CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE LAST CAMPAIGN--AND VICTORY!
The campaign of 1759 opened on the 3rd of July with an attack commandedby Smeaton in person in the old _Buss_.
Previous to this, on March 21st, the coast was visited by a gale of suchseverity that immense mischief was done on shore. Ships in the port,houses, etcetera, at Plymouth, were greatly damaged; nevertheless, theunfinished tower out upon the exposed Eddystone reef stood fast, havingdefied the utmost fury of winds and waves.
It was found, however, that some loss had been sustained, the buoy ofthe mooring chain, as usual, was gone; but worse than that, one of thestones left in the store-room, a mass which weighed four and a halfhundredweight, was missing. It had been washed out of the store-roomentry by the water!
This was a serious loss, as it obliged the men to retire to the _Buss_,where they were constrained to spin yarns and twirl their thumbs inidleness till the lost stone was replaced by another. Then they went towork according to custom "with a will," and, on the 21st of July,completed the second floor; a whole room with a vaulted roof having beenbuilt in seven days.
At this point they proceeded to fit in the entry and store-room doors;and here another vexatious check appeared imminent. It was found thatthe block-tin with which the door-hooks were to be fastened had beenforgotten!
Doubtless Mr Smeaton felt inclined to emulate the weather by "storming"on this occasion, but that would have been of no use. Neither was it ofany avail that Teddy Maroon scratched his head and wrinkled his visagelike that of a chimpanzee monkey. The tin _was_ not; the hooks wouldnot hold without it, and to send ashore for it would have involved greatdelay. Mr Smeaton proved equal to the occasion.
"Off with you, lads, to the _Buss_," he cried, "and bring hither everypewter plate and dish on board."
"Think o' that now!" exclaimed Maroon his wrinkles expanding into abland smile of admiration.
"Don't think of it, but _do_ it," returned Smeaton, with a laugh.
The thing was done at once. The "plate" of the _Buss_ was melted downand mixed with lead, the hooks were fixed into the jambs, and the doorswere hung in triumph. Solid doors they were too; not slender thingswith wooden panels, but thick iron-plated affairs somewhat resemblingthe armour of a modern ship-of-war, and fitted to defy the ocean's mostpowerful battering-rams.
Progress thereafter was steady and rapid. There were points here andthere in the work which served as landmarks. On the 6th of AugustSmeaton witnessed a strange sight--a bright halo round the top of thebuilding. It was no miracle, though it looked like one. Doubtless somescientific men could give a satisfactory explanation of it, and provethat it was no direct interposition of the hand of God. So could theygive a satisfactory account of the rainbow, though the rainbow _is_ adirect sign to man. Whatever the cause, there the glory circled like asign of blessing on the work, and a fitting emblem of the life-giving,because death-warding, beams which were soon to be sent streaming fromthat tower by the hand of man.
Three days afterwards they began to lay the balcony floor; on the 17ththe main column was completed, and on the 26th the masonry was finished.It only remained that the lantern should be set up. But this lanternwas a mighty mass of metal and glass, made with great care, and ofimmense strength and weight. Of course it had to be taken off to therock in pieces, and we may almost say _of course_ the ocean offeredopposition. Then, as if everything had conspired to test the enduranceand perseverance of the builders, the first and second coppersmiths fellill on the 4th September. Skilled labour such as theirs could notreadily be replaced in the circumstances, and every hour of the now faradvanced season had become precious. Smeaton had set his heart on"showing a light" that year. In this difficulty, being a skilledmechanic himself, he threw off his coat and set to work with the men.
The materials of the lantern were landed on the 16th and fittedtogether, and the cupola was hoisted to its place on the 17th. Thislatter operation was extremely hazardous, the cupola being upwards ofhalf a ton in weight, and it had to be raised outside the building andkept carefully clear of it the while. It seemed as if the elementsthemselves favoured this critical operation, or rather, as though theystood aghast and breathlessly still, while this, the crowning evidenceof their defeat, was being put on. It was accomplished in less thanhalf an hour, and, strange to say, no sooner was the tackling loosed andthe screws that held the cupola fixed, than up got wind and sea oncemore in an uproarious gale of consternation from the east!
On the 18th a huge gilt ball was screwed on the top by Smeaton's ownhand, and thus the building of the Eddystone lighthouse was finished.
There still remained, however, a good deal of copper and wood-work to bedone in the interior, but there was now no doubt in Smeaton's mind thatthe light would be exhibited that season. He therefore removed his bedand stores from the _Buss_ to the lighthouse, and remained there, thebetter to superintend the completion of the work.
One evening he looked into the upper storeroom, where some bars werebeing heated over a charcoal fire. He became giddy with the fumes,staggered, and fell down insensible. Assuredly poor Smeaton's labourswould have terminated then and there if it had not been that one of themen had providentially followed him. A startled cry was heard--one ofthose cries full of meaning which cause men to leap half involuntarilyto the rescue.
"Och! somebody's kilt," cried Maroon, flinging away his pipe andspringing up the staircase, followed by others, "wather! wather! lookalive there!"
