Transcriber’s Notes

 Hyphenation has been standardised.

 In the Illustration list the page number 32 was missing and
   has been included.

 On Page v, the word Cathedra has been changed to Cathedral (drawings
   of the Cathedral and the Earl’s Palace at Kirkwall).




_With Sir Donald Currie’s Compliments._




    THE CRUISE OF

    THE ROYAL MAIL STEAMER

    Dunottar Castle

    ROUND SCOTLAND ON HER TRIAL TRIP

    [Illustration: _Dunottar Castle_]


    EDINBURGH
    Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE
    Printers to Her Majesty

    1890


CRUISE OF THE ‘DUNOTTAR CASTLE’


FOREWORD


The first suggestion of this Record of a very charming trip came from
SIR DONALD CURRIE, the genial and courteous Host of our palatial ‘House
Boat.’ Others pressed the task upon me; but no great pressure was
required for so congenial a work. Indeed, I need hardly say that the
preparation of the story of our Cruise has given me infinite pleasure.

My efforts have been ably seconded by the artistic skill of my
fellow-guests, Dr. LENNOX BROWNE of London, and Miss CECILIA G.
BLACKWOOD, whose facile pencils have contributed to the work many
clever and beautiful illustrations. I am indebted to Mr. T. MACLAREN
for the architectural drawings of the Cathedral and the Earl’s Palace
at Kirkwall; while a few of the pictures are taken from photographs
by Miss MUNN, another of our gifted passengers. The whole have
been reproduced with great skill by the various engravers, with the
assistance, and under the supervision, of Mr. JOHN GULICH, who has also
contributed a few original drawings.

It is perhaps fitting that I should offer an apology to the good folks
on board the ‘Dunottar Castle,’ who may not have been prepared for this
realisation of the words of the poet:—

  ‘A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes,
  And, faith, he’ll prent it.’

  W. SCOTT DALGLEISH.

 EDINBURGH, _October 1890_.

[Illustration]




CONTENTS


                                                      PAGE

    I.    CONCERNING THE GOOD SHIP,                    17

    II.   IN THE FIRTH OF CLYDE,                       24

    III.  AMONG THE SOUTHERN HEBRIDES,                 30

    IV.   IN THE SOUND OF MULL,                        35

    V.    ROUND ABOUT SKYE,                            46

    VI.   WILD LOCH ALSH AND DARK LOCH DUICH,          52

    VII.  ROUND CAPE WRATH,                            63

    VIII. A RAID ON ORKNEY,                            70

    IX.   OUR SHIP’S NAME-MOTHER,                      76

    X.    A DAY OF REST,                               83

    XI.   HOMEWARD BOUND,                              87

    XII.  IN THE FIRTH OF FORTH,                       92

    EPILOGUE,                                          95




ILLUSTRATIONS


                                      ARTIST         ENGRAVER

 R.M.S. ‘Dunottar Castle’                                  _Frontispiece_.

 Dunottar Castle from the
  Shore                            _John Blair_   _C. Hentschel_ _Vignette
                                                                  Title_.

                                                                     PAGE

 The Music Saloon                 _John Gulich_      _John Swain_     18

 A Corner of the Ladies’
  Boudoir                             _do._            _do._          19

 The Smoking-room                     _do._            _do._          20

 The Main-Deck                _M. Munn_ (_Photo._)     _do._          21

 The Ship on the Stocks at
  Fairfield                     _Lennox Browne_        _do._          23

 Arran—from the Firth of Clyde       _do._           _Hare and Co._   27

 Lamlash Bay and Holy Isle           _do._           _John Swain_     28

 Scarba and the Isles
  —from Mull                         _do._             _do._          31

 Loch Buy Head—from Carsaig          _do._             _do._          31

 Outside of Kerrera—Ben
  Cruachan in the distance    _Cecelia G. Blackwood_ _Hare and Co._   32

 Dunolly Castle, Oban           _Lennox Browne_     _John Swain_      33

 The ‘Iolanthe’ off Oban
  —Rainy Weather                    _do._              _do._          33

 Oban and the Bay               (_From Photograph_)    _do._          34

 Oban Pier                      _Lennox Browne_        _do._          34

 The Mull Hills—from Kerrera   _C. G. Blackwood_ _Hare and Co._       35

 Lismore Lighthouse             _Lennox Browne_   _John Swain_        36

 Castle Duart, Mull                 _do._         _Hare and Co._      37

 Calve Island, Tobermory            _do._         _John Swain_        38

 Ardnamurchan Point                 _do._         _Hare and Co._      39

 Loch Sunart                        _do._              _do._          40

 The Narrows—Loch Sunart      _Lennox Browne_    _John Swain_         40

 Mist Rainbow on Ardnamurchan
  —off Tobermory Lighthouse         _do._        _Hare and Co._       41

 Glengorm, Mull                     _do._              _do._          41

 The Trishnish Islands              _do._         _John Swain_        42

 Distant View of Staffa             _do._              _do._          43

 The Pilot and a Tobermory          _do._              _do._          44
   Lassie

 Ardtornish Castle                  _do._              _do._          45

 The ‘Iolanthe’ off Eigg
  and Rum                           _do._              _do._          46

 Loch Scavaig                       _do._              _do._          47

 Mountains in Mist—Skye             _do._              _do._          49

 Detached Rocks—Coast of
  Skye                              _do._              _do._          50

 Near Strome Ferry           _C. G. Blackwood_    _Hare and Co._      51

 Outside of Portree Bay
  —Sunrise                   _Lennox Browne_     _John Swain_         52

 Scalpa Island, Skye                _do._              _do._          53

 Whale blowing—off Skye      _M. Munn (Photo.)_        _do._          53

 Loch Carron—from Strome
    Ferry                    _Lennox Browne_          _do._           54

 Head of Loch Carron—from
    Strome Ferry                   _do._              _do._           54

 Misty Morning—Loch Carron  _C. G. Blackwood_    _Hare and Co._       55

 The Coolins—the ‘Dunottar
    Castle’                  _Lennox Browne_     _John Swain_         55

 Kyle Akin                         _do._          _Hare and Co._      56

 Castle Maoil—near Kyle
   Akin                            _do._          _John Swain_        57

 In Loch Alsh—Skye in the
  Distance                    _C. G. Blackwood_        _do._          57

 Eilean Donan Castle,
  Loch Duich                  _Lennox Browne_          _do._          58

 Entrance to Loch Duich            _do._               _do._          58

 Head of Loch Duich                _do._          _Hare and Co._      59

 The Coolins—from
  Loch Alsh                        _do._               _do._          60

 Sammy and the Piper               _do._          _John Swain_        61

 Head of Loch Kishorn         _C. G. Blackwood_   _Hare and Co._      62

 Rona Island—Lewis and
  Harris in the distance      _Lennox Browne_    _John Swain_         63

 Summer Sheen—in Skye
  Waters                     _M. Munn_ (_Photo._)      _do._          64

 The Coolins—Blaven
  —Marsco                     _Lennox Browne_    _Hare and Co._       65

 Cape Wrath                       _do._           _John Swain_        66

 Thurso—from the Bay             _do._           _Hare and Co._       67

 The Old Man of Hoy               _do._           _John Swain_        68

 Copinsay Island, Orkney          _do._           _Hare and Co._      70

 Kirkwall—from the Bay           _do._           _John Swain_         71

 The Earl’s Palace, Kirkwall   _T. Maclaren_           _do._          72

 Gable of the Earl’s Palace,
  Kirkwall                        _do._                _do._          73

 West Door, Kirkwall Cathedral    _do._                _do._          75

 Dunottar Castle—from a
  Port-hole                    _Lennox Browne_         _do._          77

 Dunottar Castle in the
  Olden Time                  (_From an old Print_)   . . .           79

 Montrose—from the Sea        _Lennox Browne_      _John Swain_       82

 Entrance to Loch Torridon     _C. G. Blackwood_    _Hare and Co._    86

 The Bell Rock Lighthouse      _Lennox Browne_      _John Swain_      87

 May Island                       _do._                _do._          88

 Tantallon Castle                 _do._                _do._          88

 The Bass Rock                    _do._                _do._          90

 Inchkeith                        _do._                _do._          91

 Edinburgh—from Leith
  Roads                           _do._            _Hare and Co._     92

 The Tug in Leith Roads           _do._            _John Swain_       94


[Illustration: FROM LEITH ROADS]

[Illustration: _Dunottar Castle from the Shore_]




THE LOG


1890.

 _August 30. Saturday._—Sailed from Greenock, down the Firth of Clyde,
 and round Arran. Anchored in Lamlash Bay.

 _31. Sunday._—Sailed round Mull of Cantire, and through the Sound of
 Islay. Met the ‘Iolanthe.’ Anchored off north point of Kerrera.

_Sept. 1. Monday._—Lay at anchor all day. Visited Oban.

 _2. Tuesday._—Sailed up Sound of Mull. Visited Ardnamurchan, Loch
 Sunart, and Trishnish Islands in ‘Iolanthe.’ Anchored at Tobermory.

 _3. Wednesday._—Sailed between Eigg and Rum to Loch Scavaig. Visited
 Loch Coruisk. Sailed round Skye. Anchored off Portree.

 _4. Thursday._—Visited Strome Ferry, Loch Alsh, and Loch Duich in
 ‘Iolanthe.’ Anchored in Loch Kishorn.

 _5. Friday._—Sailed up west coast, round Cape Wrath, and along north
 coast. Anchored in Scrabster Roads, Thurso.

 _6. Saturday._—Sailed through Pentland Firth, to Kirkwall in the
 Orkneys. Anchored in Kirkwall Bay. Visited Kirkwall Cathedral,
 the Maeshowe, and the Stones of Brogar and Stenness. Started at 6
 P.M. and sailed southward.

 _7. Sunday._—Sailed past Aberdeen, Stonehaven, Dunottar Castle,
 Montrose, the Bass Rock, etc. Anchored at Leith.

