Virals(79)

It was high tide, so Ben motored directly to the base of the tower.

I ran my eyes up 160 feet of crumbling stone, a bleak, solitary spike surrounded by ocean on all sides. Dark and empty, the structure seemed to brood. Resentful at being abandoned? At losing its battle with the elements?

It's the most depressing thing ever, I thought.

"It's big," I said. My understatement of the year.

Hi nodded. "When did they build this monster?"

"1876." Shelton had a book on Carolina lighthouses. Of course. "This lighthouse replaced an older one destroyed during the Civil War. And that one replaced an even older one constructed in 1673."

"Does the light still work?"

"Nope," Shelton said. "They shut it down in '62. When they originally built this baby, it was on dry land, but the water level has been creeping up ever since."

"So now she stands alone in the sea." Hi whistled. "Freaky."

"There used to be a keeper's residence. They tore that down in the thirties when the light became automated."

"Who owns it?" I asked.

"The state," Shelton said. "Some non-profit is hoping to restore the whole thing, but for now it's closed to the public."

"Which means we make this quick," Ben said. "I'm not getting busted for trespassing."

Conservationists had recently installed a steel cofferdam around the lighthouse to protect it from rising tides. The circular barrier looked like a giant metal coffee filter sticking eight feet up from the sea. Inside, the water had been drained to its previous level.

Ben anchored Sewee alongside the cofferdam. We pulled ourselves up onto the rim and followed the single catwalk to the base of the lighthouse. Up a short brick stairway, and we reached the entrance.

A large sign read: Danger: No Trespassing.

Big bold letters. Not an inch of wiggle room.

The wind whipped my hair and clothing as I stood watching Shelton pick the padlock. I wished I'd brought a jacket.

Finally, the prongs popped free and we trooped inside.

The ground floor looked like the bottom of a birdcage. One that hadn't been cleaned in ages. Sticks. Feathers. Gallons of bird poop. The harsh stench of ammonia was almost overwhelming.

"What's that?" Shelton was eyeballing a pair of gray cable boxes attached to the tower wall. Wires ran from their ends and branched to cover fissures in the stonework.

"Strain gauges. Probably monitoring cracks to make sure they don't grow." Hi pointed out two more of the devices. "They're also monitoring how much the tower leans. An early warning system in case the whole shebang decides to topple."

"Comforting," said Ben.

A rusty metal staircase spiraled up the tower's interior. Tipping my head back, I looked straight up. The stairs cut through the ceiling, a hundred feet above me.

"Let's climb," I said.

"Is it safe?" Shelton pushed with both hands against the wall. "It feels like I could shove the whole thing over."

"This lighthouse has been standing for a century," Hi said. "I think it can handle a few teenagers. Even a fat one like me."

"Come on, we don't have all day," Ben said.

He began climbing. His shoes made soft clanging sounds. Particles of rust cascaded to the ground.

The rest of us followed in single file: me, Shelton, Hi.

Circling upward, I passed long narrow windows without any glass. Birds darted from the weathered sills, startled by the invasion.

By the time I reached the top, I was sucking wind.

Note to self: break out the running shoes.

The stairs ended inside a small round chamber. This floor was heaped with old bird's nests, broken eggshells, and windblown debris. Several inhabitants cawed loudly before winging out the window.

"It stinks like a chicken coop in here," Ben complained.

"This is the watch room." Shelton's hand covered his nose. "Machines in here used to rotate the lantern above."

"Where does this lead?" Hi had crossed to a staircase on the chamber's far side.

"The lens room should be one level above us." Shelton pointed to an opening halfway up the stairs. "You can reach the main gallery through there. Not me though."

Three blank looks.

"The gallery is a steel balcony that circles the tower," Shelton explained.

"Cool!" I climbed to the opening and stepped outside.

My breath caught in my throat.

The sun was low, throwing pink and yellow rays across a blue-green ocean. Below me, the coast met the sea like a crumbled linen tablecloth. I could see our tiny community on Morris, beyond that Fort Sumter and Sullivan's Island.

To my left, the town of Folly Beach looked like a string of Monopoly houses crawling the beach. Here and there, a window or porch light glowed yellow in the rosy dusk.

I glanced up over my shoulder. The lighthouse was topped by a giant metal birdcage rising into an iron dome. The space inside was vacant. Gulls watched from the ironwork, wary of my unwelcome presence.

I imagined the powerful beam that had once sliced the darkness, guiding sailors safely to Charleston Harbor. It must've been an awesome sight.

Hi and Ben emerged onto the walkway.

"Whoa." Ben gazed down at his runabout bobbing far below. His face lost its color.