Thirty in Thirty

Stormcoming

It was the first storm of winter. The horizon to the north of the bay was thick with dark clouds pregnant with rain and ice. Beneath them the sea turned from grey to foam-topped green, driven by the cold north wind towards the harbour breakwater.

In the town, the people made their preparations for the storm. Window shutters were secured and loose items were collected from the street. In the harbour, the crews of the fishing vessels dogged the hatches and came ashore, preferring to shelter under stone and slate.

On the breakwater, Captain Reedy climbed to the top of the lighthouse. His rank was merely a courtesy bestowed upon him by the townsfolk. Like many of them, he had been a sailor, but he had been further than they had. The fishermen went as far north as the cold water reefs and as far west as the open waters of the ocean. Reedy had been around the world and had stories of far-off lands and exotic people. When asked why he had retired to such a dull place, he just shrugged and said, "After a while, a man just wants to settle down. Be near his family." This was strange, as Reedy had no relatives in the town or the countryside around it.

Captain Reedy stared hard at the approaching storm front. The gusting winds and the white-topped waves told him everything he needed to know. This would be a proper storm. Reedy made his preparations, trimming the wick of the great lantern and setting in motion the mechanism that drove the great reflector on its axis. Then, as the shadow of the storm fell across the bay, he lit the lantern. It's oil-fuelled flame burned hot and bright, casting a light that was focussed into a beam that stabbed into the heart of the oncoming gale.

Satisfied at his work, Reedy made his way down the lighthouse's great staircase to the entrance. He stepped onto the parapet at the top of the breakwater and watched the storm come in.

The wind was the storm's harbinger. It grew in strength and purpose, from unsure gusts to a roaring torrent of air and spray. Waves smashed against the side of the breakwater, forming great walls of water that hung in mid-air before crashing back into the churning sea below. Then the rain came, turned into icy daggers by the cold November air. Through this all, Reedy stood on his parapet, watching and waiting,

At the base of the storm, a line of white appeared, separating the sea from the sky. The line grew thicker, drawing closer, moving faster than the storm. Reedy watched it for a minute, then left the parapet and retreated to the shelter of the lighthouse's interior. From there, he watched the white line get closer and closer.

A roaring noise filled the air, drowning out the sounds of the storm. Reedy stood aside from the open door and flattened himself against the wall - just in time! A wave rose above the sea, above the top of the breakwater, then threw itself onto the lighthouse. Water crashed through the door and spent its fury uselessly on the stone walls. Reedy held his breath until the wave retreated, then went to close the lighthouse door.

In the centre of the room, surrounded by pools of cold saltwater, were three women dressed in cloaks of sealskin. Despite the recent flood, the women were dry and unshaken. As Reedy locked the door and turned towards them, the two younger women rushed to embrace him.

"Father!" they screamed with joy.

Reedy smiled and put his arms around them, in the way that only a doting parent could.