The Story of the Rock Part 4

Words failed him here, but another groan told eloquently of the bitterness of the spirit within.

"We must just try to be as cheery as we can, mates," said John Potter.

"The Lord can deliver us out o' worse trouble than this if He sees fit."

"Oh, it's all very well for you to talk like that," growled Isaac Dorkin, "but I don't believe the Almighty is goin' to pull down stone walls and iron gates to set us free, an' you know that we haven't a friend in all France to help us."

"I _don't_ know that, Isaac. It certainly seems very unlikely that any one should start up to befriend us here, but with G.o.d all things are possible. At the worst, I know that if we are to remain here, it's His will that we should."

"Humph! I wish ye much comfort o' the thought: it doesn't give much to me," remarked s...o...b...

Here, Mr Franks, who had hitherto sat in sad silence, brightened up, and said, "Well, well, lads, don't let us make things worse by disputing. Surely each man is ent.i.tled to draw comfort from any source he chooses. For my part, I agree with John Potter, in this at all events,--that we should try to be as cheery as we can, and make the best of it."

"Hear, hear!" exclaimed the others. Acting on this advice, they soon began to feel a little less miserable. They had straw to sleep on, and were allowed very poor fare; but there was a sufficiency of it. The first night pa.s.sed, and the second day; after which another fit of despair seized some of the party. Then John Potter managed to cheer them up a bit, and as he never went about without a small Testament in his pocket, he was able to lighten the time by reading portions of it aloud. After that they took to relating their "lives and adventures" to each other, and then the inventive spirits among them took to "spinning long-winded yarns." Thus a couple of weeks pa.s.sed away, during which these unfortunate prisoners of war went through every stage of feeling between hope and despair over and over again.

During one of his despairing moods, Teddy Maroon declared that he had now given up all hope, and that the first chance he got, he would kill himself, for he was quite certain that n.o.body would ever be able to find out where they were, much less "get them out of that fig."

But Teddy was wrong, as the sequel will show.

Let us leap now, good reader, to the Tuileries,--into the apartments of Louis XIV. From a prison to a palace is an unusual leap, no doubt, though the reverse is by no means uncommon! The old King is pacing his chamber in earnest thought, addressing an occasional remark to his private Secretary. The subject that occupies him is the war, and the name of England is frequently on his lips. The Secretary begs leave to bring a particular letter under the notice of the King. The Secretary speaks in French, of course, but there is a peculiarly rich tone and emphasis in his voice which a son of the Green Isle would unhesitatingly p.r.o.nounce to be "the brogue."

"Read it," says the King hurriedly: "but first tell me, who writes?"

"A gendarme, sire: a poor relation of mine."

"Ha: an Irishman?"

"No, sire: but his mother was Irish."

"Well, read," says the King.

The Secretary reads: "Dear Terrence, will you do me the favour to bring a matter before the King? The commander of a French privateer has done an act worthy of a buccaneer: he has attacked the men who were re-building the famous Eddystone lighthouse, and carried them prisoners of war into this port. I would not trouble you or the King about this, did I not know his Majesty too well to believe him capable of countenancing such a deed."

"What!" exclaims the King, turning abruptly, with a flush of anger on his countenance, "the Eddystone lighthouse, which so stands as to be of equal service to all nations having occasion to navigate the channel?"

"The same, sire; and the officer who has done this expects to be rewarded."

"Ha: he shall not be disappointed; he shall have his reward," exclaims the King. "Let him be placed in the prison where the English men now lie, to remain there during our pleasure; and set the builders of the Eddystone free. Let them have gifts, and all honourable treatment, to repay them for their temporary distress, and send them home, without delay, in the same vessel which brought them hither. We are indeed at war with England, but not with mankind!"

The commands of kings are, as a rule, promptly obeyed. Even although there were neither railways nor telegraphs in those days, many hours had not elapsed before the tall gendarme stood in the prison-cell where John Potter and his friends were confined. There was a peculiar twinkle in his eye, as he ordered a band of soldiers to act as a guard of honour in conducting the Englishmen to the best hotel in the town, where a sumptuous collation awaited them. Arrived there, the circ.u.mstances of their case were explained to them by the chief magistrate, who was in waiting to receive them and present them with certain gifts, by order of Louis XIV.

