Mackenzie

Stepping inside the lighthouse, I stared at the flight of iron stairs before me. The skeleton of the structure. They had stood the test of time; they didn’t rust or decay. They were as sturdy as the day they were installed.

Holding onto the railing, I slid my hand along the slim narrow beam. I noted that the stairs could use a new coat of paint.

Where does one get the distinct shade of army grey that adheres like a second skin?

Reaching the top, I slowly exhaled the breath I had not realized I was holding. I took a deep soothing breath, hoping to get enough air into my lungs to mentally prepare for what lay ahead.

It would be easy at first; check the radio, hit a few buttons, see what was working.

It would be the long lonely time between late afternoon and evening that bothered me.

The view was spectacular, the ocean’s blue hue with the shades of grey waves hitting the shore and pulling back. It was very hypnotic.

Everything seemed to be in working order. I wondered if the manual pivoting system was still operational on the lights. They weighed a ton, but when I first started dating Michael and brought him here, he had said if we installed a torqued up spindle roller close to the axle, the lights could be moved manually.

This allowed the light to reflect any one of the beams to a direct location. Physics was never my strong suit. I followed Michael’s handwritten instructions taped to the panel. I knew if I switched off the main breaker, I should be able to rotate the light to where I wanted.

First I would check with the Coast Guard to make sure no vessels were in the area. It would not be pleasant to have someone crash ashore because I was messing with the lights.

I turned the knobs on the short wave radio. All I heard was static. I attempted to communicate with no avail. I would leave well enough alone. The circular motion of the lights and the illumination of the stars would give me what I came for.

While there was still plenty of daylight, I decided to check what remained of the furnishings left behind. I would check on my way back down, stopping on each of the four levels to take inventory.

The two floors directly below the equipment were empty.

The next was a small bedroom. The bookshelves my father had installed for the overflow of Michael's books was still sturdy. I took the time to sit on the bed and look through the last one he had left on the nightstand.

The ground floor had a small wooden table with two chairs. Another one of my father’s handiwork. For a fisherman, he was quite the carpenter.

I was not keeping track of how much time I had spent going over everything. I was shocked to see it was getting dark outside. I would have to hurry if I wished to get to the cabin and collect what I needed before nightfall. My intention was to spend the night in the lighthouse.

I checked my watch. My heart raced, my palms began to sweat, I felt ill, faint. I ran to the top of the lighthouse.

This time the view was not so spectacular, not so serene.

Through the panoramic window, I watched the ocean. Lost was the rhythmic percussion of the waves on the sand. My eyes steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before grey skies beckoned the rain.

With the crash of thunder, I cowered under the shelving that housed the electronics. I hugged my flashlight to my breast.

The thumping of my heart alerted me how great my fear had surfaced.

I had to take hold of my senses. Panicking would do me no good. I needed to face this head on. I stood and faced the raging storm and stared it down. I listened as the waves crashed against the shore, hearing the thunder drown out the sound of my own thundering heart.

Should I stay and endure the fear swirling through my body or head back to the warmth of the cabin with it’s glowing fire?

The tethered rope would get me there safely. I might make it before the rain became too violent to enable me to leave. I held tight to my flashlight and took that first step down the stairs.

The shortwave radio came to life; mayday, mayday this is the Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG. I listened to the coordinates, heading for Long Island Sound, taking on water.

I quickly grabbed the sailing maps from their protective plastic cylinder. I opened and check the gauges on the instrument panel. If I remembered anything my father taught me growing up as the daughter of a fisherman, please god, let it be now.

Somewhere in my brain I still found the space to be cynical. Richard the fifth. He named his boat after a king, pompous ass. I heard the SOS repeated. I needed to act quickly. If my predictions were correct, he would be heading straight for me.

Lightning crackled, causing me jump out of my skin. I could hear the panic in the voice at the other end of the SOS.

Was this how Michael and my father had felt when they too were trying to find a light in the storm? I could not leave this man out there with no hope.

Thank god the lighthouse was running on backup power it stored from the solar panels. Whoever this Richard the fifth was, he would have Michael to thank for that upgrade. That’s if he got out of this in one piece.

I looked out onto the ocean. I was unable to get a clear picture. The circular motion of the light made it impossible for me to see any one spot for any length of time.

