The contest against the elements is still being waged, and slowly but surely engineering science is improving its position, and is hopeful of rendering audible signals as completely effective as those of a visual character.
It is doubtful whether the name of any lighthouse is so familiar throughout the English-speaking world as the “Eddystone.” Certainly no other “pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day,” can offer so romantic a story of dogged engineering perseverance, of heartrending disappointments, disaster, blasted hopes, and brilliant success.
Standing out in the English Channel, about sixty miles east of the Lizard, is a straggling ridge of rocks which stretches for hundreds of yards across the marine thoroughfare, and also obstructs the western approach to Plymouth Harbour. But at a point some nine and a half miles south of Rame Head, on the mainland, the reef rises somewhat abruptly to the surface, so that at low-water two or three ugly granite knots are bared, which tell only too poignantly the complete destruction they could wreak upon a vessel which had the temerity or the ill luck to scrape over them at high-tide. Even in the calmest weather the sea curls and eddies viciously around these stones; hence the name “Eddystones” is derived.
From the days when trading vessels first used the English Channel the reef has been a spot of evil fame. How many ships escaped the perils and dangers of the seven seas only to come to grief on this ridge within sight of home, or how many lives have been lost upon it, will never be known. Only the more staggering holocausts, such as the wreck of the _Winchelsea_, stand out prominently in the annals of history, but these serve to emphasize the terrible character of the menace offered. The port of Plymouth, as may be supposed, suffered with especial severity.
As British overseas traffic expanded, the idea of indicating the spot for the benefit of vessels was discussed. The first practical suggestion was put forward about the year 1664, but thirty-two years elapsed before any attempt was made to reduce theory to practice. Then an eccentric English country gentleman, Henry Winstanley, who dabbled in mechanical engineering upon unorthodox lines, came forward and offered to build a lighthouse upon the terrible rock. Those who knew this ambitious amateur were dubious of his success, and wondered what manifestation his eccentricity would assume on this occasion. Nor was their scepticism entirely misplaced. Winstanley raised the most fantastic lighthouse which has ever been known, and which would have been more at home in a Chinese cemetery than in the English Channel. It was wrought in wood and most lavishly embellished with carvings and gilding.