with a swing that produced a prolonged crash.  Up went its two leaves with two minor crashes.  Down went the four plates and the cups and saucers, with such violence and rapidity that they all seemed to be dancing on the board together.  The beef all but went over the side of its dish by reason of the shock of its sudden stoppage on touching the table, and the pile of toast was only saved from scatteration by the strength of the material, so to speak, with which its successive layers were cemented.

When the knives, forks, and spoons came to be laid down, the storm seemed to lull, because these were comparatively light implements, so that this period—­which in shore-going life is usually found to be the exasperating one—­was actually a season of relief.  But it was always followed by a terrible squall of scraping wooden legs and clanking human feet when the camp stools were set, and the men came in and sat down to the meal.

The pouring out of the tea, however, was the point that would have called forth the admiration of the world—­had the world seen it.  What a contrast between the miserable, sickly, slow-dribbling silver and other teapots of the land, and this great teapot of the sea!  The Bell Rock teapot had no sham, no humbug about it.  It was a big, bold-looking one, of true Britannia metal, with vast internal capacity and a gaping mouth.

Dove seized it in his strong hand as he would have grasped his biggest fore-hammer.  Before you could wink, a sluice seemed to burst open; a torrent of rich brown tea spouted at your cup, and it was full—­the saucer too, perhaps—­in a moment.

But why dwell on these luxurious scenes?  Reader, you can never know them from experience unless you go to visit the Bell Bock; we will therefore cease to tantalize you.

During breakfast it was discussed whether or not the signal-ball should be hoisted.

The signal-ball was fixed to a short staff on the summit of the lighthouse, and the rule was that it should be hoisted at a fixed hour every morning when all was well, and kept up until an answering signal should be made from a signal-tower in Arbroath where the keepers’ families dwelt, and where each keeper in succession spent a fortnight with his family, after a spell of six weeks on the rock.  It was the duty of the keeper on shore to watch for the hoisting of the ball (the “All’s well” signal) each morning on the lighthouse, and to reply to it with a similar ball on the signal-tower.

If, on any occasion, the hour for signalling should pass without the ball on the lighthouse being shown, then it was understood that something was wrong, and the attending boat of the establishment was sent off at once to ascertain the cause, and afford relief if necessary.  The keeping down of the ball was, however, an event of rare occurrence, so that when it did take place the poor wives of the men on the rock were usually thrown into a state of much perturbation and anxiety, each naturally supposing that her husband must be seriously ill, or have met with a bad accident.