The Lighthouse

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

  THE BELL ROCK IN A FOG--NARROW ESCAPE OF THE SMEATON.

  Change of scene is necessary to the healthful working of the human mind;at least, so it is said. Acting upon the assumption that the saying istrue, we will do our best in this chapter for the human minds thatcondescend to peruse these pages, by leaping over a space of time, andby changing at least the character of the scene, if not the locality.

  We present the Bell Rock under a new aspect, that of a dense fog and adead calm.

  This is by no means an unusual aspect of things at the Bell Rock, but aswe have hitherto dwelt chiefly on storms it may be regarded as new tothe reader.

  It was a June morning. There had been few breezes and no storms forsome weeks past, so that the usual swell of the ocean had gone down, andthere were actually no breakers on the rock at low water, and noruffling of the surface at all at high tide. The tide had, about twohours before, overflowed the rock and driven the men into the beaconhouse, where, having breakfasted, they were at the time enjoyingthemselves with pipes and small talk.

  The lighthouse had grown considerably by this time. Its unfinished topwas more than eighty feet above the foundation; but the fog was so densethat only the lower part of the column could be seen from the beacon,the summit being lost, as it were, in the clouds.

  Nevertheless that summit, high though it was, did not yet project beyondthe reach of the sea. A proof of this had been given in a very strikingmanner, some weeks before the period about which we now write, to ourfriend George Forsyth.

  George was a studious man, and fond of reading the Bible critically. Hewas proof against laughter and ridicule, and was wont sometimes to urgethe men into discussions. One of his favourite arguments was somewhatas follows--

  "Boys," he was wont to say, "you laugh at me for readin' the Biblecarefully. You would not laugh at a schoolboy for reading his bookscarefully, would you? Yet the learnin' of the way of salvation is offar more consequence to me than book learnin' is to a schoolboy. Anastronomer is never laughed at for readin' his books o' geometry an'suchlike day an' night--even to the injury of his health--but what is anastronomer's business to _him_ compared with the concerns of my soul to_me_? Ministers tell me there are certain things I must know andbelieve if I would be saved--such as the death and resurrection of ourSaviour Jesus Christ; and they also point out that the Bible speaks ofcertain Christians, who did well in refusin' to receive the Gospel atthe hands of the apostles, without first enquirin' into these things, tosee if they were true. Now, lads, _if_ these things that so manymillions believe in, and that _you_ all profess to believe in, are lies,then you may well laugh at me for enquirin' into them; but if they betrue, why, I think the devils themselves must be laughing at _you_ for_not_ enquirin' into them!"

  Of course, Forsyth found among such a number of intelligent men, somewho could argue with him, as well as some who could laugh at him. Healso found one or two who sympathised openly, while there were a few whoagreed in their hearts, although they did not speak.

  Well, it was this tendency to study on the part of Forsyth, that led himto cross the wooden bridge between the beacon and the lighthouse duringhis leisure hours, and sit reading at the top of the spiral stair, nearone of the windows of the lowest room.

  Forsyth was sitting at his usual window one afternoon at the end of astorm. It was a comfortless place, for neither sashes nor glass had atthat time been put in, and the wind howled up and down the shaftdreadfully. The man was robust, however, and did not mind that.

  The height of the building was at that time fully eighty feet. While hewas reading there a tremendous breaker struck the lighthouse with suchforce that it trembled distinctly. Forsyth started up, for he had neverfelt this before, and fancied the structure was about to fall. For amoment or two he remained paralysed, for he heard the most terrible andinexplicable sounds going on overhead. In fact, the wave that shook thebuilding had sent a huge volume of spray right over the top, part ofwhich fell into the lighthouse, and what poor Forsyth heard was about aton of water coming down through storey after storey, carrying lime,mortar, buckets, trowels, and a host of other things, violently alongwith it.

  To plunge down the spiral stair, almost headforemost, was the work of afew seconds. Forsyth accompanied the descent with a yell of terror,which reached the ears of his comrades in the beacon, and brought themto the door, just in time to see their comrade's long legs carry himacross the bridge in two bounds. Almost at the same instant the waterand rubbish burst out of the doorway of the lighthouse, and flooded thebridge.

  But let us return from this digression, or rather, this series ofdigressions, to the point where we branched off: the aspect of thebeacon in the fog, and the calm of that still morning in June.

  Some of the men inside were playing draughts, others were finishingtheir breakfast; one was playing "Auld Lang Syne", with many extemporeflourishes and trills, on a flute, which was very much out of tune. Afew were smoking, of course (where exists the band of Britons who canget on without that!) and several were sitting astride on thecross-beams below, bobbing--not exactly for whales, but for any monsterof the deep that chose to turn up.

  The men fishing, and the beacon itself, loomed large and mysterious inthe half-luminous fog. Perhaps this was the reason that the sea-gullsflew so near them, and gave forth an occasional and very melancholy cry,as if of complaint at the changed appearance of things.

  "There's naethin' to be got the day," said John Watt, rather peevishly,as he pulled up his line and found the bait gone.

