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.
Ruby became so exasperated at not being able even to watch the boat
going away, that he showered terrific blows on the mass of metal the
smith was turning rapidly on the anvil.
"Not so fast, lad; not so fast," cried Dove hurriedly.
Ruby's chafing spirit blew up just at that point; he hit the iron a
crack that knocked it as flat as a pancake, and then threw down the
hammer and deliberately gazed in the direction of the boat.
The sight that met his eyes appalled him. The boat had been lying in
the inlet named Port Stevenson. It had to pass out to the open sea
through _Wilson's Track_, and past a small outlying rock named
_Gray's Rock_--known more familiarly among the men as _Johnny Gray_.
The boat was nearing this point, when the sea, which had been rising
for some time, burst completely over the seaward ledges, and swept
the boat high against the rocks on the left. The men had scarcely got
her again into the track when another tremendous billow, such as
we have already described, swept over the rocks again and swamped the
boat, which, being heavily ballasted, sank at once to the bottom of
the pool.
It was this sight that met the horrified eyes of Ruby when he looked
up.
He vaulted over the bellows like an antelope, and, rushing over
_Smith's Ledge_ and _Trinity Ledge_, sprang across _Port Boyle_, and
dived head foremost into _Neill's Pool_ before any of the other men,
who made a general rush, could reach the spot.
A few powerful strokes brought Ruby to the place where the major and
the captain, neither of whom could swim, were struggling in the
water. He dived at once below these unfortunates, and almost in a
second, reappeared with Minnie in his arms.
A few seconds sufficed to bring him to _Smith's Ledge_, where several
of his comrades hauled him and his burden beyond the reach of the
next wave, and where, a moment or two later, the major and captain
with the crew of the boat were landed in safety.
To bear the light form of Minnie in his strong arms to the highest
and driest part of the rock was the work of a few moments to Ruby.
Brief though those moments were, however, they were precious to the
youth beyond all human powers of calculation, for Minnie recovered
partial consciousness, and fancying, doubtless, that she was still in
danger, flung her arms round his neck, and grasped him convulsively.
Reader, we tell you in confidence that if Ruby had at that moment
been laid on the rack and torn limb from limb, he would have cheered
out his life triumphantly. It was not only that he knew she loved
him--_that_ be knew before,--but he had saved the life of the girl he
loved, and a higher terrestrial happiness can scarcely be attained by
man.
Laying her down as gently as a mother would her firstborn, Ruby
placed a coat under her head, and bade his comrades stand back and
give her air. It was fortunate for him that one of the foremen, who
understood what to do, came up at this moment, and ordered him to
leave off chafing the girl's hand with his wet fists, and go get some
water boiled at the forge if he wanted to do her good.
Second words were not needed. The bellows were soon blowing, and the
fire glowed in a way that it had not done since the works at the Bell
Rock began. Before the water quite boiled some tea was put in, and,
with a degree of speed that would have roused the jealousy of any
living waiter, a cup of tea was presented to Minnie, who had
recovered almost at the moment Ruby left her.
She drank a little, and then closing her eyes, moved her lips
silently for a few seconds.
Captain Ogilvy, who had attended her with the utmost assiduity and
tenderness as soon as he had wrung the water out of his own garments,
here took an opportunity of hastily pouring something into the cup
out of a small flask. When Minnie looked up again and smiled, he
presented her with the cup. She thanked him, and drank a mouthful or
two before perceiving that it had been tampered with.
"There's something in it," she said hurriedly.
"So there is, my pet," said the captain, with a benignant smile, "a
little nectar, that will do you more good than all the tea. Come now,
don't shake your head, but down with it all, like a good child."
But Minnie was proof against persuasion, and refused to taste any
more.
"Who was it that saved me, uncle?" (She had got into the way of
calling the captain "uncle".)
"Ruby Brand did it, my darlin'," said the old man with a look of
pride. "Ah! you're better now; stay, don't attempt to rise."
"Yes, yes, uncle," she said, getting up and looking round, "it is
time that we should go now; we have a long way to go, you know.
Where is the boat?"
"The boat, my precious, is at the bottom of the sea."
As he said this, he pointed to the mast, half of which was seen
rising out of the pool where the boat had gone down.
"But you don't need to mind," continued the captain, "for they're
goin' to send us in one o' their own boats aboord the floatin'
lightship, where we'll get a change o' clothes an' some-thin' to
eat."
As he spoke, one of the sailors came forward and announced that the
boat was ready, so the captain and the major assisted Minnie into the
boat, which soon pushed off with part of the workmen from the rock.
It was to be sent back for the remainder of the crew, by which time
the tide would render it necessary that all should leave.
Ruby purposely kept away from the group while they were embarking,
and after they were gone proceeded to resume work.
"You took a smart dive that time, lad," observed Joe Dumsby as they
went along.
"Not more than anyone would do for a girl," said Ruby.
"An' such a purty wan, too," said O'Connor. "Ah! av she's not Irish,
she should ha' bin."
"Ye're a lucky chap to hae sic a chance," observed John Watt.
"Make up to her, lad," said Forsyth; "I think she couldn't refuse ye
after doin' her such service."
"Time enough to chaff after work is over," cried Ruby with a laugh,
as he turned up his sleeves, and, seizing the hammer, began, as his
friend Dove said, "to work himself dry".
In a few minutes, work was resumed, and for another hour all
continued busy as bees, cutting and pounding at the flinty surface of
the Bell Rock.