CHAPTER III.

THE BELL ROCK, A.D. 1807-1811.

In the arts of peace a noble rivalry exists between the sister kingdoms of Great Britain; and as England may boast in her Eddystone tower of a splendid work of science and philanthropy, and in her Smeaton of an engineer not less remarkable for genius than resolution, so may Scotland proudly point to the lighthouse on the Bell Rock as a national monument, and to her Robert Stevenson as scarcely inferior to Smeaton in skill and intrepidity.

* * * * *

We have already stated that the charge of lighting the Scottish coast—which, owing to its exposure to heavy seas and furious winds, to its numerous rocks and islands and rugged promontories, is one of the most dangerous in Europe, perhaps in the world—is intrusted to a body called the “Commissioners of Northern Lights,” incorporated by Act of Parliament in 1786. At first the erection of only _four_ lights was contemplated: at Kinnaird Head, in Aberdeenshire; on the Orkney Islands; on the Harris Islands; and at the Mull of Kintyre, in Argyleshire. But the vast development of the commerce of Scotland soon called for additional assistance to the navigators of her waters, and at the present time her shores are surrounded with a ring of warning lights.

The most ancient public light on the Scottish coast is that situated on the Isle of May; an island which, like a natural breakwater, lies off the mouth of the Firth of Forth, and commands, as it were, the great highway to the Scotch capital and its prosperous port. It seems to have been erected at a very early period; and over the entrance-door of the weather-beaten tower is cut the figure of the sun, with the date of 1635.

After the Union, very considerable discontent was expressed by the English and Irish merchants that, for the maintenance of this beacon, they were charged exactly double the rate paid by Scottish vessels. They also complained of the insufficiency of the light, which was simply a coal-fire exposed in an open chauffer, or brazier. The Edinburgh Chamber of Commerce taking up the matter, the proprietor of the light consented to increase its magnitude, and accordingly enlarged his chauffer to three feet square, doubling the consumption of coal, which had formerly been about 200 tons per annum. Thenceforth it became the “most powerful coal-light in the kingdom;” but, owing to its exposure, was frequently unsteady in foul weather; and, moreover, was apt to be confused with the lime-kilns and accidental fires on the neighbouring coast. The Duke of Portland had by this time become proprietor—through marriage—of the light and the island; but to repeated applications that he would substitute an oil-light and reflectors for the wavering and uncertain coal-fire, he turned a deaf ear. At length, on the 19th of December 1810, two men-of-war were wrecked near Dunbar, in consequence, it was believed, of a lime-kiln on the Haddingtonshire coast being mistaken for the Isle of May light. The Admiralty were thus led to interfere, and, after some negotiations with the Duke of Portland, an Act of Parliament was passed in 1814 empowering the Commissioners of Northern Lights to purchase the island and its lighthouse for a sum of £60,000. The tolls were then reduced to an uniform scale, a new tower was erected, and a light on the catoptric system was first exhibited on the 1st of February 1816.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, the progress made in lighting other important points of the Scottish coast had been considerable.

The lighthouse at Grass Island in Harris was completed on the 10th of October 1789. On the same date was kindled a light at North Ronaldshay, in Orkney. In 1790, on the 1st of October, a light was exhibited at Pladda, a small island south-west of Arran, in the Firth of Clyde. As a guide to the Pentland Firth a lighthouse was erected on the Pentland Skerries in 1794. The Skerries are a couple of desolate islands, exposed to the stress of the North Sea and the currents of the Pentland Firth; and the works here consist of an upper and lower lighthouse, respectively 100 and 80 feet above the sea-level, and 60 feet apart. They deserve our special notice as the first memorials of the skill and energy of Robert Stevenson as an engineer. He was on the spot when the two lights were first exhibited, October 1, 1794; and, his task completed, sailed from Orkney on the 9th of October in the sloop _Elizabeth_. On the following day he landed within a few miles of Kinnaird Head lighthouse, and continued his journey to Edinburgh by road, reaching the capital in safety. A different fate, however, awaited his former companions; the sloop having put back to Cromarty Roads, was afterwards driven to Orkney, and ultimately lost, when all on board perished.[31]

[31] Robert Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” p. 17 (Edit. 1824).

* * * * *

We have spoken of a lighthouse erected on North Ronaldshay in 1789. An experience of twelve years showed that its position had been unfortunately selected, and that it by no means assisted the mariner in navigating the difficult straits of the Orkney archipelago. Every winter ships were cast away, and precious lives were lost, on the islands of Stronsay and Sanday, though the latter is only eight miles distant from North Ronaldshay. In 1796 three homeward-bound vessels were lost on this fatal island, and eight more in the next three years. It was therefore resolved, in 1801, that a beacon, or tower of masonry, should be erected upon the Start Point, or eastern extremity of the low shores of the island of Sanday; and erected in such a manner that, if found necessary, it might be converted into a lighthouse.

