100 WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 



small, leaky harbour boat, five souls, one pair of oars, and it 

 dark, late and windy. 



But to continue our cast round the islands for whales 

 we motor steadily through Yell Sound and past Haldane's 

 house at Lochend and its silvery crescent shore, with the 

 little green crofts and low, misty hills beyond. We swing 

 round his bay and blow our horn three times and by-and-by 

 we see two figures, Haldane and his gillie, against the white 

 house with its many little windows in the thick walls and 

 they wave a greeting and we dip our flag three times and 

 proceed west and north till we feel the ocean swell again, 

 and pass Ramna Stacks, the battered sentinels at the north 

 entrance to Yell Sound, home of cormorants and shag. A 

 lumpy sea generally heaves about them, throwing white 

 fountains up their dark sides. Often I have seen them 

 when passing up the coast in whalers, and always they ex- 

 press a rough, rugged aspect of the sea. I have known them 

 change their colour in a most remarkable manner in the space 

 of a few moments, from livid yellow to green and back again, 

 and at their feet lie many shells of great value deposited there 

 in H.M.S. by various cruisers. This is how it happened. 

 One day an admiral came from the outer seas at thirty miles 

 an hour and called on R. C. Haldane and said he'd like to 

 have a shot or two at the Stacks as they were exquisite targets. 

 So Haldane agreed, seeing the matter was one of national 

 service. And one morning, bright and early, my host climbed 

 on board the admiral's ship, and in the time they had half 

 done breakfast they had travelled from Lochend at a fearful 

 speed to the Stacks, and then their owner saw the islands 

 stagger and change colour ; when the war vessels passed 

 them, each decorating the islands with four shells apiece of 

 various explosives, each patent explosive painting the rocks 

 a different tint. 



To-day as we pass they seem to be of their natural colour 

 again, sombre black and red with a suggestion of pale green 

 grass on their sloping tops, with streaks of white on the ledges 

 where the sea-birds breed, undisturbed by man. 



N. by W. we steer, the wind ahead as usual, with a careful 

 look-out for whales, the wind rising meantime till the sea 



