Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

The Trinity Brethren at last took the matter up, but their investigations caused them to doubt the possibility of building a lighthouse on such a forbidding spot. They did the next best thing. They drove a thick oak joist into the rock, and attached a coloured sphere to its upper extremity. This constituted a valuable landmark by day, but was useless at night. But its life was brief. The first storm which swept the reef after the erection of the beacon tore it up by the roots. It was replaced by a heavy mast of wrought-iron, which suffered a similar fate, as did also a third iron pole 9 inches in diameter. At last a low conical stump was built upon the ridge, with the staff and sphere projecting from its centre. This defied wind and wave successfully for many years. Its permanency impressed the builders of the Bishop Rock light, who came to the conclusion that, as the small conical tower held hard and fast, a masonry tower could be given just as firm a hold.

When the engineer approached the reef to make his surveys, he found the water boiling and bubbling madly, and it was some time before he could get a foothold. He completed his examination, and then found, to his dismay, that the boat could not approach to take him off. He could not stay where he was, as the tide, which was rising, would engulf the reef within a short time, so he resorted to a bold expedient. He had taken the precaution to bring a life-line with him, so that he was in touch with the boat. He looped this round his waist securely, and then, telling the men to pull as hard as they could, he plunged into the water. In this manner he was dragged through the furious surf and pulled into the boat, thoroughly drenched, but otherwise none the worse for his adventure.

Photo, Paul, Penzance.

THE GODREVY LIGHT, SCILLY ISLANDS.

It marks a forbidding clump of rocks, landing on which is always exciting.

The work was begun in 1862, when the masons were despatched to the rock to prepare the face for the reception of the bottom masonry blocks. The tedious and exceptionally dangerous character of the work was emphasized very forcibly upon those engaged in the task. It was seldom that the water was sufficiently placid to enable a landing to be made. Then, as the working spell was very brief, being restricted to low-tide, the men could pause only for a few minutes at a time, and even during these were menaced by the breakers. During the first working season only eighty-three hours of labour were possible—a fact which conveys a graphic idea of the exposed character of the site, its difficulty of access, and the short time available for work between the tides.

While excavations were under way, the preparation of a landing-stage was taken in hand. As only small blocks of stone could be used, naturally it occupied a considerable time. It was, however, essential, in order to permit the erection of a derrick by which the heavy blocks for the tower could be lifted from the construction boat to the rock. On the rock-face itself the masons toiled strenuously, chipping, scraping, and paring away all the faulty pieces of gneiss, so that a firm, solid foundation was secured, into which the bottom course of stones was dovetailed and anchored.

Owing to the frequency with which the rock was swept by the seas, special precautions had to be adopted to insure the safety of the workmen. Iron dogs were driven into the rock at frequent points, to which ropes were fastened and allowed to trail across the rock, each mason being urged to keep one of these life-lines always within arm’s length. As an additional precaution he was compelled to wear a lifebelt, which, although it hampered free movement somewhat, yet gave the wearer, if he lost his foothold or were thrown into the water, a chance of keeping afloat until the lifeboat standing by was able to reach him. A Cornish fisherman, who was familiar with the seas on this part of the coast, and who could judge a breaking wave from a distance, acted as a lookout. When he saw a comber about to creep over the rock, he gave a signal, when the workmen clutched their life-lines, and, with feet firmly planted and the ropes drawn taut, or throwing themselves prostrate, with heads pointed to the advancing wave, allowed the breaker to roll over them and expend its violence harmlessly. Time after time the masons were buried beneath huge tumbling hills of water. Work under such conditions was decidedly irksome, and progress was very appreciably retarded, but the safety of the workmen was, of course, the pre-eminent consideration. Curiously enough, these men who face the perils, privations, and exciting incessant dangers, incidental to lighthouse building, are extremely superstitious. If an undertaking such as the Wolf were attended by a disaster and loss of life in its initial stages, the completion of the task might be seriously jeopardized. The rock would be regarded as a “hoo-doo,” and would be shunned like a fever-stricken city. Therefore the engineer will go to any lengths to secure, so far as is humanly possible, the preservation of the lives and limbs of those in his employ. This is the chief reason why the erection of these wonderful towers has been attended by so few accidents or fatalities, while the men fitted for the task are so few that the engineer cannot afford to disturb their peace of mind.

The Wolf tower follows the generally accepted lines, and is solid at the base. It is wrought throughout of granite, the stones being joggled together. One ingenious measure was adopted in connection with the lower courses in order to prevent the action of the waves from breaking up the cement in the exposed joints and setting up disintegration. The upper surface of each stone is given a wide rabbet, and the stone above fits into the recess so that the horizontal joint between the two is covered by the outer fillet, thereby protecting it completely. This practice was followed throughout all the lower courses to a height of 39 feet, and the security thus obtained is reflected by the strength of the tower to-day after half a century’s wear.