The Lighthouse by Robert Ballantyne

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Soon after the beacon had been set up, and partially secured to the
rock, a severe gale sprang up, as if Ocean were impatient to test the
handiwork of human engineers. Gales set in from the eastward,
compelling the attending sloops to slip from their moorings, and run
for the shelter of Arbroath and St. Andrews, and raising a sea on the
Bell Rock which was described as terrific, the spray rising more than
thirty feet in the air above it.

In the midst of all this turmoil the beacon stood securely, and after
the weather moderated, permitting the workmen once more to land, it
was found that no damage had been done by the tremendous breaches of
the sea over the rock.

That the power of the waves had indeed been very great, was evident
from the effects observed on the rock itself, and on materials left
there. Masses of rock upwards of a ton in weight had been cast up by
the sea, and then, in their passage over the Bell Rock, had made deep
and indelible ruts. An anchor of a ton weight, which had been lost on
one side of the rock, was found to have been washed up and over it to
the other side. Several large blocks of granite that had been landed
and left on a ledge, were found to have been swept away like pebbles,
and hurled into a hole at some distance; and the heavy hearth of the
smith's forge, with the ponderous anvil, had been washed from their
places of supposed security.

From the time of the setting up of the beacon a new era in the work
began. Some of the men were now enabled to remain on the rock all
day, working at the lighthouse when the tide was low, and betaking
themselves to the beacon when it rose, and leaving it at night; for
there was much to do before this beacon could be made the habitable
abode which it finally became; but it required the strictest
attention to the state of the weather, in case of their being
overtaken with a gale, which might prevent the possibility of their
being taken off the rock.

At last the beacon was so far advanced and secured that it was deemed
capable of withstanding any gale that might blow. As yet it was a
great ungainly pile of logs, iron stanchions, and bracing-chains,
without anything that could afford shelter to man from winds or
waves, but with a platform laid from its cross-beams at a
considerable height above high-water mark.

The works on the rock were in this state, when two memorable
circumstances occurred in the Bell Rock annals, to which we shall
devote a separate chapter.

CHAPTER XV

RUBY HAS A RISE IN LIFE, AND A FALL

James Dove, the blacksmith, had, for some time past, been watching
the advancing of the beacon-works with some interest, and a good deal
of impatience. He was tired of working so constantly up to the knees
in water, and aspired to a drier and more elevated workshop.

One morning he was told by the foreman that orders had been given for
him to remove his forge to the beacon, and this removal, this
"flitting", as he called it, was the first of the memorable events
referred to in the last chapter.

"Hallo! Ruby, my boy," cried the elated son of Vulcan, as he
descended the companion ladder, "we're goin' to flit, lad. We're
about to rise in the world, so get up your bellows. It's the last
time we shall have to be bothered with them in the boat, I hope."

"That's well," said Ruby, shouldering the unwieldy bellows; "they
have worn my shoulders threadbare, and tried my patience almost
beyond endurance."

"Well, it's all over now, lad," rejoined the smith. "In future you
shall have to blow up in the beacon yonder; so come along."

"Come, Ruby, that ought to comfort the cockles o' yer heart," said
O'Connor, who passed up the ladder as he spoke; "the smith won't need
to blow you up any more, av you're to blow yourself up in the beacon
in futur'. Arrah! there's the bell again. Sorrow wan o' me iver gits
to slape, but I'm turned up immadiately to go an' poke away at that
rock--faix, it's well named the Bell Rock, for it makes me like to
_bellow_ me lungs out wid vexation."

"That pun is _below_ contempt," said Joe Dumsby, who came up at the
moment.

"That's yer sort, laddies; ye're guid at ringing the changes on that
head onyway," cried Watt.

"I say, we're gittin' a _belly_-full of it," observed Forsyth, with a
rueful look "I hope nobody's goin' to give us another!"

"It'll create a _rebellion_," said Bremner, "if ye go on like that"

"It'll bring my _bellows_ down on the head o' the next man that
speaks!" cried Ruby, with indignation.

"Don't you hear the bell, there?" cried the foreman down the
hatchway.

There was a burst of laughter at this unconscious continuation of the
joke, and the men sprang up the ladder,--down the side, and into the
boats, which were soon racing towards the rock.

The day, though not sunny, was calm and agreeable, nevertheless the
landing at the rock was not easily accomplished, owing to the swell
caused by a recent gale. After one or two narrow escapes of a
ducking, however, the crews landed, and the bellows, instead of being
conveyed to their usual place at the forge, were laid at the foot of
the beacon.

