"A deafening cheer interrupted the speaker, who, when it ceased, proceeded—
"'Well, then, I've but one piece of advice to give ye: Obey orders at once. When I tell ye to halt, stop dead like lampposts; when I say, "Charge!" go at them like wild cats, and drive the Frenchmen into the sea!' 'Hurrah!' yelled the crowd, for they were wild with excitement and rage, and only wanted a leader to organize them and make them formidable. When the cheer ceased, Ogilvy cried, 'Now, then, every man who knows how to beat a kettledrum and blow a trumpet come here.'
"About twenty men answered to the summons, and to these Ogilvy said aloud, in order that all might hear, 'Go, get you all the trumpets, drums, horns, bugles, and trombones in the town; beat the drums till they split, and blow the bugles till they burst, and don't give in till ye can't go on. The rest of you,' he added, turning to the crowd, 'go, get arms, guns, swords, pistols, scythes, pitchforks, pokers—anything, everything—and meet me at the head of Market-gate—away!'
"No king of necromancers ever dispersed his legions more rapidly than did Ogilvy on that occasion. They gave one final cheer, and scattered like chaff before the wind, leaving their commander alone, with a select few, whom he kept by him as a sort of staff to consult with and despatch with orders.
"The noise that instantly ensued in the town was something pandemoniacal. Only three drums were found, but tin kettles and pans were not wanting, and these, superintended by Hugh Barr, the town drummer, did great execution. Three key-bugles, an old French horn, and a tin trumpet of a mail-coach guard, were sounded at intervals in every quarter of the town, while the men were marshalled, and made to march hither and thither in detached bodies, as if all were busily engaged in making preparations for a formidable defence.
"In one somewhat elevated position a number of men were set to work with spades, picks, and shovels, to throw up an earthwork. When it had assumed sufficiently large dimensions to attract the attention of the French, a body of men, with blue jackets, and caps with bits of red flannel hanging down the sides, were marched up behind it at the double, and posted there.
"Meanwhile Ogilvy had prepared a dummy field piece, by dismounting a cart from its wheels and fixing on the axle a great old wooden pump, not unlike a big gun in shape; another cart was attached to this to represent a limber; four horses were harnessed to the affair; two men mounted these, and, amid a tremendous flourish of trumpets and beating of drums, the artillery went crashing along the streets and up the eminence crowned by the earthwork, where they wheeled the gun into position.
"The artillerymen sprang at the old pump like true Britons, and began to sponge it out as if they had been bred to gunnery from childhood, while the limber was detached and galloped to the rear. In this operation the cart was smashed to pieces, and the two hindmost horses were thrown; but this mattered little, as they had got round a corner, and the French did not see it.
"Fall and his brave men seem to have been upset altogether by these warlike demonstrations, for the moment the big gun made its appearance the sails were shaken loose, and the French privateer sheered off, capturing as he left the bay, however, several small vessels, which he carried off as prizes to France. And so," concluded the lieutenant, "Captain Fall sailed away, and never was heard of more."
"Well told; well told, leftenant," cried the captain, whose eyes sparkled at the concluding account of the defensive operations, "and true every word of it."
"That's good testimony to my truthfulness, then," said Lindsay, laughing, "for you were there yourself!"
"There yourself, uncle?" repeated Minnie, with a glance of surprise that quickly changed into a look of intelligence, as she exclaimed, with a merry laugh, "Ah! I see. It was you, uncle, who did it all; who commanded on that occasion——"
"My child," said the captain, resuming his pipe with an expression of mild reproof on his countenance, "don't go for to pry too deep into things o' the past. I may have been a fire-eater once—I may have been a gay young feller as could——; but no matter. Avast musin'! As Lord Bacon says—
'The light of other days is faded,
An' all their glory 'a past;
My boots no longer look as they did,
But, like my coat, are goin' fast.'
But I say, leftenant, how long do you mean to keep pullin' about here, without an enemy, or, as far as I can see, an object in view? Don't you think we might land, and let Minnie see some of the caves?"
"With all my heart, captain, and here is a convenient bay to run the boat ashore."
As he spoke the boat shot past one of those bold promontories of red sandstone which project along that coast in wild picturesque forms, terminating in some instances in detached headlands, elsewhere in natural arches. The cliffs were so close to the boat that they could have been touched by the oars, while the rocks, rising to a considerable height, almost overhung them. Just beyond this a beautiful bay opened up to view, with a narrow strip of yellow shingle round the base of the cliffs, which here lost for a short distance their rugged character, though not their height, and were covered with herbage. A zigzag path led to the top, and the whole neighbourhood was full of ocean-worn coves and gullies, some of them dry, and many filled with water, while others were filled at high tide, and left empty when the tides fell.
