boarders, the eiders and long-tailed ducks. Taking wing on the
slightest provocation, they wheel aimlessly round the Rock, and instead
of their usual steady persistence in diving for a living, they seem
quite discontented with their lot, and plainly making up their minds
to desert us for the summer. Advances by the males are as yet met with
scornful rebuffs by their less showy plumaged partners, but soon a
mutual understanding will be arrived at, and before the month closes
they will have gone house-hunting, eiders possibly to the Isle of May,
while the long-tails, being migratory, seek their homes in the frozen
North. It seems a strange anomaly that the less robust looking longtail
should choose such rigorous latitudes for the rearing of its brood,
while the sturdy “dunter,” swathed in his arctic coat, should elect to
stay at home. On the other hand, we have been visited on hazy nights by
numbers of larks and thrushes returning to our shores, after wintering
in “Norroway ower the faem.” These members of the spring migratory
movement often come to grief on our lantern, and when one considers
the number of lighthouses round our coasts, it will be understood that
the death-roll from this cause alone must be extremely high. Designed
to save life, we unwittingly lure our feathered friends to their
destruction.
A couple of seals have been sporting round our door of late, and they
also exhibit signs of exuberance in keeping with the season. At high
water they come quite close to the tower, and their antics are seen
to advantage from our balcony. Rolling over each other, they make for
the bottom, gliding along the rocks like hounds hunting in couples;
then with a rush they are on the surface, floating bolt upright, with
their muzzles almost touching, staring with their large, expressive
eyes into each other’s face. An almost human touch was given to their
play by one taking the head of the other between his fore-flippers, as
if about to salute him, or more likely her, in the orthodox fashion.
One was seen the other morning in possession of a large fish, while
a number of gulls sat at a safe distance round him, waiting for the
fragments when the feast should begin. By the way he glared at them, he
was evidently annoyed at their presence. Sinking for a few seconds, he
appeared on the surface minus the fish. This was evidently intended as
a ruse, and meant to imply that he had lost it; but the gulls seemed to
know better, and kept their position. Diving, he made his appearance
some distance off, this time with the fish in his mouth, only to find
himself, to his annoyance, again the centre of wistful expectations.
Presuming these gulls to be up-to-date birds, their exulting cacklings
might be literally rendered--“You better begin, Mister Phoca; it’s no
use trying, you know; you can’t possibly dewett us!” At least, the seal
seemed to think so, for he there and then opened the banquet with a rip
of his teeth that distributed the offal amongst the hungry cordon.
The rocks become at this season of the year invested with a slippery
coating of algæ, which renders it extremely difficult to maintain one’s
footing, and also necessitates repeated applications of hot lime to our
gratings in order to render them passable. Myriads of minute whelks, no
larger than turnip seed, strew the rocks and crunch under foot as we
walk, while great patches of mussel spawn delight the heart of the more
venturesome of the white whelks--a prospecting party who will doubtless
communicate the promising state of the commissariat to their fellows
still in winter quarters.
Fishing in the Rock pools has been tried for the first time this
season, and resulted in the capture of a solitary “cobbler.” It may be
a month hence before we meet with any success.
This month has been extremely mild, though the hills behind Arbroath
are still seen to carry portions of their winter coat, while the
higher ranges inland are completely snow-capped. On a clear day our
view is limited by Tod Head, about twenty-five miles to the north,
and St Abb’s Head thirty miles south of us. The coast-line presents a
uniform flatness, which becomes monotonous in comparison with the more
picturesque raggedness of the West Coast. A most conspicuous feature
in the landscape in the vicinity of Arbroath is the clump of trees on
the summit of the Law Hill--a landmark well known to navigators, and
easily discernible, as it stands sharply defined against the sky-line.
Arbroath, when not enveloped in smoke, is clearly seen, and with the
aid of our telescope the after-church promenaders can be distinguished
on the Protection Wall, or wending their way towards the Victoria Park.
