Chapter 6

CHRISTMAS AT THE LONGSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.

"It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold: 'Peace on the earth, good-will to men, From heaven's all gracious King;' The world in solemn stillness lay, To hear the angels sing."

"Yet with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long; Beneath the angel-strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And man at war with man, hears not The love-song which they bring-- Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing."--E. H. Sears.

It does not matter very much where Christmas is kept, so long as all the family can get together, and all hearts be filled with His love, who came as a Babe in Bethlehem to bring blessings to the world. Under such circumstances, Christmas is a joyous time everywhere, and dear friends, meeting together for a few days of social intercourse, may well bless the season, and retain their old love for it.

It is interesting to think of the various scenes into which the grey head and kindly face of old Father Christmas are brought with shouts of welcome. He comes to the palace, where flowers and perfumes give him a taste of summer's months of gladness, and where men who occupy elevated positions are glad to rest them in his genial smile. He goes to the farm-house, in the country round which the bare fields lie, and the ground is as hard as if it never meant to be fruitful again; and the farmer feels the winter which has a Christmas in it is almost as good as a spring-time of promise. He goes to the tradesmen in the town, and the carol singers make even the busy streets melodious and suggestive of peace and good-will; and the shopkeeper blesses the prosperity of trade, that enables him to welcome the festive time with well-filled tables and good cheer. And best of all, he goes to ships at sea, and lonely lighthouses, and places where he is really needed, to cheer sad hearts and raise depressed spirits; and as to most places he brings the children with him, he is generally able very successfully to accomplish his kind mission.

At the Longstone lighthouse they kept Christmas most joyfully, and all the children, now growing to manhood and womanhood, came home to assist.

Great preparations were made beforehand by Mrs. Darling and Grace, that nothing might be wanting to add to the festivities of the happy re-union. If they could not deck the walls with holly and mistletoe grown on the island, they could have it brought from the mainland by the boys and girls when they came. Pictures, curtains, and books, were all made the most of; and to crown the whole, or rather, as the foundation of the whole, the house was made spotlessly clean--cleaner than usual, if that could be, for the joyous occasion.

But there was always one source of anxiety to trouble the Darlings during December. There was ever a chance that they could not travel. Such things have been heard of as coaches being snowed up, and even railways blocked with the innocent-looking snow. But when the travellers have to cross the sea in places where it is at no time very smooth, the risk of such a misfortune is always much greater. It was often utterly impossible for boats to reach the Farne Islands from the mainland; and no one could say, until the time came, that the Darlings would not be kept from home by stress of weather. It may be imagined, therefore, with what anxiety the sea was watched, and how eager they were to know which way the wind was, and what might be expected of the weather. And when, at last, the boat was seen bringing the dear ones to their home among the rocks, very deep were the thanksgivings that went up to God who had given them journeying mercies.

One Christmas they all met together, and were unusually happy.

"A week's holiday!" said one. "It will be like living at home again to be together so long."

"And to think that you are all safely here," said the mother.

"And not one of us has died during the year," added the father.

"Surely," said Grace, "we ought to be happy, if any family should, with so much to make us so."

"And we shall be," said Mary Ann; "at least I am not afraid of it myself."

There was a general smile at Mary Ann's expense. She had come home with most important news--she was going to be married, and she had already whispered to her sisters that she had heaps of things to tell about "him." It has been said that a woman has but one him (hymn), and that she is never tired of singing it! It seemed so indeed in Mary Ann's case, for she had scarcely reached home when she took her sisters Thomasin and Grace aside, and began to descant most eloquently upon the manliness and goodness, cleverness and handsomeness of her lover, whom she boldly declared to be "the best and most kind-hearted man in the world." "And I will tell you all about him," she added, "though indeed it will take the whole week to tell."

Her sisters were good-humoured and interested; and it was therefore evident that there would be no lack of conversation during those holidays.

