The Lighthouse Keeper, page 7
While they were transferring the contents of the tents, Rebecca glanced at Nick from time to time. She was curious as to how he behaved when he was in a bad mood. It was something she always watched out for, ever since the first year of her BA back in York, when she had got into an argument with Steve, her then-boyfriend, and he had settled the matter by punching her repeatedly in the face. Her flatmate, who had witnessed the attack, ran from the room and called the police. Steve was charged with assault, given a suspended prison sentence and sent down from the university. Rebecca never saw him again after the trial. For a while, she wondered whether he might try to get back at her somehow, but she supposed that if any such thought had crossed his mind, it was banished by the look of cold hatred her father had given him during every session in court (in fact, she honestly believed that her dad would have beaten Steve to within an inch of his life if she and her mother hadn’t begged him to stay calm and let the law take its course).
Deep down, Rebecca knew that Nick wasn’t remotely like Steve, but she kept glancing at him all the same, as he muttered under his breath while lugging backpacks and cooking utensils up the winding stone staircase that led from the crane platform to the shoulder of the island. Once, when they were approaching the lighthouse, he glanced at her and saw that she was looking at him. His angry frown quickly vanished, and he gave her a smile.
‘You think I’m being childish, don’t you?’ he said.
Rebecca shrugged. ‘A bit.’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘A lot. I guess I just don’t like it when people feel they have to make little points like that.’
‘Maybe you need to look at it from his side. You’ve got lots of work to do, you’ve had problems with your equipment… he just sees this as a waste of time. But if it makes any difference, I’m glad we’re moving the camp up here, and I know Max is too.’
Nick sighed. ‘You’re right, Becks. Yeah… you’re absolutely right. And in any case, it certainly isn’t worth getting bent out of shape over.’
Rebecca giggled.
‘What?’
‘Bent out of shape?’
Nick chuckled. ‘I think I’ve been hanging around with Max too long.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I hope I make a nice change.’
He looked at her for a long moment. ‘You make a very nice change.’
They had come to the low wall around the enclosure. Rebecca put down the backpack she was carrying and moved closer to him. ‘How nice?’
He put down his own pack and put his arms around her waist. They looked at each other for a few more seconds, enjoying the game of delaying the kiss. Then, just as his lips were about to meet hers, Nick froze.
Rebecca pulled back a little. ‘What’s wrong?’
His eyes were open and gazing into the distance behind her. ‘Becks,’ he whispered, ‘you were right. There it is!’
‘What?’
‘The fox. I think it is an albino!’
Oh God.
She drew further back, taking his arms from around her, and turned to look in the direction he was looking.
It was there, near the edge of the island. It was quite far away, and she couldn’t make it out in detail, but it was clearly the same animal she had seen yesterday.
‘Amazing!’ Nick breathed, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it. I’m sorry I doubted you, Becks.’
‘It’s all right,’ she replied in a quiet voice. It’s really all right… it isn’t the same one… not the same one as in the book.
The sleek white form glided across the grass, apparently unmindful of their presence. Nick narrowed his eyes, peering intently at the distant shape. ‘What’s that on its face?’
Rebecca didn’t answer.
‘See, Becks? There’s something on its face…’
‘I can’t see anything,’ she said.
‘Look… there, d’you see? Can’t make it out… too far away. Shit, my binoculars are in the camp. And my camera! Come on, let’s try and get closer.’
Christ, it couldn’t be the same one!
Reluctantly, she followed as Nick began to walk towards the fox.
‘Shouldn’t we finish moving the camp?’ she said.
‘We’re nearly done. I just want to get a closer look.’
No, you don’t.
‘Nick,’ she said, taking hold of his hand. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I know what’s wrong with its face.’
He stopped and turned to her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve seen it before.’
‘Up close? When?’
She shook her head, and gave a desperate sigh. ‘I don’t mean I’ve seen it up close myself. I mean… I’ve seen it in the pages of Dalemore’s manuscript.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘They saw it – Dalemore, Milne and Moore.’