 _8. Monday._—Visited the Forth Bridge in the ‘Iolanthe.’ Ship visited
 by Corporations of Edinburgh and Leith, and by the public. Guests
 debarked. Ship sailed for London in the evening.


[Illustration]




CRUISE OF THE ‘DUNOTTAR CASTLE’




I

CONCERNING THE GOOD SHIP


The ‘Dunottar Castle’ is the twenty-first ship built for the ‘Castle’
Company, and is the largest, and in all respects the most perfect, of
all the vessels engaged in the South African Royal Mail Service. This
fine vessel was built by the Fairfield Shipbuilding and Engineering
Company of Govan, Glasgow, under the direction of Mr. Saxon White, the
Manager of that Company, and the supervision of Mr. John List and Mr.
George Scott of the ‘Castle’ Line. The fact that the ship was ordered
from the Fairfield Company without competing contracts being invited
from other firms, is a proof of the confidence which Sir Donald Currie
had in the builders.

This is especially noteworthy when the dimensions and the capacity of
the ship are remembered. She exceeds the largest of her sister ships,
the ‘Roslin Castle’ by 1000 tons, the gross tonnage of the ‘Dunottar
Castle’ being nearly 5500 tons, and her net tonnage 3069. Her length
is 435 feet; the extreme breadth is 50 feet; and she is 36 feet deep.
The hull is constructed entirely of steel, with a continuous double
cellular bottom, and with eight vertical bulk-heads, which extend to
the upper deck, and divide the ship into nine water-tight compartments.
The engines are of the triple-expansion type, the cylinders being
respectively 38 inches, 61½ inches, and 100 inches in diameter, with
a stroke of 5 feet 6 inches. Between 6000 and 7000 horse-power can be
developed. Steam is supplied at a pressure of 160 lbs. to the square
inch, by four large steam boilers and a supplementary boiler, each with
six corrugated furnaces.

[Illustration: THE MUSIC SALOON]

The steamer has accommodation for 360 passengers—170 first class, 100
second class, and 100 third class; but the last class is capable of
being increased by 150 at least. The crew consists of 150 officers
and men, commanded by Captain Webster, the senior Captain of the
‘Castle’ Company. Each of the dining saloons accommodates at one time
the whole complement of passengers assigned to it,—a point of no
small importance, as the trouble and worry of double meals are thereby
avoided. The ship is admirably equipped in every particular, and the
furnishings are of the most elegant character. The first-class dining
saloon is a very handsome apartment, with panelled walls and dado, and
is furnished throughout with refined taste. Abaft of this saloon, there
is a supplementary saloon for children and nurses. Forming a spacious
gallery above the dining saloon is the music-room, which is beautifully
decorated in white and gold, and exquisitely furnished in old-gold
upholstery. Adjoining this, and separated from it by a handsome
screen of bevelled glass, is the ladies’ boudoir, which is also most
luxuriously furnished.

[Illustration:

  A CORNER OF
  THE LADIES’
  BOUDOIR]

A notable feature of this part of the ship is the spacious double
staircase, leading from the saloon to the main and upper decks. Like
the saloon itself, it is handsomely decorated with solid panels,
and every detail is conceived and executed in good taste. Abaft the
main deck state-rooms, there is a handsome and very comfortable
smoking-room, with bar attached, which is much superior to the
ordinary smoking-rooms of ocean-going steamers, in respect both of
size and of furnishings. Behind the staircase on the upper deck is the
reading-room, which contains writing-tables, book-shelves, and lounges.

[Illustration:

  THE
  SMOKING
  ROOM]

This may be the proper place to mention that the ship’s library, of
nearly five hundred volumes, is exceedingly attractive and well
selected. It contains many standard works in history, travels, and
fiction, including some of the most recent publications. It also
contains valuable books of reference, in the shape of atlases and
gazetteers, and a representative selection of music, including
Scottish, English, and Irish songs and glees. The man or the woman
would be very difficult to please who could not find within the ship
itself, with its pianos, organ, and library, ample resources for
spending pleasantly and profitably three or four weeks at sea.

The promenade deck is exceptionally spacious, and affords ample
room for those recreations with which time is wont to be beguiled
in tropical seas. The first-class state-rooms are fitted up in a
very handsome, luxurious style, with iron spring-beds, sofas, and
lavatories, all constructed on the most approved principles.

[Illustration: _The Main-Deck._]

The intermediate sleeping-berths differ but little, in point of comfort
and convenience, from those assigned to first-class passengers; and
the dining-saloon, which has its own piano and organ, is infinitely
superior to what we were accustomed to in old-fashioned steamers. The
third-class accommodation is altogether superior to that provided in
the general run of ocean-going steamers.

The sanitary arrangements include some special features, one of which
is an improved system of ventilation with compressed air. Marble
baths, and all the most approved lavatory appliances, are provided in
sumptuous fashion. A novel luxury in the ‘Castle’ liners is a barber’s
shop, with a rotatory hair-brushing machine worked by an electric
motor. Indeed, scarcely anything is lacking which could be desired by
the most fastidious traveller on shore.

One of the greatest charms of the ship is the electric lighting, which
is carried out on a perfect scale. Nothing has done so much as the
introduction of the electric light to make ocean-travelling comfortable
and safe. It is bright and cleanly, and it is always available. It
is an immense advantage to be able to turn on a bright light in your
state-room at any moment. The evening hours in the saloon, instead of
being dreary, are looked forward to with pleasure, and are thoroughly
enjoyed. In point of fact, the saloon is quite as brilliant at night as
during the day.

The decks also are brightly lighted up at night with electric cluster
lights, as well as with single lamps, so that dancing and other
recreations can be carried on with the greatest comfort. The ship’s
band of ten or twelve instruments is also an excellent institution,
which does much to relieve the tedium of the voyage.

The rapidity with which the ‘Dunottar Castle’ was got into working
order speaks well for the resources and the organising power of the
Clyde shipbuilders. When the ship was launched at Govan, on May 22d,
she was a mere hulk—a huge steel case intersected with a few floors
and partitions. When the trial trip took place on August 28th, exactly
fourteen weeks later, she was completely finished, furnished, and
manned, and was ready in every particular to undertake a long voyage.
Those who saw her at the Tail of the Bank, off Greenock, at the latter
date, had some difficulty in believing that she was the same vessel.
Everything was in its place, down to the minutest curtain-ring and the
smallest carpet-tack; and every man was at his post, from the Captain
to the cabin-boy.

The behaviour of the ship on the trial trip was admirable, and left
nothing to be desired. The day was splendid, and everything went
well. The ship attained a speed of 17½ knots on the measured mile,
off Skelmorlie, and both builders and owners were satisfied with the
results, as they had good reason to be.

[Illustration: _The Ship on the Stocks—May 22, 1890._]




II

IN THE FIRTH OF CLYDE


The trial cruise will not soon be forgotten by those who were
privileged to take part in it. The trip was worthy of the great ship,
and worthy of the famous ‘Castle’ Line. The strangers and foreigners,
the Englishmen and the colonists, who were of the party, had an
opportunity of seeing all that is grandest in Scottish coast-scenery,
such as is enjoyed by few natives; and every Scotsman on board must
have felt proud of his country.

The course taken was the converse of that of Agricola, when his galleys
sailed round Scotland, and proved for the first time that Britain was
an island. While the Romans sailed, or rather rowed in open galleys,
from the Firth of Forth to the Firth of Clyde, the ‘Dunottar Castle’
pleasure-party steamed from the Clyde to the Forth in a veritable
floating palace, replete with the comforts of advanced civilisation,
and embodying the most recent developments of science in the
applications of steam and of electricity. The contrast is almost too
great to be appreciated even by the most imaginative modern mind. It is
difficult to realise what the feelings of James Watt, or of Henry Bell,
would be were they permitted to see to what perfection the results of
their inventive genius have been brought by their successors.

Perhaps few of those who entered on the expedition realised the useful
purposes which it served. They thought only of the pleasant holiday
provided for them; but in truth it answered a more practical and more
important end. It was, in fact, a preliminary trial, in which the crew
and all the officers, including the stewards, were put through their
facings, and in which the commissariat and other resources of the
management were subjected to a pretty severe test. The whole routine of
the daily life was precisely similar to that which will prevail in the
regular voyages of the ship from London to the Cape, and it is but just
to say that the results were entirely satisfactory.

The ‘Dunottar Castle’ presented a splendid appearance as she rode at
anchor at the Tail of the Bank, off Greenock, on Saturday, August 30th,
awaiting the arrival of the invited guests of Sir Donald Currie. Being
light of draught, she lay high in the water, and made everything else
in the neighbourhood, even an American liner, look small in comparison,
while her beautiful lines were seen to the greatest advantage. On
board, everything was ship-shape and in good order; and when Sir Donald
Currie, on his arrival from Garth, was received on the main deck about
noon, by Captain Webster and his officers, it might have been supposed
that the steamer had been in commission for years, and was undergoing
an inspection on her return from one of her ocean voyages.

The view from the upper deck was magnificent. Few scenes in the British
Isles can compare in beauty and variety with the estuary of the Clyde
opposite Greenock. We stood in the centre of a wide cyclorama, nearly
every point in which glowed in brilliant sunshine. Greenock alone was
dark and murky, as is its wont. Even Gourock gleamed in colour, as it
caught the sun’s rays emerging from the mists. Dumbarton Castle loomed
large in the warm haze to the eastward. Helensburgh basked peacefully
on its wooded slopes. Kilcreggan and Cove smiled in their leafy bowers,
while beyond them Ben Lomond raised on high its massive head. Westward,
the rugged ridge of the Arrochar Hills and Argyll’s Bowling Green
filled up the distance. Then the line of view descended again at Strone
Point, and the placid Holy Loch, and the bright villas of Hunter’s
Quay, and so the circuit was complete.

