THE WOLF HEAD LIGHT

New Zealand Tablet, 10 September 1908, Page 3

THE WOLF HEAD LIGHT

In August, when, the islands lie dreaming in a summer sea. that sparkles sapphire and'silver' to the very horizon, save where the tide-rip streaks it with "splendid purple, when the /waves lap idly about the head, and lazily rattle the- pebbles on the tiny beaches, one wonders why they "were ever named' the /Wolves. - But in January, when the naked cliffs stand at bay in the fury of the winter gales, there is something -sinister in their aspect, as if they, no less than- the. breakers*' that assail ' them/ were snarling, leaping, thirsting for human life.",, ' The Wolf's begun to growl,' is a common saying of the natives; but when, huddled in Jheir Ihuts, they" wait for the terror of a winter gale to pass, they have another" word—' It's the long howl to-night. ' There are two Wolves— Little Wolf, which, is merely a tumble of granite and trap, with, on the highest point, a bit of green. " sod- no larger than your two hands, and Big Wolf, which is less rugged, afrd contains a couple of miles o> rocky pasture covered with huckleberry, bay and. juniper. Big Wolf, with its score of weather-beaten huts and tiny •;.schoolhouse, boasts a population of -jiinety-three. Little Wolf contains a population of three— Jed *Carlow, the lighthousekeeper, his -daughter, Jess, and -his -assistant. Between Little Wolf and Big JVolf lies a.causeway a quarter of a mile long, never passable in winter, but often visible in the still seas under summer skies. Between Big Wolf and Little Wolf. for forty years lay also the feud between the Carlows and tha Randalls. . " It began when the lighthouse was built on Little Wolf, and Amos Randall and Jed Carlow both wished the position of keeper. The pay, although only four hundred and" fifty dollars a yearr ■ meant luxury for the islands, but' the .honor. was-Wre than " the pay. In the little fishing village, . where all 'toiled alike - for the difficult harvest of the sea, and all suffered alike the privations of poor seasons and the danger of the best, the leisure days and assured provision of the keeper of the light set him - apart; and gave him prestige. ' - " ( Amos Randall was the first keeper, and held the position two years. He was, from all reports, a capable man, quickwitted, iron-willed, and strong as an" ox. "- Undoubtedly his position went to his head a little, and intensified a nature always •inclined to be domineering. ' - ■- - : -< '■>•"• - The blow fell like a bolt out of a blue sky. The inspector visited the lighthouse- one May afternoon, and informed him that Jed Carlow had been made keeper in his place. For a moment the huge keeper stood motionless ; then he demanded the reason for his dismissal. ' You have been known to be drunk,' the inspector replied. Drunk?' Randall retorted. 'Yes, I've been drunk, but has any man said I drank since I had the light?' ' No,' the inspector replied. - Randall's face grew black. <If that hound of a Carlow has been sneaking 'he thundered "__. '. 'No one has b.een e nea king t » the inspector returned shortly. The Government changes Its keepers at its " own discretion, that's all.' ' Without another word Randall turned away and began putting his. .things together— it took less than anhpur. On the ' way across— the causeway was open— he met Carlow. Randall -put down his pack an~d waited ; when Carlow was a few rods "away .he spoke. . - " ' * ,-^'-You stop right where you areJ' '"•« - . ' " "- *. .-,•-.'. ■ Carlow stopped at once. Although- not so- larger -man as c ßandal|, he was no. coward. He r waited, watchful, but fear« less... ' ' -'-*' --" v - j.--_ -Randall's face .was red'witK rage/ but h.e- controlled himself- . by -a. mighty effort. - - / ;'__ - „ ' ' ' - ;? I have three-things to say to "yoii;" Jed^Carlow, and they're the last things you'll ever Hear -me'sayj: to. "any Carlow. In. the place, I haven't touched. ti, drop since I put foot- on Little Wolf; and to prove it I'll never «touch a drop again as glgng as I live. In the second place,' I'll curse" any child of =mmc that ever speaks to a child" of jours. " In Jthe third place lam going. to be keeper of that light. again".'" ■' . ' 'Is that all?' Carlow asked- v - • - 'That's all.' -'-■•■ . • - - ' Then 1>v * three things to say to you. In the first place, r don t know anything about your rum, and I don't care. In the

