The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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The spot where this melancholy wreck occurred is now pointed out to
the visitor as "The Seamen's Grave", and the young folk of the town
have, from the time of the wreck, annually recut the grooves in the
turf, above referred to, in commemoration of the event, so that these
grooves may be seen there at the present day.

It may easily be imagined that poor Captain Ogilvy returned to
Arbroath that night with dark forebodings in his breast.

He could not, however, imagine how Ruby came to be among the men on
board of the French prize; and tried to comfort himself with the
thought that the dying sailor had perhaps been a comrade of Ruby's at
some time or other, and was, in his wandering state of mind, mixing
him up with the recent wreck.

As, however, he could come to no certain conclusion on this point, he
resolved not to tell what he had heard either to his sister or
Minnie, but to confine his anxieties, at least for the present, to
his own breast.

CHAPTER XXX

OLD FRIENDS IN NEW CIRCUMSTANCES

Let us now return to Ruby Brand; and in order that the reader may
perfectly understand the proceedings of that bold youth, let us take
a glance at the Bell Bock Lighthouse in its completed condition.

We have already said that the lower part, from the foundation to the
height of thirty feet, was built of solid masonry, and that at the
top of this solid part stood the entrance-door of the
building--facing towards the south.

The position of the door was fixed after the solid part had been
exposed to a winter's storms. The effect on the building was such
that the most sheltered or lee side was clearly indicated; the
weather-side being thickly covered with limpets, barnacles, and short
green seaweed, while the lee-side was comparatively free from such
incrustations.

The walls at the entrance-door are nearly seven feet thick, and the
short passage that pierces them leads to the foot of a spiral
staircase, which conducts to the lowest apartment in the tower, where
the walls decrease in thickness to three feet. This room is the
provision store. Here are kept water-tanks and provisions of all
kinds, including fresh vegetables which, with fresh water, are
supplied once a fortnight to the rock all the year round. The
provision store is the smallest apartment, for, as the walls of the
tower decrease in thickness as they rise, the several apartments
necessarily increase as they ascend.

The second floor is reached by a wooden staircase or ladder, leading
up through a "manhole" in the ceiling. Here is the lightroom store,
which contains large tanks of polished metal for the oil consumed by
the lights. A whole year's stock of oil, or about 1100 gallons, is
stored in these tanks. Here also is a small carpenter's bench and
tool-box, besides an endless variety of odds and ends,--such as
paint-pots, brushes, flags, waste for cleaning the reflectors,
&c. &c.

Another stair, similar to the first, leads to the third floor, which
is the kitchen of the building. It stands about sixty-six feet above
the foundation. We shall have occasion to describe it and the rooms
above presently. Meanwhile, let it suffice to say, that the fourth
floor contains the men's sleeping berths, of which there are six,
although three men is the usual complement on the rock. The fifth
floor is the library, and above that is the lantern; the whole
building, from base to summit, being 115 feet high.

At the time when Ruby entered the door of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,
as already described, there were three keepers in the building, one
of whom was on his watch in the lantern, while the other two were in
the kitchen.

These men were all old friends. The man in the lantern was George
Forsyth, who had been appointed one of the light-keepers in
consideration of his good services and steadiness. He was seated
reading at a small desk. Close above him was the blazing series of
lights, which revolved slowly and steadily by means of machinery,
moved by a heavy weight. A small bell was struck slowly but regularly
by the same machinery, in token that all was going on well. If that
bell had ceased to sound, Forsyth would at once have leaped up to
ascertain what was wrong with the lights. So long as it continued to
ring he knew that all was well, and that he might continue his
studies peacefully--not quietly, however, for, besides the rush of
wind against the thick plate glass of the lantern, there was the
never-ceasing roar of the ventilator, in which the heated air from
within and the cold air from without met and kept up a terrific war.
Keepers get used to that sound, however, and do not mind it.

Each keeper's duty was to watch for three successive hours in the
lantern.

Not less familiar were the faces of the occupants of the kitchen. To
this apartment Ruby ascended without anyone hearing him approach, for
one of the windows was open, and the roar of the storm effectually
drowned his light footfall. On reaching the floor immediately below
the kitchen he heard the tones of a violin, and when his head emerged
through the manhole of the kitchen floor, he paused and listened with
deep interest, for the air was familiar.

