Somewhere Beyond the Lighthouse

"Allowed in," Lillie repeated. She was confused. I wasn't, for I had heard the tales of Sauraquid; but I was mortified at what was about to be revealed to my niece.

"Lillie, my friend, I have told you of how clean and beautiful Sauraquid is," Charlie began uncertainly. "What I haven't explained, and I can tell from the look on his face that your uncle knows the story, is how it is that Sauraquid has remained so pristine. From the earliest days of its settlement, Sauraquid has been guarded by a peculiar type of guardian angel, generation after generation. Now, I couldn't tell you how their type got their start or their talent, or how they find and train new members of their sisterhood. What I do know is that for centuries now, they have kept undesirable elements out of our island at any cost. Back in the bad old days of slavery, no slave ship that ventured near our shores arrived at its destination intact. They'd be smashed on the rocks, their tragic cargo rescued and given shelter while the crew drowned, and one way or another they would provide the captives with safe passage to somewhere they would be treated like the human beings they were. I don't know how the women of the island did it, but they did! And as the industrialization took hold on the mainland, the women of whom I speak turned their attention to keeping the pollution and its aftereffects away by the same methods. Whaling ships, too -- their days of slaughter came to an end if they ventured too close to Sauraquid. Only vessels that carried necessary supplies and harmed as few as possible were allowed safe passage into our harbour."

"I see," said Lillie, though I was painfully aware that she did not. "In any case, then, was the sea all you had hoped for on that first voyage, Charlie?"

"That and more! Now, I won't lie to you, those first days and nights were not pleasant. Besides the seasickness and the shock of adjusting to the close, dirty quarters and the pervasive dampness, there was also the acute awareness that I had been forced into my new job, even if it was a great improvement over my old lot in life. But it was a great improvement, and by the time we arrived in England I had my sea legs to keep."

"And that is how the story ends, I take it?" I still harboured some hope that we could curtail the discussion there, or at least steer it into less salacious waters.

But Lillie was having none of that. "I rather suspect that is only where it begins, Uncle Edmund! Am I right, Charlie?"

"That you are," Charlie confirmed. "We arrived here, and I was young but experienced beyond my years. I had little trouble finding an apprenticeship on a bigger ship -- one bound for India this time -- and another after that and so forth. For the next ten years and more, I put in at ports all over the world, on every sort of ship and with every sort of cargo. Some that would have been allowed passage back in Sauraquid, and some that wouldn't, though I was not aware of that at the time."

"You didn't know about these guardian angels of yours?" Lillie asked.

"I had heard tales of them," Charlie explained. "Everyone in Sauraquid hears the legends of the ladies who guard our shores. But recall that I was very young and had never left Sauraquid. As I grew up at sea and came to know some of the more unsavoury elements of that life, slowly it dawned on me. All those tales of shipwrecks, but only of a certain type of ship while others arrived safe and sound in the worst of storms...even an uneducated imp like me was able to put the pieces together. Now, I won't lie to you and say I had any scruples about taking a job on a ship with filthy industrial waste or any other undesirable cargo -- a living is a living and all that -- but I did learn to be careful to never take such a job if the ship was due to sail anywhere near Sauraquid. I warned the captains I admired against as much, too, but few of them listened. 'Lies and legends, I tells ya!', that was the sort of thing they always said in reply, and many of them paid with their lives."

"These guardian angels," Lillie mused. "They were sirens, is that it? Like those we read of in Homer?"

"Much like that," Charlie said. "But again, I didn't know at the time. All I knew was that no ship that carried any danger for our environment had ever made it through to Sauraquid. That was all I needed to know to keep me clear of such a situation. Until one day when I took a job with a whaler out of New York."

"Why would you do that, then?" Lillie was more immersed than ever in the yarn, and truth be told, so was I.

"I'd been told we were southbound," Charlie said. "Safely away from the horrors a whaler could expect in Sauraquid! But the captain was young and inexperienced, and we got blown off course in a storm. That brought my unplanned homecoming to Sauraquid, and, is where the part of the story you're so eager to hear truly begins."

