weather and the absence of the tide to enjoy a spin along the gratings,
even though at night and in darkness. At first the darkness seems
to preclude all possibility of holding a straight course along the
narrow path, but as the eyes get accustomed to it the twenty steps
and a round turn can be accomplished with wonderful precision. Should
the round turn be omitted, however, you will probably be reminded of
it by coming a cropper on the Bell Rock, which, though historical,
is not at all sympathetic. A similar omission at the other end meets
with more sympathy, if such sentiment can be said to enter Neptune’s
embrace. The flash from the lantern overhead sheds no light below,
though some fugitive rays escaping between the flashes illuminate the
outlying perches or boat-guides. Any attention to these wandering
rays occasions a halting tendency in one’s steps and a disposition to
lurch laterally, demanding our undivided attention. The night is clear
and dark and the various lights along the coast, which on moonlight
nights are partially eclipsed, now show to the best advantage.
Fifteen miles to the sou’-west the powerful electric light of the
Isle of May flings its quadruple flash with startling brilliancy,
a faint bar of light travelling athwart the base of our tower with
each flash similar to what would be produced by a lighted carriage
passing at a few yards distance. This light is said to be of three
million candle-power and is of the arc type, using carbons one and
a-half inch in diameter. To a stranger entering the light-room while
the light is in action a somewhat disagreeable sound is heard. This
is occasioned by the tremendous current bridging the arc between the
carbons, and for all the world resembles the sound made by a circular
saw passing through exceedingly knotty timber. The Bass Rock emerges
from the right shoulder of the “May,” and prevents us seeing the light
lately erected on its south side. A little to the right of the “May,”
the eye encounters the fixed white light of the North Carr Lightship,
three miles off Fife Ness, and distant from us nine miles. This light
consists of six small argand lamps, set in silvered reflectors and
enclosed in a lantern encircling the mast half-way up. Colza oil was
the illuminant used until recently in the North Carr Lightship, as
it was formerly in all the Northern lighthouses, where it had ousted
the more expensive sperm, but which in turn has been superseded by
paraffin. The lamps are hung on gimbals to obviate as much as possible
the pitching and rolling of the vessel. With due allowance for the
exaggeration that a penny piece placed on the deck shows “heads” or
“tails” at the vessel’s own sweet will, one can understand that the
motion in bad weather must be considerable. Table guards, though
retaining the dishes on the table, do not in the slightest restrain
the liberty of their contents, which find lodgment as they list. On
such occasions the men resort to the expedient of squatting on the
deck of their quarters with their backs against the bulkhead and their
outstretched feet firmly opposed to those of their opposite neighbour,
and only thus, plate in hand, are they enabled to discuss their soup
with any degree of certainty.
Further to the right, in line with the town of Crail--landlocked from
us--a dull red glare in the sky marks the position of Edinburgh,
distant forty miles as the crow flies. Following the loom of the
Fife coast, the twinkling lights of St Andrews next meet the eye,
while further up the Firth the two fixed lights of Tayport greet
their doubles of Buddonness on the opposite side. Midway between the
lights of Tayport and Buddon a single flash every half minute marks
the position of the Abertay Lightship. Unlike the other lights here
mentioned, the three last named are under the control of the Dundee
Corporation. Journeying northwards till almost at right angles to our
starting point, the next visible are the lights of Arbroath, twelve
miles distant. Viewed through the telescope how dreary and desolate
they appear, without the usual accompanying signs of life, a feeble
cluster in the vicinity of the harbour dwindling away to the Victoria
Park in a solitary line. Further north the occulting light of Montrose
Ness catches the eye with its thirty seconds of light followed by
thirty seconds’ darkness. Northwards still, twenty-five miles from us,
the light of Tod Head, near Bervie, limits our view in that direction.
Only in exceptionally clear weather is it visible from here, and then
only from the elevation of our balcony. The characteristics of this
light are six white flashes in quick succession during fifteen seconds,
followed by fifteen seconds’ darkness. Returning to our starting point,
the Isle of May, and journeying till thirty miles due south from here,
our view is again limited by St Abb’s Head, showing a white flash every
ten seconds. About midway between the latter light and the “May” the
light of Barns Ness, near Dunbar, is, like St Abb’s and Tod Head, only
occasionally seen, its characteristic being a triple white flash every
thirty seconds. The presence of these lights makes our coasts as safely
navigable by night as by day, and the demand is still for more--a
fact which drew from a facetious old “salt” the remark that “sailors
nowadays want a hand-rail along the coast.”
