The Green Ray/Chapter XVIII

CHAPTER XVIII. STAFFA.
Staffa is but a mere islet, nature has, at least, made it one of the most curious of the Hebrides. This great oval rock, one mile long and half a mile wide, is furrowed with magnificent caves of basaltic origin, and is the rendezvous of geologists as well as of tourists. However, neither Miss Campbell nor her uncles had yet been to Staffa, and Oliver Sinclair alone knew its marvels. He was well fitted, therefore, to do the honours of the island, where they had come to spend a few days.

This rock is entirely the result of the crystallization of an enormous basaltic mass, which became congealed here at a very early period of the world's formation, la fact, according to the observations of Helmholtz—formed on the experiments of Bischof on the congealing of basalt, which can only be melted at a temperature of two thousand degrees—it must have taken no less than three hundred and fifty millions of years, to complete its entire congealment. It must, therefore, have been at a fabulously remote epoch that the solidification of the world, after passing from a gaseous to a liquid state, began to be produced.

Had Aristobulus Ursiclos been there, he would have had matter for some fine dissertation on the phenomena of geological history. But he was far away; Miss Campbell thought no more of him, and as her Uncle Sam remarked to his brother, “Let sleeping dogs lie!”

“First of all,” said Oliver Sinclair, “we must take possession of our new domain.”

“Without forgetting the motive which brought us here,” added Miss Campbell, smiling.

“Without forgetting it! I should think not indeed!” exclaimed Sinclair. “Let us go at once and look for a good place of observation, and see what kind of western horizon our island gives us.”

“Yes, let us go,” replied Miss Campbell, “but it is rather misty to-day, and I do not think that the sunset is likely to be favourable for us.”

“We will wait, Miss Campbell, we will wait, if needs be, until the end of autumn.”

“Yes, we will wait,” repeated the brothers, “until Helena orders us away.”

“There is no hurry, uncles,” replied the young girl, who had been in high spirits since they had left Iona; “there is no hurry; the situation of this island is charming. A villa built in the middle of that beautiful green slope would not be at all a bad place to live in, even when the storms, which America sends us so liberally, break over Staffa.”

“Hum!” exclaimed Uncle Sib, “They must be terrible on this extreme verge of the ocean!”

“They are indeed,” replied Sinclair. “Staffa is exposed to every wind that blows, and affords no shelter except on its eastern coast, where our Clorinda is now lying at anchor; and on this part of the Atlantic the bad weather lasts nearly nine months out of the twelve.”

“That is why we cannot see a single tree,” said Sam; “all vegetation on this plateau must perish directly it rises a few feet above the ground.”

“Well, and is it not quite worth while to be able to live for two or three months on this island?” exclaimed Miss Campbell. “You must buy Staffa, uncles, if it is to be sold.”

And, as though they could refuse their niece nothing, the brothers had already put their hands into their pockets, as if about to settle the bargain.

“To whom does Staffa belong?” asked Sib.

“To the McDonalds,” replied Sinclair. “It only brings them in twelve pounds a year, but I do not think they would give it up at any price.”

“That is a pity!” said Miss Campbell, who naturally very enthusiastic, as we know, was still more so under her present circumstances.

Thus talking, the new arrivals made their inspection of the island, walking over its verdant slopes. It was not a day for visitors to come by steamer from Oban, so Miss Campbell and her friends had no fear of being disturbed by tourists; they had the desert island to themselves. A few highland ponies and black cows were grazing on the meagre pasture-land of the plateau, through which thin streaks of lava could be seen; but no shepherd was anywhere visible, and if they were tended, it was from afar—perhaps from Iona, or even Mull, fifteen miles off.

Neither was there a house to be seen; only the ruins of a hut destroyed by the terrific storms which rage from September to March, In truth, twelve pounds is a handsome revenue for a few acres of meadow-land, the grass of which is as bare as a piece of velvet worn to the thread. The exploration of the island was soon made, and they had now only to scan the horizon.

It was very evident that there was nothing to be expected from the sunset; that evening the sky, which had been so clear the day before, was how shrouded in mist, as might be expected in the changeable autumn weather. About six o'clock a bank of cloud tinged with red, hovering over the western horizon, foretold another change; the brothers were even obliged to confess that the barometer on board the Clorinda was going down to changeable, with a tendency to sink lower still. After the sun had sunk behind a waving line of billows, they all returned to the yacht, and passed the night quietly in the little cove by Clam-shell Cave.

