Descending from our superior station on the upper arch, we now again embarked, and spent some time in rowing about and examining this second cave. We could see our dusky entrance, into which daylight streamed faint, and at a considerable distance; and under the arch of the outer cavern stood a sailor, with an oar in his hand, looking, in the perspective, like a fairy with his wand. We at length emerged unwillingly from this extraordinary bason, and again enjoyed ourselves in the large exterior cave. Our boat was hoisted with some difficulty over the ledge, which appears the natural barrier of the interior apartments, and restored in safety to the fishers, who were properly gratified for the hazard which their skiff, as well as one of themselves, had endured. After this, we resolved to ascend the rocks, and discover the opening by which the cascade was discharged from above into the second cave. We easily found the brook, and traced its descent till it precipitates itself down a chasm of the rock into the subterranean apartment, where we first made its acquaintance. Divided by a natural arch of stone from the chasm down which the cascade falls, there is another rent, which serves as a skylight to the cavern, as I already noticed. Standing on a natural foot-bridge, formed by the arch which divides these two gulfs, you have a grand prospect into both. The one is deep, black, and silent, only affording at the bottom a glimpse of the dark and sullen pool which occupies the interior of the cavern. the stream discharges itself, seems to The right-hand rent, down which ring and reel with the unceasing roar of the cataract which envelopes its side in mist and foam. This part of the scene alone is worth a day's journey to see. After heavy rains, the torrent is discharged into this cavern with astonishing violence; and the size of the chasm being inadequate to the reception of such a volume of water, it is thrown up in spouts like the blowing of a whale. But at such times the entrance of the cavern is inaccessible. Taking leave of this scene with regret, we rowed back to Loch Eribol. Having yet an hour to spare before dinner, we rowed across the mouth of the lake to its shore on the east side. This rises into a steep and shattered stack of mouldering calcareous rock and stone, called Whitten Head. It is pierced with several caverns, the abode of seals and cormorants. We entered one, where our guide promised to us a grand sight, and so it certainly was to any who had not just come from Smowe. In this last cave the sea enters through a lofty arch, and penetrates to great depth; but the height of the tide made it dangerous to venture very far, so we did not see the extremity of Friskin's Cavern, as it is called. We shot several cormorants in the cave, the echoes roaring like thunder at every discharge. August-1814. Sail about four, and in rounding the main-land of Orkney, called Pomona, encoun ter a very heavy sea. About ten o'clock get into the sound of Holm, or Ham, a fine smooth current, meandering between two green islands, which have little to characterise them. On the right of the Sound is the main land, and a deep bay, called Scalpa-flow, indents it up to within two miles of Kirkwall. A canal through this neck of the island would be of great consequence to the borough. We see the steeple and church of Kirkwall across the island very distinctly. Passing two Swedish vessels, and a large one, say 600 tons, we speak them, but got no news from Norway. Getting out of the Sound of Holm, we see on the right the harbour, or roadstead, of the Long Hope, now protected by a small fort. A sloop of war, and some other shipping, seem to be lying there. On the left-hand we see and land into the harbour, or roadstead, of Wide-walls, where we find seven or eight foreign vessels, bound for Ireland. These roadsteads are common all through the Orkneys, and afford excellent shelter for small vessels. The day is pleasant and sunny, but the breeze is too high to permit landing at the Skerries, which was our object. Agree, therefore, to stand over for the main-land of Scotland, and visit Thurso. Enter the Pentland firth, so celebrated for the strength and fury of its tides, which is boiling even in this pleasant weather. We see a large ship (a king's ship or Greenlander) battling with this heavy current, and, though with all her canvass set, and a breeze blowing, getting more and more involved in the firth, in spite of wind and sail. See the two capes of Dungsby, or Duncansbay, and Donat-head, between which lies the ce lebrated John O'Groat's House, on the north-eastern extremity of Scotland. The shore of Caithness rises 'bold, rocky, and hilly before us, a contrast to the Orkneys, which are all low, excepting the Island of Hoy, which contains some very high ground, and one remarkable hill. Ŏn Duncan's-Bay-Head appear some remarkable insulated rocks, like towers, called the Stacks of Duncan's-bay. Near the shore runs the remarkable breaking tide, called the Merry Men of Mey, where Mr MacKenzie lays the scenery of a