LIGHTHOUSE HOMES.
"And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
Through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
With strange unearthly splendour in its glare.
"Not one alone: from each projecting cape,
And perilous reef, along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.
"Like the great giant Christopher, it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous waves,
Wading far out upon the rocks and sands,
The night-o'ertaken mariner to save.
"And the great ships sail outward, and return,
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells;
And ever joyful as they see it burn,
They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.
"Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same
Year after year, through all the silent night,
Burns on for evermore that quenchless flame--
Shines on that inextinguishable light."--Longfellow.
No history of Grace Darling would be complete that did not contain some
reference to lighthouses; since it was in one of them that she lived,
and in association with it that her thrilling deeds were done. The
lighthouse is not a modern invention, though modern science and art
have brought it to its present state of perfection. The beacon-fire
was known to the ancients, and the fire-towers of the Mediterranean
were justly celebrated.
The first regular light seems to have been placed at the entrance to
the Hellespont; but of greater notoriety was the large tower on the
island of Pharos, off Alexandria, which was so ingeniously constructed
that it has been a model for many a modern lighthouse. Some incredible
stories are told about this light, which, it is said, could be seen
over the sea for a distance of thirty-four miles! Edrisi thus
describes it:--"This pharos has not its like in the world for skill of
construction and solidity. It is built of excellent stones, of the
kind called Kedan, the layers of which are united by molten lead, and
the joints are so adherent that the whole is indissoluble, though the
waves of the sea from the north incessantly beat against it. This
edifice is singularly remarkable, as much on account of its height as
of its massiveness: it is of exceeding utility, because its fire burns
night and day for the guidance of navigators, and is visible at the
distance of a day's sail. During the night, it shines like a star: by
day, you may distinguish its smoke."
There was a remarkable pharos built at Ostia by the Emperor Claudius,
which was erected on an artificial breakwater. Then there was the
light of Puteoli, which, in the far-away days of Rome, was of service
to the seamen who were seeking to enter the port. Augustus, who
provided the harbour of Ravenna, enriched it with a light. Charybdis
and Scylla had also their warning beacon, and Caprera too lifted its
light to save ancient vessels from destruction. There was also the
Timian Tower, which was erected for navigators, but its design was
frustrated by wreckers, who lighted other fires, in order to mislead
the seamen, and lure them to ruin and death.
There was a very ancient and remarkable light at Boulogne. It was said
to have been first built by the Emperor Caligula, in order to
perpetuate the victories he meant to win. It became, however, of great
service as a lighthouse-tower, and it is thought that, as early as the
year A.D. 191, it flashed a friendly light across the sea. Time,
however, and the repeated assaults of foes, robbed it of its strength
and glory. The men of Boulogne allowed it to perish, and then thought
they were free of all obligation. The case, however, was tried in
court, and they were sentenced either to restore it, or pay two
thousand herrings, delivered fresh and dry every year. Very early,
indeed, there was a light-tower in our own land, on the cliff at Dover,
relics of which may even now be seen. It was built by the Romans, of
very strong material, tufa, concrete, and red-tile brick. It was
probably used as a lighthouse about the time of the Norman conquest,
and is now devoted to purposes of government storage. The Colossus of
Rhodes is said to have been used as a beacon, but there is no proof
that it was so.
Englishmen are notorious for the facility they have of making money,
and some enterprising men among our forefathers lighted beacons along
the coast, and levied tolls upon those who benefited by their light;
and James I. used to sell this privilege to his subjects. In the diary
of Lord Grenville, is found this entry--"Mem. To watch the moment when
the king is in a good temper to ask of him a lighthouse." This plan,
however, was not very effective, and the public grew increasingly
dissatisfied with it until, in the reign of William IV., the
Corporation of Trinity House was empowered to buy up all lighthouses,
take possession of all privileges, and have the entire control of the
lighthouse system. There are between three and four hundred members of
the Corporation, amongst whom are the Prince of Wales, the Duke of
Edinburgh, who has the title of Master, and Mr. W. E. Gladstone. The
active committees are composed of retired captains. They have to give
certificates to properly-qualified pilots, attend to sea-marks, to the
ballast of the Thames ships, and many other things. There are two
other Corporations besides that of Trinity House--namely, the
Commission of Northern Lights, and the Board of Ballast of Dublin; and
all these are under the control of the Board of Trade.
