The Lighthouse Part 34

"A naddock!" sneered Watt; "mair like a bit o' tangle than--eh! losh me!

it _is_ a fish--"

"Well done, Joe!" cried Bremner, from the doorway above, as a large rock-cod was drawn to the surface of the water.

"Stay, it's too large to pull up with the line. I'll run down and gaff it," cried Ruby, fastening his own line to the beam, and descending to the water by the usual ladder, on one of the main beams. "Now, draw him this way--gently, not too roughly--take time. Ah! that was a miss--he's off; no! Again; now then--"

Another moment, and a goodly cod of about ten pounds weight was wriggling on the iron hook which Ruby handed up to Dumsby, who mounted with his prize in triumph to the kitchen.

From that moment the fish began to "take."

While the men were thus busily engaged, a boat was rowing about in the fog, vainly endeavouring to find the rock.

It was the boat of two fast friends, Jock Sw.a.n.kie and Davy Spink.

These worthies were in a rather exhausted condition, having been rowing almost incessantly from daybreak.

"I tell 'ee what it is," said Sw.a.n.kie; "I'll be hanged if I poo another stroke."

He threw his oar into the boat, and looked sulky.

"It's my belief," said his companion, "that we ought to be near aboot Denmark be this time."

"Denmark or Rooshia, it's a' ane to me," rejoined Sw.a.n.kie; "I'll hae a smoke."

So saying, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco-box, and began to cut the tobacco. Davy did the same.

Suddenly both men paused, for they heard a sound. Each looked enquiringly at the other, and then both gazed into the thick fog.

"Is that a ship?" said Davy Spink.

They seized their oars hastily.

"The beacon, as I'm a leevin' sinner!" exclaimed Sw.a.n.kie.

If Spink had not backed his oar at that moment, there is some probability that Sw.a.n.kie would have been a dead, instead of a living, sinner in a few minutes, for they had almost run upon the north-east end of the Bell Rock, and distinctly heard the sound of voices on the beacon. A shout settled the question at once, for it was replied to by a loud holloa from Ruby.

In a short time the boat was close to the beacon, and the water was so very calm that day, that they were able to venture to hand the packet of letters with which they had come off into the beacon, even although the tide was full.

"Letters," said Sw.a.n.kie, as he reached out his hand with the packet.

"Hurrah!" cried the men, who were all a.s.sembled on the mortar-gallery, looking down at the fishermen, excepting Ruby, Watt, and Dumsby, who were still on the cross-beams below.

"Mind the boat; keep her aff," said Sw.a.n.kie, stretching out his hand with the packet to the utmost, while Dumsby descended the ladder and held out _his_ hand to receive it.

"Take care," cried the men in chorus, for news from sh.o.r.e was always a very exciting episode in their career, and the idea of the packet being lost filled them with sudden alarm.

The shout and the anxiety together caused the very result that was dreaded. The packet fell into the sea and sank, amid a volley of yells.

It went down slowly. Before it had descended a fathom, Ruby's head cleft the water, and in a moment he returned to the surface with the packet in his hand amid a wild cheer of joy; but this was turned into a cry of alarm, as Ruby was carried away by the tide, despite his utmost efforts to regain the beacon.

The boat was at once pushed off but so strong was the current there, that Ruby was carried past the rock, and a hundred yards away to sea, before the boat overtook him.

The moment he was pulled into her he shook himself, and then tore off the outer covering of the packet in order to save the letters from being wetted. He had the great satisfaction of finding them almost uninjured.

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' (shiver 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' fish!" 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.