“Ay, and hear them, too,” said Davy Spink, ceasing to row, and looking over his shoulder towards the seaward horizon.

“Yer een and lugs are better than mine, then,” returned the ill-favoured comrade, who answered, when among his friends, to the name of Big Swankie, otherwise, and more correctly, Jock Swankie.  “Od!  I believe ye’re right,” he added, shading his heavy red brows with his heavier and redder hand, “that is the rock, but a man wad need the een o’ an eagle to see onything in the face o’ sik a bleezin’ sun.  Pull awa’, Davy, we’ll hae time to catch a bit cod or a haddy afore the rock’s bare.”

Influenced by these encouraging hopes, the stout pair urged their boat in the direction of a thin line of snow-white foam that lay apparently many miles away, but which was in reality not very far distant.

By degrees the white line expanded in size and became massive, as though a huge breaker were rolling towards them; ever and anon jets of foam flew high into the air from various parts of the mass, like smoke from a cannon’s mouth.  Presently, a low continuous roar became audible above the noise of the oars; as the boat advanced, the swells from the southeast could be seen towering upwards as they neared the foaming spot, gradually changing their broad-backed form, and coming on in majestic walls of green water, which fell with indescribable grandeur into the seething caldron.  No rocks were visible, there was no apparent cause for this wild confusion in the midst of the otherwise calm sea.  But the fishermen knew that the Bell Rock was underneath the foam, and that in less than an hour its jagged peaks would be left uncovered by the falling tide.

As the swell of the sea came in from the eastward, there was a belt of smooth water on the west side of the rock.  Here the fishermen cast anchor, and, baiting their hand-lines, began to fish.  At first they were unsuccessful, but before half an hour had elapsed, the cod began to nibble, and Big Swankie ere long hauled up a fish of goodly size.  Davy Spink followed suit, and in a few minutes a dozen fish lay spluttering in the bottom of the boat.

“Time’s up noo,” said Swankie, coiling away his line.

“Stop, stop, here’s a wallupper,” cried Davy, who was an excitable man; “we better fish a while langer—­bring the cleek, Swankie, he’s ower big to—­noo, lad, cleek him! that’s it!—­Oh-o-o-o!”

The prolonged groan with which Davy brought his speech to a sudden termination was in consequence of the line breaking and the fish escaping, just as Swankie was about to strike the iron hook into its side.

“Hech! lad, that was a guid ane,” said the disappointed man with a sigh; “but he’s awa’.”

“Ay,” observed Swankie, “and we must awa’ too, so up anchor, lad.  The rock’s lookin’ oot o’ the sea, and time’s precious.”

The anchor was speedily pulled up, and they rowed towards the rock, the ragged edges of which were now visible at intervals in the midst of the foam which they created.