Lightships and Lighthouses. Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot
was allowed to exact a toll from passing vessels. When the welfare of the Scottish aids to navigation was placed under the control of the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses, this body, realizing the importance of the position, wished to erect upon the island a commanding lighthouse illuminated with oil lamps; but it was necessary first to buy out the owner’s rights, and an Act of Parliament was passed authorizing this action, together with the purchase of the island and the right to levy tolls, at an expenditure of £60,000, or $300,000. In 1816 the coal fire was finally extinguished.
Photo by permission of Messrs. Bullivant & Co., Ltd.
WORKMEN RETURNING BY THE AERIAL CABLEWAY TO THE TOP OF BEACHY HEAD.
The English lights are maintained by the Brethren of Trinity House, and their cost is defrayed by passing shipping. This corporation received its first charter during the reign of Henry VIII. Trinity House, as it is called colloquially, also possesses certain powers over the Commissioners of Northern Lights and the Commissioners of Irish Lights, and is itself under the sway, in regard to certain powers, such as the levy of light dues, of the Board of Trade. This system of compelling shipowners to maintain the coast lights is somewhat anomalous; it possesses many drawbacks, and has provoked quaint situations at times. Thus, when the Mohegan and the Paris were wrecked on the Manacles within the space of a few months, the outcry for better lighting of this part of the Devon and Cornish coasts was loud and bitter. The shipowners clamoured for more protection, but at the same time, knowing that they would have to foot the bill, maintained that further lighting was unnecessary.
The British Isles might very well emulate the example of the United States, France, Canada, and other countries, which regard coast lighting as a work of humanity, for the benefit of one and all, and so defray the cost out of the Government revenues. Some years ago, when an International Conference was held to discuss this question, some of the representatives suggested that those nations which give their lighthouse services free to the world should distinguish against British shipping, and levy light-dues upon British ships, with a view to compelling the abolition of the tax upon foreign vessels visiting British ports. Fortunately, the threat was not carried into execution.
The design and construction of lighthouses have developed into a highly specialized branch of engineering. Among the many illustrious names associated with this phase of enterprise—de Foix, Rudyerd, Smeaton, Walker, Douglass, Alexander, and Ribière—the Stevenson family stands pre-eminent. Ever since the maintenance of the Scottish coast lights was handed over to the Northern Commissioners, the engineering chair has remained in the hands of this family, the names of whose members are identified with many lights that have become famous throughout the world for their daring nature, design, and construction. Moreover, the family’s contributions to the science of this privileged craft have been of incalculable value. Robert Louis Stevenson has written a fascinating story around their exploits in “A Family of Engineers.”
It was at first intended that the great author himself should follow in the footsteps of his forbears. He completed his apprenticeship at the drawing-table under his father and uncle, and became initiated into the mysteries of the craft. At the outset he apparently had visions of becoming numbered among those of his family who had achieved eminence in lighthouse construction, and he often accompanied his father or uncle on their periodical rounds of inspection. Probably the rough and tumble life in a small tender among the wild seas of Scotland, the excitement of landing upon dangerous rocks, the aspect of loneliness revealed by acquaintance with the keepers, and the following of the growth of a new tower from its foundations, stirred his imagination, so that the dormant literary instinct, which, like that of engineering, he had inherited, became fired. Mathematical formulæ, figures, and drawings, wrestled for a time with imagination and letters, but the call of the literary heritage proved triumphant, and, unlike his grandfather, who combined literature with lighthouse construction, and who, indeed, was a polished author, as his stirring story of the “Bell Rock Lighthouse” conclusively shows, he finally threw in his lot with letters.
The fact that for more than a century one family has held the exacting position of chief engineer to the Northern Commissioners, and has been responsible for the lights around Scotland’s troublous coasts, is unique in the annals of engineering. Each generation has been identified with some notable enterprise in this field. Thomas Smith, the father-in-law of Robert Stevenson, founded the service, and was the first engineer to the Commissioners. Robert Stevenson assumed his mantle and produced the “Bell Rock.” His son, Alan Stevenson, was the creator of the “Skerryvore.” The next in the chain, David Stevenson, built the “North Unst.” David and Thomas Stevenson, who followed, contributed the “Dhu-Heartach” and the “Chicken Rock” lights; while the present generation, David and Charles, have erected such works as “Rattray Briggs,” “Sule Skerry,” and the Flannen Islands lighthouses. In addition, the latter have developed lighthouse engineering in many novel directions, such as the unattended Otter Rock lightship, the unattended Guernsey lighthouse, and the automatic, acetylene, fog-signal gun, which are described elsewhere in this volume.
Some forty years ago the Stevensons also drew up the scheme and designed the first lighthouses for guarding the coasts of Japan. The essential optical apparatus and other fittings were built and temporarily erected in England, then dismantled and shipped to the East, to be set up in their designed places. The Japanese did not fail to manifest their characteristic trait in connection with lighthouses as with other branches of engineering. The structures produced by the Scottish engineers fulfilled the requirements so perfectly, and were such excellent models, as to be considered a first-class foundation for the Japanese lighthouse service. The native engineers took these lights as their pattern, and, unaided, extended their coast lighting system upon the lines laid down by the Stevensons. Since that date Japan has never gone outside her own borders for assistance in lighthouse engineering.
CHAPTER II
BUILDING A LIGHTHOUSE
Obviously, the task of erecting a lighthouse varies considerably with the situation. On the mainland construction is straightforward, and offers little more difficulty than the building of a house. The work assumes its most romantic and fascinating form when it is associated with a small rocky islet out to sea, such as the Eddystone, Skerryvore, or Minot’s Ledge; or with a treacherous, exposed stretch of sand, such as that upon which the Rothersand light is raised. Under such conditions the operation is truly herculean, and the ingenuity and resource of the engineer are taxed to a superlative degree; then he is pitted against Nature in her most awful guise. Wind and wave, moreover, are such formidable and relentless antagonists that for the most momentary failure of vigilance and care the full penalty is exacted. Then there are the fiercely scurrying currents, tides, breakers, and surf, against which battle must be waged, with the odds so overwhelmingly ranged against frail human endeavour that advance can only be made by inches. The lighthouse engineer must possess the patience of a Job, the tenacity of a limpet, a determination which cannot be measured, and a perseverance which defies galling delays and repeated rebuffs. Perils of an extreme character beset him on every hand; thrilling escape and sensational incident are inseparable from his calling.
The first step is the survey of the site, the determination of the character of the rock and of its general configuration, and the takings of levels and measurements for the foundations. When the rugged hump is only a few feet in diameter little latitude is afforded the engineer for selection, but in instances where the islet is of appreciable area some little time may be occupied in deciding just where the structure shall be placed. It seems a simple enough task to determine; one capable of solution within a few minutes, and so for the most part it is—not from choice, but necessity—when once the surface of the rock is gained. The paramount difficulty is to secure a landing upon the site. The islet is certain to be the centre of madly surging currents, eddies, and surf, demanding wary approach in a small boat, while the search for a suitable point upon which to plant a foot is invariably perplexing. Somehow,