She once dreamed of sailing the seas and seeing the far-off lands mentioned in storybooks. Maruska traveled to the ocean from her home in the Valley of the Sun, proudly offering her service to the nearest sailing ship. The laughter and its pain still echo in her ears, even though it was so long ago.
“A girl who sails the seas? Your place is in the kitchen. Now go wench before you feel the point of my boot upon your rear,” yelled the captain.
Holding back the tears, Maruska refused to give in, so she asked the captain of a smaller vessel but recieve the same treatment. “I will serve the seven seas even if I have to build the ships that sail them,” said the girl.
So that is just what she did. Tying her hair up, she donned a hat and went to work in the shipyards, hauling timbers for the ship’s keels. It was hard work, but plowing a field or stacking hay on the farm was the same, and she had done that for years.
One day, while fetching the builders’ ale, she encountered a kindly older man who, due to his years as the lighthouse keeper, had fallen into drinking to deal with his loneliness. Maruska and the man immediately became fast friends, and she promised to visit him on her next day off.
Sunday brought Maruska to the keeper’s door, which she found open. Carefully, she entered, fearing her friend had been robbed and may be hurt. “Hello, are you alright?” Maruska asked. There on the floor lay the man, unconscious, with a small pool of blood next to his head. Maruska rushed to his side, fearing the worst.
“Are you OK? Can you hear me?” she asked after seeing his chest rise and fall slowly. The man’s eye fluttered open, and then he spoke.
“Seems I fell again. I really shouldn’t drink before checking the light. Oh my, I can’t seem to stand,” said the keeper.
“Let me help you into your bed and give you some of the soup I brought for you,” said Maruska.
“You are too kind. I am sorry to bother you this way,” said the man.
For the remainder of the day, Maruska cleaned the keeper’s home and made soup from the dried fish hanging in the cellar. At dusk, she tried to wake the keeper but found him unable to rise from the bed.
“You must light the beacon. The ships will need it; lives are at stake,” said the keeper, then he went unconscious.
“The ships need the light, or they will crash upon the rocks. I am not a keeper. What should I do?” whispered Maruska.
Climbing the stairs to the top, the farm girl stood before a vast ocean vista. “This is amazing, just like in those stories Papa would tell me so long ago,” said Maruska.
Searching the cabinets, she found oil and wick for the light’s beacon. Her hands trembled as she struck the flint and started the beacon’s light.
“The ships are safe now,” said the girl. Moments passed, and the beacon did not move. “Why isn’t it spinning? What do I need to do?” asked Maruska.
Examining the light base, she found what appeared to be a wench without its handle. “This must make it turn just like the grinders on the farm, but where is its handle?” asked Maruska.
The light was rapidly fading, and the girl began to panic. After searching the tower, she went down the stairs and started looking in the living area, but she could not find anything.
“He fell coming down from checking the light; yes, that is it,” said Maruska. Quickly, she went to where she had found him that morning and looked around, but still found nothing.
“He was lying facing the open front door. Perhaps it slid outside,” said Maruska. Rushing outside, Maruska was greeted by the red evening sky and the beacon’s handle lying next to the stairs.
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight!” yelled Maruska, who grabbed the handle and then raced up the stairs. Quickly, she inserted the wench’s handle into the slot and began turning the crank. Tick, Tick, Tick went the mechanism, and within seconds, the beacon started its rotation. Maruska turned the crank until it clicked to a stop.
“The light is set for the night, and the sailors are safe. Now it’s time to check the keeper and see if he’s all right,” said Maruska, who carefully descended the dark stairway.
Lighting a lamp, Maruska gave the man more fish broth and cleaned his wound, then she crawled into an oversized chair and covered herself with a throw rug to keep warm for the night.
The following day, Maruska was awakened by a soft touch on her shoulder. Opening her eyes, she saw her friend smiling down at her. “You have saved me and many ships as well. How can I ever thank you?” said the keeper.
“There’s no need to thank me. Your recovery is thanks enough,” said Maruska. “I’d best be going back to the shipyard, and I hope I still have a job when I get there,” said the girl.
The man stood silent momentarily, walked over, opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a worn leather book. “Can you read?” he asked.
“My mother taught me to read my Papa’s storybooks after his death. Why do you ask?” said Maruska.
“This is the official lighthouse keepers manual, and if you can pass the test in the back, which I will give you, you will take my place. I am too old for this job, and you have shown you are more than capable of doing it,” said the man.
“I am a woman. Am I allowed to do such an important job?” asked Maruska.
“My good woman, do you know how many lighthouse keepers ‘ wives took over after their husbands’ deaths?” the keeper asked.
“Oh, I see. Well, I will try my best, but what about you?” Maruska asked.
“I will board a ship heading east and see the world like I have wanted to all my life,” the man said.
“We have much in common, it seems,” laughed Maruska.
Over the next few weeks, Maruska stayed with the keeper, learning everything there was to know about the great beacon and its light. Then, when the time was right, she took and passed the test.
“I will miss you, but I know you will see sights we have only dreamed about; perhaps one day I will do the same,” said Maruska. Then she hugged her friend and watched him walk down to the shore and off to adventures untold.
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