V.
_THE LIGHTHOUSE._
"You say this is your last Sunday at Shipton. Sorry! We shall miss youin the class," said Dave's new Sunday-school acquaintance, Mr. Tolman.
"Thank you, sir," replied Dave; "but as this is only my second Sunday inyour class, you won't miss me much."
"Oh yes, we shall. See here, David. There is going to be some companyat my house to-morrow night. Bring your sister round to tea."
Dave and Annie were at Mr. Tolman's the evening of the next day; and whowas it Dave saw trying to shrink into one corner? A stout, fat man,altogether too big for the corner.
"He looks natural," thought Dave.
At this point the man saw Dave. He had been looking very lonely, buthis face now brightened as if he had suddenly seen an old and valuedacquaintance.
"Think you don't remember me!" he said, advancing toward Dave, andextending a large brown hand shaped something like a flounder. Davethought at once of a lighthouse, a sand-bar, and an old schooner haltingon the bar.
"Oh, the light-keeper, Mr. Tolman!" cried Dave. "You here?"
"It is my uncle from Black Rocks," said the younger Mr. Tolman, steppingup to this party of two. "Uncle Toby doesn't get off very often fromthe light, and we thought he ought to have a little vacation, and comeand see his relatives."
"My nephew James is very good," said Mr. Toby Tolman. "The last time Isaw you," he added, addressing Dave, "I put you on board that tug-boat."
Dave dropped his head.
"Oh, you needn't be ashamed of that affair. I didn't think at the timeyou could be the cause of the mischief, and I've been told since who itwas that was to blame for it."
Dave raised his head.
"Fact is I've been a-thinking of you. Want a job, young man?"
"Me, sir? I expect to go home to-morrow."
"Got to return for anything special?"
"Well, my visit is out."
"Nothing special to call you home?"
"Oh, I help father, and go to school when there is one."
"Well," said the old light-keeper, fixing his eyes on the boy, "howshould you like to help to keep a lighthouse for three weeks?"
"Me?" said Dave eagerly.
"Yes, you. You know I have an assistant, Timothy Waters. He wants tobe off on a vacation for three weeks, and I must have somebody to takehis place. I want somebody who can work in there, sort of spry andhandy. Now, I think you would do. How should you like it?"
"When do you want to know?"
"The last of this week."
"I will go home to-morrow and talk it over with the folks, and I can getyou an answer by day after to-morrow."
"Yes, that will do."
Dave went home, obtained the consent of his parents, and the boat thatbrought Timothy Waters to Shipton to begin his vacation took back to thelighthouse Dave Fletcher and his trunk. It was the light-keeper, Mr.Toby Tolman, who brought the former assistant to Shipton, and thenaccompanied Dave to Black Rocks. It was a mild summer day. The windseemed too lazy to blow, and the sea too lazy to roll. There were faintlittle puffs of air at intervals, and along the bar and the shore thelow surf turned slowly over as if weary. The light-tower and its redannex the fog-signal tower rose up out of one sea of blue into anotherof gold, and then above this sea of sunshine rolled another of blueagain, where the white-sailed clouds seemed to be all becalmed. It waslow tide, and the light-keeper's dory brushed against the exposed massesof the ledge, weed-matted and brown, on which the lighthouse rested.
"This looks like home to me," said the keeper, when they had climbed theladder and gained the door in the fog-signal tower. When they enteredthe light-tower the keeper detained Dave and said, "I want to tell yousomething about my home here on the rocks. There, this tower is aboutseventy feet high. It is built as strong as they can make stonemasonry. This is the first room. We keep various stores here. Do yousee this?"
Mr. Tolman with his foot tapped a round iron cover in the floor and thenraised it.
"Down here is the tank where we keep our fresh water."
The iron cover went down with a dull slam; and then he pointed outvarious stores in the room--vegetables, wood, coal, and a quantity ofhand-grenades (glass flasks filled with a chemical, to be used inputting out fires).
"How thick are the walls here, Mr. Tolman?"