The carriage of these bellows to and fro almost daily had been a
subject of great annoyance to the men, owing to their being so much
in the way, and so unmanageably bulky, yet so essential to the
progress of the works, that they did not dare to leave them on the
rock, lest they should be washed away, and they had to handle them
tenderly, lest they should get damaged.

"Now, boys, lend a hand with the forge," cried the smith, hurrying
towards his anvil.

Those who were not busy eating dulse responded to the call, and in a
short time the ponderous _materiel_ of the smithy was conveyed to the
beacon, where, in process of time, it was hoisted by means of tackle
to its place on the platform to which reference has already been
made.

When it was safely set up and the bellows placed in position, Ruby
went to the edge of the platform, and, looking down on his comrades
below, took off his cap and shouted in the tone of a Stentor, "Now,
lads, three cheers for the Dovecot!"

This was received with a roar of laughter and three tremendous
cheers.

"Howld on, boys," cried O'Connor, stretching out his hand as if to
command silence; "you'll scare the dove from his cot altogether av ye
roar like that!"

"Surely they're sendin' us a fire to warm us," observed one of the
men, pointing to a boat which had put off from the _Smeaton_, and was
approaching the rock by way of _Macurich's Track_.

"What can'd be, I wonder?" said Watt; "I think I can smell
somethin'."

"I halways thought you 'ad somethink of an old dog in you," said
Dumsby.

"Ay, man!" said the Scot with a leer, "I ken o' war beasts than auld
dowgs."

"Do you? come let's 'ear wat they are," said the Englishman.

"Young puppies," answered the other.

"Hurrah! dinner, as I'm a Dutchman," cried Forsyth.

This was indeed the case. Dinner had been cooked on board the
_Smeaton_ and sent hot to the men; and this,--the first dinner ever
eaten on the Bell Rock,--was the second of the memorable events
before referred to.

The boat soon ran into the creek and landed the baskets containing
the food on _Hope's Wharf_.

The men at once made a rush at the viands, and bore them off
exultingly to the flattest part of the rock they could find.

"A regular picnic," cried Dumsby in high glee, for unusual events, of
even a trifling kind, had the effect of elating those men more than
one might have expected.

"Here's the murphies," cried O'Connor, staggering over the slippery
weed with a large smoking tin dish.

"Mind you don't let 'em fall," cried one.

"Have a care," shouted the smith; "if you drop them I'll beat you
red-hot, and hammer ye so flat that the biggest flatterer as ever
walked won't be able to spread ye out another half-inch."

"Mutton! oh!" exclaimed Forsyth, who had been some time trying to
wrench the cover off the basket containing a roast leg, and at last
succeeded.

"Here, spread them all out on this rock. You han't forgot the grog, I
hope, steward?"

"No fear of him: he's a good feller, is the steward, when he's asleep
partiklerly. The grog's here all right."

"Dinna let Dumsby git baud o't, then," cried Watt. "What! hae ye
begood a'ready? Patience, man, patience. Is there ony saut?"

"Lots of it, darlin', in the say. Sure this shape must have lost his
tail somehow. Och, murther! if there isn't Bobby Selkirk gone an'
tumbled into Port Hamilton wid the cabbage, av it's not the carrots!"

"There now, don't talk so much, boys," cried Peter Logan. "Let's
drink success to the Bell Rock Lighthouse."

It need scarcely be said that this toast was drunk with enthusiasm,
and that it was followed up with "three times three".

"Now for a song. Come, Joe Dumsby, strike up," cried one of the men.

O'Connor, who was one of the most reckless of men in regard to duty
and propriety, here shook his head gravely, and took upon himself to
read his comrade a lesson.

"Ye shouldn't talk o' sitch things in workin' hours," said he. "Av we
wos all foolish, waake-hidded cratures like _you_, how d'ye think
we'd iver git the lighthouse sot up! Ate yer dinner, lad, and howld
yer tongue."

"O Ned, I didn't think your jealousy would show out so strong,"
retorted his comrade. "Now, then, Dumsby, fire away, if it was only
to aggravate him."

Thus pressed, Joe Dumsby took a deep draught of the small-beer with
which the men were supplied, and began a song of his own composition.

When the song was finished the meal was also concluded, and the men
returned to their labours on the rock; some to continue their work
with the picks at the hard stone of the foundation-pit, others to
perform miscellaneous jobs about the rock, such as mixing the mortar
and removing debris, while James Dove and his fast friend Ruby Brand
mounted to their airy "cot" on the beacon, from which in a short time
began to proceed the volumes of smoke and the clanging sounds that
had formerly arisen from "Smith's Ledge ".

