As soon as the trio began their tour of inspection of the construction
camp Jack’s curiosity about the big blocks of granite that looked like
sections of a jig-saw puzzle was revived, and the first question he
asked of Mr. Warner was:
“What were you going to tell me about that granite?”
“Oh, yes,” said the engineer; “I haven’t said much about lighthouse
building yet, have I? Well, we’ll begin at the proper place, which is
the beginning, and I’ll outline to you and Ray just what we hope to
do here on Cobra Reef. I don’t know whether you two have studied that
big boulder out there that looks like a snake’s head, but if you have
you’ve noticed that it is about fifty feet across in either direction
and that at low tide it stands eighteen or twenty feet out of water.
Under those circumstances it is not going to be as difficult to build
a lighthouse there as it would were the rock submerged all day. As a
matter of fact, it is never totally under water, although sometimes the
seas break completely over it at high tide.
“Last year when it was decided to supersede the Hood Island light with
a more modern structure (you’ve noticed that the present tower is quite
antiquated in appearance) engineers from the Bureau of Lighthouses came
here and after a great deal of trouble landed on Cobra Head and ran
a survey across the rock. Their figures were taken to Washington and
studied, and the kind of a lighthouse necessary to crown the reef was
decided upon.
“The decision resulted in the adoption of the most common form of light
which is known as a monolithic structure; a single shaft of stone.
Lighthouses of this character are usually built of granite prepared as
the granite you see over there on the cliff’s edge. There are other
good lighthouse materials, however. Some structures are built of
reenforced concrete, some of steel, and some are nothing more or less
than wooden buildings built on steel supports.
“But granite is considered superior material where the light is wave
swept, as this one will be. In building a lighthouse of granite it is
very necessary that when the pile is completed it shall be almost as
solid as a single section of rock. To make this possible a European
engineer, a long time ago, devised the plan of making each block of
stone lock into the other by means of dove-tailing them. This is
accomplished by having the stonecutters in the quarry yards chip
projections on the top and one side, and indentations on the bottom and
remaining side of the granite building blocks, so that when the stone
is put in place the two projections fit into two indentions on the side
of the block next to it and the top of the one it rests upon, and the
indentions on the side and top are ready to receive the projections of
the next stone.”
Here Mr. Warner tore a sheet from his engineering note-book and sitting
on the edge of one of the big blocks he sketched out a cross section of
the foundation of the proposed lighthouse as well as a sectional view
of the structure itself, thus giving the boys a clear idea of how the
work would be done.
[Illustration: Map of Hood Island and Cobra Reef, Sketched by Mr.
Warner and Later Filled in by Jack Straw and Forwarded to His Father.
A, Cobra Head. B, Reef. C, Cable-Way Between Island and Reef. D,
Granite Blocks. E, Construction Camp. F, Captain Eli Whittaker’s Light.
G, Beach. H, Anchorage for Whale-Boats. I, Old Mitchell’s House. J,
Anchorage of the _Betsy Ann_. K, Path from Beach to Camp. L, Cliffs.
M, Mitchell’s Flounder Fishing Grounds. N, Mitchell’s Lobster Traps.
O, Opening in the Reef Through Which the _Blueflower_ Entered. P,
Cross-section of Lighthouse Foundation. Q, Cross-section of Lighthouse
Tower.]
“The work of shaping the stones is all done at the quarries; indeed
the entire lighthouse is erected stone for stone in the quarry yard so
that every piece fits perfectly. The blocks are then numbered and the
structure is taken apart and shipped here. If you’ll notice each of
those granite blocks is numbered according to position and section. In
that way there is no delay in preparing materials while construction
work is under way.”
“My, but that’s interesting,” said Jack. “I did notice that each block
was marked, but I had no idea that building a stone lighthouse could be
made as simple as all that.”
“Oh, it may sound simple,” said Mr. Warner, “but you just wait until we
begin operations. Then it won’t seem so easy.”
“What gets me,” said Ray, “is how you are going to get all of those
big chunks of stone over to the rock. Why, some of ’em look as if they
weighed five or six tons. Also, how on earth did you get them up on top
of this cliff?”
