Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Twelve.Bell Rock Billows—An Unexpected Visit—A Disaster and a Rescue.It is pleasant, it is profoundly enjoyable, to sit on the margin of the sea during the dead calm that not unfrequently succeeds a wild storm, and watch the gentle undulations of the glass-like surface, which the very gulls seem to be disinclined to ruffle with their wings as they descend to hover above their own reflected images.It is pleasant to watch this from the shore, where the waves fall in low murmuring ripples, or from the ship’s deck, far out upon the sea, where there is no sound of water save the laving of the vessel’s bow as she rises and sinks in the broad-backed swell; but there is something more than pleasant, there is, something deeply and peculiarly interesting, in the same scene when viewed from such a position as the Bell Rock; for there, owing to the position of the rock and the depth of water around it, the observer beholds, at the same moment, the presence, as it were, of storm and calm.The largest waves there are seen immediately after a storm has passed away, not during its continuance, no matter how furious the gale may have been, for the rushing wind has a tendency to blow down the waves, so to speak, and prevent their rising to their utmost height. It is when the storm is over that the swell rises; but as this swell appears only like large undulations, it does not impress the beholder with its magnitude until it draws near to the rock and begins to feel the checking influence of the bottom of the sea. The upper part of the swell, having then greater velocity than the lower parts assumes more and more the form of a billow. As it comes on it towers up like a great green wall of glittering glass, moving with a grand, solemn motion, which does not at first give the idea of much force or impetus. As it nears the rock, however, its height (probably fifteen or twenty feet) becomes apparent; its velocity increases; the top, with what may be termed gentle rapidity, rushes in advance of the base; its dark green side becomes concave; the upper edge lips over, then curls majestically downwards, as if bowing to a superior power, and a gleam of light flashes for a moment on the curling top. As yet there is no sound; all has occurred in the profound silence of the calm, but another instant and there is a mighty crash—a deafening roar; the great wall of water has fallen, and a very sea of churning foam comes leaping, bursting, spouting over rocks and ledges, carrying all before it with a tremendous sweep that seems to be absolutely irresistible until it meets the higher ledges of rock, when it is hurled back, and retires with a watery hiss that suggests the idea of baffled rage.But it is not conquered. With the calm majesty of unalterable determination, wave after wave comes on, in slow, regular succession, like the inexhaustible battalions of an unconquerable foe, to meet with a similar repulse again and again.There is, however, this peculiar difference between the waves on the ordinary seashore and the billows on the Bell Rock, that the latter, unlike the former, are not always defeated. The spectator on shore plants his foot confidently at the very edge of the mighty sea, knowing that “thus far it may come, but no farther.” On the Bell Rock the rising tide makes the conflict, for a time, more equal. Now, the rock stands proudly above the sea: anon the sea sweeps furiously over the rock with a roar of “Victory!”Thus the war goes on, and thus the tide of battle daily and nightly ebbs and flows all the year round.But when the cunning hand of man began to interfere, the aspect of things was changed, the sea was forced to succumb, and the rock, once a dreaded enemy, became a servant of the human race. True, the former rages in rebellion still, and the latter, although compelled to uphold the light that warns against itself, continues its perpetual warfare with the sea; but both are effectually conquered by means of the wonderful intelligence that God has given to man, and the sea for more than half a century has vainly beat against the massive tower whose foundation is on the Bell Rock.But all this savours somewhat of anticipation. Let us return to Ruby Brand, in whose interest we have gone into this long digression; for he it was who gazed intently at the mingled scene of storm and calm which we have attempted to describe, and it was he who thought out most of the ideas which we have endeavoured to convey.Ruby had lent a hand to work the pump at the foundation-pit that morning. After a good spell at it he took his turn of rest, and, in order to enjoy it fully, went as far out as he could upon the seaward ledges, and sat down on a piece of rock to watch the waves.While seated there, Robert Selkirk came and sat down beside him. Selkirk was the principal builder, and ultimately laid every stone of the lighthouse with his own hand. He was a sedate, quiet man, but full of energy and perseverance. When the stones were landed faster than they could be built into their places, he and Bremner, as well as some of the other builders, used to work on until the rising tide reached their waists.“It’s a grand sight, Ruby,” said Selkirk, as a larger wave than usual fell, and came rushing in torrents of foam up to their feet, sending a little of the spray over their heads.“It is indeed a glorious sight,” said Ruby. “If I had nothing to do, I believe I could sit here all day just looking at the waves and thinking.”“Thinkin’?” repeated Selkirk, in a musing tone of voice. “Can ye tell, lad, what ye think about when you’re lookin’ at the waves?”Ruby smiled at the oddness of the question.“Well,” said he, “I don’t think I ever thought of that before.”“Ah, butIhave!” said the other, “an’ I’ve come to the conclusion that for the most part we don’t think, properly speakin’, at all; that our thoughts, so to speak, think for us; that they just take the bit in their teeth and go rumblin’ and tumblin’ about anyhow or nohow!”Ruby knitted his brows and pondered. He was one of those men who, when they don’t understand a thing, hold their tongues and think.“And,” continued Selkirk, “it’s curious to observe what a lot o’ nonsense one thinks too when one is lookin’ at the waves. Many a time I have pulled myself up, thinkin’ the most astonishin’ stuff ye could imagine.”“I would hardly have expected this of such a grave kind o’ man as you,” said Ruby.“Mayhap not. It is not always the gravest looking that have the gravest thoughts.”“But you don’t mean to say that you never think sense,” continued Ruby, “when you sit looking at the waves?”“By no means,” returned his companion; “I’m only talking of the way in which one’s thoughts will wander. Sometimes I think seriously enough. Sometimes I think it strange that men can look at such a scene as that, and scarcely bestow a thought upon Him who made it.”“Speak for yourself, friend,” said Ruby, somewhat quickly; “how know you that other men don’t think about their Creator when they look at His works?”“Because,” returned Selkirk, “I find that I so seldom do so myself, even although I wish to and often try to; and I hold that every man, no matter what he is or feels, is one of a class who think and feel as he does; also, because many people, especially Christians, have told me that they have had the same experience to a large extent; also, and chiefly, because, as far as unbelieving man is concerned, the Bible tells me that ‘God is not in all his thoughts.’ But, Ruby, I did not make the remark as a slur upon men in general, I merely spoke of a fact,—an unfortunate fact,—that it is not natural to us, and not easy, to rise from nature to nature’s God, and I thought you would agree with me.”“I believe you are right,” said Ruby, half-ashamed of the petulance of his reply; “at any rate, I confess you are right as far as I am concerned.”As Selkirk and Ruby were both fond of discussion, they continued this subject some time longer, and there is no saying how far they would have gone down into the abstruse depths of theology, had not their converse been interrupted by the appearance of a boat rowing towards the rock.“Is yonder craft a fishing boat, think you?” said Ruby, rising and pointing to it.“Like enough, lad. Mayhap it’s the pilot’s, only it’s too soon for him to be off again with letters. Maybe it’s visitors to the rock, for I see something like a woman’s bonnet.”As there was only one woman in the world at that time as far as Ruby was concerned (of course putting his mother out of the question!), it will not surprise the reader to be told that the youth started, that his cheek reddened a little, and his heart beat somewhat faster than usual. He immediately smiled, however, at the absurdity of supposing it possible that the woman in the boat could be Minnie, and as the blacksmith shouted to him at that moment, he turned on his heel and leaped from ledge to ledge of rock until he gained his wonted place at the forge.Soon he was busy wielding the fore-hammer, causing the sparks to fly about himself and his comrade in showers, while the anvil rang out its merry peal.Meanwhile the boat drew near. It turned out to be a party of visitors, who had come off from Arbroath to see the operations at the Bell Rock. They had been brought off by Spink, the pilot, and numbered only three—namely, a tall soldier-like man, a stout sailor-like man, and a young woman with—yes,—with golden hair.Poor Ruby almost leaped over the forge when he raised his eyes from his work and caught sight of Minnie’s sweet face. Minnie had recognised her lover before the boat reached the rock, for he stood on an elevated ledge, and the work in which he was engaged, swinging the large hammer round his shoulder, rendered him very conspicuous. She had studiously concealed her face from him until quite close, when, looking him straight in the eyes without the least sign of recognition, she turned away.We have said that the first glance Ruby obtained caused him to leap nearly over the forge; the second created such a revulsion of feeling that he let the fore-hammer fall.“Hallo! Got a spark in yer eye?” enquired Dove, looking up anxiously.It flashed across Ruby at that instant that the look given him by Minnie was meant to warn him not to take any notice of her, so he answered the smith’s query with “No, no; I’ve only let the hammer fall, don’t you see? Get on, old boy, an don’t let the metal cool.”The smith continued his work without further remark, and Ruby assisted, resolving in his own mind to be a little more guarded as to the expression of his feelings.Meanwhile Mr Stevenson received the visitors, and showed them over the works, pointing out the peculiarities thereof, and the difficulties that stood in the way.Presently he came towards the forge, and said, “Brand, the stout gentleman there wishes to speak to you. He says he knew you in Arbroath. You can spare him for a few minutes, I suppose, Mr Dove?”“Well, yes, but not for long,” replied the smith. “The tide will soon be up, and I’ve enough to do to get through with all these.”Ruby flung down his hammer at the first word, and hastened to the ledge of rock where the visitors were standing, as far apart from the workmen as the space of the rock would admit of.The stout gentleman was no other than his uncle, Captain Ogilvy, who put his finger to his lips as his nephew approached, and gave him a look of mystery that was quite sufficient to put the latter on his guard. He therefore went forward, pulled off his cap, and bowed respectfully to Minnie, who replied with a stiff curtsy, a slight smile, and a decided blush.Although Ruby now felt convinced that they were all acting a part, he could scarcely bear this cold reception. His impulse was to seize Minnie in his arms; but he did not even get the comfort of a cold shake of the hand.“Nephy,” said the captain in a hoarse whisper, putting his face close to that of Ruby, “mum’s the word! Silence, mystery, an’ all that sort o’ thing. Don’t appear to be an old friend, lad; and as to Minnie here—“‘O no, we never mention her,Her name it’s never heard.’“Allow me to introduce you to Major Stewart, whose house you broke into, you know, Ruby, when:—“‘All in the Downs the fleet was moored,’“At least when theTermagantwas waitin’ for you to go aboard.”Here the captain winked and gave Ruby a facetious poke in the ribs, which was not quite in harmony with the ignorance of each other he was endeavouring to inculcate.“Young man,” said the major quietly, “we have come off to tell you that everything is in a prosperous state as regards the investigation into your innocence—the private investigation I mean, for the authorities happily know nothing of your being here. Captain Ogilvy has made me his confidant in this matter, and from what he tells me I am convinced that you had nothing to do with this robbery. Excuse me if I now add that the sight of your face deepens this conviction.”Ruby bowed to the compliment.“We were anxious to write at once to the captain of the vessel in which you sailed,” continued the major, “but you omitted to leave his full name and address when you left. We were afraid to write to you, lest your name on the letter might attract attention, and induce a premature arrest. Hence our visit to the rock to-day. Please to write the address in this pocket-book.”The major handed Ruby a small green pocket-book as he spoke, in which the latter wrote the full name and address of his late skipper.“Now, nephy,” said the captain, “we must, I’m sorry to say, bid ye good day, and ask you to return to your work, for it won’t do to rouse suspicion, lad. Only keep quiet here, and do yer dooty—‘England expectseveryman to do his dooty’—and as sure as your name’s Ruby all will be shipshape in a few weeks.”“I thank you sincerely,” said Ruby, addressing the major, but looking at Minnie.Captain Ogilvy, observing this, and fearing some display of feeling that would be recognised by the workmen, who were becoming surprised at the length of the interview, placed himself between Minnie and her lover.“No, no, Ruby,” said he, solemnly. “I’m sorry for ye, lad, but it won’t do. Patience is a virtue, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.”“My mother?” said Ruby, wishing to prolong the interview.“Is well,” said the captain. “Now, goodbye, lad, and be off.”“Goodbye, Minnie,” cried Ruby, stepping forward suddenly and seizing the girl’s hand; then, wheeling quickly round, he sprang over the rocks, and returned to his post.“Ha! it’s time,” cried the smith. “I thought you would never be done makin’ love to that there girl. Come, blaze away!”Ruby felt so nettled by the necessity that was laid upon him of taking no notice of Minnie, that he seized the handle of the bellows passionately, and at the first puff blew nearly all the fire away.“Hallo! messmate,” cried the smith, clearing the dust from his eyes; “what on airth ails ye? You’ve blowed the whole consarn out!”Ruby made no reply, but, scraping together the embers, heaped them up and blew more gently.In a short time the visitors re-entered their boat, and rowed out of the creek in which it had been lying.Ruby became so exasperated at not being able even to watch the boat going away, that he showered terrific blows on the mass of metal the smith was turning rapidly on the anvil.“Not so fast, lad; not so fast,” cried Dove hurriedly.Ruby’s chafing spirit blew up just at that point; he hit the iron a crack that knocked it as flat as a pancake, and then threw down the hammer and deliberately gazed in the direction of the boat.The sight that met his eyes appalled him. The boat had been lying in the inlet named Port Stevenson. It had to pass out to the open sea throughWilson’s Track, and past a small outlying rock namedGray’s Rock—known more familiarly among the men asJohnny Gray. The boat was nearing this point, when the sea, which had been rising for some time, burst completely over the seaward ledges, and swept the boat high against the rocks on the left. The men had scarcely got her again into the track when another tremendous billow, such as we have already described, swept over the rocks again and swamped the boat, which, being heavily ballasted, sank at once to the bottom of the pool.It was this sight that met the horrified eyes of Ruby when he looked up.He vaulted over the bellows like an antelope, and, rushing overSmith’s LedgeandTrinity Ledge, sprang acrossPort Boyle, and dived head foremost intoNeill’s Poolbefore any of the other men, who made a general rush, could reach the spot.A few powerful strokes brought Ruby to the place where the major and the captain, neither of whom could swim, were struggling in the water. He dived at once below these unfortunates, and almost in a second, reappeared with Minnie in his arms.A few seconds sufficed to bring him toSmith’s Ledge, where several of his comrades hauled him and his burden beyond the reach of the next wave, and where, a moment or two later, the major and captain with the crew of the boat were landed in safety.To bear the light form of Minnie in his strong arms to the highest and driest part of the rock were the work of a few moments to Ruby. Brief though those moments were, however, they were precious to the youth beyond all human powers of calculation, for Minnie recovered partial consciousness, and fancying, doubtless, that she was still in danger, flung her arms round his neck, and grasped him convulsively. Reader, we tell you in confidence that if Ruby had at that moment been laid on the rack and torn limb from limb, he would have cheered out his life triumphantly. It was not only that he knew she loved him—thathe knew before,—but he had saved the life of the girl he loved, and a higher terrestrial happiness can scarcely be attained by man.Laying her down as gently as a mother would her first-born, Ruby placed a coat under her head, and bade his comrades stand back and give her air. It was fortunate for him that one of the foremen, who understood what to do, came up at this moment, and ordered him to leave off chafing the girl’s hand with his wet fists, and go get some water boiled at the forge if he wanted to do her good.Second words were not needed. The bellows were soon blowing, and the fire glowed in a way that it had not done since the works at the Bell Rock began. Before the water quite boiled some tea was put in, and, with a degree of speed that would have roused the jealousy of any living waiter, a cup of tea was presented to Minnie, who had recovered almost at the moment Ruby left her.She drank a little, and then closing her eyes, moved her lips silently for a few seconds.Captain Ogilvy, who had attended her with the utmost assiduity and tenderness as soon as he had wrung the water out of his own garments, here took an opportunity of hastily pouring something into the cup out of a small flask. When Minnie looked up again and smiled, he presented her with the cup. She thanked him, and drank a mouthful or two before perceiving that it had been tampered with.“There’s something in it,” she said hurriedly.“So there is, my pet,” said the captain, with a benignant smile, “a little nectar, that will do you more good than all the tea. Come now, don’t shake your head, but down with it all, like a good child.”But Minnie was proof against persuasion, and refused to taste any more.“Who was it that saved me, uncle?” (She had got into the way of calling the captain “uncle.”)“Ruby Brand did it, my darlin’,” said the old man with a look of pride. “Ah! you’re better now; stay, don’t attempt to rise.”“Yes, yes, uncle,” she said, getting up and looking round, “it is time that we should go now; we have a long way to go, you know. Where is the boat?”“The boat, my precious, is at the bottom of the sea.”As he said this, he pointed to the mast, half of which was seen rising out of the pool where the boat had gone down.“But you don’t need to mind,” continued the captain, “for they’re goin’ to send us in one o’ their own boats aboord the floatin’ lightship, where we’ll get a change o’ clothes an’ somethin’ to eat.”As he spoke, one of the sailors came forward and announced that the boat was ready, so the captain and the major assisted Minnie into the boat, which soon pushed off with part of the workmen from the rock. It was to be sent back for the remainder of the crew, by which time the tide would render it necessary that all should leave.Ruby purposely kept away from the group while they were embarking, and after they were gone proceeded to resume work.“You took a smart dive that time, lad,” observed Joe Dumsby as they went along.“Not more than anyone would do for a girl,” said Ruby.“An’ such a purty wan, too,” said O’Connor. “Ah! av she’s not Irish, she should ha’ bin.”“Ye’re a lucky chap to hae sic a chance,” observed John Watt.“Make up to her, lad,” said Forsyth; “I think she couldn’t refuse ye after doin’ her such service.”“Time enough to chaff after work is over,” cried Ruby with a laugh, as he turned up his sleeves, and, seizing the hammer, began, as his friend Dove said, “to work himself dry.”In a few minutes, work was resumed, and for another hour all continued busy as bees, cutting and pounding at the flinty surface of the Bell Rock.

