consecration. That devotion shall find its true object: those dusky
brows shall be decked by the hand of Him who hath made us kings and
priests unto God. “They shall come from the east,” and sit down with
prophets and patriarchs in the kingdom of God.
‘“They shall come from the West.” The kingdom of God is no palace of
luxury, no paradise of passive repose, where kings sit in solemn state,
and mystics dream away their days in fruitless visions. It is the
commonwealth of those banded together to do the work of the Lord, and
there must be place in it for the practical vigour and the restless
energy of the Western mind. The subtle Greek, who sent the arrows of
his thought quivering into the heart of Europe: the practical Roman,
fulfilling his great part in the commission to replenish and subdue the
earth: the nations of modern Europe, with their culture, and power,
and ambitions: the great Republic of the West, where the banner of
religious freedom was unfurled, and great problems in politics and
religion are being worked out—not one of these can be spared from
the final association of men in the kingdom of God. Each has its
contribution to bring. We are debtors to the Greek and the barbarian,
to the wise and the unwise: and they in their turn are debtors to the
great world of which they form a part, and are to bring their glory and
honour, their worth and their wisdom, into the Community of the Saved.
‘“They shall come from the North.” They came from the north in mighty
hordes—those fierce barbarians who swept down upon the tottering
Roman Empire, and crushed out what remained to it of life. Province
after province was invaded by these terrible men, the fairest tracts
of Southern Europe were occupied by them, and are still held by their
descendants. They shall come again, Christ says, from the north: not
for destruction, but for help and blessing: not to ravage the provinces
of a decaying earthly empire, but to swell the population and to add
to the wealth of the city of God: from the far north, the land of the
midnight sun, and the noonday darkness, into the city of which the Lord
is the everlasting light, and whose sun shall no more go down for ever.
‘“They shall come from the South”: where palm-trees cast their grateful
shadows on the earth, and temples lift their stately heads to heaven.
We read and speak of the luxury and ease of the South, where life is
free from care, and its burdens rest very lightly on men whose hearts
are bright and gay. But there is a place even for something of this
kind in the final home. There must be rest and peace, as well as toil
and energy: enjoyment, as well as action. So the men of the South come
trooping in at the call of Christ, even as the Queen of the South once
came to hear the wisdom of Solomon. From the banks of the river of
Egypt, with its mighty pyramids and mystic learning: from the central
plains and southern shores of the dark continent of Africa, which shall
one day be light in the Lord: from the new world of the Southern Seas
with their multitude of islands, and from that greater Britain which is
throbbing with the vigorous life of what they love to call the Mother
Country—from each and all of these they shall come, a goodly host,
each under its own standard, but high over all the blood-red banner of
the Captain of our Salvation. They shall come, a great multitude which
no man can number, “from the east, and from the west, from the north,
and from the south”: and this is the processional hymn to the music of
which they march through the gates into the city—
“Unto Him that loved us, and washed
us from our sins in His own blood,
And hath made us kings and
priests unto God and His Father;
To Him be glory and dominion
for ever and ever. Amen.”’
[Illustration: _Entrance to Loch Torridon._]
XI
HOMEWARD BOUND
When we returned to the deck we found ourselves within sight of the
Bell Rock, off the Firth of Tay, and the old stories were retold of the
fate of Ralph the Rover, and of the trials and hair-breadth ’scapes
of Robert Stevenson and the heroes who helped him to build the famous
lighthouse, and to carry out in an enduring form the humane intentions
of
“The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock.”
[Illustration: _The Bell Rock Lighthouse._]
A heavy haze now began to gather on the shore. No trace of St.
Andrews could be seen. The East Neuk of Fife, with King’s Barns on
the one side and Crail on the other, was only dimly visible. Steaming
close to the Isle of May, we saw very plainly its lighthouses, its
store-houses, and its ruined chapel of St. Adrian. We were reminded,
in view of recent events, that this island is nearly of the same size
as Heligoland; and one wonders that it has not been turned to as good
account as the latter. Late in the evening we entered the Firth of
Forth by the passage between Tantallon Castle and the Bass Rock, in
order to obtain a view of these famous fortresses.
[Illustration: _May Island._]
[Illustration: _Tantallon Castle._]
Tantallon Castle, like Dunottar, stands on a detached rock, and is
accessible from the mainland only at one point. It is famous in the
history of Scottish wars, and especially in that of the house of
Douglas. Every one is familiar with Scott’s graphic description of it,
and of the parting scene of Marmion and Douglas at its gate:—
‘On the Earl’s cheek the flush of rage
O’ercame the ashen hue of age:
Fierce he broke forth,—“And darest thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?—
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!—
Up drawbridge, grooms!—what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall.”—
Lord Marmion turned—well was his need—
And dashed the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung;
The ponderous gate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.’
The buildings and the surrounding walls cover the entire surface of
the rock. Its strength in olden times was proverbial, and led to the
saying—
‘Ding doon Tantallon,
Mak’ a brig to the Bass,’
the one achievement being deemed about as easy as the other. The ruins
as seen from the sea do not present any picturesque features, but
they give the impression of a place of great size, and practically
impregnable.
The Bass Rock (313 feet high) is the counterpart in the Firth of Forth
of Ailsa Craig in the Firth of Clyde; and it is remarkable that these
two rocks are the only ones in Scotland that are frequented by the
gannet, or solan goose. The Bass presents a very bold outline, from
whatever point it may be seen. Its summit slopes from north to south,
and it is surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs, rising sheer out of
the sea. The only possible landing-place is on a shelf of rock on the
south side, above which are the ruins of a fortress, which stretched
across the island from east to west.
