Meantime the engineer-in-chief at Edinburgh had heard of the incident. He had given strict instructions that the men should be brought off on August 20, and when the intelligence was communicated to him that his order had been disobeyed, and that his men were in serious straits, he became distracted. He knew only too well how the waves bombard Dhu-Heartach. Mr. David Stevenson related to me how his father paced the offices during the day, and his own home at night, unable to drown his thoughts in work or sleep. His worry was intensified as the true character of the gale came to his ears. He had planned everything with such care that neither life nor limb of a single workman need be jeopardized, and here he was confronted with the possibility of losing fourteen men at one stroke! The iron barrack, although staunchly constructed, was just as likely as not to succumb to the full brunt of a very vicious sou’-wester, so there was every excuse for his anxiety. He gave orders that the steam-tender was to stand by with steam raised, so as to make a dash for the rock upon the first opportunity. No one had a moment’s peace until at last the news came through that the steam-tender had been out to the rock, and with much difficulty had got hold of the fourteen men and brought them ashore, somewhat scared and bearing evidences of their experience, but unharmed. Mr. Stevenson told me that he could not quite say which was worse—the distracted wanderings of his father, or the expression of his pent-up feelings when he met the unfortunate resident a few days later, who was taken severely to task for his flagrant breach of orders, whereby the lives of the workmen had been imperilled so unnecessarily.
The year 1869 was kinder to the engineers, and great headway was made. The men were able to make their first landing on the rock as early as March 25, and it was accessible up to October 29, when all forces withdrew from the scene for the winter. During this period sixty landings were effected, while heavy supplies of masonry and other materials were shipped to the site. The masons took up their permanent residence in the barrack on April 26, and did not leave it until September 3, while they were able to squeeze in 113 days of toil, with a welcome rest from their labours on Sundays. The excavations for the foundations were completed speedily, and on June 24 the erection of the tower was commenced. The stones were brought ready for setting in position, and were laid so rapidly that by the end of the month two courses were completed and the third had been well advanced. Then came a temporary setback. A blusterous summer gale sprang up, and the sea, after assaulting the rock for two days, succeeded in leaving its mark. The crane and other tackle at the landing-stage were washed away, while fourteen stones laid in the third course were uprooted, of which eleven were seen no more. The water in this case had to leap upwards for 35½ feet, while the stones which it carried away weighed 2 tons apiece, and were firmly joggled, so that the wrench which displaced them must have been terrific indeed.
If a summer gale could wreak such damage, what was the dreaded equinox likely to achieve? The engineers were so much impressed that they thereupon made assurance doubly sure by effecting a modification of the original plans. When the work was commenced, it was intended to take the solid part of the tower up to a height of 52 feet 10 inches above high-water. The effects of this summer gale induced them to continue the solid section a further 11½ feet, so that the entrance level is 64 feet 4 inches above high-water mark. The result is that the solid base of the Dhu-Heartach tower weighs no less than 1,840 tons—more than one-half the total weight of the structure—and is executed throughout in massive blocks of grey granite.
The tower contains six floors above the entrance hall, these, on ascending the spiral staircase, being as follows: oil-store, kitchen, provision-store, bedroom, dry-room, and light-room. The masonry part of the work was completed by the end of the season of 1871, and the first-order dioptric, fixed, white light was exhibited on November 1, 1872. The focal plane, being 145 feet above the water-level, has a range of eighteen nautical miles. The total cost of the work was £76,084, or $380,420, of which sum the shore station was responsible for £10,300, or $51,500.
The ocean made an attempt to defeat the workmanship and skill of the engineers in the very winter following the opening of the lighthouse. On the lee side of the tower there is a copper lightning-conductor, 1 inch thick by 1½ inches wide, which is let into a channel cut in the stonework, so that it comes flush with the face of the building. This conductor is fixed at intervals of 5 feet in a substantial manner. The winter storms of 1872 tore some 10 feet out of this channel near the base of the structure, and wrenched the screws from their sockets; while at the kitchen window level, which is 92 feet above high-water, the rod was similarly disturbed for some distance. It will be seen that the waves which assail Dhu-Heartach are by no means to be despised.
CHAPTER IX
THE FASTNET, THE OUTPOST OF EUROPE
Four and a half miles out to sea, separated from Cape Clear, the most south-westerly point of Ireland, by a treacherous channel, rises the jagged, formidable shape of the Fastnet. To mariners the rock, with its brilliant shaft of light by night, has developed into more than a mere beacon. It is the first and last light of the Old World on the eastward and westward passages across the Atlantic. All passing vessels are “spoken” from this point to London, New York, and elsewhere.
It was in the early fifties of the past century that the engineer conceived the idea of planting a light upon this lonely crag. Maritime interests had agitated for a beacon for many years previously, since, although a warning gleam was thrown from the station on Cape Clear, this ray often was invisible, or partially obscured, owing to the wreaths of cloud and mist which draped the summit of the headland. The builder was Mr. George Halpin, engineer to the Port of Dublin Corporation, which was responsible at that time for the illumination of the shores of Ireland.