The Scene Changes—Ruby is Vulcanised.  
As Captain Ogilvy had predicted, Ruby was at once engaged as an assistant blacksmith on the Bell Rock. In fact, they were only too glad to get such a powerful, active young fellow into their service; and he was shipped off with all speed in the sloop Smeaton, with a few others who were going to replace some men who had become ill and were obliged to leave.
 
A light westerly breeze was blowing when they cast off the moorings of the sloop.
 
“Goodbye, Ruby,” said the captain, as he was about to step on the pier. “Remember your promise, lad, to keep quiet, and don’t try to get ashore, or to hold communication with anyone till you hear from me.”
 
“All right, uncle, I won’t forget, and I’ll make my mind easy, for I know that my case is left in good hands.”
 
Three hours elapsed ere the Smeaton drew near to the Bell Rock. During this time, Ruby kept aloof from his fellow-workmen, feeling disposed to indulge the sad thoughts which filled his mind. He sat down on the bulwarks, close to the main shrouds, and gazed back at the town as it became gradually less and less visible in the faint light of morning. Then he began to ponder his unfortunate circumstances, and tried to imagine how his uncle would set about clearing up his character and establishing his innocence; but, do what he would, Ruby could not keep his mind fixed for any length of time on any subject or line of thought, because of a vision of sweetness which it is useless to attempt to describe, and which was always accompanied by, and surrounded with, a golden halo.
 
At last the youth gave up the attempt to fix his thoughts, and allowed them to wander as they chose, seeing that they were resolved to do so whether he would or no. The moment these thoughts had the reins flung on their necks, and were allowed to go where they pleased, they refused, owing to some unaccountable species of perversity, to wander at all, but at once settled themselves comfortably down beside the vision with golden hair, and remained there.
 
This agreeable state of things was rudely broken in upon by the hoarse voice of the mate shouting—
 
“Stand by to let go the anchor.”
 
Then Ruby sprang on the deck and shook himself like a great mastiff, and resolved to devote himself, heart and soul, from that moment, to the work in which he was about to engage.
 
The scene that presented itself to our hero when he woke up from his dreams would have interested and excited a much less enthusiastic temperament than his.
 
The breeze had died away altogether, just as if, having wafted the Smeaton to her anchorage, there were no further occasion for its services. The sea was therefore quite calm, and as there had only been light westerly winds for some time past, there was little or none of the swell that usually undulates the sea. One result of this was, that, being high water when the Smeaton arrived, there was no sign whatever of the presence of the famous Bell Rock. It lay sleeping nearly two fathoms below the sea, like a grim giant in repose, and not a ripple was there to tell of the presence of the mariner’s enemy.
 
The sun was rising, and its slanting beams fell on the hulls of the vessels engaged in the service, which lay at anchor at a short distance from each other. These vessels, as we have said, were four in number, including the Smeaton. The others were the Sir Joseph Banks, a small schooner-rigged vessel; the Patriot, a little sloop; and the Pharos lightship, a large clumsy-looking Dutch-built ship, fitted with three masts, at the top of which were the lanterns. It was intended that this vessel should do duty as a lightship until the lighthouse should be completed.
 
Besides these there were two large boats, used for landing stones and building materials on the rock.
 
These vessels lay floating almost motionless on the calm sea, and at first there was scarcely any noise aboard of them to indicate that they were tenanted by human beings, but when the sound of the Smeaton’s cable was heard there was a bustle aboard of each, and soon faces were seen looking inquisitively over the sides of the ships.
 
The Smeaton’s boat was lowered after the anchor was let go, and the new hands were transferred to the Pharos, which was destined to be their home for some time to come.
 
Just as they reached her the bell rang for breakfast, and when Ruby stepped upon the deck he found himself involved in all the bustle that ensues when men break off from work and make preparation for the morning meal.
 
There were upwards of thirty artificers on board the lightship at this time. Some of these, as they hurried to and fro, gave the new arrivals a hearty greeting, and asked, “What news from the shore?” Others were apparently too much taken up with their own affairs to take notice of them.
 
While Ruby was observing the busy scene with absorbing interest, and utterly forgetful of the fact that he was in any way connected with it, an elderly gentleman, whose kind countenance and hearty manner gave indication of a genial spirit within, came up and accosted him:
 
“You are our assistant blacksmith, I believe?”
 
