The Lighthouse

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

  EVERYDAY LIFE ON THE BELL ROCK, AND OLD MEMORIES RECALLED.

  The sun shone brightly over the sea next morning; so brightly andpowerfully that it seemed to break up and disperse by force the greatstorm-clouds which hung about the sky, like the fragments of an army ofblack bullies who had done their worst and been baffled.

  The storm was over; at least, the wind had moderated down to a fresh,invigorating breeze. The white crests of the billows were few and farbetween, and the wild turmoil of waters had given place to a grandprocession of giant waves, that thundered on the Bell Rock Lighthouse,at once with more dignity and more force than the raging seas of theprevious night.

  It was the sun that awoke Ruby, by shining in at one of the smallwindows of the library, in which he slept. Of course it did not shinein his face, because of the relative positions of the library and thesun, the first being just below the lantern, and the second just abovethe horizon, so that the rays struck upwards, and shone with dazzlingbrilliancy on the dome-shaped ceiling. This was the second time ofwakening for Ruby that night, since he lay down to rest. The firstwakening was occasioned by the winding up of the machinery which keptthe lights in motion, and the chain of which, with a ponderous weightattached to it, passed through a wooden pilaster close to his ear,causing such a sudden and hideous din that the sleeper, not having beenwarned of it, sprang like a Jack-in-the-box out of bed into the middleof the room, where he first stared vacantly around him like an unusuallysurprised owl, and then, guessing the cause of the noise, smiledpitifully, as though to say, "Poor fellow, you're easily frightened,"and tumbled back into bed, where he fell asleep again instantly.

  On the second time of wakening Ruby rose to a sitting posture, yawned,looked about him, yawned again, wondered what o'clock it was, and thenlistened.

  No sound could be heard save the intermittent roar of the magnificentbreakers that beat on the Bell Rock. His couch was too low to permit ofhis seeing anything but sky out of his windows, three of which, abouttwo feet square, lighted the room. He therefore jumped up, and, whilepulling on his garments, looked towards the east, where the sun greetedand almost blinded him. Turning to the north window, a bright smile litup his countenance, and "A blessing rest on you" escaped audibly fromhis lips, as he kissed his hand towards the cliffs of Forfarshire, whichwere seen like a faint blue line on the far-off horizon, with the townof Arbroath just rising above the morning mists.

  He gazed out at this north window, and thought over all the scenes thathad passed between him and Minnie from the time they first met, down tothe day when they last parted. One of the sweetest of the mentalpictures that he painted that morning with unwonted facility, was thatof Minnie sitting at his mother's feet, comforting her with the words ofthe Bible.

  At length he turned with a sigh to resume his toilette. Looking out atthe southern window, he observed that the rocks were beginning to beuncovered, and that the "rails", or iron pathway that led to the foot ofthe entrance-door ladder, were high enough out of the water to be walkedupon. He therefore hastened to descend.

  We know not what appearance the library presented at the time when RubyBrand slept in it; but we can tell, from personal experience, that, atthe present day, it is a most comfortable and elegant apartment. Theother rooms of the lighthouse, although thoroughly substantial in theirfurniture and fittings, are quite plain and devoid of ornament, but thelibrary, or "stranger's room", as it is sometimes called, being theguest-chamber, is fitted up in a style worthy of a lady's boudoir, witha Turkey carpet, handsome chairs, and an elaborately carved oak table,supported appropriately by a centre stem of three twining dolphins. Thedome of the ceiling is painted to represent stucco panelling, and thepartition which cuts off the small segment of this circular room that isdevoted to passage and staircase, is of panelled oak. The thickness ofthis partition is just sufficient to contain the bookcase; also acleverly contrived bedstead, which can be folded up during the day outof sight. There is also a small cupboard of oak, which serves thedouble purpose of affording shelf accommodation and concealing the ironsmoke-pipe which rises from the kitchen, and, passing through theseveral storeys, projects a few feet above the lantern. The centrewindow is ornamented with marble sides and top, and above it stands amarble bust of Robert Stevenson, the engineer of the building, with amarble slab below bearing testimony to the skill and energy with whichhe had planned and executed the work.

