its we got wet skins; but little or no work done, for though it might
be ever so calm here at Plymouth, it always seemed to be blowin' a
private gale out at the Rock--leastwise, av it warn't blowin', there was
swell enough most days to make the landin' troublesome. So we got wan
hour's work at wan time, an' two hours, or may be three, at another, off
an' on. As the saison advanced we got on better, sometimes got five and
six hours on the Rock right on ind, and whin the tide sarved we wint at
it by torch-light. Wan week we got no less than sixty-four an' a half
hours on it, an' we was all in great sperrits intirely over that, for
you see, mister Potter, we're all picked men an' takes a pride in the
work--to say nothin' of havin' a good master. Av coorse we've had the
usual botherations wid the sharp rocks cuttin' the cable of our
attendin'-sloop, an' gales suddinly gettin' up whin we was at the Rock
wantin' to land, as well as suddinly goin' down whin we wasn't at the
Rock, so that we missed our chances. But such sorrows was what we
expicted, more or less. The wust disappointment we've had has bin wi'
the noo store-ship, the _Neptune Buss_. I wish it was the Neptune
_bu'st_, I do, for it's wus than a tub, an' gives us more trouble than
it's all worth. Now the saison's drawin' to a close, it's clear that
we'll do no more this year than cut the foundations."

"An' that's not a bad season's work, lad," said old John. "Ain't it
not, Tommy?"

"Not bad, indeed, father, for there are always unusual and vexatious
delays at the beginning of a great work; besides, some of the greatest
difficulties in connexion with such buildings are encountered in the
preparation of the foundations. I suppose Mr Smeaton means to dress
the stones on shore, ready for laying?" continued Potter the younger,
turning to Maroon, who had risen and was buttoning up his monkey-jacket.

"Why, yes sur, haven't you bin down at the yard?"

"Not yet. I've only just arrived in town; and must be off again
to-morrow. You can't think how disappointed I am at being prevented by
business from taking part in the building of the new lighthouse--"

"What's that you say, Tommy?" interrupted old Martha, putting her hand
to her ear and wrinkling her brow interrogatively.

"That I'm grieved, mother, at not being able to help in building the new
lighthouse," shouted her son, in a voice that might have split an
ordinary ear.

Old Martha's visage relaxed int