THE ONE FATHOM BANK LIGHTHOUSE, MALACCA STRAITS, IN COURSE OF ERECTION.
It is built throughout of ferro-concrete, and is supported on piles driven into the sand. At the left are the quarters provided for the lighthouse builders who lived on the spot.
Although the idea was novel at the time, the complete success of the work justified the recommendations of the designers as to the suitability of this form of construction for open-sea lighthouses. In this instance the enterprise not only was completed for a less sum than would have been required for a corresponding lighthouse erected in masonry upon orthodox lines, but the structure is lighter, was more rapidly built, and is thoroughly hygienic. The complete weight of the whole tower is less than 1,000 tons; and from the setting of the first pile to the lighting of the lamps only fourteen months elapsed, notwithstanding the fact that work was interrupted and hindered frequently by inclement weather. Any doubts that were entertained concerning the ability of the structure to resist the attacks of the wind and seas encountered in these latitudes was dispelled during erection, because the monsoons which broke during the period of erection were abnormally heavy, and submitted the fabric to exceptional strains and stresses, which it withstood with complete success.
Another fine light which has been provided for the benefit of the navigator in these Eastern seas is that on Gap Rock. This is a rugged, lofty eminence, rising from the sea, thirty-two miles south of Hong-Kong. Being exposed on all sides, it is difficult to approach, while at the same time it lies in the path of vessels. A few years ago the Hong-Kong Government decided to conquer this islet, and to deprive it of its perils to shipping. With great effort a landing was effected, and one of the pinnacles was decapitated and levelled off, to form a spacious platform for landing. The light itself rises from the highest point of the rock, and its rays are visible through a circle of twenty miles radius. The Gap Rock light is also a signal-station, being in telegraphic communication with Hong-Kong.
Although the days of human hostility to the lighthouse in Eastern waters have passed, the engineer is confronted by an enemy which is in every way as destructive. This is the white ant. The ravages of this insect are so relentless and complete where wood is concerned that timber towers are quite impracticable. Moreover, this material has to be used only sparingly for fittings, even in masonry and iron buildings.
A curious experience with this insidious and implacable foe was related to me by a lighthouse engineer. He was engaged in the erection of a new beacon at a remote point on the coast. The lenses and lantern apparatus, as usual, had been ordered in England, and were despatched to the East carefully packed in substantial tin-lined cases. In order to secure the utmost protection during transit, each metallic and lenticular part was wrapped in tow. Care also was bestowed upon the sealing of the tin case, since the propensity of the ant to discover the smallest pinhole so as to reach the interior was emphasized upon the packers. Accordingly the seams were doubly soldered.
In due course the cases with their precious contents reached the site of erection, but unfortunately the season was so far advanced that the engineer concluded he could not complete the erection of the lantern before the monsoon broke. As the contents of the cases were preserved by the tin armour from climatic attacks, he stored the cases securely, and with his workmen left the place until favourable weather returned.
Some weeks later the chief and his toilers reappeared upon the scene. All preparations for setting the optical apparatus were completed. Imagine the dismay of the engineer when, on opening the case containing the most important parts of the lantern, he found that it had been raided by white ants. They had driven their tracks spirally through the tow, which evidently they had enjoyed, and although this was of little consequence, the formic acid had played sad havoc with the bright surfaces of the spindles. In lighthouse engineering the surfaces of these parts must be as bright and as clean as a mirror to insure smooth, steady working. But now these spindles were as pitted and marked as a victim to smallpox. It was a maddening contretemps, since the only way to restore the vital bright surfaces was to turn them in the lathe. Such a tool was not available within a hundred or more miles. Erection had to be delayed, however, until this treatment was effected.
Seeing that the tin case was soldered up with such infinite care, the question arises. How did the ants get into it? To the engineer it seemed an inscrutable puzzle, but he subjected the case to a minute examination. Finally he solved the problem. At one corner he found that a nail, while being driven during the process of nailing up the heavy outer wooden case at the English factory, had turned slightly, so that its point had punctured the inner metal case. The ants, too, had discovered this minute breach, and through it had swarmed to the attack upon the interior.