In 1802 Mr. Stevenson sailed on his annual voyage of inspection to the Northern Lighthouses, carrying with him a foreman and sixteen artificers to commence the works on Start Point. It was the month of April, but, even at this advanced period of the season, the Orkney Islands were found covered to the depth of six inches with snow. Operations were commenced, however, without a day’s delay: a sandstone quarry was opened on the adjacent island of Edda; and by the middle of May sufficient materials were collected for the commencement of the edifice. The foundation-stone was laid, with masonic ceremonies, on the 15th of May, when an address was delivered by Mr. Traill, the minister of the parish, some portions of which may be preserved in these pages:—

“The moment is auspicious. The foundation-stone is laid of a building of incalculable value;—a work of use, not of luxury. Pyramids were erected by the pride of kings to perpetuate the memory of men whose ambition enslaved and desolated the world. But it is the benevolent intention of our Government on this spot to erect a tower—not to exhaust, but—to increase the wealth and protect the commerce of this happy kingdom....

“Consider the great national objects for which this building will be erected. To protect commerce, and to guard the lives of those intrepid men who for us cheerfully brave the fury of the waves and the rage of the battle. The mariner, when he returns to the embraces of his wife and children, after ascribing praise to the great Giver of safety, shall bless the friendly light which guided him over the deep, and recommend to the protection of Heaven those who urged, who planned, and who executed the work. This day shall be remembered with gratitude. It shall be recorded that, at the beginning of a new century, the pious care of Government was extended to this remote island. These rocks, so fatal to the most brave and honourable part of the community, shall lose their terror, and safety and life shall spring from danger and death.”[32]

[32] Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” p. 23.

* * * * *

By steadily prosecuting the works throughout the summer, they were brought to a fortunate completion in the month of September. The beacon rose to a height of 100 feet, and terminated with a massive ball of masonry, measuring fifteen feet in circumference.

* * * * *

It was found, however, that the construction of this beacon did not prevent the occurrence of frequent wrecks upon the island. It was proverbial with its inhabitants to observe, that if wrecks were to happen, they might as well be sent to the poor island of Sanday as anywhere else. In fact, the inhabitants of this and the neighbouring islands lived upon the proceeds of their wreckage, and melancholy remains of many a “tall ship” met the eye in every direction.

For example, says Mr. Stevenson, although quarries are to be generally met with in these islands, and the stones are very suitable for building dykes, yet instances occur of the land being enclosed, even to a considerable extent, with ship-timbers. A park[33] might be seen paled round, chiefly with cedar-wood and mahogany from the wreck of a Honduras-built ship;[34] and in one island, after the loss of a ship laden with wine, the inhabitants took claret to their barley-meal porridge, instead of their usual beverage. When Mr. Stevenson complained to one of the pilots of the badness of his boat’s sails, he replied, with grim humour, “Had it been God’s will that you came na here wi’ these lights, we might a’ had better sails to our boats, and more o’ other things.” A much higher rent was given for the farms than they were absolutely worth, in consideration of the profits that would probably accrue from wrecks on their respective shores.

[33] A “park,” _Scottice_ for a “field.”

[34] Is it necessary to remind the reader that Honduras, on the Bay of Campeachy, is famous for its mahogany?

Under these circumstances it was deemed advisable to convert the North Ronaldshay lighthouse into a beacon, and the Start Point beacon into a lighthouse, both transformations being successfully effected in the course of the year 1805; and the light exhibited on Start Point, January 1st, 1806.

* * * * *

Continuing our brief chronological resumé, we find that, for the better navigation of the noble estuary of the Forth, a lighthouse was erected on the island of Inchkeith—which lies nearly opposite the town of Portobello on the south shore, and Burntisland on the north—in 1805. Its base is 175 feet above the sea, and the building itself measures 45 feet in height. The light is a revolving one.

We now come to a description and historical account of the celebrated lighthouse to which this chapter is more particularly devoted.

Pharos _loquitur_.

“Far in the bosom of the deep O’er these wild shelves my watch I keep, A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of Night: The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail.”

Sir Walter Scott.[35]

[35] Written by the great novelist in the Album of the Lighthouse, when he visited it in 1816.

