The Lighthouse by R. M. Ballantyne (e book reader online .TXT) 📕

treasure.”

It may be easily imagined that in a place where the accommodation of the principal engineer was so limited, that of the men was not extensive. Accordingly, we find that the barrack-room contained beds for twenty-one men.

But the completion of the beacon house, as we have described it, was not accomplished in one season. At first it was only used as a smith’s workshop, and then as a temporary residence in fine weather.

One of the first men who remained all night upon it was our friend Bremner. He became so tired of the floating light that he earnestly solicited, and obtained, permission to remain on the beacon.

At the time it was only in a partially sheltered state. The joiners had just completed the covering of the roof with a quantity of tarpaulin, which the seamen had laid over with successive coats of hot tar, and the sides of the erection had been painted with three coats of white lead. Between the timber framing of the habitable part, the interstices were stuffed with moss, but the green baize cloth with which it was afterwards lined had not been put on when Bremner took possession.

It was a splendid summer evening when the bold man made his request, and obtained permission to remain. None of the others would join him. When the boats pushed off and left him the solitary occupant of the rock, he felt a sensation of uneasiness, but, having formed his resolution, he stuck by it, and bade his comrades good night cheerfully.

“Good night, and goodbye,” cried Forsyth, as he took his seat at the oar.

“Farewell, dear,” cried O’Connor, wiping his eyes with a very ragged pocket handkerchief.

“You won’t forget me?” retorted Bremner.

“Never,” replied Dumsby, with fervour.

“Av the beacon should be carried away, darlin’,” cried O’Connor, “howld tight to the provision-chest, p’raps ye’ll be washed ashore.”

“I’ll drink your health in water, Paddy,” replied Bremner.

“Faix, I hope it won’t be salt wather,” retorted Ned.

They continued to shout good wishes, warnings, and advice to their comrade until out of hearing, and then waved adieu to him until he was lost to view.

We have said that Bremner was alone, yet he was not entirely so; he had a comrade with him, in the shape of his little black dog, to which reference has already been made. This creature was of that very thin and tight-skinned description of dog, that trembles at all times as if afflicted with chronic cold, summer and winter. Its thin tail was always between its extremely thin legs, as though it lived in a perpetual condition of wrong-doing, and were in constant dread of deserved punishment. Yet no dog ever belied its looks more than did this one, for it was a good dog, and a warm-hearted dog, and never did a wicked thing, and never was punished, so that its excessive humility and apparent fear and trembling were quite unaccountable. Like all dogs of its class it was passionately affectionate, and intensely grateful for the smallest favour. In fact, it seemed to be rather thankful than otherwise for a kick when it chanced to receive one, and a pat on the head, or a kind word made it all but jump out of its black skin for very joy.

Bremner called it “Pup.” It had no other name, and didn’t seem to wish for one. On the present occasion it was evidently much perplexed, and very unhappy, for it looked at the boat, and then wistfully into its master’s face, as if to say, “This is awful; have you resolved that we shall perish together?”

“Now, Pup,” said Bremner, when the boat disappeared in the shades of evening, “you and I are left alone on the Bell Rock!”

There was a touch of sad uncertainty in the wag of the tail with which Pup received this remark.

“But cheer up, Pup,” cried Bremner with a sudden burst of animation that induced the creature to wriggle and dance on its hind legs for at least a minute, “you and I shall have a jolly night together on the beacon; so come along.”

Like many a night that begins well, that particular night ended ill. Even while the man spoke, a swell began to rise, and, as the tide had by that time risen a few feet, an occasional billow swept over the rocks and almost washed the feet of Bremner as he made his way over the ledges. In five minutes the sea was rolling all round the foot of the beacon, and Bremner and his friend were safely ensconced on the mortar-gallery.

There was no storm that night, nevertheless there was one of those heavy ground swells that are of common occurrence in the German Ocean.

It is supposed that this swell is caused by distant westerly gales in the Atlantic, which force an undue quantity of water into the North Sea, and thus produce the apparent paradox of great rolling breakers in calm weather.

On this night there was no wind at all, but there was a higher swell than usual, so that each great billow passed over the rock with a roar that was rendered more than usually terrible, in consequence of the utter absence of all other sounds.

At first Bremner watched the rising tide, and as he sat up there in the dark he felt himself dreadfully forsaken and desolate, and began to comment on things in general to his dog, by way of inducing a more sociable and cheery state of mind.