"Four feet here of stone, solid; and then there is an inner wall ofbrick, foot and a half thick. Now we will go up into the kitchen. Yousaw those hand-grenades of ours. Precious little here that will burn.You see the stairways from room to room are of iron, and then everyfloor has an iron deck covered with hard pine. Ah, my fire is stillin!"
Yes, the kitchen stove had guarded well its fire, and the heat of theroom was tempered by a mild, cool draught of air that came through anopened window from the flashing sea without. Besides a softly-cushionedrocking-chair near the stove, there were three chairs ranged near asmall dining-room table, and their language was, "You will find awelcome here." Clock, looking-glass, cupboard, lamp-shelf, and otherconveniences were in the room.
"Let's take a peep at the next room," said the keeper.
Again they climbed an iron staircase, and reached a bedroom. Besides asingle bed, there were a clothes-closet, three green chairs, a greenstand, a gilt-framed looking-glass, and on the wall several pictures ofsea-life. The floor was covered with oil-cloth, and directly before thebed was a rag mat that had a very domestic look.
"There--this is my room; and now we will go up into the assistant's,your quarters. We will bring up your trunk directly," said the keeper.This room was furnished like the keeper's, only it had two chairs, andbefore the bed was a strip of woollen carpet.
"I can put my trunk anywhere, I suppose, Mr. Tolman?"
"Anywhere you please."
"Mother gave me a few pictures, too, that she said I could stick up, tomake it look homelike."
"Just what I like to have you do. Now for the watch-room."
This was at the head of another iron stairway, and held a small table, alibrary-case, a green chest, two chairs, and a closet for the keeping ofcurtains that might be used in the lantern, and other useful apparatus.
"This room is where we can sit and watch the lantern," explained thekeeper.
"And what is this?" asked Dave, pointing at a weight that hung down fromthe ceiling.
"That weight? It is a part of the machinery that turns round the lensin the lantern. Now, let us go up into the lantern."
The lantern was a circular room. The walls were of iron, up to theheight of three feet, and cased with wood, and then there was asuccession of big panes of the clearest glass, making a broad windowthat extended about all the lantern. In the centre was a lens of "thefourth order," shaped like a cone, and consisting of very strongmagnifying prisms of glass. Within this lens was a kerosene-lamp.
"There!" said Mr. Tolman; "all this tower of stone, all the arrangementsof the place, all the serving of the keeper and his assistant, all thedoing by day and the watching by night, is just to keep that little lampa-going. Put out the lamp at night, and you might just as well send thekeepers home and tear down the lighthouse."
"It is not so big a lamp as I supposed."
"No; that is a small lamp for so big a light as folks outside see. Itis this lens that does the work of magnifying."
"Can I step outside, sir? I wanted to when we were down here thatnight, but we did not have so good a chance for looking about."
"Oh yes."
Outside of the lantern was a "deck," about six feet broad, andcompassing the lantern. It was a shelf of stone covered with iron.
"Good view here," said the keeper.
"Yes; nothing to hide the prospect," replied Dave. "There is Shipton upbeyond the harbour, and there is the sea in the other direction."
Only sea, sea, sea, to north, south, east--one wide, restless play ofblue water.
"The wind must bl
ow up here sometimes, Mr. Tolman."
"Blow! That is a mild word for it; and in winter it is cold. It is nowarm job when we have to scrape the snow and ice off the lantern. Folksoutside must see, and it is our place to let them see."
When the keeper and Dave returned to the kitchen, preparations fordinner were started, and then Mr. Tolman said, "We have a few minutes tospare, and I guess we will take up our boat."
"Take it up?"
"Well, if it should promise to be a quiet day I could moor it near thelight; but, of course, in rough weather, when everything is tumblinground the rocks, I had better have it h'isted into a safe place. I'llshow you."
"Isn't it going to be quiet?" asked Dave eagerly. "I'd like to see astorm out here."
