Blue Rock

I anson

As the dinghy merged with the horizon, Devers raised his terrible high voice. "Bricks, sir?"

I reminded myself that Devers was a novice and should be forgiven for assuming that I had time for leisure. Unlike Bertram, the first assistant keeper, I did not have to check the fog signal, clean the beehive lens, trim the lantern wicks, and scrub the walls, floors, windows, balconies, and railings, inside and outside. Unlike the second assistant, Carter, I did not have to polish the brasswork—a ceaseless operation, since nearly every fixture in Blue Rock Lighthouse was made of brass, which tarnished rapidly in the sea mist. And unlike Devers himself, the third assistant keeper, I did not have to assist the first two assistants. All that was left to me was the single remaining job, which encompassed all the others and was the very reason for the lighthouse's existence: I had to save the lives of any mariners unfortunate enough to pass within a league of Blue Rock.

But I do love Bricks. I find it difficult to decline a game of Bricks. Devers knew this. It was why his voice lilted so cloyingly when he posed the question.

"Are the wicks trimmed?" I asked.

"Bertram saw to it before he left."

"The brasswork."

"Carter just completed a circuit. I will begin again with the door knocker at the top of the hour."

My watch gave 1430. That left enough time for two games. I paused, as if running through a mental list of various items of great complexity and urgency. I did not want to give Devers the impression that the next five days would be less busy than normal. In fact I had hoped that Bertram's absence—his garrulous manner was a source of amusement but made solitary reflection impossible—might provide me with the time to pursue several projects of personal significance that I had neglected. I could not afford to squander my time on extra games of Bricks.

"There is no vessel in sight," said Devers. "There is no wind. The nearest cloud must be ten miles."

"It is not so simple to keep a lighthouse," I said.

"You know best." "I suppose," I said, "I can spare a few minutes."

"I hoped so."

"A game will sooth our nerves and sharpen our instincts."

"That," said Devers very seriously, "it will."

I took the game box from the bookshelf. Devers clapped his hands together.

The dice were still warm—Carter and Bertram had played a final game before embarking on their provisions transport. As a concession I did not set the board on the dining table as customary but on the card table at the window, so that I could keep an eye on the horizon. It was a calm day, one of the last of its kind.

________

The weather held for two full days—but I should explain what that means. One's conception of weather at Blue Rock was not the same as on land, mainly because here there was no land. Our screwpile lighthouse was built on a deadly shoal that was invisible to passing mariners except on the calmest days, when several jagged, slate-gray protuberances crested above the surface. ("Blue" is figurative, applying not to the color of the rock but the fact of its concealment beneath the blue Gulf water.) Before the lighthouse's construction, the hidden rock had claimed the lives of hundreds of men, disemboweling their surprised vessels a mere eighteen nautical miles from shore. Because there was nothing around us but water and sky, cloudless days were a misery. The metal structure of the lighthouse vibrated with heat, particularly during the cruel summer months, and the reflective quality of the water multiplied the sun's radiance, dazzling us from every angle. It was like sitting inside a bonfire. Inclement weather was worse. The world shrunk to the dimensions of our narrow tower, and we were like a reed being bent by the wind. Best were the mild gray days.

We were enjoying one of these but...