FICTION: THE LEGEND OF THE VANISHING LIGHTHOUSE KEEPERS. PART 3.

A half-hour later, Captain Harvie was in his cabin, located just off the bridge.

The Hesperus was anchored securely just off the coast of Eilean Mor, and the east -side landing was easily visible under the uncharacteristically cloudless sky.

There were actually two landing sites,  the other was located on the west side of the island.  However, the east-side landing was preferred because it offered shelter against the turbulent North Atlantic.

Harvie was seated at his desk, and was carefully studying a schedule that rested on it.  Even though he had read it many times in the past few days, Harvie kept returning to it, as if he was missing something.

The schedule was the official document that broke down the Duties, Safety Procedures, Maintenance Instructions and Dates for the landing of new supplies, that every Lighthouse Keeper serving the tower on Eilean Mor had to learn.  Even more important, it broke down the appointed personnel then serving on the island.

Joseph Moore was part of a four-man crew that ran the day to day operations responsible for keeping the light operating 24 hrs a day, 7 days a week.  The Manifest of Personnel consisted of :

• James Ducat- Principal Keeper.
• William Ross- 1st Assistant Keeper.
• Thomas Marshall- 2nd Assistant Keeper.
• Joseph Moore- Relief Keeper.  However, Ross had become ill several months before, and Donald Macarthur had been sent in to replace him as an occasional.

The four men worked on a rotating basis. Three men on duty at any one time, with the fourth man given shore leave that lasted two weeks.  At the end of the two weeks the Hesperus would leave the mainland with supplies necessary for the proper operation of the Lighthouse, and to meet the needs of those who were there to keep it running.  The ship would also transport the Keeper on shore at the time to the island to resume his duties.  After depositing its' cargo ashore, the Hesperus would depart, taking a different Keeper for a Fortnights time off.

Harvie put the schedule in his shirt pocket, and sat back thinking about any possible circumstances that may have been overlooked that could explain the disappearances.  He recalled the conversation he had with Moore just before they cast off for Eilean Mor, regarding the strange and possibly tragic situation. The Hesperus had been scheduled to return to the island on Dec 21, but foul weather had forced a delay.

"I can't understand it," Moore had said to Harvie, while they were standing on the dock as the Hesperus was made ready to sail for the return to Eilean Mor.

Moore had continued, "Jim runs a tight ship. If he could draw a breath, there is no way the light would be allowed to go out."   Harvie knew that "Jim" was a reference to James Ducat, the Principal who was in charge of operations on the island.

"Well," Harvie replied, "could one of the others have snapped, and ... you know..."

Moore cut him off.  "Tommy is as reliable and stable a Lighthouse man as you'll ever meet.  I know Macarthur is an occasional, and was there because of Ross being sick and all, but he knows the business and volunteered as a replacement. Nope, I'd sooner believe they were taken by a Kraken, then one of them turning on the other two."

End of PT 3.

FICTION: THE LEGEND OF THE VANISHING LIGHTHOUSE KEEPERS. PART 2.

Harvie turned away from Moore and stepped outside the bridge. Though the weather had improved, it was still icy cold.  The Captain turned up the collar on his coat and looked out on the foredeck of his ship.  Several sailors were busy with the daily routine of ships maintenance, under the supervision of his second mate.

"Mr. MacDonald," Harvie called out addressing the mate, "Secure the detail and prepare the launch for going ashore.  Then report to me on the bridge."

The reply was immediate. "Aye Captain, who will be in the landing party?"

"Never mind that now", was the answer, "Carry on with the orders."

Harvie stepped back inside the bridge, and observed Moore still staring straight ahead, as if in a trance. "No", thought Harvie, "Moore won't be a problem. Nothing on Gods green earth could keep him off the launch with his comrades missing."

However, choosing the right men to accompany him might be a problem.  Sailors, by nature, were a superstitious lot.  Given the situation and history of the island, proper selection was a must.  He couldn't risk sending someone ashore who believed that the supernatural was behind the disappearances, without considering alternative explanations.

Eilean Mor is the largest of the Flannan Isles, which are part of the Outer Hebrides that lie off the western coast of Scotland.  Uninhabited for much of its history, it does contain a chapel dedicated to St Flannan which pre-dates the Lighthouse by hundreds of years.  Built in the late nineteenth century, the Lighthouse became operational in 1899.  Attempts to settle the island never lasted very long, and it was considered to be inhabited by spirits who did not like visitors, even for a short time.