_DECEMBER 1903._
A month of dull, dark, unsettled weather, with scarcely any sunshine to
speak of, and admitting of but little heliographic communication with
the “shore,” a condition of things, by the way, preventing the “shore
station” proclaiming to anxious eyes the interesting advent of another
addition to the census. Quite a depressing effect is experienced
at such prolonged absence of the land, and the reappearance of the
Grampians, though swathed in winter vestments, would be a welcome
sight. Our fish supply ceased early in the month, and its renewal need
not be expected before the month of May. Gulls are numerous at present,
and evidently on short rations considering their vigilant attention
to the kitchen slops. Our only feathered visitor for the month was a
belated bullfinch, who reached us only to die. The eiders and longtails
continue in evidence, and have now the company of four cormorants.
Star-fish are always plentiful here, though of course more numerous
in summer. All are of the five-rayed variety, including the “brittle”
star-fish, which, unlike its fellows, discards its rays on the
slightest irritation, and possesses a body no larger than a shirt
button, in ludicrous contrast with the squirming rays two inches in
length. In startling contrast with the latter was a specimen found in
a shallow pool early in the month, and which was quite new to us here.
Six inches in diameter, the stranger appeared all body, with very short
rays, of which there were twelve. Unlike the usual five-pointed star
shape, it might be better described as a deeply serrated disc, the
upper surface being richly coloured with concentric rings of crimson.
Another object of note at present is seen scattered about the rocks,
resembling small coils of ribbon, apparently the egg-cases of some
fish. These are white in colour, and somewhat resemble the outline of
the human ear. The enveloping membrane, of rubber-like consistency, is
quite transparent, and is seen to contain a frothy fluid. The inner
edge of each coil is furnished with an adhesive margin, by means of
which it is firmly fixed to the rock surface.
It is interesting to note the different modes adopted by fish to ensure
the propagation of their species. Some, apparently careless of results,
consign the spawn to the mercy of the waves, while others conceal
it from predatory neighbours in the soft, sandy bottom. The skate
family, adopting a different procedure with their egg cases--those
purse-like receptacles often seen cast up on our beaches--moor them
securely to the vegetation on the sea bottom by the long elastic
tendrils--prolongations of the four corners of the case. Parental
interest is, perhaps, better evinced in the case of the “paidle-fish”
standing guard over his nest with unwearied vigilance, exhibiting all
the care of a brooding hen for his future offspring. Again, in the
case of the dog-fish--the plague of fishermen--how different. Here the
young are brought forth, after the fashion of mammals, fully developed.
A common sight in fishing boats where these pests are brought on
board, is to see the finger-long juveniles swimming briskly about in
the bilge-water with the yolk-sac still attached. In some parts it is
customary to split and dry these fish for winter consumption, though
the flavour of roasted “dogs” would scarcely recommend itself to
anyone unaccustomed to its use, nor its relationship to fish even be
suspected. The liver at one time supplied the natives of the Hebrides
with lamp oil, and was also considered a panacea for all bovine
ailments, the method of administering the dose being to keep the head
of the cow elevated while the mouth was forced open, and the entire
liver, as removed from the fish, slipped gently down the throat; no
“sugar-coated pills” about that!