The Inch Cape, or Bell Rock, is a “dangerous sunken reef,” situated on the northern side of the entrance of the Firth of Forth, at a distance of eleven miles from the promontory of the Red Head, in Forfarshire; of seventeen miles from the island of May; and of thirty miles from St. Abb’s Head, in Berwickshire. Its exact position is in lat. 56° 29´ N., and long. 2° 22´ E. Its extreme length is estimated by Mr. Stevenson at 1427 feet, and its extreme breadth at about 30 feet, but its configuration or margin is extremely irregular. The geological formation of the rock is a reddish sandstone, which in some places contains whitish and greenish spots of circular and oval forms. Its lower portions are covered with various aquatic plants, such as the great tangle (_fucus digitatus_), and the badderlock, or hen-ware (_fucus esculentus_); while the higher parts are clothed with the smaller fuci, such as _fucus marmillosus_, and _fucus palmatus_, or common dulse.

The name “Inch Cape” occurs in a chart published in 1583, and refers, we suppose, to its situation as an “inch,” or island, off the Red Head promontory. Its better known appellation, “the Bell Rock,” _may_ allude to its bell-like figure, but more probably originated in the circumstance that a bell with a float was fixed upon it by a former abbot of Aberbrothock (Arbroath), in such a manner that it was set in motion by the winds and waves, and by its deep tones afforded a much-needed warning to navigators of the dangerous character of the spot.

In connection with this humane device—whose actual existence there seems no good reason to doubt—an old tradition has long been current, which Southey embodies with much picturesque effect in his well-known ballad of “Sir Ralph the Rover”:—

“No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, The ship was still as she could be; Her sails from heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean.

“Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

“The Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.

“When the rock was hid by the surge’s swell, The mariners heard the warning bell; And then they knew the perilous rock, And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

“The sun in heaven was shining gay, All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around, And there was joyaunce in their sound.

“The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen, A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.

“He felt the cheering power of spring, It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover’s mirth was wickedness.

“His eye was on the Inchcape float; Quoth he, ‘My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I’ll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.’

“The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.

“Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound, The bubbles rose and burst around; Quoth Sir Ralph, ‘The next who comes to the rock Won’t bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.’

“Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away, He scoured the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course for Scotland’s shore.

“So thick a haze o’erspreads the sky, They cannot see the sun on high; And the wind hath blown a gale all day,— At evening it hath died away.

“On the deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they see no land: Quoth Sir Ralph, ‘It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon.’

“‘Canst hear,’ said one, ‘the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore;’ ‘Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape bell!’

“They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,— ‘O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock.’

“Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, He curst himself in his despair; The waves rush in on every side, The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

“But even in his dying fear One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,— A sound as if with the Inchcape bell The devil below was ringing his knell.”

It would be difficult to name a position on the Scottish coast where a lighthouse was more a matter of necessity for the safety of ships than this long-famous rock. The beacons which, one after another, had been erected upon it, the furious waves had swept away; and a structure was needed not less solid and permanent than that of the Eddystone. To design such a structure, and to plant it solidly amid the waves, became, in 1806, the task of Mr. Robert Stevenson. As the rock was frequently under water to the depth of twelve feet, the task was scarcely less difficult than that whose successful achievement has helped to perpetuate the name and fame of Smeaton.

On the 7th of August 1807 the work was begun. The first stage was the erection of a wooden workshop and residence for the artificers, and this apparently simple operation occupied the whole season, the supports having to be firmly fixed in holes dug out of the solid rock. The hardness and compactness of the sandstone, however, soon blunted their tools, and rendered necessary the constant employment of a smith with his forge. But it often happened, says Mr. Stevenson, to our annoyance and disappointment, in the early state of the work, when the smith was in the middle of “a favourite heat,” and fashioning some useful article, or sharpening the tools, after the flood-tide had compelled the men to strike work, a sea would come rolling over the rocks, dash out the fire, and endanger that indispensable implement, the bellows; or, if the sea were smooth, while the smith often stood at work knee-deep in the water, the tide rose imperceptibly, first cooling the exterior of the fireplace, or hearth, and then quietly blackening and extinguishing the fire from below. Mr. Stevenson was frequently amused at the anxiety and perplexity of the unfortunate smith when coaxing his fire, and endeavouring in vain to contend against the rising tide. Obviously the work would go on but slowly, until the workshop (also intended to serve as a beacon) was completed, and the smith protected against the insidious waters.[36]

[36] Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” p. 125. To prevent the repetition of useless references, we would here acknowledge that in the following pages we have closely followed Mr. Stevenson’s own narrative.

Dangers of a far more serious kind also beset the patient founders of the Bell Rock Lighthouse.

On the 2nd of September, after the first cargo of stones had been landed, and while thirty-two artificers were busily occupied in their various departments of labour, a gale arose, and the attendant vessel—named the _Smeaton_, after the great English engineer—broke adrift from her moorings. This unfortunate circumstance, at first, was known only to Mr. Stevenson and his landing-master, who fully appreciated the gravity of the situation—thirty-two men on an insulated rock, which, at flood-tide, lay twelve feet under water, with only two boats at hand, and these not capable in foul weather of carrying more than eight men each.