second place, a Randall will speak to a Carlow before a Carlow speaks to a Randall. In the third place, I'm going to keep the light.' \ / In" a few days Carlow brought his family across and estab-lished-them, in the cottage at the foot of "the "tower. All the village turned out to see them go except the Randalls and their connections. They, men and boys, had gone off trawling early that morning ; and- the women and children Had "been forbidden to put their heads to the windows. , Notwithstanding his determination, Amos Randall never recovered the. position, and five years later he died, an embittered man. His rival lived' barely a year, after him, and then the battle was fought over, again between young Jed Carlow and Price Randall. Once more the Carlows were victorious, and another Jed Carlow became keeper of the Wolf Head Light. For twenty-nine years, summer and winter alike, Jed Carlow climbed the tower stairs three times during the night to examine his lights, and many a night when tempests were raging he went up in the early dark and never came down till the angry morning was in the sky. He was a grave, silent man, never' given to words, and his whole life was absorbed in his duty ; and since no man can live for honor first without unconsciously influencing those about him, so it came about that a new attitude began to replace the old in his family ; the honor was no longer in being keeper of the light, but in being worthy to be keeper of the light. Next to Jed Carlow himself, the influence of the light was strongest upon his little granddaughter, Jess. Her earliest memory was of being carried up in the great tower by her grandfather one spring twilight, and watching him light the lamps — five golden and five red — and wind the machinery that sent the alternating shafts of light across the wide waters. And the great excitement of all her childhood was the semiannual visit of the inspector with the supplies x for the light — stacks of red and white chimneys, bundles ' of wicks, doeskins ' for polishing the reflectors, and casks of ill-smelling oil. When 'upon her tenth birthday she was allowed to light the lamps herself, under her grandfather's watchful eyes, her small heart could hold no more rapture. From that hour the light was hers, its honor her honor, to be guarded with her life. When Jess was thirteen, however, things changed. Her mother died, and the child was sent across to the mainland to school, and for four years she was at the lighthouse only in the summer. Then came the October when she was called home to follow her grandfather to his grave in the little buryingground on Big Wolf. It was at her plea that they buried him in the corner touched by the ray of the light he had served all his life. That night the girl begged her father to let her light the lamps alone. 'You may come in five minutes,' she said, 'only let me go up by myself.' So at half-past 5 Jess climbed the long stairs alone. Her eyes were dim and her throat ached, but she fought back the tears. She was a daughter of the sea, and not given to easy emotions. Slowly she kindled the lamps and wound up the machinery. Then she stood waiting till a long golden beam touched the little gust-beaten graveyard on Wolf. _ 'I'll never forget, grandfather,' she whisepred ; 'never! never !' As she went down, she mef her father going up, but she did not go back with him. She was busy getting supper when he came down. She baked a johnny-cake and • some bacon and made tea, and when everything was ready she sat down opposite her father and pretended to eat. Presently she spoke. ' Whom are you going to get for an assistant?' ' I was calculating I'd try Tim Littlefield.' Jess was silent for a moment. ' I'm not going back,' she said. ' Not going back !' her father echoed. The girl looked at hirrTgravely. She was a girl any father might be proud of, tall and brown and strong, with unflinching eyes. . ' No,' she replied, ' I guess I've got .all the education 1 need. I only stayed, anyway, because I knew mother would have wanted me to.' Her voice changed and thrilled with sudden passion. ' I hated it there. I'm not like them, dad— the* other girls. I don't speak the same language or think ..the same thoughts. I can't breathe in their world. I'd rather f\ be out here on ■ the .rocks, with, the surf crashing about me. Oh, I'm- made for this I I -shan't be lonesome, with you and

