HISTORY OF THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE TO THE TIME OF SMEATON.
The Eddystone Rocks--Their situation and dangerous
Character--The first Lighthouse by Winstanley--Its progress
and Completion--Its awful Fate--Rudyerd's Lighthouse--Description
of--Its Destruction by Fire--Smeaton appointed to construct a
New edifice.
The Eddystone Rocks are situated nearly S. S. W. from the middle of
Plymouth Sound, and at a distance from the port of Plymouth of nearly
fourteen miles. They are remarkable for the great variety of contrary
sets of the tide or current among them, and hence it is supposed they
derived their appellation. From various causes the currents in the
district of the channel where these rocks lie are so exceedingly
irregular, that it requires much knowledge of the local situation to
shun the dangers connected with them. Supposing a line to be drawn
between the Lizard and the Start points, the Eddystone rocks would be
found nearly on, or a little within that line. The nearest point of
land to these rocks is the promontory called Ram-head.
As the Eddystone rocks lie nearly in the direction of ships coasting
up and down the channel, they were, previous to the erection of the
lighthouse, extremely dangerous, and often fatal to ships,
particularly to such as were homeward bound from foreign parts; so
that many rich vessels were actually lost on these rocks, it being not
unusual for the most careful mariner to run his vessel upon them
during the night, or in foggy weather at high water, when the whole
ranges of the rocks are entirely covered.
If the situation of the Eddystone rocks be considered with reference
to the ocean and the Bay of Biscay, it will be seen that they lie
exposed to the great and heavy swells which come in from all the
south-western points of the compass. Indeed, it is a fact well known
to mariners, that all the heavy seas from those quarters come
uncontrolled upon these rocks, and break on them with the utmost fury.
The particular conformation of the rocks also tends to augment the
force and height of the seas, for they not only stretch across the
channel in a north and south direction to the length of above one
hundred fathoms, but they lie in a sloping manner toward the
south-west quarter. The effect of this slope in stormy weather is to
increase the swell of the seas to a frightful extent; and even in calm
weather, when the sea is to all appearance smooth and unruffled, the
ground-swell from the ocean continues, and meeting the slope of these
rocks, the waves often break upon them with great violence.
The largest and highest of the Eddystone rocks is now called the
House-rock, because every building which has been attempted has had
its foundation there; but even on this the most favourable spot for
such efforts, there is a peculiar difficulty, arising out of its shape
and position. There is a sudden drop in the surface of the rock,
forming a step of about four and a half or five feet high, the upper
part somewhat over-hanging the perpendicular, so that the seas, which
in moderate weather come swelling towards that step, meet so sudden a
check thereby that they frequently fly to the height of thirty or
forty feet. This proved a great interruption to the works during the
building of the lighthouse, for the water coming down from this height
on the area of the building completely wetted the work-people, and
either suspended their employment or caused them to execute it in a
very uncomfortable situation. This is not the case at all times, but
only when the ground-swell comes in from the bay, which, however, is
constant during south-westerly winds, and for some time after they
have subsided.
It would appear that the many fatal accidents which occurred to
homeward-bound ships had long made it much desired, as it was highly
necessary, that some beacon should be erected on the Eddystone rocks.
The formidable nature of the undertaking, and the almost insuperable
difficulties connected with it, may be supposed to have long repressed
the ardour of the zealous and the humane; but at length, in the year
1696, a person was found hardy enough to undertake the task, and he
was soon invested with the necessary powers to put it in execution.
This person was Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury, Essex, whose
mechanical abilities had previously been known rather by a series of
eccentric contrivances than by any remarkable proof of skill. For
instance:--in his house at Littlebury, if a visitor entered an
apartment and saw an old slipper lying on the floor, and very
naturally proceeded to kick it aside with his foot, a ghost-like
figure would immediately start up before him, and if he retreated from
it and took his seat in a chair, a couple of arms would immediately
clasp him in, so that it would be impossible to disengage himself
without the assistance of an attendant.
These unpleasant jokes were not confined to the house; for if the
unfortunate guest took refuge in the garden, and unwittingly entered
the summer-house by the side of the canal, immediately he was sent out
afloat to the middle of the water, and could not possibly make his
escape without the intervention of the manager. These tricks were
apparently played for mere amusement; but Mr. Winstanley at one time
turned his mechanical contrivances to account, by establishing an
exhibition at Hyde-Park Corner, called 'Winstanley's Water-Works,' the
price of admission being one shilling each person.
