Folktale Friday: THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER

Told by Duncan Williamson (1928-2007), Scottish storyteller

Copyright: The Estate of Duncan Williamson

 

‘Away back in the West Coast a long time ago there once lived a lighthouse keeper. He lived on the mainland and he had a wife and two children. But every four months he used to go out to the lighthouse on a rock off the coast. And the keeper was in that lighthouse on the rock for three months at a time. It was a hard time to be a lighthouse keeper in these days because the pay was poor and you were cut off from everybody; you never saw your relations, you were very lucky if a boat ever came to you. Now this old keeper’s name was Peter McKinnon. He came back to the mainland for a month after his time was served on the Rock; he called it ‘the Rock’. One night I was lucky to meet Peter in a pub. He was a wee bit upset as he sat in the barroom of this wee pub. And I could see by the way he told this story to us – we were sitting round the table listening – that he really believed it. I don’t know if you’ll believe the story or not, I don’t know what you will feel about it, but this is the way Peter told it.

“The boat put me out on the island on the Rock, with a wee bit provisions, and the things which were to keep me for three months at the lighthouse.

I took these off the boat and they said, ‘Well, if the weather’s good, we’ll prob’ly see ye in a couple o’ months.’ So, I gathered all the wee things and put them in the room, I put them all by where I would need them.

And I’d been there for a couple of weeks, the weather was kind of rough – really rough. On the Rock there was a path leading down to the shoreside, it was the only way you could get down to the water, the one path on the Rock. But for days and days I sat in the lighthouse, nothing to do but light the lamps and read the papers, no letters or anything coming from anybody. I would be lucky if there would be another boat for a couple of months. But one day the weather changed. The sun came out and the sea was calm.

I was kind of bored sitting and I said, ‘Ach, I’ll take my rod and walk down the path, because the sea’s not so rough today. I’ll walk down the wee path. I’ll maybe catch myself a couple o’ fish and pass away the time.’ So, I took my rod and walked down. The night before was a terrible storm, but this morning was calm. I would try and catch a few fish for my tea. But I never got my fly wet.

I was just about to cast it, a yellow sea-fly to fish sea trout with, when lo and behold I looked beside the Rock and there against the wall among a puckle seaweed was a seal! And it was lying on its side, the waves were hitting it against the Rock. I could see by the look on it that it wasn’t dead. I had my wellingtons on, which I usually use when I go fishing for the spray that washes off the rocks. So, I walked down, I caught her, and I lifted her up.

I could see she was still alive, I said to myself, ‘You’ve been sick, or you’ve maybe been caught in a heavy tide last night and you might be ill. Ye’ve had a bad time o’ it, little creature. I better take ye up and see if I can do something for ye.’

So, instead of fishing that day I laid my rod against the wall, I said, ‘I’ll get you later on.’

I took the seal, and it was still alive, I could see that it had a good bit of life in it! So, I carried it up and it wasn’t very light, it was nearly a half-grown seal and a female. I carried her up in my oxters. I was glad to see something for company because I hadn’t a kitten or a pup or even a mouse in the lighthouse. I carried her right up, I soothed her the best I could. I put her on the bed, she was very sick, ill as I thought she was. But I looked around her and saw there was no damage attached to her, there wasn’t a hurt, no bleeding or anything.

‘Ach,’ I said to myself, ‘she’s prob’ly exhausted.’ She was about six or seven months old. I put her in the bed and happed her up with a blanket. I said, ‘Keep yourself warm there.’ So, I went into the kitchen, I made a drink of condensed milk and fed her with it. She drank the milk and I said to her, ‘Little creature, you be quiet there, be kind and stay yourself, stay there in bed and ye’ll be all right because Peter’ll take care of ye!’

But now by the time I had got her up to the room and given her a drink evening began to come – evening came very early. I had to go up the stairs to light the lamps So, I left her there in bed by herself after her drink and she was quite contented. I lighted the lamps, cleaned the reflectors, got the lights set for the evening and I came down. But by the time I came back down she seemed to have recovered a wee bit. Then I went and made a wee bit of supper for myself.

I had my supper and came back in, I said, ‘Are you all right, are you feeling fine now?’