"O how beautiful! and what a place for smugglers!" was Minnie's enthusiastic exclamation on first catching sight of the bay.
"The smugglers and you would appear to be of one mind," said Ruby, "for they are particularly fond of this place."
"So fond of it," said the lieutenant, "that I mean to wait for them here in anticipation of a moonlight visit this night, if my fair passenger will consent to wander in such wild places at such late hours, guarded from the night air by my boat-cloak, and assured of the protection of my stout boatmen in case of any danger, although there is little prospect of our meeting with any greater danger than a breeze or a shower of rain."
Minnie said that she would like nothing better; that she did not mind the night air; and, as to danger from men, she felt that she should be well cared for in present circumstances.
As she uttered the last words she naturally glanced at Ruby, for Minnie was of a dependent and trusting nature; but as Ruby happened to be regarding her intently, though quite accidentally, at the moment, she dropped her eyes and blushed.
It is wonderful the power of a little glance at times. The glance referred to made Ruby perfectly happy. It conveyed to him the assurance that Minnie regarded the protection of the entire boat's crew, including the lieutenant, as quite unnecessary, and that she deemed his single arm all that she required or wanted.
The sun was just dipping behind the tall cliffs, and his parting rays were kissing the top of Minnie's head as if they positively could not help it, and had recklessly made up their mind to do it, come what might!
Ruby looked at the golden light kissing the golden hair, and he felt——
Oh! you know, reader; if you have ever been in similar circumstances, you understand what he felt; if you have not, no words from me, or from any other man, can ever convey to you the most distant idea of what Ruby felt on that occasion!
On reaching the shore they all went up to the green banks at the foot of the cliffs, and turned round to watch the men as they pulled the boat to a convenient point for re-embarking at a moment's notice.
"You see," said the lieutenant, pursuing a conversation which he had been holding with the captain, "I have been told that Big Swankie, and his mate Davy Spink (who, it seems, is not over-friendly with him just now), mean to visit one of the luggers which is expected to come in to-night, before the moon rises, and bring off some kegs of Auchmithie water, which, no doubt, they will try to hide in Dickmont's Den. I shall lie snugly here on the watch, and hope to nab them before they reach that celebrated old smuggler's abode."
"Well, I'll stay about here," said the captain, "and show Minnie the caves. I would like to have taken her to see the Gaylet Pot, which is one o' the queerest hereabouts; but I'm too old for such rough work now."
"But I am not too old for it," interposed Ruby, "so if Minnie would like to go——"
"But I won't desert you, uncle," said Minnie hastily.
"Nay, lass, call it not desertion. I can smoke my pipe here, an' contemplate. I'm fond of contemplation—
'By the starry light of the summer night,
On the banks of the blue Moselle,'
though, for the matter o' that, moonlight'll do, if there's no stars. I think it's good for the mind, Minnie, and keeps all taut. Contemplation is just like takin' an extra pull on the lee braces. So you may go with Ruby, lass."
Thus advised, and being further urged by Ruby himself, and being moreover exceedingly anxious to see this cave, Minnie consented; so the two set off together, and, climbing to the summit of the cliffs, followed the narrow footpath that runs close to their giddy edge all along the coast.
In less than half an hour they reached the Giel or Gaylet Pot.
CHAPTER XIX
AN ADVENTURE—SECRETS REVEALED, AND A PRIZE
The Giel or Gaylet Pot, down into which Ruby, with great care and circumspection, led Minnie, is one of the most curious of Nature's freaks among the cliffs of Arbroath.
In some places there is a small scrap of pebbly beach at the base of those perpendicular cliffs; in most places there is none—the cliffs presenting to the sea almost a dead wall, where neither ship nor boat could find refuge from the storm.
The country, inland, however, does not partake of the rugged nature of the cliffs. It slopes gradually towards them—so gradually that it may be termed flat, and if a stranger were to walk towards the sea over the fields in a dark night, the first intimation he would receive of his dangerous position would be when his foot descended into the terrible abyss that would receive his shattered frame a hundred feet below.
In one of the fields there is a hole about a hundred yards across, and as deep as the cliffs in that part are high. It is about fifty or eighty yards from the edge of the cliffs, and resembles an old quarry; but it is cut so sharply out of the flat field that it shows no sign of its existence until the traveller is close upon it. The rocky sides, too, are so steep, that at first sight it seems as if no man could descend into it. But the most peculiar point about this hole is, that at the foot of it there is the opening of a cavern, through which the sea rolls into the hole, and breaks in wavelets on a miniature shore. The sea has forced its way inland and underground until it has burst into the bottom of this hole, which is not inaptly compared to a pot with water boiling at the bottom of it. When a spectator looks into the cave, standing at the bottom of the "Pot", he sees the seaward opening at the other end—a bright spot of light in the dark interior.