The total number of lights in England is 286, in Scotland 134, and in
Ireland 93. So well is our coast lighted that it is said to be
impossible to arrive near a dangerous point without seeing a warning
lighthouse in some direction. They are of many different kinds and
colours, some being placed on towers, some on sand-banks, some in ships
out at sea, some on pier-heads, and in harbours. There are five
principal lights, the "fixed," the "flashing," the "revolving," the
"intermittent," and the "double lights," in one tower.
Two methods of lighting have been employed--the Catoptric and the
Dioptric systems. The Catoptric lights are divided into nine
classes--the fixed, revolving white, revolving red and white, revolving
red with two whites, revolving white with two reds, flashing,
intermittent, double-fixed lights, and double-revolving white lights.
Colza oil is generally used, though the electric light, by its steady
brilliance, is likely to supersede all others, when very great
intensity is required.
Care has to be taken in the selection of the spot where the lighthouse
shall be built, for in some cases they are rendered useless by the
thick fogs that for the greater part of the year obscure their light.
Some mention may here be made of the most remarkable lighthouses on our
coast; and only to mention the words, is to suggest EDDYSTONE. No one
who has seen these dangerous rocks, could doubt that it is most
necessary to have a light fixed to them, for many a noble vessel has
been destroyed by running upon the perilous reef. No one, however, had
the courage or the enterprise to undertake the task, until an eccentric
gentleman of Littleberry, in Essex, generously came forward and offered
to do it. The work of Henry Winstanley, and his end, have been so
graphically and beautifully described by Jean Ingelow, that we take the
liberty to transcribe part of her poem. It tells first how the loss of
the "Snowdrop" troubled Winstanley:--
"'For cloth o' gold and comely frieze,'
Winstanley said, and sighed,
'For velvet coif or costly coat,
They fathoms deep may bide.
"'O thou brave skipper, blithe and kind,
O mariners bold and true;
Sorry of heart, right sorry am I;
A-thinking of yours and you.'"
The loss of the "Snowdrop" is followed by that of another ship, with
contents, and then--
"'I will take horse,' Winstanley said,
'And see this deadly rock,
"'For never again shall barque o' mine
Sail over the windy sea,
Unless, by the blessing of God, for this
Be found a remedy.'"
He went to the Mayor of Plymouth--
"'Lend me a lighter, good Master Mayor,
And a score of shipwrights free,
For I think to raise a lantern-tower
On this rock o' destiny.'"
"The old Mayor laughed, but sighed also,
'Ah, youth,' quoth he, 'is rash;
Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it out
From the sea that doth it lash.'"
Brave Winstanley however, was resolved to try, and after tedious
waiting, he commenced to work:--
"Then he and the sea began their strife,
And worked with power and might,
Whatever the men reared up by day,
The sea broke down by night.
"In fine weather, and foul weather,
The rock his arts did flout,
Through the long days, and the short days,
Till all that year ran out.
"With fine weather, and foul weather,
Another year came in:
'To take his wage,' the workmen said,
'We almost count a sin!'"
They kept on, however, and at last, some sailors who returned told a
wonderful tale of a house they had seen built in the sea:--
"Then sighed the folk, 'The Lord be praised!'
And they flocked to the shore amain;
All over the Hoe, the livelong night,
Many stood out in the rain.
"It ceased, and the red sun reared his head,
And the rolling fog did flee;
And lo! in the offing faint and far,
Winstanley's house at sea!
"In fair weather, with mirth and cheer,
The stately tower uprose;
In foul weather, with hunger and cold,
They were content to close;
"Till up the stair Winstanley went,
To fire the wick afar;
And Plymouth, in the silent night,
Looked out and saw her star.
"Winstanley set his foot ashore:
Said he, 'My work is done;
I hold it strong, to last as long
As aught beneath the sun.
