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To save on accommodation money, I travelled from home in West Sussex to my destination over night, arriving in Plymouth at about 7.30 a.m., wrote lighthouse keeper Harold Taylor. It was August 1961. With my heavy suitcase, and presumably my bedding bag I found my long and tedious way to the dockyard gates, because the victuallers, to whom I had been advised to send my provisions list had a shop next door to them.
I might add that whilst I had been home on leave, and before my request for reconsideration of transfer had been adjudicated upon, all my gear from Bardsey lighthouse had arrived home in tea chests, not very well packed. In particular I recall that there was cocoa powder spilled all over one lot, which included my type writer and clothing. I had of course gained at least an extra month ashore in order to fit in with relief dates at the respective lighthouses.
My depot was now Penzance, but local reliefs were carried out. The Supt. was Whiffy Harris, who had been the Supt. at Holyhead, when I first arrived there, but had since been transferred himself.
The relief was carried out by private tender, which was given to Reynold's Tugs, of which there were several, the only one of which I can recall was the Alexander. Their main task within the harbour was to tow out the rubbish barges from the city and discharge refuse into the sea. Depending on the weather, decided how far out to sea they delivered the rubbish.
Much of it finished back on the breakwater I was to discover later. I cannot remember which keeper I went off with, but I do recall that those on station with me during the first month were Dave Mapp, who I had known up on Lundy, and Vince Pearce, a near local lad from Ashburton. We got on amicably. The tower was not very tall and had been built upon what I will call a roughly constructed breakwater, around the middle of the last century.
It was a mile long and built by convict labour. It is well documented locally by the Salvation Army. I do not know how long it took to build, but it must have been several decades, when you consider the amount of loose granite lumps that had to be tipped. It is only the top ten feet or so that has any semblance of some effort having been made to give it a good appearance.
At several points along its top there are commemoration stones laid by numerous members of the reigning Royal Family, children of Victoria.
The breakwater is awash at high water, although if the weather is quiet at the lighthouse end on the Neaps it is still possible to get out on the stones.
The breakwater is obviously not level, because at the far end even in the Springs, it does not get covered at high water. About half way along on the inside of the construction is a Naval Signal Station, which is manned 24 hours per day, built on the lines of one of Palmerston's folly's. There is a gap of about 50 yards of water between this and the breakwater.
Over this, for what purpose I do not know, there is a pulley and line, which came in very handy for us. We were able to have our mail directed to The Queen's Harbour Master, and it would be brought out to the Martello tower. They would give us a flash on the signal lamp, and when the water was at a convenient level we would go along and collect or post mail.
One developed a particular art in traversing this 'smooth' topped obstruction. For the purpose of lifting stone in the quarry a small hole is bored into each stone, into which are inserted some reversed hooks, so that when the lift is made the hooks try to open out, but are stopped by the sides of the hole. In this way the stones own weight makes the lift successful.
We used these holes to advantage in walking when the sea was lapping over the stones, by carrying with us a broom handle. If the sea broke over the rocks where we were, we would insert the broom handle into one of these holes, then stand with our feet against the pole on the side the water was coming from. In this manner the sea would not dislodge us and cause us to slide across the top of the breakwater.
During the Neap tides a group of dock workers would come out to the breakwater and mix up cement and sand and tip it into crevices along the top of the breakwater. It was a never ending job, and no doubt was washed out at the next tide One could never see any good they had done. Slowly, they were still in the process of reinforcing the structure, and periodically they would arrive with a low loader barge with an enormous concrete block which they would drop on the seaward side. These things were about twenty feet long and ten feet high and wide.
The sea was not unknown to lift these huge objects and carry them across the breakwater and deposit them on the other side. You could sea the scratch marks, even if sometimes they had been carried right over to land in deep water and out of sight.
Monthly, the Missions to Seaman vicar would pay us a visit, brought out by a local boatman. Occasionally he would bring us goodies, but more often than not it cost us to provide him with tea. Sometimes one brought his son as well. We had two different vicars, one I think is the present Bishop Durham, Michael Turnbull. We were graced one Sunday with the Lord Mayor of Plymouth, who came out on the luxurious Mayoral Barge. We had a pleasant afternoon supplying him and his group with tea, and had an invite to call at the Town Hall, which I never took up.
