Read Ebook: Pat the Lighthouse Boy by Everett Green Evelyn

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Ebook has 484 lines and 45645 words, and 10 pages

Pat was delighted at this notion. He knew that there was an outside gallery running all round the glass house where the lamp lived. He had seen it from the boat when his father had rowed him out a little way in the evenings; but he had never been out on it before, and to go there at night for the first time seemed a very wonderful thing to do. He would see how the sea looked from up there in the moonlight; and perhaps Jim would be able to tell him how the sun managed to swim round from one side to the other before morning, and why it always came up in just the same place every day, and went down in the same place every night. Jim must know a lot of things, living so much up there, he thought.

So Jim got up and opened a door close by, and a breath of cold wind came rushing into the warm room under the big lamp. Pat looked wonderingly out into the black darkness, and shivered a little, holding Jim's hand fast in his small tenacious clasp. And then Jim, all in a moment, shuffled somehow out of his warm rough pilot coat, and wrapped it round the child's thin frame, and lifting him bodily in his strong arms, carried him out into the still calm night, shutting the door behind him as he went, that the draught might not make the lamp flicker or flare.

For a moment it came into the child's head to wonder whether Jim was going to throw him over the gallery rail and into the sea, and he shut his eyes tight, and breathed a little prayer. But something in the strong clasp in which he was held stilled this fear almost before it had taken shape, and the next minute the child wonderingly opened his eyes and gazed with awe at the scene before him.

It did not seem dark now, for the silver moon rode high in the sky, and though the sea beneath looked black in places, there was a great track of silver light right across it where the moonlight lay, and sometimes a white sea-bird would fly athwart the silver track, and for that moment its beautiful white wings seemed to shine like silver too. The little plashing waves below were tipped and crested with phosphorescent light, and broke against the reef in a thousand ripples of molten silver. The whole world seemed as if it had been turned into ebony and silver, and the child looked and looked, drinking in the wonderful beauty, which was beyond his powers of comprehension.

He forgot all the questions he had meant to ask; he forgot the puzzle about the sun and its setting and rising; he could think of nothing but the strange majestic beauty of the summer night, and looking up into Jim's dark face, he wondered if it looked the same to him.

He was beautifully snug and warm wrapped up, and held close and safely. There was nothing to mar his happiness and wonder. He gazed, and gazed, and gazed again, till at last his confused thoughts found vent in words.

"I can't think how He thought of it!"

"Who thought of what, little master?" asked Jim, who had now found his tongue, and did not seem indisposed to use it more freely.

"Why, God to be sure," answered the child reverently. "You know that God made everything; and before He made it He'd have to think of it, and know what it would look like; and I can't think how He did!"

"I don't seem to know much about that," said the man, as Pat looked up at him as if for a suggestion. "It's a many years since I heard the name of God spoke--except to swear by," he added as an afterthought.

But Jim's words troubled him rather. He didn't like to think that Jim did not think about God too. He didn't see how he could help it in his long lonely night-watches. Pat knew very well that he should be frightened of the loneliness and the darkness if he wasn't quite sure that God would take care of him somehow, though how He did it the child was not at all certain. He went off on this train of thought now; and instead of answering Jim's remark, or asking him why he had not heard or thought about God for many years, he looked up into his face in a meditative fashion, and said, slowly and reflectively--

"I think He must send the angels to fly about the lighthouses at night and keep them safe. Mother says perhaps the stars are the angels' eyes looking down at us; and don't you think it feels like as if there were angels flying all about here? I think perhaps they like to dip their big beautiful white wings in the moonlight, like the sea-gulls. I almost think I can feel them flying round; it seems like as if there was a sound of wings in the air!"

"May be, little master, may be," answered Jim, without much interest in his face and tone. "If there be anything of that sort about the place, I make no doubt you would be the one to hear and see it."

Pat did not quite know what these muttered words might mean, nor could he get Jim to talk to him or sustain his share in the conversation. In point of fact, the talk grew very broken and disjointed, for the night air blowing on his face made the child very sleepy, and Jim was never one to speak by himself. How that night's adventure ended Pat never knew. He seemed soon to be flying all round the lighthouse on a pair of beautiful white wings, and trying to coax Jim, who stood on the gallery watching, to come and fly with him too. But Jim, though he had wings too, did not seem to have any wish to use them, and only stood still watching his companion, and refusing to trust himself to the flight to which Pat urged him, and the child was just trying to make him believe that it would all be right if he would only believe, when he felt a hand upon his head, and a voice said in his ear--

"Little son, little son, it is time you were waking, honey. The day has begun hours ago, and I can't find your clothes anywhere. Where did you put them when you took them off, Pat?"

