The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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The moment he had finished, the lieutenant ordered his men to launch
the boat. The kegs were put into the stern-sheets, the party
embarked, and, pushing off, they rowed gently out of the bay, and
crept slowly along the shore, under the deep shadow of the cliffs.

"How dark it is getting!" said Minnie, after they had rowed for some
time in silence.

"The moon will soon be up," said the lieutenant. "Meanwhile I'll cast
a little light on the subject by having a pipe. Will you join me,
captain?"

This was a temptation which the captain never resisted; indeed, he
did not regard it as a temptation at all, and would have smiled at
the idea of resistance.

"Minnie, lass," said he, as he complacently filled the blackened
bowl, and calmly stuffed down the glowing tobacco with the end of
that marvellously callous little finger, "it's a wonderful thing that
baccy. I don't know what man would do without it."

"Quite as well as woman does, I should think," replied Minnie.

"I'm not so sure of that, lass. It's more nat'ral for man to smoke
than for woman. Ye see, woman, lovely woman, should be 'all my fancy
painted her, both lovely and divine'. It would never do to have baccy
perfumes hangin' about her rosy lips."

"But, uncle, why should man have the disagreeable perfumes you speak
of hanging about _his_ lips?"

"I don't know, lass. It's all a matter o' feeling. 'Twere vain to
tell thee all I feel, how much my heart would wish to say;' but of
this I'm certain sure, that I'd never git along without my pipe.
It's like compass, helm, and ballast all in one. Is that the moon,
leftenant?"

The captain pointed to a faint gleam of light on the horizon, which
he knew well enough to be the moon; but he wished to change the
subject.

"Ay is it, and there comes a boat. Steady, men! lay on your oars a
bit."

This was said earnestly. In one instant all were silent, and the boat
lay as motionless as the shadows of the cliffs among which it was
involved.

Presently the sound of oars was heard. Almost at the same moment, the
upper edge of the moon rose above the horizon, and covered the sea
with rippling silver. Ere long a boat shot into this stream of
light, and rowed swiftly in the direction of Arbroath.

"There are only two men in it," whispered the lieutenant.

"Ay, these are my good friends Swankie and Spink, who know a deal
more about other improper callings besides smuggling, if I did not
greatly mistake their words," cried Ruby.

"Give way, lads!" cried the lieutenant.

The boat sprang at the word from her position under the cliffs, and
was soon out upon the sea in full chase of the smugglers, who bent to
their oars more lustily, evidently intending to trust to their speed.

"Strange," said the lieutenant, as the distance between the two began
sensibly to decrease, "if these be smugglers, with an empty boat, as
you lead me to suppose they are, they would only be too glad to stop
and let us see that they had nothing aboard that we could touch. It
leads me to think that you are mistaken, Ruby Brand, and that these
are not your friends."

"Nay, the same fact convinces me that they are the very men we seek;
for they said they meant to have some game with you, and what more
amusing than to give you a long, hard chase for nothing?"

"True; you are right. Well, we will turn the tables on them. Take the
helm for a minute, while I tap one of the kegs."

The tapping was soon accomplished, and a quantity of the spirit was
drawn off into the captain's pocket-flask.

"Taste it, captain, and let's have your opinion."

Captain Ogilvy complied. He put the flask to his lips, and, on
removing it, smacked them, and looked at the party with that
extremely grave, almost solemn expression, which is usually assumed
by a man when strong liquid is being put to the delicate test of his
palate.

"Oh!" exclaimed the captain, opening his eyes very wide indeed.

What "oh" meant, was rather doubtful at first; but when the captain
put the flask again to his lips, and took another pull, a good deal
longer than the first, much, if not all of the doubt was removed.

"Prime! nectar!" he murmured, in a species of subdued ecstasy, at the
end of the second draught.

"Evidently the right stuff," said Lindsay, laughing.

"Liquid streams--celestial nectar,
Darted through the ambient sky,"

said the captain; "liquid, ay, liquid is the word."

He was about to test the liquid again:--

"Stop! stop! fair play, captain; it's my turn now," cried the
lieutenant, snatching the flask from his friend's grasp, and applying
it to his own lips.

Both the lieutenant and Ruby pronounced the gin perfect, and as
Minnie positively refused either to taste or to pronounce judgment,
the flask was returned to its owner's pocket.

They were now close on the smugglers, whom they hailed, and commanded
to lay on their oars.

The order was at once obeyed, and the boats were speedily rubbing
sides together.

