Fine line black script reading "It is well with my soul" runs vertically down the centre of a woman's back, seen from behind on a beach.

Script quote down the spine

Fine line · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A woman with long brown hair, seen from behind, wears a black bandeau top on a beach with sea behind her. A thin black handwritten script reading "It is well with my soul." runs vertically down the centre of her back. The ink is solid black with no shading or colour, and the composition places the tattoo at the centre of the frame against the pale sky and turquoise water.

Fine line Lettering Back Script Quote Beach Ocean

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lamp went out at ten past two, and I was the only soul on Skerry Point to notice. Mr Hallam had crossed on the Tuesday boat with his chest rattling, so it was me, the wick trimmer and the brass clockwork that wanted winding every four hours like a sulky child. The chimney had a crack running up one side that I had meant to report for a month. When the wind came round to the north-east, it found that crack and sang through it.

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I relit the thing by hand, which is not in the manual and is not a thing a keeper should do alone. The matches were damp. I kept three of them in my cap and burned the first two on the ladder, cursing in a voice my mother would not have liked. The third caught. Somewhere below, the sea hit the rock with the sound of a dropped cabinet, and I thought of the chapel at Seahouses, where my sister used to sing the old hymn with her eyes shut, never once missing the high note. I could not remember the tune. I remembered the line, though, the way you keep the one step of a stair you know is loose.

By dawn the swell had dropped and the light was turning clean again, its beam sweeping out over water the colour of pewter. The relief boat came in at seven. Young Pryce climbed up the ladder grinning and asked how the night had been, and I handed him the log. In the margin beside the entry for two o'clock, in pencil, I had written the words so that nobody would think I had simply given up.

He read them twice. "What's that from?"

"A hymn," I said. "Get the wick trimmed before you touch the clockwork. It's temperamental."