Robert Michael Ballantyne
The Lighthouse
Chapter Twenty One
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 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 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 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?”
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 hunk 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!
