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.”
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.
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.
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.
