A ledge of rock had, by the assistance of the chisel and pickaxe, been formed into a sort of quay.

The rock was of extremely hard consistence, and the task so difficult that, according to the fisherman, a labourer who wrought at the work might in the evening have carried home in his bonnet all the shivers which he had struck from the mass in the course of the day.

This little quay communicated with a rude staircase, already repeatedly mentioned, which descended from the old castle.

There was also a communication between the beach and the quay, by scrambling over the rocks.
'Ye had better land here,' said the lad, 'for the surf's running high at the Shellicoat Stane, and there will no be a dry thread amang us or we get the cargo out.

Na! na! (in answer to an offer of money) ye have wrought for your passage, and wrought far better than ony o' us.