"'But if it fail, as fail it may,
Borne down with ruin and rout,
Another than I shall rear it high,
And brace the girders stout.
"'A better than I shall rear it high,
For now the way is plain;
And though I were dead,' Winstanley said,
'The light would shine again.
"'Yet were I fain still to remain,
Watch in my tower to keep,
And tend my light in the stormiest night
That ever did move the deep;
"'And if it stood, why, then it were good,
Amid their tremulous stirs,
To count each stroke, when the mad waves broke,
For cheers of mariners.
"'But if it fell, then this were well
That I should with it fall;
Since for my part, I have built my heart
In the courses of its wall.'
"With that Winstanley went his way,
And left the rock renowned,
And summer and winter his pilot star
Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.
"But it fell out, fell out at last,
That he would put to sea,
To scan once more his lighthouse-tower
On the rock o' destiny.
"And the winds woke and the storm broke,
And wrecks came plunging in;
None in the town that night lay down,
Or sleep or rest to win.
"The great mad waves were rolling graves,
And each flung up its dead;
The seething flow was white below,
And black the sky o'erhead.
"And when the dawn, the dull grey dawn,
Broke on the trembling town,
And men looked south to the harbour mouth,
The lighthouse tower was down!
"Down in the deep where he doth deep
Who made it shine afar,
And then in the night that drowned its light,
Set, with his pilot star.
"Many fair tombs, in the glorious glooms
At Westminster, they show;
The brave and the great lie there in state,
Winstanley lieth low!" [1]
Three years passed by before any other person was found willing to
attempt the task of rebuilding the Eddystone lighthouse, and then
Captain Lovet got a ninety-nine years lease from Trinity House; and
John Rudyard, a silk-mercer of Ludgate-Hill, was engaged as the
architect. His design differed very materially from that of
Winstanley, and was built of Cornish granite and oak. While it was
building England and France were at war with each other, and some of
the workmen were carried off as prisoners. The King Louis XIV.,
however, ordered their immediate release, and giving them substantial
presents, sent them back to their good work. This lighthouse was
finished in 1709, but, in 1755, it was entirely destroyed, not by winds
nor waves, but by fire. Three keepers were there at the time; and when
one of them entered to snuff the candles, he found the cupola in
flames. They strove to extinguish it, but their efforts were in vain.
A fisherman observed the fire, and took the news ashore, when a boat
came out to the assistance of the keepers. Nothing could be done,
however, to stay the progress of the fire, which destroyed the edifice.
One of the keepers immediately fled panic stricken, and was not heard
of again, while one met his death in consequence of some melted lead
dropping into his open mouth.
The third Eddystone lighthouse still rears its head, as it has done for
more than a century. John Smeaton, a clever and practical
mathematician, was the man to whose skill as an architect, and courage
and perseverance as a man, the world is indebted for the light which
still shines upon Eddystone. He was thirty-two years old at the time
when this grand work was given him to do; but he had already shown that
he possessed inventive genius, pluck, and perseverance, in no ordinary
degree. He was quick to see that the two previous structures had not
been sufficient in weight and solidity, and he resolved to build that
which was committed to his care in such a way that it should be strong
enough to resist the force of the winds and waves. He declared that
his building should be of stone, and in shape something like the trunk
of an oak. In August, 1756, the work was begun, but of course it could
not be carried on in the winter. The first stone, weighing two tons
and a quarter, was laid on the 12th of the following June; and the next
day the first course, consisting of four massive stones, which were
dovetailed into the rocks, and formed a compact mass, was completed.
The courses followed each other as rapidly as possible, and by the 11th
of August the sixth was done, which brought the erection so high as to
be out of reach of the ordinary tides. On the 30th of September the
ninth course was completed, and then the builders had to leave off work
for the winter.
It is easy to conceive of the anxiety which Smeaton suffered during the
months which were unusually stormy; but in May, when he and his workmen
were again able to reach the rock, they found, to their great joy, that
the winter's floods had rather perfected than impaired their work.
