A FLAMING SENTINEL OF THE MALACCA STRAITS
With the development of commerce between Europe, China, and Japan,
following the awakening of the East, it became imperative to render
the seas approaching these countries far safer to navigation. If one
consults the atlas, and follows the routes taken by the great liners
from Britain and the Continent to the Orient, he will see a rampart
forming the boundary between the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea.
This is the East Indian Archipelago, and it bristles with dangers of
all descriptions to the mercantile traffic flowing to and fro. After
leaving India, the steamships turn their noses towards Singapore, at
the extremity of the Malay Peninsula; but this busy port is shut in on
the south by the attenuated rocky chain of islands forming the Dutch
East Indies, of which Sumatra and Java are the most important.
The steamship lane lies between Sumatra and the Asian mainland, and
is known as the Straits of Malacca. It is a fearsome neck of water,
studded with islands and sandbanks, some visible above high-water,
others revealed only by the falling tide; while still more never see
daylight at all, yet owing to their shallow position are none the less
perilous.
In order to foster the growth of the sea-traffic with China, these
unattractive waters demanded full illumination, while the rock-girt
shores of China and Japan were similarly in need of protective
outposts. Japan was particularly enterprising in this forward movement.
The country was emerging from the state of suspended civilization in
which it had reposed so calmly for centuries. The rising forces were
not slow to realize that unless they safeguarded steamship traffic
their ports would wait in vain for the ships from Europe. In fact, the
mercantile interests of the Western world bluntly stated that unless
this course were followed their ships would not come to trade.
Japan at that time had not capable men at home for the purpose of
completing the first part of a comprehensive coast-lighting scheme, and
it was acknowledged that years must elapse before the country would be
able to walk alone in this field. Accordingly they sought Britain’s
assistance. The Stevenson family, as narrated already, elaborated a
comprehensive scheme, which was accepted. The structures were prepared
in Britain, sent out piecemeal to Japan together with a force of
competent men, and erected at the desired points.
Upon this foundation the Japanese built up their excellent lighthouse
service. The Eastern pupil, in his own estimation, became as competent
as the Scottish teachers. At all events, Japan has since completed
all works of this description at home and unaided. China followed
suit, but in this instance it was due to British initiative purely and
simply. The British Inspector-General of the Imperial Maritime Customs
took up the question. He appointed an engineer-in-chief, to whom
the construction and repair of the lights were entrusted. The chief
engineer was provided with a coast inspector, upon whom devolved the
responsibility for the personnel and the maintenance of the stations,
he in turn being assisted in his exacting and, at that time, difficult
work by a corps of zealous officers.
Although the countries concerned and the shipping companies of Europe
appreciated this forward policy, one class of individuals resented
this introduction of Western ideas into Oriental life. This was the
population who lived by wrecking and piracy. They recognized the fact
only too well, that, if brilliant beacons were to be permitted to be
erected freely throughout these troublous seas, their despicable but
remunerative calling would cease. Their solution of the problem assumed
a characteristic Chinese and Malay form; they endeavoured to wreak
their revenge upon the lights. Now and again there were sharp tussles
between the engineering staffs and these high-water brigands, but
firearms well handled by the white men invariably got the better of
the argument. Pirates caught in the attempt to tamper with the lights
received very short shrift. One engineer who had seen service in these
waters related to me that in the early days the amount of lead expended
in protecting a light from these marauders exceeded the quantity of
this metal used in the tower itself.
The Malacca Straits, from their exceedingly dangerous nature,
constituted a happy hunting-ground for these gentlemen, and the
lighting of these waters was effected as soon as possible. Among the
innumerable menaces abounding, a shoal some sixteen miles west of the
coastline was particularly harassing to mariners. It became known as
One Fathom Bank, and the shallowest part was only about 18 feet below
the surface at high-water. When these waters were guarded first, a
lightship did duty; but the position is so open, and is so exposed to
the full fury of the monsoon, that she frequently dragged her anchors,
so that the warning became somewhat uncertain.