The fat drops of midsummer rain pelted the rocky coastline just beyond the tavern window, and the lovely view up the beach was but a pleasant memory. This was a blessing in disguise for Peggy and her girls, as the nasty weather always meant more business for them. That day was no exception: frustrated sailors and fishermen filled the rickety old red building just above the waterline to drink away their unwelcome vacation from the sea. Loud, rude, argumentative and far too aggressive with the barmaids, they at least offered up a fortune in coin for all their trouble. As the grey afternoon finally began to fade away into evening, the orgy of loud voices and wandering hands showed no sign of abating.

Peggy, tall and buxom and sporting a face as weatherbeaten as any sailor beneath her thick raven-black curls, was able to take advantage of her seniority on a day like this and stay behind the bar. As usual, she had done so for the most part, although she had little fear of being groped on the occasion when she did step out: all but the newest of her patrons knew Peggy could hit as hard as any man and would see to it that they were not welcome back in the liveliest watering hole on the fair isle of Sauraquid. Nevertheless, standing back to watch her younger charges learn to fight their own battles was much easier and more enjoyable. The girls were at varying stages of their education that day. Josephine, with her irresistible red hair, was the newest charge on duty, and it showed: a brush on her bottom or even her breast was met with a flirtatious laugh and only the gentlest of reproofs, and an attractive suitor even got an occasional stroke in return. Indeed, at that very moment, her inimitable giggle caught Peggy's attention from the corner by the door, as Josephine sensed a stray hand on her leg and responded by hiking up her skirt for an impromptu jig, just after sloshing her pursuer's beer onto his shirt. Peggy allowed this, but made a mental note to warn Josephine that she was inviting trouble if she did not soon establish boundaries with the men.

She had never had to issue that warning with Gwendolyn, who now had her hands full with the tables nearest the bar. Hoots and whistles were tolerated, but the first unwelcome hand on her breast -- nearly two years ago now -- had landed its owner with a fat ear and a pint of lager in his hair. There were now regulars whose first visit had come after that incident who knew to keep their hands off Gwendolyn unless she invited otherwise. Which she did sometimes, but only on her own time and her own terms. Today, from what Peggy could see, she hadn't, and her men were rowdy but behaved.

Annie, with her pale blonde ringlets and a bosom that rivaled Peggy's, had been a tough lesson at first. Fresh off the farm when she had first arrived at Peggy's door in search of work, she had welcomed and returned nearly all the abundant attention paid her in her early days. Peggy had been forced to warn her not to be too welcoming with her patrons, and the warning had been largely ineffective at first. Then one evening, an especially drunk mate on a dare had lured her onto his lap and reached clumsily for Annie's ultimate treasure. An all-out brawl had followed, with Annie tearfully reassuring Peggy when it was all over that she had learned her lesson. Indeed she had, Peggy knew, though she was very much aware of Annie flashing a knowing grin at certain of the patrons every now and again.

Peggy was hardly in a position to criticize Annie for that, and neither, she suspected, were the other girls. And so she allowed them all to do as they wished when their aprons were hung up behind the counter, so long as a modicum of order was kept in the tavern.

That had seemed a rather tall order on this rainy summer afternoon; but Peggy had been pleasantly surprised at her charges' performance. As the sun went down -- or would have gone down had it been anywhere in sight to begin with -- she began to allow herself the possibility of leaving Gwendolyn in charge and taking her leave. With that thought in mind, she let herself out from behind the bar and made her way across the crowded floor to Gwendolyn. Lusty greetings met with her every step. "Peggy! Join us for a round!" "Marry me this week? Just 'cause you said no last week don't mean nothing!" "How's about a kiss just this once?" She smiled her acknowledgment and said nothing per usual, for she had learned decades before the hazards of encouraging such commentary.

Gwendolyn was busy mopping off the only vacant table in the house when Peggy arrived. "Are you feeling up to taking the reins, darling?" Peggy asked her.

"Of course," Gwendolyn said. "But are you sure you want to go outdoors in this rain? You should have to swim home!"