“I’ll answer both of those questions at once,” said Mr. Warner. “You
are quite right, Ray; the blocks do weigh a great deal. In fact,
some of the larger ones to be used in the base of the lighthouse
weigh fully four tons. Under those circumstances it must look like a
tremendous task to get them up to the top of the cliff and later take
them over to the rock. You see, if Cobra Head had been larger and the
water in the vicinity less treacherous, the lighters that brought the
stone here from Portland would have landed it on the rock. Under the
existing conditions, however, this could not be done and the next
best thing was to land the material on Hood Island. To leave it at
the beach, where we came ashore, would have been out of the question,
for it would be necessary later on to reload it on lighters, section
by section, and take it to the rock. Finally we decided that we would
adopt the same methods as those used by the English engineers in
building several famous lights; that is, we planned an aerial cableway
between the top of the cliff and Cobra Head rock, thus providing a
short and safe means of conveying men, supplies and materials to the
reef’s head. That steel tower yonder, which the men are re-rigging, and
that donkey engine on the cliff’s edge, were installed a month or so
ago, and every time a lighter with stone and supplies of a cumbersome
nature came in, a temporary cableway was rigged from the tower to the
mast on board the boat and the supplies brought ashore in that way.
“Our trip to the rock to-morrow will be to carry a line out there with
which to rig up a temporary breeches-buoy outfit such as coastguards
use in case of a wreck. In this men will be sent to the reef to drill
holes and make an anchorage for the aerial cableway which will be built
immediately. Then everything will be ready for the real construction
work.”
Mr. Warner paused again and sketched a map of the reef and the island
showing how the cableway would be built between the island and the head
of the reef.
“What sort of a foundation will you have for the light, Mr. Warner?”
asked Ray.
“Oh, I was coming to that. Here’s how we will proceed with the work.
To-morrow we will land on the rock, providing Neptune is willing. Then
while some men are drilling holes in which to put the ringbolts to hold
the reef end of the cableway, other men will start chipping away the
humps and bumps on Cobra Head. That lump that looks like a head itself
will have to be cut away and the top of the hood will be made as flat
as possible. It will not be necessary to dig very deep into the rock
because the constant erosion of the sea for centuries past has eaten
away all the soft parts of the rock, if there ever were any, and all
that you see above water now is as firm and as hard as flint. As I said
before, we’ll pare it down somewhat in spots and we may be forced to
use a little dynamite in the work, though I’ll avoid that if possible
for explosives may shatter the entire boulder if they are not used
carefully. Then where would we be?”
“I think if that should happen you would have a mighty hard job on your
hands,” said Jack.
“You’re right, we would,” assured Mr. Warner. Then he continued, “When
the chipping is all done and the cableway is in working order, things
will proceed as smoothly as the elements will allow. The first blocks
will be sent down and put in place. They will be imbedded in cement
which will take hold of both the rock and the building block. After the
cement is set a hole will be drilled through the granite block and deep
into the boulder. A heavy steel bolt will be sunk through this hole
and anchored to the reef with hydraulic cement which will be forced
home under pressure. When this cement has set the first tier of stones
will be as solid as man can make it.
“When the cableway is working we’ll start to build a miniature
construction camp out there on the rock. There will be derricks,
for one thing, for no man, or group of men, could handle one of
those tremendous blocks without some mechanical assistance. It is
probable that half a dozen derricks will be built during the course
of construction work, for storms will sweep them away in a jiffy once
the waves get piling up on the Head. We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose
some of our workmen too. There’s many a lighthouse along the coast the
building of which has cost more than one human life. This sort of work,
my boys, is not the easiest in the--”
“Ow-w-w-w-ye-e-e-e-o! Ow-w-w-w-ye-e-e-o!”
“Good gracious, what’s that,” exclaimed Jack, jumping as if he had been
shot.
Ray smiled and turned around slowly. “That’s a conch. Some one’s
calling.”
“Yes, that’s Eli Whittaker’s dinner horn,” said Mr. Warner, smiling at
Jack’s surprise.
