Work proceeded so slowly in the early stages, owing to the abnormal conditions, that by the end of 1864 only thirty-seven stones in the second course of masonry were laid. In the meantime, however, the landing-stage had been practically completed, and the erection of the crane enabled the blocks for the tower to be transferred to the rock with greater ease and rapidity. The tower, 135 feet in height, was completed on July 19, 1869, while the light was brought into service early in the following year. Eight years were expended upon the enterprise, and during this period 296 landings were effected upon the rock and 1,814 hours of labour were consummated. This is equal to about 101 working days of ten hours each, or, on the average, less than one hour every day of the years occupied in the undertaking. The lantern throws a powerful white light, which in clear weather may be seen from twenty to twenty-five miles away. The cost of the enterprise was £62,726, or $313,630—nearly twice that of the first Bishop Rock light.
By courtesy of Messrs. D. and C. Stevenson.
THE CHICKEN ROCK LIGHTHOUSE, OFF THE ISLE OF MAN.
It marks a dangerous reef. The revolving light of 143,000 candle-power is visible for sixteen miles. Although the lantern is 143 feet above the water, the waves frequently engulf it.
Another gaunt structure rears itself from a reef a few miles to the north-west of the Wolf, and a short distance off the Land’s End. This is the Longships light. The name itself suggests a light-vessel, and a stranger is surprised to learn that it is an imposing building, worthy of comparison with the two other structures already described which guard the Scillies. Although it is within a short distance of the mainland, its exposed situation rendered its construction as exasperatingly difficult as that of both the Bishop and Wolf lights. A few miles farther north another powerful light indicates the “Kingdom of Heaven,” as the black hump of Lundy Island, rising out of the Bristol Channel, is colloquially called, from the name of its clerical owner.
On the opposite side and due north of this bight, the Pembrokeshire coast breaks off abruptly at St. David’s Head, only to reappear out at sea in some twenty little rugged islets known as The Smalls. They occur some twenty-one miles off the mainland, and for years they played havoc with the shipping plying between North of England ports and the Bristol Channel. These rocks—for they are little else—were the private property of a Liverpool gentleman, who became so distracted by the frequency of disaster that, in 1773, he decided to crown them with a beacon. He selected a musical instrument manufacturer named Whiteside as his engineer, and this amateur mechanic, after an inspection, decided to place the warning light on a tiny crag which projected about 5 feet above high-water. It is somewhat strange that the adequate safeguarding of two devastating parts of the south-western coast of England should have been placed in the hands of men who were not professional engineers. Rudyerd, the silk-mercer, was responsible for the second Eddystone, and here was an instrument-maker taking over one of the most difficult enterprises it was possible to find. Yet both these amateur engineers inscribed their names ineffaceably upon two of the most evil spots around the coasts of the British Islands. Rudyerd gave us the true conical design, which has never been superseded for strength and stability; while Whiteside evolved a skeleton tower which braved the most tempestuous seas for some eighty years. In the first instance the latter carried out his work in iron, thinking that metal would prove irresistible, but within a short time he replaced it with heavy legs of oak. The frail-looking structure was submitted to storms of almost seismic violence, but it withstood them all for over half a century, when a peculiarly vicious wave, as it rolled between the supports, suddenly flew upwards, driving the floor of the keepers’ quarters into the roof. It was an exceptional accident, which no engineer could have foreseen. When the Trinity House Brethren took over the light, their chief engineer, Mr. James Walker, looked upon the erection as such a fine piece of work that the damage was repaired, and the Whiteside light gleamed for a further twenty years before it gave place to the present graceful stone building.
By permission of the Lighthouse Literature Mission.
HOW THE SKERRYVORE IS BUILT.