Glory opened the door as soon as Harry rang the bell. “Good morning. Nice to see you both.” Harry and Bertie replied to her greeting.
“Miss Pinkerton is waiting in the living room. Morning tea will be served right away.” She looked at Bertie. “Coffee or tea?”
‘Coffee, please,” Bertie replied. “Black, no sugar.”
Miss Pinkerton was standing beside the fireplace when they walked in. “Good morning Mr. Hogan, Ms Blackett. please sit down. It’s nice to see you both, and for such an interesting reason.”
“How are you?” Harry asked as he and Bertie sat on the sofa and Miss Pinkerton sat in an armchair across from them.
“Oh, I can’t complain, but I ‘d like more excitement in my life.”
Harry chuckled and looked at Bertie. “What did I tell you? I knew she’d be interested in this.”
“Of course I am.” She glanced up as Glory came in, carrying a tray with cups, mugs, tea plates and an assortment of pastries. “Put them on the table, my dear, and we’ll help ourselves.”
When they had done that, Miss Pinkerton nodded at Harry, who recognised it as a signal to start the conversation.
He looked at Glory. “Isaac said you know the whole story about this ‘Restless Spirit’ and we hope you’ll share it with us.”
“Where should I start?”
“At the beginning,” Harry said, “and tell us everything you know.”
“Before you start, may I record this?” Bertie asked. “I’d like to add it to the history of the lighthouse and I don’t want to miss anything.”
Glory looked a little surprised. “No, I don’t mind at all.”
“That will be a big help,” Harry said. “Now, I know you ladies have afternoon plans, so just tell us everything you remember hearing about this legend from beginning to end. We’ll leave questions for later.”
“Okay.” Glory nodded, drew a deep breath and began her story:
“The legend of the Restless Spirit has changed over the years. The original version said nothing about a restless spirit claiming the souls of lost sailors, or being an omen of death. Many ships were wrecked on those rocks over the years, occasionally with the loss of a life or two, but most times the sailors survived.
Keep in mind that old stories like this were usually told by men sitting around a table, playing card games and sipping on a few beers. Human nature being what it is, the tales were often exaggerated as each storyteller tried to outdo the others. And with each retelling, something was often added or changed.
The part about someone watching for the ship of a family member was true. What was left out was the person’s name – Amos Walker – the same man who later became the first keeper at that lighthouse. Amos was my great-great-grandmother’s brother. I have always known the full story, and thought the rest of the family did too. Isaac was probably too young to have heard it when his father died.