When the last tug-load of passengers and luggage had been received on
board, the anchor was weighed, and the majestic ship steamed down the
Firth past the Cloch lighthouse, past Castle Wemyss, and Wemyss Bay,
and Skelmorlie, on the one side, and past Dunoon and Inellan on the
other. Off the Greater Cumbrae we lay-to, in order to receive on board
Lord Provost Muir of Glasgow, who, with his brother Commissioners of
the Clyde Trust, had been engaged in an inspection of the lighthouses
on these coasts. Their little steamer drew up alongside, and the
Commissioners were courteously received on board and were shown over
the ship. The Commissioners, _minus_ the Lord Provost, were dismissed
with a cheer, and we proceeded on our way.

Passing Rothesay Bay and Mount Stuart House, one of the Marquis of
Bute’s residences, we enter a wider sea, and get a fine view of
Goatfell and the rugged peaks of Arran which surround Glen Sannox.
Opposite that weird glen, of evil omen, we turn northward, and steam
past the Fallen Rocks, and round the north point of Arran into
Kilbrannan Sound, our purpose being to sail round Arran and to anchor
for the night in Lamlash Bay. We have a pleasant glimpse, in passing,
of Loch Ranza and its rugged keep, and of the valleys and ‘cols’ that
lead over to Glen Sannox and Glen Rosa. The west coast of Arran,
however, is distinctly tame, and gives few tokens of cultivation and
industry, until we approach the south end of the island. There are,
indeed, more signs of an active population on the peninsula of Cantire,
on our right. Arran, however, can boast of historical, or at least of
traditional, interest, for the King’s Cave, near Blackwaterfoot, is
said to have been the first resting-place of Robert the Bruce on his
landing from Rathlin Island.

[Illustration: _Arran—from the Firth of Clyde._]

As we steam southward, that island and the Irish coast are clearly
visible beyond the Mull of Cantire. Looking back from this point, the
picturesque outline of the mountains in the north of Arran stands out
boldly against the northern sky, while southward we see Ailsa Craig
and its pale grey rocks, with their myriads of gannets. By-and-by, in
the gloamin’, we pass Whiting Bay, in which at least half a hundred
small boats are busily engaged in deep-sea fishing. Then we steam
cautiously between Holy Island and King’s Cross Point (another landmark
of the Bruce) into Lamlash Bay, where we drop anchor, and prepare to
dine in peace.

[Illustration: _Lamlash Bay and Holy Isle._]

We then begin to realise the importance of the fact that our cruise
is to be one of pleasure, as well as of practical use, in a sense
not previously thought of. We are to steam ahead during daylight,
and our nights are to be spent peacefully at anchor in quiet waters.
The arrangement is not only comfortable on that account, but is
also convenient, inasmuch as we shall miss very little of the
coast-scenery—none of it, indeed, if we are careful to rise betimes.

As we lay at our anchorage, we had an opportunity of realising what the
electric light has done for navigation, not merely in the brilliant
lighting of our own ship, but in that of several of the Clyde steamers.
When the ‘Duchess of Hamilton,’ a coasting steamer, passed through the
bay with her lights gleaming, she might have been a floating firework
displayed for our special gratification.

Calmly and peacefully the night was passed. Some spent an hour
pleasantly in the Music Saloon, under the spell of music and song.
Others found more congenial occupation in the Smoking-room. Not a few
lingered on deck till a late hour, bewitched by the galaxy of stars,
or watching the glimmering lights of the Lamlash cottages, as, one by
one, they succumbed to the demands of repose, and bade us a silent
‘good-night.’ One or two adventurous rowing boats came out at a late
hour to inspect the monster of the deep that had suddenly disturbed the
quiet of the bay; but the plash of their oars soon died away, and our
little world was left in a silence that was felt.

[Illustration: _Ailsa Craig._]




III

AMONG THE SOUTHERN HEBRIDES


If the denizens of Lamlash were looking forward to obtaining a good
view of the ‘Dunottar Castle’ next day (Sunday), they must have been
grievously disappointed, for we made an early start, and were out of
the bay before the majority of them were out of their beds. By seven
o’clock, we had rounded the Mull of Cantire, and were beginning to feel
the swell of the Atlantic. The morning was clear and crisp, and both
sea and sky seemed joyous in the sunshine. Nearly every one was on deck
for an hour before breakfast, and the sharp air was most exhilarating.

[Illustration: _Scarba and the Isles—from Mull._]

[Illustration: _Loch Buy Head—from Carsaig, Mull._]

The Irish coast remained in sight for several hours; but still more
attractive was the view of the west coast of Cantire. Machrihanish
Bay awakened pleasant memories in the golfers on board. They had been
there, and still would go; and very tempting the bay looked with its
gleaming sands and sparkling wavelets. Our course now lay through the
Sound of Islay, which runs between that island and its sister Jura.
Long before we reached the Sound, we were once more in quiet water
under the lee of Islay, and with the well-marked Paps of Jura right
ahead. In the Sound, the sea was absolutely still, and there we had
morning service, reverently conducted by Captain Webster, Sir Donald
Currie reading the lessons. Shortly afterwards we met, by appointment,
our host’s large steam yacht, the ‘Iolanthe,’ which attended us
during the remainder of our cruise, and added greatly to our enjoyment
by taking us into narrow and shallow lochs and sounds into which the
great ship could not have ventured. Mr. James Currie, of Leith, with
his family, was on board, and did all in his power to render our
voyage an agreeable one. The interest of the sail increased as we
passed northward between Jura and Colonsay. The weather was superb.
The Sabbath calm seemed to have settled down on hill and sea. It was a
day for lounging on deck, and for gazing at the summer sky, or on the
Islands of the Blest which surrounded us.

[Illustration: _Outside of Kerrera—Ben Cruachan in the distance._]

We were prepared for a toss at the Strait of Corrievreckan; but
though the boiling of the tide was perceptible to the eye, it was
unappreciable by any other sense, at least to those in the massive
‘Dunottar Castle.’ As we crossed the Firth of Lorne, the mountains of
Argyllshire came into full view, Ben Cruachan and Ben More of Mull
being specially conspicuous. Off Scarba, we made a wide detour westward
in the direction of the Ross of Mull, so that we might see its cliffs
and caves and the shores of dark Loch Buy.

[Illustration: _Dunolly Castle, Oban._]

Toward evening, we reached our anchorage at the northern point of
Kerrera, but outside of Oban Bay, which is crowded at this season with
yachts and other small craft. We were opposite to David Hutchison’s
monument, set up near the scene of his labours, to remind travellers of
the great things which he did for them, and for Scotland, in opening up
the Western Highlands to swift steamer traffic. We had also a distant
view of Dunolly Castle, the ancestral home of the Macdougalls. Evening
service was conducted by Sir Arthur Blackwood, Secretary of the General
Post-Office, London; and the earnestness and freshness of his address
were highly appreciated.

[Illustration: _The ‘Iolanthe’ off Oban—Rainy Weather._]

The weather changed in the night, and we awoke to find ourselves
enveloped in mist and in drizzling rain. A projected trip up Loch
Linnhe to Ballachulish was consequently abandoned; and we spent the
whole day at our anchorage, awaiting the arrival of expected guests
at Oban, who were brought off in the ‘Iolanthe,’ and thence in the
steam launch. Those of us who were so inclined had thus an opportunity
of seeing the capital of the Western Highlands, though not under the
most favourable conditions; of visiting its attractive shops, and
of admiring, though at a safe distance, its numerous or innumerable
hotels. When it rains on this coast it does so with a vengeance. In
fine weather Oban is one of the most beautiful places in Scotland; on a
wet day it is one of the most disagreeable under heaven.

[Illustration: _View of Oban and Bay._]

[Illustration: _Oban Pier._]




IV

IN THE SOUND OF MULL


[Illustration: _The Mull Hills—from Kerrera._]

Next morning (Tuesday) finds us in the Sound of Mull, one of the most
beautiful and romantic of Highland seas. The lighthouse full astern
stands on the point of the island of Lismore, anciently the seat of the
Bishops of Argyll, and still more famous as the home of its Dean, James
Macgregor, who, in the sixteenth century, made a valuable collection
of poems in Gaelic and English, well known as the ‘Book of the Dean
of Lismore.’ The picturesque ruin at the entrance to the Sound, on
the eastmost point of Mull, is Duart Castle, the home of the Macleans.
Not far off is the ‘Lady Rock,’ which disappears at high-water, and
on which one of the Macleans once left his wife, intending that she
should perish when the tide rose and covered the rock. She was Ellen of
Lorne, a sister of the Earl of Argyll. One of her brothers rescued her,
and afterwards slew Maclean. Such stories are common in these regions:
they cling, like the ivy, to every ruined tower. These traditions of
lawlessness and vengeance formed the greater part of the education of
the people.

[Illustration: _Lismore Lighthouse._]

By and by we pass on the right Ardtornish Castle, a stronghold of the
Lords of the Isles, and memorable as the site of the opening of Scott’s
poem:—

    ‘Thy rugged halls, Ardtornish! rung,
    And the dark seas, thy towers that lave,
    Heaved on the beach a softer wave,
    As ’mid the tuneful choir to keep
    The diapason of the Deep.
    Lulled were the winds on Inninmore,
    And green Loch Aline’s woodland shore,
    As if wild woods and waves had pleasure
    In listing to the lovely measure.’

The ruins of Ardtornish are near the entrance to Loch Aline, and under
the shadow of the massive and bare hills of Morven. These hills had
a never-ending charm for Dr. Norman M‘Leod, whose native village of
Morven lies on the east coast of the Sound, nearly opposite Tobermory.
The Sound to-day is in one of its angry moods: clouds obscure the sun;
mists cling to the mountains, and the sullen sky is reflected in the
fretful sea.