Peeping round the corner of the oaken partition that separated the
manhole from the apartment, he beheld a sight which filled his heart
with gladness, for there, seated on a camp stool, with his back
leaning against the dresser, his face lighted up by the blaze of a
splendid fire, which burned in a most comfortable-looking kitchen
range, and his hands drawing forth most pathetic music from a violin,
sat his old friend Joe Dumsby, while opposite to him on a similar
camp stool, with his arm resting on a small table, and a familiar
black pipe in his mouth, sat that worthy son of Vulcan, Jamie Dove.

The little apartment glowed with ruddy light, and to Ruby, who had
just escaped from a scene of such drear and dismal aspect, it
appeared, what it really was, a place of the most luxurious comfort.

Dove was keeping time to the music with little puffs of smoke, and
Joe was in the middle of a prolonged shake, when Ruby passed through
the doorway and stood before them.

Dove's eyes opened to their widest, and his jaw dropt, so did his
pipe, and the music ceased abruptly, while the faces of both men grew
pale.

"I'm not a ghost, boys," said Ruby, with a laugh, which afforded
immense relief to his old comrades. "Come, have ye not a welcome for
an old messmate who swims off to visit you on such a night as this?"

Dove was the first to recover. He gasped, and, holding out both
arms, exclaimed, "Ruby Brand!"

"And no mistake!" cried Ruby, advancing and grasping his friend
warmly by the hands.

For at least half a minute the two men shook each other's hands
lustily and in silence. Then they burst into a loud laugh, while Joe,
suddenly recovering, went crashing into a Scotch reel with energy so
great that time and tune were both sacrificed. As if by mutual
impulse, Ruby and Dove began to dance! But this was merely a spurt of
feeling, more than half-involuntary. In the middle of a bar Joe flung
down the fiddle, and, springing up, seized Ruby round the neck and
hugged him, an act which made him aware of the fact that he was
dripping wet.

"Did ye _swim_ hoff to the rock?" he enquired, stepping back, and
gazing at his friend with a look of surprise, mingled with awe.

"Indeed I did."

"But how? why? what mystery are ye rolled up in?" exclaimed the
smith.

"Sit down, sit down, and quiet yourselves," said Ruby, drawing a
stool near to the fire, and seating himself. "I'll explain, if
you'll only hold your tongues, and not look so scared like."

"No, Ruby; no, lad, you must change yer clothes first," said the
smith, in a tone of authority; "why, the fire makes you steam like a
washin' biler. Come along with me, an' I'll rig you out."

"Ay, go hup with 'im, Ruby. Bless me, this is the most amazin'
hincident as ever 'appened to me. Never saw nothink like it."

As Dove and Ruby ascended to the room above, Joe went about the
kitchen talking to himself, poking the fire violently, overturning
the camp stools, knocking about the crockery on the dresser, and
otherwise conducting himself like a lunatic.

Of course Ruby told Dove parts of his story by fits and starts as he
was changing his garments; of course he had to be taken up to the
lightroom and go through the same scene there with Forsyth that had
occurred in the kitchen; and, of course, it was not until all the
men, himself included, had quite exhausted themselves, that he was
able to sit down at the kitchen fire and give a full and connected
account of himself, and of his recent doings.

After he had concluded his narrative, which was interrupted by
frequent question and comment, and after he had refreshed himself
with a cup of tea, he rose and said--

"Now, boys, it's not fair to be spending all the night with you here,
while my old comrade Forsyth sits up yonder all alone. I'll go up and
see him for a little."

"We'll go hup with 'ee, lad," said Dumsby.

"No ye won't," replied Ruby; "I want him all to myself for a while;
fair play and no favour, you know, used to be our watchword on the
rock in old times. Besides, his watch will be out in a little, so ye
can come up and fetch him down."

"Well, go along with you," said the smith. "Hallo! that must have
been a big 'un."

This last remark had reference to a distinct tremor in the building,
caused by the falling of a great wave upon it.

"Does it often get raps like that?" enquired Ruby, with a look of
surprise.

"Not often," said Dove, "once or twice durin' a gale, mayhap, when a
bigger one than usual chances to fall on us at the right angle. But
the lighthouse shakes worst just the gales begin to take off and when
the swell rolls in heavy from the east'ard."

"Ay, that's the time," quoth Joe. "W'y, I've 'eard all the cups and
saucers on the dresser rattle with the blows o' them heavy seas, but
the gale is gittin' to be too strong to-night to shake us much."

"Too strong!" exclaimed Ruby.

"Ay. You see w'en it blows very hard, the breakers have not time to
come down on us with a 'eavy tellin' blow, they goes tumblin' and
swashin' round us and over us, hammerin' away wildly every how, or
nohow, or anyhow, just like a hexcited man fightin' in a hurry. The
after-swell, _that's_ wot does it. _That's_ wot comes on slow, and
big, and easy, but powerful, like a great prize-fighter as knows what
he can do, and means to do it."

