

THE TUSKAR ROCK. 



ABOUT nine miles from the point of Greenore, which forms the 

 south-eastern boundary of the bay of Wexford, stands the Tuskar, 

 a large steep rock rising almost perpendicular from the bosom of 

 the deep. Its top is flat, and is of about a quarter of an acre in ex- 

 tent. The rock is environed by many others, several of which do 

 not appear above the surface, indeed from the Tuskar to the Saltees, 

 the south-east coast of Wexford is thickly and dangerously studded 

 with rocks. A lighthouse has been erected on the Tuskar, exhibit- 

 ing a revolving light of three different colours, and in foggy weather 

 a bell is tolled to warn mariners of their dangerous proximity. 



In the summer of 1828, I made an excursion with some friends 

 from the little bathing depot, the village of Churchtown, to the Tuskar. 

 We went in one of the fishing-cots, that is, a long, narrow, flat-bot- 

 tomed boat, capable of holding twenty persons, very like a coffin in 

 figure. 



The morning was lovely, scarce a breath moved the surface of 

 the water, all was smooth and polished as a looking-glass, except 

 where our oars on each side broke it into circles, or the puffin, with 

 its young brood upon its back, dived to avoid our nearer approach. 



As we rowed along the shore to avoid the tide, the houses, the 

 trees at St. Margaret's, the whole shore, were represented with the 

 most correct fidelity, and looked like a moving panorama. We landed 

 on the Tuskar, and having inspected the machinery of the revolving 

 light, which is very simple, and kept in capital order, we re-em- 

 barked. There was a gentle breeze in our favour, which our men 

 availed themselves of, and, drawing their oars across, they indulged 

 in that of all pleasures most sweet to a sailor, the far niente. I hap- 

 pened to remark the dangerous appearance of the Tuskar. 



" Troth, and you may say that, Sir," replied the steersman of the 

 cot ; " and bad sess to them that put it there, and all the rest of 

 them for rocks." 



" Put them there ! How do you mean put them there ? Sure 

 they were there from the deluge at least, if not before it." 

 *- f *\ " Well, may be so," said he ; " but the country people here tell a 

 different story of them; may be your honour has heard of it, and of 

 the ghost-ship that haunts the rock." 



" Indeed I never did." 



" Well, your honour, then I'll try any how to tell it ye," said he, 

 though I'm a morthual bad hand at telling a story. Now, if I w r as 

 ould Paddy Rossiter, of Notherton he's the boy would spin a long 

 yarn for you ; but Nicky, honey, (addressing one of the men for- 

 ward,) take in a small taste of that foresail, the win' is heading-in so ; 

 steady that, belay naw." Then turning round to me, and removing 

 the quid of tobacco from his cheek, he began. 



<f ' Long ever ago, when the Danes lived in these parts, 'twas they, 

 your honour, builded all the ould castles about the country, and big 

 cowards they were to build such strong houses to live in. Well, 



M.M. No. 95. 4 A 



