November 1903NOVEMBER 1903.
NOVEMBER 1903.
Sunday, 1st.—A flat calm. A pleasant change, indeed, after our recent experience, and one which has fortunately continued for the greater part of the month. Fish, which had maintained a safe distance during the turmoil of last month, now ventured within catching distance, and several good takes were had. After the middle of the month heavy seas again drove them out of reach into deep water. Those that were caught were seen to be gorged with soil half an inch in length, resembling a piece of white thread with a black dot on either side at one end representing the eyes. Amongst the first that were taken the smalljellyfish—cydippepileus—seemed to have been their principal diet, but latterly the soil appeared to be preferred to the medusae. Outside the breakers they are still occasionally seen playing on the surface in the evenings. “Playing” is scarcely correct, as their play is, in reality, strict attention to business, and their appearance on the surface merely denotes their having overleaped themselves in pursuit of their legitimate prey. Our flock of eider ducks, much larger than it has been for several years back, now numbers 120. Amongst the smothering breakers they seem to be in their glory, and are busily engaged in clearing off the immature mussels that have escaped the voracity of the white whelks. On the 2nd, the first two longtails were seen, exactly a week earlier than last year, but their numbers are being but tardily reinforced, as they only totalled six at the end of the month. Though the main body of the solan geese or gannets left their breeding haunts on the Bass Rock on the 5th of the month for the fishinggrounds—in the Mediterranean it issaid—occasional stragglers are still seen in our vicinity.
On the night of the 8th we had a few migrants on the lantern, tenblackbirds—three only of which weremales—and three fieldfares. Several of them appeared much fatigued, and after a few preliminary hops round the lantern, settled down on the lee side to have a nap. A fresh breeze blowing at the time, those still on the move were frequently hustled by the wind against the sleepers, who, thus rudely awakened, vigorously resented what they no doubt considered a deliberate attempt to assault, with the result that all hands were at times engaged in a battle royal; the hen “blackies” only engaging with those of their own sex, while the cocks and fieldfares tackled all comers indiscriminately. It was rather amusing to witness the finish between a pair thus engaged. Edging round the narrow pathway in their struggle, they gradually came under the influence of the wind sweeping round the lantern, when suddenly one of them would be wheeled off its feet away into the darkness, its opponent peering after it in evident astonishment, and probably congratulating itself on its prowess. The haze, responsible for their appearance here, clearing after midnight, before 3 a.m. they had all resumed their journey shoreward. On the 20th, a pair of grey crows passed, going east, and on the 22nd a heron was seen travelling in the same direction. Again, on the night of the 27th, three hen blackbirds and a starling had the lantern all to themselves.
The white whelks have now gone into winter quarters, and only a few are to be seen lingering among patches of immature mussels. The black edible whelk, or periwinkle, whose vegetarian habits demand a more inshore life, is here conspicuous by its absence. Occasionally, during the summer months, a very close search reveals a few solitary specimens. Two different varieties of slugs have been much in evidence among the rocks here of late. One of them (Doris coccinea), resembling in shape and colour a section of an orange, I have already described; the other somewhat resembles the common snail. Furnished with anterior horns and fleshy spines, ranged along the back, it curls itself up when out of water like a hedgehog. Earlier in the season they were mostly of a beautiful bluish colour, now they appear quite red. Without any visible means of defence, one can fancy these shell-less molluscs furnishing a delectable tit-bit for a hungry cod.
Turning over some loose stones in the shallow pools numbers of young paidle-fish are seen adhering to the under sides by means of their breast suckers, and when taken in the hand readily adhere to the fingers. I lately saw an illustration in which the paidle “hen” was depicted as leading a brood of about two dozen juveniles after the manner of the domestic fowl. This is stretching the simile with a vengeance, and not in accordance with facts. The “hen,” on depositing the ova, takes no further interest in it, and the “cock” alone guards the nest till the young are hatched out, when he also disappears, neither of them being seen till the following season. Considering that each nest probably contains millions of embryos, one can imagine the maternal anxiety in “airing” such a brood.