Unimportant as these particulars may appear, they serve to mark the
turn of mind of the first engineer of the Eddystone, and to account in
some degree for the whimsical nature of the buildings erected by him.
From Winstanley's own narrative, we find that he began his lighthouse
in 1696, and that it took more than four years in building, both on
account of the greatness of the work, and the difficulty and danger
of getting backwards and forwards to the place. Though nothing was
attempted except in the summer season, yet even then, the weather at
times would prove so unfavourable that for ten or fourteen days
together, owing to the ground-swell from the main ocean, the sea would
be raging about these rocks, while calm elsewhere, and fly up more
than two hundred feet, burying all the works, and making it impossible
for the engineer to approach.
The first summer was spent in making twelve holes in the rock, and
fastening twelve large irons to hold the work that was to be done
afterwards. It appears that Winstanley and his party made single
journies every time from Plymouth, and had not any store-ship lying at
moorings as a place of constant retreat. This was a great oversight,
and unnecessarily retarded his work. Many journies were taken in vain,
when no landing could be effected, and during the work the hours of
labour were needlessly curtailed by preparations for the safety of the
materials during their absence, and also for their own departure.
The second summer was employed in making a solid round pillar, twelve
feet high and fourteen in diameter. This was an important step: the
workmen had now some small shelter, and something to hold by. The
season also proved rather more favourable than the preceding; but the
labour of conveying materials, and making them secure, or returning
them to the boats every night when they left work, was very great.
During the third year, this pillar was made good at the foundation
from the rock to sixteen feet in diameter, and the edifice was raised
to the height of eighty feet. 'Being all finished,' says the engineer,
'with the lantern, and all the rooms that were in it, we ventured to
lodge there soon after Midsummer, for the greater dispatch of the
work. But the first night the weather came bad, and so continued, that
it was eleven days before any boats could come near us again; and not
being acquainted with the height of the sea's rising, we were almost
drowned with wet, and our provisions in as bad a condition, though we
worked night and day as much as possible to make shelter for
ourselves. In this storm we lost some of our materials, although we
did what we could to save them; but the boat then returning, we all
left the house to be refreshed on shore: and as soon as the weather
did permit we returned and finished all, and put up the light on the
14th November 1698; which being so late in the year, it was three days
before Christmas before we had relief to go on shore again, and were
almost at the last extremity for want of provisions; but by good
Providence, then two boats came with provisions and the family that
was to take care of the light, and so ended this year's work.'
The fourth year was spent in strengthening and enlarging the
structure. The sea had considerably damaged the building during the
winter, and at times the lantern was so completely buried beneath the
waves, that it was thought expedient to raise the height of the
edifice. Early in the spring the building was encompassed with a new
work of four feet thickness from the foundation, and all was made
solid nearly twenty feet high. The upper part of the building was
taken down, and every part was enlarged in its proportion. The height
was increased forty feet; and yet the sea, in stormy weather, flew, to
all appearance, one hundred feet above the vane. Mr. Winstanley has
left no description of this structure; but a print, from a drawing
said to have been made on the spot, was extant in Smeaton's time, so
that he describes it as consisting of a store-room, with a projecting
cabin to the south-east, a kitchen, a state-room, a lodging-room, an
open gallery or platform, an attending or look-out room, and a lantern
for the lights surrounded by a gallery or balcony[3].
Thus Mr. Winstanley's lighthouse was completed in 1700, and though
destined to remain but a short time, it was a most important and
heroic step accomplished. Mankind were now convinced that the erection
of a building upon the Eddystone rocks was not an impracticable thing,
though long deemed so; and if experience now proved that the shock of
the surges was augmented, by the interposition of the building, to a
furious extent, it also led the way to further trials and expedients
to counteract that shock.
In November 1703 Mr. Winstanley went down to Plymouth to superintend
some repairs that had become necessary to the lighthouse; and when he
was about to proceed with his workmen to the spot, some of his
friends, convinced from the structure of the lighthouse that it could
not last long, ventured to intimate their suspicions to him, and to
warn him of danger. His reply was, that he felt so convinced of the
strength of his building, that he only wished he might be there in the
greatest storm that ever blew under the face of heaven, that he might
see what effect it would have upon the structure. It is painful to
record this presumptuous wish, and still more so to relate its
fulfilment.