While they were all thus busily engaged, Ruby observed a boat
advancing towards the rock from the floating light. He was blowing
the bellows at the time, after a spell at the fore-hammer.

"We seem to be favoured with unusual events to-day, Jamie," said he,
wiping his forehead with the corner of his apron with one hand, while
he worked the handle of the bellows with the other, "yonder comes
another boat; what can it be, think you?"

"Surely it can't be tea!" said the smith with a smile, as he turned
the end of a pickaxe in the fire, "it's too soon after dinner for
that."

"It looks like the boat of our friends the fishermen, Big Swankie and
Davy Spink," said Ruby, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing
earnestly at the boat as it advanced towards them.

"Friends!" repeated the smith, "rascally smugglers, both of them;
they're no friends of mine."

"Well, I didn't mean bosom friends," replied Ruby, "but after all,
Davy Spink is not such a bad fellow, though I can't say that I'm
fond of his comrade."

The two men resumed their hammers at this point in the conversation,
and became silent as long as the anvil sounded.

The boat had reached the rock when they ceased, and its occupants
were seen to be in earnest conversation with Peter Logan.

There were only two men in the boat besides its owners, Swankie and
Spink.

"What can they want?" said Dove, looking down on them as he turned
to thrust the iron on which he was engaged into the fire.

As he spoke the foreman looked up.

"Ho! Ruby Brand," he shouted, "come down here; you're wanted."

"Hallo! Ruby," exclaimed the smith, "_more_ friends o' yours! Your
acquaintance is extensive, lad, but there's no girl in the case this
time."

Ruby made no reply, for an indefinable feeling of anxiety filled his
breast as he threw down the fore-hammer and prepared to descend.

On reaching the rock he advanced towards the strangers, both of whom
were stout, thickset men, with grave, stern countenances. One of them
stepped forward and said, "Your name is----"

"Ruby Brand," said the youth promptly, at the same time somewhat
proudly, for he knew that he was in the hands of the Philistines.

The man who first spoke hereupon drew a small instrument from his
pocket, and tapping Ruby on the shoulder, said--

"I arrest you, Ruby Brand, in the name of the King."

The other man immediately stepped forward and produced a pair of
handcuffs.

At sight of these Ruby sprang backward, and the blood rushed
violently to his forehead, while his blue eyes glared with the
ferocity of those of a tiger.

"Come, lad, it's of no use, you know," said the man, pausing; "if you
won't come quietly we must find ways and means to compel you."

"Compel me!" cried Ruby, drawing himself up with a look of defiance
and a laugh of contempt, that caused the two men to shrink back in
spite of themselves.

"Ruby," said the foreman, gently, stepping forward and laying his
hand on the youth's shoulder, "you had better go quietly, for there's
no chance of escape from these fellows. I have no doubt it's a
mistake, and that you'll come off with flyin' colours, but it's best
to go quietly whatever turns up."

While Logan was speaking, Ruby dropped his head on his breast, the
officer with the handcuffs advanced, and the youth held out his
hands, while the flush of anger deepened into the crimson blush of
shame.

It was at this point that Jamie Dove, wondering at the prolonged
absence of his friend and assistant, looked down from the platform of
the beacon, and beheld what was taking place. The stentorian roar of
amazement and rage that suddenly burst from him, attracted the
attention of all the men on the rock, who dropped their tools and
looked up in consternation, expecting, no doubt, to behold something
terrible.

Their eyes at once followed those of the smith, and no sooner did
they see Ruby being led in irons to the boat, which lay in _Port
Hamilton_, close to _Sir Ralph the Rover's Ledge_, than they uttered
a yell of execration, and rushed with one accord to the rescue.

The officers, who were just about to make their prisoner step into
the boat, turned to face the foe,--one, who seemed to be the more
courageous of the two, a little in advance of the other.

Ned O'Connor, with that enthusiasm which seems to be inherent in
Irish blood, rushed with such irresistible force against this man
that he drove him violently back against his comrade, and sent them
both head over heels into Port Hamilton. Nay, with such momentum was
this act performed, that Ned could not help but follow them, falling
on them both as they came to the surface and sinking them a second
time, amid screams and yells of laughter.

O'Connor was at once pulled out by his friends. The officers also
were quickly landed.

"I ax yer parding, gintlemen," said the former, with an expression of
deep regret on his face, "but the say-weed _is_ so slippy on them
rocks we're a'most for iver doin' that sort o' thing be the merest
accident. But av yer as fond o' cowld wather as meself ye won't
objec' to it, although it do come raither onexpected."

