The Lighthouse E-Book

Keith McCloskey

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Seitenzahl: 349

Beschreibung

On 26 December 1900, the vessel Hesperus arrived at Eilean Mor in the remote Outer Hebrides with a relief lighthouseman and fresh provisions. The Lighthouse had been in operation for a year, but it had been noted that no light had been seen from Eilean Mor for several days. The relief keeper, Joseph Moore, found The Lighthouse to be completely deserted, and a subsequent search of the island failed to reveal any sign of what had happened to the three keepers. The last entry in the logbook had been made on 15 December and contained a number of strange and distressing clues as to the mental states of the men. One was reported to have been crying, while another had become 'very quiet'. When it was revealed that the men's oilskin coats were missing and the clock in The Lighthouse had stopped, theories surrounding the keepers' fates inevitably proliferated. These included a giant wave washing them away, murder or suicide. Others favoured more esoteric explanations – Eilean Mor was believed to have mystical properties. In The Lighthouse, Keith McCloskey explores this mysterious and chilling story in depth for the first time and reveals a shocking conclusion.

Leseprobe

In Memory of Calum Eric Macaulay Sutherland 1952–2009. A Lewisman at Heart.

CONTENTS

Title

Dedication

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Prologue: The Missing Light

1 Lewis and the Flannans

2 The NLB and the Life of a Lighthouseman

3 The Lightkeepers and a Reconstruction of 15 December 1900

4 Discovery

5 Aftermath

6 Giant Wave

7 Murder

8 Supernatural

9 Conclusions

Appendix I: ‘Flannan Isle’

Appendix II: Abstract of Signalman’s Returns (Roderick MacKenzie) for Flannan Isles Lighthouse

Appendix III: Weather Details

Appendix IV: Recollections of the Eilean Mor Lighthouse by Norrie Muir PLK

Appendix V: Eilean Mor Lighthouse Prayer

Sources and Further Reading

Plates

Copyright

FOREWORD

I was intrigued by the story of the missing lighthousemen on Eilean Mor for many years, particularly as good friends of mine lived in Carloway. It is a tragedy which has been debated constantly by those interested in mysteries of the sea. There is plenty of information within books, magazines, newspaper archives and the internet about the story but once I delved into them, numerous inaccuracies cropped up. For instance, one of the biggest misconceptions of this story is the state of the sea and the weather at the Flannan Isles on the 15 December 1900. It is generally believed that the sea was relatively calm and the weather was not unduly ‘bad’. The records show that this is not the case, however.

What I want to do in this book is to present all the facts to the reader and let them make their own minds up after looking at the evidence. The giant wave theory is almost too obvious, but using the principle of Occam’s Razor it is possibly the correct answer as to what happened. Having spent a considerable amount of time looking into this mystery I have to say I am not entirely convinced by the most obvious answer for reasons I give in the text, but as I said, it is up to the reader to draw their own conclusions.

I would also like to say that produced in this book is the first published photograph of what is believed to be the three missing men together, which was kindly provided to me by Steven Gibbons, a relative of Thomas Marshall.

The following description was given to me by a former Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) lighthouse keeper: ‘We were ordinary folk, doing a job that was far from ordinary.’ With this in mind, I have tried to introduce brief aspects of the life of a lighthouse keeper for the reader to understand a little about their lives. The terms lighthouse keeper, lightkeeper and keeper are all interchangeable.

Keith McCloskey

Berkshire

January 2014

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the kind assistance of the following: Lorna Hunter and the NLB; Colin Sutherland, Lord Carloway; Norrie Simpson for additional research; Arthur Flynn; Sheila Ryan for permission to use her research material; Anne Cowne of Lloyds Register Group Services Ltd; Mark Beswick of the Meteorological Office National Meteorological Archive, Exeter; Professor Elizabeth Austin of Edinburgh University; Judy Greenway and the Trustees of the Wilfrid Wilson Gibson Estate; Ian Cowe for the use of his photo of the shore station at Breasclete; Chris Downer for the use of his excellent photos; Christopher Nicholson; Sigurd Towrie for permission to use his Stronsay Beast article on the Orkneyjar website as source material; Jay C. Buckey Jr MD; Robert Stewart, retired Professor of Oceanography at Texas A&M University; Yvonne Shand at the National Library of Scotland; Merrilyn MacAulay and Donnie G. Macleod, Catherine Mackie Quirk and Ian Begg for information relating to her great grandfather PLK William Beggs; Iain Macaulay for his very helpful information and advice; Iain Angus for his description of the Muir Cul; the very helpful staff of Seatrek who run trips out to the Flannans and St Kilda; Triona McCloskey, Camilla McCloskey and Marcella O’Sullivan for proofreading; also Liz Turner and Morag Mcfadden for use of their photos.

