West Doorway Kirkwall Cathedral
IX
OUR SHIP’S NAME-MOTHER
The whole party returned to the ‘Dunottar Castle’ about five o’clock, and soon afterwards the anchor was weighed and we started on our homeward voyage. The wind, which had been blowing fresh from the north-west all day, fell away toward sunset, and during the night—the only night spent in sailing—we had a wonderfully quiet passage.
About five o’clock in the morning, those who were fortunate enough to occupy berths on the port side of the ship saw a magnificent sunrise. The sky was clear overhead, but there was a dense bank of clouds on the eastern horizon. Presently, in the midst of the dark mass, a ruddy longitudinal streak appeared. Then the streak was doubled and multiplied. The upper air glowed with opalescent tints. The clouds melted away, and the ruddy orb of the sun appeared on the verge of the ocean. The sea around us, and for miles away, was calm as a mirror, and reflected the gradations of light and the fiery hues of the eastern sky. It was an enchanting scene, such as could be witnessed only once or twice in a lifetime.
We passed Aberdeen about six o’clock, but at too great a distance to obtain a definite view. About breakfast-time we were off Stonehaven, which threw back from its windows the rays of the morning sun. It was a glorious day. Not a cloud darkened the sky, not a ripple broke the surface of the sea except in the track of the ship. Presently we were abreast of the ruins of Dunottar Castle, perched on its rocky pedestal—the veritable name-mother of our ship. The breakfast-bell was ringing (a welcome sound in ordinary circumstances), but every one was loath to leave the deck. The order was therefore given to lie-to until that necessary rite had been performed. Then we returned to the deck with satisfied spirits, and gazed for half an hour or more on the beautiful scene. Artists, photographers, and scribes were soon busily at work, all eager to catch the fleeting beauty.
