A stormy night along the coast,
So bad the power went.
Dark and black and ominous,
Hard to believe 'twas heaven sent.
Lightning crashed ferociously,
The ground shook in angry protest.
The rains came down torrentially,
Mad winds blew, as if possessed.
Huge waves pounded on the shore,
Released from Neptune's chains.
They loudly roared in triumph,
With each inch of land they gained.
High on a cliff stood a lonely house,
A big, black, hulking thing.
Distinguished by a single tower,
Silhouetted in the rain.
This house, the Captain's pride and joy,
Was built of rock and stone.
Solid as Gibraltar,
An impenetrable home.
With care it was constructed,
Of fine architectural design.
Many years from start to finish,
Each detail well defined.
Money was no object,
Materials used - the best.
Folks who lived below the cliff,
Looked up and were impressed.
In awe, they watched the tower grow,
They could hardly believe their eyes.
So tall it rose, each day by day,
'Til it touched the very skies.
On foggy nights and misty morns,
It disappeared from view.
But from a tower window,
A light cut through the gloom.
It could be seen for miles around,
Also, far out at sea.
A sign of welcome - land was near,
Assurance of security.
Atop the tower, higher yet,
A majestic statue stood.
Of Jesus Christ, His arms outstretched,
Hand-wrought in gold and wood.
The morning sun would catch the gold,
So bright it blinded eyes.
At twilight, a much softer light,
A bit of comfort in the skies.
This structure, so magnificent,
Seemed a blessing to the town.
And to the vessels out at sea,
Sure sign they were home-bound.
Many years ago, the story goes,
The Captain found a lovely bride.
He brought her to this tower house,
In which he took such pride.
And when he left to go to sea,
Each night she'd climb the stair.
And at the window in the tower,
She'd hang a lantern there.
So, in daytime was the statue,
At nighttime was the light.
Both offered reassurance,
God's in His heaven; all's all right.
On voyages coming home,
From far out on the sea.
The Captain saw the light at night,
And thanked God on bended knee.
Then the statue of the Lord
Would reach his searching eye.
The final sign that he was home
Were Jesus' arms flung wide.
Year after year this scene repeated,
Each time he left the shore.
At night a light to guide him home,
And in the day, the Lord.
On his last trip coming home,
A savage storm took place.
A terror to the men on board,
Who had no hiding-place.
The ocean waves rose sixty feet,
The ship tossed about like matches.
Masts lay fallen on the deck,
Ripped open were the hatches.
The sky was black; the water, blacker,
The wind so loud no one could hear.
The cries of drowning shipmates,
As one by one, they disappeared.
With a plaintive groan and shudder,
The Captain's ship went down.
He saw the faint light in the distance
Just before he sank and drowned.
The storm then turned and hit the coast,
Its fury growing stronger.
The folks who'd seen the tower light,
Could not see it any longer.
Roofs blew down from housetops,
Trees lay fallen by the score.
People huddled in the churches,
While outside the tempest roared.
Earth trembled with the thunder,
Lightning exploded at each strike.
Not in anybody's memory,
Had one seen such a night.
Up on the cliff, the Captain's bride,
(Still called that, though she'd grayed).
Kept her vigil at the window,
Though, with the wind, the tower swayed.
Lightning struck the turret,
And smashed the window pane.
Then, into the tower room,
Came terrible winds and rain.
Next, lightning struck Christ's statue,
It hurtled down among the rocks.
It broke into a million pieces,
The whole world had gone amok.
Come morning light, the storm had passed,
Clear and clean the coastal air.
People counted one another,
To be sure loved ones were there.
Then, as their eyes went toward the cliff,
They pointed and they cried.
Their Christ was gone; no golden glow
Was there to blind their eyes.
They climbed the hill in trepidation,
In fear what they might find.
The disappearance of the statue
Put foreboding in each mind.
Among the pieces of the sculpture,
They found the Captain's bride.
Still clutching fragments of Christ's hand,
To her broken, bleeding side.
She gasped, "He's gone, you know,
I saw his ship go down."
Then she closed her eyes in death,
To join her Captain, who had drowned.
Thereafter and forever more,
Folks watch that tower during storms.
They claim a light still does appear,
As if in effort to forewarn.
And sailors lost in storms at sea,
Who survive their fearful plight.
Say they see Christ's statue in the day,
And a tower light at night.
by Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
copyright 7/00
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