THE BELL ROCK AGAIN--A DREARY NIGHT IN A STRANGE HABITATION
During that winter Ruby Brand wrought diligently in the workyard at
the lighthouse materials, and, by living economically, began to save
a small sum of money, which he laid carefully by with a view to his
marriage with Minnie Gray.
Being an impulsive man, Ruby would have married Minnie, then and
there, without looking too earnestly to the future. But his mother
had advised him to wait till he should have laid by a little for a
"rainy day". The captain had recommended patience, tobacco, and
philosophy, and had enforced his recommendations with sundry apt
quotations from dead and living novelists, dramatists, and poets.
Minnie herself, poor girl, felt that she ought not to run counter to
the wishes of her best and dearest friends, so she too advised delay
for a "little time"; and Ruby was fain to content himself with
bewailing his hard lot internally, and knocking Jamie Dove's bellows,
anvils, and sledge-hammers about in a way that induced that son of
Vulcan to believe his assistant had gone mad!
As for big Swankie, he hid his ill-gotten gains under the floor of
his tumble-down cottage, and went about his evil courses as usual in
company with his comrade Davy Spink, who continued to fight and make
it up with him as of yore.
It must not be supposed that Ruby forgot the conversation he had
overheard in the Gaylet Cove. He and Minnie and his uncle had
frequent discussions in regard to it, but to little purpose; for
although Swankie and Spink had discovered old Mr. Brand's body on the
Bell Rock, it did not follow that any jewels or money they had found
there were necessarily his. Still Ruby could not divest his mind of
the feeling that there was some connexion between the two, and he was
convinced, from what had fallen from Davy Spink about "silver teapots
and things", that Swankie was the man of whose bad deeds he himself
had been suspected.
As there seemed no possibility of bringing the matter home to him,
however, he resolved to dismiss the whole affair from his mind in the
meantime.
Things were very much in this state when, in the spring, the
operations at the Bell Bock were resumed.
Jamie Dove, Ruby, Robert Selkirk, and several of the principal
workmen, accompanied the engineers on their first visit to the rock,
and they sailed towards the scene of their former labours with deep
and peculiar interest, such as one might feel on renewing
acquaintance with an old friend who had passed through many hard and
trying struggles since the last time of meeting.
The storms of winter had raged round the Bell Rock as usual--as they
had done, in fact, since the world began; but that winter the
handiwork of man had also been exposed to the fury of the elements
there. It was known that the beacon had survived the storms, for it
could be seen by telescope from the shore in clear weather--like a
little speck on the seaward horizon. Now they were about to revisit
the old haunt, and have a close inspection of the damage that it was
supposed must certainly have been done.
To the credit of the able engineer who planned and carried out the
whole works, the beacon was found to have resisted winds and waves
successfully.
It was on a bitterly cold morning about the end of March that the
first visit of the season was paid to the Bell Rock. Mr. Stevenson
and his party of engineers and artificers sailed in the lighthouse
yacht; and, on coming within a proper distance of the rock, two boats
were lowered and pushed off. The sea ran with such force upon the
rock that it seemed doubtful whether a landing could be effected.
About half-past eight, when the rock was fairly above water, several
attempts were made to land, but the breach of the sea was still so
great that they were driven back.
On the eastern side the sea separated into two distinct waves, which
came with a sweep round the western side, where they met, and rose
in a burst of spray to a considerable height. Watching, however, for
what the sailors termed a smooth, and catching a favourable
opportunity, they rowed between the two seas dexterously, and made a
successful landing at the western creek.
The sturdy beacon was then closely examined. It had been painted
white at the end of the previous season, but the lower parts of the
posts were found to have become green--the sea having clothed them
with a soft garment of weed. The sea-birds had evidently imagined
that it was put up expressly for their benefit; for a number of
cormorants and large herring-gulls had taken up their quarters on
it--finding it, no doubt, conveniently near to their fishing-grounds.
A critical inspection of all its parts showed that everything about
it was in a most satisfactory state. There was not the slightest
indication of working or shifting in the great iron stanchions with
which the beams were fixed, nor of any of the joints or places of
connexion; and, excepting some of the bracing-chains which had been
loosened, everything was found in the same entire state in which it
had been left the previous season.
Only those who know what that beacon had been subjected to can form a
correct estimate of the importance of this discovery, and the amount
of satisfaction it afforded to those most interested in the works at
the Bell Rock. To say that the party congratulated themselves would
be far short of the reality. They hailed the event with cheers, and
their looks seemed to indicate that some piece of immense and
unexpected good fortune had befallen each individual.
