On a faraway part of the coast, on a high cliff, there stood a bright red lighthouse and by the light lived an old man named Liam. He was called the Lighthouse Keeper, because it was his duty to see that the light burned brightly all night to guide sailors on the sea.
Old Liam had only one little daughter named Molly. The old man loved her dearly, but he was often sad because he knew he could not keep her with him always. He thought, “When I am too old to climb the long stairs to the top of the lighthouse, who will take care of the bright light?” So he often told her what she must do, and he taught her to read and write, and to know all about ships and stars, and about the winds and the waves.
When the people in the fishermen’s village saw the bright beacon above the waves they felt sure that their fathers and husbands were safe at sea, while they slept on their pillows. The shining of the light showed them where to come safely as they sailed towards the land at night.
One evening, old Liam told Molly that he had some work to do high up, and he should stay away a long time. So Molly waited and looked up at the lighthouse, but the door did not open, and the light was not alight.
At last it began to rain a little, and dark clouds began to come over the sea. Then they thought that Liam had fallen asleep. It grew darker and darker, but still no light appeared, and the rain fell without stopping.
The village children all stood together looking out to sea. They picked up shells from the shore and threw them at the waves. Still it rained and it grew darker and darker, and at last is was so black that they could not see each other. It seemed to them as if all the rain that had ever fallen was now falling, and they stood shivering in a great fear.
When the Fishermen came back from the sea they stood around Molly, who was crying bitterly. Just then a big wave swept up the beach, then another, and then another, and before they could climb up on the high ground the big wave came so far up the beach, and although the moon was shining very brightly, it swept Molly right away.
When the Fishermen found out there was no chance of finding the child in the stormy night, they said, “Liam’s lighthouse must be lighted. We cannot work on the sea to-night without its guiding light.”
They all ran to the lighthouse, but it was locked.
“We haven’t time to go for the key,” said one; “break open the door.” No one liked to do it, but when they said, “What would poor little Molly do, if she were here?” each took off his hatchet and knocked at the door.
In a minute or two the door was broken in. It was all dark, and though the clouds had gone, there was not a star to be seen anywhere, only now and then a flash from the light-house showed their sad faces to each other.
One clambered up the stairs and threw open the shutters, but, oh dear! he could see no light to put in the lamp. Then five or six of the others ran over the hills to find what had become of old Liam.
At last they found him sitting with poor little Molly on his knee, both fast asleep. Then they lifted them up and brought them over the hill to the lighthouse, and soon the poor old man & Molly were awake, and the lamp was well filled with oil and shining brightly out across the water.
The fisherfolk cheered with delight to see the light once more shining in the sky, for it was no use trying to sail a boat without it. One sailor said, “Would not you give Molly some milk to drink, for I saw her slip into the water this evening.” But that was not true at all; but, however, they all gave her something to drink and eat.
When all the boats had come to shore, who do you think was there? Why there was Molly herself! “I am sorry I frightened you all,” said she; “but it was not true that some waves washed me away. I went fishing myself with Father, and Mother took my basket and myself up in the garden tree, while we watched Father fishing.”
But it was too shivering a story to be true, so her Father poured some oil on her, and they went to bed without any supper.
Now the lighthouse keeper was never afraid again that if he took care of himself and Molly, the lighthouse would take care of itself, and always Richard, the tayman, used to go and see that it did.
But the Fishermen say this is not quite true. Richard no longer pushes his barrow along the streets, but he has two fine big white boats now and always makes trips to the old Lighthouse.