It is pleasant, it is profoundly enjoyable, to sit on the margin of the sea during the dead calm that not unfrequently succeeds a wild storm, and watch the gentle undulations of the glass-like surface, which the very gulls seem to be disinclined to ruffle with their wings as they descend to hover above their own reflected images.

It is pleasant to watch this from the shore, where the waves fall in low murmuring ripples, or from the ship’s deck, far out upon the sea, where there is no sound of water save the laving of the vessel’s bow as she rises and sinks in the broad-backed swell; but there is something more than pleasant, there is, something deeply and peculiarly interesting, in the same scene when viewed from such a position as the Bell Rock; for there, owing to the position of the rock and the depth of water around it, the observer beholds, at the same moment, the presence, as it were, of storm and calm.

The largest waves there are seen immediately after a storm has passed away, not during its continuance, no matter how furious the gale may have been, for the rushing wind has a tendency to blow down the waves, so to speak, and prevent their rising to their utmost height. It is when the storm is over that the swell rises; but as this swell appears only like large undulations, it does not impress the beholder with its magnitude until it draws near to the rock and begins to feel the checking influence of the bottom of the sea. The upper part of the swell, having then greater velocity than the lower parts assumes more and more the form of a billow. As it comes on it towers up like a great green wall of glittering glass, moving with a grand, solemn motion, which does not at first give the idea of much force or impetus. As it nears the rock, however, its height (probably fifteen or twenty feet) becomes apparent; its velocity increases; the top, with what may be termed gentle rapidity, rushes in advance of the base; its dark green side becomes concave; the upper edge lips over, then curls majestically downwards, as if bowing to a superior power, and a gleam of light flashes for a moment on the curling top. As yet there is no sound; all has occurred in the profound silence of the calm, but another instant and there is a mighty crash—a deafening roar; the great wall of water has fallen, and a very sea of churning foam comes leaping, bursting, spouting over rocks and ledges, carrying all before it with a tremendous sweep that seems to be absolutely irresistible until it meets the higher ledges of rock, when it is hurled back, and retires with a watery hiss that suggests the idea of baffled rage.

But it is not conquered. With the calm majesty of unalterable determination, wave after wave comes on, in slow, regular succession, like the inexhaustible battalions of an unconquerable foe, to meet with a similar repulse again and again.

There is, however, this peculiar difference between the waves on the ordinary seashore and the billows on the Bell Rock, that the latter, unlike the former, are not always defeated. The spectator on shore plants his foot confidently at the very edge of the mighty sea, knowing that “thus far it may come, but no farther.” On the Bell Rock the rising tide makes the conflict, for a time, more equal. Now, the rock stands proudly above the sea: anon the sea sweeps furiously over the rock with a roar of “Victory!”

Thus the war goes on, and thus the tide of battle daily and nightly ebbs and flows all the year round.

But when the cunning hand of man began to interfere, the aspect of things was changed, the sea was forced to succumb, and the rock, once a dreaded enemy, became a servant of the human race. True, the former rages in rebellion still, and the latter, although compelled to uphold the light that warns against itself, continues its perpetual warfare with the sea; but both are effectually conquered by means of the wonderful intelligence that God has given to man, and the sea for more than half a century has vainly beat against the massive tower whose foundation is on the Bell Rock.

But all this savours somewhat of anticipation. Let us return to Ruby Brand, in whose interest we have gone into this long digression; for he it was who gazed intently at the mingled scene of storm and calm which we have attempted to describe, and it was he who thought out most of the ideas which we have endeavoured to convey.

Ruby had lent a hand to work the pump at the foundation-pit that morning. After a good spell at it he took his turn of rest, and, in order to enjoy it fully, went as far out as he could upon the seaward ledges, and sat down on a piece of rock to watch the waves.

While seated there, Robert Selkirk came and sat down beside him. Selkirk was the principal builder, and ultimately laid every stone of the lighthouse with his own hand. He was a sedate, quiet man, but full of energy and perseverance. When the stones were landed faster than they could be built into their places, he and Bremner, as well as some of the other builders, used to work on until the rising tide reached their waists.

“It’s a grand sight, Ruby,” said Selkirk, as a larger wave than usual fell, and came rushing in torrents of foam up to their feet, sending a little of the spray over their heads.

“It is indeed a glorious sight,” said Ruby. “If I had nothing to do, I believe I could sit here all day just looking at the waves and thinking.”

“Thinkin’?” repeated Selkirk, in a musing tone of voice. “Can ye tell, lad, what ye think about when you’re lookin’ at the waves?”

Ruby smiled at the oddness of the question.

“Well,” said he, “I don’t think I ever thought of that before.”

“Ah, butIhave!” said the other, “an’ I’ve come to the conclusion that for the most part we don’t think, properly speakin’, at all; that our thoughts, so to speak, think for us; that they just take the bit in their teeth and go rumblin’ and tumblin’ about anyhow or nohow!”

Ruby knitted his brows and pondered. He was one of those men who, when they don’t understand a thing, hold their tongues and think.

“And,” continued Selkirk, “it’s curious to observe what a lot o’ nonsense one thinks too when one is lookin’ at the waves. Many a time I have pulled myself up, thinkin’ the most astonishin’ stuff ye could imagine.”

“I would hardly have expected this of such a grave kind o’ man as you,” said Ruby.

“Mayhap not. It is not always the gravest looking that have the gravest thoughts.”

“But you don’t mean to say that you never think sense,” continued Ruby, “when you sit looking at the waves?”

“By no means,” returned his companion; “I’m only talking of the way in which one’s thoughts will wander. Sometimes I think seriously enough. Sometimes I think it strange that men can look at such a scene as that, and scarcely bestow a thought upon Him who made it.”

“Speak for yourself, friend,” said Ruby, somewhat quickly; “how know you that other men don’t think about their Creator when they look at His works?”

