Lightships and Lighthouses

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

There was another factor which had to be taken into consideration, and which certainly contributed to the novelty of the trip. As the boat responded to the action of the waves the rope alternately drew tight and sagged. When she rolled towards the rock the cable was slackened, and the man generally had a ducking; the next moment, when the vessel rolled in the opposite direction, he was whisked unceremoniously and suddenly into the air. It was like being suspended at the end of a piece of elastic. The men for the most part enjoyed the fun of the journey, and considered it a new and exhilarating “divarshun.” Among themselves the effort was to travel in either direction so as to escape a cold douche on the journey. When the water was rough, speculation took the form of guessing how many dips into the water would be made before either terminus was gained.

This novel landing method provoked one amusing incident. The supply-boat came out to the rock one day bringing a new raw hand. The cableway was rigged up, and the workman prepared for his ride to the rock. But the man was somewhat corpulent, and could not be thrust through the preserver. This was an unexpected contretemps, and it seemed as if the superintendent would have to let his recruit return. But Ballantyne did not worry over trifles, neither did he relish the idea of losing a hand after having him brought so far, so he put forward a somewhat daring proposal. He told the captain of the steamer to lash the workman to the top of the buoy, and they would pull him ashore all right. The labourer was scared out of his wits at this suggestion, and resented being handled as if he were a balk of timber. Why, even the perishable articles were unloaded in casks to protect them from the wet. He expressed his determination to see them to perdition before he would make a trip through the air under such conditions. Ballantyne was somewhat crestfallen at the cold reception of his brilliant idea, so told the captain to take the workman back to Astoria, and to ransack the place to discover a buoy which would be big enough to fit him.

Two days later the vessel returned with the larger buoy and also the corpulent quarryman. His second glimpse of the primitive travelling frightened him worse than ever, and he point blank refused to budge. In order to reassure the raw hand, Ballantyne hauled the buoy ashore, and, jumping into it, made a journey, to illustrate that the system was perfectly safe, and that one need not even get wet. But Ballantyne’s demonstration was rather unfortunate. The cable was slack, and the ship rolled heavily. Result: the superintendent was dragged through the water for nearly the whole distance, and at times nothing of him could be seen. When he landed on the boat, half-winded and drenched to the skin, the quarryman was scared more than ever, and announced his intention to return to Astoria. Ballantyne cajoled, coaxed, argued, and stormed, in turn, but to no avail. Then another idea came to his fertile mind. If the man would not travel via the breeches-buoy, why not send him ashore in a bos’n’s chair? This was rigged up satisfactorily, and therein the workman consented to go ashore, though not without the display of considerable trepidation and anxiety to keep out of the water. They got him on the rock safely, and without so much as wetting the soles of his feet. The quarryman by his resolute opposition set up a record. He was the first man to land dry on the Tillamook.

Subsequently this novel and, so far as it went, efficient method of “quick transit” was superseded when the men on the rock got their big derrick to work. The long arm of this appliance leaned over the water far enough to pick up the goods direct from the deck of the vessel moored off the rock. This system was quicker, and enabled the goods to be got ashore unsoiled.

The first men to land found the rock in the occupation of sea-lions, who swarmed its scaly sides in huge numbers, even making their way to the crest to bask in the sunshine. These tenants at first resented the white man’s invasion, and were somewhat troublesome; but at last they recognized that their eviction was certain, so suddenly deserted in a body to another equally wild spot farther south.

The first task was the preparation of the site for the building. The fist-like overhanging crest was attacked to prepare a foundation, thereby reducing the height from 120 to 91 feet. The rock surface was scarred and riven in a fantastic manner, owing to the scouring action of the waves eroding the soft portions leaving the hard rock behind in the form of needles, scales, and ugly crevices. The outer part of the rock, moreover, was found to be of an unreliable character, being more or less rotten, while the core, on the other hand, was intensely hard, and promised an excellent foundation for the beacon. The superfluous mass was removed by blasting, this being carried out with extreme care and in small sections at a time. The largest blasts did not remove more than 130 cubic yards, or tons, of débris at one time. This slow blasting, by handfuls as it were, was necessary so as not to shatter or impair the solidity of the heart of the rock, which was to support the buildings.

