The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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The block of timber for supporting the anvil was fixed in the same
manner, but the anvil itself was left to depend on its own weight and
the small stud fitted into the bottom of it.

The bellows, however, were too delicate to be left exposed to such
forces as the stormy winds and waves, they were therefore shipped and
unshipped every tide, and conveyed to and from the rock in the boats
with the men.

Dove and Ruby wrought together like heroes. They were both so
powerful that the heavy implements they wielded seemed to possess no
weight when in their strong hands, and their bodies were so lithe and
active as to give the impression of men rejoicing, revelling, in the
enjoyment of their work.

"That's your sort; hit him hard, he's got no friends," said Dove,
turning a mass of red-hot metal from side to side, while Ruby pounded
it with a mighty hammer, as if it were a piece of putty.

"Fire and steel for ever," observed Ruby, as he made the sparks fly
right and left. "Hallo! the tide's rising."

"Ho! so it is," cried the smith, finishing off the piece of work with
a small hammer, while Ruby rested on the one he had used and wiped
the perspiration from his brow. "It always serves me in this way,
lad," continued the smith, without pausing for a moment in his work.
"Blow away, Ruby, the sea is my greatest enemy. Every day, a'most, it
washes me away from my work. In calm weather, it creeps up my legs,
and the legs o' the forge too, till it gradually puts out the fire,
and in rough weather it sends up a wave sometimes that sweeps the
whole concern black out at one shot.

"It will _creep_ you out to-day, evidently," said Ruby, as the water
began to come about his toes.

"Never mind, lad, we'll have time to finish them picks this tide, if
we work fast."

Thus they toiled and moiled, with their heads and shoulders in smoke
and fire, and their feet in water.

Gradually the tide rose.

"Pump away, Ruby! Keep the pot bilin', my boy," said the smith.

"The wind blowin', you mean. I say, Dove, do the other men like the
work here?"

"Like it, ay, they like it well. At first we were somewhat afraid o'
the landin' in rough weather, but we've got used to that now. The
only bad thing about it is in the rolling o' that horrible _Pharos_.
She's so bad in a gale that I sometimes think she'll roll right over
like a cask. Most of us get sick then, but I don't think any of 'em
are as bad as me. They seem to be gettin' used to that too. I wish I
could. Another blow, Ruby."

"Time's up," shouted one of the men.

"Hold on just for a minute or two," pleaded the smith, who, with his
assistant, was by this time standing nearly knee-deep in water.

The sea had filled the pit some time before, and driven the men out
of it. These busied themselves in collecting the tools and seeing
that nothing was left lying about, while the men who were engaged on
those parts of the rocks that were a few inches higher, continued
their labours until the water crept up to them. Then they collected
their tools, and went to the boats, which lay awaiting them at the
western landing-place.

"Now, Dove," cried the landing-master, "come along; the crabs will be
attacking your toes if you don't."

"It's a shame to gi'e Ruby the chance o' a sair throat the very first
day," cried John Watt.

"Just half a minute more," said the smith, examining a pickaxe, which
he was getting up to that delicate point of heat which is requisite
to give it proper temper.

While he gazed earnestly into the glowing coals a gentle hissing
sound was heard below the frame of the forge, then a gurgle, and the
fire became suddenly dark and went out!

"I knowed it! always the way!" cried Dove, with a look of
disappointment. "Come, lad, up with the bellows now, and don't forget
the tongs."

In a few minutes more the boats pushed off and returned to the
Pharos, three and a half hours of good work having been accomplished
before the tide drove them away.

Soon afterwards the sea overflowed the whole of the rock, and
obliterated the scene of those busy operations as completely as
though it had never been!

CHAPTER IX

STORMS AND TROUBLES

A week of fine weather caused Ruby Brand to fall as deeply in love
with the work at the Bell Rock as his comrades had done.

There was an amount of vigour and excitement about it, with a dash of
romance, which quite harmonized with his character. At first he had
imagined it would be monotonous and dull, but in experience he found
it to be quite the reverse.

Although there was uniformity in the general character of the work,
there was constant variety in many of the details; and the spot on
which it was carried on was so circumscribed, and so utterly cut off
from all the world, that the minds of those employed became
concentrated on it in a way that aroused strong interest in every
trifling object.