The fortunate men looked on at all that was done, ate their feast, and received their gifts in speechless amazement, until at length the gendarme (who acted as interpreter, and seemed to experience intense enjoyment at the whole affair) asked if they were ready to embark for England? To which Teddy Maroon replied, by turning to John Potter and saying, "I say, John, just give me a dig in the ribs, will 'ee: a good sharp one. It's of no use at all goin' on draimin' like this. It'll only make it the worse the longer I am o' wakin' up."

John Potter smiled and shook his head; but when he and his friends were conducted by their guard of honour on board of the schooner which had brought them there, and when they saw the moustached commander brought out of his cabin and led ash.o.r.e in irons, and heard the click of the capstan as the vessel was warped out of harbour, and beheld the tall gendarme take off his c.o.c.ked hat and wish them "_bon voyage_" as they pa.s.sed the head of the pier, they at length became convinced that "it was all true;" and Teddy declared with enthusiastic emphasis, that "the mounseers were not such bad fellows after all!"

"Oh, John, John!" exclaimed Mrs Potter, about thirty hours after that, as she stood gazing in wild delight at a magnificent cashmere shawl which hung on her husband's arm, while Tommy was lost in admiration at the sight of a splendid inlaid ivory work-box, "where ever got 'ee such a helegant shawl?"

"From King Louis, of France, la.s.s," said John, with a peculiar smile.

"Never!" said Mrs Potter, emphatically; and then she gave it forth as one of her settled convictions, that, "Kings wasn't such fools as to go makin' presents like that to poor working men."

However, John Potter, who had only just then presented himself before the eyes of his astonished spouse, stoutly a.s.serted that it was true; and said that if she would set about getting something to eat, for he was uncommonly hungry, and if Tommy would leave off opening his mouth and eyes to such an unnecessary extent, he would tell them all about it.

So Mrs Potter was convinced, and, for once, had her "settled convictions" unsettled; and the men returned to their work on the Eddystone; and a man-of-war was sent to cruise in the neighbourhood to guard them from misfortune in the future; and, finally, the Rudyerd lighthouse was completed.

Its total height, from the lowest side to the top of the ball on the lantern, was ninety-two feet, and its greatest diameter twenty-three feet four inches. It took about three years to build, having been commenced in 1706, the first light was put up in 1708, and the whole was completed in 1709.

Teddy Maroon was one of the first keepers, but he soon left to take charge of a lighthouse on the Irish coast. Thereupon John Potter made application for the post. He was successful over many compet.i.tors, and at last obtained the darling wish of his heart: he became princ.i.p.al keeper; his surly comrade, Isaac Dorkin, strange to say, obtaining the post of second keeper. Mrs Potter didn't like the change at first, as a matter of course.

"But you'll come to like it, Martha," John would say when they referred to the subject, "`Absence,' you know, `makes the heart grow fonder.'

We'll think all the more of each other when we meet during my spells ash.o.r.e, at the end of every two months."

Tommy also objected very much at first, but he could not alter his father's intentions; so John Potter went off to the Eddystone rock, and for a long time took charge of the light that cast its friendly beams over the sea every night thereafter, through storm and calm, for upwards of six-and-forty years.

That John's life in the lighthouse was not all that he had hoped for will become apparent in the next chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE.

A TERRIBLE SITUATION.

There were four rooms and a lantern in Rudyerd's lighthouse. The second room was that which was used most by John Potter and his mate Isaac Dorkin: it was the kitchen, dining room, and parlour, all in one.

Immediately below it was the store-room, and just above it the dormitory.

The general tenor of the life suited John exactly: he was a quiet-spirited, meditative, religious man; and, although quite willing to face difficulties, dangers, and troubles like a man, when required to do so, he did not see it to be his duty to thrust himself unnecessarily into these circ.u.mstances. There were plenty of men, he was wont to say, who loved bustle and excitement, and there were plenty of situations of that sort for them to fill; for his part, he loved peace and quiet; the Eddystone lighthouse offered both, and why should he not take advantage of the opportunity, especially when, by so doing, he would secure a pretty good and regular income for his wife and family.

