The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse

by Jack Dey

  “You are supposed to say, over, sir, when you have finished your transmission. Can you please switch to channel 58, sir?... Over.”

  Neddy had listened with amusement to the radio call and decided to respond to Katie before she gave every radio user on earth a piece of her mind. Mario switched his set to channel 58 and nodded back to Neddy.

  “Mr Parduck calling Katie... over.”

  Katie seemed pleased that Mr Parduck had responded and changed to channel 58. “We have the new radio installed, sir, and it appears to work fine. How is the barge parking going?... Oh... over.”

  “Wonderful, now we have contact with the office. The barge mooring has been a bit touch and go and it is not properly in place yet. Over.”

  Katie continued to explain the decisions they’d made to enquirers while he and Desapo were absent. Neddy was amazed at the good sense the two ladies made as a team and he affirmed their efforts. Once their business had concluded, Neddy smirked contentedly to himself and handed the handset back to Mario.

  Neddy found Desapo on the forward deck, biting his fingernails as attempt after attempt to lower the legs onto the passage walls and lift the platform just above the waterline, thus protecting the hull, failed. The tide had turned and was falling rapidly, leaving the barge floating only a few feet above the jagged rocky wall. Even though it had a triple bottom, the weight onboard the barge, combined with the severe walls of the passage, were a lethal partnership, sharp enough to tear it open if the legs weren’t in place by the time the tide had reached its lowest point. However, the tugs were struggling to hold the barge steady in place with the force of the falling tide and Black Dean’s ever present roar appeared to focus on the intrusion of the massive platform, seemingly angry at the attempts to place the barge on the wall above and to one side of its gaping mouth.

  A deckhand working on the platform finally raised his arm above his head with his thumb up in the air, the signal to power down the massive supports. Four straining engines powering the legs burst quickly to life, groaning under the stress until the barge lifted clear and levelled a few feet above the rocky wall. Desapo’s shoulders slumped under the stress. At last, the platform was in place.

  As the tide drained the remaining water from under the colossal platform, the top of the ferocious rocky barrier was completely exposed. The barge legs were squarely in place over the passage walls and the hull was hanging off the four mechanical limbs, with its underside in full view from the tug deck. A three foot gap existed between the hull and the rock, but the big test would come when the goliath crane at the rear of the platform swung around, ensuring the platform’s final stability and workability.

  The appearance of an official looking craft distracted Desapo and with the aid of binoculars, he recognised Draper’s rotund figure holding onto the vessel’s deck railing and peering over at the work platform. Draper had arrived to give the official nod, approve the platform’s safety and sign off on the work permit, but as the platform’s crane engine burst into life, Desapo worried about the final formal test.

  Draper had to witness the barge’s stability firsthand while the enormous crane swung through a complete circular circuit, without disturbing the work platform’s precarious position perched on the Barrett Passage wall. Even the slightest movement would condemn the project from an official standpoint. Holding his breath, Desapo heard the engine of the crane burst into life and then complete a 360 degree rotation on its cradle. The barge legs were rigid and didn’t move and everything seemed secure, leaving Desapo’s pent up breath exhaling a loud sigh of relief. When he saw Draper smile and give him the thumbs up from the deck of his vessel, Desapo eagerly waved back, knowing the equipment positioning on the flat deck of the barge was critical to its balance. The crane, at the stern, could easily reach anywhere over the construction site and into the depths of Black Dean, if need be.

  With a man cage attached to its towering boom cables, the crane jib swung over the side of the barge and lowered to the waterline next to Mario’s boat, inviting Desapo and Neddy to come aboard. The swell was calm and entering the cage would be easy. Climbing into the protective lift and giving the crane operator—ten storeys above the platform—the thumbs up, the heavy cable began to reel in and lifted the brothers clear of Mario’s deck.