Mr. Winstanley with his work-people and light-keepers had taken up
their abode at the lighthouse, when a dreadful storm began, and in the
night of the 26th of November reached a terrific height. Indeed of all
the accounts which history furnishes of storms in Great Britain, none
is to be found of a more awful and devastating nature than this.
Plymouth itself suffered severely; and when morning came, and the
height of the tempest was past, there was an eager look out in the
direction of the lighthouse, to see what injury it might have
sustained. But the waters rushed on over the Eddystone rocks, no
longer impeded by the lofty structure that had been reared with such
pains and cost. Winstanley, his work-people, his light-keepers, his
boasted structure--all had been swept away by the resistless fury of
the winds and waves; and not only this, but a homeward-bound vessel,
the 'Winchelsea,' deprived of the warning light that might have
averted her fate, struck upon these rocks, and lost nearly her whole
crew. This lamentable event is detailed in most of the public papers
of the day; and the loss to the nation, as it respected Winstanley
himself, who was deemed the only person able to reconstruct the
edifice, deeply deplored.
Three years elapsed ere the necessary steps were taken fur commencing
anew this most useful work. It appears from this that some
obstructions to the undertaking were offered, since it was not until
the 4th of Queen Anne that an Act of Parliament was obtained for the
better enabling the Master, Wardens, and Assistants of Trinity House,
Deptford Strand, to rebuild the Lighthouse. The act runs thus: 'And
whereas there now is, and time out of mind has been, a very dangerous
rock, called the Edystone lying off of Plymouth, in the county of
Devon, upon which divers ships and vessels have been cast away and
destroyed: and whereas upon application some time since made to the
said Master, Wardens, and Assistants, by great numbers of masters and
owners of shipping to have a lighthouse erected upon the said rock,
offering and agreeing in consequence of the great charge, difficulty,
and hazard of such an undertaking, to pay the said Master, &c. one
penny per ton outwards, and the like inwards, for all ships and
vessels which should pass such lighthouse, (coasters excepted, which
should pay twelve pence only for each voyage,) they, the said Master,
&c. having a due regard to the safety and preservation of the shipping
and navigation of this kingdom, did in the year 1696 cause a
lighthouse to be begun to be erected upon the said rock, and in three
years a light was placed therein; and the said lighthouse in the term
of five years was with much hazard and difficulty, and at a very great
expense, fully built and completed, to the great satisfaction of the
flag-officers and commanders of the fleet and ships of war, and of all
other concerned in trade and navigation, the same being not only
useful for avoiding the dangerous rock upon which it was built, but
also as a guide and direction to ships passing through the channel
from and to all parts of the world. And whereas the said lighthouse
was preserved and kept up for several years, notwithstanding the great
force and violence of the wind and sea, (to which it was exposed,)
until the late dreadful storm in November 1703, when the same was
blown down and destroyed: and whereas it was found by experience that
the said lighthouse (during the standing thereof) was of public use
and benefit to this kingdom, a means to preserve her Majesty's ships
of war, and the shipping, lives, and estates of her subjects. And
forasmuch as the speedy rebuilding the said lighthouse is absolutely
necessary for avoiding the dangers attending the trade and navigation
of this kingdom, and in regard the same work is of great charge,
hazard, and expense, and all due and proper encouragement ought to be
given thereto; to the end therefore that the said Master, &c. may be
encouraged to new-erect and build, or cause to be new-erected and
built, the said lighthouse with all convenient speed, and constantly
keep and maintain the same for the benefit of the navigation and trade
of this kingdom, be it enacted, &c.' It then proceeds to enact the
payment of the duties above mentioned, and double on foreign vessels,
'from and after the kindling or placing a light useful for shipping in
the said lighthouse.' In 1706 a lease of ninety-nine years was granted
by the corporation of Trinity House to a Captain Lovet, who undertook
the management of the affairs connected with the building. The choice
Captain Lovet made of an engineer, or architect and surveyor, may seem
a strange one. He deputed to that office John Rudyerd, a silk-mercer
who kept a shop on Ludgate Hill.
It does not appear that this Rudyerd had been bred to any scientific
profession. On the contrary, it is reported that his parents and
family were vagrants, and notorious for the badness of their
characters; but that from something promising in the aspect of this
boy, a gentleman took him into his service, and gave him instruction
in reading, writing, accounts, and mathematics, in all which the boy
made ready progress; so that his master was enabled to gratify his
benevolent intention of advancing him in life, and recommending him to
some employment above the rank of a servant. Thus was laid the
foundation of his future success.