  If not precisely what we have described it to be at the present time,the library must have been somewhat similar on that morning when ourhero issued from it and descended to the rock.

  The first stair landed him at the entrance to the sleeping-berths. Helooked into one, and observed Forsyth's head and arms lying in the bed,in that peculiarly negligent style that betokens deep and sweet repose.Dumsby's rest was equally sound in the next berth. This fact did notrequire proof by ocular demonstration; his nose announced it sonorouslyover the whole building.

  Passing to the kitchen, immediately below, Ruby found his old messmate,Jamie Dove, busy in the preparation of breakfast.

  "Ha! Ruby, good mornin'; you keep up your early habits, I see. Can'tshake yer paw, lad, 'cause I'm up to the elbows in grease, not to speako' sutt an' ashes."

  "When did you learn to cook, Jamie?" said Ruby, laughing.

  "When I came here. You see we've all got to take it turn and turnabout, and it's wonderful how soon a feller gets used to it. I'm ratherfond of it, d'ye know? We haven't overmuch to work on in the way o'variety, to be sure, but what we have there's lots of it, an' it givesus occasion to exercise our wits to invent somethin' new. It'swonderful what can be done with fresh beef, cabbage, carrots, potatoes,flour, tea, bread, mustard, sugar, pepper, an' the like, if ye've got atalent that way."

  "You've got it all off by heart, I see," said Ruby.

  "True, boy, but it's not so easy to get it all off yer stomachsometimes. What with confinement and want of exercise we was troubledwith indigestion at first, but we're used to it now, and I have acquiredquite a fancy for cooking. No doubt you'll hear Forsyth and Joe saythat I've half-pisoned them four or five times, but that's all envy;besides, a feller can't learn a trade without doin' a little damage tosomebody or something at first. Did you ever taste blackbird pie?"

  "No," replied Ruby, "never."

  "Then you shall taste one to-day, for we caught fifty birds last week."

  "Caught fifty birds?"

  "Ay, but I'll tell ye about it some other time. Be off just now, andget as much exercise out o' the rock as ye can before breakfast."

  The smith resumed his work as he said this, and Ruby descended.

  He found the sea still roaring over the rock, but the rails were so faruncovered that he could venture on them, yet he had to keep a sharplookout, for, whenever a larger breaker than usual struck the rock, thegush of foaming water that flew over it was so great that a spurt or twowould sometimes break up between the iron bars, and any one of thesespurts would have sufficed to give him a thorough wetting.

  In a short time, however, the sea went back and left the rails free.Soon after that Ruby was joined by Forsyth and Dumsby, who had come downfor their morning promenade.

  They had to walk in single file while taking exercise, as the tramwaywas not wide enough for two, and the rock, even when fully uncovered,did not afford sufficient level space for comfortable walking, althoughat low water (as the reader already knows) it afforded fully a hundredyards of scrambling ground, if not more.

  They had not walked more than a few minutes when they were joined byJamie Dove, who announced breakfast, and proceeded to take two or threeturns by way of cooling himself. Thereafter the party returned to thekitchen, where they sat down to as good a meal as any reasonable mancould desire.

  There was cold boiled beef--the remains of yesterday's dinner--and a bitof broiled cod, a native of the Bell Rock, caught from the doorway athigh water the day before. There was tea also, and toast--butteredtoast, hot out o
f the oven.

  Dove was peculiarly good at what may be styled toast-cooking. Indeed,all the lightkeepers were equally good. The bread was cut an inchthick, and butter was laid on as plasterers spread plaster with atrowel. There was no scraping off a bit here to put it on there; nodigging out pieces from little caverns in the bread with the point ofthe knife; no repetition of the work to spread it thinner, and, aboveall, no omitting of corners and edges;--no, the smallest conceivable flycould not have found the minutest atom of dry footing on a Bell Rockslice of toast, from its centre to its circumference. Dove had aliberal heart, and he laid on the butter with a liberal hand. Fair playand no favour was his motto, quarter-inch thick was his gauge, railwayspeed his practice. The consequence was that the toast floated, as itwere, down the throats of the men, and compensated to some extent forthe want of milk in the tea.