A special mention for former NLB keepers Alistair Henderson, Ron Ireland (also thanks for use of Ron’s Flannans photographs) and Norrie Muir. Both Ron Ireland and Norrie Muir have served on the Flannan Isles Lighthouse.

A very special mention also to Steven Gibbons for allowing me to use the photos of Thomas Marshall and to Hugo Mander for drawing my attention to them.

I am especially grateful to Alistair Henderson for his considerable input and advice.

PROLOGUE: THE MISSING LIGHT

Approaching midnight on the night of 15–16 December 1900, approximately 80 miles out north-west from the Scottish mainland in the North Atlantic, a 2,193-ton cargo vessel made her way through the dark, cold waters. The vessel was the SS Archtor, registered in London with a crew of twenty-four and jointly owned by Francis Arthur Holman and others, carrying general cargo from Philadelphia in the USA to Leith. The Archtor had originally been launched five years earlier as the SS Whetstone and had been renamed Archtor only a year previously. It was a regular, even mundane, run between the two ports for the vessel, although the weather had been stormy for most of the voyage. The severity of the storm had swept away one of the four compasses that she carried from her poop deck. Despite the weather having settled down somewhat, there was still a very heavy swell1 and the Archtor struggled to make a constant speed of 10 knots, its indicated speed, even though the storm had abated. At this point she was less than two days sailing away from Leith, the port for Edinburgh. At mid-afternoon that day (15 December 1900), the ship’s position had been 58° 29’ N and 11° 36’ W, approximately 120 miles west by north from the Flannan Islands.2

As the evening came on and the Archtor approached the Flannan Islands, the master of the vessel, Captain Holman, felt that something was not right. Despite searching constantly on the horizon as they came closer to the islands, there was only darkness, and even though there was a very heavy sea with a strong south-south-westerly wind, it was a clear night.

By midnight, the Archtor had reached a point that was estimated to be well within 5 miles to the north of the Flannan Islands and the relatively new lighthouse.3 Even with the changeover of watches at midnight there was still no sighting of the light. Once again, Captain Holman stood on the bridge and scanned the horizon to the south to search for the light from the Flannan Islands lighthouse, which had only been in operation for a year. The lighthouse itself had officially become operational on 7 December 1899 and had been built on the largest of the Flannan Islands, named Eilean Mor. Depending on the weather and visibility, the light had a range of up to 24 miles.

As the vessel got closer and came well within range of the light, there was still only darkness and the Archtor passed through the area without any sighting of it. The Archtor continued steering on a south-east by east course until 4 a.m. on the morning of 16 December,4 then altered course slightly to take the ship to the Butt of Lewis, which they reached at 7 a.m. that morning. The non-appearance of the light perturbed Captain Holman and he made another quick calculation based on the position of the ship on a bearing east by south and a distance of 16 miles, and he concluded that they had certainly passed within 6 miles of the Flannan Islands and Eilean Mor Lighthouse, which altered his earlier figure of passing within 5 miles. He had also failed to see the landmass of the Flannan Islands, which they were trying to make out as a ‘landfall’. The failure to observe the islands themselves was of little consequence but the complete absence of the light was a more worrying issue. Nevertheless, he resolved to report the matter on arrival at Leith. There would, however, be a delay in Captain Holman reporting the non-operation of the Eilean Mor Lighthouse, as the Archtor was to run into a serious problem of her own within forty-eight hours of passing the Flannan Islands.5

