The Lighthouse Part 2

"But how will you escape?"

"Hush, dearest girl! I want to have as much of you as I can before I go. Don't be afraid. They're honest British tars after all, and won't hurt _you_, Minnie."

Still seated at the girl's side, as if perfectly at his ease, yet speaking in quick earnest tones, and drawing her closely to him, Ruby waited until he heard a stealthy tread behind him. Then he sprang up with the speed of thought, uttered a laugh of defiance as the sailors rushed towards him, and leaping wildly off the cliff, fell a height of about fifty feet into the sea.

Minnie uttered a scream of horror, and fell fainting into the arms of the bewildered lieutenant.

"Down the cliffs--quick! he can't escape if you look alive. Stay, one of you, and look after this girl. She'll roll over the edge on recovering, perhaps."

It was easy to order the men down the cliffs, but not so easy for them to obey, for the rocks were almost perpendicular at the place, and descended sheer into the water.

"Surround the spot," shouted the lieutenant. "Scatter yourselves--away!

there's no beach here."

The lieutenant was right. The men extended themselves along the top of the cliffs so as to prevent Ruby's escape, in the event of his trying to ascend them, and two sailors stationed themselves in ambush in the narrow pa.s.s at the spot where the cliffs terminate in the direction of the town.

The leap taken by Ruby was a bold one. Few men could have ventured it; indeed, the youth himself would have hesitated had he not been driven almost to desperation. But he was a practised swimmer and diver, and knew well the risk he ran. He struck the water with tremendous force and sent up a great ma.s.s of foam, but he had entered it perpendicularly, feet foremost, and in a few seconds returned to the surface so close to the cliffs that they overhung him, and thus effectually concealed him from his pursuers.

Swimming cautiously along for a short distance close to the rocks, he came to the entrance of a cavern which was filled by the sea. The inner end of this cave opened into a small hollow or hole among the cliffs, up the sides of which Ruby knew that he could climb, and thus reach the top unperceived, but, after gaining the summit, there still lay before him the difficulty of eluding those who watched there. He felt, however, that nothing could be gained by delay, so he struck at once into the cave, swam to the inner end, and landed. Wringing the water out of his clothes, he threw off his jacket and vest in order to be as unenc.u.mbered as possible, and then began to climb cautiously.

Just above the spot where Ruby ascended there chanced to be stationed a seaman named Dalls. This man had lain down flat on his breast, with his head close to the edge of the cliff, so as to observe narrowly all that went on below, but, being a stout, lethargic man, he soon fell fast asleep! It was just at the spot where this man lay that Ruby reached the summit. The ascent was very difficult. At each step the hunted youth had to reach his hand as high above his head as possible, and grasp the edge of a rock or a ma.s.s of turf with great care before venturing on another step. Had one of these points of rock, or one of these tufts of gra.s.s, given way, he would infallibly have fallen down the precipice and been killed. Accustomed to this style of climbing from infancy, however, he advanced without a sensation of fear.

On reaching the top he peeped over, and, seeing that no one was near, prepared for a rush. There was a ma.s.s of brown turf on the bank above him. He grasped it with all his force, and swung himself over the edge of the cliff. In doing so he nearly scalped poor Dalls, whose hair was the "turf" which he had seized, and who, uttering a hideous yell, leaped upon Ruby and tried to overthrow him. But Dalls had met his match. He received a blow on the nose that all but felled him, and instantly after a blow on each eye, that raised a very constellation of stars in his brain, and laid him p.r.o.ne upon the gra.s.s.

His yell, however, and the noise of the scuffle, were heard by those of the press-gang who were nearest to the scene of conflict. They rushed to the rescue, and reached the spot just as Ruby leaped over his prostrate foe and fled towards Arbroath. They followed with a cheer, which warned the two men in ambush to be ready. Ruby was lithe as a greyhound. He left his pursuers far behind him, and dashed down the gorge leading from the cliffs to the low ground beyond.

Here he was met by the two sailors, and by the lieutenant, who had joined them. Minnie was also there, having been conducted thither by the said lieutenant, who gallantly undertook to see her safe into the town, in order to prevent any risk of her being insulted by his men. On hearing the shout of those who pursued Ruby, Minnie hurried away, intending to get free from the gang, not feeling that the lieutenant's protection was either desirable or necessary.

