Part 9

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.

The horse in question had, with his driver, been employed in the workyard at Arbroath, and was computed to have drawn the materials of the lighthouse, extending to upwards of two thousand tons in its finished state, three or four times--in removing the blocks of stone from the ship to the workyard, again to the platform upon which each course was temporarily built, from the workyard to where they were shipped for the Rock, besides occasional movements to and from the hands of the stonecutters. Deciding that “Bassey” and his driver should have the honour of participating in the closing scene of the undertaking, they were accordingly transported by sea to Leith.

In the course of their passage in the Smeaton, the vessel narrowly escaped shipwreck. Under orders to call at the Rock for lumber, they had apparently lost their bearings through fog; for, suddenly startled by the sound of the smith’s hammer and anvil, they had just time to put the ship about and escape running full tilt on the north-west portion of the Rock, which, from this incident, still bears the name of “James Craw’s Horse.”

On the completion of operations at the Rock, the horse “Bassey,” failing somewhat from age, was pensioned off by the Commissioners, and allowed to roam at liberty on the island of Inchkeith till his death in 1813. “The fame of this animal’s labours,” writes Mr Stevenson, “together with his strength and excellent proportions as a draught-horse, having attracted the attention of Dr John Barclay, that eminent anatomist procured the bones and set them up in his museum. This valuable collection, it is understood, is to be bequeathed to the College of Surgeons of Edinburgh; so that the bones of the Bell Rock horse” (to use the doctor’s own language) “will be seen and admired as a useful skeleton and a source of instruction when those of his employers lie mingled with the dust.”

* * * * *

With the exception of a few days, the weather this month has been extremely favourable; indeed, for the greater part, summer-like--a pleasant change from what we have experienced of late. The peculiar white rubber-like folds of ribbon which have been adhering to the Rock surface for the past two months, and which we erroneously supposed to be the ova of some fish, turn out to be the spawn of the slugs I have already described, and with which the Rock has been freely invested of late--proof of which several have been seen in the act of extrusion. These shell-less molluscs have been much in evidence this season; and representatives of three distinct families are to be met with, namely, the Onchidoridæ, Tritoniidæ, and Eolididæ. Cannibals, they attack their own species without compunction, and devour each other’s spawn. Darwin computed that some “ribbons” contained as many as six hundred thousand eggs. The acorn barnacles which have escaped the voracity of the white whelks have in some places attained a height of two inches. On examination, each shelly casement is seen charged with spawn, which, later on, will be liberated as free swimmers, totally unlike the parent form, to enjoy a brief period of unrestricted freedom before settling down on the Rock surface, or, for that matter, any immersed object that comes handy, and ultimately assuming the adult form. The young swimmer, feeling itself gradually becoming invested with a shelly covering, casts about for a suitable site to pass the remainder of its existence. Selecting the Rock surface, it attaches itself by its head, the antennæ become cemented to the surface, the eyes remain in a rudimentary form, the shelly plates which latterly form the door of its domicile appear, a few more pairs of legs are developed, and by a series of frequent moultings (like other crustaceans) arrives at the perfect state. The bunches of “fingers” which we see this animal protrude and withdraw when under water are in reality its feet, of which there are twelve pairs, the rhythmic expansion and contraction of which induce a current in the water attracting to its mouth the minute objects upon which it feeds, thus giving rise to the saying that this animal stands on its head and literally kicks its food into its mouth. In all other crustacea the sexes are distinct, the barnacles alone having the peculiarity of being bi-sexual, or having both sexes united in the same individual. The general tendency throughout nature--the evolution from a lower to a higher order, from the simple to the complex--appears in the case of the barnacle to be reversed. Gifted in the initial stage of its existence with all the functions of a free-swimming animal, and possessing organs which ultimately become rudimentary, the final phase in which all power of volition is lost, certainly does not appear one of progression.

Hermit crabs are at present abundant, and also demonstrate their wonderful fecundity. Starfishes--principally the five-rayed variety--are now numerous, and garnish each shallow pool. Sea-urchins, though never plentiful here, are occasionally met with, some having been found recently no larger than a pea. On the 20th the advent of the paidle-fish was announced by a small patch of ova underneath a projecting ledge of rock, and, on the same date, by a reconnoitring “cock.” The young of last summer are met with adhering to stones in the shallow pools; and, contrary to our expectations, though only two inches long, were found to contain spawn. The spring migratory movement has sent but few birds our way this year. A few thrushes, blackbirds, larks, starlings, and a couple of pied wagtails composed our list. By the middle of the month, the longtailed ducks had gone north to nest, and but four pairs of eiders now remain.

APRIL 1904.

