Seven Wonders of the Industrial World - Deborah Cadbury

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ever tried to build a lighthouse on a rock only exposed for two hours in every twelve. As the tide was later by about an hour every day, there would be times when the rock was only uncovered during the night. When building the Eddystone Lighthouse of the Cornish coast, Smeaton had ferried his men to work on a daily basis, but Stevenson did not see that as a practical proposition for the Bell Rock. He decided to take the bold step of keeping his men out at sea, at first on a vessel moored at a safe distance from the rock and, later, in temporary quarters on the rock itself.

      Stevenson hoped to raise a sturdy wooden building, the beacon, on the Bell Rock that would stand on timber beams well above the reach of high tide. These temporary barracks would house the men and at night provide a warning light for passing ships. He was only too aware that such a building might be considered precarious, just a few feet above the swirling waters of the North Sea with no land in sight. After all, Captain Brodie’s beacons had not braved the relentless onslaught of the waves for long and Winstanley’s more substantial lighthouse had been blown away in the night like gossamer in the wind, but there was really no alternative. Should a sudden gale blow up, it might be impossible to row back in heavy seas to their vessel, and once the tide turned the exposed rock was all too quickly drowned again by the rush of incoming water. Some kind of temporary dwelling was essential.

      Before the beacon could be built, he needed a ship that would fulfil a duel role providing a dormitory for men working on the rock and also a floating light warning ships at sea. The board was obliged to provide a warning light at night while work was in progress, which would enable them to charge dues from passing shipping and start repaying the loan. For this purpose he acquired an 82-ton vessel, the Pharos – named after the first celebrated beacon tower of ancient Egypt, the Pharos of Alexandria. The Pharos was then fitted out to provide 30 bunks for the workmen, quarters for the crew and a cabin for Stevenson that would give him some privacy.

      The Pharos would have to be moored one mile from the rock since it was inadvisable to be too near the escarpment should she break anchor in bad weather. Here the water was particularly deep and, as high winds could easily set the ship adrift, a special heavy mushroom-shaped anchor was cast that would dig into the seabed and act as a drag. The men would have to row each day in small boats the mile from the Pharos to their work on the Bell Rock.

      The starting date in May passed by and with it went the good weather. Stevenson was becoming impatient, as preparations took longer than anticipated. Another ship had to be built, a 40-ton ship called the Smeaton that would be used to bring out supplies to the rock. Stone from the quarries was ordered and masons were hired to cut each stone into its own individual design so that it interlocked with its neighbour and gave the tower stability. There were tools to be ordered, coal for the smith, food, alcohol, water and then the men to be hired who would labour possibly for years on the rock. Stevenson preferred to hire those who had worked for him before or were recommended. He was a good judge of character and men usually stayed with him on wages of 20 shillings a week, ‘summer or winter, wet or dry’, with rations of 1/2 pound of beef, 1 pound of bread, 2 ounces of butter and 3 quarts of beer a day. There was, too, the added bonus of papers, which protected them from the press gangs, which were quite ruthless in claiming men for service in the navy.

      Stevenson made it quite clear to his men that nights would be spent on board ship and that no man could return home to his family for a month. After a month, he reasoned, the men would have adjusted to seasickness and, hopefully, fear too. He worried that if they were allowed home earlier they probably would not return. He also required the men to work on Sunday. This proved a problem to many, so before they began the epic journey to their new home in the middle of the sea, perhaps as some sort of insurance against the unknown dangers, the men crowded into the little church at the port of Arbroath to hear prayers.

      Late in the evening on 17 August 1807, the Smeaton finally set sail. Ships in the harbour were flying their colours and friends and family had gathered on the quay to see the men leave. As the ship moved slowly out of the harbour towards the darkening sky, the sound of cheers rang out across the water and echoed around the town and then was lost to the sound of the waves.

      They reached the rock, hissing and frothy with surf, at dawn the next morning. There was an air of excitement at being in such a strange place. It was too early to start work with the tide still pushing water over their feet, so Stevenson raised three cheers and poured a ration of rum to the men. By 6 a.m., the water had retreated and some of the workmen began drilling holes for the beams that would support the beacon. The smith, James Dove, who would soon be busy sharpening tools, found a sheltered corner near a rock pool while other men cleared seaweed away from the pitted and uneven surface of the slippery rock. A seaweed called dulse was collected with enthusiasm; many of the men were suffering from seasickness and this was thought to be an antidote. When the tide returned, the men were thankful to row back to the relative security of their temporary accommodation on the Smeaton. As they pulled away, the rock that only minutes before had been a firm foothold was swallowed up before their eyes, with not even a ripple to mark its position.

      Calm weather with whispering seas and wide, pearly-gold skies of late summer surrounded the enterprise in the first few weeks. Stevenson’s first task was to set up the forge. Everybody helped James Dove erect the iron framework which would form the hearth. This was supported by four legs set up to twelve inches into the rock and secured with iron wedges. A huge block of timber which would carry the anvil was treated in the same way and water was fast encroaching again as the weighty anvil was placed. James Dove was invariably up to his knees in water and sometimes up to his waist but this was considered a minor problem compared to keeping the forge fire from the ever-playful waves.

      The next task was to start work on the temporary hut or beacon. This was uppermost in everyone’s minds since if there were an accident to the rowing boats when attempting to land, then this beacon on the Bell Rock would at least provide something to cling to until rescue arrived. Willing hands took on the difficult task of gouging out the hard sandstone that would take the stanchions supporting the uprights. Fifty-four holes in all, each two inches in diameter and eighteen inches deep, were needed to hold the iron stanchions. The upper part of the stanchions above ground would be riveted into the six massive 50-foot upright beams that formed the core framework of the beacon and other supporting beams.

      One morning as the men rowed towards the rock, Stevenson was astonished to see what looked like a human figure lying on a ledge of rock. His mind was in turmoil, assuming that there must have been a shipwreck in the night and the place would be littered with dead bodies. He was afraid his men would want to leave. They would see the Bell Rock living up to its reputation as a place of dread. As soon as he landed, and without a word, he made his way quickly to where the ‘body’ lay, only to discover, with immense relief, that it was, in fact, the smith’s anvil and block.

      Six days after leaving Arbroath, the men, who had been very cramped on the Smeaton, were transferred to the lightship Pharos, now anchored a mile away. Everyone was pleased to be going to the larger ship, which had a well-equipped galley and bunks for the men. Her only drawback was that she did roll rather badly even in light winds. This made it extremely difficult for the men even to get into the rowing boats for the mile-long row to the rock. Indeed, her rolling was so great ‘that the gunwale, though about five feet above the surface of the water, dipped nearly into it upon one side,’ recorded Stevenson, ‘while her keel could not be far from the surface on the other’. Everyone hoped the good weather would continue, not daring to imagine what she would be like if the weather turned. Seasickness, which had largely been conquered, now became a very big problem. Even Stevenson was affected.

      On Saturday night, all hands were given a glass of rum and water and every man made a contribution to the occasion, singing, playing a tune or telling a story, so that the evening passed pleasurably, ending with the favourite toast of ‘wives and sweethearts’. By Sunday morning, however, the atmosphere was much changed. There was the seriousness of breaking the Commandments to be considered. Several were opposed to working on the Sabbath, but Stevenson pointed out that their labour was an act of mercy and must continue without fail, although he emphasised no one would be penalised for following his conscience. Prayers were said, and then Stevenson, without looking back, stepped into the boat. To his

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