  "Now, boys, sit in," cried Dove, seizing the teapot.

  "We have not much variety," observed Dumsby to Ruby, in an apologetictone.

  "Variety!" exclaimed Forsyth, "what d'ye call that?" pointing to thefish.

  "Well, that _is_ a hextra morsel, I admit," returned Joe; "but we don'tget that every day; 'owsever, wot there is is good, an' there's plentyof it, so let's fall to."

  Forsyth said grace, and then they all "fell to", with appetites peculiarto that isolated and breezy spot, where the wind blows so fresh from theopen sea that the nostrils inhale culinary odours, and the palates seizeculinary products, with unusual relish.

  There was something singularly unfeminine in the manner in which theduties of the table were performed by these stalwart guardians of theRock. We are accustomed to see such duties performed by the tenderhands of woman, or, it may be, by the expert fingers of trainedlandsmen; but in places where woman may not or can not act withpropriety,--as on shipboard, or in sea-girt towers,--men go through suchfeminine work in a way that does credit to their versatility,--also tothe strength of culinary materials and implements.

  The way in which Jamie Dove and his comrades knocked about the pans,teapots, cups and saucers, etcetera, without smashing them, would haveastonished, as well as gratified, the hearts of the fraternity oftinsmiths and earthenware manufacturers.

  We have said that everything in the lighthouse was substantial and verystrong. All the woodwork was oak, the floors and walls of solidstone,--hence, when Dove, who had no nerves or physical feelings,proceeded with his cooking, the noise he caused was tremendous. A manused to woman's gentle ways would, on seeing him poke the fire, haveexpected that the poker would certainly penetrate not only the coals,but the back of the grate also, and perchance make its appearance at theoutside of the building itself, through stones, joggles, dovetails,trenails, pozzolano mortar, and all the strong materials that havewithstood the fury of winds and waves for the last half-century!

  Dove treated the other furniture in like manner; not that he treated itill,--we would not have the reader imagine this for a moment. He wasnot reckless of the household goods. He was merely indifferent as tothe row he made in using them.

  But it was when the cooking was over, and the table had to be spread,that the thing culminated. Under the impulse of lightheartedness,caused by the feeling that his labours for the time were nearly ended,and that his reward was about to be reaped, he went about withirresistible energy, like the proverbial bull in a china shop, withoutreaching that creature's destructive point. It was then that a beamingsmile overspread his countenance, and he raged about the kitchen withVulcan-like joviality. He pulled out the table from the wall to thecentre of the apartment, with a swing that produced a prolonged crash.Up went its two leaves with two minor crashes. Down went the fourplates and the cups and saucers, with such violence and rapidity thatthey all seemed to be dancing on the board together. The beef all butwent over the side of its dish by reason of the shock of its suddenstoppage on touching the table, and the pile of toast was only savedfrom scatteration by the strength of the material, so to speak, withwhich its successive layers were cemented.

  When the knives, forks, and spoons came to be laid down, the stormseemed to lull, because these were comparatively light implements, sothat this period--which in shore-going life is usually found to be theexasperating one--was actually a season of relief. But it was alwaysfollowed by a terrible squall of scraping wooden legs and clanking humanfeet when the camp-stools were set, and the men came in and sat down tothe meal.

  The pouring out of the tea, however, was the point that would havecalled forth the admiration of the world--had the world seen it. What acontrast between the miserable, sickly, slow-dribbling silver and otherteapots of the land, and this great teapot of the sea! The Bell Rockteapot had no sham, no humbug about it. It was a big, bold-looking one,of true Britannia metal, with vast internal capacity and a gaping mouth.

  Dove seized it in his strong hand as he would have grasped his biggestfore-hammer. Before you could wink, a sluice seemed to burst open; atorrent of rich brown tea spouted at your cup, and it was full--thesaucer too, perhaps--in a moment.

