The Brass Float Ticks

In the Fishpond lamp-house a brass float knocks against its housing as the oil settles, a small sound the night crew listens for the way a sailor listens to a hull. Tamsin Reedwater has heard it every shift since she hauled oil casks as a girl, and when it stops she knows the reservoir is low and someone must walk to the cellar in the cold. Tonight it ticked steady, and the crew went back to their benches.