[Illustration: _Castle Duart—Mull._]

Presently we pass on the left the ruins of Aros Castle, another of
those rock-built fortresses which are so numerous on these coasts. The
stupendous mountain-wall which appears to close up the Sound at the
north end is the rocky peninsula of Ardnamurchan, the most westerly
point on the British mainland. At its base stands yet another ruined
castle, that of Mingarry, also a stronghold of the Lords of the Isles,
and woven with warp of treachery and woof of heroism into their
adventurous story.

[Illustration: Calve Isl^d. Tobermory]

Passing Tobermory Bay, to which we shall return by-and-by, we sail
beyond Ardnamurchan Point, and have a distant view of the Scuir of
Eigg and the graceful outline of the mountains of Rum. The mists lift
somewhat, and give us a view of the north coast of Mull, and of the
bold beetling headland of Ardnamurchan, with its tall lighthouse thrust
out into the sea. Then we return to Tobermory, the quaint and primitive
capital of Mull, and anchor in its lovely Bay.

The village, which, like a few other places in the Highlands, looks
best at a distance, skirts two sides of the Bay. The western banks are
steep and richly wooded. On the east, the Bay is cut off from the sea
by the small island of Calve, which forms a natural breakwater, thus
producing a spacious and very safe anchorage. Aros House, imbedded in
woods, stands on the south side of the Bay, and near it there is a very
fine waterfall on the stream which emerges from the Mishnish Lochs—a
favourite resort of anglers. From the deck, a lovely view of the Sound
of Mull is seen over the crest of Calve. The hills in the distance are
dark, but the east shores of the Sound are lighted up with gleams of
sunshine, developing marvellous combinations of colour.

[Illustration: _Ardnamurchan Point._]

The day being still young, the ‘Iolanthe’ is brought into requisition,
and a delightful trip is made up Loch Sunart, a veritable fiord in its
windings, and its narrowness, and its flanking mountains. As we enter
the Loch, we catch one of those occasional and transient effects which
delight artists, but which it is hazardous to paint, and still more
difficult to reproduce without colour. A brilliant rainbow rests one of
its extremities on the massive hill of Ardnamurchan, and practically
cuts it in two; one half of it being melted away under the changing
colours of the arch.

[Illustration: _Loch Sunart._]

[Illustration: _The Narrows—Loch Sunart._]

It was during this trip that some members of the party developed
extraordinary skill in the game of deck quoits, while others indulged
in athletic sports of various kinds, terminating in a ‘tug-of-war’ in
which nearly every man and boy on board took part. It was alleged,
however, with what truth I know not, that a majority of those on the
winning side wore deck shoes with india-rubber soles. Nevertheless,
they maintained stoutly that ‘it was weight that told.’ The sail up
Loch Sunart was very enjoyable. A fair breeze was blowing, and the sun,
which had been concealed before, burst through the clouds, and shed
beauty on the landscape.

[Illustration:

 _Mist Rainbow on Ardnamurchan—off Tobermory Lighthouse._]

[Illustration: _Glengorm—Mull._]

In the afternoon we embarked on the ‘Iolanthe’ again, and sailed round
the north coast of Mull in fairly good weather, past Ardmore Point,
past Glengorm Castle (the property of Mr. James Cowan), past Caliach
Point, and Calgary Castle with its marvellous silver strand, and past
Trishnish Point, in the direction of the Trishnish Islands. A farmhouse
near Caliach Point has an interest for literary men. Thomas Campbell
the poet spent five months there as tutor when a young man; and there
he first conceived the theme of _The Pleasures of Hope_. Another poet
has revelled in this region; for the Trishnish Islands belong to the
group described by Scott:—

    ‘The shores of Mull on the eastward lay,
    And Ulva dark, and Colonsay,
    And all the group of islets gay
      That guard famed Staffa round.
    Then all unknown its columns rose,
    Where dark and undisturbed repose
      The cormorant had found,
    And the shy seal had quiet home,
    And weltered in that wondrous dome,
    Where, as to shame the temples decked
    By skill of earthly architect,
    Nature herself, it seemed, would raise
    A Minster to her Maker’s praise!’

[Illustration: _The Trishnish Islands._]

The Trishnish Islands are covered with rich grass, which makes
excellent pasture. The Laird of Calgary fattens his mutton there during
the summer months, and sends out a yacht once a fortnight to capture
two or three sheep for use. As the animals are as wild and as swift
as deer, capturing them is no easy task. They are generally driven by
a contracting line of men and boys into a trap made with spars and a
sail between two rocks on the shore; but they often break through the
cordon, and even leap sometimes over the heads of the drivers.

[Illustration: _Distant View of Staffa._]

This, however, is a digression. The rough sea, and consideration for
the weaker vessels of the party, male and female, induced Sir Donald
Currie to abandon the intention of visiting Staffa, with a distant view
of which the guests had to be satisfied. It is noteworthy that this
yachting cruise was the only occasion, during the whole trip, on which
symptoms of sea-sickness showed themselves. It may be added that the
most serious case was that of Sir Donald’s young piper, who had never
been on the sea before; but scarcely had the yacht been put about when
a few blasts of a pibroch, recalling memories of the braes of Garth
and Glenlyon, gave audible proofs of his convalescence, and indeed
completed the cure. On returning to Tobermory we landed, and enjoyed a
refreshing walk on the shore before dinner: some exploring the woods
about Aros House, and others climbing to the heights that surround the
town, whence a wider view was obtained.

[Illustration:

  _The Pilot._—— _A Tobermory Lassie._]


The evening was given up to recreation, including dancing to the music
of the ship’s band, under the awning on the promenade deck, which,
lighted up with electric lamps, made a spacious and brilliant ballroom.
This was carried on in presence of nearly the whole population of
Tobermory, which had come out, on Sir Donald’s invitation, to see
the stately ship. The performances were not by any means confined to
the saloon folks. Our stalwart pilot, relieved of his duties for the
night, came out strong in the ‘reels’; and, having shown his paces in
a ‘fling’ with our chief, he was in great request with the Tobermory
lassies, with one of whom he engaged in a kind of terpsichorean duel,
which reminded the spectators of

    ‘The dancing pair that, simply, sought renown
    By holding out to tire each other down.’

Another hero of the dance was one of the quartermasters, who was a
match for any of the natives, or, for that matter, for any of the crew,
engineers or seamen. It was a case of ‘one down, another come on,’
and the contest might have lasted till break of day. Unfortunately,
however, the festivities were marred by a heavy downpour of rain; but
that did not prevent the singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and ‘God save the
Queen,’ or hearty cheers for our host, before the party broke up. One
could not but feel sorry for the poor people who had to find their way
to the shore in the dark, and through the pelting, pitiless rain.

[Illustration: _Ardtornish Castle._]




V

ROUND ABOUT SKYE


Wednesday morning was dull and misty. We had to feel our way cautiously
between Eigg and Rum in the direction of Skye. No view could be
obtained either of the Coolins or of the mountains of the mainland.
It was indeed tantalising to know that we were in the neighbourhood
of some of the grandest scenery in Scotland, and to be unable to
see a vestige of it, except occasionally a few outlying rocks, or a
mountainous headland swept by the mist. Early in the day we cast anchor
in the Sound of Soa, near the entrance to Loch Scavaig.

[Illustration: _The ‘Iolanthe’ off Eigg and Rum._]

[Illustration: _Loch Scavaig._]

The object of stopping at that point in the voyage was to visit Loch
Coruisk, the wildest and most desolate of Highland lochs, imbedded in
the heart of the Coolins. In spite of the mist and the threatening
rain, nearly the whole party started in the ‘Iolanthe’ for the head
of Loch Scavaig. Scavaig itself is a very grand loch, partaking of
the gloom of the mountains that surround it,—a gloom relieved only
by the breakers on the rocky coast, and the glint of the wings of
sea-birds. The landing, at all times difficult, was rendered more
so by the slippery state of the rocks: but it was effected without
serious mishap. After a rough walk of half a mile, over boulders and
broken rocks, the south end of the dark lake was reached. No one had
any reason to regret the toils or the risks of the expedition. Though
the mists concealed the mountain tops, they intensified the darkness
of the lake. The rain, which had been falling for some time in sport,
now began to come down in earnest, and it quickly swelled the thousand
streams that covered the hillsides. The silver streaks had become
roaring cataracts. The loneliness of the scene was oppressive. The
lines in which Scott has described the silent lake, whose name is a
synonym for desolation, occurred to many. It is the Bruce that speaks:—

    ‘Saint Mary! what a scene is here!
    I’ve traversed many a mountain-strand,
    Abroad, and in my native land,
    And it has been my lot to tread
    Where safety more than pleasure led;
    Thus, many a waste I’ve wandered o’er,
    Clombe many a crag, crossed many a moor;
      But, by my halidome,
    A scene so rude, so wild as this,
    Yet so sublime in barrenness,
    Never did my wandering footsteps press,
      Where’er I happed to roam.’

    No marvel thus the Monarch spake;
      For rarely human eye has known
    A scene so stern as that dread lake,
      With its dark ledge of barren stone.
    Seems that primeval earthquake’s sway
    Hath rent a strange and shattered way
      Through the rude bosom of the hill;
    And that each naked precipice,
    Sable ravine, and dark abyss,
      Tells of the outrage still.
    The wildest glen but this can show
    Some touch of Nature’s genial glow;
    On high Benmore green mosses grow,
    And heath-bells bud in deep Glencroe,
      And copse on Cruchan-Ben;
    But here,—above, around, below,
      On mountain or in glen,—
    Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower,
    Nor ought of vegetative power,
      The weary eye may ken.
    For all is rocks at random thrown,
    Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone,
      As if were here denied
    The summer sun, the spring’s sweet dew,
    That clothe with many a varied hue
      The bleakest mountain-side.