Pat opened his eyes to find that he had no beautiful wings after all, and that he was just in his own bed, covered up very snug and warm, but when he threw off the bed clothes, there he found himself all dressed in those very clothes for which his mother had been hunting everywhere.

"Why, whatever does it mean?" cried Eileen, "the child has been walking in his sleep. Saints preserve us! but if he takes to that in this place it's never a wink of quiet sleep I will get!"

"Oh, mother, it was not in my sleep!" cried Pat, remembering all the adventure now. "I was wide awake. I wanted to see the big lamp alight, and I went up, and Jim let me sit with him, and he wrapped me up in his coat by-and-by, and took me out on to the gallery. And I suppose I must have gone to sleep there, and he must have brought me back to bed and wrapped me up like that. Mother, Jim is a very kind man. He isn't a bit like what I thought; I'm going to have him for a friend. I think by-and-by he will like me perhaps. I like him very much. He was very kind last night."

"Well, if anybody can come at his heart, it will be the child," thought Eileen, whose own advances had been steadily rejected and ignored. She was sorry for the lonely man with the sad history, and was a little afraid of him too; but when she whispered a word of her fear to her husband, Nat stoutly declared it was "all right." Pat could do as he liked, and make what advances he chose. The worst that could happen would be that Jim would turn a deaf ear to him. He would never harm the child. He was not that sort. There were stories against him, it was true; but nothing they need fear as regards their own child. Nat was not troubled with a vivid imagination, and Eileen had long learnt to subdue her fears when her husband told her she was frightening herself about nothing. She would be glad enough to lighten the dreary lot of "Surly Jim," and watched with some curiosity the advances of Pat towards him.

At first little progress seemed made. At table the two hardly looked at each other, and Jim never spoke unless actually obliged; but now and again she would see them sitting together in the boat, which had always been Jim's summer sitting-room, and gradually it seemed as though there was more talk between them. She could see that Pat began to chatter away freely enough, and sometimes she fancied that Jim took a share in the conversation. His pipe would go out, and be laid aside. He would lean towards the child, and seem to be listening with some intentness. Eileen was not a little curious to know what all this talk was about, but Pat was singularly reticent, and seldom spoke of Jim, though he would chatter to his mother about anything and everything else. Once she did venture to ask what they had been talking about, and got an answer that surprised her not a little.

"We talk about a lot of things; Jim knows such a lot when you once get him to talk," said Pat, with a certain quiet reserve of manner. "But I think he likes it best when we talk about God. You see he'd almost forgotten about Him. He's remembering now, and it's very interesting. We've begun at the beginning of the Bible, and we skip a good deal, so we shall soon get to the part about Jesus, and I think that'll be the most interesting of all!"

"It be queer to see them together. They be as thick as thieves," said Nat to his wife with a broad smile, as he sat down to table for the dish of tea he always looked for before he went up to see that all was in order with the lamp before the dusk fell. "As for me, I can't get a word out of him no how; but the little chap, he makes him talk as I never knew he could. I can't hear what they say. Bless you! if I so much as look that way, Jim shuts up his mouth like as if no power on earth would open it, and Pat he goes as red as a rose, as if he was half ashamed to be caught chattering; but so soon as my back's turned they're at it again. And glad I be that the poor chap has found somebody to love and to care for him; for he's had a hard life of it, if all we hear of him be true."

"That's just what I think, Nat," answered Eileen. "I'm glad the boy has found the way to his heart. Sure it's a bad thing for any creature to be shut up against his fellow-men as he was. May be it's the blessed saints as have sent the child to him to show him a better way."

Eileen still spoke sometimes about the "blessed saints," as she had been used to do in her childhood, when she lived amongst those who used even to pray to them; but her husband would smile and shake his head when he heard the words, and to-day he answered slowly and thoughtfully--

"Nay, my lass; it's no doing of the saints above--not that I'm one to say they are not blessed, nor that they may not look down upon us poor creatures here below and think of us as their brethren; but it's the Lord as rules the world for us, and gives each one of us a work to do for Him somehow; and if our boy has been sent as a messenger to this poor chap--as like enough he has--it's the Lord's own doing, that's what it is; and we won't say a word to discourage him, not though it may seem as though he'd got a tough job before him if he's got to win back Jim."

The ready tears started to Eileen's eyes. She came over and put her hand on Nat's broad shoulder, bending to kiss him, though he was not a man who as a rule cared to receive caresses from even his own wife or child.

