On returning to the entrance-door, I found that there was now _no land_! The tide had risen. The lighthouse was a mere pillar in the sea. "Water, water everywhere"--nothing else visible save the distant coast of Forfarshire like a faint blue line on the horizon. But in the evening the tide again fell, and, the moment the rock was uncovered, we descended. Then Mr Long showed me the various points of interest about the rock, and Stout volunteered anecdotes connected with these, and Young corroborated and expounded everything with intense enthusiasm. Evidently Young rejoiced in the rare opportunity my visit afforded him of breaking the monotony of life on the Bell Rock. He was like a caged bird, and on one occasion expressed his sentiments very forcibly by saying to me, "Oh, sir, I sometimes wish I could jump up and never come doon!" As for Long and Stout, they had got used to lighthouses and monotony. The placid countenance of each was a sure index of the profound tranquillity within! Small though it was, the rock was a very world in itself to the residents--crowded with "ports," and "wharves" and "ledges," which had reference to the building-time. There were "Sir Ralph the Rover's ledge," and "the Abbot's ledge," and "the Engineer's ledge," and "Cunningham's ledge," and "the Smith's ledge," etcetera. Then there were "Port Stevenson," and "Port Boyle," and "Port Hamilton," and many others--each port being a mere hole capable of holding a boat or two. Besides which there were "tracks," leading to these ports--such as "Wilson's track," and "Macurich's track," and "Gloag's track." And then there were "Hope's Wharf," and "Rae's Wharf," and "Watt's Reach," and "Scoresby Point," while, among numerous outlying groups of rocklets, there were the "Royal Burghs," the "Crown Lawyers," and the "Maritime Sheriffs"--each and all teeming with interesting associations to those who know the Story of the Rock,--_all_ comprehended within an area of a few hundred yards--the whole affair being wiped entirely and regularly off the face of nature by every rising tide. Close beside Rae's Wharf, on which we stood, Mr Long showed me the holes in which had been fixed the ends of the great beams of the beacon. The beacon was a point of considerable interest to me. If you had seen the rock as I saw it, reader, in a storm, with the water boiling all over and round it for more than a mile, like seething milk--and if you had reflected that the _first_ beacon built there was carried away in a gale, you would have entertained very exalted ideas of the courage of the men who built the Bell Rock lighthouse.