There was not a ledge or a point of rock that rose ever so little
above the general level, that was not named after, and intimately
associated with, some event or individual. Every mass of seaweed
became a familiar object. The various little pools and inlets, many
of them not larger than a dining-room table, received high-sounding
and dignified names--such as _Port Stevenson, Port, Erskine, Taylor's
Track, Neill's Pool_, &c. Of course the fish that frequented the
pools, and the shell-fish that covered the rock, became subjects of
much attention, and, in some cases, of earnest study.

Robinson Crusoe himself did not pry into the secrets of his
island-home with half the amount of assiduity that was displayed at
this time by many of the men who built the Bell Rock Lighthouse. The
very fact that their time was limited acted as a spur, so that on
landing each tide they rushed hastily to the work, and the amateur
studies in natural history to which we have referred were prosecuted
hurriedly during brief intervals of rest. Afterwards, when the beacon
house was erected, and the men dwelt upon the rock, these studies (if
we may not call them amusements) were continued more leisurely, but
with unabated ardour, and furnished no small amount of comparatively
thrilling incident at times.

One fine morning, just after the men had landed, and before they had
commenced work, "Long Forsyth", as his comrades styled him, went to a
pool to gather a little dulse, of which there was a great deal on the
rock, and which was found to be exceedingly grateful to the palates
of those who were afflicted with sea-sickness.

He stooped over the pool to pluck a morsel, but paused on observing a
beautiful fish, about a foot long, swimming in the clear water, as
quietly as if it knew the man to be a friend, and were not in the
least degree afraid of him.

Forsyth was an excitable man, and also studious in his character. He
at once became agitated and desirous of possessing that fish, for it
was extremely brilliant and variegated in colour. He looked round for
something to throw at it, but there was nothing within reach. He
sighed for a hook and line, but as sighs never yet produced hooks or
lines he did not get one.

Just then the fish swam slowly to the side of the pool on which the
man kneeled, as if it actually desired more intimate acquaintance.
Forsyth lay fiat down and reached out his hand toward it; but it
appeared to think this rather too familiar, for it swam slowly beyond
his reach, and the man drew back. Again it came to the side, much
nearer. Once more Forsyth lay down, reaching over the pool as far as
he could, and insinuating his hand into the water. But the fish moved
off a little.

Thus they coquetted with each other for some time, until the man's
comrades began to observe that he was "after something".

"Wot's he a-doin' of?" said one. "Reachin' over the pool, I think,"
replied another. "Ye don't mean he's sick?" cried a third. The smile
with which this was received was changed into a roar of laughter as
poor Forsyth's long legs were seen to tip up into the air, and the
whole man to disappear beneath the water. He had overbalanced
himself in his frantic efforts to reach the fish, and was now making
its acquaintance in its native element!

The pool, although small in extent, was so deep that Forsyth, long
though he was, did not find bottom. Moreover, he could not swim, so
that when he reached the surface he came up with his hands first and
his ten fingers spread out helplessly; next appeared his shaggy head,
with the eyes wide open, and the mouth tight shut. The moment the
latter was uncovered, however, he uttered a tremendous yell, which
was choked in the bud with a gurgle as he sank again.

The men rushed to the rescue at once, and the next time Forsyth rose
he was seized by the hair of the head and dragged out of the
pool.

It has not been recorded what became of the fish that caused such an
alarming accident, but we may reasonably conclude that it sought
refuge in the ocean cavelets at the bottom of that miniature sea, for
Long Forsyth was so very large, and created such a terrible
disturbance therein, that no fish exposed to the full violence of the
storm could have survived it!

"Wot a hobject!" exclaimed Joe Dumsby, a short, thickset, little
Englishman, who, having been born and partly bred in London, was
rather addicted to what is styled chaffing. "Was you arter a mermaid,
shipmate?"

"Av coorse he was," observed Ned O'Connor, an Irishman, who was
afflicted with the belief that he was rather a witty fellow, "av
coorse he was, an' a merry-maid she must have bin to see a human
spider like him kickin' up such a dust in the say."

"He's like a drooned rotten," observed John Watt; "tak' aff yer
claes, man, an' wring them dry."

"Let the poor fellow be, and get along with you," cried Peter Logan,
the foreman of the works, who came up at that moment.

With a few parting remarks and cautions, such as,--"You'd better
bring a dry suit to the rock next time, lad," "Take care the crabs
don't make off with you, boy," "and don't be gettin' too fond o' the
girls in the sea," &c., the men scattered themselves over the rock
and began their work in earnest, while Forsyth, who took the chaffing
in good part, stripped himself and wrung the water out of his
garments.