  Baits are _always_ found gone when lines are pulled up! This would seemto be an angling law of nature. At all events, it would seem to havebeen a very aggravating law of nature on the present occasion, for JohnWatt frowned and growled to himself as he put on another bait.

  "There's a bite!" exclaimed Joe Dumsby, with a look of doubt, at thesame time feeling his line.

  "Poo'd in then," said Watt ironically.

  "No, 'e's hoff," observed Joe.

  "Hm! he never was on," muttered Watt.

  "What are you two growling at?" said Ruby, who sat on one of the beamsat the other side.

  "At our luck, Ruby," said Joe. "Ha! was that a nibble?" ("Naethin' o'the kind," from Watt.) "It was! as I live it's large; an 'addock, Ithink."

  "A naddock!" sneered Watt; "mair like a bit o' tangle than--eh! losh me!it _is_ a fish--"

  "Well done, Joe!" cried Bremner, from the doorway above, as a largerock-cod was drawn to the surface of the water.

  "Stay, it's too large to pull up with the line. I'll run down and gaffit," cried Ruby, fastening his own line to the beam, and descending tothe water by the usual ladder, on one of the main beams. "Now, draw himthis way--gently, not too roughly--take time. Ah! that was a miss--he'soff; no! Again; now then--"

  Another moment, and a goodly cod of about ten pounds weight waswriggling on the iron hook which Ruby handed up to Dumsby, who mountedwith his prize in triumph to the kitchen.

  From that moment the fish began to "take."

  While the men were thus busily engaged, a boat was rowing about in thefog, vainly endeavouring to find the rock.

  It was the boat of two fast friends, Jock Swankie and Davy Spink.

  These worthies were in a rather exhausted condition, having been rowingalmost incessantly from daybreak.

  "I tell 'ee what it is," said Swankie; "I'll be hanged if I poo anotherstroke."

  He threw his oar into the boat, and looked sulky.

  "It's my belief," said his companion, "that we ought to be near abootDenmark be this time."

  "Denmark or Rooshia, it's a' ane to me," rejoined Swankie; "I'll hae asmoke."

  So saying, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco-box, and began to cut thetobacco. Davy did the same.

  Suddenly both men paused, for they heard a sound. Each lookedenquiringly at the other, and then both gazed into the thick fog.

  "Is that a ship?" said Davy Spink.

 
; They seized their oars hastily.

  "The beacon, as I'm a leevin' sinner!" exclaimed Swankie.

  If Spink had not backed his oar at that moment, there is someprobability that Swankie would have been a dead, instead of a living,sinner in a few minutes, for they had almost run upon the north-east endof the Bell Rock, and distinctly heard the sound of voices on thebeacon. A shout settled the question at once, for it was replied to bya loud holloa from Ruby.

  In a short time the boat was close to the beacon, and the water was sovery calm that day, that they were able to venture to hand the packet ofletters with which they had come off into the beacon, even although thetide was full.

  "Letters," said Swankie, as he reached out his hand with the packet.

  "Hurrah!" cried the men, who were all assembled on the mortar-gallery,looking down at the fishermen, excepting Ruby, Watt, and Dumsby, whowere still on the cross-beams below.

  "Mind the boat; keep her aff," said Swankie, stretching out his handwith the packet to the utmost, while Dumsby descended the ladder andheld out _his_ hand to receive it.

  "Take care," cried the men in chorus, for news from shore was always avery exciting episode in their career, and the idea of the packet beinglost filled them with sudden alarm.

  The shout and the anxiety together caused the very result that wasdreaded. The packet fell into the sea and sank, amid a volley of yells.

  It went down slowly. Before it had descended a fathom, Ruby's headcleft the water, and in a moment he returned to the surface with thepacket in his hand amid a wild cheer of joy; but this was turned into acry of alarm, as Ruby was carried away by the tide, despite his utmostefforts to regain the beacon.

  The boat was at once pushed off but so strong was the current there,that Ruby was carried past the rock, and a hundred yards away to sea,before the boat overtook him.

  The moment he was pulled into her he shook himself, and then tore offthe outer covering of the packet in order to save the letters from beingwetted. He had the great satisfaction of finding them almost uninjured.He had the greater satisfaction, thereafter, of feeling that he haddone a deed which induced every man in the beacon that night to thankhim half a dozen times over; and he had the greatest possiblesatisfaction in finding that among the rest he had saved two lettersaddressed to himself, one from Minnie Gray, and the other from hisuncle.

  The scene in the beacon when the contents of the packet were deliveredwas interesting. Those who had letters devoured them, and in many casesread them (unwittingly) half-aloud. Those who had none read thenewspapers, and those who had neither papers nor letters listened.

  Ruby's letter ran as follows (we say his _letter_, because the otherletter was regarded, comparatively, as nothing):--

  "ARBROATH, etcetera.

  "DARLING RUBY,--I have just time to tell you that we have made a discovery which will surprise you. Let me detail it to you circumstantially. Uncle Ogilvy and I were walking on the pier a few days ago, when we overheard a conversation between two sailors, who did not see that we were approaching. We would not have stopped to listen, but the words we heard arrested our attention, so--O what a pity! there, Big Swankie has come for our letters. Is it not strange that _he_ should be the man to take them off? I meant to have given you _such_ an account of it, especially a description of the case. They won't wait. Come ashore as soon as you can, dearest Ruby."

