“I think so; the barometer has not fallen much; and even although the wind should increase a little, we can effect a landing by the Fair Way, at Hope’s Wharf.”

“Very well, I leave it entirely in your hands; you understand the weather better than I do, but remember that I do not wish my men to run unnecessary or foolish risk.”

It may be as well to mention here that a small but exceedingly strong tramway of iron-grating had been fixed to the Bell Rock at an elevation varying from two to four feet above it, and encircling the site of the building.  This tramway or railroad was narrow, not quite three feet in width; and small trucks were fitted to it, so that the heavy stones of the building might be easily run to the exact spot they were to occupy.  From this circular rail several branch lines extended to the different creeks where the boats deposited the stones.  These lines, although only a few yards in length, were dignified with names—­as, Kennedy’s Reach, Lagan’s Reach, Watt’s Reach, and Slights Reach.  The ends of them, where they dipped into the sea, were named Hope’s Wharf, Duff’s Wharf, Rae’s Wharf, &c.; and these wharves had been fixed on different sides of the rock, so that, whatever wind should blow, there would always be one of them on the lee-side available for the carrying on of the work.

Hope’s Wharf was connected with Port Erskine, a pool about twenty yards long by three or four wide, and communicated with the side of the lighthouse by Watt’s Reach, a distance of about thirty yards.

About eight o’clock that morning the bell rang for breakfast.  Such of the men as were not already up began to get out of their berths and hammocks.

To Ruby the scene that followed was very amusing.  Hitherto all had been calm and sunshine.  The work, although severe while they were engaged, had been of short duration, and the greater part of each day had been afterwards spent in light work, or in amusement.  The summons to meals had always been a joyful one, and the appetites of the men were keenly set.

Now, all this was changed.  The ruddy faces of the men were become green, blue, yellow, and purple, according to temperament, but few were flesh-coloured or red.  When the bell rang there was a universal groan below, and half a dozen ghostlike individuals raised themselves on their elbows and looked up with expressions of the deepest woe at the dim skylight.  Most of them speedily fell back again, however, partly owing to a heavy lurch of the vessel, and partly owing to indescribable sensations within.

“Blowin’!” groaned one, as if that single word comprehended the essence of all the miseries that seafaring man is heir to.

“O dear!” sighed another, “why did I ever come here?”

“Och! murder, I’m dyin’, send for the praist an’ me mother!” cried O’Connor, as he fell flat down on his back and pressed both hands tightly over his mouth.