CHAPTER III: THE BUILDING OF THE BELL ROCK

Off the mouths of the Tay and the Forth, thirteen miles from Fifeness,

eleven from Arbroath, and fourteen from the Red Head of Angus, lies the

Inchcape or Bell Rock. It extends to a length of about fourteen hundred

feet, but the part of it discovered at low water to not more than four

hundred and twenty-seven. At a little more than half-flood in fine

weather the seamless ocean joins over the reef, and at high-water springs

it is buried sixteen feet. As the tide goes down, the higher reaches of

the rock are seen to be clothed by _Conferva rupestris_ as by a sward of

grass; upon the more exposed edges, where the currents are most swift and

the breach of the sea heaviest, Baderlock or Henware flourishes; and the

great Tangle grows at the depth of several fathoms with luxuriance.

Before man arrived, and introduced into the silence of the sea the smoke

and clangour of a blacksmith’s shop, it was a favourite resting-place of

seals. The crab and lobster haunt in the crevices; and limpets, mussels,

and the white buckie abound.

According to a tradition, a bell had been once hung upon this rock by an

abbot of Arbroath, {91a} ‘and being taken down by a sea-pirate, a year

thereafter he perished upon the same rock, with ship and goods, in the

righteous judgment of God.’ From the days of the abbot and the

sea-pirate no man had set foot upon the Inchcape, save fishers from the

neighbouring coast, or perhaps—for a moment, before the surges swallowed

them—the unfortunate victims of shipwreck. The fishers approached the

rock with an extreme timidity; but their harvest appears to have been

great, and the adventure no more perilous than lucrative. In 1800, on

the occasion of my grandfather’s first landing, and during the two or

three hours which the ebb-tide and the smooth water allowed them to pass

upon its shelves, his crew collected upwards of two hundredweight of old

metal: pieces of a kedge anchor and a cabin stove, crowbars, a hinge and

lock of a door, a ship’s marking-iron, a piece of a ship’s caboose, a

soldier’s bayonet, a cannon ball, several pieces of money, a shoe-buckle,

and the like. Such were the spoils of the Bell Rock.

From 1794 onward, the mind of my grandfather had been exercised with the

idea of a light upon this formidable danger. To build a tower on a sea

rock, eleven miles from shore, and barely uncovered at low water of

neaps, appeared a fascinating enterprise. It was something yet

unattempted, unessayed; and even now, after it has been lighted for more

than eighty years, it is still an exploit that has never been repeated.

{92a} My grandfather was, besides, but a young man, of an experience

comparatively restricted, and a reputation confined to Scotland; and when

he prepared his first models, and exhibited them in Merchants’ Hall, he

can hardly be acquitted of audacity. John Clerk of Eldin stood his

friend from the beginning, kept the key of the model room, to which he

carried ‘eminent strangers,’ and found words of counsel and encouragement

beyond price. ‘Mr. Clerk had been personally known to Smeaton, and used

occasionally to speak of him to me,’ says my grandfather; and again: ‘I

felt regret that I had not the opportunity of a greater range of practice

to fit me for such an undertaking; but I was fortified by an expression

of my friend Mr. Clerk in one of our conversations. “This work,” said he,

“is unique, and can be little forwarded by experience of ordinary masonic

operations. In this case Smeaton’s ‘Narrative’ must be the text-book,

and energy and perseverance the pratique.”’

A Bill for the work was introduced into Parliament and lost in the Lords

in 1802–3. John Rennie was afterwards, at my grandfather’s suggestion,

called in council, with the style of chief engineer. The precise meaning

attached to these words by any of the parties appears irrecoverable.

Chief engineer should have full authority, full responsibility, and a

proper share of the emoluments; and there were none of these for Rennie.

I find in an appendix a paper which resumes the controversy on this

subject; and it will be enough to say here that Rennie did not design the

Bell Rock, that he did not execute it, and that he was not paid for it.

{94a} From so much of the correspondence as has come down to me, the

acquaintance of this man, eleven years his senior, and already famous,

appears to have been both useful and agreeable to Robert Stevenson. It

is amusing to find my grandfather seeking high and low for a brace of

pistols which his colleague had lost by the way between Aberdeen and

Edinburgh; and writing to Messrs. Dollond, ‘I have not thought it

necessary to trouble Mr. Rennie with this order, but _I beg you will see

to get two minutes of him as he passes your door_’—a proposal calculated

rather from the latitude of Edinburgh than from London, even in 1807. It

is pretty, too, to observe with what affectionate regard Smeaton was held

in mind by his immediate successors. ‘Poor old fellow,’ writes Rennie to

Stevenson, ‘I hope he will now and then take a peep at us, and inspire

you with fortitude and courage to brave all difficulties and dangers to

accomplish a work which will, if successful, immortalise you in the

annals of fame.’ The style might be bettered, but the sentiment is

charming.

Smeaton was, indeed, the patron saint of the Bell Rock. Undeterred by

the sinister fate of Winstanley, he had tackled and solved the problem of

the Eddystone; but his solution had not been in all respects perfect. It

remained for my grand-father to outdo him in daring, by applying to a

tidal rock those principles which had been already justified by the

success of the Eddystone, and to perfect the model by more than one

exemplary departure. Smeaton had adopted in his floors the principle of

the arch; each therefore exercised an outward thrust upon the walls,

which must be met and combated by embedded chains. My grandfather’s

flooring-stones, on the other hand, were flat, made part of the outer

wall, and were keyed and dovetailed into a central stone, so as to bind

the work together and be positive elements of strength. In 1703

Winstanley still thought it possible to erect his strange pagoda, with

its open gallery, its florid scrolls and candlesticks: like a rich man’s

folly for an ornamental water in a park. Smeaton followed; then

Stevenson in his turn corrected such flaws as were left in Smeaton’s

design; and with his improvements, it is not too much to say the model

was made perfect. Smeaton and Stevenson had between them evolved and

finished the sea-tower. No subsequent builder has departed in anything

essential from the principles of their design. It remains, and it seems

to us as though it must remain for ever, an ideal attained. Every stone

in the building, it may interest the reader to know, my grandfather had

himself cut out in the model; and the manner in which the courses were

fitted, joggled, trenailed, wedged, and the bond broken, is intricate as

a puzzle and beautiful by ingenuity.

In 1806 a second Bill passed both Houses, and the preliminary works were

at once begun. The same year the Navy had taken a great harvest of

prizes in the North Sea, one of which, a Prussian fishing dogger,

flat-bottomed and rounded at the stem and stern, was purchased to be a

floating lightship, and re-named the _Pharos_. By July 1807 she was

overhauled, rigged for her new purpose, and turned into the lee of the

Isle of May. ‘It was proposed that the whole party should meet in her

and pass the night; but she rolled from side to side in so extraordinary

a manner, that even the most seahardy fled. It was humorously observed

of this vessel that she was in danger of making a round turn and

appearing with her keel uppermost; and that she would even turn a

half-penny if laid upon deck.’ By two o’clock on the morning of the 15th

July this purgatorial vessel was moored by the Bell Rock.

A sloop of forty tons had been in the meantime built at Leith, and named

the _Smeaton_; by the 7th of August my grandfather set sail in her—

‘carrying with him Mr. Peter Logan, foreman builder, and five

artificers selected from their having been somewhat accustomed to the

sea, the writer being aware of the distressing trial which the

floating light would necessarily inflict upon landsmen from her

rolling motion. Here he remained till the 10th, and, as the weather

was favourable, a landing was effected daily, when the workmen were

employed in cutting the large seaweed from the sites of the

lighthouse and beacon, which were respectively traced with pickaxes

upon the rock. In the meantime the crew of the _Smeaton_ was

employed in laying down the several sets of moorings within about

half a mile of the rock for the convenience of vessels. The

artificers, having, fortunately, experienced moderate weather,

returned to the workyard of Arbroath with a good report of their

treatment afloat; when their comrades ashore began to feel some

anxiety to see a place of which they had heard so much, and to change

the constant operations with the iron and mallet in the process of

hewing for an occasional tide’s work on the rock, which they figured

to themselves as a state of comparative ease and comfort.’

