The Lighthouse

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 recognised 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 were 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 he 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 first-born, 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’ somethin’ 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.

Chapter Thirteen

A Sleepless but a Pleasant Night

The evening which followed the day that has just been described was bright, calm, and beautiful, with the starry host unclouded and distinctly visible to the profoundest depths of space.

As it was intended to send the Smeaton to Arbroath next morning for a cargo of stones from the building-yard, the wrecked party were prevailed on to remain all night on board the Pharos, instead of going ashore in one of the ship’s boats, which could not well be spared at the time.

This arrangement, we need hardly say, gave inexpressible pleasure to Ruby, and was not altogether distasteful to Minnie, although she felt anxious about Mrs Brand, who would naturally be much alarmed at the prolonged absence of herself and the captain. However, “there was no help for it”; and it was wonderful the resignation which she displayed in the circumstances.

It was not Ruby’s duty to watch on deck that night, yet, strange to say, Ruby kept watch the whole night long!

There was no occasion whatever for Minnie to go on deck after it was dark, yet, strange to say, Minnie kept coming on deck at intervals nearly the whole night long! Sometimes to “look at the stars”, sometimes to “get a mouthful of fresh air”, frequently to find out what “that strange noise could be that had alarmed her”, and at last—especially towards the early hours of morning—for no reason whatever, except that “she could not sleep below.”

It was very natural that when Minnie paced the quarterdeck between the stern and the mainmast, and Ruby paced the forepart of the deck between the bows and the mainmast, the two should occasionally meet at the mainmast. It was also very natural that when they did meet, the girl who had been rescued should stop and address a few words of gratitude to the man who had saved her. But it was by no means natural—nay, it was altogether unnatural and unaccountable, that, when it became dark, the said man and the said girl should get into a close and confidential conversation, which lasted for hours, to the amusement of Captain Ogilvy and the major, who quite understood it, and to the amazement of many of the ship’s crew, who couldn’t understand it at all.

At last Minnie bade Ruby a final good night and went below, and Ruby, who could not persuade himself that it was final, continued to walk the deck until his eyes began to shut and open involuntarily like those of a sick owl. Then he also went below, and, before he fell quite asleep (according to his own impression), was awakened by the bell that called the men to land on the rock and commence work.

It was not only Ruby who found it difficult to rouse himself that morning. The landing-bell was rung at four o’clock, as the tide suited at that early hour, but the men were so fatigued that they would gladly have slept some hours longer. This, however, the nature of the service would not admit of. The building of the Bell Rock Lighthouse was a peculiar service. It may be said to have resembled duty in the trenches in military warfare. At times the work was light enough, but for the most part it was severe and irregular, as the men had to work in all kinds of weather, as long as possible, in the face of unusual difficulties and dangers, and were liable to be called out at all unseasonable hours. But they knew and expected this, and faced the work like men.

After a growl or two, and a few heavy sighs, they all tumbled out of their berths, and, in a very short time, were mustered on deck, where a glass of rum and a biscuit were served to each, being the regular allowance when they had to begin work before breakfast. Then they got into the boats and rowed away.

Ruby’s troubles were peculiar on this occasion. He could not bear the thought of leaving the Pharos without saying goodbye to Minnie; but as Minnie knew nothing of such early rising, there was no reasonable hope that she would be awake. Then he wished to put a few questions to his uncle which he had forgotten the day before, but his uncle was at that moment buried in profound repose, with his mouth wide open, and a trombone solo proceeding from his nose, which sadly troubled the unfortunates who lay near him.

As there was no way of escape from these difficulties, Ruby, like a wise man, made up his mind to cast them aside, so, after swallowing his allowance, he shouldered his big bellows, heaved a deep sigh, and took his place in one of the boats alongside.

The lassitude which strong men feel when obliged to rise before they have had enough of rest soon wears off. The two boats had not left the Pharos twenty yards astern, when Joe Dumsby cried, “Ho! boys, let’s have a race.”

“Hooray!” shouted O’Connor, whose elastic spirits were always equal to anything, “an’ sure Ruby will sing us ‘The girl we’ve left behind us.’ Och! an’ there she is, av I’m not draymin’.”