"You won't get nervous, Minnie?" said Ruby, pausing when about halfway down the steep declivity, where the track, or rather the place of descent, became still more steep and difficult; "a slip here would be dangerous."
"I have no fear, Ruby, as long as you keep by me."
In a few minutes they reached the bottom, and, looking up, the sky appeared above them like a blue circular ceiling, with the edges of the Gaylet Pot sharply defined against it.
Proceeding over a mass of fallen rock, they reached the pebbly strand at the cave's inner mouth.
"I can see the interior now, as my eyes become accustomed to the dim light," said Minnie, gazing up wistfully into the vaulted roof, where the edges of projecting rocks seemed to peer out of darkness. "Surely this must be a place for smugglers to come to!"
"They don't often come here. The place is not so suitable as many of the other caves are."
From the low, subdued tones in which they both spoke, it was evident that the place inspired them with feelings of awe.
"Come, Minnie," said Ruby, at length, in a more cheerful tone, "let us go into this cave and explore it."
"But the water may be deep," objected Minnie; "besides, I do not like to wade, even though it be shallow."
"Nay, sweet one; do you think I would ask you to wet your pretty feet? There is very little wading required. See, I have only to raise you in my arms and take two steps into the water, and a third step to the left round that projecting rock, where I can set you down on another beach inside the cave. Your eyes will soon get used to the subdued light, and then you will see things much more clearly than you would think it possible viewed from this point."
Minnie did not require much pressing. She had perfect confidence in her lover, and was naturally fearless in disposition, so she was soon placed on the subterranean beach of the Gaylet Cave, and for some time wandered about in the dimly-lighted place, leaning on Ruby's arm.
Gradually their eyes became accustomed to the place, and then its mysterious beauty and wildness began to have full effect on their minds, inducing them to remain for a long time silent, as they sat side by side on a piece of fallen rock.
They sat looking in the direction of the seaward entrance to the cavern, where the light glowed brightly on the rocks, gradually losing its brilliancy as it penetrated the cave, until it became quite dim in the centre. No part of the main cave was quite dark, but the offshoot, in which the lovers sat, was almost dark. To anyone viewing it from the outer cave it would have appeared completely so.
"Is that a sea-gull at the outlet?" enquired Minnie, after a long pause.
Ruby looked intently for a moment in the direction indicated.
"Minnie," he said quickly, and in a tone of surprise, "that is a large gull, if it be one at all, and uses oars instead of wings. Who can it be? Smugglers never come here that I am aware of, and Lindsay is not a likely man to waste his time in pulling about when he has other work to do."
"Perhaps it may be some fishermen from Auchmithie," suggested Minnie, "who are fond of exploring, like you and me."
"Mayhap it is, but we shall soon see, for here they come. We must keep out of sight, my girl."
Ruby rose and led Minnie into the recesses of the cavern, where they were speedily shrouded in profound darkness, and could not be seen by anyone, although they themselves could observe all that occurred in the space in front of them.
The boat, which had entered the cavern by its seaward mouth, was a small one, manned by two fishermen, who were silent as they rowed under the arched roof; but it was evident that their silence did not proceed from caution, for they made no effort to prevent or check the noise of the oars.
In a few seconds the keel grated on the peebles, and one of the men leaped out.
"Noo, Davy," he said, in a voice that sounded deep and hollow under that vaulted roof, "oot wi' the kegs. Haste ye, man."
"Tis Big Swankie," whispered Ruby.
"There's nae hurry," objected the other fisherman, who, we need scarcely inform the reader, was our friend, Davy Spink.
"Nae hurry!" repeated his comrade angrily. "That's aye yer cry. Half 'o oor ventures hae failed because ye object to hurry."
"Hoot, man! that's enough o't," said Spink, in the nettled tone of a man who has been a good deal worried. Indeed, the tones of both showed that these few sentences were but the continuation of a quarrel which had begun elsewhere.
"It's plain to me that we must pairt, freen'," said Swankie in a dogged manner, as he lifted a keg out of the boat and placed it on the ground.
"Ay," exclaimed Spink, with something of a sneer, "an" d'ye think I'll pairt without a diveesion o' the siller tea-pats and things that ye daurna sell for fear o' bein' fund out?"
"I wonder ye dinna claim half o' the jewels and things as weel," retorted Swankie; "ye hae mair right to them, seein' ye had a hand in findin' them."
