Smeaton and Lighthouses / A Popular Biography, with an Historical Introduction and Sequel

by Anonymous

The stones and machinery were prepared in a work-yard provided for the purpose at Arbroath, the nearest harbour on the adjacent coast. In this place barracks were erected for the workmen, that they might at all times be ready night or day to go off to the Bell Rock. A sloop, named the ‘Smeaton,’ (in honour of the great engineer who had left so splendid a pattern for the present structure,) had been built expressly for the Bell-Rock service, to be employed as a tender for the floating light, and as a stone-lighter for the use of the work: it served also to convey the workmen to and from the rock.

On the 17th August 1807 the work on the rock was begun. The first employment was to bore a sufficient number of holes for receiving the ends of beams, for the support of a wooden beacon or workshop and temporary residence for the workmen. But this was no easy task. The hard compact nature of the sand-stone of which the rock is composed soon blunted the tools, and rendered necessary the constant employment of a smith with his forge. But the operations of this useful artificer were even more difficult than those of the stone-cutters. It often happened that after the flood-tide had obliged the pickmen to strike work, a sea would come rolling over the rocks, while the smith was in the middle of a ‘favourite heat,’ dashing out the fire, and endangering his indispensable instrument, the bellows; or if the sea was smooth, the smith had often to stand at work knee deep in water, and the tide would rise imperceptibly, first cooling the exterior of the fire-place or hearth, and then quickly blackening and extinguishing the fire from below. Mr. Stevenson describes it as amusing to witness the perplexing anxiety of the smith when coaxing his fire, and endeavouring to avert the effects of the rising tide. Sometimes, while his feet were immersed in water, his face was not only scorched but continually exposed to volumes of smoke and sparks of fire. A great object therefore, of the beacon was to remove the smith above the reach of the highest tide.

One effect of visiting the rock at every tide, and carrying on this noise and traffic, was to banish the herd of seals which had hitherto frequented it as a resting-place during low water. As many as fifty or sixty of these animals had been seen at one time on the rock, but now not more than one or two occasionally appeared, and these confined their visits to the detached outlayers of the rock, from whence they would gaze on the workmen with that look of curiosity so remarkable in this animal. Mr. Stevenson was desirous of protecting them, in hopes of taming them, so as to gain that facility of studying their habits which was afforded at Small’s Lighthouse, off the coast of Pembrokeshire, a favourite resort of seals, where, by gentle treatment, they had become so tame and familiar as to eat bread out of the hands of the light-keepers.

The operations of this season were difficult and hazardous, the men having to row in boats at every tide from the rock to the floating-light; and the wind often shifting suddenly, the exertion of rowing was very great, although the distance was but two miles. When at the rock, the men had presently to work knee-deep in water; and the roughness of the sea was often such as to suspend the work for days together, during which time the floating-light would roll so unmercifully, that to put out a boat would have probably ensured its instant destruction.

During this early stage of the work there was a moment of appalling danger, which must be noticed in detail. On the 2nd of Sept. 1807, there were thirty-two persons upon the rock; and while all the artificers were busily occupied, a gale arose, during which the ‘Smeaton’ broke adrift from her moorings. In this perilous predicament, placed upon an insulated rock far out in 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, the feelings of the engineer may be better conceived than described. There were, at this period, only two boats attached to the rock, whose complement, even in fair weather, did not exceed twenty-four sitters; but to row to the floating-light, with so much wind, and so heavy a sea, a complement of eight men for each boat was as much as could possibly be attempted, so that, in this way, about one half of those employed on the rock must be left unprovided for. Under these circumstances, had Mr. Stevenson 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 the assistance of the rest, 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.

The unfortunate circumstance of the ‘Smeaton’ and her boat having drifted, was for a considerable time, known only to Mr. Stevenson and to the landing-master, who removed to the further part of the rock, where he kept his eye steadily upon the progress of the vessel. While the artificers were at work, chiefly in sitting and kneeling postures, excavating the rock, or boring with the tools, and while their numerous hammers, and 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 the sea upon the rock, the forge-fire was sooner extinguished 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 begun, 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 on their countenances. The landing-master, conceiving blame might be attached to him for allowing the boat to leave the rock, still kept at a distance. At this critical moment Mr. Stevenson was standing upon an elevated part of the rock, 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. The workmen looked steadfastly at their leader, and turned occasionally towards the vessel still far to leeward. All this passed with the most perfect silence, and the melancholy solemnity of the group was such that, Mr. Stevenson states, it left an impression never to be effaced from his mind.

In the meantime Mr. Stevenson was considering various schemes which might be adopted for the general safety of the party, 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 situation, and to propose that all 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, and 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 of 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 says, ‘I now learned by experience that the saliva is as necessary as the tongue itself for speech.’ He then turned to one of the pools on the rock, and drank a little salt-water, which produced immediate relief; and his delight was in no small degree increased when, on rising from this nauseous beverage, some one called out, ‘A boat!’ ‘A boat!’ and on looking round, at no great distance, a large boat was seen through the haze making towards the rock.

The effect of this accident was, that when the bell rung next morning, and the workmen were mustered, out of twenty-six, only eight, besides the foreman and seamen, appeared on deck to accompany the engineer to the rock. ‘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 proceeded with the eight willing workmen: four hours were passed upon the rock, and, on returning to the ‘Pharos,’ the eighteen men who remained on board seemed quite ashamed of their cowardice; and on again proceeding to the rock, they were the first to embark. This was the only instance of refusal to go to the rock.

Shortly after this occurrence, the whole party on board the Pharos was exposed to a fearful gale, which kept them from the rock during ten days and exposed them to imminent danger. The floating-light broke adrift, but, providentially, no damage was sustained. This circumstance, however, imparted a character of extreme hazard to life on board the floating-light, that it was difficult to provide sailors to man her. On landing upon the rock the effects of the gale were at once apparent. Six large blocks of granite, which had been landed by way of experiment, had been 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; a sufficient evidence of the violence of the storm and the agitation of the sea on the rock. The smith’s forge was also shifted from its place—the ash-pan of the hearth with its ponderous cast-iron back had been washed from their places of supposed security, the chains of attachment broken, and these weighty articles found at a very considerable distance in a hole of the rock.

Although the sea often had a most frightful appearance, yet the beacon divested the Bell Rock of many of its terrors: its beams afforded an excellent guide to shipping, and old sailors frequently expressed their admiration at the change of circumstances which led to their cruising with so much confidence both by day and night in the immediate vicinity of this dangerous rock. It also had a beneficial influence on all who were actively engaged about the lighthouse by inducing a greater confidence of safety, so that at all times when a boat could be put to sea or approach this sunken reef, there was not that actual danger in landing which formerly presented itself, because in the event of the tender going adrift or a boat happening to be wrecked upon the rock, the beacon could be looked to as a refuge till assistance arrived.