Grace Darling Part 5

"'But if it fail, as fail it may, Borne down with ruin and rout, Another than I shall rear it high, And brace the girders stout.

"'A better than I shall rear it high, For now the way is plain; And though I were dead,' Winstanley said, 'The light would s.h.i.+ne again.

"'Yet were I fain still to remain, Watch in my tower to keep, And tend my light in the stormiest night That ever did move the deep;

"'And if it stood, why, then it were good, Amid their tremulous stirs, To count each stroke, when the mad waves broke, For cheers of mariners.

"'But if it fell, then this were well That I should with it fall; Since for my part, I have built my heart In the courses of its wall.'

"With that Winstanley went his way, And left the rock renowned, And summer and winter his pilot star Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.

"But it fell out, fell out at last, That he would put to sea, To scan once more his lighthouse-tower On the rock o' destiny.

"And the winds woke and the storm broke, And wrecks came plunging in; None in the town that night lay down, Or sleep or rest to win.

"The great mad waves were rolling graves, And each flung up its dead; The seething flow was white below, And black the sky o'erhead.

"And when the dawn, the dull grey dawn, Broke on the trembling town, And men looked south to the harbour mouth, The lighthouse tower was down!

"Down in the deep where he doth deep Who made it s.h.i.+ne afar, And then in the night that drowned its light, Set, with his pilot star.

"Many fair tombs, in the glorious glooms At Westminster, they show; The brave and the great lie there in state, Winstanley lieth low!" [1]

Three years pa.s.sed by before any other person was found willing to attempt the task of rebuilding the Eddystone lighthouse, and then Captain Lovet got a ninety-nine years lease from Trinity House; and John Rudyard, a silk-mercer of Ludgate-Hill, was engaged as the architect. His design differed very materially from that of Winstanley, and was built of Cornish granite and oak. While it was building England and France were at war with each other, and some of the workmen were carried off as prisoners. The King Louis XIV., however, ordered their immediate release, and giving them substantial presents, sent them back to their good work. This lighthouse was finished in 1709, but, in 1755, it was entirely destroyed, not by winds nor waves, but by fire. Three keepers were there at the time; and when one of them entered to snuff the candles, he found the cupola in flames. They strove to extinguish it, but their efforts were in vain.

A fisherman observed the fire, and took the news ash.o.r.e, when a boat came out to the a.s.sistance of the keepers. Nothing could be done, however, to stay the progress of the fire, which destroyed the edifice.

One of the keepers immediately fled panic stricken, and was not heard of again, while one met his death in consequence of some melted lead dropping into his open mouth.

The third Eddystone lighthouse still rears its head, as it has done for more than a century. John Smeaton, a clever and practical mathematician, was the man to whose skill as an architect, and courage and perseverance as a man, the world is indebted for the light which still s.h.i.+nes upon Eddystone. He was thirty-two years old at the time when this grand work was given him to do; but he had already shown that he possessed inventive genius, pluck, and perseverance, in no ordinary degree. He was quick to see that the two previous structures had not been sufficient in weight and solidity, and he resolved to build that which was committed to his care in such a way that it should be strong enough to resist the force of the winds and waves. He declared that his building should be of stone, and in shape something like the trunk of an oak. In August, 1756, the work was begun, but of course it could not be carried on in the winter. The first stone, weighing two tons and a quarter, was laid on the 12th of the following June; and the next day the first course, consisting of four ma.s.sive stones, which were dovetailed into the rocks, and formed a compact ma.s.s, was completed.

The courses followed each other as rapidly as possible, and by the 11th of August the sixth was done, which brought the erection so high as to be out of reach of the ordinary tides. On the 30th of September the ninth course was completed, and then the builders had to leave off work for the winter.

It is easy to conceive of the anxiety which Smeaton suffered during the months which were unusually stormy; but in May, when he and his workmen were again able to reach the rock, they found, to their great joy, that the winter's floods had rather perfected than impaired their work.

They gladly commenced operations again, and by September the twenty-fourth course was completed. They had now got as far as the store-room. They worked with a will, and during the next summer the second and third floors were finished. As the building was in progress, Smeaton had inscribed on the walls these words--"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain who build it." And after it was finished, he had the words, "Laus Deo," engraved upon the top-stone. The erection was finished, and the lantern lighted, on the 16th of October, 1769, and has remained ever since, a monument of the undaunted energy and perseverance of Englishmen.

Another celebrated lighthouse is that of "The Smalls," built on one of the dangerous rocks that lie near the entrance of Milford Haven. It was built by Mr. Phillips, who did it not for gain, but in order to save his fellow-creatures. The architect he employed was a musical instrument maker, named Whiteside. The work was begun in 1772, and persevered with until it was finished. In the beginning of the year 1777, Whiteside and his companions found themselves in great straits, and they wrote a letter and put it inside a barrel, and sent it afloat, hoping it would reach the sh.o.r.e:--

"THE SMALLS, _Feb. 1, 1777_.

"SIR--Being now in a most dangerous and distressed condition upon the Smalls, I do hereby trust Providence will bring to your hand this, which prayeth for your immediate a.s.sistance to fetch us off before next spring, or we fear we shall perish--our water all gone, and our fire quite gone, and our house in a most melancholy manner. I doubt not but you will fetch us from here as fast as possible: we can be got off at some part of the tide almost any weather. I need say no more, but remain your distressed humble servant.

"H. WHITESIDE."

"We were distressed in a gale of wind upon the 13th of January, since which have not been able to keep any light, but we could not have kept any light above sixteen nights longer for want of oil and candles, which makes us murmur, and think we are forgotten.

"EDWARD EDWARDS.

"G. ADAMS.