"Me a hand in findin' them," exclaimed Spink, with sudden indignation. "Was it me that fand the deed body o' the auld man on the Bell Rock? Na, na, freend. I hae naething to do wi' deed men's jewels."
"Have ye no?" retorted the other. "It's strange, then, that ye should entertain such sma' objections to deed men's siller." "Weel-a-weel, Swankie, the less we say on thae matters the better. Here, tak' hand o' the tither keg."
The conversation ceased at this stage abruptly. Evidently each had touched on the other's weak point, so both tacitly agreed to drop the subject.
Presently Big Swankie took out a flint and steel, and proceeded to strike a light. It was some some time before the tinder would catch. At each stroke of the steel a shower of brilliant sparks lit up his countenance for an instant, and this momentary glance showed that its expression was not prepossessing by any means.
Ruby drew Minnie farther into the recess which concealed them, and awaited the result with some anxiety, for he felt that the amount of knowledge with which he had become possessed thus unintentionally, small though it was, was sufficient to justify the smugglers in regarding him as a dangerous enemy.
He had scarcely drawn himself quite within the shadow of the recess, when Swankie succeeded in kindling a torch, which filled the cavern with a lurid light, and revealed its various forms, rendering it, if possible, more mysterious and unearthly than ever.
"Here, Spink," cried Swankie, who was gradually getting into better humour, "haud the light, and gie me the spade."
"Ye better put them behind the rock, far in," suggested Spink.
The other seemed to entertain this idea for a moment, for he raised the torch above his head, and, advancing into the cave, carefully examined the rocks at the inner end.
Step by step he drew near to the place where Ruby and Minnie were concealed, muttering to himself, as he looked at each spot that might possibly suit his purpose, "Na, na, the waves wad wash the kegs oot o' that if it cam' on to blaw."
He made another step forward, and the light fell almost on the head of Ruby, who felt Minnie's arm tremble. He clenched his hands with that feeling of resolve that comes over a man when he has made up his mind to fight.
Just then an exclamation of surprise escaped from his comrade.
"Losh! man, what have we here?" he cried, picking up a small object that glittered in the light.
Minnie's heart sank, for she could see that the thing was a small brooch which she was in the habit of wearing in her neckerchief, and which must have been detached when Ruby carried her into the cave.
She felt assured that this would lead to their discovery; but it had quite the opposite effect, for it caused Swankie to turn round and examine the trinket with much curiosity.
A long discussion as to how it could have come there immediately ensued between the smugglers, in the midst of which a wavelet washed against Swankie's feet, reminding him that the tide was rising, and that he had no time to lose.
"There's nae place behint the rocks," said he quickly, putting the brooch in his pocket, "so we'll just hide the kegs amang the stanes. Lucky for us that we got the rest o' the cargo run ashore at Auchmithie. This'll lie snugly here, and we'll pull past the leftenant, who thinks we havena seen him, with oor heeds up and oor tongues in oor cheeks."
They both chuckled heartily at the idea of disappointing the preventive officer, and while one held the torch the other dug a hole in the beach deep enough to contain the two kegs.
"In ye go, my beauties," said Swankie, covering them up. "Mony's the time I've buried ye."
"Ay, an' mony's the time ye've helped at their resurrection," added
Spink, with a laugh.
"Noo, we'll away an' have a look at the kegs in the Forbidden Cave," said Swankie, "see that they're a' richt, an' then have our game wi' the land-sharks."
Next moment the torch was dashed against the stones and extinguished, and the two men, leaping into their boat, rowed away. As they passed through the outer cavern, Ruby heard them arrange to go back to Auchmithie. Their voices were too indistinct to enable him to ascertain their object in doing so, but he knew enough of the smugglers to enable him to guess that it was for the purpose of warning some of their friends of the presence of the preventive boat, which their words proved that they had seen.
"Now, Minnie," said he, starting up as soon as the boat had disappeared, "this is what I call good luck, for not only shall we be able to return with something to the boat, but we shall be able to intercept big Swankie and his comrade, and offer them a glass of their own gin!"
"Yes, and I shall be able to boast of having had quite a little adventure," said Minnie, who, now that her anxiety was over, began to feel elated.
They did not waste time in conversation, however, for the digging up of two kegs from a gravelly beach with fingers instead of a spade was not a quick or easy thing to do; so Ruby found as he went down on his knees in that dark place and began the work.
"Can I help you?" asked his fair companion after a time.
"Help me! What? Chafe and tear your little hands with work that all but skins mine? Nay, truly. But here comes one, and the other will soon follow. Yo, heave, HO!"