As Captain Holman searched in vain for the light, he would not have known at that point, 20 miles to the south-east of the Flannan Islands, that there was another potential observer who could have shared his concerns about the non-appearance of the light over a number of days. The Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) paid a gamekeeper, Roderick MacKenzie, on Lewis, the sum of £8 a year to act as an observer to the light. Lewis is the largest of the Outer Hebrides islands and the nearest point to the Flannan Islands. Roderick Mackenzie made his observations of the light from Gallan Head on Lewis where principally he was to keep an eye out for any signals from the Eilean Mor Lighthouse. He was specifically tasked to watch for signals from the lighthouse as opposed to any non-operation of the light itself. Any problems connected with the operation of the light would then be communicated to him through signals which he could then act on. If he observed any signals indicating a problem of any nature, he was required to send a telegram to the Head Office of the Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) in Edinburgh immediately informing them. The NLB could then arrange for any repairs to be made as soon as possible.6 Roderick Mackenzie had last noted the light was operating on 7 December 1900 and had not seen it since that date. One week and one day later, on 15 December 1900, he had still not seen the light, but he put this down to the appalling weather and atmospheric conditions at the time. He had on previous occasions not observed the light for days at a time due to bad weather and thought nothing more of it, provided he saw no signals during the day and provided he saw the light eventually after a short period of a few days. After 15 December had come and gone and the days got closer to Christmas, Mackenzie asked both of his sons to assist him in keeping a watch towards the Flannans, as he was by now starting to get worried at the length of time it had been since he had seen the light.

Notwithstanding Captain Holman’s concerns – and the fact that Roderick Mackenzie would have been primarily looking for daytime signals rather than a light working at night – it was a possibility that, as the light had only become operational a year previously, a few teething problems could occur. However with the passing of a year, it would not be expected that the light would fail over a period of several days. Nevertheless, the non-appearance of the light over such a period would have been considered a very serious matter. Before anybody set out to the islands, no one would have suspected that a major tragedy had taken place.

Notes

1 Captain Holman’s statement 29 December 1900 of passing the Flannan Isles on 15–16 December 1900, Scottish National Archives File NLC3/1/1.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 She hit the Carphie Rock, see Chapter 4.

6 Scottish National Archives File NLC3/1/1.

1

LEWISANDTHE FLANNANS

The history and folklore of the Outer Hebrides is inextricably linked to the sea. Situated off the north-west coast of mainland Scotland, the islands have a remoteness that can give a feeling of isolation which helps the reader to appreciate the life of the people who have lived and worked here, leading hard and unrelenting lives. In terms of the lighthouses, this isolation is amplified and it can be said that the lighthouse on Eilean Mor is a lonely and remote place in what is already considered to be an isolated area.

An understanding of the folklore lends background to one of the more outlandish theories (see Chapter 8) concerning the disappearance of the lighthousemen on Eilean Mor.

There has been habitation in the Outer Hebrides for more than 5,000 years. Life in the islands was nearly always hard as people battled primarily against the elements to carve out an existence, and this continued up until the twentieth century. There is substantial evidence of the Iron Age past with Iron Age forts and archaeological sites scattered throughout the Isle of Lewis. The Vikings invaded the islands in the ninth century and left their mark, with many of the place names being of Norse origin. Perhaps the most outstanding example of the long history of the islands is the Callanish Stones,1 which lay close to the village of Callanish on the west coast of Lewis. They were constructed between 2900 and 2600 BC, and it is believed that part of them may have been constructed earlier than 3000 BC. The thirteen primary stones form a circle roughly 40ft in diameter with a long approach avenue of stones to the north and shorter stone rows to the south, west and east. A tomb was later built into the site and excavations there in 1980 and 1981 discovered human remains and found evidence that the tomb had been added later as well as modified many times, and also that it had been out of use from 2000 BC and 1700 BC Looking from above, the whole site appears very roughly like a Celtic Cross. The main site is referred to as Callanish I as there are several other megalithic sites in the area and these are numbered accordingly. For example, Cnoc Dubh, an ancient settlement or ‘Shieling’ (a stone dwelling used while tending cattle on summer pastures,) is known as Callanish VII. The other sites, which are mainly stone settings or standing stones, are also named Callanish, with roman numerals to differentiate each one. In respect of the Callanish Stones, the folklore has a couple of variations. One of the local traditions states that the giants who lived on Lewis refused to be converted to Christianity by Saint Kieran, an Irish Monk, and were therefore turned into stone as a punishment. Another legend states that at sunrise on midsummer morning, a deity known as the ‘Shining One’ walks along the stone avenue, its arrival heralded ‘by the Cuckoo’s call’. The origin of this particular legend probably has its roots in some memory of the astronomical significance of the stones. Local folklore also relates the history of a race of ‘small people’ who were described as pigmies.2

A native of Lewis named John Morison made the first written references to the stones in around 1680. He wrote, ‘great stones standing up in ranks … were sett up in place for devotione.’3 The religious significance of the stones was apparent from the earliest observations after they had fallen into disuse.

