Chapter 4 #2
She found Captain Henley sitting on a bench outside the tackle shop, a weathered man with bright blue eyes and hands that spoke of decades working with rope and nets. He wore a wool sweater despite the mild weather and a cap that had seen considerable wear.
“You must be Robert Morgan’s girl,” he announced, rising to shake her hand. “I can see the resemblance. Your father’s a good man—keeps that lighthouse running smooth.”
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Captain Henley. Mrs. Pennington mentioned you might remember stories about the lighthouse from when you were young.”
“Oh, I remember plenty. Grew up right here on the harbor. My father and grandfather both fished these waters.” He settled back onto the bench and patted the space beside him. “What exactly do you want to know?”
Lily leaned forward, ready to take notes.
“Captain Henley, I found something specific in the lighthouse records. In December 1923, the lighthouse authority transferred Keeper Thompson and brought in someone new. Right after Thompson had spent months documenting smuggling activity. Does that timing mean anything to you?”
The old man’s eyes sharpened. "Thompson. Now that's a name I haven't heard in decades." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My father knew Thompson. Said he was an honest man, maybe too honest for his own good."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, after Edmund Hawthorne died in that storm, they brought Thompson in as the new keeper.
But according to my father, Thompson kept reporting what he saw to the harbor master, the sheriff, anybody who'd listen.
Problem was, half those folks received payment to not listen, if you catch my meaning.
The Aldrich family had their fingers in a lot of pies back then. "
Lily scribbled notes as fast as she could write. "The Aldrich family?"
"Oh yes, they ran the operation. Old Gerald Aldrich and his crew. They had arrangements with local authorities, and made sure everyone looked the other way when convenient."
"So they removed Thompson to protect the Aldrich operation?"
"Transferred him to Portland, where he couldn't cause trouble.
Poor Edmund had been asking too many questions before his 'accident,' and then Thompson turned out to be just as nosy.
The new fellow—what was his name? Williamson?
—he understood the situation better. Kept his logs focused on weather and navigation, and stayed out of the Aldrich family's business. "
Lily scribbled notes as fast as she could write. “The Aldrich family?”
“Oh yes, they ran the operation. Old Gerald Aldrich and his crew. They had arrangements with local authorities, ensuring everyone looked the other way when convenient.”
“So they removed Thompson to protect the Aldrich operation?”
“Transferred him to Portland, where he couldn’t cause trouble. The new fellow—what was his name? Williamson?—he understood the situation better. Kept his logs focused on weather and navigation, and stayed out of the Aldrich family’s business.”
“Is the Aldrich family’s business being smuggling?”
Captain Henley chuckled. “Miss Morgan, you have to understand something about that time. Prohibition might have been federal law, but it wasn’t popular law.
Local folks elected the sheriff, and local folks didn’t much care if someone wanted a drink after a hard day’s work. The Aldriches provided a service.”
Lily flipped to a fresh page. “Captain Henley, what ended the Aldrich smuggling operation? The records just . . . stop mentioning it after 1924.”
The old man grew quiet, his gaze focusing on something far beyond the harbor. “That’s where the story gets complicated. My father always claimed there was trouble in the late twenties. Something that made the whole operation too dangerous to continue.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Money, most likely. Or territory. These things usually come down to one or the other.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “My father mentioned that some folks went missing around that time. People who knew too much about how the Aldrich operation worked.”
Lily’s pen froze on the page. “Missing?”
“Oh, this is all old gossip, you understand. The kinds of stories that get passed down and probably grow in the telling. But there were rumors that some of the people involved in the Aldrich smuggling operation disappeared. Boats found empty, that sort of thing.”
“Did anyone investigate these disappearances?”
“Someone would look into it for a day or two. People came and went, especially people involved with the Aldriches. If someone vanished, well, maybe they’d gotten word that federal agents were approaching.
Maybe they’d decided to try their luck elsewhere.