They gladly commenced operations again, and by September the
twenty-fourth course was completed. They had now got as far as the
store-room. They worked with a will, and during the next summer the
second and third floors were finished. As the building was in
progress, Smeaton had inscribed on the walls these words--"Except the
Lord build the house, they labour in vain who build it." And after it
was finished, he had the words, "Laus Deo," engraved upon the
top-stone. The erection was finished, and the lantern lighted, on the
16th of October, 1769, and has remained ever since, a monument of the
undaunted energy and perseverance of Englishmen.
Another celebrated lighthouse is that of "The Smalls," built on one of
the dangerous rocks that lie near the entrance of Milford Haven. It
was built by Mr. Phillips, who did it not for gain, but in order to
save his fellow-creatures. The architect he employed was a musical
instrument maker, named Whiteside. The work was begun in 1772, and
persevered with until it was finished. In the beginning of the year
1777, Whiteside and his companions found themselves in great straits,
and they wrote a letter and put it inside a barrel, and sent it afloat,
hoping it would reach the shore:--
"THE SMALLS, _Feb. 1, 1777_.
"SIR--Being now in a most dangerous and distressed condition upon the
Smalls, I do hereby trust Providence will bring to your hand this,
which prayeth for your immediate assistance to fetch us off before next
spring, or we fear we shall perish--our water all gone, and our fire
quite gone, and our house in a most melancholy manner. I doubt not but
you will fetch us from here as fast as possible: we can be got off at
some part of the tide almost any weather. I need say no more, but
remain your distressed humble servant.
"H. WHITESIDE."
"We were distressed in a gale of wind upon the 13th of January, since
which have not been able to keep any light, but we could not have kept
any light above sixteen nights longer for want of oil and candles,
which makes us murmur, and think we are forgotten.
"EDWARD EDWARDS.
"G. ADAMS.
"J. PRICE.
"P.S.--We doubt not, whoever takes up this, will be so merciful as to
cause it to be sent to Thomas Williams, Esq., Trelethin, near St.
David's, Wales."
At one time, during a very stormy winter, the Smalls lighthouse-keepers
were cut off from communication with the mainland for four months.
Vessels had tried to reach them, but had been driven back by the
violence of the weather. Once, however, when a ship had gone near
enough to get a sight of the Smalls, it was reported that a man was
seen standing in the upper gallery, and that a flag of distress was
flying near him. When at last a fisherman succeeded in reaching the
rock, he found that one of the keepers was dead, and the other had
securely fixed the corpse in an upright position in the gallery, that
the body might be preserved, and he himself not injured by contact with
it. This, and a similar event that happened on the Eddystone, caused
better arrangements to be made; and in future, more than two men were
placed in lighthouses likely to be exposed to circumstances of equal
danger.
Another marvellous lighthouse is that erected by Robert Stevenson on
the Bell Rock. The most ancient light which Scotland can boast is that
of the Isle of May. The tower is very old and weather-beaten, and
bears date 1635. At Grass Island, and also at North Ronaldshay, lights
were kindled in 1789. In 1794, Robert Stevenson saw the Skerries
lighthouse completed. He also put lights on Start Point; and for the
better lighting of the dangerous shore, changed the North Ronaldshay
lighthouse into a beacon.
But round about the light on the Bell Rock more romance centres. This
rock is a very perilous one, lying eleven miles off the coast of
Forfarshire, and, if tradition may be trusted, the first attempt to rob
it of some of its awful power was made by an ancient abbot, who hung a
bell over it, so that the winds and waves should cause it to ring, and
thus warn mariners who were in danger.
Southey's ballad of Sir Ralph the Rover tells the story of how the good
abbot's design was frustrated, and how the perpetrator of a foul deed
was punished:--
"The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen,
A darker speck on the ocean green:
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
"He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
"His eye was on the Inchcape float.
Quoth he, 'My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.'
"The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
"Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles rose and burst around.
Quoth Sir Ralph, 'The next who comes to the rock
Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.'
"Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,
He scoured the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
"So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the sun on high;
And the wind hath blown a gale all day--
At evening it hath died away.