With the well-known nautical shout Ruby put forth an herculean effort, and tore the kegs out of the earth. After a short pause he carried Minnie out of the cavern, and led her to the field above by the same path by which they had descended.
Then he returned for the kegs of gin. They were very heavy, but not too heavy for the strength of the young giant, who was soon hastening with rapid strides towards the bay, where they had left their friends. He bore a keg under each arm, and Minnie tripped lightly by his side,—and laughingly, too, for she enjoyed the thought of the discomfiture that was in store for the smugglers.
CHAPTER XX
THE SMUGGLERS ARE "TREATED" TO GIN AND ASTONISHMENT
They found the lieutenant and Captain Ogilvy stretched on the grass, smoking their pipes together. The daylight had almost deepened into night, and a few stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky.
"Hey! what have we here—smugglers'!" cried the captain, springing up rather quickly, as Ruby came unexpectedly on them.
"Just so, uncle," said Minnie, with a laugh. "We have here some gin, smuggled all the way from Holland, and have come to ask your opinion of it."
"Why, Ruby, how came you by this?" enquired Lindsay in amazement, as he examined the kegs with critical care.
"Suppose I should say that I have been taken into confidence by the smugglers and then betrayed them."
"I should reply that the one idea was improbable, and the other impossible," returned the lieutenant.
"Well, I have at all events found out their secrets, and now I reveal them."
In a few words Ruby acquainted his friends with all that has just been narrated.
The moment he had finished, the lieutenant ordered his men to launch the boat. The kegs were put into the stern-sheets, the party embarked, and, pushing off, they rowed gently out of the bay, and crept slowly along the shore, under the deep shadow of the cliffs.
"How dark it is getting!" said Minnie, after they had rowed for some time in silence.
"The moon will soon be up," said the lieutenant. "Meanwhile I'll cast a little light on the subject by having a pipe. Will you join me, captain?"
This was a temptation which the captain never resisted; indeed, he did not regard it as a temptation at all, and would have smiled at the idea of resistance.
"Minnie, lass," said he, as he complacently filled the blackened bowl, and calmly stuffed down the glowing tobacco with the end of that marvellously callous little finger, "it's a wonderful thing that baccy. I don't know what man would do without it."
"Quite as well as woman does, I should think," replied Minnie.
"I'm not so sure of that, lass. It's more nat'ral for man to smoke than for woman. Ye see, woman, lovely woman, should be 'all my fancy painted her, both lovely and divine'. It would never do to have baccy perfumes hangin' about her rosy lips."
"But, uncle, why should man have the disagreeable perfumes you speak of hanging about his lips?"
"I don't know, lass. It's all a matter o' feeling. 'Twere vain to tell thee all I feel, how much my heart would wish to say;' but of this I'm certain sure, that I'd never git along without my pipe. It's like compass, helm, and ballast all in one. Is that the moon, leftenant?"
The captain pointed to a faint gleam of light on the horizon, which he knew well enough to be the moon; but he wished to change the subject.
"Ay is it, and there comes a boat. Steady, men! lay on your oars a bit."
This was said earnestly. In one instant all were silent, and the boat lay as motionless as the shadows of the cliffs among which it was involved.
Presently the sound of oars was heard. Almost at the same moment, the upper edge of the moon rose above the horizon, and covered the sea with rippling silver. Ere long a boat shot into this stream of light, and rowed swiftly in the direction of Arbroath.
"There are only two men in it," whispered the lieutenant.
"Ay, these are my good friends Swankie and Spink, who know a deal more about other improper callings besides smuggling, if I did not greatly mistake their words," cried Ruby.
"Give way, lads!" cried the lieutenant.
The boat sprang at the word from her position under the cliffs, and was soon out upon the sea in full chase of the smugglers, who bent to their oars more lustily, evidently intending to trust to their speed.
"Strange," said the lieutenant, as the distance between the two began sensibly to decrease, "if these be smugglers, with an empty boat, as you lead me to suppose they are, they would only be too glad to stop and let us see that they had nothing aboard that we could touch. It leads me to think that you are mistaken, Ruby Brand, and that these are not your friends."
"Nay, the same fact convinces me that they are the very men we seek; for they said they meant to have some game with you, and what more amusing than to give you a long, hard chase for nothing?"
"True; you are right. Well, we will turn the tables on them. Take the helm for a minute, while I tap one of the kegs."
The tapping was soon accomplished, and a quantity of the spirit was drawn off into the captain's pocket-flask.
"Taste it, captain, and let's have your opinion."
Captain Ogilvy complied. He put the flask to his lips, and, on removing it, smacked them, and looked at the party with that extremely grave, almost solemn expression, which is usually assumed by a man when strong liquid is being put to the delicate test of his palate.