No doubt Captain Lovet had become well assured of the genius of this
man, ere he entrusted him with a work for which no previous experience
had qualified him. At any rate, the choice was a wise one. Rudyerd's
designs proved admirable, and his want of personal experience was in a
great degree supplied by the help of Messrs. Smith and Norcutt,
shipwrights from Woolwich, who worked with him the whole time.
Rudyerd saw the errors in Winstanley's building, and avoided them:
instead of a polygon, he chose a circle for the outline of his
building, and carried up the elevation in that form. He studied use
and simplicity instead of ornament; therefore he dispensed with the
open gallery and other unnecessary appendages of the former building.
After the completion of his work, Rudyerd published a print of his
lighthouse, entitled 'A Prospect and Section of the Lighthouse on the
Edystone Rock off of Plymouth;' with the motto, _Furit natura coercet
ars_, dedicated to Thomas Earl of Pembroke, then Lord High Admiral.
Rudyerd did not fail to observe that owing to the very considerable
slope of the surface of the Eddystone rock, nothing would stand upon
it without artificial means: he therefore concluded, that if the rock
were reduced to level bearings, the heavy bodies to be placed upon it
would then have no tendency to slide. He therefore intended to have
reduced the inclined surface to a set of regular steps, which would
have been attended with the same good effect, as if the whole could
have been reduced to one level; but in consequence of the hardness of
the rock, the shortness and uncertainty of the intervals in which this
part of the work was performed, and the great tendency of the laminæ
of the rock to rise in _spawls_, according to the inclined surface
when acted upon by tools with sufficient force to make an impression,
this part of the work, _i. e._ the reducing of the rock to steps, was
never perfectly carried out. The face of the rock was, however,
divided into seven rather unequal ascents: thirty-six holes were cut
in the rock, to the depth of from twenty to thirty inches. These holes
were six inches square at the top, gradually narrowing to five inches,
and then spreading again and flattening to nine inches by three at the
bottom. They were all cut smooth within, and with great dispatch, as
Rudyerd himself informs us, (though the stone was harder than any
marble or stone thereabouts,) with engines for that purpose. Every
cramp or bolt was forged exactly to the size of the hole it was
designed to fill, weighing from two to five hundred weight, according
to its different length and substance. These bolts or branches served
to fasten the foundation to the rock.
The method of fixing these branches in the rock was ingenious, and
proved quite effectual; so that when Smeaton took out some of these
branches more than forty years afterwards, they were perfectly sound,
and the iron had not even rusted. When the holes were finished and
cleared of water, Rudyerd caused a considerable quantity of melted
tallow to be poured into each hole: the iron branch was then heated to
a blue heat, and being put down into the tallow, the key was firmly
driven in. Thus all the space unfilled by the iron would become full
of tallow even to overflowing. While all remained hot, a quantity of
melted pewter was poured into the chinks, and drove out the remainder
of the tallow, thus effectually filling up every crevice.
When all the iron branches were thus made fast in the solid rock,
Rudyerd proceeded to fix a course of squared oak timbers lengthwise
upon the lowest step, so as to reach to the level of the step above.
Another set of timbers were then laid crosswise, so as to cover those
already laid down, and also to carry the level surface to the height
of the third step. The third stratum was again laid lengthwise, the
fourth crosswise, &c., until a basement of solid wood was raised, two
complete courses higher than the highest part of the rock; the whole
being fitted together, and to the rock (by means of the branches) as
closely as possible; while all the timbers, in their intersections
with each other, were trenailed together.
The branches originally let into the solid rock were perforated in
their upper parts, some with three and some with four holes, so that
in every pair (collectively called a branch) there would be about
seven holes; and as there were at least thirty-six original branches,
there would be two hundred and fifty-two holes, which were about
seven-eighths of an inch in diameter; and consequently were capable of
receiving as many large bearded spikes or _jag-bolts_, which being
driven through the branches into the solid timber held the mass firmly
down; while a great multiplicity of trenails in the intersections
confined the strata closely and compactly together.
