Muckle Flugga

Joiner turned his bruised face to the light. ‘We must get it going,’ he shouted above the storm. Henderson scowled, his face grey in the fading daylight. ‘We can sort this later,’ Joiner insisted, pushing open the door to the lighthouse and pointing the way up the stairs. Henderson paused, but not for long. Joiner paused to collect some more oil from the crew room during their ascent, their shadows going before them on the stairs like puppets. Joiner reached the lamp room first, and fished in his pockets for matches. Henderson stood behind him at the head of the stairs, arms folded, not quite entering. ‘You know what to do,’ said Joiner without turning round.

     Henderson sighed and approached the great beacon, huge and dark in the declining day, almost like an elephant in the room. ‘My brother is a gentleman,’ he said stiffly, ‘like any true man who serves at sea.’ Joiner let out a bark of a laugh. Henderson bunched his fists, ready to strike him again.

     ‘Later,’ said Joiner with a nod out to sea. ‘We must get it going. We must, for the sake of all those men sailing and serving in the Crimea, gentlemen or not.’ Henderson checked the light, and nodded. Joiner struck a match and held it up to the great eye, which flickered like a waking iris and winked into life. They stood in silence, watching the sea grow dark around them. The watching was also a lifeline, in their work.

     ‘My brother,’ said Henderson, ‘is a hero who will stand up to any man alive. As he’s not here to stand up to you, I had to do that duty for him.’ Joiner lit his pipe, the orange glow now the only clear indication where he stood in the intervals when the light flashed away from him.

     ‘My father died,’ said Joiner, ‘in the wars with Napoleon. He told me enough about a sailor’s life. It’s one any wise man would avoid. But still, our light is here, and we have to serve them.’ His pipe emitted a strong-smelling smoke. Henderson advanced on him. The light flashed around him so that Joiner was dazzled. He felt Henderson’s grimy hands around his throat as they backed towards the guard rail, leading out onto a platform. Joiner’s pipe fell and broke.

     ‘I want you to stop my brother from dying!’ said Henderson, growing frantic. ‘Can you? I want you to stop it!’