"Better see it than feel it, I tell ye. I don't know but that it willbe fair," said the keeper, at the door of the fog-signal tower, lookingout upon the water, while a light breeze gently lifted and dropped thethin gray locks on his brow. "May be fair, but still--still--I don'tknow. A bit hazy in the no'th-east."
"Oh, if it would storm!" said Dave enthusiastically.
The keeper smiled at his eagerness, and said: "I think you'll have yourwish before you get through; and it's a tough place out here in a storm,the wind howling round the light, the big breakers thundering andsmashing along the bar, the spray flying up to the lantern, or, if thereis a fog, the old fog-horn screeching dismally. What do you think ofit? That don't suit you, does it?"
"Oh, splendidly!"
"Well, we will get the boat up. You see we have 'tackle and falls'right here at the door, rigged overhead, you see, and we can get up'most anything. If you will go down and make the boat fast, we will thenraise her."
Dave descended, attached the boat at her stern and bows to the suspendedtackle, and returned to the keeper's side. Then they pulled on theropes. The boat came readily up, and hung opposite the door of thefog-signal tower.
"Now we are all right," declared Dave. "This is a fortress where wehave a boat, and can go off if we wish, but no enemy can get to us."
All this increased the keeper's pleasure in witnessing the eagerness ofDave. At dinner the keeper rehearsed his duties, and added,--
"May not seem as if there was much to be done, but to keep everything ingood condition it takes some time, and then there may be fogs--oh my!"
This made Dave, of course, none the less anxious to hear the bigbreakers booming against the lighthouse, and as an accompaniment thefog-horn moaning hoarsely. The keeper gave Dave his course of dutiesduring the day; and while they despatched dinner he told Dave also abouta heavy storm just "ten years ago that very day." And this only firedup Dave's anxiety to see what the keeper termed "a howler."
"Don't you feel lonely here sometimes, sir?"
"Well, we get used to almost everything. I am only lonely when myassistant is away; and if I am occupied, then loneliness don't bother memuch. I am generally pretty busy. By sunrise my light must be out inthe lantern. I must make a trip upstairs for that, any way. Then thereis breakfast. People's appetites are apt to be pretty good out here,and sometimes it is no small job just to do the cooking. I believe inliving well--in having plenty to eat, and in having a variety. Afterbreakfast, first thing, Timothy and I have prayers--same as folks do athome, you know. Then we look after the lantern. That takes time--totrim the lamp, keep the lens clean, and see that the windows of thelantern are polished bright. Then in the forenoon I do mybaking--bread, cake, and so on. Well, if the fog should set in, thatwould upset other arrangements, and we must watch the fog-signal. Oh,there is a lot to be done! Noon comes before one knows it. In theafternoon I like to get a little time to read; but then it may be foggy,or one must go to town, or perhaps the town may come to us. I have agood many visitors in summer-time. That makes a pleasant change."
"How do you manage at night?"
"We relieve one another. One is on watch till twelve, and the othertakes his turn till sunrise. I will make it as easy for you as I can,and--"
"Oh, I can stand it."
"Well, we will see. But speaking about daytime, one must make up thenfor the sleep he loses at night. So you see the hours are filled up. Iread in the night considerable. I am going to propose one thing. Youwill find some valuable books up in the library-case in the watch-room.I want you to select one and read it. I have been astonished to see howmuch I could read by keeping at it sort of steady, as we say; givingmyself a stint perhaps every day, and sticking to it. Hadn't you bettertry it?"
"I think I will."
Dave noticed that the light-keeper was very particular to have prayerseach morning directly after breakfast, and then at some other timeduring the day he would be likely to be bending over his Bible. It wasan impressive sight. The ocean might be rolling the heavy breakersacross the bar as if driving heavy, white-headed battering-rams towardthe land. Against the tower itself the ponderous billows would throwthemselves, and sweep in a crashing torrent between the light andfog-signal towers. Within, in the sheltered kitchen, the light-keeperwould sit at his table bending over his Bible, his countenance at restas the shadow of God's great protecting promises fell over him.