"I should like to examine your boat, friends," said the lieutenant as
he stepped across the gunwales.

"Oh! sir, I'm thankfu' to find you're not smugglers," said Swankie,
with an assumed air of mingled respect and alarm. "If we'd only
know'd ye was preventives we'd ha' backed oars at once. There's
nothin' here; ye may seek as long's ye please.

The hypocritical rascal winked slyly to his comrade as he said this.
Meanwhile Lindsay and one of the men examined the contents of the
boat, and, finding nothing contraband, the former said--

"So, you're honest men, I find. Fishermen, doubtless?"

"Ay, some o' yer crew ken us brawly," said Davy Spink with a grin.

"Well, I won't detain you," rejoined the lieutenant; "it's quite a
pleasure to chase honest men on the high seas in these times of war
and smuggling. But it's too bad to have given you such a fright,
lads, for nothing. What say you to a glass of gin?"

Big Swankie and his comrade glanced at each other in surprise. They
evidently thought this an unaccountably polite Government officer,
and were puzzled. However, they could do no less than accept such a
generous offer.

"Thank'ee, sir," said Big Swankie, spitting out his quid and
significantly wiping his mouth. "I hae nae objection. Doubtless it'll
be the best that the like o' you carries in yer bottle."

"The best, certainly," said the lieutenant, as he poured out a
bumper, and handed it to the smuggler. "It was smuggled, of course,
and you see His Majesty is kind enough to give his servants a little
of what they rescue from the rascals, to drink his health."

"Weel, I drink to the King," said Swankie, "an' confusion to all his
enemies, 'specially to smugglers."

He tossed off the gin with infinite gusto, and handed back the cup
with a smack of the lips and a look that plainly said, "More, if you
please!"

But the hint was not taken. Another bumper was filled and handed to
Davy Spink, who had been eyeing the crew of the boat with great
suspicion. He accepted the cup, nodded curtly, and said--

"Here's t' ye, gentlemen, no forgettin' the fair leddy in the
stern-sheets."

While he was drinking the gin the lieutenant turned to his men--

"Get out the keg, lads, from which that came, and refill the flask.
Hold it well up in the moonlight, and see that ye don't spill a
single drop, as you value your lives. Hey! my man, what ails you?
Does the gin disagree with your stomach, or have you never seen a
smuggled keg of spirits before, that you stare at it as if it were
a keg of ghosts!"

The latter part of this speech was addressed to Swankie, who no
sooner beheld the keg than his eyes opened up until they resembled
two great oysters. His mouth slowly followed suit. Davy Spink's
attention having been attracted, he became subject to similar
alterations of visage.

"Hallo!" cried the captain, while the whole crew burst into a laugh,
"you must have given them poison. Have you a stomach-pump, doctor?"
he said, turning hastily to Ruby.

"No, nothing but a penknife and a tobacco-stopper. If they're of any
use to you----"

He was interrupted by a loud laugh from Big Swankie, who quickly
recovered his presence of mind, and declared that he had never tasted
such capital stuff in his life.

"Have ye much o't, sir?"

"O yes, a good deal. I have _two_ kegs of it," (the lieutenant
grinned very hard at this point), "and we expect to get a little more
to-night."

"Ha!" exclaimed Davy Spink, "there's no doot plenty o't in the coves
hereaway, for they're an awfu' smugglin' set. Whan did ye find the
twa kegs, noo, if I may ask?"

"Oh, certainly. I got them not more than an hour ago."

The smugglers glanced at each other and were struck dumb; but they
were now too much on their guard to let any further evidence of
surprise escape them.

"Weel, I wush ye success, sirs," said Swankie, sitting down to his
oar. "It's likely ye'll come across mair if ye try Dickmont's Den.
There's usually somethin' hidden there-aboots."

"Thank you, friend, for the hint," said the lieutenant, as he took
his place at the tiller-ropes, "but I shall have a look at the Gaylet
Cove, I think, this evening."

"What! the Gaylet Cove?" cried Spink. "Ye might as weel look for
kegs at the bottom o' the deep sea."

"Perhaps so; nevertheless, I have taken a fancy to go there. If I
find nothing, I will take a look into the Forbidden Cave."

"The Forbidden Cave!" almost howled Swankie. "Wha iver heard o'
smugglers hidin' onything there? The air in't wad pushen a rotten."

"Perhaps it would, yet I mean to try."

"Weel-a-weel, ye may try, but ye might as weel seek for kegs o' gin
on the Bell Rock."