That admonition would have garnered a knowing belly laugh had it come from Annie or Josephine, for Peggy had found them suitable for sharing in (and, one day, taking over) the tradition of Sauraquid's protectors and their life out among the shoals of Martin's Isle. Gwendolyn, though, was not fit for that life and did not know where Peggy went after hours. A pity, really, given that Gwendolyn alone among the girls had suffered exposure to the dirty factories back on the mainland. She knew what was at stake in the neverending battle and she had the ruthless street smarts to fight that battle. But those years in the factories had killed something in Gwendolyn that was necessary for their way of life, Peggy had sensed that from the very beginning, and so Gwendolyn alone was a barmaid first and last.

"It should be well worth my freedom from all this," Peggy reassured Gwendolyn now with a serious face that she struggled to keep.

"Very well, then, I shall see you on the morrow?" Gwendolyn asked.

"Yes, we are both on duty," Peggy replied. "Best of luck with the gentlemen here."

Though Peggy loved her work, she was gratified at the fading away of the celebratory voices as she shut the door to the tavern's back office. Free at last, and after all those hours of watching the copious rain while stranded behind the counter, the ocean would feel delightful to her tonight. It would be a rather lonely evening, for none of the gentlemen were appropriate to her mood and the tavern remained much too crowded to spare Annie or Josephine, that much she knew. Peggy reminded herself once again that she must find more young ladies to welcome into her sanctum, as she was the last remaining one of her generation who remained suited to life on out beyond the lighthouse and had not given in to the allure of the land or the sea.

But for that same reason, Peggy had long ago learned to appreciate solitude, and tonight was as good a night as any for that. After a quick look to ensure that Gwendolyn was still out front and would not stumble upon the others' secret, she opened the hidden door to the tiny cellar and flipped on the light inside. With the door locked safely behind her, she stepped down to the muddy floor, kicked her boots off, and set them on a shelf just below the ceiling. Then, in one quick and eager motion, she pulled her dress up over her head and bundled it up to stash in the overhead locker. It would be safe and dry in the morning, no matter how the tide might rise tonight; even the eldest of her foremothers had never been able to recall a time when the water had reached that high. Next, Peggy reached back and untied the kerchief in which she kept her breasts bound all day long -- necessary for keeping the men in line, but terribly confining and uncomfortable once the day was done -- and let them fall free while she stuffed the kerchief in alongside her dress.

Unencumbered at last, Peggy splashed down the steps into the chilly water, which soon felt comfortably warm against her sea-friendly body as usual. The door into the ocean was fully submerged that evening, as it always was during such a heavy rain, so Peggy did not have her luxury of a last deep breath before she dove beneath the surface. But thanks to decades of life out on Martin's Isle, she was well-versed in working the old latch under the water; and in a matter of moments she was free and away in her beloved salty water.

The big, cold raindrops pelted her mercilessly every time Peggy came up for air. But that only added to her joy at being homeward bound, for the weather was always balmy on Martin's Isle. No matter how bracing the water or how forbidding the sky during the swim out to the lighthouse, it was but a question of turning due west just past the tiny island and diving into the water as far as her lungs could stand it. Coming up for air, she would see the inviting coastline in the sun and her majestic home of nearly three decades by then. It remained just as beautiful and irresistible now as it had been just past her eighteenth birthday when old Patricia Kelly -- now buried alongside the other lost sisters on the easternmost reach of Martin's Isle, perpetually seeking out the morning sun -- had enticed her into the water on a rainy afternoon with a promise of incomparable beauty and importance if she proved to be among the chosen ones. "You'll live a life of tremendous importance and unique joy, Peggy, if you are able to find our island," the old woman had said, "And I believe you have the spirit to do it."

And she had. How she had!