“Because,” returned Selkirk, “I find that I so seldom do so myself, even although I wish to and often try to; and I hold that every man, no matter what he is or feels, is one of a class who think and feel as he does; also, because many people, especially Christians, have told me that they have had the same experience to a large extent; also, and chiefly, because, as far as unbelieving man is concerned, the Bible tells me that ‘God is not in all his thoughts.’ But, Ruby, I did not make the remark as a slur upon men in general, I merely spoke of a fact,—an unfortunate fact,—that it is not natural to us, and not easy, to rise from nature to nature’s God, and I thought you would agree with me.”

“I believe you are right,” said Ruby, half-ashamed of the petulance of his reply; “at any rate, I confess you are right as far as I am concerned.”

As Selkirk and Ruby were both fond of discussion, they continued this subject some time longer, and there is no saying how far they would have gone down into the abstruse depths of theology, had not their converse been interrupted by the appearance of a boat rowing towards the rock.

“Is yonder craft a fishing boat, think you?” said Ruby, rising and pointing to it.

“Like enough, lad. Mayhap it’s the pilot’s, only it’s too soon for him to be off again with letters. Maybe it’s visitors to the rock, for I see something like a woman’s bonnet.”

As there was only one woman in the world at that time as far as Ruby was concerned (of course putting his mother out of the question!), it will not surprise the reader to be told that the youth started, that his cheek reddened a little, and his heart beat somewhat faster than usual. He immediately smiled, however, at the absurdity of supposing it possible that the woman in the boat could be Minnie, and as the blacksmith shouted to him at that moment, he turned on his heel and leaped from ledge to ledge of rock until he gained his wonted place at the forge.

Soon he was busy wielding the fore-hammer, causing the sparks to fly about himself and his comrade in showers, while the anvil rang out its merry peal.

Meanwhile the boat drew near. It turned out to be a party of visitors, who had come off from Arbroath to see the operations at the Bell Rock. They had been brought off by Spink, the pilot, and numbered only three—namely, a tall soldier-like man, a stout sailor-like man, and a young woman with—yes,—with golden hair.

Poor Ruby almost leaped over the forge when he raised his eyes from his work and caught sight of Minnie’s sweet face. Minnie had recognised her lover before the boat reached the rock, for he stood on an elevated ledge, and the work in which he was engaged, swinging the large hammer round his shoulder, rendered him very conspicuous. She had studiously concealed her face from him until quite close, when, looking him straight in the eyes without the least sign of recognition, she turned away.

We have said that the first glance Ruby obtained caused him to leap nearly over the forge; the second created such a revulsion of feeling that he let the fore-hammer fall.

“Hallo! Got a spark in yer eye?” enquired Dove, looking up anxiously.

It flashed across Ruby at that instant that the look given him by Minnie was meant to warn him not to take any notice of her, so he answered the smith’s query with “No, no; I’ve only let the hammer fall, don’t you see? Get on, old boy, an don’t let the metal cool.”

The smith continued his work without further remark, and Ruby assisted, resolving in his own mind to be a little more guarded as to the expression of his feelings.

Meanwhile Mr Stevenson received the visitors, and showed them over the works, pointing out the peculiarities thereof, and the difficulties that stood in the way.

Presently he came towards the forge, and said, “Brand, the stout gentleman there wishes to speak to you. He says he knew you in Arbroath. You can spare him for a few minutes, I suppose, Mr Dove?”

“Well, yes, but not for long,” replied the smith. “The tide will soon be up, and I’ve enough to do to get through with all these.”

Ruby flung down his hammer at the first word, and hastened to the ledge of rock where the visitors were standing, as far apart from the workmen as the space of the rock would admit of.

The stout gentleman was no other than his uncle, Captain Ogilvy, who put his finger to his lips as his nephew approached, and gave him a look of mystery that was quite sufficient to put the latter on his guard. He therefore went forward, pulled off his cap, and bowed respectfully to Minnie, who replied with a stiff curtsy, a slight smile, and a decided blush.

Although Ruby now felt convinced that they were all acting a part, he could scarcely bear this cold reception. His impulse was to seize Minnie in his arms; but he did not even get the comfort of a cold shake of the hand.

“Nephy,” said the captain in a hoarse whisper, putting his face close to that of Ruby, “mum’s the word! Silence, mystery, an’ all that sort o’ thing. Don’t appear to be an old friend, lad; and as to Minnie here—

“‘O no, we never mention her,Her name it’s never heard.’

“‘O no, we never mention her,Her name it’s never heard.’

“Allow me to introduce you to Major Stewart, whose house you broke into, you know, Ruby, when:—

“‘All in the Downs the fleet was moored,’

“‘All in the Downs the fleet was moored,’

“At least when theTermagantwas waitin’ for you to go aboard.”

Here the captain winked and gave Ruby a facetious poke in the ribs, which was not quite in harmony with the ignorance of each other he was endeavouring to inculcate.

“Young man,” said the major quietly, “we have come off to tell you that everything is in a prosperous state as regards the investigation into your innocence—the private investigation I mean, for the authorities happily know nothing of your being here. Captain Ogilvy has made me his confidant in this matter, and from what he tells me I am convinced that you had nothing to do with this robbery. Excuse me if I now add that the sight of your face deepens this conviction.”

Ruby bowed to the compliment.

“We were anxious to write at once to the captain of the vessel in which you sailed,” continued the major, “but you omitted to leave his full name and address when you left. We were afraid to write to you, lest your name on the letter might attract attention, and induce a premature arrest. Hence our visit to the rock to-day. Please to write the address in this pocket-book.”

The major handed Ruby a small green pocket-book as he spoke, in which the latter wrote the full name and address of his late skipper.

“Now, nephy,” said the captain, “we must, I’m sorry to say, bid ye good day, and ask you to return to your work, for it won’t do to rouse suspicion, lad. Only keep quiet here, and do yer dooty—‘England expectseveryman to do his dooty’—and as sure as your name’s Ruby all will be shipshape in a few weeks.”

“I thank you sincerely,” said Ruby, addressing the major, but looking at Minnie.

Captain Ogilvy, observing this, and fearing some display of feeling that would be recognised by the workmen, who were becoming surprised at the length of the interview, placed himself between Minnie and her lover.

“No, no, Ruby,” said he, solemnly. “I’m sorry for ye, lad, but it won’t do. Patience is a virtue, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.”

“My mother?” said Ruby, wishing to prolong the interview.

“Is well,” said the captain. “Now, goodbye, lad, and be off.”

“Goodbye, Minnie,” cried Ruby, stepping forward suddenly and seizing the girl’s hand; then, wheeling quickly round, he sprang over the rocks, and returned to his post.

“Ha! it’s time,” cried the smith. “I thought you would never be done makin’ love to that there girl. Come, blaze away!”

Ruby felt so nettled by the necessity that was laid upon him of taking no notice of Minnie, that he seized the handle of the bellows passionately, and at the first puff blew nearly all the fire away.

“Hallo! messmate,” cried the smith, clearing the dust from his eyes; “what on airth ails ye? You’ve blowed the whole consarn out!”

Ruby made no reply, but, scraping together the embers, heaped them up and blew more gently.

In a short time the visitors re-entered their boat, and rowed out of the creek in which it had been lying.

Ruby became so exasperated at not being able even to watch the boat going away, that he showered terrific blows on the mass of metal the smith was turning rapidly on the anvil.

“Not so fast, lad; not so fast,” cried Dove hurriedly.

Ruby’s chafing spirit blew up just at that point; he hit the iron a crack that knocked it as flat as a pancake, and then threw down the hammer and deliberately gazed in the direction of the boat.

The sight that met his eyes appalled him. The boat had been lying in the inlet named Port Stevenson. It had to pass out to the open sea throughWilson’s Track, and past a small outlying rock namedGray’s Rock—known more familiarly among the men asJohnny Gray. The boat was nearing this point, when the sea, which had been rising for some time, burst completely over the seaward ledges, and swept the boat high against the rocks on the left. The men had scarcely got her again into the track when another tremendous billow, such as we have already described, swept over the rocks again and swamped the boat, which, being heavily ballasted, sank at once to the bottom of the pool.

It was this sight that met the horrified eyes of Ruby when he looked up.

He vaulted over the bellows like an antelope, and, rushing overSmith’s LedgeandTrinity Ledge, sprang acrossPort Boyle, and dived head foremost intoNeill’s Poolbefore any of the other men, who made a general rush, could reach the spot.

A few powerful strokes brought Ruby to the place where the major and the captain, neither of whom could swim, were struggling in the water. He dived at once below these unfortunates, and almost in a second, reappeared with Minnie in his arms.

A few seconds sufficed to bring him toSmith’s Ledge, where several of his comrades hauled him and his burden beyond the reach of the next wave, and where, a moment or two later, the major and captain with the crew of the boat were landed in safety.

To bear the light form of Minnie in his strong arms to the highest and driest part of the rock were the work of a few moments to Ruby. Brief though those moments were, however, they were precious to the youth beyond all human powers of calculation, for Minnie recovered partial consciousness, and fancying, doubtless, that she was still in danger, flung her arms round his neck, and grasped him convulsively. Reader, we tell you in confidence that if Ruby had at that moment been laid on the rack and torn limb from limb, he would have cheered out his life triumphantly. It was not only that he knew she loved him—thathe knew before,—but he had saved the life of the girl he loved, and a higher terrestrial happiness can scarcely be attained by man.

Laying her down as gently as a mother would her first-born, Ruby placed a coat under her head, and bade his comrades stand back and give her air. It was fortunate for him that one of the foremen, who understood what to do, came up at this moment, and ordered him to leave off chafing the girl’s hand with his wet fists, and go get some water boiled at the forge if he wanted to do her good.

Second words were not needed. The bellows were soon blowing, and the fire glowed in a way that it had not done since the works at the Bell Rock began. Before the water quite boiled some tea was put in, and, with a degree of speed that would have roused the jealousy of any living waiter, a cup of tea was presented to Minnie, who had recovered almost at the moment Ruby left her.

She drank a little, and then closing her eyes, moved her lips silently for a few seconds.

Captain Ogilvy, who had attended her with the utmost assiduity and tenderness as soon as he had wrung the water out of his own garments, here took an opportunity of hastily pouring something into the cup out of a small flask. When Minnie looked up again and smiled, he presented her with the cup. She thanked him, and drank a mouthful or two before perceiving that it had been tampered with.

“There’s something in it,” she said hurriedly.

“So there is, my pet,” said the captain, with a benignant smile, “a little nectar, that will do you more good than all the tea. Come now, don’t shake your head, but down with it all, like a good child.”

But Minnie was proof against persuasion, and refused to taste any more.

“Who was it that saved me, uncle?” (She had got into the way of calling the captain “uncle.”)

“Ruby Brand did it, my darlin’,” said the old man with a look of pride. “Ah! you’re better now; stay, don’t attempt to rise.”

“Yes, yes, uncle,” she said, getting up and looking round, “it is time that we should go now; we have a long way to go, you know. Where is the boat?”

“The boat, my precious, is at the bottom of the sea.”

As he said this, he pointed to the mast, half of which was seen rising out of the pool where the boat had gone down.

“But you don’t need to mind,” continued the captain, “for they’re goin’ to send us in one o’ their own boats aboord the floatin’ lightship, where we’ll get a change o’ clothes an’ somethin’ to eat.”

As he spoke, one of the sailors came forward and announced that the boat was ready, so the captain and the major assisted Minnie into the boat, which soon pushed off with part of the workmen from the rock. It was to be sent back for the remainder of the crew, by which time the tide would render it necessary that all should leave.

Ruby purposely kept away from the group while they were embarking, and after they were gone proceeded to resume work.

“You took a smart dive that time, lad,” observed Joe Dumsby as they went along.

“Not more than anyone would do for a girl,” said Ruby.

“An’ such a purty wan, too,” said O’Connor. “Ah! av she’s not Irish, she should ha’ bin.”

“Ye’re a lucky chap to hae sic a chance,” observed John Watt.

“Make up to her, lad,” said Forsyth; “I think she couldn’t refuse ye after doin’ her such service.”