“Pup, this is a lugubrious state o’ things. Wot d’ye think o’t?”

Pup did not say, but he expressed such violent joy at being noticed, that he nearly fell off the platform of the mortar-gallery in one of his extravagant gyrations.

“That won’t do, Pup,” said Bremner, shaking his head at the creature, whose countenance expressed deep contrition. “Don’t go on like that, else you’ll fall into the sea and be drownded, and then I shall be left alone. What a dark night it is, to be sure! I doubt if it was wise of me to stop here. Suppose the beacon were to be washed away?”

Bremner paused, and Pup wagged his tail interrogatively, as though to say, “What then?”

“Ah! it’s of no use supposin’,” continued the man slowly. “The beacon has stood it out all winter, and it ain’t likely it’s goin’ to be washed away to-night. But suppose I was to be took bad?”

Again the dog seemed to demand, “What then?”

“Well, that’s not very likely either, for I never was took bad in my life since I took the measles, and that’s more than twenty years ago. Come, Pup, don’t let us look at the black side o’ things, let us try to be cheerful, my dog. Hallo!”

The exclamation was caused by the appearance of a green billow, which in the uncertain light seemed to advance in a threatening attitude towards the beacon as if to overwhelm it, but it fell at some distance, and only rolled in a churning sea of milky foam among the posts, and sprang up and licked the beams, as a serpent might do before swallowing them.

“Come, it was the light deceived me. If I go for to start at every wave like that I’ll have a poor night of it, for the tide has a long way to rise yet. Let’s go and have a bit supper, lad.”

Bremner rose from the anvil, on which he had seated himself, and went up the ladder into the cook-house above. Here all was pitch dark, owing to the place being enclosed all round, which the mortar-gallery was not, but a light was soon struck, a lamp trimmed, and the fire in the stove kindled.

Bremner now busied himself in silently preparing a cup of tea, which, with a quantity of sea-biscuit, a little cold salt pork, and a hunk of stale bread, constituted his supper. Pup watched his every movement with an expression of earnest solicitude, combined with goodwill, in his sharp intelligent eyes.

When supper was ready Pup had his share, then, feeling that the duties of the day were now satisfactorily accomplished, he coiled himself up at his master’s feet, and went to sleep. His master rolled himself up in a rug, and lying down before the fire, also tried to sleep, but without success for a long time.

As he lay there counting the number of seconds of awful silence that elapsed between the fall of each successive billow, and listening to the crash and the roar as wave after wave rushed underneath him, and caused his habitation to tremble, he could not avoid feeling alarmed in some degree. Do what he would, the thought of the wrecks that had taken place there, the shrieks that must have often rung above these rocks, and the dead and mangled bodies that must have lain among them, would obtrude upon him and banish sleep from his eyes.

At last he became somewhat accustomed to the rush of waters and the tremulous motion of the beacon. His frame, too, exhausted by a day of hard toil, refused to support itself, and he sank into slumber. But it was not unbroken. A falling cinder from the sinking fire would awaken him with a start; a larger wave than usual would cause him to spring up and look round in alarm; or a shrieking sea-bird, as it swooped past, would induce a dream, in which the cries of drowning men arose, causing him to awake with a cry that set Pup barking furiously.

Frequently during that night, after some such dream, Bremner would get up and descend to the mortar-gallery to see that all was right there. He found the waves always hissing below, but the starry sky was calm and peaceful above, so he returned to his couch comforted a little, and fell again into a troubled sleep, to be again awakened by frightful dreams of dreadful sights, and scenes of death and danger on the sea.

Thus the hours wore slowly away. As the tide fell the noise of waves retired a little from the beacon, and the wearied man and dog sank gradually at last into deep, untroubled slumber.

So deep was it, that they did not hear the increasing noise of the gulls as they wheeled round the beacon after having breakfasted near it; so deep, that they did not feel the sun as it streamed through an opening in the woodwork and glared on their respective faces; so deep, that they were ignorant of the arrival of the boats with the workmen, and were dead to the shouts of their companions, until one of them, Jamie Dove, put his head up the hatchway and uttered one of his loudest roars, close to their ears.

Then indeed Bremner rose up and looked bewildered, and Pup, starting up, barked as furiously as if its own little black body had miraculously become the concentrated essence of all the other noisy dogs in the wide world rolled into one!