Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

Some of the American coast lights are of the most primitive and odd-looking character, comprising merely a lofty skeleton of ironwork. The lamp is a head-light, such as is carried by railway engines, fitted with a parabolic reflector. Every morning the lamp is lowered, cleaned, and stored in a shack at the foot of the pyramid, to be lighted and hauled into position at dusk. This is the most economical form of lighthouse which has been devised, the total cost of the installation being only about £2,500, or $12,500, while the maintenance charges are equally low. Lights of this description are employed for the most part in connection with the lighting of waterways, constituting what is known as the “back-light” in a range or group of lights studded along the river to guide the navigator through its twists and shallows, instead of buoying of the channel.

The task of constructing a sea-rock lighthouse is as tedious and protracted an enterprise as one could conceive, because the engineer and his workmen are entirely at the mercy of the weather. Each great work has bristled with its particular difficulties; each has presented its individual problems for solution. Few modern lighthouses, however, have so baffled the engineer and have occupied such a number of years in completion, as the Ar-men light off Cape Finisterre. This tower was commenced in 1867, but so great and so many were the difficulties involved in its erection that the light was not first thrown over the Atlantic from its lantern until 1881.

This light is situated at one of the most dreaded parts of a sinister coast. At this spot a number of granite points thrust themselves at times above the water in an indentation which has received the lugubrious name Bay of the Dead. The title is well deserved, for it is impossible to say how many ships have gone down through fouling these greedy fangs, or how many lives have been lost in its vicinity. The waters around the spot are a seething race of currents, eddies, and whirlpools. It is an ocean graveyard in very truth, and although mariners are only too cognizant of its terrible character, and endeavour to give this corner of the European mainland a wide birth, yet storms and fogs upset the calculations of the most careful navigators.

THE THIMBLE SHOALS LIGHT.

A typical example of the American iron screw pile system. A vessel ran into this beacon and wrecked it; the ruins caught fire, and the keepers only escaped in the nick of time.

As the streams of traffic across the Bay of Biscay grew denser and denser, it became imperative to provide a guardian light at this spot, and the engineers embarked upon their task. They knew well that they were faced with a daring and trying enterprise, and weeks were spent in these troubled waters seeking for the most favourable site. As a result of their elaborate surveys, they decided that the rock of Ar-men offered the only suitable situation; but what a precarious foundation upon which to lift a massive masonry tower! The hump is only 25 feet wide by 50 feet in length; no more than three little pinnacles projected above the sea-level, and at low-tide less than 5 feet of the tough gneiss were exposed. Nor was this the most adverse feature. The rock is in the centre of the bad waters, and is swept from end to end, under all conditions of weather, by the furious swell. Some idea of the prospect confronting the engineers may be gathered from the fact that a whole year was spent in the effort to make one landing to take levels.

When construction was taken in hand the outlook was even more appalling. It was as if the sea recognized that its day of plunder was to draw to a close. The workmen were brought, with all materials and appliances, to the nearest strategical point on the mainland, where a depot was established. Yet in the course of two years the workmen, although they strove day after day to land upon the rock, only succeeded twenty-three times, while during this period only twenty-six hours’ work was accomplished! It is not surprising that, when the men did land, they toiled like Trojans to make the most of the brief interval. The sum of their work in this time was the planting of the lighthouse’s roots in the form of fifty-five circular bars, each 2 inches in diameter and spaced 3¼ feet apart at a depth of about 12 inches in the granite mass. By the end of 1870 the cylindrical foundation had crept a few feet above the highest projection; this plinth was 24 feet in diameter, 18 feet in height, and was solid throughout. A greater diameter was impossible as the wall was brought almost to the edge of the rock.

By dint of great effort this part of the work was completed by the end of 1874, which year, by the way, showed the greatest advance that had been attained in a single twelvemonth. As much of the foundations was completed in this year as had been achieved during the three previous years. Although the heavy gales pounded the structure mercilessly, so well was the masonry laid that it offered quite effective resistance. Upon this plinth was placed the base of the tower. This likewise is 24 feet in diameter, and about 10 feet in height. It is also of massive construction, being solid except for a central cylindrical space which is capable of receiving some 5 tons of coal.