From the set-off the tower is solid to a height of 25½ feet, except for two fresh-water tanks sunk in the floor of the entrance-room, which hold 4,700 gallons. At this point the walls are no less than 8½ feet thick, and the heavy teak door is protected by an outer door of gun-metal, weighing a ton, both of which are closed during rough weather.
The tower has eight floors, exclusive of the entrance; there are two oilrooms, one above the other, holding 4,300 gallons of oil, above which is a coal and store room, followed by a second storeroom. Outside the tower at this level is a crane, by which supplies are hoisted, and which also facilitates the landing and embarkation of the keepers, who are swung through the air in a stirrup attached to the crane rope. Then in turn come the living-room, the “low-light” room, bedroom, service-room, and finally the lantern. For the erection of the tower, 2,171 blocks of granite, which were previously fitted temporarily in their respective positions on shore, and none of which weighed less than 2 tons, were used. When the work was commenced, the engineer estimated that the task would occupy five years, but on May 18, 1882, the lamp was lighted by the Duke of Edinburgh, the Master of Trinity House at the time, the enterprise having occupied only four years. Some idea may thus be obtained of the energy with which the labour was pressed forward, once the most trying sections were overcome.
Whereas the former lights on this rock had been of the fixed type, a distinctive double flash was now introduced. The optical apparatus is of the biform dioptric type, emitting a beam of some 300,000 candle-power intensity, which is visible for seventeen miles. In addition to this measure of warning, two powerful Argand burners, with reflectors, were set up in the low-light room for the purpose of throwing a fixed ray from a point 40 feet below the main flashing beam, to mark a dangerous reef lying 3½ miles to the north-west, known as Hand Deeps.
When the new tower was completed and brought into service, the Smeaton building was demolished. This task was carried out with extreme care, inasmuch as the citizens of Plymouth had requested that the historic Eddystone structure might be re-erected on Plymouth Hoe, on the spot occupied by the existing Trinity House landmark. The authorities agreed to this proposal, and the ownership of the Smeaton tower was forthwith transferred to the people of Plymouth. But demolition was carried out only to the level of Smeaton’s lower storeroom. The staircase, well and entrance were filled up with masonry, the top was bevelled off, and in the centre of the stump an iron pole was planted. While the Plymouth Hoe relic is but one half of the tower, its re-erection was completed faithfully, and, moreover, carries the original candelabra which the famous engineer devised.
Not only is the Douglass tower a beautiful example of lighthouse engineering, but it was relatively cheap. The engineer, when he prepared the designs, estimated that an outlay of £78,000, or $390,000, would be incurred. As a matter of fact, the building cost only £59,255, or $296,275, and a saving of £18,000, or $90,000, in a work of this magnitude is no mean achievement. All things considered, the Eddystone is one of the cheapest sea-rock lights which has ever been consummated.
CHAPTER VI
SOME FAMOUS LIGHTS OF ENGLAND
The captain of the lordly liner, as he swings down Channel or approaches the English coast from the broad Atlantic, maintains a vigilant watch until the light or the slender proportions of the lonely outpost rising apparently from the ocean’s depths off the south-west corner of the Scilly Islands, become visible. This is the Bishop Rock, the western sentinel of the English Channel, mounting guard over as wicked a stretch of sea as may be found anywhere between the two Poles, where the maritime traffic is densest and where wrecks, unfortunately, are only too frequent; for the toll levied by the sea off the Cornish coast is fearful.
Among these islands was planted one of the first beacons erected off the British coasts. At the outset it was merely a wood bonfire, then a brazier, and finally a lighthouse, which crowned St. Agnes’s height, to guide the mariner on his way. But to-day the St. Agnes light is no more than a memory. Two or three years ago the keepers quenched the light in the misty grey of the dawn for the last time. The vigil which had been maintained over shipping uninterruptedly through some 230 years was ended. On a neighbouring point a superior modern light had been planted which took up the sacred duty. Although established in 1680, the St. Agnes was not the oldest light in England. This distinction belongs to the North Foreland light on the East Kentish coast, which was set going as far back as 1636. This warning was shed from a tower of timber, lath, and plaster, built by Sir John Meldrum, but it fell a victim to fire forty-seven years later. The light was reconstructed promptly, and to-day throws a red and white gleam of 35,000 candle-power, which may be picked up twenty miles away.