Part 34 (2/2)
He had the greater satisfaction, thereafter, of feeling that he had done a deed which induced every man in the beacon that night to thank him half a dozen times over; and he had the greatest possible satisfaction in finding that among the rest he had saved two letters addressed to himself, one from Minnie Gray, and the other from his uncle.
The scene in the beacon when the contents of the packet were delivered was interesting. Those who had letters devoured them, and in many cases read them (unwittingly) half-aloud. Those who had none read the newspapers, and those who had neither papers nor letters listened.
Ruby's letter ran as follows (we say his _letter_, because the other letter was regarded, comparatively, as nothing):--
”ARBROATH, etcetera.
”DARLING RUBY,--I have just time to tell you that we have made a discovery which will surprise you. Let me detail it to you circ.u.mstantially. Uncle Ogilvy and I were walking on the pier a few days ago, when we overheard a conversation between two sailors, who did not see that we were approaching. We would not have stopped to listen, but the words we heard arrested our attention, so--O what a pity! there, Big Sw.a.n.kie has come for our letters. Is it not strange that _he_ should be the man to take them off? I meant to have given you _such_ an account of it, especially a description of the case.
They won't wait. Come ash.o.r.e as soon as you can, dearest Ruby.”
The letter broke off here abruptly. It was evident that the writer had been obliged to close it abruptly, for she had forgotten to sign her name.
”`A description of the case;' _what_ case?” muttered Ruby in vexation.
”O Minnie, Minnie, in your anxiety to go into details you have omitted to give me the barest outline. Well, well, darling, I'll just take the will for the deed, but I _wish_ you had--”
Here Ruby ceased to mutter, for Captain Ogilvy's letter suddenly occurred to his mind. Opening it hastily, he read as follows:--
”DEAR NEFFY,--I never was much of a hand at spellin', an' I'm not rightly sure o' that word, howsever, it reads all square, so ittle do.
If I had been the inventer o' writin' I'd have had signs for a lot o'
words. Just think how much better it would ha' bin to have put a regular D like that instead o' writin' s-q-u-a-r-e. Then _round_ would have bin far better O, like that. An' crooked thus,” (draws a squiggly line); ”see how significant an' suggestive, if I may say so; no humbug--all fair an' above-board, as the pirate said, when he ran up the black flag to the peak.
”But avast speckillatin' (s.h.i.+ver my timbers! but that last was a pen-splitter), that's not what I sat down to write about. My object in takin' up the pen, neffy, is two-fold,
”`Double, double, toil an' trouble,'
”as Macbeath said,--if it wasn't Hamlet.
”We want you to come home for a day or two, if you can git leave, lad, about this strange affair. Minnie said she was goin' to give you a full, true, and partikler account of it, so it's of no use my goin'
over the same course. There's that blackguard Sw.a.n.kie come for the letters. Ha! it makes me chuckle. No time for more--”
This letter also concluded abruptly, and without a signature.
”There's a pretty kettle o' fis.h.!.+” exclaimed Ruby aloud.
”So 'tis, lad; so 'tis,” said Bremner, who at that moment had placed a superb pot of codlings on the fire; ”though why ye should say it so positively when n.o.body's denyin' it, is more nor I can tell.”
Ruby laughed, and retired to the mortar-gallery to work at the forge and ponder. He always found that he pondered best while employed in hammering, especially if his feelings were ruffled.
Seizing a ma.s.s of metal, he laid it on the anvil, and gave it five or six heavy blows to straighten it a little, before thrusting it into the fire.
Strange to say, these few blows of the hammer were the means, in all probability, of saving the sloop _Smeaton_ from being wrecked on the Bell Rock!
That vessel had been away with Mr Stevenson at Leith, and was returning, when she was overtaken by the calm and the fog. At the moment that Ruby began to hammer, the _Smeaton_ was within a stone's cast of the beacon, running gently before a light air which had sprung up.
No one on board had the least idea that the tide had swept them so near the rock, and the ringing of the anvil was the first warning they got of their danger.
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