"On the deck the Rover takes his stand;
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, 'It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon.'
"'Canst hear,' said one, 'the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore.'
'Now, where we are I cannot tell,
But I wish I could hear the Inchcape bell!'
"They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock--
'O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!'
"Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He curst himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
"But even in his dying fear
One dreadful sound could the Rover hear--
A sound as if with the Inchcape bell
The devil below was ringing his knell."
Many after attempts were made to put beacons upon the Inchcape, but all
were destroyed by the stormy waves, one after the other, until Robert
Stevenson undertook to build a structure that should be strong enough
to stand. He began on August 7, 1807, and the first thing he did, was
to provide a workshop and sleeping places for the men who were to be
engaged in the enterprise. It took all the summer to do this; for
often, when the men were at work, there would come a big wave over the
rock, and put out the fire. The smith who worked at the bellows often
stood knee-deep in water, which sometimes covered the rock to the depth
of twelve feet. Once, when a cargo of stores had been landed, and
thirty-two men were at work, the vessel which had conveyed them, and
was to take them back, and which was named the "Smeaton," broke away
from the moorings and got adrift. Mr. Smeaton was almost the first to
notice this, and he became very anxious as he remembered the number of
men on the rock, and that they had only two boats, which were capable
of carrying but eight men each. The men were at first so busy, that
they did not realise the danger of their position, but presently it was
found that, in consequence of the gale, the tide was coming in more
rapidly than usual, and the men, after having worked three hours, left
off and went to look for the boats. It was found that one of them had
drifted away with the "Smeaton." The men looked at one another in
silence. It seemed certain that all could not escape, and there was an
awful time of suspense and despair. Stevenson felt it so keenly that
when he tried to speak he found his mouth so parched that it was
impossible. He stooped to moisten his lips by drinking some of the
sea-water which the tide had left in holes in the rocks, and then he
heard the welcome cry, "A boat! a boat!" Presently a pilot-boat came
and rescued them from their perilous situation, and the lives of the
brave engineer and his men were saved. For the reward of rendering
this service, the pilot received a pension when too old to work.
A tremendous gale overtook the company on one occasion, which lasted
ten days, and prevented them from reaching the rock. On the 6th
September, a very heavy sea struck the ship, which flooded the deck and
poured into the cabins below. It was thought the vessel had foundered,
and that all on board would go down with her. They were in perfect
darkness, and some of the men engaged in praying, some repeating hymns,
and others declared that if they could only get on shore, they would
never come on the water again. Stevenson made his way on deck and
looked around. The billows seemed to be ten or fifteen feet high, and
each appeared as if about to overwhelm the ship. One man, a black,
lashed himself to the foremast, and kept watch in case the ship should
break loose from her moorings. The next morning the sun rose and the
gale abated, but the sea was still very rough, and at the Bell Rock the
spray was thrown up to a height of forty or fifty feet. When, at last,
the waters had grown calm, and Stevenson was able again to visit the
rock, he found that the force of the sea had removed six immense blocks
of granite twelve or fifteen paces off; and in the smith's forge the
ash-pan, though it had a heavy cast-iron back, had been washed away,
and was found on the opposite side of the rock. Stevenson thought
there was no time to lose, so he and the men worked away at the
building, which was to be a home for the workmen, and a temporary
beacon. They finished the erection in about one hundred and three
hours; and thinking of their heroic, courageous and persevering
conduct, one is reminded of the building of Nehemiah's wall, which was
even less difficult and dangerous than this work on the Bell Rock:--"So
built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half
thereof; _for the people had a mind to work_."
On the 6th day of October, the Bell Rock lighthouse builders
relinquished work for that year, having done little more than erect the
temporary workshops and beacon. They were still engaged, however, in
preparing materials for the lighthouse; and the stones were laid down
as they would be in the building. They were then carefully marked and
numbered, and made all ready to be used as soon as possible. In the
summer of the next year the undaunted men were on the rock again. On
the 10th of July the foundation-stone was laid; on which Mr. Stevenson
pronounced these words: "May the great Architect of the universe
complete and bless this building!" The men then gave three cheers, and
drank to the success of the lighthouse.