While the artisans were at work, chiefly in sitting and kneeling postures, excavating the rock, or boring with the tools, and while the din of their hammers and the clang of the smith’s forge filled the air, there was sufficient life and motion in the scene to keep Stevenson’s mind from fully realizing the dangers of his position. But by degrees the water began to rise, and with slowly-swelling waves it gained upon those engaged in work on the lower portions of the sites of the beacon and lighthouse. From the run of the sea upon the rock, the forge-fire was more quickly extinguished than usual; and the volumes of smoke having ceased, the men at work could examine every object around. After having had about three hour‘ work, the majority began to make towards their respective boats for their jackets and stockings, when, to their astonishment, instead of three boats, they found only two, the third being adrift with the _Smeaton_. Not a word was uttered, but all appeared to be silently calculating their numbers, while they gazed from one to another with dismay and perplexity plainly painted on their countenances. The landing-master, conceiving that he might be censured for allowing the boat to quit the rock, remained at a distance, while Mr. Stevenson placed himself on the most elevated crag, endeavouring to track the progress of the _Smeaton_, and surprised that the crew did not cut her boat adrift, as it greatly retarded her way. The workmen looked steadfastly upon their engineer, occasionally turning towards the vessel, which was still far to leeward.

All this took place in the most perfect silence, and the melancholy solemnity of the scene was such that it produced an ineffaceable impression on Mr. Stevenson’s mind.

In the meantime the engineer was meditating various schemes which might be adopted for the general safety of the party. The most feasible seemed to be, that as soon as the waves should reach the highest summit of the rock, all should disembarrass themselves of their upper garments; and while a certain number went on board each boat, the remainder should hang by the gunwales, and the boats should row gently towards the _Smeaton_, as the _Pharos_, or floating-light, lay too much to the windward of the rock. Stevenson wished to propose this plan; but, on attempting to speak, his mouth was so parched that his tongue refused utterance, and he now learned by experience that the saliva is as necessary as the tongue itself for speech. Turning to one of the rock-pools, he lapped a little water, and obtained immediate relief. But great was his joy, when, on rising from this unpleasant beverage, a voice called out, “A boat! a boat!” and, on looking around, at no great distance a large boat loomed through the deep, and was evidently making for the rock. She proved to be a pilot-boat from Arbroath, express with letters; and willingly taking on board Stevenson and his company, rescued them from their critical position. In return for this service, the pilot was pensioned by the Lighthouse Commissioners in his old age.

* * * * *

On the 6th of September, the whole company on board of the light-ship, or _Pharos_, was surprised by a tremendous gale, which prevented them from approaching the rock for ten days, and exposed them to real danger.

About two o’clock P.M., says Stevenson, a very heavy sea struck the ship, flooded the deck, and poured into the berths below. Everybody thought that she had foundered, and that their last moment had come. Below deck total darkness prevailed; several of the artificers were at prayer, repeating hymns, or uttering devout ejaculations; others protested that if they should be fortunately spared to reach land once more, no one would induce them to tempt the treacherous waves again. Through the confusion Stevenson made his way upon deck. An astounding spectacle met his gaze. The billows appeared to be ten or fifteen feet in height of unbroken water, and each threatened the little vessel with immediate destruction; but still, with wonderful buoyancy, she continued to rise upon the waves, and escape their worst violence.

“On deck,” we are told,[37] “there was only one solitary individual looking out to give the alarm, in the event of the ship breaking from her moorings. The seamen on watch continued only two hours; he who kept watch at this time was a tall, slender man of a black complexion; he had no great-coat nor over-all of any kind, but was simply dressed in his ordinary jacket and trousers; his hat was tied under his chin with a napkin, and he stood aft the foremast, to which he had lashed himself with a gasket, or small rope round his waist, to prevent his falling upon deck or being washed overboard. When Mr. Stevenson looked up he appeared to smile, which afforded a further symptom of the confidence of the crew in their ship.”

[37] Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” p. 157.

About six o’clock in the evening the gale abated, and the sun rose the next morning in a comparatively serene sky. The waves still rolled very heavily, and at the Bell Rock they threw up their spray in columns of from forty to fifty feet in height. When Mr. Stevenson was able to visit the rock, he found abundant evidence of their force: six large blocks of granite had been removed from their places and flung over a rising ledge into a hole some twelve or fifteen paces distant. The ash-pan of the smith’s forge, with its weighty cast-iron back, had also been washed from their places of supposed security; the chain of attachment had been broken, and these ponderous articles were found on the very opposite side of the rock.