Although the islands have been uninhabited for the most part through the centuries, there have been two previous habitations (besides the lighthouse keepers) on Eilean Mor. The first were the religious men (St Flannan and associated monks who sought the island for spiritual retreat), from where the sanctity of the islands gained their reputation and much later, sheep were often taken to graze out on Eilean Mor with their attendant shepherds; although this would be for relatively short periods rather than extended stays on the island.

The main island of the group of seven largest rocks, Eilean Mor covers an area of 40 acres and at its highest point is 285ft. The Flannan Isles (Scottish Gaelic: Na-h-Eileanan Flannach) are known as the Seven Hunters. The islands are named after the seventh-century Irish preacher and Abbot, St Flannan. They were possibly known during the middle ages as the Seven Holy Isles. Despite being only just under 20 miles west of the Isle of Lewis, the islands are as lonely and isolated as can be found anywhere as they border the vastness of the North Atlantic.

The islands are split into three groups. There are two main islands: Eilean Mor (meaning Big Isle) and Eilean Taighe (meaning House Isle) and these lie to the north-east of the group. The main western islands (smaller than Eilean Mor) are Eilean a Gobha (meaning Isle of the Blacksmith), Roaireim and Brona Cleit (meaning Sad Sunk Rock). Lying to the south are the islands, or outcrops of rock, which perhaps would be a better description, of Soray (meaning Eastward Isle) and Sgeir Tomain. Roaireim is slightly different to the other islands by virtue of having a natural rock arch. There is a small ruined stone chapel on Eilean Mor and two stone structures, plus on Eilean Taighe there is a ruined stone shelter. All of these ruins are described by the Royal Commission of the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland (RCAHMS) as ‘The Bothies of the Clan MacPhail’ or ‘Bothain Chlann ’Ic Phail.’ The origins of the name of Flannan are uncertain. It might refer to the seventh-century Abbot of Killaloe in County Clare, or to the half-brother of the eighth-century St Ronan, for whom the nearby island of North St Rona is named. The name could also originate from the son (named Flann) of an Abbot of Iona (named Maol-duine),4 who lived until AD 890. In pre-history the area was covered in ice sheets spreading from Scotland westwards out into the Atlantic Ocean. When the ice sheets had receded about 20,000 BP5, sea levels were around 400ft lower than the present day and it is likely that the islands were part of a larger land mass but still separated from the Outer Hebrides by open water.

People from Lewis would travel out to graze their sheep on Eilean Mor as well as raid the nests of the seabirds for eggs, birds and feathers. The abundance of birds included populations of northern fulmars, European storm petrels, Leach’s petrels, black-legged kittiwakes, common shag and Atlantic puffins. It was and still is an ornithologist’s delight, particularly the gannetry on the islands. And in the short history of any humans populating the islands, it was the lightkeepers who had introduced rabbits to the islands.

As one approaches the islands from Lewis and views them with numerous types of seabirds flying around them, it is tempting to cast your mind back to 15 December 1900 and try to imagine what happened to the three lightkeepers on the main island of Eilean Mor all those years ago. The islands are unchanged as you look at them from the sea. The only addition, the helicopter landing pad, cannot be seen from sea level; otherwise everything is exactly as it was on that day. The weather that day was not good with heavy seas and rain. The meteorological records for December 1900 showed the largest amount of monthly rainfall ever to have fallen that month in the locality and this record still stands at the end of 2013.6

The township of Breasclete (also referred to as Breascleit) would be considered small in most places, but in Lewis terms it was a fairly large settlement. It played an important role for the light station on the Flannan Isles as it was here (rather than at Stromness) that David Alan Stevenson chose to build the shore station for the lighthousemen and their families. Breasclete in the latter half of the nineteenth century contained over forty crofter families. It was also the site of a major investment, a fish processing plant, by the old Highlands and Islands Development Board. There were also associated facilities such as wharves and landing facilities built on Loch Roag. Unfortunately the venture failed, along with a further commercial venture, a fish oil company which sold oil capsules under the trade name of Callanish.

The automation of the Flannan Isles Lighthouse on 28 September 1971 also brought to an end the presence of personnel and families associated with the station on Lewis. Tourism fortunately still thrives in the Outer Hebrides, with the Flannan Isles serving as an attraction for day trips.

