While the men were thus busily engaged, a boat was rowing about in the
fog, vainly endeavouring to find the rock.
It was the boat of two fast friends, Jock Swankie and Davy Spink.
These worthies were in a rather exhausted condition, having been rowing
almost incessantly from daybreak.
"I tell 'ee what it is," said Swankie; "I'll be hanged if I poo another
stroke."
He threw his oar into the boat, and looked sulky.
"It's my belief," said his companion, "that we ought to be near aboot
Denmark be this time."
"Denmark or Rooshia, it's a' ane to me," rejoined Swankie; "I'll hae a
smoke."
So saying, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco-box, and began to cut the
tobacco. Davy did the same.
Suddenly both men paused, for they heard a sound. Each looked
enquiringly at the other, and then both gazed into the thick fog.
"Is that a ship?" said Davy Spink.
They seized their oars hastily.
"The beacon, as I'm a leevin' sinner!" exclaimed Swankie.
If Spink had not backed his oar at that moment, there is some
probability that Swankie would have been a dead, instead of a living,
sinner in a few minutes, for they had almost run upon the north-east end
of the Bell Rock, and distinctly heard the sound of voices on the
beacon. A shout settled the question at once, for it was replied to by
a loud holloa from Ruby.
In a short time the boat was close to the beacon, and the water was so
very calm that day, that they were able to venture to hand the packet of
letters with which they had come off into the beacon, even although the
tide was full.
"Letters," said Swankie, as he reached out his hand with the packet.
"Hurrah!" cried the men, who were all assembled on the mortar-gallery,
looking down at the fishermen, excepting Ruby, Watt, and Dumsby, who
were still on the cross-beams below.
"Mind the boat; keep her aff," said Swankie, stretching out his hand
with the packet to the utmost, while Dumsby descended the ladder and
held out _his_ hand to receive it.
"Take care," cried the men in chorus, for news from shore was always a
very exciting episode in their career, and the idea of the packet being
lost filled them with sudden alarm.
The shout and the anxiety together caused the very result that was
dreaded. The packet fell into the sea and sank, amid a volley of yells.
It went down slowly. Before it had descended a fathom, Ruby's head
cleft the water, and in a moment he returned to the surface with the
packet in his hand amid a wild cheer of joy; but this was turned into a
cry of alarm, as Ruby was carried away by the tide, despite his utmost
efforts to regain the beacon.
The boat was at once pushed off but so strong was the current there,
that Ruby was carried past the rock, and a hundred yards away to sea,
before the boat overtook him.
The moment he was pulled into her he shook himself, and then tore off
the outer covering of the packet in order to save the letters from being
wetted. He had the great satisfaction of finding them almost uninjured.
He had the greater satisfaction, thereafter, of feeling that he had
done a deed which induced every man in the beacon that night to thank
him half a dozen times over; and he had the greatest possible
satisfaction in finding that among the rest he had saved two letters
addressed to himself, one from Minnie Gray, and the other from his
uncle.
The scene in the beacon when the contents of the packet were delivered
was interesting. Those who had letters devoured them, and in many cases
read them (unwittingly) half-aloud. Those who had none read the
newspapers, and those who had neither papers nor letters listened.
Ruby's letter ran as follows (we say his _letter_, because the other
letter was regarded, comparatively, as nothing):--
"ARBROATH, etcetera.
"DARLING RUBY,--I have just time to tell you that we have made a
discovery which will surprise you. Let me detail it to you
circumstantially. Uncle Ogilvy and I were walking on the pier a few
days ago, when we overheard a conversation between two sailors, who
did not see that we were approaching. We would not have stopped to
listen, but the words we heard arrested our attention, so--O what a
pity! there, Big Swankie has come for our letters. Is it not strange
that _he_ should be the man to take them off? I meant to have given
you _such_ an account of it, especially a description of the case.
They won't wait. Come ashore as soon as you can, dearest Ruby."
The letter broke off here abruptly. It was evident that the writer had
been obliged to close it abruptly, for she had forgotten to sign her
name.
"`A description of the case;' _what_ case?" muttered Ruby in vexation.
"O Minnie, Minnie, in your anxiety to go into details you have omitted
to give me the barest outline. Well, well, darling, I'll just take the
will for the deed, but I _wish_ you had--"
Here Ruby ceased to mutter, for Captain Ogilvy's letter suddenly
occurred to his mind. Opening it hastily, he read as follows:--
"DEAR NEFFY,--I never was much of a hand at spellin', an' I'm not
rightly sure o' that word, howsever, it reads all square, so ittle do.