_APRIL 1902._
The extremely low tides prevalent at the opening of the month enabled
us to extend our hunting grounds somewhat further than usual, and also
to reach and demolish several “travellers” which the heavy seas had
hurled into the boat tracks, thus constituting a serious danger at
relief times. Quite a forest of luxuriant tangles now cover the lower
lying portion of the reef. Their dripping blades appear on the surface,
scintillating in the brilliant sunshine like so many diamonds, till
the receding tide permits the warm sun to rob them of their freshness,
their beauty vanishing in a perceptible vapour, leaving them flaccid
and inert till the returning tide restores their pristine beauty. The
badderlock or henware is here also in great profusion, and usually
selects a position the reverse of peaceful, being generally found
where the wash of the seas is most constant. Of rapid growth, they
attain a great length, some measuring fully sixteen feet; one we had
under observation was seen to increase a foot in length in six weeks
time. Owing to hazy weather we had a number of compulsory visitors to
dinner yesterday. Seated outside our kitchen window was a party of
fog-bound travellers, consisting of a pigeon, a starling, a wagtail,
a robin, and a couple of wheatears. The starling was sitting bunched
up by himself, preserving a stolid indifference at his enforced
detention, and appeared to treat the animated expansion and flirting
of the wheatears’ tails as undue levity, unbecoming their sorrowful
predicament. The beautiful black-throated wagtail is all alertness, and
the slightest movement on our part sends him circling round the Rock
till, unable to sight the land, he is fain to regain his resting place.
The pigeon has been here a week now, and evidently has no intention
of leaving. Should the window be left open he makes bold enough to
enter, although but the other day he gave us a somewhat dramatic
illustration of the proverbial hen on the hot “griddle” by rehearsing
a fandango on the top of our cooking range, a position from which he
had to be forcibly removed. To-day, the 21st, he has been joined by a
companion of his own species, a red-chequered homer; but instead of the
mutual demonstrations of pleasure one would expect to witness at their
meeting in such isolation, they remained quite indifferent to each
other’s presence, the newcomer possibly from motives of disdain, as he
appears to belong to the aristocracy, seeing he sports an aluminium
bracelet, on which are the letters “U.B.” and the year 1901, besides
a number composed of three figures, which, unfortunately, I took no
note of. A strong southerly breeze on the 22nd deprived us of their
company. Losing the shelter of the tower, they were unable to make
headway against the wind, and, fortunately for themselves, were driven
landwards.
On the 20th a small patch of paidle-fish spawn was seen cemented in
a sheltered nook of the rocks. This is unusually early for nesting
operations, as it is generally May before they are much in evidence
here. The extremely small quantity may denote a change of mind on the
part of the depositor; besides, the site is badly chosen, as the nest
is a couple of feet above low water, and consequently without the
cock’s guardianship for some time each tide. Possibly the heavy seas
prevalent during the past fortnight may have warned the builder of
being somewhat premature in her operations.
We had ocular demonstration the other day concerning a matter of which
doubts have been expressed, namely, the skinning of their prey by
seals. Not only do they skin their fish, but each shred of skin is
greedily swallowed as soon as stripped. The skinning entails a good
deal of trouble, as the fish is pushed away from the seal at every
mouthful, and consequently sinks, so that a dive is necessary each time
in order to resume operations. Why he should take all this trouble
is not apparent, but presumably he understands his own business
best. His operations at present are watched by us with longing eyes,
for though he appears to have all he wants we are as yet fishless.
However, the presence of the paidle spawn is a hopeful sign, and is
the first attraction for the wandering cod, by whom it is greedily
devoured, providing they can steal a march on the red-coated sentry--a
difficult matter, one would think, considering how assiduous he is in
the protection of his charge. The white whelks, presumably adopting
the promising report of the reconnoitring party sent out last month,
have turned out _en masse_, and are now waging a one-sided war of
extermination upon the defenceless mussels.
The times change and we change with them. Our present light is doomed,
and what the assaults of almost a century’s gales have failed to
accomplish will succumb to the demands of modern innovation. Doubtless,
the presiding genius of the reef will be congratulating himself, as he
bares his head each tide to witness the process of demolition, on the
return of the palmy days when as yet no meddling light interfered with
the working of his own sweet will in dealing death and destruction to
many a stout ship. Happily, this view is only apparent, for by early
autumn a much more powerful light will be installed, and a new lease of
life granted to the grand old building which has so effectively served
the maritime world since 1811. Probably but few on shore noticed the
first appearance of the temporary light on the evening of the 30th.
