The next Monday morning Timpey and I went down together to the pier to await the arrival of the steamer. She had brought a doll with her, which Mrs. Millar had given her, and of which she was very proud.
Capt. Sayers sent for me as soon as the steamer came up to the pier to tell me that two gentlemen had come to see my grandfather. I held the child’s hand very tightly in mine, for I felt sure they had come for her.
The gentlemen came up the steps a minute or two afterward. One of them was a middle-aged man, with a very clever face, I thought. He told me he had come to see Mr. Alexander Fergusson, and asked me if I could direct him which way to go to the house.
“Yes, sir,” I said; “Mr. Fergusson is my grandfather.” So we went up toward the lighthouse, Timpey and I walking first to lead the way, and the gentlemen following. The other gentleman was quite old, and had white hair, and gold spectacles, and a pleasant, kind face.
Timpey could not walk very fast, and she kept running first to one side and then to another to gather flowers or pick up stones until I took her in my arms and carried her.
“Is that your little sister?” asked the old gentleman.
“No, sir,” I said; “this is the little girl who was on board the ‘Victory.’”
“Dear me! dear me!” said both gentlemen at once. “Let me look at her,” said the old man, arranging his spectacles.
But Timpey was frightened, and clung to me, and began to cry. “Never mind, never mind,” said the old gentleman kindly; “we’ll make friends with one another by-and-by.”
By this time we had reached the house, and the middle-aged gentleman introduced himself as Mr. Septimus Forster, one of the owners of the lost vessel, and said that he and his father-in-law, Mr. Davis, had come to hear all particulars that my grandfather could give them with regard to the shipwreck.
My grandfather begged them to sit down, and told me to prepare breakfast for them at once. They were very pleasant gentlemen, both of them, and were very kind to my grandfather. Mr. Forster wanted to make him a handsome present for what he had done; but my grandfather would not take it. They talked much of little Timpey, and I kept stopping to listen as I was setting out the cups and saucers. They had heard nothing more of her relatives; and they said it was a very strange thing that no such name as Villiers was to be found on the list of passengers on board. They offered to take her away with them till some relative was found, but my grandfather begged to keep her. The gentlemen, seeing how happy and well cared for the child was, gladly consented.
After breakfast Mr. Forster said he should like to see the lighthouse, so my grandfather went up to the top of the tower with him and showed him with great pride all that was to be seen there. Old Mr. Davis was tired and stayed behind with little Timpey and me.
“This is a strong house, my lad,” he said, when the others had gone.
“Yes, sir,” I said, “it ought to be strong; the wind is fearful here sometimes.”
“What sort of a foundation has it?” said the old man, tapping the floor with his stick.
“Oh, it’s all rock, sir,” I answered, “solid rock; our house and the lighthouse tower are built into the rock; they would never stand if they weren’t.”
“And are you on the Rock, my lad?” said Mr. Davis, looking at me through his spectacles.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” I said, for I thought I had not heard him rightly.
“Are you on the Rock?” he repeated.
“On the rock, sir? Oh, yes,” I said, thinking he could not have understood what I said before. “All these buildings are built into the rock, or the wind and sea would carry them away.”
“But you,” said the old gentleman again, “are you on the Rock?”
“I don’t quite understand you, sir,” I said.
“Never mind,” he said; “I’ll ask your grandfather when he comes down.” So I sat still, wondering what he could mean, and almost thinking he must have gone out of his mind.
As soon as my grandfather returned, he put the same question to him; and my grandfather answered it as I had done, by assuring him how firmly and strongly the lighthouse and its surroundings were built into the solid rock.
“And you yourself,” said Mr. Davis, “how long have you been on the Rock?”
“I, sir?” said my grandfather. “I suppose you mean how long have I lived here; forty years, sir—forty years come the twelfth of next month I’ve lived on this rock.”
“And how much longer do you expect to live here?” said the old gentleman.
“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said my grandfather. “As long as I live, I suppose. Alick, here, will take my place by-and-by; he’s a fine, strong boy is Alick, sir.”
“And where will you live when you leave the island?” asked Mr. Davis.
“Oh, I never mean to leave it,” said my grandfather; “not till I die, sir.”
“And then; where will you live then?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” said my grandfather. “In Heaven, I suppose. But, dear me, I’m not going there just yet,” he said, as if he did not like the turn the conversation was taking.
“Would you mind answering me one more question?” said old Mr. Davis. “Would you kindly tell me why you think you’ll go to Heaven? You won’t mind my asking you, will you?”
“Oh, dear, no,” said my grandfather, “not at all, sir. Well, sir, you see I’ve never done anybody any harm, and God is very merciful, and so I’ve no doubt it will be all right at last.”
“Why, my dear friend,” said the old gentleman, “I thought you said you were on the Rock. You’re not on the Rock at all, you’re on the sand!” He was going to add more, when one of Capt. Sayers’ men ran up to say the steamer was ready to start, and would they kindly come at once as it was late already. So the two gentlemen jumped up and prepared hastily to go down to the beach.
But as old Mr. Davis took leave of my grandfather, he said earnestly: “My friend, you are building on the sand; you are indeed, and it won’t stand the storm; no, it won’t stand the storm!” He had no time to say more, the sailor hastened him away.
I followed them down to the pier and stood there watching the steamer preparing to start.
There was a little delay after the gentlemen went on board, and I saw Mr. Davis sit down on a seat on deck, take out his pocketbook, and write something on one of the leaves. Then he tore the leaf out, and gave it to one of the sailors to hand to me as I stood on the pier, and in another moment the steamer had started.