Stella M. Champney

We were sitting around on the grass-upholstered rocks of Menagerie Island, sailors from the lighthouse tender Marigold and I, talking of this and that, and watching the ship drifting about in Siskiwit Bay. The sailors were waiting for a bo'sun's chair so that a man could be lowered from the top of the automatic light to make certain repairs.

"I fell to the floor screaming. I screamed at the top of my voice, until I was exhausted. And still my husband did not come. There was another long, terrible night before me." Mrs. Robert Carlson, 40 years ago bride of a lighthouse keeper in the Apostle Islands group, told how she fought to keep her reason when her husband and his brother were lost for four days on the ice at the head of Lake Superior, during a winter she spent with him on Michigan Island.

Despite the lighthouses that mark them, treacherous rocks and reefs take their toll on ships that stray off the beaten path when gales whip Lake Superior to a frenzy. Men in these lonely lighthouses have thrilling stories to tell. Hans Christensen, head keeper on Devil's Island, stood by my side at the rail of the lighthouse tender Marigold. The tender was making its first trip of the season, distributing men and supplies to the most isolated posts on Lake Superior.

From the bow of the Marigold, John Soldenski silently watched his new home rise out of the lake as the lighthouse tender steadily forged through white-capped Lake Superior. At first he could see only the white shaft against the dark water. Gradually he could distinguish details of the circular tower, mounted on a great round base of concrete rising from the lake and surmounted by the housing of the great lens.