* * * * *

Such incidents as these stimulated Stevenson’s desire to complete the erection of the beacon, which would serve as a warning to the mariner, and as an asylum for the artificers on the rock. By dint of persevering exertions, it was at length completed; and soon afterwards, on the 6th of October 1807, the works were relinquished for the season. Though only about one hundred and thirty-three hours had been actually devoted to them, enough had been effected to afford an example of what may be accomplished under similar circumstances, when every heart and hand labour with conscientious zeal; for the artificers had wrought at the construction of the beacon as if for life, or like men stopping a breach in a wall to repress the inroads of a destroying flood.[38]

[38] Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” p. 180.

* * * * *

During the winter the men were engaged in quarrying and preparing the stones, and collecting divers materials. The stones were laid down in courses in the positions they would occupy in the future lighthouse; they were then carefully numbered and marked, bored or fixed with oaken trenails and stone joggles, after the plan adopted by Smeaton in building the Eddystone lighthouse; and in this state laid aside for trans-shipment to the rock.

* * * * *

The operations of the second season (1808) were commenced at as early a date as the weather permitted. A new tender, the _Sir Joseph Banks_, was provided for the reception of the men when not at work, and as it lay alongside the rock, protected from the winds, the process of landing or embarkation was conducted with very great facility.

The mode in which the different artificers were employed is thus described by Mr. Stevenson[39]:—

“Preparations having been made for a second forge upon the beacon, the smiths commenced their operations both upon the higher and lower platforms, where forges had been erected. They were employed in sharpening the picks and irons for the masons, and in making _bats_, movable cranes, and other apparatus of various descriptions connected with the railways. The landing-master’s crew were occupied in assisting the mill-wrights in laying the railways to land. Sailors, of all descriptions of men, are the most accommodating in the use of their hands. They worked freely with the boring irons, and assisted in all the operations of the railways, acting by turns as boatmen, seamen, and artificers. We had no such character on the Bell Rock as the common labourer. All the operations of this department were cheerfully undertaken by the seamen, who, both on the rock and on shipboard, were the inseparable companions of every work connected with the erection of the Bell Rock Lighthouse. It will naturally be supposed, that about twenty-five masons, occupied with their picks in executing and preparing the foundation of the lighthouse, in the course of a tide of about three hours, would make a considerable impression upon an area even of forty-two feet in diameter. But in proportion as the foundation was deepened, the rock was found to be much more hard and difficult to work, while the baling and pumping of water became much more troublesome. A joiner was kept almost constantly employed in fitting the picks to their handles, which, as well as the points of the irons, were very frequently broken. At eight o’clock the water overflowed the site of the building, and the boats left the rock with all hands for breakfast.”

[39] Stevenson, “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” pp. 222, 223.

The appearance of the rock at this time was very curious, and with its effects of light and shade would have pleased the eye of a Rembrandt. Its surface was thronged with men; the two forges flamed, one above the other, like Cyclopean furnaces; while the anvils thundered with the rebounding clash of their wooden supports, in strange contrast with the noisy clamour of the ocean-surge. During the night, if the men were at work, the spectacle presented to a passing vessel was of the most picturesque character. To the artificers themselves, the effect of extinguishing the torches was sometimes startling, and made terrible the darkness of the night; while the sea, lit up with a phosphoric glow, rolled in upon the rock like waves of fire.

As the enterprise proceeded, the smiths were sometimes left on the beacon throughout the day, and the din of their anvils formed, in foggy weather, an excellent guide for the boats. This circumstance confirmed Mr. Stevenson’s opinion as to the propriety of erecting in the lighthouse large bells to be rung by machinery, and tolled day and night during the continuance of hazy weather, so as to prevent the mariner from drawing too near the dangerous rock.

* * * * *

So much progress had been made in the preliminary operations by the 10th of July, that on that day it was determined to lay the foundation-stone. The ceremony attending it was very simple. Mr. Stevenson, attended by his three assistants, applied the square, the level, and the mallet in due form, and pronounced the following benediction:—“May the Great Architect of the Universe complete and bless this building!” Three earnest cheers were then given, and success to the future operations was drunk with the greatest enthusiasm.

The first course of masonry was now laid down. It was only one foot in thickness, yet it contained 508 cubic feet of granite in outward casing; 8076 cubic feet of Mylnefield stone in the hearting; 104 tons of solid contents; 132 superficial feet of hewing in the face-work; 4519 superficial feet of hewing in the beds, joints, and joggles; 420 lineal feet boring of trenail holes; 378 feet lineal cutting for wedges; 246 oaken trenails; 378 oak wedges in pairs.

By the end of the season the lighthouse was raised to a level with the highest part of the margin of the foundation-pit, or about 5½ feet above the lower bed of the foundation-stone. Work was discontinued on the 21st of September.