Of weaker power, but presenting similar characteristics as the future
light, namely, red and white flashes alternately, with an interval of
thirty seconds between each flash, it will remain in use till ousted by
its more powerful successor.
_MAY 1902._
December in May fitly describes the prevailing state of the weather
during this month. Chilling winds, accompanied by snow, hail, or sleet
showers, engender doubts as to the veracity of the calendar, but the
arrival of a number of terns on the 18th dispels all doubts upon the
matter. Sojourning in Africa since their departure in September, they
invariably make their appearance here in May. At present there are
about thirty of these energetic little birds busy diving among the
breakers, picking up small fry, among which is seen inch long sand
eels. A flock of kittiwake gulls also hunt alongside of them, while
several gannets are to be seen further off, plunging in pursuit of
larger game. Clustered in sheltering nooks of the rock are numerous
patches of ova, deposited by the white whelk. Closely resembling ears
of wheat in size and shape, each is attached to the rock by a short
footstalk, terminating in a flattened disc. On being pressed, a milky
fluid, somewhat granular, is exuded from the free end. The whelks
themselves are at present feasting on limpets, whose shells have been
fractured by the debris consequent on the alterations in progress,
though at other times they do not appear to attack the limpets, their
thick shells possibly making the game not worth the candle.
Despite the inclemency of the weather, the work in connection with
the alterations is being rapidly pushed forward. The removal of the
old lantern and parapet wall turned out a more laborious undertaking
than the erection of the new ones. Strength and stability were the
outstanding features of the old erection, and were carried to such
an extent as would probably be considered superfluous in these days.
The stone parapet wall would in itself be an eye-opener to our
modern jerrybuilders. Octagonal outside, circular within, the wall
was composed of five courses of Craigleith freestone, each course
feathered and grooved, while each stone dovetailed its entire depth
into its neighbour. At each point of the octagon holes were drilled
from top to bottom of the wall to receive the two inch iron bolts which
secured the heavy cast iron lantern to the parapet. It was necessary
to reduce the stones to fragments before hurling them into the sea,
in order to prevent them obstructing the boat tracks or damaging the
gratings. Between the outer and inner linings of the copper dome a
scrap of newspaper was found wrapped round what appeared to be a file
handle. The printed matter was quite legible, and bore reference to
an unfortunate episode, happily long since relegated to the realms
of oblivion, namely, the investigation into the conduct of the then
Princess of Wales in 1806. In one of the ventilators which pierced the
parapet wall on a level with the balcony, but long since disused, a
perfectly desiccated specimen of a wren was found. Attracted probably
by the light while on a migratory journey, it had evidently taken
shelter in the ventilating tube just prior to its being plugged up
with a wad of tow, a material which for many years has been superseded
throughout the service by cotton waste.
The ping-pong craze has come our length, and in imitation of other
manlier sports a trophy has been instituted for competition, the
said trophy to become the property of the holder after being won
thirteen consecutive times. The trophy takes the form of a handsome
cup of silver, or, to be more explicit, of a metal usually found in
conjunction with silver, and is quite Grecian in its simplicity of
design. It is considered to be of foreign origin, and bears evidence
of having at one time been profusely chased and engraved. A beautiful
pastoral scene is depicted on the one side, while, on the other, two
foreign words are barely decipherable, namely, “Lait Concentré.” The
trophy generally graces our tea table for some time prior to the
competition, and materially aids in stimulating the flagging energies
of the competitors.