When Ruby reached the middle of the gorge, which we have dignified with the name of "pa.s.s", and saw three men ready to dispute his pa.s.sage, he increased his speed. When he was almost up to them he turned aside and sprang nimbly up the almost perpendicular wall of earth on his right.

This act disconcerted the men, who had prepared to receive his charge and seize him, but Ruby jumped down on the shoulders of the one nearest, and crushed him to the ground with his weight. His clenched fist caught the lieutenant between the eyes and stretched him on his back--the third man wisely drew aside to let this human thunderbolt pa.s.s by!

He did pa.s.s, and, as the impetuous and quite irresistible locomotive is brought to a sudden pause when the appropriate brakes are applied, so was he brought to a sudden halt by Minnie a hundred yards or so farther on.

"Oh! don't stop," she cried eagerly, and hastily thrusting him away.

"They'll catch you!"

Panting though he was, vehemently, Ruby could not restrain a laugh.

"Catch me! no, darling; but don't be afraid of them. They won't hurt you, Minnie, and they can't hurt me--except in the way of cutting short our interview. Ha! here they come. Goodbye, dearest; I'll see you soon again."

At that moment five or six of the men came rushing down the pa.s.s with a wild cheer. Ruby made no haste to run. He stood in an easy att.i.tude beside Minnie; leisurely kissed her little hand, and gently smoothed down her golden hair. Just as the foremost pursuer came within fifteen yards or so of them, he said, "Farewell, my la.s.sie, I leave you in good hands"; and then, waving his cap in the air, with a cheer of more than half-jocular defiance, he turned and fled towards Arbroath as if one of the nor'-east gales, in its wildest fury, were sweeping him over the land.

CHAPTER THREE.

OUR HERO OBLIGED TO GO TO SEA.

When Ruby Brand reached the outskirts of Arbroath, he checked his speed and walked into his native town whistling gently, and with his hands in his pockets, as though he had just returned from an evening walk. He directed his steps to one of the streets near the harbour, in which his mother's cottage was situated.

Mrs Brand was a delicate, little old woman--so little and so old that people sometimes wondered how it was possible that she could be the mother of such a stalwart son. She was one of those kind, gentle, uncomplaining, and unselfish beings, who do not secure much popularity or admiration in this world, but who secure obedient children, also steadfast and loving friends. Her favourite book was the Bible; her favourite hope in regard to earthly matters, that men should give up fighting and drinking, and live in peace; her favourite theory that the study of _truth_ was the object for which man was created, and her favourite meal--tea.

Ruby was her only child. Minnie was the daughter of a distant relation, and, having been left an orphan, she was adopted by her. Mrs Brand's husband was a sailor. He commanded a small coasting sloop, of which Ruby had been the mate for several years. As we have said, Ruby had been prevailed on to remain at home for some months in order to please his mother, whose delicacy of health was such that his refusal would have injured her seriously; at least the doctor said so, therefore Ruby agreed to stay.

The sloop _Penguin_, commanded by Ruby's father, was on a voyage to Newcastle at that time, and was expected in Arbroath every day. But it was fated never more to cast anchor in that port. The great storm, to which reference has been made in a previous chapter, caused many wrecks on the sh.o.r.es of Britain. The _Penguin_, was one of the many.

In those days telegraphs, railroads, and penny papers did not exist.

Murders were committed then, as now, but little was said, and less was known about them. Wrecks occurred then, as now, but few, except the persons immediately concerned, heard of them. "Destructive fires", "terrible accidents", and the familiar round of "appalling catastrophes"

occurred then, as now, but their influence was limited, and their occurrence soon forgotten.

We would not be understood to mean that "now" (as compared with "then"), all is right and well; that telegraphs and railways and daily papers are all-potent and perfect. By no means. We have still much to learn and to do in these improved times; and, especially, there is wanting to a large extent among us a sympathetic telegraphy, so to speak, between the interior of our land and the sea-coast, which, if it existed in full and vigorous play, would go far to improve our condition, and raise us in the esteem of Christian nations. Nevertheless, as compared with now, the state of things then was lamentably imperfect.

