The Lighthouse Stevensons - Bella Bathurst [35]
It is shaken all through, and dips at a considerable angle, perhaps 1 in 3, towards the south-west; and being undermined on the north-east side for several feet, it has rather an alarming appearance…There is a hollowing of the rock which penetrates at least to the circumference of the base of the lighthouse…The rock here projects beyond the base above and not below, which must give the sea a great hold. I therefore conclude that when the sea runs high there is danger of this house being upset after a lapse of time when the sea and shingle have wrought away the rock to a greater extent…Were I connected with the charge of this highly important building, I must confess I should not feel very easy in my mind for its safety.
Robert was, as usual, right. Smeaton’s work on the lighthouse was impeccable; this time it was the rock itself that was at fault. The battering of the waves had not only worn the reef but jolted the tower, which now visibly shook with each new storm. Trinity House inspected it and twice strengthened the cavity that Robert had found. It made no difference. In 1878, James Douglass, Trinity House’s Chief Engineer, announced that the tower had deteriorated to such an extent that it would have to be rebuilt again. The completed tower stood 168 feet above high water, used 2,171 blocks of granite weighing 4,668 tons and cost £59,250. It was almost twice the height of Smeaton’s tower, and incorporated nine rooms inside. Finally on 18 May 1882, the last of the Eddystone lights was lit. After five designs, four architects and two centuries, the Eddystone passed into the land of legends.
Robert’s fascination with the Eddystone was not just professional curiosity. Even in 1801, he had a project in mind that was increasingly preoccupying him. His studies of Smeaton’s methods showed that what had been done in England could also be done in Scotland. He was also confident enough even then to believe that Smeaton could be bettered. The Eddystone proved that lighthouses could be built in apparently impossible conditions, could be constructed to be both tough and flexible, and could withstand the sea for hundreds of years. It only needed an inspired designer to bring the Eddystone’s example to perfection. And Robert, quietly at first and then with gathering conviction, knew he was that man.
FOUR
The Bell Rock
One day in January 1793, a letter arrived with the Commissioners of Northern Lights. Captain Alexander Cochrane of the Royal Navy was in charge of His Majesty’s ship Hind, one of two major warships presently stationed on the east coast. As a military man, he was not given to over-excitement, but his letter sounded a compelling note of alarm. ‘I think it a duty I owe the public,’ he wrote, ‘to call your attention, as Trustees for the Northern Lights, to the great hazard and peril that the trade of the East of Scotland is subject to for want of a lighthouse being erected on the Bell or Cape Rock.’ He had himself made investigations into the area and thought carefully about the expense of building a light. Cochrane concluded that the responsibility for muzzling the Bell Rock lay squarely with the Commissioners. It was, he added ominously, a significant obstacle to good trade and proper communications with Scotland at present, and the Commissioners should remain mindful of their duties as free-market men.
Cochrane was not alone. Six year later, one of his colleagues, Captain Joseph Brodie, became so concerned by the vicious