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THE FALSE LIGHT OF ROSILLY
by
Harriet Childe-Pemberton
A surging sea and a starless night,
and a vessel homeward bound
in sight,
And a raging gale that blew good luck
to the Rosilly smuggling crew.
For always up on the farthest height
a pile was made for the beacon-light,
The false red light that seemed to say
it was safe to harbour in
Rosilly Bay.
Where the treacherous waters roll and flow,
and tell no tale of
the rocks below.
The wind is high and the tide is in,
and a merchant ship is a prize
to win.
And a cargo washed on our shingly shore
will bring us riches a six
months more,
So who will go to the farthest height
to kindle the false red beacon
light.
And a laugh went up from that motley group
of women and men - a
lawless troup
With clamourous tongues and gleaming eyes,
and greedy hands for
the coming prize.
But one of them mutely stood and heard,
and never a thrill in her
breast was stirred
She had nothing to hope and nothing to win
from the smuggler’s lawless
life of sin.
They had picked her out of the sea one night
when a vessel was wrecked
by the false red light
And for months and years they had kept her there
to do their bidding
and take no share.
So they bade her now with one acclaim;
“Go up and kindle the lying
flame.”
She went at the word of that lawless band,
she plucked from the
hearth a burning brand
She left the cavern and crossed the creek
and challenged the night
wind rough and bleak
She scaled the rocks and she climbed the hill,
to kindle the flame
at her master’s will.
To lure a ship to its certain doom,
and a score of lives to a secret
tomb
She felt no pity, nor shame, nor dread,
nor trembled to think of
the life she led
And the ships went by and the ships came in,
and what did he know,
poor child, of the sin?
She was one of the Rosilly smuggling crew,
and the thing they ordered
she needs must do.
A surging sea and a starless night,
but she carried the brand to
the farthest height
A headland of turf where the pile was laid,
when all of a sudden
her hand was stayed.
By a voice - a whisper - she knew not what,
that said in her heart,
“Nay, do it not.”
Oh, can we tell how the doubt arose,
the thing she would do was
sin?
If an angel stood at her side, who knows,
to whisper the thought
within!
It was little she knew of love and truth,
and nothing of Christian
creeds
And what had she ever heard forsooth
to hinder from evil deeds?
The law was against them she had been taught,
and the law could
make you swing,
But cunning people need not be caught -
and that was the only thing.
But once in her life it chanced she strolled
to a chapel, and paused
to hear
And lingering awhile, entranced, controlled,
in wonder and doubt
and fear.
For the preacher discoursed of right and wrong,
and of deeds that
era base or true,
Till she shuddered to think that she dare belong
to a Rosilly smuggling
crew.
And here on the wild and windy night,
with the brand to kindle the
false red light
She paused and trembled, for now she knew
‘twas a deed of sin she
had come to do.
Oh, pity her there on the high hillside,
so little to help her,
so little to guide
So feeble a light to make things clear,
so little to hope and so
much to fear,
For if she returned to the Rosilly men,
and the shop rode safe on
the sea, what then?
Her life was nought to that smuggling crew
if the thing they ordered
she failed to do.
“I dare not kindle the false red light,”
she cried aloud to the
starless night.
“But what is this fear that bids me stand,
that makes me shudder
and hold my hand
From a deed of death I have dared before?
Nay, where is the evil
in one time m ore?
The vessel will never take heed, maybe,
it will stand on its course
to the open sea.
And then if it should, is it matter of mine?
I only am here to deliver
a sign.
It is not for me that they launch the boats
and steal in the dark
where the wreckage floats
It is not for me that they drag the net
for deeper treasures there
may be yet
It is not for me that the corpses lie
on the shingle and sand when
the rocks are dry.
The gold and silver, the kegs of wine,
the bales of goods, they
are theirs, not mine!
If to kindle the false red light be sin,
God knows, I have nothing
to keep or win.
No matter of mine? But how will it be
when the shattered vessel
has sunk in the sea,
And over the water and up the creek
there cometh a desolate, drowning
shriek?
No matter of mine? But will it be use
to sooth myself with a false
excuse.
When the gaze of the dead men meets my own,
and I dread lest the
gaping lips should moan,
As I touch the limbs and the clammy hair
of the corpses stretched
on the shore down there?
And, oh, the horror to hear in dreams,
the widow’s wail and the
mother’s screams.
The night is dark, and I cannot see.
Has the vessel passed to the
open sea?
Oh, sailors watching! You curse the night,
you cry aloud for a ray
of light.
‘A ray of light and our ship would live’.
Nay, better have none
than the light I give.
You’re best in the dark if you only knew,
and sailors, I’ve given
my life for you.
Tomorrow at dark, I shall find my grave
unwept, in the Rosilly’s
smuggler’s cave.
For they warned me once, but they won’t again,
they keep their word,
do the Rosilly men.
Well, let them do it! ‘Tis better so,
than corpses stretched on
the shore, I know,
‘Tis better I die, if so it be,
than twenty sink in the hungry sea.
And something rings in my head this night
which says, though I cannot
remember quite,
‘How he who to save his life has sought
shall reckon his trouble
vain,
But he who has counted his life for nought
shall find it for ever
again.’
A strange, new saying! I know not how
it cometh so clear to my memory
now,
And I cannot tell what the meaning be,
yet feel in my heart it is
meant for me.
A message that saith to my soul, “Be strong;
the false red light
is a deadly wrong.’
And the vessel shall weather the storm as it may,
but it shall not
sink in the Rosilly Bay.
She gave one sweep with her arm on high,
and the brand flashed out
in the midnight sky.
Like a falling star or a fleeting spark,
then dropped as a dead
thing into the dark.
The sun went up over Rosilly bay, and the wind blew soft,
In the sails aloft, of a ship that was riding safe and free.
The sun went down over Rosilly Bay - and a dying shriek
Was heard in the creek, as a life was flung to the hungry sea. |
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