"It does me good to hear you talk like that. Sure and it's the children who are often the Lord's best messengers. I heard a holy man say once as the beautiful angels were God's messengers, and it does seem sometimes as though He used the children too--may be because they are most like the angels themselves--bless their innocent little hearts!"

But Pat never thought about being an angel. He only felt like a very happy little boy, whose life had suddenly become exceedingly interesting, and who had so much to do every day that the days never seemed quite long enough for all he wanted to put into them. There was so much to learn about the reef and the lighthouse, about the big lamp and its bigger reflectors, about the wonderful fog-horn which he had as yet never heard at work, and about the apparatus which kept all these wonders moving, that his head fairly swam sometimes in the effort to take in all that he saw. He had one of those inquiring minds which is not content just to see what is done, but must know the why and the wherefore of it all. Nat was content to know that certain results would follow certain actions on his part, and he followed his instructions, with intelligence and diligence, but without fully comprehending the mechanism of which he was the overseer. Jim was the man who more fully understood this. He could put to rights any small matter which had got out of gear, without any appeal to the mainland. He had been so long on the Lone Rock that he was familiar with every detail of the lighthouse apparatus, and Pat would watch him with awe as he climbed about the great lamp, and cleaned the wheels and the levers with the air of one who knew exactly what was the work of each. And then he and the child knew the secret about the creatures being alive, when everybody else thought it merely a machine. Jim always spoke of it as "her," and Pat learned to do the same, and to wonder sometimes why she never awoke by day, but was always so quiet and still when the sun was shining, though when the dusk fell upon the land she would wake up and shine, and go round and round with that strange monotonous noise he had learned to heed as little as the ceaseless plash of the waves. That secret knowledge shared by both made another link between the man and the child. And then, if Jim could only find words, he could answer Pat's questions about the working of the creature far better than the child's father could do. Pat grew greatly impressed by the depth and profundity of his knowledge, and came secretly to the conclusion that Jim was a marvel of learning and skill. He was greatly flattered that he was allowed to be on terms of such intimacy with him, and grew to think his gruff speech and silent habits a grace, and a sign of learning and wisdom.

It was with great satisfaction one day that Pat heard that he and Jim were to be left in charge of the lighthouse for a whole day, whilst his father and mother went ashore to lay in stores against the coming autumn and winter. The summer was waning now. Before very long the fierce equinoctial gales might be any time expected, and Nat was anxious to get ashore before this present calm broke up, and thoroughly victual the rock against the winter. Eileen, too, had many things to think of, both for herself and the child, before the winter should set in. They had been in rather low water, owing to Pat's long illness, just before they came here, and had not any supply of warm clothing with them. Now that Nat had been drawing his pay all these months, there was plenty of money to purchase what was needed. Only she felt she must go ashore herself for the purpose; but she thought the expedition would be too fatiguing for the boy, and Pat was more than content to be left behind with Jim, to take care of the home and the lighthouse in his father's short absence.

It was a beautiful hot September morning when the boat put off from the rock, and Pat stood holding Jim's hand and waving his little cap to his parents, as Nat hoisted the sail to the light breeze, and the boat began to cut its way through the sparkling water in the direction of the shore.

"The top of the morning to ye!" shouted the child, who loved to air his little bits of Irish phrases when he was in high spirits. "Sure it's a lovely day for a sail. Come back again safe and sound, and we'll be waiting for you here. Good-bye, mother dear. Take care of yourself, mavourneen. It's meself as will be thinking of you every hour of the day till the boat brings you back safe again!"

The mother waved her hand, and Pat stood looking till his eyes were too dazzled to see clearly any longer, and then he drew Jim back towards the house. His small face was full of importance and gravity. He plainly felt himself his father's deputy for the day, and the sense of his position and the burden of his responsibilities weighed upon him rather heavily.

"We shall have to watch her very carefully all day, Jim," he remarked. "Because you see she may know that father has gone, and try to take advantage. We had a dog who used to do that once. Mother always said he took advantage when father had gone off for the day. It wouldn't do for things to go wrong before he came back. You and I will have to be very careful. Shall we go up and look how she seems now?--and whether she is all asleep and quiet?"

Jim grinned in his queer way, but assented at once.

"All right, little master, we'll go. I've got to clean her up. But I think she'll be quiet like all day. She's a wonderful one for sleeping so long as the sun shines--that she is!"

"Nay, she's never hurt I," answered Jim. "She don't hurt them as know how to humour her. She did break the arm of one man once; but he was a rare fool and deserved what he got. You've got to be a bit careful of her when she's going; but if you mind her well she won't hurt nobody."