poem. Where the dancing men of Mey Here, according to his locality, the Caithness man witnessed the vision in which was introduced the song translated by Gray, under title of the Fatal Sisters. On this subject an Orkney gentleman of high respectability told us the following remarkable circumstance. A clergyman informed him, that while some remnants of the Norse were yet spoken in the island of North Ronaldsha, he carried thither the translation of Mr Gray, then newly published, and read it to some of the old people, as referring to the ancient history of these islands. But so soon as he had proceeded a little way, they exclaimed they knew it very well in the original, and had often sung it to him, when he asked them for an old Norse song. They called it the Enchant resses. The breeze dies away between two wicked little islands, called Swona and Stroma, the latter belonging to Caithness, the former to Orkney. Both islands have dangerous reefs and whirlpools, where, even in this fine day, the tide rages furiously. In, deed the large, high, unbroken billows which at every swell hide from our decks each distant object, plainly intimate what a dreadful current this must be when vexed by high or adverse winds. Finding ourselves losing ground, and unwilling to waste time, we gave up Thurso, and ran back into the roadstead or bay of Long-hope, and anchored under the fort. The bay has four entrances, and safe anchorage in most winds; and being accordingly a great rendezvous for shipping, (there are nine vessels lying there at present,) has been of late an object of attention with government. Went ashore after dinner, and visited the fort, which is only partly completed. It is a fleche directed to the sea, with eight guns, 24 pounders, but without any land-defences. The guns are mounted en barbette, without embrasures, each upon a kind of moveable stage, which stage, turning upon a pivot in front, and traversing by means of wheels behind, can be pointed in any direction that may be thought necessary. Upon Upon the stage, the gun-carriage moves forward, and recoils; and the depth of the parapet shelters the men even better than where the gun is fixed through an embrasure. At a lit tle distance from this battery they are building a Martello tower, which is to cross the fire of the battery, and also that of another tower, projected upon the opposite point of the bay. The expedience of these towers seems excessively problematical. Supposing them impregnable, or nearly so, a garrison of fourteen or fifteen men may be always blockaded by a very trifling force, while the enemy dispose of all in the vicinity at their pleasure. In the case of LongHope, for instance, a frigate might disembark 100 men, take the fort in the rear, where it is undefended even by a palisade; destroy the magazines, spike and dismount the cannon; carry off or cut out any vessels in the roadstead, and accomplish all the purposes that could bring them to so remote a spot, in spite of the serjeant's party quartered in the Martello tower, and without troubling themselves at all about them, Meanwhile Long-Hope will one day turn out a flourishing place. There will soon be taverns and slop-shops, where sailors rendezvous in such numbers. Then will come quays, docks, and warehouses, and then a thriving town. This is the first fine day we have enjoyed to an end since Sunday, the 31st ult. Rainy, cold, and hazy have been our voyages around these islands. I hope the weather begins to mend, though our master threatens a breeze to-morrow. We are to attempt the Skerries, if possible; if not, we will, I believe, go to Stromness. August-1814. Fine morning; we get again into the Pentland firth, and with the aid of a pilot-boat belonging to the light-house service, from south Ronaldsha we attempt the Skerries. Notwithstanding the fair weather, we have a specimen of the violence of the flood-tide in the Pentland firth, which forms whirlpools on the shallows, sunken rocks, &c. beside the islands of Swona and Strona, and in the deep water makes strange smooth whirling and swelling eddies, called by the sailors wells. Werun through the wells of Tuftilow in particular, which, in the least stress of weather, are said to have force sufficient to wheel a large ship round and round, without respect either to helm or sails. Hence the distinction of wells and waves in old English, the The well being that smooth glassy oilylooking eddy, the force of which seems to the eye almost resistless. The appearance of the waves bursting in foam around these strange eddies, by which their swell is broken and intersected, has a bewildering and confused appearance, which it is impossible to describe. Get off the Skerries about 10 o'clock, and land easily. It is the first time a boat has got there for several days. Skerries is an island, so called, containing about 60 acres of fine short herbage, belonging to Lord Dundas. It is surrounded by a reef of precipitous rocks, not very high, but almost inaccessible, unless where the ocean has made indentations among them, and where stairs