If I had been the inventer o' writin' I'd have had signs for a lot o'
words. Just think how much better it would ha' bin to have put a
regular D like that instead o' writin' s-q-u-a-r-e. Then _round_
would have bin far better O, like that. An' crooked thus," (draws a
squiggly line); "see how significant an' suggestive, if I may say so;
no humbug--all fair an' above-board, as the pirate said, when he ran
up the black flag to the peak.
"But avast speckillatin' (shiver my timbers! but that last was a
pen-splitter), that's not what I sat down to write about. My object
in takin' up the pen, neffy, is two-fold,
"`Double, double, toil an' trouble,'
"as Macbeath said,--if it wasn't Hamlet.
"We want you to come home for a day or two, if you can git leave, lad,
about this strange affair. Minnie said she was goin' to give you a
full, true, and partikler account of it, so it's of no use my goin'
over the same course. There's that blackguard Swankie come for the
letters. Ha! it makes me chuckle. No time for more--"
This letter also concluded abruptly, and without a signature.
"There's a pretty kettle o' fish!" exclaimed Ruby aloud.
"So 'tis, lad; so 'tis," said Bremner, who at that moment had placed a
superb pot of codlings on the fire; "though why ye should say it so
positively when nobody's denyin' it, is more nor I can tell."
Ruby laughed, and retired to the mortar-gallery to work at the forge and
ponder. He always found that he pondered best while employed in
hammering, especially if his feelings were ruffled.
Seizing a mass of metal, he laid it on the anvil, and gave it five or
six heavy blows to straighten it a little, before thrusting it into the
fire.
Strange to say, these few blows of the hammer were the means, in all
probability, of saving the sloop _Smeaton_ from being wrecked on the
Bell Rock!
That vessel had been away with Mr Stevenson at Leith, and was
returning, when she was overtaken by the calm and the fog. At the
moment that Ruby began to hammer, the _Smeaton_ was within a stone's
cast of the beacon, running gently before a light air which had sprung
up.
No one on board had the least idea that the tide had swept them so near
the rock, and the ringing of the anvil was the first warning they got of
their danger.
The lookout on board instantly sang out, "Starboard har-r-r-d-! beacon
ahead!" and Ruby looked up in surprise, just as the _Smeaton_ emerged
like a phantom-ship out of the fog. Her sails fluttered as she came up
to the wind, and the crew were seen hurrying to and fro in much alarm.
Mr Stevenson himself stood on the quarterdeck of the little vessel, and
waved his hand to assure those on the beacon that they had sheered off
in time, and were safe.
This incident tended to strengthen the engineer in his opinion that the
two large bells which were being cast for the lighthouse, to be rung by
the machinery of the revolving light, would be of great utility in foggy
weather.
While the _Smeaton_ was turning away, as if with a graceful bow to the
men on the rock, Ruby shouted:
"There are letters here for you, sir."
The mate of the vessel called out at once, "Send them off in the
shore-boat; we'll lay-to."
No time was to be lost, for if the _Smeaton_ should get involved in the
fog it might be very difficult to find her; so Ruby at once ran for the
letters, and, hailing the shore-boat which lay quite close at hand,
jumped into it and pushed off.
They boarded the _Smeaton_ without difficulty and delivered the letters.
Instead of returning to the beacon, however, Ruby was ordered to hold
himself in readiness to go to Arbroath in the shore-boat with a letter
from Mr Stevenson to the superintendent of the workyard.
"You can go up and see your friends in the town, if you choose," said
the engineer, "but be sure to return by tomorrow's forenoon tide. We
cannot dispense with your services longer than a few hours, my lad, so I
shall expect you to make no unnecessary delay."
"You may depend upon me, sir," said Ruby, touching his cap, as he turned
away and leaped into the boat.
A light breeze was now blowing, so that the sails could be used. In
less than a quarter of an hour sloop and beacon were lost in the fog,
and Ruby steered for the harbour of Arbroath, overjoyed at this
unexpected and happy turn of events, which gave him an opportunity of
solving the mystery of the letters, and of once more seeing the sweet
face of Minnie Gray.
But an incident occurred which delayed these desirable ends, and utterly
changed the current of Ruby's fortunes for a time.