“Call to dinner, is it?” said Jack, smiling too; “sounded to me as if a
whole drove of elephants was charging down upon us. Well, if it means
something to eat I’ll welcome it as terrible as it sounds,” said the
lad from Vermont.
“So’ll I,” assured Ray, “though I don’t know how I’m going to handle a
knife and fork with my arm out of commission.”
“Pooh, don’t mind that as long as your mouth isn’t in a sling,” said
Jack. “I’ll cut up your food and you can use the fork with your good
paw, can’t you?”
“Just watch me,” said Ray.
The sound of the conch was evidently the camp’s signal for dinner too,
for as Jack and Ray and Mr. Warner walked back toward the lighthouse
they passed scores of men on their way to the long, half-finished
mess-hall where Bongo, the dusky cook, was piling a board table full of
good wholesome victuals. The men of the crew were of all nationalities,
but they were men every one of them. Jack noted the fact that every
eye was clear and each moved with a stride that bespoke strength and
agility. They were big chested and brawny and Jack did not know when
or where he had ever seen finer specimens of manhood, a fact which he
remarked to Ray and Mr. Warner.
Four seated about the tiny dining-room of Eli Whittaker’s
spick-and-span cottage made the place seem crowded indeed. Eli was his
own cook and housekeeper and he was a past-master at both, according
to Jack’s way of thinking. That he was an excellent housekeeper was
evident from a glance about the neat cottage and the neater light
tower. And as for his cooking ability, well, great dishes full of
steamed clams, three fat lobsters split in half, and generous portions
of corned beef, boiled potatoes and canned corn, all provided eloquent
testimony to this fact. The quartet fell to with a will, and Ray,
despite his handicap, managed to consume as much as the rest.
After dinner the two lads helped Captain Eli wash dishes, though Ray
was of little assistance because of his injured arm. And while they
were thus occupied Mr. Warner came in from the camp with word that
O’Brien had assured him that all work on the buildings would be
completed by evening, and that the next morning everything would be
ready for their first attempt to land on Cobra Head.
A little later the engineer took Jack and Ray over to a two-roomed
shanty in which he intended to make his office and drafting-room. Here
they were shown to the rear apartment where there were several high
desks and a number of books. This portion of the building, Mr. Warner
informed them, was to be their domain, Jack being given one desk and
Ray another.
For half an hour Mr. Warner explained in detail the clerical work that
the boys would have to attend to, and before he left he assured them
that their daily routine would not keep them occupied more than a few
hours each morning and that the rest of the time they would be at
liberty to spend with the engineers, or the crew, or do whatever else
they saw fit to occupy their time.
Their first duties, however, were enough to keep the lads occupied for
some time and Eli Whittaker’s conch was sounding its evening warning
almost before they realized it.
“Jiminy,” said Jack, looking up from his books, “it’s time to eat
again. I’m hungrier than a bear too. My, what an appetite I’ve
developed since I left Vermont.”
“I get sort of hungry myself now that I don’t have to worry about Uncle
Vance and his disagreeable temper. If I only had the lifeboat model he
tossed overboard I’d be as happy as any one could be. I’m going to get
at a new model as soon as my arm gets better, by jiminy, and you can
bet no one’s going to get a chance to heave it overboard again. The
thing that is worrying me though is whether I’ll be able to remember
just how I had the first one built,” said Ray, slipping down from his
high stool and joining Jack.
“Tut, tut,” said Jack, “don’t worry about it now. Let’s go and get
something to eat.”
When the two lads came out of the office door they noticed immediately
that although it still lacked an hour or more of dusk Eli Whittaker
had already lighted the lamp in the tower. Jack and Ray watched it
shoot forth its single ray of white light periodically as the big lens
revolved.
“I’m going up in the tower after supper and learn something about
lighthouse lamps, that is if Captain Whittaker will let me,” said Jack,
as they walked up the path to the top of the promontory.
“I’d like to have a peek inside of the lamp too,” said Ray. “Let’s ask
Captain Eli if he won’t tell us something about the lighthouse service
too.”
“Good idea,” said Jack as they entered the cottage.
The boys were not long in bringing up the subject of conversation, for
almost as soon as the four of them were seated about the table once
more Jack turned to the light keeper and spoke.
