ay old age at
the very edge of the ocean, so that high tides swept the step of the
keeper's house. It was originally a lookout where the Spanish soldier
stood and fired his culverin when a vessel came in sight outside the
reef; then the British occupied the land, added a story, and placed an
iron grating on the top, where their coastguardsman lighted a fire of
pitch-pine knots that flared up against the sky, with the tidings, "A
sail! a sail!" Finally the United States came into possession, ran up a
third story, and put in a revolving light, one flash for the land and
two for the sea--a proportion unnecessarily generous now to the land,
since nothing came in any more, and everything went by, the little
harbor being of no importance since the indigo culture had failed. But
ships still sailed by on their way to the Queen of the Antilles, and to
the far Windward and Leeward Islands, and the old light went on
revolving, presumably for their benefit. The tower, gray and crumbling,
and the keeper's house, were surrounded by a high stone wall with angles
and loopholes--a small but regularly planned defensive fortification
built by the Spaniards; and odd enough it looked there on that peaceful
island, where there was nothing to defend. But it bore itself stoutly
nevertheless, this ancient little fortress, and kept a sharp lookout
still over the ocean for the damnable Huguenot sail of two centuries
before.

The sea had encroached greatly on Pelican Island, and sooner or later it
must sweep the keeper's house away; but now it was a not unpleasant
sensation to hear the water wash against the step--to sit at the narrow
little windows and watch the sea roll up, roll up, nearer and nearer,
coming all the way landless in long surges from the distant African
coast, only to never quite get at the foundations of that stubborn
little dwelling, which held its own against them, and then triumphantly
watched them roll back, roll back, departing inch by inch down the
beach, until, behold! there was a magnificent parade-ground, broad
enough for a thousand feet to tread--a floor more fresh and beautiful
than the marble pavements of palaces. There were not a thousand feet to
tread there, however; only six. For Melvyna had more than enough to do
within the house, and Pedro never walked save across the island to the
inlet once in two weeks or so, when he managed to row over to the
village, and return with supplies, by taking two entire days for it