They worked on that year till the 21st September; and began again--the
next on the 27th of May. On the 8th of July, they found to their great
joy that the tide, even at high water, did not overflow the building;
and so glad were they that they hoisted flags everywhere and fired a
salute of three guns. By the 25th of August, it was thirty-one and a
half feet above the rock. Mr. Stevenson was so anxious about his work
that he paid two or three visits to the rock during the next winter.
He found, however, that it was uninjured by the storms, and began to
have a hope that during the coming season it would be completed. Nor
were his hopes vain.
The men began work again on the 10th of May. In July they had a visit
from Mrs. Dickson, the only daughter of Smeaton. On the 29th the last
stone was landed upon the rock, and on the 30th the last course was
laid. There had been ninety courses in all. As soon as the work was
finished Stevenson reverently and thankfully offered this
benediction--"May the great Architect of the universe, under whose
blessing this perilous work has prospered, preserve it as a guide to
the mariners."
On the 17th December in the same year, this advertisement recorded the
fact of the lighthouse being finished:--"A lighthouse having been
erected upon the Inchcape, or Bell Rock, situated at the Firths of
Forth and Tay, in north latitude 56 degrees 29 minutes, and west
longitude 2 degrees 22 minutes, the Commissioners of the Northern
Lighthouses hereby give notice, that the light will be from oil, with
reflectors, placed at the height of about one hundred and eight feet
above the medium level of the sea. The light will be exhibited on the
night of Friday, the first day of February 1811, and each night
thereafter, from the going away of daylight in the evening until the
return of daylight in the morning. To distinguish this light from
others on the coast, it is made to revolve horizontally, and to exhibit
a bright light of the natural appearance, and a red-coloured light
alternately, both respectively attaining their greatest strength, or
most luminous effect, in the space of every four minutes; during that
period the bright light will, to a distant observer, appear like a star
of the first magnitude, which after attaining its full strength is
gradually eclipsed to total darkness, and is succeeded by the
red-coloured light, which in like manner increases to full strength,
and again diminishes and disappears. The coloured light, however,
being less powerful, may not be seen for a time after the bright light
is first observed. During the continuance of foggy weather, and
showers of snow, a bell will be tolled by machinery, night and day, at
intervals of half a minute."
The western coast of Scotland has its wonderful light as well as the
eastern. On the Skerryvore Rock is a lighthouse erected by Alan
Stevenson, raised amid much difficulty, but which was as urgently
needed as any around the coast. The Skerryvore Rock, although not
altogether submerged, stretches over a distance so considerable that
wrecks upon it were as common as they were awful. In the year 1814,
the Commissioners of Northern Lights visited the reef, accompanied by
Sir Walter Scott, who declared that it was not equalled for loneliness
and desolation, even by the Eddystone or Bell Rock. It was resolved to
build a lighthouse, but the resolution was not carried into effect
until 1834.
Mr. Alan Stevenson, to whom the honourable but difficult work was
entrusted, began by building places to shelter the men; but these
buildings were swept away by a storm in the winter of the same year.
In the following early summer, the undaunted workers began again, and
completed an erection of three storeys by September. It was forty feet
above the rock; and here Mr. Stevenson and his men waited for the
weather, or rested from their labours. The whole of the working season
of 1849 was spent in excavating the foundation, to do which required
two hundred and ninety-six charges of gunpowder. Mr. Stevenson has
written an account of the Skerryvore Lighthouse, and he says that,
during the first month which he and his men spent in their curious
home, they suffered considerably from inundations. Once, for a
fortnight, they were unable to hold communication with the mainland,
and they saw "nothing but white plains of foam as far as the eye could
reach." One night he was aroused by the breaking of a tremendous wave
over the barrack, and all the men on the floor below uttered a terrible
cry, and sprang from their beds. They believed that they were in the
sea; and their thankfulness at finding it was not so, may be better
imagined than described.