A perusal of Stevenson’s “Bell Rock Lighthouse” reveals many interesting episodes of that period in connection with the undertaking. The following facts are from this source, and may be of sufficient general interest to warrant repeating. The facts mentioned have reference to another providential escape from serious disaster recorded during the earlier stages of the operations. The workmen at this period had their quarters on board the lightship, anchored a mile from the Rock, as the beacon-house, on which they were latterly housed on the Rock, had not yet been erected. As was customary, whenever the tide admitted of a footing on the Rock, all hands were landed, and the boats retained in one of the creeks till the rising tide suspended operations. On this particular occasion, besides the usual two boats from the lightship, they were reinforced by an additional boat from the Smeaton, which had arrived from Arbroath with a fresh consignment of workmen. The wind freshening in the course of the work, the seamen of the Smeaton, fearing for their vessel’s moorings, left the Rock in their own boat with the intention of taking some extra precautions, and returning. Scarcely had they boarded her, however, when, to Mr Stevenson’s consternation, she was seen to break adrift and drive helplessly away before the wind. The danger of the situation at once flashed through his mind. Thirty-two men--three boat-loads--on a rock which would shortly be fathoms under water, with only two boats at their disposal! What was to be done? The workmen, engrossed in their labours, had failed to notice the departure of the boat, and were as yet ignorant of their dangerous position. The Smeaton, now far to leeward, was seen to have made sail, and making every effort to beat up to the Rock, but with the wind still freshening and the flood tide dead against her, it was utterly hopeless to expect any assistance in that direction. Save the deserted lightship no other sail was in sight. Taking the landing-master cautiously aside, to avoid alarming the men, he explained their dangerous situation. After consultation, it was decided that everything of weight should be abandoned, the men to strip their upper clothing, the two boats to be manned to their utmost capacity, and the remainder of the men to support themselves in the water by clinging to the gunwales. By this means they hoped to drift down on the Smeaton, a perilous journey under such circumstances, even in quiet weather, but in the now disturbed state of the sea, a forlorn hope. The workings being now awash with the flowing tide--the usual signal for ceasing work--the workmen were in the act of retiring to the boats to don their shoes and stockings when they noticed the absence of the boat, and realised their danger. On attempting to address them with his proposal, Mr Stevenson found his mouth so parched that he was totally unable to articulate a single word. Stooping to moisten his lips with sea water, he was suddenly startled by the gladsome shout of “A boat! A boat!” and looking around, there, sure enough, a large boat was seen through the haze making straight for the Rock. This opportune arrival proved to be James Spink, the Bell Rock pilot, employed in carrying letters between Arbroath and the Rock. For his services on this occasion it is gratifying to learn that in after years Spink was in receipt of a pension from the Board, and permitted to wear the uniform and badge of the Lighthouse Service.

Paidle-fish are now fairly numerous, their nests, with attendant cocks, being met with on every hand. While observing one of these nests the other day, at low water, I had an interesting experience of the necessity for the surveillance exercised by the cock. Stretched along the rock, my face close to the surface of the pool, I had an excellent view of the nest and its guardian, two feet below. Speculating as to the reason for so close attendance on the ova--his nose being thrust into an orifice in the mass, his mouth opening and shutting energetically, evidently forcing a stream of water through the opening--I carelessly dropped a few whelks on his back. This mild form of bombardment did not in the slightest disconcert him; for, though they struck and rolled off on either side, he appeared to take no notice of them. Suddenly, a white whelk (not one of those I had dropped) made its appearance on the outer margin of the ova, and settled down with the apparent intention of dining. This impertinence, however, was not to be tolerated; for, with a swirling rush that plainly betokened anger, the red-coated sentry seized the offender in his teeth--and here follows the surprising part of it. Instead of dropping the whelk to the bottom there and then, as I expected, he mounted rapidly through the intervening two feet of water, and when near the surface, to my astonishment, spat the whelk almost into my face! That his intention was retaliatory I do not presume to say, but the action certainly appeared an intelligent attempt to “return fire.” Since then, I have repeatedly seen them remove predatory starfishes and whelks in a somewhat similar manner.

The wheat-like ova of the white whelks is also largely in evidence this month, though somewhat later than last year. Exposed at every fall of the tide, it appears to require no attention, each capsule, pendant or upright, firmly adhering to the Rock surface by means of its flattened foot-stalk. The whelks themselves appear in every conceivable corner where food is to be found.

A shallow pit cut into the Rock, measuring two feet by one, and one foot deep--originally the socket of the central support of the beacon-house in which the workmen were lodged during the construction of the lighthouse--serves as a receptacle for anything of interest we may pick up during our rambles round the rocks. Fitted with a grated iron cover, it was at one time used for the purpose of soaking salt junk; but, as every marine organism appeared to consider this a special provision for their needs, it was ultimately abandoned. At present a repulsive-looking “poach” or “cobbler,” some ten inches long, shares this prison with a couple of large star-fishes, an unusually large hermit crab, and a derelict mass of “paidle” spawn. The spawn daily decreases in inverse ratio to the “poach’s” liveliness. Apart from this, however, the spawn shows signs of deterioration, a proof that the attention of the cock is necessary for its well-being.

On the 17th, the remaining four pairs of eiders took their departure, and only a few gulls now remain.

Owing to my transference to another station, it now becomes necessary for me to conclude these random jottings. To the patient reader who has cared to follow me through these notes I bid farewell. Written without any pretensions to literary skill or scientific accuracy, they have nevertheless, in my case, served to enliven many a weary hour in an isolated calling, and have--may I hope?--proved not altogether void of interest to the reader.

THE END.

Edinburgh: George Waterston & Sons, Printers.

Transcriber’s Note:

Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged. Obsolete and alternative spellings were left unchanged. Misspelled words were corrected.

Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, like this. Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the chapter. Final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were added.