February 1st. Footsteps overhead and the singing of shanties on deck awoke me at daybreak, but I was intensely ill, so stayed in bed all day. My room was illuminated by a small light set in the deck overhead and by a partially submerged port, so it was not cheerful. Above my head there was a book shelf. I tried to read, but could not feel interested as it was so very depressing to look forward to months and months of this sort of thing. Matters grew worse as the day went on, the climax being reached when rounding Duncansby Head; but respite came about midnight, when we crept into Long Hope and let go our anchor.
February 2nd. Shouting and crying awoke me in the morning, and opening the door of my cabin, I saw the Captain teaching two boys that the sea was a bad place to run away to. They had been under an upturned boat and the seas coming on board had almost drowned them out. Each boy promised that he would never do it again. They were given two tins of mutton and a small sack of ship's bread, and put on shore.
Long Hope is a well sheltered harbor, between the islands of Hoy and South Walls. There was a pronounced smell of turf smoke about the place and the land was half covered with snow.
Two other whalers were at anchor near by, the Narwhal and Polynia. They had left Dundee ten days before us and bad been weather bound here for that length of time.
I brought my gun up as there were some Richardson's skuas flying about, but I did not get a shot at one. The mate, however, shot a herring gull with it and this was the first splash of the ocean of blood shed by us during the voyage.
Breakfast was a cheerful meal and the horrors of the North Sea were soon forgotten.
At noon, the tide being favorable and the wind having gone down greatly, we all three steamed out into the Pentland Firth. The Polynia was the first to move; I heard her anchor chain clanking on board to a well-sung shanty. We started next, and as there were some good voices forward we tried to outdo the others. The Narwhal followed, never to return, as she was lost during the summer.
Turning Brims Ness sharp, we kept on the Orcadian side of the firth; and after passing Turn Ness, we laid our course for Cape Wrath. Across the water we could barely make out Thurso. The land lies rather low about the mouth of the Thurso river; but on the Hoy side the scenery was fine and we soon sighted the Old Man of Hoy. During my trip to Orkney and Shetland a few years before, I had spent several days on this island, so was interested in seeing it now from the sea on this dismal February afternoon. Its sombre cliffs are always grand, but the present atmospheric condition made the scene impressive.