The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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"Ay, ay," replied the individual in question.

Just as he spoke, another heavy sea fell on the deck, and, rushing
aft like a river that has burst its banks, hurled the seaman into the
arms of the officer, who fell back upon Ruby, and all three came down
with tons of water into the cabin.

The scene that followed would have been ludicrous, had it not been
serious. The still rising sea caused the vessel to roll with
excessive violence, and the large quantity of water that had burst in
swept the men, who had jumped out of their beds, and all movable
things, from side to side in indescribable confusion. As the water
dashed up into the lower tier of beds, it was found necessary to lift
one of the scuttles in the floor, and let it flow into the limbers of
the ship.

Fortunately no one was hurt, and Ruby succeeded in gaining the deck
before the hatch was reclosed and fastened down upon the scene of
discomfort and misery below.

This state of things continued the whole day. The seas followed in
rapid succession, and each, as it struck the vessel, caused her to
shake all over. At each blow from a wave the rolling and pitching
ceased for a few seconds, giving the impression that the ship had
broken adrift, and was running with the wind, or in the act of
sinking; but when another sea came, she ranged up against it with
great force. This latter effect at last became the regular intimation
to the anxious men below that they were still riding safely at
anchor.

No fires could be lighted, therefore nothing could be cooked, so that
the men were fain to eat hard biscuits--those of them at least who
were able to eat at all--and lie in their wet blankets all day.

At ten in the morning the wind had shifted to north-east, and blew,
if possible, harder than before, accompanied by a much heavier swell
of the sea; it was therefore judged advisable to pay out more cable,
in order to lessen the danger of its giving way.

During the course of the gale nearly the whole length of the hempen
cable, of 120 fathoms, was veered out, besides the chain-moorings,
and, for its preservation, the cable was carefully "served", or
wattled, with pieces of canvas round the windlass, and with leather
well greased in the hawse-hole, where the chafing was most violent.

As may readily be imagined, the gentleman on whom rested nearly all
the responsibility connected with the work at the Bell Rock, passed
an anxious and sleepless time in his darkened berth. During the
morning he had made an attempt to reach the deck, but had been
checked by the same sea that produced the disasters above described.

About two o'clock in the afternoon great alarm was felt in
consequence of a heavy sea that struck the ship, almost filling the
waist, and pouring down into the berths below, through every chink
and crevice of the hatches and skylights. From the motion being
suddenly checked or deadened, and from the flowing in of the water
above, every individual on board thought that the ship was
foundering--at least all the landsmen were fully impressed with that
idea.

Mr. Stevenson could not remain below any longer. As soon as the ship
again began to range up to the sea, he made another effort to get on
deck. Before going, however, he went through the various apartments,
in order to ascertain the state of things below.

Groping his way in darkness from his own cabin, he came to that of
the officers of the ship. Here all was quiet, as well as dark. He
next entered the galley and other compartments occupied by the
artificers; here also all was dark, but not quiet, for several of the
men were engaged in prayer, or repeating psalms in a full tone of
voice, while others were protesting that if they should be fortunate
enough to get once more ashore, no one should ever see them afloat
again; but so loud was the creaking of the bulk-heads, the dashing of
water, and the whistling noise of the wind, that it was hardly
possible to distinguish words or voices.

The master of the vessel accompanied Mr. Stevenson, and, in one or
two instances, anxious and repeated enquiries were made by the
workmen as to the state of things on deck, to all of which he
returned one characteristic answer--"It can't blow long in this way,
lads; we _must_ have better weather soon."

The next compartment in succession, moving forward, was that allotted
to the seamen of the ship. Here there was a characteristic difference
in the scene. Having reached the middle of the darksome berth without
the inmates being aware of the intrusion, the anxious engineer was
somewhat reassured and comforted to find that, although they talked
of bad weather and cross accidents of the sea, yet the conversation
was carried on in that tone and manner which bespoke ease and
composure of mind.

"Well, lads," said Mr. Stevenson, accosting the men, "what think you
of this state of things? Will the good ship weather it?"

"Nae fear o' her, sir," replied one confidently, "she's light and
new; it'll tak' a heavy sea to sink her."

"Ay," observed another, "and she's got little hold o' the water, good
ground-tackle, and no tophamper; she'll weather anything, sir."

