A quiet night on the 31st seemed to augur favourably for our relief, which was due the following evening; by that time, however, the prospect was completely changed by a strong sou’-east wind, and consequently heavy sea, which rendered landing extremely doubtful. The following morning the _Pharos_ made her appearance, and attempted a landing at daybreak. The two boats despatched from the steamer for this purpose, on approaching the Rock, found the passage unsafe to attempt, and returned to the steamer. Weighing anchor, the _Pharos_ proceeded to the relief of the North Carr Lightship, where, owing to the tempestuous state of the weather, she broke the hawser by which she moors to the lightship three times during the operation. Landing the relief men from the lightship and Bass Rock--which had been relieved the previous day--at North Berwick, and sheltering overnight at the Isle of May, she returned to us on Wednesday morning and succeeded in effecting the relief. _FEBRUARY 1904._ Cormorants have been more in evidence here this month than usual. At present a flock of thirteen is to be seen diving in the deep water surrounding the reef. Scorning the crustaceans, molluscs, and other ground game of the eiders and longtails, these birds subsist entirely upon fish, in pursuit of which they are extremely dexterous. The long sharp-pointed bill is excellently adapted for securing their prey, the extremity of the upper mandible curving over the lower in a sharp hook, the efficiency of which I once saw forcibly demonstrated. One of these birds, while flying high overhead, was winged by a gunshot, and on striking the ground disgorged a recently swallowed poddley, some ten inches long. A boy of the party, having the temerity to thrust his foot towards the bird, had the upper leather of his boot pierced and the foot slightly wounded by the sharp hook-like process of the upper mandible. During an exceedingly rigorous winter in Orkney--in ’94, if I remember aright--hundreds of these birds perished from hunger. In a roofless hut, a few yards from high-water mark, I counted fourteen dying and dead. Rats were busy devouring the dead, while the living stumbled weakly over the half-eaten bodies of their comrades. In the most unlikely places they were to be met with, coming right up to our doors as if begging for shelter. One of them surprised me by waddling into the workshop, passing over my boots as if unconscious of my presence, and settling underneath the bench to die. Any food we could offer them was always rejected. One evening my attention was drawn to our poultry, which, instead of being on their roost, stood huddled about the entrance. Thinking the entrance had been accidentally blocked from within, I entered by the doorway to investigate. Judge my astonishment at finding “Mister _Phalacrocorax Carbo_”--such is the cormorant’s scientific title--standing Horatius-like holding the diminutive passage against all comers.