Notes

1 See British Geological Survey website for useful background: www.bgs.ac.uk.

2 See Chapter 8.

3 From his account of the Western Isles in 1680.

4 Wikipedia: en.wikipedia.org/flannan-isles. See also Clare Library: www.clarelibrary.ie for more information on St Flannan.

5 See British Geological Survey website for useful background: www.bgs.ac.uk.

6 See Appendix III for more weather details.

2

THE NLB ANDTHE LIFEOFA LIGHTHOUSEMAN

The seas around Scotland and the Scottish coastline itself have never been a place for the faint-hearted mariner. On the north-western side, the coast faces the full force of the North Atlantic winds and storms, although the islands of the Outer Hebrides act as a breakwater to the mainland. Off the eastern coast, the North Sea gives rise to frequent mists and fog such as the Haar1, which often can appear very quickly and affects shipping and aircraft down on the lower eastern coasts of Scotland and northern England.

Prior to the full establishment of a system of lighthouses in Scotland, the appalling number of shipwrecks and loss of life around the wilder parts of the Scottish coastline left both seamen and those engaged in commercial trading to push for something to be done, as the number of wrecks around the Scottish coastline ran into thousands upon thousands and stood as a testament to the dangers faced by men who made their living from the sea. The roll call of shipwrecks ran from the earliest fishing vessels up to and beyond the oil tanker Braer, stranding in the Shetlands in 1993.

However, whilst there was no unnecessary unwillingness on the part of the government or local authorities to ease the plight of seafarers plying treacherous waters, everything, as always, came down to money; who was going to pay for it? The actual building or placing of lighthouse stations around Scotland’s coast was a long and laborious affair, although compared to the establishment of a system of lighthouses in England, it was completed in a shorter timescale, with the majority of the work being finished within a century.

The earliest lighthouse in Scotland was built on the Isle of May by James Maxwell of Innerwick and John Cunninghame of Barnes, under a patent granted by Charles I in 1635. The Isle of May lighthouse was bought from its then owners in 1814 and the present lighthouse was built and illuminated from 1816.

The origins of the NLB go back to 1782 after a series of severe storms brought home the lack of a proper lighthouse system around the coast of Scotland. The Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses, as it was initally known, was created in 1786 following an Act of Parliament, which allowed them to have the powers to purchase land, borrow money and levy dues from ships to finance their work and building. Initially the Commissioners were allowed to build four lighthouses, including Kinnaird Head in Fraserburgh.2 A further impetus was given by two further Acts of Parliament in 1788 and 1789.

The Scottish local lights (which were much smaller than lighthouses) and seamarks had been constructed under local Acts of Parliament or Burgh Charters. Buddon Ness on the Tay was the earliest recorded light, constructed by an Act of the Privy Council in 1687. An Act in 1836 made these local lights and seamarks subject to the supervision and inspection of the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses.3

The division of lighthouse responsibility in the British Isles eventually settled: Trinity House covered England and the Channel Islands (also including Europa Point Lighthouse at Gibraltar); Irish Lights, with headquarters in Dublin, covered both Eire and Northern Ireland; and the Northern Lighthouse Board covered Scotland and the Isle of Man. The exception to the system of Scottish lighthouses was the six lighthouses on the River Clyde, which had been owned and administered by two separate trusts before being amalgamated into the Clydeport Trust in 1966.

The story of lighthouses and their development in Scotland is strongly linked to one remarkable family. The best known member of that family is Robert Louis Stevenson, who is remembered for his outstanding writing. But it is the other members of his family who, though perhaps not as well known, are primarily responsible for the establishment of the network of lighthouses around the most dangerous parts of the Scottish coast.

Starting with the head of the line, Thomas Smith, there descended from him a procession of very capable and highly intelligent men who were fine examples of the Scottish talent for civil engineering.

Thomas Smith had married Jean Stevenson in 1787 taking on her son Robert as a stepson. It was her second marriage and his third. They were widow and widower and it was as much a marriage of convenience as attraction, as both had young children.