"A most uncomfortable sort of residence," said Ruby, as he turned to
quit the room.

"Not a bit, when ye git used to it," said the smith. "At first we was
rather skeered, but we don't mind now. Come, Joe, give us 'Rule,
Britannia'--'pity she don't rule the waves straighter', as somebody
writes somewhere."

So saying, Dove resumed his pipe, and Dumsby his fiddle, while Ruby
proceeded to the staircase that led to the rooms above.

Just as he was about to ascend, a furious gust of wind swept past,
accompanied by a wild roar of the sea; at the same moment a mass of
spray dashed against the small window at his side. He knew that this
window was at least sixty feet above the rock, and he was suddenly
filled with a strong desire to have a nearer view of the waves that
had force to mount so high. Instead, therefore, of ascending to the
lantern, he descended to the doorway, which was open, for, as the
storm blew from the eastward, the door was on the lee-side.

There were two doors--one of metal, with thick plate-glass panels at
the inner end of the passage; the other, at the outer end of it, was
made of thick solid wood bound with metal, and hung so as to open
outwards. When the two leaves of this heavy door were shut they were
flush with the tower, so that nothing was presented for the waves to
act upon. But this door was never closed except in cases of storm
from the southward.

The scene which presented itself to our hero when he stood in the
entrance passage was such as neither pen nor pencil can adequately
depict. The tide was full, or nearly so, and had the night been calm
the water would have stood about twelve or fourteen feet on the sides
of the tower, leaving a space of about the same height between its
surface and the spot at the top of the copper ladder where Ruby
stood; but such was the wild commotion of the sea that this space was
at one moment reduced to a few feet, as the waves sprang up towards
the doorway, or nearly doubled, as they sank hissing down to the very
rock.

Acres of white, leaping, seething foam covered the spot where the
terrible Bell Rock lay. Never for a moment did that boiling cauldron
get time to show one spot of dark-coloured water. Billow after billow
came careering on from the open sea in quick succession, breaking
with indescribable force and fury just a few yards to windward of the
foundations of the lighthouse, where the outer ledges of the rock,
although at the time deep down in the water, were sufficiently near
the surface to break their first full force, and save the tower from
destruction, though not from many a tremendous blow and overwhelming
deluge of water.

When the waves hit the rock they were so near that the lighthouse
appeared to receive the shock. Rushing round it on either side, the
cleft billows met again to leeward, just opposite the door, where
they burst upwards in a magnificent cloud of spray to a height of
full thirty feet. At one time, while Ruby held on by the man-ropes
at the door and looked over the edge, he could see a dark abyss
with the foam shimmering pale far below; another instant, and the
solid building perceptibly trembled, as a green sea hit it fair on
the weather-side. A continuous roar and hiss followed as the billow
swept round, filled up the dark abyss, and sent the white water
gleaming up almost into the doorway. At the same moment the sprays
flew by on either side of the column, so high that a few drops were
thrown on the lantern. To Ruby's eye these sprays appeared to be
clouds driving across the sky, so high were they above his head. A
feeling of awe crept over him as his mind gradually began to realize
the world of water which, as it were, overwhelmed him--water and foam
roaring and flying everywhere--the heavy seas thundering on the
column at his back--the sprays from behind arching almost over the
lighthouse, and meeting those that burst up in front, while an eddy
of wind sent a cloud swirling in at the doorway, and drenched him to
the skin! It was an exhibition of the might of God in the storm such
as he had never seen before, and a brief sudden exclamation of
thanksgiving burst from the youth's lips, as he thought of how
hopeless his case would have been had the French vessel passed the
lighthouse an hour later than it did.

The contrast between the scene outside and that inside the Bell Rock
Lighthouse at that time was indeed striking. Outside there was madly
raging conflict; inside there were peace, comfort, security: Ruby,
with his arms folded, standing calmly in the doorway; Jamie Dove and
Joe Dumsby smoking and fiddling in the snug kitchen; George Forsyth
reading (the _Pilgrim's Progress_ mayhap, or _Robinson Crusoe_, for
both works were in the Bell Rock library) by the bright blaze of the
crimson and white lamps, high up in the crystal lantern.

If a magician had divided the tower in two from top to bottom while
some ship was staggering past before the gale, he would have
presented to the amazed mariners the most astonishing picture of "war
without and peace within" that the world ever saw!