As I said earlier, the tower was rather short, with few rooms. It had an odd split staircase to get into the tower, once in there, the first small room to the left was the toilet, Elsan bucket again. The base of the tower was used for oil storage, with a tank below the floor for water. There was also a tin bath, and the ropes for securing boats.
The next floor was more store cupboards including our own, for food. The next floor was the kitchen, in which we had the usual old Cornish range, a black monster. The next room above was the bedroom, but in one corner of this was an Argand lamp which provided a low powered fixed light across towards Cawsands a fishing village across the harbour and outside the breakwater. The light meant that the bedroom was always illuminated, but on its up side, it did mean one could go to bed and read and it provided warmth in the winter, and unnecessary heat in the summer.
The light was a small IOB it was I think only a 25 mm Hood Burner. They were having a lot of trouble with it and it had to be watched very carefully. I think I helped reduce the problem, by reducing the pressure they were working it at. These contraptions were designed to work at a specific pressure, I think it was 60lbs. They were usually pumped up to 64 to cover the period from light-up to midnight, to cover loss of pressure.
Of course on some towers, the height the oil had to be lifted was higher than others and a certain allowance was made for this. It was not necessary with this short tower. I think I found that we were working 8lbs over what was needed, and reducing eased the problem, but they were not convinced. Jack Freathy was the P.K., a very pleasant, but strange man.
Every day for dinner, he had only one diet, a tin of peas, a tin of carrots, and a small tin of corned beef. Perhaps he had got fed up with the varied qualities of keepers cooking. He was quite a fund of keepers' knowledge, but I was not to know him for long.
Jack had been P.K. out at the Eddystone, but had been transferred in here, Dave had been one of his keepers out there and Jack had requested his transfer, having found him a good keeper, also, where he was he was not getting in charge money as there was a more senior keeper out there.
Dave was not that happy about the move, so when he knew Jack was moving on transfer to Lowestoft, Dave put in for a transfer and got the Wolf Rock which he was quite happy about. As replacement P.K. we got Reg Simon, who came from a long duration stay at St Catherine's, on first appointment as P.K., and Brian Tuck replaced Dave. I hope I have this in the right order, because that would make me becoming K.I.C. and I do not remember doing so.
I have a feeling that Dave was still on station when I left. Anyhow, lets get on with the story.
Vince liked his radio and played classical music at full volume, which was not very convenient when one was in bed on the floor above, because the door had to be left open, for ventilation for the lamp and we beings. I recall two incidents at this place, one was an accident I had one morning, when morning watchman.
Many stations had the habit of painting the granite steps to assist in cleaning, but because they used gloss paint it made them inclined to be slippery, and with any water on them they became like an ice rink. Such was the state here, also the steps were not very wide, with the result that unless I was going to go down side ways I could not get all my foot on the step.
One morning I came out of the kitchen, not knowing that due to humidity the tower had sweated a lot over night, and the steps were running in water as were the tower walls. This did not show above the kitchen as the heat from there kept the atmosphere drier. I had the slop bucket in my hand to get rid of all the kitchen debris, put my foot on the top step and landed on the mat at the front door two flights below. The wind was knocked out of me and I ached all over.
Whilst I was recovering my wits, Vince appeared on the stairs, night shirt billowing and dangly bits swinging. He politely enquired if I was all right, to which I replied 'I don't know'. With which he took that to mean I was, turned round and went back to bed, whilst I continued to lay in muck and bucket till I felt recovered enough to move and see if I was hurt.
The other incident concerned the chimney. This was surmounted by a big cowl on the roof, upon which was constructed a wind vane, performing a useful dual purpose. In theory, the trouble was that if the wind died down to a flat calm, the cowl was open to the wind opposite to the direction from which it had last blown. Should the wind get up again from the opposite direction, which it usually did, all the smoke was blown back down into the kitchen.
If the wind was dead opposite, it would not turn the cowl, so it meant climbing onto the roof to move it round manually. These incidents always happened at night.
Continued in part 2.
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