The following day, the 7th of September, they agreed to make a closer inspection of the island. After having explored the heights, they must go and see the caves, and make up for lost time, since, all through Aristobulus, they had been so long detained in their search for the phenomenon. Besides this, there was no cause to regret their excursions to the caves, which have justly made this island so celebrated.

This day was given up to the exploration of the Clam-shell Cave, in front of which the yacht lay at anchor. Oliver Sinclair had given the steward instructions to have luncheon served here, where the guests might imagine themselves shut up in a ship's hold. Indeed, the prisms, from forty to fifty feet long; which form the sides of the vault, look very much like the timbers inside a vessel.

This cave, about thirty feet high, fifteen wide, and a hundred feet deep, is very easily approached; opening almost directly east, it is protected from the violence of breakers which, in heavy gales, dash over the other caverns in the island, but at the same time it is the least interesting. Nevertheless, the arrangement of its basaltic curves, which look rather like a work of art than nature, is very wonderful.

Miss Campbell was very much charmed with her visit; Oliver Sinclair made her admire the beauties of Clam-shell, with doubtless less scientific pomposity than Aristobulus would have done, but certainly with more artistic feeling.

“I should like to take away some souvenir of our visit to Clam-shell,” said Miss Campbell.

“Nothing can be easier,” replied Oliver; and in a few moments he had made a sketch of the cave, taken from the rock which projects at the end of the great basaltic causeway. The mouth of the cave, which had the appearance of an enormous mammiferous creature, reduced to a skeleton, the wooden staircase leading to the top of the island, the clear, peaceful water at its entrance, beneath which the enormous basaltic substructure could be seen, were all skilfully portrayed on a leaf of a sketch-book, under which the artist wrote,—

“From Oliver Sinclair to Miss Campbell. “Staffa, 7th of September, 1881.” After luncheon, the skipper had the largest of his shore-boats made ready, then his passengers took their seats in it, and were rowed alongside the picturesque coast, till they came to Boat Cave, so called because it is entirely filled by the sea, and cannot be entered on dry ground.

This cave is situated on the south-west side of the island, and when the sea is rough, it is dangerous to enter it; but to-day, although the sky was threatening, the wind had not yet freshened, and its exploration was perfectly safe.

Just as their boat reached the mouth of the cave, the steamer laden with tourists from Oban cast anchor in sight of the island. Fortunately, her passengers would not stay more than two hours, and during that time would not interfere at all with Miss Campbell and her friends. They could remain unperceived in the cave, during the regular routine of the excursion, which consisted of a visit to the cave of Fingal and a walk on the slopes of the island, so that there was no occasion for them to come in contact with the noisy excursionists, for which they were not sorry, and with a very good reason. For, after the sudden departure of his companions, might not Aristobulus, in order to return to Oban, have taken this steamer which had just called at Iona? At any rate, it was an encounter to be avoided.

Whether or not the above-mentioned gentleman was among the tourists, it was certain that no one remained behind after the steamer had left. When Miss Campbell and her companions at last came out of this long kind of tunnel which seems to have been burrowed in a basaltic mine, they found the island as peaceful as ever.

There are several celebrated caverns in many parts of the globe, but more particularly in volcanic regions, which are distinguished by being either of Neptunian or Plutonian origin.

Some of these cavities have been hollowed out by the water which gradually bites into and wears away even granitic rocks until it has transformed them into immense excavations; such are the caves of Crozen in Brittany, those of Bonifacio in Corsica, of Morghatten in Norway, of St. Michael in Gibraltar, of Scratchell on the coast of the Isle of Wight, and of Tourane in the marble cliffs on the coast of Cochin China.

Others, of quite different formation, are caused by the giving way in the sides of the granite or basalt, produced by the congealing of igneous rock, and the appearance of which is far more weird and rugged than that of caves of Neptunian creation.

In the first case. Nature, true to her principles, has economized force; in the second, she has economized time. The celebrated cave of Fingal belongs to the class of excavations of a geological epoch, and it was to the exploration of this marvellous cavern that the following day was to be devoted.

Le Rayon vert/Chapitre XVIII Promień zielony/Rozdział XVIII