CHAPTER XXXI

MIDNIGHT CHAT IN A LANTERN

"I'll have to borrow another shirt and pair of trousers from you,
Dove," said Ruby with a laugh, as he returned to the kitchen.

"What! been having another swim?" exclaimed the smith. "Not exactly,
but you see I'm fond o' water. Come along, lad."

In a few minutes the clothes were changed, and Ruby was seated beside
Forsyth, asking him earnestly about his friends on shore.

"Ah! Ruby," said Forsyth, "I thought it would have killed your old
mother when she was told of your bein' caught by them sea-sharks, and
taken off to the wars. You must know I came to see a good deal of
your friends, through--through--hoot! what's the name? the
fair-haired lass that lives with----"

"Minnie?" suggested Ruby, who could not but wonder that any man
living should forget her name for a moment.

"Ay, Minnie it is. She used to come to see my wife about some work
they wanted her to do, and I was now and again sent up with a message
to the cottage, and Captain Ogilvy always invited me in to take a
glass out of his old teapot. Your mother used to ask me ever so many
questions about you, an' what you used to say and do on the rock when
this lighthouse was buildin'. She looked so sad and pale, poor thing;
I really thought it would be all up with her, an' I believe it would,
but for Minnie. It was quite wonderful the way that girl cheered your
mother up, by readin' bits o' the Bible to her, an' tellin' her that
God would certainly send you back again. She looked and spoke always
so brightly too."

"Did she do that?" exclaimed Ruby, with emotion.

Forsyth looked for a moment earnestly at his friend.

"I mean," continued Ruby, in some confusion, "did she look bright
when she spoke of my bein' away?"

"No lad, it was when she spoke of you comin' back; but I could see
that her good spirits was partly put on to keep up the old woman."

For a moment or two the friends remained silent.

Suddenly Forsyth kid his hand on the other's shoulder, and said
impressively: "Ruby Brand, it's my belief that that girl is rather
fond of you."

Ruby looked up with a bright smile, and said, "D'you think so? Well,
d'ye know, I believe she is."

"Upon my word, youngster," exclaimed the other, with a look of
evident disgust, "your conceit is considerable. I had thought to be
somewhat confidential with you in regard to this idea of mine, but
you seem to swallow it so easy, and to look upon it as so natural a
thing, that--that--Do you suppose you've nothin' to do but ask the
girl to marry you and she'll say 'Yes' at once?"

"I do," said Ruby quietly; "nay, I am sure of it."

Forsyth's eyes opened very wide indeed at this. "Young man," said he,
"the sea must have washed all the modesty you once had out of
you----"

"I hope not," interrupted the other, "but the fact is that I put the
question you have supposed to Minnie long ago, and she _did_ say
'Yes' to it then, so it's not likely she's goin' to draw back now."

"Whew! that alters the case," cried Forsyth, seizing his friend's
hand, and wringing it heartily.

"Hallo! you two seem to be on good terms, anyhow," observed Jamie
Dove, whose head appeared at that moment through the hole in the
floor by which the lantern communicated with the room below. "I came
to see if anything had gone wrong, for your time of watch is up."

"So it is," exclaimed Forsyth, rising and crossing to the other side
of the apartment, where he applied his lips to a small tube in the
wall.

"What are you doing?" enquired Ruby.
"Whistling up Joe," said Forsyth. "This pipe runs down to the
sleepin' berths, where there's a whistle close to Joe's ear. He must
be asleep. I'll try again."

He blew down the tube a second time and listened for a reply, which
came up a moment or two after in a sharp whistle through a similar
tube reversed; that is, with the mouthpiece below and the whistle
above.

Soon after, Joe Dumsby made his appearance at the trapdoor, looking
very sleepy.

"I feels as 'eavy as a lump o' lead," said he. "Wot an 'orrible
thing it is to be woke out o' a comf'r'able sleep."

Just as he spoke the lighthouse received a blow so tremendous that
all the men started and looked at each other for a moment in
surprise.

"I say, is it warranted to stand _anything?_" enquired Ruby
seriously.

"I hope it is," replied the smith, "else it'll be a blue lookout for
_us_. But we don't often get such a rap as that. D'ye mind the first
we ever felt o' that sort, Forsyth? It happened last month. I was on
watch at the time, Forsyth was smokin' his pipe in the kitchen, and
Dumsby was in bed, when a sea struck us with such force that I
thought we was done for. In a moment Forsyth and Joe came tumblin' up
the ladder--Joe in his shirt. 'It must have been a ship sailed right
against us,' says Forsyth, and with that we all jumped on the rail
that runs round the lantern there and looked out, but no ship could
be seen, though it was a moonlight night. You see there's plenty o'
water at high tide to let a ship of two hundred tons, drawin' twelve
feet, run slap into us, and we've sometimes feared this in foggy
weather; but it was just a blow of the sea. We've had two or three
like it since, and are gettin' used to it now."