"Oh!" exclaimed the captain, opening his eyes very wide indeed.
What "oh" meant, was rather doubtful at first; but when the captain put the flask again to his lips, and took another pull, a good deal longer than the first, much, if not all of the doubt was removed.
"Prime! nectar!" he murmured, in a species of subdued ecstasy, at the end of the second draught.
"Evidently the right stuff," said Lindsay, laughing.
"Liquid streams—celestial nectar,
Darted through the ambient sky,"
said the captain; "liquid, ay, liquid is the word."
He was about to test the liquid again:—
"Stop! stop! fair play, captain; it's my turn now," cried the lieutenant, snatching the flask from his friend's grasp, and applying it to his own lips.
Both the lieutenant and Ruby pronounced the gin perfect, and as Minnie positively refused either to taste or to pronounce judgment, the flask was returned to its owner's pocket.
They were now close on the smugglers, whom they hailed, and commanded to lay on their oars.
The order was at once obeyed, and the boats were speedily rubbing sides together.
"I should like to examine your boat, friends," said the lieutenant as he stepped across the gunwales.
"Oh! sir, I'm thankfu' to find you're not smugglers," said Swankie, with an assumed air of mingled respect and alarm. "If we'd only know'd ye was preventives we'd ha' backed oars at once. There's nothin' here; ye may seek as long's ye please.
The hypocritical rascal winked slyly to his comrade as he said this. Meanwhile Lindsay and one of the men examined the contents of the boat, and, finding nothing contraband, the former said—
"So, you're honest men, I find. Fishermen, doubtless?"
"Ay, some o' yer crew ken us brawly," said Davy Spink with a grin.
"Well, I won't detain you," rejoined the lieutenant; "it's quite a pleasure to chase honest men on the high seas in these times of war and smuggling. But it's too bad to have given you such a fright, lads, for nothing. What say you to a glass of gin?"
Big Swankie and his comrade glanced at each other in surprise. They evidently thought this an unaccountably polite Government officer, and were puzzled. However, they could do no less than accept such a generous offer.
"Thank'ee, sir," said Big Swankie, spitting out his quid and significantly wiping his mouth. "I hae nae objection. Doubtless it'll be the best that the like o' you carries in yer bottle."
"The best, certainly," said the lieutenant, as he poured out a bumper, and handed it to the smuggler. "It was smuggled, of course, and you see His Majesty is kind enough to give his servants a little of what they rescue from the rascals, to drink his health."
"Weel, I drink to the King," said Swankie, "an' confusion to all his enemies, 'specially to smugglers."
He tossed off the gin with infinite gusto, and handed back the cup with a smack of the lips and a look that plainly said, "More, if you please!"
But the hint was not taken. Another bumper was filled and handed to Davy Spink, who had been eyeing the crew of the boat with great suspicion. He accepted the cup, nodded curtly, and said—
"Here's t' ye, gentlemen, no forgettin' the fair leddy in the stern-sheets."
While he was drinking the gin the lieutenant turned to his men—
"Get out the keg, lads, from which that came, and refill the flask. Hold it well up in the moonlight, and see that ye don't spill a single drop, as you value your lives. Hey! my man, what ails you? Does the gin disagree with your stomach, or have you never seen a smuggled keg of spirits before, that you stare at it as if it were a keg of ghosts!"
The latter part of this speech was addressed to Swankie, who no sooner beheld the keg than his eyes opened up until they resembled two great oysters. His mouth slowly followed suit. Davy Spink's attention having been attracted, he became subject to similar alterations of visage.
"Hallo!" cried the captain, while the whole crew burst into a laugh, "you must have given them poison. Have you a stomach-pump, doctor?" he said, turning hastily to Ruby.
"No, nothing but a penknife and a tobacco-stopper. If they're of any use to you——"
He was interrupted by a loud laugh from Big Swankie, who quickly recovered his presence of mind, and declared that he had never tasted such capital stuff in his life.
"Have ye much o't, sir?"
"O yes, a good deal. I have two kegs of it," (the lieutenant grinned very hard at this point), "and we expect to get a little more to-night."
"Ha!" exclaimed Davy Spink, "there's no doot plenty o't in the coves hereaway, for they're an awfu' smugglin' set. Whan did ye find the twa kegs, noo, if I may ask?"
"Oh, certainly. I got them not more than an hour ago."
The smugglers glanced at each other and were struck dumb; but they were now too much on their guard to let any further evidence of surprise escape them.
"Weel, I wush ye success, sirs," said Swankie, sitting down to his oar. "It's likely ye'll come across mair if ye try Dickmont's Den. There's usually somethin' hidden there-aboots."