"J. PRICE.

"P.S.--We doubt not, whoever takes up this, will be so merciful as to cause it to be sent to Thomas Williams, Esq., Trelethin, near St.

David's, Wales."

At one time, during a very stormy winter, the Smalls lighthouse-keepers were cut off from communication with the mainland for four months.

Vessels had tried to reach them, but had been driven back by the violence of the weather. Once, however, when a s.h.i.+p had gone near enough to get a sight of the Smalls, it was reported that a man was seen standing in the upper gallery, and that a flag of distress was flying near him. When at last a fisherman succeeded in reaching the rock, he found that one of the keepers was dead, and the other had securely fixed the corpse in an upright position in the gallery, that the body might be preserved, and he himself not injured by contact with it. This, and a similar event that happened on the Eddystone, caused better arrangements to be made; and in future, more than two men were placed in lighthouses likely to be exposed to circ.u.mstances of equal danger.

Another marvellous lighthouse is that erected by Robert Stevenson on the Bell Rock. The most ancient light which Scotland can boast is that of the Isle of May. The tower is very old and weather-beaten, and bears date 1635. At Gra.s.s Island, and also at North Ronaldshay, lights were kindled in 1789. In 1794, Robert Stevenson saw the Skerries lighthouse completed. He also put lights on Start Point; and for the better lighting of the dangerous sh.o.r.e, changed the North Ronaldshay lighthouse into a beacon.

But round about the light on the Bell Rock more romance centres. This rock is a very perilous one, lying eleven miles off the coast of Forfars.h.i.+re, and, if tradition may be trusted, the first attempt to rob it of some of its awful power was made by an ancient abbot, who hung a bell over it, so that the winds and waves should cause it to ring, and thus warn mariners who were in danger.

Southey's ballad of Sir Ralph the Rover tells the story of how the good abbot's design was frustrated, and how the perpetrator of a foul deed was punished:--

"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 sh.o.r.e.

"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 sh.o.r.e.'

'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 s.h.i.+vering 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 s.h.i.+p 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."

Many after attempts were made to put beacons upon the Inchcape, but all were destroyed by the stormy waves, one after the other, until Robert Stevenson undertook to build a structure that should be strong enough to stand. He began on August 7, 1807, and the first thing he did, was to provide a workshop and sleeping places for the men who were to be engaged in the enterprise. It took all the summer to do this; for often, when the men were at work, there would come a big wave over the rock, and put out the fire. The smith who worked at the bellows often stood knee-deep in water, which sometimes covered the rock to the depth of twelve feet. Once, when a cargo of stores had been landed, and thirty-two men were at work, the vessel which had conveyed them, and was to take them back, and which was named the "Smeaton," broke away from the moorings and got adrift. Mr. Smeaton was almost the first to notice this, and he became very anxious as he remembered the number of men on the rock, and that they had only two boats, which were capable of carrying but eight men each. The men were at first so busy, that they did not realise the danger of their position, but presently it was found that, in consequence of the gale, the tide was coming in more rapidly than usual, and the men, after having worked three hours, left off and went to look for the boats. It was found that one of them had drifted away with the "Smeaton." The men looked at one another in silence. It seemed certain that all could not escape, and there was an awful time of suspense and despair. Stevenson felt it so keenly that when he tried to speak he found his mouth so parched that it was impossible. He stooped to moisten his lips by drinking some of the sea-water which the tide had left in holes in the rocks, and then he heard the welcome cry, "A boat! a boat!" Presently a pilot-boat came and rescued them from their perilous situation, and the lives of the brave engineer and his men were saved. For the reward of rendering this service, the pilot received a pension when too old to work.

A tremendous gale overtook the company on one occasion, which lasted ten days, and prevented them from reaching the rock. On the 6th September, a very heavy sea struck the s.h.i.+p, which flooded the deck and poured into the cabins below. It was thought the vessel had foundered, and that all on board would go down with her. They were in perfect darkness, and some of the men engaged in praying, some repeating hymns, and others declared that if they could only get on sh.o.r.e, they would never come on the water again. Stevenson made his way on deck and looked around. The billows seemed to be ten or fifteen feet high, and each appeared as if about to overwhelm the s.h.i.+p. One man, a black, lashed himself to the foremast, and kept watch in case the s.h.i.+p should break loose from her moorings. The next morning the sun rose and the gale abated, but the sea was still very rough, and at the Bell Rock the spray was thrown up to a height of forty or fifty feet. When, at last, the waters had grown calm, and Stevenson was able again to visit the rock, he found that the force of the sea had removed six immense blocks of granite twelve or fifteen paces off; and in the smith's forge the ash-pan, though it had a heavy cast-iron back, had been washed away, and was found on the opposite side of the rock. Stevenson thought there was no time to lose, so he and the men worked away at the building, which was to be a home for the workmen, and a temporary beacon. They finished the erection in about one hundred and three hours; and thinking of their heroic, courageous and persevering conduct, one is reminded of the building of Nehemiah's wall, which was even less difficult and dangerous than this work on the Bell Rock:--"So built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half thereof; _for the people had a mind to work_."

On the 6th day of October, the Bell Rock lighthouse builders relinquished work for that year, having done little more than erect the temporary workshops and beacon. They were still engaged, however, in preparing materials for the lighthouse; and the stones were laid down as they would be in the building. They were then carefully marked and numbered, and made all ready to be used as soon as possible. In the summer of the next year the undaunted men were on the rock again. On the 10th of July the foundation-stone was laid; on which Mr. Stevenson p.r.o.nounced these words: "May the great Architect of the universe complete and bless this building!" The men then gave three cheers, and drank to the success of the lighthouse.