Both Harvie and Moore were aware of the islands history, but nothing from the past had ever occurred that mirrored the present day mystery.  James Ducat, Thomas Marshall, and Donald Macarthur seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth.

The first sign of trouble was reported on Dec. 15.  A passing ship, the Archtor, reported that when it passed the island in foul weather that the light was not operating.  Other ships had reported the same, so there was little doubt that there was something dreadfully wrong on the island.  Neglecting the light was a serious offense, and it was inconceivable that all three men would allow such a thing to happen if it was in their power to prevent it.

End of PT 2.

FICTION: THE LEGEND OF THE VANISHING LIGHTHOUSE KEEPERS. PART 1.

( The following is a work of fiction, but is based on a real event.

All the names, locations and dates are taken from case studies of the actual event.)









The Captain of the Hesperus peered through his Spyglass and spoke to the man next to him. "Sorry Moore," he began,"I still don't see any sign of life, and we've hailed them three times."

Joseph Moore was standing next to Captain Harvie and along with the Helmsman, were the only three occupants on the Bridge.  It was the day after Christmas, but there was no feeling of "Peace on Earth" or "Goodwill to Men" inside Moore.  The Lighthouse on the island of Eilean Mor was still dark, and there was no sign of his three comrades.

Captain Harvie continued, "When we're about 150 yds out, I'll heave to and send in a landing party to investigate.  I assume you'll want to be part of it?"

Moore nodded without looking at Harvie. "What could have happened," he thought to himself, "Why can't we make contact?" Moore knew that the bare flagpole, which was located near the living quarters, was a bad sign. Distress signals indicating problems on the island, could be relayed to neighboring islands or passing ships by raising certain signal flags available to the Keepers stationed on the island.

Captain Harvie was usually annoyed when someone aboard his ship did not answer his questions with a prompt verbal reply. He considered it to be a breach of etiquette and disrespectful to his command.  However, this was different. He was familiar with the type of man it took to be a Lighthouse Keeper, and confrontation over this matter would lead to no good.  Ultimately, it was his responsibility to get the Light working again, and to find out why it went out. He, therefore, would not risk antagonizing Moore.  This man was his best bet in finding the truth.

End of PT 1.

REWARD FOR THE FALLEN. PART 3.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the man came upon a gate that crossed the path.  There was no way around, for the vegetation off the road seemed impenetrable.

As he gasped in frustration, he became aware of an approaching figure on the other side.  While this individual was dressed in now familiar clothes, his manner and look were different.  To the man, he appeared to be in his early twenties, but his wide open smile set him apart from recent contacts.

"Hello Tony," the new arrival said, leaning against the gate.  "I guess you're wondering what the heck is going on."

The man looked intently at his counterpart and whispered out loud, "George Mellen, you were killed in a firefight outside of...," then he suddenly stopped, memories flooding back.

"Yeah, said his host, "I was killed in that tiny village, the one command considered vital to securing the region.  Caught one in the throat.  Wrong place, wrong time," he chuckled.

The man looked into the face of this lost comrade, and suddenly noticed that they were not alone.  Figures appeared from the trees that lay beyond the gated fence.  They were represented by every manner of dress he had already encountered, and some still unfamiliar.  The man was scared, but pride refused to let it be known to  others.

"Tony, your home." His benefactor said, opening the gate.  The man hesitated crossing the threshold, and asked, "Am I dead, is this Heaven?"

"Your dead, that much is sure," George replied, "in time you'll recall the circumstances.  Is this Heaven?  Let's just say it is an outpost on the edge of forever.  Just a place for men and women like you and me to rest, exchange stories and prepare for what comes next."  As he passed through the gate, Tony became aware of the beauty of his new surroundings, and a feeling of peace and serenity settled over him.  Suddenly, he understood.  Turning to his companion he asked, "Is this just for us, no one else. Why?"

George gave him a slight smile, and as others gathered around them to offer welcome to the new arrival, answered; "I guess someone figured that those of us who gave all it was possible to give, and lost our lives with such brutality, deserved a special place where our sacrifice was acknowledged and appreciated.  I never expected such a place would exist, but our kind never asked for much in return.  Maybe that is why it's here, because we earned something we would never have asked for."

THE END.