Drilling and blasting were carried out in the face of great difficulties. Rain, rough seas, spray, and heavy winds, combined to thwart the little band of workers toiling strenuously in solemn loneliness upon this bleak crag. Often days would pass without any tangible impression being made upon the surface. The drilling holes would be swamped, and unless care was observed the powder charges ran the risk of being damped and rendered impotent or uncertain in firing. In the attack upon the crest the workmen distributed themselves around the crown. On the precipitous side, as there was not a friendly ledge on which to secure a foothold to work the drills, bolts were driven into the rock-face, from which staging was suspended by ropes, and on this swinging, crazy foothold the men drove their tools with salt fleece whirling round them.

Until the men were able to erect more or less permanent quarters, their plight at times was pitiable. The canvas was cut up and an A-tent was rigged up. It was a cramped home, measuring 16 feet long by 6 feet wide, while the ridge pole was only 4½ feet above the ground. This domicile just held the ten men in their sleeping-blankets. Naturally, they had to crawl rather than walk about, and, as the shelter served as a dining-room as well, the little band had to tolerate many discomforts. When the wind howled round the rock, causing the canvas to flap violently and threatening to carry it away at every turn, when the sea swarmed over the rock, and when the heavy rains to which this coast is subject poured down pitilessly, the men never knew what it was to have dry clothing or bedding. Cooking was carried on in the open, and the kitchen arrangements had to be shifted from time to time, according to the direction of the wind, so that the fire was brought on the lee side of the shelter.

The workers were exposed to danger on all sides incessantly, but fortunately in their chief, Ballantyne, they had one of those men who appear to be made for such contingencies; who was alert, ready for any emergency, nursed his staff sedulously, and whose buoyant spirits dispelled all feelings of gloom, loneliness, or homesickness. The little band toiled hard and long through the rough autumnal weather, and the arrival of stern winter did not bring any cessation in their labours. They fought the rock grimly and ignored hardship. Certainly, they were cheered by the arrival of the boats with supplies, but occasionally a fortnight or more would pass without a call being made at the rock, and often, when a boat did come up and prepare to land material, it had to slip its anchor hastily to make a frantic run for safety before the rising swell and the gathering storm.

Early in January Nature concentrated her forces, as if bent upon a supreme effort to shake the determination and courage of the little army striving so valiantly upon the rock. On the night of New Year’s Day the clouds assumed an ominous appearance, and accordingly the workmen were not surprised to meet a stormy and rainy reception when they made their way to their duties the following morning. The weather grew worse on the third day, the spray enveloping the rock and drenching the men, while the wind blew so fiercely that they could scarcely keep their feet. During the next two days it increased in force, while the sea grew angrier. On the 6th the elements were raging in torment, and in the afternoon Ballantyne, taking stock of the meteorological signs, came to the conclusion that the party “were in for it.” A hurricane, or possibly a tornado, was looming. The tools were being swung with infinite difficulty, when suddenly came the signal “Stop work!” Ballantyne urged them to set to at once to lash everything securely. At six o’clock in the evening the hurricane burst, and the workmen witnessed a sight such as they had never seen before. The whole coast was in the grip of a tornado, of which the Tillamook Rock was the vortex, whereon the elements concentrated their destructive forces. The huge rollers assumed an uglier appearance than ever; the broken water rushed up the steep sides into the air, where it was caught by the whirling wind and dashed on the tiny camp. It was impossible to escape that savage attack, as it was driven home from all sides simultaneously. The men took to their permanent quarters in silence and very gloomy. By midnight the roof was being peppered with huge masses of rock, which, detached by the waves, were caught up and thrown clean over the rock. Ballantyne urged the men to stay in their bunks, to keep up their spirits, and to seek a little rest.