“Captain,” said he, “Ray and I are mighty interested in the lighthouse
service and we’d like to know a lot about it. Also we’d like to know
something about the way the lighthouses are lighted too.”
“Well, as fer t’ way lights is lit I can take you up in the tower later
and ye can have a look at my light and I calc’ late I kin tell ye all
ab’ut haow ’tis run. But that hain’t ha’af what’s t’ be told about
lights. Mr. Warner here knows more about lights than I do an’ like es
not he kin reel off them there jawbrakers like ‘equiangular prisms,’
‘dioptics,’ ‘hyperradients,’ an’ what-not ’thout even stoppin’ t’ think
on ’em. As fer me I cain’t never master ’em an’ ’tain’t no use o’ my
tryin’. Time an’ agin I’ve clawed through big books on lights an’ such
like, but I allus finished ’m ignoranter than when I begun ’un.”
“Pshaw,” said Jack, “we don’t want any of those big words either. What
we want is plain English about how lights are regulated.”
“Wall,” said Captain Eli, “I calc’late Mr. Warner could give ye that a
big sight better’n I could too, but es fer t’ service; wall, I’ll have
a little t’ say on that if ye want t’ hear it.”
“Go ahead, Captain; we’re all ears,” said Mr. Warner. “I’d like to get
a good straight-from-the-shoulder opinion from one on the inside.”
“Good,” said the keeper as he began to pour another cup of tea for
himself.
“T’ begin with, I kin say that the Lighthouse Service is the finest an’
best regolated department of the United States Government from my p’int
o’ view. An’ it has the finest lot of healthy, big-minded, faithful
men in it that kin be scraped t’gether on t’ face o’ this earth. I
guess it is because these men are in it that the service has been kept
as sweet an’ clean as ’tis. You hain’t never heard o’ no political
scandals or what-not in this here department, have ye? No, siree, an’
they hain’t agoin’ t’ be none, not while fellers like they got in it
stick.
“T’ pay hain’t big an’ t’ hours is long and tedious, but there hain’t
a man of us that ’ud shirk his duty in any respect. Just you look over
my file of the _Lighthouse Service Bulletin_ which is printed every
month. There hain’t an issue what goes by ’thout it has some mention o’
some one doin’ a brave act. Tain’t much of a mention t’ be sure, but we
hain’t hankering fer medals er praise. It’s aour business t’ pertect
property on t’ high seas an’ save lives when we can.
“Why, there’s some keepers as is so faithful they won’t even take a day
off. I read as haow a lighthouse keeper over on t’ other coast in t’
C’lumby River section has only taken two days off duty in twenty-three
years. An’ there was the old man who kept the Van Weis Point light down
York way. Died when he was ninety-three years old an’ he had been in
t’ service fifty-two years. Peers t’ me like a man jest natchelly gits
faithful t’ minute he’s set t’ watching out fer some one else’s safety.
There’s wimmen in t’ service too, an’ they’re jest t’ same; all Grace
Darlings when it comes t’ a p’int o’ nerve. Look at that air woman out
Frisco way who stood all night on the platform outside t’ light in a
thick fog strikin’ the bell with a tack hammer because the machinery
had got out o’ order. An’ there was Ida Lewis, who lived at the Lime
Rock Lighthouse near Newport fer fifty-seven years. She was keeper fer
thirty-two years after her father died. ’Tis said she saved as many as
thirteen people from drownin’ during her life. Hain’t that a record fer
ye?”
“You bet it is,” said Ray and Jack, carried away with the old man’s
enthusiasm.
“Wall, from that ye can gather what I think o’ t’ Lighthouse Service.
No, siree, I hain’t got many kicks agin it. There’s on’y one er two
things need regulatin’! There hain’t no pension fer men who git too old
fer the service an’ fer men who are injured in the service, but we’re
all hopin’ that’ll be changed some day an’ I guess ’twill. An’ in the
meantime every one o’ us is workin’ our hardest t’ keep t’ service
jest es clean es it can be.”
