Dolus and Bolus Heads reach far into the ocean. The Skelligs, "the most western of Christ's fortresses in the ancient world," raise their heads to the south, while northwards the Great Blasket, a mountainous island, and its eleven brothers, with Innisvic Killane, may be seen. On the 10th September, 1588, the Armada ship, Our Lady of the Rosary, of 1,000 tons, was wrecked in the Blasket Sound; among the many who perished was the Prince of Askule, natural son to King Philip of Spain. Around the coast line there have been many wrecks, and not a few are the pathetic stories still told of them on the island.
The last wreck of importance gave another opportunity for the intrepid islanders to show what stern stuff they were made of. Under the captaincy of Mr. Alexander O'Driscoll, the volunteers put off to the wreck, and despite of a sea running high, and the buffeting of a great storm, saved the lives of the crew, and rendered full salvage. While on the island, a visit should be paid to the Anglo-American Cable Company's Station, care being taken beforehand to go through the formality of applying to the Managing Director (26, Old Bond-street, London, E.C.) for an order. Every facility is extended by the courteous local officials.
THE SKELLIGS—ST. MICHAEL'S ROCK.
From Valencia, or from across the channel at Portmagee, where there is a thriving fish-curing industry, the Skelligs can be reached in favourable weather. Standing high above the green billows that encircle them with collars of white foam, they repay every trouble taken to inspect them. The Little Skellig, a fantastic rock, with a great arch like a flying buttress under which for centuries the seas have churned deep, is almost inaccessible. It is a great breeding ground for gannet, with which, during the breeding season, its sides are white as the waves below.
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
Skellig.
So unused are these magnificent birds to being disturbed by intruders that even when within oar's length of them, they remain passive and unscared. The Great Skellig swings high its cliffs seven hundred feet above the water. Clinging to the ridge of its impressive rocks "like swallows' nests" are the round roofs of the beehive cells which of old formed a citadel of Christianity. To Saint Michael the Archangel, guardian against all the powers of darkness, the isle is dedicated. Its history is of old date, for here Milesius buried the beloved son, Ir, that the thieving waters robbed of his soul. Here "the slanting, full-sailing ships" of Daire, on their way to the great battle of Ventry Harbour, paused in their march along the deep. Here, too, in recording times, was the great hero-king of the Norse, Olaf Iryggveson, baptized.