"Ha! it's not the first time that strange things have been found on
the Bell Bock," said Ruby suddenly. "I have heard of jewels, even,
being discovered there."

"Give way, men; shove off," cried the lieutenant. "A pleasant pull to
you, lads. Good night."

The two boats parted, and while the lieutenant and his friends made
for the shore, the smugglers rowed towards Arbroath in a state of
mingled amazement and despair at what they had heard and seen.

"It was Ruby Brand that spoke last, Davy."

"Ay; he was i' the shadow o' Captain Ogilvy and I couldna see his
face, but I thought it like his voice when he first spoke."

"Hoo _can_ he hae come to ken aboot the jewels?"

"That's mair than I can tell."

"I'll bury them," said Swankie, "an' then it'll puzzle onybody to
tell whaur they are."

"Ye'll please yoursell," said Spink.

Swankie was too angry to make any reply, or to enter into further
conversation with his comrade about the kegs of gin, so they
continued their way in silence.

Meanwhile, as Lieutenant Lindsay and his men had a night of work
before them, the captain suggested that Minnie, Ruby, and himself
should be landed within a mile of the town, and left to find their
way thither on foot. This was agreed to; and while the one party
walked home by the romantic pathway at the top of the cliffs, the
other rowed away to explore the dark recesses of the Forbidden Cave.

CHAPTER XXI

THE BELL ROCK AGAIN--A DREARY NIGHT IN A STRANGE HABITATION

During that winter Ruby Brand wrought diligently in the workyard at
the lighthouse materials, and, by living economically, began to save
a small sum of money, which he laid carefully by with a view to his
marriage with Minnie Gray.

Being an impulsive man, Ruby would have married Minnie, then and
there, without looking too earnestly to the future. But his mother
had advised him to wait till he should have laid by a little for a
"rainy day". The captain had recommended patience, tobacco, and
philosophy, and had enforced his recommendations with sundry apt
quotations from dead and living novelists, dramatists, and poets.
Minnie herself, poor girl, felt that she ought not to run counter to
the wishes of her best and dearest friends, so she too advised delay
for a "little time"; and Ruby was fain to content himself with
bewailing his hard lot internally, and knocking Jamie Dove's bellows,
anvils, and sledge-hammers about in a way that induced that son of
Vulcan to believe his assistant had gone mad!

As for big Swankie, he hid his ill-gotten gains under the floor of
his tumble-down cottage, and went about his evil courses as usual in
company with his comrade Davy Spink, who continued to fight and make
it up with him as of yore.

It must not be supposed that Ruby forgot the conversation he had
overheard in the Gaylet Cove. He and Minnie and his uncle had
frequent discussions in regard to it, but to little purpose; for
although Swankie and Spink had discovered old Mr. Brand's body on the
Bell Rock, it did not follow that any jewels or money they had found
there were necessarily his. Still Ruby could not divest his mind of
the feeling that there was some connexion between the two, and he was
convinced, from what had fallen from Davy Spink about "silver teapots
and things", that Swankie was the man of whose bad deeds he himself
had been suspected.

As there seemed no possibility of bringing the matter home to him,
however, he resolved to dismiss the whole affair from his mind in the
meantime.

Things were very much in this state when, in the spring, the
operations at the Bell Bock were resumed.

Jamie Dove, Ruby, Robert Selkirk, and several of the principal
workmen, accompanied the engineers on their first visit to the rock,
and they sailed towards the scene of their former labours with deep
and peculiar interest, such as one might feel on renewing
acquaintance with an old friend who had passed through many hard and
trying struggles since the last time of meeting.

The storms of winter had raged round the Bell Rock as usual--as they
had done, in fact, since the world began; but that winter the
handiwork of man had also been exposed to the fury of the elements
there. It was known that the beacon had survived the storms, for it
could be seen by telescope from the shore in clear weather--like a
little speck on the seaward horizon. Now they were about to revisit
the old haunt, and have a close inspection of the damage that it was
supposed must certainly have been done.

To the credit of the able engineer who planned and carried out the
whole works, the beacon was found to have resisted winds and waves
successfully.

It was on a bitterly cold morning about the end of March that the
first visit of the season was paid to the Bell Rock. Mr. Stevenson
and his party of engineers and artificers sailed in the lighthouse
yacht; and, on coming within a proper distance of the rock, two boats
were lowered and pushed off. The sea ran with such force upon the
rock that it seemed doubtful whether a landing could be effected.
About half-past eight, when the rock was fairly above water, several
attempts were made to land, but the breach of the sea was still so
great that they were driven back.

