Part 12 (2/2)

Stooping hastily, he dipped his hand into a pool of salt water and moistened his mouth. This produced immediate relief and he was about to speak, when Ruby Brand, who had stood at his elbow all the time with compressed lips and a stern frown on his brow, suddenly took off his cap, and waving it above his head, shouted ”A boat! a boat!” with all the power of his lungs.

All eyes were at once turned in the direction to which he pointed, and there, sure enough, a large boat was seen through the haze, making towards the rock.

Doubtless many a heart there swelled with grat.i.tude to G.o.d, who had thus opportunely and most unexpectedly sent them relief at the eleventh hour; but the only sound that escaped them was a cheer, such as men seldom give or hear save in cases of deliverance in times of dire extremity.

The boat belonged to James Spink, the Bell Rock pilot, who chanced to have come off express from Arbroath that day with letters.

We have said that Spink came off _by chance_; but, when we consider all the circ.u.mstances of the case, and the fact that boats seldom visited the Bell Rock at any time, and _never_ during bad weather, we are constrained to feel that G.o.d does in His mercy interfere sometimes in a peculiar and special manner in human affairs, and that there was something more and higher than mere chance in the deliverance of Stevenson and his men upon this occasion.

The pilot-boat, having taken on board as many as it could hold, set sail for the floating light; the other boats then put off from the rock with the rest of the men, but they did not reach the _Pharos_ until after a long and weary pull of three hours, during which the waves broke over the boats so frequently as to necessitate constant baling.

When the floating light was at last reached, a new difficulty met them, for the vessel rolled so much, and the men were so exhausted, that it proved to be a work of no little toil and danger to get them all on board.

Long Forsyth, in particular, cost them all an infinite amount of labour, for he was so sick, poor fellow, that he could scarcely move. Indeed, he did at one time beg them earnestly to drop him into the sea and be done with him altogether, a request with which they of course refused to comply. However, he was got up somehow, and the whole of them were comforted by a gla.s.s of rum and thereafter a cup of hot coffee.

Ruby had the good fortune to obtain the additional comfort of a letter from Minnie, which, although it did not throw much light on the proceedings of Captain Ogilvy (for that sapient seaman's proceedings were usually involved in a species of obscurity which light could not penetrate), nevertheless a.s.sured him that something was being done in his behalf, and that, if he only kept quiet for a time, all would be well.

The letter also a.s.sured him of the unalterable affection of the writer, an a.s.surance which caused him to rejoice to such an extent that he became for a time perfectly regardless of all other sublunary things, and even came to look upon the Bell Rock as a species of paradise, watched over by the eye of an angel with golden hair, in which he could indulge his pleasant dreams to the utmost.

That he had to indulge those dreams in the midst of storm and rain and smoke, surrounded by sea and seaweed, workmen and hammers, and forges and picks, and jumpers and seals, while his strong muscles and endurance were frequently tried to the uttermost, was a matter of no moment to Ruby Brand.

All experience goes to prove that great joy will utterly overbear the adverse influence of physical troubles, especially if those troubles are without, and do not touch the seats of life within. Minnie's love, expressed as it was in her own innocent, truthful, and straightforward way, rendered his body, big though it was, almost incapable of containing his soul. He pulled the oar, hammered the jumper, battered the anvil, tore at the bellows, and hewed the solid Bell Rock with a vehemence that aroused the admiration of his comrades, and induced Jamie Dove to p.r.o.nounce him to be the best fellow the world ever produced.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A STORM AND A DISMAL STATE OF THINGS ON BOARD THE PHAROS.

From what has been said at the close of the last chapter, it will not surprise the reader to be told that the storm which blew during that night had no further effect on Ruby Brand than to toss his hair about, and cause a ruddier glow than usual to deepen the tone of his bronzed countenance.

It was otherwise with many of his hapless comrades, a few of whom had also received letters that day, but whose pleasure was marred to some extent by the qualms within.

Being Sat.u.r.day, a gla.s.s of rum was served out in the evening, according to custom, and the men proceeded to hold what is known by the name of ”Sat.u.r.day night at sea.”

This being a night that was usually much enjoyed on board, owing to the home memories that were recalled, and the familiar songs that were sung; owing, also, to the limited supply of grog, which might indeed cheer, but could not by any possibility inebriate, the men endeavoured to shake off their fatigue, and to forget, if possible, the rolling of the vessel.

The first effort was not difficult, but the second was not easy. At first, however, the gale was not severe, so they fought against circ.u.mstances bravely for a time.

”Come, lads,” cried the smith, in a species of serio-comic desperation, when they had all a.s.sembled below, ”let's drink to sweethearts and wives.”

”Hear, hear! Bless their hearts! Sweethearts and wives!” responded the men. ”Hip, hip!”

The cheer that followed was a genuine one.

”Now for a song, boys,” cried one of the men, ”and I think the last arrivals are bound to sing first.”

”Hear, hear! Ruby, lad, you're in for it,” said the smith, who sat near his a.s.sistant.

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