Page 41 of Curse of the Stag's Eye
“Mr Baines?” Another man — sharp-featured and flinty eyed — who I assumed to be Mr Squirrel called to him from inside the lamp room. “Like you meet Mr William Jessop. He’s our newest recruit.”
A handsome, stocky man with a dimpled chin and a duck-egg blue cravat around his neck nodded politely. He was a little younger than Baines but still with some grey in his chestnut temples. He held out his hand. “Neis i cwrdd a chi.”
Baines slung the cloth over his shoulder. “Nice to have some fresh blood in here. You’ll notice English is the first language of this light. A tradition started by the man who was Principal Keeper before I took over. You can speak in Welsh when you’re not on shift if you must, but it’s the King’s English when you’re working. Have you worked a light before?”
William Jessop shook his head. “This is my first posting.”
Baines drew himself up to his full height. “There’s a lot to learn.” He took the cloth and flung it to Jessop, who snatched it out of the air. “We’d better get started.”
Though it was daylight, from behind Baines the beacon flashed and again I shut my eyes to avoid being blinded.
Baines — older, white-haired, easily in his fifties — stood leaning over Jessop’s shoulder. Jessop sat at the writing desk, carefully putting slim sticks inside a bottle, building the hull of a ship. He worked by candlelight.
Baines gently laid his hand on Jessop’s bare forearm and helped him to guide the silver tweezers inside the glass bottle. “You’ve been foolish and far too trusting. You should know by now to be careful how you talk to Mr Squirrel. Tell him nothing about yourself that you wouldn’t want everyone to know. He’s fond of gossip, that one, with a wicked and spiteful tongue.”
Jessop looked up to him and thanked him for his help. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. The candle flame grew and grew until it filled the room with light.
“I defended myself, is all.” Jessop swabbed the floor with a wet mop.
I was in the sitting room now, though it had none of the ships in bottles, none of the museum information boards. The chairs were clean and new.
“The coachman attacked me,” Jessop said. “I punched him, he ended up injured, and I ended up before the magistrates. They locked me up before I knew what was what.”
Baines — younger once again, with hardly a trace of white in his hair — huffed in one corner, fussing with his pipe. “A likely story.”
Jessop slammed the mop into a bucket of soapy water. Bright sunlight sparkled in the ripples, forcing me to turn away.
I stood alone in the kitchen of the lighthouse. The moon shone through the little window above the sink. The kettle whistled and white-haired Baines stomped in to remove it from the stove.
Jessop followed, agitated, red-faced, and now wearing oval, copper-coloured spectacles. “Please, Howard, be reasonable.”
“Keep your bloody voice down!” Baines poured out two cups. “What if Mr Squirrel overhears?” His muttonchop sideburns had more white in them than ever. “He already suspects.”
“He’s tending to his little vegetable plot out in the garden, as always.” Jessop pulled out a chair in the same spot where I had sat. “We need to talk about this.”
“What is there to talk about? You want to piss off to America, to leave us in the lurch. Leave me in the lurch.”
Jessop ran his hands over his own face. He tapped the table. “Sit down. Please.”
“I’ve got to attend to the beacon.”
“Two minutes. Please, Howard.”
Baines huffed and sat, all but slamming the second cup in front of Jessop. Tea splashed out.
“My brother left me shares in his mine. Now they might be worth nothing or they might be worth, well, everything. I won’t know until I go over there and get the paperwork sorted. I don’t like leaving. You know I don’t.”
“How can you even afford to? It costs a fortune to travel over there.”
“There’s a packet ship, theBranwen. I know the captain. He’s agreed to take me over and back again for a small fee. He’s got some nice cabins. He takes passengers all the time.”
“Well-to-do ones,” Baines said.
“He can’t let me have one of the cabins, but I can bunk in with the crew.”
Baines drummed his fingertips on the table. “It means you have to leave your post here. They’ll fill it, you know. You might never get another posting again.”
Jessop nodded. “I know going over there is a risk, but it’s the best decision for me.” He put his hand on top of Baines’ and squeezed. “It’s the best decision for us.”
