“Now, boys, sit in,” cried Dove, seizing the teapot.  “We have not much variety,” observed Dumsby to Ruby, in an apologetic tone.

“Variety!” exclaimed Forsyth, “what d’ye call that?” pointing to the fish.

“Well, that is a hextra morsel, I admit,” returned Joe; “but we don’t get that every day; ‘owsever, wot there is is good, an’ there’s plenty of it, so let’s fall to.”

Forsyth said grace, and then they all “fell to”, with appetites peculiar to that isolated and breezy spot, where the wind blows so fresh from the open sea that the nostrils inhale culinary odours, and the palates seize culinary products, with unusual relish.

There was something singularly unfeminine in the manner in which the duties of the table were performed by these stalwart guardians of the Rock.  We are accustomed to see such duties performed by the tender hands of woman, or, it may be, by the expert fingers of trained landsmen; but in places where woman may not or can not act with propriety,—­as on shipboard, or in sea-girt towers,—­men go through such feminine work in a way that does credit to their versatility,—­also to the strength of culinary materials and implements.

The way in which Jamie Dove and his comrades knocked about the pans, teapots, cups and saucers, &c., without smashing them, would have astonished, as well as gratified, the hearts of the fraternity of tinsmiths and earthenware manufacturers.

We have said that everything in the lighthouse was substantial and very strong.  All the woodwork was oak, the floors and walls of solid stone,—­hence, when Dove, who had no nerves or physical feelings, proceeded with his cooking, the noise he caused was tremendous.  A man used to woman’s gentle ways would, on seeing him poke the fire, have expected that the poker would certainly penetrate not only the coals, but the back of the grate also, and perchance make its appearance at the outside of the building itself, through stones, joggles, dovetails, trenails, pozzolano mortar, and all the strong materials that have withstood the fury of winds and waves for the last half-century!

Dove treated the other furniture in like manner; not that he treated it ill,—­we would not have the reader imagine this for a moment.  He was not reckless of the household goods.  He was merely indifferent as to the row he made in using them.

But it was when the cooking was over, and the table had to be spread, that the thing culminated.  Under the impulse of lightheartedness, caused by the feeling that his labours for the time were nearly ended, and that his reward was about to be reaped, he went about with irresistible energy, like the proverbial bull in a china shop, without reaching that creature’s destructive point.  It was then that a beaming smile overspread his countenance, and he raged about the kitchen with Vulcan-like joviality.  He pulled out the table from the wall to the centre of the apartment,