This plan, although attended with considerable danger, was finally agreed to, and forthwith acted on.

That afternoon the men on sh.o.r.e observed a very Robinson-Crusoe-like boat coming in from the sea with an oar-mast and a blanket-sail, from which landed "Captain" Teddy Maroon and his two mates. The same evening, however, the wind moderated and shifted a little, so that the relief boat, with provisions and the gang of men whose turn it was to do duty in the store-ship, succeeded in getting off and reaching their _Buss_ in safety.

The weather became so bad soon after this that Smeaton thought it wise to bring his operations for that season to a close. Accordingly, on the 7th November, he visited the Rock, which had been cut into a regular floor of successive terraces or steps, and was considerably larger in circ.u.mference than the foundation on which Rudyerd's building had rested. On the 15th the _Buss_ sailed into Plymouth, the men having run out of provisions, and having been unable to do anything on the Rock.

A great storm raged on the 22nd. On the previous day Smeaton had gone off in the _Buss_ to attach a buoy to the mooring chains for that winter. The task was laborious, and when it was completed they found it impossible to return to Plymouth, owing to the miserable sailing qualities of their vessel. There was nothing for it but to cast loose and run before the wind. While doing so they snapt the painter of the yawl, and lost it.

Thus they were, as it were, cast adrift upon the sea with neither maps, charts, books, nor instruments to guide them. No alarm, however, was felt, the neighbouring headlands being bold, and all on board having previously been at Fowey, to which port Smeaton now gave orders to steer.

Wet and worn out with labour, he then went below to s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours'

repose. In the night he was awakened by a tremendous noise overhead.

The men were rushing about the deck, and shouting wildly. He sprang up without dressing. A voice, exclaiming, "For G.o.d's sake heave hard on that rope if you want to save yourselves!" saluted him as he gained the deck. Roaring wind, a deluge of rain, and pitch darkness held revel on the sea; but above the din was heard the dreaded sound of breakers close under their lee. The jib was split, the mainsail half-lowered, and the vessel running gunwale under. By vigorous and well-directed action, in which John Bowden proved himself to be one of those men who are towers of strength in emergencies, the head of the _Buss_ was brought round, and the immediate danger averted, but they had no idea where they were, and when day broke on the 23rd they found themselves out of sight of land! Their last boat, also, had filled while towing astern, and had to be cut adrift. At noon, however; they sighted the Land's End--the wind blowing hard from the nor'-east.

"No chance o' making a British port in this wind with such a vessel, sir," said John Bowden, touching his cap respectfully to Mr Smeaton.

"As well try to bate to win'ard in me grandmother's wash-tub," remarked Teddy Maroon, in a disrespectful tone.

Smeaton, agreeing with them, lay-to the whole of the 24th, and then, casting anchor, debated whether it were better to make for the coast of France or try to reach the Scilly Islands. Fortunately a change of wind on the 25th enabled them to weigh anchor and run back to Plymouth rejoicing; and vowing, as John Bowden said, never more to venture out to sea in a _Buss_! They reached the harbour at six in the morning, to the intense relief of their friends, who had given them up for lost.

Thus ended the first season--1756.

CHAPTER NINE.

ACCOUNT OF THE WAR CONTINUED.

"Now then, my lads," said Smeaton, on the 12th of June 1757, "we shall lay the foundation to-day, so let us go to work with a will."

"Faix, then," whispered Teddy Maroon to John Bowden, as they proceeded to the wharf, where the ready-cut stones were being put on board the Eddystone boat, "it's little good we'll do av we _don't_ go to work wid a will."

"I believe you, my boy," replied John, heartily. John Bowden said and did everything heartily. "An' we won't be long," he continued, "about laying the first course, it's such a small one."

"Hallo!" shouted the man in charge of the boat, as they came in sight of it, "come along, lads; we're all ready."

According to directions they ran down, and jumped on board "with a will." Smeaton took his place in the stern. They pushed off with a will; sailed and pulled out the fourteen miles with a will; jumped on the rock, landed the heavy stones, went immediately into action, cleaned the bed, and laid the first stone of the great work--all under the same vigorous impulse of the will. This was at eight in the morning. By the evening tide, the first "course," which formed but a small segment of a circle, was fitted with the utmost despatch, bedded in mortar and trenailed down. Next day the second course was partly landed on the rock; the men still working with a will, for moments out there were more precious than hours or days in ordinary building,--but before they got the whole course landed, old Ocean also began to work with a will, and eventually proved himself stronger than his adversaries, by driving them, in a terrific storm, from the Rock!