In this way, by fixing layer upon layer of solid squared oak-timber of
the best quality, Rudyerd was enabled to make a solid basement of the
required height; but in addition to this he judiciously acted upon the
principle that _weight is most naturally and effectually resisted by
weight_. He considered that all the joints of these timbers were
pervious to water, and that it was not possible that every portion of
the ground layer should be precisely and entirely in contact with the
rock; and he was well aware that where the contact was not perfect, so
as to exclude the water therefrom, though the separation was only of
the thickness of writing-paper, yet the action of a wave upon it
edgewise would produce an equal effect towards lifting it upwards, as
if it acted immediately upon so much area of the bottom as was not in
close contact. To counteract therefore every tendency of the seas to
move the building in any direction, he interposed strata of Cornish
Granite. Thus the foundation was of oak as far as two courses above
the top of the rock, then five courses of stone were added, of a foot
each in thickness, and these were kept together and secured by cramps
of iron. Two more courses of timber then followed, and thus was
finished the entire solid portion of the basement.
Rudyerd's lighthouse was begun in July 1706, and completely finished
in 1709. The entry door was full eight feet above the highest part of
the rock, and therefore an iron ladder of great strength was employed
as the mode of ascent. The floor of the store-room was laid at the
height of twenty-seven feet above the rock. Four rooms, one above
another, and the lantern, with its balcony, completed the edifice. The
main column of the building consisted of one simple figure, being an
elegant frustum of a cone, unbroken by any projecting ornament, or any
thing whereon the violence of the storms could lay hold, being,
exclusive of its sloping foundation, twenty-two feet eight inches upon
its largest circular base; sixty-one feet high above that circular
base; and fourteen feet three inches in diameter at the top. The whole
edifice, with the exception of the courses of granite at the base,
which may be regarded as ballast, was composed of timber, skilfully
joined and fitted, and exhibiting an excellent specimen of
shipwrights' work. All the window-shutters, doors, &c. were so formed
as when shut to fall in with the general surface, without making any
unevenness or projection. The only projecting parts in the whole
building were a simple cornice nine inches wide, for the protection of
the windows of the lantern, which could not of course be defended by
shutters, and another cornice of similar width at the base, which
filled up the angle between the upright timbers of the building and
the sloping surface of the rock. The lantern was an octagon of ten
feet six inches in diameter, externally, and above it, was a ball of
two feet three inches diameter. The whole height of the lighthouse,
from the lowest side to the top of the ball, was ninety-two feet.
Rudyerd's lighthouse stood in need of no material repairs for some
years; but at length the upright timbers were considerably damaged by
the attacks of a small worm, and were consequently subject to
extensive reparation. For many years after the establishment of the
lighthouse, it was attended by two light-keepers only, whose duty it
was to keep the windows of the lantern clean, and to watch four hours
alternately, for the purpose of snuffing and renewing the candles.
Each at the conclusion of his watch took care to call the other, and
see him on duty before he retired. The duties of the lighthouse did
not actually require more than two men for this service; but a painful
incident which occurred at the period we are referring to, caused a
change in this respect. One of the two light-keepers was taken
suddenly ill, and died; and the survivor had no means of making any
one acquainted with the circumstance. The signal, when anything was
wanted by the light-keepers, was to hoist a large flag upon a
flag-staff from the balcony rails, so as to be fully extended in the
wind, clear of the building. This flag-staff could be seen in moderate
weather from the heights about Ram-head; and that it might never be
hung out in vain, a reward of half a guinea was given to the first
person who brought tidings of the fact to the agent at Plymouth; and
this agent immediately sent out a boat, to land at the rock (if
possible), and ascertain what was wanted. The remaining light-keeper,
on this occasion, hoisted the accustomed signal, which was also
observed on shore; but so boisterous was the weather, that, for a long
time, it was impossible for a boat to approach within speaking
distance of the rocks. During this period, the living man found
himself in a most awful and distressing situation: he knew not how to
dispose of the corpse; for if he threw it into the waves, which was
his only means of getting rid of it, he feared that he might be
charged with the murder of his companion; and yet each day that it
remained, it was endangering his own life, by the extremely offensive
condition to which it was reduced. When, at last, the people from the
boat effected a landing, they found the whole building filled with the
most insufferable odour, and the dead body in such a state that it was
impossible to remove it to Plymouth for interment: they therefore
consigned it to the sea; but it was a long time before the rooms
could be purified or made healthful.
This circumstance induced the proprietors of the lighthouse to employ
a third man; so that, in case of a future accident of the same nature,
or the sickness of either, there might be constantly one to supply the
place. This regulation afforded a seasonable relief to the
light-keepers; for as soon as three were appointed to the service, a
rule was made that in summer each man in his turn should be permitted
to go on shore, and spend a month with his friends and acquaintance.
