The Lantern Fish of Saltkettle Bay

The Lighthouse on the Cliff

High on the windy cliffs above Saltkettle Bay stood a tall white lighthouse, and in it lived an old keeper and his granddaughter, Maren.

Every evening, Maren climbed the long spiral stairs with her grandfather to light the great lamp at the top. Its beam swept round and round across the dark water, warning the fishing boats away from the jagged rocks at the mouth of the bay — the rocks the sailors called the Black Teeth.

"That light is a promise, Maren," her grandfather always said. "As long as it shines, the boats know the way home. Never let it go out."

Maren loved the lighthouse. But more than the lighthouse, she loved the sea — the pools among the rocks, the crabs and the starfish and the little darting fish. She knew every cove and every tide pool in the whole bay.

The Fish in the Pool

One grey afternoon, when the tide had gone far out, Maren was hunting for shells among the rocks when she saw a strange glow in a small, drying tide pool.

She climbed closer and gasped. There, flapping weakly in barely a handspan of water, was a fish unlike any she had ever seen. It was no bigger than her hand, but its scales glowed with a warm golden light, soft as a candle flame. The tide had trapped it, and the pool was nearly dry. The little fish was gasping.

"Oh, you poor thing," Maren whispered. "You'll dry up out here."

Quick as she could, she scooped the glowing fish into her bucket of seawater. As she did, the light flickered, and — though she could hardly believe it — a small bubbly voice spoke from the water.

"Thank you," said the fish. "I am Glim, a lantern fish. I drifted too close to shore, and the tide left me behind. You saved my life."

Maren nearly dropped the bucket. "You can talk!"

"All lantern fish can talk," said Glim, "to those kind enough to listen."

A Friend in the Water

Maren could not bring herself to throw Glim back into the cold rough sea while he was still so weak. So she carried him up the cliff to the lighthouse and kept him in a wide barrel of fresh seawater by the door, where she fed him crumbs and bits of mussel and changed his water every day.

Each evening she sat beside the barrel and told Glim about her day, and Glim glowed brighter and brighter as he grew stronger. He told her about the deep parts of the sea, where lantern fish drifted in great glowing shoals like underwater stars.

"When I am well," Glim said, "I must go home to the deep. But I will never forget you, Maren."

"And I will never forget you," said Maren. They had become the very best of friends.

The Storm

Now, the worst storm of the whole year came to Saltkettle Bay on the longest night of autumn.

The wind screamed. The rain came sideways. The waves crashed so high they flung spray right up against the lighthouse windows. And out in the howling dark, Maren's grandfather spotted the small light of a fishing boat — lost, blown off course, drifting straight toward the deadly Black Teeth.

"Light the lamp!" cried Grandfather. "Light it bright!"

They raced up the spiral stairs. But just as Grandfather struck the match, a terrible gust rattled the whole tower, the glass shook — and with a hiss, the great lamp guttered, sputtered, and went out.

"The oil's run dry!" Grandfather shouted over the wind. "The spare is down in the store, three floors below — I'll never fetch it in time!" His old face was white with fear. "Without the light, that boat will be dashed on the rocks!"

The Smallest Hero

Maren's heart pounded. The boat was so close to the Black Teeth now she could hear the men shouting. There was no time. No light. No hope.

And then she thought of Glim.

She flew down the stairs, two at a time, out into the screaming storm, and grabbed Glim's barrel. "Glim! A ship's going to crash! We need a light — your light!"

"Then take me to the very top," said Glim at once, "and hold me to the glass. Quickly!"

Maren scooped him into a jar of seawater and ran back up, up, up the long spiral stairs, her arms burning, the storm howling, until she burst out into the lamp room. She held the jar high against the great window — and Glim blazed.

He glowed with all his might, brighter than Maren had ever seen, a fierce warm golden light pouring out through the lighthouse glass and across the black, raging water. He shone so bright it hurt to look at him.

Out on the waves, the lost fishermen saw it — a golden light in the dark, exactly where the lighthouse beam should be. They turned the boat toward it, away from the Black Teeth, and Glim's glow guided them, foot by foot, wave by wave, safely past the rocks and into the calm of the harbour.

Home to the Deep

By the time the spare oil was lit and the great lamp glowed again, the fishing boat was tied safe at the dock, and the rescued sailors were wrapped in warm blankets, alive and well.

"A girl and a fish," they kept saying in wonder. "A girl and a glowing fish saved our lives."

Glim had given everything to that light, and now he was tired and dim, flickering softly in his little jar. Maren held him close. "You did it, Glim. You saved them all. You're a hero."

"We did it," said Glim faintly. "But now, Maren, I must go home. The sea is calling me, and my own light is nearly spent. The deep will make me strong again."

Maren's eyes stung, but she nodded. As the storm faded and the first grey light touched the sky, she carried Glim down to the shore and lowered him gently into the foaming water.

For a moment he hung there in the shallows. Then his glow brightened one last time — a warm golden flash, like a thank you and a goodbye all at once — and he flickered away into the deep.

The Light That Never Forgets

Maren never saw Glim again. But on the very darkest nights, when she climbed to the top of the lighthouse and looked far out across Saltkettle Bay, she would sometimes see, deep beneath the waves, a soft golden glow rising and falling with the tide.

And she would press her hand to the glass and whisper, "Goodnight, Glim. Thank you, my friend."

Then she would light the great lamp, and keep the promise — for the sea, she had learned, was full of small and shining helpers, and even the smallest of them can save the day.

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The moral: No one is too small to make a difference, and a friend cared for is a friend who will be there when you need them most.

More stories to read: dive into another sea tale with The Lighthouse and the Lost Whale or meet a brave helper in The Keeper of the Tides.