The Loch Ness monster first appeared in print in Adamnan’s Life of St Columba, in which the missionary apparently persuaded a fierce sea creature to close its fearsome jaws and go in peace, rather than devour Columba’s fellow monk. It was not until 1933, however, that the first newspaper account of a sighting of the beast was published in the Inverness Courier, after which a flurry of reported sightings filled the papers. Such was the excitement the monster aroused that the authorities posted policemen around the Loch to prevent anyone harming the creature should it reappear. The reports drew the attention of an amateur marine naturalist who considered himself something of an expert on sea serpents. He conducted his own scrupulous survey of the facts by talking to fifty-one witnesses.
When I went North my mental attitude towards the Loch Ness ‘monster’ was one of detachment, not untinged with pity for a number of honest but misguided persons who (so I judged) were making much unnecessary fuss about a goose which they took for a swan. Of all possible or conceivable eventualities the one farthest from my mind was that I should be confronted with a mass of testimony demonstrating that a sea creature, in whose existence the vast majority of educated persons do not believe, was domiciled in a fresh water loch. Still, ‘facts are stubborn chiels …’ and only a totally unscientific mind will dismiss a statement of fact as impossible a priori, without investigating the evidence upon which that statement is based.
Within the limits of an article it is impossible to give even an adequate summary of the first-hand evidence which I collected, and which I hope to publish in full at an early date. But a few specimens will indicate its nature.
The most striking feature of the Loch Ness ‘monster’ – one which differentiates it, in type, from all other known living creatures – is a very long and slender neck, capable of being elevated very considerably above the water-level. The observations of Mr B. A. Russell, MA, the schoolmaster at Fort Augustus, were made, on October 1, 1933, in almost ideal conditions. He was on an eminence overlooking the south-western extremity of the loch, and about 100 ft above the water level. The day was brilliantly sunny, and the surface of the loch was as smooth as glass. There was no haze, and the creature was in view for 12 minutes (10.10 a.m. to 10.22 a.m.), moving slowly from left to right at a maximum distance of 800 yards and a minimum of 700.
What he saw, and subsequently sketched, was a serpentine head and neck, arched like a swan’s, dark in colour, rising fully five feet out of the water and turning occasionally from side to side. He saw nothing of the body, but a V-shaped ripple spread off from the neck at the point where it met the water. The creature ultimately sank slowly, and disappeared. As he told me, he had previously been disposed to believe that some large creature (probably a big seal) had entered the loch – but he had never in the least expected to see anything of this ‘prehistoric’ kind.
A similar view of the head and neck, with occasional glimpses of the body, was obtained from the Halfway House, Alltsigh, by (among others) Miss J. S. Fraser and Miss M. Howden, on September 22, about 11 a.m. In this case also (as in nearly all) the conditions of visibility, etc., were practically perfect. Miss Fraser noticed two frill-like appendages at the junction of the head and neck …
Later in the same day the creature was seen off Balnafoich, which is considerably further up the Loch towards Inverness. Its speed on the surface was then estimated at 15 knots – as also, it may be recalled, was that of the Daedalus creature (1848) and of that seen by the SS Umfuli, Captain R. J. Cringle, in 1893 …
The majority of the witnesses, however, have not seen the head and neck elevated above water. The creature has more often presented the appearance of a large dark hump, or humps, moving through the water with considerable commotion at the rear, and occasionally also at the sides. The number of the humps varies; the aspect most frequently noted has been that of one large hump – resembling the back of a ‘killer’ whale minus its dorsal fin – but two humps, the large one and a smaller in front, with a water-space between, have also been seen by several witnesses.
Light is thrown upon this point by the evidence of three ladies – Miss Rattray, Miss A. Rattray, and Miss M. Hamilton, MA – who saw the creature off Dores on August 24. It appeared to be following astern of a drifter going towards Inverness, and looked like a line of five dark humps, the second (counting from the front) being notably larger and higher out of the water than any other, while the fourth and fifth were somewhat shorter and lower than the first and third. The humps (which, as sketched by Miss Rattray, most strikingly recall the creatures seen off Gloucester, Mass., in 1817, and in Loch Hourn, 1872) rose and fell slightly, with an undulating motion, while, at times, all rose or sank on an even keel. In consequence of this there were sometimes five humps visible, sometimes three (the two rear ones being submerged), and sometimes only the largest (second) hump.
Incidentally, the conventional ‘school of porpoises’ theory is not applicable here; the motion was quite different, and no dorsal fins were seen. The mean of three independent estimates of the lengths of the line of humps, as compared with that of the drifter, was that the former was at least three-quarters of the latter. The drifter, I have since ascertained, was the Grand Hay of Lossiemouth, whose length is 88 ft.
One witness of the ‘single-hump’ aspect (Mr Shaw of Whitefield) noticed underwater and some little distance in front of the hump something undulating up and down, but never quite breaking the surface, and another (Miss C. McDonald) observed, on either side of the hump, continuous splashing – apparently made by two objects ‘moving like oars’ …
A preliminary analysis of my data suggests the following conclusions. The ‘monster’ has a length of at least 50 feet or so, with a maximum diameter of some 5 feet. The neck and tail are long and tapering. The head is comparatively small, not much larger than the neck – which can be elevated to a considerable height above the water. The colour of the body, under strong sunlight, is indeterminate, something between dark brown and dark grey. The skin is rough, presenting a granulated (but not scaled) appearance. A small ridge, darker in colour, runs along the crest of the back. The body appears to be flexible to some extent, both laterally and vertically. There are small appendages, possibly gills, at the sides of the head where it joins the neck. Finally there are at least two, and possibly four, propelling fins or paddles.
On the whole, despite the advocates of the ‘surviving plesiosaurus,’ this and other ‘sea-serpent’ cases, suggest to me nothing so much as a vastly enlarged, long-necked marine form of the common newt. However, that is a matter for a qualified zoologist with an open mind.
There can, at all events, be little question that Loch Ness contains at least one specimen of the rarest and least known of all living creatures. Unless it comes and goes – as it may do – it has been there some years; I have first-hand evidence of its having been seen in 1932 and 1931, as well as second-hand accounts of several earlier appearances. Presumably it made its way up the Ness by night during a spate, and has found the loch an admirable refuge from its natural enemies, the sperm whale and the ‘killer’.