But och me, God, she was in bed, she was sitting up fine as could be! Maybe she was a wee bit exhausted. But lo and behold I had some dried fish, and I gave her some, she just gobbled it up as quick as could be. And after she gobbled the fish she seemed to rally as best as could be and I said to myself, ‘You’re not damaged in any way, you’re not hurt and not sick . . . you’re a good friend and I hope you’ll stay with me a long, long while.’ And we began to be good friends.

But lo and behold I had sat down just for a minute when she flapped upon the floor. And she flipped and she flapped around the whole place as if nothing had been the matter. I said to myself, ‘That’s kind o’ queer.’ But to me it was exciting just to hear her flippers flapping along the floor. And she went through the whole kitchen, through the whole place and this ‘flip-flap’ . . . you know, it’s very hard when you live in a lighthouse on your own out in the sea and there’s not a soul to be seen or not a voice or anybody to speak to or anything, and you’re on your own. Even a mouse would cheer you up! When somebody comes flip-flapping around the floor, especially a seal that you have just taken from the sea, it means so much to you – it means the world to you. So, I said to myself, ‘If you’re going to flip-flap around the floor as much as that and keep me happy, I’m going to call you Flippy. Anyway, I called her Flippy and she flipped around the floor, she was so happy. I fed her the best food I could find. She and I became the best of friends. So, after a couple of weeks I said to myself, ‘That is not just a natural seal. She’s so free and so easy that it seems to me she’s been someone’s pet or something, that someone had her before. And she’s so intelligent.’ She was just like a puppy to me.

My wife had packed my bag for me that last time I left; she’d said, ‘Peter, when you’re walking round the lighthouse, always remember your slippers.’ So, when she’d packed, she’d put my slippers in the bag. Instead of putting two slippers in, she put three in the bag. So, I had them on my feet, but there’s always one left I didn’t have a neighbour for.

Now in the evenings when the lamps were lighted and after I had my supper, Flippy and I would sit there in the room. I used to throw the one slipper to her. And just like a good dog she would bring it back to me, and I would throw it again. Oh, and this was fantastic, it would pass away the time. Days passed by. Then one evening I was tired, and I lay in the bunk bed. Flippy wasn’t very pleased playing with one slipper, but she had to take my other two.

So, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I could teach her a wee trick or two.’ So, I threw one slipper and she brought it back and left it down, then I threw another and she brought it back and left it down. Then I threw another slipper to her, she brought it back and left it down – would you believe it – she left them all in a row! Now this began a game with me and her. Every time I threw a slipper, she brought it back. I thew one and another and another, and she’d always bring them back, leave them in a row. Flippy and I spent three weeks together. But I could see that she was longing for something. I said to myself, ‘Flippy, I know what you’re longing for,’ because sometimes I felt that she felt very sad.

One day I said, ‘I think it’s about time I took ye back to the sea to get back among your own people.’ By this time she had grown bigger and I was sad to see her go, sad to part with her. But I carried her down the steps. And there beside the wall was my fishing rod, lying where I’d left it three weeks before. It took me just bare than busy to carry her down the steps and put her in the water. She swam away, went round two or three times and dived two or three times. She swam out, and I thought she would come back. But I wasn’t worried so much because I didn’t want to make a pet of her, I knew it would just be ruining her life. She swam for a while. I sat and I cast a while with my fishing rod. But I never had a bite. I watched Flippy, she circled two or three times, stood up in the water, and then she was gone. And believe me or not, as I’m telling you this story I swear on my mother’s grave, she was gone for evermore. I never saw her again.

Now I was kind of sad but delighted that she was healthy enough to go. I had made her well, and she could go on her own way, because seals need their own people. I took my fishing rod, but I never had any luck that day, so I walked up, and put my rod by in the cupboard.

Then the wind began to get up. The storm blew. It blew and I lighted the lamps. I kept inside for a couple of days. And the storm blew harder. For two days I never saw outside the window. But I knew that in two or three weeks or a month I would be relieved, I would be back with my wife and family I could tell them the fantastic tale about the seal and how I enjoyed her company. But that would be a long time yet.