Or maybe they’d crossed the Aldrich family somehow. ”
Captain Henley stood up and stretched, his joints creaking audibly. “I should be getting home. Margaret will have dinner waiting.”
“Thank you so much for talking with me. This has been incredibly helpful.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Just remember—these are old stories from a different time. The lighthouse today is just a lighthouse, and the people who work there are good, honest folks who keep things running.”
Back in her bedroom, Lily called Sarah again before she’d even put down her backpack.
“Okay, I just talked to a ninety-three-year-old fisherman who basically confirmed everything I found in the records. But Sarah, there’s something else.”
“I’m listening.”
Lily pulled out the maintenance records and spread them across her desk.
“Examine these entries from 1923. March fifteenth: ‘Completed modifications to storage area beneath main structure.’ July eighth: ‘Reinforced flooring on the lower level.’ October twelfth: ‘Sealed access point to coastal side.’”
“Modifications for what?”
“That’s just it—these modifications don’t appear in the original construction plans. Someone altered the lighthouse structure during the height of the smuggling operation, then sealed off whatever they’d built.”
“You think they created hidden storage spaces?”
“I think they transformed the lighthouse into a smuggling hub.” Lily grabbed her highlighter and marked each date.
“Examine the timing. They modify the storage area in March, reinforce the floor in July—probably because they’re storing heavy cargo—then in October, right when Keeper Thompson starts documenting ‘systematic operations,’ they closed the coastal access point. ”
“The coastal access point being . . .”
“A secret entrance they could use to move contraband without going through the main harbor.” Lily stood up, pacing within her phone cord’s reach. “Sarah, what if those modifications still exist? What if there are still hidden rooms or tunnels under the lighthouse?”
“Have you asked your dad about the building’s layout?”
“Not yet. I wanted to gather all my research first. But I’m going to ask him tomorrow about touring the whole building, including areas the public doesn’t normally see.”
“Lily.” Sarah’s voice carried a note of caution. “You’re talking about a federal building that your father maintains. If there really are hidden spaces, don’t you think he’d know about them?”
Lily stopped pacing. “Unless the spaces were sealed so well that even the current maintenance staff doesn’t know they exist. Think about it—if you were running an illegal operation in the 1920s, would you trust future generations to keep your secrets?”
“Or,” Sarah added slowly, “people do know about them, but they’re not talking.”
She checked her watch: 9:30 PM. Too late to call anyone tonight, but tomorrow she would ask her father about the lighthouse’s lower level. She was curious to see if the modifications mentioned in the 1920s records remained visible.
As she prepared for bed, Lily reflected on how her research had evolved. What had started as a straightforward historical investigation had become something much more complex. She now uncovered not just facts about the past, but evidence of how that past had shaped the present community.
The lighthouse wasn’t just a historic building—it was a structure that had been modified and adapted to serve illegal purposes, then returned to its official function once those purposes became too dangerous.
The records suggested that many people in town had known about the smuggling operation, and some had profited from it.
She wondered how many of those families remained prominent in Westerly Cove today.
How many of the current community leaders were descendants of people who had been involved in the Aldrich smuggling operation?
It was a fascinating question from a historical perspective, though she recognized it might be a sensitive one for current residents.
Her research now revealed layers of local history that had been carefully preserved in official records but never openly discussed.
The lighthouse keepers had documented what they saw, but their reports had been suppressed.
Captain Henley’s family had maintained oral traditions about the “night fishermen,” but these stories had been treated as folklore rather than historical fact.
Lily began understanding that her thesis would be more than just a study of lighthouse operations—it would be an examination of how communities handle and remember their complicated pasts. How they decide which stories to preserve and which to forget.
As she drifted off to sleep, she made a mental note to ask her father about scheduling a thorough tour of the lighthouse building, including areas that weren’t normally accessible to the public. If the 1920s modifications remained visible, they might provide the perfect conclusion to her research.
She had no way of knowing that her innocent request would set in motion a chain of events that had been waiting twenty-five years to unfold.