The manual override. Could I pull it off? Was I strong enough?

I had to try.

I flipped the switch, grabbed the handles on the side of the lighting system and began to push the light so the beam bounced off the ocean in a steady stream.

I slowly repeated the process, moving only a few inches at a time. After each movement I would take the binoculars and scan the water. I caught a glimpse of movement. I moved the light slightly to the left. I could see the boat. I could see him desperately trying to hold onto the helm. Desperately trying to make it to shore.

Follow the light, King Richard, I mentally chanted. I know you can see it, follow the light. I was tracking his moves, hoping he would soon get his bearings and enter into the dock along the west side of the lighthouse.

Neither of us could have predicted a monstrous wave overtaking the boat. It was going to crash, there was no avoiding it.

I had no regards for my own safety. I grabbed the life preserver from the wall and took to the stairs two at a time. I wasn't exactly sure how I made it to the bottom so fast. I tied myself to the loose rope I had tethered to the lighthouse on my arrival.

Congratulating myself for having the foresight to leave enough slack would come later. I ran to the dock. I was all too aware that I had to get there before the next wave would rush in and drag whoever was out there back to the ocean. If I was not quick enough, I risked being dragged in with him.

I would cross that bridge when I got there. I used my flashlight but could not see any movement along the rocks. I heard the unmistakable sound of someone thrashing in the water. I ran towards the dock and saw the beacon. The kind that illuminates on a lifejacket when it hits the water.

The captain, the man I saw on deck. It made sense from that location he would have been washed over by the massive wave that hit the boat. On my way I saw the tiller on the shore. I stopped to take it with me; I was going to need the leverage it would provide.

He was desperately trying to swim to shore but was out of reach. I hooked him with the tiller and began pulling him to me. I had but a few seconds to get him there.

It was futile; he was not going to make it before the next onslaught of waves. I quickly tied myself to the dock and held onto him for dear life.

The waves crashed above my head and tried to take me with them. I could feel the pull on the rope holding me into place. I remembered my knots and knew they would hold. The only question was, could I hold onto this unconscious man until the tide rolled away, hoping the undercurrent would leave us be?

It only lasted a few seconds and took even less time for me to get my bearing. I dragged King Richard up the dock. It was time to take off the encumbering lifejacket that made his already unconscious body dead weight.

I tied him to me and kept moving my end of the rope up the dock. If we got hit with another wave before I could get him to higher ground, he would have no chance in hell without that lifejacket. Again, I would congratulate myself later for the foresight to tie him to me.

The next set of waves were as colossal and unforgiving as the last. At least we would not get pulled back down the beach. Each time the waves subsided and the current relieved, I was able to move further and further up the shoreline.

I reached the end of the dock. Now I would have no way to keep the progress I had been making. The cabin was so close but I had an unconscious man to carry and my muscles were already taxed.

How much more of this could I endure?

How much more could he endure?

I at least was able to hold my breath during the assailment of wave after wave. I had no idea how much water he had taken in.

I lay my cheek against his mouth. I could feel warm breath on my skin. A very good sign; he was still alive, but for how long if I did not get him out of the elements?

For a brief moment I sat on the sand, my back against the last post of the dock. He was laying between my legs unable to respond, unable to assist. I brushed his hair from his face, and looked to the heavens.

Help me, Michael, was all that fell from my lips before exhaustion took over and I began to cry.

I had used all my energy and had no idea how I was going to save this man. I feared for our lives if we were hit one more time.

As I stared above talking to my dead husband, the clouds began to dissipate, the stars began appearing and the ocean emitted the sound of calm rolling waves.

I continued to sob, but for a different reason. My beloved, my Michael, had saved me, like he had on the first day we met.

With an infusion of adrenaline coursing through my blood, I found the strength to drag King Richard to the cabin. He was going to be very sore come morning. Between hitting the water at fleeting speed and being dragged across the rocky terrain he would be lucky to not have anything broken.

I was a veterinarian's assistant and could do some basic medical first aid. Hopefully there was no internal injuries to deal with.

I would have to get ahold of the Coast Guard and let them know he was here. Someone would be looking for him and they needed to know he was alive.

At least, for now he was alive.

If he didn’t get proper medical attention, that situation may not last.