“Yes, sir, I am,” replied Ruby, doffing his cap, as if he felt instinctively that he was in the presence of someone of note.
 
“You have had considerable practice, I suppose, in your trade?”
 
“A good deal, sir, but not much latterly, for I have been at sea for some time.”
 
“At sea? Well, that won’t be against you here,” returned the gentleman, with a meaning smile. “It would be well if some of my men were a little more accustomed to the sea, for they suffer much from sea-sickness. You can go below, my man, and get breakfast. You’ll find your future messmate busy at his, I doubt not. Here, steward,” (turning to one of the men who chanced to pass at the moment,) “take Ruby Brand—that is your name, I think?”
 
“It is, sir.”
 
“Take Brand below, and introduce him to James Dove as his assistant.”
 
The steward escorted Ruby down the ladder that conducted to those dark and littered depths of the ship’s hull that were assigned to the artificers as their place of abode. But amidst a good deal of unavoidable confusion, Ruby’s practised eye discerned order and arrangement everywhere.
 
“This is your messmate, Jamie Dove,” said the steward, pointing to a massive dark man, whose outward appearance was in keeping with his position as the Vulcan of such an undertaking as he was then engaged in. “You’ll find him not a bad feller if you only don’t cross him.” He added, with a wink, “His only fault is that he’s given to spoilin’ good victuals, being raither floored by sea-sickness if it comes on to blow ever so little.”
 
“Hold your clapper, lad,” said the smith, who was at the moment busily engaged with a mess of salt pork, and potatoes to match. “Who’s your friend?”
 
“No friend of mine, though I hope he’ll be one soon,” answered the steward. “Mr Stevenson told me to introduce him to you as your assistant.”
 
The smith looked up quickly, and scanned our hero with some interest; then, extending his great hard hand across the table, he said, “Welcome, messmate; sit down, I’ve only just begun.”
 
Ruby grasped the hand with his own, which, if not so large, was quite as powerful, and shook the smith’s right arm in a way that called forth from that rough-looking individual a smile of approbation.
 
“You’ve not had breakfast, lad?”
 
“No, not yet,” said Ruby, sitting down opposite his comrade.
 
“An’ the smell here don’t upset your stummick, I hope?”
 
The smith said this rather anxiously.
 
“Not in the least,” said Ruby with a laugh, and beginning to eat in a way that proved the truth of his words; “for the matter o’ that, there’s little smell and no motion just now.”
 
“Well, there isn’t much,” replied the smith, “but, woe’s me! you’ll get enough of it before long. All the new landsmen like you suffer horribly from sea-sickness when they first come off.”
 
“But I’m not a landsman,” said Ruby.
 
“Not a landsman!” echoed the other. “You’re a blacksmith, aren’t you?”
 
“Ay, but not a landsman. I learned the trade as a boy and lad; but I’ve been at sea for some time past.”
 
“Then you won’t get sick when it blows?”
 
“Certainly not; will you?”
 
The smith groaned and shook his head, by which answer he evidently meant to assure his friend that he would, most emphatically.
 
“But come, it’s of no use groanin’ over what can’t be helped. I get as sick as a dog every time the wind rises, and the worst of it is I don’t never seem to improve. Howsever, I’m all right when I get on the rock, and that’s the main thing.”
 
Ruby and his friend now entered upon a long and earnest conversation as to their peculiar duties at the Bell Rock, with which we will not trouble the reader.
 
After breakfast they went on deck, and here Ruby had sufficient to occupy his attention and to amuse him for some hours.
 
As the tide that day did not fall low enough to admit of landing on the rock till noon, the men were allowed to spend the time as they pleased. Some therefore took to fishing, others to reading, while a few employed themselves in drying their clothes, which had got wet the previous day, and one or two entertained themselves and their comrades with the music of the violin and flute. All were busy with one thing or another, until the rock began to show its black crest above the smooth sea. Then a bell was rung to summon the artificers to land.
 
This being the signal for Ruby to commence work, he joined his friend Dove, and assisted him to lower the bellows of the forge into the boat. The men were soon in their places, with their various tools, and the boats pushed off—Mr Stevenson, the engineer of the building, steering one boat, and the master of the Pharos, who was also appointed to the post of landing-master, steering the other.
 
They landed with ease ............