No one, not even Peggy, knew the why or the how of Martin's Isle and its perpetually idyllic weather. Though the library in the spacious home she now shared with Annie and Josephine contained records of the sisterhood dating back to Sarah Martin's arrival there in the mid-seventeenth century, there were certain things no one was ever to know. How it was that the weather remained warm throughout the year and rain was seldom, or why certain of the women of Sauraquid were capable of the long swim out beyond the lighthouse whereas even had their mothers not been, or what sort of supernatural telescopic vision enabled them to identify the wares and intentions of the passing ships and ensure the safe passage of those on a noble mission, how Sarah Martin had discovered it all...even Sarah Martin herself had by all accounts been unaware of how it had all worked, nor had she ever told anyone what had first drawn her so far out into the sea. But she had started a tradition that had managed to keep Sauraquid free of most of the ugliness of modern life for over two hundred and fifty years by then, and Peggy had played her part in carrying on the tradition through some lean years when few women proved to be up to the challenge.

But such things did not weigh heavily on Peggy's mind as she swam into the shallow warm water and then waded the last bit onto the welcoming, unspoiled beach. After the horrid weather back on Sauraquid, she could not have cared less just why she had been so lucky in this lifetime. All that mattered was that she was home on her lush green island. The house -- home to countless generations of chosen women -- stood just yards off the beach, amidst a cluster of trees that were fluttering gently in the warm ocean breeze. A refreshing fruity drink and a book awaited her inside...but as Peggy swept out of the tide, the telltale chimes on the north side of the house let her know there was work to be done first.

Peggy did not begrudge that duty -- with great fortune came great responsibility, after all, and she loved being among the guardians of Sauraquid. And so, with no pause this time to let the sun dry her bare skin, Peggy ambled up the beach and then along the mossy path to the north side lookout. The lush undergrowth shielding her body from view until such time as it would be necessary to put herself on display, she stopped just before the edge of the woods and peered into the ancient prism that looked out upon the sea. Once again she saw several miles beyond the view of the naked eye into the choppy, storm-ridden seas she had herself just braved.

It took a few minutes, but the ship whose presence the chimes had predicted came tossing into view among the waves soon enough. Bouncing about like a toy in a jarred barrel, it looked ready to burst into a dozen pieces at the next harsh wave. Peggy saw little chance that the ship, whatever its cargo, would reach Sauraquid Harbour in one piece. That meant Peggy had a decision to make, and very little time in which to make it. Drawing a deep breath as the potential gravity of the situation once again set in, she squinted and stared harder into the prism. Through the sheets of rain, focusing first on the ship's deck, and then slowly but surely guiding her vision below, adjusting to the darkness of the hold...she saw crates, bulging with a variety of shapes and colours. Straining harder, she made out the colours: orange, yellow, green...tropical fruits! A welcome and healthy option for the restaurants and kitchens of the ship's destination, they mustn't be lost!

And so Peggy did not have a moment to lose, either. She sprang to the ancient mirror contraption that had served the women of Martin's Isle so well for so many decades. Hurling all her strength into it, she turned the crank to set the mirror at just the right angle for a ship in their position to see the trick of the light that would reveal the safe harbour awaiting the ship and its men. A less-experienced woman would have required several seconds to determine the correct angle; but Peggy, with her decades of experience, required no time at all to calculate the position in her head. With that position attained, she leaned back against the tree trunk and heaved a sigh of relief while keeping an eye on the ship.

She could not see what happened aboard the ship, of course, but she knew what was to happen now. The lookout, pelted by rain and threatening waves in every direction, would suddenly spy Martin's Isle, though it appeared on no map. Safe and calm, it would be their only possible option for the moment. The captain would be notified and would give the order, and the ship would steer in Peggy's direction any second now. Once she was sure of its approach, Peggy would make a run for the house so that she could present herself to the captain while dressed appropriately. But she daren't do that until she was certain the ship had steered in her direction, for sometimes a stubborn captain required additional enticement.

Regrettably, this proved to be one such ship. For five long seconds, Peggy anticipated the signs she knew so well of a ship steering towards the open arms of her harbour. The anticipation was in vain, however, and all at once Peggy was aware that the ship suffered from a noble but misguided captain who overestimated his ability to negotiate the choppy waters ahead. Drastic measures would, alas, be necessary.

At least, Peggy thought as she reluctantly stepped out of her hiding place, a captain who thinks that way is probably younger and cuter than most of them. Just as well now that she had not opted to welcome any of the men at the café home with her tonight!