  Arriving onboard, the brothers inspected the work area layout, noticing the barge had been expertly balanced for a long sea journey and its ultimate positioning above Black Dean. There were neat stacks of heavy, square cut granite blocks situated in the centre of the barge; a toolshed/workshop and a small kitchen on the port side; a small caretaker hut on the starboard side which gave a clear view of every part of the deck; and a generator shed sat positioned on the bow and away from the work area, limiting the noise from its engines.

  Desapo marvelled at the unbelievable sight and conceded his brother had saved the day with his ingenious plan, but as the tide began to run in again, Black Dean seemed more agitated than usual, screaming like an injured banshee and sending a chilling shiver up Desapo’s back.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 55

  The Lightning Harbour Hotel diner resounded with juvenile antics and boyish laughter as the stonemason’s crew were reunited with their boss; and to have Neddy present was a greater reason for celebration. The noise was deafening, with suspect stories circulating among the group until Tess and Katie walked in and the room fell deathly silent. The sight of two attractive ladies amongst the crew was an unusual event and was treated with extreme awe and uncertainty. But like a group of prowling hyenas huddled together for safety, Desapo waited for the two women’s attention to wane and then shot his crew a warning, holding his finger to his lips and shaking his head. He’d already warned them about calling him boss while the ladies were present, but somehow he knew they wouldn’t be able to keep up the ruse for long.

  “Ladies, may I present my stone cutting crew,” Neddy announced.

  A look of confusion flashed over the stonemasons’ features with Neddy calling Desapo’s team his crew. Then the penny dropped and the men began to speak all at once, hoping to impress and capture at least some part of a pretty glance, until Neddy held up his hands for quiet and turned to face Katie and Tess.

  “So you’ll know who’s who, I’ll introduce them one at time. Starting with the eldest,” Neddy pointed, then recited their names, “Jock, Chiseller, Backache, Motor Mouth, Greer... and Mouse is on the barge as watchman.” Hoping to appeal to their manners, Neddy’s gruff expression threatened and demanded restraint and respect, “Gentlemen, this is Katie and Tess... our office managers.”

  As if a group of boys were eyeing a highly decorated birthday cake, the men disintegrated into salivating drools until the room erupted with each one trying to talk over the other and impress with their tone and volume.

  *~*~*~*

  A slight wind had kicked up over the work barge’s expansive floor, chasing stone dust from the granite mountains stacked in the centre of the massive steel deck and spilling into the rising sea. Mouse sheltered his eyes from the swirling dust with his hand and squinted into the setting sun across from the granite stacks. The final streaks of the day coloured the sky a bright orange and then slowly deepened into a ball of red, filling the horizon in an apocalyptic canvas of colour. A purple hue hugged the horizon and quickly engulfed the darkening theatre like some giant hand rolling up a blanket. When sunset eventually faded into evening, the stars appeared, a few at first and then a immense explosion of pointed light filled every direction. Awestruck, Mouse followed a storm of streaking meteors detonating across the heavens and burning up in a display that made him feel insignificant and intensified the fact... he was very much alone.

  The wind suddenly dropped, amplifying the sound of lapping water around the massive legs and as Mouse listened to the thickening night, he held his breath as an unexpected s-c-r-e-e-c-h stole across the deck and tore open the calm.

  Flinching sharply under the unanticipated assa
ult and almost blinded by the dark to any threat, Mouse anxiously searched the surrounds, wide eyed and straining, hunting for an explanation until his nervous gaze settled on the crane’s imposing silhouette. The gargantuan outline, backlit by millions of stars, hung over the aft deck like two giant muscle bound arms about to pounce, encasing the lone figure in a brutal and overpowering battle for sanity. With his heart hammering and suspecting the heavy platform had settled a stress point in its precarious feet, Mouse chided himself for being a coward. But as he scanned the stretching silhouetted deck, he couldn’t shake off the feeling something beyond the realms of reality was watching his every move, lurking just outside of his understanding.

  When another unexpected and explosive C-R-A-C-K shuddered through the night and trembled through his feet, Mouse lost all courage and made a panicked dash from the open deck in a quest for the safety of a nearby structure. Carelessly scurrying over the shadowy floor, Mouse stumbled repeatedly until eventually, he pulled open a heavy metal door and entered, leaving it held ajar by a rickety catch and using the dim starlight to feel his way around inside.

