Ray Bradbury - The Foghorn

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Ray Bradbury: The Foghorn

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OUT there in the cold water, far from land, we waited every night for the

coming of the fog, and it came, and we oiled the brass machinery and lit

the fog light up in the stone tower. Feeling like two birds in the grey

sky, McDunn and I sent the light touching out, red, then white, then red

again, to eye the lonely ships. And if they did not see our light, then

there was always our Voice, the great deep cry of our Fog Horn shuddering

through the rags of mist to startle the gulls away like decks of scattered

cards and make the waves turn high and foam.

"It's a lonely life, but you're used to it now, aren't you?" asked McDunn.

"Yes," I said. "You're a good talker, thank the Lord."

"Well, it's your turn on land tomorrow," he said, smiling, "to dance the

ladies and drink gin."

"What do you think McDunn, when I leave you out here alone?"

"On the mysteries of the sea." McDunn lit his pipe. It was a quarter past

seven of a cold November evening, the heat on, the light switching its tail

in two hundred directions, the Fog Horn bumbling in the high throat of the

tower. There wasn't a town for a hundred miles down the coast, just a road,

which came lonely through dead country to the sea, with few cars on it, a

stretch of two miles of cold water out to our rock, and rare few ships.

"The mysteries of the sea," said McDunn thoughtfully. "You know, the

ocean’s the biggest damned snowflake ever? It rolls and swells a thousand

shapes and colours, no two alike. Strange. One night, years ago, I was here

alone, when all of the fish of the sea surfaced out there. Something made

them swim in and lie in the bay, sort of trembling and staring up at the

tower light going red, white, red, white across them so I could see their

funny eyes. I turned cold. They were like a big peacock's tail, moving out

there until midnight. Then, without so much as a sound, they slipped away,

the million of them was gone. I kind of think maybe, in some sort of way,

they came all those miles to worship. Strange. But think how the tower must

look to them, standing seventy feet above the water, the God-light flashing

out from it, and the tower declaring itself with a monster voice. They

never came back, those fish, but don't you think for a while they thought

they were in the Presence?"

I shivered. I looked out at the long grey lawn of the sea stretching away

into nothing and nowhere.

"Oh, the sea's full." McDunn puffed his pipe nervously, blinking. He had

been nervous all day and hadn't said why. "For all our engines and so

called submarines, it'll be ten thousand centuries before we set foot on

the real bottom of the sunken lands, in the fairy kingdoms there, and know

real terror. Think of it, it's still the year 300,000 Before Christ down

under there. While we've paraded around with trumpets, lopping off each

other's countries and heads, they have been living beneath the sea twelve

miles deep and cold in a time as old as the beard of a comet."

"Yes, it's an old world."

"Come on. I got something special I been saving up to tell you."

We ascended the eighty steps, talking and taking our time. At the top,

McDunn switched off the room lights so there'd be no reflection in the

plate glass. The great eye of the light was humming, turning easily in its

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Ray Bradbury - The Foghorn

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