  But why dwell on these luxurious scenes? Reader, you can never knowthem from experience unless you go to visit the Bell Rock; we willtherefore cease to tantalise you.

  During breakfast it was discussed whether or not the signal-ball shouldbe hoisted.

  The signal-ball was fixed to a short staff on the summit of thelighthouse, and the rule was that it should be hoisted at a fixed hourevery morning _when all was well_, and kept up until an answering signalshould be made from a signal-tower in Arbroath where the keepers'families dwelt, and where each keeper in succession spent a fortnightwith his family, after a spell of six weeks on the rock. It was theduty of the keeper on shore to watch for the hoisting of the ball (the"All's well" signal) each morning on the lighthouse, and to reply to itwith a similar ball on the signal-tower.

  If, on any occasion, the hour for signalling should pass without theball on the lighthouse being shown, then it was understood thatsomething was wrong, and the attending boat of the establishment wassent off at once to ascertain the cause, and afford relief if necessary.The keeping down of the ball was, however, an event of rare occurrence,so that when it did take place the poor wives of the men on the rockwere usually thrown into a state of much perturbation and anxiety, eachnaturally supposing that her husband must be seriously ill, or have metwith a bad accident.

  It was therefore natural that there should be some hesitation aboutkeeping down the ball merely for the purpose of getting a boat off tosend Ruby ashore.

  "You see," said Forsyth, "the day after to-morrow the `relief boat' isdue, and it may be as well just to wait for that, Ruby, and then you cango ashore with your friend Jamie Dove, for it's his turn this time."

  "Ay, lad, just make up your mind to stay another day," said the smith;"as they don't know you're here they can't be wearyin' for you, and I'lltake ye an' introduce you to my little wife, that I fell in with on thecliffs of Arbroath not long after ye was kidnapped. Besides, Ruby,it'll do ye good to feed like a fighting cock out here another day.Have another cup o' tea?"

  "An' a junk o' beef?" said Forsyth.

  "An' a slice o' toast?" said Dumsby.

  Ruby accepted all these offers, and soon afterwards the four friendsdescended to the rock, to take as much exercise as they could on itslimited surface, during the brief period of low water that stillremained to them.

  It may easily be imagined that this ramble was an interesting one, andwas prolonged until the tide drove them into their tower of refuge.Every rock, every hollow, called up endless reminiscences of the busybuilding seasons. Ruby went over it all step by step with somewhat ofthe feelings that influence a man when he revisits the scene of hischildhood.

  There was the spot where the forge had stood.

  "D'ye mind it, lad?" said Dove. "There are the holes where the hearthwas fixed, and there's the rock where you vaulted over the bellows whenye took that splendid dive after the fair-haired lassie into the poolyonder."

  "Mind it
? Ay, I should think so!"

  Then there were the holes where the great beams of the beacon had beenfixed, and the iron bats, most of which latter were still left in therock, and some of which may be seen there at the present day. There wasalso the pool into which poor Selkirk had tumbled with the vegetables onthe day of the first dinner on the rock, and that other pool into whichForsyth had plunged after the mermaids; and, not least interesting amongthe spots of note, there was the ledge, now named the "Last Hope", onwhich Mr Stevenson and his men had stood on the day when the boat hadbeen carried away, and they had expected, but were mercifully preservedfrom, a terrible tragedy.

  After they had talked much on all these things, and long before theywere tired of it, the sea drove them to the rails; gradually, as it rosehigher, it drove them into the lighthouse, and then each man went to hiswork--Jamie Dove to his kitchen, in order to clean up and preparedinner, and the other two to the lantern, to scour and polish thereflectors, refill and trim the lamps, and, generally, to put everythingin order for the coming night.

  Ruby divided his time between the kitchen and lantern, lending a hand ineach, but, we fear, interrupting the work more than he advanced it.

  That day it fell calm, and the sun shone brightly.

  "We'll have fog to-night," observed Dumsby to Brand, pausing in theoperation of polishing a reflector, in which his fat face was mirroredwith the most indescribable and dreadful distortions.