The foundation-stone of the Skerryvore Lighthouse was laid by the Duke
of Argyle. The men who worked at it had need to be enthusiastic, for
they rose at half-past three in the morning, and frequently continued
toiling for thirteen or fourteen hours a day. This so wearied them,
that they did not know how to keep awake; and Mr. Stevenson says they
frequently went off in a profound slumber while standing or eating
their meals. This solid building was finished in 1844, and its light
is visible at the distance of eighteen miles.
There is a curious circumstance connected with the Sunderland
Lighthouse. It formerly stood on the old pier, but when a new jetty
was built, and a light added, the old one became unnecessary, and it
was decided to demolish it. Mr. Murray, however, an engineer, thought
it might be moved bodily, as it stood, to the place where the new
lighthouse was to be erected. The distance was about four hundred and
seventy-five feet, the weight of the lighthouse seven hundred and
fifty-seven thousand pounds. It possesses an octagonal tower,
sixty-four feet high, and fifteen feet in diameter at the base. Some
openings were made at the bottom of the tower, and strong planks of oak
were introduced, then the lowest part of the building was destroyed, so
that the tower rested on the platform of timber planks, which itself
rested on a number of cast-iron wheels made like those of a railway
train, and sleepers were laid down in front and over these. The
building passed a few feet at a time, while strong men drew the iron
chains, which were wound upon windlasses. The work was accomplished in
thirteen hours and twenty-four minutes; and that evening the lamp was
lighted as usual.
Visitors to the Isle of Wight will have seen two remarkable lighthouses
on its coast. That on one of the sharp rocks, called the Needles, has
a light so brilliant as to be seen at sea from a distance of fourteen
miles. It has a fog-bell, which rings in very stormy weather, and may
be heard five miles off. There is another valuable lighthouse at St.
Catherine's Point, which is an ornament to the beautiful neighbourhood.
Its height is one hundred feet. In the midst of the interesting
scenery of Cape Cornwall, the visitor, gazing out to sea, will observe
the Longships Lighthouse. It is needed, for the rocks are most
dangerous--the Armed Knight and Irish Lady being fantastic names for
huge masses that would send many a splendid ship to destruction.
Then there is the Wolfs Crag Lighthouse; and the Lizard Point
Lighthouse, which, with the wonderfully-marked rocks, will delight
those who are seeking instruction and entertainment at the same time as
they find change and rest. The North and South Forelands have
lighthouses, and Holyhead throws its radiance over the waters that lave
the feet of the Welsh mountains.
Altogether the Englishman has reason to be thankful that his island
home, so girt about with dangerous sands and rocks, is yet so guarded
by its friendly lights that the mariner, going or returning, may be
warned of the hindrances to progress, and the "terror by night," which
lie hidden under the pitiless, deceitful waters.
No one can consider the subject of lighthouses without thinking also of
lighthouse-homes and those who inhabit them. It is a remarkable fact
that there is no position so dreary or dangerous, but some one can be
found to fill it. And so brave are certain individuals amongst us,
that it may almost be said they covet situations where courage,
endurance, and self-denial, are essential. It is necessary, indeed,
that lighthouse keepers should be in many respects superior men; and he
who thinks that "any one will do to light a lamp," is mistaken. Men
who occupy such a high position must be well tested, faithful men. Do
they not hold in their hands the lives of emigrants seeking foreign
shores for work--good successful traders, bringing home their savings
to make widowed mothers, or aged and infirm fathers happy--sailor lads,
for whose return fair English maidens pray with love's longing, and
little children, who are to grow up into statesmen, philanthropists,
and deliverers? Would it do for light-house-keepers to be men who
trembled at the storm, and turned pale when their tower shook, and
forgot to light the lamp, when the lightning's forked tongue was
darting hither and thither? May a light-house-keeper put his own life
and health first, and his duty next? Must he allow anxiety for a sick
child, or sorrow for a dying wife, to withdraw him for one evening from
his work? No. All that is required of a faithful soldier is required,
in even a greater degree, in the keeper of a lighthouse. He has
therefore to receive a course of instruction, and to be subjected to
strict discipline. He has to pass a medical examination, and produce
unexceptionable testimonials with regard to his moral character. In a
word, he must be in all respects a most trustworthy man, or he will not
do for a lighthouse-keeper.