I am now for many pages to let my grandfather speak for himself, and tell

in his own words the story of his capital achievement. The tall quarto

of 533 pages from which the following narrative has been dug out is

practically unknown to the general reader, yet good judges have perceived

its merit, and it has been named (with flattering wit) ‘The Romance of

Stone and Lime’ and ‘The Robinson Crusoe of Civil Engineering.’ The

tower was but four years in the building; it took Robert Stevenson, in

the midst of his many avocations, no less than fourteen to prepare the

_Account_. The title-page is a solid piece of literature of upwards of a

hundred words; the table of contents runs to thirteen pages; and the

dedication (to that revered monarch, George IV) must have cost him no

little study and correspondence. Walter Scott was called in council, and

offered one miscorrection which still blots the page. In spite of all

this pondering and filing, there remain pages not easy to construe, and

inconsistencies not easy to explain away. I have sought to make these

disappear, and to lighten a little the baggage with which my grandfather

marches; here and there I have rejointed and rearranged a sentence,

always with his own words, and all with a reverent and faithful hand; and

I offer here to the reader the true Monument of Robert Stevenson with a

little of the moss removed from the inscription, and the Portrait of the

artist with some superfluous canvas cut away.

I—OPERATIONS OF 1807

[Sunday, 16th Aug.]

Everything being arranged for sailing to the rock on Saturday the 15th,

the vessel might have proceeded on the Sunday; but understanding that

this would not be so agreeable to the artificers it was deferred until

Monday. Here we cannot help observing that the men allotted for the

operations at the rock seemed to enter upon the undertaking with a degree

of consideration which fully marked their opinion as to the hazardous

nature of the undertaking on which they were about to enter. They went

in a body to church on Sunday, and whether it was in the ordinary course,

or designed for the occasion, the writer is not certain, but the service

was, in many respects, suitable to their circumstances.

[Monday, 17th Aug.]

The tide happening to fall late in the evening of Monday the 17th, the

party, counting twenty-four in number, embarked on board of the _Smeaton_

about ten o’clock p.m., and sailed from Arbroath with a gentle breeze at

west. Our ship’s colours having been flying all day in compliment to the

commencement of the work, the other vessels in the harbour also saluted,

which made a very gay appearance. A number of the friends and

acquaintances of those on board having been thus collected, the piers,

though at a late hour, were perfectly crowded, and just as the _Smeaton_

cleared the harbour, all on board united in giving three hearty cheers,

which were returned by those on shore in such good earnest, that, in the

still of the evening, the sound must have been heard in all parts of the

town, re-echoing from the walls and lofty turrets of the venerable Abbey

of Aberbrothwick. The writer felt much satisfaction at the manner of

this parting scene, though he must own that the present rejoicing was, on

his part, mingled with occasional reflections upon the responsibility of

his situation, which extended to the safety of all who should be engaged

in this perilous work. With such sensations he retired to his cabin; but

as the artificers were rather inclined to move about the deck than to

remain in their confined berths below, his repose was transient, and the

vessel being small every motion was necessarily heard. Some who were

musically inclined occasionally sung; but he listened with peculiar

pleasure to the sailor at the helm, who hummed over Dibdin’s

characteristic air:—

‘They say there’s a Providence sits up aloft,

To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.’

[Tuesday, 18th Aug.]

The weather had been very gentle all night, and, about four in the

morning of the 18th, the _Smeaton_ anchored. Agreeably to an arranged

plan of operations, all hands were called at five o’clock a.m., just as

the highest part of the Bell Rock began to show its sable head among the

light breakers, which occasionally whitened with the foaming sea. The

two boats belonging to the floating light attended the _Smeaton_, to

carry the artificers to the rock, as her boat could only accommodate

about six or eight sitters. Every one was more eager than his neighbour

to leap into the boats and it required a good deal of management on the

part of the coxswains to get men unaccustomed to a boat to take their

places for rowing and at the same time trimming her properly. The

landing-master and foreman went into one boat, while the writer took

charge of another, and steered it to and from the rock. This became the

more necessary in the early stages of the work, as places could not be

spared for more than two, or at most three seamen to each boat, who were

always stationed, one at the bow, to use the boat-hook in fending or

pushing off, and the other at the aftermost oar, to give the proper time

in rowing, while the middle oars were double-banked, and rowed by the

artificers.

As the weather was extremely fine, with light airs of wind from the east,

we landed without difficulty upon the central part of the rock at

half-past five, but the water had not yet sufficiently left it for

commencing the work. This interval, however, did not pass unoccupied.

The first and last of all the principal operations at the Bell Rock were

accompanied by three hearty cheers from all hands, and, on occasions like

the present, the steward of the ship attended, when each man was regaled

with a glass of rum. As the water left the rock about six, some began to

bore the holes for the great bats or holdfasts, for fixing the beams of

the Beacon-house, while the smith was fully attended in laying out the

site of his forge, upon a somewhat sheltered spot of the rock, which also

recommended itself from the vicinity of a pool of water for tempering his

irons. These preliminary steps occupied about an hour, and as nothing

further could be done during this tide towards fixing the forge, the

workmen gratified their curiosity by roaming about the rock, which they

investigated with great eagerness till the tide overflowed it. Those who

had been sick picked dulse (_Fucus palmatus_), which they ate with much

seeming appetite; others were more intent upon collecting limpets for

bait, to enjoy the amusement of fishing when they returned on board of

the vessel. Indeed, none came away empty-handed, as everything found

upon the Bell Rock was considered valuable, being connected with some

interesting association. Several coins, and numerous bits of shipwrecked

iron, were picked up, of almost every description; and, in particular, a

marking-iron lettered JAMES—a circumstance of which it was thought proper

to give notice to the public, as it might lead to the knowledge of some

unfortunate shipwreck, perhaps unheard of till this simple occurrence led

to the discovery. When the rock began to be overflowed, the

landing-master arranged the crews of the respective boats, appointing

twelve persons to each. According to a rule which the writer had laid

down to himself, he was always the last person who left the rock.

In a short time the Bell Rock was laid completely under water, and the

weather being extremely fine, the sea was so smooth that its place could

not be pointed out from the appearance of the surface—a circumstance

which sufficiently demonstrates the dangerous nature of this rock, even

during the day, and in the smoothest and calmest state of the sea.

During the interval between the morning and the evening tides, the

artificers were variously employed in fishing and reading; others were

busy in drying and adjusting their wet clothes, and one or two amused

their companions with the violin and German flute.

About seven in the evening the signal bell for landing on the rock was

again rung, when every man was at his quarters. In this service it was

thought more appropriate to use the bell than to _pipe_ to quarters, as

the use of this instrument is less known to the mechanic than the sound

of the bell. The landing, as in the morning, was at the eastern harbour.

During this tide the seaweed was pretty well cleared from the site of the

operations, and also from the tracks leading to the different

landing-places; for walking upon the rugged surface of the Bell Rock,

when covered with seaweed, was found to be extremely difficult and even

dangerous. Every hand that could possibly be occupied now employed in

assisting the smith to fit up the apparatus for his forge. At 9 p.m. the

boats returned to the tender, after other two hours’ work, in the same

order as formerly—perhaps as much gratified with the success that

attended the work of this day as with any other in the whole course of

the operations. Although it could not he said that the fatigues of this

day had been great, yet all on board retired early to rest. The sea

being calm, and no movement on deck, it was pretty generally remarked in

the morning that the bell awakened the greater number on board from their

first sleep; and though this observation was not altogether applicable to

the writer himself, yet he was not a little pleased to find that thirty

people could all at once become so reconciled to a night’s quarters

within a few hundred paces of the Bell Rock.

[Wednesday, 19th Aug.]

Being extremely anxious at this time to get forward with fixing the

smith’s forge, on which the progress of the work at present depended, the

writer requested that he might be called at daybreak to learn the

landing-master’s opinion of the weather from the appearance of the rising

sun, a criterion by which experienced seamen can generally judge pretty

accurately of the state of the weather for the following day. About five

o’clock, on coming upon deck, the sun’s upper limb or disc had just begun

to appear as if rising from the ocean, and in less than a minute he was

seen in the fullest splendour; but after a short interval he was

enveloped in a soft cloudy sky, which was considered emblematical of fine

weather. His rays had not yet sufficiently dispelled the clouds which

hid the land from view, and the Bell Rock being still overflowed, the

whole was one expanse of water. This scene in itself was highly

gratifying; and, when the morning bell was tolled, we were gratified with

the happy forebodings of good weather and the expectation of having both

a morning and an evening tide’s work on the rock.

The boat which the writer steered happened to be the last which

approached the rock at this tide; and, in standing up in the stern, while

at some distance, to see how the leading boat entered the creek, he was

astonished to observe something in the form of a human figure, in a

reclining posture, upon one of the ledges of the rock. He immediately

steered the boat through a narrow entrance to the eastern harbour, with a

thousand unpleasant sensations in his mind. He thought a vessel or boat

must have been wrecked upon the rock during the night; and it seemed

probable that the rock might be strewed with dead bodies, a spectacle

which could not fail to deter the artificers from returning so freely to

their work. In the midst of these reveries the boat took the ground at

an improper landing-place; but, without waiting to push her off, he leapt

upon the rock, and making his way hastily to the spot which had privately

given him alarm, he had the satisfaction to ascertain that he had only

been deceived by the peculiar situation and aspect of the smith’s anvil

and block, which very completely represented the appearance of a lifeless

body upon the rock. The writer carefully suppressed his feelings, the

simple mention of which might have had a bad effect upon the artificers,

and his haste passed for an anxiety to examine the apparatus of the

smith’s forge, left in an unfinished state at evening tide.