    The evening mists, with ceaseless change,
    Now clothed the mountains’ lofty range,
      Now left their foreheads bare,
    And round the skirts their mantle furled,
    Or on the sable waters curled,
    Or on the eddying breezes whirled,
      Dispersed in middle air.
    And oft, condensed, at once they lower,
    When, brief and fierce, the mountain shower
      Pours like a torrent down.

[Illustration: _Mountains in Mist—Skye._]

If the rain added to the picturesqueness of the scene, it did not add
to the comfort of the visitors, most of whom returned to the ship
drenched from head to foot. But their spirits were not damped, whatever
their bodies were: for all were in the greatest good humour. Some
one, probably a man, expressed the wish that the mist were away. Some
one else, probably a woman, suggested that it would not be _missed_
if it were away. Such ‘Coruiskations’ of wit were not inappropriate
to the occasion, though they may have been to the scene. They helped
at all events to keep up the spirits of the party. The refreshments
distributed on the return to the ‘Dunottar Castle’ had a similar effect.

[Illustration:

  _Detached Rocks—Coast of Skye._]

The anchor was then weighed, and we steamed round the west and north
coasts of Skye, the ‘Iolanthe’ going in the opposite direction through
the Sound of Sleat to Portree, where we were to meet, and to anchor for
the night. The effects of the rain were seen in a tremendous increase
in the waterfalls that precipitate themselves into the Sound of Soa
from the steep sides of the mountains. The cataracts were indeed
magnificent, and every one felt that the wild weather had not been
without its compensations.

To tell the truth, however, the scenery had to be taken very much for
granted. One or two picturesque bits of rocky coast were all that
could be seen. ‘M‘Leod’s Maidens’ were ‘children of the Mist.’ Dunvegan
Castle was nowhere. Duntulm was invisible. The bold Quiraing, and
the Old Man of Storr, and Prince Charlie’s Cave, were held as seen;
and when we anchored in the evening in the Sound of Raasay, opposite
Portree, we might have been anywhere.

These untoward conditions, however, did not interfere with our
enjoyment of the good things provided for us on board, or of the
adjournment to the smoking-room at a later hour, when bad jokes and
good stories were equally enjoyed, and when some wonderful card tricks
were performed by our own Wizard of the North, who proved, however,
mere potter’s clay in the cool hands of Captain Webster.

[Illustration: _Near Strome Ferry._]




VI

WILD LOCH ALSH AND DARK LOCH DUICH


[Illustration: _Outside of Portree Bay—Sunrise._]

The morning of Thursday brought a welcome change. The day opened
grandly, and the good weather which then set in blessed us during the
remainder of the cruise. Those who rose early, of whom our Special
Artist was one, were rewarded with a splendid view of the hills behind
Portree, and of the bay and harbour. We started soon after breakfast
in the ‘Iolanthe’ for Strome Ferry, where several members of the party
were to leave us, and where others were to take their places, while all
eagerly awaited letters and telegrams.

[Illustration: _Scalpa Island—Skye._]

[Illustration: _Whale blowing—off Skye._]

The sail across the Inner Sound was extremely pleasant and
exhilarating. Loch Sligachan slept in peace. Scuirna-gillean and Blaven
still wore their nightcaps. The island of Scalpa was a blaze of rich
colour, heightened by the white sails of a passing yacht. The Islands
of Longa and Pabba were emeralds set in a blue sea. Broadford was a
picture of self-contained repose. Off Pabba, two large whales—probably
truants from the school, a thousand strong, lately reported from the
Shetland seas—appeared ever and anon to plough the surface of the
water, and one of our photographers succeeded in catching them (in her
camera) in the very act of blowing clouds of spray into the air.

[Illustration: _Loch Carron—from Strome Ferry._]

[Illustration: _Head of Loch Carron—from Strome Ferry._]

At the entrance to Loch Carron, the parallel beaches on opposite
sides of the loch were mistaken by not a few on board for railway
embankments. Like the parallel beaches of Glen Roy and the other
valleys of Lochaber, they are obviously old moraines, but that does not
make them less interesting; rather more so. Unfortunately, we reached
Strome Ferry pier just in time to see the eleven o’clock train steam
out of the station, and meander along the coast of the Loch. It was
rather aggravating, no doubt; but everything comes to him who waits;
and our disappointed friends, who wished to go southward, were able to
enjoy a drive over the crest of the promontory to Balmacarra, and to
return in time for the two o’clock train.

[Illustration: _Misty Morning—Loch Carron._]

[Illustration: _The Coolins—The ‘Dunottar Castle.’_]

Loch Carron is a very beautiful sea. It cannot compare in grandeur
or boldness with Loch Alsh or Loch Hourn. Its beauty is of a softer
type, and a simpler character; but its charms are not less. The
navigable entrance to it is narrow, owing to treacherous rocks; and
the tide flows through the passage with tremendous force and speed.
We pass on the one shore the ruins of Strome Castle, and on the other
the handsome residence of Duncraig, and the fishing village of
Plockton—a collection of weatherbeaten huts, but prettily situated on
an outstanding promontory. As we emerge from the Loch, we have a very
grand view of the Coolins, with the ‘Dunottar Castle’ lying under their
shadow, and of the islands of Scalpa and Raasay—the latter crowned
with a curious little table-mountain over which the Old Man of Storr is
distinctly visible.

[Illustration: _Kyle Akin._]

Later in the day, and still on board the ‘Iolanthe,’ we steamed through
the narrow passage of Kyle Akin (between Skye and the mainland) into
Loch Alsh. The mouth of the loch is intersected by reefs and rocks,
on the crest of one of which is the ruin of Castle Maoil. Near it,
on the right hand, is the pretty village of Kyle Akin, built round a
crescent-shaped bay with lovely sands. One would like to pause at such
a charming spot, or to visit Balmacarra, peaceful and sweet-looking,
or to inspect more closely the monument, not far off, erected by Sir
Roderick Murchison to the memory of one of his ancestors who heroically
collected the rents of the proscribed Earl of Seaforth after the ’45;
but we have to content ourselves with distant views, in the meantime at
least.

[Illustration: _Castle Maoil—near Kyle Akin._]

[Illustration: _In Loch Alsh—Skye in the distance._]

The constant changes in the character of the scenery of Loch Alsh
are perplexing. We think we have reached the head of the loch, when,
suddenly, a new channel opens up in the apparently landlocked course.
When King Haco of Norway found his way into this inland loch, as he did
on his northward voyage after his defeat at Largs, he might very well
have imagined himself to have been caught in one of his native fiords,
so tortuous is the course and so difficult is the navigation.

[Illustration: _Eilean Donan Castle—Loch Duich._]

[Illustration: _Entrance to Loch Duich._]

At the head of the loch, we approach the ruin of Eilean Donan Castle,
which stands at the junction of three lochs—Loch Alsh, Loch Long,
and Loch Duich. The castle, built on a detached island, must in olden
times have been a place of strength; but the story goes that it was
demolished by the guns of Cromwell. Passing the Castle on the left,
we enter Loch Duich, which, though an arm of the sea, has all the
appearance of a fresh-water lake, so smooth is its surface, and so soft
and fertile are its banks. It attains its greatest beauty near the
mansion-house of Inverinate and the village of Kintail, in the midst of
rich woods on its northern shore. The prevailing green tints gleam out
in the fitful sunshine with a richness and variety that are enchanting.
At its head, the loch is closed in by a magnificent group of pyramidal
mountains—Ben Attow, Scour Ouran, Ben Mhor, and the Saddle—all rising
to a height of upwards of 3300 feet, and separated by well-defined and
gloomy valleys.

[Illustration: _Head of Loch Duich._]

The return voyage in the evening was very fine. As we emerged from Loch
Alsh and crossed Loch Carron, we had again a grand view of the Coolins,
cloud-capped and solemn, and traversed by the axled rays of the setting
sun. We steamed in the direction of Loch Kishorn, a northerly arm
of Loch Carron, where the ‘Dunottar Castle’ awaited us, and where we
anchored for the night.

[Illustration: _The Coolins—from Loch Alsh._]

That night was made memorable by several incidents. In the first place,
the electric search-light was got into working order, and we astonished
the natives of Courthill and other solitary houses by flashing the
light of day in upon them at midnight. The ship’s pinnace and other
small craft on the loch appeared like lime-light pictures thrown on
a screen. The submarine electric tackle, which is used in cases of
accident to the screw, or to the bottom of the vessel, was also got
into play; and a very striking and novel effect it produced. A number
of small fishes were attracted by the light, and swam about within the
halo it formed. The scene recalled forcibly the stanza which Byron
completed by adding the last two lines:—

    “The sun’s perpendicular ray
      Illumined the depths of the sea;
    And the fishes, beginning to sweat,
      Cried (something) how hot we shall be.”

[Illustration: _The Piper._]

[Illustration: SAMMY.]

Most memorable of all, the Captain’s boy astonished every one by
volunteering a hornpipe, while dancing was in progress on the
promenade deck. Sir Donald summoned his piper to play the necessary
accompaniment; but that did not suit Sammy’s steps. He required the
whole orchestra of the ship’s band; and he gave them his instructions
with the cool confidence of a professional performer. While he was in
the very midst of his double-shuffle, Captain Webster appeared on the
gangway, calling, ‘Sammy, you rascal, what are you doing there?’ Sir
Donald, fancying for the moment that the Captain was in earnest, rushed
forward to propitiate his wrath. It was as good as a play. If the scene
had been preconcerted, it could not have been more effective. But Sam
was not in the least perturbed. He continued his performance amid the
applause of the whole company, until he was tired out. It afterwards
transpired that the boy had been ‘on the boards’ before, probably in
the part of the ‘Midshipmite’ in the Children’s ‘Pinafore.’