Episodes of this kind were not unfrequent, and they usually furnished
food for conversation at the time, and for frequent allusion
afterwards.

But it was not all sunshine and play, by any means.

Not long after Ruby joined, the fine weather broke up, and a
succession of stiff breezes, with occasional storms, more or less
violent, set in. Landing on the rock became a matter of extreme
difficulty, and the short period of work was often curtailed to
little more than an hour each tide.

The rolling of the _Pharos_ lightship, too, became so great that
sea-sickness prevailed to a large extent among the landsmen. One
good arose out of this evil, however. Landing on the Bell Rock
invariably cured the sickness for a time, and the sea-sick men had
such an intense longing to eat of the dulse that grew there, that
they were always ready and anxious to get into the boats when there
was the slightest possibility of landing.

Getting into the boats, by the way, in a heavy sea, when the
lightship was rolling violently, was no easy matter. When the fine
weather first broke up, it happened about midnight, and the change
commenced with a stiff breeze from the eastward. The sea rose at
once, and, long before daybreak, the Pharos was rolling heavily in
the swell, and straining violently at the strong cable which held her
to her moorings.

About dawn Mr. Stevenson came on deck. He could not sleep, because he
felt that on his shoulders rested not only the responsibility of
carrying this gigantic work to a satisfactory conclusion, but also,
to a large extent, the responsibility of watching over and guarding
the lives of the people employed in the service.

"Shall we be able to land to-day, Mr. Wilson?" he said, accosting the
master of the _Pharos_, who has been already introduced as the
landing-master.

"I think so; the barometer has not fallen much; and even although the
wind should increase a little, we can effect a landing by the Fair
Way, at Hope's Wharf."

"Very well, I leave it entirely in your hands; you understand the
weather better than I do, but remember that I do not wish my men to
run unnecessary or foolish risk."

It may be as well to mention here that a small but exceedingly strong
tramway of iron-grating had been fixed to the Bell Rock at an
elevation varying from two to four feet above it, and encircling the
site of the building. This tramway or railroad was narrow, not quite
three feet in width; and small trucks were fitted to it, so that the
heavy stones of the building might be easily run to the exact spot
they were to occupy. From this circular rail several branch lines
extended to the different creeks where the boats deposited the
stones. These lines, although only a few yards in length, were
dignified with names--as, _Kennedy's Reach, Lagan's Reach, Watt's
Reach_, and _Slights Reach_. The ends of them, where they dipped into
the sea, were named _Hope's Wharf, Duff's Wharf, Rae's Wharf, &c_.;
and these wharves had been fixed on different sides of the rock, so
that, whatever wind should blow, there would always be one of them on
the lee-side available for the carrying on of the work.

_Hope's Wharf_ was connected with _Port Erskine_, a pool about twenty
yards long by three or four wide, and communicated with the side of
the lighthouse by _Watt's Reach_, a distance of about thirty yards.

About eight o'clock that morning the bell rang for breakfast. Such of
the men as were not already up began to get out of their berths and
hammocks.

To Ruby the scene that followed was very amusing. Hitherto all had
been calm and sunshine. The work, although severe while they were
engaged, had been of short duration, and the greater part of each day
had been afterwards spent in light work, or in amusement. The summons
to meals had always been a joyful one, and the appetites of the men
were keenly set.

Now, all this was changed. The ruddy faces of the men were become
green, blue, yellow, and purple, according to temperament, but few
were flesh-coloured or red. When the bell rang there was a universal
groan below, and half a dozen ghostlike individuals raised themselves
on their elbows and looked up with expressions of the deepest woe at
the dim skylight. Most of them speedily fell back again, however,
partly owing to a heavy lurch of the vessel, and partly owing to
indescribable sensations within.

"Blowin'!" groaned one, as if that single word comprehended the
essence of all the miseries that seafaring man is heir to.

"O dear!" sighed another, "why did I ever come here?"

"Och! murder, I'm dyin', send for the praist an' me mother!" cried
O'Connor, as he fell flat down on his back and pressed both hands
tightly over his mouth.

The poor blacksmith lost control over himself at this point
and--found partial relief!