That a residence in the lighthouse, solitary and desolate as it must
have been, was considered no hardship by those who undertook the
office, the following anecdote will prove. A skipper was once carrying
out in his boat a new light-keeper to the rock. The man had been a
shoemaker, and the skipper said to him, 'Friend Jacob, how is it that
you choose to go out to be a light-keeper, when you can earn, as I
have been told, half-a-crown or three shillings a day on shore, by
making leathern hose,--the light-keeper's salary is but twenty-five
pounds a year, which, you know, is scarce ten shillings a week?' 'I am
going to be a light-keeper,' said the shoemaker, 'because I don't like
_confinement_.' This answer naturally excited the skipper's merriment,
and the shoemaker explained his meaning to be that he did not like to
be _confined to work_.
These dwellers on the rock were cut off from all communication with
their fellow-creatures for weeks and months together during stormy
weather; and it might naturally be expected that under these
circumstances they should be bound to each other by ties of brotherly
feeling and goodwill. But dissension and strife are not shut out from
the human bosom by mere retirement from the busy scenes of life. When
only two light-keepers inhabited the building, it happened that some
visitors, who had repaired thither to gratify their curiosity by an
examination of the lighthouse, observed to one of the men, how very
comfortably they might live there in a state of retirement. 'Yes,'
said the man, 'we might live comfortably enough, if we could have the
use of our tongues; but it is now a full month since my partner and I
have spoken to each other.'
Connected with Rudyerd's lighthouse an anecdote is told of Louis XIV.
which is honourable to his feelings. During the progress of the work
at the Eddystone rocks, a French privateer seized the men employed on
the building, and took them, together with their tools, to France,
expecting to be handsomely rewarded. While the captives lay in prison,
the transaction reached the ears of the monarch. He immediately
ordered them to be released, and the captors put in their place,
declaring, that though he was at war with England, he was not at war
with mankind. He observed that the Eddystone lighthouse was so
situated as to be of equal service to all nations having occasion to
navigate the channel that divides France from England, and he
therefore directed the men to be sent back to their work with
presents.
The value of the principles on which Rudyerd had conducted his work
was abundantly proved by the fact, that his lighthouse continued to
brave the force of the storms for upwards of forty-six years, and at
the end of that period was destroyed, not by water, but by fire. This
sad calamity happened on the 2nd of December, 1755. It has never been
possible fully to investigate the cause of the building taking fire,
but it appears to have commenced in the very top of the lantern or
cupola. As the whole building was of wood, it is possible that the
heat of the candles in the lantern, continued during the long period
of between forty and fifty years, might have brought the thin boards
which lined the cupola to such a state of dryness and inflammability,
that, together with the soot which encrusted it, and which was formed
from the smoke of the candles, it might have been as liable to take
fire as a mass of tinder, and a single spark from one of the candles
would be sufficient to effect the mischief. The light-keepers
themselves attributed the fire to the copper funnel of the kitchen
chimney which passed through the cupola. However this might be, the
three light-keepers alone remained in the edifice, and when one of
them, whose turn it was to watch, went into the lantern at about two
o'clock in the morning to snuff the candles he found a dense smoke,
and upon his opening the door of the lantern into the balcony, a flame
instantly burst from the inside of the cupola. The man alarmed his
companions, and they used their utmost endeavours to extinguish the
fire, but on account of the difficulty of getting a sufficient supply
of water to the top of the building, they soon found their efforts
vain, and were obliged to retreat downwards from room to room as the
fire gathered strength. Early in the morning the fire was perceived by
some fishermen, and intelligence being given, a boat and men were sent
out to the relief of the poor light-keepers. The boat reached the
place at ten o'clock, after the fire had been burning eight hours. The
light-keepers had been driven not only from all the rooms and the
staircase, but to avoid the red hot timber, and the falling of the
bolts upon them, they had been forced to creep into a hole or cave on
the east side of the rock, where they were found almost in a state of
stupefaction. There was great difficulty in getting them off the rock,
for the surf was too high to enable the boat to effect a landing; but
the men themselves becoming conscious of their perilous situation, and
of the efforts that were being made to save them, adopted the only
means of escape which now remained. By great efforts, a small boat had
been got near enough to throw a coil of rope upon a projection of the
rock, and the sufferers had sufficient remaining energy to lay hold of
it, and one by one to fasten it round their bodies and jump into the
sea. Thus they were towed into the small boat, and thence delivered to
the large one, which returned with them to Plymouth. No sooner,
however, were they set on shore than one of them made off, and was
never afterwards heard of. This suspicious circumstance would
naturally induce the idea that the man had himself originated the
conflagration; but the fact of its being a lighthouse with no means
of retreat for the inmates, and every reason to believe that they must
perish with the building, is much opposed to this idea. In giving an
account of this circumstance, Smeaton says, 'I would rather impute his
sudden flight to that kind of panic which sometimes, on important
occasions, seizes weak minds; making them act without reason, and in
so doing commit actions whose tendency is the very reverse of what
they desire.'