Having satisfied himself that all was right below, Mr. Stevenson
returned aft and went on deck, where a sublime and awful sight
awaited him. The waves appeared to be what we hear sometimes termed
"mountains high". In reality they were perhaps about thirty feet of
unbroken water in height, their foaming crests being swept and torn
by the furious gale. All beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the
ship was black and chaotic.

Upon deck everything movable was out of sight, having either been
stowed away below previous to the gale, or washed overboard. Some
parts of the quarter bulwarks were damaged by the breach of the sea,
and one of the boats was broken, and half-full of water.

There was only one solitary individual on deck, placed there to watch
and give the alarm if the cable should give way, and this man was
Ruby Brand, who, having become tired of having nothing to do, had
gone on deck, as we have seen, and volunteered his services as
watchman.

Ruby had no greatcoat on, no overall of any kind, but was simply
dressed in his ordinary jacket and trousers. He had thrust his cap
into his pocket in order to prevent it being blown away, and his
brown locks were streaming in the wind. He stood just aft the
foremast, to which he had lashed himself with a gasket or small rope
round his waist, to prevent his falling on the deck or being washed
overboard. He was as thoroughly wet as if he had been drawn through
the sea, and this was one reason why he was so lightly clad, that he
might wet as few clothes as possible, and have a dry change when he
went below.

There appeared to be a smile on his lips as he faced the angry gale
and gazed steadily out upon the wild ocean. He seemed to be enjoying
the sight of the grand elemental strife that was going on around him.
Perchance he was thinking of someone not very far away--with golden
hair!

Mr. Stevenson, coupling this smile on Ruby's face with the remarks of
the other seamen, felt that things were not so bad as they appeared
to unaccustomed eyes, nevertheless he deemed it right to advise with
the master and officers as to the probable result, in the event of
the ship drifting from her moorings.

"It is my opinion," said the master, on his being questioned as to
this, "that we have every chance of riding out the gale, which cannot
continue many hours longer with the same fury; and even if she should
part from her anchor, the storm-sails have been laid ready to hand,
and can be bent in a very short time. The direction of the wind being
nor'-east, we could sail up the Forth to Leith Roads; but if this
should appear doubtful, after passing the May we can steer for
Tyningham Sands, on the western side of Dunbar, and there run the
ship ashore. From the flatness of her bottom and the strength of her
build, I should think there would be no danger in beaching her even
in a very heavy sea."

This was so far satisfactory, and for some time things continued in
pretty much the state we have just described, but soon after there
was a sudden cessation of the straining motion of the ship which
surprised everyone. In another moment Ruby shouted "All hands a-hoy!
ship's adrift!"

The consternation that followed may be conceived but not described.
The windlass was instantly manned, and the men soon gave out that
there was no strain on the cable. The mizzen-sail, which was
occasionally bent for the purpose of making the ship ride easily, was
at once set; the other sails were hoisted as quickly as possible, and
they bore away about a mile to the south-westward, where, at a spot
that was deemed suitable, the best-bower anchor was let go in twenty
fathoms water.

Happily the storm had begun to abate before this accident happened.
Had it occurred during the height of the gale, the result might have
been most disastrous to the undertaking at the Bell Rock.

Having made all fast, an attempt was made to kindle the galley fire
and cook some food.

"Wot are we to 'ave, steward?" enquired Joe Dumsby, in a feeble
voice.

"Plumduff, my boy, so cheer up," replied the steward, who was busy
with the charming ingredients of a suet pudding, which was the only
dish to be attempted, owing to the ease with which it could be both
cooked and served up.

Accordingly, the suet pudding was made; the men began to cat; the
gale began to "take off", as seaman express it; and, Although things
were still very far removed from a state of comfort, they began to be
more endurable; health began to return to the sick, and hope to those
who had previously given way to despair.

CHAPTER XII

BELL ROCK BILLOWS--AN UNEXPECTED VISIT--A DISASTER AND A RESCUE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ruby smiled at the oddness of the question.

"Well," said he, "I don't think I ever thought of that before."

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

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

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

"I would hardly have expected this of such a grave kind o' man as
you," said Ruby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'O no, we never mention her,
Her name it's never heard.'

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

'All in the Downs the fleet was moored,'

at least when the _Termagant_ was waitin' for you to go aboard."

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

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

Ruby bowed to the compliment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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