The act tended to relieve others. Most of the men were much too
miserable to make any remark at all, a few of them had not heart even
to groan; but five or six sat up on the edge of their beds, with a
weak intention of turning out They sat there swaying about with the
motions of the ship in helpless indecision, until a tremendous roll
sent them flying, with unexpected violence, against the starboard
bulkheads.

"Come, lads," cried Ruby, leaping out of his hammock, "there's
nothing like a vigorous jump to put sea-sickness to flight."

"Humbug!" ejaculated Bremner, who owned a little black dog, which lay
at that time on the pillow gazing into his master's green face, with
wondering sympathy.

"Ah, Ruby," groaned the smith, "it's all very well for a sea-dog like
you that's used to it, but----"

James Dove stopped short abruptly. It is not necessary to explain the
cause of his abrupt silence. Suffice it to say that he did not
thereafter attempt to finish that sentence.

"Steward!" roared Joe Dumsby.

"Ay, ay, shipmate, what's up?" cried the steward, who chanced to pass
the door of the men's sleeping-place, with a large dish of boiled
salt pork, at the moment.

"Wot's up?" echoed Dumsby. "Everythink that ever went into me since I
was a hinfant must be 'up' by this time. I say, is there any chance
of gettin' on the rock to-day?"

"O yes. I heard the cap'n say it would be quite easy, and they seem
to be makin' ready now, so if any of 'ee want breakfast you'd better
turn out."

This speech acted like a shock of electricity on the wretched men. In
a moment every bed was empty, and the place was in a bustle of
confusion as they hurriedly threw on their clothes.

Some of them even began to think of the possibility of venturing on a
hard biscuit and a cup of tea, but a gust of wind sent the fumes of
the salt pork into the cabin at the moment, and the mere idea of food
filled them with unutterable loathing.

Presently the bell rang again. This was the signal for the men to
muster, the boats being ready alongside. The whole crew at once
rushed on deck, some of them thrusting biscuits into their pockets as
they passed the steward's quarters. Not a man was absent on the roll
being called. Even the smith crawled on deck, and had spirit enough
left to advise Ruby not to forget the bellows; to which Ruby replied
by recommending his comrade not to forget the matches.

Then the operation of embarking began.

The sea at the time was running pretty high, with little white flecks
of foam tipping the crests of the deep blue waves. The eastern sky
was dark and threatening. The black ridges of the Bell Rock were
visible only at times in the midst of the sea of foam that surrounded
them. Anyone ignorant of their nature would have deemed a landing
absolutely impossible.

The _Pharos_, as we have said, was rolling violently from side to
side, insomuch that those who were in the boats had the greatest
difficulty in preventing them from being stove in; and getting into
these boats had much the appearance of an exceedingly difficult and
dangerous feat, which active and reckless men might undertake for a
wager.

But custom reconciles one to almost anything. Most of the men had had
sufficient experience by that time to embark with comparative ease.
Nevertheless, there were a few whose physical conformation was such
that they could do nothing neatly.

Poor Forsyth was one of these. Each man had to stand on the edge of
the lightship, outside the bulwarks, holding on to a rope, ready to
let go and drop into the boat when it rose up and met the vessel's
roll. In order to facilitate the operation a boat went to either side
of the ship, so that two men were always in the act of watching for
an opportunity to spring. The active men usually got in at the first
or second attempt, but others missed frequently, and were of course
"chaffed" by their more fortunate comrades.

The embarking of "Long Forsyth" was always a scene in rough weather,
and many a narrow escape had he of a ducking. On the present
occasion, being very sick, he was more awkward than usual.

"Now, Longlegs," cried the men who held the boat on the starboard
side, as Forsyth got over the side and stood ready to spring, "let's
see how good you'll be to-day."

He was observed by Joe Dumsby, who had just succeeded in getting into
the boat on the port side of the ship, and who always took a lively
interest in his tall comrade's proceedings.

"Hallo! is that the spider?" he cried, as the ship rolled towards
him, and the said spider appeared towering high on the opposite
bulwark, sharply depicted against the grey sky.

It was unfortunate for Joe that he chanced to be on the opposite side
from his friend, for at each roll the vessel necessarily intervened
and hid him for a few seconds from view.

Next roll, Forsyth did not dare to leap, although the gunwale of the
boat came within a foot of him. He hesitated, the moment was lost,
the boat sank into the hollow of the sea, and the man was swung high
into the air, where he was again caught sight of by Dumsby.

