Centuries had passed by, and numberless wrecks had occurred on the Smalls and neighbouring rocks, when, about a hundred years ago, a ship belonging to Liverpool was lost on them. She was commanded by a Captain Phillips, who, with his crew, escaped; and from a feeling of gratitude for his providential deliverance he determined that he would do his utmost to get a lighthouse built on the rock. He shortly afterwards became a shipowner and merchant in Liverpool; and, being successful in business, he forthwith put his intention into execution. His first plan was to fit long cast-iron pillars deep into the rock, and to place upon them a circular room, as the habitation of the light-keepers, with a lantern at the top. He had already raised the pillars to a considerable height, when a heavy gale came on, and they were overthrown. Undaunted by his failure, Captain Phillips again set to work, and engaged a Mr Whiteside—an ingenious mechanic and a native of Liverpool. Curiously enough, Mr Whiteside, who was about twenty-six years of age, had hitherto employed his talents in making musical instruments, though, having means of his own, he did not depend upon his labour for his subsistence. He had never been to sea, and was ignorant of the power of the ocean. Accompanied by half-a-dozen Cornish miners, he arrived in the harbour of Solva, a small town near Saint David’s Head, on the north side of Saint Bride’s Bay, about twenty-two miles from the Smalls rock. He began the work by again using iron pillars, the task of the miners being to bore holes in the rock in which to fix them. Before they had been long at work a gale arose, which compelled their vessel to seek for safety in harbour, while they were left clinging to one of the iron pillars. During that fearful night several of them were nearly carried away. The gale abating on the third day, they were rescued in a very exhausted state by the crew of their vessel. Still Mr Whiteside continued the work. After the iron pillars were fixed, and already carried to some height, another gale so bent them as to convince him that another material must be used. He accordingly obtained the longest and stoutest oak trees to be procured in the kingdom. After undergoing many hardships, dangers, and disappointments, he ultimately erected five wooden and three iron pillars. On the summit an octagonal room was formed, with a lamp above. Afterwards the three iron pillars were removed, and oak placed in their stead, with another in the centre, the whole supported by diagonal stays, the lower ends of which were fixed in the rock.
A rope ladder leading from the rock to a trap in the floor of the room enabled the light-keepers to ascend; and in this room was stored oil, coal, provisions, and other necessities, with spare bunks for any mechanics employed on the work or shipwrecked mariners who might reach the rock. Thus but little space was left for the regular inhabitants, two of whom, however, generally remained at a time in the lighthouse.
During a severe gale, which lasted for many weeks, one of the men died; and the other, fearing that he might be accused of murdering his companion, kept the body, placed in a coffin hanging under the floor of the room, until he was relieved. In consequence of this event, three keepers were always stationed at the lighthouse. The room was only just of sufficient height for a man of ordinary stature to stand upright; indeed, one of the keepers, measuring six feet, was unable to do so, and had to bend his head, lest he should strike it against the beams.
Often, during even ordinary gales of wind, the whole structure was completely covered by the water, so that when the waves rose the light could not be seen. Having inspected the holes in which the towers stood, we examined the cellar. It was cut out of the solid rock, and is twenty feet long by eight wide, and four feet deep, and has a covering of granite eight inches thick, the entrance being by two gun-metal doors, or rather man-holes, perfectly impervious to water when closed; it was formed to hold the tools and stores of the labourers. The rock itself is twelve feet above the level of the sea at high-water, and the lantern of the old lighthouse stood seventy feet above the water.
For eighty years this curious pigeon-hole of a dwelling-house towered in mid air, surrounded by the furious waves which dashed wildly against it, until at length the Trinity Corporation, who had purchased it from the heirs of the original possessor, resolved on building a stone lighthouse, similar to that of the Eddystone; and Mr James Douglas was entrusted with its construction. The first stone was laid in 1857; and the light on the new tower was exhibited on the 1st of August, 1861, the old structure being immediately afterwards removed.
We made our way to the new lighthouse, which is of granite. Twenty-nine feet above high-water mark, it is of solid masonry; in the next eighteen feet there is a well-staircase seven feet in diameter, all the courses being secured in the most perfect manner. Having climbed up by thirteen gun-metal steps, wedged into the solid granite, we reached the entrance port. As may be supposed, we had to stretch our legs to get up to it. We ascended the staircase by twenty-eight steps to a room containing three iron water-tanks, holding a thousand gallons, with a coal-cellar below it. Here a crane is fixed for hoisting in stores. Seventeen more steps led us to the oil room. The arched granite floors are composed of twelve radiating blocks of granite, dovetailed to a centre stone nine inches thick in the centre, and one foot seven inches in circumference. A slated floor is cemented on to the surface of the granite. Another seventeen steps took us up to the store-room, in which the meat and bread casks are kept. Ascending a third series of seventeen steps, we arrived at the living room, the walls of which are two feet six inches thick. Here is a cooking-range with an oven, a bookcase, tables, etcetera. A fourth series took us to the bedroom, in which there are five berths; and by a fifth staircase of seventeen steps we reach the watch-room, immediately below the lantern; but there is no seat, as the keeper is not allowed to sit down during his watch. Sixteen more steps we mounted, making altogether one hundred and twenty-nine, when we arrived at the lantern. The apparatus is of the first catadioptric order, lighted by a first-class pressure lamp. By it stands the machine for striking the fog-bell, which weighs three hundredweight, and sounds about every two seconds by means of a double clapper. There is also a flagstaff, by means of which the light-keepers can hoist signals to passing vessels. The total height of masonry above high-water mark is one hundred and fifteen feet six inches; and the diameter of the tower over the outside of the cornice is twenty-one feet. Although not so lofty, this magnificent lighthouse is a far stronger structure than that of the Eddystone.
There are four light-keepers belonging to the lighthouse, one—as is customary—being on shore. They seemed perfectly happy and contented, liking the regularity of their lives, feeling, as they said, fully as safe as they would miles inland. They were very glad of a packet of newspapers and a couple of magazines we gave them, which we obtained at Milford; and the men begged us to give them another look in, should we come that way again. This we promised to do if we could.
The weather had hitherto been very fine, and we hoped to have a pleasant run. We were gliding smoothly on, and had got very nearly half across Cardigan Bay, when the weather gave signs of changing.
“We shall have a dirty night of it, sir, if I don’t mistake,” observed Truck to papa; “if the wind comes from the westward, it will be all we can do to weather Bardsey Island.”
“If we once round it, we shall have a clear run for Caernarvon,” said papa; “and I should be sorry to delay by making for another port.”