From that moment Mr. Stevenson saw the practicability and propriety
of fitting up the beacon, not only as a place of refuge in case of
accidents to the boats in landing, but as a residence for the men
during the working months.
From that moment, too, poor Jamie Dove began to see the dawn of
happier days; for when the beacon should be fitted up as a residence
he would bid farewell to the hated floating light, and take up his
abode, as ho expressed it, "on land".
"On land!" It is probable that this Jamie Dove was the first man,
since the world began, who had entertained the till then absurdly
preposterous notion that the fatal Bell Rock was "land", or that it
could be made a place of even temporary residence.
A hundred years ago men would have laughed at the bare idea. Fifty
years ago that idea was realized; for more than half a century that
sunken reef has been, and still is, the safe and comfortable home of
man!
Forgive, reader, our tendency to anticipate. Let us proceed with our
inspection.
Having ascertained that the foundations of the beacon were all right,
the engineers next ascended to the upper parts, where they found the
cross-beams and their fixtures in an equally satisfactory condition.
On the top a strong chest had been fixed the preceding season, in
which had been placed a quantity of sea-biscuits and several bottles
of water, in case of accident to the boats, or in the event of
shipwreck occurring on the rock. The biscuit, having been carefully
placed in tin canisters, was found in good condition, but several of
the water-bottles had burst, in consequence, it was supposed, of
frost during the winter. Twelve of the bottles, however, remained
entire, so that the Bell Rock may be said to have been transformed,
even at that date, from a point of destruction into a place of
comparative safety.
While the party were thus employed, the landing-master reminded them
that the sea was running high, and that it would be necessary to set
off while the rock afforded anything like shelter to the boats, which
by that time had been made fast to the beacon and rode with much
agitation, each requiring two men with boat-hooks to keep them from
striking each other, or ranging up against the beacon. But under
these circumstances the greatest confidence was felt by everyone,
from the security afforded by that temporary erection; for, supposing
that the wind had suddenly increased to a gale, and that it had been
found inadvisable to go into the boats; or supposing they had drifted
or sprung a leak from striking upon the rocks, in any of these
possible, and not at all improbable, cases, they had now something to
lay hold of, and, though occupying the dreary habitation of the gull
and the cormorant, affording only bread and water, yet _life_ would
be preserved, and, under the circumstances, they would have been
supported by the hope of being ultimately relieved.
Soon after this the works at the Bell Rock were resumed, with, if
possible, greater vigour than before, and ere long the "house" was
fixed to the top of the beacon, and the engineer and his men took up
their abode there.
Think of this, reader. Six great wooden beams were fastened to a
rock, over which the waves roared twice everyday, and on the top of
these a pleasant little marine residence was nailed, as one might
nail a dove-cot on the top of a pole!
This residence was ultimately fitted up in such a way as to become a
comparatively comfortable and commodious abode. It contained four
storeys. The first was the mortar-gallery, where the mortar for the
lighthouse was mixed as required; it also supported the forge. The
second was the cook-room. The third the apartment of the engineer and
his assistants; and the fourth was the artificer's barrack-room. This
house was of course built of wood, but it was firmly put together,
for it had to pass through many a terrific ordeal.
In order to give some idea of the interior, we shall describe the
cabin of Mr. Stevenson. It measured four feet three inches in breadth
on the floor, and though, from the oblique direction of the beams of
the beacon, it widened towards the top, yet it did not admit of the
full extension of the occupant's arms when he stood on the floor. Its
length was little more than sufficient to admit of a cot-bed being
suspended during the night. This cot was arranged so as to be triced
up to the roof during the day, thus leaving free room for occasional
visitors, and for comparatively free motion, A folding table was
attached with hinges immediately under the small window of the
apartment. The remainder of the space was fitted up with books,
barometer, thermometer, portmanteau, and two or three camp-stools.
The walls were covered with green cloth, formed into panels with red
tape, a substance which, by the way, might have had an _accidental_
connexion with the Bell Rock Lighthouse, but which could not, by any
possibility, have influenced it as a _principle_, otherwise that
building would probably never have been built, or, if built, would
certainly not have stood until the present day! The bed was festooned
with yellow cotton stuff, and the diet being plain, the paraphernalia
of the table was proportionally simple.
It would have been interesting to know the individual books required
and used by the celebrated engineer in his singular abode, but his
record leaves no detailed account of these. It does, however, contain
a sentence in regard to one volume which we deem it just to his
character to quote. He writes thus:--
"If, in speculating upon the abstract wants of man in such a state of
exclusion, one were reduced to a single book, the Sacred Volume,
whether considered for the striking diversity of its story, the
morality of its doctrine, or the important truths of its gospel,
would have proved by far the greatest treasure."