‘Becks, you’re not making much sense.’ He was about to say something else, but the expression on Rebecca’s face stopped him. Her eyes had filled up with fear as she gazed at the fox’s retreating form.
‘They saw it!’
How can it still be here? How the fuck can it still be here?
‘Rebecca, foxes don’t live for a hundred years. If they did see one, this isn’t it.’
‘Yes it is,’ she said, her voice lowered in sudden resignation. ‘It’s the same one.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because it isn’t a fox.’
‘Then what is it?’
She glared at him. ‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’
He shook his head. ‘Of course not. But I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’
‘You will. Listen, Nick, the others will want me to read some more from the book tonight, after dinner. But I want you to read, okay?’
He shrugged. ‘Okay, I’ll read tonight. But I still don’t get what all this is about.’ He glanced back over his shoulder, but the fox was now nowhere to be seen. ‘Gone,’ he said. ‘Maybe its den is over there somewhere.’
‘It’ll be back,’ said Rebecca.
*
They ate dinner in their new camp at the foot of the lighthouse. Donald, perhaps feeling a little guilty, made a point of thanking Nick and Rebecca for their work. Nick smiled and nodded, and the atmosphere in the group thawed a little.
‘In fact,’ said Nick, ‘I want to thank you: if you hadn’t given us the job, we wouldn’t have seen the fox.’
‘Huh?’ said Max around a mouthful of bread and cheese. ‘Foksh?’
‘Yeah, and get this: it’s an albino.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Jennifer, putting her plate down and leaning forward in interest.
‘That’s what I said to Becks when she saw it yesterday. But yes, I’m sure.’
‘How extraordinary!’ said Jennifer. ‘I wonder how it got onto the island.’
‘Becks suggested that it somehow found its way onto a ship.’
‘That’s the only explanation,’ agreed Donald.
‘Jeez,’ said Max. ‘I’d love to get a look at that little critter!’
Nick glanced at Rebecca, who was eating in silence without looking at any of them, before adding: ‘I couldn’t be sure, but I think it has some kind of deformity.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Max.
‘There’s something not quite right about its face. It was too far away when we saw it to know for sure. But… just something.’
Rebecca felt his eyes on her and returned his gaze without saying anything.
Max noticed the strange, wordless exchange, coughed and said: ‘Well, I guess it’s time for another instalment, huh, Becks?’
Nick went into their tent and brought out the book. ‘If no one minds,’ he said, ‘I’ll read tonight.’
With a final glance at Rebecca, he opened the book to the fifth chapter and began to read aloud.
5
The Departure of the Hesperus
Late on the afternoon of the 5th of January 1901, the lighthouse tender Hesperus made ready to cast off and leave Eilean Mòr. She would be carrying the men who had accompanied Joseph Moore while he waited for relief to arrive from the mainland. We all said our goodbyes with a lightheartedness that was forced and artificial, but which was no less essential to our state of mind for all that.
As he was about to leave the house, Robert Muirhead stopped at the threshold and, turning to me, said, ‘Alec, will you walk a little way with me?’
‘Of course, Mr Muirhead,’ I replied.
As Archie Lamont, Archie Campbell and Allan McDonald moved on ahead, Muirhead hung back, walking more slowly, so that I was forced to lessen my own pace. We walked in silence for some moments.
‘The wind has fallen,’ Muirhead presently observed, without looking at me.
‘Yes, and the sea’s a little calmer; you shouldn’t have too much trouble getting under way.’
‘When Joseph and I came up from the West Landing, I saw you outside…’ He glanced at me, but I did not reply. ‘You heard it too, didn’t you, Alec?’
Surprised by his forthrightness, I lessened my pace still further and looked at the Superintendent.
Muirhead met my gaze, a faint smile which I could not interpret trembling upon his lips. ‘That sound… and the voices… you heard them, didn’t you, just as Joseph and I heard them?’
