Page 3 of Curse of the Stag's Eye
“What it doesn’t tell you,” Rhys said, “is in order to build the lighthouse, they had to clear the land which included moving an ancient megalith. A standing stone. You would have seen it up at the car park. They moved it up there so it could keep watch over the lighthouse and the island it once called home.
“It was a controversial decision at the time but as with most things, the anger around it faded eventually. Still, the Lighthouse Trust are not keen on drawing attention to the fact. They don’t want to be pressured into moving it back to the island, I suppose.”
“It has a hole,” I said. “The stone. It looks like an eye.”
Rhys nodded. “It does indeed, which is why it’s known as the Stag's Eye. I did some research about it, and I printed something out about it. Hang on, I have it here somewhere.”
He searched through his pockets and pulled out a sheet of paper. It crinkled as he unfolded it and read aloud: “The megalith known locally as the Stag’s Eye dates back to at least the early Bronze Age. While its exact purpose is unknown, many such stones are thought to have been erected to align with the sun or moon as part of a prehistoric calendar.
“Others are said to have served as a guardian or protective force for the people of the area. Given the Stag’s Eye position on the island, one study suggests it served to watch over local fishermen and protect them from the ravages of the sea. Not unlike the lighthouse which has since replaced it.” He foldedthe sheet up. “There’s also a bit of local folklore that tells of an ancient curse which said dread tidings would befall upon he who moved the Eye.”
“But they moved it anyway,” Dawn said.
“They did. And lo and behold, the lighthouse has had more than its fair share of misfortune. There have been lots of accidents over the years, like Mr Squirrel’s death. One chap fell down the stairs and broke his leg so badly he had to have it amputated. At least two keepers have died from tuberculosis, another died after a strong wind whipped him off from the gallery around the light. There have been a higher-than-average number of other accidents, or so they say. It’s hard to separate fact from fiction, especially with maritime folk. They love a tall tale, they do.
“Still, one thing that can’t be denied is this place had an unusually high turnover of keepers. Apparently, nobody wanted to serve here for too long. And then there’s the tragedy of Howard Baines' murder.”
I spotted a small section of a freestanding information board, a scan of an old newspaper article titled “Horror at Stag’s Head”.
“It’s terrible, what happened here.” Rhys pointed to the article. “An ex-convict named William Jessop wrangled his way into a job on the lighthouse. All seemed fine at first but he soon started to lock horns with the principal keeper, a man named Howard Baines. They fought like cats and dogs, according to the other keeper, Mr Squirrel.
“Howard Baines made Jessop’s life very difficult, giving him all sorts of tricky and dangerous jobs to do around the place. Until one day an argument got out of hand, they got into a fist fight, and Baines fired him. Jessop took his revenge by strangling Howard Baines to death in his own bed.”
“Did they catch him?” Dawn asked. “Jessop, I mean?”
Rhys shook his head. “He fled to America. They think he must have changed his name because he was never heard from again.” Rhys paced the floorboards. “Imagine it. Being stuck out here with only two other men for company. And one of them” — he held his hands up like claws — “is a murderer!”
“Oh, my Christ!” Nikesh squealed and grabbed Dawn. “There’s something there! Oh, my Christ! Oh, my Christ, babes!” He pointed behind a tall case housing flags used for semaphore where a shadowy figure in a hat lurked in a corner.
Rhys marched over. “Bloody hell, mun! What is that? Oh, my God! No!” After some pretend gasps he wheeled out a cheap mannequin wearing an old sailor’s uniform. “We’re in for a long night if you jump at every shadow, butt.”
Dawn giggled and pinched Nikesh’s side.
“Easy mistake to make,” he said.
This lot were going to drive me up the wall. I thought about leaving there and then. I didn’t know if I could face spending the whole evening with them. But I had to. I needed to.
Most of the museum was given over to items recovered from a shipwreck off the coast of the island. “I thought lighthouses were supposed to prevent this sort of thing from happening.” I traced my hand over the glass. A pair of ladies’ gloves, some shoes, and a snuff box, all arranged and spaced evenly on a red velvet setting and marked with little cards.
“It was a particularly bad squall, from what I read online.” Rhys stood by my side, peering over to read the information cards. He radiated warmth. “It appeared suddenly and overwhelmed the crew.”
He wore his checked shirt open to the second button and I had to stop myself from staring at the knot of black chest hair peeking out. “Have you been here before?”
He shook his head. “I did a bit of research but I wanted to come in with fresh eyes.”
And what beautiful eyes they were. Light hazel in colour with a ring of grey at the edges. Not that I really noticed, of course. Or cared.
The wind rattled the old windows of the museum, causing Nikesh to flinch. “Do you think we’ll see any ghosts tonight?” he asked.
Rhys took from his backpack an oil lantern and a box of matches. “I certainly hope so!”
Chapter 3
6.15 p.m. Lighthouse Museum
Ihad two lanternswith me, one painted a bright, sunshine yellow and the other a cherry red. Gaz gave them a funny look; well, he gave me a funny look really. I assured him I knew what I was doing. I’d added fuel to the lanterns about an hour earlier so the wicks had plenty of time to soak it all up. I used my thumb on the lever of the red lantern to pop the glass globe up and used a candle lighter to strike the wick. I handed the lantern to Dawn, and then I lit the yellow one for myself.
A little glass corridor no more than twelve feet long connected the museum to the lighthouse door in a way that made me think of a docking tunnel in a sci-fi film. The corridor had its own entrance which I unlocked in case we needed a quicker exit than going back through the museum. Nikesh suggested the corridor might have been added to protect the lighthouse’s original door from the elements since it was so old, but I said the lighthouse had been built to last and it didn’t need any protecting.
