SHAGS AND THE WHALE. 315 



hurrying stream of Shags and Rock Doves poured 

 from its dark recesses. The former alighted upon 

 the sea in the bay below and swam about close 

 together, but the latter seemed to disappear 

 entirely. I was somewhat surprised to see a 

 Heron lazily flap its way out, but upon peeping 

 over I discovered its nest and eggs situated on a 

 jutting crag. 



Whilst we were engaged in making photo- 

 graphs of the cave, our attention was attracted 

 by a peculiar noise, which sounded something 

 like a mixture of snorting, wheezing, and sighing 

 away out seawards. Although curious, it was 

 strangely familiar to me, and I suddenly remem- 

 bered that I had heard the same weird maritime 

 music before as I lay tossing one dark night at 

 the bottom of a smack's boat in the middle of the 

 North Sea. "A Whale!" I cried, and just then 

 the monster rounded the end of the rocky pro- 

 montory which we had just crossed. He came 

 straight into the little bay, and afforded us one 

 of the most curious sights it has ever been my 

 good fortune to see. The Leviathan rose for 

 breath right in the middle of the flock of Shags, 

 and the birds churned the sea into a great white 

 star of foam in their terrified haste to take wing 

 and escape. The day being perfectly calm and 

 our position right above them, the clatter of their 

 wings and feet along the surface of the water 

 until they gained the air was truly astonishing. 



On our return to the hotel I reflected that 

 we had come a long way, spent a lot of money, 

 were within a walk of what we wanted, could 

 do absolutely no harm in getting it, and resolved 

 to resort to strategy in order to procure what we 

 desired. I accordingly communicated my scheme 