Accordingly, it was decided to supersede the floating light by a
permanent structure, and a lighthouse on stilts, similar to those
familiar to American waters, was erected in 1874, and emitted a white
flash once a minute. Although this ironwork structure was pounded
mercilessly by the seas, it withstood all assaults completely, and was
only superseded eventually owing to the ever-increasing exigencies of
commerce, which demanded a more powerful and elevated light.
The present tower was commenced in 1907. The engineers appreciated the
fact that they were being called upon to carry out an undertaking in an
especially trying position. The bank is well out to sea, and when the
monsoon is in full blast waves 8 feet in height thunder upon the shoal,
their ferocity varying according to the state of the tide, which rises
and falls a matter of 14 feet. The difficulties attending the building
of the Rothersand and Fourteen Foot Bank lighthouses under closely
similar conditions were not forgotten, and the prospect of building
a huge caisson on the mainland, and then towing it to the site to be
sunk, was by no means attractive, even if the fullest avail were taken
of the spells of calmest weather.
Therefore an alternative method of construction, possessing the
qualities of being simpler, quicker, and less expensive, which was
advanced by a well-known firm of engineers in Singapore, Messrs.
Hargreaves, Riley and Co., upon the designs of Mr. O. P. Thomas,
received the closest consideration. This scheme proposed a lighthouse
constructed on piles, with the focal plane 92½ feet above water-level,
wrought in ferro-concrete.
The project was somewhat novel and daring, because, although this
constructive principle had been adopted previously for stations
upon the mainland, it had never been utilized in connection with
exposed sea-lights. The system recommended was that known as the
Hennebique, which had been employed extensively for buildings,
bridges, sea-defences, and other works. The proposal was investigated
thoroughly by the Hon. A. Murray, M.Inst.C.E., the Colonial Engineer
and Surveyor-General for the Straits Settlements, and, as it met with
his full approval, the work was handed over to the Singapore engineers
to fulfil upon the lines advanced.
The structure comprises the main building, including the
living-quarters, supported upon piles disposed in two rings, an inner
and an outer, about a central pile, the whole being well braced
together. The shape is octagonal in plan. From the roof of the
living-quarters, to which point the outer piles are carried vertically
from the sea-bed, these members rise with an inward rake, forming an
octagonal pyramid, with the lantern and its room below forming the apex.
The underwater work was the most difficult, owing to the situation
and the climatic conditions. Seeing that the nearest land is sixteen
miles distant, it was impossible to carry the men to and from the
scene of their labours every day when the weather permitted. A base
was established on the coast for the preparation of materials and as
a point for shipping all requirements to the site, but the men were
accommodated with special facilities upon the spot. Here a temporary
staging was built on piles, on which platform a large hut was erected
to provide quarters for the men, as well as a workshop.
The piles forming the main support to the building were made 50½ feet
long, and hollow. The concrete, composed of broken granite and Portland
cement, encased a steel skeleton, consisting of four longitudinal round
steel rods, 1¾ inches in diameter, laid at the corners, and laced
together with steel wire 3/16 inch thick. Eight of these piles were
made 18 inches square, while nine were 24 inches square, and each was
fitted with a pointed end to facilitate driving into the sea-bed.
As these piles were prepared on shore, their transference to the site
was a pretty problem in itself. Ordinary methods of transport were
impracticable. The engineer overcame the difficulty in an ingenious
manner. He built up a raft of barrels, twenty-six of which were lashed
together in two rows, between which the pile was laid flat and evenly.
The raft was built upon peculiar lines, so as to facilitate the
unshipping of the pile when it reached its destination. It was divided
into four sections, each of which could be detached without disturbing
the other three parts. The raft and its pile were towed out to sea by
a steamer, and when the work was gained the raft was cast off, to be
floated under the staging and to the exact point where it was to be
set up. A chain sling was lowered from the platform and attached to
the head of the pile, and the lashings to the first section of the
raft were released, thus permitting the strapped barrels concerned to
float away and to be recovered. The pile was then slowly and carefully
hoisted at the head, the second part of the raft being released when
the pile had gained a certain height. This procedure was repeated
until finally, when the last part of the raft was freed, the pile
hung free, as vertically true as a plumb-line, with the pointed foot
resting on the sand. In order to send it truly into the sea-bed, heavy
timber guides were set up, and as the pile descended it was frequently
tested with the plummet, to see that it was sinking in an absolutely
perpendicular manner.