The two lads were thoroughly impressed by the captain’s recital,
and although they did not express it each was of the opinion that
if all the men in the Lighthouse Service were as sincere as he, the
organization could not help but be free from any taint.
“By George,” said Mr. Warner at the conclusion of the captain’s
remarks, “you surely are enthusiastic, but I think you have every
reason to be so, for there isn’t a finer lot of men in the world than
the five thousand odd who have to do with lighting Uncle Sam’s coast
lines. And now, Captain, if you have a couple of amber goggles, which
I believe the department is furnishing you men with who have charge of
flashing lights, I’ll take the boys aloft and tell them something about
the lamp. That will give you time to clean up around before you get
ready to go on watch.”
Captain Eli filled his pipe first, then rummaging around in his bedroom
produced two sets of goggles which he gave to the boys.
“My goggles are hanging on a peg in the lower light room,” he said to
Mr. Warner.
The engineer led the way through the enclosed passage that connected
the cottage with the light and presently the boys found themselves in
the base of the tower from where a spiral staircase wound its way aloft.
“This is a mighty old light. I think it was built nearly a century
ago before lighthouse construction was done as scientifically as it
is to-day,” said the engineer. “But, nevertheless, it must have been
built well to withstand the elements so long. Although the promontory
on which it stands is nearly one hundred feet high and the tower thirty
feet tall, Captain Eli has sent in a report on several occasions of
waves having broken panels in the lantern, so you can see the old place
has stood through some storms.”
The trio were climbing the circular stairs now and Jack noticed, as
they wended their way round and round the building, that a long steel
wire dangled down into the well of the stairway from the very top of
the tower. On the end of the wire was a heavy weight. Of course the
boys sought a reason for this, and when they reached the lower light
room where Mr. Warner found his goggles, Jack asked him about it.
“That weight,” said the engineer as he adjusted the amber glasses,
“operates the clock works in the lamp, which in turn drive the lenses
round and round the lamp and produce the flash. Come aloft now and I’ll
explain it all in detail, only first put on your glasses because your
eyes will not stand the strain of looking into the light.”
The boys did as requested and a moment later they climbed up the last
section of the spiral stairs and entered the light. This was a platform
on the very top of the tower enclosed by eight panels of glass. There
in the center, revolving slowly round and round an incandescent oil
vapor lamp was the big lens. Mr. Warner began to explain immediately.
“To begin with, the first forms of light were, of course, wood and
coal fires which were burned in braziers. These lights were used in
England and in the Mediterranean for a long time. The next step was
naturally the candle, but no matter how big they made their tallows,
or how many of them they crowded into a lantern, the result was a
very weak light. Then came the oil lamps of all varieties. Some burned
one kind of oil, some another; a few had one kind of a wick, a few had
another type, and so on. Indeed, the experimenting with marine lights
has extended over a long period and even to-day there is no universal
form of lighting for lighthouses. But that, of course, is because
conditions are not the same at each light. Acetylene gas is used for
light buoys and similar purposes, and electricity is used where a
supply is available, or where it can be manufactured conveniently; but
the most satisfactory illuminant, all things considered, is kerosene
oil. Indeed, the Lighthouse Service consumes more than half a million
gallons of kerosene annually.
“For a long time lamps with from one to five concentric wicks were
used in the majority of lighthouses, but these are gradually giving
way to incandescent oil lamps, such as the one you see behind the lens
there. It is a small compact affair and it gives a most brilliant light
and at the same time consumes very little oil. The kerosene, which is
supplied from a tank in the lower light room, is heated and vaporized,
the vapor mixing with air under an incandescent mantle and burning as
steadily as an incandescent lamp in a city street, only brighter.”