If there had been, Elizabeth, the youngest, could have supplied it, for she had just been apprenticed; and youth always imagines its own affairs to be of most absorbing interest. Elizabeth was learning the millinery business, and though the making of hats and bonnets might seem to the general public an uninviting theme on which to dwell, anything is worth listening to that comes from lips that are beloved.

So the lighthouse-fires were kept burning brightly, and an air of comfort and neatness reigned around. The snug sitting-room, in which they had played when they were little ones, held them all now, and very delightful were the hours spent in it. Mr. and Mrs. Darling looked around on their blooming girls and manly sons, and felt that they were well repaid for all the anxiety and toil which their children had occasioned. And when in the evenings the room was cleared, and the merry games of blind-man's-buff and forfeits were engaged in, it may be questioned if any British household had lighter hearts and greater freedom from care than that of the dwellers in Longstone beacon.

"There is one thing needed to make the Christmas perfect," said Grace.

"What is that?" asked her brother William. "The presence of Miss Dudley?"

"No; I was not thinking of her. She has sent me some beautiful letters lately, and they are the most that I can expect. But I was thinking of peace and good-will to men. If we lived on the mainland, in one of the towns, we could send 'portions to those who have need!' There are no poor and helpless here. But it always seems to me that Christmas time should be filled with deeds of charity towards the suffering and poverty stricken."

"But if the weather should change, we could perhaps take our part in the works of Christian kindness, by succouring some poor shipwrecked fellow," said Mr. Darling.

"But I hope the weather will not change," said his wife, who never could quite overcome her terror of the sea when swept by tempests.

Her wish, however, was not realised, while Grace had the pleasure she wished for.

The clear frosty weather which they had enjoyed, passed away on the 27th of December, and gave place to something very different. The morning rose with clouds; the wind blew a heavy gale, and torrents of rain fell all day. The lighthouse-tower rocked before the fury of the tempest; and when the night came on, though the beacon was lighted as usual, Darling had very little hope of its being of much service, since the thick dashing rain would prevent the light from being seen. The gale did not abate during the whole night, and the wind and waves had terrific power, as they beat upon the windows and walls. William and Robert took their father's place at midnight, and watched and tended the light from that time till daylight. They looked over the sea, endeavouring to descry any vessel that might be near, but the atmosphere was so murky that they could see nothing.

A little before daybreak the violence of the storm somewhat abated, and the horizon became more distinct. The young men, keeping "a sharp look-out," thought they saw some object moving on the Naestone rock.

"It is some poor wretch shipwrecked," said William.

"Do you think it is," said Robert. "If so, we must go out and get him off, if possible. Shall I call father?"

"No; do not disturb him until we are quite certain. It will soon be light enough for us to see."

"I can see now! I am sure it is a man moving. It will not be a very safe undertaking, though."

"That does not matter. We cannot leave the poor fellow there to perish."

"Call father up, then. By the time he is ready, it will be safe to extinguish the light, and we can all go out together."

When Mr. Darling was awake, he did not hesitate for a moment.

"Get the coble ready, and we four will man it. It will be hard if we do not bring the poor fellow back to have a little of our Christmas cheer."

In a few minutes Darling and his three eldest sons were in the boat, and moving away.

"Pray, take care," shouted Grace. "It is a very perilous attempt to make."

"We know it," said Darling. "Pray for us, and have no fear."

The girl felt that to have no fear was more than could be expected of her; but she did her best to support and comfort her mother and sisters.

"Now, my lads," said Darling to his sons, "this will require all the nerve and courage we have. Are you ready?"

"Aye, ready," was the cheery answer; and then all hands set to work to propel the boat to the Naestone rock, on which the waves were leaping with awful fury.

"Hold hard, my boys."

The injunction was more easily uttered than obeyed. The young men could scarcely keep their seats, and were in momentary danger of being swept altogether from the boats.

"Why, there are two of them!"

Through the spray they could now see the Naestone; and there they saw two objects--one standing, earnestly watching the efforts of the Darlings to reach them, the other lying helplessly on the rocks, apparently benumbed.