  The letter broke off here abruptly. It was evident that the writer hadbeen obliged to close it abruptly, for she had forgotten to sign hername.

  "`A description of the case;' _what_ case?" muttered Ruby in vexation."O Minnie, Minnie, in your anxiety to go into details you have omittedto give me the barest outline. Well, well, darling, I'll just take thewill for the deed, but I _wish_ you had--"

  Here Ruby ceased to mutter, for Captain Ogilvy's letter suddenlyoccurred to his mind. Opening it hastily, he read as follows:--

  "DEAR NEFFY,--I never was much of a hand at spellin', an' I'm not rightly sure o' that word, howsever, it reads all square, so ittle do. If I had been the inventer o' writin' I'd have had signs for a lot o' words. Just think how much better it would ha' bin to have put a regular D like that instead o' writin' s-q-u-a-r-e. Then _round_ would have bin far better O, like that. An' crooked thus," (draws a squiggly line); "see how significant an' suggestive, if I may say so; no humbug--all fair an' above-board, as the pirate said, when he ran up the black flag to the peak.

  "But avast speckillatin' (shiver my timbers! but that last was a pen-splitter), that's not what I sat down to write about. My object in takin' up the pen, neffy, is two-fold,

  "`Double, double, toil an' trouble,'

  "as Macbeath said,--if it wasn't Hamlet.

  "We want you to come home for a day or two, if you can git leave, lad, about this strange affair. Minnie said she was goin' to give you a full, true, and partikler account of it, so it's of no use my goin' over the same course. There's that blackguard Swankie come for the letters. Ha! it makes me chuckle. No time for more--"

  This letter also concluded abruptly, and without a signature.

  "There's a pretty kettle o' fish!" exclaimed Ruby aloud.

  "So 'tis, lad; so 'tis," said Bremner, who at that moment had placed asuperb pot of codlings on the fire; "though why ye should say it sopositively when nobody's denyin' it, is more nor I can tell."

  Ruby laughed, and retired to the mortar-gallery to work at the forge andponder. He always found that he pondered best while employed inhammering, especially if his feelings were ruffled.

  Seizing a mass of metal, he laid it on the anvil, and gave it five orsix heavy blows to straighten it a little, before thrusting it into thefire.

  Strange to say, these few blows of the hammer were the means, in allprobability, of saving the sloop _Smeaton_ from being wrecked on theBell Rock!

  That vessel had been away with Mr Stevenson at Leith, and wasreturning, when she was overtaken by the calm and the fog. At themoment that Ruby began to hammer, the _Smeaton_ was within a stone'scast of the beacon, running gently before a light air which had sprungup.

  No one on board had the least idea that the tide had swept them so nearthe rock, and the ringing of the anvil was the first warning they got oftheir danger.

  The lookout on board instantly sang out, "Starboard har-r-r-d-! beaconahead!" and Ruby looked up in surprise, just as the _Smeaton_ emergedlike a phantom-ship out of the fog. Her sails fluttered as she came upto the wind, and the crew were seen hurrying to and fro in much alarm.

  Mr Stevenson himself stood on the quarterdeck of the little vessel, andwaved his hand to assure those on the beacon that they had sheered offin time, and were safe.

  This incident tended to strengthen the engineer in his opinion that thetwo large bells which were being cast for the lighthouse, to be rung bythe machinery of the revolving light, would be of great utility in foggyweather.

  While the _Smeaton_ was turning away, as if with a graceful bow to themen on the rock, Ruby shouted:

  "There are letters here for you, sir."

  The mate of the vessel called out at once, "Send them off in theshore-boat; we'll lay-to."

  No time was to be lost, for if the _Smeaton_ should get involved in thefog it might be very difficult to find her; so Ruby at once ran for theletters, and, hailing the shore-boat which lay quite close at hand,jumped into it and pushed off.

  They boarded the _Smeaton_ without difficulty and delivered the letters.

  Instead of returning to the beacon, however, Ruby was ordered to holdhimself in readiness to go to Arbroath in the shore-boat with a letterfrom Mr Stevenson to the superintendent of the workyard.

  "You can go up and see your friends in the town, if you choose," saidthe engineer, "but be sure to return by tomorrow's forenoon tide. Wecannot dispense with your services longer than a few hours, my lad, so Ishall expect you to make no unnecessary delay."

  "You may depend upon me, sir," said Ruby, touching his cap, as
he turnedaway and leaped into the boat.

  A light breeze was now blowing, so that the sails could be used. Inless than a quarter of an hour sloop and beacon were lost in the fog,and Ruby steered for the harbour of Arbroath, overjoyed at thisunexpected and happy turn of events, which gave him an opportunity ofsolving the mystery of the letters, and of once more seeing the sweetface of Minnie Gray.

  But an incident occurred which delayed these desirable ends, and utterlychanged the current of Ruby's fortunes for a time.