Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1886-05-29
Gales aud Sketfhes.
LIGHTING TIE LIGHTHOUSE LAMP.

The cold, grim gloom of winter night
had settled on the ocean; the gray-black
clouds. like shapeless forms of evil. swept
over the sky with furtive, backward
chances at pursuing storm, and the shrek
ing wind. swooping down on the rising
waves, gathered up their curling togs and
dashed them over the decks OF the sturdy
steamer plunging its way Sd anxiously
through the darkness.
The Mitchell Light ought to be here
about, pilot"
$50 it ought, cap'en, but don't get
glimpse of it yet"
mo more do |. Hank! What's that ?"
The two men. standing on the steamers
bridge, leaned over the rail and listened
intently. Boom-m-m! crash-sh-sh! came
a distant sound family to their ears.
That's dead ahead. cap zen. 1t ought
to be off port side," shouted the pilot
through the gale.
"Someihing's gone wrong o the Mitch
ell Light" answered the captain horsely.
Neither spoke for moment, and the
same terrible thought flashed through
their minds-'Lost if we don't find the
light
Suddenly broad stream of light shot
through the black night.
Hard overt" shouted the pilot
Hard overt" answered the quarter
master at the wheel.
'Oh! thank God for thatr' exclaimed
the captain tervently, wiping the perspira-
ton from his forehead.
If the light had come ten minutes later,
five hundred souls would have risen from
an ocean grave.
About four o'clock in the afternoon OF
the same day. twelve-year-old Nat Marble
gazed out of the window of Mitchelfs
Ledge Light house. Under the lowering
gray clouds he looked, straining to catch
glimpse of the nearest point of main
land.
Trim the wicks even, Nat, trim 'em
even"
1t was the lighthouse keeper, Mats
father, who n the delirium of burning
fever, had his mind on his work. He lay
talking and tossing on cot bed on the
other side of the room.
"Yes, father, yes" said Nat,nervously.
going over to the bed, and then wringing
his hands going quickly to the window
again.
why don't he come back?-Why don't
he come back?' he murmured.
Good an early, Tom-good an early"
mutlered the sick man. Better have
light early than late, Tom
| Tom, the assistant, had gone off to the
mainland early in the morning for medi
cine, promising to be back before three in
the afternoon.
The big hand on the dial crept round
and round, the gray twilight faded into
gloom, the gathering storm hurled the big
waves defiantly against the lighthouse,
and little Nat knew that he was to spend
the fearful night with the father burning
with fever downstairs, and the lamp cold
and dull upstairs.
He was only visitor there, and knew
as little of the lamp as he did of the fever.
Was he frightened He was. indeed.
The strange, rambling talk of the faith
err he had always known so precise and
covering by the fire. The laundering
roar of the waves, the moaning and
screaming OF the fierce wind, the trem-
bling of the solid light house, all filled
him with horror.
And then he knew the lamp ought to
be lighted, ought to have been lighted,
an hour ago. But he could not do it.
How could he? He had only been there
a week, and had never seen Tom light
it.
But then-Nat started in horror to his
feet-suppose a vessel should run ashore
and lives should be lost for lack of that
warning light!
! Perhaps he ought to try. 1t might be
simple enough. after all. At any rate he
could not sit still with his fathers means
in his ears, and his imagination filled with
pictures of drowning people.
| He took a lamp and climbed the winding
stairs. How cold and gloomy it was up
there! And how it shook at every buffet
from the waves. The great lamp was
seemingly simple enough. He recalled
his fathers wondering words-"Trim the
wcks overland looked to see if they
were in good order Not only thew We're,
pared the lamps.
flame from the lamp. The wicks
burned, charred, and went out There
was no oil in the lamp. But Nat thought
he saw his way clearly now. The lamp
was no different from any ordinary lamp
| He rushed down stairs for the oil can
and scissors-he had seen Tom put them
awav-and was back in few minutes.
As well as he could he trimmed the
charred wIcks TO resemble what thew had
been before Their he unscrewed the top
and tilted the oil can to fill the reservoir.
The oil would not flow. The can must
be full, too, it was so heavy. He shook
the can. Nothing moved inside He I'M
screwed the top cover and thrust his finger
in. The oil was frozen What should he
do? He must be quick. 1t was pitch
black outside.
He thought of his fathers rambling
talk about the lamp. Perhaps he could
pick up something from his words.
Again he tore down the winding stairs.
"Shine up the reflectors, Tcm-shine
'em up"
1.-The oils frozen, father" said Nat.
hoping to attrack the sick mans attention.
( Mitchell Lights been the talk for its
clearuess, Tom-eh, Tom ~
Father. DEAR" said Nat. implorinclv.
1.-THE oil is frozen. What shall do Tom
hasn't come back YETI
That was careless, Tom. Ye left a
ragged edge; give me the scissors
Feather! father! won't you hear me ,
The light is out. A vessel may go ashore .
! The oil is frozen"
Don't get it too hot, Tom,-not too
hot"
| Nat was wringing his hands in despair