The brave men put forth all their strength, and presently managed to bring their boat near the rock, then suddenly a tremendous wave dashed them back again, and they were almost buried beneath the waters. The boat rose, however, and the men, nowise daunted by the danger and difficulty, again strained every nerve to reach the rock. But a terrible billow again came over them, and this time two of their oars were snapped to pieces. Soon after a receding wave left a space around the rock uncovered, and Robert, eager to reach the sufferers, leaped across. But just then another huge wave swept the boat back, and Mr. Darling's fears were aroused lest they should not be able to get him off again. They made a most strenuous effort once more to get near the rock; and presently, while the perspiration was pouring from their faces, and their arms and backs were aching from fatigue, and they were feeling that they could not keep on much longer, they managed to get near enough to enable Robert, by plunging in the sea, to reach them, the brothers in the boat with great difficulty hauling him in.

"Did you speak to the men, Robert?" asked Mr. Darling, when the young man had a little recovered himself.

"I spoke to one, father; the other is dead!"

"There is but one to save, then?"

"That is all."

"Come my lads, we must get him off, if possible."

"The tide is making fast. If he is not away in an hour or two, his chances will all be gone, for the rock will lie under deep water."

They tried again and again to get near enough to the rock to allow of the man's escape, but they could not succeed.

"Throw him a rope! We can do nothing else."

After several vain attempts, they succeeded in throwing a rope to reach him. The man was so feeble that he seemed scarcely to understand what was going on.

"Lash yourself to it, man!"

"He has not strength to do it. Look at him! He is half-dead."

The Darlings shouted a word of cheer, and presently the man roused himself to his task. He was so weak that his hands could scarcely do the work; but after a time, his friends saw, with joy, that he had fastened the rope round his body.

"He has no power to help himself. We must drag him in."

"Now then, steadily."

They were afraid that he would get beaten against the rocks and destroyed; but, as carefully as they could, they dragged him into the boat. No sooner was he there, however, than he fell down in a state of complete exhaustion.

"Now for home."

But it seemed at least, doubtful whether they would ever get there, for the sea was so turbulent that their strength was as nothing to it; and the difficulty was greatly increased by the loss of the oars, which had been broken. They made the best use of the two remaining, and they hoisted their small sails, but the wind was against them; and if their hearts had not been very brave, they must have quailed then. But there was One who watched them, as long ago He watched His followers "toiling in rowing," and He cared for the courageous men who had gone out over the waters to save human life, and He helped them in this hour of their need. After a severe struggle, they reached the shore; and never were weary mariners more thankful to feel the friendly land under their feet than they were.

Mrs. Darling, Grace, and the others, had been watching them with intense anxiety, and they were on the beach, ready to welcome their return.

"We have brought the poor fellow off the rock, and landed him safely; but there is not much life left in him, I fancy," said Robert.

"I hope we may restore him. Bring him in carefully," said Grace. "He may have been sent to us for our help and compassion--a Christmas stranger!"

Did she think how, in return for their hospitality, the Saviour would himself say, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me!"

The sailor was soon laid in a warm bed, and restoratives were given to him. For a long time, however, the Darlings feared that their efforts would be in vain, but, after much patience and perseverance, he began to revive. The women of the household had now plenty of occupation, and Grace was one of the chief nurses of the forlorn shipwrecked man. Every kindness and attention was heaped upon him; and the festive season received just the pathetic touch it always wants to bring out the love of happy hearts towards those who are sad and wretched.

The Christmas was over, and the brothers and sisters had gone back to their various situations and occupations on the mainland before the man was sufficiently recovered to leave his temporary home on the Longstone. When he began to recover he had a relapse, and a low fever set in, which lasted for some time. As soon as he was able to give an account of himself he related a most pathetic tale, which quite touched the heart of the gentle, humane Grace, who had questioned him.

