were strongest, and when the foam and the spray had completely covered
the lighthouse windows, I, Alick Fergusson, was born.

I was born on a strange day, and I was born into a strange home. The
lighthouse stood on an island, four miles distant from any land. The
island was not very large; if you stood in the middle of it, you could
see the sea all round you--that sea which was sometimes so blue and
peaceful, and at other times was as black as ink, and roaring and
thundering on the rocky shores of the little island. At one side of the
island, on a steep rock overhanging the sea, stood the lighthouse. Night
by night as soon as it began to grow dark the lighthouse lamps were
lighted.

I can remember how I used to admire those lights as a child. I would sit
for hours watching them revolve and change in colour. First, there was a
white light, then a blue one, then a red one, then a green one--then a
white one again. And, as the ships went by, they always kept a look-out
for our friendly lights, and avoided the rocks of which they warned
them.

My grandfather, old Sandy Fergusson, was one of the lighthouse men,
whose duty it was always to keep these lamps in order and to light them
every night. He was a clever, active old man, and did his work well and
cheerfully. His great desire was to be able to hold on at his post till
I should be able to take his place.

At the time when my story begins I was nearly twelve years old, and
daily growing taller and stronger. My grandfather was very proud of me,
and said I should soon be a young man, and then he should get me
appointed in his place to look after the lighthouse.