* * * * *

Months rolled away, and the third season in due time came round. The artificers resumed their building operations, in 1809, on Saturday, the 27th of May; and in spite of various accidents and delays, and considerable obstruction from the inclemency of the weather, had so far progressed by the end of June as to be able to continue their labours on the masonry while the rock was under water. On the 8th of July, it was remarked, with no small demonstrations of joy, that the tide (a neap one) ceased for the first time to overflow the building at high-water. Flags were accordingly hoisted at every vantage-point, as well as on board the yacht, the tender, the stone-praams, and the floating light; a salute of three guns was fired; and, we need hardly say, the loudest and heartiest cheers pealed through the air and mingled with the music of the waves.

It is unnecessary to follow, step by step, the operations of Stevenson and his “undaunted band.” Such details would possess no interest for the general reader; but he will understand how great must have been the skill and perseverance of the engineer, how arduous the industry of all engaged, when we record that by the 25th of August the solid part of the building had been raised to the height of 31½ feet above the rock, and of 17 feet above high-water of spring tides.

* * * * *

Having during two seasons landed and built up more than one thousand four hundred tons of stone, while the work was low down in the water, and before the beacon had been rendered inhabitable, and as not more than seven hundred tons were required to complete the masonry, Mr. Stevenson had good reason to conclude that another season would consummate his enterprise. But the success of the work absolutely depending on the stability of the beacon, he paid frequent visits to the rock in the course of the winter, to see that it braved unhurt the fury of winds and waves.

The operations of the fourth and last season were commenced on the 10th of May. The artificers took permanent possession of the beacon, which consisted at this time of three floors—one occupied as the cook-house and provision store; the second divided into two cabins, one for the engineer and the other for the foreman; and the third provided with three rows or tiers of beds, capable of accommodating about thirty men. Below these three floors was a temporary floor, at the height of twenty-five feet above the rock, used for preparing mortar, and for the smith’s workshop. The beacon was connected with the lighthouse by a bridge of timber.

The apartment which Mr. Stevenson himself occupied he has described in characteristic language.

It measured, he says, not more than four feet three inches in breadth on the floor; and though, from the oblique direction of the beams of the building, it widened towards the top, yet it did not admit of the full extension of his arms when he stood on the floor; while its length was little more than sufficient for suspending a cot-bed during the night. This was tied up to the roof during the day, leaving free room for the admission of occasional visitants. His folding-table was attached with hinges immediately under the small window of the apartment, and his boots, barometer, thermometer, portmanteau, and two or three camp-stools, formed the bulk of his movables. His diet being plain, the paraphernalia of the table were proportionately simple; though everything had the appearance of comfort, and even of neatness, the walls being covered with green cloth, formed into panels with red tape, and his bed festooned with curtains of yellow cotton-stuff. If, in speculating upon the abstract wants of man in such a seclusion, one were reduced to a single book, the Sacred Volume, whether considered for the striking diversity of its story, the morality of its doctrines, or the important truths of its gospel, would have proved by far the greatest treasure.

* * * * *

In the early part of July, a visit was paid to the works by Mrs. Dickson, the only daughter and surviving relative of Smeaton, the great engineer. She was conveyed to the rock on board the _Smeaton_ tender, which had been so named by Stevenson from a sense of the deep obligation he owed to the labours and abilities of his predecessor. It is unnecessary to say that she was exceedingly gratified by her visit.

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Passing over the daily details of the work, we arrive at the 29th of July, as one of the epoch days of the undertaking. The _last stone_ was landed on the Bell Rock, and you may be sure such an occasion was duly celebrated. On the 30th, the _last course_ (the 90th) of the building was laid, finishing the exterior wall, and the engineer then solemnly pronounced a suitable benediction: “May the Great Architect of the Universe, under whose blessing this perilous work has prospered, preserve it as a guide to the mariner!”

With the minute particulars recorded by Stevenson of the completion of the interior of the building, it is needless to weary the reader. Their technicalities would puzzle him, and in their prolonged detail we can find nothing to excite his interest. He will understand that Stevenson neglected nothing which could ensure the safety and efficiency of his structure, and on the 17th of December 1810, the following advertisement intimated to the public that his enterprise had been successful, and that thenceforth the perils of the Bell Rock would virtually cease to exist:—