“Time enough to chaff after work is over,” cried Ruby with a laugh, as he turned up his sleeves, and, seizing the hammer, began, as his friend Dove said, “to work himself dry.”

In a few minutes, work was resumed, and for another hour all continued busy as bees, cutting and pounding at the flinty surface of the Bell Rock.

Chapter Thirteen.A Sleepless but a Pleasant Night.The evening which followed the day that has just been described was bright, calm, and beautiful, with the starry host unclouded and distinctly visible to the profoundest depths of space.As it was intended to send theSmeatonto Arbroath next morning for a cargo of stones from the building-yard, the wrecked party were prevailed on to remain all night on board thePharos, instead of going ashore in one of the ship’s boats, which could not well be spared at the time.This arrangement, we need hardly say, gave inexpressible pleasure to Ruby, and was not altogether distasteful to Minnie, although she felt anxious about Mrs Brand, who would naturally be much alarmed at the prolonged absence of herself and the captain. However, “there was no help for it”; and it was wonderful the resignation which she displayed in the circumstances.It was not Ruby’s duty to watch on deck that night, yet, strange to say, Ruby kept watch the whole night long!There was no occasion whatever for Minnie to go on deck after it was dark, yet, strange to say, Minnie kept coming on deck at intervalsnearlythe whole night long! Sometimes to “look at the stars”, sometimes to “get a mouthful of fresh air”, frequently to find out what “that strange noise could be that had alarmed her”, and at last—especially towards the early hours of morning—for no reason whatever, except that “she could not sleep below.”It was very natural that when Minnie paced the quarterdeck between the stern and the mainmast, and Ruby paced the forepart of the deck between the bows and the mainmast, the two should occasionally meet at the mainmast. It was also very natural that when they did meet, the girl who had been rescued should stop and address a few words of gratitude to the man who had saved her. But it was by no means natural—nay, it was altogether unnatural and unaccountable, that, when it became dark, the said man and the said girl should get into a close and confidential conversation, which lasted for hours, to the amusement of Captain Ogilvy and the major, who quite understood it, and to the amazement of many of the ship’s crew, who couldn’t understand it at all.At last Minnie bade Ruby a final good night and went below, and Ruby, who could not persuade himself that it was final, continued to walk the deck until his eyes began to shut and open involuntarily like those of a sick owl. Then he also went below, and, before he fell quite asleep (according to his own impression), was awakened by the bell that called the men to land on the rock and commence work.It was not only Ruby who found it difficult to rouse himself that morning. The landing-bell was rung at four o’clock, as the tide suited at that early hour, but the men were so fatigued that they would gladly have slept some hours longer. This, however, the nature of the service would not admit of. The building of the Bell Rock Lighthouse was a peculiar service. It may be said to have resembled duty in the trenches in military warfare. At times the work was light enough, but for the most part it was severe and irregular, as the men had to work in all kinds of weather, as long as possible, in the face of unusual difficulties and dangers, and were liable to be called out at all unseasonable hours. But they knew and expected this, and faced the work like men.After a growl or two, and a few heavy sighs, they all tumbled out of their berths, and, in a very short time, were mustered on deck, where a glass of rum and a biscuit were served to each, being the regular allowance when they had to begin work before breakfast. Then they got into the boats and rowed away.Ruby’s troubles were peculiar on this occasion. He could not bear the thought of leaving thePharoswithout saying goodbye to Minnie; but as Minnie knew nothing of such early rising, there was no reasonable hope that she would be awake. Then he wished to put a few questions to his uncle which he had forgotten the day before, but his uncle was at that moment buried in profound repose, with his mouth wide open, and a trombone solo proceeding from his nose, which sadly troubled the unfortunates who lay near him.As there was no way of escape from these difficulties, Ruby, like a wise man, made up his mind to cast them aside, so, after swallowing his allowance, he shouldered his big bellows, heaved a deep sigh, and took his place in one of the boats alongside.The lassitude which strong men feel when obliged to rise before they have had enough of rest soon wears off. The two boats had not left thePharostwenty yards astern, when Joe Dumsby cried, “Ho! boys, let’s have a race.”“Hooray!” shouted O’Connor, whose elastic spirits were always equal to anything, “an’ sure Ruby will sing us ‘The girl we’ve left behind us.’ Och! an’ there she is, av I’m not draymin’.”At that moment a little hand was waved from one of the ports of the floating light. Ruby at once waved his in reply, but as the attention of the men had been directed to the vessel by Ned’s remark, each saw the salutation, and, claiming it as a compliment to himself, uttered a loud cheer, which terminated in a burst of laughter, caused by the sight of Ruby’s half-angry, half-ashamed expression of face.As the other boat had shot ahead, however, at the first mention of the word “race”, the men forgot this incident in their anxiety to overtake their comrades. In a few seconds both boats were going at full speed, and they kept it up all the way to the rock.While this was going on, theSmeaton’sboat was getting ready to take the strangers on board the sloop, and just as the workmen landed on the rock, theSmeatoncast loose her sails, and proceeded to Arbroath.There were a few seals basking on the Bell Rock this morning when the men landed. These at once made off, and were not again seen during the day.At first, seals were numerous on the rock. Frequently from fifty to sixty of them were counted at one time, and they seemed for a good while unwilling to forsake their old quarters, but when the forge was set up they could stand it no longer. Some of the boldest ventured to sun themselves there occasionally, but when the clatter of the anvil and the wreaths of smoke became matters of daily occurrence, they forsook the rock finally, and sought the peace and quiet which man denied them there in other regions of the deep.The building of the lighthouse was attended with difficulties at every step. As a short notice of some of these, and an account of the mode in which the great work was carried on, cannot fail to be interesting to all who admire those engineering works which exhibit prominently the triumph of mind over matter, we shall turn aside for a brief space to consider this subject.

The evening which followed the day that has just been described was bright, calm, and beautiful, with the starry host unclouded and distinctly visible to the profoundest depths of space.

As it was intended to send theSmeatonto Arbroath next morning for a cargo of stones from the building-yard, the wrecked party were prevailed on to remain all night on board thePharos, instead of going ashore in one of the ship’s boats, which could not well be spared at the time.

This arrangement, we need hardly say, gave inexpressible pleasure to Ruby, and was not altogether distasteful to Minnie, although she felt anxious about Mrs Brand, who would naturally be much alarmed at the prolonged absence of herself and the captain. However, “there was no help for it”; and it was wonderful the resignation which she displayed in the circumstances.

It was not Ruby’s duty to watch on deck that night, yet, strange to say, Ruby kept watch the whole night long!

There was no occasion whatever for Minnie to go on deck after it was dark, yet, strange to say, Minnie kept coming on deck at intervalsnearlythe whole night long! Sometimes to “look at the stars”, sometimes to “get a mouthful of fresh air”, frequently to find out what “that strange noise could be that had alarmed her”, and at last—especially towards the early hours of morning—for no reason whatever, except that “she could not sleep below.”

It was very natural that when Minnie paced the quarterdeck between the stern and the mainmast, and Ruby paced the forepart of the deck between the bows and the mainmast, the two should occasionally meet at the mainmast. It was also very natural that when they did meet, the girl who had been rescued should stop and address a few words of gratitude to the man who had saved her. But it was by no means natural—nay, it was altogether unnatural and unaccountable, that, when it became dark, the said man and the said girl should get into a close and confidential conversation, which lasted for hours, to the amusement of Captain Ogilvy and the major, who quite understood it, and to the amazement of many of the ship’s crew, who couldn’t understand it at all.

At last Minnie bade Ruby a final good night and went below, and Ruby, who could not persuade himself that it was final, continued to walk the deck until his eyes began to shut and open involuntarily like those of a sick owl. Then he also went below, and, before he fell quite asleep (according to his own impression), was awakened by the bell that called the men to land on the rock and commence work.

It was not only Ruby who found it difficult to rouse himself that morning. The landing-bell was rung at four o’clock, as the tide suited at that early hour, but the men were so fatigued that they would gladly have slept some hours longer. This, however, the nature of the service would not admit of. The building of the Bell Rock Lighthouse was a peculiar service. It may be said to have resembled duty in the trenches in military warfare. At times the work was light enough, but for the most part it was severe and irregular, as the men had to work in all kinds of weather, as long as possible, in the face of unusual difficulties and dangers, and were liable to be called out at all unseasonable hours. But they knew and expected this, and faced the work like men.

After a growl or two, and a few heavy sighs, they all tumbled out of their berths, and, in a very short time, were mustered on deck, where a glass of rum and a biscuit were served to each, being the regular allowance when they had to begin work before breakfast. Then they got into the boats and rowed away.

Ruby’s troubles were peculiar on this occasion. He could not bear the thought of leaving thePharoswithout saying goodbye to Minnie; but as Minnie knew nothing of such early rising, there was no reasonable hope that she would be awake. Then he wished to put a few questions to his uncle which he had forgotten the day before, but his uncle was at that moment buried in profound repose, with his mouth wide open, and a trombone solo proceeding from his nose, which sadly troubled the unfortunates who lay near him.

As there was no way of escape from these difficulties, Ruby, like a wise man, made up his mind to cast them aside, so, after swallowing his allowance, he shouldered his big bellows, heaved a deep sigh, and took his place in one of the boats alongside.

The lassitude which strong men feel when obliged to rise before they have had enough of rest soon wears off. The two boats had not left thePharostwenty yards astern, when Joe Dumsby cried, “Ho! boys, let’s have a race.”

“Hooray!” shouted O’Connor, whose elastic spirits were always equal to anything, “an’ sure Ruby will sing us ‘The girl we’ve left behind us.’ Och! an’ there she is, av I’m not draymin’.”

At that moment a little hand was waved from one of the ports of the floating light. Ruby at once waved his in reply, but as the attention of the men had been directed to the vessel by Ned’s remark, each saw the salutation, and, claiming it as a compliment to himself, uttered a loud cheer, which terminated in a burst of laughter, caused by the sight of Ruby’s half-angry, half-ashamed expression of face.

As the other boat had shot ahead, however, at the first mention of the word “race”, the men forgot this incident in their anxiety to overtake their comrades. In a few seconds both boats were going at full speed, and they kept it up all the way to the rock.

While this was going on, theSmeaton’sboat was getting ready to take the strangers on board the sloop, and just as the workmen landed on the rock, theSmeatoncast loose her sails, and proceeded to Arbroath.

There were a few seals basking on the Bell Rock this morning when the men landed. These at once made off, and were not again seen during the day.

At first, seals were numerous on the rock. Frequently from fifty to sixty of them were counted at one time, and they seemed for a good while unwilling to forsake their old quarters, but when the forge was set up they could stand it no longer. Some of the boldest ventured to sun themselves there occasionally, but when the clatter of the anvil and the wreaths of smoke became matters of daily occurrence, they forsook the rock finally, and sought the peace and quiet which man denied them there in other regions of the deep.

The building of the lighthouse was attended with difficulties at every step. As a short notice of some of these, and an account of the mode in which the great work was carried on, cannot fail to be interesting to all who admire those engineering works which exhibit prominently the triumph of mind over matter, we shall turn aside for a brief space to consider this subject.