Although Thomas Smith was the head of the line as far as the actual connection with lighthouses goes (he was engineer to the NLB), the first of the actual Stevenson dynasty would be Robert Stevenson. In 1786, Robert Stevenson had put his studies to one side to learn the craft of working with iron and lights from his stepfather Thomas Smith. Between the two of them they set out to improve the system of lighting by replacing the early and unreliable fire-type lights, firstly with oil and then with gas, and improving the oil light system. The key to their progress was in the development of the use of optics. Notwithstanding their passion to improve the system of lighthouses in Scotland, they also immersed themselves in many other projects, most of which might be said to have the underlying theme, not just of engineering projects for their own sake to build or improve what was there, but to work for the greater good of mankind in general, and Scotland in particular. It was an embodiment of the Victorian principle of work being done in God’s name for the benefit of all and not self-aggrandisement.

As civil engineers, inventors and designers, the works of the Stevensons extended far beyond lighthouses. Robert’s three sons Alan, David and Thomas would follow in their father’s footsteps and also become engineers. Alan Stevenson became a commissioner of the NLB, and when he retired his position was taken by his brother David.

Despite the self-imposed mission of each succeeding generation of the Stevenson men to pursue the goal of the improvement of the Scottish lighthouse system (along with numerous other civil projects), the Stevenson that really stands out was not known for civil engineering work or lighthouses. Robert Louis Stevenson was pushed by his father to continue the family dynasty and follow the tradition of becoming an engineer to the NLB. Despite being strongly pushed by his father, Thomas, he appears to have been temperamentally unsuited to the life and profession. Despite an attempt at pleasing his father by getting involved in the day-to-day work of civil engineering, his real love was literature, much to his father’s annoyance. Nevertheless Robert Louis was able to use some of the experiences he gained during his time as an engineering apprentice in the wilder parts of the Scottish coast and to feature them in his novels. After a brief fling with studying law, which had the half-hearted approval of his father, Robert Louis eventually gave up all other pursuits and concentrated on his writing.

The particular skill that the Stevensons developed was in the construction of building a lighthouse, in many cases on nothing more than an outcrop of rock, far out to sea, with the hindrance of terrible weather including violent seas and high winds. All this would be done without the modern aids for building in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The haulage of the stone needed was another feat which required ingenuity. In particular, the building of the lighthouse on the Flannan Islands required considerable planning and the laying down of tram lines; moreover, the construction of steps into the cliffs for access to the site was necessary before building could even begin.

In addition to the building of lighthouses, Thomas Stevenson, with his brother David, put a considerable amount of effort into developing lighthouse optics using electricity. David had two sons, Charles and David Alan. Whilst they both continued with the family tradition of service to the NLB, much of the pioneering work had already been completed before them. However, David Alan was responsible for the building of the Flannan Isles Lighthouse, which in itself was no mean feat, along with the shore station at Breasclete.

David Alan Stevenson had first visited the Flannan Islands in 1893 to examine the location as to its suitability for a lighthouse station. His view was that the Isles lay dangerously near the track of vessels bound from the westward and making land and were taking the ‘north about’ passage which was used by a large number of ships.4 He went on to describe the location as being 20 miles from Gallan Head (on the Isle of Lewis) and 46 miles north-north-east from Monach Lighthouse and was in the centre of a stretch of unlighted coast 75 miles in length between the Butt of Lewis and Monach. David Alan described the necessity for a light thus: ‘Valuable assistance a light would afford to the increasing Atlantic trade passing near when passing westward, they grant their statutory sanction to the establishment of a lighthouse on these islands.’5

The main island of the group, Eilean Mor, was decided upon as being the most suitable, as apart from having a relatively flat and largely grassed area on top of the island, there was plenty of space and it was well elevated from the waterline – up to 150ft at many points and in some places higher. Initially Stevenson had wanted to place the light on the most westerly island of the Flannan Islands group, but it was not high enough to ‘show the light over the others’. In addition, the most westerly island was even more difficult to land on and more inaccessible than the main island of Eilean Mor. In his report, Stevenson mentions that Eilean Mor rises to 280ft above sea level and that, of its 40 acres, 16 acres was grass-covered with the rest of it being rocks and cliffs along with the uninhabited ‘Blessing Chapel’. He then mentions the two summits of the island being almost the same height and all around surrounded by practically vertical cliffs, none of which were less than 150ft. Stevenson had made his landing on the south side, as he called it, and recommended this as the best site to make an entry onto Eilean Mor. What he probably meant was the area of the west landing, which is on the south side of the island but turns so that it is facing westwards.

In an almost prescient comment about the tragedy which followed seven years later, Stevenson wrote: ‘The landing of materials will obviously be attended with considerable difficulty for there is little protection from the Atlantic swell which is seldom at rest.’6

The major problem, however, was reaching this relatively flat grassy area, especially with all the building materials that would be required.

