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

over it all step by step with somewhat of the feelings that influence a man when he revisits the scene of his childhood.

There was the spot where the forge had stood.

“D’ye mind it, lad?” said Dove. “There are the holes where the hearth was fixed, and there’s the rock where you vaulted over the bellows when ye took that splendid dive after the fair-haired lassie into the pool yonder.”

“Mind it? Ay, I should think so!”

Then there were the holes where the great beams of the beacon had been fixed, and the iron bats, most of which latter were still left in the rock, and some of which may be seen there at the present day. There was also the pool into which poor Selkirk had tumbled with the vegetables on the day of the first dinner on the rock, and that other pool into which Forsyth had plunged after the mermaids; and, not least interesting among the spots of note, there was the ledge, now named the “Last Hope”, on which Mr Stevenson and his men had stood on the day when the boat had been carried away, and they had expected, but were mercifully preserved from, a terrible tragedy.

After they had talked much on all these things, and long before they were tired of it, the sea drove them to the rails; gradually, as it rose higher, it drove them into the lighthouse, and then each man went to his work—Jamie Dove to his kitchen, in order to clean up and prepare dinner, and the other two to the lantern, to scour and polish the reflectors, refill and trim the lamps, and, generally, to put everything in order for the coming night.

Ruby divided his time between the kitchen and lantern, lending a hand in each, but, we fear, interrupting the work more than he advanced it.

That day it fell calm, and the sun shone brightly.

“We’ll have fog to-night,” observed Dumsby to Brand, pausing in the operation of polishing a reflector, in which his fat face was mirrored with the most indescribable and dreadful distortions.

“D’ye think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“You’re right,” remarked Forsyth, looking from his elevated position to the seaward horizon, “I can see it coming now.”

“I say, what smell is that?” exclaimed Ruby, sniffing.

“Somethink burnin’,” said Dumsby, also sniffing.

“Why, what can it be?” murmured Forsyth, looking round and likewise sniffing. “Hallo! Joe, look out; you’re on fire!”

Joe started, clapped his hand behind him, and grasped his inexpressibles, which were smouldering warmly. Ruby assisted, and the fire was soon put out, amidst much laughter.

“’Ang them reflectors!” said Joe, seating himself, and breathing hard after his alarm and exertions; “it’s the third time they’ve set me ablaze.”

“The reflectors, Joe?” said Ruby.

“Ay, don’t ye see? They’ve nat’rally got a focus, an’ w’en I ’appen to be standin’ on a sunny day in front of ’em, contemplatin’ the face o’ natur’, as it wor, through the lantern panes, if I gits into the focus by haccident, d’ye see, it just acts like a burnin’-glass.”

Ruby could scarcely believe this, but after testing the truth of the statement by actual experiment he could no longer doubt it.

Presently a light breeze sprang up, rolling the fog before it, and then dying away, leaving the lighthouse enshrouded.

During fog there is more danger to shipping than at any other time. In the daytime, in ordinary weather, rocks and lighthouses can be seen. At night, lights can be seen, but during fog nothing can be seen until danger may be too near to be avoided. The two great fog-bells of the lighthouse were therefore set a-going, and they rang out their slow deep-toned peal all that day and all that night, as the bell of the Abbot of Aberbrothoc is said to have done in days of yore.

That night Ruby was astonished, and then he was stunned! First, as to his astonishment. While he was seated by the kitchen fire chatting with his friend the smith, sometime between nine o’clock and midnight, Dumsby summoned him to the lantern to “help in catching to-morrow’s dinner!”

Dove laughed at the summons, and they all went up.

The first thing that caught Ruby’s eye at one of the window panes was the round visage of an owl, staring in with its two large eyes as if it had gone mad with amazement, and holding on to the iron frame with its claws. Presently its claws lost hold, and it fell off into outer darkness.

“What think ye o’ that for a beauty?” said Forsyth.

Ruby’s eyes, being set free from the fascination of the owl’s stare, now made him aware of the fact that hundreds of birds of all kinds—crows, magpies, sparrows, tomtits, owls, larks, mavises, blackbirds, etcetera, etcetera—were fluttering round the lantern outside, apparently bent on ascertaining the nature of the wonderful light within.

“Ah! poor things,” said Forsyth, in answer to Ruby’s look of wonder, “they often visit us in foggy weather. I suppose they get out to sea in the fog and can’t find their way back to land, and then some of them chance to cross our light and take refuge on it.”

“Now I’ll go out and get to-morrow’s dinner,” said Dumsby. He went out accordingly, and, walking round the balcony that encircled the base of the lantern, was seen to put his hand up and quietly take down and wring the necks of such birds as he deemed suitable for his purpose. It seemed a cruel act to Ruby, but when he came to think of it he felt that, as they were to be stewed at any rate, the more quickly they were killed the better!