They reached the _Buss_ with difficulty, and lay there idle while the mad waves revelled round the rocks, and danced through their works deridingly. It seemed, however, as though they were only "in fun," for, on returning to work after the gale abated, it was found that "no harm had been done." As if, however, to check any premature felicitations, old Ocean again sent a sudden squall on the 18th, which drove the men once more off the rock, without allowing time to chain the stones landed, so that five of them were lost.

This was a serious disaster. The lost stones could only be replaced by new ones being cut from the distant quarries. Prompt in all emergencies, Smeaton hurried away and set two men to work on each stone, night and day; nevertheless, despite his utmost efforts, seconded by willing men, the incident caused the loss of more than a week.

Fogs now stepped in to aid and abet the winds and waves in their mad efforts to stop the work. Stop it! They little knew what indomitable spirits some men have got. As well might they have attempted to stop the course of time! They succeeded, however, in causing vexatious delays, and, in July, had the audacity to fling a wreck in the very teeth of the builders, as if to taunt them with the futility of their labours.

It happened thus: On the night of the 5th a vessel named the _Charming Sally_, about 130 tons burden, and hailing from Biddeford, came sailing over the main. A bright lookout was kept on board of her, of course, for the wind was moderately high, and the fog immoderately thick. The _Sally_ progressed charmingly till midnight, when the look-out observed "something" right ahead. He thought the something looked like fishing-boats, and, being an unusually bright fellow, he resolved to wait until he should be quite sure before reporting what he saw. With a jovial swirl the waves bore the _Charming Sally_ to her doom. "Rocks ahead!" roared the bright look-out, rather suddenly. "Rocks under her bottom," thought the crew of seven hands, as they leaped on deck, and felt the out-lying reefs of the Eddystone playing pitch and toss with their keel. Dire was the confusion on board, and cruel were the blows dealt with ungallant and unceasing violence at the hull of the _Charming Sally_; and black, black as the night would have been the fate of the hapless seamen on that occasion if the builders of the Eddystone had not kept a brighter look-out on board their sheltering _Buss_. John Bowden had observed the vessel bearing down on the rocks, and gave a startling alarm. Without delay a boat was launched and pulled to the rescue.

Meanwhile the vessel filled so fast that their boat floated on the deck before the crew could get into it, and the whole affair had occurred so suddenly that some of the men, when taken off, were only in their shirts. That night the rescued men were hospitably entertained in the _Buss_ by the builders of the new lighthouse, and, soon after, the ribs of the _Charming Sally_ were torn to pieces by the far-famed teeth of the Eddystone--another added to the countless thousands of wrecks which had been demonstrating the urgent need there was for a lighthouse there, since the earliest days of navigation.

Having enacted this pleasant little episode, the indefatigable builders set to work again to do battle with the winds and waves. That the battle was a fierce one is incidentally brought out by the fact that on the 8th of August the sea was said "for the first time" to have refrained from going over the works during a whole tide!

On the 11th of the same month the building was brought to a level with the highest point of the Rock. This was a noteworthy epoch, inasmuch as the first completely _circular_ course was laid down, and the men had more s.p.a.ce to move about.

Mr Smeaton, indeed, seems to have moved about too much. Possibly the hilarious state of his mind unduly affected his usually sedate body. At all events, from whatever cause, he chanced to tumble off the edge of the building, and fell on the rocks below, at the very feet of the amazed Teddy Maroon, who happened to be at work there at the time.

"Och, is it kilt ye are, sur?" demanded the Irishman.

"Not quite," replied Smeaton, rising and carefully examining his thumb, which had been dislocated.

"Sure now it's a sargeon ye should have bin," said Teddy, as his commander jerked the thumb into its place as though it had been the disabled joint of a mathematical instrument, and quietly returned to his labours.

About this time also the great shears, by means of which the stones were raised to the top of the building, were overturned, and fell with a crash amongst the men; fortunately, however, no damage to life or limb resulted, though several narrow escapes were made. Being now on a good platform, they tried to work at night with the aid of links, but the enemy came down on them in the form of wind, and constantly blew the links out. The builders, determined not to be beaten, made a huge bonfire of their links. The enemy, growing furious, called up reinforcements of the waves, and not only drowned out the bonfire but drove the builders back to the shelter of their fortress, the _Buss_, and shut them up there for several days, while the waves, coming constantly up in great battalions, broke high over the re-erected shears, and did great damage to the machinery and works, but failed to move the st.u.r.dy root of the lighthouse which had now been fairly planted, though the attack was evidently made in force, this being the worst storm of the season. It lasted fifteen days.

On the 1st September the enemy retired for a little repose, and the builders, instantly sallying out, went to work again "with a will," and secured eighteen days of uninterrupted progress. Then the ocean, as if refreshed, renewed the attack, and kept it up with such unceasing vigour that the builders drew off and retired into winter quarters on the 3rd of October, purposing to continue the war in the following spring.

