fish, but at once
recognised his veracity when he said he had seen the remains of
Pharaoh's chariot wheels on the shores of the Red Sea.

[Illustration: THE DINING ROOM.]

Recognising, then, the difficulties of my position, I formed the
resolution to visit--when possible--the scenes in which my stories were
laid; converse with the people who, under modification, were to form the
_dramatis personae_ of the tales, and, generally, to obtain information
in each case, as far as lay in my power, from the fountain head.

Thus, when about to begin "The Lifeboat," I went to Ramsgate, and, for
some time, was hand and glove with Jarman, the heroic coxswain of the
Ramsgate boat, a lion-like as well as lion-hearted man, who rescued
hundreds of lives from the fatal Goodwin Sands during his career. In
like manner, when getting up information for "The Lighthouse," I
obtained permission from the Commissioners of Northern Lights to visit
the Bell Rock Lighthouse, where I hobnobbed with the three keepers of
that celebrated pillar-in-the-sea for three weeks, and read Stevenson's
graphic account of the building of the structure in the library, or
visitors' room, just under the lantern. I was absolutely a prisoner
there during those three weeks, for no boats ever came near us, and it
need scarcely be said that ships kept well out of our way. By good
fortune there came on a pretty stiff gale at the time, and Stevenson's
thrilling narrative was read to the tune of whistling winds and roaring
seas, many of which latter sent the spray right up to the lantern and
caused the building, more than once, to quiver to its foundation.

[Illustration: THE STUDY.]

In order to do justice to "Fighting the Flames" I careered through the
streets of London on fire-engines, clad in a pea-jacket and a black
leather helmet of the Salvage Corps. This, to enable me to pass the
cordon of police without question--though not without recognition, as
was made apparent to me on one occasion at a fire by a fireman
whispering confidentially, "I know what _you_ are, sir, you're a
hamitoor!"

[Illustration: MR. R. M. BALLANTYNE.]

"Right you are," said I, and moved away in order to change the subject.

It was a glorious experience, by the way, this galloping on fire-engines
through the crowded streets. It had in it much of the excitement of the
chase--possibly that of war--with the noble end in view of saving
instead of destroying life! Such tearing along at headlo