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 Rock 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 wars 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 he
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 realised; 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 every day, and on the top of these a
pleasant little marine residence was nailed, as one might nail a dovecot
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 artificers' 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 good_bye_," 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 warm-hearted 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?"