“That’s very interesting,” said Ray, who had been watching the lamp for
some time. “Now tell us something about the lens, won’t you? How did
they come to invent such a complicated-looking affair?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you about the lens. Old-time lighthouse engineers
were always experimenting on how to improve the efficiency of a light
and when they got through changing the forms of fuel they tried the
use of reflectors of various types. Their efforts were more or less
successful, but when a French physician by the name of Fresnel came
forward with an elaborate system of lenses the science of coast
lighting was revolutionized. This lens you see before you is the
present-day result of his efforts. It embodies his idea worked out
to perfection. You will notice that there is a central lens, or
bull’s-eye, and that around it are grouped prisms of highly polished
glass. The idea is this: The light throws rays on every side, back,
front, top, bottom, and all over. Well, these prisms of glass grasp,
as it were, each ray that shoots out at the side and top and literally
bend it and shoot it forward. In that way all the light from the lamp
is gathered into one bundle and sent out in a given direction, instead
of radiating off on all sides. The lens works exactly like a megaphone
which your football rooters use at Drueryville, Jack. Do you get the
idea?”
“Indeed I do and it is mighty interesting,” assured the young Vermonter.
“Good, and now if you’ve seen all you want up here we’ll go down in the
lower light room, for it is hot in the lantern here and besides even
with these goggles the bright light hurts my eyes.”
“Mine too,” said Ray, leading the way through the tiny trap door and
down the stairway to the lower light room.
“Why do they have some lights flashing and some just a steady glare?”
asked Jack when they reached the next room.
“Well, lighthouses to-day can be made to serve a double purpose. They
warn mariners of a dangerous coast and by means of flashes they tell
vessels which particular light they are near so the seamen know their
exact position when they are traveling the coast. This light shows
steadily for one minute and then gives a five-second flash. The next
light down the coast may give two or three flashes a minute and so on.”
“Do sea captains have to know the flashes of every light along the
coast?” queried Jack.
“Indeed they do and a lot more too,” said Mr. Warner.
“What is the candle-power of lighthouse lamps?” asked Ray.
“They vary a great deal,” said Mr. Warner; “this is very small compared
with some of our lights. The one on the Highlands, marking the approach
to New York Harbor, is said to be of 25,000,000 candle-power. Not long
ago we sent one to the Hawaiian Island that had a lens nearly nine
feet tall and weighed four tons. It is mounded, or floated rather, on
a bed of mercury and makes a complete revolution every twenty seconds,
sending out a double flash of 240,000 candle-power. If it were not for
the curve of the earth it could be seen more than forty miles.”
“Jiminy, what a light!” exclaimed Jack. “Did you hear that, Captain
Eli?” The keeper was just coming up the spiral stairs to go on watch
when Mr. Warner completed his statement.
“Yes, that sort o’ makes my little pet up aloft there seem like a
taller candle, don’t it?”
“Well, Captain,” said Mr. Warner, “how’s the weather for a clear day
to-morrow?”
“Right’s a fiddle, sir,” said the old man.
“And what time is high tide?”
“Tide turns at seven to-morrow--it’ll be full at two o’clock,” said the
lightkeeper.
“Good, we’ve got to make a landing on the reef, you know, and we want
clear weather for such a venture. I only hope we all come out of it
alive,” said Mr. Warner, showing great concern. Then turning to the
boys he said: “Well, lads, if you are going to be up to tussle with the
waves to-morrow, you’d do well to go to bed. You’ll probably have to
bunk together. Which room is theirs, Captain?”
“The little room in t’ so’est corner,” said the captain, adjusting his
goggles preparatory to a visit to the light. Then before he climbed
the stairs he paused a moment and spoke. “Say, have either of you a
watch that keeps good time? I dropped mine this mornin’ an’ now she
won’t tick any more. An’ ye know I feel sort o’ lonesome up aloft here
when I hain’t got a timepiece about me. Sometimes my watch’s face is
t’ on’y friendly face I see fer months, ’ception that o’ old Mitch, t’
lobsterman who lives down t’other end o’ t’ island. He’s the only one
on this forsaken strip o’ land except me.”
“Here, Captain, take my watch,” said Jack, hastily handing over the
gold timepiece that his father had given him several years before.
“Thank ’e, when ye want it jest let me know. I calc-late I’ll be able
t’ fix mine in a day er so.”
Then as he started up the spiral stairs he said:
“Well, good night, boys. I’ll be abed when ye start out fer t’ rock
to-morrow, so here’s luck an’ hopin’ ye’ll come back safe. Good night.”
And Ray and Jack started downstairs, both wondering what the next day
would bring forth.