Chapter Fourteen.Somewhat Statistical.It has been already said that the Bell Rock rises only a few feet out of the sea at low tide. The foundation of the tower, sunk into the solid rock, was just three feet three inches above low water of the lowest spring-tides, so that the lighthouse may be said with propriety to be founded beneath the waves.One great point that had to be determined at the commencement of the operations was the best method of landing the stones of the building, this being a delicate and difficult process, in consequence of the weight of the stones and their brittle nature, especially in those parts which were worked to a delicate edge or formed into angular points. As the loss of a single stone, too, would stop the progress of the work until another should be prepared at the workyard in Arbroath and sent off to the rock, it may easily be imagined that this matter of the landing was of the utmost importance, and that much consultation was held in regard to it.It would seem that engineers, as well as doctors, are apt to differ. Some suggested that each particular stone should be floated to the rock, with a cork buoy attached to it; while others proposed an air-tank, instead of the cork buoy. Others, again, proposed to sail over the rock at high water in a flat-bottomed vessel, and drop the stones one after another when over the spot they were intended to occupy. A few, still more eccentric and daring in their views, suggested that a huge cofferdam or vessel should be built on shore, and as much of the lighthouse built in this as would suffice to raise the building above the level of the highest tides; that then it should be floated off to its station on the rock, which should be previously prepared for its reception; that the cofferdam should be scuttled, and the ponderous mass of masonry, weighing perhaps 1000 tons, allowed to sink at once into its place!All these plans, however, were rejected by Mr Stevenson, who resolved to carry the stones to the rock in boats constructed for the purpose. These were named praam boats. The stones were therefore cut in conformity with exactly measured moulds in the workyard at Arbroath, and conveyed thence in the sloops already mentioned to the rock, where the vessels were anchored at a distance sufficient to enable them to clear it in case of drifting. The cargoes were then unloaded at the moorings, and laid on the decks of the praam boats, which conveyed them to the rock, where they were laid on small trucks, run along the temporary rails, to their positions, and built in at once.Each stone of this building was treated with as much care and solicitude as if it were a living creature. After being carefully cut and curiously formed, and conveyed to the neighbourhood of the rock, it was hoisted out of the hold and laid on the vessel’s deck, when it was handed over to the landing-master, whose duty it became to transfer it, by means of a combination of ropes and blocks, to the deck of the praam boat, and then deliver it at the rock.As the sea was seldom calm during the building operations, and frequently in a state of great agitation, lowering the stones on the decks of the praam boats was a difficult matter.In the act of working the apparatus, one man was placed at each of the guy-tackles. This man assisted also at the purchase-tackles for raising the stones; and one of the ablest and most active of the crew was appointed to hold on the end of the fall-tackle, which often required all his strength and his utmost agility in letting go, for the purpose of lowering the stone at the instant the word “lower” was given. In a rolling sea, much depended on the promptitude with which this part of the operation was performed. For the purpose of securing this, the man who held the tackle placed himself before the mast in a sitting, more frequently in a lying posture, with his feet stretched under the winch and abutting against the mast, as by this means he was enabled to exert his greatest strength.The signal being given in the hold that the tackle was hooked to the stone and all ready, every man took his post, the stone was carefully, we might almost say tenderly, raised, and gradually got into position over the praam boat; the right moment was intently watched, and the word “lower” given sternly and sharply. The order was obeyed with exact promptitude, and the stone rested on the deck of the praam boat. Six blocks of granite having been thus placed on the boat’s deck, she was rowed to a buoy, and moored near the rock until the proper time of the tide for taking her into one of the landing creeks.We are thus particular in describing the details of this part of the work, in order that the reader may be enabled to form a correct estimate of what may be termed the minor difficulties of the undertaking.The same care was bestowed upon the landing of every stone of the building; and it is worthy of record, that notwithstanding the difficulty of this process in such peculiar circumstances, not a single stone was lost, or even seriously damaged, during the whole course of the erection of the tower, which occupied four years in building, or rather, we should say, fourseasons, for no work was or could be done during winter.A description of the first entire course of the lower part of the tower, which was built solid, will be sufficient to give an idea of the general nature of the whole work.This course or layer consisted of 123 blocks of stone, those in the interior being sandstone, while the outer casing was of granite. Each stone was fastened to its neighbour above, below, and around by means of dovetails, joggles, oaken trenails, and mortar. Each course was thus built from its centre to its circumference, and as all the courses from the foundation to a height of thirty feet were built in this way, the tower, up to that height, became a mass of solid stone, as strong and immovable as the Bell Rock itself. Above this, or thirty feet from the foundation, the entrance-door was placed, and the hollow part of the tower began.Thus much, then, as to the tower itself, the upper part of which will be found described in a future chapter. In regard to the subsidiary works, the erection of the beacon house was in itself a work of considerable difficulty, requiring no common effort of engineering skill. The principal beams of this having been towed to the rock by theSmeaton, all the stanchions and other material for setting them up were landed, and the workmen set about erecting them as quickly as possible, for if a single day of bad weather should occur before the necessary fixtures could be made, the whole apparatus would be infallibly swept away.The operation being, perhaps, the most important of the season, and one requiring to be done with the utmost expedition, all hands were, on the day in which its erection was begun, gathered on the rock, besides ten additional men engaged for the purpose, and as many of the seamen from thePharosand other vessels as could be spared. They amounted altogether to fifty-two in number.About half-past eight o’clock in the morning a derrick, or mast, thirty feet high, was erected, and properly supported with guy-ropes for suspending the block for raising the first principal beam of the beacon, and a winch-machine was bolted down to the rock for working the purchase-tackle. The necessary blocks and tackle were likewise laid to hand and properly arranged. The men were severally allotted in squads to different stations; some were to bring the principal beams to hand, others were to work the tackles, while a third set had the charge of the iron stanchions, bolts, and wedges, so that the whole operation of raising the beams and fixing them to the rock might go forward in such a mariner that some provision might be made, in any stage of the work, for securing what had been accomplished, in case of an adverse change of weather.The raising of the derrick was the signal for three hearty cheers, for this was a new era in the operations. Even that single spar, could it be preserved, would have been sufficient to have saved the workmen on that day when theSmeatonbroke adrift and left them in such peril.This was all, however, that could be accomplished that tide. Next day, the great beams, each fifty feet long, and about sixteen inches square, were towed to the rock about seven in the morning, and the work immediately commenced, although they had gone there so much too early in the tide that the men had to work a considerable time up to their middle in water. Each beam was raised by the tackle affixed to the derrick, until the end of it could be placed or “stepped” into the hole which had been previously prepared for its reception; then two of the great iron stanchions or supports were set into their respective holes on each side of the beam, and a rope passed round them to keep it from slipping, until it could be more permanently fixed.This having been accomplished, the first beam became the means of raising the second, and when the first and second were fastened at the top, they formed a pair of shears by which the rest were more easily raised to their places. The heads of the beams were then fitted together and secured with ropes in a temporary manner, until the falling of the tide would permit the operations to be resumed.Thus the work went on, each man labouring with all his might, until this important erection was completed.The raising of the first beams took place on a Sunday. Indeed, during the progress of the works at the Bell Rock, the men were accustomed to work regularly on Sundays when possible; but it is right to say that it was not done in defiance of, or disregard to, God’s command to cease from labour on the Sabbath day, but because of the urgent need of a lighthouse on a rock which, unlighted, would be certain to wreck numerous vessels and destroy many lives in time to come, as it had done in time past. Delay in this matter might cause death and disaster, therefore it was deemed right to carry on the work on Sundays. (See note 1.)An accident happened during the raising of the last large beam of the beacon, which, although alarming, fortunately caused no damage. Considering the nature of the work, it is amazing, and greatly to the credit of all engaged, that so few accidents occurred during the building of the lighthouse.When they were in the act of hoisting the sixth and last log, and just about to cant it into its place, the iron hook of the principal purchase-block gave way, and the great beam, measuring fifty feet in length, fell upon the rock with a terrible crash; but although there were fifty-two men around the beacon at the time, not one was touched, and the beam itself received no damage worth mentioning.Soon after the beacon had been set up, and partially secured to the rock, a severe gale sprang up, as if Ocean were impatient to test the handiwork of human engineers. Gales set in from the eastward, compelling the attending sloops to slip from their moorings, and run for the shelter of Arbroath and Saint Andrews, and raising a sea on the Bell Rock which was described as terrific, the spray rising more than thirty feet in the air above it.In the midst of all this turmoil the beacon stood securely, and after the weather moderated, permitting the workmen once more to land, it was found that no damage had been done by the tremendous breaches of the sea over the rock.That the power of the waves had indeed been very great, was evident from the effects observed on the rock itself, and on materials left there. Masses of rock upwards of a ton in weight had been cast up by the sea, and then, in their passage over the Bell Rock, had made deep and indelible ruts. An anchor of a ton weight, which had been lost on one side of the rock, was found to have been washed up andoverit to the other side. Several large blocks of granite that had been landed and left on a ledge, were found to have been swept away like pebbles, and hurled into a hole at some distance; and the heavy hearth of the smith’s forge, with the ponderous anvil, had been washed from their places of supposed security.From the time of the setting up of the beacon a new era in the work began. Some of the men were now enabled to remain on the rock all day, working at the lighthouse when the tide was low, and betaking themselves to the beacon when it rose, and leaving it at night; for there was much to do before this beacon could be made the habitable abode which it finally became; but it required the strictest attention to the state of the weather, in case of their being overtaken with a gale, which might prevent the possibility of their being taken off the rock.At last the beacon was so far advanced and secured that it was deemed capable of withstanding any gale that might blow. As yet it was a great ungainly pile of logs, iron stanchions, and bracing-chains, without anything that could afford shelter to man from winds or waves, but with a platform laid from its cross-beams at a considerable height above high-water mark.The works on the rock were in this state, when two memorable circumstances occurred in the Bell Rock annals, to which we shall devote a separate chapter.Note 1. It was always arranged, however, to have public worship on Sundays when practicable. And this arrangement was held to during the continuance of the work. Indeed, the manner in which Mr Stevenson writes in regard to the conclusion of the day’s work at the beacon, which we have described, shows clearly that he felt himself to be acting in this matter in accordance with the spirit of our Saviour, who wrought many of His works of mercy on the Sabbath day. Mr Stevenson writes thus:—“All hands having returned to their respective ships, they got a shift of dry clothes, and some refreshment. Being Sunday, they were afterwards convened by signal on board of the lighthouse yacht, when prayers were read, for every heart upon this occasion felt gladness, and every mind was disposed to be thankful for the happy and successful termination of the operations of this day.”It is right to add that the men, although requested, were not constrained to work on Sundays. They were at liberty to decline if they chose. A few conscientiously refused at first, but were afterwards convinced of the necessity of working on all opportunities that offered, and agreed to do so.

It has been already said that the Bell Rock rises only a few feet out of the sea at low tide. The foundation of the tower, sunk into the solid rock, was just three feet three inches above low water of the lowest spring-tides, so that the lighthouse may be said with propriety to be founded beneath the waves.

One great point that had to be determined at the commencement of the operations was the best method of landing the stones of the building, this being a delicate and difficult process, in consequence of the weight of the stones and their brittle nature, especially in those parts which were worked to a delicate edge or formed into angular points. As the loss of a single stone, too, would stop the progress of the work until another should be prepared at the workyard in Arbroath and sent off to the rock, it may easily be imagined that this matter of the landing was of the utmost importance, and that much consultation was held in regard to it.

It would seem that engineers, as well as doctors, are apt to differ. Some suggested that each particular stone should be floated to the rock, with a cork buoy attached to it; while others proposed an air-tank, instead of the cork buoy. Others, again, proposed to sail over the rock at high water in a flat-bottomed vessel, and drop the stones one after another when over the spot they were intended to occupy. A few, still more eccentric and daring in their views, suggested that a huge cofferdam or vessel should be built on shore, and as much of the lighthouse built in this as would suffice to raise the building above the level of the highest tides; that then it should be floated off to its station on the rock, which should be previously prepared for its reception; that the cofferdam should be scuttled, and the ponderous mass of masonry, weighing perhaps 1000 tons, allowed to sink at once into its place!

All these plans, however, were rejected by Mr Stevenson, who resolved to carry the stones to the rock in boats constructed for the purpose. These were named praam boats. The stones were therefore cut in conformity with exactly measured moulds in the workyard at Arbroath, and conveyed thence in the sloops already mentioned to the rock, where the vessels were anchored at a distance sufficient to enable them to clear it in case of drifting. The cargoes were then unloaded at the moorings, and laid on the decks of the praam boats, which conveyed them to the rock, where they were laid on small trucks, run along the temporary rails, to their positions, and built in at once.