  "D'ye think so?"

  "I'm sure of it."

  "You're right," remarked Forsyth, looking from his elevated position tothe seaward horizon, "I can see it coming now."

  "I say, what smell is that?" exclaimed Ruby, sniffing.

  "Somethink burnin'," said Dumsby, also sniffing.

  "Why, what can it be?" murmured Forsyth, looking round and likewisesniffing. "Hallo! Joe, look out; you're on fire!"

  Joe started, clapped his hand behind him, and grasped hisinexpressibles, which were smouldering warmly. Ruby assisted, and thefire was soon put out, amidst much laughter.

  "'Ang them reflectors!" said Joe, seating himself, and breathing hardafter his alarm and exertions; "it's the third time they've set meablaze."

  "The reflectors, Joe?" said Ruby.

  "Ay, don't ye see? They've nat'rally got a focus, an' w'en I 'appen tobe standin' on a sunny day in front of 'em, contemplatin' the face o'natur', as it wor, through the lantern panes, if I gits into the focusby haccident, d'ye see, it just acts like a burnin'-glass."

  Ruby could scarcely believe this, but after testing the truth of thestatement by actual experiment he could no longer doubt it.

  Presently a light breeze sprang up, rolling the fog before it, and thendying away, leaving the lighthouse enshrouded.

  During fog there is more danger to shipping than at any other time. Inthe daytime, in ordinary weather, rocks and lighthouses can be seen. Atnight, lights can be seen, but during fog nothing can be seen untildanger may be too near to be avoided. The two great fog-bells of thelighthouse were therefore set a-going, and they rang out their slowdeep-toned peal all that day and all that night, as the bell of theAbbot of Aberbrothoc is said to have done in days of yore.

  That night Ruby was astonished, and then he was stunned! First, as tohis astonishment. While he was seated by the kitchen fire chatting withhis friend the smith, sometime between nine o'clock and midnight, Dumsbysummoned him to the lantern to "help in catching to-morrow's dinner!"

  Dove laughed at the summons, and they all went up.

  The first thing that caught Ruby's eye at one of the window panes wasthe round visage of an owl, staring in with its two large eyes as if ithad gone mad with amazement, and holding on to the iron frame with itsclaws. Presently its claws lost hold, and it fell off into outerdarkness.

  "What think ye o' that for a beauty?" said Forsyth.

  Ruby's eyes, being set free from the fascination of the owl's stare, nowmade him aware of the fact that hundreds of birds of all kinds--crows,magpies, sparrows, tomtits, owls, larks, mavises, blackbirds, etcetera,etcetera--were fluttering round the lantern outside, apparently bent onascertaining the nature of the wonderful light within.

  "Ah! poor things," said Forsyth, in answer to Ruby's look of wonder,"they often visit us in foggy weather. I suppose they get out to sea inthe fog and can't find their way back to land, and then some of themchance to cross our light and take refuge on it."

  "Now I'll go out and get to-morrow's dinner," said Dumsby. He went outaccordingly, and, walking round the balcony that encircled the base ofthe lantern, was seen to put his hand up and quietly take down and wringthe necks of such birds as he deemed suitable for his purpose. Itseemed a cruel act to Ruby, but when he came to think of it he feltthat, as they were to be stewed at any rate, the more quickly they werekilled the better!

  He observed that the birds kept fluttering about, alighting for a fewmoments and flying off again, all the time that Dumsby was at work, yetDumsby never failed to seize his prey.

  Presently the man came in with a small basket full of _game_. "Now,Ruby," said he, "I'll bet a sixpence that you don't catch a bird withinfive minutes."

  "I don't bet such large sums usually, but I'll try," said Ruby, goingout.

  He tried and failed. Just as the five minutes were expiring, however,the owl happened to alight before his nose, so he "nabbed" it, andcarried it in triumphantly.

  "_That_ ain't a bird," said Dumsby.

  "It's not a fish," retorted Ruby; "but how is it that you caught them soeasily, and I found it so difficult?"

