Pat the Lighthouse Boy

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"Yes, dear, He always hears," answered Eileen, with a smile and a sigh. "But He does not always answer us quite in the way we would have."

"But, then, He knows best," said Pat, with sudden thoughtfulness. "So if He does it differently from what we meant, we needn't mind, need we? You don't always do just what I want, mother dear; but afterwards I always know you decided best. It's like that with God and us, I suppose."

Eileen stooped with a tear in her eye to kiss the child, and Jim went out to help Nat to haul up the boat, and place it in the greatest security the rock offered, to leeward of the wind, well braced at both ends to keep it steady. Pat watched these operations with great interest.

"But why do you take it out of the water?" he asked. "I should have thought you'd want it there in case any ship in distress should go by. You might want to send a boat out to them, and if it was up here you wouldn't be able to get it out at all quickly."

"No boat could live in such a sea as we'll have to-night, sonny," answered the father gravely. "Nothing but a life-boat, anyhow, and then it could not be launched here amongst these rocks. Look at those waves, now. Do you think there would be any putting out to sea amongst such rollers as those? No, my little son. Please God we'll keep our light burning brightly—which is the duty given us to do—and that will help the big ships to keep clear of this cruel reef, where the best of them would be dashed to pieces. But more than that we cannot do, and may God grant that no vessel comes nigh these rocks to-night. None will, unless she be disabled; but, if she did, we could do almost nothing to help her. God alone could direct her course that she should not be dashed in pieces on this treacherous coast."

So Pat went indoors, looking very grave, and feeling sobered by the shadow of peril resting upon some lives; and already the dark lowering clouds seemed to be driving faster and faster along the sky, and the shrieking of the wind grew ever angrier and angrier as the daylight waned.

Bang! bang! bang! It was only the waves flinging themselves in wild fury against the rocks upon which the lighthouse was built, but Pat felt the tower shudder beneath the shock, and looked into his mother's face as though to ask if they themselves were in any danger. Her face was grave and a little pale, but there was no personal fear in her steady eyes as she met the child's look, and answered it by a thoughtful smile.

"The walls of our home have stood through many a winter's storm, Pat. It's not ourselves we need fear for to-night, but for those at sea, in disabled vessels; and I fear me there will be many such upon a night like this. Hark at the wind! It is rising every moment!"

It was indeed, and Pat soon became too excited to do anything but wander up and down the stairs, watching the wild strife of the wind and waves, first from one place and then from another, not knowing whence the best view was obtained. He might not open the door upon the gallery to go out there, as he would have liked. Jim told him he would not be able to stand there in such a night; and that the air rushing and sweeping in would be bad for the lamp; and to-night, above all nights, she must be studied and thought of. Many, many lives might depend upon her light, and she was the object of the most scrupulous care on the part of both the men in charge of her.

"It seems as if she was trying to shine as bright as possible," said the child, with fond pride, as he looked up into the great ball of white flame above him. "Do you think she knows that there is a storm to-night, Jim, and is trying to throw the light as far as ever it will go?"