The Lighthouse Keeper

For forty years, Mr. Bernard lived alone in the lighthouse at the end of the island. Every evening he climbed the one hundred and twelve steps to turn on the light.

The lighthouse was automatic now, and the town wanted to close it. “Machines don't need a keeper,” they told him. Tomorrow would be his last day.

That night, a terrible storm came in from the sea. The wind screamed against the windows, and the waves were taller than houses.

Suddenly, all the lights on the island went out. The electricity was cut, and the automatic lamp at the top of the lighthouse went dark too.

Through the rain, Mr. Bernard saw the lights of a small fishing boat. It was heading straight for the rocks.

He ran to the old cupboard and took out the oil lamp he had kept for forty years. With shaking hands, he climbed the stairs one more time and lit it.

The great lens turned around the small flame, and a beam of light crossed the storm. The boat changed direction and found its way to the port.

In the morning, the fishermen came to thank him, and the mayor came too. The lighthouse was not closed. And Mr. Bernard still climbs the stairs every evening.