[Illustration: _Head of Loch Kishorn._]




VII

ROUND CAPE WRATH


[Illustration: _Rona Island—Lewis and Harris in the distance._]

Friday, September 5th, was perhaps the most enjoyable day of the whole
cruise. We started, in magnificent weather, with the intention of
steaming up the west coast to Cape Wrath, and thence eastward along the
north coast to Thurso. We steered up the Inner Sound, between Raasay
and Rona on the one hand, and the rugged coast of Applecross on the
other. We crossed Loch Torridon, at the head of which Ben Liugach rose
in calm and majestic splendour. Opposite Gairloch, we had a fine view
of Ben Slioch, which overlooks Loch Maree. Still finer, however, was
the view backward, where the Coolins frowned even in the sunshine—the
solemn pyramid of Blaven asserting itself in presence of loftier peaks.
From this rugged background the rocky ridge extended northward by the
Storr rocks and the Quiraing to the extremity of the island. Toward
the west, the misty outline of Lewis and Harris broke, but scarcely
broke, the regularity of the horizon.

[Illustration: _Summer Sheen—in Skye Waters._]

Then we crossed Loch Broom, with its Summer Isles, and the point of
Rhu-Coigach, and Enard Bay, and Loch Inver, and we began to recognise
the peculiar character of the Sutherlandshire mountains. They rise
abruptly to a considerable height from wide intervening valleys, and
they frequently assume the sugar-loaf shape. That is the case with
Suilven, ‘the sugar-loaf’ _par excellence_, and also with Canisp, and
Ben Stack, and Foinaven near Loch Laxford.

[Illustration: _The Coolins—Blaven—Marsco._]

The whole coast is rugged and forbidding. Close to the Point of Stoer
is the Rhu-Stoer, a detached columnar rock resembling the Old Man of
Hoy in Orkney. Several other stacks of similar formation were seen as
we passed northward, conspicuously ‘The Shepherd’ between Loch Inchard
and Cape Wrath. As we approached the latter, we felt once more the
Atlantic swell, and the ship pitched and rolled somewhat, though she
was as a rock in comparison with the smaller coasting steamers that ply
habitually in these waters, two of which we saw labouring heavily; and
some of us, at least, felt thankful that we were not as they.

[Illustration: Cape Wrath

—Lennox Browne]

Cape Wrath, now seen by many of us for the first time, is really
a splendid headland. The name in its modern interpretation may be
appropriate enough, considering the wild seas that roar and bluster
around it; but in point of fact it has no connection with the English
word ‘wrath.’ It is a corruption of the Norse ‘Hvarf,’ which meant
‘the turning-point of the land,’ and might have been more correctly
Englished ‘Cape Warp.’ The lighthouse stands on a cliff 370 feet
above the sea, beneath which there is a succession of jagged points,
or needle-rocks, stretching seaward, perforated at their bases with
several openings, through which the surf breaks and spends itself in
spray. A more perilous point for shipping in a dark night it would
be hard to conceive. As we passed the Cape, the cold, rainy squalls
which had followed us for some time cleared off, leaving behind them,
however, very striking effects of sea and sky.

The north coast, east of Cape Wrath, partakes of the same rugged
character as the promontory. There are castle rocks, and detached
rocks, and dark ‘cletts,’ too numerous to mention. There are isolated
mountains of considerable height about the dark Kyle of Durness, and
Loch Erribol, and the Kyle of Tongue. The coast-scenery, however,
becomes rapidly tamer. Ben Hope and Ben Loyal are the last prominent
peaks that stand out from the undulating plain.

[Illustration:

  _Thurso—from the Bay._]

Beyond Strathy Point, we reach the lowlands of Caithness. Green meadows
and yellow corn-fields sloping down to the golden sands become common.
Around Brims Ness and Holburn Head, the coast is as flat and level as
the shores of Fife and the Lothians. Near Holburn Head, however, there
is another huge detached rock, 200 feet high, called the Clett, around
which the ocean surges and swells night and day in most weathers.
Passing this rock at a safe distance, we entered Thurso Bay, and
anchored securely in Scrabster Roads. The rain clouds cleared off
toward evening, and revealed a beautiful sunset.

[Illustration:

  _The Old Man of Hoy._]

At Thurso (which is Thor’s Town, another Norse landmark) we were in
touch once more with the British railway and postal systems. The
most prominent object on the mainland was the castle lately rebuilt
by Sir J. G. Tollemache Sinclair—a cold-looking mansion, rendered
more forbidding by the absence of trees. The town itself looked very
picturesque, with its spires and chimneys breaking the coast-line,
while the fields of golden grain that surrounded it bespoke fertility
and prosperity. Other noteworthy features of the neighbourhood were
Harold’s Tower, the Bishop’s Castle, and the bold bluffs of Dunnet
Head, the most northerly point of the mainland. The northward view
included the Orkney Islands, and Hoy Head, with the Old Man of Hoy at
its base, which, at a later hour, and in the ‘witching time of night,’
stood out grandly in the moonlight.

                ‘The Old Man of Hoy
                Looks out on the sea,
    Where the tide runs strong, and the wave rides free:
          He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,
                And the Old Man of Hoy
                Hath this great joy,
    To hear the deep roar of the wide blue ocean,
    And to stand unmoved ’mid the sleepless motion,
                And to feel o’er his head
                The white foam spread
          From the wild wave proudly swelling,
                And to care no whit
                For the storm’s rude fit,
          Where he stands on his old rock-dwelling.’

                             —PROFESSOR BLACKIE.




VIII

A RAID ON ORKNEY


[Illustration: _Copinsay Island—Orkney._]

During the night we were rocked in the cradle of the deep, even at
our anchorage, by the north-west wind, which blew strongly; and at
an early hour in the morning, the anchor was weighed, and we steamed
steadily through the Pentland Firth, generally a tempestuous passage,
and then northward past the rugged islet of Copinsay, with its myriads
of sea-birds, into Shapinsay Sound. Balfour Castle, on the island of
Shapinsay, was the most prominent object in the landscape. One is apt
to wonder how the massive building came there, so inconsistent is
its pretentious appearance with its bare and cheerless surroundings.
By-and-by we anchored in Kirkwall Roads, and every one, as quickly as
possible, was transferred to land in the ‘Iolanthe,’ and the steam
launch, or the attendant gigs.

Kirkwall is not a very stirring or lively place, but it has an
old-world flavour, which makes a visit to it pleasant and memorable.
Its narrow and tortuous streets, paved with flags, its old-fashioned
houses, many of them with secluded courts, and presenting their gables
to the sea, and most of all its ancient Cathedral, invest it with a
peculiar interest.

[Illustration: _Kirkwall—from the Bay._]

The Cathedral forms, of course, its chief attraction. This building,
which is the most conspicuous object in the town, as seen either from
the sea or from the land, dates from the twelfth century, having
been founded by Jarl Rognvald in 1137, in memory of his uncle, St.
Magnus. Its style is chiefly Norman, but it contains many features of
the Pointed Gothic or Early English style, which makes it extremely
interesting to the antiquary and the architect, resembling in that
respect the famous Cathedral of Trondhjem, which belongs to the same
period. Outwardly, it is wonderfully well preserved. Though really a
very small building of its kind—a cathedral in miniature,—its parts
are so well proportioned that it has almost an imposing appearance.
Worthy of special notice are the great east window, which Sir Henry
Dryden believed to be unique; the circular window in the south
transept; and the carving of the west door, which Dryden refers to as
probably the finest example in the British Islands of the effective
combination of particoloured stones. But the delicate floral work in
the arch of the doorway is now much weather-worn, and the fine pillars
are wasted to skeletons. The tower, to which we mounted, commands a
splendid view of the town and bay and the surrounding islands.

[Illustration: _The Earl’s Palace—Kirkwall._]

From the Cathedral we passed to the Bishop’s Palace, part of which is
probably as old as the Cathedral itself, though the greater part is
known to have been built in the sixteenth century by Bishop Reid, who
made additions to the Cathedral also. In the older part of this palace
King Haco died on his return from Largs, and his remains lay for a time
within the Cathedral.

Still more interesting are the remains of the Earl’s Palace, which
stands to the east of the last-named building. It was erected by the
notorious Earl Patrick Stewart—“Black Pate”—about 1590. He was the
son of Lord Robert Stewart (a natural son of James V.), Earl of Orkney.
Black Pate also built Scalloway Castle in Shetland; and in the erection
of both he levied contributions from his vassals and retainers without
stint, requiring them not only to furnish the materials in stone, lime
and eggs, with which the mortar was mixed, but also to work like slaves
under his command: hence his by-name, “The Scourge of the Islands.”
By-and-by his notorious deeds became known in Edinburgh, and he was
captured, and ended his career on the gallows.

[Illustration:

 _The Earl’s Palace—Kirkwall._]

He must, however, have been a man of fine taste and grand notions, if
we are to judge by the architectural features of his palace. It is
really a fine specimen of the Scottish baronial style, many of the
details of ornament—in round turrets, quaint gables, and projecting
windows—being beautiful, especially as seen through the grove of
sycamore-trees which surrounds the building. A remarkable feature is a
level arch over one of the great fireplaces in the banqueting hall, on
either side of which the initials “P.E.O.” (Patrick, Earl of Orkney)
may still be seen. This is one of the best examples of the straight
arch in Scotland.

The day being exceedingly fine, a large contingent enjoyed a drive
along the Stromness road to Maeshowe and the Stones of Brogar and
Stenness.

Maeshowe is an unique chambered mound, and is one of the most
interesting of the many interesting antiquities of Orkney. The mound
is 36 feet high and 300 feet in circumference. The central chamber (15
feet square) is built of solid blocks of stone. The roof is of bee-hive
shape, and in the walls there are on three sides deep cells or shelves
5 or 6 feet long. It is reached by a long and narrow passage, and as
the whole is underground, it has to be explored by candle-light. The
position and the dimensions of the cells suggest a place of burial,
such as the early Britons used; but the numerous inscriptions on the
walls are Runic and Norse. There has therefore been a great deal of
discussion as to the purpose of the building; but the general belief
now is that it was originally a Pictish sepulchre, and that it was
broken into by the Norsemen after the ninth century, and was used by
them as a place of refuge, and for the concealment of treasure.