I nodded and continued on towards the stairway. The others had already disappeared from view.
‘What did they say?’ he asked, and I guessed that he was seeking confirmation of what he had heard, or thought he heard.
I saw no point in prevaricating, and truth to tell, I was glad that I had not been alone in hearing the shimmering metal sound and the voices that whispered upon it. ‘I think that they said, “Let us be gone.”’
Muirhead let out a breath. ‘Yes… yes, that’s what we heard.’
And then, suddenly and without warning, he seized my arm. ‘Alec, listen. You must look after Joseph. I wish to God I hadn’t asked him to go with me to the landing; I wish he hadn’t heard what I did while we were there. I wish…’
‘You wish you could take him back with you on the Hesperus, back to the mainland, away from here,’ I completed.
Muirhead sighed and nodded. ‘If you could have seen the look on his face when we heard that sound, and the voices…’
‘A trick of the wind,’ I said suddenly, with a force and conviction that made the Superintendent glance at me again. ‘That’s all it was. The same kind of trick that deceives us into seeing faces in clouds in the sky and flames in the hearth.’
Again, that vague tremble of a smile. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right, Alec. At any rate, I have no choice but to leave Joseph here with you, until other arrangements can be made by the Board. But do please look after him, you and John: as I said to you before, he’s a sensitive young man, and this terrible business does not sit easily with him.’
‘Nor with any of us, but I’ll do as you ask, Mr Muirhead, on my word I will.’
‘Thank you, Alec.’
We had reached the top of the stairway. Far below, the Hesperus waited, rising and falling gently upon the quicksilver sea.
Muirhead regarded the lighthouse tender in silence for a few moments, then said, ‘May I ask you one more question?’
‘Of course.’
‘What did Mary say to you in her letter?’
I was taken aback by this and hesitated. Muirhead apologised, said that it was of course a personal matter, and that he shouldn’t have asked.
‘No, no, it’s all right, Mr Muirhead. She… she told me what happened, of course, since I’m a friend of the family, and that the Board would be short-staffed. She suggested that I offer to stand watch here with the other replacement Keepers…’
I stumbled into silence, quite certain that the Superintendent knew I was not telling the whole truth. But at that moment, I did not want to describe the true contents of Mary Ducat’s letter and the strange fears she had expressed, both in the letter and in person when she and I had taken that walk by the Shore Station at Breasclete. I did not want to describe them, nor even to think of them.
Muirhead stood in silence then, lost in thoughts of his own. Presently, he reached for my hand and shook it with warmth and vigour. ‘Well, I’ll be on my way. You can be assured that I will not rest until I find out exactly what happened to those men. I believe my theory is sound enough, but even so, it will require proof…’
‘I believe your theory is sound, Mr Muirhead.’
The frown that had clouded his brow lifted a little, and he offered me a broad, if strained, smile. ‘Good luck, Alec, and thanks again.’
With that, he turned and began to make his way down the winding stairway, towards the waiting ship. I did not want to watch the vessel’s departure, and so I turned around and began to make my way back up the island’s shoulder, towards the lighthouse.
My limbs felt tired and heavy as I walked with a dismal heart, up the slope, past the ruined chapel (from which I averted my eyes), towards the tiny, fragile outpost of humanity that was the Flannan Isles light. The sky was thick with grey clouds that had stopped their racing as the wind died down, as if they too were exhausted and were pausing to gather their strength.
For the next four weeks, I mused, I would be alone, with only the other Keepers, the wind and the sea for company. Almost immediately, I upbraided myself. The thought was inappropriate; it was the wrong attitude to take: it was we three Keepers, together, who would be alone, here on this ugly, brooding island, with its cold, damp harshness, its frightening ancientness, and the mystery that hung upon it like an unclean fume.
Four weeks to brood upon the reason for the disappearance of Ducat and the others, trapped in the place from which they had disappeared.
