Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

The face of the rock was cleaned off during the brief intervals when it was bared by the sea, and rough stones and masonry were laid in concrete and continued solidly to a point 13 feet above high-water. Around this confined platform quarters were built for the handful of men who stayed on the rock during the periods of calm weather, as too much time was lost in travelling to and from the island, while there were risks of landing being interrupted by the swell. A temporary light was also placed in position while constructional work was proceeding, to warn navigation. The facilities also included a small forge for the fashioning upon the spot of the iron dogs and bolts whereby the stones were clamped together, and this proved highly convenient, except for one thing: when the water was somewhat rough and playful, the waves, striking the rock, flew into the air, soused the forge, and extinguished the fire.

The preparations of the foundations proved exceedingly tedious. The rock is a very hard black porphyry, but the surface was so scarred with fissures and deep cracks that the whole of the upper surface had to be cleaned off, so as to remove all rotten and splintered rock in order to secure a firm, solid foundation. Then a circle 38 feet in diameter was marked off, and masons cut away all the rock around this line to a depth of about 20 inches and of sufficient width to take the stones—a trench, as it were. This work had to be executed during the short period of low-water, and a special schedule was prepared to insure the men concentrating the whole of their energies upon the task when opportunity offered. As the ebbing tide began to bare the space, the workmen were called, and they followed the receding water, never leaving the spot for meals, but toiling continuously until the returning tide drove them off. As a rule the men were sufficiently fleet to get clear untouched, although they delayed their retreat until the very last moment; but at other times the sea was a trifle quicker, and the men received an unexpected douche from a scurrying wave.

When this trench had been cleared out and the face levelled, the outer ring of stones was laid and secured firmly in position. The inner space of the rock was left in its roughly trimmed condition, and was then buried beneath cement and rock to the level of the outer ring of stones, forming a platform ready to receive the mass of the tower. The outer ring was the main consideration, and the work had to be finished in such a manner that a tight joint was made with the rock, to resist the penetration of the water. When the men were compelled to lay down their tools for the coming tide, they hastily applied a thick covering of quick-drying cement to the work completed, thereby protecting it against the disintegrating and percolating action of the sea.

Ere the work had started thoroughly, the engineer was faced with a trouble which he had not anticipated. The men were left to attend to their own desires in the way of provisions. This haphazard arrangement had the inevitable sequel. Some of the men were stricken down with scurvy, and the disease promised to secure a firm hold, when the engineer stepped in with a firm hand. He established a canteen, the contractor of which was compelled to maintain a supply of varied provisions for six months at least, lest the little colony should become isolated by rough weather. A regular varied bill of fare was imposed upon the workmen, who were compelled to purchase their requirements from the canteen. By this firm and timely action the disease was stamped out. The engineer also enforced other stringent regulations in the interests of health. The men were compelled to bathe once a week, and had to turn their sleeping-blankets into the open air every day; while the quarters had to be washed out and the walls given a dressing of limewash at frequent intervals.

FITTING THE LANTERN OF LA JUMENT LIGHT.

When the visitor approaches the tower for the first time, he cannot fail to be impressed by its unusual design. It appears as if a former tower of great diameter had been decapitated, and another more slender building placed upon its butt. This is due to the ingenious idea adopted by Reynaud. The lower part of the tower rises like the trunk of a tree from the base, which is a solid plinth, to a height of 39 feet above highest spring-tides. At the top this lower tower is 28 feet in diameter, as compared with 38 feet at the base. Here the butt is levelled off, and from its surface rises the lighthouse proper, in the form of a slightly tapering cone, leaving a narrow gallery around the superimposed structure to serve as a “set-off” and landing or entrance platform.

In carrying out his work, Reynaud followed a principle quite divergent from the prevailing practice in lighthouse construction. He did not attach every stone irremovably to its neighbours, but merely made fast the masonry at varying points, where the mass of water might be expected to expend the greater part of its violence. The method he adopted is very simple. Keystones are introduced at selected points in each course, and these are driven up and held tight by granite plugs and wedges. The principle was assailed at the time as being deficient in strength, but no apprehensions ever have arisen concerning the safety of the tower, so that the engineer’s daring ingenuity has been completely justified.

Considering the isolation of the rock and its wind-swept position, it was built in a very short time. The whole of the year 1834 was devoted to the survey of the rock, close observations of the prevailing meteorological conditions, and the preparation of the design. The succeeding year was confined to the establishment of the workmen’s quarters, the cutting of the annular trench in the rock, and the setting of the masonry course. The erection of the superstructure occupied nearly four years, the work being completed and the light exhibited in 1859, according to the inscription. The tower is 159 feet in height, and the light has a range of eighteen miles.

Since the Heaux de Bréhat was conquered so successfully, French lighthouse engineering skill has been manifested actively around the ill-famed Brittany coast, which now is robbed of the greater part of its dangers. Reynaud’s work, however, did not bring complete safety to the waters from which it lifts its imposing form. Four miles off the self-same island is the plateau of Horaine. This is a chain of rocks, the greatest peril of which is that at high-tide nothing whatever of them is seen, and their existence is betrayed only by the agitated and broken waves rushing over them with fearful force. As the tide falls the water becomes more tormented, and is torn into flying foam, until, when it has almost ebbed, these jagged fangs may be seen projecting above the surf. Bearing in mind these terrible characteristics, it is not surprising that time after time vessels which had been driven out of their course by tempestuous weather, or had got lost in a dense fog, blundered into this death-trap and were lost.