[Illustration: COMPLETING THE ONE FATHOM BANK LIGHTHOUSE IN THE MALACCA
STRAITS.
The keepers live on the lower floors. The upper floor beneath the
lantern is the service room.]
The piles were sunk into the soft sea-bed by means of water-jets,
which, playing about the foot of the pile, burrowed a hole into which
it could move downwards. A depth of 15 feet had been considered
necessary to secure the desired rigidity, and as a rule the pile could
be driven to this depth in about four hours. When the pile-driving
commenced, however, it was found that the sandbank had undergone a
marked change since the surveys were made. Erosion had been very active
owing to the currents having been checked by the obstructions which
the legs of the staging offered. Under these circumstances a novel
experiment was made upon the site. One of the piles was lengthened
by 14½ feet, to be driven to its limits, just to ascertain how far
it would go into the sand. This in itself was a somewhat daring
undertaking, seeing that the tiny colony on the staging did not possess
the facilities which were available on shore for the work. However,
it was accomplished satisfactorily, and when the pile was sunk it
was found to descend another 13½ feet, where it touched hard rock.
This discovery brought about a modification in the plans. As a solid
foundation could be gained at a depth of 28½ feet, and as the piles
could be lengthened successfully upon the site, it was decided to
extend all the piles to a complete length of 64½ feet, and to drive
them down to the hard bottom. When the piles were all lowered, they
were subjected to four blows from a “monkey” weighing 2½ tons, dropped
from a height of 4 feet. But these four final blows only drove the
piles from ¼ to 7/8 inch farther into the sea-bed, whereas, according
to the specification, a margin of 1 inch was allowed for this test.
The diameter of the tower at the base is 40 feet, and heavy bracing
is introduced at a point 4 feet below high-water to hold the fabric
together, and to supply the requisite strength and rigidity. At a
height of 21 feet above this main bracing is the floor of the
superstructure, comprising an octagonal two-floor building, surrounded
by an overhanging gallery, built on the cantilever principle, 5 feet in
width, which forms the landing platform. The two floors have a total
height of 24 feet, and constitute the keepers’ home. The roof is flat,
in order to facilitate the collection and conduct of rain-water into
two ferro-concrete cisterns, each holding 1,000 gallons. The lower
floor is devoted to housing stores, oil, etc., while the upper story
forms the living-quarters. The roof is caused to overhang a distance of
4 feet on all sides, thereby providing a flat surface 44 feet across.
From this point the eight main columns of the building slope inwards,
until, at a height of 30 feet, they have a diameter of 18½ feet, where
the lantern is introduced. The lower part of the latter constitutes the
service-room, and leads directly to the lantern above. Access to the
different levels is afforded by means of a teak-wood staircase, while
that leading from the entrance floor to the water for landing purposes
is hinged, so that it may be accommodated to the condition of the tide.
The lantern, which weighs 17½ tons, is of the modern type, and is
more powerful than that of the 1874 light, which it displaced. The
white light is thrown in groups of flashes every fifteen seconds,
and the warning is visible from the deck of a vessel some fifteen
miles away. The central pier, which carries a great proportion of the
total weight of the tower, and which extends continuously from the
bed-rock foundation to the lantern-room, is solid to the roof of the
living-quarters. Above this point it is hollow, having a bore of 12
inches, and in this space the weight actuating the revolving mechanism
of the light moves up and down.
[Illustration: THE ONE FATHOM BANK LIGHTHOUSE, MALACCA STRAITS, IN
COURSE OF ERECTION.
It is built throughout of ferro-concrete, and is supported on piles
driven into the sand. At the left are the quarters provided for the
lighthouse builders who lived on the spot.]