the light. There will be a thousand things to do. And I know ' mother would be willing — she wouldn't want you and" Tim keeping house alone. 1 ' It doesn't seem right, Jess,| her father said, doubtfully. ' It's awfully cut off in winter,' -you know. ' ' Yes, I know!' the girl cried, exultantly. 'Oh, dad, you are going to let me — you are!' She had her will. Her father indeed understood better the ways of the sea than the uncharted ways of womankind. Tim Littlefield came over, a boat-load of provisions was brought from the mainland and packed away in the storeroom at the foot of the ■ tower, and the little family settled down for the winter. 1 It came early that year and stayed late, gale after gale sweeping the coast. There were fearful nights when the glass about the light was thick with salt spray, dashed up by the wind and frozen — when the great tower itself trembled as if it might go at any moment, and no one of the three dared lie down. ' It was a terrible life for a girl. - Carlo w never was a talker at best, and Tim Littlefield, after two months of it, had , but one wish — to get a\vay L Yet Jess never complained. Always there was the light. And finally, by sullen degrees, the winter broke. One day Jess found a few grass-blades in a sheltered angle of the rocks. . Slowly the winds retreated, and the terrible roar of the surf died away. Finally one morning the girl was awakened by the joyous carol of a song-sparrow. She threw open her window and listened, her dark eyes full of eagerness. The six months had been terrible, but they were past, and life, full, vivid, beautiful beyond words, was at the door. The first day that the sea was quiet enough, Tim Littlefield rowed across to Big Wolf. Another man brought the boat back. ' Tim has made up his mind he's had about enough,' he > said, looking curiously at the girl — her father was up in the tower cleaning the lamps. Jess's eyes flashed. ' Let him go 1' she exclaimed. ' Father and I aren't giving up.' Jed Carlow's girl was living gloriously, absorbingly. She spent hours out on the rocks, or pulling with splendid strokes of her long arms across the water, for the sheer joy of it. Sometimes she went across to Big Wolf-^-she could go there almost any day now — and visited the neighbors Only three cottages she never entered, and when on Sunday the Randall . families, with handsome young Richard Randall at their head, tramped into the little church, her steady brown eyes were , always turned the other way. Unfortunatclv, it is not so easy to manage one's ears, and people were always trJking of young Richard — his strength an ! courage and cleverness. However, nothing could spoil the glory of the summer. Tim Littlefield's place was noc yet filled, but an assistant was not necessary at that season, when, in any emergency, help could - be got easily. Moreover, summer was Little Wolf's time 'at home.' There were many visitors — city people who sailed over from the mainland and climbed ledges in high-heeled shoes, and exclaimed .over . the barren rocks, and 'asked absurd questions about the light, and roved over the house and looked at Jess with curious eyes. These Jess hated, but she welcomed, eagerly her aunt) who . came over from the shore to spend a week with her, and the neighbors from Wolf. So the golden days slipped by, and October came, and the next week the -keeper declared he^must find an assistant. "■We don't need an assistant yet,' Jess pleaded. 'Don't I know all about the light?' Her father shook his head. ' 'T wouldn't be right,' he declared. 'Go back to the shore till spring.' I'd feel easier to have you.' But at that the girl's head was up instantly. •' I belong to the light. Haven't I belonged, to .it .all rry life? You couldn't tear me'away — I'd stick to it like a limpet!' ■ So the matter was decided again, and that .night a little moaning wind, began to creep about .the .house, ,and in the morning a cold easterly rain was driving across the "sea. "' We're in for three days of nasty weather, sure,' the keeper said. ' ' . -» v ■» - ,» * * Over on Big Wolf, the storm beat against the' low windows" of the cottages, and drove the smoke back down the chimneys,*and made racing brooks of the. paths. The men: mended nets .. by. the smoky fir.es. Every where - .they were mending nets — .at Lot Maxwell's, at Peter Tibbet's, at the Tuckers', the Randalls'.