“A lighthouse having been erected upon the Inch Cape, or Bell Rock, situated at the entrance of the Firths of Forth and Tay, in north latitude 56° 29´ and west longitude 2° 22´,—The Commissioners of the Northern Lighthouses hereby give notice, that the light will be from oil, with reflectors, placed at the height of about 108 feet above the medium level of the sea. The light will be exhibited on the night of Friday, the 1st day of February 1811, and each night thereafter, from the going away of daylight in the evening until the return of daylight in the morning. To distinguish this light from others on the coast, it is made to revolve horizontally, and to exhibit a bright light of the natural appearance, and a red-coloured light alternately, both respectively attaining their greatest strength, or most luminous effect, in the space of every four minutes; during that period the bright light will, to a distant observer, appear like a star of the first magnitude, which after attaining its full strength is gradually eclipsed to total darkness, and is succeeded by the red-coloured light, which in like manner increases to full strength, and again diminishes and disappears. The coloured light, however, being less powerful, may not be seen for a time after the bright light is first observed. During the continuance of foggy weather, and showers of snow, a bell will be tolled by machinery, night and day, at intervals of half a minute.”

It was found that this light could be clearly seen and recognized, in fair weather, at a distance of seven leagues.

The Bell Rock Lighthouse, thus happily completed, is a circular building, 42 feet in diameter at the base, and 13 feet at the top. The masonry is 100 feet high, and the whole structure, including the light-room, 115 feet. From the entrance door, a circular stair leads to the first apartment, which is used as a store-room. Wooden steps ascend to the other apartments, which are appropriated to the light-keepers, and to the appurtenances of the lighting apparatus. The light-room, which is formed of cast iron, and glazed with polished glass, is octagonal in shape, 12 feet in diameter, and 15 feet in height. It is covered with a dome, and terminates in a ball.

The manner in which this noble structure braves the assault of waters has been graphically described by Mr. Stevenson. It is during the winter’s storms, he says, and when viewed from the Forfarshire coast, that it appears in one of its most interesting aspects, standing proudly among the waves, while the sea around it is in the wildest state of agitation. The light-keepers do not seem to be in motion, but the scene is by no means still, as the clang and clamour, the motion and fury of the waves, are incessant. The seas rise in the most surprising fashion to the height of about seventy feet above the rock, and after expending their force in a perpendicular direction, fall in foaming masses round the base of the lighthouse, while considerable portions of the spray seem to adhere, as it were, to the building, and gather down its sides in the condition of froth as white as snow. Some of the great waves burst and are expended upon the rock before they reach the lighthouse; while others strike the base, and embracing the walls, meet on the western side, where the violent collision churns the eddying waters into the wildest foam.

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The management of the Bell Rock lighthouse is provided for as follows:—The nearest town is Arbroath, about eleven miles distant, where a cutter called the _Pharos_ is stationed as the lighthouse tender. Once a fortnight, or in the course of each set of spring-tides, she visits the rock, to relieve the light-keepers and replenish their store of provisions and fuel. The keepers are four in number, three of whom are always on duty, while one is ashore. If the weather be favourable, each light-keeper is six weeks on the rock, and a fortnight on land with his family. The pay is from £50 to £60 per annum, with a stated allowance of bread, beef, butter, oatmeal, vegetables, and small beer, and fourpence a day extra for tea. A suit of uniform is also provided once in three years.

The watches in the light-room are relieved with as much punctuality as on board a man-of-war, no keeper being allowed to leave until his successor presents himself, under the penalty of immediate dismissal. To ensure the strictest regularity in this respect, a timepiece is placed in each light-room, and bells are hung in the bed-rooms of the dwelling-houses, which, being connected by mechanical appliances with the lighthouse, can be rung as necessity requires.

At Arbroath, as at other stations, the light-keeper‘ dwellings are very neatly built and comfortably arranged, each having its little garden attached. There are also suitable storehouses provided, a room for the master and crew of the lighthouse tender, and a signal-tower fifty feet high, on whose summit a small observatory is erected, with an excellent achromatic telescope, a flag-staff, and a copper signal-ball measuring eighteen feet in diameter. A similar ball crowns the lighthouse dome, and by these means daily signals are exchanged, to signify that all is well. Should the ball at the top be allowed to remain down, as is the case when particular supplies are needed, or either of the light-keepers have been seized with illness, assistance is immediately dispatched in the tender.

The total cost of the lighthouse, of the buildings at Arbroath, of the tender, and the first year’s stores, was £61,350.

A curious accident is recorded in connection with the lighthouse as having occurred on the 9th of February 1832, about ten o’clock P.M.

A large herring-gull flew against one of the south-eastern mullions of the light-room with so much violence that two of the polished plates of glass, measuring each about two feet square and a quarter of an inch thick, were dashed to atoms, and scattered over the floor, to the great alarm of the keeper on watch, and of his two associates, who rushed instantly into the light-room. It happened, fortunately, that although one of the red-shaded sides of the reflector-frame was passing in its revolution at the moment, the fragments were so minute that no injury was done to the valuable red glass. The gull was found to measure five feet from tip to tip of its expanded wings. A large herring was found in its gullet, and in its throat a piece of plate glass about an inch in length.[40]

[40] “Smeaton and Lighthouses,” p. 97.

