Extract from The Lighthouse Keeper's Wife by June O'Sullivan
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Loading... - Thomas Bourgeois
- 04 Feb 2025
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In 1867, Eliza Carthy moves with her lighthouse-keeper husband, James, and their sons, Peter and Joseph, to the remote island of Skellig Michael, off the coast of Kerry. Eliza is proud of her husband’s promotion to Principal Keeper and is eager to support him in his work while fulfilling her duties as a wife and mother. However, life in this inhospitable location proves to be a formidable challenge.
The boat grew silent as they neared the two islands. Now that they were closer, it felt to Eliza as though they had risen from the oceans to the heavens right before her eyes. Two dark triangles, less than a mile apart, grew in size, looming as the boat approached. The men chopped at the sea, bringing them past the Little Skellig, squat, with a cliff-face whitened by the guano of seabirds who made it their home and filled the sky overhead, circling and calling restlessly.
Skellig Michael beyond soared upwards, its twin pinnacles forming an impossible, otherworldly triangle of majestic rock, slate grey with splashes of green. It didn't look to Eliza like a place to live. There was very little grass to graze animals, no sign of any dwelling place, no flat area for her children to run about, only jagged rock and crashing surf. She struggled to keep her mind steady above the cacophony of the waves and the birds. The dullness of the day lifted as the clouds separated, and fingers of light splayed down right onto the rock, daring Eliza to avert her gaze. The sight of it awed and terrified her. This was to be her new home? She did not feel equal to it.
The oarsmen worked in harmony to bring the two small crafts as near as possible to the landing at Blind Man’s Cove. The waves sucked at the cliffside, and Eliza felt that they were being pulled towards the island and repelled in the same motion. The boat tilted and jerked as James leaped ashore. He took Peter from Eliza and motioned for her to come next. Her foot slipped on the wet rim, causing her to stumble hard onto the landing, missing James’ outstretched hand. She righted herself, her palms grazed and stinging hot, her knees liquid. Her hands shook as she took Peter, feeling as if the constant suck of the current was threatening to pull them under the boat. She gripped him tightly as Jeremiah put his strong hands under Joseph’s arms and hoisted him over the void and onto dry land. She grabbed him too, struggling to balance with the child in her arms and looking around for James to help. He was standing with his back to the boat, hands on his hips, head tilted back as far as it would go, gazing up at the towering rock overhead.
"Hold tight to those boys!" Jeremiah’s voice was nearly lost in the noise of the kittiwakes circling overhead, calling out their names in a plaintive song that echoed off the cliff walls, creating an inescapable whirlpool of noise.
Eliza gazed up from the narrow landing, but her eye met only rock, trimmed here and there by stone steps, then sky, broken by the dark fluttering wings of bird flight. The sight of the men in the larger boat starting to unload their provisions reminded her that in a few short hours these gently spoken, roughhewn men would row back the way they had come, leaving her and her small family alone on this rock, at the edge of the world. A shiver ran through her, and she pulled her shawl tighter. James hefted a bag onto one shoulder and looked at her with a broad smile.
"Come on! Let’s go see our new home."
Eliza attempted a smile as she hoisted Peter onto her hip. She gripped Joseph by the hand and followed James along the narrow road which skirted the eastern side of the island as far as the southernmost tip where the lighthouse stood. She was relieved to reach a section of the road where a high slate wall, capped by yellow sandstone flags, had been built as protection from the dark sea. There were names carved into the stones, and she knew from the AK and PK annotations that these had been inscribed by the principal and assistant keepers who had served here before. She wondered how they had fared.
They climbed upwards, the ocean a sheer drop down, and Eliza had to shake her head to erase Jeremiah’s warnings about the treacherous water. At least the lighthouse road felt secure; they were hemmed in by the wall to their left and the ragged cliff-face to the right. But there was another sensation that Eliza couldn’t ignore. This narrow road was funnelling them inevitably along, trapping them in. She had to fight a sudden urge to turn back when she came to a large, fallen rock taking up space in the middle of the road.
"James!" Eliza called out as she skirted around it.
"What is it?" He placed the bag on the ground.
"The road is too … and the rock …" She pointed at the offending object, feeling like a fool now as she tried to explain herself.
James followed her gaze, looking bewildered. "It’s just a rock, Eliza. You’d better get used to them. This island is one big rock." He spread his arms wide.
"Well, I’m trying to carry Peter and bring Joseph along too, and he’s dragging his feet."
Eliza tugged at Joseph, who blinked up at her in confusion, making her stomach dissolve. What was the matter with her? Why was she getting so irritated and blaming poor Joseph? James retraced his steps to join them and took the small boy’s hand in his own. "Sorry, Eliza. I was getting carried away with the excitement. You can walk up with Daddy, Joseph, and we’ll take our time. The Carthys will walk up to their new residence together."
Eliza allowed a smile to form. James was funny when he went over the top with pretend pomp. She vowed silently to keep a check on her foolish emotions and followed James and Joseph along the winding road.
They were truly alone. Sea to the left, rock to the right, and an endless sky overhead.
Then James stopped. "There she is!"
He grinned back at Eliza then turned again to gaze at the lighthouse before them. They still had a way to walk, but from this vantage point, they had a glimpse of the high white tower.
When they at last reached their destination, they rounded the lighthouse and emerged onto a long, narrow yard, edged by a wall and paved with more yellow sandstone flags. Alongside the lighthouse was a matching pair of white, two-storey, semi-detached dwellings, each with its own cast-iron porch. The buildings faced west, and beyond the wall was a steep, rocky drop to a wide cove.