  Recognising the crew kitchen, Mouse tried to imagine the familiar faces and the constant banter of his companions in an effort for comfort and an escape from the numbing fear and the increasing sense of being alone. Groping around the dark kitchen wall in a deliberate search, Mouse’s hand finally brushed against a gas lantern and with relieved but trembling fingers, he twisted the gas supply valve to the on position. Fumbling with the igniter and frantically pushing the valve inwards to operate the flint, the responding clacking noise sounded like a freight train rumble in the silent atmosphere, alerting anyone to his whereabouts.

  When the flint responded and ignited the gas, delightful friendly light spilled throughout the dusty room and although the illumination was welcome, the night was so deep he couldn’t see beyond the glow of the hissing gas lamp’s rim and whatever lay beyond that, the obscurity hid in its secret places.

  Buoyed by the light and bowing to his body’s need for food, Mouse glanced at a pantry locker standing to one side of an industrial sized stove. Grasping the metal door handle in a search for sustenance, the lock gave way with a metallic creak and when it opened, a shelf of tinned provisions met his gaze. Taking his choice of fare and locating a drawer of utensils, Mouse selected a primitive tin opener. Removing the tin lid, he emptied the contents into a pot and placed it over a burner, then lit one element. A hissing blue flame and the heat it generated accompanied the skinny loner and settled his mind while he waited for the makeshift meal to heat through.

  A sudden gust of wind blew a cloud of dirt into the kitchen and stirred the dusty floor, teasing the gas flame and as it flickered violently, the flurry threatened to extinguish both his light and his cooktop. However, the burst disappeared as quickly as it came and the light settled again, but his meal had succumbed to the wind's teasing and left it with a grimy covering. Clenching his teeth, Mouse crunched unwelcome dirt between molars just as a stinging feeling attacked his eye and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the dust from his tear ducts.

  Inside the kitchen, the light was attracting insects even though they were miles from land. He reached out into the night and released the door catch, sealing the door against the wind and the marauding hordes, then placed his gritty meal onto a wooden table which occupied the rear of the kitchen and sat down to eat in peace. Staring into the darkness through a small window, a chilling thought washed across his mind that he hadn’t even considered in the daylight hours.

  If something happened to him out here, he would be on his own.

  Hurrying to finish his meal, Mouse chased away the invading thought and chided himself... Come on, Mouse, keep it together.

  The long days on the ocean had worn Mouse out, with the sea air making him feel sleepy and his bunk in the caretaker's hut was calling. He’d made up his bed before sundown and all he had to do now was fall into it. The trip from the kitchen on the port side to the caretaker's hut on the starboard side was about one hundred feet, but his room was indistinguishable in the pitch black beyond the galley light. Deciding to leave the gas lamp going in the cookhouse while he crossed the sinister expanse to the hut and light the lamp in his room, he would then return to extinguish the light in the kitchen. Testing each step as he ventured further into the bleak unknown, Mouse felt his way across the deck and as he got closer to his room, he could hear a sound like a raging waterfall just over the featureless place where the side of the barge should be. The obscurity was so deep he could almost feel it, and as he got closer to his room, goose bumps were forming on his skin and a deep sense of fear swept over him.

  When an unexpected and deafening h-o-w-l erupted from Black Dean, followed by the sound of thundering water, he lunged for the hut door, cracking his knuckles on the door knob. Anaesthetised by fright, Mouse’s injury hadn’t even registered until he pulled open the door, felt for the gas light and once he’d located the bulge, he fingered the gas valve and switched it on. Then pumping the flint frantically, it clicked several times before the room eventually burst into light, turning the feverish unknown into a mind-numbing known. With the light escaping the room, positioned only a few feet from the bleak edge of the deck and Black Dean’s howling trouble, the ghoulish monster fell playfully silent as if calculating a new tactic.

