Ornithology of St. Kilda. 73 



As we approached Borreay the island became more distinct, 

 coming out clearly against the western horizon, whilst 

 beyond, again, looming like a huge dark cloud, St. Kilda 

 proper rose weird-like from the sea. We passed the large 

 inaccessible rock Levenish, which stands sentinel-like at the 

 mouth of East or Village Bay, into which we sailed in the 

 darkness, and came to anchor, as it seemed, right under the 

 frowning hills, at half-past one a.m. on Thursday. Inside 

 the bay the sea was almost as rough as outside ; and here we 

 were left to our fate by the islanders — left to toss and roll all 

 night almost within stone''s throw of the shore. About eight 

 o'clock the following morning a large boat put off to the 

 smack, manned by half a dozen St.-Kildans, to fetch us ashore. 

 Glad, indeed, were they to welcome us, for they had seen no 

 strangers and had had no communication with the outside 

 world for nine months ! The landing was rather a difl&cult 

 undertaking, owing to the treacherous swell ; but once on 

 shore, almost all the population came down to meet the 

 strangers, and universal hand-shaking was the order of the 

 day. The faithful old pastor, the Rev. John Mackay, was 

 first and foremost in his welcome, insisting on our partaking 

 of his hospitality, and anxiously listening meanwhile to the 

 doings of the busy outside world. 



Viewed from the sea, St. Kilda looks far more barren and 

 dreary than it really is, and the same remarks apply in an 

 ornithological sense, for few birds are in sight. As seen from 

 Village Bay, St. Kilda presents a grand, majestic, and novel 

 appearance. The deeply indented bay is in the foreground ; 

 on our left is the precipitous island of Doon, looking for the 

 most part bare and rocky, like some dismantled fortress or 

 ruined cathedral, its jagged peaks rising in many places sheer 

 from the water. Doon forms the southern horn of the bay, 

 and is only separated from St. Kilda by a very narrow strait, 

 almost fordable at low water. Next to Boon on the mainland 

 rises the hill MuUach-scaill, or Bald Top ; then comes mighty 

 Connacher overlooking all, the morning mist settling on his 

 hoary head, twelve hundred feet above the sea ; whilst on the 

 right rises MuUach-oshavall, or the Top of Oswald, forming 



