was forty-two feet in diameter, and sunk five feet
into the solid rock. At the time when Ruby landed, it was being hewn
out by a large party of the men. Others were boring holes in the rock
near to it, for the purpose of fixing the great beams of a beacon, while
others were cutting away the seaweed from the rock, and making
preparations for the laying down of temporary rails to facilitate the
conveying of the heavy stones from the boats to their ultimate
destination. All were busy as bees. Each man appeared to work as if
for a wager, or to find out how much he could do within a given space of
time.

To the men on the rock itself the aspect of the spot was sufficiently
striking and peculiar, but to those who viewed it from a boat at a short
distance off it was singularly interesting, for the whole scene of
operations appeared like a small black spot, scarcely above the level of
the waves, on which a crowd of living creatures were moving about with
great and incessant activity, while all around and beyond lay the mighty
sea, sleeping in the grand tranquillity of a calm summer day, with
nothing to bound it but the blue sky, save to the northward, where the
distant cliffs of Forfar rested like a faint cloud on the horizon.

The sounds, too, which on the rock itself were harsh and loud and
varied, came over the water to the distant observer in a united tone,
which sounded almost as sweet as soft music.

The smith's forge stood on a ledge of rock close to the foundation-pit,
a little to the north of it. Here Vulcan Dove had fixed a strong iron
framework, which formed the hearth. The four legs which supported it
were let into holes bored from six to twelve inches into the rock,
according to the inequalities of the site. These were wedged first with
wood and then with iron, for as this part of the forge and the anvil was
doomed to be drowned every tide, or twice every day, besides being
exposed to the fury of all the storms that might chance to blow, it
behoved them to fix things down with unusual firmness.

The block of timber for supporting the anvil was fixed in the same
manner, but the anvil itself was left to depend on its own weight and
the small stud fitted into the bottom of it.

The bellows, however, were too delicate to be left exposed to such
forces as the stormy winds and waves, they were therefore shipped and
unshipped every tide, and conveyed to and from the rock in the boats
with the men.

Dove and