A mile and a half farther on are the two celebrated stone circles,
called respectively the Ring of Brogar and the Ring of Stenness. The
latter is the smaller, though it has given its name to the whole.
According to our own Antiquary, who accompanied the party, that circle
was 104 feet in diameter, and consisted originally of twelve stones, of
which only two are standing. The Ring of Brogar, according to the same
authority, was 340 feet in diameter, and comprised sixty stones, of
which thirteen are standing, while ten others, though they have fallen,
are still entire. We were assured that these are the finest stone
circles in Scotland, far surpassing in extent the Stones of Callernish
in Lewis, and comparing favourably with the more famous remains of
Stonehenge. As to the purpose of these circles, we were left to solve
the mystery for ourselves, being warned, however, that their connection
with Druidical worship is now discredited.

One of the most famous of these monoliths was the Stone of Odin in
the Stenness circle, now no longer erect. It was perforated by a
hole, about five feet from the ground, and was regarded with the
utmost veneration, being used (as the readers of Scott’s _Pirate_ will
remember) as the place where lovers plighted their troth by clasping
hands through the aperture. The stones in the case of both circles are
of the Old Red Sandstone formation.

[Illustration:

  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.

[Illustration: _Dunottar Castle._]

The detached, or semi-detached, rock on which the ruins of the Castle
stand is about two miles south of Stonehaven. It is 160 feet high,
and a deep chasm separates it, all but completely, from the mainland,
which at this point is wild and precipitous. The neighbourhood,
indeed, is a continuous series of cliffs, which are frequented by
numerous sea-birds: hence the popular name given to the coast, of the
‘Fowlesheugh.’

Here again the resources of our own Antiquary were called into
requisition, and he assured us, with the unblushing confidence of an
expert, that the name of the Castle meant in Gaelic ‘the fort of the
low promontory.’ It is easy to believe that the rock was the site of a
castle from very early times, a siege of ‘Dunfoither’ (as it was then
called) by a king of the Picts in the seventh century being on record
(681 A.D.).[1] The Castle the ruins of which remain is of course of
much later date, though its buildings belong to different ages. It
appears, from evident signs, to have covered the greater part of the
surface of the rock, which is 4½ acres in extent.

[1] See Sir Donald Currie’s _Book of Garth and Fortingall_, page 83.

Its position resembles very closely that of Tantallon Castle in the
Firth of Forth, and before the days of artillery it must have been
almost impregnable. Nevertheless, Blind Harry describes a capture of
Dunottar by William Wallace, when four thousand Englishmen were burned
in the Castle. It was re-fortified by Edward III. in 1336; but these
incidents relate to an older castle than that of which the remains
survive.

The present Castle, as far as can be ascertained, was begun by Sir
William Keith, the ‘Great Marischal of Scotland,’ towards the close of
the fourteenth century, and the lands and castle remained in the hands
of the Keith family till the Rebellion of 1715, when the owner threw
in his lot with the Pretender, and forfeited his estates. One of the
mottoes of the family was couched in the quaint and defiant words,

    ‘They haif said:
    Quhat say they:
    Lat thame say!’

When the ship received the name of the Castle, these words also were
adopted as its motto.

[Illustration: _Dunottar Castle in olden time—from an old print._]

Dunottar was besieged by the gallant Marquis of Montrose during
the great Rebellion, the Earl Marischal of that time having been
a Covenanter (1645). Montrose offered him fair terms if he would
capitulate, but the Covenanting clergymen who had taken refuge within
the Castle overruled him, as their kind overruled David Leslie at
Dunbar; and he was not allowed to surrender. Thereupon the Marquis
subjected the surrounding property to military execution, to the great
dismay of the Earl, when he saw flames and smoke rising from his
houses, and notwithstanding the assurance of Andrew Cant (ominous name)
‘that the reek would be a sweet-smelling incense in the nostrils of the
Lord.’ Evacuation followed as a matter of course.

When Charles II. visited Scotland in 1650, he was entertained in
Dunottar Castle by the seventh Earl Marischal. In the following year,
when the English Parliamentary army overran Scotland, the Scottish
Estates deposited the Regalia in Dunottar Castle, then deemed the
strongest place in the kingdom, and George Ogilvy of Barras was
appointed Lieutenant-Governor. It was besieged by Cromwell’s army, and
Ogilvy held out until famine rendered his troops mutinous, whereupon he
surrendered. Before he did so, however, the Regalia had been cleverly
removed by Mrs. Granger, the wife of the minister of Kinneff—a village
on the coast, four miles farther south. Having obtained the permission
of the English commandant to visit her friend Mrs. Ogilvy, the
Lieutenant-Governor’s wife, Mrs. Granger, carried with her, on leaving
the Castle, a bundle of clothes, in which the Crown was imbedded, and
also a huge distaff covered with lint, which was in fact formed of the
Sceptre and the Sword of State.

The same night, the precious treasures were buried by the minister
himself under the flags of his church at Kinneff; and there they
remained till after the Restoration of 1660, when they were unearthed,
and were presented to Charles II. by the same George Ogilvy who had
formerly been Commander of the Castle. Ogilvy’s only reward was the
title of Baronet, and a new coat of arms. The minister and his wife
received no reward—not even thanks. Sir John Keith, the brother of the
Earl Marischal, was made Earl of Kintore in 1677, and was the ancestor
of the present Earl, who is the tenth to hold the dignity.

After its surrender to Cromwell, the Castle was partially dismantled
and reduced to ruins. What remained of it was, like the Bass Rock,
used as a State prison for the Covenanters during the persecutions
under Charles II. and the Duke of York. One hundred and sixty-seven
men and women were imprisoned at one time in its ‘Whig’s Vault,’ or
Black Hole, and nine of them speedily died of suffocation. Driven to
despair, some twenty-five of them one night crept out of a window and
along the face of the cliff, in the hope of effecting their escape. Two
of these daring men fell over the rock and were killed. The others were
captured, and were subjected to terrible cruelties.

A few years after the forfeiture already referred to, the Castle was
sold, and was completely dismantled. It was subsequently repurchased by
the Keith family; and it passed finally into the hands of Sir Alexander
Keith, Writer, Edinburgh, whose grandson, Sir Patrick Keith Murray of
Ochtertyre, sold it in 1875 to Mr. Innes of Cowie, near Stonehaven.

Having studied the Castle and its surroundings long enough to deepen
our impressions of it, we got up steam again, and went on our way past
Bervie, with its outstanding Craig-David; past Montrose, stretched
over a level site; past Arbroath, with its tall chimneys, its spires,
and its ancient Abbey,—all seen in the dim distance, and reposing
peacefully in the Sabbath calm.

[Illustration: _Montrose—from the Sea._]




X

A DAY OF REST


At the morning service, which was held as usual in the saloon, Dr.
Cameron of Cape Town preached an eloquent and suggestive sermon from
Luke xiii. 29, ‘They shall come from the east, and from the west, and
from the north, and from the south, and shall sit down in the kingdom
of God.’ The words, he thought, were not inappropriate to the occasion;
for the company was gathered from many parts of this country, and some
of its members from distant lands. It might be said, indeed, that we
had come from the east, and from the west, from the north, and from
the south. After pointing out that the words were Christ’s real answer
to the question, ‘Are there few that be saved?’ and showing that His
restrictions applied to those who sought to enter the kingdom of God in
other ways than by the strait gate, the preacher continued:—

 ‘My text gives us the vision of a great commonwealth or society,
 into which all worthy elements of human character are gathered up—a
 kingdom of God which is at the same time a kingdom of man. And they
 form a great multitude which no man can number, because fresh crowds
 are ever gathering into it. “The nations of them that are saved shall
 walk in the light of it.”

‘“They shall come from the East”—the land of immemorial traditions and
gorgeous imaginations, of Oriental splendour and barbaric gold: the
cradle of civilisation, and philosophy, and religion: where, a thousand
years before Christ, mystics dreamed of a blessedness which could be
reached only by those who mortified the flesh, and contemplated the
unseen glories of the spiritual world;—the East, with its patient
millions who have borne without complaint the yoke of a cruel bondage:
with its frankincense and myrrh, once laid in homage at the cradle of a
little child: with its jewelled temples raised in honour of gods many
and lords many, and its holy plains,

    “Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
    Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nailed,
    For our advantage, to the bitter cross.”

‘None of that splendour shall be lost: it shall receive a new
consecration. That devotion shall find its true object: those dusky
brows shall be decked by the hand of Him who hath made us kings and
priests unto God. “They shall come from the east,” and sit down with
prophets and patriarchs in the kingdom of God.

‘“They shall come from the West.” The kingdom of God is no palace of
luxury, no paradise of passive repose, where kings sit in solemn state,
and mystics dream away their days in fruitless visions. It is the
commonwealth of those banded together to do the work of the Lord, and
there must be place in it for the practical vigour and the restless
energy of the Western mind. The subtle Greek, who sent the arrows of
his thought quivering into the heart of Europe: the practical Roman,
fulfilling his great part in the commission to replenish and subdue the
earth: the nations of modern Europe, with their culture, and power,
and ambitions: the great Republic of the West, where the banner of
religious freedom was unfurled, and great problems in politics and
religion are being worked out—not one of these can be spared from
the final association of men in the kingdom of God. Each has its
contribution to bring. We are debtors to the Greek and the barbarian,
to the wise and the unwise: and they in their turn are debtors to the
great world of which they form a part, and are to bring their glory and
honour, their worth and their wisdom, into the Community of the Saved.