"Thank you, friend, for the hint," said the lieutenant, as he took his place at the tiller-ropes, "but I shall have a look at the Gaylet Cove, I think, this evening."
"What! the Gaylet Cove?" cried Spink. "Ye might as weel look for kegs at the bottom o' the deep sea."
"Perhaps so; nevertheless, I have taken a fancy to go there. If I find nothing, I will take a look into the Forbidden Cave."
"The Forbidden Cave!" almost howled Swankie. "Wha iver heard o' smugglers hidin' onything there? The air in't wad pushen a rotten."
"Perhaps it would, yet I mean to try."
"Weel-a-weel, ye may try, but ye might as weel seek for kegs o' gin on the Bell Rock."
"Ha! it's not the first time that strange things have been found on the Bell Bock," said Ruby suddenly. "I have heard of jewels, even, being discovered there."
"Give way, men; shove off," cried the lieutenant. "A pleasant pull to you, lads. Good night."
The two boats parted, and while the lieutenant and his friends made for the shore, the smugglers rowed towards Arbroath in a state of mingled amazement and despair at what they had heard and seen.
"It was Ruby Brand that spoke last, Davy."
"Ay; he was i' the shadow o' Captain Ogilvy and I couldna see his face, but I thought it like his voice when he first spoke."
"Hoo can he hae come to ken aboot the jewels?"
"That's mair than I can tell."
"I'll bury them," said Swankie, "an' then it'll puzzle onybody to tell whaur they are."
"Ye'll please yoursell," said Spink.
Swankie was too angry to make any reply, or to enter into further conversation with his comrade about the kegs of gin, so they continued their way in silence.
Meanwhile, as Lieutenant Lindsay and his men had a night of work before them, the captain suggested that Minnie, Ruby, and himself should be landed within a mile of the town, and left to find their way thither on foot. This was agreed to; and while the one party walked home by the romantic pathway at the top of the cliffs, the other rowed away to explore the dark recesses of the Forbidden Cave.
CHAPTER XXI
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 Bock 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 was 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 ho 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 realized; 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 everyday, and on the top of these a pleasant little marine residence was nailed, as one might nail a dove-cot 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 artificer's 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 warmhearted 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 hunch 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!
CHAPTER XXII
LIFE IN THE BEACON—STORY OF THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE
Some time after this a number of the men took up their permanent abode in the beacon house, and the work was carried on by night as well as by day, when the state of the tide and the weather permitted.
Immense numbers of fish called poddlies were discovered to be swimming about at high water. So numerous were they, that the rock was sometimes hidden by the shoals of them. Fishing for these thenceforth became a pastime among the men, who not only supplied their own table with fresh fish, but at times sent presents of them to their friends in the vessels.
All the men who dwelt on the beacon were volunteers, for Mr. Stevenson felt that it would be cruel to compel men to live at such a post of danger. Those who chose, therefore, remained in the lightship or the tender, and those who preferred it went to the beacon. It is scarcely necessary to add, that among the latter were found all the "sea-sick men!"
These bold artificers were not long of having their courage tested. Soon after their removal to the beacon they experienced some very rough weather, which shook the posts violently, and caused them to twist in a most unpleasant way.
But it was not until some time after that a storm arose, which caused the stoutest-hearted of them all to quail more than once.
It began on the night of as fine a day as they had had the whole season.
In order that the reader may form a just conception of what we are about to describe, it may not be amiss to note the state of things at the rock, and the employment of the men at the time.
A second forge had been put up on the higher platform of the beacon, but the night before that of which we write, the lower platform had been burst up by a wave, and the mortar and forge thereon, with all the implements, were cast down. The damaged forge was therefore set up for the time on its old site, near the foundation-pit of the lighthouse, while the carpenters were busy repairing the mortar-gallery.
The smiths were as usual busy sharpening picks and irons, and making bats and stanchions, and other iron work connected with the building operations. The landing-master's crew were occupied in assisting the millwrights to lay the railways to hand, and joiners were kept almost constantly employed in fitting picks to their handles, which latter were very frequently broken.
Nearly all the miscellaneous work was done by seamen. There was no such character on the Bell Rock as the common labourer. The sailors cheerfully undertook the work usually performed by such men, and they did it admirably.
In consequence of the men being able to remain on the beacon, the work went on literally "by double tides"; and at night the rock was often ablaze with torches, while the artificers wrought until the waves drove them away.
On the night in question there was a low spring-tide, so that a night-tide's work of five hours was secured. This was one of the longest spells they had had since the beginning of the operations.
