Chapter I: Part 1

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

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.

The few boats which have been prosecuting the lobster fishing here for the last three months have now abandoned it. Although fairly successful at the commencement, they were latterly reduced to a mere pittance. A return of four lobsters for the hauling of fifty “sunks” is but a precarious living. Anchored close to the Rock, in order to avoid being run down by prowling trawlers, they often passed the night, sleeping underneath their sails. Their cooking range, consisting of an old metal pail with holes punched through the sides, set on a stone slab, while an empty meat tin did duty as kettle, fish-pan, or tea-pot, as occasion required. It is only within this year or two that the Rock has again attracted the attention of the lobster fisher, after a lapse of many years. Prior to that time, we could always rely on an occasional lobster being found in the holes on the Rock at low water; while crabs, which could be had in abundance, are now extremely scarce, and the lobster, as far as we are concerned, might well be as extinct as the Dodo. We had rather a surprising catch in a lobster-creel one time here. On hauling our creel, instead of the expectant lobster a huge conger-eel was found in possession, his girth just barely admitting him through the “funnel.” A further surprise, however, awaited us; for, on being cut open, a full-grown lobster was found in his stomach. How the biter in this case escaped being bitten is a mystery, as one would naturally suppose the lobster, with his powerful claws, would be more than his match. This recalls an incident which happened the other day. A pretty little fish, of a kind we had not yet seen, was, after some manœuvring, placed in a bucket of water along with some other fish, sea weeds, and shells. On examining our catch a little later, our pretty stranger was nowhere visible; suspicion falling on an ugly-looking little “poach” complacently resting at the bottom of the bucket, Jeddart justice was summarily meted out to the suspected cannibal; a post-mortem conclusively established his guilt. That these fish are cannibals there is not the slightest doubt. I picked up one about a foot long on a beach in Orkney, which had partly succeeded in swallowing, tail first, a brother half his size, but had been choked in the attempt; the horns on either side of his victim’s head becoming embedded in his gullet, he could neither entertain nor reject him. Amongst the numerous _aliases_ by which the “Poach” is known are the following--Bullhead, Hardhead, Cobbler, Shoemaker, Gunflucker, Comper, and Johnny Mainland, the latter being his Orcadian name.

The terns have increased to over a hundred this month; from daylight to dark their creaking voices are dinning in our ears. Most active little birds, they are almost continually on the wing, wheeling and diving with wonderful celerity. Their prey being surface-swimmers--chiefly herring-fry at present--necessitate a dive of only a few inches. The young birds, of which there is a goodly sprinkling, though almost as big as the parents, have not yet acquired the forked tail nor the pronounced plumage of the older birds. Awanting also in dexterity, they are being frequently fed by their parents. It is amusing to witness the chagrin of a youngster when, as sometimes happens, an old one has mistaken it for its own offspring, and only discovers the error when about to drop the glistening prize into its gaping mouth. Woe to the gull who dares invade their sphere of operations when following a shoal of “fry”; he is soon put to rout at the point of the bayonet--for their bills are quite as sharp pointed. While stationed in Orkney I have, when in the vicinity of their nests, been “assaulted to the effusion of blood” as the police reports say, their bills easily penetrating my tweed cap. Horses and cattle are driven in mad flight before these bold little birds, they all the while pecking mercilessly till well clear of their nursery.

The pleasure steamers which formerly visited the Rock from Leith and Dundee have this summer scarcely made an appearance, possibly the attractions of the Glasgow Exhibition is the cause; as yet, only three visits have been made, and these from Dundee. An hour’s fishing is generally given the passengers by the Dundee steamer. The diversity of tackle with which some of these amateur fishermen are equipped is fearful, and clock-weights, half-bricks, and scrap-iron of every conceivable shape take the place of the ordinary sinker. Closely ranged along the vessel’s sides, one can imagine the result of lines so differently weighted, and should a fish be hooked confusion follows. If the sea happens to be a bit “choppy” many of them may be seen earnestly engaged in compulsorily contributing to the support of their erstwhile intended prey, each drawing his own line of demarcation down the vessel’s side, as if suspicious of his neighbour encroaching on his territory.

_AUGUST 1901._