Spring tides occurring at the “full” and “change” of the moon, and our
gratings consequently being then uncovered for a much longer period
each tide, the “reliefs” are so arranged as to fall on or about these
dates. Consequently, during the winter months, when the reliefs are
made after dark, there is always the chance of every alternate relief
being favoured with full moonlight. On the night of the 18th our final
relief for the year was effected in comparatively quiet weather. At
relief times, providing the weather is quiet, the landing gratings
begin to uncover when the ebb has run four hours. Whenever a footing
is possible the keepers descend with the signal-lamps, and by their
colour--red, green, or white--indicate to the relieving steamer the
landing they consider it safest to attempt. Two boats are immediately
dispatched from the steamer in charge of the first and second officers,
and, guided by the steamer’s searchlight, cautiously approach the
landing signalled. Given quiet weather, the narrow passages leading to
the different landings are easily negotiated, though to a stranger,
even in quiet weather, the attempt would be extremely hazardous. Should
there be any surf on the Rock, the boats take up a position as near
the entrance as is prudent with safety, and there wait the opportunity
of a lull. This generally occurring at the termination of three bigger
waves than usual, the officer gives the word, and the first boat shoots
forward into the boiling track. Talk about “shooting the rapids,” why,
it isn’t a circumstance to it. Swinging through “Johnny Gray” track
on a dirty night in mid-winter is quite “rapid” enough to satisfy the
most morbid desire for excitement. At times disaster lies beneath the
very oars, but the necessary impetus has already been given to the
boat, and she clears it with a rush, to be met the next moment with a
drenching sea on the port bow, which threatens to slew her upon the
opposite ledge, despite the strenuous resistance of the starboard
oars, the tips of which grate on the shelving ledge as they urge her
through the narrow channel into safety, the entire effort affording a
splendid demonstration of the necessity for doing the right thing at
the right moment. The seamen understand exactly what is expected of
them, and respond with alacrity to the officers’ orders. Despite the
danger attending such work, that no serious accident has ever been
recorded reflects much credit on all concerned, from the captain, who,
as a boy, began his career on board the vessel which he now commands,
downwards. Particularly is the second officer--a veteran of forty
years’ experience in this work--to be congratulated on the possession
of a “clean sheet” after such protracted service in what is frequently
an extremely hazardous calling.
_JANUARY 1904._
The weather continues dull and dark, but comparatively quiet--a matter
of much importance to us at relief times. We have no aversion to a
rousing gale between reliefs; then one can afford to appreciate the
grandeur of the warring elements; but as the appointed time draws near,
and no sign of abatement is evident, all hands become a trifle uneasy,
especially the man whose turn it is for shore duty. It is rather
tantalising to see the relief steamer cruising doubtfully round the
Rock, then finally take her departure, unable to effect a landing, all
on account of “that nasty swell,” which possibly a week ago we were
eulogising as “sublime!” It is a matter of remark here how quickly the
boisterous nor’-east seas are subdued by the westerly wind. At times
the morning presents a scene anything but peaceful, the whole reef
enveloped by shouting, tumbling seas, which bang our domicile till the
crockery rattles, and blind by their spray our kitchen windows, seventy
feet from the Rock--yet, let the wind but freshen from the westward
and the conflict immediately becomes visible. The seas, now driving
in the teeth of the wind, have their curling crests whipped cleanly
off and carried leeward like clouds of steam. Perceptibly their force
diminishes as they “lift and ’scend” in the struggle for supremacy,
till by evening tide a comparatively easy relief may be effected. Home
news and the doings of the outer world are then at our disposal, as
well as a welcome consignment of fresh provisions. Considering his
almost seven weeks’ confinement on the Rock, the shore-going keeper may
be pardoned a feeling of relief and elation as he steps on board the
relieving steamer--a feeling, by the way, not at all to be confounded
with that of the return journey. As an instance how dissimilar
the same object may appear from different view-points, our lonely
habitation never seems to assume such a pleasing aspect as when seen
vanishing astern. Verily, it is we who appreciate the truth of the
Irishman’s illogical remark that “the best thing about going away from
home is getting back again.”
A round of the different fishing pools was made this month at low
water, resulting in the capture of a most unhealthy-looking specimen
of a poddley in the “Hospital” (Neill’s Pool). Long, lank, and lean,
a post-mortem revealed the liver attenuated to a mere thread. It is
most remarkable why these sickly fish should favour this pool alone.
About twenty feet in diameter and twelve feet deep, with the bottom
thickly strewn with rounded boulders, there is always a shallow wash
into it at the lowest state of the tide. Possibly its greater depth
offers a safer refuge for these convalescents than the other pools.
Whatever the reason, the fact remains that in this pool alone these
specimens are found; not only poddlies, but lythe and cod as well.
With the flying fish of the tropics we are more or less familiar, and
of tree-climbing fish and overland travellers we have the testimony
of travellers that such perverse specimens do exist. The _ceratodus_
of Queensland, for instance, which, with its peculiar respiratory
arrangement and ambulatory fins is enabled to transport itself over
swampy ground in migrating from pool to pool, a feat suggestive of
the Yankee’s shallow-draught steamer, to which an ordinary meadow was
easily navigable, providing there had been a heavy dewfall. The cause
of these reflections was the discovery of a small fish, some four
inches in length, on the cleaning path encircling our lantern, over
a hundred feet from its usual habitat. Of the “cobbler” variety, the
expanded pectoral fins might, with a little imagination, be imbued with
the powers of flight, but more than likely our visitor owed its exalted
position to some predatory gull, which, unable to bolt its victim or
escape from covetous neighbours, had dropped it where found.