During this campaign of 1757 the column of the lighthouse had risen four feet six inches above the highest point of the Eddystone Rock. Thus ended the second season, and the wearied but dauntless men returned to the work-yard on sh.o.r.e to carve the needful stones, and otherwise to prepare ammunition for the coming struggle.

Sitting one night that winter at John Potter's fireside, smoking his pipe in company with John Bowden, Teddy Maroon expressed his belief that building lighthouses was about the hardest and the greatest work that man could undertake; that the men who did undertake such work ought not only to receive double pay while on duty, but also half pay for the remainder of their natural lives; that the thanks of the king, lords, and commons, inscribed on vellum, should be awarded to each man; and that gold medals should be struck commemorative of such great events,-- all of which he said with great emphasis, discharging a sharp little puff of smoke between every two or three words, and winding up with a declaration that "them was his sentiments."

To all this old John Potter gravely nodded a.s.sent, and old Martha--being quite deaf to sound as well as reason--shook her head so decidedly that her cap quivered again.

John Bowden ventured to differ. He--firing off little cloudlets of smoke between words, in emulation of his friend--gave it as his opinion that "war was wuss," an opinion which he founded on the authority of his departed father, who had fought all through the Peninsular campaign, and who had been in the habit of entertaining his friends and family with such graphic accounts of storming breaches, bombarding fortresses, lopping off heads, arms, and legs, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g bayonets into men's gizzards and livers, and otherwise agonising human frames, and demolishing human handiwork, that the hair of his auditors' heads would certainly have stood on end if that capillary proceeding had been at all possible.

But Teddy Maroon did not admit the force of his friend's arguments. He allowed, indeed, that war was a great work, inasmuch as it was a great evil, whereas lighthouse-building was a great blessing; and he contended, that while the first was a cause of unmitigated misery, and productive of nothing better than widows, orphans, and national debts, the second was the source of immense happiness, and of salvation to life, limb, and property.

To this John Bowden objected, and Teddy Maroon retorted, whereupon a war of words began, which speedily waged so hot that the pipes of both combatants went out, and old John Potter found it necessary to a.s.sume the part of peace-maker, in which, being himself a keen debater, he failed, and there is no saying what might have been the result of it if old Martha had not brought the action to a summary close by telling her visitors in shrill tones to "hold their noise." This they did after laughing heartily at the old woman's fierce expression of countenance.

Before parting, however, they all agreed without deciding the question at issue--that lighthouse-building was truly a n.o.ble work.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE CAMPAIGN OF 1758.

The contrast was pleasant; repose after toil,--for stone-cutting in the yard on sh.o.r.e was rest compared with the labour at the Rock. Steady, regular, quiet progress; stone after stone added to the great pile, tested and ready for shipment at the appointed time. The commander-in-chief planning, experimenting, superintending. The men busy as bees; and, last but not least, delightful evenings with friends, and recountings of the incidents of the war. Such is the record of the winter.

The spring of 1758 came; summer advanced. The builders a.s.sumed the offensive, and sent out skirmishers to the Rock, where they found that the enemy had taken little or no rest during the winter, and were as hard at it as ever. Little damage, however, had been done.

The attacking party suffered some defeats at the outset. They found that their buoy was lost, and the mooring chain of the _Buss_ had sunk during the winter. It was fished up, however, but apparently might as well have been let lie, for it could not hold the _Buss_, which broke loose during a gale, and had to run for Plymouth Sound. Again, on 3rd June; another buoy was lost, and bad weather continued till July. Then, however, a general and vigorous a.s.sault was made, the result being "great progress," so that, on the 8th of August, a noteworthy point was reached.

On that day the fourteenth "course" was laid, and this completed the "solid" part of the lighthouse. It rose 35 feet above the foundation.

From this point the true _house_ may be said to have commenced, for, just above this course, the opening for the door was left, and the little s.p.a.ce in the centre for the spiral staircase which was to lead to the first room.

As if to mark their disapproval of this event, the angry winds and waves, during the same month, raised an unusually furious commotion while one of the yawls went into the "Gut" or pool, which served as a kind of harbour, to aid one of the stone boats.

"She won't get out o' that _this_ night," said John Bowden, alluding to the yawl, as he stood on the top of the "solid" where his comrades were busy working, "the wind's gettin' up from the east'ard."

"If she don't," replied one of the men, "we'll have to sleep where we are."

"Slape!" exclaimed Maroon, looking up from the great stone whose joints he had been carefully cementing, "it's little slape you'll do here, boys. Av we're not washed off entirely we'll have to howld on by our teeth and nails. It's a cowld look-out."