John gave vent to an opinion which contained deeper truths than, at that time, he thought of. G.o.d has given to men their varied powers and inclinations, in order that they may use these powers and follow these inclinations. Working rightly, man is a perfect machine: it is only "the fall" which has twisted all things awry. There is no sin in feeling an intense desire for violent physical action, or in gratifying that desire when we can do so in accordance with the revealed will of G.o.d; but there is sin in gratifying it in a wrong way; in committing burglary for instance, or in prize-fighting, or in helping others to fight in a cause with which we have no right to interfere. Again, it is not wrong to desire peace and quiet, and to wish for mental and spiritual and physical repose; but it is decidedly wrong to stand by with your hands in your pockets when an innocent or helpless one is being a.s.saulted by ruffians; to sit quiet and do nothing when your neighbour's house is on fire; to shirk an unpleasant duty and leave some one else to do it; or to lie a-bed when you should be up and at work.

_All_ our powers were given to be used: our inclinations were intended to impel us in _certain_ directions, and G.o.d's will and glory were meant to be our guide and aim. So the Scripture teaches, we think, in the parable of the talents, and in the words, "_Whatsoever_ thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might;" and, "Whether, therefore, ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of G.o.d."

Our great fault lies in not consulting G.o.d's plan of arrangement. How often do we find that, in adopting certain lines of action, men consult only the pecuniary or social advantage; ignoring powers, or want of powers, and violating inclinations; and this even among professing Christians; while, among the unbelieving, G.o.d's will and glory are not thought of at all. And yet we wonder that so many well-laid plans miscarry, that so many promising young men and women "come to grief!"

Forgetting that "the right man (or woman) in the right place" is an essential element in thorough success.

But, to return to John Potter. His conscience was easy as to his duty in becoming a lightkeeper, and the lighthouse was all that he could wish, or had hoped for. There was no disturbance from without, for the thick walls and solid foundation defied winds or waves to trouble him; save only in the matter of smoke, which often had a strong tendency to traverse the chimney in the wrong direction, but that was not worth mentioning! John found, however, that _sin_ in the person of his mate marred his peace and destroyed his equanimity.

Isaac Dorkin did not find the life so much to his taste as he had expected. He became more grumpy than ever, and quarrelled with his friend on the slightest provocation; insomuch that at last John found it to be his wisest plan to let him alone. Sometimes, in consequence of this pacific resolve, the two men would spend a whole month without uttering a word to each other; the one in the sulks, the other waiting until he should come out of them.

Their duties were light, but regular. During the day they found a sufficiency of quiet occupation in cooking their food, cleaning. The lighting apparatus--which consisted of a framework full of tallow candles,--and in keeping the building clean and orderly. At night they kept watch, each four hours at a time, while the other slept. While watching, John read his Bible and several books which had been given to him by Mr Rudyerd; or, in fine weather, paced round and round the gallery, just outside the lantern, in profound meditation. Dorkin also, during his watches, meditated much; he likewise grumbled a good deal, and smoked continuously. He was not a bad fellow at bottom, however, and sometimes he and Potter got on very amicably. At such seasons John tried to draw his mate into religious talk, but without success. Thus, from day to day and year to year, these two men stuck to their post, until eleven years had pa.s.sed away.

One day, about the end of that period, John Potter, who, having attained to the age of fifty-two, was getting somewhat grey, though still in full strength and vigour, sat at his chimney corner beside his buxom and still blooming wife. His fireside was a better one than in days of yore,--thanks to Tommy, who had become a flourishing engineer: Mrs Potter's costume was likewise much better in condition and quality than it used to be; thanks, again, to Tommy, who was a grateful and loving son.

"Well, Martha, I've had a pleasant month ash.o.r.e, la.s.s: I wish that I hadn't to go off on relief to-morrow."

"Why not leave it altogether, then, John? You've no occasion to continue a light-keeper now that you've laid by so much, and Tommy is so well off and able to help us, an' willin' too--G.o.d bless him!"

"Amen to that, Martha. I have just bin thinkin' over the matter, and I've made up my mind that this is to be my last trip off to the Rock. I spoke to the superintendent last week, and it's all settled. Who d'ye think is to take my place?"

"I never could guess nothink, John: who?"