In the course of this morning’s work two or three apparently distant

peals of thunder were heard, and the atmosphere suddenly became thick and

foggy. But as the _Smeaton_, our present tender, was moored at no great

distance from the rock, the crew on board continued blowing with a horn,

and occasionally fired a musket, so that the boats got to the ship

without difficulty.

[Thursday, 20th Aug.]

The wind this morning inclined from the north-east, and the sky had a

heavy and cloudy appearance, but the sea was smooth, though there was an

undulating motion on, the surface, which indicated easterly winds, and

occasioned a slight surf upon the rock. But the boats found no

difficulty in landing at the western creek at half-past seven, and, after

a good tide’s work, left it again about a quarter from eleven. In the

evening the artificers landed at half-past seven, and continued till

half-past eight, having completed the fixing of the smith’s forge, his

vice, and a wooden board or bench, which were also batted to a ledge of

the rock, to the great joy of all, under a salute of three hearty cheers.

From an oversight on the part of the smith, who had neglected to bring

his tinder-box and matches from the vessel, the work was prevented from

being continued for at least an hour longer.

The smith’s shop was, of course, in _open space_: the large bellows were

carried to and from the rock every tide, for the serviceable condition of

which, together with the tinder-box, fuel, and embers of the former fire,

the smith was held responsible. Those who have been placed in situations

to feel the inconveniency and want of this useful artisan, will be able

to appreciate his value in a case like the present. It often happened,

to our annoyance and disappointment, in the early state of the work, when

the smith was in the middle of a _favourite heat_ in making some useful

article, or in sharpening the tools, after the flood-tide had obliged the

pickmen to strike work, a sea would come rolling over the rocks, dash out

the fire, and endanger his indispensable implement, the bellows. If the

sea was smooth, while the smith often stood at work knee-deep in water,

the tide rose by imperceptible degrees, first cooling the exterior of the

fireplace, or hearth, and then quietly blackening and extinguishing the

fire from below. The writer has frequently been amused at the perplexing

anxiety of the blacksmith when coaxing his fire and endeavouring to avert

the effects of the rising tide.

[Friday, 21st Aug.]

Everything connected with the forge being now completed, the artificers

found no want of sharp tools, and the work went forward with great

alacrity and spirit. It was also alleged that the rock had a more

habitable appearance from the volumes of smoke which ascended from the

smith’s shop and the busy noise of his anvil, the operations of the

masons, the movements of the boats, and shipping at a distance—all

contributed to give life and activity to the scene. This noise and

traffic had, however, the effect of almost completely banishing the herd

of seals which had hitherto frequented the rock as a resting-place during

the period of low water. The rock seemed to be peculiarly adapted to

their habits, for, excepting two or three days at neap-tides, a part of

it always dries at low water—at least, during the summer season—and as

there was good fishing-ground in the neighbourhood, without a human being

to disturb or molest them, it had become a very favourite residence of

these amphibious animals, the writer having occasionally counted from

fifty to sixty playing about the rock at a time. But when they came to

be disturbed every tide, and their seclusion was broken in upon by the

kindling of great fires, together with the beating of hammers and picks

during low water, after hovering about for a time, they changed their

place, and seldom more than one or two were to be seen about the rock

upon the more detached outlayers which dry partially, whence they seemed

to look with that sort of curiosity which is observable in these animals

when following a boat.

[Saturday, 22nd Aug.]

Hitherto the artificers had remained on board the _Smeaton_, which was

made fast to one of the mooring buoys at a distance only of about a

quarter of a mile from the rock, and, of course, a very great conveniency

to the work. Being so near, the seamen could never be mistaken as to the

progress of the tide, or state of the sea upon the rock, nor could the

boats be much at a loss to pull on board of the vessel during fog, or

even in very rough weather; as she could be cast loose from her moorings

at pleasure, and brought to the lee side of the rock. But the _Smeaton_

being only about forty register tons, her accommodations were extremely

limited. It may, therefore, be easily imagined that an addition of

twenty-four persons to her own crew must have rendered the situation of

those on board rather uncomfortable. The only place for the men’s

hammocks on board being in the hold, they were unavoidably much crowded:

and if the weather had required the hatches to be fastened down, so great

a number of men could not possibly have been accommodated. To add to

this evil, the _co-boose_ or cooking-place being upon deck, it would not

have been possible to have cooked for so large a company in the event of

bad weather.

The stock of water was now getting short, and some necessaries being also

wanted for the floating light, the _Smeaton_ was despatched for Arbroath;

and the writer, with the artificers at the same time shifted their

quarters from her to the floating light.

Although the rock barely made its appearance at this period of the tides

till eight o’clock, yet, having now a full mile to row from the floating

light to the rock, instead of about a quarter of a mile from the moorings

of the _Smeaton_, it was necessary to be earlier astir, and to form

different arrangements; breakfast was accordingly served up at seven

o’clock this morning. From the excessive motion of the floating light,

the writer had looked forward rather with anxiety to the removal of the

workmen to this ship. Some among them, who had been congratulating

themselves upon having become sea-hardy while on board the _Smeaton_, had

a complete relapse upon returning to the floating light. This was the

case with the writer. From the spacious and convenient berthage of the

floating light, the exchange to the artificers was, in this respect, much

for the better. The boats were also commodious, measuring sixteen feet

in length on the keel, so that, in fine weather, their complement of

sitters was sixteen persons for each, with which, however, they were

rather crowded, but she could not stow two boats of larger dimensions.

When there was what is called a breeze of wind, and a swell in the sea,

the proper number for each boat could not, with propriety, be rated at

more than twelve persons.

When the tide-bell rung the boats were hoisted out, and two active seamen

were employed to keep them from receiving damage alongside. The floating

light being very buoyant, was so quick in her motions that when those who

were about to step from her gunwale into a boat, placed themselves upon a

cleat or step on the ship’s side, with the man or rail ropes in their

hands, they had often to wait for some time till a favourable opportunity

occurred for stepping into the boat. While in this situation, with the

vessel rolling from side to side, watching the proper time for letting go

the man-ropes, it required the greatest dexterity and presence of mind to

leap into the boats. One who was rather awkward would often wait a

considerable period in this position: at one time his side of the ship

would be so depressed that he would touch the boat to which he belonged,

while the next sea would elevate him so much that he would see his

comrades in the boat on the opposite side of the ship, his friends in the

one boat calling to him to ‘Jump,’ while those in the boat on the other

side, as he came again and again into their view, would jocosely say,

‘Are you there yet? You seem to enjoy a swing.’ In this situation it

was common to see a person upon each side of the ship for a length of

time, waiting to quit his hold.

On leaving the rock to-day a trial of seamanship was proposed amongst the

rowers, for by this time the artificers had become tolerably expert in

this exercise. By inadvertency some of the oars provided had been made

of fir instead of ash, and although a considerable stock had been laid

in, the workmen, being at first awkward in the art, were constantly

breaking their oars; indeed it was no uncommon thing to see the broken

blades of a pair of oars floating astern, in the course of a passage from

the rock to the vessel. The men, upon the whole, had but little work to

perform in the course of a day; for though they exerted themselves

extremely hard while on the rock, yet, in the early state of the

operations, this could not be continued for more than three or four hours

at a time, and as their rations were large—consisting of one pound and a

half of beef, one pound of ship biscuit, eight ounces oatmeal, two ounces

barley, two ounces butter, three quarts of small beer, with vegetables

and salt—they got into excellent spirits when free of sea-sickness. The

rowing of the boats against each other became a favourite amusement,

which was rather a fortunate circumstance, as it must have been attended

with much inconvenience had it been found necessary to employ a

sufficient number of sailors for this purpose. The writer, therefore,

encouraged the spirit of emulation, and the speed of their respective

boats became a favourite topic. Premiums for boat-races were instituted,

which were contended for with great eagerness, and the respective crews

kept their stations in the boats with as much precision as they kept

their beds on board of the ship. With these and other pastimes, when the

weather was favourable, the time passed away among the inmates of the

forecastle and waist of the ship. The writer looks back with interest

upon the hours of solitude which he spent in this lonely ship with his

small library.