At that moment a little hand was waved from one of the ports of the floating light. Ruby at once waved his in reply, but as the attention of the men had been directed to the vessel by Ned’s remark, each saw the salutation, and, claiming it as a compliment to himself, uttered a loud cheer, which terminated in a burst of laughter, caused by the sight of Ruby’s half-angry, half-ashamed expression of face.

As the other boat had shot ahead, however, at the first mention of the word “race”, the men forgot this incident in their anxiety to overtake their comrades. In a few seconds both boats were going at full speed, and they kept it up all the way to the rock.

While this was going on, the Smeaton’s boat was getting ready to take the strangers on board the sloop, and just as the workmen landed on the rock, the Smeaton cast loose her sails, and proceeded to Arbroath.

There were a few seals basking on the Bell Rock this morning when the men landed. These at once made off, and were not again seen during the day.

At first, seals were numerous on the rock. Frequently from fifty to sixty of them were counted at one time, and they seemed for a good while unwilling to forsake their old quarters, but when the forge was set up they could stand it no longer. Some of the boldest ventured to sun themselves there occasionally, but when the clatter of the anvil and the wreaths of smoke became matters of daily occurrence, they forsook the rock finally, and sought the peace and quiet which man denied them there in other regions of the deep.

The building of the lighthouse was attended with difficulties at every step. As a short notice of some of these, and an account of the mode in which the great work was carried on, cannot fail to be interesting to all who admire those engineering works which exhibit prominently the triumph of mind over matter, we shall turn aside for a brief space to consider this subject.

Chapter Fourteen

Somewhat Statistical

It has been already said that the Bell Rock rises only a few feet out of the sea at low tide. The foundation of the tower, sunk into the solid rock, was just three feet three inches above low water of the lowest spring-tides, so that the lighthouse may be said with propriety to be founded beneath the waves.

One great point that had to be determined at the commencement of the operations was the best method of landing the stones of the building, this being a delicate and difficult process, in consequence of the weight of the stones and their brittle nature, especially in those parts which were worked to a delicate edge or formed into angular points. As the loss of a single stone, too, would stop the progress of the work until another should be prepared at the workyard in Arbroath and sent off to the rock, it may easily be imagined that this matter of the landing was of the utmost importance, and that much consultation was held in regard to it.

It would seem that engineers, as well as doctors, are apt to differ. Some suggested that each particular stone should be floated to the rock, with a cork buoy attached to it; while others proposed an air-tank, instead of the cork buoy. Others, again, proposed to sail over the rock at high water in a flat-bottomed vessel, and drop the stones one after another when over the spot they were intended to occupy. A few, still more eccentric and daring in their views, suggested that a huge cofferdam or vessel should be built on shore, and as much of the lighthouse built in this as would suffice to raise the building above the level of the highest tides; that then it should be floated off to its station on the rock, which should be previously prepared for its reception; that the cofferdam should be scuttled, and the ponderous mass of masonry, weighing perhaps 1000 tons, allowed to sink at once into its place!

All these plans, however, were rejected by Mr Stevenson, who resolved to carry the stones to the rock in boats constructed for the purpose. These were named praam boats. The stones were therefore cut in conformity with exactly measured moulds in the workyard at Arbroath, and conveyed thence in the sloops already mentioned to the rock, where the vessels were anchored at a distance sufficient to enable them to clear it in case of drifting. The cargoes were then unloaded at the moorings, and laid on the decks of the praam boats, which conveyed them to the rock, where they were laid on small trucks, run along the temporary rails, to their positions, and built in at once.

Each stone of this building was treated with as much care and solicitude as if it were a living creature. After being carefully cut and curiously formed, and conveyed to the neighbourhood of the rock, it was hoisted out of the hold and laid on the vessel’s deck, when it was handed over to the landing-master, whose duty it became to transfer it, by means of a combination of ropes and blocks, to the deck of the praam boat, and then deliver it at the rock.

As the sea was seldom calm during the building operations, and frequently in a state of great agitation, lowering the stones on the decks of the praam boats was a difficult matter.

In the act of working the apparatus, one man was placed at each of the guy-tackles. This man assisted also at the purchase-tackles for raising the stones; and one of the ablest and most active of the crew was appointed to hold on the end of the fall-tackle, which often required all his strength and his utmost agility in letting go, for the purpose of lowering the stone at the instant the word “lower” was given. In a rolling sea, much depended on the promptitude with which this part of the operation was performed. For the purpose of securing this, the man who held the tackle placed himself before the mast in a sitting, more frequently in a lying posture, with his feet stretched under the winch and abutting against the mast, as by this means he was enabled to exert his greatest strength.

