Pat the Lighthouse Boy

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"Is this home? Is this where they are coming to, by-and-by?"

"No, darling," answered Eileen quickly, the tears springing to her eyes as she realised the possibility that the child's parents had found a different home from the one they had talked about to their little boy. "Papa and mamma stayed on the big ship; and if the big ship got safe into port, they would go home when they landed; and we will find out where they are, and you shall go to them. Don't cry, little prince. As soon as ever a boat can come from shore we will find out all about it."

"I don't want to cry," answered the child, whose wondering eyes were quite dry. "I like being here. I like you, and Pat, and Jim, and the gull, and everybody. I fink I'll stay here always. My papa and mamma can come and live with us if they want to; and if they don't, I'll go and see them sometimes. I don't live with them ever—only now and then. I'd like to be a lighthouse keeper, with Jim to help me. I fink I'll live always with you."

"Oh, do, do, do!" cried Pat, clapping his hands, and running across to his little prince, he folded him in his arms in a long embrace. "I should be so unhappy if you went away. Now I am going to give Jim his dinner. Will you come and help me?"

"Torse I will. I like Jim. I'll help you take care of him till he's better;" and the pair went off together, carefully carrying Jim's light repast, while Eileen looked up in perplexity at her husband, and said—

"What does the little fellow mean?—and why doesn't he seem to care more for his parents? He has never cried for them, or seemed to miss them, and yet he knows all about his papa and mamma, as he calls them. I cannot make it out—no, that I can't—such a warm-hearted little fellow as he is, too."

Nat shook his head slowly. The problem was beyond him also.

"May be we'll find out some day. It isn't all fine folks that get the love of their little ones. Perhaps they're too fine to notice him, and he doesn't love them as our little one loves us. But plainly his father is a soldier, and a bit of a grand one, too. I doubt there'll be no trouble in making out who the youngster is, once we get ashore. But if he belongs to them as have no love for him, it will be a hard matter to let him go, though we'll have to do it, I suppose."

Eileen sighed at the thought, but knew it would be inevitable. Yet as the days passed by, the child endeared himself to them more and more by the singular devotion he suddenly conceived for "poor Jim," as he invariably called him. He was in and out of the little dark room morning, noon, and night. He insisted on taking Pat's place on the bed at meal times, and feeding the patient with his own tiny but capable hands. A singular bond grew up between the rough man and the two children, one of whom he had risked his life to save; and in this way the days slipped by, one after another, until the sea went down, the waves ceased to dash themselves against the reef; and Pat came tearing down from the gallery in wild excitement one morning to announce to his mother the fact that the relief boat was coming out to Lone Pock as fast as winds and waves could bring her.