This being the first Saturday that the artificers were afloat, all hands

were served with a glass of rum and water at night, to drink the sailors’

favourite toast of ‘Wives and Sweethearts.’ It was customary, upon these

occasions, for the seamen and artificers to collect in the galley, when

the musical instruments were put in requisition: for, according to

invariable practice, every man must play a tune, sing a song, or tell a

story.

[Sunday, 23rd Aug.]

Having, on the previous evening, arranged matters with the landing-master

as to the business of the day, the signal was rung for all hands at

half-past seven this morning. In the early state of the spring-tides the

artificers went to the rock before breakfast, but as the tides fell later

in the day, it became necessary to take this meal before leaving the

ship. At eight o’clock all hands were assembled on the quarter-deck for

prayers, a solemnity which was gone through in as orderly a manner as

circumstances would admit. When the weather permitted, the flags of the

ship were hung up as an awning or screen, forming the quarter-deck into a

distinct compartment; the pendant was also hoisted at the mainmast, and a

large ensign flag was displayed over the stern; and lastly, the ship’s

companion, or top of the staircase, was covered with the _flag proper_ of

the Lighthouse Service, on which the Bible was laid. A particular toll

of the bell called all hands to the quarter-deck, when the writer read a

chapter of the Bible, and, the whole ship’s company being uncovered, he

also read the impressive prayer composed by the Reverend Dr. Brunton, one

of the ministers of Edinburgh.

Upon concluding this service, which was attended with becoming reverence

and attention, all on board retired to their respective berths to

breakfast, and, at half-past nine, the bell again rung for the artificers

to take their stations in their respective boats. Some demur having been

evinced on board about the propriety of working on Sunday, which had

hitherto been touched upon as delicately as possible, all hands being

called aft, the writer, from the quarter-deck, stated generally the

nature of the service, expressing his hopes that every man would feel

himself called upon to consider the erection of a lighthouse on the Bell

Rock, in every point of view, as a work of necessity and mercy. He knew

that scruples had existed with some, and these had, indeed, been fairly

and candidly urged before leaving the shore; but it was expected that,

after having seen the critical nature of the rock, and the necessity of

the measure, every man would now be satisfied of the propriety of

embracing all opportunities of landing on the rock when the state of the

weather would permit. The writer further took them to witness that it

did not proceed from want of respect for the appointments and established

forms of religion that he had himself adopted the resolution of attending

the Bell Rock works on the Sunday; but, as he hoped, from a conviction

that it was his bounden duty, on the strictest principles of morality.

At the same time it was intimated that, if any were of a different

opinion, they should be perfectly at liberty to hold their sentiments

without the imputation of contumacy or disobedience; the only difference

would be in regard to the pay.

Upon stating this much, he stepped into his boat, requesting all who were

so disposed to follow him. The sailors, from their habits, found no

scruple on this subject, and all of the artificers, though a little

tardy, also embarked, excepting four of the masons, who, from the

beginning, mentioned that they would decline working on Sundays. It may

here be noticed that throughout the whole of the operations it was

observable that the men wrought, if possible, with more keenness upon the

Sundays than at other times from an impression that they were engaged in

a work of imperious necessity, which required every possible exertion.

On returning to the floating light, after finishing the tide’s work, the

boats were received by the part of the ship’s crew left on board with the

usual attention of handing ropes to the boats and helping the artificers

on board; but the four masons who had absented themselves from the work

did not appear upon deck.

[Monday, 24th Aug.]

The boats left the floating light at a quarter-past nine o’clock this

morning, and the work began at three-quarters past nine; but as the

neap-tides were approaching the working time at the rock became gradually

shorter, and it was now with difficulty that two and a half hours’ work

could be got. But so keenly had the workmen entered into the spirit of

the beacon-house operations, that they continued to bore the holes in the

rock till some of them were knee-deep in water.

The operations at this time were entirely directed to the erection of the

beacon, in which every man felt an equal interest, as at this critical

period the slightest casualty to any of the boats at the rock might have

been fatal to himself individually, while it was perhaps peculiar to the

writer more immediately to feel for the safety of the whole. Each log or

upright beam of the beacon was to be fixed to the rock by two strong and

massive bats or stanchions of iron. These bats, for the fixture of the

principal and diagonal beams and bracing chains, required fifty-four

holes, each measuring two inches in diameter and eighteen inches in

depth. There had already been so considerable a progress made in boring

and excavating the holes that the writer’s hopes of getting the beacon

erected this year began to be more and more confirmed, although it was

now advancing towards what was considered the latter end of the proper

working season at the Bell Rock. The foreman joiner, Mr. Francis Watt,

was accordingly appointed to attend at the rock to-day, when the

necessary levels were taken for the step or seat of each particular beam

of the beacon, that they might be cut to their respective lengths, to

suit the inequalities of the rock; several of the stanchions were also

tried into their places, and other necessary observations made, to

prevent mistakes on the application of the apparatus, and to facilitate

the operations when the beams came to be set up, which would require to

be done in the course of a single tide.

[Tuesday, 25th Aug.]

We had now experienced an almost unvaried tract of light airs of easterly

wind, with clear weather in the fore-part of the day and fog in the

evenings. To-day, however, it sensibly changed; when the wind came to

the south-west, and blew a fresh breeze. At nine a.m. the bell rung, and

the boats were hoisted out, and though the artificers were now pretty

well accustomed to tripping up and down the sides of the floating light,

yet it required more seamanship this morning than usual. It therefore

afforded some merriment to those who had got fairly seated in their

respective boats to see the difficulties which attended their companions,

and the hesitating manner in which they quitted hold of the man-ropes in

leaving the ship. The passage to the rock was tedious, and the boats did

not reach it till half-past ten.

It being now the period of neap-tides, the water only partially left the

rock, and some of the men who were boring on the lower ledges of the site

of the beacon stood knee-deep in water. The situation of the smith

to-day was particularly disagreeable, but his services were at all times

indispensable. As the tide did not leave the site of the forge, he stood

in the water, and as there was some roughness on the surface it was with

considerable difficulty that, with the assistance of the sailors, he was

enabled to preserve alive his fire; and, while his feet were immersed in

water, his face was not only scorched but continually exposed to volumes

of smoke, accompanied with sparks from the fire, which were occasionally

set up owing to the strength and direction of the wind.

[Wednesday, 26th Aug.]

The wind had shifted this morning to N.N.W., with rain, and was blowing

what sailors call a fresh breeze. To speak, perhaps, somewhat more

intelligibly to the general reader, the wind was such that a fishing-boat

could just carry full sail. But as it was of importance, specially in

the outset of the business, to keep up the spirit of enterprise for

landing on all practicable occasions, the writer, after consulting with

the landing-master, ordered the bell to be rung for embarking, and at

half-past eleven the boats reached the rock, and left it again at a

quarter-past twelve, without, however, being able to do much work, as the

smith could not be set to work from the smallness of the ebb and the

strong breach of sea, which lashed with great force among the bars of the

forge.

Just as we were about to leave the rock the wind shifted to the S.W.,

and, from a fresh gale, it became what seamen term a hard gale, or such

as would have required the fisherman to take in two or three reefs in his

sail. It is a curious fact that the respective tides of ebb and flood

are apparent upon the shore about an hour and a half sooner than at the

distance of three or four miles in the offing. But what seems chiefly

interesting here is that the tides around this small sunken rock should

follow exactly the same laws as on the extensive shores of the mainland.

When the boats left the Bell Rock to-day it was overflowed by the

flood-tide, but the floating light did not swing round to the flood-tide

for more than an hour afterwards. Under this disadvantage the boats had

to struggle with the ebb-tide and a hard gale of wind, so that it was

with the greatest difficulty that they reached the floating light. Had

this gale happened in spring-tides when the current was strong we must

have been driven to sea in a very helpless condition.

The boat which the writer steered was considerably behind the other, one

of the masons having unluckily broken his oar. Our prospect of getting

on board, of course, became doubtful, and our situation was rather

perilous, as the boat shipped so much sea that it occupied two of the

artificers to bale and clear her of water. When the oar gave way we were

about half a mile from the ship, but, being fortunately to windward, we

got into the wake of the floating light, at about 250 fathoms astern,

just as the landing-master’s boat reached the vessel. He immediately

streamed or floated a life-buoy astern, with a line which was always in

readiness, and by means of this useful implement the boat was towed

alongside of the floating light, where, from her rolling motion, it

required no small management to get safely on board, as the men were much

worn out with their exertions in pulling from the rock. On the present

occasion the crews of both boats were completely drenched with spray, and

those who sat upon the bottom of the boats to bale them were sometimes

pretty deep in the water before it could be cleared out. After getting

on board, all hands were allowed an extra dram, and, having shifted and

got a warm and comfortable dinner, the affair, it is believed, was little

more thought of.

