which in
reality are plants only in semblance. Each of these delicate looking
plants is actually an animal; in fact, a colony of animals. Closely
placed along each side of the stem and delicate branches of other
growths are slight projections or nodules, each containing a separate
animal, which it surprises one to learn is eventually destined to
become a jelly fish. The benefits of this partnership between crab and
coralline is probably mutual, but the advantage to the crab in being
thus arrayed is easily seen, as he can remain completely concealed from
his enemies, and be able to stalk his prey with greater certainty of
success. Shakespeare, in his tragedy of “Macbeth,” caused an attacking
force to advance under cover of a wood they had cut down for that
purpose, but here in Nature’s own arena similar tactics are being
pursued, and probably were ages before “Birnam Wood came to Dunsinane,”
or any of the _genus homo_ ever saw the light.
In the second instance, our attention was centred in a small jelly-fish
swimming about in a quiet pool, its translucent body being scarcely
distinguishable but for the beautiful flashes of iridescent light it
was continually giving off in the bright sunshine. This beautiful
object might, without exaggeration, be truly termed a living gem.
Transferring it to a glass of sea water for a closer inspection, our
curiosity was amply rewarded. In shape and size similar to a nutmeg,
its body was divided by eight equidistant bands running, as it were,
from its North to its South Pole. Two long filamentous tentacles
streamed from the lower portion of the animal, and were constantly
being shot forth and withdrawn into its body, probably concerned in
some way in the animal’s nutrition. Along one side of each tentacle
were ranged delicate filaments, scarcely perceptible to the naked
eye, and were probably of service in entangling the minute food forms
contained in the water. Each of the eight vertical bands was seen to be
furnished with minute plates overlapping each other like the plume of
a feather. These plates, being continually in motion, were the means
by which the animal was propelled through the water; by reversing the
action it moved backwards, and by moving those on one side only, a
rotary motion was obtained, the action of the plates producing the
most brilliant prismatic effects. Call these plates paddles, and their
different movements a-head, a-stern, port and starboard, and man’s
wonderful invention the paddle-wheel does not appear so very “new
under the sun.” The various motions man obtains by means of ponderous
machinery are here vested in this simple, almost structureless animal,
which has aptly been likened to a drop of animated sea water, and the
facility with which it rises to the surface or descends to any depth
might furnish hints towards the solution of the submarine vessel,
which is at present so engrossing the attention of naval authorities
the world over. Dwellers by the sea at this season of the year should
have little trouble in procuring specimens of this most beautiful and
interesting animal, which would certainly prove to them “a thing of
beauty and a joy for”--well, several days, if the water is renewed.
_JULY 1901._
Excessive heat, coupled with an unusual continuance of fog, have been
the principle features of this month. The continual booming of our
explosive fog-signal every five minutes, night and day, would be rather
apt to “get on” a stranger’s nerves were he compelled to sleep within
a few feet of it; as a rule, it does not disturb us in the least, but
with such protracted spells as we have had this month it does become a
trifle irksome. The first shot generally sends the beads of some of the
window cases rattling down the traps. This has a more disturbing effect
on us when asleep than the actual shot itself, of which we are just
dimly conscious.