Part 33 (2/2)

This is by no means an unusual aspect of things at the Bell Rock, but as we have hitherto dwelt chiefly on storms it may be regarded as new to the reader.

It was a June morning. There had been few breezes and no storms for some weeks past, so that the usual swell of the ocean had gone down, and there were actually no breakers on the rock at low water, and no ruffling of the surface at all at high tide. The tide had, about two hours before, overflowed the rock and driven the men into the beacon house, where, having breakfasted, they were at the time enjoying themselves with pipes and small talk.

The lighthouse had grown considerably by this time. Its unfinished top was more than eighty feet above the foundation; but the fog was so dense that only the lower part of the column could be seen from the beacon, the summit being lost, as it were, in the clouds.

Nevertheless that summit, high though it was, did not yet project beyond the reach of the sea. A proof of this had been given in a very striking manner, some weeks before the period about which we now write, to our friend George Forsyth.

George was a studious man, and fond of reading the Bible critically. He was proof against laughter and ridicule, and was wont sometimes to urge the men into discussions. One of his favourite arguments was somewhat as follows--

”Boys,” he was wont to say, ”you laugh at me for readin' the Bible carefully. You would not laugh at a schoolboy for reading his books carefully, would you? Yet the learnin' of the way of salvation is of far more consequence to me than book learnin' is to a schoolboy. An astronomer is never laughed at for readin' his books o' geometry an'

suchlike day an' night--even to the injury of his health--but what is an astronomer's business to _him_ compared with the concerns of my soul to _me_? Ministers tell me there are certain things I must know and believe if I would be saved--such as the death and resurrection of our Saviour Jesus Christ; and they also point out that the Bible speaks of certain Christians, who did well in refusin' to receive the Gospel at the hands of the apostles, without first enquirin' into these things, to see if they were true. Now, lads, _if_ these things that so many millions believe in, and that _you_ all profess to believe in, are lies, then you may well laugh at me for enquirin' into them; but if they be true, why, I think the devils themselves must be laughing at _you_ for _not_ enquirin' into them!”

Of course, Forsyth found among such a number of intelligent men, some who could argue with him, as well as some who could laugh at him. He also found one or two who sympathised openly, while there were a few who agreed in their hearts, although they did not speak.

Well, it was this tendency to study on the part of Forsyth, that led him to cross the wooden bridge between the beacon and the lighthouse during his leisure hours, and sit reading at the top of the spiral stair, near one of the windows of the lowest room.

Forsyth was sitting at his usual window one afternoon at the end of a storm. It was a comfortless place, for neither sashes nor gla.s.s had at that time been put in, and the wind howled up and down the shaft dreadfully. The man was robust, however, and did not mind that.

The height of the building was at that time fully eighty feet. While he was reading there a tremendous breaker struck the lighthouse with such force that it trembled distinctly. Forsyth started up, for he had never felt this before, and fancied the structure was about to fall. For a moment or two he remained paralysed, for he heard the most terrible and inexplicable sounds going on overhead. In fact, the wave that shook the building had sent a huge volume of spray right over the top, part of which fell into the lighthouse, and what poor Forsyth heard was about a ton of water coming down through storey after storey, carrying lime, mortar, buckets, trowels, and a host of other things, violently along with it.

To plunge down the spiral stair, almost headforemost, was the work of a few seconds. Forsyth accompanied the descent with a yell of terror, which reached the ears of his comrades in the beacon, and brought them to the door, just in time to see their comrade's long legs carry him across the bridge in two bounds. Almost at the same instant the water and rubbish burst out of the doorway of the lighthouse, and flooded the bridge.

But let us return from this digression, or rather, this series of digressions, to the point where we branched off: the aspect of the beacon in the fog, and the calm of that still morning in June.

Some of the men inside were playing draughts, others were finis.h.i.+ng their breakfast; one was playing ”Auld Lang Syne”, with many extempore flourishes and trills, on a flute, which was very much out of tune. A few were smoking, of course (where exists the band of Britons who can get on without that!) and several were sitting astride on the cross-beams below, bobbing--not exactly for whales, but for any monster of the deep that chose to turn up.

The men fis.h.i.+ng, and the beacon itself, loomed large and mysterious in the half-luminous fog. Perhaps this was the reason that the sea-gulls flew so near them, and gave forth an occasional and very melancholy cry, as if of complaint at the changed appearance of things.

”There's naethin' to be got the day,” said John Watt, rather peevishly, as he pulled up his line and found the bait gone.

Baits are _always_ found gone when lines are pulled up! This would seem to be an angling law of nature. At all events, it would seem to have been a very aggravating law of nature on the present occasion, for John Watt frowned and growled to himself as he put on another bait.

”There's a bite!” exclaimed Joe Dumsby, with a look of doubt, at the same time feeling his line.

”Poo'd in then,” said Watt ironically.

”No, 'e's hoff,” observed Joe.

”Hm! he never was on,” muttered Watt.

”What are you two growling at?” said Ruby, who sat on one of the beams at the other side.

”At our luck, Ruby,” said Joe. ”Ha! was that a nibble?” (”Naethin' o'

the kind,” from Watt.) ”It was! as I live it's large; an 'addock, I think.”

<script>