"My name, Miss? It is Logan, and I was born at Nithdale, in Scotland. I think no man has been more unfortunate than I. I have been shipwrecked several times--once, only a few weeks ago, at Sunderland. The whole crew would have been lost then, only that the Sunderland life-boatmen came out and rescued us. Soon after that, I got a situation as mate on board the 'Autumn,' but my usual fate overtook me. We were going to Peterhead, but had only been a day or two at sea, when a gale came on. The master made every effort to guide the vessel, but it was of no use, and at last she was dashed among the breakers. Then we tried to launch the boats, but could not do it, and, as a last resource, I and one other man clung to the mast for safety. We were in that situation for four hours."

"Four hours!" exclaimed Grace.

"Yes; and at last, when the tide went out, we found the Naestone rock uncovered, and the mast hanging over it, so we dropped on the rock. We had not much bettered our condition, however, for a heavy sea swept over the mast, and we could not see a vestige of it, though our only hope of safety depended upon it. I tried to get up a joke with my mate, but I could see that he was losing all hope. I told him that perhaps we should be discovered, but he only shook his head in despair. He talked about being resigned to his fate. 'I feel that I am dying,' said he. 'If you should be fetched off the rock, go and see my father and mother, and tell them how I died. Tell my mother that my last prayer was for her; and may God Almighty bless and comfort her.' 'Cheer up, man,' says I, 'you're not dead yet.' But he was too far gone to be consoled; and before he had been more than two hours on the rock, he died."

"Poor fellow!" said Grace, who was weeping tears of sorrow and sympathy. "Did you not feel worse still after he was gone?"

"Yes, indeed, I felt despairing, for all my hope died when my comrade died. The wind was still blowing furiously, and the spray kept dashing over me. I saw the tide getting higher and higher, and coming nearer and nearer, and wondered how long I had to live. At last the waves washed the place on which I stood, and I thought my last moments had come. But just then I saw your boat! I thought I should have gone frantic with joy; I did not know how to contain my feelings. Oh! Mr. Darling, God bless you and your family for your goodness to a poor shipwrecked sailor. May He reward you, for I am sure I never can."

The man broke down and could say no more, while Mr. Darling wrung his hand, and told him, what was the truth, that there was no greater joy than to rescue those who were in danger of death.

A day or two after Logan felt better and wished to say good-bye to his kind friends.

"I will go with you to Bamborough," said the lighthouse keeper. "If you go to Lord Crewe's institution, they will help you!"

"What sort of place is that, then?"

"A sailor's home, among other things. Bamborough Castle once belonged to him; and when he died, he left an immense fortune to be applied to good purposes. It is a splendid place. There are schools for educating children. There is a large library of books that are lent out to the people who live near. Goods are sold at a cheap rate to the poor. There is an infirmary, where thousands have been relieved, and besides all this, there are rooms for shipwrecked sailors. There is always a reward given to the first boat that puts off to the wreck; and those who have been ship-wrecked have money and clothing given to them, if they are destitute."

"There is some hope for me, then?"

"Yes, indeed."

"But you had better stay here until you are quite well," said Grace.

"Thank you, Miss! You are very kind, but I must go, for I am anxious to get settled again. I shall never forget the happy hours I have spent under this roof though, nor your great kindness to me."

He was not to be persuaded to remain, so Mr. Darling took him across to the castle, where he received the ship-wrecked sailor's relief. The governors gave to Darling the usual reward for saving the life of Logan, but that the generous lighthouse-keeper put into the sailor's bundle which he was carrying for him.

Mr. Darling accompanied Logan a few miles along the Berwick road, to which place Logan wished to go, and then they parted.

Grace Darling was right! Christmas is not all that it might be if it brings no opportunities of exercising Christian charity. Did not the Son of Man come as a stranger to this world, finding no room in the inn. But since He has made all our homes bright by the free salvation which is His gift, shall not we, in return, look after the homeless and comfortless ones, who it is never very difficult to find? It seems as if the angel's prophetic song is not yet fulfilled, for not yet is the earth filled with peace and good-will to men. But if we do only a little, by saving a shipwrecked mariner, or a destitute child, something at least is gained, and He receives it, who said of the loving woman, "She hath done what she could."