  Frozen with fear and standing by his door, Mouse tussled with returning to the kitchen in a bid to extinguish its light, studying the distance where a slim passage of light reflected across the deck and everywhere else was inky blackness. After a few sickening failed attempts, he finally pushed his feet out of the hut and quickly covered the distance to the kitchen, throwing himself at the light, twisting the gas valve to off and plunging the kitchen into a total absence of light. Slamming the kitchen door, he ran for the protection of his room. Tripping on a raised section of the deck but quickly stumbling back to his feet, he could hear something raging over the side of the barge, turning angrier and thundering as if it was tearing at its restraints.

  Mouse launched into the room and slammed the door closed, frantically searching for the lock, but found the deadbolt had no latch and the door couldn’t be locked against whatever was lurking outside... something in the darkness was hunting him and it wasn’t happy. Cowering in the corner of the hut with his back pushed hard against the far wall, the terror exploded into new degree of mania when the whole barge began to vibrate severely, threatening to collapse into a watery grave. Mouse could hear something being dragged over the deck and then eerie tortured moans like people perishing, forcing his head to swim in panic.

  Without warning and among a torturous howl, the door burst open violently, slamming into the room’s wall with such force the ground shook and the gas lamp extinguished, prompting a raspy scream to rise in Mouse’s throat. In utter darkness, something was creeping over his body and wrapping around his mind until reason could take no more and sank desperately into unconsciousness.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 56

  Unimpressed with his new routine and striding towards the kitchen, Pierre muttered to himself in French interspersed with an occasional accentuated broken English phrase. Pushing open the kitchen door, reaching behind and onto the wall, the highly strung chef flicked on the kitchen lights and immediately, the darkened room flickered into light. Fitting his bulging frame into a chequered grey chef uniform, it seemed his work days were growing even longer, as last night Gustav had added yet another earlier breakfast shift to feed a group of fastidious stone workers. Pierre glanced up at the clock on the wall with a groan and at 4 am he would normally be still asleep, however, the early starters had to be fed and out of the diner by 5:30 am to catch a boat out to the Barrett Passage. Then Pierre could clean up and settle into his normal routine by 6:30 am, preparing to feed the more deserving hotel guests at a more conducive hour. According to Gustav, this new arrangement would be permanent for the near future at least and to add insult to injury, his
fine talents had been reduced to cooking bacon and eggs. Obviously this group were of uneducated stock and his culinary expertise was wasted on such juvenile taste buds.

  Next, they would be requesting steak and chips for dinner.

  *~*~*~*

  Although the crew were used to early starts, the new routine was met by bleary eyes and tired, grumpy groans as they entered the diner to settle in for breakfast. The ten days on a dipping and weaving tug, and the constant hum of straining tug engines had rocked them to sleep, and now a quiet and unmoving hotel bed was proving a difficult readjustment.

  Neddy strolled into the diner, but his attire indicated he had come from outside the hotel, drawing a quizzical glance from his brother. “Took a walk down to the tug just to make sure they’d loaded the supplies overnight and everyone was ready for the first morning,” Neddy explained, drawing on experience how easily things went wrong on the first morning of a new project.

  Desapo nodded and pointed to a seat, and then at a huge pile of bacon and eggs steaming away inside a bain-marie.

  Neddy’s eyes firmly focused on the mountain of food being pounced on by his hungry workers. “At last, some real food!” Neddy declared, grabbing a plate from a nearby table and elbowing his way to the front of the queue.

  While the crew settled in for a long and lethargic breakfast, Desapo had other ideas and cracked the whip, forcing the men to swallow their food in haste and out the door to meet the waiting tug. Neddy had already left to finalise arrangements with the workboat, while Desapo and his crew walked down the dark street toward the dock. The noise the group were making sounded like a circus had erupted in the quiet main street while they excitedly joked and chattered to Desapo and about the challenges of the new lighthouse construction.

  As the group walked past the shopfront, Backache and Motor Mouth stopped to check out the inside of the office, leaning against the glass and shielding their eyes from outside interference and dispersing any reflections with their hands.