Each stone of this building was treated with as much care and solicitude as if it were a living creature. After being carefully cut and curiously formed, and conveyed to the neighbourhood of the rock, it was hoisted out of the hold and laid on the vessel’s deck, when it was handed over to the landing-master, whose duty it became to transfer it, by means of a combination of ropes and blocks, to the deck of the praam boat, and then deliver it at the rock.

As the sea was seldom calm during the building operations, and frequently in a state of great agitation, lowering the stones on the decks of the praam boats was a difficult matter.

In the act of working the apparatus, one man was placed at each of the guy-tackles. This man assisted also at the purchase-tackles for raising the stones; and one of the ablest and most active of the crew was appointed to hold on the end of the fall-tackle, which often required all his strength and his utmost agility in letting go, for the purpose of lowering the stone at the instant the word “lower” was given. In a rolling sea, much depended on the promptitude with which this part of the operation was performed. For the purpose of securing this, the man who held the tackle placed himself before the mast in a sitting, more frequently in a lying posture, with his feet stretched under the winch and abutting against the mast, as by this means he was enabled to exert his greatest strength.

The signal being given in the hold that the tackle was hooked to the stone and all ready, every man took his post, the stone was carefully, we might almost say tenderly, raised, and gradually got into position over the praam boat; the right moment was intently watched, and the word “lower” given sternly and sharply. The order was obeyed with exact promptitude, and the stone rested on the deck of the praam boat. Six blocks of granite having been thus placed on the boat’s deck, she was rowed to a buoy, and moored near the rock until the proper time of the tide for taking her into one of the landing creeks.

We are thus particular in describing the details of this part of the work, in order that the reader may be enabled to form a correct estimate of what may be termed the minor difficulties of the undertaking.

The same care was bestowed upon the landing of every stone of the building; and it is worthy of record, that notwithstanding the difficulty of this process in such peculiar circumstances, not a single stone was lost, or even seriously damaged, during the whole course of the erection of the tower, which occupied four years in building, or rather, we should say, fourseasons, for no work was or could be done during winter.

A description of the first entire course of the lower part of the tower, which was built solid, will be sufficient to give an idea of the general nature of the whole work.

This course or layer consisted of 123 blocks of stone, those in the interior being sandstone, while the outer casing was of granite. Each stone was fastened to its neighbour above, below, and around by means of dovetails, joggles, oaken trenails, and mortar. Each course was thus built from its centre to its circumference, and as all the courses from the foundation to a height of thirty feet were built in this way, the tower, up to that height, became a mass of solid stone, as strong and immovable as the Bell Rock itself. Above this, or thirty feet from the foundation, the entrance-door was placed, and the hollow part of the tower began.

Thus much, then, as to the tower itself, the upper part of which will be found described in a future chapter. In regard to the subsidiary works, the erection of the beacon house was in itself a work of considerable difficulty, requiring no common effort of engineering skill. The principal beams of this having been towed to the rock by theSmeaton, all the stanchions and other material for setting them up were landed, and the workmen set about erecting them as quickly as possible, for if a single day of bad weather should occur before the necessary fixtures could be made, the whole apparatus would be infallibly swept away.

The operation being, perhaps, the most important of the season, and one requiring to be done with the utmost expedition, all hands were, on the day in which its erection was begun, gathered on the rock, besides ten additional men engaged for the purpose, and as many of the seamen from thePharosand other vessels as could be spared. They amounted altogether to fifty-two in number.

About half-past eight o’clock in the morning a derrick, or mast, thirty feet high, was erected, and properly supported with guy-ropes for suspending the block for raising the first principal beam of the beacon, and a winch-machine was bolted down to the rock for working the purchase-tackle. The necessary blocks and tackle were likewise laid to hand and properly arranged. The men were severally allotted in squads to different stations; some were to bring the principal beams to hand, others were to work the tackles, while a third set had the charge of the iron stanchions, bolts, and wedges, so that the whole operation of raising the beams and fixing them to the rock might go forward in such a mariner that some provision might be made, in any stage of the work, for securing what had been accomplished, in case of an adverse change of weather.

The raising of the derrick was the signal for three hearty cheers, for this was a new era in the operations. Even that single spar, could it be preserved, would have been sufficient to have saved the workmen on that day when theSmeatonbroke adrift and left them in such peril.

This was all, however, that could be accomplished that tide. Next day, the great beams, each fifty feet long, and about sixteen inches square, were towed to the rock about seven in the morning, and the work immediately commenced, although they had gone there so much too early in the tide that the men had to work a considerable time up to their middle in water. Each beam was raised by the tackle affixed to the derrick, until the end of it could be placed or “stepped” into the hole which had been previously prepared for its reception; then two of the great iron stanchions or supports were set into their respective holes on each side of the beam, and a rope passed round them to keep it from slipping, until it could be more permanently fixed.

This having been accomplished, the first beam became the means of raising the second, and when the first and second were fastened at the top, they formed a pair of shears by which the rest were more easily raised to their places. The heads of the beams were then fitted together and secured with ropes in a temporary manner, until the falling of the tide would permit the operations to be resumed.

Thus the work went on, each man labouring with all his might, until this important erection was completed.

The raising of the first beams took place on a Sunday. Indeed, during the progress of the works at the Bell Rock, the men were accustomed to work regularly on Sundays when possible; but it is right to say that it was not done in defiance of, or disregard to, God’s command to cease from labour on the Sabbath day, but because of the urgent need of a lighthouse on a rock which, unlighted, would be certain to wreck numerous vessels and destroy many lives in time to come, as it had done in time past. Delay in this matter might cause death and disaster, therefore it was deemed right to carry on the work on Sundays. (See note 1.)

An accident happened during the raising of the last large beam of the beacon, which, although alarming, fortunately caused no damage. Considering the nature of the work, it is amazing, and greatly to the credit of all engaged, that so few accidents occurred during the building of the lighthouse.

When they were in the act of hoisting the sixth and last log, and just about to cant it into its place, the iron hook of the principal purchase-block gave way, and the great beam, measuring fifty feet in length, fell upon the rock with a terrible crash; but although there were fifty-two men around the beacon at the time, not one was touched, and the beam itself received no damage worth mentioning.

Soon after the beacon had been set up, and partially secured to the rock, a severe gale sprang up, as if Ocean were impatient to test the handiwork of human engineers. Gales set in from the eastward, compelling the attending sloops to slip from their moorings, and run for the shelter of Arbroath and Saint Andrews, and raising a sea on the Bell Rock which was described as terrific, the spray rising more than thirty feet in the air above it.

In the midst of all this turmoil the beacon stood securely, and after the weather moderated, permitting the workmen once more to land, it was found that no damage had been done by the tremendous breaches of the sea over the rock.

That the power of the waves had indeed been very great, was evident from the effects observed on the rock itself, and on materials left there. Masses of rock upwards of a ton in weight had been cast up by the sea, and then, in their passage over the Bell Rock, had made deep and indelible ruts. An anchor of a ton weight, which had been lost on one side of the rock, was found to have been washed up andoverit to the other side. Several large blocks of granite that had been landed and left on a ledge, were found to have been swept away like pebbles, and hurled into a hole at some distance; and the heavy hearth of the smith’s forge, with the ponderous anvil, had been washed from their places of supposed security.

From the time of the setting up of the beacon a new era in the work began. Some of the men were now enabled to remain on the rock all day, working at the lighthouse when the tide was low, and betaking themselves to the beacon when it rose, and leaving it at night; for there was much to do before this beacon could be made the habitable abode which it finally became; but it required the strictest attention to the state of the weather, in case of their being overtaken with a gale, which might prevent the possibility of their being taken off the rock.

At last the beacon was so far advanced and secured that it was deemed capable of withstanding any gale that might blow. As yet it was a great ungainly pile of logs, iron stanchions, and bracing-chains, without anything that could afford shelter to man from winds or waves, but with a platform laid from its cross-beams at a considerable height above high-water mark.

The works on the rock were in this state, when two memorable circumstances occurred in the Bell Rock annals, to which we shall devote a separate chapter.

Note 1. It was always arranged, however, to have public worship on Sundays when practicable. And this arrangement was held to during the continuance of the work. Indeed, the manner in which Mr Stevenson writes in regard to the conclusion of the day’s work at the beacon, which we have described, shows clearly that he felt himself to be acting in this matter in accordance with the spirit of our Saviour, who wrought many of His works of mercy on the Sabbath day. Mr Stevenson writes thus:—

“All hands having returned to their respective ships, they got a shift of dry clothes, and some refreshment. Being Sunday, they were afterwards convened by signal on board of the lighthouse yacht, when prayers were read, for every heart upon this occasion felt gladness, and every mind was disposed to be thankful for the happy and successful termination of the operations of this day.”

“All hands having returned to their respective ships, they got a shift of dry clothes, and some refreshment. Being Sunday, they were afterwards convened by signal on board of the lighthouse yacht, when prayers were read, for every heart upon this occasion felt gladness, and every mind was disposed to be thankful for the happy and successful termination of the operations of this day.”

It is right to add that the men, although requested, were not constrained to work on Sundays. They were at liberty to decline if they chose. A few conscientiously refused at first, but were afterwards convinced of the necessity of working on all opportunities that offered, and agreed to do so.