The first and chief rule for the guidance of the man to whom is
allotted the post of honour and danger is this--"_You are to light the
lamps every evening at sunsetting, and keep them constantly burning
bright and clear till sunrising_." Nothing--no personal matter of
sickness or sorrow, must prevent his doing this. While life is in him,
and his senses continue, this injunction is to be ringing in his
memory, and guiding his actions. There is plenty of other work to do
besides. Every part of the building is to be kept clean, and the
lightroom apparatus scrupulously so. The glass is to be washed, rubbed
with a soft dry leather, and kept perfectly free from dust and all
impurities.
But the chief thing after all is to light the lamp, and watch to see
that it does not burn dimly, or go out. In the long nights of winter
the watcher is relieved after a number of hours, but he must not leave
the room on any pretence until his comrade comes to take his place. He
must not sleep, nor even take his ease; his attention is to be fixed on
the light alone. The night experiences of such men must sometimes be
startling, and even awful. What strange noises they must occasionally
hear, when the winds and waves are fighting out their battles! What
fearful cries as, notwithstanding the friendly light, a vessel strikes
upon the rocks, and the people are tossed into the surging waters.
They have visitors too; often in the night the wild sea-birds,
fascinated by the light, as the moth is by the candle, come dashing
against the lantern with such violence as to break the glass. But
whatever happens, close to the tower, or away over the stormy waters,
the man knows his duty, and does it, by keeping the light burning
brightly until the sunrising.
Life in the lighthouse must needs be very monotonous, when the house is
built upon some rock, far out at sea. Then, for some weeks of the
worst weather, it is not possible for the keepers to receive visitors
or supplies; it is necessary therefore that an abundance of the
necessaries of life should be stowed away in the building.
The men too are provided with libraries; so that if they see few faces
of their fellows, they can at least hold communion with books; and it
was a happy thought to send all those who live in isolated positions
such companions. But these are not the only ones. Two, three, or four
men, are stationed at such places as the Eddystone, so that each may
take his turn in spending some time with his family on shore. Those
lighthouses which are situated on the mainland are comfortable homes,
with their little plot of ground to cultivate, and visitors, at least
in the summer season, to talk with. It is in the winter, and when the
house is inaccessible, that the men's powers of endurance are tried.
It will never happen again, as it did before the whole system had
reached its present state of perfection, that one man should be left on
a solitary rock, with the corpse of his comrade, while the seething
waters prevented any one from coming to his assistance. But even now
the life is sufficiently trying. Human nature is apt to be awkward,
and it is desirable that the light-keepers should be good tempered,
friendly men, who will not soon tire of each other, nor quarrel over
misunderstandings and differences of opinion. It must be a happy thing
for a man who is a lighthouse watcher, to be God-fearing and Christian,
and have a wife and children about him. Such a lighthouse as the one
in which he lives may be a Bethel, even though it be in a measure cut
off from all other human habitations. And those who dwell in it may
well feel that they have the especial care and sympathy of the Lord
Jesus, who loved the sea, and frequented it during his stay in this
world. How often must they long to hear His voice coming across the
turmoil of the angry waters, and saying, "It is I, be not afraid." And
how good it must be when the shadows fall, and the night with its
mystery and dangers broods over the waves, for the man to give himself
and his dear ones into the powerful keeping of the Prince of Peace.
From such homes may well come strong brave men, and virtuous women, who
shall always be on the side of right against might--goodness against
evil. Such a home, we may well believe, was that of James Darling, the
father of the heroic maiden of the Farne Isles.[2]
[1] "Poems by Jean Ingelow." Longmans & Co., London.
[2] The writer is indebted for much of the information contained in
this chapter to a deeply interesting and excellent volume by Mr. W. H.
Davenport Adams, entitled, "Lighthouses and Lightships," published by
T. Nelson and Sons, London and Edinburgh.