The Ruling Passion [69]
fifteen miles
across the sea. All night long that big bright eye was opening and
shutting. "BAGUETTE!" said Thibault, "it winks like a one-eyed
Windigo."
The Department of Marine and Fisheries sent down an expert from
Quebec to keep the light in order and run it for the first summer.
He took Fortin as his assistant. By the end of August he reported
to headquarters that the light was all right, and that Fortin was
qualified to be appointed keeper. Before October was out the
certificate of appointment came back, and the expert packed his bag
to go up the river.
"Now look here, Fortin," said he, "this is no fishing trip. Do you
think you are up to this job?"
"I suppose," said Fortin.
"Well now, do you remember all this business about the machinery
that turns the lenses? That 's the main thing. The bearings must
be kept well oiled, and the weight must never get out of order. The
clock-face will tell you when it is running right. If anything gets
hitched up here's the crank to keep it going until you can
straighten the machine again. It's easy enough to turn it. But you
must never let it stop between dark and daylight. The regular turn
once a minute--that's the mark of this light. If it shines steady
it might as well be out. Yes, better! Any vessel coming along here
in a dirty night and seeing a fixed light would take it for the Cap
Loup-Marin and run ashore. This particular light has got to revolve
once a minute every night from April first to December tenth,
certain. Can you do it?"
"Certain," said Fortin.
"That's the way I like to hear a man talk! Now, you've got oil
enough to last you through till the tenth of December, when you
close the light, and to run on for a month in the spring after you
open again. The ice may be late in going out and perhaps the
supply-boat can't get down before the middle of April, or
thereabouts. But she'll bring plenty of oil when she comes, so
you'll be all right."
"All right," said Fortin.
"Well, I've said it all, I guess. You understand what you've got to
do? Good-by and good luck. You're the keeper of the light now."
"Good luck," said Fortin, "I am going to keep it." The same day he
shut up the red house on the beach and moved to the white house on
the island with Marie-Anne, his wife, and the three girls, Alma,
aged seventeen, Azilda, aged fifteen, and Nataline, aged thirteen.
He was the captain, and Marie-Anne was the mate, and the three girls
were the crew. They were all as full of happy pride as if they had
come into possession of a great fortune.
It was the thirty-first day of October. A snow-shower had silvered
the island. The afternoon was clear and beautiful. As the sun
sloped toward the rose-coloured hills of the mainland the whole
family stood out in front of the lighthouse looking up at the tower.
"Regard him well, my children," said Baptiste; "God has given him to
us to keep, and to keep us. Thibault says he is a Windigo. B'EN!
We shall see that he is a friendly Windigo. Every minute all the
night he shall wink, just for kindness and good luck to all the
world, till the daylight."
II
On the ninth of November, at three o'clock in the afternoon,
Baptiste went into the tower to see that the clockwork was in order
for the night. He set the dial on the machine, put a few drops of
oil on the bearings of the cylinder, and started to wind up the
weight.
It rose a few inches, gave a dull click, and then stopped dead. He
tugged a little harder, but it would not move. Then he tried to let
it down. He pushed at the lever that set the clockwork in motion.
He might as well have tried to make the island turn around by
pushing at one of the little spruce trees that clung to the rock.
Then it dawned fearfully upon him that something must be wrong.
across the sea. All night long that big bright eye was opening and
shutting. "BAGUETTE!" said Thibault, "it winks like a one-eyed
Windigo."
The Department of Marine and Fisheries sent down an expert from
Quebec to keep the light in order and run it for the first summer.
He took Fortin as his assistant. By the end of August he reported
to headquarters that the light was all right, and that Fortin was
qualified to be appointed keeper. Before October was out the
certificate of appointment came back, and the expert packed his bag
to go up the river.
"Now look here, Fortin," said he, "this is no fishing trip. Do you
think you are up to this job?"
"I suppose," said Fortin.
"Well now, do you remember all this business about the machinery
that turns the lenses? That 's the main thing. The bearings must
be kept well oiled, and the weight must never get out of order. The
clock-face will tell you when it is running right. If anything gets
hitched up here's the crank to keep it going until you can
straighten the machine again. It's easy enough to turn it. But you
must never let it stop between dark and daylight. The regular turn
once a minute--that's the mark of this light. If it shines steady
it might as well be out. Yes, better! Any vessel coming along here
in a dirty night and seeing a fixed light would take it for the Cap
Loup-Marin and run ashore. This particular light has got to revolve
once a minute every night from April first to December tenth,
certain. Can you do it?"
"Certain," said Fortin.
"That's the way I like to hear a man talk! Now, you've got oil
enough to last you through till the tenth of December, when you
close the light, and to run on for a month in the spring after you
open again. The ice may be late in going out and perhaps the
supply-boat can't get down before the middle of April, or
thereabouts. But she'll bring plenty of oil when she comes, so
you'll be all right."
"All right," said Fortin.
"Well, I've said it all, I guess. You understand what you've got to
do? Good-by and good luck. You're the keeper of the light now."
"Good luck," said Fortin, "I am going to keep it." The same day he
shut up the red house on the beach and moved to the white house on
the island with Marie-Anne, his wife, and the three girls, Alma,
aged seventeen, Azilda, aged fifteen, and Nataline, aged thirteen.
He was the captain, and Marie-Anne was the mate, and the three girls
were the crew. They were all as full of happy pride as if they had
come into possession of a great fortune.
It was the thirty-first day of October. A snow-shower had silvered
the island. The afternoon was clear and beautiful. As the sun
sloped toward the rose-coloured hills of the mainland the whole
family stood out in front of the lighthouse looking up at the tower.
"Regard him well, my children," said Baptiste; "God has given him to
us to keep, and to keep us. Thibault says he is a Windigo. B'EN!
We shall see that he is a friendly Windigo. Every minute all the
night he shall wink, just for kindness and good luck to all the
world, till the daylight."
II
On the ninth of November, at three o'clock in the afternoon,
Baptiste went into the tower to see that the clockwork was in order
for the night. He set the dial on the machine, put a few drops of
oil on the bearings of the cylinder, and started to wind up the
weight.
It rose a few inches, gave a dull click, and then stopped dead. He
tugged a little harder, but it would not move. Then he tried to let
it down. He pushed at the lever that set the clockwork in motion.
He might as well have tried to make the island turn around by
pushing at one of the little spruce trees that clung to the rock.
Then it dawned fearfully upon him that something must be wrong.