Chapter Fifteen.Ruby has a Rise in Life, and a Fall.James Dove, the blacksmith, had, for some time past, been watching the advancing of the beacon-works with some interest, and a good deal of impatience. He was tired of working so constantly up to the knees in water, and aspired to a drier and more elevated workshop.One morning he was told by the foreman that orders had been given for him to remove his forge to the beacon, and this removal, this “flitting”, as he called it, was the first of the memorable events referred to in the last chapter.“Hallo! Ruby, my boy,” cried the elated son of Vulcan, as he descended the companion ladder, “we’re goin’ to flit, lad. We’re about to rise in the world, so get up your bellows. It’s the last time we shall have to be bothered with them in the boat, I hope.”“That’s well,” said Ruby, shouldering the unwieldy bellows; “they have worn my shoulders threadbare, and tried my patience almost beyond endurance.”“Well, it’s all over now, lad,” rejoined the smith. “In future you shall have to blow up in the beacon yonder; so come along.”“Come, Ruby, that ought to comfort the cockles o’ yer heart,” said O’Connor, who passed up the ladder as he spoke; “the smith won’t need to blow you up any more, av you’re to blow yourself up in the beacon in futur’. Arrah! there’s the bell again. Sorrow wan o’ me iver gits to slape, but I’m turned up immadiately to go an’ poke away at that rock—faix, it’s well named the Bell Rock, for it makes me like tobellow me lungs out wid vexation.”“That pun isbelow contempt,” said Joe Dumsby, who came up at the moment.“That’s yer sort, laddies; ye’re guid at ringing the changes on that head onyway,” cried Watt.“I say, we’re gittin’ abelly-full of it,” observed Forsyth, with a rueful look. “I hope nobody’s goin’ to give us another!”“It’ll create a rebellion,” said Bremner, “if ye go on like that.”“It’ll bring mybellows down on the head o’ the next man that speaks!” cried Ruby, with indignation.“Don’t you hear the bell, there?” cried the foreman down the hatchway.There was a burst of laughter at this unconscious continuation of the joke, and the men sprang up the ladder,—down the side, and into the boats, which were soon racing towards the rock.The day, though not sunny, was calm and agreeable, nevertheless the landing at the rock was not easily accomplished, owing to the swell caused by a recent gale. After one or two narrow escapes of a ducking, however, the crews landed, and the bellows, instead of being conveyed to their usual place at the forge, were laid at the foot of the beacon.The carriage of these bellows to and fro almost daily had been a subject of great annoyance to the men, owing to their being so much in the way, and so unmanageably bulky, yet so essential to the progress of the works, that they did not dare to leave them on the rock, lest they should be washed away, and they had to handle them tenderly, lest they should get damaged.“Now, boys, lend a hand with the forge,” cried the smith, hurrying towards his anvil.Those who were not busy eating dulse responded to the call, and in a short time the ponderousmatérielof the smithy was conveyed to the beacon, where, in process of time, it was hoisted by means of tackle to its place on the platform to which reference has already been made.When it was safely set up and the bellows placed in position, Ruby went to the edge of the platform, and, looking down on his comrades below, took off his cap and shouted in the tone of a Stentor, “Now, lads, three cheers for the Dovecot!”This was received with a roar of laughter and three tremendous cheers.“Howld on, boys,” cried O’Connor, stretching out his hand as if to command silence; “you’ll scare the dove from his cot altogether av ye roar like that!”“Surely they’re sendin’ us a fire to warm us,” observed one of the men, pointing to a boat which had put off from theSmeaton, and was approaching the rock by way ofMacurich’s Track.“What can’d be, I wonder?” said Watt; “I think I can smell somethin’.”“I halways thought you ’ad somethink of an old dog in you,” said Dumsby.“Ay, man!” said the Scot with a leer, “I ken o’ war beasts than auld dowgs.”“Do you? come let’s ’ear wat they are,” said the Englishman.“Young puppies,” answered the other.“Hurrah! dinner, as I’m a Dutchman,” cried Forsyth.This was indeed the case. Dinner had been cooked on board theSmeatonand sent hot to the men; and this,—the first dinner ever eaten on the Bell Rock,—was the second of the memorable events before referred to.The boat soon ran into the creek and landed the baskets containing the food onHope’s Wharf.The men at once made a rush at the viands, and bore them off exultingly to the flattest part of the rock they could find.“A regular picnic,” cried Dumsby in high glee, for unusual events, of even a trifling kind, had the effect of elating those men more than one might have expected.“Here’s the murphies,” cried O’Connor, staggering over the slippery weed with a large smoking tin dish.“Mind you don’t let ’em fall,” cried one.“Have a care,” shouted the smith; “if you drop them I’ll beat you red-hot, and hammer ye so flat that the biggest flatterer as ever walked won’t be able to spread ye out another half-inch.”“Mutton! oh!” exclaimed Forsyth, who had been some time trying to wrench the cover off the basket containing a roast leg, and at last succeeded.“Here, spread them all out on this rock. You han’t forgot the grog, I hope, steward?”“No fear of him: he’s a good feller, is the steward, when he’s asleep partiklerly. The grog’s here all right.”“Dinna let Dumsby git haud o’t, then,” cried Watt. “What! hae ye begood a’ready? Patience, man, patience. Is there ony saut?”“Lots of it, darlin’, in the say. Sure this shape must have lost his tail somehow. Och, murther! if there isn’t Bobby Selkirk gone an’ tumbled into Port Hamilton wid the cabbage, av it’s not the carrots!”“There now, don’t talk so much, boys,” cried Peter Logan. “Let’s drink success to the Bell Rock Lighthouse.”It need scarcely be said that this toast was drunk with enthusiasm, and that it was followed up with “three times three.”“Now for a song. Come, Joe Dumsby, strike up,” cried one of the men.O’Connor, who was one of the most reckless of men in regard to duty and propriety, here shook his head gravely, and took upon himself to read his comrade a lesson.“Ye shouldn’t talk o’ sitch things in workin’ hours,” said he. “Av we wos all foolish, waake-hidded cratures likeyou, how d’ye think we’d iver git the lighthouse sot up! Ate yer dinner, lad, and howld yer tongue.”“O Ned, I didn’t think your jealousy would show out so strong,” retorted his comrade. “Now, then, Dumsby, fire away, if it was only to aggravate him.”Thus pressed, Joe Dumsby took a deep draught of the small-beer with which the men were supplied, and began a song of his own composition.When the song was finished the meal was also concluded, and the men returned to their labours on the rock; some to continue their work with the picks at the hard stone of the foundation-pit, others to perform miscellaneous jobs about the rock, such as mixing the mortar and removingdébris, while James Dove and his fast friend Ruby Brand mounted to their airy “cot” on the beacon, from which in a short time began to proceed the volumes of smoke and the clanging sounds that had formerly arisen from “Smith’s Ledge.”While they were all thus busily engaged, Ruby observed a boat advancing towards the rock from the floating light. He was blowing the bellows at the time, after a spell at the fore-hammer.“We seem to be favoured with unusual events to-day, Jamie,” said he, wiping his forehead with the corner of his apron with one hand, while he worked the handle of the bellows with the other, “yonder comes another boat; what can it be, think you?”“Surely it can’t be tea!” said the smith with a smile, as he turned the end of a pickaxe in the fire, “it’s too soon after dinner for that.”“It looks like the boat of our friends the fishermen, Big Swankie and Davy Spink,” said Ruby, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing earnestly at the boat as it advanced towards them.“Friends!” repeated the smith, “rascally smugglers, both of them; they’re no friends of mine.”“Well, I didn’t mean bosom friends,” replied Ruby, “but after all, Davy Spink is not such a bad fellow, though I can’t say that I’m fond of his comrade.”The two men resumed their hammers at this point in the conversation, and became silent as long as the anvil sounded.The boat had reached the rock when they ceased, and its occupants were seen to be in earnest conversation with Peter Logan.There were only two men in the boat besides its owners, Swankie and Spink.“What can they want?” said Dove, looking down on them as he turned to thrust the iron on which he was engaged into the fire.As he spoke the foreman looked up.“Ho! Ruby Brand,” he shouted, “come down here; you’re wanted.”“Hallo! Ruby,” exclaimed the smith, “morefriends o’ yours! Your acquaintance is extensive, lad, but there’s no girl in the case this time.”Ruby made no reply, for an indefinable feeling of anxiety filled his breast as he threw down the fore-hammer and prepared to descend.On reaching the rock he advanced towards the strangers, both of whom were stout, thickset men, with grave, stern countenances. One of them stepped forward and said, “Your name is—”“Ruby Brand,” said the youth promptly, at the same time somewhat proudly, for he knew that he was in the hands of the Philistines.The man who first spoke hereupon drew a small instrument from his pocket, and tapping Ruby on the shoulder, said—“I arrest you, Ruby Brand, in the name of the King.”The other man immediately stepped forward and produced a pair of handcuffs.At sight of these Ruby sprang backward, and the blood rushed violently to his forehead, while his blue eyes glared with the ferocity of those of a tiger.“Come, lad, it’s of no use, you know,” said the man, pausing; “if you won’t come quietly we must find ways and means to compel you.”“Compel me!” cried Ruby, drawing himself up with a look of defiance and a laugh of contempt, that caused the two men to shrink back in spite of themselves.“Ruby,” said the foreman, gently, stepping forward and laying his hand on the youth’s shoulder, “you had better go quietly, for there’s no chance of escape from these fellows. I have no doubt it’s a mistake, and that you’ll come off with flyin’ colours, but it’s best to go quietly whatever turns up.”While Logan was speaking, Ruby dropped his head on his breast, the officer with the handcuffs advanced, and the youth held out his hands, while the flush of anger deepened into the crimson blush of shame.It was at this point that Jamie Dove, wondering at the prolonged absence of his friend and assistant, looked down from the platform of the beacon, and beheld what was taking place.The stentorian roar of amazement and rage that suddenly burst from him, attracted the attention of all the men on the rock, who dropped their tools and looked up in consternation, expecting, no doubt, to behold something terrible.Their eyes at once followed those of the smith, and no sooner did they see Ruby being led in irons to the boat, which lay inPort Hamilton, close toSir Ralph the Rover’s Ledge, than they uttered a yell of execration, and rushed with one accord to the rescue.The officers, who were just about to make their prisoner step into the boat, turned to face the foe,—one, who seemed to be the more courageous of the two, a little in advance of the other.Ned O’Connor, with that enthusiasm which seems to be inherent in Irish blood, rushed with such irresistible force against this man that he drove him violently back against his comrade, and sent them both head over heels into Port Hamilton. Nay, with such momentum was this act performed, that Ned could not help but follow them, falling on them both as they came to the surface and sinking them a second time, amid screams and yells of laughter.O’Connor was at once pulled out by his friends. The officers also were quickly landed.“I ax yer parding, gintlemen,” said the former, with an expression of deep regret on his face, “but the say-weedisso slippy on them rocks we’re almost for iver doin’ that sort o’ thing be the merest accident. But av yer as fond o’ cowld wather as meself ye won’t objec’ to it, although it do come raither onexpected.”The officers made no reply, but, collaring Ruby, pushed him into the boat.Again the men made a rush, but Peter Logan stood between them and the boat.“Lads,” said he, holding up his hand, “it’s of no use resistin’ the law. These are King’s officers, and they are only doin’ their duty. Sure am I that Ruby Brand is guilty of no crime, so they’ve only to enquire into it and set him free.”The men hesitated, but did not seem quite disposed to submit without another struggle.“It’s a shame to let them take him,” cried the smith.“So it is. I vote for a rescue,” cried Joe Dumsby.“Hooray! so does I,” cried O’Connor, stripping off his waist-coat, and for once in his life agreeing with Joe.“Na, na, lads,” cried John Watt, rolling up his sleeves, and baring his brawny arms as if about to engage in a fight, “it’ll niver do to interfere wi’ the law; but what d’ye say to gie them anither dook?”Seeing that the men were about to act upon Watt’s suggestion, Ruby started up in the boat, and turning to his comrade, said:“Boys, it’s very kind of you to be so anxious to save me but you can’t—”“Faix, but we can, darlin’,” interrupted O’Connor.“No, you can’t,” repeated Ruby firmly, “because I won’t let you. I don’t think I need say to you that I am innocent,” he added, with a look in which truth evidently shone forth like a sunbeam, “but now that they have put these irons on me I will not consent that they shall be taken off except by the law which put them on.”While he was speaking the boat had been pushed off, and in a few seconds it was beyond the reach of the men.“Depend upon it, comrades,” cried Ruby, as they pulled away, “that I shall be back again to help you to finish the work on the Bell Rock.”“So you will, lad, so you will,” cried the foreman.“My blessin’ on ye,” shouted O’Connor. “Ach! ye dirty villains, ye low-minded spalpeens,” he added, shaking his fist at the officers of justice.“Don’t be long away, Ruby,” cried one.“Never say die,” shouted another, earnestly.“Three cheers for Ruby Brand!” exclaimed Forsyth, “hip! hip! hip!—”The cheer was given with the most vociferous energy, and then the men stood in melancholy silence onRalph the Rover’s Ledge, watching the boat that bore their comrade to the shore.

James Dove, the blacksmith, had, for some time past, been watching the advancing of the beacon-works with some interest, and a good deal of impatience. He was tired of working so constantly up to the knees in water, and aspired to a drier and more elevated workshop.

One morning he was told by the foreman that orders had been given for him to remove his forge to the beacon, and this removal, this “flitting”, as he called it, was the first of the memorable events referred to in the last chapter.

“Hallo! Ruby, my boy,” cried the elated son of Vulcan, as he descended the companion ladder, “we’re goin’ to flit, lad. We’re about to rise in the world, so get up your bellows. It’s the last time we shall have to be bothered with them in the boat, I hope.”

“That’s well,” said Ruby, shouldering the unwieldy bellows; “they have worn my shoulders threadbare, and tried my patience almost beyond endurance.”

“Well, it’s all over now, lad,” rejoined the smith. “In future you shall have to blow up in the beacon yonder; so come along.”

“Come, Ruby, that ought to comfort the cockles o’ yer heart,” said O’Connor, who passed up the ladder as he spoke; “the smith won’t need to blow you up any more, av you’re to blow yourself up in the beacon in futur’. Arrah! there’s the bell again. Sorrow wan o’ me iver gits to slape, but I’m turned up immadiately to go an’ poke away at that rock—faix, it’s well named the Bell Rock, for it makes me like tobellow me lungs out wid vexation.”

“That pun isbelow contempt,” said Joe Dumsby, who came up at the moment.