A solitary lapwing was our only feathered visitor for the mouth.
Apropos of these days of “retaliation,” there is an old Scottish Act
of Parliament of the time of Edward the First relating to this bird,
in which all its eggs are ordered to be broken when found, “in order
that Peesweeps may not go south, and become a delicious repast to our
unnatural enemies the English!”
A quiet night on the 31st seemed to augur favourably for our relief,
which was due the following evening; by that time, however, the
prospect was completely changed by a strong sou’-east wind, and
consequently heavy sea, which rendered landing extremely doubtful. The
following morning the _Pharos_ made her appearance, and attempted a
landing at daybreak. The two boats despatched from the steamer for this
purpose, on approaching the Rock, found the passage unsafe to attempt,
and returned to the steamer. Weighing anchor, the _Pharos_ proceeded to
the relief of the North Carr Lightship, where, owing to the tempestuous
state of the weather, she broke the hawser by which she moors to the
lightship three times during the operation. Landing the relief men
from the lightship and Bass Rock--which had been relieved the previous
day--at North Berwick, and sheltering overnight at the Isle of May,
she returned to us on Wednesday morning and succeeded in effecting the
relief.
_FEBRUARY 1904._
Cormorants have been more in evidence here this month than usual. At
present a flock of thirteen is to be seen diving in the deep water
surrounding the reef. Scorning the crustaceans, molluscs, and other
ground game of the eiders and longtails, these birds subsist entirely
upon fish, in pursuit of which they are extremely dexterous. The long
sharp-pointed bill is excellently adapted for securing their prey,
the extremity of the upper mandible curving over the lower in a sharp
hook, the efficiency of which I once saw forcibly demonstrated. One of
these birds, while flying high overhead, was winged by a gunshot, and
on striking the ground disgorged a recently swallowed poddley, some
ten inches long. A boy of the party, having the temerity to thrust his
foot towards the bird, had the upper leather of his boot pierced and
the foot slightly wounded by the sharp hook-like process of the upper
mandible. During an exceedingly rigorous winter in Orkney--in ’94, if
I remember aright--hundreds of these birds perished from hunger. In
a roofless hut, a few yards from high-water mark, I counted fourteen
dying and dead. Rats were busy devouring the dead, while the living
stumbled weakly over the half-eaten bodies of their comrades. In
the most unlikely places they were to be met with, coming right up
to our doors as if begging for shelter. One of them surprised me by
waddling into the workshop, passing over my boots as if unconscious
of my presence, and settling underneath the bench to die. Any food we
could offer them was always rejected. One evening my attention was
drawn to our poultry, which, instead of being on their roost, stood
huddled about the entrance. Thinking the entrance had been accidentally
blocked from within, I entered by the doorway to investigate. Judge
my astonishment at finding “Mister _Phalacrocorax Carbo_”--such is
the cormorant’s scientific title--standing Horatius-like holding
the diminutive passage against all comers. Wisps of feathers, with
shreds of skin adhering to them, lay strewn in front of him, while his
effective “hook” gleamed gory from the carnage. Needless to state, his
ejectment was summarily effected. When in pursuit of prey their method
of diving is conspicuously different from other birds of the diving
fraternity, and they may be identified at a long distance by this
peculiarity alone. Bracing themselves together, they spring forward as
if surmounting some imaginary obstacle on the surface, the entire body
assuming the form of an arc, reminding one of a fractious pony in the
act of “bucking.” The ducks, on the other hand, with wings half open,
merely topple over and under, turning on their own axis, so to speak.
Having secured a fish, it is brought to the surface, where, after some
preliminary adjustments to facilitate transit, it disappears head
first, the long neck denoting its course by “swelling wisibly.” This
is the bird which the Chinese train to fish for them. A ring is placed
on the bird’s neck, which prevents it appropriating its earnings for
its own use. Whenever a swollen neck appears the owner is hauled on
board the “sampan,” and the “swelling” reduced by a rough and ready
form of massage. Occasionally the constricting ring is removed, and the
bird permitted to enjoy its catch as a stimulant to further exertions.