The stars shone brightly in a very dark sky. Not a breath of air was felt. Even the smoke of the forge fire rose perpendicularly a short way, until an imperceptible zephyr wafted it gently to the west. Yet there was a heavy swell rolling in from the eastward, which caused enormous waves to thunder on Ralph the Rover's Ledge, as if they would drive down the solid rock.
Mingled with this solemn, intermittent roar of the sea was the continuous clink of picks, chisels, and hammers, and the loud clang of the two forges; that on the beacon being distinctly different from the other, owing to the wooden erection on which it stood rendering it deep and thunderous. Torches and forge fires cast a glare over all, rendering the foam pale green and the rocks deep red. Some of the active figures at work stood out black and sharp against the light, while others shone in its blaze like red-hot fiends. Above all sounded an occasional cry from the sea-gulls, as they swooped down into the magic circle of light, and then soared away shrieking into darkness.
"Hard work's not easy," observed James Dove, pausing in the midst of his labours to wipe his brow.
"True for ye; but as we've got to arn our brid be the sweat of our brows, we're in the fair way to fortin," said Ned O'Connor, blowing away energetically with the big bellows.
Ned had been reappointed to this duty since the erection of the second forge, which was in Ruby's charge. It was our hero's hammer that created such a din up in the beacon, while Dove wrought down on the rock.
"We'll have a gale to-night," said the smith; "I know that by the feelin' of the air."
"Well, I can't boast o' much knowledge o' feelin'," said O'Connor; "but I believe you're right, for the fish towld me the news this mornin'."
This remark of Ned had reference to a well-ascertained fact, that, when a storm was coming, the fish invariably left the neighbourhood of the rock; doubtless in order to seek the security of depths which are not affected by winds or waves.
While Dove and his comrade commented on this subject, two of the other men had retired to the south-eastern end of the rock to take a look at the weather. These were Peter Logan, the foreman, whose position required him to have a care for the safety of the men as well as for the progress of the work, and our friend Bremner, who had just descended from the cooking-room, where he had been superintending the preparation of supper.
"It will be a stiff breeze, I fear, to-night," said Logan.
"D'ye think so?" said Bremner; "it seems to me so calm that I would think a storm a'most impossible. But the fish never tell lies."
"True. You got no fish to-day, I believe?" said Logan.
"Not a nibble," replied the other.
As he spoke, he was obliged to rise from a rock on which he had seated himself, because of a large wave, which, breaking on the outer reefs, sent the foam a little closer to his toes than was agreeable.
"That was a big one, but yonder is a bigger," cried Logan.
The wave to which he referred was indeed a majestic wall of water. It came on with such an awful appearance of power, that some of the men who perceived it could not repress a cry of astonishment.
In another moment it fell, and, bursting over the rocks with a terrific roar, extinguished the forge fire, and compelled the men to take refuge in the beacon.
Jamie Dove saved his bellows with difficulty. The other men, catching up their things as they best might, crowded up the ladder in a more or less draggled condition.
The beacon house was gained by means of one of the main beams, which had been converted into a stair, by the simple process of nailing small battens thereon, about a foot apart from each other. The men could only go up one at a time, but as they were active and accustomed to the work, they were all speedily within their place of refuge. Soon afterwards the sea covered the rock, and the place where they had been at work was a mass of seething foam.
Still there was no wind; but dark clouds had begun to rise on the seaward horizon.
The sudden change in the appearance of the rock after the last torches were extinguished was very striking. For a few seconds there seemed to be no light at all. The darkness of a coal mine appeared to have settled down on the scene. But this soon passed away, as the men's eyes became accustomed to the change, and then the dark loom of the advancing billows, the pale light of the flashing foam, and occasional gleams of phosphorescence, and glimpses of black rocks in the midst of all, took the place of the warm, busy scene which the spot had presented a few minutes before.
"Supper, boys!" shouted Bremner.
Peter Bremner, we may remark in passing, was a particularly useful member of society. Besides being small and corpulent, he was a capital cook. He had acted during his busy life both as a groom and a house-servant; he had been a soldier, a sutler, a writer's clerk, and an apothecary—in which latter profession he had acquired the art of writing and suggesting recipes, and a taste for making collections in natural history. He was very partial to the use of the lancet, and quite a terrible adept at tooth-drawing. In short, Peter was the factotum of the beacon house, where, in addition to his other offices, he filled those of barber and steward to the admiration of all.
But Bremner came out in quite a new and valuable light after he went to reside in the beacon—namely, as a storyteller. During the long periods of inaction that ensued, when the men were imprisoned there by storms, he lightened many an hour that would have otherwise hung heavily on their hands, and he cheered the more timid among them by speaking lightly of the danger of their position.