While the artisans were at work, chiefly in sitting and kneeling postures, excavating the rock, or boring with the tools, and while the din of their hammers and the clang of the smith’s forge filled the air, there was sufficient life and motion in the scene to keep Stevenson’s mind from fully realizing the dangers of his position. But by degrees the water began to rise, and with slowly-swelling waves it gained upon those engaged in work on the lower portions of the sites of the beacon and lighthouse. From the run of the sea upon the rock, the forge-fire was more quickly extinguished than usual; and the volumes of smoke having ceased, the men at work could examine every object around. After having had about three hour‘ work, the majority began to make towards their respective boats for their jackets and stockings, when, to their astonishment, instead of three boats, they found only two, the third being adrift with the _Smeaton_. Not a word was uttered, but all appeared to be silently calculating their numbers, while they gazed from one to another with dismay and perplexity plainly painted on their countenances. The landing-master, conceiving that he might be censured for allowing the boat to quit the rock, remained at a distance, while Mr. Stevenson placed himself on the most elevated crag, endeavouring to track the progress of the _Smeaton_, and surprised that the crew did not cut her boat adrift, as it greatly retarded her way. The workmen looked steadfastly upon their engineer, occasionally turning towards the vessel, which was still far to leeward. All this took place in the most perfect silence, and the melancholy solemnity of the scene was such that it produced an ineffaceable impression on Mr. Stevenson’s mind.