The Lighthouse Keeper

Old Ben used to live alone in a lighthouse on the coast of Nova Scotia, in Canada. The lighthouse was white and red, and it stood on a rock at the end of a small island. There were no shops, no neighbors and no cars. There were only the sea, the wind and the birds.

Every day was the same. First, Ben climbed the one hundred and twelve steps to the top and cleaned the big lamp. Then he came down and had breakfast: tea, bread and an egg. After that, he wrote in his notebook: the weather, the wind, and the names of the ships that passed. Finally, in the evening, he turned on the light and watched the sea until midnight.

Ben didn't use to feel lonely. "The ships were my friends," he said later. "I knew them all by their lights." Before going to bed, he always looked at the sea one last time. He used to say that the sea was never the same twice.

One night in November, there was a terrible storm. The wind was so strong that the windows were shaking. Ben was watching the sea when he saw a small light near the rocks. It was a fishing boat, and it was in trouble. The boat was going toward the rocks.

Ben didn't wait. He ran down the steps, took his little boat and went out into the storm. After fighting the waves for an hour, he reached the fishing boat. There were two young men on it, cold and frightened. He brought them back to the lighthouse and gave them tea and dry clothes.

Today the lighthouse is automatic, and Ben lives in a small house in Halifax. But every November, two men come to visit him. They bring fish, and they stay for dinner. Ben still writes in his notebook. The last line says: "Wind from the north. Good friends."