Cooped indoors so long, one is glad to take advantage of the quiet weather and the absence of the tide to enjoy a spin along the gratings, even though at night and in darkness. At first the darkness seems to preclude all possibility of holding a straight course along the narrow path, but as the eyes get accustomed to it the twenty steps and a round turn can be accomplished with wonderful precision. Should the round turn be omitted, however, you will probably be reminded of it by coming a cropper on the Bell Rock, which, though historical, is not at all sympathetic. A similar omission at the other end meets with more sympathy, if such sentiment can be said to enter Neptune’s embrace. The flash from the lantern overhead sheds no light below, though some fugitive rays escaping between the flashes illuminate the outlying perches or boat-guides. Any attention to these wandering rays occasions a halting tendency in one’s steps and a disposition to lurch laterally, demanding our undivided attention. The night is clear and dark and the various lights along the coast, which on moonlight nights are partially eclipsed, now show to the best advantage. Fifteen miles to the sou’-west the powerful electric light of the Isle of May flings its quadruple flash with startling brilliancy, a faint bar of light travelling athwart the base of our tower with each flash similar to what would be produced by a lighted carriage passing at a few yards distance. This light is said to be of three million candle-power and is of the arc type, using carbons one and a-half inch in diameter. To a stranger entering the light-room while the light is in action a somewhat disagreeable sound is heard. This is occasioned by the tremendous current bridging the arc between the carbons, and for all the world resembles the sound made by a circular saw passing through exceedingly knotty timber. The Bass Rock emerges from the right shoulder of the “May,” and prevents us seeing the light lately erected on its south side. A little to the right of the “May,” the eye encounters the fixed white light of the North Carr Lightship, three miles off Fife Ness, and distant from us nine miles. This light consists of six small argand lamps, set in silvered reflectors and enclosed in a lantern encircling the mast half-way up. Colza oil was the illuminant used until recently in the North Carr Lightship, as it was formerly in all the Northern lighthouses, where it had ousted the more expensive sperm, but which in turn has been superseded by paraffin. The lamps are hung on gimbals to obviate as much as possible the pitching and rolling of the vessel. With due allowance for the exaggeration that a penny piece placed on the deck shows “heads” or “tails” at the vessel’s own sweet will, one can understand that the motion in bad weather must be considerable. Table guards, though retaining the dishes on the table, do not in the slightest restrain the liberty of their contents, which find lodgment as they list. On such occasions the men resort to the expedient of squatting on the deck of their quarters with their backs against the bulkhead and their outstretched feet firmly opposed to those of their opposite neighbour, and only thus, plate in hand, are they enabled to discuss their soup with any degree of certainty.
Further to the right, in line with the town ofCrail—landlocked fromus—a dull red glare in the sky marks the position of Edinburgh, distant forty miles as the crow flies. Following the loom of the Fife coast, the twinkling lights of St Andrews next meet the eye, while further up the Firth the two fixed lights of Tayport greet their doubles of Buddonness on the opposite side. Midway between the lights of Tayport and Buddon a single flash every half minute marks the position of the Abertay Lightship. Unlike the other lights here mentioned, the three last named are under the control of the Dundee Corporation. Journeying northwards till almost at right angles to our starting point, the next visible are the lights of Arbroath, twelve miles distant. Viewed through the telescope how dreary and desolate they appear, without the usual accompanying signs of life, a feeble cluster in the vicinity of the harbour dwindling away to the Victoria Park in a solitary line. Further north the occulting light of Montrose Ness catches the eye with its thirty seconds of light followed by thirty seconds’ darkness. Northwards still, twenty-five miles from us, the light of Tod Head, near Bervie, limits our view in that direction. Only in exceptionally clear weather is it visible from here, and then only from the elevation of our balcony. The characteristics of this light are six white flashes in quick succession during fifteen seconds, followed by fifteen seconds’ darkness. Returning to our starting point, the Isle of May, and journeying till thirty miles due south from here, our view is again limited by St Abb’s Head, showing a white flash every ten seconds. About midway between the latter light and the “May” the light of Barns Ness, near Dunbar, is, like St Abb’s and Tod Head, only occasionally seen, its characteristic being a triple white flash every thirty seconds. The presence of these lights makes our coasts as safely navigable by night as by day, and the demand is still formore—a fact which drew from a facetious old “salt” the remark that “sailors nowadays want a hand-rail along the coast.”