Soon afterward, a much larger vessel appeared on the horizon, steam powered with two funnels and two masts. It waited in the outer harbor and dropped a smaller boat from its side to come ashore. The two figures in naval blue saw Janet waiting outside her door for them. Tom Masters slowed his stride to match Captain Otter’s measured pace.
“Mistress MacKenzie, I trust you’re in good health. We’re not intruding on you, I hope?” The captain’s voice boomed but his deep-set eyes darted anxiously.
“Not at all, you’re most welcome, Captain Otter.”
“You remember Lieutenant Masters?”
“Indeed I do. He came with you the first time and then on his own with the new lamp from the Commissioner gentlemen. I’m afraid to say that it’s back in its box. I had become so used to my old one. But I make good use of this fine gift you sent me.” She brandished the spyglass. “Will you come inside for some refreshment?”
“Of course, the new lamp isn’t needed now,” she continued when they were seated. “Should it be returned to the Commissioners?”
“Better not. I had to battle with them before they agreed to give it to you in the first place. They’re renowned for being parsimonious, every penny kept a prisoner.”
Tom noticed that the captain seemed much more at his ease compared to the first time they had visited. The widow too was different, less stiff in her manner.
“Have you visited the new lighthouse?” the captain asked.
“No, but I did go while it was being built. It was then that I met Mr. Thomas Stevenson and his wee boy, Louis, who stayed here for a time.” Her breath came out in a sigh before she rushed on. “He never stopped talking about your ship and how he wanted to grow up to be strong and brave like the fine lieutenant. I don’t know though that he’ll be hardy enough for a sailor’s life.”
Tom smiled. “His mind was so lively but maybe his body couldn’t keep pace with it.”
Tom thought about the boy. He had been drawn to him as a fellow spirit. He too longed to tear up the map his father had drawn for his future. He wished the lad well. He doubted if Louis would ever be suited to an active life. But there was a will there that wouldn’t be easily quenched. Tom pulled his thoughts back to the present and looked across at the widow. Mrs. MacKenzie was smiling as if laughter was bubbling up in her throat.
She caught his eye and seemed to come to a decision. “Do excuse me gentlemen. I was only thinking how my speech is much more sprightly than when you came before. When I was a lass, my father insisted I learn English. He said it was the language of the future while our native tongue belonged to the past. I did as he bade me, but living here I had no need to speak anything but Gaelic. When you came before, my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth when I tried to talk. Then when Louis came, he was such a fanciful wee lad, always wanting to hear stories. So I had to buff up my English words again.”
“Ah, but I arrived without warning and startled you,” the captain replied. After that, the conversation flowed easily enough as he spoke about his voyages to survey the Outer Isles. The new ship, HMS Porcupine, had nearly sunk during the terrible winter storms off St. Kilda.
“She lay helpless on her beam ends, but two local men saved her by cutting away the boats on the lee side. They got her upright again. I thank the Lord for Highland sailors, the best in the world.” After an hour they rose to leave and Janet walked down the beach with them. The captain turned back before climbing into the waiting boat. “Our charts and the new lighthouses are making the sea less dangerous. But I shall never forget that before any of us arrived your lamp was saving lives.”
The widow nodded, her eyes moist.
After they had gone, she stood at the window for a long time. The captain had understood. Thanks was all the reward she wanted. It was also his way of bidding her farewell. Now she must say farewell herself to the Janet who had kept the light. But what was left of her without the lamp?
She marched into the kitchen, surprising Effie who was sweeping the floor. Opening a press she rummaged inside and pulled out old cloths, a lump of soap and a jar of vinegar. Her first task was to clean the brass parts of the lamp and polish them until they glowed. Lifting the fragile glass chimney she dabbed it with a vinegar-soaked rag before swaddling it in a soft cloth to dry. When it was all back together again she stood back to survey her handiwork. Still she felt vexed.
Kenneth had brought the lamp back from one of his trips. He enjoyed displaying his wealth but to her it was bragging. The bulky thing was never suited to their house. It was a foreigner. Like the big sheep that the landlords brought in when they drove the people out.
She paced up and down in front of the window before heading to her bedroom. There she bent down to pry open the lid of an old sea chest. Groping inside it, she pulled out a length of black fabric. It released a musty scent as she shook out the folds. It was the shawl she had worn after Kenneth’s death. Once the period of mourning was over, it had languished in the trunk. Now it would be draped over the lamp, the lamp that had shone out over the water for so long, but now was no longer needed.