The sun shone on Ann’s face. She rolled over in bed and pulled the thick red and blue quilt to her chin. Then she remembered. The ghost! Last night, after she’d made her way back from the lighthouse to the Keeper’s house, Ann had seen a ghostly figure cross the pathway. It was the second time she’d seen the woman walking from the keeper’s house to the lighthouse. Ann threw off the quilt and slipped into her long skirt. She buttoned her white blouse and laced her boots. Had Father seen the ghost too?
Ann hurried down the hallway and into the kitchen. Father sat at the wood table drinking coffee. In the early morning light, Ann could see the circles under Father’s eyes.
"Did you see it?" she asked. "Did you see the ghost?
Father set down his cup. He stared hard at Ann. "There is no ghost in the lighthouse." He rubbed his unshaven face. "But there is a matter of urgency in town that I must attend to. I’ll not likely return this evening."
Ann peered through the wavy glass windows of the keeper’s home. The waters of Admiralty Inlet crashed against the rocks. Father had been the keeper at the Point Wilson Lighthouse for only a few months. In the evening, Ann liked to follow Father across the grassy yard and into the lighthouse. Ann knew that tending the light was very important. The ships depended on the small beacon to guide their way through the Inlet.
"Who will keep the light?" Ann asked Father. Ever since Mother had died two years ago, it was just Ann and Father. Sometimes, Aunt Charlotte came from Seattle to visit. Aunt Charlotte always caused Ann to laugh and smile. She told joyful tales of life in Seattle. Ann knew that Aunt Charlotte would not be able to visit on such short notice.
Father leaned over and brushed Ann’s forehead with a light kiss. "You will be fine."
"But what about the…" Ann stopped. Father did not believe in ghosts. Ann bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to keep the light with a ghost in the lighthouse. But Ann knew a lighthouse must never go untended. Father had taught her how to light the Fourth Order Fresnel Lens. The light flashed every twenty seconds. It was kept on by an oil lamp which burned three gallons of oil a night. The lamp had to be tended and so did the fog horn which needed coal to keep it working.
"I’m counting on you." Father lifted Ann’s chin.
Ann tried to hold her chin high. "I can do it."
After Father left, Ann tied an apron around her small waist. She quickly rolled out the bread dough and tended to the kitchen fire. "No sense worrying," Ann told herself. "It is hours before dark." Ann loved to make up stories and a new one danced in her head. Soon she found herself lost in a story world of pretty ball gowns and petticoats. By noon, the fog had lifted and the warm sun shone on her back as Ann collected mussels. At three o’clock, Ann settled into the rocking chair by the fire with her mathematics book. She tried to concentrate on her lessons knowing that Father would be upset if she did not show some progress. But her mind kept drifting to the ghost, and the numbers added incorrectly.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, Ann’s stomach churned. At dusk, Ann knew the lamp and brass needed to be polished, the wicks needed to be trimmed, and the lamp needed to be lit.
Ann wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, gathered the mending basket, and picked up the lantern. She took a deep breath and walked toward the lighthouse. Would she see the ghost? Would the ghost hurt her? Ann’s heart pounded as she climbed the winding steel staircase inside the lighthouse. She counted each small step.
After lighting the lamp, Ann climbed down the stairs. There was a small area below the spiral staircase where the Keeper could stay warm and comfortable during the long nights of tending to the light. Ann set a tea kettle on the wood stove, thinking about how she usually enjoyed this time with Father. Tonight, however, a movement in the shadows caused Ann to catch her breath. "Hello!" Ann called out. "Hello!"
Nobody responded.
Ann’s heart pounded. "It was just my own shadow," she told herself.
Ann sorted through the mending before selecting one of Father’s socks. Carefully, Ann threaded her needle and started to sew. Each creak and groan made Ann shiver and turn. Trying not to worry, Ann started a new story in her head. A story would stop her from worrying about the ghost.
"One day," she began softly. "A young girl lived in a very busy city called Seattle." Ann mended socks as she whispered the story to herself. Soon, she found herself being lulled by the soft sounds of the lighthouse lamp as it rotated, the humming tea kettle on the stove, and the rhythmic routine of her fingers nimbly darning socks.