The signal being given in the hold that the tackle was hooked to the stone and all ready, every man took his post, the stone was carefully, we might almost say tenderly, raised, and gradually got into position over the praam boat; the right moment was intently watched, and the word “lower” given sternly and sharply. The order was obeyed with exact promptitude, and the stone rested on the deck of the praam boat. Six blocks of granite having been thus placed on the boat’s deck, she was rowed to a buoy, and moored near the rock until the proper time of the tide for taking her into one of the landing creeks.

We are thus particular in describing the details of this part of the work, in order that the reader may be enabled to form a correct estimate of what may be termed the minor difficulties of the undertaking.

The same care was bestowed upon the landing of every stone of the building; and it is worthy of record, that notwithstanding the difficulty of this process in such peculiar circumstances, not a single stone was lost, or even seriously damaged, during the whole course of the erection of the tower, which occupied four years in building, or rather, we should say, four seasons, for no work was or could be done during winter.

A description of the first entire course of the lower part of the tower, which was built solid, will be sufficient to give an idea of the general nature of the whole work.

This course or layer consisted of 123 blocks of stone, those in the interior being sandstone, while the outer casing was of granite. Each stone was fastened to its neighbour above, below, and around by means of dovetails, joggles, oaken trenails, and mortar. Each course was thus built from its centre to its circumference, and as all the courses from the foundation to a height of thirty feet were built in this way, the tower, up to that height, became a mass of solid stone, as strong and immovable as the Bell Rock itself. Above this, or thirty feet from the foundation, the entrance-door was placed, and the hollow part of the tower began.

Thus much, then, as to the tower itself, the upper part of which will be found described in a future chapter. In regard to the subsidiary works, the erection of the beacon house was in itself a work of considerable difficulty, requiring no common effort of engineering skill. The principal beams of this having been towed to the rock by the Smeaton, all the stanchions and other material for setting them up were landed, and the workmen set about erecting them as quickly as possible, for if a single day of bad weather should occur before the necessary fixtures could be made, the whole apparatus would be infallibly swept away.

The operation being, perhaps, the most important of the season, and one requiring to be done with the utmost expedition, all hands were, on the day in which its erection was begun, gathered on the rock, besides ten additional men engaged for the purpose, and as many of the seamen from the Pharos and other vessels as could be spared. They amounted altogether to fifty-two in number.

About half-past eight o’clock in the morning a derrick, or mast, thirty feet high, was erected, and properly supported with guy-ropes for suspending the block for raising the first principal beam of the beacon, and a winch-machine was bolted down to the rock for working the purchase-tackle. The necessary blocks and tackle were likewise laid to hand and properly arranged. The men were severally allotted in squads to different stations; some were to bring the principal beams to hand, others were to work the tackles, while a third set had the charge of the iron stanchions, bolts, and wedges, so that the whole operation of raising the beams and fixing them to the rock might go forward in such a mariner that some provision might be made, in any stage of the work, for securing what had been accomplished, in case of an adverse change of weather.

The raising of the derrick was the signal for three hearty cheers, for this was a new era in the operations. Even that single spar, could it be preserved, would have been sufficient to have saved the workmen on that day when the Smeaton broke adrift and left them in such peril.

This was all, however, that could be accomplished that tide. Next day, the great beams, each fifty feet long, and about sixteen inches square, were towed to the rock about seven in the morning, and the work immediately commenced, although they had gone there so much too early in the tide that the men had to work a considerable time up to their middle in water. Each beam was raised by the tackle affixed to the derrick, until the end of it could be placed or “stepped” into the hole which had been previously prepared for its reception; then two of the great iron stanchions or supports were set into their respective holes on each side of the beam, and a rope passed round them to keep it from slipping, until it could be more permanently fixed.

This having been accomplished, the first beam became the means of raising the second, and when the first and second were fastened at the top, they formed a pair of shears by which the rest were more easily raised to their places. The heads of the beams were then fitted together and secured with ropes in a temporary manner, until the falling of the tide would permit the operations to be resumed.