THE BASS ROCK 229 



rocky shore of Canty Bay. We pack our cameras 

 and prepare to descend, but our host Macbeth insists 

 upon our partaking of such fare as he can offer, 

 explaining that one has to be satisfied with what he 

 can get on a rocky home like this. For one short 

 hour we sit on the ramparts of an ancient fortifica- 

 tion and look out upon the sea, now covered here 

 and there with small patches of silver spray, mean- 

 while watching our boat approaching, and knowing 

 that each wave it encounters means so much time 

 less for us on this rock, we fain would stay on. Then 

 we are hailed again, and find that it is time to leave. 

 We drink to the health of jolly Macbeth and his 

 merry daughter and wish them success, and then 

 go down to our boat. And as we sail towards 

 Tantallon's stately ruins, and watch the Bass Rock 

 seeming to grow smaller and smaller, it seems as 

 though we had passed an uncommon experience in 

 a land of dreams, and we look back upon our visit 

 as one of the most remarkable and interesting days 

 spent among the birds of the British Islands. 