History records the use of this bird for similar purposes in our own
country in the olden times, a leather strap being used instead of the
ring. Last year, fishermen in the south of England petitioned for power
to destroy these birds at all seasons on the plea of the destruction
caused by them amongst fish in the estuaries. The cormorant measures
three feet in length, and belongs to the pelican family, of which we
have but two other British representatives--the shag, a smaller edition
of the cormorant by eight inches, and the gannet or solan goose.
On several occasions during the month a seal was observed sporting
amongst the breakers. The other evening he was seen within a few yards
of the tower, busy devouring a huge cod. Mastication was entirely
dispensed with; tilting his snout in the air, each ragged mouthful
disappeared at a single gulp. The fish was allowed to sink after every
mouthful; and two or three minutes would be spent under water before
bringing it to the surface for another attack. In a remarkably short
time the head and backbone alone were left.
Our feathered visitors for the month were represented by a couple of
skylarks, three song thrushes, a pair of carrion crows, and a solitary
starling. Eiders and longtails still continue in attendance, and
gannets are now plentiful. The latter arrived at their breeding haunt
on the Bass Rock from their southern sojourn on the 9th of last month.
The month has been wet, cold, and stormy, exceptionally heavy seas
prevailing in the earlier half. The closing day of the month was
beautifully clear and sunny, but cold and frosty, our heliograph
intimating on that date a similar state of weather on shore.
_MARCH 1904._
Of the mighty steeds of illustrious riders, from the Bucephalus of
Alexander down to the famous chargers of our present-day Generals, much
has been written and even sung. Favourites of fortune, their lives
were mostly cast in pleasant places; and after a brilliant career,
more or less useful, permitted to end their days in secluded luxury--a
privilege, by the way, not always extended to their riders. The subject
of these remarks is in no way connected with the glorious achievement
of arms, nor is it recorded that he ever scented the battle even from
afar; yet, though compelled to wear, so to speak, the hodden grey of
equine society, his claim to distinction may none the less be justified.
In July 1810, a somewhat queer procession might have been seen
wending its way through Edinburgh towards the Port of Leith. Upon a
cart, drawn by a powerful horse, decorated with bows and streamers
of various colours, and driven by James Craw, the famous Bell Rock
carter, similarly bedecked, lay the last principal stone of the Bell
Rock Lighthouse. From the centre of the stone rose a flagstaff,
carrying the national flag, while seamen and stonecutters--a strange
combination--gaily bedecked with variegated ribbons--the latter donning
brand new aprons for the occasion--marched in joyful procession. When
abreast of the Trinity House of Leith, they were joined by the Officer
of that Corporation, resplendent in full uniform, and bearing his staff
of office; and on arriving at the harbour, where the _Smeaton_--engaged
in transporting material to the Bell Rock--lay, the entire shipping
hoisted their colours in salute, thus indicating the amount of public
interest evinced in the progress of the Lighthouse.
An item of interest, at this time, was a visit by Mrs Dickson, a
daughter of Smeaton of Eddystone fame--whose principles were largely
taken advantage of in the construction of the Bell Rock Lighthouse--to
inspect the vessel, named in honour of her distinguished father. “In
stepping on board,” writes Mr Stevenson in his ‘Bell Rock Lighthouse,’
“Mrs Dickson seemed quite overcome by so many concurrent circumstances
tending in a peculiar manner to revive and enliven the memory of
her departed father; and, on leaving the vessel, she would not be
restrained from presenting the crew with a piece of money.”
Though the site of the workyard in connection with the building
was situated in Arbroath, from its contiguity to the Rock, it was
found necessary, owing to the liability of the stones procured from
Mylnefield Quarry, near Dundee, to injury from frost--from which cause
many valuable stones had already been lost--to procure stones for
the cornice of the building and parapet wall of the lightroom which
would admit of being wrought with safety during the winter months. The
desired qualities of durability and immunity from injury by frost were
ultimately found in the famous Liver-rock of the Craigleith Quarry. At
Greenside, Edinburgh, a vacant piece of ground was procured; and here
the cornice and parapet wall were hewn and built in position for the
fitting of the huge cast-iron lantern.