"Well, we can't get used to do without sleep," said Forsyth, stepping
down through the trapdoor, "so I'll bid ye all good night."

"'Old on! Tell Ruby about Junk before ye go," cried Dumsby. "Ah!
well, I'll tell 'im myself. You must know, Ruby, that we've got what
they calls an hoccasional light-keeper ashore, who larns the work out
'ere in case any of us reg'lar keepers are took ill, so as 'e can
supply our place on short notice. Well, 'e was out 'ere larnin' the
dooties one tremendous stormy night, an' the poor fellow was in a
mortial fright for fear the lantern would be blowed right hoff the
top o' the stone column, and 'imself along with it. You see, the door
that covers the manhole there is usually shut when we're on watch,
but Junk (we called 'im Junk 'cause 'e wos so like a lump o' fat
pork), 'e kep the door open all the time an' sat close beside it, so
as to be ready for a dive. Well, it was my turn to watch, so I went
up, an' just as I puts my fut on the first step o' the lantern-ladder
there comes a sea like wot we had a minit ago; the wind at the same
time roared in the wentilators like a thousand fiends, and the spray
dashed agin the glass. Junk gave a yell, and dived. He thought it wos
all over with 'im, and wos in sich a funk that he came down 'ead
foremost, and would sartinly 'ave broke 'is neck if 'e 'adn't come
slap into my buzzum! I tell 'e it was no joke, for 'e wos fourteen
stone if 'e wos an ounce, an'----"

"Come along, Ruby," said Dove, interrupting; "the sooner we dive too
the better, for there's no end to that story when Dumsby get off in
full swing. Good night!"

"Good night, lads, an' better manners t'ye!" said Joe, as he sat down
beside the little desk where the lightkeepers were wont during the
lonely watch-hours of the night to read, or write, or meditate.

CHAPTER XXXII

EVERYDAY LIFE ON THE BELL ROCK, AND OLD MEMORIES RECALLED

The sun shone brightly over the sea next morning; so brightly and
powerfully that it seemed to break up and disperse by force the great
storm-clouds which hung about the sky, like the fragments of an army
of black bullies who had done their worst and been baffled.

The storm was over; at least, the wind had moderated down to a fresh,
invigorating breeze. The white crests of the billows were few and far
between, and the wild turmoil of waters had given place to a grand
procession of giant waves, that thundered on the Bell Rock
Lighthouse, at once with more dignity and more force than the raging
seas of the previous night.

It was the sun that awoke Ruby, by shining in at one of the small
windows of the library, in which he slept. Of course it did not shine
in his face, because of the relative positions of the library and the
sun, the first being just below the lantern, and the second just
above the horizon, so that the rays struck upwards, and shone with
dazzling brilliancy on the dome-shaped ceiling. This was the second
time of wakening for Ruby that night, since he lay down to rest. The
first wakening was occasioned by the winding up of the machinery
which kept the lights in motion, and the chain of which, with a
ponderous weight attached to it, passed through a wooden pilaster
close to his ear, causing such a sudden and hideous din that the
sleeper, not having been warned of it, sprang like a Jack-in-the-box
out of bed into the middle of the room, where he first stared
vacantly around him like an unusually surprised owl, and then,
guessing the cause of the noise, smiled pitifully, as though to say,
"Poor fellow, you're easily frightened," and tumbled back into bed,
where he fell asleep again instantly.

On the second time of wakening Ruby rose to a sitting posture,
yawned, looked about him, yawned again, wondered what o'clock it was,
and then listened.

No sound could be heard save the intermittent roar of the magnificent
breakers that beat on the Bell Rock. His couch was too low to permit
of his seeing anything but sky out of his windows, three of which,
about two feet square, lighted the room. He therefore jumped up, and,
while pulling on his garments, looked towards the east, where the sun
greeted and almost blinded him. Turning to the north window, a bright
smile lit up his countenance, and "A blessing rest on you" escaped
audibly from his lips, as he kissed his hand towards the cliffs of
Forfarshire, which were seen like a faint blue line on the far-off
horizon, with the town of Arbroath just rising above the morning
mists.

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