As the tide covered the Rock he could be seen in the clear moonlight ploughing along the creamy surface, stretching his tether in every direction in futile efforts to escape. At daylight next morning he was found sheltering under a projecting ledge of rock. What a clean, well-groomed fellow he looked, with his sleek, glossy coat glistening in the sunshine, his squat, plump body adapting itself to the inequalities of the surface on which it rested. His coat, by the way, as much fur as that of a horse—grey above, mottled with dark spots, while the under surface is of a creamy yellow. His beautiful teeth gleaming white against the scarlet interior of his mouth, as he snapped fruitlessly on either side, suggested the maximum of robust animal health. As a memento of his visit the camera was brought on the scene, and another addition made to our list of illustrious visitors.
Liberating him proved to be more difficult than his capture, for when cut adrift he persisted in facing us instead of making for the water, towards which we endeavoured to drive him. After some manœuvring, however, he was driven to the edge of the gulley, but even with his body half submerged he maintained a defensive attitude, not seeming to realise that he was at liberty to depart. An incoming wave, however, moved him to a sense of his position, and with a defiant snort he slipped under water. Omitting, in his hurry, to take proper bearings, he took the wrong direction, and, finding himself in a cul-de-sac, made his appearance again on the surface, and with a hurried glance at his position again sank, this time making a bee-line for the outlet, being clearly seen, as he passed under water close to where we stood, and was last seen buffeting his way through the foaming breakers, evidently none the worse for his compulsory detention on the Rock.
December 1902
DECEMBER 1902.
The broken stones and other debris, consequent upon the late alterations here, which had collected in various holes in the Rock and maintained their position up till now, have nearly all been cleared out by the severe gales of this month, and a couple of heavy iron poles, erected lately to mark the boat tracks or entrances to the landings, and which were sunk two feet in the solid rock and heavily cemented, have been shaken loose in their sockets by the pounding seas which have been besieging us of late. The rocks appear bleak and bare, and utterly void of vegetation. The white whelks have collected their scattered forces, and gone into winter quarters. Secure in sheltering nooks, they lie huddled together in close packed squadrons. Numerous small white banded whelks adhere to the base of the tower with a tenacity that seems surprising considering the swirling seas they are subjected to. This species, however, never seem to dream of hibernating. The eiders and longtails, with an unswerving attention to business, pursue their calling amid the hurly-burly of broken, tumbling seas—evidently little concerned whether the weather be fair or foul—and in the glassy hollows alternating between the breakers they can be distinctly seen scurrying over the rock surface like so many fish. Gannets this month are conspicuous by their absence, and only a few parasitic gulls divide their attention between the kitchen refuse and the hard won earnings of the eiders.
On several occasions during the month our fog signal was brought into action through the occurrence of heavy snowfalls. A silent, feathery fall on shore no doubt has charms peculiarly its own, but at sea constitutes a very serious danger to the anxious mariner as he steams at reduced speed through the fleecy curtain, shrieking his every two minute warning, his vessel’s head scarcely visible from the bridge. In snowstorms such as we have had of late our lantern soon becomes plastered up with snow on the weather side, necessitating constant removal to prevent it from completely blinding our light in that direction. This is an operation often accomplished with difficulty, especially when carried out in the teeth of a gale—an experience somewhat akin to lying out on a yardarm under similar conditions, only one doesn’t have the lift and ’scend of the vessel to contend with; yet his grip must be equally as sure, or, as the old salts phrase it, “Every finger a fish-hook,” on such occasions. Mounting by an outside ladder to the grated gallery which encircles the base of the lantern, one is exposed to the full force of the blast, and a firm grip must be taken to avoid being blown away. Below, the seas in wild tumult break against the building with a deafening roar, sending a perceptible tremor through the entire structure with each impact. Only by energetically hauling on the hand-rail can the slightest progress be made in the desired direction, the wind’s eye being the objective point, where possibly on arrival one may find himself pinned flat to the lantern, like an entomological specimen, by the force of the wind. The snow removed, the return journey is effected by simply allowing oneself to be blown gradually back.
While relieving the Bass Rock on our way ashore last relief, a good opportunity was afforded of witnessing the mode of effecting a landing under adverse circumstances. On arrival there, it was considered dangerous to attempt a landing at either of the two landing places, owing to the heavy sea then running. The landings—a flight of concrete steps from the water edge to the rocks above—are situated on either side of a slight promontory immediately beneath the lighthouse; and as deep water obtains to the rock face, it will be obvious that similar conditions must frequently prevail at either landing. The boat being loaded with the necessary stores, and the relieving keeper on board, an approach was made to within suitable distance of the Rock. A kedge anchor was then thrown overboard, and the boat slacked down till within working distance. The keepers meanwhile had been busy erecting an iron pole or derrick on the rocks above the position now occupied by the boat, and which, being slightly inclined seawards, a tackle from its extremity was drawn by means of a guy-line to the boat, and the stores hoisted ashore by the keepers in charge of the tackle-fall above. Seated in a loop of the rope, the relieving keeper was then hoisted, and his shore-going neighbour similarly lowered. As an extra precaution, a second boat was sent from the ship to stand by the working boat in case of accident. Fortunately, however, their services were not required.
Our final relief here for the year was effected with some difficulty on the 29th. Owing to the doubtful aspect of the landing, only one boat was sent ashore instead of two as usual. The fortnightly supply of coal and water being omitted on this occasion does not, however, inconvenience us, as a three months’ reserve stock of necessaries is always maintained during the winter months.