width; and small trucks were fitted to it, so that the heavy stones of
the building might be easily run to the exact spot they were to occupy.
From this circular rail several branch lines extended to the different
creeks where the boats deposited the stones. These lines, although only
a few yards in length, were dignified with names--as, _Kennedy's Reach,
Logan's Reach, Watt's Reach_, and _Slight's Reach_. The ends of them,
where they dipped into the sea, were named _Hope's Wharf, Duff's Wharf,
Rae's Wharf_, etcetera; and these wharves had been fixed on different
sides of the rock, so that, whatever wind should blow, there would
always be one of them on the lee-side available for the carrying on of
the work.

_Hope's Wharf_ was connected with _Port Erskine_, a pool about twenty
yards long by three or four wide, and communicated with the side of the
lighthouse by _Watt's Reach_, a distance of about thirty yards.

About eight o'clock that morning the bell rang for breakfast. Such of
the men as were not already up began to get out of their berths and
hammocks.

To Ruby the scene that followed was very amusing. Hitherto all had been
calm and sunshine. The work, although severe while they were engaged,
had been of short duration, and the greater part of each day had been
afterwards spent in light work, or in amusement. The summons to meals
had always been a joyful one, and the appetites of the men were keenly
set.

Now, all this was changed. The ruddy faces of the men were become
green, blue, yellow, and purple, according to temperament, but few were
flesh-coloured or red. When the bell rang there was a universal groan
below, and half a dozen ghostlike individuals raised themselves on their
elbows and looked up with expressions of the deepest woe at the dim
skylight. Most of them speedily fell back again, however, partly owing
to a heavy lurch of the vessel, and partly owing to indescribable
sensations within.

"Blowin'!" groaned one, as if that single word comprehended the essence
of all the miseries that seafaring man is heir to.

"O dear!" sighed another, "why did I ever come here?"

"Och! murder, I'm dyin', send for the praist an' me mother!" cried
O'Connor, as he fell flat down on his back and pressed both hands
tightly over his mouth.

The poor blacksmith lost control over himself at this point and--found
partial relief!

The act tended to relieve others. Most of the men were much too
miserable