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
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.