Some bore Smeaton to the room below, and others ran down for sea-water,which they dashed over their master unmercifully. Whether or not it wasthe best treatment we cannot say, but it sufficed, for Smeaton soonrecovered consciousness and found himself lying like a half drowned raton the stone floor.
At last, on the 1st of October, the lantern was lighted for trial duringthe day, with 24 candles. They burned well though a gale was blowing.On the 4th an express was sent to the Corporation of the Trinity Houseto say that all was ready. A short delay was made to allow of thelighting-up being advertised, and finally, on the 16th of October 1759,the new Eddystone lighthouse cast its first benignant rays over thetroubled sea.
It chanced on that day that an appropriate storm raged, as if toinaugurate the great event. Owing to this, Smeaton could not get off tobe at the lighting-up of his own building. From the shore, however, hebeheld its initiative gleam as it opened its bright eye to the realityof its grand position, and we can well believe that his hardy,persevering spirit exulted that night over the success of his labours.We can well believe, also, that there was in him a deeper and higherfeeling than that of mere joy, if we may judge of the cast of his mindby the inscriptions put by him upon his work during progress and atcompletion.
Round the upper store-room, on the course under the ceiling, hechiselled the words:--
"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it."
And on the last stone set, over the door of the lantern, was carved:--
"Praise God!"
The lighthouse, thus happily completed, rose to a height of seventyfeet, and consisted of forty-six courses of masonry. The internalarrangements will be understood at once by reference to our engraving,which exhibits a section of the tower. There was first the solid part,35 feet in height and 16 feet 8 inches in diameter at the top, the basebeing much wider. Then came the still very solid portion with theentrance-door and the spiral staircase. Above that, the firststore-room, which had no windows. Next, the second store-room, with twowindows. Next the kitchen, followed by the bed-room, both of which hadfour windows; and, last, the lantern. The rooms were 12 feet 4 inchesin diameter, with walls 2 feet 2 inches thick, and the whole fabric,from top to bottom, was so dovetailed, trenailed, cemented,inter-connected, and bound together, that it formed and still continues,a unique and immoveable mass of masonry.
There were others besides Smeaton who watched, that night, with deepinterest the opening of the Eddystone's bright eye.
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In a humble apartment in the village of Cawsand Bay an aged man stood,supported by an elderly man, at a window, gazing seaward with anexpression of intense expectation, while a very aged woman sat crooningover the fire, holding the hand of a fair girl just verging on earlywomanhood.
"D'ee see it yet, Tommy?" asked the old man, eagerly.
"No, not yet," replied Tommy, "not--yes--there--!"
"Ah! that's it, I see it," cried old John Potter, with a faint gleam ofhis old enthusiasm. "There it goes, brighter than ever. A blessedlight, and much wanted, Tommy, much, much wanted."
He leaned heavily on his son's arm and, after gazing for some time,asked to be taken back to his chair opposite old Martha.
"What is it?" inquired Martha, bending her ear towards a pretty littlemouth.
"Grandfather has just seen the new Eddystone lighted up for the firsttime," replied Nora.
"Ay, ay," said Martha in a moralising tone, as she turned her eyestowards the fire, "ay, ay, so soon! I always had a settled convictionthat that lighthouse would be burnt."
"It's _not_ burnt, grannie," said Nora, smiling, "it's only lighted up."
"Well, well, my dear," returned Martha, with a solemn shake of the head,"there an't much difference atween lighted-up an' burnt-up. It's justas I always said to your father, my dear--to your grandfather I mean--depend upon it, John, I used to say, that light'ouse will either beburnt up or blowed over. Ay, ay, dear me!"
She subsided into silent meditation, and thus, good reader, we shall bidher farewell, merely remarking that she and her honest husband did notdie for a considerable time after that. As she grew older and blinder,old Martha became more and more attached to the Bible and thedictionary, as well as to dear good blooming Nora, who assisted her inthe perusal of the former, her sweet ringing voice being the only one atlast that the old woman could hear. But although it was evident thatMartha had changed in many ways, her opinions remained immoveable. Shefeebly maintained these, and held her "settled convictions" to the lastgasp.
As for Teddy Maroon, he returned to Ireland after the lighthouse wasfinished and quietly got married, and settled on the margin of the bogwhere the Teddy from whom he sprang still lingered, among his numerousdescendants, the life of his juvenile kindred, and an oracle onlighthouses.
Time with its relentless scythe at last swept all the actors in our taleaway: Generations after them came and went. The world grew older andmore learned; whether more wise is still an open question! Knowledgeincreased, science and art advanced apace. Electricity, steam, iron,gold, muscle, and brain, all but wrought miracles, and almost everythingunderwent change more or less; but, amid all the turmoil of the world'sprogress and all the storms of elemental strife, one object remainedunaltered, and apparently unalterable--the Eddystone Lighthouse! True,indeed, its lantern underwent vast improvements, the Argand lamp andlens replacing the old candle, and causing its crown to shine with awhiter light and an intensified glory as it grew older, but as regardsits sturdy frame, there it has stood on the rugged rocks amid thetormented surges, presenting its bold and battered, but undamaged, frontto the utmost fury of blast and billow for upwards of a hundred years.
The Story of the Rock Page 11