Then, about a week later, a terrible thing happened. As you know, I had to walk up the stairs, which are circular, to the lamps. I walked up the steps, I was lighting the lamps and I opened the window. A gust of wind came straight in after I lighted the lamps, hit me straight in the face. I never knew that the gust was so strong. I stepped back, I slipped, fell, fell down the stairs -- three turns down. I couldn’t help myself. I hurt my shoulder, hurt my arm, I hurt my head and I’m lying there. I knew that I had made a terrible mistake. I lay there semi-conscious and I knew my arm was broken because I had no feelings in it. I had a terrible bash on my head.

I thought to myself, ‘What’s going to come of me, because it’ll be a week or a fortnight, maybe three weeks -- you lose track of time when you’re on your own in one of these lighthouses. I said to myself, ‘I am not going to survive with this arm, how in the world – when it’s broken!’ So, I lay in the doldrums and I would have given the world if I could have crawled to the room, got myself a wee drink or something.

But I’m lying there in a semi-conscious state when I heard the flip-flip-flip, flip-flip-flip-flip coming ben towards me. I said to myself, ‘It’s only one person in the world could make that sound, it must be Flippy has come back.’ I lay there, oh, I was in pain and misery. And I heard in my mind the flip-flip-flip of the feet on the causeway coming into the room where I lay. I only had one thought in my mind; it was Flippy the seal, she’d probably missed me and come back. She’d be company to me even thought I was in agony.

Then lo and behold, I looked up, and standing beside me – as sure as I’m here – was a young woman, the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen in my life. She was standing there as if she was standing here beside me now, this young, beautiful creature with long dark hair and a tight-fitting dress on her that you never saw before in your life! Through the mist of pain and darkness – the light was only shining faintly from above – I turned round and looked up, I thought I was in a dream.

I said, ‘My dear, where did you come from?’

And she looked down and said to me, ‘Are you hurt?’

I said, ‘Yes, I’m hurt. I fell from the landing, from the lights. I tumbled down the stairs and landed here. I’ve hurt my head and I think my arm is broken.’

She bent down and she said, ‘Come and I’ll help you.’ So, she helped me up and you may believe it or not, she oxtered me in and put me on my bed. There by the light I had a good look at her. I saw that she was the most beautiful creature that I ever saw in my life, with long dark hair and dark eyes, and this tight-fitting kind of dress on her and her bare feet. She said, ‘I’ll help you!’

But I said, ‘In the name of creation, dearie, where in the world have you come from?’

She said, ‘Never mind about me, I’ll tell ye about me later. We’ll think about you first because you are sick and ill and hurt, and I am not. We’ll get you fixed up first.’

So, believe it or not, she put me in bed, she took off my boots. She took my arm, got it set, she spliced it -- a doctor or a specialist couldn’t have done a better job. And she bathed my head with water, made me feel comfortable. I lay there in a semi-conscious state believing I was in a dream. But there she was standing before me . . . I finally fell asleep. I wakened to the flip-flap, flap-flap-flap in the morning. And would you believe me what I’m telling you, you probably won’t, but it was the flip-flap of her bare feet on the floor that sounded so much like flippers of my seal who had gone weeks before.

She sat down on the bed beside me and said to me, ‘Drink this. This is something that’ll make you well.’ She had a cup in her hand, one of my mugs.

I said, ‘What is it?’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘never mind what it is. Just you drink it, it’ll make you feel better.’ I was so amazed, I didn’t understand – I just drank this to please the young woman, not to insult her. To see a young creature in a lighthouse miles away from the land . . . I was in such a state, I didn’t know was I coming or going. But I took the cup from her hand and I drank, the first taste was like seaweed. I’ve had pieces of seaweed, because in my old father’s time along the shores years and years ago, Father used to say that sucking a piece of dry seaweed was good for you. It was full of iron. This stuff in the cup tasted the same, and sure and behold I hadn’t drunk it for very long when I felt better, a lot better. Well, to make a long story short, she tended me all that day and all that night. By the next morning I felt even better and the dizziness in my head was gone. My arm felt a wee bit better.

So, I sat up in bed and said to her, ‘Young woman, where in the world have you come from? To come to this lighthouse well away from the mainland is just something that’s unexplainable.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘to tell ye the truth, I was out in a fishing party with a few friends and the storm came up. The boat capsized. Everybody swam for their life and I got lost in the storm, I saw your light and I swam here. I saw your lighthouse and I knew I’d find refuge, but I don’t know what happened to the rest of my friends.’

