SKERRYVORE LIGHTHOUSE.
The day’s occupations were thus divided. At half-past three in the morning they were awakened, and from four o’clock to eight they laboured without a pause; at eight they were allowed half an hour for dinner. Work was then resumed, and continued for seven or eight, or, if it were very urgent, even for nine hours. Next came supper, which was eaten leisurely and comfortably in the cool of the evening. This prolonged toil produced a continual sleepiness, so that those who stood still for any time invariably fell off into a profound slumber; which, adds Mr. Stevenson, frequently happened to himself during breakfast and dinner. Several times, also, he woke up, pen in hand, with a word begun on the page of his diary. Life, however, on the desert rock of the Skerryvore seems not to have been without its peculiar pleasures. The grandeur of ocean’s angry outbursts—the hoarse murmur of the waters—the shrill harsh cries of the sea-birds who incessantly hovered round them—the splendour of a sea polished like a mirror—the glory of a cloudless sky—the solemn silence of azure nights, sometimes sown thick with stars, sometimes illuminated by the full moon,—were scenes of a panorama as novel as it was wonderful, and which could not fail to awaken thought even in the dullest and most indifferent minds. Consider, too—when we think of Mr. Stevenson and his devoted company—the continual emotions which they experienced of hope and anxiety; the necessity, on the part of their leader, of incessant watchfulness, and of readiness of resource to grapple with every difficulty; the gratification with which each man regarded the gradual growth, under his laborious hands, of a noble and beneficent work; and we think the reader will admit that life upon the Skerryvore, if it had its troubles and its perils, was not without its rewards and happiness.
In July 1841 the masonry had been carried to an elevation which rendered impossible the further employment of the stationary crane. As a substitute the balance crane was introduced—that beautiful machine, invented at the Bell Rock, which rises simultaneously with the edifice it assists to raise.
Thanks to this new auxiliary, the mass of masonry completed in the season of 1841 amounted to 30,000 cubic feet, more than double the mass of the Eddystone, and exceeding that of the Bell Rock lighthouse. Such was the delicate precision observed in the previous shaping and fitting of the stones, that after they had been regularly fixed in their respective places, the diameter of each course did not vary one-sixth of an inch from the prescribed dimensions, and the height was only one inch more than had been determined by the architect in his previous calculations.
On the 21st of July, the steamer saluted with its one gun the disembarkation of the last cargo of stones intended for the lighthouse. On the 10th of August the lantern arrived, which was hauled up to its position, and duly fixed; a temporary shelter from the weather being also erected for it.
The summer of 1843 was devoted to pointing the external masonry—a wearisome operation, conducted by means of suspended scaffolds—and to the completion of the internal arrangements. And at length, on the 1st of February 1844, the welcome light of the Skerryvore pharos blazed across the waters of the stormy sea.
The illuminating apparatus adopted was the dioptric, and identical in all respects with the apparatus supplied a few years before to the Tower of Cordova. It is a revolving light, whose full brilliancy is apparent only once in a minute. Elevated 150 feet above the sea level, it is visible at a distance of eighteen miles.