These bold artificers were not long of having their courage tested.  Soon after their removal to the beacon they experienced some very rough weather, which shook the posts violently, and caused them to twist in a most unpleasant way.

But it was not until some time after that a storm arose, which caused the stoutest-hearted of them all to quail more than once.

It began on the night of as fine a day as they had had the whole season.

In order that the reader may form a just conception of what we are about to describe, it may not be amiss to note the state of things at the rock, and the employment of the men at the time.

A second forge had been put up on the higher platform of the beacon, but the night before that of which we write, the lower platform had been burst up by a wave, and the mortar and forge thereon, with all the implements, were cast down.  The damaged forge was therefore set up for the time on its old site, near the foundation-pit of the lighthouse, while the carpenters were busy repairing the mortar-gallery.

The smiths were as usual busy sharpening picks and irons, and making bats and stanchions, and other iron work connected with the building operations.  The landing-master’s crew were occupied in assisting the millwrights to lay the railways to hand, and joiners were kept almost constantly employed in fitting picks to their handles, which latter were very frequently broken.

Nearly all the miscellaneous work was done by seamen.  There was no such character on the Bell Rock as the common labourer.  The sailors cheerfully undertook the work usually performed by such men, and they did it admirably.

In consequence of the men being able to remain on the beacon, the work went on literally “by double tides”; and at night the rock was often ablaze with torches, while the artificers wrought until the waves drove them away.

On the night in question there was a low spring-tide, so that a night-tide’s work of five hours was secured.  This was one of the longest spells they had had since the beginning of the operations.

The stars shone brightly in a very dark sky.  Not a breath of air was felt.  Even the smoke of the forge fire rose perpendicularly a short way, until an imperceptible zephyr wafted it gently to the west.  Yet there was a heavy swell rolling in from the eastward, which caused enormous waves to thunder on Ralph the Rover’s Ledge, as if they would drive down the solid rock.

Mingled with this solemn, intermittent roar of the sea was the continuous clink of picks, chisels, and hammers, and the loud clang of the two forges; that on the beacon being distinctly different from the other, owing to the wooden erection on which it stood rendering it deep and thunderous.  Torches and forge fires cast a glare over all, rendering the foam pale green and the rocks deep red.  Some of the active figures at work stood out black and sharp against the light, while others shone in its blaze like red-hot fiends.  Above all sounded an occasional cry from the sea-gulls, as they swooped down into the magic circle of light, and then soared away shrieking into darkness.