'. The little cottages became close and the children fretty. At the Randalls' Bennie and Joe got into a fight, and were punching each other over the floor, much to the inconvenience of the other members of the. family. Their Uncle Richard reached a long arm for them, but it never touched them. ' _ ~" The boys stopped fighting to stare -in amazement. The rest of the family stood petrified. For against the doorway, the rain running in streams from . her. .dark- hair, her cloak, her dress, leaned Jess Carlow. For a -moment she struggled for breath, fought for it, her hand at her throat. Her dark eyes.., commanded rather than besought "Richard. _ - ■ 'Fathers hurt!' she gasped." 'The light! Come, oh, : come ! ' _ .__ .'•■=. Without an instant's delay the young fellow snatched up his oilskins and followed her down the path to- her dory, tossing like a cockle-shell at the little pier. ~ 'You didn't come alone?' he cried, aghast. Jess was already in the boat. 'There are two pairs of oars!' she cried. ' I had to! "Oh, quick !' - He untied the dory and sprang in after her. Instantly "they were in a grey, seething tumult. He set his teeth and fought his way. ''They could see nothing, but they both knew direction by the sound of the breakers on the head. They were tossed, beaten, buffeted, driven, it seemed, a dozen ways v at once. Then suddenly, miraculously, the bulk of Little Woif, fighting the .turmoil, intervened, and" behind it, drenched and staggering, they made the laiiding. As they passed through the cottage, there was the- sound of a man's, voice, calling, „ Jess, thrust - her fingers in her ears. ' The light fir&L ! ' she panted. The tumult^ as soon as they closed the cottage door, was . unspeakable, and the whole tower shook about them — they seemed.» climbing into the heart of the -storm. Richard could hear .the - girl's laboring breath beside him, but she did^not give up tillthey reached the top, and one quick glance assured her that everything was right; then she sank in a heap on the floor. 'I — can2t!' she gasped. 'The lamps— - — '- He lighted them, and glanced quickly about. ' This?' he asked, and over Jess's agonised face swept a passion of relief. She watched him while he wound up the clockwork, slowly, steadily, as if he had done it all his life. Suddenly she buried her face on her arm and sobbed. The young fellow finished his task and waited awkwardly. He did not know what to say — which was not strange when one considers not only that he had spoken to. the girl for the first time in his life less than an hour before, but that no Randall had spoken to a Carlow for nearly forty years." But before he could think of anything, the 'girl lifted her head from her arm and said, with only a little break in the words : ' Now, I'll show you about — things. We come up once an hour at least when there's a storm.' __ • •: She explained clearly the simple mechanism — very simple/ | for the light was an old-time one with crank and weights. As^she started to go downstairs, she- turned for a moment, and"': there was in her eyes all the agony of renunciation. She had done her best for the light;' for its sake she had been traitor -Ho her own blood. " ■ ; Down in the cottage the hoarse cries were still echoing 1. with terrible monotony. The girl ran into the room, _ L and "i\s'"' she opened the door the young man saw that the keeper- wasTtied to his bed. ' You don't mean J he began. * She turned on him- fiercely. 'Goaw ay ! Did I ask you to come here? This isn't the, light.' He turned away at . once. He understood it now. Her father was delirious, and fearing he would harm himself, . possibly even the light. What she must have gone through"! - - The girl came out of the bedroom presently, and made some coffee and set out bread and meat. She drank a cup of coffee, but refused to eat anything. All that night ahd_ all the- next" day she contrived to avoid taking a meal with him. And all. that night and "the next day and the next night, while Jess Carlow watched her father, Richard Randall kept the Wolf Head Light. - ■ . ' " , . - The third day Jess woke-~from a snatch of sleep arid found'" her father looking at her. She was at his side instantly. . ; v ' What!s happened?' he asked. His voice was scarcely more than a whisper. ' ' - , ~* ' 'You must have fallen and hurt your-' head, daddy/ the' girl replied. ' You staggered to the bed and fell,'"

