Neptune's Fingers Read Online Free Page B

would at least have the brains to stay at the settlement. That spit is no joke.” He shook his head from side to side as though he were trying to solve a riddle. Henry was a stern man. He had a prickly, bushy beard, making him look older than his years. His eyes, brown as raisins, bore into Jack, pinioning him to the spot. Henry Lambeth was not one to rant and rave. He made his displeasure felt using few words. His demeanor said it all.
    Jack was about to answer but shut his mouth again. He had a nasty habit of being flippant when he was in trouble. It was crazy but his tongue had a mind if its own when he felt silly.
    â€œYes. You know. Damned fool,” Henry repeated. “Get dried up. Bob is doing your work so I could look for you. He’s been on duty all day. He doesn’t need extra.”
    â€œYes, Dad,” whispered Jack. Words were getting in the way. They felt hard to say. Still with head lowered and a brief look into his father’s concerned eyes, he hurried off to the house to find his spare set of clothes.

CHAPTER 3
    B ob was more verbose than Henry Lambeth when Jack raced up the lighthouse steps, dry and warmer.
    â€œWhere the hell have you been? Thought you’d feed a few Noah’s Arks did you?” he said using rhyming slang. He meant sharks as Jack well knew.
    â€œForgot the time. Bill has a new billy cart.”
    â€œYeah, well it’s Bill’s cart not yours. Should be home on time. Storm brewing.” Jack looked out to sea with one eyebrow raised. There were a few wisps of cloud floating innocently in the fading blue sky and that was all.
    â€œYeah?” he said.
    â€œYeah. Really. Look at the barometer. The sky tells you nothing. O’ cause, you wouldn’t know that. You have to be here to read the blamed thing.”
    That was the truth. Storms materialized out of nowhere in summer. Trawlers from Guthrie’s Bay were out fishing. They went by the tides, not the clock. A good day was when you left in the morning and came home late in the afternoon. Some days, though, the tides meant they left at midday or later and came back to harbor after dark. There were deep channels through the heads. But there were sandbanks in the middle of the harbor, covered in deeper water at high tide and the channels around them flowed swiftly with the surge of the incoming tide.
    It was a grand sight to watch the laden vessels plowing the waves, headed for home. The lighthouse needed to be sending its signal, warning of the rocks and reefs buried beneath the waves. Most of the time those experienced sailors arrived home safely. Bad weather prevented boats going out at all. Sometimes, though, a storm would arrive unannounced, catching the fishermen off guard. There were enough rotting boats under the water from storms like that.
    â€˜Well. I’m here now. Wouldn’t it be better if I got on with it instead of standing here being yelled at?” Jack was getting testy. He’d got the message. How many more words did they think he needed to believe them?
    â€œKeep a civil tongue in your head, young ’arry. There’s no call for cheek.” There was no malice to Bob but he did like to sound superior.
    Jack chose to hold his tongue. Instead, he set to his tasks. Dark came at about eight o’clock in summer. In the short time of light left he was kept busy, free of Bob, who left him to go have his dinner. No matter what he could think of to say about Bob, he had to admit he was good at his job. The glass of the windows shone letting the flashing signal out across the sea. Try as Jack could, he made a mess of cleaning glass. It smeared in spite of his efforts and he had to rub like mad to make them gleam. Bob made it look effortless. They were lucky to have him. There weren’t many takers for the job in most lighthouses. The hours were demanding and it was a lonely, desolate existence, especially in winter. They needed someone who knew what he was