A Year of Marvellous Ways by Sarah Winman

Author:Sarah Winman [Winman, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2015-06-17T23:00:00+00:00

26

I was in a taproom in Fowey by the water. My eyes were set on the pages of my book, but even though my eyes were occupied my ears were not and I heard a fisherman talking about an old sea captain he once served under, a man he dearly loved, a man who now kept light on the Eddystone Rocks. And the fisherman said the lighthouse keeper was close to death and needed help, and even though I was young I found the image distinctly profound.

I followed the fisherman out on to the quay and introduced myself. The fisherman explained that he was looking for someone to witness the ending of the lighthouse keeper’s life. The old sea captain, he said, wanted to die peacefully in his tower and be buried at sea, so no doctors were to be called. However, his two children who kept light with him were fearful to dispose of his body in case they were later accused of murdering him. I said I’d be the witness and help his passing, and days later we were in his boat waiting for the weather to turn.

The first morning we headed into a strong south-easterly wind that turned into a gale and sent us scurrying back with our hearts in our mouths. But then April arrived and the first morning of that month brought us a steady north-westerly breeze, which was the most favourable wind for a landing, and with sails full and hope billowing, we set our course for the famous tower in the sea.

I sat at the bow and focused my telescope on the horizon, that incandescent line that tugged at me as strongly as the moon tugged the earth. I was seventeen years old when I spied my first love standing at the base of the Eddystone light with a fishing rod in hand and his cap pulled low and us still a mere speck in his peripheral sight.

With an hour’s journey left to go the sea became as smooth as glass and the men rowed the remaining miles with seals at our side and gulls at our heads, and what was once a fissure on the horizon soon became the lighthouse itself. I never took my telescope away from that young man fishing on the rocks. Closer he came, closer, until the lens became a face and the face looked up and the man became a girl.

Hello! she shouted.

You’ve caught a fish, I said.

I’ve caught three!

We anchored the boat fore and aft and then I jumped. And she caught me.

The lighthouse keeper was days from death. He was in between worlds, sleeping mostly, but then he would wake suddenly, staring, as if he was looking back to his world from a very distant shore. The son never said a word. He stayed next to his father like a loyal dog, slept next to him too. Three little bunks in a simple round room: one small one, one medium, and a large one. I chose to sleep with the mice on the kitchen floor below.

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