Near where we landed the cliffs ran out into the sea, forming natural docks, and in one of these cliffs we discovered a large cavern, which seemed to run a great way under the ground.  By climbing along the ledges of the rocks, somewhat slippery with sea-weed, at no little risk of a ducking, we got to the mouth of the cavern.  The sides were composed of ledges rising one above another, and every available spot, as far as the eye could penetrate, was occupied by shags and divers, and other sea-fowls.  There were thousands--there might have been millions of them, if the cavern ran back as far as we supposed it did.  They in no way seemed alarmed at our intrusion, but allowed us to kick them over, without attempting to escape.  However, at last, old Surley found his ways after us, and his appearance created the wildest hurly-burly and confusion.  Such clapping of wings, and hurrying to and fro, and quacking, and shrieking, and whirling here and there, was never seen among a feathered community.  They must have been very glad when we took our departure.