He observed that the birds kept fluttering about, alighting for a few moments and flying off again, all the time that Dumsby was at work, yet Dumsby never failed to seize his prey.

Presently the man came in with a small basket full of game. “Now, Ruby,” said he, “I’ll bet a sixpence that you don’t catch a bird within five minutes.”

“I don’t bet such large sums usually, but I’ll try,” said Ruby, going out.

He tried and failed. Just as the five minutes were expiring, however, the owl happened to alight before his nose, so he “nabbed” it, and carried it in triumphantly.

“That ain’t a bird,” said Dumsby.

“It’s not a fish,” retorted Ruby; “but how is it that you caught them so easily, and I found it so difficult?”

“Because, lad, you must do it at the right time. You watch w’en the focus of a revolvin’ light is comin’ full in a bird’s face. The moment it does so ’e’s dazzled, and you grab ’im. If you grab too soon or too late, ’e’s away. That’s ’ow it is, and they’re capital heatin’, as you’ll find.”

Thus much for Ruby’s astonishment. Now for his being stunned.

Late that night the fog cleared away, and the bells were stopped. After a long chat with his friends, Ruby mounted to the library and went to bed. Later still the fog returned, and the bells were again set a-going. Both of them being within a few feet of Ruby’s head, they awakened him with a bang that caused him to feel as if the room in which he lay were a bell and his own head the tongue thereof.

At first the sound was solemnising, then it was saddening. After a time it became exasperating, and then maddening. He tried to sleep, but he only tossed. He tried to meditate, but he only wandered—not “in dreams”, however. He tried to laugh, but the laugh degenerated into a growl. Then he sighed, and the sigh ended in a groan. Finally, he got up and walked up and down the floor till his legs were cold, when he turned into bed again, very tired, and fell asleep, but not to rest—to dream.

He dreamt that he was at the forge again, and that he and Dove were trying to smash their anvils with the sledge-hammers—bang and bang about. But the anvil would not break. At last he grew desperate, hit the horn off, and then, with another terrific blow, smashed the whole affair to atoms!

This startled him a little, and he awoke sufficiently to become aware of the fog-bells.

Again he dreamed. Minnie was his theme now, but, strange to say, he felt little or no tenderness towards her. She was beset by a hundred ruffians in pea-jackets and sou’westers. Something stirred him to madness. He rushed at the foe, and began to hit out at them right and left. The hitting was slow, but sure—regular as clock-work. First the right, then the left, and at each blow a seaman’s nose was driven into his head, and a seaman’s body lay flat on the ground. At length they were all floored but one—the last and the biggest. Ruby threw all his remaining strength into one crashing blow, drove his fist right through his antagonist’s body, and awoke with a start to find his knuckles bleeding.

“Hang these bells!” he exclaimed, starting up and gazing round him in despair. Then he fell back on his pillow in despair, and went to sleep in despair.

Once more he dreamed. He was going to church now, dressed in a suit of the finest broadcloth, with Minnie on his arm, clothed in pure white, emblematic, it struck him, of her pure gentle spirit. Friends were with him, all gaily attired, and very happy, but unaccountably silent. Perhaps it was the noise of the wedding-bells that rendered their voices inaudible. He was struck by the solemnity as well as the pertinacity of these wedding-bells as he entered the church. He was puzzled too, being a Presbyterian, why he was to be married in church, but being a man of liberal mind, he made no objection to it.

They all assembled in front of the pulpit, into which the clergyman, a very reverend but determined man, mounted with a prayer book in his hand. Ruby was puzzled again. He had not supposed that the pulpit was the proper place, but modestly attributed this to his ignorance.

“Stop those bells!” said the clergyman, with stern solemnity; but they went on.

“Stop them, I say!” he roared in a voice of thunder.

The sexton, pulling the ropes in the middle of the church, paid no attention.

Exasperated beyond endurance, the clergyman hurled the prayer book at the sexton’s head, and felled him! Still the bells went on of their own accord.

“Stop! sto–o–o–op! I say,” he yelled fiercely, and, hitting the pulpit with his fist, he split it from top to bottom.

Minnie cried “Shame!” at this, and from that moment the bells ceased.

Whether it was that the fog-bells ceased at that time, or that Minnie’s voice charmed Ruby’s thoughts away, we cannot tell, but certain it is that the severely tried youth became entirely oblivious of everything. The marriage-party vanished with the bells; Minnie, alas, faded away also; finally, the roar of the sea round the Bell Rock, the rock itself, its lighthouse and its inmates, and all connected with it, faded from the sleeper’s mind, and:—

    “Like the baseless fabric of a vision

Left not a wrack behind.”