[Thursday, 27th Aug.]

The tides were now in that state which sailors term the dead of the neap,

and it was not expected that any part of the rock would be seen above

water to-day; at any rate, it was obvious, from the experience of

yesterday, that no work could be done upon it, and therefore the

artificers were not required to land. The wind was at west, with light

breezes, and fine clear weather; and as it was an object with the writer

to know the actual state of the Bell Rock at neap-tides, he got one of

the boats manned, and, being accompanied by the landing-master, went to

it at a quarter-past twelve. The parts of the rock that appeared above

water being very trifling, were covered by every wave, so that no landing

was made. Upon trying the depth of water with a boathook, particularly

on the sites of the lighthouse and beacon, on the former, at low water,

the depth was found to be three feet, and on the central parts of the

latter it was ascertained to be two feet eight inches. Having made these

remarks, the boat returned to the ship at two p.m., and the weather being

good, the artificers were found amusing themselves with fishing. The

_Smeaton_ came from Arbroath this afternoon, and made fast to her

moorings, having brought letters and newspapers, with parcels of clean

linen, etc., for the workmen, who were also made happy by the arrival of

three of their comrades from the workyard ashore. From these men they

not only received all the news of the workyard, but seemed themselves to

enjoy great pleasure in communicating whatever they considered to be

interesting with regard to the rock. Some also got letters from their

friends at a distance, the postage of which for the men afloat was always

free, so that they corresponded the more readily.

The site of the building having already been carefully traced out with

the pick-axe, the artificers this day commenced the excavation of the

rock for the foundation or first course of the lighthouse. Four men only

were employed at this work, while twelve continued at the site of the

beacon-house, at which every possible opportunity was embraced, till this

essential art of the operations should be completed.

[Wednesday, 2nd Sept.]

The floating light’s bell rung this morning at half-past four o’clock, as

a signal for the boats to be got ready, and the landing took place at

half-past five. In passing the _Smeaton_ at her moorings near the rock,

her boat followed with eight additional artificers who had come from

Arbroath with her at last trip, but there being no room for them in the

floating light’s boats, they had continued on board. The weather did not

look very promising in the morning, the wind blowing pretty fresh from

W.S.W.: and had it not been that the writer calculated upon having a

vessel so much at command, in all probability he would not have ventured

to land. The _Smeaton_ rode at what sailors call a _salvagee_, with a

cross-head made fast to the floating buoy. This kind of attachment was

found to be more convenient than the mode of passing the hawser through

the ring of the buoy when the vessel was to be made fast. She had then

only to be steered very close to the buoy, when the salvagee was laid

hold of with a boat-hook, and the _bite_ of the hawser thrown over the

cross-head. But the salvagee, by this method, was always left at the

buoy, and was, of course, more liable to chafe and wear than a hawser

passed through the ring, which could be wattled with canvas, and shifted

at pleasure. The salvagee and cross method is, however, much practised;

but the experience of this morning showed it to be very unsuitable for

vessels riding in an exposed situation for any length of time.

Soon after the artificers landed they commenced work; but the wind coming

to blow hard, the _Smeaton’s_ boat and crew, who had brought their

complement of eight men to the rock, went off to examine her riding

ropes, and see that they were in proper order. The boat had no sooner

reached the vessel than she went adrift, carrying the boat along with

her. By the time that she was got round to make a tack towards the rock,

she had drifted at least three miles to leeward, with the praam-boat

astern; and, having both the wind and a tide against her, the writer

perceived, with no little anxiety, that she could not possibly return to

the rock till long after its being overflowed; for, owing to the anomaly

of the tides formerly noticed, the Bell Rock is completely under water

when the ebb abates to the offing.

In this perilous predicament, indeed, he found himself placed between

hope and despair—but certainly the latter was by much the most

predominant feeling of his mind—situate upon a sunken rock in the middle

of the ocean, which, in the progress of the flood-tide, was to be laid

under water to the depth of at least twelve feet in a stormy sea. There

were this morning thirty-two persons in all upon the rock, with only two

boats, whose complement, even in good weather, did not exceed twenty-four

sitters; but to row to the floating light with so much wind, and in so

heavy a sea, a complement of eight men for each boat was as much as

could, with propriety, be attempted, so that, in this way, about one-half

of our number was unprovided for. Under these circumstances, had the

writer ventured to despatch one of the boats in expectation of either

working the _Smeaton_ sooner up towards the rock, or in hopes of getting

her boat brought to our assistance, this must have given an immediate

alarm to the artificers, each of whom would have insisted upon taking to

his own boat, and leaving the eight artificers belonging to the _Smeaton_

to their chance. Of course a scuffle might have ensued, and it is hard

to say, in the ardour of men contending for life, where it might have

ended. It has even been hinted to the writer that a party of the

_pickmen_ were determined to keep exclusively to their own boat against

all hazards.

The unfortunate circumstance of the _Smeaton_ and her boat having drifted

was, for a considerable time, only known to the writer and to the

landing-master, who removed to the farther point of the rock, where he

kept his eye steadily upon the progress of the vessel. While the

artificers were at work, chiefly in sitting or kneeling postures,

excavating the rock, or boring with the jumpers, and while their numerous

hammers, with the sound of the smith’s anvil, continued, the situation of

things did not appear so awful. In this state of suspense, with almost

certain destruction at hand, the water began to rise upon those who were

at work on the lower parts of the sites of the beacon and lighthouse.

From the run of sea upon the rock, the forge fire was also sooner

extinguished this morning than usual, and the volumes of smoke having

ceased, objects in every direction became visible from all parts of the

rock. After having had about three ‘hours’ work, the men began, pretty

generally, to make towards their respective boats for their jackets and

stockings, when, to their astonishment, instead of three, they found only

two boats, the third being adrift with the _Smeaton_. Not a word was

uttered by any one, but all appeared to be silently calculating their

numbers, and looking to each other with evident marks of perplexity

depicted in their countenances. The landing-master, conceiving that

blame might be attached to him for allowing the boat to leave the rock,

still kept at a distance. At this critical moment the author was

standing upon an elevated part of Smith’s Ledge, where he endeavoured to

mark the progress of the _Smeaton_, not a little surprised that her crew

did not cut the praam adrift, which greatly retarded her way, and amazed

that some effort was not making to bring at least the boat, and attempt

our relief. The workmen looked steadfastly upon the writer, and turned

occasionally towards the vessel, still far to leeward. {122a} All this

passed in the most perfect silence, and the melancholy solemnity of the

group made an impression never to be effaced from his mind.

The writer had all along been considering of various schemes—providing

the men could be kept under command—which might be put in practice for

the general safety, in hopes that the _Smeaton_ might be able to pick up

the boats to leeward, when they were obliged to leave the rock. He was,

accordingly, about to address the artificers on the perilous nature of

their circumstances, and to propose that all hands should unstrip their

upper clothing when the higher parts of the rock were laid under water;

that the seamen should remove every unnecessary weight and encumbrance

from the boats; that a specified number of men should go into each boat,

and that the remainder should hang by the gunwales, while the boats were

to be rowed gently towards the _Smeaton_, as the course to the _Pharos_,

or floating light, lay rather to windward of the rock. But when he

attempted to speak his mouth was so parched that his tongue refused

utterance, and he now learned by experience that the saliva is as

necessary as the tongue itself for speech. He turned to one of the pools

on the rock and lapped a little water, which produced immediate relief.

But what was his happiness, when on rising from this unpleasant beverage,

some one called out, ‘A boat! a boat!’ and, on looking around, at no

great distance, a large boat was seen through the haze making towards the

rock. This at once enlivened and rejoiced every heart. The timeous

visitor proved to be James Spink, the Bell Rock pilot, who had come

express from Arbroath with letters. Spink had for some time seen the

_Smeaton_, and had even supposed, from the state of the weather, that all

hands were on board of her till he approached more nearly and observed

people upon the rock; but not supposing that the assistance of his boat

was necessary to carry the artificers off the rock, he anchored on the

lee-side and began to fish, waiting, as usual, till the letters were sent

for, as the pilot-boat was too large and unwieldy for approaching the

rock when there was any roughness or run of the sea at the entrance of

the landing creeks.

Upon this fortunate change of circumstances, sixteen of the artificers

were sent, at two trips, in one of the boats, with instructions for Spink

to proceed with them to the floating light. This being accomplished, the

remaining sixteen followed in the two boats belonging to the service of

the rock. Every one felt the most perfect happiness at leaving the Bell

Rock this morning, though a very hard and even dangerous passage to the

floating light still awaited us, as the wind by this time had increased

to a pretty hard gale, accompanied with a considerable swell of sea.

