The bellows, however, were too delicate to be left exposed to such forces as the stormy winds and waves, they were therefore shipped and unshipped every tide, and conveyed to and from the rock in the boats with the men.

Dove and Ruby wrought together like heroes.  They were both so powerful that the heavy implements they wielded seemed to possess no weight when in their strong hands, and their bodies were so lithe and active as to give the impression of men rejoicing, revelling, in the enjoyment of their work.

“That’s your sort; hit him hard, he’s got no friends,” said Dove, turning a mass of red-hot metal from side to side, while Ruby pounded it with a mighty hammer, as if it were a piece of putty.

“Fire and steel for ever,” observed Ruby, as he made the sparks fly right and left.  “Hallo! the tide’s rising.”

“Ho! so it is,” cried the smith, finishing off the piece of work with a small hammer, while Ruby rested on the one he had used and wiped the perspiration from his brow.  “It always serves me in this way, lad,” continued the smith, without pausing for a moment in his work.  “Blow away, Ruby, the sea is my greatest enemy.  Every day, a’most, it washes me away from my work.  In calm weather, it creeps up my legs, and the legs o’ the forge too, till it gradually puts out the fire, and in rough weather it sends up a wave sometimes that sweeps the whole concern black out at one shot.

“It will creep you out to-day, evidently,” said Ruby, as the water began to come about his toes.

“Never mind, lad, we’ll have time to finish them picks this tide, if we work fast.”

Thus they toiled and moiled, with their heads and shoulders in smoke and fire, and their feet in water.

Gradually the tide rose.

“Pump away, Ruby!  Keep the pot bilin’, my boy,” said the smith.

“The wind blowin’, you mean.  I say, Dove, do the other men like the work here?”

“Like it, ay, they like it well.  At first we were somewhat afraid o’ the landin’ in rough weather, but we’ve got used to that now.  The only bad thing about it is in the rolling o’ that horrible Pharos.  She’s so bad in a gale that I sometimes think she’ll roll right over like a cask.  Most of us get sick then, but I don’t think any of ’em are as bad as me.  They seem to be gettin’ used to that too.  I wish I could.  Another blow, Ruby.”

“Time’s up,” shouted one of the men.

“Hold on just for a minute or two,” pleaded the smith, who, with his assistant, was by this time standing nearly knee-deep in water.

The sea had filled the pit some time before, and driven the men out of it.  These busied themselves in collecting the tools and seeing that nothing was left lying about, while the men who were engaged on those parts of the rocks that were a few inches higher, continued their labours until the water crept up to them.  Then they collected their tools, and went to the boats, which lay awaiting them at the western landing-place.