Chapter Eleven. #2
I explained what Mrs Penrose had shared with me, and William began pacing.
“I learned that the other lighthouse keepers died. And that Jasper Manor burned down. But I wasn’t aware of the Damerell Gang, nor that this all happened on the same night,” he replied to me.
“For that to occur, someone must be playing puppeteer in the background. This is so confusing.”
“That’s the same thought I had a few days ago,” William stated.
“Umm?”
“That one individual is behind everything happening to you, pulling on different strings to make you move. This appears orchestrated.”
“Good word. It does. But I don’t understand. If there’s nothing special about the lighthouses, why were they targeted? Why kill you all? Who wanted you all dead? Because if it were a person taking sides, they’d have only murdered one side. Not both. That’s what makes this so confusing.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help. I’m not a learned man,” William said, and I shook my head.
“None of that, William. Recognising something is wrong doesn’t require a college education. If you agree to work with me, then we can do some research,” I suggested.
William chewed the inside of his cheek. “The evil…”
“What if that is part of it?” I demanded.
“I don’t understand.”
“You are convinced you’re stopping some evil escaping. Could it be linked to this? If we can figure out what happened, then we might be able to end its life?”
William paced back and forth again. He was clearly thinking about it.
“You’ll do as I say?” he asked.
“Nope. But I will consider your thoughts. Let’s face it, two hundred-plus years ago, a lot of people died and disappeared. Then you had peace until the Jaspers returned. We’re at the heart of this somehow. If I can help, I want to. William, this is my family legacy,” I replied.
“Your legacy?” William looked intrigued by that idea.
“Yes. I’m a direct descendant of Charles. His blood runs through my veins.”
“We’ll work together. Could your net thing bring up the information we need?”
“The internet can. Let’s get started.”
“Well, that’s not something we expected,” I said several hours later. William and I glanced at each other, puzzled.
“How could that possibly happen?” William asked, surprised.
“I’ve no idea. But there’s nothing after the fire, and that alone is sparse. It doesn’t even say how it began or who survived.”
“Yet you come from his bloodline,” William said.
“Yes, Charles’s daughter; however, there’s no mention of her either. What could have happened to stop the timeline around the Jaspers, lighthouses and the Damerell gang?”
William shook his head. “This is beyond the scope of my understanding.”
We both paused as we heard a bang followed by a smashing noise. “The chimney!” William yelled and disappeared before my eyes
“The what now?” I murmured and headed for the stairs.
William
As soon as I heard the crash and shattering of glass, I knew what had happened. I raced for the lamp room, arriving precisely when the shadow was escaping.
“Damn it!” I hissed, seeing the shattered chimney. A minute later, Lyra appeared, out of breath and holding onto the railing.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing.
“It covers the wick for the light to work. Our enemy smashed it.”
“Do we have a backup?” Lyra demanded with panic in her eyes.
“Yes, luckily. I can replace this. Stay back; there is glass everywhere, and you might get hurt.” I paused. “That box of yours. Can it locate people who build chimneys?”
“Certainly, but I would need the details,” Lyra stated.
“Good. I’ll put the spare in, and then we must find someone. If we lose the chimney, the light won’t work.”
Lyra went pale. “Would that mean shipwrecks?”
“Possibly. So, let’s not let that happen. I recognise its make and model. I will tell the person as soon as you discover one. Is there a speedy horse now?”
Lyra looked at me as if I were crazy. “Horse?”
“To deliver the letter.”
“William, we use cars presently. Not horses.” Ah, no wonder she was looking at me as if I were insane.
“Is there a very fast option? The quicker we get the spare ordered, the better,” I inquired.
“We can forward an email.”
“Pardon?” What was an email? Did that mean extremely quickly?
“We log onto my laptop and connect to the internet. Then we type a message in a new mail and send it.”
“Send it where?” I asked, even more confused.
“Over the internet.”
I stared at Lyra, flabbergasted. “We can use your black box to send messages?”
“Yes, and they appear instantly.”
“You’re mocking me!” Nothing could make a letter get there immediately.
“No. Fix this, and I’ll show you.” Lyra appeared serious about what she was saying. Back in my day, making a message appear without delay in front of someone would have meant dark magic. Not that I believed in that. But anyone who could do such a thing would be labelled a witch.
If I hadn’t witnessed other people with this level of technology, I would have considered Lyra a witch myself.
But her cousins all had ‘phones’, as did Edmund.
They drove those vehicles called cars, and I had seen the locals driving past the lighthouse in them.
It was hard enough to understand electricity.
Now I was meant to understand the internet.
Moments like this showed how out of time I was.
“Nobody nowadays possesses the skills to operate a lighthouse. Not an oil-based one,” Lyra said, seemingly aware of my disconnection.
“How are they operated currently?”
“They’re automated. Run by computers and electricity. Impersonal and unattractive. Your knowledge would be invaluable in today’s day and age because nobody understands how to fix these now.”
“Lyra, it is kind of you, but it is clear the world moved on, and I was out of the loop. I am obsolete,” I replied. It hurt; I missed out on so much. And even though I was a ghost and had a lengthy existence, there was a considerable amount I was unaware of.
“You’re mistaken; I actually meant what I said.
Society became focused on computers and technology.
But plumbers and electricians, carpenters and builders, are demanding higher wages because people haven’t gone into those professions.
You can repair a laptop, great, but who’s going to mend a leaky pipe?
We are only just beginning to realise that there is a shortage of skilled, hands-on professionals. ”
“But doesn’t technology help?” I asked, puzzled.
“Yes. It does; it makes life so much easier. But there are like one hundred who can fix a laptop and just a single plumber. The intellectual jobs everyone focuses on are consequently biting people in the butt.”
“Ah, I understand,” I said, and I did. “Anyway, go back downstairs, and I shall clear this mess away. Please find this email for a glassmaker.”
Lyra smiled and left. I went to the storeroom and pulled out a spare chimney. There were three left after this one. Thankfully, the Jaspers had believed in keeping stocks high. But I also needed this kerosene; maybe Lyra could order both.