It may be easily imagined that in a place where the accommodation of
the principal engineer was so limited, that of the men was not
extensive. Accordingly, we find that the barrack-room contained beds
for twenty-one men.
But the completion of the beacon house, as we have described it, was
not accomplished in one season. At first it was only used as a
smith's workshop, and then as a temporary residence in fine weather.
One of the first men who remained all night upon it was our friend
Bremner. He became so tired of the floating light that he earnestly
solicited, and obtained, permission to remain on the beacon.
At the time it was only in a partially sheltered state. The joiners
had just completed the covering of the roof with a quantity of
tarpaulin, which the seamen had laid over with successive coats of
hot tar, and the sides of the erection had been painted with three
coats of white lead. Between the timber framing of the habitable
part, the interstices were stuffed with moss, but the green baize
cloth with which it was afterwards lined had not been put on when
Bremner took possession.
It was a splendid summer evening when the bold man made his request,
and obtained permission to remain. None of the others would join him.
When the boats pushed off and left him the solitary occupant of the
rock, he felt a sensation of uneasiness, but, having formed his
resolution, he stuck by it, and bade his comrades good night
cheerfully.
"Good night, and _goodbye_," cried Forsyth, as he took his seat at
the oar.
"Farewell, dear," cried O'Connor, wiping his eyes with a _very_
ragged pocket handkerchief.
"You won't forget me?" retorted Bremner.
"Never," replied Dumsby, with fervour.
"Av the beacon should be carried away, darlin'," cried O'Connor,
"howld tight to the provision-chest, p'raps ye'll be washed ashore."
"I'll drink your health in water, Paddy," replied Bremner.
"Faix, I hope it won't be salt wather," retorted Ned.
They continued to shout good wishes, warnings, and advice to their
comrade until out of hearing, and then waved adieu to him until he
was lost to view.
We have said that Bremner was alone, yet he was not entirely so; he
had a comrade with him, in the shape of his little black dog, to
which reference has already been made. This creature was of that very
thin and tight-skinned description of dog, that trembles at all times
as if afflicted with chronic cold, summer and winter. Its thin tail
was always between its extremely thin legs, as though it lived in a
perpetual condition of wrong-doing, and were in constant dread of
deserved punishment. Yet no dog ever belied its looks more than did
this one, for it was a good dog, and a warmhearted dog, and never did
a wicked thing, and never was punished, so that its excessive
humility and apparent fear and trembling were quite unaccountable.
Like all dogs of its class it was passionately affectionate, and
intensely grateful for the smallest favour. In fact, it seemed to be
rather thankful than otherwise for a kick when it chanced to receive
one, and a pat on the head, or a kind word made it all but jump out
of its black skin for very joy.
Bremner called it "Pup". It had no other name, and didn't seem to
wish for one. On the present occasion it was evidently much
perplexed, and very unhappy, for it looked at the boat, and then
wistfully into its master's face, as if to say, "This is awful; have
you resolved that we shall perish together?"
"Now, Pup," said Bremner, when the boat disappeared in the shades of
evening, "you and I are left alone on the Bell Rock!"
There was a touch of sad uncertainty in the wag of the tail with
which Pup received this remark.
"But cheer up, Pup," cried Bremner with a sudden burst of animation
that induced the creature to wriggle and dance on its hind legs for
at least a minute, "you and I shall have a jolly night together on
the beacon; so come along."
Like many a night that begins well, that particular night ended ill.
Even while the man spoke, a swell began to rise, and, as the tide had
by that time risen a few feet, an occasional billow swept over the
rocks and almost washed the feet of Bremner as he made his way over
the ledges. In five minutes the sea was rolling all round the foot of
the beacon, and Bremner and his friend were safely ensconced on the
mortar-gallery.
There was no storm that night, nevertheless there was one of those
heavy ground swells that are of common occurrence in the German
Ocean.
It is supposed that this swell is caused by distant westerly gales in
the Atlantic, which force an undue quantity of water into the North
Sea, and thus produce the apparent paradox of great rolling breakers
in calm weather.
On this night there was no wind at all, but there was a higher swell
than usual, so that each great billow passed over the rock with a
roar that was rendered more than usually terrible, in consequence of
the utter absence of all other sounds.
