The Lighthouse, R. M. Ballantyne [best mystery novels of all time .txt] 📗

Such were the words, followed by three cheers, with which his friends parted from him, and left him alone with the captain.

"We must break it to her, nephy," said the captain, as they moved towards the cottage.

                 "'Still so gently o'er me stealin",
                 Memory will bring back the feelin'.'

It won't do to go slap into her, as a British frigate does into a French line-o'-battle ship. I'll go in an' do the breakin' business, and send out Minnie to you."

Ruby was quite satisfied with the captain's arrangement, so, when the latter went in to perform his part of this delicate business, the former remained at the doorpost, expectant.

"Minnie, lass, I want to speak to my sister," said the captain, "leave us a bit—and there's somebody wants to see you outside."

"Me, uncle!"

"Ay, you; look alive now."

Minnie went out in some surprise, and had barely crossed the threshold when she found herself pinioned in a strong man's arms! A cry escaped her as she struggled, for one instant, to free herself; but a glance was sufficient to tell who it was that held her. Dropping her head on Ruby's breast, the load of sorrow fell from her heart. Ruby pressed his lips upon her forehead, and they both rested there.

It was one of those pre-eminently sweet resting-places which are vouchsafed to some, though not to all, of the pilgrims of earth, in their toilsome journey through the wilderness towards that eternal rest, in the blessedness of which all minor resting-places shall be forgotten, whether missed or enjoyed by the way.

Their rest, however, was not of long duration, for in a few minutes the captain rushed out, and exclaiming "She's swounded, lad," grasped Ruby by the coat and dragged him into the cottage, where he found his mother lying in a state of insensibility on the floor.

Seating himself by her side on the floor, he raised her gently, and placing her in a half-sitting, half-reclining position in his lap, laid her head tenderly on his breast. While in this position Minnie administered restoratives, and the widow ere long opened her eyes and looked up. She did not speak at first, but, twining her arms round Ruby's neck, gazed steadfastly into his face; then, drawing him closer to her heart, she fervently exclaimed "Thank God!!" and laid her head down again with a deep sigh.

She too had found a resting-place by the way on that day of her pilgrimage.

* * * * *

Now, reader, we feel bound to tell you in confidence that there are few things more difficult than drawing a story to a close! Our tale is done, for Ruby is married to Minnie, and the Bell Rock Lighthouse is finished, and most of those who built it are scattered beyond the possibility of reunion. Yet we are loath to shake hands with them and to bid you farewell.

Nevertheless, so it must be, for if we were to continue the narrative of the after-careers of our friends of the Bell Rock, the books that should be written would certainly suffice to build a new lighthouse.

But we cannot make our bow without a parting word or two.

Ruby and Minnie, as we have said, were married. They lived in the cottage with their mother, and managed to make it sufficiently large to hold them all by banishing the captain into the scullery.

Do not suppose that this was done heartlessly, and without the captain's consent. By no means. That worthy son of Neptune assisted at his own banishment. In fact, he was himself the chief cause of it, for when a consultation was held after the honeymoon, as to "what was to be done now", he waved his hand, commanded silence, and delivered himself as follows:—

"Now, shipmates all, give ear to me, an' don't ventur' to interrupt. It's nat'ral an' proper, Ruby, that you an' Minnie and your mother should wish to live together; as the old song says, 'Birds of a feather flock together', an' the old song's right; and as the thing ought to be, an' you all want it to be, so it shall be. There's only one little difficulty in the way, which is, that the ship's too small to hold us, by reason of the after-cabin bein' occupied by an old seaman of the name of Ogilvy. Now, then, not bein' pigs, the question is, what's to be done? I will answer that question: the seaman of the name of Ogilvy shall change his quarters."

Observing at this point that both Ruby and his bride opened their mouths to speak, the captain held up a threatening finger, and sternly said, "Silence!" Then he proceeded—

"I speak authoritatively on this point, havin' conversed with the seaman Ogilvy, and diskivered his sentiments. That seaman intends to resign the cabin to the young couple, and to hoist his flag for the futur' in the fogs'l."

He pointed, in explanation, to the scullery; a small, dirty-looking apartment off the kitchen, which was full of pots and pans and miscellaneous articles of household, chiefly kitchen, furniture.

Ruby and Minnie laughed at this, and the widow looked perplexed, but perfectly happy and at her ease, for she knew that whatever arrangement the captain should make, it would be agreeable in the end to all parties.

"The seaman Ogilvy and I," continued the captain, "have gone over the fogs'l" (meaning the forecastle) "together, and we find that, by the use of mops, buckets, water, and swabs, the place can be made clean. By the use of paper, paint, and whitewash, it can be made respectable; and, by the use of furniture, pictures, books, and baccy, it can be made comfortable. Now, the question that I've got to propound this day to the judge and jury is—Why not?"

Upon mature consideration, the judge and jury could not answer "why not?" therefore the thing was fixed and carried out and the captain thereafter dwelt for years in the scullery, and the inmates of the cottage spent so much of their time in the scullery that it became, as it were, the parlour, or boudoir, or drawing-room of the place. When, in course of time, a number of small Brands came to howl and tumble about the cottage, they naturally gravitated towards the scullery, which then virtually became the nursery, with a stout old seaman, of the name of Ogilvy, usually acting the part of head nurse. His duties were onerous, by reason of the strength of constitution, lungs, and muscles of the young Brands, whose ungovernable desire to play with that dangerous element from which heat is evolved, undoubtedly qualified them for the honorary title of Fire-Brands.

With the proceeds of the jewel case Ruby bought a little coasting vessel, with which he made frequent and successful voyages. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," no doubt, for Minnie grew fonder of Ruby every time he went away, and every time he came back. Things prospered with our hero, and you may be sure that he did not forget his old friends of the lighthouse. On the contrary, he and his wife became frequent visitors at the signal-tower, and the families of the lighthouse-keepers felt almost as much at home in "the cottage" as they did in their own houses. And each keeper, on returning from his six weeks' spell on the rock to take his two weeks' spell at the signal-tower, invariably made it his first business, after kissing his wife and children, to go up to the Brands and smoke a pipe in the scullery with that eccentric old seafaring nursery-maid of the name of Ogilvy.

In time Ruby found it convenient to build a top flat on the cottage, and above this a small turret, which overlooked the opposite houses, and commanded a view of the sea. This tower the captain converted into a point of lookout, and a summer smoking-room,—and many a time and oft, in the years that followed, did he and Ruby climb up there about nightfall, to smoke the pipe of peace, with Minnie beside them, and to watch the bright flashing of the red and white light on the Bell Rock, as it shone over the waters far and wide, like a star of the first magnitude, a star of hope and safety, guiding sailors to their desired haven; perchance reminding them of that star of Bethlehem which guided the shepherds to Him who is the Light of the World and the Rock of Ages.

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lighthouse, by Robert Ballantyne