But the most tedious part of the operation did not lie in the boring of these holes.  In order that they should be of the required shape, two holes had to be bored a few inches apart from each other, and the rock cut away from between them.  It was this latter part of the work that took up most time.

Those of the men who were not employed about the beacon were working at the foundation-pit.

While the party were thus busily occupied on the Bell Rock, an event occurred which rendered the importance of the beacon, if possible, more obvious than ever, and which wellnigh put an end to the career of all those who were engaged on the rock at that time.

The Pharos floating light lay at a distance of above two miles from the Bell Rock; but one of the smaller vessels, the sloop Smeaton, lay much closer to it, and some of the artificers were berthed aboard of her, instead of the floating light.

Some time after the landing of the two boats from the Pharos, the Smeaton’s boat put off and landed eight men on the rock; soon after which the crew of the boat pushed off and returned to the Smeaton to examine her riding-ropes, and see that they were in good order, for the wind was beginning to increase, and the sea to rise.

The boat had no sooner reached the vessel than the latter began to drift, carrying the boat along with her.  Instantly those on board endeavoured to hoist the mainsail of the Smeaton, with the view of working her up to the buoy from which she had parted; but it blew so hard, that by the time she was got round to make a tack towards the rock, she had drifted at least three miles to leeward.

The circumstance of the Smeaton and her boat having drifted was observed first by Mr. Stevenson, who prudently refrained from drawing attention to the fact, and walked slowly to the farther point of the rock to watch her.  He was quickly followed by the landing-master, who touched him on the shoulder, and in perfect silence, but with a look of intense anxiety, pointed to the vessel.

“I see it, Wilson.  God help us if she fails to make the rock within a very short time,” said Mr. Stevenson.

“She will never reach us in time,” said Wilson, in a tone that convinced his companion he entertained no hope.

“Perhaps she may,” he said hurriedly; “she is a good sailer.”

“Good sailing,” replied the other, “cannot avail against wind and tide together.  No human power can bring that vessel to our aid until long after the tide has covered the Bell Rock.”

Both remained silent for some time, watching with intense anxiety the ineffectual efforts of the little vessel to beat up to windward.

In a few minutes the engineer turned to his companion and said, “They cannot save us, Wilson.  The two boats that are left—­can they hold us all?”

The landing-master shook his head.  “The two boats,” said he, “will be completely filled by their own crews.  For ordinary rough weather they would be quite full enough.  In a sea like that,” he said, pointing to the angry waves that were being gradually lashed into foam by the increasing wind, “they will be overloaded.”