On the eastern side the sea separated into two distinct waves, which
came with a sweep round the western side, where they met, and rose
in a burst of spray to a considerable height. Watching, however, for
what the sailors termed a smooth, and catching a favourable
opportunity, they rowed between the two seas dexterously, and made a
successful landing at the western creek.

The sturdy beacon was then closely examined. It had been painted
white at the end of the previous season, but the lower parts of the
posts were found to have become green--the sea having clothed them
with a soft garment of weed. The sea-birds had evidently imagined
that it was put up expressly for their benefit; for a number of
cormorants and large herring-gulls had taken up their quarters on
it--finding it, no doubt, conveniently near to their fishing-grounds.

A critical inspection of all its parts showed that everything about
it was in a most satisfactory state. There was not the slightest
indication of working or shifting in the great iron stanchions with
which the beams were fixed, nor of any of the joints or places of
connexion; and, excepting some of the bracing-chains which had been
loosened, everything was found in the same entire state in which it
had been left the previous season.

Only those who know what that beacon had been subjected to can form a
correct estimate of the importance of this discovery, and the amount
of satisfaction it afforded to those most interested in the works at
the Bell Rock. To say that the party congratulated themselves would
be far short of the reality. They hailed the event with cheers, and
their looks seemed to indicate that some piece of immense and
unexpected good fortune had befallen each individual.

From that moment Mr. Stevenson saw the practicability and propriety
of fitting up the beacon, not only as a place of refuge in case of
accidents to the boats in landing, but as a residence for the men
during the working months.

From that moment, too, poor Jamie Dove began to see the dawn of
happier days; for when the beacon should be fitted up as a residence
he would bid farewell to the hated floating light, and take up his
abode, as ho expressed it, "on land".

"On land!" It is probable that this Jamie Dove was the first man,
since the world began, who had entertained the till then absurdly
preposterous notion that the fatal Bell Rock was "land", or that it
could be made a place of even temporary residence.

A hundred years ago men would have laughed at the bare idea. Fifty
years ago that idea was realized; for more than half a century that
sunken reef has been, and still is, the safe and comfortable home of
man!

Forgive, reader, our tendency to anticipate. Let us proceed with our
inspection.

Having ascertained that the foundations of the beacon were all right,
the engineers next ascended to the upper parts, where they found the
cross-beams and their fixtures in an equally satisfactory condition.

On the top a strong chest had been fixed the preceding season, in
which had been placed a quantity of sea-biscuits and several bottles
of water, in case of accident to the boats, or in the event of
shipwreck occurring on the rock. The biscuit, having been carefully
placed in tin canisters, was found in good condition, but several of
the water-bottles had burst, in consequence, it was supposed, of
frost during the winter. Twelve of the bottles, however, remained
entire, so that the Bell Rock may be said to have been transformed,
even at that date, from a point of destruction into a place of
comparative safety.

While the party were thus employed, the landing-master reminded them
that the sea was running high, and that it would be necessary to set
off while the rock afforded anything like shelter to the boats, which
by that time had been made fast to the beacon and rode with much
agitation, each requiring two men with boat-hooks to keep them from
striking each other, or ranging up against the beacon. But under
these circumstances the greatest confidence was felt by everyone,
from the security afforded by that temporary erection; for, supposing
that the wind had suddenly increased to a gale, and that it had been
found inadvisable to go into the boats; or supposing they had drifted
or sprung a leak from striking upon the rocks, in any of these
possible, and not at all improbable, cases, they had now something to
lay hold of, and, though occupying the dreary habitation of the gull
and the cormorant, affording only bread and water, yet _life_ would
be preserved, and, under the circumstances, they would have been
supported by the hope of being ultimately relieved.

Soon after this the works at the Bell Rock were resumed, with, if
possible, greater vigour than before, and ere long the "house" was
fixed to the top of the beacon, and the engineer and his men took up
their abode there.

Think of this, reader. Six great wooden beams were fastened to a
rock, over which the waves roared twice everyday, and on the top of
these a pleasant little marine residence was nailed, as one might
nail a dove-cot on the top of a pole!

This residence was ultimately fitted up in such a way as to become a
comparatively comfortable and commodious abode. It contained four
storeys. The first was the mortar-gallery, where the mortar for the
lighthouse was mixed as required; it also supported the forge. The
second was the cook-room. The third the apartment of the engineer and
his assistants; and the fourth was the artificer's barrack-room. This
house was of course built of wood, but it was firmly put together,
for it had to pass through many a terrific ordeal.

