ST. KILDA FROM WITHOUT 187 



On a lovely still evening an eighth or tenth con- 

 secutive day of dead calm, after a night and day journey 

 without a break we left the train at Strome Ferry. 



There was not a ripple in the land-locked bay where 

 the two steamers the one bound for the Skye ports, 

 the other for Stornoway lay with steam up, and as we 

 moved out we could not have wished for fairer promise. 



But alas ! 



' Not seldom evening in the west, 

 Sinks smilingly forsworn.' 



There was an unnatural oiliness in the calm of the 

 sea, and, as we cleared the successive headlands, and 

 came more into open water, the masts began to sway 

 slowly and steadily backwards and forwards, far out on 

 each side. The cordage creaked and strained with the 

 monotonous regularity of the snore of a heavy sleeper, 

 and we were aware of an ominous groundswell, the 

 reflex of tremendous waves somewhere. The surprise 

 was less, but not the disappointment, when, on steaming 

 into Stornoway Harbour late on Saturday night, the 

 first news which greeted us was that the storm cone 

 was hoisted. 



Our ship, the Jackal, was timed to start about eight 

 on Sunday evening, and by luncheon-time we were on 

 board. 



The afternoon slipped pleasantly by, spent chiefly 

 in watching one of the sights familiar enough to those 

 who occupy themselves on the great waters, but ever 

 new to a landsman which help one to realise the 

 meaning of the extraordinary powers of reproduction 