Before quitting the subject of the Bell Rock Lighthouse, it is desirable we should refer to another of Mr. Stevenson’s achievements, the Beacon on the Carr rock. The Carr is the seaward extremity of a sunken reef, visible only at low water, which extends about two miles from the shore of Fifeness, on the northern side of the mouth of the Forth estuary. Its position is unusually dangerous, as it lies in the track of shipping ascending and descending Scotland’s great eastern river. In the course of nine years it proved fatal to no fewer than sixteen vessels. As all attempts had failed to mark its position by a floating buoy, the authorities resolved to erect a beacon of masonry upon it, and in 1813 the difficult work was commenced under Mr. Stevenson’s direction. The dimensions of the Carr are only 23 feet in breadth by 15 feet in length, and it was impossible, therefore, to obtain a base for a building of greater diameter than 18 feet.

Five seasons were spent in the erection of the beacon, so many were the obstacles which the workmen had to conquer, especially from the prevalence of rolling seas and stormy winds. In the fifth year, when the whole of the masonry had been completed, a November hurricane swept away the upper part of the structure. A modification of the original design was then adopted; and on the courses of masonry left intact by wind and waves six columns of cast iron were planted, terminating in a cast iron ball of three feet in diameter, which rose about twenty-five feet above the average sea-level. The whole was completed in the sixth season (September 1821).[41]

[41] Stevenson’s “Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” pp. 52-57.

The Carr rock is about six miles north-north-east of the Isle of May lighthouse, and twelve miles south-west of the Bell Rock.

In a recent pamphlet,[42] Mr. Thomas Stevenson, the engineer to the Board of Northern Lights—who has an hereditary as well as an individual claim to be heard on all matters of this kind—has suggested various modes of lighting beacons and buoys. As he observes, the importance of raising them to the rank of illuminated night-marks must be apparent to all who know anything of coast navigation; and he is certainly justified in thinking that the subject is worthy of more attention than has hitherto been given to it.

[42] Stevenson, “Proposals for the Illumination of Beacons and Buoys” (ed. 1870).

He speaks, in the first place, of _apparent_ or _borrowed lights_, where a ray is thrown on a buoy or beacon—as in the case of the Arnish Rock, referred to on page 274,—from a neighbouring lighthouse. The only other existing example of an apparent light is to be found at the harbour of Odessa, in the Black Sea. It was constructed in 1866, and is situated three hundred feet from the shore.

Mr. Stevenson’s next suggestion applies to _dipping lights for sunk rocks_, where it would be difficult or impossible to erect a beacon for containing the necessary optical apparatus. Here he would so arrange the lamp and reflectors of the lighthouse as to dip vertically, and thus project a cone of rays upon the sea for a considerable area round the secret danger. On seeing the illuminated wave-space the mariner would alter his course, and give the sunken rock a “wide berth.”

The other methods proposed by Mr. Stevenson are:—

The conduction either of voltaic, magnetic, or frictional electricity, singly or combined, to the buoy or beacon, through wires, submarine, or, where practicable, suspended in the air, so as to produce a spark either with or without vacuum tubes, or by means of an electro-magnet and the deflagration of mercury.

The conduction of gas from the shore in submarine pipes.

Self-acting electrical apparatus, produced by the action of sea-water or otherwise at the beacon itself, so as to require no connection with the shore.

And, finally, Mr. Stevenson recommends different applications of sound, so as to produce distinct and powerfully audible warnings during the prevalence of a thick fog or mist:—

The propagation of sound during fogs through pipes communicating with the shore,[43] or the origination of sound at the beacon or buoy itself, by condensing the column of air, or by acting on a column of water contained in the pipe.

[43] In one of the Paris water-pipes, 3120 feet long, M. Biot was able to keep up a conversation, in a very low tone, with a person at the other end.

Bells rung by electricity. Mr. Wilde, of Manchester, states that bells twelve or eighteen inches in diameter, placed on different beacons, and as far off as ten miles from the shore, could be tolled a hundred times a-minute by means of a three and a half or four inch electro-magnetic machine worked by an engine of about two-horse power.

And, finally, bells may be rung by the simple pressure of the waves through the agency of a float, which would sink or rise according as the tide sunk or rose. This was proposed for the beacon at the Carr Rock by the late Mr. Stevenson in 1810.

By the adoption of one or other of these suggestions, according to the conditions of the locality, there can be no doubt that the subsidiary illumination of our shores and their contiguous waters would be very considerably improved.