The site had been suggested as suitable for the placing of a lighthouse as early as 1853 by the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses to the Board of Trade.7 Nothing was done, however, and the matter lay for twenty-seven years when it was again brought before the Board of Trade by the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses in 1880. Once more, the matter received a lukewarm response. Finally, in 1892, the elder brethren declined to give their sanction for the building of a lighthouse on Eilean Mor, but the Northern Lighthouse Commissioners appealed to the Board of Trade as arbiter and the board found in favour of the Commissioners. So after a near forty-year wait from when it was first suggested, the go-ahead was finally given for the Eilean Mor Lighthouse to be built. In his capacity as engineer to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses, David Alan Stevenson had again visited the Flannan Islands and looked at the various difficulties associated with the building of a lighthouse on Eilean Mor. Stevenson had actually written two reports on the possibilities of a lighthouse on the Flannan Islands. The first was dated 3 January 1893.8 The second report was dated 21 October 18959 and was duly presented to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses for their consideration.

In his report dated 3 January 1893, Stevenson broke down the building costs as follows:

Tower and Buildings on Eilean Mor:

As if built on shore

£1,600

Boundary walls and fencing

£200

Landing places, stairs and tramways

£1,625

Paths from south landing place

£60

Cranes, hauling engines etc.

£370

Temporary barracks, stores etc.

£310

Maintenance of workmen for 3 Seasons

£945

Shipping 3 Seasons, moorings and landing boats

£7200

Parapet, lantern, optical apparatus, revolving machine, lamps and fountains, and oil cisterns

£7,050

Dwelling houses for 4 lighthouse keepers at Stromness

£2,425

Land

£200

David Alan Stevenson stated in the report that his view was that if the work could be completed in two seasons instead of three, then the total amount would be reduced by about £2,000. The crux of the whole project was the light itself; he estimated the centre of the optical apparatus would be 328ft above sea level and would give a clear weather range of light of 24 miles. He also proposed that the Flannan light should give two flashes in quick succession every half minute.

Stevenson then turned his attention to the question of shore accommodation for the lightkeepers and their families. Initially he favoured Stromness. This, he stated, was due to the fact that the relief vessel (the lighthouse tender) Pole Star was stationed there. The alternative to building the cottages at Stromness was the nearest suitable location to the Flannan Islands, which was West Loch Roag and the small settlements at Breasclete and Carloway. The intention of building the lightkeepers’ cottages at Stromness was so that, as the reliefs for the Sule Skerry Lighthouse Station were already made from there, it would be easier to also make the reliefs for the Flannan Islands from the same location. Stevenson estimated that doing both the Sule Skerry relief and the Flannans would only occupy the Pole Star for thirty hours in favourable weather. With this in mind he had surveyed three sites for the Flannan lightkeepers’ cottages at Stromness.10

Despite his earlier preference for the establishment of the lighthouse keepers’ shore accommodation to be at Stromness, Stevenson went on to write that Breasclete, with its good anchorage, would probably offer the most advantage in serving the Flannans.

On 9 February 1899 Stevenson wrote a letter11 to the board of the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses in which he gave the details of four quotations for hauling appliances to be used on Eilean Mor. He recommended Carrick & Sons as being the lowest. The four tenders were as follows:

Carrick & Sons

£242

Chaplin & Company, Glasgow

£378

West End Engineering Works, Edinburgh

£268

Messrs MacLellan, Glasgow

£270

Additionally, a specification12 for an invitation to tender was given, dated 22 August 1899, for the furnishing and fittings including communication bells between the lightroom and living room. Bells were also provided between the bedrooms and the living room (the bells were 3’ and 4’ respectively). Stevenson involved himself in the minutest of detail, for example, specifying that the bells in the bedrooms were to be mounted on varnished pitch pine with the word ‘Lightroom’ to be engraved on them and the lightroom was to have boards of varnished pitch pine with the words ‘Principal’, ‘1st Assistant’ and ‘2nd Assistant’ engraved on each one. Even when it came to the wiring, which may have been expected to be left to an assistant to stipulate, Stevenson specified the type of wiring required and that it was to be tapered and tarred. He then described where the wire was to be laid, when it was to be placed in tin tubes and when it was to be left exposed. Contractors could submit a sample of the wire they proposed to use along with their tenders for the work. The specification also stated that the length of wire required could be obtained from the NLB headquarters at 84 George Street, Edinburgh. After then stating the requirements for batteries and spare parts, Stevenson finished with the prices and wages stipulations and the proviso that he expected all of it to be tried and properly tested and to be of the very best quality and finished to the entire satisfaction of the engineer (i.e. David Alan Stevenson himself) within one month from the date of acceptance of the offer. It is an exacting document and one that his grandfather would have been proud of. The Stevenson mania for hard work and the constant desire to plan and control the smallest detail of the work had passed down through the generations.