Although the idea was novel at the time, the complete success of
the work justified the recommendations of the designers as to the
suitability of this form of construction for open-sea lighthouses. In
this instance the enterprise not only was completed for a less sum
than would have been required for a corresponding lighthouse erected
in masonry upon orthodox lines, but the structure is lighter, was
more rapidly built, and is thoroughly hygienic. The complete weight of
the whole tower is less than 1,000 tons; and from the setting of the
first pile to the lighting of the lamps only fourteen months elapsed,
notwithstanding the fact that work was interrupted and hindered
frequently by inclement weather. Any doubts that were entertained
concerning the ability of the structure to resist the attacks of the
wind and seas encountered in these latitudes was dispelled during
erection, because the monsoons which broke during the period of
erection were abnormally heavy, and submitted the fabric to exceptional
strains and stresses, which it withstood with complete success.
Another fine light which has been provided for the benefit of the
navigator in these Eastern seas is that on Gap Rock. This is a rugged,
lofty eminence, rising from the sea, thirty-two miles south of
Hong-Kong. Being exposed on all sides, it is difficult to approach,
while at the same time it lies in the path of vessels. A few years ago
the Hong-Kong Government decided to conquer this islet, and to deprive
it of its perils to shipping. With great effort a landing was effected,
and one of the pinnacles was decapitated and levelled off, to form a
spacious platform for landing. The light itself rises from the highest
point of the rock, and its rays are visible through a circle of twenty
miles radius. The Gap Rock light is also a signal-station, being in
telegraphic communication with Hong-Kong.
Although the days of human hostility to the lighthouse in Eastern
waters have passed, the engineer is confronted by an enemy which is in
every way as destructive. This is the white ant. The ravages of this
insect are so relentless and complete where wood is concerned that
timber towers are quite impracticable. Moreover, this material has to
be used only sparingly for fittings, even in masonry and iron buildings.
A curious experience with this insidious and implacable foe was related
to me by a lighthouse engineer. He was engaged in the erection of a
new beacon at a remote point on the coast. The lenses and lantern
apparatus, as usual, had been ordered in England, and were despatched
to the East carefully packed in substantial tin-lined cases. In order
to secure the utmost protection during transit, each metallic and
lenticular part was wrapped in tow. Care also was bestowed upon the
sealing of the tin case, since the propensity of the ant to discover
the smallest pinhole so as to reach the interior was emphasized upon
the packers. Accordingly the seams were doubly soldered.
In due course the cases with their precious contents reached the site
of erection, but unfortunately the season was so far advanced that the
engineer concluded he could not complete the erection of the lantern
before the monsoon broke. As the contents of the cases were preserved
by the tin armour from climatic attacks, he stored the cases securely,
and with his workmen left the place until favourable weather returned.
Some weeks later the chief and his toilers reappeared upon the scene.
All preparations for setting the optical apparatus were completed.
Imagine the dismay of the engineer when, on opening the case containing
the most important parts of the lantern, he found that it had been
raided by white ants. They had driven their tracks spirally through
the tow, which evidently they had enjoyed, and although this was of
little consequence, the formic acid had played sad havoc with the
bright surfaces of the spindles. In lighthouse engineering the surfaces
of these parts must be as bright and as clean as a mirror to insure
smooth, steady working. But now these spindles were as pitted and
marked as a victim to smallpox. It was a maddening contretemps, since
the only way to restore the vital bright surfaces was to turn them
in the lathe. Such a tool was not available within a hundred or more
miles. Erection had to be delayed, however, until this treatment was
effected.
Seeing that the tin case was soldered up with such infinite care, the
question arises. How did the ants get into it? To the engineer it
seemed an inscrutable puzzle, but he subjected the case to a minute
examination. Finally he solved the problem. At one corner he found
that a nail, while being driven during the process of nailing up the
heavy outer wooden case at the English factory, had turned slightly, so
that its point had punctured the inner metal case. The ants, too, had
discovered this minute breach, and through it had swarmed to the attack
upon the interior.