have been cut down to the water for the light-house service. These inlets have a romantic appear ance, and have been christened by the sailors, the Parliament House, the Seal's Lying-in Hospital, &c. The last inlet, after rushing through a deep chasm, which is open over-head, is continued under ground, and then again opens to the sky in the middle of the island. In this hole the seals bring out their whelps. When the tide is high, the waves rise up through this aperture in the middle of the isle like the blowing of a whale in noise and appearance. There is another round cauldron of solid rock to which the waves have access through a natural arch in the rock, having another and lesser arch rising just above it. In hard weather the waves rush through both apertures with a hor rid noise. The workmen called it the Carron Blast, and indeed the variety of noises which issued from the abyss somewhat reminded me of that engine. The light-house is too low, and on the old construction; yet it is of the last importance; for, before this light-house was established, vessels were obliged to go round the whole Orcadian archipelago, or to involve themselves on the hazardous and complicated passages of the firths of Westra, or North Ronaldsha, rather than attempt the Pentland firth, where those unhappy Skerries lie, forming the salient angle of a triangle between the islands of Swona and Stroma, to catch any ship that might pass between them. But now the lighthouse renders the Pentland firth quite accessible at the proper hours of tide. There are about fifty head of cattle on the island, belonging to Lord Dundas's tenant. They must be got ashore and off with great danger and difficulty. There is no water upon the isle except what remains after rain in some pools; these sometimes dry up in summer, and the cattle are reduced to great straits. Leave the isle about one, and the wind and tide being favourable, crowd all sail, and get on for half an hour at the rate of almost fourteen miles an hour. Soon reach our old anchorage at the Long Hope, and passing it, stand to the northwestward upon the Sound of Hoy for Stromness;-I should have mentioned, that in going down the Pentland firth this morning, we saw John-o'-Groat'shouse, or rather the place where it stood, now occupied by a store house. Our pilot opined, there was no such man as John-o'-Groat, for he says, he cannot hear that any body ever saw him. This reasoning would put down most facts of antiquity. They gather shells on the shore called John-o'-Groat's buckies. I may here add, that the interpretation given to wells may apply to the wells of Slane, in the fine ballad of Clerk Colvin. Such eddies, in the romantic vicinity of Slane's Castle, would be a fine place for a mermaid. Our wind fails us, and what is worse, becomes westerly. The Sound has now the appearance of a beautiful land-locked bay, the passages between the islands being scarce visible. We have a superb view of Kirkwall cathedral, with a strong gleam of sunshine upon, it. We see it by looking up the bay called Scapa flow, which indents the Island of Pornonan, and so over the narrow isthmus of land between that bay and Kirkwall. Gloomy weather begins to collect around us, particularly on the island of Hoy, which, covered with gloom and vapour, now assumes a majestic and mountainous character. On Pomona we pass the hill of Ophir. This Ophir of the north must not be confounded with the Ophir of the 'south. From the former came gold, silver, and precious stones, the latter seems to produce little except peats; yet these are precious commodities, which some of the Orkney isles altogether want, and, in lieu of them, burn the turf of their lands instead of importing coal from Newcastle. There are remains of the Norwegian descent of the Orcadians in their names and language, particularly in N. Ronaldsha, an isle I regret we did not see. They still speak a little Norse, and indeed I hear every day words of that language, for instance, Jokull. We creep slowly up HoySound, working under the Pomona shore, but there is no hope of reaching Stromness till we have the assistance of the evening tide. The channel now seems like a Highland loch, not the least ripple on the waves; the passage is narrowed, and (to the eye) blocked up by the interference of the green, and apparently fertile, isle of Gramsay, the property of Lord Armadale. Hoy looks yet grimmer from comparing its black and steep mountains with the verdant isle. To add to the beauty of the Sound, it is rendered lively by the successive appearance of seven or eight whaling vessels from Davis's Straits, large strong ships which pass us successively, with all their sails set, enjoying the little wind that is. Many of these vessels display the garland, that is, a wreath of ribbands which the young fellows on board have got from their sweethearts, or came by otherwise, which hangs between the fore-mast and main-mast, surmounted sometimes by a small model of the vessel. This garland is hung up upon the 1st of May, and remains till they come into port. |