The great storm came and went, having swept thousands of souls into eternity, and hundreds of thousands of pounds into nonent.i.ty. Lifeboats had not been invented. Harbours of refuge were almost unknown, and although our coasts bristled with dangerous reefs and headlands, lighthouses were few and far between. The consequence was, that wrecks were numerous; and so also were wreckers,--a cla.s.s of men, who, in the absence of an efficient coastguard, subsisted to a large extent on what they picked up from the wrecks that were cast in their way, and who did not scruple, sometimes, to _cause_ wrecks, by showing false lights in order to decoy vessels to destruction.

We do not say that all wreckers were guilty of such crimes, but many of them were so, and their style of life, at the best, had naturally a demoralising influence upon all of them.

The famous Bell Rock, lying twelve miles off the coast of Forfarshire, was a prolific source of destruction to shipping. Not only did numbers of vessels get upon it, but many others ran upon the neighbouring coasts in attempting to avoid it.

Ruby's father knew the navigation well, but, in the confusion and darkness of the furious storm, he miscalculated his position and ran upon the rock, where, as we have seen, his body was afterwards found by the two fishermen. It was conveyed by them to the cottage of Mrs Brand, and when Ruby entered he found his mother on her knees by the bedside, pressing the cold hand of his father to her breast, and gazing with wild, tearless eyes into the dead face.

We will not dwell upon the sad scenes that followed.

Ruby was now under the necessity of leaving home, because his mother being deprived of her husband's support naturally turned in distress to her son. But Ruby had no employment, and work could not be easily obtained at that time in the town, so there was no other resource left him but to go to sea. This he did in a small coasting sloop belonging to an old friend, who gave him part of his wages in advance to enable him to leave his mother a small provision, at least for a short time.

This, however, was not all that the widow had to depend on. Minnie Gray was expert with her needle, and for some years past had contributed not a little to the comforts of the household into which she had been adopted. She now set herself to work with redoubled zeal and energy.

Besides this, Mrs Brand had a brother, a retired skipper, who obtained the complimentary t.i.tle of Captain from his friends. He was a poor man, it is true, as regarded money, having barely sufficient for his own subsistence, but he was rich in kindliness and sympathy, so that he managed to make his small income perform wonders. On hearing of his brother-in-law's death, Captain Ogilvy hastened to afford all the consolation in his power to his sorrowing sister.

The captain was an eccentric old man, of rugged aspect. He thought that there was not a worse comforter on the face of the earth than himself, because, when he saw others in distress, his heart invariably got into his throat, and absolutely prevented him from saying a single word. He tried to speak to his sister, but all he could do was to take her hand and _weep_. This did the poor widow more good than any words could have done, no matter how eloquently or fitly spoken. It unlocked the fountain of her own heart, and the two wept together.

When Captain Ogilvy accompanied Ruby on board the sloop to see him off, and shook hands as he was about to return to the sh.o.r.e, he said--"Cheer up, Ruby; never say die so long as there's a shot in the looker. That's the advice of an old salt, an' you'll find it sound, the more you ponder of it. W'en a young feller sails away on the sea of life, let him always go by chart and compa.s.s, not forgettin' to take soundin's w'en cruisin' off a bad coast. Keep a sharp lookout to wind'ard, an' mind yer helm--that's _my_ advice to you lad, as ye go:--

"`A-sailin' down life's troubled stream, All as if it wor a dream.'"

The captain had a somewhat poetic fancy (at least he was impressed with the belief that he had), and was in the habit of enforcing his arguments by quotations from memory. When memory failed he supplemented with original composition.

"Goodbye, lad, an' Providence go wi' ye."

"Goodbye, uncle. I need not remind you to look after mother when I'm away."

"No, nephy, you needn't; I'll do it whether or not."

"And Minnie, poor thing, she'll need a word of advice and comfort now and then, uncle."

"And she shall have it, lad," replied the captain with a tremendous wink, which was unfortunately lost on the nephew, in consequence of its being night and unusually dark, "advice and comfort on demand, gratis; for:--

"`Woman, in her hours of ease, Is most uncommon hard to please;'

"But she _must_ be looked arter, ye know, and made of, d'ye see? so Ruby, boy, farewell."