I said, ‘To tell you the truth, there’s no communication between here and the mainland. The next boat . . . will be weeks before it arrives and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sorry for your friends but you’re lucky that you managed to survive.’

She said, ‘I hope they’ll survive the same way as me. But in the meantime, if we’re going to be here till the next boat comes, we’d better get to know each other.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘my name is Peter McKinnon.’

She said, ‘My friends call me Rona.’

'If me and you have to be here together,’ I says, ‘for the next couple of weeks – let me see now, it’ll be a fortnight anyway before the boat comes again to relieve me from the lighthouse.’

She said, ‘By that time you should be fit and able to be on your feet.’

But sure enough, the next day I felt ten times better! Och, I felt better than ever I felt in my life, but for this damned arm that was broken. But she’d set it and put a sling around my neck. And I got around the lighthouse, I was doing everything I could with one hand. So, we sat evening out and we talked of many things, but she would never talk about her people. A week had passed. She cooked for me and tidied up, she did everything for me that I really needed done. And I loved her like nothing on this earth. She was just like the wee lassies back on the mainland. After ten days had passed, I began to get a feeling in my fingers, they began to feel better which shouldn’t have been for weeks. But she still kept giving me these cups of evil tasting medicine, like seaweed. After a few more days I began to rally and come to myself again. I promised to take her back to the mainland in the ship and introduce her to my wife and my sons. I loved her like my own daughter because I didn’t have any daughters, I just had two sons.

So, I sat and told her cracks and tales and stories, I told her about Flippy the seal and how Flippy and I had spent such times together, how vexed I was when Flippy went and left me, how lonely it is for an old man like me to spend three months on a rock out in the sea with nobody to speak to for days on end. And we became great friends. She did everything, I had nothing to do. I felt perfect except for this damned arm, but it got better every day.

Then one morning the sun shone bright and clearly. I was lying in my bed. Rona used to always come in and give me a cup of tea every morning and waken me up because she slept in another wee room in a cubby hole in the cupboard where I made a bed for her. But I waited and waited, waited and waited for my morning cuppy which I had got accustomed to. It never came. I managed to get up on my own, and this time my arm felt a bit better. And I knew that within a week the boat would relieve me, I would be back home to my wife. I could see my own doctor, get it fixed perfectly. I waited and I called around the lighthouse, around the rooms. There was not a sight of her to be seen. I searched every place I could find but Rona was gone. I went back to my bedroom and I sat, I worried. I had no time for tea, nothing. I was so vexed and so sad I didn’t know what to do. I had no time for breakfast, I was so sad.

I said, ‘Prob’ly she went out swimming and she got drowned.’

And I was so upset, I didn’t know what to do. I searched the island, I went down the steps, searched the lighthouse outside and inside. She was gone, there was no Rona. I came back up the steps and said, ‘I wonder where in the world that wee lassie has gone.’

And I walked into my bedroom, to the bed right there where I slept. And what do you think was staring me right in the face? Now you’re not going to believe this, but the room was empty, the lighthouse was empty, and Rona was gone. But there were three slippers left in a row in front of my bed. Three slippers! Left in a row in front of my bed! I knew then that Flippy had come back to help me for helping her, for she was a selkie.

And that’s the end of my story.”

‘That’s the way “Lighthouse Keeper” was told to me. I can remember, I was so taken away with that story . . . You see, selkies didn’t make themselves known, say, “I’m a selkie, you must believe me, I’m a great selkie!” They came as a coincidence to people who really needed them at the time. That’s what makes selkie stories so good . . . they’re here and they’re gone. It’s only certain people in the world who have had the experience.’

 

 

By Duncan Williamson in The Broonie, Silkies and Fairies: Travellers’ Tales illustrated by Alan Herriot (Canongate 1985; Harmony Books 1987) and in Tales of the Seal People (Canongate, 1992; Interlink, 1993) Recorded for the School of Scottish Studies Sound Archive, EU. Digital version (copyright) by Linda Williamson.

 

Published on this blog with kind permission from Linda Williamson

Copyright The Estate of Duncan Williamson