The lighthouse was a tall concrete finger, painted dazzling white with broad red rings around it. It stood on the top of a rock palisade which rose steeply from the beach. Steel stairs spiraled upward on the outside, leading to the strong glass-enclosed electric eye at the top. Eddie and Teena paused on the beach below and looked up. Crude steps hewn out of the rocks led up to the lighthouse. “I’ll carry the lunch,” Eddie volunteered. “And be careful. The sea spray can make those steps slippery.” They took their time getting to the top. Sandy went ahead, sniffing in every crevice on the way. “Phew!” Teena gasped as they reached the base of the lighthouse. “There seem to be more steps every time we climb it.” Eddie smiled and shifted the lunch sack to his other hand. “You’re getting old, Teena,” he teased. “Welcome aboard, mates,” a deep, kindly voice spoke from nearby. They turned and saw Captain Daniels standing outside the door of his living quarters, a tiny three-room cottage located about fifty feet from the base of the lighthouse. “Oh, hello, Captain Daniels,” Teena called. “Sure glad you’re home.” “Home?” the former sea captain said, smiling. “A lightkeeper is always home.” In Eddie’s opinion, Captain Daniels looked exactly like an old ship’s captain or a lightkeeper should look. He wore a fringe of white beard which formed a half-circle, starting under one ear and curving across his chin and up the other side. His bushy white hair fairly exploded from beneath the battered dark-blue seaman’s cap which he wore even while eating. Eddie sometimes wondered if Captain Daniels wore the cap to bed. The old mariner also had sharp blue eyes. Eddie pictured all stout seamen as having sharp blue eyes. “We brought a little lunch with us, Captain Daniels,” Teena said. “Hope you haven’t eaten already.” A twinkle came into Cap’s eyes. “I might have,” he said, “but I reckon I better confess that I saw you through my telescope coming up the beach. Thought I’d better hold off on lunch—just in case.” “Can we eat outside?” Teena asked. “The lawn’s nice and dry,” Cap said. “Let’s make it a picnic,” Eddie suggested. “Good idea, mate,” the retired seafarer said. Captain Daniels took great pride in his small patch of grass. It seemed to grow right out of the rock on which the lighthouse stood. However, Captain Daniels had hauled in topsoil from miles away and spread it carefully to make the lawn. He tended it, and the flower beds which bordered it, with an affection that seemed strangely out of place for a swashbuckling ship’s captain who had roamed the seven seas. The three of them sat down on the lawn. Teena passed around the sandwiches, opened the potato chips, and unwrapped the pickles and olives.