In order to give some idea of the interior, we shall describe the
cabin of Mr. Stevenson. It measured four feet three inches in breadth
on the floor, and though, from the oblique direction of the beams of
the beacon, it widened towards the top, yet it did not admit of the
full extension of the occupant's arms when he stood on the floor. Its
length was little more than sufficient to admit of a cot-bed being
suspended during the night. This cot was arranged so as to be triced
up to the roof during the day, thus leaving free room for occasional
visitors, and for comparatively free motion, A folding table was
attached with hinges immediately under the small window of the
apartment. The remainder of the space was fitted up with books,
barometer, thermometer, portmanteau, and two or three camp-stools.

The walls were covered with green cloth, formed into panels with red
tape, a substance which, by the way, might have had an _accidental_
connexion with the Bell Rock Lighthouse, but which could not, by any
possibility, have influenced it as a _principle_, otherwise that
building would probably never have been built, or, if built, would
certainly not have stood until the present day! The bed was festooned
with yellow cotton stuff, and the diet being plain, the paraphernalia
of the table was proportionally simple.

It would have been interesting to know the individual books required
and used by the celebrated engineer in his singular abode, but his
record leaves no detailed account of these. It does, however, contain
a sentence in regard to one volume which we deem it just to his
character to quote. He writes thus:--

"If, in speculating upon the abstract wants of man in such a state of
exclusion, one were reduced to a single book, the Sacred Volume,
whether considered for the striking diversity of its story, the
morality of its doctrine, or the important truths of its gospel,
would have proved by far the greatest treasure."

It may be easily imagined that in a place where the accommodation of
the principal engineer was so limited, that of the men was not
extensive. Accordingly, we find that the barrack-room contained beds
for twenty-one men.

But the completion of the beacon house, as we have described it, was
not accomplished in one season. At first it was only used as a
smith's workshop, and then as a temporary residence in fine weather.

One of the first men who remained all night upon it was our friend
Bremner. He became so tired of the floating light that he earnestly
solicited, and obtained, permission to remain on the beacon.

At the time it was only in a partially sheltered state. The joiners
had just completed the covering of the roof with a quantity of
tarpaulin, which the seamen had laid over with successive coats of
hot tar, and the sides of the erection had been painted with three
coats of white lead. Between the timber framing of the habitable
part, the interstices were stuffed with moss, but the green baize
cloth with which it was afterwards lined had not been put on when
Bremner took possession.

It was a splendid summer evening when the bold man made his request,
and obtained permission to remain. None of the others would join him.
When the boats pushed off and left him the solitary occupant of the
rock, he felt a sensation of uneasiness, but, having formed his
resolution, he stuck by it, and bade his comrades good night
cheerfully.

"Good night, and _goodbye_," cried Forsyth, as he took his seat at
the oar.

"Farewell, dear," cried O'Connor, wiping his eyes with a _very_
ragged pocket handkerchief.

"You won't forget me?" retorted Bremner.

"Never," replied Dumsby, with fervour.

"Av the beacon should be carried away, darlin'," cried O'Connor,
"howld tight to the provision-chest, p'raps ye'll be washed ashore."

"I'll drink your health in water, Paddy," replied Bremner.

"Faix, I hope it won't be salt wather," retorted Ned.

They continued to shout good wishes, warnings, and advice to their
comrade until out of hearing, and then waved adieu to him until he
was lost to view.

We have said that Bremner was alone, yet he was not entirely so; he
had a comrade with him, in the shape of his little black dog, to
which reference has already been made. This creature was of that very
thin and tight-skinned description of dog, that trembles at all times
as if afflicted with chronic cold, summer and winter. Its thin tail
was always between its extremely thin legs, as though it lived in a
perpetual condition of wrong-doing, and were in constant dread of
deserved punishment. Yet no dog ever belied its looks more than did
this one, for it was a good dog, and a warmhearted dog, and never did
a wicked thing, and never was punished, so that its excessive
humility and apparent fear and trembling were quite unaccountable.
Like all dogs of its class it was passionately affectionate, and
intensely grateful for the smallest favour. In fact, it seemed to be
rather thankful than otherwise for a kick when it chanced to receive
one, and a pat on the head, or a kind word made it all but jump out
of its black skin for very joy.

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