On the subject of the building work itself, Stevenson stated13 that the total area to be used for buildings, paths and tramways came to 43,950sq. ft or 1.0009 acres. In setting out his proposals for the layout, Stevenson said that certain rights would have to be insisted upon. These included the right to quarry stone from any part of the island and the right to use any part of the island (Eilean Mor) for temporary buildings, stores, etc.

In 1900, only nine days prior to the disappearance of the three lightkeepers, Stevenson had made notes14 on 6 December regarding discussions he had held with Lloyds and a proposed agreement for the installation of a wireless telegraph. The intention was for Lloyds to supply and erect the whole plant including instrument poles, a flag staff, flags and everything necessary for signalling purposes.

Of various other matters relating to the work on the lighthouse, two of note stand out. The first was the sudden death of the Clerk of Works, Mr Deas, who died at the end of the third season’s work and the second was that principal contractor, Mr Lawson15 was deeply unhappy at the cost overruns on the work, which he felt were through no fault of his own. Although the lighthouse was first to be officially lit in December 1899 and operated thereafter, the actual work carried out by Mr Lawson and his men did not officially finish until October 1900.

The lighthouse on Eilean Mor became operational on 7 December 1899 with a permanent roster of four keepers. The life of a lightkeeper was certainly different to any other profession, with its overtones of ranks, maritime associations and elements of civil service governance. It was also a job that was a way of life, as the lightkeepers were tied very closely to their place of work.

A grasp of the NLB rank structure is useful in understanding how the keepers related to each other. Each lighthouse was the responsibility of the principal lightkeeper (PLK). Under him, at lighthouses with a foghorn, he would have had two assistant lightkeepers (ALK). The general adoption of the forty-hour week in the UK by the early 1970s led the NLB to introduce local assistant lightkeepers (LALK). For many years most stations had already had occasional lightkeepers (OLK), normally at least one. They tended to be mainly local residents trained in lightroom duties and capable of standing a watch in an emergency or covering for holidays. It was by no means regular work, just as and when needed. It was decided to carry the concept of OLKs further, but a number of problems soon became apparent.

When they were built, mainland and island lighthouses were set up for three full-time career lightkeepers and their families, all living in cottages at the station which were provided free as part of their wages by the NLB. Two-man stations, and there were a few, were basically lighthouses without a foghorn or the impedimenta needed to operate one. At one point in the 1970s, there were a few one-man stations as well. These included Barns Ness, Buchan Ness, Cromarty and Chanory. These were manned by a PLK only, who would put the light on and then quite legitimately go to his bed. Their intended use by the 1970s was for the worthy notion of them being a final posting for PLKs approaching their retirement. Some said, perhaps unkindly, that in practice they ended up being used as a repository for the arguably less worthy PLKs, a place to put them, in effect, where they couldn’t cause any more bother!

A little known fact is that, certainly in the second part of the twentieth century, minor or automatic lights were regarded as less reliable than the manned lighthouses and light-dues charged on them were accordingly considerably less.

Being a career lightkeeper also meant that every few years, just like the military, he was subject to being posted to another lighthouse, with the consequent family upheaval. This state of affairs lasted until the 1970s (and the forty-hour week) when it was decided to make local assistants established keepers. This would give them a full-time job, but they would remain at ‘their’ lighthouse, resident in their own home. This would remove at a stroke one of the Board’s biggest headaches, i.e. providing accommodation at the station for their full-time keepers. Broadly speaking, they would be full-time lightkeepers, but would remain in one location with personnel rising from three to four full-time keepers, with obvious adjustments to the watch-keeping rota to take this into account. OLKs would still be retained and utilised as and when needed. Many OLKs were given the opportunity to become LALKs and quite a few did take advantage of the opportunity, but in other cases the job was advertised locally.