_JUNE 1902._
Only towards the end of this month did we experience anything like
summer weather. Belieing the wintry weather we had been experiencing,
the fragrant odour of the hawthorn blossom borne on the off-shore wind
imparts a pleasurable sensation, recalling scenes of earlier days
when void of care we went “flourish” gathering, or later on disported
ourselves amongst the “hips and haws.” Here, no sylvan scenery greets
the tired eye nor gives respite to the senses from the everlasting
waste of waters, with its ever-changing moods, from placid glassy
calm to the wildest turbulence, when blustering Boreas drives his
team amain, and the white-maned coursers charge down upon us like an
avalanche. As the tide drops, and the long lush tangles trail their
tattered tops on the surface, a dank heavy odour is perceptible,
scarcely so pleasing to the senses as that of the “hawthorn bud that
opes in the month of May.” Equipped with a stout stick bearing an iron
hook, an hour’s crab-hunting among the rocks brings one into contact
with many forms of life otherwise unnoticed. Groping underneath a
projecting ledge, to ascertain if the inmate is at home, the eye is
arrested by minute nodules of scarlet jelly pendant from the roof, and
destined to become a close imitation of their terrestrial namesake the
anemone, or, in similar situations, patches of white whelk ova appear
like so many grains of wheat arranged as close as possible to each
other.
Recently a solitary instance was noticed of a whelk carrying the ova
attached to the exterior of its own shell. Many different species of
whelks are thus met with, some scarcely distinguishable by the naked
eye. The intrusion of the crab-stick soon betrays the presence of the
crab. Gripping the “cleek” in his claws, he prepares for resistance by
forcing his back against the roof of his domicile with all the power
his crooked legs are capable of. Should he feel himself being drawn he
immediately releases his grip, and, if possible, “seeks his benmost
bore.” Should the cleek find a favourable hold, such as under the
armpit, so to speak, he is soon dislodged, but if the hole be somewhat
crooked it is extremely difficult to move him, and even then he may
make his appearance in sections, as he parts company with the different
members of his body on the slightest provocation, a proceeding about
which he has but little compunction, as he knows well others will soon
sprout in their places, a convenience which Nature might with advantage
have extended to the _genus homo_. Poachers, it is stated, have made
use of these crustaceans while “ferretting” rabbits, by sending them
into the burrows with a stump of lighted candle stuck on their backs.
One can fancy the surprise with which “bunny” would stand aghast at
such a fearful apparition.
Scarcely a bird is to be seen in our vicinity at present, nesting
operations calling them elsewhere. A few foraging gannets are seen
daily passing and repassing, catering for their sitting mates on the
Bass Rock. The terns and gulls will probably have their wants supplied
from the shores in the neighbourhood of their nurseries. The nest of
the tern is of the simplest description--a slight depression on a
gravelly beach or grassy mound, or even the bare surface of a rock
is considered sufficient for their purpose, nest-building, in their
estimation, being evidently considered superfluous. It is surprising
that the eggs remain in some of the positions in which they are
deposited. I have frequently set them rolling along the rock surface
by the action of my breath. On their exit from the egg the young are
immediately led by the parents to a shingly beach, or other place of
concealment, where it is extremely difficult to detect them from their
surroundings. Here they are fed with sand-eels and other small fry till
such time as they are able to wing their way to the fishing grounds
themselves, though even then they are frequently the recipients of the
parents’ generosity, their hunting powers being as yet inadequate to
supply their needs.
The work in connection with the alterations here progresses rapidly,
and by the end of next month it is expected but little will be left
undone. To all external appearance the work is already finished, but
the building of the huge lens and revolving machinery, along with the
internal fittings, have yet to be completed.
_JULY 1902._
Myriads of medusae or jellyfishes are constantly streaming past our
door, apparently without any powers of volition of their own, but
helplessly at the mercy of the tides. Of various sizes, shapes, and
colours, they impart quite a gay appearance to the seascape, somewhat
resembling a grassy sward carpeted with beautiful flowers--huge
sunflowers predominating--the whole moving silently just beneath
the green, glassy surface. Great tremulous discs, twelve inches in
diameter, trail their streaming tentacles several feet behind them;
others, again, no larger than a pea possess the power of radiating,
from the ciliary bands with which they are furnished, all the colours
of the rainbow. Stranded high and dry, what a contrast to their former
glory, now an inert mass of slobbery mucilage. At one period of their
existence they appear quite plant-like in their habits. Attached to the
rocks, they closely resemble miniature fir trees, each plant ultimately
producing whole colonies of juvenile medusae. Fish have been fairly
plentiful this month, but owing to the work at present in progress we
have but little time to avail ourselves of the opportunity. On the 6th
a red chequered pigeon, stamped “J. B. Sollaway, Beeston,” on wing,
was released after a night’s detention. On Saturday the 12th, other
two pigeons were captured at 8.30 p.m. One a red chequered homer, with
aluminium ring on leg marked N.U. 01, H.A. 587, also rubber racing ring
on other leg, marked 132 outside and 263 Q inside; the other a blue
chequered homer, with leg ring marked N.U. 99, C. 8953, and racing ring
marked Q 513 inside and 174 outside; wing feathers stamped “Walter
H. Walker, Bank House, Horsforth, Leeds.” Both pigeons, after being
watered and fed, were released at 11 a.m. on 13th, each steering a
sou’-westerly course from the Rock.
