“Phew!” Teena gasped as they reached the base of the lighthouse. “There seem to be more steps every time we climb it.”
Eddie smiled and shifted the lunch sack to his other hand. “You’re getting old, Teena,” he teased.
“Welcome aboard, mates,” a deep, kindly voice spoke from nearby.
They turned and saw Captain Daniels standing outside the door of his living quarters, a tiny three-room cottage located about fifty feet from the base of the lighthouse.
“Oh, hello, Captain Daniels,” Teena called. “Sure glad you’re home.”
“Home?” the former sea captain said, smiling. “A lightkeeper is always home.”
In Eddie’s opinion, Captain Daniels looked exactly like an old ship’s captain or a lightkeeper should look. He wore a fringe of white beard which formed a half-circle, starting under one ear and curving across his chin and up the other side. His bushy white hair fairly exploded from beneath the battered dark-blue seaman’s cap which he wore even while eating. Eddie sometimes wondered if Captain Daniels wore the cap to bed.
The old mariner also had sharp blue eyes. Eddie pictured all stout seamen as having sharp blue eyes.
“We brought a little lunch with us, Captain Daniels,” Teena said. “Hope you haven’t eaten already.”
A twinkle came into Cap’s eyes. “I might have,” he said, “but I reckon I better confess that I saw you through my telescope coming up the beach. Thought I’d better hold off on lunch—just in case.”