The scene which presented itself to our hero when he stood in the entrance passage was such as neither pen nor pencil can adequately depict.  The tide was full, or nearly so, and had the night been calm the water would have stood about twelve or fourteen feet on the sides of the tower, leaving a space of about the same height between its surface and the spot at the top of the copper ladder where Ruby stood; but such was the wild commotion of the sea that this space was at one moment reduced to a few feet, as the waves sprang up towards the doorway, or nearly doubled, as they sank hissing down to the very rock.

Acres of white, leaping, seething foam covered the spot where the terrible Bell Rock lay.  Never for a moment did that boiling cauldron get time to show one spot of dark-coloured water.  Billow after billow came careering on from the open sea in quick succession, breaking with indescribable force and fury just a few yards to windward of the foundations of the lighthouse, where the outer ledges of the rock, although at the time deep down in the water, were sufficiently near the surface to break their first full force, and save the tower from destruction, though not from many a tremendous blow and overwhelming deluge of water.

When the waves hit the rock they were so near that the lighthouse appeared to receive the shock.  Rushing round it on either side, the cleft billows met again to leeward, just opposite the door, where they burst upwards in a magnificent cloud of spray to a height of full thirty feet.  At one time, while Ruby held on by the man-ropes at the door and looked over the edge, he could see a dark abyss with the foam shimmering pale far below; another instant, and the solid building perceptibly trembled, as a green sea hit it fair on the weather-side.  A continuous roar and hiss followed as the billow swept round, filled up the dark abyss, and sent the white water gleaming up almost into the doorway.  At the same moment the sprays flew by on either side of the column, so high that a few drops were thrown on the lantern.  To Ruby’s eye these sprays appeared to be clouds driving across the sky, so high were they above his head.  A feeling of awe crept over him as his mind gradually began to realize the world of water which, as it were, overwhelmed him—­water and foam roaring and flying everywhere—­the heavy seas thundering on the column at his back—­the sprays from behind arching almost over the lighthouse, and meeting those that burst up in front, while an eddy of wind sent a cloud swirling in at the doorway, and drenched him to the skin!  It was an exhibition of the might of God in the storm such as he had never seen before, and a brief sudden exclamation of thanksgiving burst from the youth’s lips, as he thought of how hopeless his case would have been had the French vessel passed the lighthouse an hour later than it did.