They were mounting the stairs now, and Pat seated himself to watch Jim at his mysterious duties about the great She, as he had come to call her in his own mind. He had seen everything done a dozen times before; but the interest and fascination was always new. To-day he was permitted to help Jim a little by holding his leathers and rubbers from time to time; and he felt that he should soon be able to climb about and clean himself, so familiar did he grow with all his companion's evolutions.

It took the best part of the morning to do all that was needed to make things ship-shape for night, and Pat presently went downstairs to get ready the simple mid-day meal his mother had prepared for them. He thought that it would be pleasant to eat it down on the rocks, for the tide was out, and as it was a spring tide there was more rock than usual uncovered. He carried everything carefully down, and presently Jim joined him, and they sat down together. Pat thought it was quite the nicest dinner he had ever tasted, down in the cool shadow of the rocks, with the waves washing up and down only a few feet away. He got Jim to light his pipe by-and-by, and to tell him some of his sailor stories , and after an hour had passed like that, Jim suggested to him that it was his turn to tell a tale.

Now Pat was very willing to take his turn, but he had not any big store of stories, and such as his mother had told him had all been related to Jim before--all but the Bible stories, of which, to be sure, there were plenty left to tell. Pat sat nursing his knees and thinking. At last he looked up into his companion's face and asked reflectively--

"I don't think I've ever told you about Jesus, have I? We've not got to Him yet in reading out of the Book. But there's lots and lots of stories about Him--real pretty ones, too. I could tell you some of them, if you liked. I don't think you know about Jesus yet; do you, Jim?"

The man had slowly taken his pipe from his lips whilst the child was speaking, and now sat staring out over the sea with a look on his face that somehow seemed new to Pat, and which made him all of a sudden look different; the little boy could not have said how or why.

"I used to hear tell of Him when I was little," came the reply, very slowly spoken. "My mother used to tell me of Him when I was a little chap no bigger than you. But I went off to sea when I couldn't have been much bigger, and since then there's been nobody to tell me of Him 'cept the gentleman in the prison; and I didn't take friendly to what he said, though I dare say he meant it all kind enough."

"Well, I'll tell you as well as I can," said Pat, settling himself to his task with some relish. "Perhaps you'll remember some of the things I forget, and mother could tell us it all afterwards, if we like. But I can remember a good lot--all the things that matter most. So I'll begin."

And Pat did begin, in rather a roundabout fashion, it is true, and with a good many repetitions and harkings back to things he had forgotten, but still with a zest and good-will that atoned for many defects in style, and with the perfect faith in the truth of what he was saying, that gave a reality to the narrative which nothing else could have done. When it came to the story of the Crucifixion and the Garden of Gethsemane, Pat found, rather to his surprise, that the tears came into his eyes, and that once or twice he could hardly get on with the tale. He remembered that his mother had sometimes cried in telling it to him; but he had never quite understood why. He began to feel as though he did understand now. When he was telling it himself to somebody who was listening, like Jim, it all seemed so much more real. He wanted Jim to understand it all--just as his mother wanted him to understand; and that made him enter into the meaning of the story as perhaps he had hardly ever done before. He was glad when it came to the joyful part, about how the Lord rose again, and showed Himself to His doubting and mourning followers. Jim never spoke the whole time, but sat with his face turned out towards the sea, never moving, and looking sometimes as though he scarcely heard what the child said; yet Pat was convinced that he was listening to every word. It was only when the story had been finished for several minutes that he slowly turned his head round, and Pat saw with surprise that there was a moisture in his eyes that looked exactly as though it were tears.

"That's the story as my mother used to tell it me," he said, in a husky voice. "Do you think as it's all true, little master?"

"Why, of course it's true!" answered Pat, with perfect confidence. "Almost everybody in the world believes it--everybody except the heathen!" "Some folks forget, as you did, Jim, and some don't care as they should. But it's every word true. He did die."

"Yes, but why? Why did He die if He needn't have done? Why did He let them nail Him on the cross like that, if He could have had as many angels as He liked to come and take Him away out of their hands?"

Jim passed his horny hand over his eyes. He didn't speak for some time.

"I mean to try and think about it oftener, for it doesn't seem as though we ought ever to forget it. Mother says it ought to make us try and do things for Him; but I don't know what I can do, except to love Him, and try to be good. Perhaps till I'm bigger He'll let that count."

"And when you're bigger what will you do, little master?" asked Jim.

Pat sat and pondered the question a good while with his chin in his hand.

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