  "Because, lad, you must do it at the right time. You watch w'en thefocus of a revolvin' light is comin' full in a bird's face. The momentit does so 'e's dazzled, and you grab 'im. If you grab too soon or toolate, 'e's away. That's 'ow it is, and they're capital heatin', asyou'll _find_."

  Thus much for Ruby's astonishment. Now for his being stunned.

  Late that night the fog cleared away, and the bells were stopped. Aftera long chat with his friends, Ruby mounted to the library and went tobed. Later still the fog returned, and the bells were again seta-going. Both of them being within a few feet of Ruby's head, theyawakened him with a bang that caused him to feel as if the room in whichhe lay were a bell and his own head the tongue thereof.

  At first the sound was solemnising, then it was saddening. After a timeit became exasperating, and then maddening. He tried to sleep, but heonly tossed. He tried to meditate, but he only wandered--not "indreams", however. He tried to laugh, but the laugh degenerated into agrowl. Then he sighed, and the sigh ended in a groan. Finally, he gotup and walked up and down the floor till his legs were cold, when heturned into bed again, very tired, and fell asleep, but not to rest--todream.

  He dreamt that he was at the forge again, and that he and Dove weretrying to smash their anvils with the sledge-hammers--bang and bangabout. But the anvil would not break. At last he grew desperate, hitthe horn off, and then, with another terrific blow, smashed the wholeaffair to atoms!

  This startled him a little, and he awoke sufficiently to become aware ofthe fog-bells.

  Again he dreamed. Minnie was his theme now, but, strange to say, hefelt little or no tenderness towards her. She was beset by a hundredruffians in pea-jackets and sou'westers. Something stirred him tomadness. He rushed at the foe, and began to hit out at them right andleft. The hitting was slow, but sure--regular as clock-work. First theright, then the left, and at each blow a seaman's nose was driven intohis head, and a seaman's body lay flat on the ground. At length theywere all floored but one--the last and the biggest. Ruby threw all hisremaining strength into one crashing blow, drove his fist right throughhis antagonist's body, and awoke with a start to find his knucklesbleeding.

  "Hang these bells!" he exclaimed, starting up and gazing round him indespair. Then he fell back on his pillow in despair, and went to sleepin despair.

  Once more he dreamed. He was going to church now, dressed in a suit ofthe finest broadcloth, with Minnie o
n his arm, clothed in pure white,emblematic, it struck him, of her pure gentle spirit. Friends were withhim, all gaily attired, and very happy, but unaccountably silent.Perhaps it was the noise of the wedding-bells that rendered their voicesinaudible. He was struck by the solemnity as well as the pertinacity ofthese wedding-bells as he entered the church. He was puzzled too, beinga Presbyterian, why he was to be married in church, but being a man ofliberal mind, he made no objection to it.

  They all assembled in front of the pulpit, into which the clergyman, avery reverend but determined man, mounted with a prayer book in hishand. Ruby was puzzled again. He had not supposed that the pulpit wasthe proper place, but modestly attributed this to his ignorance.

  "Stop those bells!" said the clergyman, with stern solemnity; but theywent on.

  "Stop them, I say!" he roared in a voice of thunder.

  The sexton, pulling the ropes in the middle of the church, paid noattention.

  Exasperated beyond endurance, the clergyman hurled the prayer book atthe sexton's head, and felled him! Still the bells went on of their ownaccord.

  "Stop! sto-o-o-op! I say," he yelled fiercely, and, hitting the pulpitwith his fist, he split it from top to bottom.

  Minnie cried "Shame!" at this, and from that moment the bells ceased.

  Whether it was that the fog-bells ceased at that time, or that Minnie'svoice charmed Ruby's thoughts away, we cannot tell, but certain it isthat the severely tried youth became entirely oblivious of everything.The marriage-party vanished with the bells; Minnie, alas, faded awayalso; finally, the roar of the sea round the Bell Rock, the rock itself,its lighthouse and its inmates, and all connected with it, faded fromthe sleeper's mind, and:--

  "Like the baseless fabric of a vision Left not a wrack behind."