"What! are you there yet?" he cried. "You must be fond of a
swing----"

Before he could say more the ship rolled over to the other side, and
Forsyth was hid from view.

"Now, lad, now! now!" shouted the boat's crew, as the unhappy man
once more neared the gunwale.

Forsyth hesitated. Suddenly he became desperate and sprang, but the
hesitation gave him a much higher fall than he would otherwise have
had; it caused him also to leap wildly in a sprawling manner, so that
he came down on the shoulders of his comrades "all of a lump".
Fortunately they were prepared for something of the sort, so that no
damage was done.

When the boats were at last filled they pushed off and rowed towards
the rock. On approaching it the men were cautioned to pull steadily
by Mr. Stevenson, who steered the leading boat.

It was a standing order in the landing department that every man
should use his greatest exertions in giving to the boats sufficient
velocity to preserve their steerage way in entering the respective
creeks at the rock, that the contending seas might not overpower them
at places where the free use of the oars could not be had on account
of the surrounding rocks or the masses of seaweed with which the
water was everywhere encumbered at low tide. This order had been
thoroughly impressed upon the men, as carelessness or inattention to
it might have proved fatal to all on board.

As the leading boat entered the fairway, its steersman saw that more
than ordinary caution would be necessary; for the great green billows
that thundered to windward of the rock came sweeping down on either
side of it, and met on the lee side, where they swept onward with
considerable, though much abated force.

"Mind your oars, lads; pull steady," said Mr. Stevenson, as they
began to get amongst the seaweed.

The caution was unnecessary as far as the old hands were concerned;
but two of the men happened to be new hands, who had come off with
Ruby, and did not fully appreciate the necessity of strict obedience.
One of these, sitting at the bow oar, looked over his shoulder, and
saw a heavy sea rolling towards the boat, and inadvertently expressed
some fear. The other man, on hearing this, glanced round, and in
doing so missed a stroke of his oar. Such a preponderance was thus
given to the rowers on the opposite side, that when the wave struck
the boat, it caught her on the side instead of the bow, and hurled
her upon a ledge of shelving rocks, where the water left her.
Having been _kanted_ to seaward, the next billow completely filled
her, and, of course, drenched the crew.

Instantly Ruby Brand and one or two of the most active men leaped
out, and, putting forth all their strength, turned the boat round so
as to meet the succeeding sea with its bow first. Then, after making
considerable efforts, they pushed her off into deep water, and
finally made the landing-place. The other boat could render no
assistance; but, indeed, the whole thing was the work of a few
minutes.

As the boats could not conveniently leave the rock till flood-tide,
all hands set to work with unwonted energy in order to keep
themselves warm, not, however, before they ate heartily of their
favourite dulse--the blacksmith being conspicuous for the voracious
manner in which he devoured it.

Soon the bellows were set up; the fire was kindled, and the ring of
the anvil heard; but poor Dove and Ruby had little pleasure in their
work that day; for the wind blew the smoke and sparks about their
faces, and occasionally a higher wave than ordinary sent the spray
flying round them, to the detriment of their fire. Nevertheless they
plied the hammer and bellows unceasingly.

The other men went about their work with similar disregard of the
fury of the elements and the wet condition of their garments.

CHAPTER X

THE RISING OF THE TIDE--A NARROW ESCAPE

The portion of the work that Mr. Stevenson was now most anxious to
get advanced was the beacon.

The necessity of having an erection of this kind was very obvious,
for, in the event of anything happening to the boats, there would be
no refuge for the men to fly to; and the tide would probably sweep
them all away before their danger could be known, or assistance sent
from the attendant vessels. Every man felt that his personal safety
might depend on the beacon during some period of the work. The
energies of all, therefore, were turned to the preliminary
arrangements for its erection.

As the beacon would require to withstand the utmost fury of the
elements during all seasons of the year, it was necessary that it
should be possessed of immense strength.

In order to do this, six cuttings were made in the rock for the
reception of the ends of the six great beams of the beacon. Each beam
was to be fixed to the solid rock by two strong and massive bats, or
stanchions, of iron. These bats, for the fixing of the principal and
diagonal beams and bracing chains, required fifty-four holes, each
measuring a foot and a half deep, and two inches wide. The operation
of boring such holes into the solid rock, was not an easy or a quick
one, but by admirable arrangements on the part of the engineer, and
steady perseverance on the part of the men, they progressed faster
than had been anticipated.

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