me time roared in the wentilators like a
thousand fiends, and the spray dashed agin the glass. Junk gave a yell,
and dived. He thought it wos all over with 'im, and wos in sich a funk
that he came down 'ead foremost, and would sartinly 'ave broke 'is neck
if 'e 'adn't come slap into my buzzum! I tell 'e it was no joke, for 'e
wos fourteen stone if 'e wos an ounce, an'--"

"Come along, Ruby," said Dove, interrupting; "the sooner we dive too the
better, for there's no end to that story when Dumsby get off in full
swing. Good night!"

"Good night, lads, an' better manners t'ye!" said Joe, as he sat down
beside the little desk where the lightkeepers were wont during the
lonely watch-hours of the night to read, or write, or meditate.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

EVERYDAY LIFE ON THE BELL ROCK, AND OLD MEMORIES RECALLED.

The sun shone brightly over the sea next morning; so brightly and
powerfully that it seemed to break up and disperse by force the great
storm-clouds which hung about the sky, like the fragments of an army of
black bullies who had done their worst and been baffled.

The storm was over; at least, the wind had moderated down to a fresh,
invigorating breeze. The white crests of the billows were few and far
between, and the wild turmoil of waters had given place to a grand
procession of giant waves, that thundered on the Bell Rock Lighthouse,
at once with more dignity and more force than the raging seas of the
previous night.

It was the sun that awoke Ruby, by shining in at one of the small
windows of the library, in which he slept. Of course it did not shine
in his face, because of the relative positions of the library and the
sun, the first being just below the lantern, and the second just above
the horizon, so that the rays struck upwards, and shone with dazzling
brilliancy on the dome-shaped ceiling. This was the second time of
wakening for Ruby that night, since he lay down to rest. The first
wakening was occasioned by the winding up of the machinery which kept
the lights in motion, and the chain of which, with a ponderous weight
attached to it, passed through a wooden pilaster close to his ear,
causing such a sudden and hideous din that the sleeper, not having been
warned of it, sprang like a Jack-in-the-box out of bed into the middle
of the room, where he first stared vacantly around him like an unusually
surprised owl, and then, guessing the cause of the noise, smiled
pitifully, as though to