[Illustration: _The Bass Rock._]
This fortress, as has been mentioned, was used as a State prison in
the times of Charles II. and his brother James VII. Many Covenanters
were immured there, including stout old John Blackadder, who died on
the island after a long imprisonment. The Bass was the last stronghold
in Britain that held out for James VII., and after its surrender its
castle was demolished.
As we passed close to the rock the steam-whistle was sounded, and
at once great numbers of solan geese rushed forth like a living
whirlwind, darting and wheeling in the air, and filling it with
their hoarse cries. The noise had scarce died away when we passed
North Berwick—sentinelled by its Law, and guarded by its outposts,
Craigleith and Fidra. The haze grew denser and denser as we sailed up
the Firth of Forth, so much so that it was thought advisable to go at
half-speed. Inchkeith was not visible until we were within less than
a mile of it. One consequence of the changed atmospheric conditions
was that a projected visit to the Forth Bridge had to be postponed;
another was, that we failed to obtain the view of Edinburgh from the
sea, which is considered one of the finest.
Above Inchkeith, we were met by a tug from the shore, which brought out
some of the representatives of the Leith house (James Currie and Co.)
and other friends. The tug marshalled us the way to our anchorage; and
about six o’clock we dropped anchor in Leith Roads, not without regret
that the act signalised the practical termination of our delightful
cruise.
After dinner that evening, Sir Arthur Blackwood and Lord Provost Muir
expressed to Sir Donald Currie, in the name of the guests, their hearty
thanks for his splendid hospitality, and for the pleasure which the
trip had afforded them in many ways. Captain Webster, his officers and
men, were not forgotten in this thanksgiving service; and well they
deserved this recognition, for what was a pleasure-trip to the guests
involved no little hard work for them. Indeed the Captain declared that
his anxieties had turned his hair white, but he added that the many
kind things said of him had restored its natural colour—a kind of
capillary blush after the blanching of care.
[Illustration: _Inchkeith._]
XII
IN THE FIRTH OF FORTH
Next morning the mist had risen sufficiently to show dimly, but
yet with a certain poetic mystery, the beauties of the unrivalled
position of ‘the grey Metropolis of the North’ within her cincture
of hills—Salisbury Crags and Arthur’s Seat, Blackford Hill and the
Braids, Corstorphine Hill and the wooded heights of Dalmeny and
Hopetoun. In the midst, there was a dreamy indication of the city, with
its masses of buildings following the contours of the undulating site,
and relieved by outstanding spires, monuments, and tall chimneys—the
whole culminating in the Castle Rock, which stood out like an aerial
island from a sea of haze.
[Illustration: From Leith Roads]
In the forenoon, a delightful trip was made in the ‘Iolanthe’ up to
and under the Forth Bridge; and those who made it were rewarded with
a splendid view of that wonderful structure. As every one knows, the
view of the Bridge from the sea is the finest that can be obtained. You
see it as a whole. You take in at a glance all its details. You see
each of the cantilevers separately, as well as the connecting girders.
You see the width of the great spans and the height of the ‘fair-way’;
and you understand why such vast superstructures were necessary in
order to secure the stability of the intermediate railway line. All
this is missed by one who crosses the Bridge in a railway carriage,
unless, as occurred once in the experience of the writer, the western
sun casts a perfect shadow of the Bridge on the placid bosom of the
Firth below.
In the course of the day, several thousands of the inhabitants of
Edinburgh and Leith visited the ‘Dunottar Castle,’ on the general
invitation of the Castle Company, and in steamers provided for their
accommodation. The extent to which the privilege was taken advantage of
showed how highly it was appreciated.
In response to special invitations, the Corporations of Edinburgh and
Leith, the Merchant Company, the Chambers of Commerce, and other public
bodies, paid a visit to the ship about noon, and were entertained to
luncheon, to the number of 150, Sir Donald Currie presiding. The manner
in which the extempore function was carried through showed that the
resources of the ship, without extraneous aid, were quite equal to such
an emergency. It is needless to do more than refer to the eloquent
speeches in which the beauty of the ship and the enterprise of its
owners were acknowledged.
Then, at length, the harmonious party, which for ten days had been at
home in the great ship, was scattered promiscuously to the East and
the West, the North and the South, to resume old ties of love and
friendship, but not to forget the new ties that had been formed.
In the evening of the same day, the great ship left her moorings and
sailed for London, there to take her appointed place in the Cape and
Natal Mail Service; and no vessel ever entered on her career with more
cordial good wishes from troops of friends than
‘THE DUNOTTAR CASTLE.’
[Illustration: _The Tug in Leith Roads._]
_EPILOGUE_
_History, in these days, is made more rapidly than it is written.
Before these sheets have left the Press, there comes the news that ‘The
Dunottar Castle’ has ‘beaten the record’ on her first Cape voyage in
both directions._
_She made the outward passage in 16 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, and
completed the homeward run to Plymouth in 16 days, 6 hours, net
steaming time. The fastest passages previously recorded were made by
‘The Roslin Castle’: outward in 17 days, 10 hours, 15 minutes, and
homeward in 16 days, 16 hours, 35 minutes. ‘The Dunottar Castle’ has
thus shortened the passage between England and the Cape by nearly a
whole day._
W. S. D.
EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY PRESS
[Illustration]
T. AND A. CONSTABLE
_Printers to Her Majesty_
MDCCCXC