"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