Every one was as completely drenched in water as if he had been dragged

astern of the boats. The writer, in particular, being at the helm,

found, on getting on board, that his face and ears were completely coated

with a thin film of salt from the sea spray, which broke constantly over

the bows of the boat. After much baling of water and severe work at the

oars, the three boats reached the floating light, where some new

difficulties occurred in getting on board in safety, owing partly to the

exhausted state of the men, and partly to the violent rolling of the

vessel.

As the tide flowed, it was expected that the _Smeaton_ would have got to

windward; but, seeing that all was safe, after tacking for several hours

and making little progress, she bore away for Arbroath, with the

praam-boat. As there was now too much wind for the pilot-boat to return

to Arbroath, she was made fast astern of the floating light, and the crew

remained on board till next day, when the weather moderated. There can

be very little doubt that the appearance of James Spink with his boat on

this critical occasion was the means of preventing the loss of lives at

the rock this morning. When these circumstances, some years afterwards,

came to the knowledge of the Board, a small pension was ordered to our

faithful pilot, then in his seventieth year; and he still continues to

wear the uniform clothes and badge of the Lighthouse service. Spink is a

remarkably strong man, whose _tout ensemble_ is highly characteristic of

a North-country fisherman. He usually dresses in a _pé-jacket_, cut

after a particular fashion, and wears a large, flat, blue bonnet. A

striking likeness of Spink in his pilot-dress, with the badge or insignia

on his left arm which is characteristic of the boatmen in the service of

the Northern Lights, has been taken by Howe, and is in the writer’s

possession.

[Thursday, 3rd Sept.]

The bell rung this morning at five o’clock, but the writer must

acknowledge, from the circumstances of yesterday, that its sound was

extremely unwelcome. This appears also to have been the feelings of the

artificers, for when they came to be mustered, out of twenty-six, only

eight, besides the foreman and seamen, appeared upon deck to accompany

the writer to the rock. Such are the baneful effects of anything like

misfortune or accident connected with a work of this description. The

use of argument to persuade the men to embark in cases of this kind would

have been out of place, as it is not only discomfort, or even the risk of

the loss of a limb, but life itself that becomes the question. The

boats, notwithstanding the thinness of our ranks, left the vessel at

half-past five. The rough weather of yesterday having proved but a

summer’s gale, the wind came to-day in gentle breezes; yet, the

atmosphere being cloudy, it a not a very favourable appearance. The

boats reached the rock at six a.m., and the eight artificers who landed

were employed in clearing out the bat-holes for the beacon-house, and had

a very prosperous tide of four hours’ work, being the longest yet

experienced by half an hour.

The boats left the rock again at ten o’clock, and the weather having

cleared up as we drew near the vessel, the eighteen artificers who had

remained on board were observed upon deck, but as the boats approached

they sought their way below, being quite ashamed of their conduct. This

was the only instance of refusal to go to the rock which occurred during

the whole progress of the work, excepting that of the four men who

declined working upon Sunday, a case which the writer did not conceive to

be at all analogous to the present. It may here be mentioned, much to

the credit of these four men, that they stood foremost in embarking for

the rock this morning.

[Saturday, 5th Sept.]

It was fortunate that a landing was not attempted this evening, for at

eight o’clock the wind shifted to E.S.E., and at ten it had become a hard

gale, when fifty fathoms of the floating light’s hempen cable were veered

out. The gale still increasing, the ship rolled and laboured

excessively, and at midnight eighty fathoms of cable were veered out;

while the sea continued to strike the vessel with a degree of force which

had not before been experienced.

[Sunday, 6th Sept.]

During the last night there was little rest on board of the _Pharos_, and

daylight, though anxiously wished for, brought no relief, as the gale

continued with unabated violence. The sea struck so hard upon the

vessel’s bows that it rose in great quantities, or in ‘green seas,’ as

the sailors termed it, which were carried by the wind as far aft as the

quarter-deck, and not infrequently over the stern of the ship altogether.

It fell occasionally so heavily on the skylight of the writer’s cabin,

though so far aft as to be within five feet of the helm, that the glass

was broken to pieces before the dead-light could be got into its place,

so that the water poured down in great quantities. In shutting out the

water, the admission of light was prevented, and in the morning all

continued in the most comfortless state of darkness. About ten o’clock

a.m. the wind shifted to N.E., and blew, if possible, harder than before,

and it was accompanied by a much heavier swell of sea. In the course of

the gale, the part of the cable in the hause-hole had been so often

shifted that nearly the whole length of one of her hempen cables, of 120

fathoms, had been veered out, besides the chain-moorings. The cable, for

its preservation, was also carefully served or wattled with pieces of

canvas round the windlass, and with leather well greased in the

hause-hole. In this state things remained during the whole day, every

sea which struck the vessel—and the seas followed each other in close

succession—causing her to shake, and all on board occasionally to

tremble. At each of these strokes of the sea the rolling and pitching of

the vessel ceased for a time, and her motion was felt as if she had

either broke adrift before the wind or were in the act of sinking; but,

when another sea came, she ranged up against it with great force, and

this became the regular intimation of our being still riding at anchor.

About eleven o’clock, the writer with some difficulty got out of bed,

but, in attempting to dress, he was thrown twice upon the floor at the

opposite end of the cabin. In an undressed state he made shift to get

about half-way up the companion-stairs, with an intention to observe the

state of the sea and of the ship upon deck; but he no sooner looked over

the companion than a heavy sea struck the vessel, which fell on the

quarter-deck, and rushed downstairs in the officers’ cabin in so

considerable a quantity that it was found necessary to lift one of the

scuttles in the floor, to let the water into the limbers of the ship, as

it dashed from side to side in such a manner as to run into the lower

tier of beds. Having been foiled in this attempt, and being completely

wetted, he again got below and went to bed. In this state of the weather

the seamen had to move about the necessary or indispensable duties of the

ship with the most cautious use both of hands and feet, while it required

all the art of the landsman to keep within the precincts of his bed. The

writer even found himself so much tossed about that it became necessary,

in some measure, to shut himself in bed, in order to avoid being thrown

upon the floor. Indeed, such was the motion of the ship that it seemed

wholly impracticable to remain in any other than a lying posture. On

deck the most stormy aspect presented itself, while below all was wet and

comfortless.

About two o’clock p.m. a great alarm was given throughout the ship from

the effects of a very heavy sea which struck her, and almost filled the

waist, pouring down into the berths below, through every chink and

crevice of the hatches and skylights. From the motion of the vessel

being thus suddenly deadened or checked, and from the flowing in of the

water above, it is believed there was not an individual on board who did

not think, at the moment, that the vessel had foundered, and was in the

act of sinking. The writer could withstand this no longer, and as soon

as she again began to range to the sea he determined to make another

effort to get upon deck. In the first instance, however, he groped his

way in darkness from his own cabin through the berths of the officers,

where all was quietness. He next entered the galley and other

compartments occupied by the artificers. Here also all was shut up in

darkness, the fire having been drowned out in the early part of the gale.

Several of the artificers were employed in prayer, repeating psalms and

other devotional exercises in a full tone of voice; others protesting

that, if they should fortunately get once more on shore, no one should

ever see them afloat again. With the assistance of the landing-master,

the writer made his way, holding on step by step, among the numerous

impediments which lay in the way. Such was the creaking noise of the

bulk-heads or partitions, the dashing of the water, and the whistling

noise of the winds, that it was hardly possible to break in upon such a

confusion of sounds. In one or two instances, anxious and repeated

inquiries were made by the artificers as to the state of things upon

deck, to which the captain made the usual answer, that it could not blow

long in this way, and that we must soon have better weather. The next

berth in succession, moving forward in the ship, was that allotted for

the seamen. Here the scene was considerably different. Having reached

the middle of this darksome berth without its inmates being aware of any

intrusion, the writer had the consolation of remarking that, although

they talked of bad weather and the cross accidents of the sea, yet the

conversation was carried on in that sort of tone and manner which bespoke

an ease and composure of mind highly creditable to them and pleasing to

him. The writer immediately accosted the seamen about the state of the

ship. To these inquiries they replied that the vessel being light, and

having but little hold of the water, no top-rigging, with excellent

ground-tackle, and everything being fresh and new, they felt perfect

confidence in their situation.

