A Meeting with Old Friends, and an Excursion.  
Next morning the captain and his nephew “bore down”, as the former expressed it, on the workyard, and Ruby was readily accepted, his good qualities having already been well tested at the Bell Rock.
 
“Now, boy, we’ll go and see about the little preventive craft,” said the captain on quitting the office.
 
“But first,” said Ruby, “let me go and tell my old comrade Dove that I am to be with him again.”
 
There was no need to enquire the way to the forge, the sound of the anvil being distinctly heard above all the other sounds of that busy spot.
 
The workyard at Arbroath, where the stones for the lighthouse were collected and hewn into shape before being sent off to the rock, was an enclosed piece of ground, extending to about three-quarters of an acre, conveniently situated on the northern side of the Lady Lane, or Street, leading from the western side of the harbour.
 
Here were built a row of barracks for the workmen, and several apartments connected with the engineer’s office, mould-makers’ department, stores, workshops for smiths and joiners, stables, etcetera, extending 150 feet along the north side of the yard. All of these were fully occupied, there being upwards of forty men employed permanently.
 
Sheds of timber were also constructed to protect the workmen in wet weather; and a kiln was built for burning lime. In the centre of the yard stood a circular platform of masonry on which the stones were placed when dressed, so that each stone was tested and marked, and each “course” or layer of the lighthouse fitted up and tried, before being shipped to the rock.
 
The platform measured 44 feet in diameter. It was founded with large broad stones at a depth of about 2 feet 6 inches, and built to within 10 inches of the surface with rubble work, on which a course of neatly dressed and well-jointed masonry was laid, of the red sandstone from the quarries to the eastward of Arbroath, which brought the platform on a level with the surface of the ground. Here the dressed part of the first entire course, or layer, of the lighthouse was lying, and the platform was so substantially built as to be capable of supporting any number of courses which it might be found convenient to lay upon it in the further progress of the work.
 
Passing this platform, the captain and Ruby threaded their way through a mass of workyard débris until they came to the building from which the sounds of the anvil proceeded. For a few minutes they stood looking at our old friend Jamie Dove, who, with bared arms, was causing the sparks to fly, and the glowing metal to yield, as vigorously as of old. Presently he ceased hammering, and turning to the fire thrust the metal into it. Then he wiped his brow, and glanced towards the door.
 
“What! eh! Ruby Brand?” he shouted in surprise.
 
“Och! or his ghost!” cried Ned O’Connor, who had been appointed to Ruby’s vacant situation.
 
“A pretty solid ghost you’ll find me,” said Ruby with a laugh, as he stepped forward and seized the smith by the hand.
 
“Musha! but it’s thrue,” cried O’Connor, quitting the bellows, and seizing Ruby’s disengaged hand, which he shook almost as vehemently as the smith did the other.
 
“Now, then, don’t dislocate him altogether,” cried the captain, who was much delighted with this warm reception; “he’s goin’ to jine you, boys, so have mercy on his old timbers.”
 
“Jine us!” cried the smith.
 
“Ay, been appointed to the old berth,” said Ruby, “so I’ll have to unship you, Ned.”
 
“The sooner the better; faix, I niver had much notion o’ this fiery style o’ life; it’s only fit for sallymanders and bottle-imps. But when d’ye begin work, lad?”
 
“To-morrow, I believe. At least, I was told to call at the office to-morrow. To-day I have an engagement.”
 
“Ay, an’ it’s time we was under weigh,” said Captain Ogilvy, taking his nephew by the arm. “Come along, lad, an’ don’t keep them waiting.”
 
So saying they bade the smith goodbye, and, leaving the forge, walked smartly towards that part of the harbour where the boats lay.
 
“Ruby,” said the captain, as they went along, “it’s lucky it’s such a fine day, for Minnie is going with us.”
 
Ruby said nothing, but the deep flush of pleasure that overspread his countenance proved that he was not indifferent to the news.
 
“You see she’s bin out of sorts,” continued the captain, “for some time back; and no wonder, poor thing, seein’ that your mother has been so anxious about you, and required more than usual care, so I’ve prevailed on the leftenant to let her go. She’ll get good by our afternoon’s sail, and we won’t be the worse of her company. What say ye to that, nephy?”
 
Ruby said that he was glad to hear it, but he thought a great deal more than he said, and among other things he thought that the lieutenant might perhaps be rather in the way; but as his presence was unavoidable he made up his mind to try to believe that he, the lieutenant, would in all probability be an engaged man already. As to the possibility of his seeing Minnie and being indifferent to her (in the event of his being a free man), he felt that such an idea was preposterous! Suddenly a thought flashed across him and induced a question—
 
“Is the lieutenant married, uncle?”
 
“Not as I know of, lad; why d’ye ask?”
 
“Because—because—married men are so much pleasanter than—”
 
Ruby stopped short, for he just then remembered that his uncle was a bachelor.
 
“’Pon my word, youngster! go on, why d’ye stop in your purlite remark?”
 
“Because,” said Ruby, laughing, “I meant to say that young married men were so much more agreeable than young bachelors.”
 
“Humph!” ejaculated the captain, who did not see much force in the observation, &ldquo............