Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

The tower is perched on the top of a precipitous crag, the light being 260 feet above the sea. Despite this height, the waves often dash over the lantern.

The closing month of that year was particularly boisterous. Time after time when the sea rose, the lighthouse tower was drenched in water. One might think it impossible that a wave could get up sufficient impetus to mount a height of 200 feet; but this experience offered conclusive testimony to the contrary and to the immense power of the waves when they have an uninterrupted run over several hundred miles of open ocean.

In a way, the terrifying experience of these marooned workmen was invaluable. They reported the bare facts to the engineers upon the first opportunity, and this intelligence brought about a revision in the designs for the permanent masonry structure.

The present North Unst lighthouse is a massive masonry building, standing in the centre of the small flat space on the top of the pinnacle, with heavy masonry walls bounding it on all sides. The tower is 64 feet in height, while the red and white light may be seen from a distance of twenty-one miles in clear weather. That the winter storms of 1854 were by no means exceptional has been proved up to the hilt on several occasions since. When the nor’-wester is roused thoroughly, the breaking waves curl up the cliff and rush over the lantern. Such a climb of 260 feet conveys a compelling notion of the force of the sea. The weight of the water thrown into the air has threatened to overthrow the massive boundary walls, while now and again the invader leaves tangible evidences of its power by smashing the windows of the lantern. Upon one occasion it burst open the heavy door, which weighs the best part of a ton.

The light-station is served by four keepers, two on duty simultaneously, their homes being on the island of Unst, four miles away. For the conveyance of water, fuel, provisions, and other requirements, from the landing-stage to the lighthouse 200 feet above, an inclined railway has been provided on the easier slope, so that the men are no longer called upon to pack their provisions, like mules, from the water-level up a steep cliff, as was formerly required.

Rounding these island dangers, the navigator picks up the light of Cape Wrath, glimmering from a height of 370 feet above the water-level and standing at the western corner of the rectangular head of the Scottish mainland. Going south, he has two passages available—the inner, which extends through the Minches and inside the Hebrides; or the outer, which lies beyond the latter rampart. In making the outer passage he comes within range of the light shining from the summit of a lonely group of rocks standing some twenty-two miles out to sea off the Isle of Lewis. These are the Flannen Islands, or Seven Hunters, one of many similar lonely Scottish stations. The tower is mounted upon the crown of one of the highest points, and the white group-flashing light is visible over a radius of twenty-four miles. Farther south the seafarer picks up and drops the Monach Islands light, likewise lying out in the Atlantic, some ten miles from the nearest land. Finally, rounding Barra Head, the most southerly point of the reef lying off Barra Island, the light from which is cast 580 feet above the water owing to the height of the cliff, the vessel slips into a huge indentation, where isolated rocks peep above the Atlantic, one of the most dangerous of which is indicated by the Skerryvore lighthouse.

I have described the Skerryvore light in the previous chapter; but nineteen and a half miles to the south-east of the latter is another reef, just as exposed, which is as perilous in every respect. Indeed, it may be said to constitute a greater menace to the navigation of these waters, since it lies in the cross-roads of the entrance to the Irish Channel, the Firth of the Clyde, and the Minches. A powerful light mounts guard on the Rhins of Islay, twenty-seven miles due south, but between the latter and Skerryvore there are forty-three miles of coast, as dangerous as the mariner could wish to avoid, with this rock looming up almost halfway.

This peril is the Dhu-Heartach, lying out to sea in deep water, fourteen miles from the nearest point of the mainland. The physical configuration of the sea-bed at this point is somewhat similar to that prevailing at Skerryvore. The Ross of Mull tumbles abruptly into the Atlantic, to reappear out to sea in the form of the Torrin Rocks, which run for a distance of four and a half miles in the direction of Dhu-Heartach. Then the reef comes to a sudden stop, to be seen once more, nine miles farther out, in the rounded hump of Dhu-Heartach, this being practically the outermost point of the ridge. Being so isolated and projecting so suddenly from deep water, this ledge claimed many victims among the vessels frequenting these unlighted waters. The Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses were assailed for not marking the danger spot in some form or other. The authorities, however, were fully alive to the need of such protection, but it was not until 1867 that they were able to proceed with the erection of a lighthouse.

The situation is peculiar, and the engineers, Messrs. D. and T. Stevenson, were faced with a somewhat perplexing problem recalling those which had arisen in conjunction with the Skerryvore, not far distant. Indeed, the Dhu-Heartach undertaking might very well be described as a repetition of those struggles, with a few more difficulties of a different character thrown in. The rock itself in reality is a series of islets, or hummocks, surrounding the main hump, which is 240 feet in length by 130 feet in breadth, the highest point of the rounded top being 35 feet above high-water at ordinary spring-tides. On all sides the lead marks very deep water, the result being that in times of storm and tempest the rollers of the Atlantic, having a “fetch” of some 3,000 miles or more, thunder upon it with terrific force, the broken water leaping high into the air. It is very seldom that the rock can be approached even in a small boat and with a calm sea, as the hump is invariably encircled in a scarf of ugly surf. The swell strikes the western face of the rock, is divided, flows round the northern and southern ends of the obstruction, and reunites on the eastern side. Consequently the rock is nearly always a centre of disturbance.

The distance of the rock from the mainland complicated the issue very materially. A suitable site had to be prepared on shore as a base, where the stones could be prepared for shipment, while a special steam-tender was necessary to run to and fro. The handling of the workmen had to be carried out upon the lines which were adopted at Skerryvore—namely, the erection of a barrack upon a skeleton framework on the rock, where the men might be left safely for days or weeks at a time. The shore station selected was at Earraid, on the neighbouring island of Mull, because it was the nearest strategical point to the work, and because ample supplies of first-class granite were available in the immediate vicinity, the proprietor, the Duke of Argyll, as in the previous instance, facilitating the work as far as possible.