"Whooooo..." the noise jolted Ann from her chair.
"Whoooo..."
Ann shuddered. She’d never heard such a terrible sound in her life.
Determined to be brave, Ann called out. "Who is there?"
"Whooo..." A voice said.
"What do you want?" Ann shuddered. Suddenly it was very cold, and there was a terrible feeling of sadness in the air. The same feeling of heavy sadness she had felt when Mother had died.
"My daughters." The woman emerged from the shadows. The ghost’s dark hair had pulled loose from its hairpins. Her long skirt trailed on the floor, wrinkled and worn. The woman looked as if she was fleeing from someone. "Please," The woman begged. "Save my daughters."
"Who are you?"
"Lucy." The woman breathed as she floated beside Ann. "Lucy Washburn. My daughters are on the ship. The one that is sinking."
"There’s no ship..." Ann stopped and stared at Lucy. "The Governor," Ann breathed. Ann knew the story well. Father had told it to her many times. The Governor had been on a routine sailing from San Francisco to Seattle. She was carrying 240 passengers and crew members. But when the ship had rounded the corner at Port Townsend, the West Hartland had rammed into her. The Washburn room had been sliced in half.
The girls, Sadie and Olene, had been trapped inside.
Lucy herself had been rescued, but she had been so distraught over her daughters that she had pushed past her rescuers to try to save the girls. All of them had gone down with the ship.
Ann mused to herself. Was there a way to help Lucy? What if she told Lucy a story? What if it was a story about a ship that sunk and a mother who did not die but instead rescued her two daughters?
"One day," Ann began. "There was a ship."
"The Governor," Lucy insisted.
"Yes," Ann said, and smiled at Lucy. "The Governor."
Together, Ann and Lucy told the story of the Governor. Lucy added details about the ship’s silver and china. She told about men wearing gold pocket watches and ladies wearing diamond rings. All of which had sunk with the ship.
As she neared the end of the tale, Ann paused. She looked at the frazzled ghostly woman beside her, and then gathering her courage, said firmly, "Lucy saved her daughters. She went back to the ship and she rescued them."
Ann set down her mending. "Lucy?"
There was no answer.
Seeing the morning light already streaming through the windows, Ann made her way back up the spiral staircase to extinguish the lamp. As she reached the top, Ann stared at the water. She thought about the ship deep below. Ann smiled as she thought of Lucy with her daughters. She knew they were all now resting peacefully.
Below the lighthouse, Ann spotted Father. She raced down the steel steps, gathered her mending, made sure the stove was out, and ran toward the road.
"Father!" Ann called.
"You kept the light burning," Father said as the buggy stopped in front of their gate. "I saw the light from town."
Ann beamed with pride. "Yes," she said. "I kept the light burning."
Author’s Note:
Would Ann have really seen a ghost in the Point Wilson Lighthouse? Coast Guard watchmen and their families have reported seeing the glowing apparition of a woman in a gown at the Point Wilson Lighthouse. Many say the ghost is Lucy Washburn, who along with her two daughters and husband was a passenger on the Governor. On April 1, 1921, the ship ran into the West Hartland. Eight people were lost in the wreck—three of whom were Lucy and her two daughters Sadie (age 8) and Olene (age 10). There have been various attempts to recover the ship’s valuables, including its safe which is rumored to have large pieces of gold in it. No one has been successful in finding the safe, and the Governor is still located 240-feet under the waters surrounding the Point Wilson Lighthouse.
Resources
Umbrella Guide to Washington Lighthouses. Sharlene and Ted Nelson. EZ Nature Books. San Luis Obispo, CA. 1990.
Children of the Lighthouse. Ila G. Lee. First Books, Indiana. 2003.
Women Who Kept the Lights: An Illustrated History of Female Lighthouse Keepers. Mary Louise Clifford and J. Candace Clifford. Cypress Communications. Virginia. 1993.
Ghost Stories from the Pacific Northwest. Margaret Read MacDonald. August House. 1995.