Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
1185 Words
The voices below rose like the pounding suds, echoing up the gravestone walls of the lighthouse. William gripped the rail of the lantern room, his knuckles white against the rusted iron. Thirty times of solitariness and service, and nowhere had he formerly felt besieged inside his own palace.
“ Father, ” Elsie prompted, her eyes wide with fear, “ you must speak to them. However, they’ll force their way in, if you don’t. ”
William heard thrills scuffing against the way, fists forging the heavy oak door at the base. whoops carried
overhead
“ Light the beacon, Harrow! ”
“ Do your duty to us, not the Navy! ”
“ More drowned by the King’s men than starved in our beds! ”
He closed his eyes, the words cutting deeper than any blade. Duty had always been his compass. But now it refocused in two directions — toward the Admiralty’s command and toward the hopeless faces of his neighbors.
With a shriek, he descended the helical staircase, his beacon casting murk along the gravestone. Elsie followed closely before, clinging to the rail as though it were the only thing holding her upright.
At the base, the door rattled on its hinges. William unclenched it sluggishly, also swung it open. A crowd surged forward but stopped suddenly when they saw him, altitudinous and weathered, framed by the dark
palace. Thomas stood at the front, his fraudulent frame pulsing with wrathfulness. “ We can not grope eyeless, William. You know that better than any man then. You’ve saved more lives with that beacon than the Navy ever will. ”
James Carroway shoved past him, broad casket heaving. “ And if you won’t light it, we’ll do it
ourselves. We’re not staying for London’s orders while our children go empty. ”
Murmurs of agreement gurgled through the crowd. Some carried tools, others lanterns, their eyes reflecting both fear and defiance.
William raised a hand, and silence fell, though the pressure was thick as fog.
“ You suppose I don’t watch? ” he said, his voice rough but steady. “ Every night I’ve climbed those stairs, I’ve studied you — of Thomas and his nets, of the boys who crew the boats, of the widows who watch the ocean for men who noway return. My life has been spent in this village. But the Navy’s orders aren't vagrancy.
They sweat an adversary wharf. A single light could guide death straight to our doorsteps. ”
A murmur spread, partial mistrustfulness, half apprehension. Someone rumored, “ He’s right — what if the Germans come? ”
But James’s jaw tensed. “ And what if they don’t? What if this is just another way for men in uniforms to control us? Are we to starve on the chance that perhaps, one night, some shadow of a boat might be out there?”
Elsie stepped forward also, surprising William. Her hands quivered, but her voice chimed clear. “ We all saw the flare last night. My father saw it. I saw it. The Commodity is out there. ”
The crowd shifted uneasily. Eyes danced to the horizon, though the ocean beyond was nothing but darkness.
Thomas wrangled into the dirt. “ A flare’s just a story until it brings chuck to my table. I’ll not see my grandson starve because we grovel in the dark. ”
The men pressed closer, a drift hanging to break. William felt the weight of choice pressing down, as heavy as the gravestone walls around him. To yield would mean breaking the King’s command. To repel might turn neighbor against neighbor.
“ Enough! ” he thundered, the authority of decades in his voice. “ No bone touches that beacon but me. You’ll not risk the palace, nor your lives, on idiocy. ”
James’s eyes burned with fury. “Also you’ll have blood on your hands when the ocean takes us. ”
For a long moment, silence reigned, broken only by the crash of distant swells. Also, sluggishly, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring curses and shaking heads. Some dallied, glaring back, but at last only James remained, fists gripped at his sides.
He leaned near, voice low and dangerous. “ This isn’t finished, Harrow. However, we’ll save ourselves, if you won’t save us. With or without you. ”
He turned and stalked into the night.
Latterly, in the keeper’s diggings, Elsie sat by the fire, her face pale. William paced, the floorboards moaning beneath his feet.
“ They’ll come back, ” she said. “ James won’t let it rest. ”
“ I know. ” William rubbed his tabernacles. “ He’s reckless, but not a fool. However, he could bedazzle the lens, set the whole palace ablaze, if he lit the beacon without knowing its mechanisms. ”
Elsie’s voice dropped. “ Or draw vessels that aren’t ours. ”
The study hung in the air, chilling the room.
A knock startled them both. William opened the door to find a boy no aged than twelve, panting from a run.
He thrust a crumpled note into William’s hands and danced off into the night without a word.
William unfolded it by the firelight. The handwriting was hastened, and nearly unreadable vessels were observed.
Three long hauls out. Keep the beacon dark. Trust no bone.
His stomach turned cold. Who had transferred the note? Someone from the Admiralty? An original patriot? Or worse an adversary asset planting fear?
Elsie read it over his shoulder, her eyes wide. “ Three long hauls Father, that’s nothing. If it’s true — ”
still, ” William cut in, “ also James and the others must be stopped, “ If it’s true. However, they’ll go further than fishers to shore, if they light the beacon tonight. ”
A silence settled, broken only by the crinkle of the fire. outdoors, the wind rose, rattling the windows as Though the ocean itself pressed against the walls.
William looked at Elsie, seeing the reflection of the tears in her eyes. She was stronger than he gave her credit for, standing tall despite her fear. He felt a swell of pride — and dread.
“ We’ll keep watch, ” he said grimly. “ All night if we must. However, we’ll be ready, if they come for the beacon. ”
Elsie jounced, but he saw her fritters twist in her stomach. She was stalwart, but she was also youthful, and he
abominated that the war had dragged her into its shadow.
As the hours crept on, William climbed formerly further to the lantern room. He scrutinized the horizon with his spyglass. Shadows smothered the stars, leaving the ocean a shifting void. Also — there. A flicker. Not the bright bow of a fisher’s lantern, but a dull, pulsing gleam low on the water.
His heart pounded. Was it the wile of the eyes? Or the pledge of adversary sword slicing toward their seacoast?
Behind him, on the stairs, he heard the faint scrape of thrills. Too light for James, too conservative for a fisher’s wrathfulness. William’s grip tensed on the spyglass. Whoever climbed toward him now wasn't
coming to reason, but to act
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