1 How long?' •- .- „ ' Three days ago.'. ' The ""sick' man tried to, rise. — ' The light!' he. cried. Mt.is all right, daddy,' the girl assured"* him.-'-' It hasn't failed a minute. Now, lie.. down, and-.go to.. sleep. ' Obediently he fell back ."and was almost., at once asleep. A : -ljpng, ' healing sleep it was, in which nature did her splendid I.work. When, twelve hours later?" he.-opened his_ eyes again, -he .was far on -the way to' his own self. The girl was at. his ..-side at onee — she, too, looked. more, rested: ■ Some- one t crossed - the sitting-room and vanished -through- the door. Jed Carlow sat -up and looked "at his daughter. _; _, '-Who is it? '.he- asked, sharply. - . - / - ' - -. , • . , • - Jess's face- whitened under its brown. ..-;--_'■ Let me get- you something to eat first, dad,-' she pleaded. Then I'll tell you all" about it.'-'- -Ij • ' Who is it?' he repeated; sternly! -. •-'*.' ~ *- The girl dropped down~on" the floor beside the bed. . She was trembling, but "her eyes were unflinching. 'Dad,' she said, 'you taught me — you and grandfather — Itliat the light must have the best —^o matter' what it cost' ' v .He nodded, his eyes holding hers with fiercer-intensity. -The girl's voice broke into a cry. "Dad, 'dad, ' I had to. "'Everybody said Jie was the best man on Wolf. It's Richard . °Randa'lV . ' 'J '/"... .' . /• ":" '--'[\, '.j T V ' . The keeper's face changed so that the. girl bent over him „ with an exclamation of terror. _" He,-weakly motioned her away. ' Leave me — a. little while,- Jess !' he gasped. "* ' The girl went out, closing-, the door softly behind her.- "--In .rt'tfjef-kitchen she walked back and forth for an hour. Then at" "-last" her father's, voice called her. To "her " amazement, ".-he -.was" „ although huddled weakly. "on, a chair^. /". - ' "-"--. „"' ■ -.y i Y)id 3*ou — treat him well, Jess?' he- asked.*- - ; ,"- ,'' I .cooked for him,* the girl answered. ' I didn't eat with,.,- - "him—^oT't'alk: I — couldn't, -dad.'- ~ "-. - . ' J~ ~ ,^~ - <'„■ *-,■ '.-""' '- <v '-. ' He was our guest and saved the- light,' Carlow said, slowly. A dull red burned through the girl's .brown face. " - ' I — couldn't, dad!' she choked:- t:' ** ~'"" .- . ' Her father did not seem to see her. His eyes looked across the grey sea to where beneath the heavy "clouds a band_ of clear light was breaking at last. ' - - r - . . , ..,..;,..- . - '"We've got to give it up, Jess. I had a warning. It- was sort of dizziness that made me -fall, and— we can't take -any" risks for the light. .. Whe.n the inspector comes - 1 shall .resign; and tell him to appoint Richard Randall.' '-""'The girl started up with a cry./^ 'Oh, dad, not., leave the lighthouse ! You don 't mean for us to leave ! ' .The man's voice was weak, but there was no faltering in it. -.' '.It's our duty, Jess. P don't see how we can get round. .it..'. - .. , -The -.girl walked to the window, her fiands clenched fiercely, ...her unseeing eyes staring jnto the west. Yes, they must go — Slie-saw it. There was- no other way. It would" kill them , .both;, but they must do it for the .sake- of the light. ' ' - '■ ~ ■^.-■^Then the darkening -water shone a broad path .of." * -light, white, red — a pause-^r-white, red.;;.; -Above % the _;tumult of - "Vshe:uriiyes r as above the tumult of the 'sea,, the great light v-was sliijning. - ~ ■ „ ' .-.-"- ;.'; .'- .;• !\! \ ■' - ■ "•" -. »i- *•"■- * '* •- • •J- "-". -'The -storm had passed," and". on, the following day - Richard- . itandalL .wept .back to Big Wolf. * " - "' -*-, /-.; Cj^A^weSk-later " the supply boat appeared, and the keeper gave " lir^ltis^'reslgnation, , but when the inspector hunted up^ Richard Randall in regard to an appointment, 'a"n unexpected' obstacle "a'ppcarcll— ffie young man positively refused to be made keeper. Assistant Richard would be willingly, but not keeper so long - as"jed~Carlow was living. SSto t it was- finally, after much argu- .. . ment, arranged. ~ \ - '-> " : ' " "" ' All this,, was .three years' and more ago. Last year the old ,±o\ver was^piilled down and^f'-new-^ brick orie v ~builr", .with a -powerful-single burner in -place' of- the lantern Avith its. ten lamps. The' keeper's house, too, has been "enlarged, and" people say-^ ; well, -of course, -people always '-must- be guessing. But"' certain it-Is that- at last two of the Carlows^arid have learned - how to talk to eacfT other. — Youth's Companions