*
I found John Milne in the kitchen when I entered. He had washed and put away the tea things, and on the stove a saucepan of leek and potato soup was bubbling away. I breathed in the hearty aroma gratefully as I took off my waterproof and hung it upon the peg with the others.
‘Where’s Joseph?’ I asked.
‘Up in the lightroom,’ he replied, without looking at me.
Since Milne seemed disinclined to talk, I thought it might be best to go up and speak with Joseph, perhaps to offer a few words of comfort and encouragement, to repeat what I had said to Muirhead about the voices, that they were surely nothing but the deception of the wind. The fact that I myself found it difficult to believe mattered little, it seemed, at that moment.
I was about to leave the kitchen, when Milne turned away from the sink. ‘Alec.’
‘Yes, John?’
He hesitated, and behind his back, through the kitchen window, I saw raindrops begin to fly against the glass. He inclined his head, evidently distracted by the sound they made, like tiny fingernails tapping insistently upon the pane.
‘A storm’s gathering,’ he said quietly. ‘I think we’re in for a rough night.’
I moved away from the door. ‘Are you all right, John?’
Milne said nothing but walked to the kitchen table and sat down. I supposed that he wanted me to join him, and so I sat down opposite him and waited for him to speak.
Presently, he said, ‘I was talking to Joseph, while you were seeing Mr Muirhead off…’
Of course, I knew what he was about to say, and I let him describe his conversation with Joseph Moore: how the lad had told him of the shimmering metal sound and the voices that drifted upon it, which he and Muirhead had heard while they were at the West Landing earlier.
‘You were outside, then, Alec,’ he concluded. ‘Did you hear it?’
I replied that I had and gave Milne the same assurance I was about to give to Joseph.
Milne shook his head, and his gaze dropped to his big, gnarled hands which lay clasped together on the rough wood of the kitchen table. I noticed that the skin of his hands was the same colour as the table, his protruding knuckles like knots of wood from the same tree. I thought that this was a strange comparison to make and briefly wondered why it had come to me.
‘I’d like to believe that,’ he said. ‘I’d dearly like to believe that’s all they were… just a trick of the wind and the sea…’
‘But you don’t.’
He shook his head.
‘John, I’m only an Occasional, and I wouldn’t presume to tell you your job, or how to behave, or what to think. But we cannot be ruled by our imaginations, not here, and not now. The imagination is what separates us from the animals, but sometimes… well, sometimes it is not our friend. Sometimes it betrays us and leads us towards superstition and senseless fear…’
‘Are you a religious man, Alec?’ he asked suddenly.
‘As much as anyone,’ I replied carefully, unsure as to why he had asked the question.
‘My father was a minister in Aberfoyle,’ he said. ‘A wise and gentle man, he was, well-read in the history of the church. He taught me a good deal about the early days of Christianity and the first Christian historians. Have you heard of Josephus?’
I had to admit that I had not.
‘Well, Josephus was a first-century Jewish historian, who described how the Romans destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem in the year 70. He wrote that, just before the Temple was torn down, the priests heard a sound, a great and terrible sound, as if a great multitude were crying, “Let us remove hence.”’
‘“Let us remove hence,”’ I echoed in spite of myself. ‘“Let us be gone.”’
‘My father said that some saw this as a warning, the sound of the divine presence departing…’
Our eyes met and held each other across the table that was the same colour as John Milne’s hands.
Presently, I managed to say, ‘What do you think this means?’
‘The sound you heard, and the voices, the words that they said…’ He sighed deeply, a thin, ragged counterpoint to the raindrops tapping against the windowpane. ‘I wonder if it means that God has forsaken us. I wonder if it means that God has no power here.’
I said nothing, but I thought of the ruined chapel outside, of its half-collapsed entrance, and of the impenetrable darkness within. ‘God has power everywhere,’ I replied at length. ‘For otherwise, it surely is not God.’