The officers made no reply, but, collaring Ruby, pushed him into the
boat.

Again the men made a rush, but Peter Logan stood between them and the
boat.

"Lads," said he, holding up his hand, "it's of no use resistin' the
law. These are King's officers, and they are only doin' their duty.
Sure am I that Ruby Brand is guilty of no crime, so they've only to
enquire into it and set him free."

The men hesitated, but did not seem quite disposed to submit without
another struggle.

"It's a shame to let them take him," cried the smith.

"So it is. I vote for a rescue," cried Joe Dumsby.

"Hooray! so does I," cried O'Connor, stripping off his waistcoat, and
for once in his life agreeing with Joe.

"Na, na, lads," cried John Watt, rolling up his sleeves, and baring
his brawny arms as if about to engage in a fight, "it'll raver do to
interfere wi' the law; but what d'ye say to gie them anither dook?"

Seeing that the men were about to act upon Watt's suggestion, Baby
started up in the boat, and turning to his comrades, said:

"Boys, it's very kind of you to be so anxious to save me, but you
can't----"

"Fail, but we can, darlin'," interrupted O'Connor.

"No, you can't," repeated Ruby firmly, "because I won't let yon. I
don't think I need say to you that I am innocent," he added, with a
look in which truth evidently shone forth like a sunbeam, "but now
that they have put these irons on me I will not consent that they
shall be taken off except by the law which put them on."

While he was speaking the boat had been pushed off, and in a few
seconds it was beyond the reach of the men.

"Depend upon it, comrades," cried Ruby, as they pulled away, "that I
shall be back again to help you to finish the work on the Bell Rock."

"So you will, lad, so you will," cried the foreman.

"My blessin' on ye," shouted O'Connor. "Ach! ye dirty villains, ye
low-minded spalpeens," he added, shaking his fist at the officers of
justice.

"Don't be long away, Ruby," cried one.

"Never say die," shouted another, earnestly.

"Three cheers for Ruby Brand!" exclaimed Forsyth, "hip! hip!
hip!----"

The cheer was given with the most vociferous energy, and then the men
stood in melancholy silence on _Ralph the Saver's Ledge_, watching
the boat that bore their comrade to the shore.

CHAPTER XVI

NEW ARRANGEMENTS--THE CAPTAIN'S PHILOSOPHY IN REGARD TO PIPEOLOGY

That night our hero was lodged in the common jail of Arbroath. Soon
after, he was tried, and, as Captain Ogilvy had prophesied, was
acquitted. Thereafter he went to reside for the winter with his
mother, occupying the same room as his worthy uncle, as there was not
another spare one in the cottage, and sleeping in a hammock, slung
parallel with and close to that of the captain.

On the night following his release from prison, Ruby lay on his back
in his hammock meditating intently on the future, and gazing at the
ceiling, or rather at the place where he knew the ceiling to be, for
it was a dark night, and there was no light in the room, the candle
having just been extinguished.

We are not strictly correct, however, in saying that there was _no_
light in the room, for there was a deep red glowing spot of fire near
to Captain Ogilvy's head, which flashed and grew dim at each
alternate second of time. It was, in fact, the captain's pipe, a
luxury in which that worthy man indulged morning, noon, and night. He
usually rested the bowl of the pipe on and a little over the edge of
his hammock, and, lying on his back, passed the mouthpiece over the
blankets into the corner of his mouth, where four of his teeth seemed
to have agreed to form an exactly round hole suited to receive it. At
each draw the fire in the bowl glowed so that the captain's nose was
faintly illuminated; in the intervals the nose disappeared.

The breaking or letting fall of this pipe was a common incident in
the captain's nocturnal history, but he had got used to it, from long
habit, and regarded the event each time it occurred with the
philosophic composure of one who sees and makes up his mind to endure
an inevitable and unavoidable evil.

"Ruby," said the captain, after the candle was extinguished.

"Well, uncle?"

"I've bin thinkin', lad,----"

Here the captain drew a few whiffs to prevent the pipe from going
out, in which operation he evidently forgot himself and went on
thinking, for he said nothing more.

"Well, uncle, what have you been thinking?"

"Eh! ah, yes, I've bin thinkin', lad (puff), that you'll have to
(puff)--there's somethin' wrong with the pipe to-night, it don't draw
well (puff)--you'll have to do somethin' or other in the town, for it
won't do to leave the old woman, lad, in her delicate state o'
health. Had she turned in when you left the kitchen?"

"Oh yes, an hour or more."