‘“They shall come from the North.” They came from the north in mighty
hordes—those fierce barbarians who swept down upon the tottering
Roman Empire, and crushed out what remained to it of life. Province
after province was invaded by these terrible men, the fairest tracts
of Southern Europe were occupied by them, and are still held by their
descendants. They shall come again, Christ says, from the north: not
for destruction, but for help and blessing: not to ravage the provinces
of a decaying earthly empire, but to swell the population and to add
to the wealth of the city of God: from the far north, the land of the
midnight sun, and the noonday darkness, into the city of which the Lord
is the everlasting light, and whose sun shall no more go down for ever.

‘“They shall come from the South”: where palm-trees cast their grateful
shadows on the earth, and temples lift their stately heads to heaven.
We read and speak of the luxury and ease of the South, where life is
free from care, and its burdens rest very lightly on men whose hearts
are bright and gay. But there is a place even for something of this
kind in the final home. There must be rest and peace, as well as toil
and energy: enjoyment, as well as action. So the men of the South come
trooping in at the call of Christ, even as the Queen of the South once
came to hear the wisdom of Solomon. From the banks of the river of
Egypt, with its mighty pyramids and mystic learning: from the central
plains and southern shores of the dark continent of Africa, which shall
one day be light in the Lord: from the new world of the Southern Seas
with their multitude of islands, and from that greater Britain which is
throbbing with the vigorous life of what they love to call the Mother
Country—from each and all of these they shall come, a goodly host,
each under its own standard, but high over all the blood-red banner of
the Captain of our Salvation. They shall come, a great multitude which
no man can number, “from the east, and from the west, from the north,
and from the south”: and this is the processional hymn to the music of
which they march through the gates into the city—

    “Unto Him that loved us, and washed
      us from our sins in His own blood,
    And hath made us kings and
      priests unto God and His Father;
    To Him be glory and dominion
      for ever and ever. Amen.”’

[Illustration: _Entrance to Loch Torridon._]




XI

HOMEWARD BOUND


When we returned to the deck we found ourselves within sight of the
Bell Rock, off the Firth of Tay, and the old stories were retold of the
fate of Ralph the Rover, and of the trials and hair-breadth ’scapes
of Robert Stevenson and the heroes who helped him to build the famous
lighthouse, and to carry out in an enduring form the humane intentions
of

  “The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock.”

[Illustration: _The Bell Rock Lighthouse._]

A heavy haze now began to gather on the shore. No trace of St.
Andrews could be seen. The East Neuk of Fife, with King’s Barns on
the one side and Crail on the other, was only dimly visible. Steaming
close to the Isle of May, we saw very plainly its lighthouses, its
store-houses, and its ruined chapel of St. Adrian. We were reminded,
in view of recent events, that this island is nearly of the same size
as Heligoland; and one wonders that it has not been turned to as good
account as the latter. Late in the evening we entered the Firth of
Forth by the passage between Tantallon Castle and the Bass Rock, in
order to obtain a view of these famous fortresses.

[Illustration: _May Island._]

[Illustration: _Tantallon Castle._]

Tantallon Castle, like Dunottar, stands on a detached rock, and is
accessible from the mainland only at one point. It is famous in the
history of Scottish wars, and especially in that of the house of
Douglas. Every one is familiar with Scott’s graphic description of it,
and of the parting scene of Marmion and Douglas at its gate:—

    ‘On the Earl’s cheek the flush of rage
    O’ercame the ashen hue of age:
    Fierce he broke forth,—“And darest thou then
    To beard the lion in his den,
        The Douglas in his hall?
    And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?—
    No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!—
    Up drawbridge, grooms!—what, warder, ho!
        Let the portcullis fall.”—

    Lord Marmion turned—well was his need—
    And dashed the rowels in his steed,
    Like arrow through the archway sprung;
    The ponderous gate behind him rung:
    To pass there was such scanty room,
    The bars, descending, razed his plume.’

The buildings and the surrounding walls cover the entire surface of
the rock. Its strength in olden times was proverbial, and led to the
saying—

    ‘Ding doon Tantallon,
    Mak’ a brig to the Bass,’

the one achievement being deemed about as easy as the other. The ruins
as seen from the sea do not present any picturesque features, but
they give the impression of a place of great size, and practically
impregnable.

The Bass Rock (313 feet high) is the counterpart in the Firth of Forth
of Ailsa Craig in the Firth of Clyde; and it is remarkable that these
two rocks are the only ones in Scotland that are frequented by the
gannet, or solan goose. The Bass presents a very bold outline, from
whatever point it may be seen. Its summit slopes from north to south,
and it is surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs, rising sheer out of
the sea. The only possible landing-place is on a shelf of rock on the
south side, above which are the ruins of a fortress, which stretched
across the island from east to west.

[Illustration: _The Bass Rock._]

This fortress, as has been mentioned, was used as a State prison in
the times of Charles II. and his brother James VII. Many Covenanters
were immured there, including stout old John Blackadder, who died on
the island after a long imprisonment. The Bass was the last stronghold
in Britain that held out for James VII., and after its surrender its
castle was demolished.

As we passed close to the rock the steam-whistle was sounded, and
at once great numbers of solan geese rushed forth like a living
whirlwind, darting and wheeling in the air, and filling it with
their hoarse cries. The noise had scarce died away when we passed
North Berwick—sentinelled by its Law, and guarded by its outposts,
Craigleith and Fidra. The haze grew denser and denser as we sailed up
the Firth of Forth, so much so that it was thought advisable to go at
half-speed. Inchkeith was not visible until we were within less than
a mile of it. One consequence of the changed atmospheric conditions
was that a projected visit to the Forth Bridge had to be postponed;
another was, that we failed to obtain the view of Edinburgh from the
sea, which is considered one of the finest.

Above Inchkeith, we were met by a tug from the shore, which brought out
some of the representatives of the Leith house (James Currie and Co.)
and other friends. The tug marshalled us the way to our anchorage; and
about six o’clock we dropped anchor in Leith Roads, not without regret
that the act signalised the practical termination of our delightful
cruise.

After dinner that evening, Sir Arthur Blackwood and Lord Provost Muir
expressed to Sir Donald Currie, in the name of the guests, their hearty
thanks for his splendid hospitality, and for the pleasure which the
trip had afforded them in many ways. Captain Webster, his officers and
men, were not forgotten in this thanksgiving service; and well they
deserved this recognition, for what was a pleasure-trip to the guests
involved no little hard work for them. Indeed the Captain declared that
his anxieties had turned his hair white, but he added that the many
kind things said of him had restored its natural colour—a kind of
capillary blush after the blanching of care.

[Illustration: _Inchkeith._]




XII

IN THE FIRTH OF FORTH


Next morning the mist had risen sufficiently to show dimly, but
yet with a certain poetic mystery, the beauties of the unrivalled
position of ‘the grey Metropolis of the North’ within her cincture
of hills—Salisbury Crags and Arthur’s Seat, Blackford Hill and the
Braids, Corstorphine Hill and the wooded heights of Dalmeny and
Hopetoun. In the midst, there was a dreamy indication of the city, with
its masses of buildings following the contours of the undulating site,
and relieved by outstanding spires, monuments, and tall chimneys—the
whole culminating in the Castle Rock, which stood out like an aerial
island from a sea of haze.

[Illustration: From Leith Roads]

In the forenoon, a delightful trip was made in the ‘Iolanthe’ up to
and under the Forth Bridge; and those who made it were rewarded with
a splendid view of that wonderful structure. As every one knows, the
view of the Bridge from the sea is the finest that can be obtained. You
see it as a whole. You take in at a glance all its details. You see
each of the cantilevers separately, as well as the connecting girders.
You see the width of the great spans and the height of the ‘fair-way’;
and you understand why such vast superstructures were necessary in
order to secure the stability of the intermediate railway line. All
this is missed by one who crosses the Bridge in a railway carriage,
unless, as occurred once in the experience of the writer, the western
sun casts a perfect shadow of the Bridge on the placid bosom of the
Firth below.

In the course of the day, several thousands of the inhabitants of
Edinburgh and Leith visited the ‘Dunottar Castle,’ on the general
invitation of the Castle Company, and in steamers provided for their
accommodation. The extent to which the privilege was taken advantage of
showed how highly it was appreciated.

In response to special invitations, the Corporations of Edinburgh and
Leith, the Merchant Company, the Chambers of Commerce, and other public
bodies, paid a visit to the ship about noon, and were entertained to
luncheon, to the number of 150, Sir Donald Currie presiding. The manner
in which the extempore function was carried through showed that the
resources of the ship, without extraneous aid, were quite equal to such
an emergency. It is needless to do more than refer to the eloquent
speeches in which the beauty of the ship and the enterprise of its
owners were acknowledged.

Then, at length, the harmonious party, which for ten days had been at
home in the great ship, was scattered promiscuously to the East and
the West, the North and the South, to resume old ties of love and
friendship, but not to forget the new ties that had been formed.

In the evening of the same day, the great ship left her moorings and
sailed for London, there to take her appointed place in the Cape and
Natal Mail Service; and no vessel ever entered on her career with more
cordial good wishes from troops of friends than

 ‘THE DUNOTTAR CASTLE.’

[Illustration: _The Tug in Leith Roads._]




_EPILOGUE_


_History, in these days, is made more rapidly than it is written.
Before these sheets have left the Press, there comes the news that ‘The
Dunottar Castle’ has ‘beaten the record’ on her first Cape voyage in
both directions._

_She made the outward passage in 16 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, and
completed the homeward run to Plymouth in 16 days, 6 hours, net
steaming time. The fastest passages previously recorded were made by
‘The Roslin Castle’: outward in 17 days, 10 hours, 15 minutes, and
homeward in 16 days, 16 hours, 35 minutes. ‘The Dunottar Castle’ has
thus shortened the passage between England and the Cape by nearly a
whole day._

  W. S. D.




EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY PRESS

[Illustration]

  T. AND A. CONSTABLE
  _Printers to Her Majesty_

  MDCCCXC