At first Bremner watched the rising tide, and as he sat up there in
the dark he felt himself dreadfully forsaken and desolate, and began
to comment on things in general to his dog, by way of inducing a more
sociable and cheery state of mind.
"Pup, this is a lugubrious state o' things. Wot d'ye think o't?"
Pup did not say, but he expressed such violent joy at being noticed,
that he nearly fell off the platform of the mortar-gallery in one of
his extravagant gyrations.
"That won't do, Pup," said Bremner, shaking his head at the creature,
whose countenance expressed deep contrition. "Don't go on like that,
else you'll fall into the sea and be drownded, and then I shall be
left alone. What a dark night it is, to be sure! I doubt if it was
wise of me to stop here. Suppose the beacon were to be washed away?"
Bremner paused, and Pup wagged his tail interrogatively, as though to
say, "What then?"
"Ah! it's of no use supposin'," continued the man slowly. "The beacon
has stood it out all winter, and it ain't likely it's goin' to be
washed away to-night. But suppose I was to be took bad?"
Again the dog seemed to demand, "What then?"
"Well, that's not very likely either, for I never was took bad in my
life since I took the measles, and that's more than twenty years ago.
Come, Pup, don't let us look at the black side o' things, let us try
to be cheerful, my dog. Hallo!"
The exclamation was caused by the appearance of a green billow, which
in the uncertain light seemed to advance in a threatening attitude
towards the beacon as if to overwhelm it, but it fell at some
distance, and only rolled in a churning sea of milky foam among the
posts, and sprang up and licked the beams, as a serpent might do
before swallowing them.
"Come, it was the light deceived me. If I go for to start at every
wave like that I'll have a poor night of it, for the tide has a long
way to rise yet. Let's go and have a bit supper, lad."
Bremner rose from the anvil, on which he had seated himself, and went
up the ladder into the cook-house above. Here all was pitch dark,
owing to the place being enclosed all round, which the mortar-gallery
was not, but a light was soon struck, a lamp trimmed, and the fire in
the stove kindled.
Bremner now busied himself in silently preparing a cup of tea, which,
with a quantity of sea-biscuit, a little cold salt pork, and a hunch
of stale bread, constituted his supper. Pup watched his every
movement with an expression of earnest solicitude, combined with
goodwill, in his sharp intelligent eyes.
When supper was ready Pup had his share, then, feeling that the
duties of the day were now satisfactorily accomplished, he coiled
himself up at his master's feet, and went to sleep. His master rolled
himself up in a rug, and lying down before the fire, also tried to
sleep, but without success for a long time.
As he lay there counting the number of seconds of awful silence that
elapsed between the fall of each successive billow, and listening to
the crash and the roar as wave after wave rushed underneath him, and
caused his habitation to tremble, he could not avoid feeling alarmed
in some degree. Do what he would, the thought of the wrecks that had
taken place there, the shrieks that must have often rung above these
rocks, and the dead and mangled bodies that must have lain among
them, _would_ obtrude upon him and banish sleep from his eyes.
At last he became somewhat accustomed to the rush of waters and the
tremulous motion of the beacon. His frame, too, exhausted by a day of
hard toil, refused to support itself, and he sank into slumber. But
it was not unbroken. A falling cinder from the sinking fire would
awaken him with a start; a larger wave than usual would cause him to
spring up and look round in alarm; or a shrieking sea-bird, as it
swooped past, would induce a dream, in which the cries of drowning
men arose, causing him to awake with a cry that set Pup barking
furiously.
Frequently during that night, after some such dream, Bremner would
get up and descend to the mortar-gallery to see that all was right
there. He found the waves always hissing below, but the starry sky
was calm and peaceful above, so he returned to his couch comforted a
little, and fell again into a troubled sleep, to be again awakened by
frightful dreams of dreadful sights, and scenes of death and danger
on the sea.
Thus the hours wore slowly away. As the tide fell the noise of waves
retired a little from the beacon, and the wearied man and dog sank
gradually at last into deep, untroubled slumber.
So deep was it, that they did not hear the increasing noise of the
gulls as they wheeled round the beacon after having breakfasted near
it; so deep, that they did not feel the sun as it streamed through an
opening in the woodwork and glared on their respective faces; so
deep, that they were ignorant of the arrival of the boats with the
workmen, and were dead to the shouts of their companions, until one
of them, Jamie Dove, put his head up the hatchway and uttered one of
his loudest roars, close to their ears.
Then indeed Bremner rose up and looked bewildered, and Pup, starting
up, barked as furiously as if its own little black body had
miraculously become the concentrated essence of all the other noisy
dogs in the wide world rolled into one!