"An' Blue Eyes,

'The tender bit flower that waves in the breeze,
And scatters its fragrance all over the seas'--

has she turned in too?"

"She was just going to when I left," replied Ruby; "but what has that
to do with the question?"

"I didn't say as it had anything to do with it, lad. Moreover, there
ain't no question between us as I knows on (puff); but what have you
to say to stoppin' here all water?"

"Impossible," said Ruby, with a sigh.

"No so, lad; what's to hinder?--Ah! there she goes."

The pipe fell with a crash to the floor, and burst with a Bright
shower of sparks, like a little bombshell.

"That's the third, Ruby, since I turned in," said the captain,
getting slowly over the side of his hammock, and alighting on the
floor heavily. "I won't git up again if it goes another time."

After knocking off the chimney-piece five or six articles which
appeared to be made of tin from the noise they made in falling, the
captain succeeded in getting hold of another pipe and the tinder-box,
for in those days flint and steel were the implements generally used
in procuring a light. With much trouble he re-lit the pipe.

"Now, Ruby, lad, hold it till I tumble in."

"But I can't see the stem, uncle."

"What a speech for a seaman to make! Don't you see the fire in the
bowl?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, just make a grab two inches astarn of the bowl and you'll hook
the stem."

The captain was looking earnestly into the bowl while he spoke,
stuffing down the burning tobacco with the end of his little finger.
Ruby, acting in rather too prompt obedience to the instructions, made
a "grab" as directed, and caught his uncle by the nose.

A yell and an apology followed of course, in the midst of which the
fourth pipe was demolished.

"Oh! uncle, what a pity!"

"Ah! Ruby, that comes o' inconsiderate youth, which philosophers tell
us is the nat'ral consequence of unavoidable necessity, for you can't
put a young head on old shoulders, d'ye see?"

From the tone in which this was said Ruby knew that the captain was
shaking his head gravely, and from the noise of articles being kicked
about and falling, he became aware that the unconquerable man was
filling a fifth pipe.

This one was more successfully managed, and the captain once more got
into his hammock, and began to enjoy himself.

"Well, Ruby, where was I? O ay; what's to hinder you goin' and
gettin' employed in the Bell Rock workyard? There's plenty to do, and
good wages there."

It may be as well to inform the reader here, that although the
operations at the Bell Rock had come to an end for the season about
the beginning of October, the work of hewing the stones for the
lighthouse was carried on briskly during the winter at the workyard
on shore; and as the tools, &c., required constant sharpening and
mending, a blacksmith could not be dispensed with.

"Do you think I can get in again?" enquired Ruby.

"No doubt of it, lad. But the question is, are ye willin' to go if
they'll take you?"

"Quite willing, uncle."

"Good: then that's all square, an' I knows how to lay my course--up
anchor to-morrow mornin', crowd all sail, bear down on the workyard,
bring-to off the countin'-room, and open fire on the superintendent."

The captain paused at this point, and opened fire with his pipe for
some minutes.

"Now," he continued, "there's another thing I want to ax you. I'm
goin' to-morrow afternoon to take a cruise along the cliffs to the
east'ard in the preventive boat, just to keep up my sea legs. They've
got scent o' some smugglin' business that's goin' on, an' my friend
Leftenant Lindsay has asked me to go. Now, Ruby, if you want a short
cruise of an hour or so you may come with me."

Baby smiled at the manner in which this offer was made, and replied:

"With pleasure, uncle."

"So, then, that's settled too. Good night, nephy."

The captain turned on his side, and dropped the pipe on the floor,
where it was shivered to atoms.

It must not be supposed that this was accidental.

It was done on purpose. Captain Ogilvy had found from experience that
it was not possible to stretch out his arm to its full extent and lay
the pipe on the chimney-piece, without waking himself up just at that
critical moment when sleep was consenting to be wooed. He also found
that on the average he broke one in every four pipes that he thus
attempted to deposit. Being a philosophical and practical man, he
came to the conclusion that it would be worth while to pay something
for the comfort of being undisturbed at the minute of time that lay
between the conclusion of smoking and the commence of repose. He
therefore got a sheet of foolscap and a pencil, and spent a whole
forenoon in abstruse calculations. He ascertained the exact value of
three hundred and sixty-five clay pipes. From this he deducted a
fourth for breakages that would have certainly occurred in the old
system of laying the pipes down every night, and which, therefore, he
felt, in a confused sort of way, ought not to be charged in the
estimates of a new system. Then he added a small sum to the result
for probable extra breakages, such as had occurred that night, and
found that the total was not too high a price for a man in his
circumstances to pay for the blessing he wished to obtain.

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