Towering in lonely for two thousand feet above the blue waters of Foveaux Strait, the mass of the Solander Rock seems to dominate that stormy region like some eternal sentinel set to hail the coming of the flying fleets of the northern hemisphere to the brave new world of New Zealand. To all appearance it is , its bare weather-stained sides, by the tempests of ages, rising sheer from a depth of hundreds of without a or a wherein even a goat could find foothold. Not that landing would be practicable even were there any shelves near the water’s edge; for exposed as the rock is to the full range of the Southern Ocean, it must perforce meet continually with the effects of all the storms that are raging right round the southern slopes of this planet of ours, since there is absolutely nothing to hinder their world-engirdling sweep in those . Even when, as happens at rare , the unwearying west wind stays for a brief space its imperial march to meet the rising sun, and the of storm and sea broods over the deep in a like the peace of God, the glassy of the ocean still undulates as if with the of earth’s heart, a pulse only to be timed by the horology of Creation. That almost imperceptible of the sea-surface, meeting in its sweep with the Solander Rock, rises in wrathful protest, the thunders of its voice being audible for many miles; while torn into a thousand whirling , its and grind around the base of the mountain, in a series of overfalls that would immediately destroy any of man’s building that became involved therein. And this in a calm. But in a , especially one that is howling from Antarctica to Kerguelen—from Tristan d’Acunha to the Snares—over the most tremendous waste of waters this earth can show, then is the time to see the Solander. Like a never-ending succession of mountain ranges with snowy summits and gloomy declivities with white, the storm waves of the Southern Sea come rushing on. Wide opens the of Foveaux Strait before them, fifty miles from shore to shore at its mouth, and in its centre, confronting them alone, stands the great Rock. They themselves at its mass, their impact striking a deeper note than that of the storm; as if the foundations of the earth were jarred and sent upward through all her a reply to the impetuous ocean. Baffled, dashed into a fragments, the sea until the very root-hold of the rock is revealed to the day, and its strange inhabitants blink glassily at the bright glare of the sun. Then are the broken masses of the beaten wave aloft by the wind until the topmost crag streams with the salt spray and all down the deeply-scored sides flows the foaming brine. So fierce and continuous is the assault that the Rock is often invisible, despite its huge mass, for hours together, or only dimly discernible through the spindrift like a sombre spectre, the gigantic spirit of the storm. Only the western face of the Solander is thus assaulted. For to the the Straits narrow rapidly until at their there is but two or three miles of open water. Therefore that side of the Rock is always comparatively peaceful above high-water mark. During the fiercest storm, the wind, meeting this solid , recoils from itself, making an invisible cushion of air all around the mountain, within the limits of which it is calm except on the side remote from the wind, where a gentle return breeze may be felt. But down below a different state of things prevails. The retreat of the mighty waves before that immovable bastion drags after them all the waters behind it, so that there is created a whirlpool that need fear no comparison with the Maelström. Its indraught may be felt at a great distance, and pieces of are collected by it until the waters are bestrewn with débris twirling in one mad dance about those polished cliffs.  
It is therefore easy to understand why the Solander Rock is left lonely. Passing merchantmen give it a wide , wisely judging the vicinity none too safe. Fishermen in this region there are none. Only the whalers, who knew the western end of Foveaux Straits as one of the most favourite haunts of the whale, cruised about and about it for weeks and months at a stretch, like shadowy squadrons of a bygone day held in a certain orbit by the attraction of the great Rock and to weave sea-patterns around it for ever. One by one they have disappeared until now there are none left, and the Solander alone keeps the gate.
 
Now at a certain period of a long voyage I once made as a on board a South Sea “Spouter,” it befell that we from the balmy latitudes near the Line, where we had been cruising for many months with little success, to see whether better luck might await us on the stormy Solander “ground.” From the first day of our arrival there the old grey mountain seemed to exercise a strange upon the usually mind of our elderly skipper. Of romance or instinct he did not seem to possess a shade, yet for many an hour he would lean motionless over the weather rail, his keen eyes upon the sphinx-like mass around which we slowly cruised. He was usually silent as if dumb, but one morning when we were about ten miles to the of the Rock, I happened to be at the wheel as the sun was rising. The skipper was lolling over the quarter, pipe in mouth, his chin supported upon his left hand, apparently lost in thought. Suddenly the dark outlines of the Rock became , the angles of its crags took on a of tenderest glow, while from the jagged summits a lovely coronal of radiant colour shot delicate streamers into the clear morning sky. Towards us from the Rock’s black base crept a mighty sombre shadow whose edges were so dazzling in as to be painful to look upon. As this marvellous picture caught my dull eyes I held my breath, while a strange of the skin over my head bore witness to the I felt. Then the skipper , unconscious I believe that he was uttering his thoughts aloud—“Great God! haouw merv’llous air Thy works. The airth an’ the sea also ez full o’ Thy glory.” There was utter silence again while the glow deepened into blazing gold, lances radiated from the central dark into the deep blue around until they off into emerald and violet, and then—the culminating point of the vision—the vast disc of the sun crowned the mountain with a bl............