Wishart was a robust and spirited young fellow, and bore his sufferings with wonderful firmness while he was being removed.  He was laid upon one of the narrow frame-beds of the beacon, and despatched in a boat to the tender.  On seeing the boat approach with the poor man stretched on a bed covered with blankets, and his face overspread with that deadly pallor which is the usual consequence of excessive bleeding, the seamen’s looks betrayed the presence of those well-known but indescribable sensations which one experiences when brought suddenly into contact with something horrible.  Relief was at once experienced, however, when Wishart’s voice was heard feebly accosting those who first stepped into the boat.

He was immediately sent on shore, where the best surgical advice was obtained, and he began to recover steadily, though slowly.  Meanwhile, having been one of the principal masons, Robert Selkirk was appointed to his vacant post.

And now let us wind up this chapter of accidents with an account of the manner in which a party of strangers, to use a slang but expressive phrase, came to grief during a visit to the Bell Rock.

One morning, a trim little vessel was seen by the workmen making for the rock at low tide.  From its build and size, Ruby at once judged it to be a pleasure yacht.  Perchance some delicate shades in the seamanship, displayed in managing the little vessel, had influenced the sailor in forming his opinion.  Be this as it may, the vessel brought up under the lee of the rock and cast anchor.

It turned out to be a party of gentlemen from Leith, who had run down the firth to see the works.  The weather was fine, and the sea calm, but these yachters had yet to learn that fine weather and a calm sea do not necessarily imply easy or safe landing at the Bell Rock!  They did not know that the swell which had succeeded a recent gale was heavier than it appeared to be at a distance; and, worst of all, they did not know, or they did not care to remember, that “there is a time for all things”, and that the time for landing at the Bell Rock is limited.

Seeing that the place was covered with workmen, the strangers lowered their little boat and rowed towards them.

“They’re mad,” said Logan, who, with a group of the men, watched the motions of their would-be visitors.

“No,” observed Joe Dumsby; “they are brave, but hignorant.”

“Faix, they won’t be ignorant long!” cried Ned O’Connor, as the little boat approached the rock, propelled by two active young rowers in Guernsey shirts, white trousers, and straw hats.  “You’re stout, lads, both of ye, an’ purty good hands at the oar, for gintlemen; but av ye wos as strong as Samson it would puzzle ye to stem these breakers, so ye better go back.”

The yachters did not hear the advice, and they would not have taken it if they had heard it.  They rowed straight up towards the landing-place, and, so far, showed themselves expert selectors of the right channel; but they soon came within the influence of the seas, which burst on the rock and sent up jets of spray to leeward.