“That’s yer sort, laddies; ye’re guid at ringing the changes on that head onyway,” cried Watt.

“I say, we’re gittin’ abelly-full of it,” observed Forsyth, with a rueful look. “I hope nobody’s goin’ to give us another!”

“It’ll create a rebellion,” said Bremner, “if ye go on like that.”

“It’ll bring mybellows down on the head o’ the next man that speaks!” cried Ruby, with indignation.

“Don’t you hear the bell, there?” cried the foreman down the hatchway.

There was a burst of laughter at this unconscious continuation of the joke, and the men sprang up the ladder,—down the side, and into the boats, which were soon racing towards the rock.

The day, though not sunny, was calm and agreeable, nevertheless the landing at the rock was not easily accomplished, owing to the swell caused by a recent gale. After one or two narrow escapes of a ducking, however, the crews landed, and the bellows, instead of being conveyed to their usual place at the forge, were laid at the foot of the beacon.

The carriage of these bellows to and fro almost daily had been a subject of great annoyance to the men, owing to their being so much in the way, and so unmanageably bulky, yet so essential to the progress of the works, that they did not dare to leave them on the rock, lest they should be washed away, and they had to handle them tenderly, lest they should get damaged.

“Now, boys, lend a hand with the forge,” cried the smith, hurrying towards his anvil.

Those who were not busy eating dulse responded to the call, and in a short time the ponderousmatérielof the smithy was conveyed to the beacon, where, in process of time, it was hoisted by means of tackle to its place on the platform to which reference has already been made.

When it was safely set up and the bellows placed in position, Ruby went to the edge of the platform, and, looking down on his comrades below, took off his cap and shouted in the tone of a Stentor, “Now, lads, three cheers for the Dovecot!”

This was received with a roar of laughter and three tremendous cheers.

“Howld on, boys,” cried O’Connor, stretching out his hand as if to command silence; “you’ll scare the dove from his cot altogether av ye roar like that!”

“Surely they’re sendin’ us a fire to warm us,” observed one of the men, pointing to a boat which had put off from theSmeaton, and was approaching the rock by way ofMacurich’s Track.

“What can’d be, I wonder?” said Watt; “I think I can smell somethin’.”

“I halways thought you ’ad somethink of an old dog in you,” said Dumsby.

“Ay, man!” said the Scot with a leer, “I ken o’ war beasts than auld dowgs.”

“Do you? come let’s ’ear wat they are,” said the Englishman.

“Young puppies,” answered the other.

“Hurrah! dinner, as I’m a Dutchman,” cried Forsyth.

This was indeed the case. Dinner had been cooked on board theSmeatonand sent hot to the men; and this,—the first dinner ever eaten on the Bell Rock,—was the second of the memorable events before referred to.

The boat soon ran into the creek and landed the baskets containing the food onHope’s Wharf.

The men at once made a rush at the viands, and bore them off exultingly to the flattest part of the rock they could find.

“A regular picnic,” cried Dumsby in high glee, for unusual events, of even a trifling kind, had the effect of elating those men more than one might have expected.

“Here’s the murphies,” cried O’Connor, staggering over the slippery weed with a large smoking tin dish.

“Mind you don’t let ’em fall,” cried one.

“Have a care,” shouted the smith; “if you drop them I’ll beat you red-hot, and hammer ye so flat that the biggest flatterer as ever walked won’t be able to spread ye out another half-inch.”

“Mutton! oh!” exclaimed Forsyth, who had been some time trying to wrench the cover off the basket containing a roast leg, and at last succeeded.

“Here, spread them all out on this rock. You han’t forgot the grog, I hope, steward?”

“No fear of him: he’s a good feller, is the steward, when he’s asleep partiklerly. The grog’s here all right.”

“Dinna let Dumsby git haud o’t, then,” cried Watt. “What! hae ye begood a’ready? Patience, man, patience. Is there ony saut?”

“Lots of it, darlin’, in the say. Sure this shape must have lost his tail somehow. Och, murther! if there isn’t Bobby Selkirk gone an’ tumbled into Port Hamilton wid the cabbage, av it’s not the carrots!”

“There now, don’t talk so much, boys,” cried Peter Logan. “Let’s drink success to the Bell Rock Lighthouse.”

It need scarcely be said that this toast was drunk with enthusiasm, and that it was followed up with “three times three.”

“Now for a song. Come, Joe Dumsby, strike up,” cried one of the men.

O’Connor, who was one of the most reckless of men in regard to duty and propriety, here shook his head gravely, and took upon himself to read his comrade a lesson.

“Ye shouldn’t talk o’ sitch things in workin’ hours,” said he. “Av we wos all foolish, waake-hidded cratures likeyou, how d’ye think we’d iver git the lighthouse sot up! Ate yer dinner, lad, and howld yer tongue.”

“O Ned, I didn’t think your jealousy would show out so strong,” retorted his comrade. “Now, then, Dumsby, fire away, if it was only to aggravate him.”

Thus pressed, Joe Dumsby took a deep draught of the small-beer with which the men were supplied, and began a song of his own composition.

When the song was finished the meal was also concluded, and the men returned to their labours on the rock; some to continue their work with the picks at the hard stone of the foundation-pit, others to perform miscellaneous jobs about the rock, such as mixing the mortar and removingdébris, while James Dove and his fast friend Ruby Brand mounted to their airy “cot” on the beacon, from which in a short time began to proceed the volumes of smoke and the clanging sounds that had formerly arisen from “Smith’s Ledge.”

While they were all thus busily engaged, Ruby observed a boat advancing towards the rock from the floating light. He was blowing the bellows at the time, after a spell at the fore-hammer.

“We seem to be favoured with unusual events to-day, Jamie,” said he, wiping his forehead with the corner of his apron with one hand, while he worked the handle of the bellows with the other, “yonder comes another boat; what can it be, think you?”

“Surely it can’t be tea!” said the smith with a smile, as he turned the end of a pickaxe in the fire, “it’s too soon after dinner for that.”

“It looks like the boat of our friends the fishermen, Big Swankie and Davy Spink,” said Ruby, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing earnestly at the boat as it advanced towards them.

“Friends!” repeated the smith, “rascally smugglers, both of them; they’re no friends of mine.”

“Well, I didn’t mean bosom friends,” replied Ruby, “but after all, Davy Spink is not such a bad fellow, though I can’t say that I’m fond of his comrade.”

The two men resumed their hammers at this point in the conversation, and became silent as long as the anvil sounded.

The boat had reached the rock when they ceased, and its occupants were seen to be in earnest conversation with Peter Logan.

There were only two men in the boat besides its owners, Swankie and Spink.

“What can they want?” said Dove, looking down on them as he turned to thrust the iron on which he was engaged into the fire.

As he spoke the foreman looked up.

“Ho! Ruby Brand,” he shouted, “come down here; you’re wanted.”

“Hallo! Ruby,” exclaimed the smith, “morefriends o’ yours! Your acquaintance is extensive, lad, but there’s no girl in the case this time.”

Ruby made no reply, for an indefinable feeling of anxiety filled his breast as he threw down the fore-hammer and prepared to descend.

On reaching the rock he advanced towards the strangers, both of whom were stout, thickset men, with grave, stern countenances. One of them stepped forward and said, “Your name is—”

“Ruby Brand,” said the youth promptly, at the same time somewhat proudly, for he knew that he was in the hands of the Philistines.

The man who first spoke hereupon drew a small instrument from his pocket, and tapping Ruby on the shoulder, said—

“I arrest you, Ruby Brand, in the name of the King.”

The other man immediately stepped forward and produced a pair of handcuffs.

At sight of these Ruby sprang backward, and the blood rushed violently to his forehead, while his blue eyes glared with the ferocity of those of a tiger.

“Come, lad, it’s of no use, you know,” said the man, pausing; “if you won’t come quietly we must find ways and means to compel you.”

“Compel me!” cried Ruby, drawing himself up with a look of defiance and a laugh of contempt, that caused the two men to shrink back in spite of themselves.

“Ruby,” said the foreman, gently, stepping forward and laying his hand on the youth’s shoulder, “you had better go quietly, for there’s no chance of escape from these fellows. I have no doubt it’s a mistake, and that you’ll come off with flyin’ colours, but it’s best to go quietly whatever turns up.”

While Logan was speaking, Ruby dropped his head on his breast, the officer with the handcuffs advanced, and the youth held out his hands, while the flush of anger deepened into the crimson blush of shame.

It was at this point that Jamie Dove, wondering at the prolonged absence of his friend and assistant, looked down from the platform of the beacon, and beheld what was taking place.

The stentorian roar of amazement and rage that suddenly burst from him, attracted the attention of all the men on the rock, who dropped their tools and looked up in consternation, expecting, no doubt, to behold something terrible.

Their eyes at once followed those of the smith, and no sooner did they see Ruby being led in irons to the boat, which lay inPort Hamilton, close toSir Ralph the Rover’s Ledge, than they uttered a yell of execration, and rushed with one accord to the rescue.

The officers, who were just about to make their prisoner step into the boat, turned to face the foe,—one, who seemed to be the more courageous of the two, a little in advance of the other.

Ned O’Connor, with that enthusiasm which seems to be inherent in Irish blood, rushed with such irresistible force against this man that he drove him violently back against his comrade, and sent them both head over heels into Port Hamilton. Nay, with such momentum was this act performed, that Ned could not help but follow them, falling on them both as they came to the surface and sinking them a second time, amid screams and yells of laughter.

O’Connor was at once pulled out by his friends. The officers also were quickly landed.

“I ax yer parding, gintlemen,” said the former, with an expression of deep regret on his face, “but the say-weedisso slippy on them rocks we’re almost for iver doin’ that sort o’ thing be the merest accident. But av yer as fond o’ cowld wather as meself ye won’t objec’ to it, although it do come raither onexpected.”

The officers made no reply, but, collaring Ruby, pushed him into the boat.

Again the men made a rush, but Peter Logan stood between them and the boat.

“Lads,” said he, holding up his hand, “it’s of no use resistin’ the law. These are King’s officers, and they are only doin’ their duty. Sure am I that Ruby Brand is guilty of no crime, so they’ve only to enquire into it and set him free.”

The men hesitated, but did not seem quite disposed to submit without another struggle.

“It’s a shame to let them take him,” cried the smith.

“So it is. I vote for a rescue,” cried Joe Dumsby.

“Hooray! so does I,” cried O’Connor, stripping off his waist-coat, and for once in his life agreeing with Joe.

“Na, na, lads,” cried John Watt, rolling up his sleeves, and baring his brawny arms as if about to engage in a fight, “it’ll niver do to interfere wi’ the law; but what d’ye say to gie them anither dook?”

Seeing that the men were about to act upon Watt’s suggestion, Ruby started up in the boat, and turning to his comrade, said:

“Boys, it’s very kind of you to be so anxious to save me but you can’t—”

“Faix, but we can, darlin’,” interrupted O’Connor.

“No, you can’t,” repeated Ruby firmly, “because I won’t let you. I don’t think I need say to you that I am innocent,” he added, with a look in which truth evidently shone forth like a sunbeam, “but now that they have put these irons on me I will not consent that they shall be taken off except by the law which put them on.”

While he was speaking the boat had been pushed off, and in a few seconds it was beyond the reach of the men.

“Depend upon it, comrades,” cried Ruby, as they pulled away, “that I shall be back again to help you to finish the work on the Bell Rock.”

“So you will, lad, so you will,” cried the foreman.

“My blessin’ on ye,” shouted O’Connor. “Ach! ye dirty villains, ye low-minded spalpeens,” he added, shaking his fist at the officers of justice.

“Don’t be long away, Ruby,” cried one.

“Never say die,” shouted another, earnestly.

“Three cheers for Ruby Brand!” exclaimed Forsyth, “hip! hip! hip!—”

The cheer was given with the most vociferous energy, and then the men stood in melancholy silence onRalph the Rover’s Ledge, watching the boat that bore their comrade to the shore.

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