As we drew near Bass Rock, opposite North Berwick, I was elated. We had discussed coming here often, and now, on my 60th birthday, it was happening. Amidst the surf of a rough sea and the raucous calling of the seabirds, we finally reached our destination. ‘Any moment now,’ said our guide, standing remarkably secure on the rocking boat, ‘you will witness one of nature’s wonders: a cascade of gannets.’ Almost on cue, a host of gannet birds tumbled off the whitened rock, forming a torrent of feathered displays. All of us were stunned; we were witnessing something live, which most of us will only see on one of Attenborough’s nature programmes.
The guide continued to explain that the gannet colony of 250,000 birds was the largest in the world. He skimmed through the history and geology of the rock, touching lightly on the ruins of the 17th century prison above us, partially shrouded by thousands of flying and soaring birds. ‘In that prison were kept political and religious agitators,’ he shouted above the guttural racket. I wished that he had elaborated on this subject and spoken of the suffering Covenanters there.
Bass Rock became the property of the Provost of Edinburgh, who sold it in 1671 to the Scottish government, so that a prison could be constructed for the open-air Covenanter preachers, who despite being outlawed, continued to speak in their conventicles to thousands. This rock became known by the beleaguered Christians as the ‘Patmos of many godly men’, as they recalled the apostle John’s exile. Herded into damp, dark cells, with only a daily hour of daylight allowed, and deprived of all human comfort, these men languished for years, brutally treated and scorned by the vicious guards. This was Scotland’s Alcatraz. First in this prison was Robert Gillespie, whose crime was that he ‘had several times preached, expounded Scripture, and prayed at conventicles’. Then there was James Fraser of Brae, whose intellect and love for Christ were honed to the Bible. He had been arrested in a friend’s house in Edinburgh and when he was imprisoned in the Tolbooth, Archbishop James Sharpe, the turncoat-Covenanter, had sent a message to the Provost, saying, ‘If you let this man go, you are not Caesar’s friend.’
Amongst many righteous men, was the famous Revd Alexander Peden, known as the ‘prophet of the Covenant’. This compassionate man wrote a letter to his friend from Bass Rock on 11 August, 1677: ‘Rev and Dear Brother [Patrick Simpson] … We are close shut up by our chambers; not permitted to converse, diet, worship together; but conducted out by two at once in the day, to breathe in the open air, envying, with reverence, the birds their freedom; provoking and calling on us to bless Him for the most common mercies. Again, we are close shut up day and night, to hear only the sighs and groans of our fellow-prisoners… O for grace to credit Him… and His cross in whatever piece of service, in bonds or freedom… Now, peace be to the brethren, and love with faith from God the Father; and grace be to all them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity! So prayeth your unworthy and affectionate well-wisher in bonds. Alexander Peden.’
‘Remember the prisoners as if chained with them—those who are mistreated—since you yourselves are in the body also’ (Hebrews 13:3, NKJV).
Image: Bass Rock with the Covenanter prison. Image by Paul James-Griffiths