It being impossible to open any of the hatches in the fore part of the

ship in communicating with the deck, the watch was changed by passing

through the several berths to the companion-stair leading to the

quarter-deck. The writer, therefore, made the best of his way aft, and,

on a second attempt to look out, he succeeded, and saw indeed an

astonishing sight. The sea or waves appeared to be ten or fifteen feet

in height of unbroken water, and every approaching billow seemed as if it

would overwhelm our vessel, but she continued to rise upon the waves and

to fall between the seas in a very wonderful manner. It seemed to be

only those seas which caught her in the act of rising which struck her

with so much violence and threw such quantities of water aft. On deck

there was only one solitary individual looking out, to give the alarm in

the event of the ship breaking from her moorings. The seaman on watch

continued only two hours; he who kept watch at this time was a tall,

slender man of a black complexion; he had no greatcoat nor over-all of

any kind, but was simply dressed in his ordinary jacket and trousers; his

hat was tied under his chin with a napkin, and he stood aft the foremast,

to which he had lashed himself with a gasket or small rope round his

waist, to prevent his falling upon deck or being washed overboard. When

the writer looked up, he appeared to smile, which afforded a further

symptom of the confidence of the crew in their ship. This person on

watch was as completely wetted as if he had been drawn through the sea,

which was given as a reason for his not putting on a greatcoat, that he

might wet as few of his clothes as possible, and have a dry shift when he

went below. Upon deck everything that was movable was out of sight,

having either been stowed below, previous to the gale, or been washed

overboard. Some trifling parts of the quarter boards were damaged by the

breach of the sea; and one of the boats upon deck was about one-third

full of water, the oyle-hole or drain having been accidently stopped up,

and part of her gunwale had received considerable injury. These

observations were hastily made, and not without occasionally shutting the

companion, to avoid being wetted by the successive seas which broke over

the bows and fell upon different parts of the deck according to the

impetus with which the waves struck the vessel. By this time it was

about three o’clock in the afternoon, and the gale, which had now

continued with unabated force for twenty-seven hours, had not the least

appearance of going off.

In the dismal prospect of undergoing another night like the last, and

being in imminent hazard of parting from our cable, the writer thought it

necessary to advise with the master and officers of the ship as to the

probable event of the vessel’s drifting from her moorings. They

severally gave it as their opinion that we had now every chance of riding

out the gale, which, in all probability, could not continue with the same

fury many hours longer; and that even if she should part from her anchor,

the storm-sails had been laid to hand, and could be bent in a very short

time. They further stated that from the direction of the wind being

N.E., she would sail up the Firth of Forth to Leith Roads. But if this

should appear doubtful, after passing the Island and Light of May, it

might be advisable at once to steer for Tyningham Sands, on the western

side of Dunbar, and there run the vessel ashore. If this should happen

at the time of high-water, or during the ebbing of the tide, they were of

opinion, from the flatness and strength of the floating light, that no

danger would attend her taking the ground, even with a very heavy sea.

The writer, seeing the confidence which these gentlemen possessed with

regard to the situation of things, found himself as much relieved with

this conversation as he had previously been with the seeming indifference

of the forecastle men, and the smile of the watch upon deck, though

literally lashed to the foremast. From this time he felt himself almost

perfectly at ease; at any rate, he was entirely resigned to the ultimate

result.

About six o’clock in the evening the ship’s company was heard moving upon

deck, which on the present occasion was rather the cause of alarm. The

writer accordingly rang his bell to know what was the matter, when he was

informed by the steward that the weather looked considerably better, and

that the men upon deck were endeavouring to ship the smoke-funnel of the

galley that the people might get some meat. This was a more favourable

account than had been anticipated. During the last twenty-one hours he

himself had not only had nothing to eat, but he had almost never passed a

thought on the subject. Upon the mention of a change of weather, he sent

the steward to learn how the artificers felt, and on his return he stated

that they now seemed to be all very happy, since the cook had begun to

light the galley-fire and make preparations for the suet-pudding of

Sunday, which was the only dish to be attempted for the mess, from the

ease with which it could both be cooked and served up.

The principal change felt upon the ship as the wind abated was her

increased rolling motion, but the pitching was much diminished, and now

hardly any sea came farther aft than the foremast: but she rolled so

extremely hard as frequently to dip and take in water over the gunwales

and rails in the waist. By nine o’clock all hands had been refreshed by

the exertions of the cook and steward, and were happy in the prospect of

the worst of the gale being over. The usual complement of men was also

now set on watch, and more quietness was experienced throughout the ship.

Although the previous night had been a very restless one, it had not the

effect of inducing repose in the writer’s berth on the succeeding night;

for having been so much tossed about in bed during the last thirty hours,

he found no easy spot to turn to, and his body was all sore to the touch,

which ill accorded with the unyielding materials with which his bed-place

was surrounded.

[Monday, 7th Sept.]

This morning, about eight o’clock, the writer was agreeably surprised to

see the scuttle of his cabin sky-light removed, and the bright rays of

the sun admitted. Although the ship continued to roll excessively, and

the sea was still running very high, yet the ordinary business on board

seemed to be going forward on deck. It was impossible to steady a

telescope, so as to look minutely at the progress of the waves and trace

their breach upon the Bell Rock; but the height to which the

cross-running waves rose in sprays when they met each other was truly

grand, and the continued roar and noise of the sea was very perceptible

to the ear. To estimate the height of the sprays at forty or fifty feet

would surely be within the mark. Those of the workmen who were not much

afflicted with sea-sickness, came upon deck, and the wetness below being

dried up, the cabins were again brought into a habitable state. Every

one seemed to meet as if after a long absence, congratulating his

neighbour upon the return of good weather. Little could be said as to

the comfort of the vessel, but after riding out such a gale, no one felt

the least doubt or hesitation as to the safety and good condition of her

moorings. The master and mate were extremely anxious, however, to heave

in the hempen cable, and see the state of the clinch or iron ring of the

chain-cable. But the vessel rolled at such a rate that the seamen could

not possibly keep their feet at the windlass nor work the hand-spikes,

though it had been several times attempted since the gale took off.

About twelve noon, however, the vessel’s motion was observed to be

considerably less, and the sailors were enabled to walk upon deck with

some degree of freedom. But, to the astonishment of every one, it was

soon discovered that the floating light was adrift! The windlass was

instantly manned, and the men soon gave out that there was no strain upon

the cable. The mizzen sail, which was bent for the occasional purpose of

making the vessel ride more easily to the tide, was immediately set, and

the other sails were also hoisted in a short time, when, in no small

consternation, we bore away about one mile to the south-westward of the

former station, and there let go the best bower anchor and cable in

twenty fathoms water, to ride until the swell of the sea should fall,

when it might be practicable to grapple for the moorings, and find a

better anchorage for the ship.

[Tuesday, 15th Sept.]

This morning, at five a.m., the bell rung as a signal for landing upon

the rock, a sound which, after a lapse of ten days, it is believed was

welcomed by every one on board. There being a heavy breach of sea at the

eastern creek, we landed, though not without difficulty, on the western

side, every one seeming more eager than another to get upon the rock; and

never did hungry men sit down to a hearty meal with more appetite than

the artificers began to pick the dulse from the rocks. This marine plant

had the effect of reviving the sickly, and seemed to be no less relished

by those who were more hardy.

While the water was ebbing, and the men were roaming in quest of their

favourite morsel, the writer was examining the effects of the storm upon

the forge and loose apparatus left upon the rock. Six large blocks of

granite which had been landed, by way of experiment, on the 1st instant,

were now removed from their places and, by the force of the sea, thrown

over a rising ledge into a hole at the distance of twelve or fifteen

paces from the place on which they had been landed. This was a pretty

good evidence both of the violence of the storm and the agitation of the

sea upon the rock. The safety of the smith’s forge was always an object

of essential regard. The ash-pan of the hearth or fireplace, with its

weighty cast-iron back, had been washed from their places of supposed

security; the chains of attachment had been broken, and these ponderous

articles were found at a very considerable distance in a hole on the

western side of the rock; while the tools and picks of the Aberdeen

masons were scattered about in every direction. It is, however,

remarkable that not a single article was ultimately lost.

This being the night on which the floating light was advertised to be

lighted, it was accordingly exhibited, to the great joy of every one.

[Wednesday, 16th Sept.]

The writer was made happy to-day by the return of the Lighthouse yacht

from a voyage to the Northern Lighthouses. Having immediately removed on

board of this fine vessel of eighty-one tons register, the artificers

gladly followed; for, though they found themselves more pinched for

accommodation on board of the yacht, and still more so in the _Smeaton_,

yet they greatly preferred either of these to the _Pharos_, or floating

light, on account of her rolling motion, though in all respects fitted up

for their conveniency.

