Someone knocked at the door. "Grace!" her father's voice called. "Wake up, lass. I need you to help me."

It was half past two in the morning. In the lighthouse, Grace was asleep in her room. It was a small, tidy room, with white walls. Her dress was on the back of the door, and her other clothes were on a chair by the bed. There were some books on a desk, and some sea-birds' eggs on a table.

"All right. I'll be down in a minute." Quickly, Grace closed the door and put her clothes on. She often got up in the night. There was always work on a lighthouse, and the sea did not wait for morning. A minute later, she ran downstairs to the kitchen, put a coat over her thin dress, tied her hair under her hat, and followed her father out into the night.

"What is it, father?" She got up quickly, and opened the door. William Darling stood there with a candle in his hand. He was wearing his big black coat and heavy boots, and his hat was pulled down over his ears. His face was tired, and wet with rain.

"The storm is worse. The wind is coming from the north now, and it's stronger. We shall have to go outside and tie the boat down, or we shall lose it!"

She walked slowly after her father, to the boathouse. Her father was carrying a small lantern, and in its light Grace saw a great wave of white water. It broke against the rock in front of the boathouse, and white water crashed against the boathouse doors. William shouted something to Grace but she could not hear him -- the sounds of the wind and the sea were too loud, too terrible.

The wind nearly lifted her off her feet. It was strong, black, hard, and wet. She opened her mouth to call to her father, but the words blew away into the night. Her coat and dress blew out behind her like paper, and the rain hit her face, like small stones.

In the boathouse, she helped her father tie the boat down to the rock. They tied down the oars, too, so that nothing could move them. Then they ran outside and carried everything into the kitchen -- their chickens, their fishing things. Nothing could stay outside on a night like this.

Before they went back in, Grace stared out into the night. The light from the top of the lighthouse flashed out over the water, and for thirty seconds she could see very well. One after another, the big, black waves came out of the darkness -- waves ten, twenty metres high! When they hit the rock there was a huge crash, and white water flew everywhere, thirty, forty metres up over the Longstone rock.

"Grace! Come on in, lass!" Her father held the door open behind her. She went in quickly, and he closed the door behind them. Her mother had warm drinks ready for them.

"Go to bed now, father," Grace said. "You've had no sleep yet tonight. I'll watch the light now, and mother can come up at five."

"All right, lass," he said. William was very tired. He went upstairs with his wife, and in two minutes they were asleep.

Grace stared out, over the waves, past the rocks and islands. But -- thank God! -- she could see no lights, no ships. No ship could live in that sea tonight.

Grace finished her drink quickly, and changed out of her wet clothes. Then she went up alone to the room with the big windows at the top of the lighthouse. The wild wind screamed and shook the glass.

It was half past three in the morning.