On the evening of Sunday the 27th our new light was exhibited for the
first time, the coveted honour of “first light” falling in the ordinary
routine of duty to the writer. The new apparatus--a bewildering
arrangement of massive glass prisms--is in striking contrast with its
predecessor, the old reflector system of lighting, a system, by the
way, now almost obsolete. The following description of the new light is
copied from an engraved plate affixed to the new apparatus:--“Combined
hyper-radiant and 1st order apparatus, with equiangular dioptric
elements and catadioptric back prisms; power of red flash and white
flash equalised. White and red flashing light, showing white and
red flashes alternately every half minute, the period being one
minute. Designed by Messrs Stevenson, Civil Engineers, Edinburgh.
Contractors, Messrs Steven & Struthers, Glasgow, and Messrs Société Des
Etablissements Henry Lepaute, Paris. David A. Stevenson, Engineer to
the Board. Apparatus makes one revolution in one minute--1901.”
Occasionally during the progress of the alterations our population,
unlike that of Arbroath, increased to a somewhat alarming extent,
mounting at times to a grand total of seven all told. Considering that
the majority of the population were unaccustomed to life under such
“cribbed, cabined, and confined” conditions, it was surprising to
witness the cheerfulness and good humour with which they accepted their
sixteen weeks’ solitary confinement. At times the resources of our
commissariat were taxed to their utmost. Beef, which is stored in our
safe on the balcony, and retains its freshness for a fortnight in cold
weather, demands a liberal salting at present, otherwise it does become
a trifle “gamey,” but, on the whole, it is preferable to its relative
in tins--a relationship, by the way, extremely difficult to prove,
and hopelessly so should the label be missing. What though at times
a transverse section of our loaves disclosed a landscape in cerulean
tints undreamt of by the most vivid impressionist, the transference to
“hard tack” was accepted with better grace than when a similar move had
to be made from the salted meat to the “embalmed commodity.”
_AUGUST 1902._
The coating of acorn barnacles with which the higher surfaces of
the Rock and also the base of the tower are whitened in summer is
fast disappearing before the ravages of that ruthless destroyer the
white whelk. Seen from the balcony, this encrustation resembles
a lime-hauled wall, and presents a suitable background for the
observation of moving objects under water. These barnacles are
frequently mistaken by the casual observer for young limpets, whereas,
unlike the limpet, which moves freely from place to place in quest of
vegetable diet, the moment the young barnacle settles to erect his
limey habitation, he possesses a fixity of tenure which terminates
only with his existence. An outer wall, with razor edges, surrounds a
hollow cone, his private apartment, and probably guards his four-leaved
door from injury. This opening, through which all business with the
outer world is transacted, is scarcely discernible when above water;
but immediately the tide covers it, the hollow cone is seen to fall
apart in four vertical sections, a bunch of fingers is thrust forth
and rhythmic clutches made at invisible food. How little they resemble
their relatives who swing by their pendulous stalks from ships’ bottoms
or submerged wreckage, and see the world without any exertion of their
own. The ancients firmly believed that from these animals certain birds
were produced, probably from the resemblance of their shelly casement
to the beak of a bird, and the bird known as the barnacle-goose owes
his name to this belief. Even to-day there are persons who solemnly
declare that the Northern Diver is so evolved.