The writer called them to the quarter-deck and informed them that, having

been one mouth afloat, in terms of their agreement they were now at

liberty to return to the workyard at Arbroath if they preferred this to

continuing at the Bell Rock. But they replied that, in the prospect of

soon getting the beacon erected upon the rock, and having made a change

from the floating light, they were now perfectly reconciled to their

situation, and would remain afloat till the end of the working season.

[Thursday, 17th Sept.]

The wind was at N.E. this morning, and though they were only light airs,

yet there was a pretty heavy swell coming ashore upon the rock. The

boats landed at half-past seven o’clock a.m., at the creek on the

southern side of the rock, marked Port Hamilton. But as one of the boats

was in the act of entering this creek, the seaman at the bow-oar, who had

just entered the service, having inadvertently expressed some fear from a

heavy sea which came rolling towards the boat, and one of the artificers

having at the same time looked round and missed a stroke with his oar,

such a preponderance was thus given to the rowers upon the opposite side

that when the wave struck the boat it threw her upon a ledge of shelving

rocks, where the water left her, and she having _kanted_ to seaward, the

next wave completely filled her with water. After making considerable

efforts the boat was again got afloat in the proper track of the creek,

so that we landed without any other accident than a complete ducking.

There being no possibility of getting a shift of clothes, the artificers

began with all speed to work, so as to bring themselves into heat, while

the writer and his assistants kept as much as possible in motion. Having

remained more than an hour upon the rock, the boats left it at half-past

nine; and, after getting on board, the writer recommended to the

artificers, as the best mode of getting into a state of comfort, to strip

off their wet clothes and go to bed for an hour or two. No further

inconveniency was felt, and no one seemed to complain of the affection

called ‘catching cold.’

[Friday, 18th Sept.]

An important occurrence connected with the operations of this season was

the arrival of the _Smeaton_ at four p.m., having in tow the six

principal beams of the beacon-house, together with all the stanchions and

other work on board for fixing it on the rock. The mooring of the

floating light was a great point gained, but in the erection of the

beacon at this late period of the season new difficulties presented

themselves. The success of such an undertaking at any season was

precarious, because a single day of bad weather occurring before the

necessary fixtures could be made might sweep the whole apparatus from the

rock. Notwithstanding these difficulties, the writer had determined to

make the trial, although he could almost have wished, upon looking at the

state of the clouds and the direction of the wind, that the apparatus for

the beacon had been still in the workyard.

[Saturday, 19th Sept.]

The main beams of the beacon were made up in two separate rafts, fixed

with bars and bolts of iron. One of these rafts, not being immediately

wanted, was left astern of the floating light, and the other was kept in

tow by the _Smeaton_, at the buoy nearest to the rock. The Lighthouse

yacht rode at another buoy with all hands on board that could possibly be

spared out of the floating light. The party of artificers and seamen

which landed on the rock counted altogether forty in number. At

half-past eight o’clock a derrick, or mast of thirty feet in height, was

erected and properly supported with guy-ropes, for suspending the block

for raising the first principal beam of the beacon; and a winch machine

was also bolted down to the rock for working the purchase-tackle.

Upon raising the derrick, all hands on the rock spontaneously gave three

hearty cheers, as a favourable omen of our future exertions in pointing

out more permanently the position of the rock. Even to this single spar

of timber, could it be preserved, a drowning man might lay hold. When

the _Smeaton_ drifted on the 2nd of this month such a spar would have

been sufficient to save us till she could have come to our relief.

[Sunday, 20th Sept.]

The wind this morning was variable, but the weather continued extremely

favourable for the operations throughout the whole day. At six a.m. the

boats were in motion, and the raft, consisting of four of the six

principal beams of the beacon-house, each measuring about sixteen inches

square, and fifty feet in length, was towed to the rock, where it was

anchored, that it might ground upon it as the water ebbed. The sailors

and artificers, including all hands, to-day counted no fewer than

fifty-two, being perhaps the greatest number of persons ever collected

upon the Bell Rock. It was early in the tide when the boats reached the

rock, and the men worked a considerable time up to their middle in water,

every one being more eager than his neighbour to be useful. Even the

four artificers who had hitherto declined working on Sunday were to-day

most zealous in their exertions. They had indeed become so convinced of

the precarious nature and necessity of the work that they never

afterwards absented themselves from the rock on Sunday when a landing was

practicable.

Having made fast a piece of very good new line, at about two-thirds from

the lower end of one of the beams, the purchase-tackle of the derrick was

hooked into the turns of the line, and it was speedily raised by the

number of men on the rock and the power of the winch tackle. When this

log was lifted to a sufficient height, its foot, or lower end, was

_stepped_ into the spot which had been previously prepared for it. Two

of the great iron stanchions were then set in their respective holes on

each side of the beam, when a rope was passed round them and the beam, to

prevent it from slipping till it could be more permanently fixed. The

derrick, or upright spar used for carrying the tackle to raise the first

beam, was placed in such a position as to become useful for supporting

the upper end of it, which now became, in its turn, the prop of the

tackle for raising the second beam. The whole difficulty of this

operation was in the raising and propping of the first beam, which became

a convenient derrick for raising the second, these again a pair of shears

for lifting the third, and the shears a triangle for raising the fourth.

Having thus got four of the six principal beams set on end, it required a

considerable degree of trouble to get their upper ends to fit. Here they

formed the apex of a cone, and were all together mortised into a large

piece of beechwood, and secured, for the present, with ropes, in a

temporary manner. During the short period of one tide all that could

further be done for their security was to put a single screw-bolt through

the great kneed bats or stanchions on each side of the beams, and screw

the nut home.

In this manner these four principal beams were erected, and left in a

pretty secure state. The men had commenced while there was about two or

three feet of water upon the side of the beacon, and as the sea was

smooth they continued the work equally long during flood-tide. Two of

the boats being left at the rock to take off the joiners, who were busily

employed on the upper parts till two o’clock p.m., this tide’s work may

be said to have continued for about seven hours, which was the longest

that had hitherto been got upon the rock by at least three hours.

When the first boats left the rock with the artificers employed on the

lower part of the work during the flood-tide, the beacon had quite a

novel appearance. The beams erected formed a common base of about

thirty-three feet, meeting at the top, which was about forty-five feet

above the rock, and here half a dozen of the artificers were still at

work. After clearing the rock the boats made a stop, when three hearty

cheers were given, which were returned with equal goodwill by those upon

the beacon, from the personal interest which every one felt in the

prosperity of this work, so intimately connected with his safety.

All hands having returned to their respective ships, they got a shift of

dry clothes and some refreshment. Being Sunday, they were afterwards

convened by signal on board of the Lighthouse yacht, when prayers were

read; for every heart upon this occasion felt gladness, and every mind

was disposed to be thankful for the happy and successful termination of

the operations of this day.

[Monday, 21st Sept.]

The remaining two principal beams were erected in the course of this

tide, which, with the assistance of those set up yesterday, was found to

be a very simple operation.

The six principal beams of the beacon were thus secured, at least in a

temporary manner, in the course of two tides, or in the short space of

about eleven hours and a half. Such is the progress that may be made

when active hands and willing minds set properly to work in operations of

this kind.

[Tuesday 22nd, Sept.]

Having now got the weighty part of this work over, and being thereby

relieved of the difficulty both of landing and victualling such a number

of men, the _Smeaton_ could now be spared, and she was accordingly

despatched to Arbroath for a supply of water and provisions, and carried

with her six of the artificers who could best be spared.

[Wednesday, 23rd Sept.]

In going out of the eastern harbour, the boat which the writer steered

shipped a sea, that filled her about one-third with water. She had also

been hid for a short time, by the waves breaking upon the rock, from the

sight of the crew of the preceding boat, who were much alarmed for our

safety, imagining for a time that she had gone down.

The _Smeaton_ returned from Arbroath this afternoon, but there was so

much sea that she could not be made fast to her moorings, and the vessel

was obliged to return to Arbroath without being able either to deliver

the provisions or take the artificers on board. The Lighthouse yacht was

also soon obliged to follow her example, as the sea was breaking heavily

over her bows. After getting two reefs in the mainsail, and the third or

storm-jib set, the wind being S.W., she bent to windward, though blowing

a hard gale, and got into St. Andrews Bay, where we passed the night

under the lee of Fifeness.

[Thursday, 24th Sept.]

At two o’clock this morning we were in St. Andrews Bay, standing off and

on shore, with strong gales of wind at S.W.; at seven we were off the

entrance of the Tay; at eight stood towards the rock, and at ten passed

to leeward of it, but could not attempt a landing. The beacon, however,

appeared to remain in good order, and by six p.m. the vessel had again

beaten up to St. Andrews Bay, and got into somewhat smoother water for

the night.

[Friday, 25th Sept.]