The Story of the Rock by R. M. Ballantyne (best ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

working the windlass, by which the heavy blocks of moor-stone were raised to their places.

The signal had been given to hoist one of these, when Isaac Dorkin, who stood beside the stone, suddenly uttered a loud cry, and shouted, “hold on! Ease off up there! Hold o-o-on! D’ye hear?”

“Arrah! howld yer noise, an’ I’ll hear better,” cried Teddy Maroon, looking over the top edge of the lighthouse.

“My thumb’s caught i’ the chain!” yelled Dorkin. “Ease it off.”

“Och! poor thing,” exclaimed Teddy, springing back and casting loose the chain. “Are ye aisy now?” he cried, again looking down at his friend.

“All right: hoist away!” shouted Stobbs, another of the men, who could scarce refrain from laughing at the rueful countenance of his comrade as he surveyed his crushed thumb.

Up went the stone, and while it was ascending some of the men brought forward another to follow it.

“There comes the boat,” observed Mr Rudyerd to one of his assistant engineers, as he shut up a pocket telescope with which he had been surveying the distant shore. “I find it necessary to leave you to-day, Mr Franks, rather earlier than usual; but that matters little, as things are going smoothly here. See that you keep the men at work as long as possible. If the swell that is beginning to rise should increase, it may compel you to knock off before dark, but I hope it won’t.”

“It would be well, sir, I think,” said Franks, “to make John Potter overseer in place of Williamson; he is a better and steadier man. If you have no objection—”

“None in the least,” replied Rudyerd. “I have thought of promoting Potter for some time past. Make the change by all means.”

“Please, sir,” said Williamson, approaching at that moment, “I’ve just been at the top of the building an’ observed a French schooner bearing down from the south-west.”

“Well, what of that?” demanded Rudyerd.

“Why, sir,” said Williamson with some hesitation in his manner, “p’raps it’s a man-of-war, sir.”

“And if it be so, what then?” said Rudyerd with a smile; “you don’t suppose they’ll fire a broadside at an unfinished lighthouse, do you? or are you afraid they’ll take the Eddystone Rock in tow, and carry you into a French port?”

“I don’t know, sir,” replied Williamson with an offended look; “I only thought that as we are at war with France just now, it was my duty to report what I had seen.”

“Quite right, quite right,” replied Rudyerd, good-humouredly, “I’ll record the fact in our journal. Meanwhile see that the men don’t have their attention taken up with it.”

By this time the small boat, which the chief engineer had ordered to come off to take him on shore, was alongside the rock. The swell had risen so much that although there was not a breath of wind, the surf was beating violently on the south-west side, and even in the sheltered nook, which was styled by courtesy the harbour, there was sufficient commotion to render care in fending off with the boat-hook necessary. Meanwhile the men wrought like tigers, taking no note of their chief’s departure—all, except Williamson, being either ignorant of, or indifferent to, the gradual approach of the French schooner, which drifted slowly towards them with the tide.

Thus work and time went on quietly. Towards the afternoon, Teddy Maroon wiped the perspiration from his heated brow and looked abroad upon the sea, while the large hook of his crane was descending for another stone. An expression of intense earnestness wrinkled his visage as he turned suddenly to Stobbs, his companion at the windlass, and exclaimed:—

“Sure that’s a Frenchman over there.”

“That’s wot it is, Ted, an’ no mistake,” said Stobbs. “I had a’most forgot about the war and the Mounseers.”

“Ah then, it’s not goin’ to attack us ye are, is it? Never!” exclaimed Teddy in surprise, observing that two boats had been lowered from the schooner’s davits into which men were crowding.

The question was answered in a way that could not be misunderstood. A puff of white smoke burst from the vessel’s side, and a cannon shot went skipping over the sea close past the lighthouse, at the same time the French flag was run up and the two boats, pushing off, made straight for the rock.

Teddy and his comrade ran down to the foot of the building, where the other men were arming themselves hastily with crowbars and large chips of stone. Marshalling the men together, the assistant engineer, who was a fiery little fellow, explained to them how they ought to act.

“My lads,” said he, “the surf has become so strong, by good luck, that it is likely to capsize the enemy’s boats before they get here. In which case they’ll be comfortably drowned, and we can resume our work; but if they manage to reach the rock, we’ll retire behind the lighthouse to keep clear of their musket balls; and, when they attempt to land, rush at ’em, and heave ’em all into the sea. It’s like enough that they’re more numerous than we, but you all know that one Englishman is a match for three Frenchmen any day.”

A general laugh and cheer greeted this address, and then they all took shelter behind the lighthouse. Meanwhile, the two boats drew near. The lightest one was well in advance. On it came, careering on the crest of a large glassy wave. Now was the time for broaching-to and upsetting, but the boat was cleverly handled. It was launched into the “harbour” on a sea of foam.

Most of the Englishmen, on seeing this, ran to oppose the landing.

“Surrender!” shouted an officer with a large moustache, standing up in the bow of the boat.

“Never!” replied Mr Franks, defiantly.

“Hooray!” yelled Teddy Maroon, flourishing his crowbar.

At this the officer gave an order: the Frenchmen raised their muskets, and the Englishmen scampered back to their place of shelter, laughing like school-boys engaged in wild play. Teddy Maroon, whose fertile brain was always devising some novelty or other, ran up to his old post at the windlass, intending to cast a large mass of stone into the boat when it neared the rock, hoping thereby to knock a hole through its bottom; but before he reached his perch, a breaker burst into the harbour and overturned the boat, leaving her crew to struggle towards the rock. Some of them were quickly upon it, grappling with the Englishmen who rushed forward to oppose the landing. Seeing this, Teddy hurled his mass of stone at the head of an unfortunate Frenchman, whom he narrowly missed, and then, uttering a howl, ran down to join in the fray. The French commander, a powerful man, was met knee-deep in the water, by Isaac Dorkin, whom he struck down with the hilt of his sword, and poor Isaac’s grumbling career would certainly have come to an end then and there, had not John Potter, who had already hurled two Frenchmen back into the sea, run to the rescue, and, catching his friend by the hair of the head, dragged him on the rock. At that moment Teddy Maroon dashed at the French officer, caught his uplifted sword-arm by the wrist, and pushed him back into the sea just as he was in the act of making a savage cut at John Potter. Before the latter had dragged his mate quite out of danger he was grappled with by another Frenchman, and they fell struggling to the ground, while a third came up behind Teddy with a boat-hook, and almost took him by surprise; but Teddy turned in time, caught the boat-hook in his left hand, and, flattening the Frenchman’s nose with his right, tumbled him over and ran to assist in repelling another party of the invaders who were making good their landing at the other side of the rock.

Thus the “skrimmage,” as John Potter styled it, became general. Although out-numbered, the Englishmen were getting the best of it, when the second boat plunged into the so-called harbour, and in a few seconds the rock was covered with armed men. Of course the Englishmen were overpowered. Their tools were collected and put into the boat. With some difficulty the first boat was righted. The Englishmen were put into it, with a strong guard of marines, and then the whole party were carried on board the French schooner, which turned out to be a privateer.

Thus were the builders of the Eddystone lighthouse carried off as prisoners of war to France, and their feelings may be gathered from the last remark of Teddy Maroon, who, as the white cliffs of England were fading from his view, exclaimed bitterly, “Och hone! I’ll never see owld Ireland no more!”

Note. It may be as well to state, at this point, that the incidents here related, and indeed all the important incidents of our tale, are founded on, we believe, well authenticated facts.