Of the other two light-keepers, one, named Henry Hall, had received
injuries of a most serious nature; and his case is not a little
extraordinary. At the time of the fire, there was, according to the
usual custom, a tub of water standing in the lantern of the
lighthouse; and when this man perceived the flames, he immediately
exerted himself to the utmost in throwing buckets of water up into the
roof of the cupola. As he was doing this, and looking upwards to see
the effect of his endeavours, a quantity of lead, dissolved by the
heat of the flames, suddenly rushed from the roof, and fell upon his
head, face, and shoulders, burning him in a severe manner. At this
moment his mouth happened to be open, and he persisted in declaring
that some lead had gone down his throat, and was the cause of violent
internal pain. When removed to his cottage at Stonehouse, he
invariably told Dr. Spry, the medical man who attended him, and who
constantly administered the proper remedies for the burns and injuries
he had received, that if he would do anything effectual to his
recovery, he must relieve his stomach of the lead, which he was sure
it contained. This story appeared quite incredible to Dr. Spry, who
did not believe that any human being could exist after receiving
melted lead into the stomach; much less that he should afterwards be
able to bear towing through the sea from the rock; and also the
fatigue and inconvenience from the length of time employed in getting
him ashore, before any remedies could be applied. The man went on
without much change for the better or for the worse. He took
medicines, and swallowed many things both liquid and solid, until the
tenth or eleventh day, when he suddenly grew worse, and on the twelfth
day, being seized with cold sweats and spasms, he soon afterwards
expired. On a subsequent examination of the stomach, Dr. Spry found,
to his astonishment, a solid piece of lead of a flat oval form, which
weighed seven ounces and five drachms. Smeaton saw this piece of lead,
and observed that part of the coat of the stomach had firmly adhered
to the convex side of it. Dr. Spry transmitted an account of this very
singular case to the Royal Society: but it was not received with
entire belief until he had, by subsequent experiments upon animals,
borne out the fact that it is _possible_ for melted lead to be
received into the stomach without the immediate death of the sufferer;
though more probable that, in the great majority of cases, instant
death would be the result.
But to return to the Eddystone rock. Notwithstanding every exertion
was made to subdue the flames, the lighthouse was totally consumed,
even to the massive foundations, and nothing was left upon the rock
but a number of the iron cramps and branches.
The value of a lighthouse on the Eddystone rock had now been so fully
proved, that no time was to be lost in endeavouring to build a new one
in the place of that which had been so unfortunately destroyed. An
application was made to the President of the Royal Society, requesting
him to point out a person who might appear worthy to be entrusted with
the work. Lord Macclesfield (the then president) replied 'that there
was one of their own body whom he could venture to recommend to the
work; yet that the most material part of what he knew of him was his
having within the compass of the last seven years recommended himself
to the society by the communication of several mechanical contrivances
and improvements; and though he had at first made it his business to
execute things in the instrument way (without ever having been bred to
the trade), yet on account of the merit of his performances he had
been chosen a member of the society; and that for about three years
past, having found the business of a philosophical instrument maker
not likely to afford an adequate recompence, he had wholly applied
himself to various branches of mechanics.' The earl went on to say
that this person was then in Scotland, or in the north of England, and
he should recommend the statement of the business to him, being fully
confident that he would undertake nothing which he did not feel
himself competent to perform.
The person thus referred to was John Smeaton, whose history, so far as
the scanty materials will allow, shall here be given to the reader.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: It was commonly said at the time, that during a hard gale
the sea ran so high that it was very possible for a six-oared boat to
be lifted by the waves, and driven through the open gallery of the
lighthouse.]